#the artist really understood what to put there

[toskarin]

sorry to ask, but can you explain your last post to someone who knows nothing about the musician community youre talking about... it sounds like a really really good post if i just understood it better

this is another one of those posts where I'm transcribing a stream of consciousness, so I'll throw in a courtesy readmore

the musician community, as a whole, is much more segmented than the visual artist community

this leads to good and bad things, but generally it allows for more awareness of one's position and an acknowledgement that the needs of an underground folk artist are going to be different than the needs of a composer who receives a name credit. this means there is always going to be heavy pushback when someone tries to impose ethics downward

one element of this is the inward acknowledgement that the monolithic musician community isn't actually real in a way that isn't really mirrored in the visual artist community. besides making music and navigating the financial (and legal) landscape of that, there is very little that intrinsically unites musicians

this acknowledgement allows discussions about concerns among poorer musicians to exist without being completely shut down by someone who has different concerns, because they're not seen as the subject of the discussion unless they are respectfully contributing to it

one big reason for this being possible is that musicians are less respected than visual artists in the professional world

that might sound absurd if you only know of one landscape, but think of how many game (and movie, and tv, and etc. etc. etc.) franchises with identity-defining composers go on to swap out the composer at the first sign of a labour dispute, to very little protest as long as the quality of music isn't seen as dropping

hell, if someone else can copy your style satisfactorily, there's often no fuss at all! this leads to a pretty violent disillusionment with your place in the creative world

even beyond that, there exists an entire industry based around creating a parasitic body of IP landlordism for anyone whose music isn't attached to another product. the musician is, in a way that is deeply and thoroughly beaten into them, a labourer

the visual artist community (until recently) didn't tend to have this disillusionment, so it often follows the sway of its most popular and established members

in fact, the modern visual artist community as a broad cultural body is carved almost entirely from social media discussions that treat the community as one entity. accordingly, becoming established basically requires participation in this online entity

to further poison the well, the position of a visual artist is regularly talked about in spiritual terms rather than labour terms. there is something special that makes you a visual artist. it's the exact mentality that people rightfully made fun of in those ordinary people vs creative people comics. it's the unspoken cultural assumption that natural talent exists, even if most people would deny believing in it if put into explicit terms

while this does feel very good, it means that acknowledging labour-originated conflicts of interest is a bit rude

when a community unites itself around a spiritual core, it can't properly assert "your experiences are not applicable to what is being discussed and you should not be imposing yourself" because, by all metrics, an artist is a fundamentally unique demographic that can speak in all conversations about art

it's a warped form of anti-gatekeeping, a one-way gate through which you can strike down at other poor artists, but not up, enforced from below and framed as a desire for openness

the visual artist community's relative homogenisation of popular consensus is, on the whole, very very very bad for what it does to its norms. it hashes out and legislates within itself with an unspoken assumption that its most prolific members are simply further along the artist lifecycle, and therefore the most trustworthy

discussions with direct parallels ("is it okay to be obviously influenced by someone else's style?") come to much hazier conclusions which lean towards the opinions held by people with the most followers

most egregiously, this manifested in how visual artists react to piracy

the past ten years (in large part because of patreon making viable the paywalling of material behind a regular subscription) have been consumed by arguments about piracy that all seem to terminate in the assumption that piracy is theft, with little stratification of opinion between the hobbyist and professional scenes on this matter

this assumed spiritual core of the community is felt strongly in every conversation. look at the difference in attitudes around the distribution of cracked VSTs and the distribution of brush packs. hell, even on the corporate level, look at the difference in attitudes around pirating DAWs vs visual art programs

even when people are implying an approval of piracy, they find ways to frame it from a position of revenge on a company for something wrong it did, because they still need to conform to the community understanding of piracy as theft

individual visual artists can be (and often are!) more conscious of this stuff, but even then, people react with shock when these visual artists aren't horribly concerned about the possibility of their paywalled work existing on a torrent site

in a word, if you can see the ways these conversation spaces are different and similar, it's all so exhausting

[leletha-jann]

Headcanon to no particular purpose:

Mechanicsburg loves its visual, musical, and performance arts about as much as it loves its explosions and monsters and mayhem (the former often involves the latter anyway).

IN THE FUTURE, Agatha makes it known that she is happy to commission new works for the entertainment of her people (monsters and all) - on one condition:

it may not involve her family in any way.

She is...nonspecific about exactly who this includes.

Her immediate family, of course. No half-disguised Triumvirate romance operas will be tolerated in Mechanicsburg, and certainly not paid for by the Lady.

THE family, almost certainly. No historical stage retrospectives about the Heterodynes (Mechanicsburg has their own).

But...where does it stop? Can they put on dramas about fictional characters during recent history? What if they don't mention the Wulfenbach Empire specifically? What about the Queens of Skifander? How many degrees removed from Tarvek do you have to get before you can mention the Valois dynasty - or any of the Fifty Families they're related to...which is all of them? Is this artist really really really sure their subject wasn't involved with the Heterodynes in some way?

...Agatha is also nonspecific about what the consequences will be, and is kind of looking forward to finding out.

Mechanicsburg becomes the place to be for sci-fi and fantasy.

Paris gets all the historical shows and political farces, and tends to be the first stop for performers traveling from elsewhere in the World.

(Elsewhere, Heterodyne shows like Master Payne's circus are still going strong and writing new plays as fast as they can keep up. But it's understood that bringing them to Mechanicsburg isn't worth the audience, which will stand up and argue with the actors in real time in defense of their Lady, her consorts, and the rest of her family.)

[bvidzsoo]

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

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[deluboo]

HE AIN'T HITTING IT LIKE HE SUPPOSED TO HIT IT.

genre: smut — 18+ ㅤ contains: protected sex intoxication fingering

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ © DELUBOO 2024.

the hum of the party surrounds you as you step through the doorway, the bass from the speakers pulsing in time with your heartbeat. colorful lights dance across the crowded living room, where bodies move in sync with the music, laughter, and conversation blending into a cacophony of sound. you scan the room, spotting your boyfriend in the far corner, engaged in a heated debate with his friends. you sigh, the tension between you two hanging heavy over your head.

you refuse to have sex with him, a boundary he hasn’t been too understanding about. he thinks you’re not comfortable yet, which is partly true, but there’s more to it that you can’t quite put into words. it’s not just about being uncomfortable; there’s a fear that grips you every time you think about taking that step with him.

in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a drink in hand, you spot minghao. his aloof demeanor and intense gaze make him stand out even in the dim lighting. he’s always been a bit of an enigma, quiet and reserved, which only fuels your irritation towards him. tonight, you decide to approach him, a mix of curiosity and annoyance driving your steps.

you weave through the crowd, the heat from the bodies around you making the room feel warmer than it is. as you approach the kitchen, the chatter and laughter seem to fade into the background, leaving just the steady thrum of the music and your own heartbeat in your ears.

minghao stands there, seemingly lost in thought as he sips his drink. he doesn't notice you at first, and for a moment, you observe him. his expression is neutral, his eyes scanning the room with a certain detachment. he's always been like this, you think. aloof, almost distant. it irks you, this air of mystery he carries.

“hey, loner,” you tease, leaning against the counter beside him. the corners of your mouth twitch into a smirk as you try to catch his attention. “why so serious?”

minghao finally looks at you, his gaze cool and detached. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence between you stretching out. he takes another sip of his drink before responding. “just enjoying my drink,” he replies, his tone as blunt as ever.

you roll your eyes, taking a moment to study him. he’s dressed simply, yet there’s something about the way he carries himself that commands attention. you’ve never understood why he intrigues you so much, especially given how different he is from your usual type.

“always so mysterious,” you comment, your voice light, though there’s an underlying edge to your words. “what’s it like being the brooding artist of the group?”

he raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “what’s it like always needing to be the center of attention?”

you can’t help but laugh, a genuine sound that surprises even you. “touché,” you say, raising your own drink in a mock toast. “i guess we both have our roles to play.”

the banter feels comfortable, almost familiar. it’s strange, given how little you actually interact with minghao. your interactions are usually brief, marked by sarcastic remarks and quick retorts.

“so,” you say, leaning in slightly, “why are you really here all alone? don’t tell me you’re avoiding everyone.”

he shrugs, his gaze drifting over the crowd. “sometimes it’s better to watch than to participate. you see more that way.”

you follow his gaze, the throng of partygoers a blur of movement and color. “and what do you see?”

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something—interest, perhaps?—before his expression smooths over again. “people pretending to be something they’re not. it’s entertaining.”

you scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “and you’re above all that?”

“i didn’t say that,” he replies, his tone neutral. “just that it’s easier to see when you’re not in the middle of it.”

there’s a brief silence as you process his words. you’ve always thought of minghao as...detached, maybe even a bit pretentious, but tonight he seems more… grounded. it’s disarming, and you find yourself wanting to know more.

“you know,” you say, your voice softer now, “i always thought you were kind of a jerk. but maybe i was wrong.”

he chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “maybe you were. or maybe i am, and you’re just starting to see it.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “well, if you are, you hide it well.”

there’s another pause, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. you’re not sure what it is, but it makes your pulse quicken.

“so, what about you?” he asks suddenly, his gaze piercing. “why are you really here? with a boyfriend who doesn’t seem to pay you much attention?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. you glance over at your boyfriend, still engrossed in his conversation, oblivious to your absence.

“i don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “maybe i’m just trying to figure things out.”

minghao’s expression softens, and he leans in closer. “figure what out?”

you take a deep breath, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. “why i’m with someone who doesn’t understand me. why i can’t bring myself to be… intimate with him.”

he studies you for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. “your boyfriend probably doesn’t even know the way you taste.”

your breath hitches, the bluntness of his statement hitting you harder than you’d like to admit. you laugh it off, though the sound is hollow. “yeah, true,” you sigh, surprising even yourself with your honesty.

minghao's eyes narrow slightly, curiosity evident in his gaze. "what, really? why?"

you feel a mix of irritation and vulnerability. his directness is unnerving, and you can't decide whether you appreciate it or hate it. "scared," you mutter, turning your eyes away from him, focusing instead on the rim of your drink. the conversation suddenly feels too real, too raw.

he frowns, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "scared of what?"

your fingers tighten around your glass, the condensation making your skin slick. "too many questions," you reply, your voice strained. you take a large sip of your drink, the alcohol burning down your throat. "i'm going to go dance."

you push away from the counter, your heart pounding in your chest as you head towards the makeshift dance floor. the music engulfs you, the bass vibrating through your body. you lose yourself in the rhythm, the world narrowing down to the beat and the movement of your limbs. for a moment, you manage to forget the piercing gaze of minghao, the weight of his questions lingering in the back of your mind.

you spot mingyu in the crowd, his tall frame and easy smile drawing you in like a magnet. he's talking with a group of friends, but his eyes light up when he sees you approaching. you feel a surge of confidence, the alcohol making you bolder, more uninhibited.

"hey, mingyu," you say, your voice a little louder than necessary to be heard over the music.

he turns to you, his smile widening. "hey, y/n! having fun?"

"trying to," you reply with a grin. "dance with me?"

he doesn't need to be asked twice. mingyu wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as the two of you start to move to the beat. his movements are smooth and effortless, and you find yourself matching his rhythm easily. the music is loud, the bass pulsing through your veins as you lose yourself in the dance.

you throw your arms around his neck, leaning in closer as the song shifts to a slower, more sensual beat. the room seems to blur around you, your focus narrowing down to the feel of mingyu's hands on your waist, the warmth of his body against yours.

for a moment, it feels like nothing else matters. you can forget about your boyfriend, about minghao's piercing questions. all that exists is the music and the movement, the way your body responds to mingyu's touch.

but then, through the haze of the dance floor, you catch sight of minghao again. he's standing at the edge of the room, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. there's something unreadable in his expression—concern, perhaps, or maybe something deeper. you can't tell, and it frustrates you.

you try to shake off the feeling, focusing instead on mingyu. "you're a good dancer," you say, your voice breathy.

he chuckles, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. "thanks. you're not so bad yourself."

you laugh, the sound mingling with the music. but even as you try to lose yourself in the moment, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. it's as if minghao's gaze is a physical presence, pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

the sensation intensifies, becoming almost unbearable. you open your eyes to see minghao still standing there, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering. there's a moment of silent communication between you, something passing between you that you can't quite identify.

before you can react, minghao is beside you, his presence commanding. he gently but firmly places a hand on your arm, pulling you away from mingyu with a surprising amount of strength. "come on," he says, his voice steady but leaving no room for argument. "you need to sober up."

"hey!" you protest, trying to pull away. "i'm fine!"

minghao doesn't relent, his grip firm but not painful as he leads you through the crowd and up the stairs. each step feels like a small battle, the alcohol in your system making your movements sluggish and your thoughts hazy. you barely notice the curious looks from other partygoers as minghao guides you to the second floor.

he opens a door at the end of the hallway, revealing a guest bedroom, and gently but insistently guides you inside. the room is dimly lit, a stark contrast to the chaos downstairs. the silence is almost deafening, broken only by the distant thrum of the music.

minghao closes the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding strangely final. you sway slightly on your feet, the room spinning around you as you try to get your bearings. he places a steadying hand on your arm, his touch grounding you.

“sit down,” he instructs, guiding you to the edge of the bed. you sink down onto the mattress, the soft surface a welcome relief.

he crouches in front of you, his eyes level with yours. there’s a seriousness in his gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. he reaches for a bottle of water on the nightstand, unscrewing the cap before handing it to you. “drink this,” he says firmly. “you need to sober up.”

you take the bottle from him, the cool plastic a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin. you bring it to your lips, taking a small sip at first, then a larger one as the refreshing liquid slides down your throat. it feels like the first breath of air after being underwater for too long.

“what?” you ask, catching the intense look in his eyes.

“nothing,” he mutters, flopping back on the bed and pulling out his phone, the light illuminating his features.

you frown, turning to look at him. “you’re just going to lay on some random guy’s bed?”

“can’t really give a shit, but i think this is the guest room,” he replies, still focused on his phone.

you nod, a small “oh” escaping your lips. the silence stretches out between you, filled only by the muffled sounds of the party downstairs. you take another sip of water, feeling the fog in your mind slowly start to lift.

you lean back on your hands, your gaze drifting to the ceiling. “why did you bring me here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

minghao glances at you, his expression unreadable. “because you were about to make a mistake,” he says simply.

you furrow your brow, confusion and frustration warring within you. “what mistake?”

he sits up, his phone forgotten as he turns to face you fully. “you were drunk and about to do something you’d regret. i didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

his words hit you harder than you expected, a mixture of relief and irritation flooding your system. “i can take care of myself,” you snap, though the conviction in your voice wavers.

“i know you can,” he replies calmly. “but sometimes it’s okay to let someone else look out for you.”

you stare at him, the weight of his words settling over you. there’s an honesty in his gaze that’s disarming, and for the first time tonight, you feel a flicker of gratitude towards him.

“thanks,” you say softly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “anytime.”

the silence that follows is different—less charged, more comfortable. you take another sip of water, the clarity returning to your thoughts as the alcohol’s grip begins to loosen.

after a minute, a sudden surge of boldness washes over you. the silence stretches, filled with unspoken tension. you glance at minghao, his focus seemingly back on his phone, but you can feel the subtle shifts in his attention, the way his eyes flicker toward you when he thinks you aren't looking.

you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. the alcohol has dulled your inhibitions, but the clarity from the water has given you a strange sense of purpose. with a determined exhale, you shift your position, moving to straddle his waist. the motion is deliberate, and it catches him off guard.

minghao's phone slips from his hand, forgotten, as he leans up immediately. one hand instinctively goes to your waist, his grip firm and grounding. his eyes search yours, curiosity and amusement mingling in their depths.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his voice low and tinged with genuine curiosity.

your heart races, the intensity of the moment making you acutely aware of every sensation—the warmth of his hand on your waist, the rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the way his breath mingles with yours. you hold onto his shoulders, the contact grounding you as you lean down, bringing your face inches from his.

