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kjiscrawlingbackformore · 26 days ago

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No Reservations - Chapter six

Restaurant Owner Lottie Matthews x Chef!reader

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: After graduating culinary school you have been building up your portfolio, to become a street level legend in the culinary world. And after years of hard work you get hired by a renowned michelin star restaurant Matthews’ kitchen to help design a new menu that’ll star in their new brick and mortar in New York. And there you behold the new heiress of the Matthews’ Kitchen, your boss, is your old situationship from culinary school…Charlotte Matthews.

Warning: Not NSFW by any means but a lil spicy yk?

A/N: Lottie Lee mention is my favorite part of this chapter 🥹🥹🥹

The dream had clung to Charlotte long after she’d opened her eyes. It started with that damn midterm project. You stared at the printed assignment. Then at Charlotte. Then back at the assignment.

“Who thought this was a good idea?” You muttered.

“I did,” Charlotte said primly, tying her apron tighter. “Because unlike you, I actually care about passing this class with more than a participation medal.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Elle Woods, relax. We’re making coq au vin, not arguing a murder trial.”

Charlotte ignored you. “I’ll handle the sauce. You’ll overthink it and make it weird.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do I not get a say in this group project?” you snapped, snatching a pan. “You burned a béarnaise last week. I watched it die.”

Charlotte’s nostrils flared. “That béarnaise was experimental.”

“It was a war crime.” You snicker.

“You’re a war crime.” Charlotte rebuffs like a child .

You both glared. A student two stations over audibly turned down their burner just to avoid the fallout. It made you look over to see Kelly give you a concerned once over and continue on.

You sighed and grabbed the chicken thighs with unnecessary aggression. “Fine. I’ll do the protein. But if your sauce ruins my perfect sear—”

Charlotte cut you off, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. “If your chicken is dry, I’m throwing it at you.”

“You won’t get the chance. I cook like God whispers in my ear.” Confidence and humor is dripping in your tone.

Charlotte rolls her eyes, “You cook like you’re trying to impress a food critic and emotionally damage your ex at the same time.”

You paused, like Charlotte just touched a bit of truth. “That’s… weirdly accurate.”

Charlotte smirked proudly. “Yeah. I know you.”

That made your stomach flip. You ignored the heat rushing to your cheeks and continued on. You both cooked in competitive silence for awhile. Charlotte mincing garlic like it owed her money, you searing the chicken with laser focus. It was electric. Tense. Way too synchronized. Almost perfect how you two worked together.

“Careful, you’re splashing the wine,” Charlotte mumbled in the way she does when she’s focused.

You still catch it and frown. “Maybe if you’d move your perfectly symmetrical ass out of my way, there’d be more room.”

Charlotte blinked, then barked a laugh. “Was that a compliment or an insult?”

“Figure it out, Matthews.”

You both reached for the same ladle. Your hands touched. The air shifted.

Suddenly, all the snark and sniping melted into something heavier. Warmer. Your breath caught. Charlotte’s eyes flicked to your mouth, then back up.

You caught it. Caught that look she gave you. The look that only she has ever given you. The one that makes you weak. The one that makes you want to do something reckless. Stupid.

And again butterflies manifested and explode into your lungs making it hard to breathe. You tried to speak—something, anything, but the next thing you knew, Charlotte leaned in and kissed you.

It was messy. Confused. A little desperate. And way too good. When you pulled apart, wide-eyed and stunned, you cleared your throat. Charlotte’s mouth is agape and her eyes locked on your lips.

“…So. Sauce is coming along?” You ask in whisper dumbly.

Charlotte blinked, swallowing hard. “It’s… saucy.”

They avoided eye contact for ten full minutes, both beet red as they plated the most emotionally charged coq au vin in culinary school history.

They got an A.

And didn’t speak about the kiss for six weeks.

Charlotte wishes it was only that, that one memory. But it was really the night before the end of semester of their third year, that got her.

It was like she was fucking there again. The fluorescent lights buzzed with that terrible hum, like even the building was too tired to deal with anyone’s shit.

The air smelled like Tide pods and defeat. You stood barefoot in front of the dryer, hoodie hanging off one shoulder, a stupid pink sock dangling from your hand like it had personally betrayed you.

You kicked the dryer.

Hard.

“Piece of shit—”

Another kick. Then another.

“—I liked that apron, you color-sucking hell demon—”

“You’re going to break your foot.”

You spun, hoodie sleeve flopping. “Are you following me?”

Charlotte leaned against the doorframe in flannel pajama pants and a band t-shirt that made her look painfully soft and so pretty in the worst, most infuriating way. “I live here too. Not my fault you decided to wage war on a Whirlpool at two a.m.”

You grumbled something unintelligible and leaned your forehead against the dryer door, defeated. Charlotte hesitated. “You okay?”

A beat.

“No,” you said into the machine. “I’m stoned and pissed as fuck and apparently I don’t know how to sort laundry.”

Charlotte stepped in, softer now. She knew you had a girlfriend now. Heard whispers of the hot leather blonde that’d stay in your dorm over the weekends. She would force herself to peel her eyes away when she saw you and someone who looked nothing like Charlotte kissing in a corner of parties caught up in a haze of smoke.

Charlotte hated that. But she also heard rumors that it wasn’t going good. With the way you’ve snapped, barked, and held your anger on your sleeve. And you looked up at her right now in defeat she took a shot in the dark.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You scoffed, sliding to sit on the floor. Too high to care that you’re telling this to Charlotte Matthews. “I caught her making out with some asshole. Again. And this time I didn’t even yell. I just left. Which, like, growth or whatever—but also, I fucking hate this shit. I feel like I’m going to die. So maybe growth is overrated.”

Charlotte slowly sank down beside you, legs folded. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, picking at a thread on your sleeve. “It’s fine. I should’ve seen it coming. But noooo, she has that stupid crooked smile and those blue eyes. And her laugh that she only really does when I say something stupid. Fuck I’m such a fucking idiot. A sucker for-for-what? Emotionally unavailable people with great cheekbones???? Stupid as fuck.”

Charlotte tried to hide a smile. “At least you have a type.”

You side-eyed her. “And you have a god complex. We all have our vices.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “I’m literally just trying to help with your laundry.”

“Oh yeah? Well guess what you’re failing. Look at this.” you held up another pink-tinged chef’s jacket. “I’m gonna look like I’m working at a Valentine’s Day-themed bistro.”

Charlotte gently took the jacket. “Maybe you could lean into it. Rebrand. Love-sick chef chic.”

You chuckled, then sighed. “Ew that’s so bad. God, you’re annoying.”

“And you’re a disaster.”

Their eyes met. And stayed. Too long. Charlotte’s expression softened just enough. “You’re not actually fine, are you?”

“No,” you said, voice rough. Blinking to fight tears wanting to appear. A sudden tsunami of emotions clawing at your throat.

The quiet that followed was thick…charged even. Charlotte reached up, gently tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear.

“I hate seeing you like this,” she whispered.

“Yeah you always see me like this,” you whispered back. “That’s the problem.”

Charlotte’s hand lingered. And then, with no logic, no plan, just too many feelings and not enough boundaries—she kissed you.

It started slow.

But then you pulled her closer, clutching at Charlotte’s shirt like you needed something to hold you together. Charlotte kissed back like she’d been waiting for permission.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was all edge-of-collapse, all tangled limbs and desperate mouths and everything they hadn’t let themselves say out loud.

And when Charlotte pulled away for air, your hand was on her neck bringing her down to kiss you harder. Charlotte moaned into the kiss, she felt her heart beat in her ears. Warmth spreading throughout her body.

All the yearning to touch you, to kiss you, to have you, exploding in this moment. Charlotte didn’t wait, she slipped her tongue into your mouth. And just like the times before you let her.

You always let her.

And Charlotte always won. Always got to swirl her tongue into your mouth, got to taste you to the fullest. When you melted into Charlotte, it rushed to her head in a dizzying effect.

You were like Charlotte’s own personal drug.

And she hated that she couldn’t have you like this for so long. You bit her lip, until it hurt. A hiss slipped out of Charlotte’s mouth. You stared at her for a second.

Really looking at her.

Seeing to the core of her. Cutting the fat off to get to the part no one ever saw. And Charlotte could see it in the way your eyes got more serious. Something snapped from the haze of your high.

Charlotte’s breath hitched, as you leaned back in. You kissed her again, with so much softness. Charlotte felt tears prickle in her eyes. Your fingers featherlight as the slide down her arms.

It was so…loving. Charlotte felt like she was drowning. You gave so much even when you were at the end of yourself? Caught up in a haze of grief. It left her shaky.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and blinking, Charlotte stood too quickly. Feeling overwhelmed in a way only you made her. She stepped back like the floor was unstable.

“I—I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, voice shaking.

You stayed on the ground, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on hers. “Too late.”

Charlotte looked torn between running and staying. Her fingers twitched at her side. “I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow. For check-outs.”

Then she was gone, leaving you alone with the pink laundry and the smell of detergent and your heart pounding like a war drum. Wondering why everyone always leaves.

She had bolted upright in bed, breathless, heart pounding like she’d been sprinting instead of sleeping.

And now, hours later, it still haunted her. Which is why Laura Lee was currently sitting on her velvet couch in her overpriced, sun-drenched Manhattan apartment — sipping an iced coffee with her shoes off like she owned the place.

“I need you to say that again,” Laura Lee said, leveling a look over the rim of her cup. “Slower. For science.”

Charlotte groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

“You dreamed about her?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“That’s not how dreams work.”

Charlotte sighed. “It wasn’t even that bad. Just—okay, it was kind of bad. Like, culinary-school-bad. Flashback bad.”

Laura Lee raised an eyebrow. “You mean the girl you wouldn’t shut up about for two straight years? Who you hooked up with during finals week, literally ghosted for six months, and then drunkenly confessed you might love while crying into a risotto at my apartment?”

Charlotte shot her a glare. “That’s an exaggeration.”

“You’re right. It was paella.”

Charlotte groaned again and fell sideways onto the couch. “This is not helpful.”

Laura Lee grinned, then grew thoughtful. “So let me get this straight: she’s here now. In your restaurant. In your city. Working directly under you. And she has no idea you’re still a total disaster over her?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Charlotte muttered. “She’s my employee. And this restaurant is the most important thing I’ve ever done. It’s my shot to prove I deserve my seat at the Matthews Group. My father is watching everything. The board is watching everything. I can’t screw this up.”

Laura Lee made a face. “Okay, but no one said ‘ask her out mid-shift while she’s plating duck confit.’ I just meant… eventually.”

Charlotte sat up, suddenly jittery. “It’s not that simple. There’s also my whole thing, you know? My brain? The anxiety, the overthinking, the public meltdowns, the fact that I sometimes don’t sleep for three days and forget how to eat if I’m spiraling.”

Laura Lee held up a hand. “Stop. Stop right there.”

Charlotte did.

“As your best friend for years,” Laura Lee said gently, “I am not going to let you spiral into a self-sabotage hole. So I’m just going to ask one thing. One question. And I want you to answer honestly.”

Charlotte nodded slowly.

“Do you like her?”

The question hit harder than Charlotte expected.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her brain scrambled for a neat answer, something clean and non-threatening. But none of her mental excuses lined up the right way anymore.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “She’s… interesting to me?”

Laura Lee blinked. “Interesting to me? Wow. Riveting.”

Charlotte flushed. “That’s not what I meant—”

Laura Lee chuckled and leaned back into the cushions. “No, no. It’s okay. That was adorable. And vague. But mostly adorable.”

Charlotte hugged a pillow to her chest.

“I just don’t know what any of this means,” she admitted. “Seeing her again feels like—like stepping back into a room I didn’t realize I’d locked behind me. And now I can’t stop remembering everything.”

Laura Lee nodded slowly. “Okay. So we’ve established that you’re emotionally constipated, still very much attached, and deeply repressed. Great. This is going to take, like, ten coffee dates and a whiteboard.”

Charlotte laughed, a little helpless. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m your best friend.”

“Same thing.”

They both grinned.

And for the first time that day, Charlotte let herself exhale. Whatever this was, whatever it would become, she wasn’t going to run from it yet. She always ran from you. From it. But not this time.

Union Square was loud, cluttered, and smelled faintly of overripe peaches. You were balancing a tote full of produce and trying to decide if the basil in your hand was too bruised when you heard that damn voice.

“You always did overthink herbs.”

