#this was so cute and ah and omg and wow

[sunwie]

this was actually beautiful

Visions of You in Solitude

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: erotic painting, mentions of masturbation, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), breast/nipple play, dry humping, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving), cum eating, use of pet names, drinking

Synopsis: You were hired to paint him- not fall for him. But intentions quickly shift when Hyunjin finds himself infatuated with you and learns the secrets you harbor.

[this work was based off a request by “🐼” anon - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

There’s something to be said about the loneliness that comes with being an artist. The repetitive cycle of translating tangibility to canvas or paper in whichever chosen medium. Fleeting muses you draw inspiration from, which quickly become burdensome as you’re faced with them every waking second of your day. Obsession with perfecting your craft, the anxieties that come with criticism of your life’s work and sometimes even succumbing to changing it entirely at the hands of someone else’s advice.

It’s very seldom even your craft at a certain point, only existing to satisfy the visual demands of others and turn a profit when displayed at a show. And it’s certainly not for everyone, not when it’s this lonely and rooted in the discomfort of personal solitude.

*

From this proximity, the blinding white walls that span the perimeter of the waiting room feel like that of a prison’s- coupled with the glossy laminate flooring and glaring white lights, you feel completely entrapped.

“They’re almost ready for you,” your boss says abruptly as he enters the room and occupies the gray folding chair next to you. “You have everything you need?”

Headcount- your black leather briefcase of oil paints, brushes, charcoal, pencils, paint thinner, old rags and your painting palette.

“The canvas is already set up,” your boss chimes in as if he can read your mind. “And there’s a seat for you. Just relax, and don’t push yourself.”

You take a deep breath, doing your best to follow his advice- but a part of you wants to get up and leave, to run away from all of this. Painting is your passion, it’s your forte and it’s been your life’s work for as long as you can remember. But being commissioned like this, for men much richer than money you’ll ever see, it feels suffocating.

They don’t tell you their names these days, nor the name of whatever organization they’re from. Last month it was an elite group of stock investors, the month before, it was a famous violinist from Japan. And today, it’s a male group, eight members with net worths that look like telephone numbers, or so you’ve been told. And it’s not that you’re intimidated, but you do get self-conscious at the prospect of people watching you while you paint. At some point, it’s like you become the model, their eyes boring into your flesh as you paint long strokes across the canvas and order them to hold still.

“Five minutes,” your boss now says, checking the time on his silver watch and adjusting it so that it sits a little higher up on his wrist.

You wish he wouldn’t count the minutes. You wish he’d stay quiet, allow you to sit with your thoughts and ruminate the day ahead of you. And yet he taps his heel in syncopation with the second hand on the clock above you, the echoing click of both driving you up the wall.

“I need a breather,” you state suddenly, sitting up from your chair and smoothing down your smock. “I need to go outside.”

“Three minutes,” he responds sterly, tapping at the glass lens of his watch and motioning to the door.

You shove your way past the double doors, past the white tiled hallway and just in front of the double doors that lead to freedom again. Two minutes.

It’s like your body is giving out on you involuntarily, your knees buckling as you grip the stair railing and steady your breathing. A quick glance around to ensure no one’s caught you heaving so nervously- and you’re too late. A man saunters down the hallway past you, his hands shoved casually in his pockets as he cocks his head to stare at you, his long black hair falling loosely around his shoulders as he does. He’s tall, and slim, with an elongated torso hugged by an expensive denim coat, his slender legs on display in black slacks and complemented by a sharp pair of boots. You don’t catch a very good look at his face, his figure blurring by as you check your watch, to the second now- you’re supposed to be inside.

You waste no more time jogging down the hallway past the figure and back into the waiting room, where your boss is angrily tapping his heel and scanning the room for you.

“There you are,” he says frustratedly. “No more breaks if you can’t manage your time. They’re waiting for us.”

And with a deep breath, he helps you gather your art supplies, motioning in front of you to the brightly lit room. You take one breath, and then two, as you finally begin into the painting room, eight men already seated and ready for you.

*

The crowd is nothing like the stock investors, or the violinists you’re used to. They’re rowdy, and loud. They very seldom sit still, cracking jokes amongst themselves and shoving each other off the wooden stools every other minute. You do your best to keep your gaze away from them when you don’t need to look at them, trying to memorize their features in intervals so you can focus on just the canvas in front of you as you paint. But it’s nearly impossible, their melodic voices pressing you for answers and insights into your artist career.

“What’s the hardest painting you’ve ever done?” One asks, his baritone voice sounding almost startling in contrast to his bright appearance.

“There’s lots,” you reply quietly. “I’m not sure I can pick one.”

You give him a small smile, trying to memorize the freckles on his face before turning back to the canvas, hoping you won’t have to glance back over at him for the next minute or so.

“Let’s take five,��� your boss says as he enters the room again, two iced coffees balanced in his hands. “Thanks, guys.”

And the men scatter to their break room, where neat trays of food are already set out for them to choose from. As the doors swing closed behind them, you watch them select from a variety of pre-cooked noodles, assorted fruits and vegetables, packs of chips and trays upon trays of desserts. They’re fed as though they’re the ones doing all the painting.

“Coffee,” Q says, setting down a plastic cup in front of you, the straw already conveniently placed for you.

“Thanks, Quinton.”

Your boss, Quinton, or Q, is a brutally honest man when he wants to be, quick to comment on your work and keep you in your place. He runs your calendar like the military, never missing an important appointment and opting you in for every profitable painting session possible. He’s another thing you find suffocating at the worst of times, always somewhere breathing commands down your neck and dragging you to every private event under the sun.

“Let me see,” Q states plainly, gesturing to the canvas with his cup of coffee. You shyly angle the canvas toward him, hoping he won’t scrutinize anything about your pacing- you’re trying to get out of here as quickly as possible, and you silently pray the art doesn’t reflect that sentiment.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t, swiping a few stray eraser shavings off the canvas and giving you a nod.

“Looks good. Remember, we just need the skin tones and facial features. The clothes and all that can be filled in later with our reference pictures.”

You nod in response, taking a generous sip of your coffee, realizing this is probably the worst beverage you could’ve picked to calm your nerves. The caffeine pulsates through you, making your heart flutter even more than it already is, and the bitter taste leaves little to salivate over.

“How much longer, do you think?” You inquire, chewing on the tip of your straw nervously.

“No more than an hour, if you keep up this pace,” Q responds. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick, have everything ready again for when I get back. Don’t make me wait.”

You watch as he gets up from his own wooden stool, placing his cup of coffee where he sits, and exits the room to the corridor once again.

You’re alone in the painting room, the white sheets that line the floors staring back at you with little eyes in the form of paint splotches. From behind the door, you can still hear the eight men shuffling about, laughing loudly and downing their snacks. And you want to leave again, the feeling instilling another sense of foreignness inside of you. Like you don’t belong here, even though you’re the painter. You feel small, cramped, even useless, as you stare down the painted flesh outlines across from you.

A click of the door closing beside you garners your attention, and you look up expecting Q to return and resume the session. But it’s not Q- it’s the same figure from earlier in the hallway, slowly making his way inside and hoisting himself back up on the wooden stool. He keeps his head down as he gets comfortable again, two hands running through his black hair and slicking it back out of his forehead.

And then he looks at you- or stares, rather, two hands resting on the exposed wood in front of him as his legs balance on the wooden beams below. You can feel his eyes burning into your figure, and you do everything in your power to avert his gaze and keep your eyes locked on the canvas in front of you. But he remains like that, staring, for several minutes, until you nervously tilt your head to catch his gaze.

You feel your heart race as you do, catching a glimpse of his flawless features as he furrows his brows in concentration. His silky black hair isn’t the only striking thing about him- he has piercing brown eyes, which narrow with such intensity as he remains seated there, unmoving and confident in his stance. His plump lips contrast beautifully against his chiseled jawline, and his lanky figure makes him look like the contemporary art statues you’re so acquainted with, like he’s formed from wire and positioned to slouch so artistically in his spot.

You say nothing to the man, opting to give him a little nod, before focusing back on the beverage in your hands. And despite his clear fascination with you, he doesn’t reciprocate, instead pulling a cell phone out of his back pocket and preoccupying himself again.

You can’t quite tell if he’s rude, or strange, or even just unaware that his presence is so uncomfortable when he’s choosing to speak through cold stares instead of words. As you watch him through your peripheral vision, you hear the familiar sound of Q’s boots click through the doorway, gesturing rapidly at you and at the canvas.

“Let’s continue,” he orders, clasping his hands together with such purpose. “Where are they?” Q then questions, his eyes darting over the quiet man’s indifferent posture. And the strange man finally gets up from his stool, making his way through the break room door to usher the others inside once again.

They follow like a row of ducks, back to their respective seats, some of them with drinks in hand as they share whispered laughter amongst themselves and make little effort to sit still. You have no trouble picking up right where you left off, the innate talent to mirror figures in front of you coming in handy as you race the clock to complete their flesh-colored outlines.

Most of them converse lightly amongst each other, holding your gaze with a more serious expression when they catch you looking over at them.

Except for the strange man.

He’s relentless in his ways, continuing to stare so impolitely at you, his eyes piercing daggers right through your soul as he cocks his head to the left, and then the right, studying your face as you study all eight of theirs. What his intentions are exactly, you have no clue, simply opting to avert his gaze when you can and keep busy with your painting.

One hour later, the canvas illustrates all eight outlines of flesh and distinctive features, highlighting the beige freckles on one man’s, the toned biceps of another, and all other features that set them apart from each other. True to Q’s reminder, their clothes are traced in outlines, but color is void of their stencils, as you still have to bring the canvas home to complete the finishing touches. When they’re dismissed for the day, the gentlemen are all led by a sculpted man with a big smile who introduces himself as the leader, orchestrating the bows and applause that are held for you.

And as he ushers them out one by one, the strange man who’s been watching you all day is the last to leave, lingering a little bit too long with his hands shoved in his pockets like he wants to say something. He loiters by the canvas for several minutes, but you make no move to angle the painting at him, usually maintaining a certain extent of confidentiality in your work to keep the surprise.

He seems to take the hint, almost nodding indirectly at you and more toward the wall, as he finally saunters out of the room with his hands still in his pockets, his strides painfully slow as he disappears from your sight.

And when you look back to the painting, you cock your head at his outline, trying to gauge whether your art properly captures the sheer sense of unnerve he instills in you with his features alone.

*

Painting sessions are burdensome. They require a lot of planning ahead of time, stocking up on supplies, scheduling around the hours-long timeframe and of course, the mental preparation of having to be stared at by rich men for several hours.

But perhaps critique sessions are even worse these days.

Your paintings are typically set in stone after the initial outlines, considering there are usually a few important figures who review your work and give you the go ahead to take it home and finish it.

Yet sometimes, you still have people complaining, pointing out unimportant features like the color of their sneakers which aren’t to their liking. It’s normally Q who fights these battles for you, refusing to allow you to make any changes since the payments are made upfront, too. But sometimes, even he caves, ordering you to pull out your briefcase and mix a darker shade of green or add more volume to the subject’s hair.

It’s the worst with investors, who put their audacity at the same level as their incomes. But with boy groups like this, you’re unsure, having never done a painting for a band prior to this one.

The finished canvas is transported in a nylon zip-up bag, held by yourself and Q as you fit it inside the truck and secure it with metal prongs. While the drive there is just an hour long, it feels much longer than the last time you traveled there, perhaps because you’re much more nervous.

And perhaps also, it’s because of the same strange man as last time, who you already know is going to have a mouthful to say. The way he lingered by your work station a little too long, wouldn’t stop staring and even excused himself from his own break early to resume his insufferable task of making you uncomfortable. You reckon it’ll be a comment about his hair, asking for a longer length or more volume. Maybe something about the stage outfit you were presented with and how it doesn’t make his legs look long enough. Or knowing his douchebag tendencies, maybe he won’t hesitate to ask for a fucking bulge in his pants at this point.

When you arrive, Q calls over the building staff to help transport the collosal work of art, while you wait awkwardly on the side with your hands shoved in your pockets. You take a moment to crane your neck and look up at the building, a tall glass monument with blue-tinted windows and cobalt text that displays the company name. It’s just as intimidating as you remembered it, instilling the same unnerving feeling that a hospital might.

When the building staff are finally making their way inside, you follow reluctantly, making yourself as small as possible behind them while they navigate the long blinding corridors. It’s an unusual feeling to be at the top floor of the building that you were just looking up at from the street below, and as you pass the windows that line the hallways, you can make out the rows of cars and people that now resemble ants from this high up. It’s as though you were never down there to begin with, like the world is different from up here, much more secluded and shut-in.

And seeing the pin boards that line the walls, with photos of successful artists and flyers for company events, it very well might be, this haunting building where dreams either go to flourish or decay.

Into the last door on the right, eight chairs lined up for eight artists who definitely seem to have flourished. The building staff set up the canvas at the front of the room, securing it into its wooden easel, and Q occupies himself setting up a recording camera which points directly at the painting and captures all eight chairs in the frame. It’s common protocol for events like these to be filmed, not always for public consumption, but for the staff to archive important commemorative moments in the artist’s name. Once the camera is rolling, Q gives you a thumbs up, gesturing to the staff to permit their exit as you make your way to the front with him.

“Ready?” He asks, clasping his hands together as he eyes the camera nervously. You say nothing in response, giving him a small nod, before taking your spot on the other side of the canvas and folding your hands behind your back.

For a few moments of complete silence, the two of you keep your gazes fixed on the clock that lives on the wall across you, the hands ticking with the passing seconds as you await the arrival of the band. Q turns to say something, seemingly disregarding it as he turns back to the wall and shifts his eyes to the door every few moments.

You wish he wouldn’t be so… anticipatory. You wish he’d just stand there, like a rock, indicating nothing of importance, so that you could put less weight into this and unveil the painting to them without any reservations.

Here’s the painting, you want to say. It took me forever, so don’t criticize it. You guys are shorter than my usual subjects. Except for the weirdo- and he stares too much.

You smile to yourself at the thought of being so candid with them, before an abrupt push of the door startles you, and you instantly straighten your posture at the sounds of boots clicking along the floor, leading the eight men who live on the canvas behind you.

One by one they take their seats, dressed to the nines this time in black slacks and collared button ups. They even flaunt ties, mirroring the businessmen you’re used to painting, and the fancy attire quickly makes you nervous as they fold their hands in their laps and fail to joke around like they did the last time.

“Welcome,” a booming voice says, as other important looking figures stand around the room and eye the covered canvas. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, and we’re eager to see what you’ve come up with.”

Applause fills the room, inclusive of the members of the band, which you finally allow yourself to look at. They sit properly, hands folded in their laps and serious expressions painted on their chiseled faces.

Except for the strange one, again, whose gaze is locked on yours. He cocks an eyebrow curiously, as though you’re the one doing the staring. And you quickly turn your attention back to Q, hoping that disregarding the men will calm your nerves a little.

“… she’s paid particular attention to detail,” Q continues, and you realize you’ve missed half his speech already.

“And we are so excited to hang her work in this renowned building as a commemorative piece for the members. Without further ado, please let’s unveil the artwork.”

As he finishes, two members of the staff tug on the beige cloth, letting it fall to the tiled floor beneath it and expose the giant portrait.

Their faces light up instantly, little “woah’s” filling the room as they rise from their seats to take a better look. They laugh at their own figures, they point out each other's and most of them even pull out their cellphones to snap photos of your art. It’s always a gratifying feeling, having a crowd admire the fruits of your labor this way, especially when you aren’t immediately met with verbal protest against your creative choices.

You take a few steps back to give some room to them, the staff talking amongst themselves and gesturing to the building where you presume they speak about where the painting will live.

“It’s a hit,” Q says, coming around to tap you lightly on the arm. “You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Quinton,” you respond. “I’m glad everyone enjoys it.”

And the staff applaud you once more, bowing to you and lining up to shake your hand as they begin to file out of the room again.

The members stick around for a good while, unable to take their eyes off the painting as they point out each other's features and admire their own. And as they begin to leave, several of them thank you personally on the way out, giving you a bow and shaking your hand.

“Thank you, really,” the man you remember being the group leader says to you. “We are so honored to have worked on this with you.”

Another clasps your hand in his, bowing several times before speaking. “Seungmin,” he states his name politely. “Thank you, I think you really did our old group leader justice.”

“Hey!” The leader calls, and you can’t help but laugh a little in response.

The others share similar sentiments, bowing and shaking your hand as they exit, chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they make their way down the hall for their next schedule.

And when you turn to face Q, you’re met with the last member, who folds his arms in front of him coldly and eyes the painting with raised eyebrows.

Like clockwork. He doesn’t like it, he’s going to request a change be made to it and he’s going to berate you in front of your own boss.

“It’s nice,” he chimes in casually from where he’s standing.

“Thanks,” you reply, Q gathering the cover from the floor and zipping it up again.

“Just one thing,” he says now, turning to face you.

“Oh, we normally don’t make changes after-”

“I have a freckle under my eye,” he finishes. “The left eye. You didn’t catch it.”

Your eyes scan the painting, where his chiseled face and long hair stare back at you, a serious expression in his eyes like he wears in person. And then you glance at him standing in front of you again, a small brown mole under his left eye, just like he speaks of.

“Go ahead and add it,” Q says, as he zips up the cover. “That should be on there already.”

And you nod your head at both of them, unzipping your briefcase again to retrieve your paints. He’s watching you like a hawk again, towering over your bent figure as you pull out a thin tube of brown paint and squeeze just a miniscule dollop onto the back of your hand. You retrieve your thinnest paint brush, dipping it into the paint and swiping it across your skin to rid the excess from the fine hairs.

It feels as though you have to paint it with his permission, as you bring the brush to his face and glance over at him for instruction. He gestures to his eye, motioning for you to start, as you bring the brush to his canvas flesh and tap on a tiny, single dot.

He stares at it for a moment, cocking his head as though a brown dot somehow won’t be to his liking. And even Q holds his breath while he waits for a comment from the man. You begin to say something, your lips parting silently, stuck on what to remark as you await his feedback. And then with bated breath, he finally speaks, giving a small nod as he does.

“Good,” he says simply. “It’s me now.”

Q nods at him, nods at you, and then gathers your belongings as you cap the loose tube of paint.

“Do you have a card?” The man asks suddenly, and Q pauses his shuffling about to retrieve one from his coat pocket.

“Here’s her card,” he says, against your silent protests. “She’s available for commission any time. Payments are up front and scheduling is through me only.”

The man nods, thumbing the gold foil cardstock in his slender fingers, and then shoves it into the pocket of his slacks.

“Hyunjin,” he says curtly, reaching his hand out to yours. “I’m the main dancer.”

And you just nod, placing your hand in his reluctantly as you shake once.

“Y/n.”

His hands are cold to the touch, the metal of his rings feeling like blocks of ice in your grasp. He holds it there for a moment, his narrowed eyes shooting daggers into yours, before he finally pulls away and pivots to leave with the rest of the band.

And you can only catch a glimpse of the back of his head when he’s halfway out, before Q turns to speak to you.

“Looks like we may be back very soon,” he remarks, latching your briefcase once more. “I’d hold on to that brown paint if I were you.”

*

Exactly four days pass before you hear from Hyunjin again. In fact, you’ve all but forgotten about the little run-in, until Q barges into your studio while you add the finishing touches to another client’s piece.

“I have a proposal for you,” Q voices, setting an iced coffee on the table beside you while you dip your paintbrush in a muddy cup of water.

“What is it?”

“Well financially, a massive opportunity. Career-wise, much of the same thing you’re already doing.”

“Businessmen?” You question, working your paintbrush in thin strokes to add hair to the figure on the canvas.

“Band,” he replies simply. “The same band you did last week. Just one member, though.”

And you know instantly who he speaks of, your face contorting into an expression of disgust as you wash your paint in the cup of water once more.

“Hyunjin?” You query.

“That’s him,” he says, snapping his fingers as the name comes back to him. “He’s offering double what we paid last, and just for an individual piece. That’s a massive markup from what we usually charge.”

“I don’t know,” you reply hesitantly. “I’m pretty busy with this, and we-”

“I already said yes,” he states simply.

“You did? What- I thought this was a proposal.”

“Yeah,” he says with a scoff. “A proposal to get your stuff ready. We start tomorrow. And he wants you to bring every color you’ve got.”

“Tomorrow? Don’t we already have a prior commitment?”

“Already moved them out,” Q says, sitting on the chair across from you.

“Look,” he begins, sighing deeply. “I know you’re hesitant about these things. But this is the best move you can do, career-wise. Painting these famous figures is a gold mine for us. One day you could be commissioned to paint royalty, and then we’ll be reaping three times our salary.”

And you sigh, too, knowing very well that he’s right. Being a painter who gets commissioned to commemorate important characters, you know the best thing you can do for yourself is say yes to every opportunity. You’re very seldom able to, which is why you have Q in the first place. But the prospect of spending another day with Hyunjin scares you, and you’re not sure Q would consider it a legitimate concern if you brought it up to him.

“I’ll be there, too,” Q interrupts, almost as though he can read your mind. “It’s just him. One day, max, and then you can pick up your other projects.”

It doesn’t seem like there will be a way out of this one, no matter how much you pray that things will fall through eventually.

“One day,” you echo. “And then I’m tunnel vision on the rest of my projects.”

*

You can tell Hyunjin’s thought about this very carefully, judging by the way he saunters into the room with purposeful strides and slings a bag off his shoulder.

He’s dressed a little more casually today in a denim jacket and jeans, with layered silver jewelry that contrasts nicely against his jet black hair.

“Like a model headshot, but painted,” he describes his vision to you, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.

“I want it to look really serious. And maybe a cool-toned color palette.”

He’s meticulous with his requests, and you wonder briefly if he dabbles in art, himself.

“Sure, we can do that,” Q responds, jotting down a few points in a small notepad.

You say nothing, letting Q do all the talking, but Hyunjin’s eyes glance over at you briefly like he wants you to acknowledge the request. So you just nod graciously, giving him a thin-lipped smile, and begin to undo your briefcase.

Hyunjin assumes his same spot on one of the wooden stools, dragging it closer to you by its leg and propping it within eye-view of your big canvas. And then he sits on it, or rather slouches, adjusting his gaze to look straight at you and maintain a cold, serious expression.

It’s just as unnerving as you’d remembered it, having this model-looking figure pierce daggers through your soul while you mix your paints- cool-toned ones, at his request, and prepare for the hour-long trek of capturing his essence.

At least you won’t have to talk to him- or so you’d assumed from the last session you completed with him.

“What’s your process like?” He asks, his sultry voice perfectly matching his features.

“Oh,” you remark, mixing a set of paints to mirror his even skin tone. “I don’t know, I just paint what I see.”

He nods, satisfied with your less-than-wordy answer, and then he begins to prod you with more questions.

“What are your favorite art supplies?”

You cock an eyebrow at this, well aware that you have a long list you can indulge him in, but not wanting to share your secrets with this complete stranger.