“if i’m being honest… you look really good tonight—and i’m horny,” you confess, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of desire and nerves.

minghao's laugh is rich and warm, a sound that reverberates through your body. his grip on your waist tightens slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the charged atmosphere between you. “what happened to you being scared?” he teases, his eyes darkening with interest.

you swallow hard, your gaze dropping to his lips before meeting his eyes again. the closeness is intoxicating, the tension palpable. “well… it’s you,” you whisper, the words hanging in the air between you. “you know what they say, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

for a moment, time seems to stand still. the room around you fades away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this electrifying moment. then, as if pulled by an irresistible force, your lips finally meet.

the kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed. it starts tentatively, both of you testing the waters, but quickly escalates. it’s hungry, desperate, and filled with a passion that takes you both by surprise. minghao’s hand slides from your waist to your back, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. you respond eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him to you as if afraid he might disappear.

the world outside this room ceases to exist. there’s only the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, the way his breath hitches when you press closer. the kiss is messy, your lips and tongues clashing in a dance that feels both frenzied and perfectly synchronized.

minghao shifts beneath you, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, angling you for better access. you moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you and spurring you both on. he breaks the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting heavily.

“y/n,” he murmurs, your name a soft plea on his lips.

you don’t respond with words. instead, you kiss him again, your lips moving with more urgency, more need. the room is filled with the sounds of your shared desire—the rustle of clothing, the soft gasps and moans, the rhythmic beat of your heart pounding in your ears.

minghao’s hands are everywhere, mapping out the curves of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he slips his fingers under the hem of your shirt, the contact of his skin against yours sending a shiver down your spine. you arch into his touch, craving more, needing more.

he flips you onto your back, his movements fluid and purposeful. his lips trail down your neck, sucking and nibbling at your sensitive skin, each touch making you gasp and writhe beneath him. his hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt higher until you lift your arms, allowing him to pull it over your head and discard it.

“beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes raking over your exposed skin with a reverence that makes your heart flutter.

you reach for him, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. he helps you, shrugging out of the fabric and tossing it aside. your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch. it’s overwhelming, the intensity of your desire for him, the way every nerve in your body seems to be alight with need.

the kiss deepens, becoming sloppy and filled with need. minghao's lips move against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. his tongue teases your lower lip before delving deeper, tangling with yours in a dance of raw desire. each kiss feels like it's pulling you further into a vortex of passion, leaving you craving more.

his hand slides up your thigh, the touch light and teasing at first, sending shivers down your spine. the heat of his palm against your skin ignites a fire within you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. he pauses for a moment, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just below the hem of your skirt, making you gasp.

minghao's eyes meet yours, a silent question lingering in their depths. you nod, giving him the permission he seeks. with a swift but gentle motion, he flips you onto your back, his body hovering over yours. the weight of him, the warmth of his skin against yours, is both grounding and electrifying.

his lips leave a trail of fire down your neck, each kiss deliberate and sensual. you arch your back, giving him better access as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just below your ear. he nips at the skin, eliciting a soft moan from you, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

minghao's hand continues its journey, slipping under your skirt and trailing up the inside of your thigh. his touch is firm but gentle, his fingers exploring the soft skin with a reverence that makes you tremble. he pauses again, his eyes locking with yours as his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your underwear.

“you’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “it’s driving me crazy.”

you bite your lip, your breath coming in shallow pants as he continues to tease you. “minghao, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

his lips curve into a smile against your skin. “patience,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your collarbone. “i want to savor this.”

his fingers slide under the fabric, finding your wetness. you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand as he expertly teases you, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. his thumb circles your clit, the pressure light and teasing, driving you to the edge but never quite letting you tip over.

“minghao,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to you as if afraid he might pull away. “i need you.”

he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your reactions. “i’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

he slips a finger inside you, the sensation both intimate and electrifying. you gasp, your body arching into his touch, every nerve ending on fire. he moves slowly at first, his finger exploring your depths with a gentleness that makes you ache for more. he adds another finger, stretching you, filling you, each movement deliberate and controlled.

his lips find yours again, the kiss a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. you lose yourself in the feel of him, the taste of him, every touch and every kiss pushing you closer to the edge. he moves his fingers in and out of you, his thumb still circling your clit, the dual sensations driving you wild.

“please,” you beg, your voice barely a whisper, the need for release consuming you. “i need to come.”

minghao’s eyes meet yours, a flicker of something soft and caring in their depths. “not yet,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a barely-there kiss. “i want to watch you fall apart.”

he increases the pace of his fingers, each thrust hitting just the right spot, his thumb applying the perfect amount of pressure to your clit. you feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.

“please,” you beg again, your voice a desperate plea.

with a final, skillful flick of his fingers, he pushes you over the edge. you cry out, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm, waves of pleasure washing over you in an intense, all-consuming rush. minghao doesn’t stop, his fingers and thumb continuing their relentless assault, prolonging your pleasure, making you see stars.

he watches you the entire time, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. “you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

when you finally come down from the high, your body trembling and spent, he gently withdraws his fingers, his touch soothing as he caresses your thigh. you look up at him, your eyes half-lidded and hazy with satisfaction.

“minghao,” you whisper, reaching out to him, needing the connection, the closeness.

he leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “i’m here,” he whispers against your lips. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you pull him closer, your fingers trailing down his chest to the waistband of his pants. he inhales sharply as you undo the button and slide the zipper down, your touch sending a shiver through him.

he stands up briefly, the absence of his warmth leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. his movements are hurried, but there’s a grace to them that you can’t help but admire. the way his muscles flex under his skin as he discards his clothes is mesmerizing, each motion deliberate and efficient. you watch him, your heart pounding in anticipation, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him.

minghao’s shirt falls to the floor first, followed by his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. the dim light casts shadows across his body, highlighting the defined lines of his muscles. he glances at you, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down. you can’t tear your eyes away, your gaze drinking in every inch of him.

when he’s finally free of his clothes, he stands there for a moment, the weight of the moment hanging between you. the raw vulnerability of being completely exposed, both physically and emotionally, is almost overwhelming. you reach out to him, your fingers trailing lightly over his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch.

he shivers slightly, his breath hitching as your fingers brush against him. he reaches for a condom from his discarded pants, tearing the packet open with his teeth. the sound is loud in the quiet room, a sharp contrast to the softness of the moment. he rolls it on with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving yours.

minghao lowers himself over you, his body a comforting weight, his skin warm against yours. he pauses, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle and filled with concern.

you nod, your heart swelling with affection and desire. “i’m sure,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions coursing through you.

he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of him pressing against your wetness. he pushes in slowly, the sensation both familiar and entirely new. you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he fills you completely, the stretch a delicious burn. the world narrows down to the feeling of him inside you, the way your bodies fit together perfectly.

minghao moves slowly at first, his thrusts measured and controlled. he’s giving you time to adjust, to savor the sensation of being connected in such an intimate way. each movement is deliberate, his eyes locked on yours, watching for your reactions. the intensity of his gaze, the way he’s so attuned to your needs, makes your heart swell with emotion.

as you grow accustomed to the feel of him, you begin to move with him, matching his rhythm. the pace quickens, each thrust deeper and more urgent. the room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure—the slap of skin against skin, the soft gasps and moans, the rhythmic pounding of your heart.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more, craving more. he responds with a thrust that hits just the right spot, making you cry out his name. “minghao,” you moan, your nails dragging down his back, leaving faint red trails.

he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, his movements becoming more erratic as he nears his own release. “come for me, y/n,” he whispers against your lips, his voice rough with need.

with a final thrust, you shatter, the orgasm washing over you in waves, leaving you breathless and spent. minghao follows soon after, his release spilling into the condom, his body tensing and then relaxing against yours. the feeling of him filling you, even with the barrier between you, is overwhelmingly intimate, a physical manifestation of the connection you feel.

the room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the party downstairs and the sound of your breathing as you both come down from the high of your shared experience. minghao's weight shifts beside you, his warmth a comforting presence in the cool room.

he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender. his fingers linger for a moment, tracing the curve of your cheek before he speaks. “you okay?” he asks, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

you take a moment to gather your thoughts, the reality of what just happened beginning to sink in. “yeah,” you breathe, a small smile playing on your lips. “i’m okay.”

relief washes over his features, and he nods, his eyes never leaving yours. he pulls away slightly, his movements slow and careful as he disposes of the condom, his actions methodical and precise. you watch him, feeling a strange sense of intimacy in the mundane act.

when he returns to the bed, he lays beside you, his presence a comforting weight. he props himself up on one elbow, his gaze soft as he looks at you. there’s a moment of silence, filled with the unspoken emotions and thoughts swirling between you.

minghao breaks the silence, his voice serious but gentle. “we can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” his words are a request and a plea, the gravity of the situation clear in his eyes.

you take a deep breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “whatever,” you mutter, feeling a mix of emotions. the reality of what just happened is complex, a blend of relief, confusion, and something else you can’t quite identify. “thanks for the first time,” you add, your voice softening as you meet his gaze.

a soft laugh escapes his lips, the sound soothing in the quiet room. “anytime,” he replies, his eyes softening as he looks at you. there’s a warmth in his gaze, a depth of emotion that makes your heart ache in a way you can’t quite explain.

you both lay there in silence for a while, the quiet moments stretching out, filled with the unspoken understanding between you. the reality of what just happened is starting to settle, the magnitude of the shift in your relationship becoming clear.

minghao’s fingers find yours, his touch light and reassuring. he squeezes your hand gently, a silent promise that he’s here for you, that this moment meant something to him too. you squeeze back, the simple gesture conveying more than words ever could.

you turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. “this changes things, doesn’t it?” you whisper, the question hanging in the air between you.

he nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “yeah, it does,” he admits, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and hope. “but maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

you ponder his words, the truth of them resonating deep within you. the dynamic between you has shifted, the lines between enemies and something more becoming blurred. it’s a lot to take in, but there’s a part of you that feels a strange sense of contentment, a sense of rightness in what just happened.

as the minutes tick by, the silence becomes more comfortable, the tension easing into a shared understanding. you both know that things won’t be the same after tonight, but there’s a sense of anticipation, of curiosity about what the future holds.

minghao’s eyes grow heavy, and you can see the fatigue setting in. “we should probably get some sleep,” he murmurs, his voice soft and drowsy.

you nod, feeling the exhaustion creeping into your own limbs. “yeah, you’re right,” you agree, snuggling closer to him, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence.

he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his embrace. the feeling of his body against yours is reassuring, a silent promise that he’s here with you, that you’re not alone. you close your eyes, the events of the night replaying in your mind as you drift off to sleep.

the night passes slowly, filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing and the warmth of minghao’s embrace. when you wake in the morning, the first light of dawn filtering through the curtains, you feel a sense of calm, of clarity.

you glance over at minghao, his face peaceful in sleep, and you wonder how this will change things between you. there's a part of you that’s excited, that’s hopeful for what the future holds. but there’s also a realization that you can’t ignore: your current relationship with your boyfriend isn’t right for you.

the thought of breaking up with him has crossed your mind before, but it’s never been as clear as it is now. last night made you realize that you deserve to be with someone who understands you, someone who makes you feel safe and cherished. someone like minghao.

quietly, you slip out of minghao’s embrace, careful not to wake him. you sit up in bed, watching him for a moment, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing your anxious thoughts. leaning down, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, a silent thank you for everything he’s shown you, for the clarity he’s brought to your life.

minghao stirs slightly, a soft murmur escaping his lips, but he doesn’t wake. you smile softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face before you slip out of bed. the room is cool, and you shiver as you gather your clothes, dressing quickly and quietly.

before you leave, you take one last look at minghao, a sense of determination settling over you. you know what you have to do, and you’re ready to face it. you’re ready to make a change, to pursue something real and meaningful.

as you step out of the room and close the door softly behind you, the reality of what you need to do sinks in. you pull out your phone, staring at the screen for a moment at the spam messages he sent last night.

boyfriend: baby? boyfriend: yo where you at? boyfriend: people are telling me they saw you leave with that guy you claim to hate wtf??? boyfriend: IM WORRIED. IM GOING HOME. YOU BETTER CALL ME!

you sighed, before typing out a message to your boyfriend. it’s not an easy message to send, but it’s necessary.

you: we need to talk. you: i think it’s time for us to go our separate ways.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ — © DELUBOO 2024.

[rowie264]

Jinx x jinxer!reader. First kiss

Warnings: mention of stalking, mention of possessive behaviour, fluff

After your first encounter with Jinx, you began to see her more often. Somehow, she always knew where to find you and where you lived, appearing out of nowhere. You wondered if she was stalking you, but you tried not to dwell on that thought for the sake of your peace of mind.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like spending time with her. Jinx turned out to be completely different from what you used to think. Of course, it's true that she was dangerous and crazy, but you also found out how funny and passionate she was. It was really interesting to hear her explain how her bombs and other devices work, even though you barely understood the details.

She was an artist too, just like you. Her style was different, but no less fascinating. Sometimes you even painted something together on the walls of Zaun.

You couldn't deny your growing affection for her. Even considered her... a friend.

A few weeks later, you also began to notice that her behavior toward you was changing.

She was touchy from the very beginning – had no idea about personal space at all – but over time she became bolder and clingier. It was startling you at first but at some point you’ve got used to it, enjoying random touches and tight hugs as much as Jinx did.

But seems like for her it wasn’t enough.

She was becoming demanding and possessive. Often asked you to spend more time with her instead of Jinxers. Sometimes you caught her saying something she shouldn't have known (this is when you stopped ignoring whole stalking thing you had guesses about). Sometimes she would sneak into your bed to sleep beside you. Sometimes you have noticed that your belongings disappear for several days, but appear in the same place as if nothing had happened.

You knew you should be afraid and disgusted… but you didn’t. That's when you realized that you fell in love with her.

One day you came to Jinx's lair and saw that she was doing something at the workplace. You walked over and put your arms around her waist from behind. “A new project?” You ask, looking at the blueprints.

Jinx stiffens for a second before relaxing and leaning back against you. “Yep! A bomb that turns into smaller bombs jumping around before exploding!” She chirps with infectious enthusiasm.

“And the purpose? Besides fun I mean.” One of your hands starts slowly caressing her stomach, continuing to speak in as casual tone as possible. Today you wanted to push the boundaries even further. Do something that friends don't do and make sure that you were right in your assumptions.

“Ya know… bigger radius. Harder to dodge all of them too.” She tries to look unperturbed, but her breathing gets a little heavier, and you feel hard muscles tense under your fingers.

“Try to be careful with them, will you? Don’t throw it close to yourself.” You murmur brushing thumb against blue cloud on her side. Lately, you've been fantasizing about getting tattoos like the ones Jinx used to doodle on your arm. Those pink clouds were temporary, but you crave something more permanent - the real deal.

"I'm not that crazy. Besides, I haven't even built it yet." She snorts, but suddenly clenches her jaw when you nuzzle her temple, making her almost tremble with pleasure. She can't help but lean a little closer to you. Your tenderness makes her dizzy.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to do it. You are a genius.” You whisper into her ear and leave small kiss on the shell before pulling back.

The sight before your eyes makes your heart stop beating for a second. Jinx, the Loose Cannon, most wanted criminal in Piltover and simply craziest person you’ve ever met… had the most adorable blush in whole world. Her eyes were wide, lips slightly parted and it looked like she had squeezed the pen so hard that it broke.