You turned, heart stopping for a second. Natalie Scatorccio stood there in a worn leather jacket and black jeans, sunglasses resting in her curls, arms crossed like she’d been standing there for a while. She hadn’t changed much. A little sharper in the jaw, maybe. The kind of cool you didn’t grow into so much as settle into.

You blinked, looking around before looking back at her. “What the hell?”

Natalie offered a faint smirk. “Hi.”

“…Hi?”

“I was grabbing cold brew. Saw someone fighting a bunch of basil like it owed her money. Took a gamble.”

You gave her a look, fighting a grin trying to inch to your lips. “You live around here?”

“About a year.”

Natalie didn’t elaborate, just stood there, a little sideways in her stance like she might leave if the moment got too serious. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets.

“You got time?” she asked, casual. “I was heading to SoHo. There’s a spot I like. They do coffee the right way. Dark, bitter, overpriced.”

You hesitated. That was a bad idea. Everyone in her life has been warning her not to get mixed back in with Natalie. Not to text her back. Not to give her the time of day.

“Come on,” Natalie said, already turning. “Worst case, you remember why you stopped talking to me.”

And despite everything in you telling you not to. You followed her. Not side by side, but near enough. Natalie didn’t fill the silence. She never had. She just glanced over every so often like she was trying to read something in your face without asking any questions.

“You look good,” she said at one point, almost like an afterthought.

You raised an eyebrow. “That feels loaded.”

“Does it?” Nat said with a tease.

The quiet stretched again. It was so comfortable. Like no time passed at all between you two. You felt yourself shift…this shouldn’t be so…normal.

You dipped into the subway. Natalie leaned against the wall of the car, one hand curled loosely around the pole, like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her eyes tracked the lights blinking past the windows, but she didn’t say much.

“So what are you doing here?” you finally asked, feeling like an idiot following her like this. “In the city?”

“Work,” Natalie said. “Consulting. Engines. Systems. That kind of thing.”

“Still cars, huh?”

“Always.” She paused, then added, “Feels good to be the expert in a room full of guys who used to talk over me.”

“Ahhh revenge of the tough girl huh? It’s gotta nice glow on you.” You say with a chuckle.

Natalie smirked. “It wears well.”

By the time they reached the café in SoHo, a sleek, concrete-and-warm-wood kind of place. You were sweating under the weight of the silence. Not uncomfortable. Just full of… something.

Natalie paused outside the door, then turned to you stopping you in your tracks. “Listen,” she said. “I’m not trying to make things weird. I saw you, and it felt… stupid not to say anything.”

Your throat tightened. Eyes wide in surprise…holy shit??

“I was shitty to you,” Natalie added. “I know that.”

Oh. Yeah you were. You didn’t say that, just stared at her waiting. Part of you not believing you were hearing her be so…honest. No…surprised she was being so mature.

“It wasn’t about you,” she continued. “It was me, not knowing how to be honest with someone who actually mattered.”

She ran a hand through her hair, slow. Not theatrical — just tired.

“I don’t expect anything. Just figured… if we could talk again. That’d be cool.”

You have her an unconvinced look, trying to really read her. Natalie didn’t look away.

“Friends?” Natalie offered, voice low, a little tentative.

You felt something uncoil in your chest. A quiet ache, the kind that lingered when you least expected it. You hated this. You hated this so much. You’ve wanted her to fucking apologize for years. And now when your life is on the up and up.

She wants back in? And worse of all…you feel yourself wanting to give her the chance. Not a big one. No you’re certainly not trying to date Natalie again but friends? It feels harmless enough.

“…Yeah,” you said, finally. “Friends, we can do that.”

Natalie’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was real. She opened the door.

“Come on. I’ll let you overanalyze my coffee order for old time’s sake.”

You followed her in, trying not to think about how easy it still was to fall into rhythm with her. Trying not to think about the way Natalie’s hand had brushed against hers when they’d crossed the street. Trying not to feel the way something old was waking up, slow and dangerous, just under your ribs.

#lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #lottie matthews x you #lottie yellowjackets #yellowjackets au #charlotte matthews #natalie scatorccio #laura lee #laura lee yellowjackets #yellowjackets x you

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just1cefor4ll · 6 months ago

Text

Summer Days

summary. you get hired as Gong Yoo’s personal photographer as a summer job— however things change once he starts catching feelings for his little paparazzi.

warning. photos might not correspond with the set season or place, some pictures may not be exactly of Gong Yoo but they are meant to be him so just imagine it being him, not proof read, mentions of reader growing up in Seoul but no specific skin colour, ethnicity or anything like that was mentioned

Email after email… yet none were answered. You were trying to get a job as a photographer for the summer, trying to get out of the house, travel a bit— maybe even meet a few hot celebrities.. and of course get money for your necessities.

You were in your 30s, living in a small apartment in Tokyo which was enough for you alone, but something inside of you wanted a change.

It had been tough, though. In your 30s, living alone in a modest space, the quiet moments often stretched too long. You’d spent countless hours applying for jobs, most with no response, and the few rejections you received stung even worse. Then came the call from your mother.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s the summer job hunt going?” she asked cheerily, her warmth radiating through the phone. Though you couldn’t see her, you could easily picture her familiar smile. You sighed, massaging your temple. “Mom, I told you yesterday—no one’s answered me yet,” you admitted, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth. It was embarrassing enough being 37 and struggling to find work, but confessing it to your mother made it even harder. “Oh, right,” she said, not missing a beat. “Don’t worry, honey—they’ll be fighting over you as their photographer in no time!” Her light laugh managed to coax a smile out of you. Somewhere deep in your chest, hope flickered. “Thanks, Mom. I love you,” you said softly. “I love you too, dear. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

The line clicked, leaving you in the stillness of your apartment. You sighed again, though this time there was a glimmer of contentment in it. As much as you missed your family in Seoul, you were determined to make this new life in Japan work.

As if on que, you got an email;

“Miss [Name] [Last Name],

We’ve read through your email and saw the photographs you listed in your portfolio and we’re happy to announce we’d like to have you as a personal photographer for Gong Ji-cheol— or professionally known as Gong Yoo. Please respond as quickly as possible so we can book you a flight to Seol where you’d get picked up. Further information will be given once you arrive.

Kind regards, Management Soop.”

Your jaw dropped. A squeal of excitement erupted before you could stop yourself, and you jumped out of your chair so fast it toppled to the floor. Clutching your chest to steady your racing heart, you took a deep breath and quickly typed out a reply.

What followed was a blur of packing and planning. Before long, you were on a plane back to Seoul, staring out the window with a small, satisfied smile.

yn.photographs

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yn.ph0tographs Guess who’s in Seol .. YAYYDYHDS

486 commented

annacathcart have a safe trip girl!!

nonamee WHATTT

user67464483929 cant wait for whatever new you capture<3

The car stopped in front of a tall apartment building. A man from Management Soop—your temporary manager—led you inside and handed you a set of keys. “This will be your home for the time you’ll be working for us. Unpack and get some rest. Be ready by 5 AM tomorrow— I’ll explain everything then so meet me in the lobby on time.”

And with a snap of your fingers; the next morning came— “Yes, you heard correctly— we’re going to Jeju.” The manager said with a sigh before chuckling at your enthusiasm. “Come on now we’ll miss the plane.” “Will Gong Yoo be meeting us there?” You asked with curiosity, getting a simple nod as your response.

When you finally arrived on Jeju Island, the sea breeze kissed your skin, and the scenery was as breathtaking as you’d imagined. You caught a glimpse of Gong Yoo from afar but there was no chance to speak to him yet. You all settled in a cabin, large enough for everyone— and your equipment which was off to a great start in your book. Your room was right across from the manager while Gong Yoo was upstairs. It was cozy, and you couldn’t wait to spend the week there.

As the evening rolled in, everyone gathered for a brief meeting. Gong Yoo finally joined the group, descending the staircase with an air of effortless charm. When his gaze landed on you, he offered a small but genuine smile. “You must be our photographer,” he said, his deep voice smoother than you expected. You nodded, suddenly aware of how dry your throat felt. “Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you managed to say, giving a small bow. He chuckled softly. “Likewise. I hope you’re ready for some early mornings and long hikes.” You smiled back, the initial nerves giving way to excitement. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

gongyoo_official

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gongyoo_official📍Jeju Island

268K commented

gongyoostan who dat in the baaack (behind the camera)

╰┈➤ management.soop replied Gong Yoo’s new personal photographer— every picture taken during summer time is taken by @.yn.phot0graphs :)

╰┈➤ yn.phot0graphs replied ME ME ME i mean hi I’m the new photographer of the team :3

The manager clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, team. Tomorrow’s itinerary is packed. We’ll start before sunrise to catch the golden hour at Hamdeok beach. It’s going to be a long day, so get plenty of rest tonight.”

As everyone dispersed, you lingered by the window, gazing out at the moonlit landscape. The faint hum of conversation drifted from the kitchen, where Gong Yoo and the manager were chatting over tea. It felt surreal, being in the midst of all this, on the cusp of a week that could change your life.

The next morning, your alarm blared at 4:00 AM. Groggily, you got dressed and grabbed your gear, double-checking everything before heading downstairs. Gong Yoo was already there, sipping coffee and looking impossibly awake for such an early hour. He glanced at you and smiled. “Morning,” he said. “Morning,” you replied, suppressing a yawn. The team piled into a van, driving through the dark until you reached your destination. By the time you arrived, the sky was beginning to blush with hints of orange and gold. You quickly set up your equipment, the cool morning air sharp against your skin.

Gong Yoo stood a few meters away, gazing at the horizon. You took a moment to frame the shot: the rising sun casting a warm glow, and Gong Yoo, serene and reflective, perfectly positioned.

It was the first of many photos that day, but something about that moment felt special—like the beginning of something extraordinary.

yn.ph0tographs

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yn.ph0tographs first day on the job :0

387 commented

gongyoo_official so talented!

╰┈➤ iloveyn replied OFC SHE IS???

╰┈➤ yn.ph0tographs replied haha thank you :)

gongyoo_official

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389K commented

The week went by quite fast— you got to know Gong Yoo a bit more and by the end of the week, he handed you his contact information with a casual, “In case we need to coordinate anything later.” You’d tried to play it cool, but the excitement bubbled just beneath the surface.

Now, you found yourself on a flight to Paris—your next assignment. It sounded glamorous on paper, but arriving during peak tourist season turned the dream into a mixed bag. The streets were packed, the lines stretched endlessly, and the prices soared. Still, you couldn’t deny the thrill of being in the city of lights. The view however was nice. You could see the Eiffel tower from your window but it wasn’t necessarily close. Maybe a 45 minute walk?

Gong Yoo’s room was just down the hall. He knocked lightly on your door shortly after you’d settled in. “You should see the view from the rooftop,” he said with a small smile. “Better than this?” you teased, gesturing toward your window. “Trust me.”

You grabbed your camera and followed him up the narrow staircase to the rooftop. He wasn’t wrong—the view was breathtaking. “I see why they call it the City of Lights,” you murmured, framing the scene through your lens. Gong Yoo leaned on the railing beside you, his expression thoughtful. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Makes you forget about the crowds for a moment.”

You nodded, snapping a few more photos before lowering your camera. “How are you not completely overwhelmed by all this? The constant traveling, the attention, the schedule... doesn’t it ever get to you?”He chuckled softly. “It does. But moments like this make it worth it. I get to slow down, even if just for a little while.” The two of you stood in companionable silence for a while, the cool Parisian breeze brushing past. It wasn’t often you got moments like this—peaceful and unhurried, shared with someone who seemed to understand the value of it.

The next day would bring more tourists, more shoots, and more challenges. But for now, standing on that rooftop with the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

gongyoo_official

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gongyoo_official ❤️

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yn.ph0tographs

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yn.ph0tographs a dream come true!! hello Paris<3

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After a chaotic week in Paris filled with photo shoots at iconic landmarks, decadent pastries, and navigating swarms of tourists, the next stop on the list brought you back to familiar ground: Japan.

The flight landed smoothly, and soon enough, you were settled into a traditional house/hotel in Kyoto. Unlike Tokyo, Kyoto exuded a serene charm with its ancient temples, lush gardens, and calmer streets. Your room overlooked a tranquil koi pond, and the moment you stepped out into the gardens, the soft sound of flowing water seemed to wash away the exhaustion from Paris.