“I dunno,” you reply softly. “Oil paints, and graphite pencils really.”

Hyunjin nods again, and then he glances at Q, who gives him a thin-lipped smile much like yours, trying his hardest to remain polite with Hyunjin. You know Q is likely frustrated with you for not entertaining this conversation in a more lively manner, especially considering what he paid for this session, but you’re not going to indulge him in anything except painting him- and only for this one session, like you promised Q.

And the rest of the session is uneventful, Hyunjin poking you with questions about your personal favorite paintings or inquiring about a time you messed up on an important piece. All questions which are answered with brief “I don’t know’s” or “there are so many, I can’t choose.”

And although you are trying hard to keep Hyunjin at a distance, nothing seems to faze him, his head nods and little hums serving as indicators of his satisfaction with all of your answers. He doesn’t get pushy, like your other clients often do, and he even presses Q for a few answers as he makes sense of your work.

At just past 5, the session draws to a close, as Hyunjin rises from his stool and announces he has to tend to his evening dance practice.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” Hyunjin says as he approaches you, giving a small bow as Q waits off to the side.

“Thank you,” you voice back, glancing at Q for a push to leave.

And Hyunjin extends a single hand, gesturing for you to place yours in his, as he towers over you with a curious expression.

You reluctantly place your palm in his, letting the cool metal of his rings graze your skin as he clasps his thumbs over your fingers and rubs them in gentle back and forth motions. He doesn’t bring it up for a cordial peck, he doesn’t shake it- he simply caresses your artist hands tenderly, before letting go again and turning to give Q a small bow as well.

“Take care,” Hyunjin says, pivoting to exit the room into the corridor.

And as Q pesters you with orders to clean up your workstation, you examine your own hands, rotating your own fingers around, like they might somehow be changed by his touch.

*

ON HOLD- The notes under your projects on the big calendar in Q’s office read, written in dark red pen and underlined twice across the pages.

You furrow your brows in confusion, setting your bag down as you enter for the day and ready your art supplies.

“What’s going on?” You ask Q, who’s busy sorting through a stack of invoices.

“Have a seat,” he replies plainly, gesturing to one of the leather chairs that accompany his grand wooden desk. And you do, sitting on the very edge of the chair as you await further instruction from him.

“A gift came for you,” Q says, slinging a large box on the desk in front of you.

You stand up once again, peering inside at the myriad of oil paints, sharpened charcoal pencils, new smocks, palettes and even books about artists and their works. You dig through the supplies, heart racing at the expensive choices, feeling undeserving of all the presents the box contains.

“This is all for me?” You question, baffled at the prospect that anybody could care enough about your career to indulge you in such a fine assortment of goods.

“Read the card,” Q then says, his arms folded in front of him as he nods toward the top of the cardboard box, where a simple yellow envelope is taped to the cover, cursive text scribbled on the front. Hyunjin, it reads.

You undo the seal, pulling out the small card inside, which only contains a short, cold sentence, in contrast to the warm gift.

“For the next few”, it says, not so much as a sign off or even a simple “thanks”.

“Next few?” You repeat, meeting Q’s gaze with a confused expression.

Q sighs, sitting across from you, folding his hands out on the wooden surface where you can see them.

“His manager called this morning,” he begins. “And commissioned us for another one. Except this one has a long set of rules. He wants you to use these supplies, he wants to visit your studio instead of occupy the company building. And he specifically asked me not to accompany you.”

“What?” You exclaim, angered at the sheer audacity he has, and knowing very well that you only agreed to one painting.

“That’s completely against our rules,” you continue. “Did you tell him no?”

And Q gives you a sheepish grin, gesturing to the stack of papers he flipped through earlier. “They’re offering quadruple the pay,” he says sternly. “He’s obsessed with your work.”

“So what?” You argue. “I have a ton of other projects to finish. And I’m not throwing all of that away because some guy wants time alone with the artist.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting alone time with an artist,” Q emphasizes.

“This is a huge sacrifice, Quinton. I wish you would’ve run this by me earlier.”

Your eyes meet the calendar above his desk again, counting the number of projects with a big ON HOLD scribbled below them. Q sighs, evidently feeling a little guilty for his own actions, and then pinches his wireframe glasses between his fingers, pulling them off his face and tucking them into the pocket of his blazer.

“I’m willing to give you 10% more than what you already make from these.”

Your gaze snaps to his, a bewildered expression on your face as you process his words.

“What- seriously? Quinton, that’s-”

“His company’s loaded” he says with a shrug. “The guy is so much bigger than I thought he was. People love him.”

And your gaze flickers between the calendar and the big red text, Quinton’s hopeful stare and at the box of new art supplies you’ll be required to work with.

Q doesn’t need to press you for verbal confirmation, knowing that the caress of your fingers over Hyunjin’s name on the envelope serves as answer enough.

*

Your studio is particularly messy on Wednesdays, housing all of the project paraphernalia from the days prior. Today is no exception, canvases that sit on easels lining the walls and cans of paint thinner spread out on the tarps. You make your best attempt at shoving everything against the wall, creating a clear pathway for Hyunjin to stride into the way he always does. And you set up your canvas prior to his arrival, getting all of your necessary supplies in place to avoid the awkward few moments of setting up while he watches you so intently.

He’s a punctual idol if you’ve ever met one, arriving at 5pm on the dot, expensive-looking sunglasses shielding his eyes from the barely visible sunlight outside, and a black beanie pulled over his head. He looks like he could be a security guard of his own, the all-black attire even more unsettling as he makes his way inside.

There’s a reason you never house clients in your own studio- the reason being it’s small. It’s office-sized, large glass windows on one side of the wall that overlook a sea of greenery that’s now overgrown with all the recent rains. The floor is gray concrete, stained just about everywhere with swatches of paint and charcoal pieces. And the two tabled surfaces that are available are covered in art supplies, the color of the furniture now indistinguishable as they house tubes of paint, brushes and cans of thinner.

“You can put your bag on the chair there,” you say as he walks in, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

He does as told, setting a designer crossbody on the folding chair by one of the tables, and then he stands confidently, observing the room as he awaits further instruction.

He takes long strides around the perimeter of the room, leaning closely into the existing canvases to study your techniques. But he says nothing, remaining much quieter than last time, the only sound coming from his heeled boots as he moves elegantly around the studio.

“I’m ready,” you say, and Hyunjin turns around to face you. He cocks his head slightly, and then he brings one hand up to pull the beanie off his head, letting his brown tresses fall loosely around his handsome face, not requiring much adjustment as they seem to fall in disarray so perfectly. He pulls his sunglasses off as well, folding them between his plump lips before tucking them into the pocket of his jeans as he finally stops to look at you.

He looks as handsome as he always does, his unreal features looking as though he was modeled by a painting and not the other way around. You feel small in front of him, and unimportant, as he approaches you and stops just in front of your much smaller figure.

“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asks, cuffing up the sleeves of his black knit sweater.

“It’s up to you,” you reply to him, giving a small shrug as you speak.

“This one’s your call,” Hyunjin retorts. “I want it from the artist’s vision.”

And you can’t help the blush that creeps up on your cheeks, feeling embarrassingly flustered at the idea of someone caring even slightly about your vision. Everything’s from your client’s vision- the outfits, the poses, even the adjustments they request following the painting’s unveiling. It’s very seldom that you’re able to provide any directions to the standard of your vision, and though it’s unexpected, it’s a little endearing.

“My vision?” You echo, tapping your fingers on your chin.

You glance around the room at the supplies you have on hand, nothing special, but definitely materials you can work with.

Without replying to him, you pull forward one of the folding chairs, setting it down in front of your easel and gesturing to it.

“Could you sit on the top part? Like, on the back of the chair?”

Hyunjin nods, climbing up onto the chair and balancing as he takes a seat on the back part. It’s a little unstable looking, but Hyunjin seems to manage just fine, spreading his legs casually and running his hands through his hair.

“Your hands,” you chime in, taking note of the silver watch he flaunts on his left wrist. “Could you rest them on your knees?”

“Like this?” Hyunjin questions, sprawling his palms out over his kneecaps.

“Not quite,” you reply. “A little more like…”

And then without warning, you take both his hands in yours, positioning his elbows to rest atop his kneecaps so that his hands hang loosely in front of him. He cocks his face up to meet your gaze, the same intense expression he always houses, and you take a step back to admire the position.

“Exactly like that,” you say to him. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable and we’ll take a break.”

Hyunjin shoots a small smile, perhaps more of a smirk at you, as he sits still and watches you begin to paint in long strokes along the canvas. Your movements are fluid and impetuous, but every stroke proves itself more robust than the last, painting a clear outline of Hyunjin’s seated figure as he keeps his eyes on you. And maybe it’s because you’ve chosen his pose this time, or because it’s your third time doing this with Hyunjin, but you don’t feel nearly as uncomfortable anymore, keeping your attention on the painting and disregarding any implications that might derive from his cold stare.

“I wasn’t sure which brand of oil paints you preferred,” Hyunjin says suddenly. “So I bought you three kinds.”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply softly. “Thank you for the gifts. You really didn’t have to.”

“You have a talent,” Hyunjin voices. “I hung the last one up in my own studio.”

“You have a studio?” You question, remembering Q had previously mentioned something about him being an artist.

“I do,” Hyunjin answers. “It’s nothing like this one, just some canvases in the shared dorm we have. But I paint in all my free time. If I wasn’t here right now, I’d probably be painting.”

“That’s interesting,” you reply. “I’d love to see your work someday.

And Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate to pull his phone out, navigating to his camera roll to show you some of his pieces. He flashes you a painting of a bouquet of roses, placed in a glass case atop a table. Another showcases a city street, scribbled cars and people that line the pavement. And a whole gallery of them depict people- couples, in particular, in all sorts of romantic poses. Kissing, hugging, embracing with such passion and force, almost consuming each other with their visible desperation for one another.

“They’re beautiful,” you say, in awe at the technique of his art. You weren’t expecting him to be so good, for someone who doesn’t paint as a full-time career.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin replies, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “I’ve learned so much from you.”

“Me?” You retort with a small chuckle. “I highly doubt that, your stuff is very unique. But I’m flattered that you’d say that. Thank you.”

Hyunjin keeps his gaze on yours for a moment, cocking his head to the side as though he’s observing your features. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes narrowing and widening again as he takes in the sight of you dabbing a little more olive paint into his complexion. And then he straightens his back, steadying himself on the chair with two hands gripping the sides.

“When was the last time you left this studio?” He inquires with a smug expression. He sounds a little more serious now, and his tone of voice makes your heartbeat race.

“I don’t live here,” you reply plainly. “I leave every day.”

“When was the last time you escaped?” He then clarifies. “When was the last time you weren’t confined here for the purposes of work?”

You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep busy with your task and avert his gaze.

“This is my job,” you say sternly. “I don’t want to escape.”

“I’m a dancer,” Hyunjin states matter-of-factly. “I don’t live in the studio at the building. Sure, the bright lights and the walls of mirrors help with the choreography. But sometimes I dance in my dorm. And sometimes I dance in a big grass field when nobody’s watching.”

You pause your brushstrokes for a moment, finally meeting his gaze as he stares down at you. He raises one eyebrow, waiting for an answer, which you fail to provide him with as he leans forward once again and clasps his hands together.

“You feel trapped here, don’t you?”

And suddenly his words infuriate you, the sheer audacity of him to walk into your studio demanding all these rules from you, like your boundaries can be overlooked if they’re bought. And who is he to pry into your life like this, knowing next to nothing about you except that you’re a painter? It’s blasphemous- offensive, even.

“I’m not trapped,” you say, standing from your stool and backing away from him a little. “I love my job. I can quit whenever I want to, and this is my passion.”

“Who are you when you’re not painting these portraits?” Hyunjin inquires, and your eyebrows contort into a much angrier frown.

“Who are you to imply any of this, anyway? You’re an idol. You’re the one who’s trapped in the confines of a million rules- are you even allowed to be here right now? Who are you when you’re not putting on the mask of a completely different persona?”

You exhale frustratedly as you finish, taking a moment to catch your breath, and trying your best to avoid his gaze. But when you meet his piercing eyes again, he’s smiling, a wicked expression on his face like he’s amused at your lashing.

“I’m glad you asked ,” he says simply.

“What?”

“I’d assumed it was part of your vision, to maybe scratch below the surface of the flesh outlines you paint. I know there’s more than meets the eye to your work. You have this passion about you.”

“Passion?” You reply nervously, now fiddling with the brush still in your grasp.

“Mhm,” Hyunjin responds casually. “Like you want to lash out. Go on, get it off your chest. I won’t mind.”

And you say nothing again, shrinking back into the confines of your wooden stool as you swirl the brush around in the same mug of water and dip it back into a dollop of paint.

“I’m sorry,” you voice to him. “I don’t treat my clients like this. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders sag a little, as though he was waiting for you to keep the chaos alive in this little studio. He just nods, and then he assumes the same position as earlier, his knees spread in front of him and his hands resting comfortably on his knee caps as he slouches forward.

You resume the task of shading in his skin tone, adding highlights to the elevated portions of his face and glancing over at him in intervals to confirm where the light hits him.

“I’ve learned so much from you,” Hyunjin says for the second time tonight, and you’re still unsure what he means by it. “I think we could learn a lot about each other.”

And the studio falls silent for the remainder of the session, as he allows his eyes to bore into your soul while you translate his being onto the canvas in front of you. Or at least the parts that are able to be translated.

*

Your calendar is blocked off for the remainder of the week for other clients, Hyunjin rescheduling his sessions as he prepares for a performance overseas.

Your heart sinks a little when Q announces the schedule change to you, secretly praying you haven’t completely ruined your artist/client relationship with Hyunjin. He’s definitely a little odd, and he can be pushy when he wants to be. But he’s undeniably more intriguing than the investors you’re used to housing at the studio, telling you stories of his dancing and inquiring about all your favorite techniques every chance he gets.

He’s the first client who’s ever uttered the word “vision” when it came to yours, and not his, and you can’t let go of the value it added to your last session with him. You had yelled at him, ordered him to stop projecting his thoughts onto yours and asking personal questions. But it was the first time you felt alive, somewhat visible to a client as you painted them. His eyes pierce through your soul, every tangible inch of it, and not just the empty shell of who you are when you’re not existing so loudly. And Hyunjin seems like the only catalyst that allows you to exist loudly these days, even Q walking all over you like you’re an extension of his tedious ways.

Although your last conversation didn’t go quite as smoothly as you’d hoped it would, Hyunjin’s words continue to circle your mind relentlessly, your heart trying to make sense of them no matter how hard you try.

“Who are you when you’re not painting these portraits?”

It’s a fair question, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a discourteous one, either. Maybe he’s genuinely curious about the woman you are when you’re not following Q’s orders. But where has Hyunjin pulled the implication from that you’re anyone except for the person assigned to produce these portraits? You’ve given him no reason to think anything of you besides the well-mannered, focused painter you are. And to imply anything else would also, by extension, imply he knows something about you.

“I’ve learned so much about you,” he had also said to you, twice in the same session. And can one really learn from two, three sessions of watching an artist paint? Sure, if he was more focused on your technique and your mannerisms rather than staring at you so intensely. But he hadn’t seemed to be interested in much else, simply keeping his gaze on yours and asking base-level questions about your artist career.

If anything, you could learn a lot about Hyunjin, who has the whole world at his disposal and walks around this place like he owns it. He speaks of you like he’s trying to study you. He wants to learn from you, despite being the one wielding much more knowledge and wisdom than you could even begin to fathom. True, you don’t escape this studio- and you don’t utilize it without the intention to work. In fact, your work consumes you most days, your personal life just a microscopic dot in the grand scheme of this arrangement.

But Hyunjin seems to think otherwise, his generous gifts and his fascination with returning seeming to imply something else. Like he wants to learn from you, or like he’s convinced he already has.

In apprehension, like he knows you.

*

“Where are we going?” You query when Hyunjin arrives next, quickly ordering you to gather your supplies and ushering you to the door.

“We’re not painting here today,” he says plainly.

“What? No, Hyunjin I don’t paint anywhere except for-”

“The studio or a company,” he finishes. “That’s the issue. I want to take you somewhere more lively.”

“I can’t be around people,” you respond. “I don’t… it’ll just mess up the whole process.”

“Do you trust me?” Hyunjin asks suddenly, his hand extending out to yours for the briefcase you grasp.

What a simplified question- absolutely not. You don’t trust him, that’s the issue with leaving the studio. You’re still not sure of his career as a whole, you’re not sure why he’s so adamant about breaking all sorts of rules and you don’t know anything beyond his name.

“No,” you reply. “I don’t think I trust you at all, actually.”

And Hyunjin just smiles, stepping forward to take the briefcase from you.

“Good,” he replies, the same amused smile plastered on his face. “That means there’s still a lot I can teach you.”

He watches you slip on your coat, undeniably confused, but in a trance-like state obeying his commands, like your heart won’t let you hear your brain’s protests.

Hyunjin doesn’t drive. He doesn’t need to, having his own personal chauffeur at his beck and call, able to go just about anywhere in the evening during his allotted hours of free time. Ones he normally spends in the studio, watching you paint.

You sit quietly on one side of the fancy black car, your hands folded neatly in your lap and staring at the passing blur of city lights out the window. Hyunjin occupies the other, one of his slender hands resting atop the briefcase in an attempt to steady it whilst the driver makes sharp turns and brakes a little too harshly.

You watch as the city roads turn to one long paved road, surrounded by tall grass and trees. And this path goes on for a while, maybe 20 or 30 minutes, as you remain in comfortable silence. The driver seems to be acquainted with the road, turning every way he needs to, no form of navigation telling where to go, simply having memorized the route. And Hyunjin doesn’t seem tense in the slightest, humming softly to himself as he taps his fingers along the leather surface of the briefcase.

The fork at the end of the road signals the stopping point for the driver, who hits the brakes, but doesn’t turn the car off. The keys remain in the ignition as he comes around to open your door, guiding you out with one hand and bowing graciously to the both of you.

“One hour,” Hyunjin says to him, sliding him a generously folded bill.

The driver nods, occupying his spot in the driver’s seat, and you watch him make a U-turn before driving off down the path again.

The environment is quiet, much quieter than any spot back in the city. It’s nothing except for trees and tall grass that sway with the gentle evening breeze, the sky swallowing up a now orange sun as nighttime begins to over both of you. If you squint, you can even see the mountains from here, some of them lined with little yellow lights, probably vacant buildings or farm workers. And the birds sing their last songs of the day, mellow tunes that harmonize with the growing chirps of crickets.

“It’s pretty here,” you remark to Hyunjin, who stands looking out at the view with his hands tucked in his coat pockets.

He doesn’t reply for a moment, his long hair swaying with the breeze. And then he tilts his head in the direction of the briefcase, nodding once.

“Paint what you see,” he orders.

You nod reluctantly, scrambling to open the briefcase and set up your supplies.

“Do you want to stand there? Or… do you prefer something else?”

He smiles, a little amused at your rushed state, and then he shakes his head.

“Not me,” he clarifies. “The view. Paint what you see.”

You swallow a lump in your throat, stopping your movements and pondering the words for a moment. You haven’t painted a view in god knows how long. Your skills are rusty, your techniques are skewed and the whole concept of it makes you shudder.

“The view?” You question back. You take a moment to look at the view again- there are possibilities everywhere. Green grasses that resemble paint strokes themselves, a deepening blue sky with strokes of blues and blacks, stars like paint splatters and trees with sponge-painted bushels. The art is everywhere, the possibilities are vast and endless with a view like this one.

“The view,” Hyunjin echoes. “Don’t take it too seriously. This isn’t some company's order to paint me. I just want to see the world through your eyes.”

And you nod, once, Hyunjin helping you latch your sketch pad to the easel as you mix a myriad of blues and greens together on your wooden palette.

He flips through your sketch pad for a little while before stepping away, nodding at the pages upon pages of art unlike any of your portraits. When you think he’s going to move, he doesn’t, remaining in the same spot and nodding his head at the works. And you feel a little shy, a little confused at why he’s taken so much interest in the work you complete on the side, work completely unrelated to any of your portraits. When he reaches a blank page, he meets your gaze with a small smile, nodding his head once at you as he finally moves out of the way.

And then you finally begin, hesitantly, as Hyunjin finds a spot in an undisturbed part of the grass, sprawling his long legs out in front of him and pulling out a sketch pad from his own bag. He angles it away from you, beginning to make long, generous lines with his charcoal pencil, peering over at the trees every now and then to gauge their shape. And you remain there, a comfortable silence among both of you, as you both capture the view in your respective visions.

The technique comes back to you instantly, like motion memory, quickly sponging leaves into the trees and pulling the dark sky from its draped position over you to plaster it onto the canvas you work on. Blues, greens, glittering whites for the night stars and fantastic shades of chartreuse and viridian find their homes on the canvas, so carefully placed and mirroring the view you overlook. You emulate the shadows, the waning glints of light, even the sounds seem to live on the picturesque view where time stands still in the confines of four walls.

Hyunjin doesn’t disturb your work flow- in fact, for most of the time you remain there, you cease to remember he’s even working on a sketch of his own, his delicate figure disappearing among the trees as your peripherals shut him out and bring nature to the forefront.

It’s only an hour you’re there, like Hyunjin had promised, before he’s returning to your spot and standing behind you to look over your shoulder.

“Beautiful,” Hyunjin states dramatically. “Beautiful, and spectacular, and shining.”

You chuckle lightly, wiping the brush on your smock and tucking it away in one of the front pockets.

“Will you sign it?” Hyunjin asks, cocking his head a little to try to find where your signature currently sits, but finding nothing.

“Oh, yeah,” you respond, bringing a charcoal pencil to the bottom right and scribbling a quick signature.

He scans the painting once more, tracing a finger over the corner where you’ve added your signature, and then he gives a small nod before meeting your gaze.

“This one’s my favorite,” Hyunjin tells you. “Because it’s entirely your vision.”

“The ones I make of you are my vision, too,” you explain, and Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

“I like how you see the world. Not how you see me. Or anybody else, for that matter.”

And you find yourself blushing again, unsure if his intention is to fluster you with his poetic words, but well aware that he’s having the effect on you regardless.

“Thank you,” you echo politely. “I like this one, too.”

Your gazes remain fixed on each other for a brief moment, the grass now standing still as the night falls over you, stars glittering in the black sky and the crickets singing their nocturnal songs.

For the first time since meeting him, Hyunjin looks less cold at this proximity to you, his entire demeanor exuding softness and comfort as he smiles at you. Maybe it’s the black puffer coat he wears, the collar pulled up to his chin to keep warm from the frigid winter night around you. He wears his glasses, too, these ones a thicker black frame, pushed high up on his face and a little dorky, admittedly. But it’s also because he seems kinder, more warm and welcoming. There’s no existing rush to capture him any which way- in fact, there’s no pressure to capture him at all. And maybe when you’re not translating his model-like appearance onto canvas, you’re able to step back and admire that he’s soft under his hard exterior, he’s so gentle and human.