“Are you alright?” You ask in soft voice taking her hand to inspect it for any signs of harm. Your concern dissipates upon finding her skin unscathed. Before she can say anything, you lift her hand to your lips and plant a kiss on her palm, looking directly into her eyes as you do.

Her mouth opens and closes, blush on her cheeks deepens. You caught her completely off guard.

“Aren’t you adorable?” you murmur out loud, slowly spinning her chair and leaning closer to her till your lips are mere inches apart. You can feel the warmth of her breath on your face. Her eyes flicker to your lips and back up. She is so cute, it’s maddening.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask her and wait patiently for permission. She looks at you, as if not sure this is real. After few moments she swallows lump in her throat and nods her head slowly, biting bottom lip. “P-please…”

Only then you close remained distance and finally kiss her, moving your lips against hers in slow and tender manner. Jinx tried her best to kiss back, but her inexperience shows. She’s a little clumsy, her movements uncertain, too shaky from nervousness and overwhelmed emotions.

As the kiss goes on Jinx relaxes more and more and wraps her arms around your neck, pressing her body closer against yours, as she gives in to new sensations.

The kiss slowly grows more urgent, and her hand clutches at your shirt. She’s starting to get a little lightheaded, letting out a small moan when you lean forward, pushing her slightly against the workbench.

You take this opportunity to slip your tongue into her mouth, causing her to whimper. She tries to mimic your movements swirling her own tongue around yours in passionate dance, making you want to deepen the kiss… but you stop yourself and pull back.

While you were both catching your breath, you could see her mouth slightly open as she stared at you with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her breathing quickened. She looked absolutely adorable like this.

“Enough for the first time.” You murmur with fond but playful smile. She immediately pouts, which makes you chuckle and scoop her into your warm embrace.

[revelboo]

Lord Megatron is here!!

Might get starscream some seeker friends...he's a little outnumbered

They have Thundercracker, Skywarp, Acid Storm, and Sunstorm so far

Drive Pt 3

Constructicons x Reader

• Growling when he returns from explaining to Megatron why his energon refinery wasn’t completed already, Scrapper stops short just inside the habsuite he shares with his brothers and stares at- honestly, he’s not sure what. But Mixmaster, Long Haul, and Scavenger are building something in a corner against the wall. And they’ve been busy while he’d been gone. Making little stairs so you can get on or off berths in addition to their current project. Running wild trying to provide for you and he gets it. It’s not like they actually really own anything that’s theirs. Never have. But now they have you. “Primus,” Scrapper growls, more annoyed they hasn’t waited on him to design the thing for them. “What are you doing?”

• Looking up guiltily, Scavenger gestures at the human sized structure. Embarrassed more than anything, though he thinks it looks fine. A series of floor and rooms for you. Building against the existing wall, but leaving the front open so they could just reach in after you if they need to. “Making the pet a place to sleep?” Glancing at Mixmaster who gestures at what they’d done like he’s showing it off. “Is it okay?” Because Scrapper has the ultimate say, but they’d been impatient and hadn’t waited for him. Having fun making something that’s for them, not the cause or Megatron.

• “It could have been a bit more artistic,” Scrapper mutters and Long Haul relaxes. If he’s on about form over function, Scrapper’s not upset. And most likely, their leader will add to it anyway. Make it more visually appealing, though Long Haul had never really understood that impulse. As long as something worked, why fuss over what it looks like?

• Trapped on the desk, you cry out as the biggest one uses a single servo to pin you flat on your back, struggling against the other one as he keeps messing with your ankle and snarling at you to be still. “Behave, you little brat,” he snaps and you admit defeat, teeth gritted as he wraps your ankle. They’d found two bits of metal and sandwiched your leg between them, wrapping it to make a crude splint. Hoping the fact that they’re doing that much means you’re safe. Because they’d been surprisingly gentle with you so far. Finally the one pinning you lets you up and you scoot away from them both, studying what they’d done.

• “Thank you,” you say and Hook freezes in surprise. Because no one thanks them for anything. They demand things of them, but they’re never showed any gratitude for what they do. Venting, he rubs at his helm and awkwardly offers you a servo. “Whatever,” he mutters. Watches you look from his servo to him, waiting for you to cower away again. So it’s a surprise when you grab onto him and let him pull you to your feet. Sees you wince when you put your weight on the leg, but you stay upright. And your attention turns to the others.

• Seeing you studying their work, Mixmaster comes over and picks you up, carrying you over. Setting you inside, they watch you limp around as you examine your new home. Leaning to look up at the stairs leading to the upper level, you reach a hand to touch the tiny berth. “This is… great. You made this for me?” You ask, looking up at them. Smiling even if it seems a bit strained, but that could be because you’re in pain. Of course, you’ll need soft things to line the berth. Whatever it is humans eat. “Thank you,” you add.

• They made you a doll house. With one wall just missing, that’s all you can think of. And little alarm bells are ringing in your head as you make a show of looking around while they watch. They’d made you a doll house like you’d needed a place to stay. Like you are staying, not going home. And they’re just staring expectantly at you as you smile when you just want to cry. Because you’re not a pet, but you’re too scared of angering them to argue about it. Keeping that smile firmly in place as they introduce themselves, your eyes burning and feeling faintly sick. Hating yourself for being too terrified of their wrath to ask to go home as they talk amongst themselves, and one, Scavenger, kneeling and reaching to absently pat you on the head.

Previous

Next

[baby-yongbok]

Ex

Boyfriend!Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

⇝ Genre: Angst then Smut then angst again. Dirty Drama.

⇝ Summary: We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of.

⇝ Warnings: Cheating , Arguing/Yelling, Dry Humping, Crying, Hyunjin is toxic - the manipulative type. (I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything!)

⇝ Word Count: 2.9k

⇝ A/N: I'm sorry in advance. I live for the drama, I'm so so sorry. My depresso has been prompting me to write angst and this is what I came up with today. It might be intense? I don't know honestly. All I know is that writing angst makes me happy lol + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy! Please don't hate me 💕

✧ Part II ✧ Masterlist ✧

It started with him forgetting coffee dates. The small chunks of time that the two of you carved out of your day to spend with each other quickly turned into bottled Starbucks drinks and ignored texts while you made your way to work. He said that it was because of his schedule and Hyunjin would never lie to you. 

Next were your nightly video calls. The two hours that you’d spend talking about your days and making future plans morphed into double and triple texting him until he replies with a lackluster night time send off and a declaration of love that you have no choice but to imagine leaving his lips. You haven’t heard from him in forever but it’s okay, you can fix this. 

You’re an artist, a digital artist for a living but a painter as a hobby. This trait is one of the many things that you and Hyunjin bonded over so when you proposed that the two of you do Paint and Sip dates on Friday nights he was all in. Everything was fine for a couple of weeks, you’d pick the picture and you’d both get to painting while you listen to your shared Spotify playlist. You’d talk and laugh while sipping whatever wine he brought with him, everything was finally feeling normal again but there was one thing that kept bothering you. 

His phone.

 It kept blowing up, vibrating, dinging and lighting up throughout the night. You’ve always understood that Hyunjin is a busy guy and his friends may need to reach him at odd hours of the night but there was something more to what you saw. He would ignore a message or two from Jeongin or even decline Chan’s calls from time to time but whenever his phone lit up with that damned flower icon he’d drop his brush like his life depended on it. 

You figured that as long as he’s here with you everything is fine. You never liked to micro manage and you're not the jealous type so snooping around wasn’t something that you were very into, until he canceled on you. Again. This is the third week that he’s said that something has come up and that he’ll be over at your place late. When you read his text you were already staring at his laptop wondering if it was really necessary to snoop through his cloud and read his texts. Surely he had a reasonable explanation for this right? Hyunjin would never lie to you. Right? You wanted to be right so badly and when you opened the computer, put in his password and clicked on the cloud you found out that you couldn’t be more wrong.

“What are you still doing up?” Hyunjin asked as he tiptoed into your bedroom. You were sitting at your desk with your phone in your hand, staring at your screen.

“How was your night?” You ask as you swipe on your phone, your eyes never leave the screen but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice.

“It was fine, got a lot done.” He turns towards your closet door but stops when he processes the mess around him. “Are these my clothes?”

“Yeah, you’re going to pack all of that along with whatever else you have around here and you’re going to leave.” He stares at you with pinched brows and then he takes in his scattered belongings again.

“What?” 

“You’re going to pack your shit.” You stand from your chair, glaring at him with narrow eyes. “And you’re going to go stay with her.”

You can practically hear him choke on his inhale once your words hit his ear. “Who are you talking about?”

“I can always make time for you just give me the date and the place.” You read from the screenshots illuminating your screen as you stalk towards him. “I hate when you ignore me, you know how much your attention means to me.”

“Stop it.” He turns to face you completely, watching you with worried eyes glazed with guilt.

“It doesn’t matter who I’m seeing, you know that you come first.” You project your voice so that it echoes off of every surface, he doesn’t get to avoid this. “Call me, I need to hear my baby.”

“How did you find those, you -” He sighs as you cut him off, practically yelling the next message.

“You left too many hickies to cover this time, I’ll return the favor on Friday.” 

“Enough of that, enough.” His tone tries to match yours but it fails, falling off into a pitiful whisper at the end. “You went through my computer?” 

He looks over at you with a cocktail of disbelief and disgust smeared over his features but you’re more than sure that the look on your face has got him beat. “ You’re fucking your ex.”

“It’s not like that, it's -” You cut him off, taking a wide step towards him.

“It’s not like that? You’re begging her for her time. You’re texting her every minute of every day. You’re fucking her and then coming here and fucking me, Hyunjin.”

“I know, okay I get that you’re mad, I’m sorry I just can’t let her go yet. It’s like there’s a piece of me that only she has possession of and no matter how much I try to ignore it I just can’t.” He runs his hands through his hair, his eyes taking in the way that your gaze cuts into him. 

“It’s been a year. I’ve been with you for an entire year. When did you have time to start this? How long have you been fucking her?” He shakes his head, turning towards the bedroom door to escape the situation in front of him. You follow hot on his trail, repeating your question. “How long?” You ask over and over until he finally snaps, yelling his answer in the middle of the living room.

“A couple of months, I don’t know five or six? Maybe even seven I don’t fucking know.” You scoff as rage floods through your veins and you pick up the nearest object and chuck it at him with all of the force you can muster. He dodges it easily but he doesn’t have as much luck with the remote that follows the path of the last item. “ Yara, stop it.”

The hiss in his voice turns into a loud gasp once he realizes his mistake. “Excuse me?” He called you by her name. His ex's name. 

“Fuck, I- I didn’t mean to call you that, angel, I swear it’s because we’re talking about her. That’s all. You’re not her, you’re so much better I swear. Let’s just - just talk about this okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I want you out of my house, now. I’m done, Hyunjin. I’ve been begging for your attention for months and you’re off giving it to someone who’s using you for sex and attention. I did so much, I’ve done everything, but clearly you love fucking so much that you fucked me over. Are you proud of that shit? Are you happy?” He takes a couple of slow steps over to you as you stand there, chest heaving and heart heavy with the sadness that has allowed your burning anger to be the star of the show until now. Maybe if he shows you that he wants you, maybe if he says that you two can fix this you’ll consider believing him.

We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of. He’s not at fault for being bound to her so tightly, even if he broke your heart in the process. 

“Listen, angel, I love you so much. I want to be with you, I really do, no one else has fought for me and my time like you have. I don’t want to lose that, please let’s just talk about this. I’ll do anything for you, I swear.” Your glare softens, call it wishful thinking or maybe you’re blinded by the desperate burn of love in your chest but you believe him. You believe him just enough to let him splay his long fingers over the curve of your hip and pull you closer to him.

“Why do you need me if you have her?” You stare at the middle of his chest, watching it rise and fall.

“Because you love me in a way that she never could and never will.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple as he brings his other hand to your waist. “She doesn’t see me like you do.”

He kisses over the shell of your ear, making his way down your neck. Your body is pressed against his as his hand kneads at the swell of your ass and he runs his tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck. You exhale heavily, bringing your hands up to rest on his biceps. You want to push him away, you want to get to the bottom of this and talk to him, so why are you pulling him closer? Why are you allowing small moans to leave your lips as he hypnotizes you into forgetting what he’s been doing to you.

“Hyunjin, stop it.” Your voice falters on the last word, giving way to the whimper fighting to escape your throat. 

“Push me away.” He whispers into your ear, his soft lips brushing against the shell of it and setting your nerves on fire. “If you mean it then push me away.” 

He stops everything, he doesn’t kiss you or squeeze you, you can hear the soft sound of his breathing and feel the gentle beating of his heart as his chest is pressed against your own. You can’t do this, you shouldn’t do this, your brain is screaming at you. You know better than to fall for this, push him away, now. Do it. 

“Don’t stop.” Your eyes flutter shut when he squeezes your ass again, pressing your hips into his so that the bulge in his pants pokes your belly button as it twitches in anticipation. 

“Say it again.” He plants a whisper of a kiss over your temple. “Say it again, angel, say my name.”

“Don’t stop, Hyunjin, please.” His kisses get sloppier as he gets closer to your lips, he plants a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth before catching your lips with his plump ones. You sigh into him, your hands fisting his shirt as your tongue tangles with his. He moans into your mouth, his hands tracing your hips as he takes some steps back, leading you both to the couch. 

“Tell me that you forgive me, baby.” He sits once the frame of the couch hits the back of his legs, dragging you down with him so that you're straddling his hips. His bulge pressed firmly into your dripping heat and you can’t help but to grind against him. Before you can settle into a steady rhythm Hyunjin grips your hips, holding you still against him. “Tell me.”

“I forgive you.” You mumble, the words sound just fine when they roll off of your tongue. They taste sweet as you lick your lips, staring into your lover's eyes defeatedly. You’re too deep into the brain fog, too desperate to feel the love that you’ve been chasing for months. You’d say anything just to feel Hyunjin touch you. You’d do anything to keep him here. 

“I knew you would.” He smiles up at you, starting to guide your hips against him. You throw your head back, your face contorting into a mask of pleasure. Hyunjin's fingers trace your jawline, sending chills down your spine. You close your eyes, allowing him access to any part of you he desires. “You need me too. Just like I need you, don’t you?”

You nod your head, picking up the rhythm of your hips as he starts to roll into you, matching your pace flawlessly. “I do, oh my god, I missed you.” You babble into the hot air as your hands find purchase on his shoulders. You can feel the night scarf covering your hair slip over the crown of your head and fall to the floor, your unruly hair frames your face and Hyunjin can’t help but to moan at the sight. 

“I missed my pretty baby too.” He grunts, eyebrows pinching together as he watches where your clothed cores press into each other. “Oh, fuck, I missed you so much.”

His hands are all over you as you move against him like he’s trying to memorize the pattern of your skin. He’s reintroducing himself with every pulse point that he can reach, lighting every inch of your skin aflame with desire. “Tell me your mine. Tell me you love me, please, please say it.”

“I’m all yours, angel. All fucking yours.” His hips buck up into you as your movements become more sloppy, your climax is dangling right in front of your face. It’s burning in the pit of your stomach, a strangled moan drags from your lips as you get closer to it.

“Again p-please, please, so close ‘s so close Jinnie, again.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, whimpers following your fucked out sentence as your eyes watch Hyunjin. You watch how he bites the tip of his tongue as he gets lost in this bubble of pleasure with you. Your own perfect shield of hot desire. 

“I love you.” He moans, throwing his head back against the couch, his grip on your hip tightens. The strength of his grasp is brushing yet delicious. “I’m yours. I’m all -” 

The melodic sound of Hyunjin’s phone ringing cut him off before he could finish his sentence. His head snaps up as his eyes widen and he stops moving against you. “Get off.”