That evening, the team had dinner at a traditional ryokan, complete with tatami mats and kaiseki cuisine. Gong Yoo seemed to relish the slower pace, admiring the peaceful surroundings. “This feels like a reset,” he said during dinner, glancing at you across the low table. You nodded, setting down your chopsticks. “Kyoto has that effect. It’s hard to feel stressed when everything around you feels so timeless.”

The next day, your work began. Kyoto offered an entirely different aesthetic to capture—one steeped in history and natural beauty. The golden pavilion of Kinkaku-ji, the endless red torii gates of Fushimi Inari Shrine, and many more beautiful landmarks.

At one point, you found yourself photographing Gong Yoo at Arashiyama’s bamboo grove. The towering stalks of green stretched high above, creating a natural cathedral of light and shadows. You snapped a candid shot just as he glanced over his shoulder, the light catching his profile perfectly.

“That was a good one, wasn’t it?” he asked after the click, his lips curling into a knowing smile. You grinned, reviewing the image on your camera’s screen. “You’re a natural, Gong Yoo.” “Well, I’ve had some practice,” he teased, his tone light.

On your final evening in Kyoto, the team gathered on a rooftop overlooking the city. Lanterns glowed softly, and the distant hum of cicadas filled the air. Gong Yoo joined you as you leaned on the railing, your camera resting by your side.

“Thanks for making me look good,” he said, his voice warm. You laughed softly. “You make my job easy.” He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “I think you see more than most people. Not just with the camera, but... you notice things others might overlook.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Instead, you simply smiled, letting the quiet between you speak volumes.

gongyoo_official

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gongyoo_official tagged @.yn.ph0tographs

300K commented

gongyooswife meow

ynstan mother is back home YAYAYAY

╰┈➤ yn.ph0tographs replied daddy’s home…

╰┈➤ ynstan replied ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

yn.ph0tographs

liked by gongyoo_official, in0tsaraa, user88775528943, idkmyname and 73K others

yn.ph0tographs Home sweet home<3

tagged: @.gongyoo_official

17K commented

megumijjk we missed you :(((

user77636338902 gtfo

╰┈➤ yn.ph0tographs replied get a job or smth dude

╰┈➤ user77636338902 replied OMG Y/N IM SUCH A BIG FAN

╰┈➤ thanosxfork replied the switch up is crazy

Weeks passed and your camera only got fuller and fuller as you captured the most exotic and beautiful shots in places like Croatia— the rocky beaches along with the wonderful clear water of the sea enchanting you with its charm.

One day, the team arranged for a shoot on Lokrum Island, just a short boat ride from Dubrovnik. The beaches and lush greenery provided the perfect backdrop for the shoot. After the shoot, while the team packed up, Gong Yoo approached you, holding two gelatos he’d somehow managed to grab from a vendor on the island.

“Peace offering,” he said with a grin, handing you one. “For what?” You laughed as you accepted the gift. “For making you work so hard in this heat,” he said, gesturing toward your camera. “You deserve a break.” The two of you sat by the water’s edge, the sound of waves lapping against the rocks filling the air. He shared stories of his childhood summers by the beach, and you found yourself opening up about your family vacations around Korea.

By the time the boat returned to take the team back, you felt a warmth in your chest that had little to do with the sun.

Then came California. It was a blur of palm trees, coastal highways, and the vibrant energy of Hollywood. The team spent most of the time in Los Angeles, but the highlight was a road trip to Big Sur for a shoot along the rugged coastline.

One evening, after a sunset shoot by the cliffs, the two of you lingered while the rest of the team headed back to the lodge. The Pacific stretched endlessly before you, the waves crashing below in a soothing rhythm.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he said, glancing at you. “Just taking it all in,” you replied, raising your camera to snap a candid shot of him against the fading light. “I’m still not used to the sudden moving around every two weeks.. I’ve never traveled this far before.” You said as you looked through the days pictures.

He smirked. “Do I look that interesting?” You lowered the camera, meeting his gaze. “More than you realize.”

The vulnerability in your tone seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling through the grass. Then he smiled—a soft, almost shy expression you saw many times before in your time as his photographer.

The Netherlands was the final destination, and Amsterdam was as picturesque as the postcards promised. The cobblestone streets, the narrow houses leaning toward the canals, and the fields of tulips outside the city made every corner feel like a story waiting to be told.

The two of you wandered into a quiet tulip field after a morning shoot. The colors were mesmerising, rows of red, yellow, and purple stretching endlessly.

“Now you’re the one being unusually quiet.” You said, elbowing him playfully.He looked at you, his hands tucked into his pockets. “I was just thinking about how much this summer has changed me. I thought this would just be another job, but...” He trailed off, then added softly, “I think I’ll miss this.”

“What, the traveling?” you teased lightly, though his tone had made your heart skip a beat. “No,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “This. You. I think I’ve never really enjoyed a work trip as much as this one.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His eyes traveled up and down— as if he was studying you; maybe even admiring you. He took a step closer, looking down at you with a sort of vulnerability you haven’t seen before even during your late night talks where you practically spilled your life out to him; but that didn’t really mean anything, did it?

“Well, at least you’ll have the photos to remember it all.” His smile was bittersweet as he looked away, his gaze settling on the endless tulips. “Yeah. But I don’t think the photos will ever capture it completely.”

gongyoo_official

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gongyoo_official last days of the summer spent in the netherlands ❤️

147K commented

September was just a week away, the time passed quite fast and so the team organised a farewell dinner which you didn’t really want to attend; partially because you didn’t want to say goodbye to this job.

You stepped out of the restaurant with a bitter look on your face, sitting down on a bench with a view of the river flowing through the streets with couples in love getting a tour on one of the many boats you saw that day. You fiddled with the camera in your hand, looking down and going through the thousands of pictures that had made their way into your heart.

“Mind if I join you?” A voice startled you, but of course you recognised where it came from. You nodded, and he sat down beside you, the space between you barely noticeable.

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous,” he began, his eyes fixed on the canal. “But I don’t think I can go back to how things were before this summer. You’ve changed the way I see things—the way I see myself.”

You turned to him, your breath catching at the raw sincerity in his voice. “[Name], I don’t know what this is, but I know it’s real. And I don’t want it to end just because the summer is over.” Your heart raced, his words sinking in like a tide rising to meet the shore. Slowly, you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing against his. “Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you said softly. He smiled, intertwining your fingers with his as he pulled you into his shoulder, resting your head on it.

As the lanterns cast their warm glow over the water, the two of you sat in quiet understanding, the promise of something more lingering in the air. Summer may have ended, but you knew you weren’t leaving this job that easily.

gongyoo_official posted to their story

#⚖️just1cefor4ll #gong yoo #gong ji cheol #gong yoo x reader #the salesman #gong ji cheol x reader #gong yoo fanfic #gong yoo fanfiction #gong yoo x you #gong yoo x y/n #salesman x reader

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 7 months ago

Note

Hii i love love love your desi reader fics!! It would be really nice if you could write an Oscar Piastri x desi!reader fic maybe reader is a fan of Oscar and meets him accidentally? and they kinda hit up immediately? like a strangers to lovers fic <333

crashing and clicks ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ op x desi!reader ¸.♡.¸

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ fluff ¸.♡.¸

masterlist ☾☼

travelling to an expensive country like monaco, and watching the monaco grand prix had always been a dream of yours. your sole motivator for years of working had been to earn enough money to spend a proper one week vacation in monaco, including paddock passes for your favourite team, mclaren, and a chance to meet your favourite driver, oscar piastri.

you had a camera around your neck and you clicked pictures as you walked through the streets. people, cars, building, the sheer luxury that screamed from every atom in the city. you were trying to build a portfolio. something good enough that you could quit your 9-5 job and pursue photography full time. you had an instagram account already. you shared your pictures, and you got likes and comments. you had a decent following, though, nowhere near how you much you would need to be a good, reliable photographer.

of course, your parents had questioned that multiple times, with the usual questioning of "what will people say?" "how will you live on such an income?" "just find a rich man to marry first, then do all of this."

you had indulged in their line of questioning the first two times, and then gave up. nothing would stop them from convincing you a steady income was better and photography was a hobby, not a career. you understood that it came from a place of concern, but it still hurt a little bit.

your body clock reminded you that it was time for some chai. apparently, no matter what timezone you were in, at 5 o'clock, your body instantly craved tea. quickly looking for a nearby cafe, you walked in, making sure to protect your camera.

standing in queue, you quickly put your camera inside your bag carefully, and pulled out the amount you would need as you surveyed the menu. a chai tea and an almond biscuit would do.

quickly ordering and briefly chatting with the woman at the counter, you waited at the side for your name to be called. you knew they were going to butcher up your name, so it was easier to just stand close and wait for your order on your own.

when they called out your name, ruining it, of course, you quickly took your hot tea and the plate with the almond biscuit, and turned, looking for a place to sit. finding a corner table near the window, you started making your way over. the cup was filled to the brim, and you were trying to make sure that it wouldn't spill.

just as she reached her table and was about to set her cup down, someone crashed into her from behind, muttering quick sorries as her drink spilled all over the table, and her hands nearly soaked in the hot beverage.

"oh my god, im so sorry. um, are you hurt?" you were ready to fight whoever made you drop your tea. but you knew that voice. you heard it in videos over and over again.

slowly turning around, you came face to face with oscar piastri. the oscar piastri.

if you'd met him in any other circumstance, you would probably have been more excited. for now, your spilled tea was a much bigger concern.

your eyes fell on the spilled cup, and you said in a small, dejected voice, "my chai,"

oscar followed your gaze, instantly realising what you were talking about and why you seemed so sad. "oh my god, i'm so sorry! my friend and i were playing around, and we didn't mean to spill your drink,"

"yeah, really sorry about that," a voice, lando norris' voice said from behind oscar, looking apologetic and mildly amused.

"don't worry, though, oscar's going to buy you another drink." lando stated, clapping a hand on oscar's back.

oscar turned to lando, confused, "i am?" and then immediately turned to you, "i mean, yes! i am! i'll buy you another drink!"

you sighed, "no, it's not necessary,"

"no, no, i insist. i spilled your drink, i should get you a new one," oscar insisted.

you wanted to say no, that it didn't matter. but oscar piastri was offering you a drink. that felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity.

you agreed.

oscar immediately smiled, and you smiled back. you didn't know why, you just wanted to after seeing his soft smile.

"great! well, i've got to run, so enjoy your little date!" lando said, before rushing off.

you had forgotten that lando had been standing there too. his insinuation that this was a date made you blush. this wasn't a date. right? he was oscar piastri. you were you.

regular people don't go out with rich people on dates.

oscar gestured for you towards the counter, and with a shy smile, you did. he followed closely behind, a little air of awkwardness between the two of you.

"what were you drinking?" he asked while the two of you waited in line.

"oh, i had ordered tea. never got to drink it, though," you teased.

oscar smiled softly, "i am sorry about that,"

you nudged him slightly, "it's okay, i was just teasing,"

"so, a chai tea?"

you stared at him incredulously, "how dare you?"

oscar's face filled with panic, "what? what did i do?"

"it's not chai tea! it's either chai or tea!"

"but it's called chai tea!"

"no, oscar! chai means tea! tea in hindi is called chai. so, chai tea is essentially-"

"tea tea,"

"exactly!" the two of you had moved up the line, your hands flying as you spoke animatedly.

once at the counter, you ordered your drink, oscar sneakily paying for it after you insisted on doing so, and this time, oscar held your drink as the two of you walked back to the same table where you had originally spilled your drink.

the two of you sat together. the two of you talked. about anything and everything. it didn't really matter. you had plans for the day. you were sure that oscar had plans for the day. but, well until after sunset, the two of you sat at the table, ordering drinks after drinks, and just kept on talking.

you told him about your country, and your life growing up, and what you were doing in monaco. he told you about his country, and his life growing up, and the differences in the media about his job.

you told him about your career, and your passion, and your freedom. he told you about his career, his team, and his independence.

you told him about your pet, and your favourite moments with your best friends, and your beautiful, beautiful mother.

he told you about his trips around the world, and his favourite moments of having lando as a teammate, and his beautiful, beautiful mother.

there were so many things to talk about. there wasn't enough time. technically, you were going to see him the next three days because you've got the paddock passes. but, you won't be able to spend time with him. and it made you a little sad to think about.

oscar walked you back to your hotel. the walk was a little long. but you didn't mind. you got to spend time with him. that's what you wanted, and that's what you got.

somewhere, sometime along the way, your hand ended up tucked in the inside of his elbow. somewhere, sometime along the way, he leaned in closer to you. somewhere, sometime along the way, you realised that oscar piastri was everything you had been looking for.

you weren't sure if it would work. for one, it would have to be a long distance relationship, with minimal visits from your end because money was always a little tight. for another, oscar had an ever-moving job. there wasn't any stability, at least not that you could see.

what were the chances that it would work?

before he left, he asked for your phone number. of course, he did. you gave it to him happily, albeit a little shyly. you were going to see him the next day. he knew that too. he made you promise to text him once you had reached the paddock, because he wanted to see you.

oscar piastri wanted to see you.

you agreed.

that night, you went to bed with a smile on your face.

the next morning, you checked your phone as soon as you woke up, not sure what you were expecting. but whatever you were expecting had come true, because there was oscar's message right there on the top, telling you about how excited he was to see you.

you danced your way through your routine, you sang your way to the paddock. you had a smile on your face that you couldn't erase, and you just had a good feeling about this.

as soon as you reached the paddock, you texted oscar. though, before you could find him, lando found you first.