At first, you debate telling him, a sudden urge inside of you to apologize for your presumptions of him and admit that he’s slowly become your favorite client to be around. Maybe he’s right- maybe you do have a lot you can teach each other. He lives a life of lavishness, entertaining varying aspects of his idol career and serving a role of great importance to those who know him. And he is certainly of importance to your career, being your highest-paying customer and the one you’ve painted the most now. But he plays a role in other parts of your life too, allowing you to try new techniques, entertain your vision, circling your mind with his poetic words and his strategic motions. All lessons which allow you to grow outside the confines of your studio, too.

But you settle on silence, not wanting Hyunjin to think too boldly of you. Maybe he’s like this with everybody he crosses paths with. Choreographers, vocal coaches and painters alike. Maybe he’s simply as fascinating as he looks.

As you study him again, the sound of a car engine interrupts you, and you turn around to find Hyunjin’s driver has returned as promised. You bring a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright headlights that illuminate the whole field, as Hyunjin helps you gather your supplies again, securing the canvas in its case and transporting it into the backseat of the car with the driver’s help.

Hyunjin holds the door for you this time, ushering you inside, and then he comes around to slide into the backseat next to you.

“I think it’s going to rain,” the driver says as he puts the car in reverse.

You crane your neck to look at the sky through the tinted windows, dark blue clouds that loom overhead and seem to make the night even colder.

“I have one more place we need to stop at,” Hyunjin says suddenly, sitting forward to make eye contact with the driver through the mirror.

The driver nods in response, as if the last location is a secret kept between them, as he begins down the dirt path again in silence.

*

“Ever been here?” Hyunjin questions, as he holds out a hand to guide you up the stairs. The steep concrete stairs lead to a grand crested marble doorway, a bronze statue out in front and dimly lit lamp posts that illuminate the sign overhead.

Museum of Modern Art.

“Once, a long, long time ago,” you respond. “I think I usually steer clear from galleries since I don’t show my work at them.”

Hyunjin chuckles softly, stopping at the front door and meeting the gaze of a security guard, who promptly strides over and opens the door just an inch.

Hyunjin pulls out an ID, and a folded paper of some sort, and you watch as the security examines it briefly before nodding. It’s only then that you realize the museum is closed for the evening, the only person around behind the night security, but of course that rule doesn’t apply to Hyunjin, who can get in just about anywhere with the flash of a smile.

“It’s the only way to visit with no one else around,” Hyunjin says, confirming your theory. “They let me stay as long as I want. Sometimes I draw here.”

You nod at his words, giving a small smile as the security eyes you intensely, and then he opens the door to guide both of you inside. Hyunjin removes his coat, slinging it over a nearby coat hanger, and he flaunts a white knit sweater with his dark jeans, looking cozy in contrast to the dark winter night outside. He holds your sketch pad tucked under one arm, and then he skips excitedly to a room behind a curtain.

“This one’s my favorite!” He exclaims, giggling softly like a child might. “Do you know they’re all made out of recycled materials?”

And you brush the curtain aside, being met with the sculptures he speaks of, neutral-toned figurines that appear to be made of paper mache, all resembling people. Their forms hold each other, mimic ballroom dancing, and even embrace each other in a tender kiss as they stand tall in the center of the room.

You watch as Hyunjin snaps a few photos with his cellphone, craning his neck to view them at a better angle, and then he turns to face you.

“What do you think?” Hyunjin asks.

“They’re beautiful,” you reply. “They kind of remind me of your drawings.”

He shoots you a flustered smile in response, touched that you’ve even remembered what his drawings look like. And then he graciously bows as he ushers to another room.

“I think you’ll like the next one.”

The next room behind another dark curtain is a gallery of paintings, all of them abstract forms of art that experiment with different colors and mediums. You take a while in this room, sauntering down the row of canvases and observing how each one captures something completely different from the others. Some include only cool-toned shades, their strokes much smaller and overall more somber. Some play with warm tones, long generous strokes that capture passion and heat. And some mix both, two stories dancing in harmony on one canvas, contrasting light with shadow and love with regret.

As you cock your head slightly, observing the way the colors are so evocative from this proximity, Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, cocking his head in a similar fashion and taking in the same details that you do. And if someone were to stand behind you, maybe both of you would mirror the painting, too, two hues of life and recluse working in perfect harmony alongside each other.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Hyunjin asks, and you hum in response.

“Yeah. I love these colors.”

Hyunjin nods, giving the painting a last once-over before nodding in the direction of another curtain.

“Come on, I want to show you this last one.”

The last room houses a little bench, where Hyunjin occupies the left side and pats the spot next to him. You take a seat, your hands folded neatly in your lap, as you observe the colossal painting in front of you.

It’s a watercolor painting, one amorphous shape at a far distance, yet at this proximity, the tangible outline of a figure, sat with legs pulled to the chest and crouched in a position evoking such sadness.

The cold blue hues highlight the shadows which define body parts among the pile of limbs, the curve of a breast, the almost indistinguishable outline of a leg, aspects you have to really squint hard to make out. But the colors complement each other so artistically, and the figure in the painting looks so melancholy, so longing for something more than the confines of the canvas she lives on.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hyunjin voices, and you nod, swallowing as you remain quiet.

He pauses for a moment, his voice hitching in the back of his throat, before speaking again.

“The artist was a child prodigy,” he begins. “Apparently they painted all their life and then became a sort of recluse into adulthood. No one’s seen a painting from them since. This was their last big project.”

“Interesting,” you remark quietly.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies. “And their art is always titled around themes of loneliness and solitude. Every painting kind of feels like a puzzle piece leading up to their disappearance from the art world.”

Hyunjin says nothing as your eyes dart around the room, swallowing nervously as you ponder what to say. And nothing comes to mind, nothing that won’t make you seem crazy, or irate.

And then before you can protest his actions, he flips open your sketch pad he’s kept tucked under his arm all this time, flipping through a few pages until he’s nearly at the end. He stops at one of your paintings, cool aqua hues filling the paper in the same manner as the one hung on the wall.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Hyunjin finally says, and you realize he’s turned to face you now.

You stand up at this point, smoothing down your blouse and turning away from his gaze.

“Sorry, I have to go-”

You search for an exit, unable to locate one amidst the dark curtains and the dimly lit room. And the only thing you can think to do is walk back the way you entered, beginning back through the abstract painting gallery as Hyunjin follows behind you.

“They’re amazing,” Hyunjin says. “You have a talent. Your paintings were always my favorite-”

“Please, stop,” you interrupt, your heart beating erratically as you make your way past the paper mache sculptures.

“Why did you stop making them?” He asks, now standing still in the entrance, the security guard on high alert as he watches Hyunjin’s stressed demeanor.

“Sorry,” you voice to the security guard, bowing to him. “I have to go, thank you so much.”

And without turning to look at Hyunjin, you push the doors open, making your way out of the museum and onto the concrete steps. It’s raining now, hard, like the driver had predicted, and you march right past his parked car to one of the taxis parked by the curb.

The cab driver takes an address from you, punching it into his navigation system as he begins to drive down the street, and you pray he can’t hear the quiet sniffles coming from you in the backseat.

As he pulls away from the curb, you glance out the window at the museum, where Hyunjin’s now shoving past the door and standing still, his hands dropped at his sides and a hurt expression on his face.

His hair falls damp around his face as he lets the sheets of rain wash over him, his driver exiting the vehicle in a rush to get Hyunjin back into the safety of the car.

But he remains there, unmoving, his hurt gaze fixed on yours, as you turn a corner and fall out of his sight.

*

And just like the sessions were uneventful before Hyunjin, they’re much more uneventful after him, too.

Putting the sessions on hold for Hyunjin is nothing, his life full of vibrancy and color when he’s not spending an hour or two with you in the evening posing for a painting. It’s time he fills with extra dance practice, vocal training, spending time with his members and even doing art of his own.

But for you, it means returning to a life of mediocrity, requesting stock brokers to angle their big heads in a more appealing manner so you can capture every one of their unsightly features. You’re ogled at by salesmen, disrespected by accountants and not a single one of them could give a shit about your vision.

A part of you wants to call Hyunjin and apologize, to explain that he was out of line in his approach to identify you and catch you so off-guard. But you’re mostly angry at him, for having ruined something so beautiful you took pride in every week. Now he’s gone, the sessions put on pause until further notice and your life forever changed by Hyunjin, though he’ll keep living his life of lavishness despite being the source of all your pain.

“Now that we don’t have Hyunjin on the books after this week, I need you to resume the work on Mr. Lee’s painting. Let’s not lose sight of the ones we started prior to his pieces,” Q says, as he flips through a clipboard of printed schedules.

“This week?” You echo in question. “I thought sessions with Hyunjin were put on hold until further notice.”

“They were,” he responds. “After your last session this week. He’ll be here tomorrow evening. He’s your last client of the day.”

“Tomorrow?” You repeat, pausing your brush strokes as you turn to look at him. “He requested to come in tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Q replies with furrowed brows. “Why, is there a problem? I already told him yes.”

“No, that’s fine,” you reply, rotating the brush around in your fingers as you think over his words. “Tomorrow works fine.”

Despite the sessions being put on hold, you’ll still have a moment to explain yourself to Hyunjin and make amends. It might not get you exactly where you were before all of this, but the thought of letting Hyunjin part ways thinking you despise him makes your stomach turn. You’ll still get a moment alone with him to rekindle the state of your friendship.

… Or so you thought. When you arrive at the studio the next day for your last session, Q is still there, organizing papers at one of the tables and still dressed in a fancy blazer and tie like he never left from this morning’s session.

“Quinton?” You call, setting your purse down and toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Yes?” He responds, not looking up at you.

“Are you… don’t you normally sit these sessions out?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he says casually. “I’ll be sitting in on this last one. I know they were put on hold pretty abruptly, and I wanted to be around for your last one.”

You give him a small nod, protesting his actions mentally. You won’t get a minute alone with Hyunjin after all- not with Q watching you like a hawk. You want to scream at him, to tell him he has to leave and that he’ll be permanently disrupting the client-artist relationship you’ve developed with your highest-paying customer if he stays and taints the room with his overwhelming presence. But he largely determines the success of your career, whether you like it or not. And requesting Q’s absence will most certainly point to something more going on between you and Hyunjin.

“Right,” you reply. “That’s fine.”

You wish Quinton wouldn’t be so… mechanical. You wish he could trust that you’ll get the job done, despite any existing tensions between you and Hyunjin. You wish he wouldn’t pretend to care about being present, when in reality you know he just wants to make sure it wasn’t you who screwed something up. And you wish he would leave you alone with Hyunjin to make amends the way you know you need to before you part ways with him.

When the door opens once again, you both turn your heads to look at Hyunjin, who strolls in with casual strides, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze falls on Q, and he furrows his brows together, finally looking at you, with a confused expression on his face.

“Welcome!” Q says obnoxiously. “I’ll be sitting in for this session, I hope you don’t mind.”

Hyunjin shoots him a thin-lipped smile, giving a subtle nod as he slings his bag off.

“Sure,” he replies. “That’s fine.”

He assumes his spot on the same wooden stool, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, and then he turns to meet your gaze.

“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asks. He sounds more somber than the other times he’d asked the same question, his voice trailing off a little as he waits for a reply.

“This is good,” you say, taking your own seat and beginning to work light strokes across the canvas. You start with his jawline, the same chiseled jawline you’ve gotten so used to painting, working a robust angle where the crook of his neck meets his cheeks. Then his eyes, the piercing intensity of them, narrowing involuntarily as he poses with such skill, the same eyes which have graced the covers of magazines and album covers. His lips, plump and rosy, forming a small pout as he remains silent. And the outline of his luscious brown tresses, which fall beautifully around his face and soften the rest of his features.

He looks so enchanting this evening, like he’s straight out of one of the paintings at the museum. And your anger feels almost completely dissipated once he’s in front of you like this, just a pressing urge to be alone with him so you can communicate properly.

“Looking good,” Q says as he comes up behind you, his hands folded behind his back.

Hyunjin’s eyes dart over at Q’s standing figure, glancing over at you again while you paint. You attempt to shoot him an apologetic expression, wanting to tell him it wasn’t your idea to have Q here watching your every move. But you can’t properly convey your emotions to him with Q practically breathing down your neck.

“Beautiful work”, Q chimes in, nodding as you add the color to Hyunjin’s hair.

You can feel yourself getting frustrated with him, wishing so badly you could at least ask him to wait on the other side of the room like he normally does. But he remains there, crowding around you as you work and filling the room with his awkward presence.

“I’ll drag up a chair,” Q says with a small chuckle. “So I don’t have to stand.”

And both you and Hyunjin watch as he pulls up a folding chair, dragging it along the floor in one painfully slow motion, the sound of the legs screeching against the concrete floor as he places it next to you and takes a seat.

Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours again, cocking his head slightly as though he’s asking why you’ve allowed Q to be so overbearing today. But none of this is according to your plans, either.

“Go on,” Q urges. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

You hadn’t even realized you’ve stopped painting, grasping your brush between your fingers as you watch Q adjust in his seat and gesture to the painting.

“I think we should take a break,” Hyunjin says finally. “My leg is cramping a little.”

“Of course,” Q echoes back. “We can take five. There’s a vending machine out by the front door. And the bathrooms are on the right, by the-”

Q can’t even finish his sentence before Hyunjin’s shoving his way past the door, taking long strides away from the studio and waiting outside. He pinches the bridge of his nose in deep annoyance, letting out a deep sigh as he ponders the evening’s events so far.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” you tell Q, setting your brush down and following Hyunjin. “I’ll be right back.”

And you follow his footsteps, pushing on the door to meet him outside, where he stands with one hand on his hip, the other massaging his temples frustratedly.

He looks angry, as you predict he would be, but you approach him anyway, fiddling with your thumbs as he stays quiet for a moment.

“I organized this last session to speak with you,” Hyunjin says in an annoyed tone. “I should’ve known you’d invite him.”

“I didn’t invite him,” you say quickly. “I didn’t even know he’d be here, I swear. He just stayed, and he was insistent on sitting in.”

Hyunjin finally drops his hand at his side, meeting your gaze, a softening expression on his face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he finally says. “I overstepped my boundaries. I’m just here to pay you for art. Not prod into your personal life.”

“I know,” you say back. “I wanted to explain to you, but…” your voice trails off, remembering this is technically your last session with him. And judging by the way everyone speaks of him, it’ll be near impossible to contact him again after this.

“It seems like I missed my chance,” you finish, referencing Q’s persistence.

Hyunjin glances around for a moment at the overgrown plants that line the studio windows, still damp from the evening rain. It looks like a jungle out here, the plants providing no clear view through the windows and instilling such a peaceful sense of privacy.

“Could you stay a little longer?” Hyunjin questions. “After he leaves. I just want to talk to you before I go.”

You think over his proposal for a moment- Quinton is punctual at leaving right past the hour mark. He never stays longer for hours than he needs to, but he’s no stranger to you utilizing the studio to finish up some of your work after hours.

“Sure,” you say finally. “Just pretend you’ve left after the session and I’ll tell him I need to stay longer. Don’t wait near the parking lot or he’ll see you.”

A somber smile grows on Hyunjin’s face as he nods in response.

“I’m going to call my driver and tell him I’ll be longer than the original session. Meet you back inside.”

And you make your way back into the studio, where Q is busy shuffling through papers at the table.

“Ready?” He asks, already taking strides back to his stool, positioned far too close to your canvas and Hyunjin’s seat.

“Yeah,” you reply, sighing a little as he occupies the seat next to you and glances around the room for Hyunjin.

“He’s taking a phone call,” you explain to Q. “Just give him a minute.”

And Q pushes his glasses further up his nose, humming in response as he observes your painting again.

“You’ve really mastered his features,” he comments, scanning over Hyunjin’s painted outline. “Even his eye mole is already there.”

And you scan the painting too, at the little mole painted just below Hyunjin’s left eye as he requested.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I guess I have.”

You wouldn’t forget it, because everything about him occupies your mind, much like his figure lives on your canvases.

*

It’s just half an hour more before you’re finished with Hyunjin’s painting. It’s still lacking some detail, like the contours along his face and the buttons of his cardigan. But they’re all details you give yourself time to finish later, before you wrap up your final piece and gift it to Hyunjin.

Q is relentless in his micromanaging for the remainder of the session, making useless comments about your techniques and asking Hyunjin about his own work. Hyunjin’s answers are all short and echo his clear annoyance, desperate to finish the session in order to speak with you privately. But you both remain collected in your manners, graciously conversing with Q and reaching the end of the session.

Q reviews his invoice documents as Hyunjin slings his bag on once more, standing by the door as though he’s ready to leave.

“Payment was finalized today, and your sessions are on hold until your tour is completed.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin responds, bowing graciously. “It was a pleasure to work with both of you. I’ll be back when we’re done overseas.”

“Don’t hesitate to reach out!” Q calls, as Hyunjin makes his way past the door. He waves Q off with a small smile and then turns the corner until he’s out of sight.

“Well, there goes your best-paying client,” Q remarks with a deep sigh. “We have a lot more to pick back up on. I know Mr. Lee’s paintings are still in progress-”

“Thank you, Quinton,” you voice to him. “We’ll talk scheduling tomorrow. Please just get home safely.”

“You’re not leaving yet?” He queries, already pulling on his canvas bag and hanging his clipboard from a thumbtack on the wall.

“I’m going to finish the details while I still remember them. I’ll only be an hour longer.”

Q shrugs, making his way pivoting on his white canvas sneakers and giving you a small wave.

“Call if you need anything,” he says plainly. “Make sure to lock up.”

“I will,” you echo, craning your neck as you watch him finally exit past the door and jog down the stairs. You can’t see Hyunjin anywhere, but Q doesn’t seem to notice him if he’s still around, starting his car and speeding out of the parking lot.

And not even a full minute passes before Hyunjin makes his way back inside, shaking water off his hands.

“I stood under one of the gutters,” he says in a disgusted tone. His hair is stringy wet with rain water, and he chuckles when you meet his gaze with an amused smile.

“You’ll have to let me paint it like that, someday,” you respond, and he laughs lightly.

You take a seat on the folding chair previously occupied by Q, and Hyunjin assumes his same spot on the wooden stool. For a moment he says nothing, observing your face as you tap your fingers along the metal of the chair below you. There’s not a sound in the room between the two of you, with the exception of a small creak coming from the wooden stool as Hyunjin adjusts his long legs. He runs his hands through his hair nervously, and then he licks his dry lips with his tongue before speaking.

“I have something for you,” Hyunjin says suddenly, his voice echoing around the empty room.

He stands up to pull his bag off the floor, and then he digs around in it for a moment before pulling out his sketchbook. You watch as his slender fingers open the spiral-bound cover, flipping past pages upon pages of sketches and paintings. He flips close to the end, and then he stops, bookmarking the page with his index finger before turning the book to face you.

“I’m sorry if you don’t like it,” he says, keeping the book shut in anticipation. “It’s just something I drew.”

And then with bated breath, he opens the book out to you, adjusting the page in your view to give you a clear sight of its contents. It’s a carefully drawn sketch, of you, standing in front of an easel with a brush in your hand. Painting, like you always do. You recognize the scenery around you as the spot he took you to the other day, the long charcoal streaks perfectly capturing the grass that surrounded you and the tall trees that overlooked the hills. Although it’s a sight familiar to you, it also feels so foreign, seeing yourself through somebody else’s eyes. It feels peculiar to remember people also perceive you while you paint. It makes you feel less unimportant, a little more visible.

“Wow, Hyunjin, this is…”

“Do you like it?” Hyunjin interrupts.

“It’s so lovely. Really. I feel like I don’t deserve this.”

“You do,” he’s quick to respond. “You’ve drawn countless ones of me. And of so many other people. I wanted to gift you one of your own.”

You run your fingers along the thick paper, watching as Hyunjin tears it along its perforation and hands it to you.

“Please, keep it,” he urges.

And you bow once in response, turning to set the drawing along with your bag so you won’t forget it.

“Thank you,” you finally say. “I love it. I’m going to hang it with all my favorite art.”

Hyunjin smiles in response, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and then he shoves his hands in his pockets again, leaning against the wooden stool as a silence falls over you both.

For a moment, you ponder what to say to him, wanting to explain the events from the other evening, but unable to verbalize anything amidst your nervousness. Any way you think about it, you fear Hyunjin is going to get mad, especially considering you’d just walked away from him in the face of confrontation. But you also couldn’t help it, his accusation coming so suddenly and so boldly, regardless of it being based on any sliver of truth.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin breaks the silence. “I don’t know if I was right or not. But it wasn’t my place to ask you.”

You nod at him, initially planning to divert the topic. But you can’t any further, a growing urge inside of your chest to unveil the truth to him, knowing he’s already pieced this much of it together.

“It is my painting,” you say finally, your voice shaking a little. “I specialized in those ones before portraits. They kind of gained traction when they were first unveiled, and a lot of galleries picked them up. But they drew a lot of criticism, and it became so draining to be the topic of people’s judgment. I think being perceived so heavily just kind of… scared me off. So I shifted to portraits instead, and I no longer do public showings or galleries.”

Hyunjin doesn’t react in a shocked manner, nor does he press you for questions immediately. He just nods, taking in your words, and then he meets your gaze with a concerned expression.

“I learned so much from you,” he explains. “When your paintings were unveiled at the annual art show across the city, I was so mesmerized. They’re why I started painting, too.”

You chuckle lightly, shrugging at him as you slouch back in your seat.

“Yeah, well, I don’t do them anymore.”

You think over your response for a moment, and then you stand up from your seat, too, furrowing your brows together.

“How did you… know it was me?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“I had a hunch when I first saw your painting techniques. But I also knew it the moment I saw your other paintings in your sketchbook,” he explains. “My favorite painting of the series is printed out and taped to my locker in our dance studio. It just felt like you. I paid attention to your art for years. I was bound to know it when I saw it.”

You nod for the umpteeth time tonight, making sense of his words as you think back to the signature you drew in front of him back in the field.

“I’m sorry I figured it out,” Hyunjin says finally. “I know this was an elaborate plan to remain anonymous and shift your focus to a new form of your work. And your portraits are amazing. But you have a real talent for those older ones. And the whole series just… it changed me.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you tell Hyunjin, looking up to meet his gaze at last. “If anyone was going to find out, I’m glad it was you.”

“You are?” Hyunjin questions, and you hum in response.

“As a client, you have this really interesting way of making me feel seen. When I’m around you, It feels a lot more comfortable from the businessmen I’m used to. It’s like…” your voice trails off as you struggle to finish your sentence. “I feel like I did when I was painting my old stuff. I can see the world beyond just portraits for a little bit.”

Hyunjin says nothing, his eyes flickering down to your lips and back at your eyes once more, which are wide with curiosity and passion as you speak. It’s such a sight to see you talk about your art with this level of devotion again, color in your face once more as you attest to your life’s work.