You whimper, confused eyes staring down at him through your fucked out fog. “Angel, move.” He pushes you to the side much rougher than he intended and you watch him as he stands quickly, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and swiping the green button immediately. 

“Hey.” He clears his throat trying his best to not sound like he was seconds away from coming in his pants. “Yeah I can do that, just give me like twenty minutes, okay?” 

You listen, coming out of your haze just enough to process the situation. That ringtone sounded familiar, it’s the one that he always answers… It's her.

“Hyunjin.” You reach forward, grabbing his wrist but he pulls away, glancing back at you for just a second before turning his attention back to the phone call. 

“Nothing, that’s no one, I’m on my way.” You scoff, watching as he ends the call and starts to frantically fix his clothes. “I have to go something um - something came up.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Hyunjin ignores you, making his way over to your bedroom with you following close behind, a mirror image of what happened minutes ago. “You’re going to her? 

“She said that she needs me and I don’t -” 

“You just told me that you were mine. You just said that, Hyunjin.” You grab his wrist, prompting him to turn to you. He stares down at you with furrowed brows and glassy eyes like he’s in a fog, like he’s been hypnotized to follow a specific instruction. 

“And you said that you forgive me.” He reaches up to cup your cheek and your body melts into his touch before you can even fully process it. “I’ll be back tomorrow, angel. I’ll be yours tomorrow.”

His touch is gone just as fast as it came, leaving you with an empty ache in your chest as you watch him grab his bag and jacket. You stay rooted in place, feeling like your heart has been ripped out of your chest. “Hyunjin.” 

There’s a tremble in your voice as you say his name but he doesn’t seem to mind, it’s like he didn’t even hear you. “I love you.” He leans in to kiss your temple but misses completely, planting a half hearted peck against your hair as he rushes towards the door. You watch as he leaves, quiet and stunned. There are a million thoughts going through your head but you still feel unable to process what had just happened. The sound of the front door closing is what draws you out of your thoughts. 

The silence surrounding you allows room for the reality of the situation to echo around you, bouncing off of the walls and drowning you in this painfully unfamiliar feeling in your chest. You take a sharp inhale as tears start to prick at the back of your eyes. What was supposed to be a stable step towards your bed leaves sinking against its frame. You find yourself grasping one of Hyunjin’s shirts on the floor beneath you, your eyes trail from that garment to the next frantically. He’s everywhere. You can smell him, the soft cotton of the shirt makes you feel like you can feel the beating of his heart beneath it. Tears blur your vision as you sob into the fabric, clutching onto it like it’s all that you have left of him. Maybe it is. You gasp, a choked sob struggling past your lips as the true weight of the moment finally settles on your shoulders.

We all have that one toxic person that we can’t let go of.

[whompthatsucker1981]

you said you think gay sex cats is the new duchamp's fountain. i dont disagree and i kinda see what you mean already but please elaborate

it was a silly and tongue in cheek way to say that a lot of people are getting mad about it in a way that implies reactionary views on art, and that there's no way to say gay sex cats isn't art that wouldn't also imply that the fountain isn't art. a funny meme image is a funny meme image, but it is also funny to overthink and recontextualize them as art.

and the reaction makes the comparison even more apt. neural net generated artworks are anonymized mass produced images, vast majority having no artistic pretension or meaningful content such as a thomas kinkade painting. gay sex cats was made with no intent to be art, but the discourse it has with audience reaction and its appropriation in derivative works make it so. why is gay sex cats not art if people talking about it negatively allow it to be called art? is art only things you find beautiful and valuable? if so, what is value and beauty, and how do you draw the line? if gay sex cats was still ai generated but had more "aesthetic qualities" would it be art? if someone copies the original image by hand with all its ai generated faults where is the value generated? does the original still have no merit of its own, even after appropriation as a digital ready-made?

but the main reason as to why gay sex cats is comparable to the fountain still is because it made a lot of people with bad takes on art really really mad. and that the pissed off tags wouldn't look out of place as reaction to modern art in the 1920s. art is a flat circle

EDIT: well. putting an addendum because in retrospect more people took either or both the op and image in face value and much more self serious than ever intended. a lot of people understood the tone i was getting at, and i still stand by the questionings i added on, but still for clarification. the original comparison is not serious. it's self evidently ridiculous to compare a meme image to a historically significant artwork, the comparison was only drawn because they were both controversial to an audience, who reacted denying their status as respectively as an image and as art, and that it was funny that the negative reaction people had to the original image explicitly denied its status as art, even if the meme never had pretension to be art, so it was funny to draw a comparison and iterate on that.

i did think it was valid to bring in questionings about art and meaning because that's the reaction i saw most and wanted to make people think about the whys, and that also i do not think it's valid to base your dislike on ai art on either grounds of questioning its position and value as artwork, or even as a question of ip theft. regular degular handmade art can be soulless, repetitive, thoughtless, derivative, unethical, open and blatant theft, and much more, and that does not make it any less of an artwork. neural nets are tools that generate images by statistic correlation through human input.

the unambiguous issue with neural nets in art is its use as a tool by capital, to threaten already underpaid and overworked working artists and to keep their labor hostage under threat of total automation. in hindsight i regretted not adding the paragraph above as it was a way in which people could either misinterpret or assume things about me, but hindsight is hindsight and there's no way to predict how posts would blow up. so shrugs. i had written more posts in my blog that elaborated on that because asks would bot stop coming. and i think my takeaway is that people will reblog anything with a funny image without reading the words around it, or even closely looking at the image.

[tamberella]

Congratulations on your author debut, I'm so excited for your book!! 😇💕

Would you consider talking about the whole process of becoming a book illustrator /children's book author?

Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!! And I'd be happy to share the process!

It all started for me with my 3dTotal artbook. 3dTotal is a small publisher in the UK, and they mainly focus on collections of artists' work. They use Kickstarter to fund each book, and my agent (the amazing Seth Fishman at Gernert) discovered me through the Kickstarter for my artbook Windows to Worlds!

He asked if I had any interest in working on graphic novels or picture books, and I had already been thinking about picture books! He found me my first picture book project with Penguin Workshop, Mother of Sharks, written by the awesome Melissa Cristina Márquez, which came out last year!

While I was working on Mother of Sharks, I was also talking with him about developing The Bakery Dragon, based of course on this painting, which was (and is) one of my proudest artistic moments.

For a little background on the painting, I painted it right after a really challenging couple of months medically - I was dealing with medical complications from my chronic illness for about 6 months, and I wasn't able to finish a single painting the whole time, I was just too exhausted from hospital visits and being in pain. That painting was the first piece I was able to actually complete (both emotionally and literally) in about half a year. So it always held a really special place in my heart, and I really wanted to keep living in that little world. I think there's something in it that is very special to me, about being outside in the cold, seeing warmth and love through a glass barrier, and wanting desperately to reach it.

With Seth's guidance, over a couple months, I developed a pitch for it. The script developed slowly alongside the designs for characters, locations, etc.

(Early version of Ember above! He has changed a bit!)

I thought I had already read a lot of picture books, I've always loved them, but I read hundreds and hundreds during this process. There is something uniquely fun and challenging about telling a complete narrative in 48 pages (which is already a long picture book, many are 32!) My book also pulls some elements from comics, such as speech bubbles, which I found to be incredible assets for humor and character development.

My pitch included designs, some early example spreads, and a rough script with story beats and jokes! My agent took it out into the world, and the publisher we ended up going forward with was Knopf, an imprint of Penguin Random House! I absolutely love the Knopf team and the beautiful books they put out! My editor, Katherine Harrison, really understood what I wanted to accomplish and has been so incredibly helpful in her guidance!

And from there... through rewrites, dialog adjustments, and lots and lots of drawings, it became a book! I'm happy to answer questions about the process! I'll leave you guys with a little preview from the interior of the book! (And of course you can pre-order it here, gotta learn the author skill of always including that link haha!)

[enha-roza]

ENHYPEN JEALOUS MOMENTS

Enhypen x 8thmember!oc

synopsis : Times where the Enhypen members were jealous over Roza.

wc : 3k

Heeseung : 

It was the Golden Disk Awards where the Enhypen members were walking around the stage with the other artists at the end of the show when Roza and Keeho almost bumped into each other. Immediately Heeseung's eyes were glued to the pair as they started up a convo. Keeho being Roza’s ex was already one reason Heeseung hated the idea of them talking but a second reason came when he watched as Keeho sild his hands around Roza waist as they hugged goodbye before walking their separate ways. 

Heeseung knew he had no right to be jealous but he couldn't help it. Roza, oblivious to Heeseung's Mood, cheerfully joined him by his side. “That felt a little awkward” She giggled as Heeseung brushed her off, joining Jake's side in front of him. Roza, confused as to why he did this, quickly joined his side again. “Is something wrong?”. “Nope…” Heeseung deadpanned as if the problem was obvious. “You're acting weird…”. “I wonder why!” Heeseung rebuttals as he walks further ahead not wanting to deal with this on stage. Jake, who had witnessed both Roza and Keeho talking as well as Heeseung's reaction, immediately knew what was up. “Hey, don't worry I'll talk to him” Roza thanked him before joining Sunoo and Sooyoung as they waved at the fans.

“Dude, no way you are jealous that Roza talked to Keeho-”. “It's not about that!” Heeseung cut him off. “It's… it’s the way he touched her… makes me feel uneasy!”. He said as Jake listened. “They can talk for all I care but he acts like her boyfriend when he's not. He doesn't need to touch her like that”. “You Touch her like that and you're not her boyfriend…” Jake teased as Heeseung glared at him. “That's different”. “Not really. I mean you literally would kiss her if given the chance”. “That's not the point!”. “But you're not denying it!” Jake smirked as he winked at him before leaving a very flustered Heeseung behind. 

Later when Roza was sitting at her desk writing some lyrics, she heard a knock on her door. “Come in!” Heeseung's head poked through her door before asking if he could talk with her. “Yea what's up?”. “I wanted to talk about earlier…” Heeseung said, pulling her to sit on her bed with him. “I saw you talking to Keeho, got a little angry and took it out on you which i shouldn't have”. “That's what you were mad about?” Roza said, finally understanding what upset Heeseung. “Yeah I don't know… i think it was the way he touched you… twisted something inside me” 

Roza giggled as she understood that Heeseung was jealous of Keeho. “You're jealous!”. “What! No, I'm not jealous”. “You so are! You're jealous I was talking to my ex boyfriend and he gave me a hug!”. Feeling heat rise to his face, Heeseung just sat unable to deny his jealousy. “Okay maybe just a little… but still he doesn't need to put his hands all over you”. “Why? Because that's something only you can do?”. “Yes- I mean no but just not him. Next thing you know he's gonna kiss you or something” he blabbered as he got more and more defensive. 

“And why would you care… not like we're gonna kiss” Roza whispered as a smirk slowly appeared on her face making Heeseung suspicious. “Why are you smirking…”. “A little birdie told me you would kiss me given the chance…” Heeseung immediately knew Jake had told Roza about their conversation earlier. “That's not what I meant!”. “So you don't wanna kiss me?” Roza giggled as Heeseung started back tracking. “Not that I wouldn't, I just don't wanna make you uncomfortable and we're members, wouldn't that make things wei-” Heeseung was cut off as Roza planted a kiss on his cheek before giggling and walking out leaving Heeseung sat on her bed flustered, once again. 

Jay : 

Jay was the least likely to get jealous out of the enhypen members, so when he gets jealous it's pretty easy for him to calm down. The members day had started with some practice before some schedules. One of those schedules being the HYBE Caterer Games. The day was going well and the members were having a fun time with the other idols. 

It was the section where the idols had to bring someone who fit the question of the piece of paper they got. It was Roza’s turn when she got a paper which said ‘someone who plays guitar’. Roza panicking, looked around before running up to TXT’s table asking if any of them played guitar, when Beomgyu said he did she quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. Jay overhearing this felt a small pang in his chest. He plays guitar. Roza knows this very well. He often played guitar for her and sometimes she would sing as lays her head on his shoulder. 

As time came for Roza to prove her answer was good enough, the staff pulled out a guitar and told Beomgyu to play something. “If I play something you can sing!” Beomgyu said as Roza nodded, liking his idea. “Do you know ‘Wi ing Wi ing by Hyukoh’?”. “Yes, I love that song!” Beomgyu started to strum the intro before Roza started to sing along. The fellow idols clapped as the duo finished their mini performance. Jay watched wishing she had picked him.

When Roza joined the enhypen members after, Jay leaned over to ask her a question that was on his mind. “Why didn't you pick me for that question?”. “Oh my god, I completely blanked. Of course you play guitar! I knew I knew someone…”. Roza placed her arm on his shoulder trying to reassure him. “I swear if I hadn't panicked I would have picked you. I'm so sorry!”. Jay now feeling bad, quickly smiled seeing her clearly feeling bad herself. “Hey, it's okay! I'm just playing with you”. Roza, feeling better, laid her head on Jay. “I promise I will never sing as another man plays guitar again!”. “Only if it's me?”. “Only you!” Jay laughed at her dramatic Antics. 

Jake : 

One thing Jake and Roza had in common was they both spoke english. They almost exclusively spoke in english when it was just them two. So imagine Jake when Roza said in a live that ‘Felix was someone she loved talking to because they both spoke English’. It should have not rubbed Jake the way it did but he felt a little jealous at that statement.  He felt like whenever he spoke English with Roza, it felt like he could tell her anything, it was just them in their own little world. 

It also didn't help that Felix also was a close friend of Jake himself, being a fellow Australian. He knew Felix well and knew he was super kind and charming something Jake didn't think he would get jealous of. This came full force when both groups were promoting at the same time and they gonna film some tiktoks together. Felix and Roza paired up to do some together. Standing behind the camera Jake watched as the two interacted and spoke between themselves. 

Watching as the two conversed in English, laughed at each other's jokes, soon followed by a hug as the two parted ways. Jake felt a little childish being jealous of his two close friends getting along. “Felix is such a sweetheart!” Roza said, sitting down next to Jake in their waiting room. “Yeah, he’s genuinely one of the kindest people I know,” Jake said, almost zoning out. “Hey, you okay?”. “Hmm, yeah yeah, I'm good”. “What's with that face then”. “It's nothing… just missed talking to you” Roza clearly didn't believe him as the duo had spent all day talking to each other.

“Tell me the truth or I won't talk to you for the rest of the day”. “No, you're gonna laugh at me!”. “Why? What happened!” Jake, suddenly feeling shy at his jealousy, tried to avoid the question. “Jake… you know you can tell me anything”. “I don't know… watching you and Felix talk to each other made me feel a little jealous…”. “Really?”. “Yeah, I guess” he giggled as he avoided eye contact. “Well I hope you know you're still my favorite Australian!”. “Good! I better be. I'm the only Australian you should be looking at!” he said playfully. “Not even Chris Hemsworth!”. “Not even him!”. The pair laughed as they further talked between them, again in their own little world.  

Sunghoon : 

Sunghoon was a very jealous man. So adding Roza to the mix, someone who Sunghoon was possessive over made his jealousy 10 times more heightened. While the members were at a fansign, Sunghoon noticed a male fan further down in line talking to one of the other members. This stood out to him as enhypen had an overwhelming amount of female fans. When time came for him to talk to this fan he unconsciously found himself asking pointed questions trying to find out more about the fan. “Who's your bias?”. “Roza definitely! She's very pretty and super talented!” Sunghoon nodded in agreement as they continued to chat.

After the male fan talked with Jake and Niki, he sat in front of Roza ready to talk to his bias. Sunghoon suddenly felt himself feeling very jealous. He knew they had male fans, how could they not. Both Roza and Sooyoung were gorgeous and talented, it was a given. But that didn't stop his jealousy for Roza anytime she interacted with a male fan. Without realizing he had been staring at the two as they laughed until a fan had sat themselves in front of him. By the time he had finished talking the male fan had moved on from Roza and had joined the others back in the audience. 