"hey, you're the girl from yesterday!" he exclaimed, pointing at you slightly.

you laughed, "yeah, that's me,"

"what are you doing here?"

"i have the paddock passes for the three days, and oscar told me to text him once i reached,"

lando smirked, "oh, he did, did he?"

your cheeks heated up.

"y'all are cute already. come on, i'll take you to him," lando said, and began walking.

you followed him.

you were nervous suddenly. how were you going to greet oscar? what if he didn't want to see you inside wherever lando was taking you? what if he just wanted to have a quick chat with you and move on?

to distract yourself, you took pictures. people, drivers, the paddocks, everyone and everything.

lando noticed your camera, and made you promise to show some later.

finally, you reached oscar. he was in the team kit. his eyes lit up when he saw you and your heart did a little something funny.

"y/n! hi!" he said, as he rushed towards you, stopping right in front of you.

lando giggled, slapping oscar on his back as he walked away.

"hi,"

"you made it!"

"i mean, i did have the paddock passes," you teased.

his cheeks became pink, just slightly, as he rubbed the back of his neck, "that's true, yes,"

"i'm happy to see you, though," you said, taking a brave step forward.

he smiled radiantly, "so am i,"

and then, he led you around the paddock, introducing you to people as if he hadn't just met you yesterday. he showed you all kinds of places, told you all kinds of things. you clicked pictures as much as you could, wanting to add them in your digital diary.

and that's how your three days went by.

oscar showed you every place possible, you captured everything you found beautiful.

now, if most of the phots ended up being oscar's, that's not your fault. he didn't have to be beautiful.

you captured the cars on track, and you captured the fans. you captured the team reactions, and you captured the machinery.

you captured pictures of lando laughing with his team, and you captured pictures of oscar discussing with his race engineer.

just after qualifying was when everything changed.

lando had pole position, with oscar starting p2. it was a papaya front row. both drivers were excited to win for the team. after the interviews were done, oscar had told you that he would change, and then he'd drop you back to your hotel. while you waited in the paddock for him, lando approached you.

"show me the pictures you took," he said.

"you demand a lot,"

he rolled his eyes, smiling, "alright, show me the pictures you took, please,"

you giggled, "that's more like it," and you handed him your camera.

you were suddenly nervous about him looking at the pictures you took. they weren't amazing, but they weren't bad either.

lando went through the pictures, focused, and your anxiety grew.

just then, oscar approached.

"hey guys, what's going on?" he asked.

"osc, you didn't tell me how talented she is,"

"what do you mean?"

you chewed on your lip.

"i mean that these pictures are fucking good. i bet if we show them to zak or andrea or whoever, they'd hire her,"

"lando, come on-" you started.

"i'm serious, y/n. come here, oscar, look at these,"

oscar shifted towards lando, leaning over his shoulder to see.

"guys, i haven't edited them yet, and like, a lot of them are trash-"

"fuck, these are really good," oscar didn't say 'fuck' a lot, and for him to be saying it in the moment seemed like a big deal.

"y/n, what if you edit these pictures tonight, and get them tomorrow to show to the media head?" oscar asked.

you hesitated.

"look, you wanted to pursue your passion, but you were worried about the money, right? this kind of solves all of your problems," he stated.

"what other problems? long distance kinds?" lando teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

"shut up!" oscar said, though his ears were tinged red.

"okay. i can do that. it's worth a shot," you said, staring at your camera, before you looked at oscar, who was already staring at you, "right?"

"right." he nodded.

you took the camera back, and you walked with oscar to his car. the two of you made idle conversation. your mind was buzzing with the million possibilities of what could happen tomorrow, not just with the race, but with your career.

you knew that lando and oscar weren't so cruel that they'd lie to you. but you also knew that you pictures weren't as good as they claimed it to be.

"hey, don't overthink it, okay? go with the designs and the pictures you think are the best," oscar softly encouraged you, as he parked in front of your hotel.

you nodded, taking a deep breath, before you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "thank you,"

and you climbed out of his car.

you were awake almost all night, designing and redesigning your pictures, choosing the best of the best from your trip. you were filled with anxiety, but you also felt alive. you were excited to see where this would lead to.

just before you went to bed, close to 5 am, oscar's name popped up on your phone.

"come an hour earlier, please" he'd said in the text. you had replied immediately, letting him know that you'd be there.

another message came from him, but you were already out cold by then.

you woke up buzzing, excited to see the reactions you would get for your photography. you tried not to get your hopes up too much. there was a big chance that all of it could end up meaning nothing. but, you were still grateful for the opportunity.

as per oscar's request, you arrived at the paddock an hour early, immediately walking to where you knew oscar would be. it was funny how you knew the paddock so well already because of oscar showing you around.

you found oscar quickly, and he didn't waste any time in grabbing your hand and pulling you into an office.

"where are we going?" you asked.

"the media head wants to see you,"

"damn, i don't get a hi hello then?"

oscar stopped suddenly, causing you to crash into him. he turned to look at you. the two were you were standing close, closer than ever before.

"hi, y/n," he said with a smile.

"hi, oscar," you replied, matching his grin.

"ready to go now?"

you nodded, "yes,"

and he began pulling you away again.

once he found the media head, he pushed you towards her.

taken slightly aback, you introduced yourself, and handed her your ipad with the pictures on it.

the media head was nice when she spoke to you, but once she started looking at the pictures, you began to worry again.

you turned and looked at oscar, who gave you a little thumbs up of encouragement.

she nodded, handing the ipad back to you, and you quickly took it from her.

"they're good. they could be better. you could start with an internship position here, and we go forward from there, if you're willing,"

"yes! thank you so much!" you exclaimed.

she discussed the logistics with you, about meeting with the legal team later and meeting zak and andrea, and everything. all you could think about in that moment was that maybe the thing between you and oscar could actually end up being something real.

safe to say, everything went smoothly after that.

as soon as she was out of your sight, you immediately turned around and threw yourself in oscar's arms, unable to stop yourself. oscar hugged you back eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly.

as you pulled back, you whispered, "thank you,"

oscar smiled, the two of you still wrapped in each other, "this way i get to keep you with me everywhere,"

you laughed and nodded, "who knew a stranger crashing into me could lead to all of this, huh?"

oscar blushed again, "i did apologise for that!"

"what if we go out again and i'll make you try proper tea?"

he smiled, his eyes flicking to your lips once, "i'd like that,"

years later, on your wedding day, you posted pictures of oscar in his sherwani clicked by you, with the caption "from crashing and clicks to forever dreams come true."

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•

hi! thank you so much for reading! i'm still trying to figure out how to write oscar. i think i relate more with lando and max personality-wise, so it's easier for me to write rpf about them. anyways! this was my first oscar x reader! i hope you like it. this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :) i'd love your support! https://ko-fi.com/kavi2305

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x yn #oscar x reader #oscar x you #op81 #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 x y/n #oscar piastri fluff

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 2 years ago

Text

*NSFW* Breathe (Yandere!Monster x AFAB!Reader)

CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, bed bug inspired monster, minor character death, Non-Con, traumatic insemination, blood, physical torture, mental torture, impregnation, necrophilia

(Reader) breathed deeply, bouncing side to side in the back of the armored vehicle. The men and women by their side held equally grim expressions, not knowing what they were about to face. Three days ago an outpost went radio silent, the group of military scientists sent out an SOS before cutting communications. (Reader) had no idea what the scientists were studying, nor why they needed military protection in the middle of nowhere, but it wasn't their place to know. That's what they continuously told themselves as they practiced their deep breathing, secretly unnerved by how little their team was informed about this mission, and by how uneasy their teammates were.

The van rattled as it parked, and everyone exited the vehicle, guns pointed and night vision on, patrolling their designated routes throughout the empty land. (Reader) was followed by Davis and Jones, surveying the backside of one of the buildings, and praying for someone to be found alive. It was a bit dramatic, assuming that everyone was dead, but with how everyone seemed to keep this mission "hush hush", keeping important info from the men and women entering the "possibly dangerous" area, with the goal of "information retrieval" being considered a higher priority over extraction of survivors, it didn't sound like even their superiors were hopeful.

Everything was suspicious, and made everyone on edge. That worry became a very real fear when (Reader) entered the building through the back door and found the floor painted in blood. A body was mere inches from the exit, and the back of his head was torn open, exposing a cracked skull.

"Jesus Christ.." Davis covered his mouth.

(Reader) bent down, turning the body over to observe the face, comparing it to the portfolios of the personal working at the outpost they had memorized on the drive. They clicked on their walkie, speaking low. "This is (Reader), we've discovered a body, appears to be Dr. Romero."

Rodriguez's voice crackled quietly in their ears. "Copy that, this is Rodriguez, I've got two more bodies over here."

"What the hell happened to him?" Jones whispered.

(Reader) couldn't answer. There were scratches on the skull, and the skin was red and puffy surrounding it. The face was purple from the pooling blood. It didn't look like a gun shot, but (Reader) couldn't imagine what it could have been otherwise. "Let's continue on." The three left the body behind, creeping down a hall in procession.

"Movement." Behind (Reader), Davis urgently hissed, motioning towards what looked like a rec room. The formation changed, following Davis as he entered the room, focused on a couch. As they drew closer, a quiet gurgling could be heard, along with something wet dripping onto the tile flooring.

What looked like a man, naked and hunched over, was cradling a corpse, rocking back and forth. In the odd lighting of the goggles, they couldn't tell that there was something wrong with him until it was too late.

"Turn around, and put your hands up." Davis commanded, frightened and ready to shoot. The head of the corpse lulled back, revealing it's neck was completely devoured. In the second it took to blink, the creature had lunged at Davis, tackling him to the ground. (Reader) and Jones opened fire, but the bullets seemed to bounce off his back in the dark. Seeing a slight difference in texture between his back and neck, (Reader) took a chance, aiming at his neck.

The creature screamed, holding his neck and jumping to his feet, taking a moment to reveal his almost human face to (Reader), before crawling up the wall, and through a trap door in the ceiling.

"Davis!" Jones picked up his brother, patting his armor.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" Davis panicked, grasping at Jones to ground himself. "I think he was trying to bite me, but- but couldn't get past my mask."

(Reader) got on the radio again. "This is (Reader), we've just been attacked. No injuries, but.. but I can't explain what just attacked us. It looked like a naked man, but it crawled up the ceiling like a bug."

"Not funny, (Reader)."

"That wasn't a joke, Rodriguez. I unloaded a clip into it, and it didn't die. It went into the attic, do I follow?"

"We're on our way, wait for backup."

Davis looked horrified. "I don't want to go up there!"

"C'mon, man-"

"No, Jones. You didn't see that thing's mouth!"

Everyone went silent as something scraped against the floor boards above them, clenching their weapons in suspense.

The front door was kicked in, Rodriguez and her crew entered the rec room, lowering their guns. "Alright, what happened here?"

"Something Humanoid was in the center of the room, eating.. whoever the hell that once was. Davis told him to put up his hands, when it knocked him to the ground, trying to bite him. Jones and I shot his back, but it didn't seem to affect him. I hit it's neck, but that only got him off of Davis, then he climbed up the wall and went through that door." (Reader) pointed at the attic door.

Rodriguez narrowed her eyes in disbelief, glaring up at the ceiling. "Let's find another way up. If there's nothing up there, we'll go back to the van, check your body cams."

Davis raised his voice defensively. "You think we're lying about this?"