“Tell me,” Hyunjin begins. “Why are all your paintings so lonely?”

You chuckle softly, shrugging up at him.

“I am lonely,” you say simply.

“I’m lonely, too,” Hyunjin remarks.

And your expression turns serious again, your eyes not leaving his intense gaze as he flickers over your parted lips and takes one step closer to you. He’s towering over you at this point, a strand of hair falling into his face as he lets himself lean into you a little more, just barely grazing his lips over yours.

“Can I please kiss you?” Hyunjin asks so politely, his voice coming out in a whisper as he stops himself from pressing his lips to yours while he waits for an answer.

“Yeah” you finally reply in a whisper of your own, almost on your tippy toes to match his towering height.

And then without another second to waste, Hyunjin closes the gap between both of you, leaning down to press his plump lips to yours and embrace you in a tender, desperate kiss.

He tastes like mint, his lips working against yours with no particular rush, yet his mind still running rampant with thoughts of having you as close as possible. It feels so wrong kissing him here, in the studio you strictly use for the purposes of completing your work-related tasks and nothing more. But with Hyunjin’s lips on yours and his slender hands snaking around the small of your back to pull you closer, it also feels so thrilling, instilling a sense of desire deep within you that can only be fulfilled through acting upon the emotions rooted in your innate fascination with Hyunjin’s entire being.

And you feel visible right now, so tangible when Hyunjin’s nimble hands are running down the sides of your waist and sprawling his delicate fingers along your flesh. It’s you kissing him here, not some shell of who you are when you’re capturing the essences of millionaires on canvas. You’re not the scribbled outlines in Hyunjin’s sketches of couples consuming each other with such passion, though you mirror them. It’s you, child prodigy artist turned portrait specialist, and Hyunjin, in all his fame and splendor, who chooses to spend his free time with you in this studio teaching you about yourself the way you learn from him, too.

Hyunjin’s hands move to tug off the fabric of your cardigan, slouching it off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, where it piles in disarray among the white tarp that houses loose paints. You’re pretty sure there may still be wet paint on its surface, but you don’t care, your body desperately arching into Hyunjin’s tall frame as his hands cup your cheeks to kiss you even deeper.

You can barely reach him while his frame looms over you, only able to reciprocate his kisses on the tips of your toes as he takes full control of you with his mouth. And Hyunjin seems to take notice of this, intertwining his hands in yours and pulling you down with him as he sits among the tarp and sprawls his legs out in front of him. You bestride his lean figure, balancing yourself on his lap as he adjusts himself on the concrete floor, and you both laugh when you take note of the admittedly uncomfortable positioning. It’s not meant for lovers, this dinky studio and its cold, concrete flooring. But it’s nothing that can’t be overlooked when his lips are back on yours, kissing you breathlessly and tucking strands of hair behind your ears. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, an indication by Hyunjin’s definition that he’s wanted this so badly. And he knew it from the moment you walked into the company building the first time, nervously preparing yourself out in the hallway like you weren’t going to be an absolute pro at your craft the way he now knows you are. He also knew it every time he observed your paintings, both your old ones and the newer ones that capture Hyunjin with such ease, every minute detail that builds up his intense stare only to break him down and soften him, translating this multifaceted version of him only you seem to visualize. And he gains confirmation of it when he’s finally acting upon his urges, your hands snaking around the back of his neck and moving in tandem with his hungry kisses against yours, grasping at his flesh like you’re trying to prove to yourself he’s real, too.

His sweater is the second article of clothing to go, your bodies only separating from one another briefly as you guide the knit fabric off over him and discard it beside you in the tarp. Your hands find his torso reluctantly, running your fingers along his flesh as though asking for his permission. And Hyunjin smiles when you do, placing his hands over yours and pressing down a little firmer for you, so that you can feel every inch of his toned body. He wields the body of a dancer, delicate curves that run along his sculpted obliques and highlight the years of intense training he’s done. His body feels strong underneath you, but he still feels soft, his touches exuding the gentle fondness he possesses for you.

And you’re kissing him again, all while his hands find your tank top and he separates to undress you, pulling it off over your head and tossing it aside. His hands are quick to find your breasts, splaying them over the mounds of your chest and massaging gently as his kisses turn hungrier. You can feel him getting hard underneath you, and you can hear his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he struggles to contain his growing bulge while you straddle him. But you indulge him even further, undoing the clasp of your bra with your own hand as you continue kissing him. Hyunjin doesn’t notice until your hand reaches out to toss your bra aside, a gentle rustle emitting from beside you as it joins the pile of discarded articles of clothing. And he separates to take in the sight of you, raised goosebumps along your bare skin and your nipples aroused for him, the cold air grazing over your chest as you wait for him to resume his touches. Hyunjin gasps a little, leaning forward to take one in his mouth, and then he begins to suck harshly as his tongue swirls around your bud generously and trails saliva along your skin. You moan at the sensation, Hyunjin digging his fingernails into the small of your back and leaving little crescent marks as his sucking resumes harshly, soft moans bubbling from the back of his throat, too, as he stays latched to you. And then he pulls away to give attention to the other one, his teeth grazing the tip of your nipple before sucking again, his eyes shutting as he relishes in the taste of your skin in his mouth. Hyunjin’s hips rock gently against you as he does, chasing the friction of your legs around his crotch as he grows even harder beneath you, desperate for some release. And then he pulls away finally, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with lust and a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You bring a thumb to his forehead, swiping the bead off his blushed skin, before cupping your hands around his cheeks and bringing him in for a kiss.

“Please let me fuck you,” Hyunjin says sheepishly against your lips, groaning lightly when he feels you squeeze your thighs once against his crotch.

“You want to?” You ask teasingly, massaging your hands up and down the sides of his neck as he nods eagerly.

“I really, really want to,” Hyunjin responds, shutting his eyes as you squeeze your legs again and pepper his face in kisses, trailing from his forehead, to his cheeks and down his neck. Hyunjin leans back on the palms of his hands in a state of pure bliss, taking in the sensation he’s only dreamt of until now. And when you nibble down on his neck, beginning to suck a small bruise into his skin, he sits up suddenly, his hands finding yours and pushing you away gently.

“Wait,” Hyunjin says. “I can’t… do hickeys. Company’s orders,” he admits, a little defeated, and you nod your head quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you remark. “I totally forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin almost cuts you off with a kiss, leaning forward and sitting up on his knees. He guides you down onto the tarp, hoisting himself up over you so that his figure is now hovering over yours, and then his hands find your pants.

“You can do hickeys though,” Hyunjin says in an amused tone, trailing kisses down your neck the same way you did him, and latching his teeth onto your flesh to suck a line of purple bruises. You chuckle underneath him, the sensation tickling a little, but still adding to the generous pool already formed between your legs. And as Hyunjin presses into you with his kisses, you can feel his erection graze your upper thigh, once more seeking the friction of your body for some sense of relief as he longs to feel you around his hardened cock.

“Hyunjin,” you voice as he kisses you, and he hums quietly in response.

“You’re hard,” you remark, your eyes flickering to the tent pitched underneath his jeans.

“Sorry,” he replies, pulling away with a worried expression in his eyes, and you shake your head quickly.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure. “I just want to take care of it for you.”

And your hands find your own jeans, pulling them off your legs and tossing them aside. Hyunjin’s eyes skim over your lace panties, the trim almost see through with delicate feminine patterns, and he begins to undo the button of his jeans, too.

He kisses you as he snakes off his own pants, not wanting to separate from you any more as his eagerness grows to be as close to you as possible. And when he’s finally letting his hard cock rub against the fabric of your panties, moaning softly at the sensation, he knows he won’t be able to take it much longer if he doesn’t make love to you right here in the studio.

So his hands work to pull off his boxers, finally freeing his erection against his abdomen and gasping with the cool air grazes the tip of his cock. You slide off your own panties as well, tossing them aside and letting his cock rest against your bare flesh now, his precum painting your clit with his preemptive arousal as he ruts against you. Your flesh is slick with his arousal and yours, the existing lube between both of you allowing your skin to glide upon one another so effortlessly, the same way your lips work against each other. And he continues to push his hardened length against you until he’s halfway inside of you, your cunt taking him with no struggle as he thrusts inside of you now. You adjust to his thick girth easily, his length seemingly never ending as he pushes deeper and deeper into you. And then he gives one particularly hard thrust, bottoming out inside of you and coaxing a fervent moan out of you.

“Is it okay?” Hyunjin asks, wincing at the sensation of your walls hugging his erection.

“So good,” you whine, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Feels so good.”

And he begins to move in and out of you at a slow pace, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s already close to reaching as he fucks you, filling your cunt entirely with his long cock and bottoming out every time he thrusts himself back in.

And he tries to kiss you, but he can’t, his mouth simply looming over yours in its parted position as he echoes his moans into you and lets his saliva-coated lips graze over you. He looks like the subject of an erotic painting himself, eyebrows arched up so artistically with every thrust, melting into your touch as you run your hands through his hair. His initial dominance over you is quickly shifted to that of submission to your mind and your body, little whines leaving his lips as he lets you consume him whole and mold him between in your touch, like he’s made of clay and you’re the sculptor. His lanky body seems to extend as he sways his hips into yours, little dips from the pads of your fingers embedding into his pale skin. He folds effortlessly above you, the points of his elbows jutting out as he steadies his body over you, like he’s made of wire and positioned to balance over you so perfectly, not very sturdy, and yet bent and snapped just right so that he can remain glued to you. And if you were to climb out of your body and paint this exact moment, all you would see are an indistinguishable, amorphous set of limbs that seem to dissolve into each other like hues of paint on a palette. Two colors swirling around to make one, the two of you like primary colors that create endless possibilities when mixed together like this, offspring of a hundred different shades, painting the darkened studio around you with your yearning for one another.

And as Hyunjin brings a hand to stroke your cheek gently, a smile grows on his breathless lips as he realizes he’s brushed a thick stroke of wet paint along your skin. The indigo stripe contrasts coldly against your flesh, still glistening in its freshness like he’s just begun on a blank canvas.

“It’s paint,” Hyunjin says as you gasp at the cold sensation, smiling too, when he swipes it again with his thumb and flashes it down at you.

And you chuckle lightly below him, taking note of the bright orange streak that lines his neck, just below his adam’s apple. You’re not sure when it got there, or whether it was from you or him, but you run a finger through it too, bringing it to his cheek to rub your thumb lovingly across his face and paint it there, too. And in one swift motion, Hyunjin swipes the palm of his hand along the tarp, coating it in hues of indigo and deep violet and gray, cupping a hand around your breast to coat it in the same wet substance. And you do the same, your hand dipping generously into the myriad of reds and fuchsia paints that live below you, running a hand down his chest and painting a long stripe along his toned torso.

You both laugh, as he picks up his pace again, pushing himself to the hilt inside of you, the paints melting together with your sweat as he fucks you rhythmically again. And like two blank canvases finally being put to use, new colors blossom between the two of your longing bodies, shades of magenta and blue-gray making themselves known across your breasts and his torso. The colors are vibrant and robust, transferring life from the dull tarp of the studio floor onto blank slates of skin. You wish you could step out of your body and capture the colors forever, mix paints together into little jars and name every shade after every feeling Hyunjin’s ever given you. Longing, lust, fear, fascination, infatuation, obsession.

“I think I’m obsessed with you,” Hyunjin breathes into your mouth so desperately. “It’s indescribable, the things you do to me.”

He lets his hands intertwine with yours again, giving them a small squeeze as he fucks you a little faster now and lets his groans shift into small whimpers that escape his lips.

“Please let me cum inside you,” Hyunjin begs, his cock slipping against your cervix with ease as wettened noises of his arousal pooling against yours fill the room. “Please, please, I promise to take care of you, baby. I feel like I belong here.”

He’s a whimpering mess for you now, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he fucks you and lets his hands explore every inch of your body. You want to cry, too, at the realization again that this all feels so tangible, that he makes you feel so seen when he’s hovering over you, placing open-mouthed kisses onto yours and letting his melodic moans fill your ears. The paint between you serving as proof that he’s touched you so desperately and wholly, creating art together in the confined space of your otherwise dull studio. And you want to feel him cum inside you, too, as a final reminder that you’re visible to him, that you’re no longer a fleeting, anonymous artist when you’re with Hyunjin. That he sees you for exactly you are, he knows your deepest secrets, and yet still he holds you, whispering words of permanence in your ear and letting you mold him like art. He’s an artist on his own, and he’s art at the hands of you, both of which draw you to him in ways you can’t begin to fathom, unlike anything you’ve felt before. And he teaches you that you’re an artist on your own, and art at the hands of a lover, both of which you hadn’t considered before Hyunjin, deeming yourself invisible in your comfortable solitude to the vast world around you. But the two coincide to echo the same sentiment that he teaches you exactly the way he also learns from you.

“Cum inside me,” you breathe desperately, grasping his hands a little tighter as he fucks you at a faster pace now.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin confirms, still staving off his orgasm until your verbal consent is heard.

“Yes,” you respond, wrapping your legs around his waist and making your best attempt to kiss him through his release. And you do, your lips moving against his in labored breaths, as he finally twitches inside of you and paints the inside of your listless body, hues of glazed white arousal filling your aching cunt as he whimpers through his orgasm.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin, breathes, giving a few more thrusts as he slows, his arousal dripping onto the tarp below you as he pulls out. And he rolls over to lie beside you, a mess of paint streaks sprawled out along his skin as his chest rises and falls with slowing breaths. The two of you say nothing for a moment, your eyes glued to a blank canvas housed on an easel in front of you.

It’s an almost blinding shade of white, begging for an ounce of color like the shades that now live on your skin. And through your heavy breaths, you picture the endless possibilities that can fill in the empty spaces above you. Grasslands, trees, oceans, clear waters and a vast, endless blue sky…

*

There is no overseas schedule Hyunjin has to tend to. You’re already aware of this, Hyunjin explaining to you that he made it up to put the sessions on hold and to keep Q from pressing him with questions.

But he resumes the sessions after a few weeks of putting them on pause, because he can’t seem to stay away from you any longer.

Hyunjin reckons he has a couple dozen of your paintings in his room now, all similar portraits of his face, portraits you capture in your signature formal essence, his face staring straight ahead or off in the distance, complete with the fine details of his long dark hair and the mole under his eye.

Only now that Hyunjin is back, Q is present at nearly every appointment. You’re not sure why things changed, and Q maintains a new stance to Hyunjin that the guidelines are based on adjusted company policies. But Hyunjin will do just about anything to be close to you- even if it means putting up with your obnoxious boss breathing down your neck every minute while you paint him.

The sessions are somehow even more unnerving than they used to be, Hyunjin still making every valiant effort to convey his obsession with you through intense stares and little gestures only the two of you can read. Q is obstinate in his ways, his gaze constantly flickering between you and your paintings to ensure everything is going swimmingly. But Hyunjin wishes so badly he could spend the entirety of these sessions alone with you, getting to break down your walls and see you for the person he knows you are when you’re not doing portraits under Q’s all-seeing eye.

With every passing day, and every passing session, Hyunjin grows a deep hatred for Q, despising the way he watches you work and chimes in to converse with the two of you. And he knows he shouldn’t, aware that Q is just your boss and nothing more. Something you’ve reiterated to him time and time again, but he can’t help it, desperate to have you all to himself every second of the day, a deep-seated longing to protect you from the hurt you’ve been dealt and wanting so badly for you to break free from the monotonous cycle you’ve confined yourself to of painting for anyone except yourself.

You can tell Hyunjin hates Q, judging by the way he doesn’t so much look in his direction when he arrives for his sessions. But you can’t convey the slightest bit of reaction in front of either of them, too scared of the prospect of what would happen to your career if anyone were to find out you’re fucking a client.

You maintain a professional composure around Hyunjin, despite the knowing stares he gives you and the sketches you catch him slipping into your purse when Q isn’t looking. At times he’s not around, you complete your daily tasks, well-mannered and organized to the clients who hire you, shooting them kind smiles and complimenting their black business attire when they show up for the evening. When the days draw to a close, Q is punctual as always, leaving just minutes past your last appointment and taking his work home with him.

And when his sleek black car turns out of the corner of the parking lot, Hyunjin slips inside like a mere shadow on the wall, quick to seduce you all over again and gift you with all of his recent sketches. Some of them are portraits of you, smiling or focused on your work. Some of them are erotic nude shots of you, lying on the tarp of the studio or touching yourself the way he pictures you do when you’re all alone. And some of them include both of you, your bodies tangled desperately into each other and drowning in your yearning and love. Sometimes nude, his hands on yours and fucking you mercilessly. Sometimes fully clothed, his lips on yours and bundled up in winter clothes. But always together, always desperate in your touches and always so tangible. You reckon he’s persuaded you into being fucked you on every surface of the dingy studio by now- against the canvases, on the tarp- several times, on the table Q typically occupies and just about every stool available to the two of you. And while Q is oblivious about why you stay a little longer every night, Hyunjin is both calculated and persuasive in returning so you two can get some time alone, time that always ends with his seed dripping out of your still-aching cunt, bodies entangled somewhere within the studio and covered in fresh swatches of paint.

He may have somewhat of an obsession with you, but life is teeming around the studio when Hyunjin is near, the colors and shapes of your work much more robust and vibrant when he’s striding around the space commenting on all his favorite pieces of yours. And you relish in stories of his days, typically spent at fan events or at dance practices. Having him return feels like having your physical figure return home to you, the world in complete equilibrium when he’s near, much less lonely than the one you’re used to.

“I could watch you do this forever,” Hyunjin remarks, watching you glide a brush along your canvas, filling in the shadows of a figure on the canvas in front of you.

And this one’s not a portrait- it’s a watercolor figure, much like the ones you used to paint back then, the technique coming back to you with ease as you highlight the convexes of a body mirroring yours and add varying hues as highlights.

Per Hyunjin’s request, you paint the figures occasionally, only because he’s repeatedly expressed his fascination at watching you complete the process in a live session. The paintings reminiscent of your old work aren’t for sale, nor are they critiqued by anyone except for yourself. And they’re certainly not done with the knowledge of Q, who would turn irate at you utilizing the studio’s supplies for anything but portraits.

They’re just for his viewing pleasure, a little exchange you indulge him in as he continues to gift you with sketches of his own.

Hyunjin’s arms snake around your waist as you paint, his head resting on your shoulder as he watches you dip your brush into a mug of water and dilute the caramel shade that taints the bristles.

“Will you add a second one?” Hyunjin asks in a curious whisper, his lips grazing your ear as you paint.

“A second one?” You echo.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, working a trail of kisses down the shell of your ear. “This one’s you. Will you add me?”

You chuckle lightly, dipping your brush into a warmer shade of brown and swirling it around to gather the color on the fine hairs.

“So they can resemble us,” Hyunjin says, his kisses traveling even lower. “Paint me fucking you the way you like it.”

You chuckle softly again, not missing the way Hyunjin’s hands travel to your skirt, flipping it up to graze his hands along the mound of your upper thigh.

“Hyunjin, I-” you begin to say. But you can’t answer him, shutting your eyes in pleasure as you hear him unzip his jeans behind you and position himself.

“Keep painting,” he says in a sultry whisper, pumping himself lightly behind you as he pulls your panties down.

And you try, bringing your brush to the canvas to add a second figure like he’s requested. But you can hardly make it past the first few strokes before Hyunjin’s sliding into your dripping cunt, letting his hands grip your waist to steady himself as he begins to move.

“Go on,” Hyunjin encourages, as his hips thrust in and away from your trembling figure, your hands trying their very best to keep hold of the little wooden paint brush and fill in his form.

You manage to add a subtle few streaks, beginning the amorphous outline of Hyunjin’s hair, his tall lanky figure towering over yours and taking you with such desperation.

But you don’t get very far before Hyunjin is angling your face to kiss your drooly lips, his hands now finding purchase on your breasts as he continues to fuck you. And all of this is wrong, you know very well. You’re not supposed to be sleeping with a client like this, much less one this powerful, this rich and who wields so much he can hold against you. One slip up and Hyunjin can go tell the world about how you’re the artist who disappeared to sell yourself out to rich men for all their selfish needs. And any option you have to defend yourself would never hold up against his wealthy corporation and all its investors.

But you also can’t help but give into his urges when he’s around, his lips so tantalizing on yours and his cock filling you so fully and completely when he has his way with you.

Maybe it’s not even just about the sex for you- maybe it also has something to do with his stories you live through vicariously, listening to tales of the outside world while you’re trapped in this studio or at the businesses of wealthy men. It’s also the drawings he makes for you, ones you find yourself staring at for hours after he leaves, like proof that he was here and he touched you. The drawings are you in your most tangible form, his hands on yours and his lips on the curves of your neck. It’s like a glimpse into a version of yourself that ceases to exist when he’s absent. And it’s the late hours of the night he spends asking so politely to watch you paint your older work, always so fascinated with the way your mind conjures up varying lonely figures crafted from watercolors and a nylon bristle brush. Older work you hadn’t realized you missed so dearly until you began producing it for Hyunjin again.

But you know that to Hyunjin this is just a exhilarating idea for him, to view your art the same way he carves out a couple hours each week for a museum tour or to sketch in one of his books. He probably finds it more convenient to fuck you here where nobody’s around than to stroke himself in a dorm he shares with three other men. And you can feel it in the way he so desperately pleads you to paint for him or cum for him- that his obsession with you is less about you, and more about the thought of you.

Maybe this is just the result of Hyunjin uncovering a secret nobody else paid close enough attention to connect you to. Or the thrill of you being his favorite artist for years, and realizing you’re finally tangible in front of him, real, and not disappeared like he previously took you for. You reckon it must be the same phenomenon other girls feel toward him, getting intimate with somebody they idolize, desperately cupping his face like it might dissipate if they don’t grasp hard enough. But just the thought of somebody doesn’t imply love. It doesn’t imply a mutual understanding, and it certainly doesn’t imply permanence for either party involved. When he’s gone again, you’ll cease to be real like you already are when he’s not around. And then every vision you have will be rooted in unfaltering solitude once more, your anonymous life resuming again.

“Will you cum for me?” Hyunjin asks, and you snap back to the feeling of his cock twitching in your dripping cunt as he grips your waist. “God, you don’t understand what you do to me.”

You can’t give him an answer before you feel him reaching his release inside of you, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into you and slowing his pace again as he moves your hair away from your face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Hyunjin says sheepishly as he pulls out. “Sit down for me,” he orders between kisses to your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, grazing his hands along your waist and groaning against you.

And he’s already guiding you back to one of the stools, kneeling between your legs and spreading you for him, your glistening cunt on full display for him to taste.

“Want you to cum for me,” Hyunjin whispers, before positioning one of your legs on the wooden dowels of the stool. You can’t verbalize anything to him before his tongue is darting into your entrance, lapping his own release out of you and trailing up to give attention to your swollen clit. He works you in such desperate motions, tongue working your core like a starved animal and eagerly trying to coax an orgasm out of your trembling body. When his arousal is effectively brought out of your tight cunt and painting the tip of his tongue white, he coats your clit in it, giving kitten licks to your bundle of nerves as he hums against your flesh and whispers little pleas for you to let go.