After all the fans had passed it was time for them to wear and show off the gifts the fans had given them. “Roza, can you pose for me please?” the male fan's voice called out, catching the attention of Sunghoon. Roza, who had now been decorated with a cute headband placed on her head by another fan and given a flounder the fish plushie, posed for the camera. “You're so pretty!”. “Thank you!!” Roza replied to him after he snapped multiple photos of her.

Sunghoon, feeling the urge to show Roza off as his, placed a leather jacket over her shoulders to match the one he had on. “Were a couple” he said out loud as fans giggled at the cute reaction. “Don't think I haven't seen you eyeing me and that male fan all day” Roza whispered as Sunghoon slid his arm over her shoulder posing for other fans. “I have no idea what you're talking about?” he whispered back, trying to gaslight her. “Okay sure… you definitely aren't jealous” she teased. Sunghoon just smiled before going to find more couple items for them to try. 

Sunoo : 

Sunoo and Roza quickly became close very quickly during I-Land. One of the things they bonded over being skincare. Every night the duo would sit in front of the mirrors and take off their makeup and do some quick skincare. Connection was a big thing with Sunoo, he enjoyed being in the presence of others and building unique bonds with them. Skincare was that bond with Roza. 

So understandably Sunoo felt a little upset when Roza skipped out on doing skincare with him to do skincare with the other female I-Landers. This was a special thing the two did, it had become routine. “Wait, did you already do your skincare?” Sunoo asked, looking at her fresh face. “Oh yeah, just quickly did it with the other trainees while the bathroom was free. “Oh okay…” Sunoo said walking off before he could show how upset he really was. Roza noticed his odd reaction and decided to follow after him. 

“What are you doing?”. “Just waiting around…i feel bad doing my skincare without you”. “Don't feel bad! One time won't hurt”. “Doesn't matter. Felt a little weird not doing my skincare with you anyway, so this will make up for it!”. Sunoo smiled as she hung around until he was done and both headed to bed for some well deserved rest. 

Sooyoung : 

Sooyoung and Roza were inseparable that's for sure. They shared secrets, dreams to achieve everything as idols, and a room filled with laughter. Often spending time in between their busy schedules to just be in each other's presence. Shortly after debut Roza made many friends with other idols. Sooyoung felt a twinge of unease each time she saw Roza’s glowing smile as she talked with Winter backstage or the cute post she made with Ryujin. Sooyoung watched from a distance, her heart heavy with jealousy. She missed her soulmate. 

One afternoon, while sitting in their shared room, she noticed Roza dressed up ready to leave. “Are you going somewhere?”. “Oh yeah, I'm going to hang out with Winter. We're gonna go to this new cat cafe!” Sooyoung nodded as she left the room. Sooyoung wanted to reach out. Saying she wanted to tag along but didn't want to bother them, despite her wanting to spend time with her Unnie. That feeling didn't go away though, soon Sooyoung found herself pacing in their room, wrestling with her feelings. Did she push Roza away? Summoning her courage, she texted Roza “wanna do something when you're done with winter? I miss you.”

To Sooyoung’s surprise, Roza replied almost immediately “Of course! Wanna go to a record store? Can get some of those Olivia Rodrigo albums you wanted!”. "Sounds good, I'll meet you later!”. After meeting up and shopping around they sat together on a swing, the sun filtering through the leaves of the tree leaves as the park slowly emptied out. Sooyoung took a deep breath. “I’ve missed you, Roza. I feel like we don’t spend time together anymore… I know that sounds kinda weird since we share a room.” Sooyoung said shyly, not sure how to approach this topic. Roza looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. “I had no idea you felt that way! I thought you were busy with your own stuff.”

Sooyoung nodded, feeling vulnerable. “I’ve been a bit jealous. I love your new friends, but I miss our time together.” Roza’s expression softened. “I totally get it. We've been caught up in everything, but you’re still my soulmate. I don’t want to lose that.” Relief washed over Sooyoung. “Me too. Let’s find a way to balance it all.” The girls smiled at each other, a renewed bond forming in the space between them. They made plans to hang out regularly, including their own cat cafe dates and some other hangouts with both girls' idol friends. 

Jungwon : 

Even though Jungwon was one of the youngest members of enhypen, he took his role of leader seriously. He often found himself looking out for Roza. she was a member who always looked out for him so he always tried to do the same back. One of the many things Jungwon liked to do was let Roza rest on his shoulder as she slept between schedules. Jungwon was doing exactly that when the manager came up to him telling him he had a tiktok to film with a fellow idol. 

After filming, Jungwon was ready to go back to his sleepy Noona. But Jungwon was a little disappointed when he walked back into the waiting room to find Roza’s head resting on Heeseungs shoulder. Sitting down next to them before moving Roza’s head so it would rest back on his shoulder, not Heeseung. “What are you doing?” Heeseung asked, confused. “It will be more comfortable for her like this” He replied making up a reason for her to rest on him instead. 

Soon Jake walked up to them filming for the behind the scenes. “And here we have Roza and Jungwon,” He whispered, zooming the camera in on Roza resting on Jungwon’s shoulder. Jungwon put his finger to his lips, “be quiet, our beauty is sleeping,” Camera now focusing on her sleeping face. “Leave us alone,” Jungwon jokingly said, hoping for some alone time. “Okay, okay!” Jake giggled as he moved to filming Sunghoon. His Noona quietly resting on his shoulder made him smile. 

Niki : 

Niki considered himself Roza’s baby. Her only baby. Even though he pretended to hate when his members babied him, he always felt cared for when they did. Especially when Roza babied him. Small things she did for him, making sure he's eaten, Buying him anything he wanted and many more. So imagine Niki’s reaction when he found out Roza had another baby or so he thought. 

Soul was someone Roza grew close to when she had dated Keeho as he was also half Japanese and half Korean, like Roza herself. It all started when he noticed a contact in her phone named ‘mini me’. Trying to sneakily look over her shoulder as she sent a cute message sending soul a supportive message wishing him luck for their upcoming comeback. 

“Who’s that?” Niki whispered. “Oh, it's soul from P1Harmony, he's also born in 2005”. Niki just nodded, feeling a small churn in his heart. “Are you guys close?”. “Yea, He reminds me of you, he's also a talented dancer!” Roza said cheerfully. “You guys could be friends!”. “But I'm still your baby, right?” Roza realized why Niki was acting so weird. “Of course you are!” she said, sliding her hand into his hair to play with it as he laid on her shoulder. “You're my only baby! Soul’s like a little brother to me”. “Promise?”. “Promise!”. The two wrapped their pinkies together as Niki snuggled into his Noona, happy to be her only Baby.

a/n : tried writing a decent amount for each member! hope yall enjoy xoxo

[promptedwordsmith]

What are the LaDS like at Christmas?

Really late but had this in my drafts for a really long time and didn't want to have to wait another year to post it <3

Caleb:

It was Christmas Eve, the air crisp with a gentle frost, and the house was wrapped in the quiet warmth of holiday lights. The faint scent of cinnamon and pine mingled in the air, the sound of carols softly playing in the background. Outside, the world was blanketed in snow, but inside, it was nothing but the comforting glow of the tree and the crackling of the fireplace.

Caleb stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the streetlights outside. He was still wearing his uniform, though he had taken off his jacket. His purple eyes were lost in thought, staring at the snowflakes that danced in the winter air. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself moments of calm like this—especially not with his responsibilities weighing so heavily on his shoulders—but tonight, he made an exception. Tonight, he was here, with you.

Turning away from the window, his gaze softened as he caught sight of you, nestled in the cozy armchair by the fire. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, a rare sight these days, one that was just for you. His footsteps were light on the hardwood floors as he approached, his presence familiar and grounding.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, like a promise you didn’t have to question. He crouched down beside you, reaching for your hand, his fingers brushing gently over yours, as though afraid you might disappear if he touched you too roughly.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his eyes. For all the weight of his duties, all the walls he put up, this side of Caleb—this gentle, romantic Caleb—was still there. He hadn’t forgotten how to love you in the quiet, simple ways that mattered most.

“I’m glad we’re here,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I don’t need anything more than this—just you, and... the quiet.”

You smiled, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, there was no Colonel, no coldness. Just Caleb, the man you had known all your life, and the man who still cherished you, even in the midst of everything that had changed.

“Happy Christmas,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

In that moment, everything felt right. Even if it was fleeting, Caleb’s love was something you would hold onto—now, and always.

Rafayel

It was the night of Rafayel's latest exhibition, and you were there—not exactly for the art, but to make sure he didn’t disappear into the night again. Last time, Thomas had nearly lost his mind when Rafayel went missing for hours, leaving the gallery empty. Tonight, though, Rafayel spent the majority of the evening whining to you.

"I just want to go home, relax... Can't we leave already?" he grumbled, slouching against you, his eyes practically pleading with you.

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, your heart warming at the sight of him. It was hard to imagine this carefree, childish side of him as the same person who, just moments ago, had been impeccably poised and professional as patrons arrived to admire his art.

"I thought you were supposed to be an artist," you teased, nudging him playfully.

"Ugh, I am an artist," he sighed, exasperated, but you knew the moment the crowd would thin, he’d turn back into his sulking self. Sure enough, the moment the room emptied and it was just the two of you, he slumped against you once more, his voice low and full of irritation.

"Is it time to leave yet?"

You giggled, shaking your head. His frustration was endearing, but you understood why he hated the bustle of it all. In truth, you were in the same boat. Though you’d been surrounded by art and people all evening, it felt like you hadn’t had much time together at all, and Rafayel hated that.

The second it was acceptable to leave, he was practically dragging you out the door. You tried to keep up as he moved quickly, a sense of urgency in his steps. You smiled to yourself—he was so impatient when it came to being away from you.

When you finally reached his studio home, Rafayel turned to you with a mischievous grin. “Wait outside,” he instructed, his tone sharp, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but frown.

It was December, and the cold air made your breath visible in the night. But you didn’t protest, curious as to what he had planned. It wasn’t long before Rafayel appeared at the door again, this time with a blindfold in hand. "Come on, just trust me," he said with a smile.

You allowed him to tie the blindfold over your eyes, the anticipation building with every passing second. He guided you carefully through the door, and when he finally removed the blindfold, the sight before you took your breath away.

The entire house was covered in sparkling decorations—glimmering lights, pine garlands, and little trinkets that looked like they’d been picked just for this moment. The room felt warm and alive, despite the chill outside. The holiday magic that you’d been missing, that had been absent from the exhibition, filled the air.

Before you could say a word, you turned to Rafayel, feeling overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment, and kissed him on the cheek.

His cheeks flushed bright red, his expression softening for a brief moment, but he quickly turned his head away, as if pretending the whole thing was no big deal. "It’s... nothing," he mumbled, though you could see the tiny, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

The holidays felt so much more real in that quiet moment, and for once, it was just the two of you—no distractions, no exhibitions, just warmth, love, and the peace of knowing you finally had this time together.

Sylus

The evening air is crisp, tinged with the faint scent of snow, as Sylus leads you through the quiet streets, his hand warm against yours. You notice the subtle confidence in his stride, the way he carries himself, never rushing, as if time itself bends to his will. The flicker of nearby streetlights casts long shadows, but with him, everything feels different—safe, contained, almost serene.

You reach the restaurant, a lavish building tucked away from the usual bustle. Its exterior is adorned with wreaths of greenery and strands of gold lights, each one shimmering in the night. A private venue, reserved just for the two of you. No one else. The doors open before you can reach them, revealing the soft glow of candlelight spilling into the street.

Inside, the atmosphere is nothing short of magical. The restaurant is transformed—Christmas in every corner. Garlands of fresh pine stretch across the ceiling, dotted with twinkling fairy lights. A towering tree, adorned with delicate ornaments and a star that glows brighter than the rest, stands proudly by the window. The whole room smells like cinnamon and pine, an aroma that settles around you like a warm blanket.

He guides you to the center of the room, where a table for two sits beneath a canopy of softly glowing lights. A fire crackles in a hearth nearby, casting flickering shadows over the elegantly set table. Gold-rimmed glasses catch the light, and the soft clink of fine china seems to echo in the silence between you.

Sylus doesn’t speak immediately, only looking at you with that quiet, knowing smile. There’s a warmth in his gaze—something deeper than the usual sharpness, something softer, as if this night, this moment, means more than he’s willing to say.

When he finally speaks, his voice is smooth, low. "I thought it would be a night worth remembering," he says, his fingers brushing over your hand, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "For you." His smile lingers, teasing, yet there's something unspoken in his tone, an unspoken sentiment wrapped in the cool, steady confidence of the man he is.

As the evening unfolds, the two of you dine beneath the glowing tree, laughter and conversation weaving effortlessly between the courses. The world outside fades away—only the warmth of his presence, the flicker of candlelight, and the glow of the tree remain.

When the dessert course arrives, a decadent chocolate soufflé, Sylus raises his glass to you. The glint of his red eyes, the soft curve of his smile, all speak of something deeper—a connection, a quiet promise that, just for tonight, all that matters is this moment.

Xavier

The scent of cinnamon and chocolate fills the apartment, curling through the air like something out of a dream. Outside, snow drapes over the city like a thick, quiet blanket, the streets empty, the world hushed. You glance at the clock—Tara was supposed to come, but with the storm growing worse, she sent a regretful text. Looks like it’s just the two of you tonight.

Not that you mind.

Across the room, Xavier stands near the kitchen, watching you with an unreadable expression. Not disinterest—no, something softer. Something almost hesitant, like he’s still figuring out why he’s here, in the warmth of your apartment, instead of out there in the cold.

“Xavier,” you say, turning toward him with a wooden spoon in hand, “don’t even think about coming in here.”

He blinks, tilting his head slightly. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.” You narrow your eyes at him, setting the spoon down with unnecessary dramatics. “I don’t trust you near open flames.”

He exhales, the closest thing to a laugh he ever really gives, and steps back—not far, but enough to lean against the wall and watch you work. The quiet hum of Christmas music plays in the background, something soft, something old, and for a while, the only sounds between you are the clink of mugs and the rustle of cookie dough being shaped.

When the cocoa is ready, you hand him a mug. He doesn’t drink right away. Instead, he just holds it, fingers curled around the warmth, gaze flickering from the string lights lining the windows to you, standing there in the glow of the Christmas tree.

You nudge his shoulder gently. “Come on, help me redecorate.”

The tree is already decorated—mostly. But as you start adjusting ornaments, he follows your lead, mimicking your movements with quiet focus. His hands are careful, precise, like he’s handling something far more delicate than a glass bauble. And when you get tangled in the strands of colored lights, Xavier’s breath catches for half a second.

You don’t notice at first. You just reach for him. “A little help?”

His fingers brush yours as he moves to untangle the lights, but instead of pulling away, he hesitates. The glow from the tree reflects in your eyes, soft and warm, and before he even thinks about it—

He lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your fingertips.

It’s barely there—a ghost of warmth against your skin. A silent moment, delicate and unspoken. He doesn’t say anything after, and neither do you. You don’t have to. Because in that small, fleeting gesture, you already know.

Zayne

It had been a long shift. The sterile hum of the hospital still lingered in Zayne’s mind as he stepped into the quiet apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. His coat was draped over his arm, his tie loosened, and his glasses were slightly askew from the long hours spent under bright, sterile lights.

He had promised himself he wouldn’t linger too long on the weight of his shift, but it was hard to shake off the exhaustion. He could feel the dull ache in his shoulders from the day’s work. Yet, as he entered the living room, all that seemed to melt away.