"I think, it fucking reeks in here. It doesn't smell like a gas leak, but I don't believe in monsters. I'm not ruling out a hallucinogen of some kind. (Reader)-" She then nodded to (Reader), signaling to get a move on.

They searched the rooms before finding a ladder, and no other doors leading up. (Reader) sighed. "Good enough."

Davis held the ladder as (Reader) climbed up, followed by Rodriguez, then another soldier, Alistair. Inside the attic the smell was worse, like rotten fruit. It was so bad that Alistair gagged a little, trying not to throw up. "Fuck me, what is that?"

(Reader) flinched, seeing something curled up in the fetal position. "Rodriguez."

The three approached the figure carefully, the smell worsening as they approached, then, (Reader) was close enough to see that the creature wasn't breathing. They kicked it, putting a hole straight through it's stomach.

"Oh God!" Rodriguez recoiled.

However, (Reader) almost threw up, not because of the stench, but from the overwhelming fear that suddenly pulverized their spirit. "It's a shell."

"What?"

Rodriguez bent down, gingerly pulling (Reader's) foot out and examining the body, finding it to be a combination of hard shell and molted skin. "I can see why you couldn't kill it. It's back is like a bug's exoskeleton. Looks like the front is a more... human.. texture."

"But doesn't that mean it's still here somewhere?" Alistair nervously asked, glancing around in the dark.

"We need to get back to the van, call this in to our superiors." Rodriguez commanded before picking up the walkie, calling out the the other three person team. "Jackson, return to the van."

Silence.

"Jackson, you there? I said get to the van."

A barrage of shots fired from outside, echoing through the encampment. Everyone raised their weapons and fell into formation, rushing outside quietly while scoping the area. A scream from one of the newer lieutenants pierced the silent air, before choking loudly, and then returning the outpost to silence once more.

The team splintered apart, separating back into their three man groups, covering more ground in hopes of finding the last three members of their team. (Reader) smelled that fruity stench again, and motioned to their men to follow them in the smell's direction. They entered a tent covering what looked like an excavation site, a deep hole roped off with caution tape. A uniformed body laid headless in the dirt next to the entrance. In the bright green view of (Reader's) goggles, they could read Jackson's name on the vest.

Further down the large tent, a disgusting squelching noise was rhythmically slapping, along with animalistic grunts. (Reader) stepped as soundlessly as possible, stepping over torn clothing; a military vest with Adams' name, her jacket, her tank top, and even her bra, torn to shreds and strewn about, leading to the noise.

Behind a metal desk, seconds clicked by like minutes, the adrenaline forcing (Reader) to take in every detail of the horrific scene. The monster, now much larger than it was before, had Adams' corpse in it's arms, her nude upper body violently shaking as it ground it's pelvis into her abdomen, splattering blood around them. As the scene came together, (Reader) began firing, aiming at the side of his head, hoping to hit a soft spot.

The creature angrily stood up, Adams' body sliding off of what appeared to be a curved spike protruding from it's groin. It screamed, rushing (Reader) and ramming into them, knocking them off balance which sent them tumbling down into the hole.

(Reader) heard their team cry out for them, and gunfire, but they kept falling, bouncing off the walls of the hole before landing hard at the bottom, snapping their arm at the bottom.

The shouts of terror didn't last long above ground, ending with sounds of bones cracking and bodies falling. (Reader) struggled onto their feet, feeling discomfort in their rapidly swelling ankles. There didn't seem to be any rope or ladders to get back out, and they didn't know if it was safe to call for help on the radio.

Spinning around, something moved in the dark, scaring (Reader) onto their ass and fumbling for their gun. In the dark, another naked monster, smaller than the previous one, crawled over on all fours towards (Reader), chest heaving like he was sniffing the air. He approached (Reader) who still couldn't find their gun, and cautiously tapped on their goggles, searching their masked face with deep, sunken eyes. His mouth was split open, showing off his jagged, saw like teeth. This monster was about the size of the first one before it molted.

It continued open mouth sniffing (Reader's) head, almost making them vomit by it's rotting body odor, when suddenly it flinched, whipping his head up to see the bigger creature climbing down head first into the pit. The younger looking monster grabbed (Reader's) face tightly, pressing his hands against their mouth and squeezing, forcing them to hold their breath.

Sweat felt like lice as out dripped down the fine hairs on (Reader's) neck. They hadn't prepared to be holding in their air, so they were already beginning to feel light headed. The larger monster paused halfway down, sniffing hard into their air before screeching at the smaller creature. He howled in response, still keeping his hands in place on (Reader's) face. (Reader) understood that the two were communicating, and that it seemed like the smaller monster was on their side, because soon the killer turned around and retreated back up, more than likely to kill more of (Readers) brothers and last remaining sister.

After a painful amount of time, he removed his hands, and (Reader) wasted no time grabbing their walkie. "Hello? Does anyone read me?" They whispered frantically.

"(Reader), we found more bodies-"

"Jackson and Adams are dead, possibly Davis and Jones as well."

"Jesus.."

"We found the monster in a large tent covering what looks to be a dig site. I was thrown into a hole, broke my left arm, lost my gun, and possibly sprained both ankles." (Reader) swallowed their rising bile, watching the monster mimic their movements. "Don't breathe. If you hear rustling, don't breathe. The monsters can see, but I think they find their victims through their breath or something."

"What? Wait, did you just say monsters?"

"There's a smaller one here in the hole with me. I think he saved my life. The one from the attic is much bigger now, this other one is still small. He made me hold my breath and it made the bigger one leave me alone."

"Jesus, alright. That sounds crazy. But.. look, just stay there, we'll be there soon. Can you see a way out?"

"No. No ropes or ladders down here."

"'Kay. Stay quiet, call back if that thing down there tries to attack you. Even if we can't get you out, I can at least throw you down a weapon."

"Thanks. Stay safe up there."

(Reader) leaned back, the pain settling in as the fight or fight response cooled down. They groaned in pain. The monster hopped up, crawling back over to inspect (Reader).

"Curious little monkey, aren't ya?" (Reader) panted, becoming nervous at how he sniffed the air excitedly as they did so. He crept back over, becoming far too close again, and starting touching their mask and goggles, confused. Long sharp claws reached under the mask and pulled it down, startling himself. He retreated to the other side of the pit while whimpering.

"Hey, that was just my mask." (Reader) tried to console him. They didn't know if it was because he saved them, or if because he acted like a scared child, but they weren't nearly as scared of him as they were the other one. Seeing that it was just a piece of fabric, and not (Reader's) face accidentally being ripped off, he shuffled back over, rubbing his dirty fingers across their lips.

He tapped his nails across their teeth, pulling open their lips carefully, feeling their jaw and chin, running his hands over every little bump and scrape. Learning that the bottom half of (Reader's) face had been covered by a mask emboldened him to tug on the goggles, coaxing (Reader) into removing them, leaving them completely blind in the dark. His breath tickled their face as he shuddered, purring deep in the back of his throat as he placed his nose on (Reader's) forehead, pressing into them in an almost cat-like manner, smelling them and rubbing his oily skin over (Reader's) entire face.

Uncomfortable by their lack of vision, (Reader) replaced their goggles, much to the monster's dismay. "I need these. Protection." They put back on the mask as well, ignoring his whines of disapproval.

Dirt fell onto (Reader) as Rodriguez stepped near the opening. "You still alive?" She stage whispered down into the chasm.

"Yeah. Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah. I think with the footage we got, and the documents, they'll understand if we don't take any bodies back with us." Her words were harsh, but (Reader) knew she was just as distraught as they were. "Your gun's up here, want me to throw it down?"

"No. I'm guessing you didn't find a ladder?"

"No."

"Then I'll try to climb out."

"Didn't you say your arm was broken?"

"Unless you killed that other creature, it's too dangerous to hang around here." (Reader) readied themselves to climb, immediately hissing as they grabbed into the dirt. The monster panicked, growling at (Reader). But they didn't stop, kicking a foot in, creating a hold, and pulling up. White hot pain flashed through their body.

An arm grabbed them around their waist, and swung (Reader) around; the monster had picked them up like a sack over his shoulder, and began climbing the wall with one arm.

"Jesus Christ." Rodriguez grabbed at (Reader) as soon as they were within reach, yanking them away from the monster. He snarled in response, trying to cover (Reader) with his body, but (Reader) wearily pat him on the head, trying to show that they were fine. He calmed down, but still glared at Rodriguez suspiciously. "What the hell are you?"

"Where's the rest of us?" (Reader) questioned, only now seeing that Rodriguez was alone.

"Only one other guy made it, Davis. He was fucked up when we found him, I got him in the van."

"I'm sorry.."

"It wasn't your fault. Let's go." Rodriguez helped (Reader) to their feet, handing them their gun, and the three left the tent.

Bodies of (Reader's) mates were in pieces, littering the ground with organs. Everyone was wrinkled. Whatever blood hadn't spilled on the ground while being murdered appeared to have been siphoned from their bodies, the chunks nearly mummified. The two soldiers watched their new companion as they snuck back through the outpost, using him like a blood hound to sense if his more dangerous relative was near. There were moments when he would pause, a frightened look crossing his face as he clung to (Reader), and both humans would hold their breath, desperately clinging to the faith that this monster was actually trying to save them.

The sun was still hours away from rising, and horror movie plots drifted through (Reader's) mind, pondering what kind of creature was clinging to their arm at that moment, and what could possibly kill it. (Reader) sped up their pace, rushing to the driver's side door as Rodriguez pulled the unwilling monster into the back with her, wrestling him as he tried to follow (Reader).

Each team leader had a spare key for the truck, so it didn't matter who drove it back, but Rodriguez did have more hands on experience with first aid, so it made sense for her to be in the back with the barely conscious Davis during the ride, just in case his health took a turn for the worse.

The van started up, worryingly loud in the silent town. (Reader) pulled off their goggles and flipped on the lights, flooring the gas as they took off, knowing it was no use trying to be quiet at that point. From the back of the van, the monster started crying.

"Hey, something's wrong with this thing!" Rodriguez called out to (Reader), before the entire van shook under the weight of something dropping onto the roof. "Shit!"

Without thinking, (Reader) spun the wheel to the left, throwing the bloody monster off their vehicle and sending him tumbling into the road. He was able to shake off the fall, standing upright and staring at (Reader) from the road. Now without the night vision, (Reader) saw him clearly in the headlights, the difference between his brown armored shell pieces, and the mammal like skin, almost paper thin in the light, pulsated with the blood of (Reader's) teammates and the doctors they were sent to find. The skin was stretched tight over how swollen he was, growing to almost twice its natural size.

"Hold on!" (Reader) barked, speeding towards the man in the road.

His head snapped forward as his chest connected with the grill, bouncing off the hood as (Reader) drug him back towards the buildings, driving him towards the house with the rec room. (Reader) kept on full speed until they crashed into the wall. Blood splashed across the wall and van as the monster popped under the force of the collision.

"Shit! Are we good?"

The body twitched a few times, choking on it's stolen blood as it feebly clawed at the metal crushing it before falling still, finally dying. "Yeah. We're good."

Back at the base, it was a horrifying shock for the troops awaiting their return, guns raised and pointed at the young monster they brought with them, however, they didn't shoot, as he held onto (Reader) tightly, making no move to attack anyone. They uploaded their body cam footage, corroborating their testimonies of what they saw, save for Davis, who was rushed back to the hospital wing for emergency surgery. (Reader) and Rodriguez were also eventually treated for their injuries, Rodriguez only needing a couple of stitches and getting diagnosed with a concussion, while (Reader) had their arm placed in a cast, and both ankles had to be wrapped up for compression to fight the mild puffiness.

The two sat next to each other, finally alone after the military dragged their monstrous savior away. "God, I need a shower." The dark haired woman complained, sniffing her hair that had been let down. Her face scrunched up in disgust. "I smell like those things."

"Ha. Yeah, like rotting fruit."

"Rotting raspberries. So gross." Rodriguez's forced smile melted, incapable of pretending to feel relief. "Why do you think he saved you?"

Clashing with the smell of the sanitized hospital and the saline aftertaste from the IV drip, (Reader) could still smell the pungent scent of the monster on their body, just as Rodriguez pointed out. "I don't know."

"What do you think those things are? Vampires?"

The image of Adam's limp body sliding off of a thin spike resurfaced in (Reader's) mind, making them nauseous. "I don't think so." They leaned forward, scooting closer towards Rodriguez. "I didn't see your body cam video.. did you see mine?"