And between your pussy still clenching down around the sheer memory of his cock inside of you mere minutes ago, and his plump lips kissing all over your wettened core, you do let go for him, dribbling cum down the edge of the wooden stool and threading your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down to your thighs in encouragement.

“So good,” Hyunjin murmurs as he comes up for air, intertwining his fingers in yours as you get cleaned up. You shoot him a little “thank you”, and Hyunjin presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand as he nods, getting dressed once more and tucking his softened cock back into his boxers.

“Come here,” he states. “I want to ask you something.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“It’s exciting,” Hyunjin retorts.

He guides you to his same wooden stool, where he climbs upon the seat and then takes your hands in his again as you stand in front of him, pressing a small kiss to your palm before speaking.

“You know I care about you, right?” He begins, his eyebrows raised curiously.

“You’ve mentioned it,” you reply.

“And you know I love your art.”

“So you’ve told me,” you say, and Hyunjin brings your hand up to press another kiss to your palm.

“I have a proposal for you,” he then says. “And I just want you to hear me out.”

Your heart sinks at his words, already fearing the worst as you wait for him to elaborate. You pray he hasn’t done anything to reveal your identity, or to make these secret erotic sessions public, knowing you’d both never live a normal life again at either of the instances occurring.

“What is it?” You ask Hyunjin, heart racing in your chest.

He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand soothingly, trying to calm you down before he speaks.

“I privately sponsor the art gallery every year,” he begins. “I put some funding toward a painting of my choice and it allows those artists to have their pieces displayed for the winter show and make connections,” he continues.

“Okay…”

“And I want to sponsor you this year,” Hyunjin finishes, giving your hands a little squeeze.

“Hyunjin, there can't be an installment of your face at the art museum. People will get suspicious.”

“Not my face,” he says reassuringly. “Your art. Like the ones you used to do.”

And you feel your throat dry up at his words, the exact thing you’d feared coming to fruition.

“I can’t,” you’re quick to say.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do those paintings anymore. I can paint you, or another person or whoever. But I can’t do one of my old ones.”

“But your old ones are beautiful,” Hyunjin says. “It doesn’t have to be your old series. You can start a new one. Do something entirely different.”

“I don’t want to do something entirely different, Hyunjin. It’s a chapter of my life that’s been closed already. You know I don’t do those anymore.”

Hyunjin maintains his collected composure, his eyes softening as he speaks to you.

“You’re not happy doing portraits. I know you. You have a spark in you when you’re painting for yourself, and people love them. You deserve to be doing what you love.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, letting go of Hyunjin’s grasp and shaking your head. “I’m so grateful for the offer, but I can’t put myself back out there again.”

“You can still be anonymous,” Hyunjin offers. “Some artists I’ve sponsored choose to remain anonymous and only reveal to serious patrons of their art. I can make sure they don’t find out who you are.”

“It’s me and my art I don’t want to be seen,” you emphasize.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything now, rising from the wooden stool and reaching for the iced coffee he’s placed on the table beside you.

“Okay. I won’t press it any further.”

He swirls the cup of ice around in his hand, and then he hangs his head in defeat.

“Hyunjin, seriously. Thank you for the offer. It’s sweet of you to consider it. But I’m not ready yet.”

He shoves a hand in his pocket and cocks his head slightly.

“Is this because of Quinton?”

“What? Hyunjin, I already told you our relationship is strictly professional-”

“Not romantically,” Hyunjin continues. “You’re like a slave to him. You do everything he tells you to do. He probably doesn’t let you leave this studio.

You’re quiet again, not answering him immediately. No, you don’t stay here at Q’s behest. But it just feels safer to follow his advice. He was just a client when you met him, but he took you under his wing to get you where you are now. He runs all your schedules, he books your appointments for you, he even gives his say on most of your work. He’s the only part of your old life that’s remained the same, despite your transition to portraits, and cutting him off would be stepping into a world completely unbeknownst to you.

“No,” you say finally, but you don’t expand further upon your stance.

“You’re so lonely here,” Hyunjin responds frustratedly. “And yet you follow orders from the same person whose job it is to keep you invisible.”

“Why should I follow your orders?” You retort.

“Because I love you.”

“You don’t love me, Hyunjin,” you reply frustratedly, finally feeling the anger overtake you as you continue your angered speech. “You love the idea of me. You love the idea of escaping your crazy rich life to try and resolve the tortured artist you’re so infatuated with. You love the idea of fulfilling somebody’s life with your presence because it’s all you do for a career. I’m not the person I was when I was doing those paintings- I do portraits now, and I work under somebody who knows what’s best for me. And you’re just a client I’m sleeping with.”

Hyunjin purses his lips, amused you would stoop that low for the purposes of declining his offer. And then he shakes his head as he speaks again.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’m just some client you’re sleeping with. I never tried to push you out of this line of work you hate so much, or drew you on every page of my sketch book or made love to you in every square inch of this goddamn studio. I’m not proposing this because I care about you and I want you to do what you love, it’s because I’m just a client you’re sleeping with.”

And he pivots on his heel to exit the studio, taking rushed steps toward the door as tears brim the corners of your eyes.

“Hyunjin, wait,” you call desperately.

“I see you,” Hyunjin says suddenly, turning around to face you. “I see all of you. Your work didn’t just materialize by some anonymous form. You’re a painter, a really talented one, and I don’t want you to feel this all-consuming solitude anymore. I say that because I love you, not just because I’m sleeping with you. If you want to remain invisible to everybody except Quinton, then be my guest. Just know that I tried.”

And without another word, the studio is empty again, the tip of your brush still dripping with the remnants of the warm brown color and every intention to add a second figure to your painting.

*

You don’t speak with Hyunjin any more that evening. Or the next day. Or perhaps for a whole week following the conversation, for that matter. The reality is that you want to partake in his offer, the thought of it candidly piquing your interest to paint something other than another rich man. And it would be nice to watch your art be displayed for people to see just once, rather than to live on the walls of a company where only people within a certain tax bracket will ever grace your work. But what you reiterated to Hyunjin still stands- you’re scared to venture out into the competitive world of art galleries again. Your old series was a hit, sure, but it was also torn down relentlessly by those who didn’t understand it and those who simplified it down to its medium. And it was a much harder endeavor to make people understand your watercolor forms, unlike the portraits Q advises you continue producing.

But you can’t seem to stop thinking of Hyunjin’s proposal as a whole, understanding very well that his offer is one of the kindest things he could propose to you at this place in your life. He sees you- all of you, and subsequently he knows that you’re unhappy in this monotonous abyss of adding new features to the same faces every day. The way a change for you is determined only by a shift in a client’s pose or even just an addition of their pet- it’s all so repetitive, exactly what art isn’t supposed to be.

Maybe you’re just scared of getting rejected again, or perhaps it’s that you’re scared of finally being seen again, anonymous or not, putting yourself on the map again and being perceived.

*

“I want a painting,” Hyunjin says as he saunters into the studio one evening, throwing off his bag and dragging a stool to the middle of the room.

“Oh- Hyunjin, pleased to see you again,” Q remarks, bowing and giving you a nervous look.

Hyunjin doesn’t even acknowledge him, keeping a stern gaze locked on yours as if he’s challenging you.

“We have the evening booked today,” Q begins. “But I’m sure we can accommodate something for next week-”

“I need it now,” Hyunjin replies. “I’m willing to pay five times your asking price.”

And you narrow your eyes at Hyunjin, knowing he’s making his best attempt to provoke you and disrupt the work you’re completing per Q’s orders.

“How do you want it?” Q then asks, not hesitating to put aside your entire evening for Hyunjin’s offer.

“I want to be in a suit. And I want to be holding a wad of cash. I want to look like an investor.”

“Interesting,” Q says, his gaze flickering to yours. “She can do it though.”

Q turns to face you, giving you a knowing look as he raises his eyebrows. “I’ll clear your calendar for today and we can stay and work on this piece.”

And Hyunjin looks to you, too, waiting for you to protest, to say something along the lines of a refusal to partake in the outlandish task. But you avert both of their gazes, readying your paint palette and gesturing to one of the stools in front of you.

“Have a seat,” you say plainly, void of any emotion or desire to fulfill the task. And by the way Q hovers over you, void of autonomy, too, Hyunjin concludes.

“How are things at the company?” Q asks Hyunjin, leaning in a little too close to you as you begin painting long strokes on the canvas.

“Fine,” Hyunjin says, not taking his gaze off yours. His eyes are narrowed like he’s challenging you, yet you don’t give him the reaction he searches for.

“You must be busy,” Q remarks, his hands folded behind his back. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’re running her schedule like the fucking military,” Hyunjin retorts, cocking an eyebrow at him. Q takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t argue, doing his best to keep in line at your highest-paying client.

“She’s pretty busy,” Q replies reluctantly. “But it’s nothing she can’t handle.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, again waiting for you to chime in, but you still don’t, working on adding details to Hyunjin’s tresses on the canvas.

“This will be my final session,” Hyunjin then says, and your head snaps to meet his gaze.

“Is that so?” Q questions. “Going overseas again?”

“Indefinitely,” Hyunjin replies. “Not overseas, I’ve just no need for the paintings anymore.”

Your lips part as though to ask if he’s serious, but you can’t, not with Q here alongside you.

“I have so many of them now,” Hyunjin remarks, not taking his eyes off you. “It’s been a lovely time with the two of you, but I won’t be returning after this evening. I hope you understand.”

“Please don’t hesitate to reach out if there’s anything we can provide you with,” Q voices. “I hope we’ll remain connected with the peers at your company.”

“Oh, you will,” Hyunjin replies. “I’m sure the investors and the senior managers will love portraits of their own. She’ll have a lifetime of portraits to complete when I’m gone.”

You can feel a pit forming in your stomach, queasy at the thought of carrying on this task of capturing rich businessmen and ceasing your sessions with Hyunjin. He’s unmoving in his attempts to make you revisit your old art. But his begging has also been eye-opening, making you realize just how much you hate this line of work and having Q breathe down your neck.

Hyunjin has a point, you’re unhappy doing portraits. You love the watercolor figures you paint, you love your time with Hyunjin and the feeling of unending curiosity he instills in you. There’s no solitude when he’s around, filling every aspect of your life with such color and vibrancy like the figures you paint. And you learn from him just as much as he learns from you.

But the fear remains, the feeling of hopelessness remains, the perception that Hyunjin is only obsessed with an idea of you and that your career is far gone from the watercolor figures you painted so long ago.

And of course, that you require Q’s uncompromising presence in your life to be even close to successful. He’s the one who transitioned you to a successful career of portraits after your previous line of work fell through. And you’re not sure you can shift to a new focus without him to guide you.

“Hyunjin,” you say suddenly, garnering the attention of both he and Q.

“What is it?” Q replies, as though you’re referring to him. And you wish he wouldn’t be so… disruptive, making you lose your train of thought as Hyunjin waits for your words with bated breath.

“I’ve completed the initial outline,” you settle on saying. “It should be sent over to you in a couple days.”

And he nods, a somber, thin-lipped expression on his face as he understands you’re never going to divert from this path of fear you walk, one you’re forcing yourself to stick to.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin responds, getting up to leave again. “I’ll see you around.”

*

Private events are seldom actually private for Hyunjin. The interior of the gallery is organized accordingly so that patrons can mingle with their respective artists and all of the prestigious guests invited.

But the exterior is only private up the crowd control stanchions, where beyond it live hordes of people wielding all sorts of fancy cameras and cell phones, snapping photo after photo and analyzing every one of Hyunjin’s movements.

Hyunjin’s attending an art gallery today, the crowds murmur amongst each other, the message echoing all over the city and overshadowing the art itself, which hasn’t even been unveiled yet.

His departure from the black limousine he arrives in is met instantly with deafening screams, the repetitive click of camera shutters and commands for him to angle his face every which way. The people stop to stare at his fitted black suit, the long black hair he sports styled slick out of his face and expensive jewelry he flaunts as a clear indicator that he’s a sponsor of the evening’s show, alongside a long list of other wealthy individuals.

His hands remain tucked in the pockets of his black slacks, giving a gracious bow to the fans before making his way inside to the main event.

And the gallery is significantly more packed than he’s used to, people crowding every square inch of the marbled floors and admiring the intricate pieces of art. The curtains are pulled back neatly so that guests can roam freely among the halls, easels set up in neat rows and canvases mounted on walls to display all the sponsored works of art.

Hyunjin is quick to gravitate to the long white table pushed against the wall by the entrance, set up with generous servings of hors d’oeuvres. And in a bout of nervousness, he’s sampling the cheese platters and the varying flavors of wine, sighing as he swirls a glass of cherry merlot between his slender fingers.

He was supposed to be here sponsoring you tonight, unveiling your paintings for the world to appreciate once again, and so that he’d finally put forth the notion that you’re more than the halls of law offices your portraits exist in.

But that was three weeks ago now- three weeks in which Hyunjin failed to visit you like he’d warned he would. And three weeks in which neither of you reconnected, letting the temporary affair between you dissipate like the sketches he stopped producing of you, like the portraits he finished collecting from you. And like the hope he held onto that maybe you’d come around and entertain a life in which you aren’t so comfortable being invisible and inhibited at the hands of your Q. But that never came around, and although Hyunjin is frustrated with you, he misses you just as much, knowing very well he could spend a lifetime learning from you if only you let him. Now in the gallery he once dragged you to, where he admitted to having learned the secret you hid, he can only pray you know that he sees you for who you are, and not some invisible producer of your static portraits. That a life lived in complete solitude doesn’t have to be the answer to succumbing to your fears, even if it feels more comfortable than the perception and the critiques of others. And that although the idea of you was a lovely one indeed, he loves every part of you, not just the concept of you- and pushing you to grow was his way of making it known.

The gallery hosts are quick to introduce the paintings and their respective sponsors, a variety of them being under anonymous titles and names as they choose to remain hidden, too. But Hyunjin doesn’t wait around to listen to much of it, examining the paintings on his own in between nervous trips to the snack table, where he gets tipsy off a little too much cherry wine. It’s his first time not being a sponsor to a specific painting, instead having opted to donate a large sum to the gallery in his company’s name. But after you declined his invitation to be sponsored, Hyunjin didn’t see it fit to highlight the work of any other painting. It’s you he wants to see up there, proudly showing off your work and making a name for yourself in the industry again the way he knows you secretly want to. And he so badly wishes he could stop by your studio one last time to tell you that he’s not sure he can ever sponsor another painting again if it’s not one of yours. Your art circles his mind relentlessly, as do your words, your heart, your body and your real, tangible presence.

“Nice, isn’t it?” A voice says from beside Hyunjin. He almost jumps, the wine making him a little tired at this point in the evening, not having socialized with many people while he stands in the corner of the room and takes in the sight.

“Quinton?” Hyunjin voices plainly, scowling at his uptight demeanor as he leans against the table beside Hyunjin and crosses his legs.

“So nice to see our former highest-painting client,” Q responds. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve never seen you at one of these,” Hyunjin chimes in. He then looks around the room frantically, thinking maybe you’d accompanied him to the event tonight.

“Don’t bother,” Q says, as he takes a sip of wine. “I’m alone. Just scoping out the competition.”

He’s quiet for a moment, swirling his glass of wine around in his hand before speaking again.

“She never had a portrait at one of these gallery shows. Said they felt too commercial. Of course her old stuff was shown just about everywhere. I think she was just scared.”

“You mean- you knew?” Hyunjin questions.

“Of course I knew. I led her career’s entire rebranding. Of course she didn’t love the portraits, but the money came to us like you wouldn’t believe. And coupled with her fear of these gallery walks and important figures, we had no choice but to compromise. I got her the opportunity to paint people like you. And she did all the work.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply shaking his head and crossing his legs, too.

“She had a lot of people who believed in her art.”

Q shrugs. “She was free to walk whenever she wanted. Her fear kept her controlled, not me. I’m just another businessman for all she cares.”

And Hyunjin gives a small nod, finishing the last of his wine.

“Look, I can’t help but feel like I owe you an apology,” Hyunjin says finally. “I was just a little jealous whenever you were around. Not that there was anything going on, I just mean-”

“You think you’re the first client to have taken a liking to her?” Q interrupts. “I’ve seen it a million times. People want to take advantage and they get obsessed, and they start pulling crazy shit like offering five times the pay for a simple portrait.”

Q looks down to examine his leather shoes, adjusting the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose. And then he sighs frustratedly before speaking again.

“I would know,” Q then says, doing his best to avert Hyunjin’s gaze. “She’s a tough one to crack. She loves her paintings, and being alone and I don’t think she’d ever give the time of day to a good man. Not even if he followed her to her next endeavor.”

Hyunjin nods at the marbled floor, and then his head snaps in the direction of Q’s somber gaze.

The way he speaks of you, the way he gets a little too close to you for Hyunjin’s liking- Hyunjin finally thinks he understands. It’s not just the fear of being perceived that keeps you from picking up your old life again. It’s the fear of abandoning Q, who so arrogantly feels like he’s owed something for helping get you back on your feet after you shifted your work’s focus.

He’s the only other person who knows your secret, and he holds it over you like it makes him more important than anyone else in your life. He reduces you to a lifetime of following his orders, likely because he’s bitter that he was never the solution to your loneliness. A wealthy businessman himself, it was Q who kept returning for paintings once not long ago, accumulating piles of your work and making every last effort to pursue you. But when he wasn’t successful, he convinced you that you were right about your fears, that it was your best move to take his advice and he’d keep you turning a generous profit as long as you stuck by him. Q was so hopelessly devoted to an idea of you, and when he couldn’t help you overcome your fears, he became the catalyst for your fears, instead.

“You and I are a lot of the same,” Q voices. “Two rich men with dreams just out of our reach. It seems money can’t buy you everything, after all.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, swallowing nervously and looking at Q. And then Q shakes his head as he sets his glass of wine down on the table.

“Only I’ve never seen her willingly paint the same client so many times the way she does with you,” he finishes. “I guess she really liked being seen, after all.”

Q adjusts his glasses once more, and Hyunjin feels his heart sink at Q’s words, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly guilty for not having contacted you again.

“Could you tell her I stopped by?” Hyunjin inquires.

“Me? Oh no,” Q begins. “I can’t get in contact with her. No one can.”

“You- what? What do you mean?”

“Exactly that,” Q responds. “She told me she was done, and she walked out on me with a single watercolor palette and a notepad. She didn’t say anything else.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Hyunjin interrupts to ask, and Q shakes his head.

“She just left, and it’s been almost a month and she’s still MIA. Maybe she’ll come crawling back when she needs another rebranding.”

Hyunjin can feel his heart sinking deeper and deeper with every passing word that leaves Q’s lips.

He’s tried your cell phone- twice since leaving, and you never answered. But he assumed it to be a fleeting argument that would eventually make amends in due time when he could stomach visiting the studio again- not you running away from all of this for good.

“I have to go,” Hyunjin says frantically, chugging the rest of his wine and slamming his glass on the table.

“It was me who found her the first time,” Q says, not taking his eyes off the art across the room.

“What?”

“It was me who chased after her. After she disappeared. Don’t be surprised if she shuts you out when you finally do find her- I think I’ve already scarred her enough with my relentless attempts at persuasion.”

Hyunjin nods nervously, watching as Q cocks his head at the art, still averting Hyunjin’s gaze. And when he finally does turn to look at him, his eyes are glossy with tears, guilt painting every feature on his face.

“Could you just tell her I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin nods, though he makes no verbal promise to relay the message to you.

“Don’t do what I did,” Q emphasizes. “I think you’re the one person who makes her feel like art, herself. Don’t ruin this.”

*

“I forgot my ID today,” Hyunjin remarks to the security guard in the late hours of the evening. He’s met with a gracious bow, the same security guard opening the door and ushering him inside anyway.

“Don’t worry about it. Take as long as you need.”

The security guards all know Hyunjin very well now, taking note of the way his visits increased tenfold following your departure from the city.

At first he felt as though maybe he was searching for you when he’d come out here, any ounce of proof that you had indeed existed the way he remembered, and hopeful for the confirmation that you moved on to something new.

But as paintings cycled through their respective artists, and exhibits cycled through varying themes, it was a confirmation he never received, never finding a hint of you among the gallery. Thus, Hyunjin drew the hopeful conclusion that you’d escaped to a nicer city, worked on your old paintings again and made a new life for yourself, independently instead of under the overbearing presence of any other man. It’s what he wishes, at least, feeling disheartened every time he remembers you’ve very seldom lived any part of your professional career for yourself only.

The gallery is quiet at this hour, akin to the silent gray evening beyond its walls, and Hyunjin’s shoes squeak along the floors as he makes his way over to the curtains that veil the artwork.

New sculptures, by the same artist who had formed the paper mache ones. These ones are formed from wire and clay, the figures once again embracing each other in tender touches and dances. Hyunjin studies every careful bend and arch, making a mental note to sketch some of them when he gets a chance.

Another room houses a similar spread of modern art from before, these ones all coinciding with the warm lighting that hangs overhead, strokes along the canvases all housing similar warm-toned hues. He knows you’d love this installment and its careful attention to making use of color.

And the last room, the same little room behind a curtain, a small bench in front of a colossal canvas and just barely lit for his eyes to make out the scene.

Hyunjin’s seated before he can even examine the artwork, squinting carefully at the painting to get a better look. He even makes a conscious decision to put on his black frame glasses, making every attempt to get a proper look at the artwork in front of him.

Diluted hues of paint and water dance along the canvas, figured outlines he’s very familiar with, and the essence of solitude radiating from every brush stroke. Only this one isn’t one figure- it’s two, a warm-toned figure and a cool-toned outline holding each other in a tender embrace, their faces indistinguishable, true to the mystery of your work.

And between them, bright hues of paint, yellows, blues, magentas, fantastic mixtures of chartreuse and vermillion, all painted like brush strokes along their yearning bodies and illustrating a profound sense of togetherness, much more robust than the ever-present solitude.

“Visions of you in solitude,” reads the small bronze beneath the canvas.

As he cocks his head to make sense of the painting, he feels the leather of the bench dip beside him, indicating the presence of another patron. And at this hour, he doesn’t need to turn his head to understand who it is.

“There’s two,” Hyunjin says with a small smile, not averting his gaze from the painting.

“It felt incomplete without one.”

“Is that…”

“You?” You question quietly.

He nods in response, eyes scanning the swatches of paint between their bodies. It has to be me, he thinks. It has to be us.

“Maybe it is,” you reply. “I don’t disclose my processes to just about anyone. But you’re welcome to make your assumptions how you see fit.”

Hyunjin gives a breathy chuckle, finally turning to meet your gaze.

You look lighter- happier, as though you have the weight of your fears and reservations off your shoulders for once. Hyunjin can’t help but lean a little closer into you before stopping himself, knowing he can’t come in here to mirror the same thing Q once did long ago.