The soft glow of the Christmas lights twinkling across the room cast a gentle warmth in the air, bathing everything in a dreamy haze. The tree, draped in gold and silver, stood quietly in the corner. The scent of pine, mingled with the faint warmth of the lights, made everything feel still, serene.

And there, on the couch, was you. Wrapped in a blanket, tucked in a way that seemed effortless, yet perfect—like you had fallen asleep in a moment of pure peace. Zayne’s heart softened, a tenderness flickering in his chest. He could hardly bear the thought of disturbing you, but the sight of you—vulnerable, relaxed, and so very much a part of the calm in the room—compelled him to act.

He knelt down beside the couch, careful not to wake you. Gently, he lifted you in his arms, cradling you with the practiced care that came so naturally to him. His hands, strong yet tender, guided you to the bedroom, where he tucked you in, making sure the blanket draped perfectly around your shoulders. He leaned over you for a moment, his gaze soft, taking in the peaceful expression on your face.

Just as he was about to step back, your eyes fluttered open, the drowsiness still lingering in your gaze. You blinked, and then—slowly—your hand reached up to touch his face, a faint smile curling on your lips.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

Zayne froze, his heart stuttering for a moment. A warmth spread across his chest, something deeper than the exhaustion of the day.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured back, his voice low, a small smile breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

You nestled back into the pillows, and within moments, you were asleep again, your breathing slow and steady. He stood there for a moment longer, just watching, utterly enchanted by the simplicity of the moment—the way you had so effortlessly brought warmth into his life, even in the quietest of ways.

The soft Christmas lights blinked on, a calm, peaceful reminder of everything he held dear, especially you.

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter twelve:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: shitty family.

➴ word count: 4.7k

💌 from me to you: have a nice reading loves <3

౨ৎ

2024, JUNE.

“I HATE just looking at it,” you say, making Victoria laugh. “I mean, I really liked it at first but now it makes me sick.”

It was finally the day of your mom’s retirement gala, and all you wanted to do was stay at home with Quinn and Bella, watching a movie and drinking wine.

But you had made a promise, and hell would freeze before you break one. If your mom wanted you there, you would be there, even if the thought of putting on that dress made you want to puke all over it.

“I mean, you don’t have to wear it…” Victoria says, sounding mischievous. You raise your brow at her.

“What do you mean?” You laugh, closing your eyes as the makeup artist your mom had sent to your house spread the glittery eyeshadow over your eyelids. “I just told you, my mom bought this last month and basically demanded I wear it.”

“But she’s not here, is she?” She asks, looking around the packed room, full of people: the makeup artist, the hair stylist and the girl responsible for your clothes. They all stared at you scaredly, probably not wanting to piss off your mom, the great, famous Jessica Carter. “I don’t see her.”

You sigh. “Victoria—”

“I brought you something else. And if you don’t like it, then you can wear that one your mom bought you.” She grabs a huge, ginormous bag, placing it carefully on the bed. You ask her to open it, since you couldn’t, and she does as you say.

The most beautiful orange dress you had ever seen lays on your bed and you smile at Victoria, finally happy with going to the dinner. If it was going to be the last time you saw your family, then at least you’d look great.

“Isn’t it so beautiful?” She smiles, carefully running her fingers through the dress’ fabric. “I immediately thought of you when one of our designers costum-made this.”

“It’s gorgeous,” you say, imagining yourself inside that dress.

It’d for sure piss your mom off, but at this point, you had already understood that anything you did would eventually make her upset.

This last week has been both a dream and a nightmare. Quinn stayed with you for two days before he had to travel for work again, and it’d been like a fantasy: he would wake up earlier than you, cook you a healthy breakfast, and help you eat; bite after bite, praise after praise, kiss after kiss, he helped you restart your eating routine again.

After throwing all of your pills— and your prescription— away, he tried his best to be with you, even during the hardest moments, when your body would have some kind of withdrawal, with persistent headaches, nausea and extreme fatigue. He took care of you so well, like no one had done before, and it only made you realize how deep your love for him was.

“So it’s settled, then,” Victoria calls the other two girls standing in the corner of your room, asking them to help you get dressed.

The dress was long, so long it occupied the entire room, and you were sure that if Bella wasn’t already at Mrs. Fernandez home, she’d be lost between the orange fabric, even if she was a big girl herself. The corset squeezed your chest lightly, nothing like the dress your mom had bought for you, and your white heels held your feet comfortably.

While you got your hair done, you stared at your phone’s screen, tuning out of Victoria’s yapping session and thinking of Quinn, and if he was well. Now that you had confessed to yourself— and Quinn— that you wanted, needed him, it seemed like spending time away from him hurt you more and more.

He had texted you earlier that day, saying that he missed you a lot, and asked for pictures of the things you ate during the day, making you roll your eyes and blush at the same time, not holding back the smile plastered on your face.

Even if you feared for what your mom could do once she realized that you would do everything in your power to stop yourself from submitting to her absurd, evil requests, you could now see that you weren’t alone, and you would never be, as long as the Hughes walked on the same planet as you.

Which reminded you that you had to call Luke and apologize to him, because even though it had hurt you to hear the things he’d said, you knew that part of your awakening was thanks to him, and for that you’ll forever be grateful.

“Okay, let’s go get you inside that car,” Victoria says before you manage to get up, trying to move around with all that fabric around you.

Getting to the event had been a lot harder than expected. You had worn bigger, larger dresses before, much weirder than the one you’re wearing right now, but you had the right transport for it. Right now, the only car you had was a limousine and you had to make it work.

You felt like Cinderella inside the pumpkin carriage, but you preferred walking around with this amount of fabric than putting on that dress that your mom had chosen for you.

The cameras were all directed at you as soon as you walked out of the car and got to the red carpet. People were shouting your name here and there, and since it’s been a while since the last time you actually went to a public event like this, your head was starting to get dizzy with all the overwhelming attention.

You smiled at the pictures, but didn’t go to any of the interviewers— you weren’t in the mood for questions, and even though people expected you to talk with them, you just weren’t feeling comfortable.

You walked inside after posing for some more pictures, feeling a rush of anxiety run through your body, because you knew you were about to face your mother’s wrath. But Quinn and Victoria were right. You had to stop this abusive, toxic cycle between the two of you.

Even though sometimes it was hard to remind yourself that you’re not the one in the wrong in this.

You greeted some of the other celebrities there, the space filled with people who had once worked with your mom too. It hadn’t been hard to find her, of course. All Jessica Carter ever wants is the spotlight on her, so when you found her talking to Kirk Pickersgill and Stephen Wong, the founders of Greta Constantine, you knew exactly what you had to do.

“My, oh my, aren’t you a beautiful sight?” Kirk smiles at you, giving you a brief kiss on your cheek, making you smile at him. “Look at this dress, Wong, look at her!”

“It’s a beautiful dress indeed,” Stephen agrees, holding his hands together behind his back.

“Great choice, my love,” your mom says, and your smile falters for just a second, enough for your mom to understand that you had picked up on her subtle message. “Is that Versace?”

“No,” you say, patting your skirt. “It’s custom-made Rami Kadi, actually.”

“So beautiful, Madison, I just know you’re going to blow people’s minds with this one,” Wong smiles at you and before you can answer, Kirk whistles while looking at his phone.

“She already did,” he laughs, and you frown at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” you ask, and he flips his phone, showing you his phone screen.

“You’re trending on Twitter, babe,” he eagerly says, and Wong gasps beside him. “People are crazy over you. And your dress. If you ever think of leaving La Vie en Rose just know that there’s always a place for you at Greta.”

Wong shakes his head. “We’d love to have you there.”

“Well, unfortunately, she’s going back to Los Angeles in a few months, so I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” your mom jumps in, wrapping her hands affectionately around your shoulders and smiling at the two men in front of you. “And, oh my, look at the time,” she fake sighs, looking at the watch on her wrist. “We better get going if we want to eat dinner before my speech.”

Wong and Pickersgill nod awkwardly in front of you, leaving after giving you another kiss on the cheek and walking their way to their table. You walk with your mom by your side, both with fake smiles plastered on your faces, greeting people on your way to your table. You could tell she was upset by the fact that people were complimenting you and your dress, but you kept your chin up either way.

By the side of the table reserved for you and your family stood your dad and your brother, both wearing expensive tuxedos and looking like twins. You nodded at them, watching as the same fake smile that decorated your face, decorated theirs as well.

“Madison,” your dad says, his smile getting wider when he notices the photographer behind you. “You look well.”

Well wasn’t exactly the word you’d use to describe yourself at the moment, but you smiled nonetheless.

“Can I get a family picture?” The photographer asks, and you all quickly move so he can get a picture of all four of you together, smiling like you were the most perfect family in the entire world, just like your parents wanted people to believe. “Nice, nice, thank you.”

“Why aren’t you wearing the dress I chose for you?” Your mom hisses through her teeth, not letting her smile fall from her face.

“I didn’t like it,” you simply say, even if it weren’t entirely true. But every time you look at the expensive, black dress inside your closet, you remind yourself of the awful month you didn’t eat just so you could look good in a dress you didn’t even like that much, just for your mom to finally love you. “Victoria chose this one for me instead.”

“This is unacceptable,” she fake laughs, pretending that the conversation she was having with you was nothing more than a cute, loving mom and daughter moment. “It’s ridiculous—”

“You look gorgeous, baby.”

You and your family turned your head to the side, watching as Quinn stood there, looking close to perfect with his black two piece suit and slicked back hair.

Your face lit up like the Fourth of July, and you smiled at him, blushing with his compliment. “Quinn.”

“Hi, baby,” he smiles at you, stepping closer. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter,” he nods at your parents. “Peter.”

Your brother extends your hand at him, and so does your dad, but it’s clear that they’re uncomfortable. Not as much as your mom, though, who looked like those angry cartoon characters.

“It’s nice to see you, but what are you doing here?” She hisses. “Haven’t you both done enough already? People are talking and taking pictures of you, you must be all over social media by now, what are you—”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Quinn wraps his hands around your waist, holding you close to him, in front of everyone. The smile on your lips couldn’t get any bigger. “What Madison and I do is none of your business.”

“Watch it, boy. You’re talking to my wife, and you know who I am.” You dad says, smiling afterwards to prevent people from thinking that he was anything other than the perfect father.

“I’m not a boy and frankly, James, we both know that if I were to care about your opinion, I wouldn’t be the Canucks’ captain today.”

Your dad’s face gets red with anger but he doesn’t say anything, choosing to stay quiet for once.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, smiling at how Quinn frowned at your dress, because he couldn’t sit closer to you with that much fabric around you.

“Victoria helped me out,��� he smirks. “Did you really think I’d let you come here alone?”

You roll your eyes, smiling still. “You’ve never been to a fashion dinner before. And I’m used to coming alone,” you shrug. “You’re aware that people will… know. Right?”

“I don’t mind it. Do you?”

You looked at him with shiny, happy eyes, before kissing his lips softly and gently, right there, for everyone— your parents and your brother included— to see. Quinn kissed you back just as gently, holding the back of your neck carefully, not wanting to ruin any of your clothing or makeup or hair.

It felt nice not to care for once in your life.

౨ৎ

maddiecarter_updates

Vancouver, BC

liked by nickharris_img and others.

maddiecarter_updates Madison has arrived at her mom’s (Jessica Carter) retirement gala at Fashion, in Vancouver 😍 She looks absolutely amazing! (edit: @nickharris_img liked!!)

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user1 MY WIFE RIGHT THERE

user2 i still prefer the pink dress she wore at the Cannes festival but this one also eaaaats

user3 looking like a goddess omg i need her

user4 why is no one talking about quinn hughes being there AND the pictures they took of the two of them together????

maddiecarter_updates user4 As we always say, we like to respect Madison’s privacy. If she’s dating Quinn Hughes, then we will wait until she confirms it. We can’t assume things just because we’ve seen pictures so let’s just respect her time and privacy ☺️

user5 she looks so damn fine

user6 the event ended a few hours ago does anyone know why she hadn’t posted anything about it yet???

user7 user6 i was just wondering the same thing bc she usually posts pictures immediately after 💭

_quinnhughes

Vancouver, BC

liked by jackhughes, canucks, vic.alonso and 381,991 others.

_quinnhughes

View all 1,209 comments

madisoncarter i love you

user1 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

maddiecarter_updates ????? ok

maddiecarter_updates Now we’re allowed to freak out 🙈

user2 maddiecarter_updates OANSOWNXOANALS

user3 maddiecarter_updates LAKAKANAMD!./!!/!/!:!;

user4 maddiecarter_updates SHSKDMDKIWWOOWKKFBN_._.__.\

maddiecarter_updates user2 user3 user4 oh-

bboeser Ouuhuu 😎😎😜😜

canucks She would look gorgeous in blue 💙

njdevils canucks No she wouldn’t ❤️

user5 njdevils ???😭😭 Help

user6 Average no caption Hughes post

jackhughes …why was i the last one to know about this

conor.garland8 Oh captain my captain

౨ৎ

“THOSE PLATES aren’t going to get any straighter, baby,” Quinn laughs behind you, bringing your body closer to his with his hands on your waist.

You bite your lip, feeling his warm hands all over your tummy. “Stop trying to distract me, you’re supposed to be taking care of the food.”

“My bad, I thought you were the food.” He says, before plastering a wet, loud kiss on your cheek.

“Quinn, stop! Your family’s going to be here at any second, and I don’t want them to find you with your hand on my boobs.” you laugh, slapping his hand away.

“I wasn’t even going to do that, but fine,” he mumbles before turning you around, making you face him. “You don’t have to be nervous, baby. They’ve known you for literally half of your life.”

“Yeah, but I was just a friend. And now I’m dating you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a playful chuckle leaving his lips. “Oh? We’re dating? Since when?”

“You know what I mean,” you feel your cheeks getting warm. “It’s going to be weird. Especially with how I left things with Luke that night,” you cover your face with your hands, sighting. “God, I hope he doesn’t hate me.”

“What did I say about always thinking the worst about everything?” he removes your hands from your face, kissing them afterwards. “And I know Lukey probably acted like a douchebag that night, too. He isn’t exactly the most tender person ever.”

“Still, he was right,” you kiss his cheeks, detaching yourself from his hold before looking at the dinner table again. “Hope he forgives me.”

“He will, sweets, I promise.”

It was almost the end of June, and you had just started taking care of yourself again. Quinn suggested that you should see a professional, to help you deal with the hardest days, and that’s exactly what you did. You have meetings with a therapist called Emma once a week, and even though you feel like nothing’s changed yet, it’s nice to have someone else to talk to, and not worry about whether you’re dumping your problems on them or not.

You and Quinn were also doing fine, baby steps helping you both find your path together. You still had your doubts, and even though you wanted to ruin away sometimes and never look back, you knew you’d always end up coming back to him.

You hoped and prayed everyday that you’d get to be the one who’s going to keep him for life.

The doorbell rang and Bella ran to the door, Quinn right behind her, while you tried to unwrinkle your dress for the nth time.

It’s fine, you kept telling yourself, They’ve known you since you were a child, you’ll be fine.

“Maddie,” you hear Jack’s loud voice before you turn around, smiling when you feel his arms around you. “Hey.”

“Hey, Rowdy,” you kiss his cheek. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s summer, fucking finally.” He groans, letting go of you and making his way to the kitchen, talking about grabbing a beer for himself.

You stare at Ellen, Jim and Luke as they all hug Quinn and pet Bella, before moving back to you.

“Hi, there, darling. You look stunning,” Ellen hugs you tight, her blonde hair touching your face. “Thanks for having us. We missed you and Quinny.”

“Hi,” Jim briefly hugs you, looking like he always did: shy.