"No. Why?"

"Did any of the bodies- I mean, this is going to sound.." they sighed, licking their lips and trying again. "When I entered that tent, with the hole, I found the monster with Adams. It had.. torn off her clothes, and it looked like he was.. stabbing her abdomen, with a claw out of his pelvis."

Except for the normal hospital beeping, (Reader's) words left the atmosphere feeling far too silent. "Are you saying it raped her?"

"I don't know.. maybe. Did you see any other naked bodies?"

"..no." They both laid back, exhausted, and frightened. "But if you're thinking that it could tell she was a woman, why weren't we attacked? I mean, I know you're not a woman, but if those things went by smell or pheromones.. I don't even know what I'm saying." She drug her dirty hands over her face.

"Maybe because our's is a kid. I mean, he's the size of that first monster before it molted, so maybe he isn't.. sexually mature?"

Before Rodriguez could think of a response to that a doctor came in, asking to see her out in the hallway. "I'll be right back." She promised, patting (Reader's) shoulder as she left the room.

(Reader) nestled back into the thin pillow and accidentally fell asleep while waiting for their friend to return, the awful rotting smell never fading.

It wasn't until a banshee worthy scream echoed throughout the hospital that (Reader) woke up, looking up at the clock on the wall and seeing that it was 19:31, revealing that they had slept through an entire day, and that Rodriguez was not in the room with them. Something down the hall shattered, followed by another terrified shout. Unarmed and now incapacitated, the only course of action their adrenaline flooded mind could think up on the fly was to hide, ripping out their IV and sliding under the cot, hidden from view by the crossing metal bars and plastic barrier.

Footsteps passed by (Reader's) door. They took a deep breath, holding their face to keep in their air. The door opened and whoever it was entered the room. (Reader) was only capable of seeing the bare feet painted in blood as they stepped closer to the bed. The bloody individual leaned on the mattress above (Reader), pressing their weight into it, before stepping away, touching other things around the room. Blood dripped onto the tiles from the drenched body. (Reader) began shaking, trying not to take a breath as they waited for the thing to leave, tearing up at the possibility of it being the creature they willingly brought back with them. The feet disappeared from view, then they heard the door close. Still, just to be safe, (Reader) kept their hands to their mouth for a few more seconds, unable to hear if he left because of the blood rushing through their ears. Quietly, they released the lungful of air and slowly sucked new air back in.

A hand grabbed one of their swollen ankles and pulled (Reader) out from under the bed. In the dim light of the flashing buttons, (Reader) saw the freshly molted monster, smiling down at them with blood coating their face and dribbling from their lips.

"No!" A casted fist attempted to punch him, but he caught it, rubbing the puffy fingers against his face affectionately. He leaned down, rubbing his nose across their face like he had done back when he had first saved them, sniffing loudly. (Reader) began sobbing, knowing what would happen to them after Adams. The thin hospital gown was easily ripped off, pleasing the monster who made that purr-like rumble in the back of his throat, still smiling.

A long, thinly tipped aedeagus unfurled itself, curved and sharp, just like (Reader) remembered it looking.

"Please don't.. please.. I don't want to die!"

Their words weren't understood by the monster, too busy rubbing (Reader's) side. He laid down beside them, hugging (Reader) tightly as he positioned himself, still sniffing their neck as he did so. Between (Reader's) pleas a stinging pain entered their side as he pushed his hypodermic penis into their midsection.

The sound of pain (Reader) made was unlike anything they had ever made, or heard, before. Incapable of jerking away because of his hold on them, he continued making noises of pleasure, rolling his hips as he pressed deeper, splurting blood as he wiggled back and forth inside of them, trying not to puncture anything important until he could get deep enough to what he needed.

His prick pierced (Reader's) uterus, the burning torture as they felt something inside getting stabbed was hell. Their eyes rolled back as his hips rubbed sensually against their side, unable to hold on as they began to pass out. He screeched horrifically, scratching (Reader) as his grip constricted happily, cumming straight into (Reader's) uterus. Even after they fell limp in his arms, his fluids continued pouring out, overfilling the poor organ; his elastic liquid solidifying near the hole like a polyp.

Contrary to what (Reader) thought, the monster who caressed their body was intelligent. He was far smarter than his brother, who had been so desperate to implant his seed he fucked that poor woman to death, not taking into account that human females hadn't evolved to handle the method of reproduction that their species used. Even their own could die if they mated multiple times, so he really should have been more careful. He held onto (Reader) dreamily, using their gown to stop the bleeding as he pulled out. He took the time to ensure nothing was damaged inside his wonderful little mate, so the only bleeding he had to worry about was the skin. Some of his sperm clung to the tip of his needle like cock, so he rubbed it across (Reader's) face as they laid unconscious, just so that if another male of his species did somehow follow them, the could smell that (Reader) had already been claimed.

When he was searching the hospital for (Reader) he had seen stitching, and learned what it was for by watching a doctor from afar before killing him and the patient. It wasn't too difficult to figure out.

(Reader) would live. It would hurt, but imagine how happy they'll be when they awake to find themselves pregnant! It made him purr with joy, wondering how many children he'd have with his beautiful human.

After all, unlike humans, his species only needed to fuck once and their sperm would survive inside the host body for years, creating a kind of sac to plug up the hole in the uterus and protect the sperm from the forming infants, releasing sperm whenever there is a vacancy in the uterus to immediately impregnate the host again.

His mate shifted under the needle in their sleep as he fixed them up. It brought him such pride, imagining that he could almost see them becoming pregnant at that very moment. He knew from the second he smelled (Reader) down in the dirt he was unburied from that he was born to be their mate~

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #cw noncon #cw death #cw violence #cw monsterfucking #traumatic insemination #bed bug inspired #bad writing #not proofread

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2i1han · 5 months ago

Text

Slowly, Then All at Once

2 : since then

pairing: classmate!leehan x fem!reader │word count: 8.9k

genre: slow-burn, young adult, coming of age, romcom

tags: boynextdoor , non-idol au, high school/college au , first love , neighbor!leehan , extrovert!leehan , cold!leehan , extrovert!reader

characters mentioned : kim leehan , park sungho , anton lee , sakai moka , kim minji , ham jinsik , kim woonhak

warnings: no warnings! sfw

synopsis : you and leehan have always known each other—classmates since ninth grade, always familiar but never really close due to leehan's indifference. but when his brother enters the picture, and you ending up in the same building as him, everything starts to change. unresolved situation that were once buried begin to surface, and leehan must decide: let go or finally take a chance.

a/n : hi, everyone! this is the second full part for my series. and, i just wanted to say thank you to all those who read the first part and supported it ! i love you all so much 𖹭 i hope you'll enjoy this part as much as i enjoyed writing it.

playlist : seasons/wte , the first words/song yuvin , a little bit more/jinho , everyone adores you/matt maltese , so let's go see the stars/boynextdoor , but i like you/boynextdoor , so tender/say sue me , bad/wte , light/wte , chocolate/bol4 , some/soyou , would you love me/stella jang , everyday/haebin , star drawing/yuziii

the countdown to graduation had begun. it's the first weeks of october, and the air is starting to get cold, as well as the trees turning bright orange. five months left, and summer vacation was already waving hello from a distance like a blessing. but instead of enjoying the thought of freedom, everyone was drowning in piles of textbooks, mock exams, and late-night study sessions for the csat entrance exams. the entire school felt like it had turned into a pressure cooker, students running on caffeine and stress as they prepared for college entrance exams.

and you? you were no exception. while others buried themselves in past papers, you were sacrificing sleep at ungodly hours, struggling to piece together the perfect art portfolio for your university application. between exam prep, graduation rehearsals, and finishing last-minute school requirements, you barely had time to breathe.

so when the weekend rolled around, you decided to reclaim a small piece of your sanity. you swung by moka's apartment, planning to meet up with her and minji— your first proper hangout in weeks.

moka sat at her vanity, delicately patting powder onto her face like she was about to go on a magazine shoot instead of a casual outing. she glanced at you through the mirror.

"how's your portfolio going?" she asked, dabbing her nose with a fluffy brush.

you sighed dramatically, flopping onto her bed like a tragic indie. "it's fine… i guess. i just don't think some of my existing pieces are good enough." you groaned, rubbing your forehead. "that's why i'm still trying to make new ones."

moka immediately turned to face you, her expression is a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "you can't be serious." she put her powder down as if you had personally offended her. "y/n, you're literally at the top of your class when it comes to art. even the professors are obsessed with you!"

she wasn’t wrong. you had consistently won every art competition, and teachers practically worshipped your skills. but self-doubt was a clingy little parasite, and no amount of external validation could change the way you fixated on the tiny flaws in your work.

you just shrugged it off, knowing that moka will again hit you with the every art has flaws.

"yeah, whatever." picking up your phone from the bed, you scrolled through your messages. "is minji still not coming?"

moka hummed in response, too focused on applying her false lashes to spare you a damnm

right on cue—

ding dong.

"speak of the devil," you muttered, tossing your phone aside before getting up to open the door.

as expected, minji stood there, slightly breathless, her denim jumper speckled with dried paint. her hair was in a messy bun, strands of hair flowing like they had given up on being tied.

"sorry i'm late," she panted, stepping inside. "extracurriculars ran long."

you closed the door behind her, eyeing the paint stains on her clothes. "mhm, looks like it," you said, plopping back onto the bed as minji took a seat on a wooden chair—probably to avoid ruining moka's fluffy pink bedsheets.

"so," minji stretched her arms, "where are we heading?"

"the new café on the next street," moka announced, wiggling her eyebrows. "i heard their pastries are the real thing."

you perked up. "sweet. i've been craving sugar." you lazily raised your phone above your head.

on the other hand, minji groaned. "i'm on a sugar diet, but fine." she crossed her arms. "where did you even hear about this place?"

that's when moka's expression shifted into something far too smug for your liking. "my friend told me," she said, twirling a strand of her hair. "i wasn’t interested at first, but then she mentioned that the barista there is handsome."

you and minji immediately shared a look.

"...ewww," you both deadpanned, cringing.

"the pastries better be actually good, or we're leaving you behind," you warned, stifling a laugh.

moka just shrugged, grinning. "gladly. more eye candy for me."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

the three of you stepped into the café, immediately greeted by the warm interior, a contrast to the chill autumn air outside. the place had a cozy ambiance—soft lighting, large window panes letting in the golden hues of the late afternoon sun, and walls painted a light coffee brown. it wasn't a huge place, but spacious enough, with about eight tables spread around the room. the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries hung in the air, making your stomach grumble slightly.

you glanced around as the three of you settled at a four-seater table by the window, the perfect spot for people-watching and rating cars driving by.

"i'll order. what do you guys want?" you asked, tapping your fingers lightly on the table.

moka and minji hummed in thought, their eyes drifting to the digital menu displayed on the right wall.

"just a hot cocoa for me. and for the pastry… let’s just get a whole tiramisu cake," moka decided, leaning back in her chair.

minji nodded in agreement. "that'll do. i'll get an iced americano."

"alright," you murmured before pushing yourself up from your seat and heading toward the counter.

the café wasn't too crowded, only about three other customers were seated inside, all quietly sipping on their drinks. you were the only one at the counter, so you took your time glancing at the overhead menu, even though you had already decided.

i'll just get what moka did, you muttered under your breath before shifting your eyes left and right, scanning the empty counter. you were mildly curious about this so-called handsome barista moka had been fawning over.

and as if on cue, the door to the employee's room swung open.

there he is. the legendary ‘handsome’ barista.

you blinked, suppressing a chuckle. if this was moka's definition of handsome, then water must be dry.

the guy was tall, his jet-black hair falling slightly over his forehead in a way that looked both effortless and intentional. his skin was clear—flawless, even, and his nose was sharp enough to cut glass. fine, maybe some points there. he wore a light cream polo under a black apron, the typical café worker drip.

he caught your gaze and immediately approached, his expression was smooth and light.

"what'll you have today, miss?" his voice was gentle, and polite, almost overly refined like he was a nobleman in disguise.

you almost wanted to laugh, but instead, you matched his energy with a small smile. "two hot chocolates and one iced americano. all medium-sized."

"andd… pastry?" he tilted his head slightly, still smiling.

"one whole tiramisu cake," you confirmed.

the barista nodded enthusiastically before punching the order into the register. "that'll be 43,000 won, miss."

you handed him your card, watching as he swiftly swiped it before handing it back.