“You’re doing galleries,” he settles on saying.

“And they scare the hell out of me,” you respond, huffing a little at the end of your sentence. “But, it is nice to be seen again.”

He gives a little nod, and then his mind goes back to Q, who had asked to relay his version of an apology to you. But Hyunjin hesitates to speak of him, not wanting to taint your new art with the mentions of the old businessmen who took advantage of you.

“I’d have kept my distance if I knew how this went down the first time,” Hyunjin explains, hoping you’ll get what he implies. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask you to shift your focus. I just wanted you to be happy.”

You sigh for a moment, scanning the painting across from you, too, before turning to speak to him once more.

“Of all the clients I’ve painted, you were the first to ask about my vision. I think you do see me. And I think it was easier to say you loved an idea of me, because I couldn’t understand why you’d love any other part.”

Hyunjin nods, not taking his eyes off of yours.

“I learn from you the same way you learned from me,” you continue. “And you make me feel so seen. But I’m learning how to do that without needing you, too. Getting comfortable with my loneliness, I don’t think it’s something I was able to practice very much. At least not with…”

Hyunjin nods, not needing to hear Q’s name to know who you speak of.

“I understand,” Hyunjin voices. “And I want you to take all the time that you need. What matters is that you feel fulfilled, and that you’re not being pushed at the hands of somebody else. That’s more than enough for me to love you at a distance.”

And you nod at him, your heart swelling at his words as he turns to look back at the painting once more. The two of you stay there like that for several minutes, observing the way you’ve so carefully captured the togetherness you feel when you’re beside him. Swatches of paints that echo the color he brings into your life, and yet rooted in the solitude you’re still learning to be comfortable with. Visions of him in your own solitude, also creating a version of yourself that will continue to learn from him as much as he learns from you. And still art at the hands of him, both when you’re loving him wholly, and at this comfortable distance from each other.

And by the summer months, he’ll love you at a close proximity when you’re ready again, exchanging passionate embraces behind the curtains at galleries and making love to you in your shared apartment. He’ll continue to draw for you, and remain the biggest fan of the two-piece figures you illustrate with watercolors, capturing the same sense of togetherness and yet unwavering solitude that comes with breaking yourself down to the world around you. And the love will be reciprocated unconditionally by you, who finally feels seen at the hands of somebody who perceives you beyond just a concept.

But for now, he’ll remain right here, at this comfortable distance, allowing himself to learn from you as much as you learn from him. And the love will be undemanding, but it will be real, tangible.

[ ᴛᴀɢs: @drhsthl , @straykeedz-recs , @caitlyn98s , @moonlinos , @cottonsthings , @jaykyo , @write143 , @pinkcinnamon444 , @maximumkillshot , @auraleeknow , @skzms @coastalmaine , @venomracha , @lmhcats , @felinows , @maexc , @kang-min-joo , @liinoracha , @sealovesbts , @hanniessleepyeyes , @hyunjinsamdl , @chans1aptop , @yomomma104 , @sheraall , @kbbok , @silentreadersthings , @beomkgyu , @diorrxluvskz , @dancerachaslut , @jeannie-beannie , @heeseungshim , @weareapackofstrays , @bethanysnow , @inlovewithmusician , @kite-lee , @heartheartisa , @katsukis1wife , @minhosbitterriver , @y-ur--i , @seung-mine , @sskzlover , @bomi-ja , @crisle19 , @binniesbang , @leritzreyw , @lixiesundrop , @chopchopslide-juggalo , @vsereniasstuff , @morethancupcake , @fun-fanfics , @awillowbent , @unstiqn , @lixiesfairygf ]

add yourself to the tag list here.

[soft-beams]

omg wait r having a small childish crush on Sevika and Vi being jealous is actually soooo cute. She would probably always try to one up her around r

reader having a childish crush on sevika is just so!!! like this idea still rings in my head!!! i feel like reader would see sevika for the first time and have all these confused feelings because sevika's so hot and strong and wow did you see her break that guy's nose, vi?

and vi, in the beginning, wouldn't really think anything of it because yeah, she lowkey admires sevika too. she's cool and amazing and yeah, she's hot.

BUT THEN vi starts to realise her feelings for you and then starts to see how you behave around sevika. like how you'd get all flustered whenever sevika pays attention to you, how you'd get all starry-eyed when sevika practically does anything. and vi starts to feel...jealous because she's still young and she's not as strong as sevika. she isn't anywhere like sevika, and it makes her feel all weird and bad on the inside.

so vi tries to prove herself to you by trying to be better than sevika. if sevika's training for 2 hours, vi is training for 4. if sevika ends up in a brawl, then vi's in there, kicking more asses. if sevika throws back a drink of hard liquor, vi's throwing back two except it's not hard liquor bc vander won't let her near the stuff.

it gets to the point where sevika has to ask vi what her deal is, and vi looks over at you who's joking around powder, sevika rolls her eyes.

"don't try too hard, kid," sevika tells her, smirking. "i'm hardly a threat. especially since a) i'm way older than you and b) sunshine there looks at you like you shit flowers."

vi doesn't believe it, until one day when vi catches you looking at her like she hung the very stars in the sky. when you're caught, you look away quickly, all adorably shy...a lot different from how you react with sevika...

ah.

[helpallthenamesaretaken]

rating every 'you drool when you sleep'

BOOK:

the standard literally

Reading it later on you realise that annabeth isn't some cool nonchalant girlboss like how percy saw her, she was internally prolly just like

"ok how to boy?? How to communicate to pretty boy (OMG HE HAS PRETTY EYES) that I'm an intimidating queen who should not be messed around with?? ooh yes I'll tell him that he drools ah yes I'm so slay”

And she just skipped away with "her blonde hair bouncing behind her"

and percy fell for it he was like 😯 woah she’s playing hard to get wow i should watch my drooling from now on shes so cool

and ykw she's the legend the icon and the moment we love and stan her

peak twelve year old

also kickstarted one of the best ships

Infinity/10

MOVIE

Deleted scene smh

Its so weird coming out of an adult woman's mouth, not alexandra’s fault its the writers fault (probably why it was deleted), but her line delivery makes it sound like she’s reminding percy of an office meeting later on in the day

logan’s wtf face was funny tho ill give it that

3.5/10

MUSICAL

“IVE NEVER SEEN A FACE AS BEAUTIFUL AS—“ “you drool when you sleep”

I know kristen was way too old to play annabeth just as alexandra but her voice is so high pitched she plays it off well

Peak comedy

just percy singing a ballad about this pretty angel who he feels a very good weird way about while annabeth is there like 🤨 you drool when you sleep lol

and the fact that annabeth had a reprise of that saying that percy was cute in a good weird way and i-🥺 (ik its the deluxe version that wasnt in the main musical, but its official, so its musical canon shush)

10/10 (i changed my mind)

TV SHOW

OK BUT ANNABETH BEING A SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMON IS SO FUNNY

*hovering over percy as he slips in and out of consciousness in a dark room* you drool when you sleep😒

But tbh if i was a show only watcher i would be like “what is the point of this?”

But it really supports that aspect of annabeth’s character in the show that does not know any social skills so its kind of even more cuter???i guess??

9/10

[redfurrycat]

🔥 ⚽ 🐓 Doctor Mother Goose Bradshaw & Doctor Rooster Bradshaw AU 🐓⚽️🔥

*

AU in which Nick Bradshaw never went the RIO road, instead he became a Navy doctor and his first ever patient was one fighter pilot Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

Friendship at first sight. When Mav ended up at the hospital because of his shenanigans, he got lectured by Dr. Mother Goose every. single. time.

*

At some point, the good doctor got to listen to a loopy Mav's impassioned speeches about a blonde ice cube.

He met said blonde pilot who once came to visit Mav with flowers.

Well, he was pushed into Mav's room, rather rudely, by his giant of a RIO.

"Huh. Blonde Ice Cube, I presume?"

"It's Mister Iceman to you doctor!"

"Oh. And you are?"

"Free for a coffee right now. I think it best to leave these two alone."

Thia is how Doctor Mother Goose met Hulking Guy. Instant meet-cute.

*

Many years later, his son Bradley became a doctor. Chief Dr Bradshaw loved to dump his idiot best friend into Dr Bradshaw's care.

"What did you do AGAIN, Mav?!".

Then Mav tried to justify himself but it's hard to resist Baby Goose's sad brown eyes. So, he always tried to be on his best behaviour. Only for his favourite godson though.

*

Of course one of Mav's precious Daggers had to be hospitalised because of a training accident.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin thought for a moment the accident was way more serious 'cause wasn't he seeing double?

"Wow. Are there two Dr. Mc Steamy & Dreamy Moustache? Wow. Lucky me. Coyote. Do you see that?! Wow. Do you do house visits in case I have a problem later? Yes or Yes?"

"OMG. Don't flirt with my father!"

"But you don't mind my flirting with you, I hope?"

"Nope. He doesn't mind. And he's single."

"OMG. DAD. Don't pimp me?!"

"Ah. You do your best Navy fighter pilot a great service. Much appreciated Older Dr Sexy."

"Uh-huh. I'm out of here. You got it, son?"

"Ooooooh. Dad and son? Nice."

"Oh my god."

"Jake's fine for you, Sugar."

*

UPDATED!

[Art Commission drawn by the very talented @enthyrea 💖]

[chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs]

😂this is fantastic!

i don’t remember drawing this

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

Past Ink: Guys, it's fine. This isn't a serious episode, it would be too soon for another arc. It's just gonna be another silly Saturday.

Current Ink: ....

(the following is my live reaction:)

[*unholy screaming*] FOUR NOOOOOOOOOOOO

WOW WHAT A GREAT START TO THIS EPISODE, SCRATCH EVERYTHING THAT I SAID ABOUT THIS BEING A "NORMAL" EPISODE

NOPE I NEED TO PAUSE, I NEED TO TAKE A WALK BC I'M NOT GONNA GET OVER IT, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS COULD LEAD

they're not gonna do it in this episode BUT the fact that goop!4 is being acknowledged in every way possible, we might just have a sequel in our hands

NO NO NO CUT THE INTRO, I HAVEN'T EVEN FINISHED THE EPISODE YET AND YOU WANT ME TO MAKE A THEORY ON IT ALREADY? HOLD YOUR FUCKIN HORSES, I'LL GET THERE GEEZ

anyway, we have to press play...

I'm pretty sure someone already has done a pirate au (no I'm not over what I just watched) and anyway, artists: here's pirate SMG4

Four, you should've read the file name before downloading it [*shakes head*]

Wait, is this going to be a parody of computer buddies? That's actually pretty fun..... OH NO NO NO

Ah, so we are doing computer buddies

Actually, yeah, can we have Mario as president please

love how it says "no one even compares to mario. especially smg4 who sucks booty cheeks [or ass] and mario doesn't"

Observe as the SMG4 fandom gets terrified of the word "perfect" [*screams*]

MARIO MARIO NO NO NO HE DIDN'T SAVE

I felt that in my core omg

as a graphic designer, this hurts

apparently, there's a whole new dimension in our computers, Only in the SMG4 Universe [*cheesy thumbs up*]

We really are getting all the computer buddies, huh? I wonder if KinitoPET will appear

[*silver the hedgehog voice*] It's no use!

BRITISH SMG3

wow what a funny bit... WAIT HOLD UP WAIT A MINUTE, LOOK AT THE MEDIA BOX

the eyes....

w̷̹̓e̷̼̽ ̸̯́n̴̩͆e̵̝̓v̴̼͑ë̵̤r̴͓͛ ̷̭͝l̵̦̎e̴̞͗f̵͉̐ṯ̴͗

and the left eye too... oh god, the EYE OF RA— [*gets shot*]

honestly, Four, you improved your aim ever since Western Spaghetti (ik you also did for PV but that's not the point)

I knew they were gonna bring in buff Luigi again

I'M SCREAMING

THERE IS NO WAY THE TEAM JUST DROPPED THAT ON US, THIS CAN'T BE REAL

ok first off, the fact that Four has a folder labeled "Super SECRET Spicy Memes" is giving "totally homework" folder energy (and I don't want to even think more about that)

hey, Four did say that Three brings some spice into his life (yeah, "rosemary to my bread" and all that jazz)

SECOND, the fact he has an image of SMG3 with him saying "whats the matter smg4 kun?"

THEN the "I know what you are" audio clip...

Four, buddy, you're down bad aren't you?

like "woah smg4's bisexual, I didn't know that", the closet is out of GLASS so we been knew but I DID NOT expect this

having Three be a tsundere is one thing, but FOUR....

🫵🏳️‍🌈⁉️

"they're dating behind the scenes" at this point, yeah

we have to keep going... [*secretly puts this clip on the fridge*]

I hate this so much /silly

[*chaos ensues*] [*sips my coffee*] just another tuesday saturday

GOTTA GO FAST GOTTA GO FAST— [*gets tazed*] i can never catch a break c'mon man

oh hey Swag!

four dollars is four dollars, you got yourself a deal

ok, I'm gonna need everyone to see Four's cute little hops here:

look at him go, my silly little goober :) oh, now you have? then let's keep going

holy shit, this fight scene is so well animated!!! LET'S GOOOO

never thought I'd see the day of seeing biblically accurate bonzi in an SMG4 episode and yet here we are.

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I'VE SEEN IN MY LIFE, I'M ASCENDING

"...but they hugged before" NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

A normal hug, where two people cross each other and are unable to see the other's face since it's over their shoulder, is just as it is: a normal hug. It can be seen as platonic and/or romantic.

THIS is a lot more intimate. 3 and 4's heads touch while they hold each other by the hand. This type of hug is reserved more for romantic partners when the situation leads them to a devasting end, where they face each other to look at and remember what their partner looked like, one last time before they die.

In this case, it makes sense as the computer is collapsing within itself.

"It's not actually them tho." Yes, they're digital copies of 3 and 4 but that's the thing: they're COPIES, acting on what 3 and 4 would actually do

SMG34 shippers, we are eating GOOD today yum yum

but then, that begs the question: would there be a moment where 3 and 4 would reveal their feelings for each other at the worst possible time?

(you guys are not going to be ready for my next episode concepts) What, who said that?

uh anyway them 💙💜 gotta put it on the fridge

I feel for you, Four, but I have a horrible feeling about this

...

Foreshadowing is a literary device—

no seriously, I feel like this could be part of a future arc where a past villain would ruin everything Four has and would offer up a deal when Four would be the most desperate. There's always a catch. Hmm, why does that seem familiar...?

Your life's work or your friends, it's your call, SMG4

:)

HELL YEAH FOUR, THROW IT AWAY (omg just like how he chose Three over the USB, I'm crying dude)

also congrats to Ourstor08954957 for the lovely art in the end credits 🎉 such cute doodles ❤️

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Oh boy, what an episode. I feel like I'm in another plane of existence right now. Everything was absolutely incredible, great job Team!!

Everyone, say THANK YOU to whoever put the SMG34 crumbs in there, we shall treasure it for the rest of our lives. I'm gonna put those moments on my fridge. OH I would love to see the artists draw the SMG34 hug or pirate Four!

Love the fighting scene right by the end and the little details they have added in there. I guess it's "Torture Ink with the Idea that Goop!4 May Happen" day but hey, I'm so normal about it (no I'm not). I've been a bit stressed since finals are coming up so I'm thankful for anything this episode for me.

(If anyone is curious, the WOTFI website is still up and yes, I am logging its status just in case.)

I'm sure everyone is going crazy over this...

"They gay fr :3" [BenJoJoGV, Twitter]

🧍

BEN YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THESE THINGS—

[ritcchamadayo]

For Valentine's Day, could I request the overblot boys and Malleus getting jealous because their s/o is making everyone (as in the known students) in their dorm chocolate but it turns out, s/o had prepared a whole gift basket of goodies (chocolate, flowers, cakes,etc) for them?

omg thats such a cute little thought (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ all the love for our overblot babies!!!!

Special Sweets for You!

Riddle + Leona + Azul + Jamil + Vil + Idia + Malleus x Reader ; It's Valentine's! You've been going around giving gifts and chocolates for everyone around the school, but... Did you perhaps forget someone? (Choco... yum.)

Riddle Rosehearts

"Sweet! I'm posting this on Magicam! #Valentines, #ChocolatesFromThePrefect, #NotSoSweetChocolates!" "Thanks!" "Oh wow, thank you!"

Riddle looked around, seeing the prefect of Ramshackle Dorm running around and giving Valentines chocolates to his dorm mates. But Riddle was confused, was the Prefect ignoring him on purpose? Every time he passed by or called out for the prefect, you'd run away quickly or mutter a quick apology before reaching out to someone else. Giving out Valentines chocolates aren't a violation of the Queen of Hearts' rules, and Riddle also wanted you to give him some chocolates... His mother may beg to differ, but Riddle would gladly eat all the chocolates he obtained during Valentines. The day went on with the Prefect ignoring Riddle, and he quickly has had enough.

The prefect was with Trey in the Heartslabyul kitchen, and Riddle stomped in the room. With a slight grin, Trey exited the room and raised his thumbs, saying a quiet good luck. After closing the door behind him, Riddle walked up to you. "So, (Y/n). Mind telling me why you've been ignoring me the entire day?" His small frame was enough to corner you on the kitchen table, making sure you can't avoid him or his gaze. You moved back from intimidation, but pulled up all your courage in front of him.

"I wanted to give you something more special than the rest! B-but I didn't have the courage to do so earlier... I'm sorry, Riddle. Will you be my Valentine's?" You held out a small basket filled with rose-shaped, rose-flavored chocolates and decorative rose petals while shyly looking up to Riddle. Riddle was surprised at the sudden gesture and blushed *hard*, his entire face turning as red as the roses outside. "I-I suppose it was also my fault for jumping into conclusions... Yes, I'd love to be your Valentine's, my rose."

Leona Kingscholar

"PREFECT, YOU'RE THE BEST!!!" "T-thanks. I didn't expect to get chocolates today." Leona was woken up from his nap to Ruggie jumping around like a kid getting candy- except, yes, he *is* getting candy. Chocolates even! Jack also got some from you, and he thanked you shyly while his excitement was clearly seen from his wagging tail.

'Ah, It's Valentines', Leona thought. But you seemed too preoccupied with Ruggie and Jack, it's starting to piss him off a little bit. Not to mention a few other Savanaclaw students approached you in hopes of getting chocolates, and you obliged by giving each one a small chocolate truffle. All the boys cheered happily after getting a chocolate from you! it's kind of like when you give your pets a treat, but instead they're beastmen.

Leona leaned on the door handle, his eyebrows scrunching. "Oi. If you have nothing better to do, I suggest you all scram and let me nap in peace." Everyone ran off, including Ruggie and Jack who each gave you a hug first. You called Leona over and ushered him to lie down on your lap so he could continue his snoozing. "What's up with all the chocolates today, Herbivore? Tryna get all buddy buddy with the students?"

You laughed when he said that, softly massaging his temples. "Come on, don't frown like that- I've brought you a more special gift than the ones I gave out." You grab the basket filled with flowers from Sunset Savanna and a box of chocolate-covered cookies, setting it beside the beastman. "Be my Valentine's?" Leona scoffs, closing his eyes. "You herbivores and your weird holidays. Yeah yeah, sure. I'll be your Valentine's today." "I'd say you were just jealous, Leona." The beastman lightly hit you using his tail, but you can't help but notice that he's happy from how his tail is swinging back and forth.

Azul Ashengrotto

"Yay~! Chocolates from Shrimpy~!" "Oh my, what a thoughtful gift. Thank you, (Y/n)."

Azul watches intently as the twins talk animatedly to you in front of the VIP room, each holding a small purple box filled with sweets. Floyd was lightly squeezing you from behind, while Jade leaned on the wall and talked casually to you. Whenever a Mostro worker passes by, you made sure to call them out and give them a tiny chocolate as well to thank them for their hard work, which Floyd and Jade had commented on saying how "benevolent" you were.

Azul sulks slightly in his office. "I'm working hard too.." The octo-mer saw the three of you walk towards him in the office, and he quickly straightened up his position. "Well well, quite an honor to have you visit us in the Lounge today." Azul put on his best smile, to which the twins snorted at. Azul sighed and kicked the twins out of the office and chastised them for slacking off at work, before closing the door behind him and turning back to you. "Is there anything I can help you with?" You giggle softly, seeing his banter with the twins. "Oh, no no. It's just that I saw you were staring holes into us while we were chatting outside, I was wondering if *you* needed anything." Azul let out an audible squeak, he didn't mean to stare that intently. "A-ah, my apologies, I was simply zoned out." "Zoned out? Or expecting something?"

Azul averted his gaze away from you, fidgeting with his fingers. You decide that you've had enough teasing the Octo-mer, and pulled out a basket filled with hand-made chocolate truffles and a bouquet of white flowers. "Hehe, I couldn't resist teasing you. For the most hard-working manager of the year, will you be my Valentine's?"

Azul couldn't decide whether to open or close his mouth as he stood there gaping like a fish out of water. An octopus out of water, if you may. He quickly cleared his throat and fixed his crooked glasses, showing you his usual composure and confidence once again. "Ahem- Since you've put in the effort to give me such an exquisite gift, I would happily become your Valentine's, love."

Jamil Viper

Jamil stared at the tall tower of boxes in the Scarabia dorm. "Prefect, Kalim... Mind telling me what this is?" You stood on a ladder while Kalim held onto it for safety, and you quickly place a box on top of the pile. "There you go! I wanted to give Kalim a chocolate for Valentines, but it seems like he was drowning in chocolates sent by other students and from his family... So we decided to make a tower out of it!"

Jamil mentally facepalmed. "Kalim, didn't you say that you're gonna stop your family from sending excessive amounts of chocolate...?" "Ah! I did! But it seems like they still did it anyway.. Oh well~" Kalim cheered, laughing happily. "You can take some if you want, Jamil!" The taller man shook his head, staring at the boxes of chocolate-covered dates in front of him. "No thanks. I don't want the Asims to think I'm taking what's yours, Kalim."

Kalim didn't mind, he simply shrugged and went off to find more dorm mates to offer chocolates. You could tell Jamil looked a little put off by something though, even if you didn't know what it was. "You okay, Jamil?" You call out, waving a hand in front of his face. "Ah... (Y/n). Yeah, I'm alright. Why do you ask?" Although he answered you, his eyes were constantly trailing towards the decorated orange box on top of the pile- the chocolates you gave to Kalim, specifically. You took Jamil's hand and dragged him away from the choco-tower, finding yourselves in the dorm's courtyard.

"I made some sweets for you too, Jamil. I, wanted it to be more special than the complementary ones I gave Kalim, so... Will you be my Valentine's?" Jamil stared at the basket in front him, neatly tied with a red and yellow ribbon. "I made the chocolates using Scalding Sands spices, by the way! I think it really makes them taste better, and perhaps bring a bit of home for you." Jamil broke into laughter, accepting the basket from your hands. "Oh prefect, you never fail to surprise me. Chocolates with spices are definitely a good move. Of course I'll be your Valentine's, (Y/n)."