“Hello, Mr. Hughes,” you smile. “I’ve missed you too.”

As they ramble about not seeing both of you enough, you stare at Luke, who’s been petting Bella for too long already. He notices you and finally gets up, walking until he stood in front of you, the little boy who once had been smaller than you and got in trouble for cursing too much and was now a man, inches taller than you, thighs bigger than your head.

“Hey.” You whisper, and he timidly smiles at you, not showing his teeth.

“Hey.”

You both stood there, silent for a while, the only sound coming from the kitchen where Ellen seemed to yell at Quinn for something while Jack laughed.

“How are you doing?” You ask, not sure of how you’d apologize to him without sounding like an idiot.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs, not looking at you. “How about y—”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, interrupting him. “I’m so sorry about the things I said to you the last time we saw each other and I’m sorry for acting the way I did. I never meant to upset you, it was just hard for me to hear those things.”

He places his hand on your shoulder, patting you there twice. “It’s fine, Maddie. I should’ve known better. Those types of things aren’t meant to be said at a party, right after you tell me you have feelings for my brother.”

“Still. You were just trying to help me and I— I was a little shit. Sorry.”

He laughs.

“Don’t give yourself this much credit, M. You’re not the seven headed monster you think you are,” he winks at you, before moving to Quinn’s kitchen with Bella between his legs. You sighed, scrunching your nose at her. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a soft side for the Hughes.

“I don’t care if it’s important or not, Jack, you won’t use your phone during lunch time.” Ellen orders around, sitting on the table before pouring herself a generous amount of red wine.

“Mom, I’m not a child anymore and this is important.” Jack pouts, making you laugh softly, while you sit down on the chair between him and Luke. “It’s not funny, Madison.”

“Leave her out of this,” Ellen protests, pointing at him. “No phones during lunch time. What’s so hard for you to understand?”

“Look at dad!” Jack points at Jim, who stopped texting and placed his phone back on the table.

“Jim, don’t piss me off or I swear to God—”

“Food’s ready,” Quinn mumbles before placing a huge pot of homemade pasta and tomato sauce, with meatballs and a Greek salad— cucumbers, tomatoes, feta cheese and olives— to accompany the main dish.

While you helped everyone serve themselves, you noticed Quinn’s eyes on you, and he was the one who put food on your plate. He knew that eating big portions was still an issue for you, so he was careful with putting the right amount of food onto your plate.

You smile at him, not before saying “thank you” and grabbing your first bite, almost melting like you always did whenever Quinn cooked.

You watched as they chatted about literally everything, with Jim and Ellen asking about their lives and Luke and Jack bickering with each other while Quinn looked at them with a tired face.

“So, Madison,” Luke starts, interrupting an argument between Jack and Quinn about who would win the Stanley Cup next season. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say at the ‘Power Play for a Cause’?”

“Heh,” Jack laughs. “PP for a cause. That’s what she said.”

Jim lets out a loud laugh before Ellen coughs, glazing at him.

He stops lauhging. “Son, you’re not funny,” Jim sighs, stuffing his mouth with pasta. “Shut up, please.”

You smile, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Ellen asks and Quinn shrugs.

“Madison has a lot on her plate right now, the last thing she needs is a Hockey themed gala.”

“But what is it?” You ask, now curious.

Luke coughs before continuing:

“‘Power Play for a Cause’ is the name of next month's charity dinner the NHL’s holding,” he explains. “And it’s basically to raise money for sick kids and shit.”

“Luke.” Ellen reprimands him and he apologizes, after rolling his eyes.

“But why would I need to say something?” You ask, still as lost as a blind person during a shooting.

“Well,” he smiles. “Some of the teams' captains receive a speech, and Quinn will be one of them this year. We were going to ask our little cousin Julie to do this but she’ll probably blackmail us into buying her thousands of dollars worth of money in video games.”

“I recognise a future scammer when I see one.” Jack mumbles, making you all laugh.

“I mean…” you start, looking at Quinn across the table, who looks at you with expectant eyes. “If Quinn doesn’t mind, I want to do it.”

“I don’t mind it at all, baby,” he says, like calling you ‘baby’ in front of his family wasn’t anything new. “If you feel comfortable with doing it, then it’s fine. If you don’t, then it’s also fine.”

“Of course I am,” you smile at him, as he winks at you.

You then realize that everyone went quiet, even Bella, that must have sensed something was up because she sat beside your chair and was eyeing everyone suspiciously. Your face burned with shame and you silently pleaded to Quinn do something.

Which he did, coughing and scratching his eyebrow with his middle finger.

“This is probably a good time to tell you that Madison and I are together.” He says, before looking you in the eye again.

“Thanks for stating the obvious,” Luke says, before he lets out an ouch sound, looking at Ellen with annoyed eyes.

“That’s great news, baby!” She says, resting her head on Jim’s shoulder. “We always knew you both would end up with each other.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jim agrees. “When you both would spend hours alone together doing nothing we always thought that you were doing naughty stuff.”

If your face could get any hotter, it would melt. Jack and Luke’s laughter wasn't helpful either, while Quinn just smiled and mouthed a small sorry at you.

“We were kids, Mr. Hughes,” you say, and he laughs.

“Cut it with Mr., it’s either Jim or dad now,” he squints, making you smile. “Also, what’s the matter? We caught Jack kissing his school friend when he was seven.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been irresistible,” Jack smirks, the cocky tone making you roll your eyes. “Gotta start young.”

“You’re such a fuckboy, Jacky, that’s nasty,” Ellen says, the curse word surprising all of you, making you burst out into laughter in front of them.

You couldn’t explain how happy they made you, even if you tried. It isn’t something usual, loving your boyfriend’s family as much as you do, but you’re happy to be the exception.

The rest of the lunch went on without any more smarty remarks from Luke or Jack, and you were sure you hadn’t laughed this much before, ever. They worked so well together and the love they felt for each other was so deep you could almost touch it with your own hands.

They treated you so well, making sure you had everything you needed and not letting you feel excluded for even the briefest second. They also understood your love for Bella and how important she is to you, so Luke spent the entire afternoon patting her fur and playing with her, complaining loudly whenever she took the carrot plushie— her favorite toy, you told him— out of his hands, running around Quinn’s living room with it.

When they started saying their goodbyes, many, many hours later, you held each and every one of them tightly, trying to trespass your gratitude for them like that, since saying things like “I love you” are still hard for you.

And with how they hugged you back just as fiercely, you were almost sure they understood what you wanted to tell them.

“Is Quinn treating you well?” Ellen quietly asks you, as you both stand on Quinn’s porch and watch the four men you both loved so much argue about who should drive the car.

You smile, nodding with your head. “Yes, ma’am, he is.” you giggle at her annoyed face with the “ma’am”. “ I just— thank you so much for everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me, love. You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you.”

You can feel the tears forming in your eyes, and you blink fast, trying to send them away. But with the way Ellen's smile saddens and how she wraps her arms around you, you could tell she saw them.

“They’re happy tears, I promise,” you try to reassure her, not wanting her to see the storm happening inside you.

“It’s okay if they aren’t, Madison,” she whispers. “We all need time to heal and I truly hope we can help you get through the hard days.”

“You already do, all of you,” wiping your tears away, you smiled at her. “Especially him,” you point at Quinn with your head, who was now leaning against the car with his hands in his pocket and Bella by his side. “It’s so weird to explain, Ellen. It’s like— it’s almost as if he takes all of my pain away. Isn’t that weird?”

She chuckles beside you, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No, dear, it isn’t. And I’m glad to hear this. It means Jim and I did a great job.”

“Oh, you both outdid every parent on this planet.”

“Mom, can we go? ‘M tired,” Jack shouts at Ellen, pouting like a three year old child.

Ellen rolls her eyes and sighs, hugging you one last time.

“And the Hughes are back at it.” You joke, making her laugh.

She’s in the middle of walking down the steps to meet them at the car when she suddenly stops, turning back around. You were ready to ask her if she’d forgotten anything when she suddenly speaks:

“I know it’s soon but,” she tells you, her blue eyes softening as she continues speaking. “You can be a Hughes too. If you want.”

This time you don’t do anything to hide the tears rolling down your face, letting them roll freely on your cheeks, before hitting the wooden floor you were standing on.

You can’t really speak, so you just smile at her, hoping she wouldn’t mistake your silence for anything else. It was just overwhelming to know that there are people who love you enough to willingly want you in their family, when your own didn’t even care about your well-being.

You watched as they all said their goodbyes to Quinn, hugging him and saying something to him that you couldn’t hear.

Quinn and Bella walked back at you, and he frowned when he saw your tear stained face. “What happened, baby? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, walking to him and standing on your tiptoes before kissing his lips gently. “I just love you.”

You could tell that you caught him by surprise. You had never told him that you loved him before, even after years together. But you just needed to tell him how you felt, and even though the word “love” didn’t seem to explain all of your feelings for him, you would use it anyway.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiles, his curls falling over his face, making you touch his hair carefully. “So much.”

“Thank you,” you say, trying your hardest not to cry again. “For not giving up on me. And for making me feel like myself again.”

“That was all you, baby.”

You both get inside after sharing another kiss, and at night, when you sleep between Quinn and his hundred pillows, nestled safe inside his arms, with Bella sleeping safely by your feet in her bed, you are sure that, even if you still think that you’re not good enough for Quinn, he sure as hell is more than enough for you.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, partynextdoor, nhl and 789,913 others

madisoncarter yesterday 🤍 _quinnhughes

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user1 i NEED to know where the dress is from Maddie help a girl out 😔

madisoncarter user1 dress is from rami kadi (custom made) 😙

lavieenrose Most beautiful couple ever!!

vic_alonso Gotta say whoever gave you that dress is the smartest person alive

madisoncarter vic_alonso let’s not exaggerate…

maddiecarter_updates So gorgeous love 🧡

user4 this is the most random couple ever but they do look good together

elblue6 😱😱

canucks The couple we didn’t know we needed until now 💙

user5 BABY YOU LOOKED AMAZING

౨ৎ

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay @urthem00n 🤎

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Mortality Defined

Masterlist Word count: 1.6 k Halsin x Reader Read on AO3

Summary: You are a human, Halsin is an elf. Your lifespan is much shorter than his and he wonders if life is worth living if you're not in it.

Writer's note: I don't know why but I still can't post a full work here. I don't know why. Tumblr just doesn't allow me to add any words to these one-shots. If anyone has any solutions for me, please let me know. I'm getting frustrated.

The year changes from sunlit beach days to a sunset of leaves. Halsin always admires this time of year. The dying of the world in anticipation for new life. It's a wonderful thing and something he often ponders on.  A year is an hour in the long, long lifespan of an elf. In Halsin's busy and chaotic life it feels more like a second, but these past weeks travelling with her and the other friends he made felt like centuries. She, so humble and kind, carried the world on her shoulders.  He feels he will never understand her fully. She is human. Where he has already lived 350 years, she will get a 100 if she's lucky. With their way of life, it will probably be less. A human's body dies around them every second of every day after they're done growing.  She was 27 when they embarked on their journey to safe Faerun, a young adult in human years. When he was 27 he was just latching off the helping hands of his parents. She told him she had been living on her own since she was 18.   Now she's 32 and has been living with him since the Absolute was put down. He can tell she's slowly ageing. She is forming some smile lines and little crows feet at the corners of her eyes. Halsin hadn't really thought about elderly people as his kind doesn't visibly age much after a certain point, but then he was confronted with Shadowheart's mother who looked so frail. It suddenly made him realize that she will someday look like that as well.  Even so, there's this thing that is only found in those that are human. The phenomenon of the Impenetrable Human Spirit. A death grip on life, refusal to let go in the direst of times. When all the odds are stacked against you but you refuse to let them define you. Which sounds strange until you meet a few humans in time of war. After he realized that, he understood why so many Flaming Fists are human.  He hopes he'll never have to witness it again but to see someone so fiercely cling onto life while any other would have already perished in the same circumstances is truly a sight. Humans are a force to be reckoned with. Even with their short lifespans, they try to put something worthwhile on this plane. They want to feel accomplished.  'Halsin, dinner's ready,' her angelic voice calls from inside and Halsin snaps out of his trance. 'Did you want to eat outside?' He looks over his shoulder through the open backdoor of their cosy little cottage, straight into the kitchen where she is plating up dinner. She's a wonderful cook, an amazing partner, and a great artist. His days are spent trying to find the best way to worship her being in hopes it'll buy her another year.  'That'd be lovely. Thank you.’ She walks out with two plates and a smile on her face. He takes his plate from her as she sits down on the grass next to him.  'You were so far away all day,' she notes with her smile still on her lips, 'where did your mind go?'  'My heart, you would not want to know.'  'Don't worry me, love. You can tell me.' Halsin takes a second to compose himself, playing with his food for a second. She always tells him everything, what reason does he have to keep his worries to himself? She'll understand. She always does.  'I was pondering your mortality.'  'How so?'  'Well, I have nothing but time, but that is not the same for you. I have lived over three centuries. That's three, maybe four, human lifetimes. You are merely a tenth of my age and yet you feel like an equal.' He looks over to her, a somber smile now plays on her lips.  'That's not all, is it?'  'It is not.'  'Are you worried you will be alone after I pass? That you won't have enough time to know me?'  'Something like that, yes.'  'Something like that?' 

Read the remainder on AO3

[thewalrusespublicist]

Hello! Love your blog and your takes, objective and sane and well researched chefs kiss! I had a blast scrolling through it like it was my feed yesterday lol can you elaborate on klaus and Paul if possible? People mostly talk about them like it’s already understood but I don’t understand 😭 I’m kinda lost on their (all of them, including stu) dynamic during the hamburg years specifically when it comes to Paul

Aww thank you anon! Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol). So I really, really needed this. :)

Oh Paul vs/and the Exsis, it's quite a long one so buckle up.

Disclaimer: all of the people involved are essentially art kids/young adults who are famously the most exhausting people on the planet. Do not blame them for being dramatic, it's their natural state of being.

If we want to go into Paul and Klaus, we have to kind of start with the John, Paul and Stu. Now these three are a mess that's too big to go into here (though I have THOUGHTS about how Stu is utilised in the Beatles narrative that I'm more than happy to share if asked lmaooo). But in short(ish):

John and Paul had had an intense year and a bit of closeness. Then John meets Stu at art college.

John and Stu become c l o s e for many reasons (being peers, living together, similar artistic leanings + ego, Stu being a gentle guide to John, sharing art projects/poetry/long letters and feelings etc.) They became 'closer than two men' a friend had seen (remind us of anyone gang?). Most importantly, John could be open about his feelings with Stu in letters. If John had BPD which I subscribe too, I think Stu was his 'favourite person' and as Aunt Mimi said his 'special' and 'closest friend' from this period up until his death (though imho the transference back to Paul was starting prior to his death).

It's not clear what exactly happens as there's differing accounts but Stu uses his money to buy a new bass as John wants him to come to Scotland then Hamburg and play bass as he will 'look good'.

Paul doesen't like being relegated to the seat behind John and Stu when he used to sit next to John. He also isn't thrilled when he gets to Hamburg and not only does he get to sleep in the other room with just Pete but Stu cannot be arsed to play because he's hanging out with his hot new girlfriend Astrid (more on her in a sec). Our boy has spent a lot of money he doesen't have and given up on further education to be here and is jealous and annoyed.

Paul and Stu probably were friends and I think their mutual antipathy is overegged. HOWEVER, can't be denied that Paul is jealous of Stu and Stu is jealous of Paul (and getting flare-ups from increasing brain damage). John and Stu tease Paul and steal his money, Paul is mean to Stu (as are the others encouraged by John). Do I think John was playing games with both of them? Yup. They end up scuffling onstage because Paul said something about Astrid (not clear what, one account is that Paul said that Stu could borrow money off Astrid if he needed it which isn't really that bad a dig but who knows Yoko??).