"thank you. you can take your seat; i'll bring your order to your table," he offered, gesturing toward the seating area.

you nodded and turned around, only to be met with the sight of moka practically jumping with excitement, her eyes locked onto the barista like he was a rare artifact in a museum.

rolling your eyes, you made your way back and sat down next to minji.

"he's not even that handsome," you commented, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly.

moka's head snapped toward you so fast you feared she might get whiplash. "this is exactly why no guy approach you anymore," she deadpanned. "do you know how many hot guys in school have tried to get with you, only for you to brutally reject them and tell us that they weren't ‘handsome’?"

minji, ever the slightly neutral party, simply nodded in agreement. "i mean… she's got a point." shhe paused for a second before stealing another glance at the barista. "he is handsome. you're just bitter."

you sighed, sparing another glance at the guy, who was now carefully scooping out the tiramisu from the pastry window. "fine. i'll give you two some credit. his skin is nice, and he's got a decent nose. other than that, nothing special."

minji leaned back against the windowpane, while moka let out an exaggerated ugh. her dramatic reaction was short-lived, though, as her smile suddenly creeped back in two times wider than the last. you didn't even have to turn around to know what that meant.

the barista was approaching.

"here's your order, miss," he said, setting the tray down with grace.

moka, in true moka fashion, didn't even glance at the food. her attention was zeroed in on the barista's face, studying every detail like she was going to write a dissertation on it.

you nodded in thanks, ignoring the way the barista's gaze lingered on you for a good three seconds before he walked away.

as soon as he was out of earshot, moka sighed dreamily. "oh my god, he's so handsome."

you picked up your fork and stabbed your slice of tiramisu with a blank expression. "sure."

moka's face flattened as she swirled her straw in her drink. she exhaled dramatically before giving you a pointed look.

"is this all just because of your poor eyesight?" she asked, as if genuinely concerned for your well-being.

minji, mid-sip of her iced americano, nearly choked, letting out a half-laugh, half-cough.

rolling your eyes, you adjusted your thick-framed glasses, the same ones you had stubbornly worn since middle school, despite constant suggestions (or rather, bullying) from your friends. "please. i'm planning to switch to contacts soon."

moka gasped, clutching her chest like you had just declared peace. "finally! maybe then you'll see the world properly, or, see hot people properly.”

you raised an eyebrow. "the world, sure. hot people? questionable."

minji snickered while the other one groaned, shaking her head in disappointment. "you are a lost cause."

she then propped her chin on her hand, a dreamy look spreading across her face. "even his name is handsome," she dragged out the syllables in front of you.

"park. sungho."

minji side-eyed her. "wow, how do you even know his name?" she scoffed before you could ask the exact same question.

moka rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "duh, it's on his name tag. didn't you see?"

minji snorted. "i barely looked at him. ask y/n, she was at the counter."

both of them turned to you expectantly.

you blinked at them before shoving another forkful of tiramisu into your mouth. "nope, didn't notice."

moka's jaw dropped "unbelievable. you were standing right there!"

you chewed slowly, shrugging. "was focused on the order. priorities."

minji let out a snort while moka threw her hands in the air. "whatever, you're so boring. let's just enjoy this before i lose my mind." she said, stabbing a fork on the cake.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

by the time the three of you had inhaled the cake and drained your drinks, minji let out a satisfied sigh, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"mhm, okay. this is actually the real thing," she said, stretching her arms.

moka leaned back proudly, folding her arms. "told you."

you hummed in agreement as you swirled the last bits of your hot chocolate. the tiramisu was, in fact, perfection. even the coffee was good, like it was made by someone who actually cared about their job. you hated to say it, but maybe moka's handsome barista had some redeeming qualities beyond his face.

just as you reached for a napkin to wipe your mouth, something caught your eye

something was written under it. your brows furrowed as you turned it over.

a number?

and a note underneath: "you look pretty."

you stared at it. then, instinctively, you looked back to the counter. sungho was busy now, his sleeves rolled up as he worked through a growing line of customers. his face remained completely focused, but he glanced over.

you immediately looked back down at the napkin.

minji was already pulling on her coat, and moka was, of course, checking herself out in her pocket mirror.

"all right, are we ready to go?" she asked, running a hand through her hair one last time.

"yeah, sure," minji yawned, stretching her arms.

you casually crumpled the napkin in your palm and shoved it into your pocket. no big deal. nothing to see here.

as the three of you stepped out into the street, you shook your head, exhaling sharply.

moka nudged you as you walked. "you're being weird. what's up?"

"nothing," you said quickly.

moka narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but minji cut in before she could pry.

behind you, inside the café, sungho briefly glanced toward the window, watching you disappear down the street.

then, with a small smirk, he returned to his work.

"where are we heading now? it's only 3 p.m.," minji asked as she lazily stretched her arms above her head.

moka didn't even hesitate. "the mall. come on, let's go."

minji hummed in approval, already pulling out her phone to check for any new sales.

you were just about to nod when a sudden realization hit you like a brick to the face. your sculpture. the one that was due tomorrow. monday afternoon.

"oh, crap." you stopped in your tracks, causing both of them to halt and turn to you with raised eyebrows.

"what?" moka asked, her excitement fading slightly.

you let out a tight-lipped sigh. "i just remembered, i have an unfinished sculpture in the art room. i need to finish it today. you guys go ahead without me. i'll catch up if i can."

moka's eyes immediately narrowed. "absolutely not."

here we go.

"come onnn, we barely even go out anymore! just this once, prioritize us over some lump of clay," she whined, dramatically clasping her hands together like she was pleading for her life.

"it's not just a lump of clay, moka," you deadpanned.

six pleases and ten ‘we barely go out anymore's later, moka finally sighed in defeat, crossing her arms.

"fine. but next time, make sure you don’t have any unfinished tasks, so we can enjoy the day properly, okay?" she looked at you almost pitifully, like you were some overworked corporate employee instead of a graduating student.

you chuckled, pulling both her and minji into a quick hug. "i promise. take care, both of you."

minji patted your back. "you too. don't let the clay take over your life."

with that, they waved goodbye, and you made your way to the bus stop, waiting for the ride that would take you the very place you had been trying to escape all week.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

by the time you arrived at the art room, you fully expected to be the only student who had procrastinated this badly. but as soon as you pushed the door open, the atmosphere inside shifted.

there, seated at one of the workstations, was leehan—completely engrossed in his sculpture, his hands steady as he gripped a sculpting tool.

you walked slowly, carefully making your way toward your own workspace, which just so happened to be right next to his.

of course.

leehan barely glanced at you, but when he did, it was through the gaps of his hands as he continued shaping his piece. his focus remained stable, and, predictably, he didn't say a word.

not that you were expecting him to.

it had always been like this for the past three years. silent. neutral. two people coexisting in the same space without the need for conversation.

so, treating this as just another normal day, you sat down and got to work.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

thirty minutes passed, and your sculpture was already coming together nicely. the texture was smooth, the facial anatomy was decent, and all that remained were the arms and legs.

meanwhile, leehan's progress… was questionable at best.

you snuck a glance at his work.

it hadn't moved. at least, not noticeably. the proportions were off, the limbs were… concerning, and at this point, it was starting to look more like an artifact from a horror museum rather than an academic project.

he was struggling.

you furrowed your brows. why did he even choose an art strand? was he actually passionate about it? or was this some twisted form of self-inflicted suffering?

whatever the reason, you couldn't ignore it any longer.

"do you need help?" you asked, more out of pity than actual expectation.

and honestly, you weren't expecting an answer. if anything, you thought he'd ignore you like always.

but then, like some kind of miracle, leehan put his sculpting tool down and mumbled:

"yes, please."

yes, please.

your brain short-circuited.

it wasn't just a yes. it wasn't just some bare-minimum grunt of acknowledgment.

there was a please.

was this for real? or had the painful silence in the room finally driven you insane?

but before you could spiral into that thought, you shook it off. whatever, not important. you had a job to do.

you nodded, moving over to his table as you examined his sculpture up close.

"do you even know basic anatomy?" you asked, tilting your head at the poor, disfigured limbs of his creation. it was... unique.

leehan barely glanced up. "i'm bad at it." his voice was quiet, almost as if admitting this was painful.

you hummed in response, crossing your arms.

"well," you sighed, picking up a sculpting tool, "lucky for you, i don't suck at it."

leehan smiled to himself. an actual smile.

not a forced one, but a real, genuine, pleased-with-life kind of smile. but, thankfully for him, you didn't notice. you were too busy sculpting, completely focused on saving his poor project. and honestly? he was probably relieved. if you had seen it, that carefully crafted, too-cool-to-care exterior he had built over the years might've shown some cracks.

instead, he simply stood beside you, watching as you worked with effortlessly.

"watch how i do it," you said, not even glancing up.

leehan obeyed without question, his gaze glued to your hands and the clay.

minutes passed, and the disfigured limbs of his sculpture were slowly reshaped into something actually recognizable. you worked swiftly, skillfully, and before long, you placed the sculpting tool down with a satisfied sigh.

"there," you said simply.

leehan leaned in, inspecting the piece with his usual unreadable expression. but even though he tried not to be expressive, you could tell—he was amazed.

"thank you. a lot," he said, his eyes locking onto yours.

for a second, you weren't sure how to respond. compliments weren't exactly his thing, and hearing him say a full, properly structured sentence felt almost weird. so you just offered a small, awkward smile.

"it's nothing," you muttered.

then it's followed by silence.

it wasn't awkward, per se, but it felt different from your usual shared quiet. like something was waiting to be said next.

you hesitated before speaking. "why..."

you nearly stopped yourself, figuring leehan's free trial of words had probably expired. but when you glanced at him, you noticed that he was listening. actually waiting for you to continue.

so, you did. "why did you take art classes? i notice you struggling a lot with it... even when we're still in middle school."

the question seemed to shrink his usual confidence, or whatever distant, broody aura he carried. his fingers twitched, and his posture stiffened.

then, finally, he exhaled and looked away, focusing on the sculpture rather than you.

"my mom," he said, "she wants me to take arts."

"ohh" you simply nodded. you weren't going to push.

but you still did "don't let anyone stop you from doing what you really want," you said, keeping your voice casual.

leehan's eyes flickered down to his sculpture. for a moment, he didn't move, just absorbed your words in silence. then, he gave a small nod.

the conversation ended there, followed by another silence again. and you took that as your cue to return to your table.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

it was 6:30 p.m. when you finally finished.

your sculpture was done—polished, covered, and ready to be presented tomorrow. meanwhile, the person beside you? still in the exact same spot you left him in.

except, now, his project had actual progress. thanks to the sketch you had given him as a guide, the limbs no longer looked like they belonged in a horror exhibit. he still had a long way to go, but at least he wasn't completely lost anymore.

you packed your bag, hesitating for a second.

should i tell him i'm leaving?

you never did before. not once. usually, you'd just slip out without a word, and he never seemed to care.

but maybe, after today's surprisingly human interaction, it felt weird to just go without acknowledging him.

so, after a moment of internal debate, you finally spoke up.

"i'll get going," you said, pointing vaguely toward the door.

leehan looked up slowly.

you expected him to do his usual nod—you know, that tiny, barely-there bow that was less of a gesture and more of a muscle spasm.

but instead, he actually said something.

"okay."

not just a nod. a full, verbal response. it's flat, but at least it's a thing.

you nodded back, stepping toward the door.

as you left, you didn’t notice leehan watching you the entire way, not turning back to his sculpture until you had fully leave the room.

he has to figure it all out on his own now that his art genius classmate had left.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

ring. ring.

after a few rings, minji finally picked up.

"hello?" you said, pressing the phone to your ear while speed-walking toward the bus stop.

"hello? what's up?" minji's voice crackled on the other end.

"moka isn't answering her phone. are you guys still out?" you asked, adjusting the strap of your bag.

"nah, we just got home. her phone died," minji explained. "we're at her apartment. you coming?"

"mhm," you hummed. "i'll be there now."

"alright. don't get kidnapped. take care."

"wow, thanks for the reminder," you chuckled before hanging up.

you sat onto the bench at the bus stop, letting out a sigh. the bus was taking forever. long enough for you to consider filing a complaint. but instead, you just leaned your head against the metal pole of the shed and jammed your earphones in.

then— knock, knock.

you flinched, pulling out an earbud.

standing beside you was none other than moka's handsome barista from earlier.