Vil Schoenheit

You definitely had your worries about giving chocolates to THE Vil Schoenheit. And that didn't escape Vil's eyes either, as he watches you give chocolates to Epel and Rook in front of Pomefiore's doors. "Mon Trickster! What wonderful gift you have given us!" "These look great, thanks so much!"

Vil keeps watching silently as Rook told Epel the wonders of chocolate, and how it could fatten you up if you ate too much at once, while also reminding Epel to not eat any of the chocolates Vil's fans had shipped to Pomefiore. Epel only sighed in defeat as he listens to another one of his senior's rants, making a mental note to make sure he finishes his share of the chocolates before Rook or Vil could complain about it to him.

"My dear Roi du Poison, what has your mind occupied?" Rook said, looking at the silent Vil. "If you have any trouble, I'm positive our Prefect here could give you the solution to your woes?" Rook looked at you with a knowing smile, pulling Epel with him and entering the dorm to leave the two of you alone.

"U-um, Vil-" "No words are needed, (Y/n). I suppose you were confused on what to give me for Valentines, but I can't help but feel a little betrayed." He leans into your face a little, and you had to look away from his sharp gaze.

You shook your head, pulling out a neatly decorated box. Vil took the box into his hands, and quietly gasps as he sees multiple chocolate-dipped apple slices and strawberries. "I know you're usually strict when it comes to your diet, and you always have a bunch of fans sending you the highest quality chocolates out there.. So I tried making my own, but using fruits to sort of lessen the guilt of eating them. Sorry if it didn't rise up to your expectations.."

Vil softly laughs, taking a strawberry and gingerly biting into it, his beauty while eating your sweets making you fall for him all over again. "After so many expensive packaged chocolates, seeing you give me a more personalized, homemade one makes it all the more better. You truly are the only one worthy of being my Valentine's, (Y/n). Thank you.

Idia Shroud

Don't get me started with Idia. If you asked him if he's looking forward to Valentines, he'd respond to you like this :

"valentines? LOL, cringe." "the only gifts im getting are the valentine's edition SSR card, fuhehe~" "eugh, don't lump me in with those mushy lovey-dovey normies."

But even after saying all that, he can't help but sulk in his room when he saw you and Ortho giving out chocolates to other Ignihyde students. Ortho couldn't consume any chocolates, so you got him to join you and share the joy with the other students instead. Ortho thinks it was a blast!

Idia looked at his computer screen, the cutesy song from his gacha game playing on his headphones. He got the card he's been waiting for, and he also got free gems from his valentine's login event, so why does he feel so... sad?

*knock knock* "Nii-san~!" "What is it, Orth- UUAAGH!" Idia almost screamed as he sees you in front of his door, immediately shutting the door in your face. "G-GIVE ME A SECOND...!" He quickly closed his game and made sure he looked decent before stepping out, covering his face with his tablet. His tablet lit up and the speaking software came up, Idia's voice coming out of the speakers. "W-what is it? Y-you're not here to laugh at me for playing games or anything, right..?"

"What? No! I'm here to give you these, Idia." You pull out a beautifully decorated cake with blueberries and blue icing, and gave it to Idia. "I know you said it's cringe, but would you still be my Valentine's? I made this cake so you could snack on it while you game too, and it wouldn't dirty your hands or get all crumbly over your desk."

Idia's hair turned a bright pink, as he accepted the cake and gave his tablet to Ortho for safe keeping. Idia opened his mouth to thank you personally, but was too shy to say it. "T-Thank you.. I-it's cringe, but I'll be your Valentine's."

Malleus Draconia

Did Malleus know it was Valentine's day? Probably not. But was he jealous when he saw you with Lilia, Sebek, and Silver laughing and chatting together in Diasomnia's lounge? Perhaps.

"HUMAN!! I don't usually accept gifts from a mere human, but... thanks." "These are really cute chocolates~ I'll make sure to return the favor on White Day, and I'll make handmade chocolates too~" "Thank you, Prefect. These are perfect to keep me awake for studying." He thought he wasn't invited again, and he was already outside walking dejectedly towards Ramshackle dorm. Maybe the peace over there would soothe him a little.. "Tsunotaro? Is that you?"

The sight of you walking back to your dorm takes him out of his trance, and Malleus stands up to greet you. "Greetings, Child of Man. Coming back from Diasomnia, were you?" You nod, running towards him and ushering him to sit on the grass. "Yeah! Today is Valentine's day, so I wanted to share some chocolates with Lilia, Silver, and Sebek! I didn't quite see you around, though.. Ah, do they not have Valentines over at Briar Valley? Usually on Valentines day, you give sweets or chocolates to the people you love."

Malleus knew what Valentines was, but he didn't realize it was on that day. Upon hearing your words, he was even more dejected, knowing that he didn't get one when his other peers did. He was so absorbed in his sulking, he didn't realize you rummaging through your bag and pushing a piece of chocolate onto his lips. Malleus gasped in surprise, but indulged you and let you feed him the chocolate. "Did I mention that you could ask a loved one to become your partner on this day?"

The fae's earlier pout turned into a smirk, as he licks his lips clean of your chocolates. "Hoo? Continue.."

You pull out a glass container decorated with elegant black motifs, and multiple black and white chocolates were stacked on top of each other. "Will you be my Valentine's, Tsunotaro?" Malleus took the chocolates from your hands, closely examining your elegant handiwork and took your hand in his, as you two sat on the grass surrounded by glittering fireflies. "Alright, I shall indulge you and become your Valentine's today, dearest (Y/n)."

[kamisama1kiss]

HIIIII THE MOVIE WAS SO GOOD AND I SAW YOU WERE TAKING REQUESTS AND OMG OMG COULD YOU DO A NEKOMA MANAGER x KENMA PRETTY PLEASE ITS OKAY IF NOT BUT ANYWAYS THE MOVIE HAS ME AUGH!! Ah! preferably the prompt i think would be fun is either Kenma and Y/N going to the conbini and/or arcade in the middle of the night after the loss (they sneak out of the hotel) or Arcade/GameStop Worker!Reader x Regular!Kenma. This is my first time making a request so HOPEFULLY I did this right!!

The movie is so good, like wow. I actually did some small researching for snacks for a konbini 😝🫶 You did great, BTW! Loved the cute idea!! ♡

Song of choice: Sweet by Cigarette After Sex

!⚠️Spoilers from The Dumster Battle will be mentioned shortly⚠️!

~~~

Kenma Kozume { Midnight Snacks }

"Not of your brightest moments {Name}" Kenma spoke with the volleyball manager, walking next to him along the streets of Japan for a breather. "Perhaps not, but you didn't say no."

They smiled at him, finding his constant small frown from having to leave the comfort of sleeping to go out, alongside his switch being placed into their pocket for no purpose of being used.

"It has been a long enough day as is." not adding much of an answer while he was still tired from the match with Karasuno. Shrugging a shoulder at what he had side, "This just a short trip to clear our minds, besides its good for you to go outside some more."

They spoke gently, placing a light hand on his shoulder. The walking stops in a halt. "I know this was hard on you after how it ended, with the ball falling out of your hand at the end."

Almost as he held his breath when it was mentioned, his shoulder stiffened as well, feeling guilt from earlier. Nonetheless, he had experienced a new feeling. "You had fun playing volleyball today, I saw it. We all saw it." A soft patting motion with the hand resting on his shoulder, further making their way down the street lit path.

Rounding the corner in silence, the loudest sounds were easily picked up by the sounds of shoes hitting the concrete. It was maybe quiet but not uncomfortable. Simply, a warm aura wrapped the duo.

It could be seen as Kenma eyed them. Hesitation was shown in his movements, with enough curridge his hand finally latched on to their hand. It was pinkey linked, a small form of affection that he rearly initiated himself.

Hearts beating as one, with the stars dancing along the dark canvas up above. Comfort was broken at some point. "We could head to the konbini, up ahead." They suggested in a soft whisper, pointing briefly with their head. "A night snack could be nice."

The night felt as a warm breeze when they now had a destination to make. He was quiet, but not many words needed to be exchanged between the two. Lazily smiling as his eyes would softly admire how the moonshine hit their face, never having gotten the grasp of how they even ended up together.

With a blink of en eye now standing in front, one of the few ials of snacks, food, and simple groceries along such. "Hm, I feel for a strawberry sando. You?" They asked him while they reached for the strawberry snack.

His cat-like gaze roamed before reaching his wish. "A apple pie flavoured Umaibo." Reaching for one alongside it being not too far from where they stood.

"I'll pay." They said even before he could even utter another word. "Are you sure? I could pay for my own just fine." Raising a light brow but gives them the snack if choice anyhow.

"I insist, take it as a treat. You paid for the last one." They grinned at him as they now spinned on the heel to go upfront, lightly tugging him after with the pinkey still being held.

With yet another flash of a blink, they sat outside of the konbini, each munching on their respected snacks. "You know, this evening was pleasant, actually." He mumbled after a second bite, looking over at them only to already be greeted by a pleased and eased smile.

"I am glad to hear so." They lightly spoke, the moon shunned yet again on the two, giving them a soft glow. Going from linked pinkey to hands completely intertwined as time went on.

~~~

Hope you all enjoyed this little Kenma Kozume snippet!♡

[brights-place]

John Dory X Country Troll! reader? PLEASEEE

John Dory X Country! S/O

Pairings: John Dory X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst at the end neheheheh

A/N: Ah yes the country trolls I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEY ARE SO CUTEEEEEEEEE! anyways love yall ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)!♡ - COUNTRY TROLLS ARE SO CUTE LIKE OML HAVE YOU SEEN THEIR DESIGNS?!? OMG LIKE THEY ARE SO COOL LOOKING! - John dory once he broke up with brozone explored and met diffrent genres but then... He met you when visiting the country trolls - You were an country troll and you were gorgeous you had the basic troll body type from the waist upwards and wore you usual country troll attire with the lower half of their bodies being that of a horse, complete with hooves and tails. your F/c tail and hair and 2nd f/c skin - Your hair was fluffy and puffy it was gorgeous and made john dory eyes widened you were talking to delta with an huge smile the two of you sitting at an table together as you re-tuned delta is banjo - John dory couldn't help but slow down his walk to stare at it before seeing you noticing John dory as an look of confusion appeared on your face - You walked over staring down at John Dory and the fact you towered over him made him blush slightly as he stared "Uhm- I-" he started as you raised an brow "Whats your name sugar cube?" you said as he became even redder - "John... John Dory" he said trying to sound tough and dominant but became quiet once you raised an brow "John what?" You asked again as he blushed as Delta raised an brow judging John dory - You decided to welcome him but delta judged John dory and telling you to be careful which you were but you wanted to make him feel safe with you guys - Delta soon was fine with John dory around as Delta spoke pointing towards you doing your daily chores "Don't be scare bumpkin'! Our precious (name) is one of the best cowboys in town and you won't find someone like her! She's like a needle in a hay stack, she is!" Delta said chuckling as John dory watch you from afar - He asked about you and country trolls whenever he was wondering and you explained some common values and beliefs often associated with Western societies include individualism, democracy, human rights, the rule of law, freedom of speech, equality, and a strong emphasis on personal and economic freedom. - He literally paid attention to every single thing you said and literally fell in love with you the moment you turned to him smiling and then asking him about pop music and pop troll culture - You wanted to know stuff about him? he literally smiled talking about himself self and he introduced you to some pop music which you then decided to introduce him to country music showing him and teaching him about country music but you literally froze when he spoke up - "Whoa... so its hillbilly music?" literally had to run away as you chased him around he easily lost the small cat and mouse chase and was close to being beaten the shit out of by you - Delta and other cowboys had to hold you back before you told them what he said and everybody was close to beating Up JD who apologized quickly but got stink eyes from many Country trolls

- Since most of country trolls eat  BBQ good most of the time you make him food for fun - He likes when you take him out on rodeos or take him out for dinner whenever he finds it nice and relaxing - He was dancing with you at an barn dance and you placed your cowboy hat ontop of his head and walked away some country trolls jaws drop - "Wow! They done give y'all their cowboy hat? Y'all have a good time now, (Names) sure are picky 'bout what they like." Delta said chuckling patting John dorys shoulder as John raised an eyebrow at her confused "What?" - Wear the Hat and ride the cowboy IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!! -Because of your four legs your quite fast at running, have great endurance and are quite strong all of country trolls are but loves when you run around with him sitting and chatting with you as he tells you stories about his trips while you do your duties

- You two started to get close and he'd randomly kiss your cheek whenever he can or pull down your cowboy hat to tease you while your chatting with country trolls who snicker at both of your interactions - You would go on picnic dates and teach him how to do survival skills and he'd learn them and find most of them useful using them himself when he goes exploring - You and Him would have an photo of both of you together smiling and singing that some country trolls took - But John dory explores and travels around he doesn't stay in one place that's normal for him but for you... you were hurt - You cried calling out to "John Please you can't just leave" you said tearing up "(name please you know I move around alot you know this had to be coming right?" You stared to the sand floor before looking up to him with furrowed eyebrows as he spoke "(name)" he started but you cut him off as he reach an hand out to you "Don't... John listen if you do this I won't forgive you we literally are together and if you do this I'm repeating myself but I won't forgive you and what we have will no longer - He left... like he did with the other genres of trolls he left you after you begged him to stay longer or just live with you

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[kalifornia1025]

The Red Circle Pt. 3 (SPOILERS)

*Cutely drops my notes* 

John’s REALLY struggling with the tech. I almost feel bad for the guy (almost).

Aww the episode starts off with John asking the gang (Mariana & Sherlock) if they’re okay after finding a dead body. Always nice he checks in with them!

“The good doctor here” SHERLOCK COMPLIMENTING JOHN

Imani’s back, yay!

Oh no, poor Imani…

This exchange:

Imani: “Sorry about this” (sending another red circle pic)

Mariana: “No no no-don’t be sorry”

Sherlock: “Yes you musn’t it’s fantastic”

John: “Sherlock”

Gregson and Mariana are formerly meeting!

THE MUSIC IN THIS CASE OMG ITS SO GOOD!!!

John, you’re playing Italian Mob style music to “capture the mood”?? What happened to “not wanting to stereotype?!”

JOHN JUST REPLACE THE MIC GODDAMNIT

“Ahh do I have a PTSD friend?” John’s new method to making friends apparently 

Mariana’s right this is stupid just GET A NEW MIC!! You can still keep the old one, John!

I now have a mental image of Sherlock staring wide-eyed at a big tv like he’s in a trance and I LOVE it

Aww possible future movie nights with a new tv!!

DONALD TRUMP JUMPSCARE

Wives of Cheshire comeback HA!!

“Oh you out of your trance are you?” Seriously how mesmerized was Sherlock to the tv for John to make this joke TWICE?!

Mariana discovers the next clue, awesome!

Sherlock: “I don’t seem to have (seat)belt”, Gregson: “What a shame” Gregson you’re such a salty bitch and I love you for it

Poor John trying to get around copyright stuff

“That’s a good start, you did knock and you did say please-“ another sweet moment of Sherlock getting better with social norm stuff

Wow John is REALLY stressed, and Sherlock is NOT helping

Hehe Sherlock is an iPad kid confirmed

I’m starting to love John calling Sherlock ‘Sherls’

“What’s the Site manager like? Is he…she…they?” John says nonbinary rights

John: Ah I’ve stepped in piss”, Sherlock: “Show me the urine”…um what???

You really can’t catch a break your shoes, huh John?

I’m listening to Sherlock and John talk about possibly reaching down into toilets in order to solve the case…man I love this podcast

John: “You’re doing the next one”, Sherlock: *sharp inhale* “fine” tbf Sherlock this was YOUR idea

“The Patreon numbers are gonna collapse” no such thing sir I’ve checked and we’re all here and loving this

Sherlock: “Imani would you perhaps like to have a go?”, Imani: “No”, Sherlock: “Bugger” I love how quickly he says it

Neuralizer mention! I love the Men in Black movies so much

OOOH, John and Sherlock making the realization at the same time!

Sherlock why do you always have a gun??

NOT THE CHIPMUNK VOICES DURING AN EPIC MOMENT

“English pigs, wot?” John sounded so genuinely confused by that

AHHHHHHH CLIFFHANGERS, THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE!!!!!!

Okay as painful as that cliffhanger is, this case is getting GOOD! I’m loving it. It’s definitely jumping up to my top five fave cases from the podcast. I was not expecting the case to be as silly as it is, and I’m absolutely relishing in it. I love the irony of John insisting this case is gonna be a bad one when I’m loving every minute of it! Alright everybody, now we just have to not die from waiting on the last part…see y’all next week!

[robobarbie]

ROMANCE/ANGST. being the light of nightowl’s life, the most important person to this man, but being just as insecure as him, so when he starts interacting with a pretty person in the server you’re left there wondering if you’re really worthy of him. (i’m projecting again, i’m the anon who sent the nightowl deep dive 5 times, i really hope it doesn’t happen again😭)

side note (this is the most e-dating, discord, online relationship-ass prompt ever)

# general

--- mystic_pizza has joined the server ---

Quest Oh?

nightowl whoa! a new member???

lovelylola hello!!

two2 nice 2 meet u!!

mystic_pizza hehe, hi everyone <3

BIGLADY how'd you find the server? O_O

June Yeah, didn't @BloomBot disable invites?

BloomBot It was getting stale around here.

xyx LMAO

NakedToaster LMAO

salociN Hello ! Mystic Pizza !

onionthief "Stale". That's an opinion for sure.

nightowl ??

onionthief Would just like to know how BloomBot has decided our presence is "stale".

onionthief We've done nothing different, kept chatting at the same rate (I've checked), and always focused on the webnovel to a degree.

onionthief I don't understand how that's "stale".

NakedToaster bro just answered the question by speaking

xyx bro doesn't see what we see

onionthief What?

BIGLADY @mystic_pizza who's your favorite character?

mystic_pizza Damien. So easy.

nightowl oooooooo, mine too!!

nightowl why do u like him?

mystic_pizza i just think he's misunderstood... breakups aren't super straightforward a lot of the time, you know

nightowl I AGREEEEEEEEEE

mystic_pizza like, it's not even up for debate!!! people are just being rude to damien for no reason!!!

nightowl my god

nightowl where have you been...

June hahaha

mystic_pizza are selfies ok btw?

BIGLADY yeah!!

two2 hey bloombot wh y did u always allow selfies?

two2 isn't that like a personal ident thing or someth

--- BloomBot is now offline ---

two2 what..

xyx @mystic_pizza post face so we can read your aura

xyx i got them aura glasses on

NakedToaster that's just not a real thing

xyx wow

xyx post a selfie of yours then and let me read you

NakedToaster fine

NakedToaster

(pic from xiaeom)

NakedToaster read me bitch

xyx holy shit

xyx holy fucking shit

BIGLADY what do you see?? O-O

salociN A very handsome man !

June Salo!! Remember, toasty is NB!!

salociN Oh , my sincerest apologies . I'm still learning.

salociN A very handsome person .

NakedToaster fuck yeah salo, you are so right

xyx no no no. no. all of you, shut the fuck up.

xyx i see

xyx i see a person with

xyx with

xyx with no balls

NakedToaster motherfucker

BIGLADY that's not an aura reading...

xyx absolutely no balls in sight

BIGLADY @mystic_pizza!!!! WHERE'S THE SELFIE!!!!!

NakedToaster yeah xyx's time on earth is a little limited

xyx you'll never find me

mystic_pizza hehe, okay! <3

mystic_pizza

mystic_pizza that's me on th e right

nightowl omg i love ur smile!! so cute!!

BIGLADY agreed!!! U R RADIANT!!! <3

mystic_pizza awww, thank u!!! u are all so nice around here!!!

nightowl we just wanna make sure everyone has a good time u know?

nightowl and damien enjoyers must be protected!!!

mystic_pizza i agree!!

mystic_pizza ah, fixed my flair

nightowl OMG

nightowl U AND ME!!!

mystic_pizza U AND ME!!!! XD

nightowl do u wanna call rq?

two2 can i join?

nightowl YA!

mystic_pizza yea sure hehe

nightowl @lovelylola you wanna call too cutie?

June The "cutie" in chat again..

onionthief Please keep that to DMs.

nightowl blah blah blah

lovelylola i'm kinda tired, i think i'm gonna sleep

nightowl awww okay

nightowl i'll call u later!!

BIGLADY gnight lola!!!

Quest Rest well!

salociN Have sweet dreams !

lovelylola good night!

xyx holy fuck

xyx @mystic_pizza

mystic_pizza yes?

xyx your aura

xyx your aura is just

xyx it's like the color of a

xyx of a war crime

mystic_pizza huh?

NakedToaster i have ur new IP bitch

xyx FUCK

---------

you close the laptop and sigh. it's okay for nightowl to have fun and meet other people, it's just...

gah. mystic pizza's selfie wouldn't leave your head. they're so cute... and seem to pair up pretty well with nightowl. you're sure the call is just going too well... at least you're assured it won't go too far since two2 is there.

but that's barely a reassurance. nightowl doesn't hesitate to flirt when he wants to, regardless of who's around.

you thrum your fingers on the desk and gnaw on your bottom lip. should you actually join the call? no, then you'd look insecure. do you already look insecure? is everyone wondering if nightowl likes mystic pizza more than you?

you look down at your frumpy clothes with a tired expression. ugh. maybe it's okay for him to flirt, if he wants to. this is what he's stuck with after all. who wouldn't want to flirt with someone who looks like that?

you try to ignore the pang in your chest as you stand up and get ready for bed.