Why is this dynamic important? Because it directly impacts the 'Exsis' (Klaus, Jurgen and Astrid's) group's relationship with Paul:

The Exsis were young artists living in Hamburg. They were artistic, cool, interesting and edgy. They were paramount in introducing the Beatles to cool new concepts, aesthetics and ideas. They also took themselves VERY seriously ie pretentious as all hell.

Astrid met Stu at Kaiserkeller and hit it off. They embarked on an all-consuming romance.

Letter from Stu to Astrid, c.1961

I've seen people say they were the proto-John and Yoko in terms of making their romance the whole world and influencing John years down the line and I can see that. With Astrid and Stu it's far more endearing though because they ARE young and the right age to have a relationship like that. Stu is popular with the Exsis in general and brings them into the Beatles group.

The Exsis didn't like or trust Paul. Astrid said later it was because Paul was 'too nice' which she herself admits is a ridiculous reason. The others also thought he was a bit of a show-off. It makes sense though if you're cool and edgy and want to stick it to the world to be sus about a guy being friendly show-off with seemingly no inner world. The other problem was a perfectly reasonable one imo, you're not going to like your friends frenemy who you don't connect with. Compound that with Paul not taking drugs as much as George or John and being in the other room and you begin to have a division.

Paul had been popular his whole life, like from what we know since-primary-school-popular. He had never been in this position before, let alone in a foreign country. I believe it became a bit of a brutal feedback loop. Paul's response to this type of behaviour consistently it to go more surface level, snide and passive aggressive. The natural response of any group with a designated 'ugh' person is to become more shady and exclusionary. The cycle continues and gets worse. Stu letters back home at this time says that in a shocking turn of events Paul is hated by everyone but Stu 'just feels sorry for him' (lmao OF COURSE you do Stu, its giving 'loathing' from Wicked lol). Klaus drew a lot of artwork of the early Hamburg Beatles that includes this highly unpleasant picture of Paul in 1961 which I think says a lot:

Klaus is also a musician and fancies himself a place on bass. When Stu leaves to pursue art, Klaus asks John if he could take over but John says that he thinks Paul is going to do it.

Klaus has later gone on to say that he thinks he was a better bass player for the Beatles' sound at the start and then Paul developed into being better for the group. It's one of those I cannot believe those words actually left your mouth and you are not deeply embarrased moments. But it's important to keep this desire and viewpoint in mind.

Klaus stays in touch with all of them and close to John and George, George especially. They visit Klaus on holiday in tenerife in early 60s and Klaus later draws the Revolver artwork.

This whole context of how they met and Hamburg is crucial and has to be taken into account when hearing Klaus' statements. Klaus and Paul started off with a lack of connection and with Paul on the outs, the Exsis got an incomplete view of Paul and an inaccurate snapshot of the Beatles dynamic overall. This is why when Klaus says 'Paul was always slightly apart from the others' and that 'divorce was inevitable' from early 60s we should remember that that is what Klaus is expecting to see as that's what he saw in Hamburg.

Klaus wanted to be the bass player (and was holding out hope to join a band with George and John in the 70s), was really close with George and suffers as many did with 'John Lennon aspiring boy bestie syndrome' (JABBS). Paul had what Klaus wanted and from the Hamburg experience, you could see why Klaus thought he might have an in and may have been jealous of this 'shallow' Paul of all people having the connection that he felt he should/could have with John and George. As with most sufferers of JABBS, he took John's side with everything, always refused to say any regrets about his involvement in How do you Sleep and thought Paul was fine with the song because 'he was even closer to John than [he] was. (Again Klaus to put yourself in that level of closeness with John that it's comparable to Paul is ???.) JABBS and its secondary condition PMIETGSH (Paul McCartney isn't even that good shut up) are virulent diseases that incapacitate sufferers objectivity and judgement, so it's fair to say that Klaus is a source you have to take with a pinch of salt on the early 70s period.

It seems that Klaus and Paul did get on a lot better the older they got (probably without the jealousy complication of George and John) and developed a sweet friendship. Here is Klaus' tribute to Paul for his 80th:

Here is the jam session he's talking about:

He now wants Paul to live in his house lmao so things have gotten warmer. But Klaus and Paul's dynamic is a great example of how and why natural bias, little jealousies and spats can consciously or subconsciously influence our internal narrative and why we need to be so careful about not taking one perspective as gospel.

[pearlsinmyhair]

˖⋆˚₊⊹ his muse

hobie brown x fem!reader

this has been in my drafts for. forever. like it was summer when i wrote it on a whim. this initially started as a request for hobie with a reader that came from wealth. the vivienne westwood imagery picked up from there, and i just kinda had fun with it. and now im posting it- huzzah!

warnings: smoking (cigarettes). mentions of drinking. slight nsfw at the very end. meet-cute that leads to smut. hobie being a flirt. fem!reader.

hobie is in the midst of a creative rut that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he tries to. that is, until some inspiration walks through the door.

hobie was in a musical rut.

which never happened to him. never. if he needed a subject for a song, all he had to do was look outside for five minutes or watching the news for even less to have a subject.

that was the wonderful thing about hating the establishment: infinite cruelty, infinite song ideas.

but here he was, staring down at his guitar and picking at strings aimlessly. nothing came to him, no note or melody stuck out to him as song worthy.

he was sitting on the worn couch in his band’s makeshift studio, crosslegged and hunched over his guitar like a madman.

a soft knock came from the doorway, and he looked up to find one of his band mates hitting their knuckles against the doorway.

“you need to get out, man. you’re cooped up.” he said, stepping into the room to stand over hobie like a mother hen. “some fresh air will do you good.”

hobie scoffed, never one to take orders from anyone. but then he exhaled and leaned back, looking up at his friend with an exasperated expression.

“and where exactly do you intend for us to go?” he asked lowly, grumbling.

that’s exactly how he ended up here, in a music club full of bodies he didn’t want to touch and liquor he didn’t want to drink.

it wasn’t a traditional club scene by any means. It was a bit more artistic, leaning away from rave-style places that he’d gone to before. but it still wasn’t his preferred place.

he nursed a shirley temple, which his friend had shoved into his hand unceremoniously before disappearing into the crowd. hobie had decided that he would be the designated driver, and he understood that his band mates were going to take full advantage of that fact.

when they entered the place, his drummer had leaned over.

“maybe you’ll find a muse, hobes. i’m sure there’s plenty of pretty things in this place to give you ideas.” the boy wiggled his brows, and hobie promptly shoved him away with a chuckle.

now, he leaned against a counter and wondered what the hell he was doing. this wasn’t air. this was just distracting noise.

and said noise was becoming a little too much for his senses.

he made eye contact with one of his more sober mates, gesturing that he was going to go somewhere private. he sent a text to their group chat as well saying the same thing.

not a role model

-> heading to the back, text or call if you need me

little drummer boy

-> you’re no fun, man.

not a role model

-> 🖕🏿

he moved down a hallway, the sound of bass and electronic beats fading into a pleasant jazz sound that made its way through the speakers overhead.

the space behind the actual club was a kind of lounge, filled with warm ambiance and vinyl records and leather arm chairs. when his friends brought him here, he always inevitably retreated to this quieter space.

it was ironic really. the punk unable to handle crowds and noise. but this was a much different setting from his own shows, so he cut himself some slack.

he sunk into one of the armchairs in a side room, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. his head slightly throbbed, and he began to regret not drinking water.

he reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette box.

he wasn’t a casual smoker, not by a long shot. it just helped to have something to drag on sometimes, something to burn his throat while he was thinking.

right as he put the cig to his lips, the door banged open and slammed shut once more, the lock sliding home.

his spider-senses told him to prepare, but when he looked up they stopped buzzing.

because a girl leaned against the wall across from him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

she looked afraid, scared. the way her fingers trembled alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins currently.

and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. he took a moment to glance over her.

she wore a pretty little lace dress, black and short, with straps that barely cling to her shoulders. his eyes drifted down her bare legs to the black platform gogo boots on her feet, and he was impressed with the height she was balancing on. he knew from experience that those shits weren’t easy to master.

he had been a model once, and he knew enough to see that the girls clothes were expensive. like, wearing his rent expensive.

she took an anxious step, only to wobble like a baby deer, legs too long to stand properly.

maybe not so stable after all.

when she still didn’t notice him (too busy listening to the door), he opened his mouth to make himself known.

“runnin’ from something, little fawn?”

her eyes snapped to him, and she jumped slightly when she realized that someone else was in the room with her. her wide doe eyes did nothing to help disapprove the nickname. she opened and closed her mouth to speak, struggling to get the words out.

“i’m not running.”

he chuckled.

“no? do ya’ slam and lock doors at clubs often then?”

she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. she took a step away from the door, though he could tell she was keeping track of any noise.

“i’m just…catching my breath.” she said, pulling at the necklace around her throat.

hobie’s eyes drifted down to it, surprised to find a string of pearls with an all too familiar saturn pendent.

his curiosity got the best of him. “real or fake?”

her eyes darted up to meet his, and she looked away in embarrassment as she said “real.”

he let out an impressed whistle. “that’s why you’re running.” he mumbled as the pieces clicked together.

she gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowing in a way that he found adorable.

“my guess” he said as he stood from the chair, taking a step towards the girl. “is that you definitely aren’t supposed to be here. rich girl, pretty dress, innocent look. this place is practically forbidden for your like.”

her gaze hardened into a glare. “and what exactly is my like, hobie brown?”

he smirked. “you know my name.”

a statement. she deflated slightly.

“i’ve been to your shows.” she said, voice lowering. it was just enough to make him realize how close they were. he registered her body language quickly, noting how she didn’t shy away. so he didn’t either.

“interestin’, doll. does your daddy know?”

“don’t condescend me.”

he took a step back then, raising his hand in an ‘i come in peace’ gesture. “easy there. just askin.”

he went to grab a lighter to light his cigarette, reaching down into his jackets pocket. when he found nothing, he groaned softly.

a click made him look up, only to be met with the girl holding up a lighter of her own. he leaned forward to light his cigarette, and she held his gaze as the sizzling sound breiflu filled their silence.

“as you can see” she said softly. “i am not quite ‘my like’.”

he let out a puff of smoke, making sure to turn his head so that it didn’t flow into her pretty face. she coughed anyway.

he chucked. “what you doin’ with a light if you don’t smoke?”

she flipped the lighter in her hand, and it took a moment to notice that it was one of the silver heart ones that were popular.

“you like vivienne, huh?” he said, looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he took another drag.

“what can i say, i have a thing for punks.” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes.

oh, he was going to eat her.

“s’that so?” he asked, wanting to drag whatever admission she was holding in. he leaned close over her, and she stretched her neck to look right up at him. this close, he could smell whatever shampoo she used.

she was off limits. but he never really abided by rules, did he?

“what’re you runnin’ from, doll?” he asked, tapping his cigarette out as he waited for an answer.

“my father sent a body guard out to find me. i snuck out, and the man’s in the club right now.” she said, watching the way his lips curled around the cigarette.

the air kicked on, and the girl below him shivered. he shrugged off his jacket with a sigh, pulling it around her. she accepted it gratefully, practically nuzzling up against the collar.

fuck, he was a goner.

“better get you out of here, then.” he said, using the edges of his jacket to tug her closer. she smirked, allowing him to pull her against his body. “that would be great.”

he leaned down as he texted the chat, brushing his lips against the top of her ear as he typed.

not a role model

-> hey, i got someone i need to take home. anyone sober?

little drummer boy

-> the fuck are you on about, why would anyone be sober.

fresh meat

-> i am, go enjoy yourself hobes.

thank god for tyler, he thought as he pulled back the collar of his jacket to press his mouth to the girls jaw.

as she snuck him into her room later, the lyrics of a song began to write themselves in his head.

and as he thrust into her, her hands fumbling against her silk sheets and her moans in his ear, he realized that he had found his muse after all.

hobie’s masterlist

[hailthedoll]

Dating Euronymous Would Include...

a/n: y'all don't hate me. all I'm gonna say is, if you have a issue move along, thanks;)

-ok so

-i truthfully could only imagine this man meeting someone somewhere that is music related

maybe at a mayhem show or maybe at his store

either way the fact that you were there was enough for him to be interested

or maybe intrigued is a better word

its not like there hasn't been other girls at shows or his shop before but you????

he thought you were beautiful

and different. he was so attracted to you.

but he is NOT the type of guy who tries to flirt or make a move on a random girl he finds attractive

if you're at his store it would more so be like he walks up to you and asks if you're looking for something and then just lets the conversation go from there

now dating

ok ok

you truly get the "best" of both worlds

on one hand you get this guy who's in a band and he looks cool and does cool black metal band shit(?)

but then on the other hand you get oystein.

a dark and mysterious guy in a band

but also a sweetheart who just wants to baby you

he tries SO HARD to come off as this evil satanic guy

like its his image yk?

but with you? completely different

euronymous and oystein. BIG DIFFERENCE

oystein is a COMPLETE sweetheart who is SWEPT FOR YOU

he just loves you and he wants to be with you all the time and hold you and be held by you

and he wants you to hear new music he's working on

and for you to come and see the band live every time they perform

he wants you to be right there so that when they're done performing he can come and find you and see your reaction to it

he just really wants you to be proud of him and to be by his side during it all

euronymous now

hes a "dark", "evil", little man

he puts on this act whenever you guys are around others who know him as that

but no matter what he does or what he says to help create this evil image for others he wants you to know that who he says he is isn't really him and its all an act.

being with him you're often around people or things that were just not socially normal, and he understood this

he would always make sure you were comfortable

if not he would either find ways to make you more comfortable or just keep you away from that part of his life.

he wants your input and approval on things

he does corpse paint?

ok what do you think of it?

he got a new jacket?

great! but how do you feel about it?

oh and the way you will be used for stuff like this

guess who's helping him dye his hair?

guess who will help him do his corpse paint?

you, you, you, and only you.

i can see him as the type who just talks about his dreams and goals

like you two can be sitting together , doing nothing

and he'll just be sharing all of his thoughts and dreams as to what he wants black metal and mayhem to turn into

he goes on these long talking sprees where just tells you his opinions on music and artists and how he feels about certain people and things

he is very open with you about everything

the trust this man has in you..

he is SU-PPOR-TIVE

he'd wanna hear what your dreams are and would want to figure out ways to support you to make them come true

like oh you wanna be a doctor? ok. this man is lowkey like smart smart

and he will stay up all night studying with you

oh you wanna be a musician? brotha owns a record store

where people come just to hang out

he is spreading the word

"yeah my gf makes music it's really good"

"oh you like that band? well i'd recommend my gfs music then because it is pretty gooood"

hes very thoughtful and caring

he may not be able to afford these expensive, lavish gifts even tho he would like to

so instead he does what he can

flowers, songs, a vinyl you've been wanting

maybe there was something you mentioned very briefly

he heard you and he'll get it for you

maybe you mentioned that you wanted this meal that you used to eat when you were younger

he will attempt to make it and surprise you with it

if he does splurge its on something that you can keep forever

jewelry, memories, etc.

you are this mans peace

when times get rough for him like idk the media wont leave him alone

he just wants you

he spends majority of his time trying to find ways to be vile and controversial

and is surrounded by yk some weird things...

youre the escape from that

you are his muse

and his light in his dark and evil world

a/n: the way I literally second guessed everything ik about him and mayhem while I was writing this. I also had this written it and then when I went to post it, it was GONE????? so I had to rewrite and I don't like this one at all but it will do for now. maybe I'll redo it after I give it a rest and not second guess everything???