------------

------------

LOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

[kairiscorner]

Hi! Do you mind writing a hobie x gender neutral reader fic where the reader is a new recruit to the spider society and as they’re getting toured around they get introduced to hobie and he falls head over heels right then and there? The rest is up to you :)

OOOOOOO HI ANON !! omg that's really cute, OFC I'LL MAKE IT RAHHHHH

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

nobody quite like you – hobie brown x gn!spiderperson!reader

summary: hobie had never expected the new recruit to be so kickass, and he never expected for his heart and face to act so... so excited at the prospect of getting to see and be with them more and more. word count: 685

hobie had just come back from a mission, and instead of the usual scenery he's greeted to back at HQ, it's surprisingly way calmer. this could only mean one thing, 'they're tryna impress a new recruit,' he thought to himself with a smirk as he took off his mask and walked off into the lobby, where most new recruits are held prisoner at before they get to the real fun stuff.

when he gets to the lobby, he doesn't notice any new faces; it's all the same faces he's seen over and over a million times in the past already, not a lot has changed about them though, surprisingly. hobie shrugs at the change of atmosphere but lack in the change of faces in the sea of spider folks he's been seeing, that was until an anomaly broke out of its containment from the upper floors and was dashing out into the lobby in an effort to escape–oh yeah, some action's finally happening.

hobie put on his mask and swung up a few floors up to get a good look at where he can hit the anomaly at, though before he could even land a hit on it, he was greeted with a blurry figure that came out of nowhere and kicked the anomaly to the opposite side. it tumbled down with anomaly as it tried to keep it pinned down to the lobby floor. the 'it' turned out to be a 'they', a spider person, one hobie had never encountered before.

hobie looked over at what was happening, and the spider person looked back at hobie. "web this guy up!" they exclaimed as hobie did it, not because they wanted to, but because it was the most effective way to subdue this anomaly. hobie webbed the anomaly up, and soon, the guys who were tasked to bring this anomaly back into its containment came and cleaned up the mess it left behind in its wake.

the new spider person gracefully hopped down off the webbed and subdued anomaly and dusted themselves off, hobie took off his mask as he looked at them, looking around for their tour guide who disappeared in all the havoc that's been wreaked. hobie came forward and smiled up at them. "well, aren't you something." he complimented you with a chuckle as you returned the chuckle back to him. "and aren't you just... so cool, without the mask too, like, wow." they said with a smile as they took off their own mask, and in that moment, hobie felt something in him—something that felt heated and soft in him. it was a feeling that permeated in his chest, that throbbed when he met their bright gaze; oh damn, what is this ethereal feeling?

he felt a warmth creep up in his cheeks, which he tried to laugh off, but failed, and this was totally new for hobie—he never fails to look or act cool, never when he could do something about it. "ah, huh, guess i am, hmm?" he stuttered out as he leaned against the wall and felt his face get hotter and more flustered as they looked into his eyes with a curious smile. "totally." they answered him as he muttered a 'wicked' under his breath and chuckled again out of sheer embarrassment and sheepishness.

"guess your tour guide got lost in all the chaos, you're a newbie, aren't you?" he asked them as they nodded a little awkwardly. he smiled as he offered them his hand. "whaddya say to maybe skipping all the formalities and just jumping to the next universe over to kick some villains' asses? i won't tell if you won't." he promised with a smirk as they, without hesitation, took his hand and smirked back at him. "oh, you are on." they said as hobie nodded and opened a portal right then and there and looked forward to whatever the two of them would see on the other side, hoping to see them more in action and... possibly feel that wonderful, confounding, lovely feeling in his face and chest all over again.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @pixqlsin @solecitoszn

[stgosupremacy]

HI SO TODAY WE R GONNA ANALYSE EVERY OFFICIAL SATOGOU POSTER (ok i couldnt get my hands on them all but)🥰

heres the thing no one asked for

there's hearts. 💯❤

honestly pretty chill but THERES HEARTS-

ok so theres not much else going on here but this is rlly cute of a poster lmao of the boys all cosy and cute <33 and ash drinking this cool soda lol

pikachu looks so cute omggggg

(@skyecrystal pointed out this was released on valentines day hehe) 😏

MORE HEARTS MWAHAHAHHAHAHA ok but like all their pokemon are clearly routing for them (esp lucario look at him)

ALSO random but i love how it's gohs pokemon looking directy at the present in gohs hand lol like theyre just waiting for him to fess up....AND GOH DEFO GAVE THAT PRESENT TO ASH AFTER THE SHOOT 💖😊😊

ehhhhh 4 gays 1 picture, keep scrollinggg....

(theyre all literally like 2 inches apart bahhaa)

OK BUT IM SORRY HHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH WHY THE WEDDING SUITS LMFAOOOOOOOOOO 🤨

love how ash is just totally sweetly oblivious and just smiling...

...gary is just acting chill and cool as always...

and goh is....just blushing and is internally screaming we can tell ok

I LOVE THIS ONE SMM LOL LOOK AT MR MIME HE KNOWS BAHAHAHAHHA 😏😏

and goh l i t e r a l l y getting distracted by ash- look at him !! 💖🤨 so distracted in fact that the ICING IS COMING OUT THE PIPING BAGGGGGG UGHGHGHHGH

and then chloe just being adorable ofc awh lmao

ah then we have to appreciate sobble and pikachu looking down at their trainers like 'we know what you guys are' 🥰

iLOVEEEE this one but the ones to come knock it off the bar holy heck 😤-

they literally couldnt be any close in this BAHAHHAHA AWWHHH teyre so cute <33 and ash's arm around him 🥺 I love how are just squashed up together while iris has the spotlight but they happy ^^

wait but we have to appreciate iris tho- LOOK AT HERRRRRR 💜💜

so uhhh...

still speaking of iris, she's so cute feeding pikachu right omg <33 💜🥺

andddddddd as much as i love and adore iris i couldn't help but notice something elseeee....it's not even that obvious idk if yall saw but

ash is feeding him.

he is literally feeding him-

ANDGOHISBLUSHING

LIKE

wow

also love goh's red socks theyre slayin

BUT ANYWAY gosh i love iris OBVS but everyone was like aww iris and pikachu cute aww-

LIKE HELLO?? have you seen this over here omg. the little cherry blossoms falling on them too (i cant help but notice some are shaped like hearts but they normally are anyway 🥰)

so yeah this one was defo anipoke being bold but uh

yall know which one is last 🙂🙂🙂

....

so i was like wow that is some REALLY good fanart dam-

BUT THEN

NO WAY THIS IS ACC REAL??????????????? NO IT RLLY IS OMG I LITERALLY CAN'T HOW IS THIS OFFICAL LMFAO look at them 😰

GOH IS FULL ON BLUSHING WITH ASH BEING PAINFULLY OBLIVIOUS AND WINKING????? AND THEN LOOK HOW FKN CLOSE THEY ARE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE 🥰🥰🥰🥰 his cap is all squahed upwards bc of how close they are LMAO and ash is casually feeding himm...

again.

c'mon you can't tell me this isn't hinting at SOMETHING HERE 🙂🙂 WHOEVER IS DRAWING THESE OFFICIAL ARTS THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART <33

no like seriously combined with the gay shit from pokemon journeys they HAVE TO BE CANON LOL 🤩

THIS WAS SO FUN 😍 considering to tag this as satogou week 2023....which wasn't even my intention anyway but...HEY LETS DO IT!

#satogouweek2023 <3

(me considering if anyone is acc gonna read all of this 😀😀 )

[ominoose]

OMG. Your date idea is so cute. I hope you do end up posting it, but no pressure of course. <3 Speaking of blind boxes, I feel like he would enjoy these!: Aaru Garden Ancient Egypt Mythology Series 1 & 2 from KikaGoods and YOKI Travel Round the World Series from Pop Mart. Oh! And I saw these Egyptian themed slimes from @slime.fantasies and I feel like if they had an activity for the children with them, he'd end up giving in to try them all out. Whatadork!<3 (ಥ◡ಥ)

𝐀 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞

Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader Summary: You surprise Steven with a cute trip to Popmart! Warning: None. WC: 533

Ended up being small and kind of a mess but short and sweet ig :)

The date had been your idea. Despite living in London for a decent while, Steven never really shopped about, owed to the museum job and the hassle with discovering his DID and an Egyptian god that he unwillingly worked under. That was all in the past now and since your discovery of Stevens lack of actual activity around London since dating, it became your self-appointed mission to take him out to re-fall in love with his home city.

"Oh wow…" Was all the Brit could say as you led him to Pop Mart. Shelves upon shelves lined with various cute and colourful mini figurines filled the store walls behind the glass windows and large statues of the front. It wasn't too busy, but by London standards that still meant there were a few groups milling around.

He was hesitant to step inside, but once you took the first step with him he was buzzing. Bee-lining to different shelves, oo-ing and ah-ing at the different series of figures, from cute little fairies to weird little monsters in sailor outfits.

If Steven didn't have Marc quietly reminding him they were 'pretty broke' right now the Brit would've filled a basket with all sorts of blind boxes and bags (to which he'd mutter aloud "Sod off Marc this is my date.").

It took you softly convincing him that you could both get two from the same series and have matching ones instead, which he was absolutely ecstatic about, to stop him buying 10. Steven was always a romantic at heart, and had to hold back from matching outfits with you daily.

Steven picked out a Yoki series, a cute little bat featuring different landmarks and World Wonders. It was the Pyramid one that caught his eye, and he couldn't pass up any chance to have a matching little Egyptian figure with you.

Heartbreakingly, no Egyptian figure appeared for either of you. After Steven excitedly popped the box open and tore into the silver baggy, a little red and golden bat sat against the Great Wall of China.

"Just my luck, eh?" He pouted, but the longer he rubbed his thumb over the teeny golden nose and stared at the little stars in the bat's eyes, Steven found himself endeared.

You'd already popped open your box by the time Steven had went through a few stages of grief and presented a blue bat snug in a fluffy hood, hugged by a penguin.

"Oh your one is dead cute! That's adorable. Think they'd make a good couple too?" A toothy grin broke over him as he nudged you playfully, making his little figure give yours a kiss on the head.

"So, I take it you're a fan of the blind boxes then?" You ask with a smile as Steven continues to play with the figure in his palm.

"Absolutely! In-fact, I think we need to do this more often, make a little habit of this date, eh? Make a little collection of wee couples, next time we should do one of those sanrio ones you like!"

Only a month later, Steven's bookcases became a neighbourhood of little couples of woodland creatures, miniature Egyptian deities and sanrio characters. And each morning, Steven always kissed your little figures on the head.

[cinamonqirl]

WOUNDS 2

(smut)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Top! Kate Bishop x Bottom! Female Reader

Part I

Summary: Kate shows up in your room to reward her with what she wanted.

A/N: OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WROTE OMFG. enjoy this Kate fangirlies.

I appreciate every reblog and comment 🫶

*ೃ༄

You can't help but think about the last time Kate came to your room climbing under your window when she was hurt after a mission. And you didn't expect anything more than just her flirting and kissing to happen at that point, and something else almost happened, but instead soon after the archer came home leaving you in a mess. And you wonder what would have happened if you had taken a chance and let Kate go on.

But before your thoughts wandered further, you heard the sound of the window opening, you knew it was Kate. And it's like she read your mind because you considered the idea of ​​inviting her over since your parents aren't home.

"Is that you Kate?" You asked to make sure it was her. Unexpecting her, you got out of bed, watching as she slowly entered your room with hint of confusion and surprise.

"Who else would it be? Is there another boy who comes into your room through the window?" She asked jokingly as she closed the window, although she hopes you don't have a secret boyfriend after all.

"No." You rolled your eyes at her obvious jealousy in her eyes. "Don't tell me you're hurt again." You warned pointing your finger at her, glancing at her to make sure she wasn't hurt again.

"Nah, not this time." She chuckled at your glare, looking around your dark room where the only light was the bedside lamp. Still, she saw you perfectly.

"Wow I can't believe." You sneer crossing your arms over your chest. You don't believe it because Kate, although she is strong, is very risky.

"Ah, so that's what you are, feisty." She tease jokingly hearing tone of your voice. She bit her lip looking at your figure, which made you feel a little shy. Even though you've kissed before, you still feel as embarrassed as before. It's just that you get nervous under her gaze, and she knows it.

"How is your wound?" You asked looking at her black hoodie. Kate quickly lifted the black material revealing her muscular belly once again. But you looked at her wound, which is already slowly healing.

"It doesn't hurt anymore" she added seeing your face frowning.

"I'm glad" you sent her a small smile looking at her muscle for a moment. But unfortunately, as soon as her hoodie went up, it was slid back down just as fast, so you couldn't get excited by her muscles anymore. Which of course she knows.

"It's because of you" she announced giving you a charming smile that just made you feel butterflies in your stomach. You gave her a cute smile in response, lowering your head, blushing.

"What are you doing here?" You asked after a moment, unable to handle her gaze on you.

"You know, I wanted to watch you sleep, but apparently you're awake" she said sarcastically, hiding her hands in her pants pockets. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief at her cheesy joke.

"Ha ha so funny" you gave her a bittersweet smile which made her smile widen. Her jokes are stupid sometimes.

"Your parents are home?" She asked with a cunning smile as she slowly walked towards you. She's waited so long to ask this question.

"No. Why are you asking?" You replied with a cocky smile knowing what she meant but pretending to be innocent. And her hope rose upon hearing your answer, becoming more confident in what she was doing.

"I want something we've been doing here lately" she mumbled in a low voice as she took a step in front of you. You know exactly what she means, but you're going to tease her a bit, pretending to be confused.

"Ah, so you want me to put band-aids on you again?" You replied sarcastically, narrowing your eyes, pleased with yourself seeing her confused. The archer raised her eyebrows understanding your intention.

"It's more about something we haven't finished" she prompted, sliding her hand slowly down your waist, thinking that now you won't know what to say. You pretended to be thoughtful to mislead her, and she obviously thought her touch would seduce you, but you managed to stop yourself from rushing to her lips.

"Talking?" You added proudly with a sly smile. Kate's jaw twisted quickly as she looked at you in disbelief.

"Okay, stop teasing me princess" she murmured hoarsely, but she likes your feistyness. "You know what I want" she gave you a knowing smile pulling you closer around the waist.

"Well, you're in the wrong place because I'm going to bed" you said, smiling innocently, and breaking out of her embrace to sit on the end of your bed. You watched as she resignedly looked at the place where you were a moment ago, but her smile quickly grew, because she knows exactly what she wants to do.

"I was hoping to see you without a shirt" she said with feigned resignation. She really meant it, and had for a long time.

"Have you been thinking about it all night?" You asked teasingly, and actually the thought of Kate thinking of you shirtless turns you on.

"A long time ago" she admitted coming closer to you to kneel in front of you. And you watched her with your lip bitten, not too surprised by her answer, but enjoying it. she took your hands in hers, Stroking them with her thumb on your thighs.

"It's an occasion when your parents aren't home baby" she remarked impatiently and you watched her with a smirk waiting for her next move. "Besides, you were supposed to make it up to me. And I can't stand it any longer" she added, lowering her voice as she slowly ran her hands over your exposed thighs while looking at you with a sly smile. At that gesture between your legs you felt a pleasant feeling, needing a girl in front of you who knows exactly what she's doing.

"You can't stand it?" You asked seductively, trying to stay calm, but her hands caressed your thighs, getting closer and closer to where your panties were, so you were out of rhythm, which made you look at her veiny hands every so often.

"I can't wait to taste you" she admitted hoarsely, giving you a charming smile that will convince you of anything, looking deep into your eyes noticing the great need in them, especially for what she said.

You watched as she bent down to press her lips to your thighs to kiss and suck your gently skin. You tilted your head back slightly as your breathing quickened and you savored the pleasant feeling with your eyes closed. She parted your legs slightly to kiss the inside of your thighs, making a few moans escape your lips. It's kind of embarrassing how quickly she can make you feel horny.

"Are you feeling good?" She asked the question, pleased with herself even more, hearing your moans. You hummed in response, feeling your panties soaking wet, especially by her confidence.

Kate lifted her head off your thighs to kiss you on the lips, because she's tall enough that her face is almost level with yours when you're sitting. And you kissed her back immediately throwing your arms around her neck as her hands caressed your thighs.

The kisses became more intense and sloppy and you felt her hand slide under your shorts, touching the soaked fabric of your panties. She snorted feeling how wet the fabric was and she wasn't surprised at all, she knows what she's doing. You pulled away from her mouth so that Kate could feel your breath on her lips, because you definitely feel good right now when her fingers caress your clit.

Instead, she took care of your neck, chest, and shoulders to shower kisses to leave a few hickeys that you'll have to make excuses to your parents and friends for, but you don't care now, letting out heavy breaths and soft groans through your mouth, right next to her ear, holding close to her by your hands around Kate's neck. Needing more, you grabbed her hand to go deeper, but Kate understood your progress.

"Wait princess, I want to taste you" she warned, giggling hoarsely at your need. She unreservedly grabbed the fabric of your shorts and your panties as well but didn't pull them yet, waiting for your response.

"Can I?" She asked looking at you with concern, only to find your needy eyes. She impresses you with the fact that she is polite but at the same time sure of what she is doing. However, she doesn't even need permission for you.

"Yes" was the only word you were able to mumble before your shorts and panties hit the ground and her eyes scan your body with lust.

"You look so beautiful my girl" she complimented you before grabbing your legs to pull your closer and throwing them over her shoulders.

You're sure you're about to faint and wonder why you didn't want to do it last night. She was teasing you, so she started kissing the inside of your thighs, leaving red marks there as well, giving you pleasure and even more need between your legs.

But when she'd enjoyed your skin enough, you shivered with pleasure feeling her tongue inside you, and she finally got a taste of you. And you trembled with excitement.

"You taste so good" she praised you, slowly moving her tongue inside you while eating you, enjoying your sweet taste. And you felt so good that you don't even know what to say, especially to her sweet compliments, so all you can do is let out soft moans and sighs that only motivated her as she sped up her movements with her tongue and mouth, parting your legs.

"This is good" you mumbled between breaths, throwing your head back in pleasure. You don't even know how to describe how good you feel right now. Kate snorted at how eager you are now and you need it, because it wasn't quite like that before, but the archer seduced you.

"So are you willing now, huh?" She teased you, but you chose to ignore the comment, preferring instead to focus on what she was doing between your legs. But once she'd enjoyed your taste enough, she used her fingers to add more pleasure, and her fingers were an even better solution because she knew exactly what to do to get you closer and closer to coming.

"Don't stop" you begged, stretching out more to let her fingers go deeper. She smiled under her breath hearing your need, and that's what she dreamed about all night.

"I am not going to" she assured you with a confident smile, she had nothing to do with her mouth so she bent down to stick her head under your shirt starting to kiss your belly and waist, leaving a few hickeys that you will mention later.

"Will you come for me good girl?" She asked now kissing your breasts, which she intended to take care of earlier. Your breath quickened as you felt her fingers go deeper into you, making circular motions on your clit to give you more pleasure.

You heard her request perfectly well, and you're going to comply because you already feel a familiar feeling rise to your stomach as her movements sped up, moving deeper into you. And she took your shaky breath as an answer.

"You sound so good when my fingers are inside you" she admitted hoarsely, words that turned you on enough that you felt your orgasm approaching. You arched your back, and it wasn't long before you were on her fingers that a sly smile appeared on Kate's face, giving you even more pleasure with kisses, but she didn't stop moving her fingers.

[kyeskorner]

hmmmmmmmm

callie or acht or shiver x !human reader hcs?

i've been writing some stuff in that vein myself because i have a complete weak spot for crushing existentialism and worldly grief vs. indomitable MWAH and the idea of living on and i wonder how others see the vision....

like, everything i love could burn in holy fire tomorrow and i would still get up if any damn talking sea creature said i had to keep balling

oh anonymous... why ask for one character when you can GET ALL THREE!!! I have never done a human reader before in the splatoon universe but IMA GIVE IT A SHOT!!!!

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CALLIE, SHIVER, AND ACHT X HUMAN!READER

(sorry no gif for now!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CALLIE

(oh hey there's the gif!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay these are all basically gonna start the same

Oh and also they speak English too.

I feel like she would stumble upon some cryopods and you are stored in them

She would be like "Oooh what's this button do?"

She clicks it, and out falls you!!!

It takes you a bit to come to...

"H-huh...? Who are you...?"

"OMG!! A new friend!!! Hi, I'm Callie! And you are??"

"W-wait... what's going on...? What year is it?"

"Oh! It's, uh... 14024, why?"

"WHAT?!"

She is confused why you're so distraught.

"O-oh god... what about my family...? My friends? What's... are they-"

"Heyyyy, let's not think about that right now! Here, come with me!"

She is very good at distracting you from the Thoughts of Despair™.

She gets you home and welcomes you with open arms. Literally.... she gave you a hug if you accepted it

Immediately gets you a drink and something to eat. Being frozen for 12000 years must have you famished!

"If you need anything, I'll be in the other room!"

You adjust to your new life, and soon you guys get together!!! Yay!!!

One thing she absolutely loves to do btw

She loves to ruffle your hair

She never was able to do anything like that

"Haha! Your hair is all messy now! But you look really cute too :3"

This girl singlehandedly got you adjusted to the new world

And she even delayed inevitable feelings of demise???

She slays honestly

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHIVER

(shiver is gonna use she/they!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"..."

"..."

"FRYE, BIG MAN, I THINK I FOUND OURSELVES TREASURE"

Wow, waking up and already being called treasure? Impressive

You place your hands on your head.

"This is all a dream, right??? Like- hah- I'm gonna wake up any moment now."

"This is a dream... for us! Come on guys, help them up!"

Shiver brought you home. They sat you down and clap their hands together.

"Tell me your story. I can tell you aren't an Inkling or Octoling- or anything I've seen before."

You tell her your story, and how you ended up in the cryopod. You let out a laugh... but she can tell it's not cause it's funny.

"...My, you poor thing. I can't even imagine what it's like to go through that."

"...They're all gone. I'm... never gonna see them again..."

Shiver reaches her hand forward and stops.

"Sorry. Is it... alright if I put my hand on your shoulder?"

"...Go ahead..."

They do that.

"Hey, look at me."

You look at her red eyes...

"We're gonna get through this. Me, Frye, and Big Man will help you. After all, that's what Deep Cut does. Help those in need."

"...T-thank you... I-I-"

You burst out into a sob. You pull Shiver into a hug, sobbing into them.

"A-ah! There- there... it's... we'll get through this!"

They are terrible at comfort.

Once again, you adjust to your new life.

Shiver laughed a bit at seeing your reaction to Master Mega.

If they see you getting nervous or near another crisis, they will hold your hand and squeeze it.

It always gets you out of that funk.

Sure, your first meeting was awkward, but you're so thankful to have her in your life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ACHT

(why is this gif so slow) (also acht will use they/them!!! im still deciding on my headcanon for them but for now, they and thems willdo)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They... actually emphasize with you!

They know what it's like to spend a time locked away from society.

After all, they had no mind of their own for awhile...

Acht shares about their time in the Metro, and you share about your time before being frozen.

"Do you think there's any remnants of your time?"

"I doubt it... I think you'd really like the music from my time."

"Hah, I'd bet so."

Acht would definitely ask to sample your human voice. It's unlike anything they've ever heard before.

That's how you two spend most of your time, honestly.

Listening to music... it reminds you of the old times.

They notice you tearing up one time.

"You okay?"

"This just... reminds me of the old times... before everything."

"We can stop if you want-"

"N-no! It's fine... really... just. Feeling nostalgic is all!"

You let out an awkward chuckle. Acht pauses the music.

"Take a breather. Let's go get you some water."

They help you up, and bring you to get some water.

You drink it, and they look at you.

"Better?"

"A-a little..."

They smirk a tiny bit, before opening up their arms.

You stare at them, confused.

"Well... I just thought... hugs would help. It's something I learned up here-"

You quickly hug them back. They wrap their arms around you.

"Heh. You needed this."

"I really did... thank you..."

You feel safe in Acht's arms.

Maybe this new world... isn't so bad after all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TADAHHHH!!! I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, SORRY IF IT'S KINDA DOO DOO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!! BUT RAGHHHH THE INDOMITABLE HUMAN SPIRIT AND THEIR SQUID/OCTO PARTNER PREVAILS!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING :3c