"hey," he greeted, smiling slightly.

you quickly sat up, smoothing your clothes like that would somehow make you look less caught off guard. "oh, hi! uh… you're the barista from earlier." you pointed.

he chuckled, nodding. "mhm."

"are you… also waiting for the bus?" you asked, mostly just to fill the silence.

sungho let out a short laugh and shook his head, lifting the small bag in his hand. "just dropping something off."

ah, a delivery or something. not that it mattered. you were a little too preoccupied pretending not to remember the note. the one he casually slipped under your tissue at the café, complete with his phone number and a compliment scribbled underneath.

you thought about bringing it up. you really did.

but then again, what were you even supposed to say? "hey, thanks for the note, but i nearly choked on my drink when i saw it"?

yeah. no.

so instead, you awkwardly nodded. "i see. well… take care, i guess."

sungho, just nodded. he took a step back like he was about to leave, and you were about to sink back into your seat when—

"what's your name?"

you quickly looked back to him. but, before you could respond, the bus's headlights flickered behind him.

"seo y/n," you answered, flashing him a smirk.

sungho's lips curled up slightly to a small smile as the bus doors hissed open.

for a second, he looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe a take care or a see you around. but the moment passed.

instead, he just watched as you stepped onto the bus.

and when you turned back for a quick glance, he was already walking away, hands tucked into his pockets, disappearing down the street.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"really? you met him?" moka whined, dragging out the words like she was personally offended by fate for not being there.

"yup." you threw a chip into your mouth, acting as nonchalant as possible, though moka's growing excitement was making that difficult.

minji sat on moka's bed, scrolling through her phone with the energy of someone who had heard this before. meanwhile, you and moka were sprawled on the fluffy rug, surrounded by snacks that were supposed to be for a "movie night" but had instead turned into a tea party.

"ugh, lucky. what'd y'all talk about?" moka leaned in, eyes gleaming like she was waiting for some heart-racing, k-drama-worthy story.

you frowned, trying to recall anything that might be considered even remotely interesting. "uh… he said hi, mentioned he was dropping something off, asked for my name, and… that was it."

silence, then-

"that's lame." minji finally spoke, still not looking up from her phone.

moka smacked her leg. "shut up, minji," before turning back to you with a grin "oh my god, he wants you."

you blinked. "that's a reach."

"no, because look," moka sat up with determination. "why would he even ask for y/n's name? he doesn't even know her!"

"well, no shit," minji scoffed, rolling her eyes. "why else would he ask for y/n's name?"

moka glared at her. "you're ruining the fun."

minji shrugged. "i live to bring logic into chaos."

you just shook your head, laughing. "anyway, forget about sungho. something weird happened today."

moka barely looked interested, probably expecting another "i lost my paintbrush again and i swear someone in the art department is gaslighting me" story.

but then you said the magic name.

"leehan-"

and suddenly, both of them snapped their attention to you so fast you thought you heard a crack.

"leehan?!" moka practically screeched, throwing her snack bag aside like this was now the most important conversation of her life.

"why? what happened? did he ignore you again?" minji raised an eyebrow. "thought we left that nightmare back in 10th grade."

you sighed. "no, that's the weird part. he actually… talked to me."

moka's jaw dropped. "what?"

"like, full sentences. he asked for my help with his sculpture."

moka gasped like you had just told her the school was burning down. "HE SPOKE? VOLUNTARILY?"

"yes! and not just a one-word answer. like, actual conversation. he even made eye contact."

minji snorted. "his dialogue options unlocked."

"he leveled up socially," you added. "well, he's already leveled up socially, i just meant, when it comes to me."

"okay, but what if it's a one-time thing?" moka waved a hand dismissively. "like when an npc suddenly gets good ai for one mission and then goes back to walking into walls."

you wanted to argue, but, she might be right. a part of you was curious, though. maybe it was just today, or maybe leehan had finally decided you were worth acknowledging as a human being. who knew?

so you just shrugged it all off. "guess we'll see."

and after that, the conversation shifted into something else entirely—probably a debate about whether or not one of your professors secretly lived at school. you spent the rest of the night laughing, overanalyzing everything, and eventually crashing at moka's place for a sleepover.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

and guess what? moka was right.

because by the next morning, leehan had officially reset to his factory settings.

you were sitting at your desk, mentally willing something, anything— miraculous to happen. maybe he'd give you another full sentence. mybe he'd iinitiate a conversation. but no, the universe wasn't that kind.

leehan did approach your desk, though, standing in front of you with his usual blank expression, looking down like you were nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

still, you held onto hope. you flashed a small smile, waiting for some sign of acknowledgment. instead, he just unceremoniously dropped a folder onto your desk.

you blinked.

it was the proportion guide you lent him last night. but underneath it—your portfolio.

your soul left your body for a second.

your portfolio. the one with all your hard work. the one that, if lost, would've made you spiral into an artistic breakdown and probably quit life to become a potato farmer. you must've accidentally handed it to him, and if it weren’t for leehan returning it, it would've been gone.

you almost teared up. this was an act of heroism. you looked up at him, smiling wider this time.

"thank yo—"

but before you could even finish your sentence, he turned and walked away.

you sat there, stunned.

what was that? just last night, he was behaving like a functional human being, and now he was back to being as soulless as a department store mannequin.

moka was right. again.

and just like that, life resumed its usual routine until graduation. back to square one. same old leehan. same old you.

after grad party

every graduate was at the venue, celebrating their long-awaited escape from the prison sentence called high school. of course, college was just another prison, but at least there was a vacation buffer before the next round of suffering.

you had successfully submitted your portfolio and got accepted into k-arts—your dream university. minji had also been accepted into the same university as both of you passed your portfolios together, while moka, despite sulking for two weeks over being separated from you both, eventually forgave you.

"you guys still suck for leaving me," she muttered, munching on a piece of pork.

minji sighed. "oh my god, moka, you're going to snu. people would kill to be in your spot."

"okay, but who am i supposed to bully now?"

"you'll find someone," you assured her, patting her back. "you're very talented in that area."

she sniffed dramatically. "i know, but it won't be the same."

the three of you laughed, clinking your glasses together in a toast.

tonight was lighthearted, fun, and stress-free. a concept that had been nonexistent throughout senior year. no last-minute projects. no looming deadlines. just pure, uninterrupted joy.

you were at a table with your friends, laughing, playing games, living in the moment.

and then there was leehan.

seated at the table across from yours.

you weren’t paying much attention to him at first. but then, something felt off.

you could feel his eyes on you.

at first, you thought you were imagining it. but every time you glanced up, he was looking at you.

and not in his usual indifferent, "you are but a speck of dust in my world" kind of way.

no.

this time, he looked, different. his expression wasn't blank. it was full of emotion, thoughts running through his mind. he looked deep in contemplation, like he was having an inner monologue straight out of a coming-of-age film.

your forehead started to burn under the intensity of his gaze.

what the hell is going on with him?

he didn't look away when you caught him. he just, kept watching, like he was trying to figure something out.

you tried to play it cool, raising an eyebrow at him as if to say, what?

he didn't react immediately, just kept his gaze steady. then, after a long second, he blinked and looked down, breaking the moment.

your heart was beating a little faster than it should have been.

trying to shake off the weird tension, you simply nodded at him, before turning back to your friends.

minji and moka, of course, immediately noticed.

"oh-ho," minji smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "what was that?"

"what was what?" you asked.

moka gasped, gripping your arm. "was leehan just staring at you?"

"no," you lied too quickly.

"yes, he was," minji confirmed, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "and not in his usual i have no interest in your existence way too."

moka let out a dramatic gasp, shaking your shoulders. "oh my god, what if he likes you?!"

you let out a snort. "yeah, and what if i suddenly become a billionaire? let's stick to realistic theories."

the night went on, but even as you laughed with your friends and enjoyed the celebration, a part of you kept replaying that moment in your head.

because for the first time in years, maybe ever—leehan looked at you like you were more than just another person in the room.

THROUGH LEEHAN'S EYES

the hall is bustling with graduates—cheers, laughter, the screech of chairs against the polished floor. it's the kind of noise that usually fades into the background, something i could easily tune out.

but tonight, everything feels louder. the clinking of glasses, the bursts of conversation, the music playing through the speakers. the air smells like a mix of catered food and perfume, a scent that's oddly overwhelming.

i should be celebrating.

i mean, i managed to survive three years of this painful art strand—something i had no real passion for when i first chose it. the reason behind my decision was so dumb that i start laughing at myself whenever i remember it.

but even though i spent countless nights regretting my choice, i don't regret all of it.

well… except for some things, like i didn't valued it.

i look up, eyes naturally scanning the room, and then i see her. y/n.

she's sitting at a long table across the venue, laughing with moka and minji—who, let's be honest, have been a pain in the butt since 7th grade.

it's that time of the year again.

people are moving on, going to different universities, starting fresh. some are staying in the same city, some are leaving. everyone's talking about their future like it's something so clear, and exciting.

but tonight, none of that feels real to me.

instead, there's this weight in my chest, a combo of regret and guilt that i can't shake off.

because this might be the last time i'll ever see her. and i don't want things to end like this.

i get so lost in my thoughts that i don't even realize i've been staring at her for too long. too long to be casual.

and then, she notices. her laughter slows, her eyes directed towards me, and for a split second, i think she's about to say something, but she just nodded.

shit.

i panic and quickly look down, pretending to be interested in the tablecloth or whatever nonsense anton is talking about beside me. my heart shouldn't be beating this fast over something so small, but it is.

despite the chaos around her, the crowd, the music, the noise—she stands out.

it's always been like that.

like she exists on a different frequency than everyone else, moving at her own pace while the rest of us struggle to keep up.

like she's the only one truly living in the moment while i’m stuck in my head, always thinking, always hesitating.

she's always had this annoying ability to make everything else fade into the background.

and maybe that's why, even back in 9th grade, i couldn't help but notice her.

9th grade

"good morning, teacher," we all greeted before settling back into our seats.

"good morning, everyone. settle down," the teacher said, adjusting his glasses. "now, before we begin, i'd like to introduce a new student who will be joining us for the school year."

a wave of excitement rippled through the classroom. people started murmuring, whispering to each other like buzzing bees. i quickly turned my head toward the door, just like everyone else, but with the number of students shifting in their seats, my view was blocked.

having a new classmate sounded exciting—a small breath of fresh air after being stuck with the same faces since 7th grade.

then, with a small nod from the teacher, the new student stepped in.

she was a girl.

short hair, cut just above her neck, with soft, wispy bangs framing her round, slightly chubby cheeks. a pair of thick, round glasses perched on her tall nose, making her look a little nerdy but in a way that suited her.

then, she spoke.

"hello, everyone! my name is y/n. i'm 15 years old and just moved into the neighborhood down the street. i hope we can all be friends!"

she gave a light bow, her voice bright and clear, effortlessly filling the classroom.

and that's when i knew it.

i'm cooked.

my heart started pounding so fast i didn't even know what was happening anymore. it was like my brain short-circuited, and my body decided to go into emergency mode. my ears burned hot, my hands turned ice-cold, and before i could process it, my head snapped toward the window in an attempt to distract myself.

this was bad. really bad.

i heard the teacher assigning her a seat, and i prayed—please don’t be near me, please don’t be near me—but then

"you can sit there, next to that boy by the window."

shit. that was my seat.

but just as i was about to internally combust, a voice from the back spoke up.

"sir, han taesan sits there. he's just absent today."

oh, thank god. taesan thank you.

the teacher nodded and assigned her a different seat. i let out a silent sigh of relief. disaster avoided.

or not.

because during break time, she approached me.

i wasn't even looking at her, but i could sense her presence. i felt my muscle went tense, my back straightening reflexively. she was standing right in front of me.

"what's your name?"

oh my god.

i hesitated before looking up. and then—she smiled.

i can't stutter. I CAN'T STUTTER.

"...leehan. kim leehan," i blurted out before immediately pretending to be interested in the random writings on my notebook.

she didn't seem to mind my awkwardness. in fact, she continued talking.

"are you alone? you can sit with us!"

panic.

if i sit with her, i'll die. there's no way i can eat properly without choking at least five times in front of her.

without thinking, i shot up from my seat. "no, i'll be out. thank you," i muttered before making a quick escape. i did not look back. i went straight for out the room to find woonhak like my life depended on it.

for months, i avoided her. not in an obvious, rude way, but in a way that would save me from embarrassing myself.

every time i caught a glimpse of her from across the room, my heart started racing. i didn't know how to deal with it, so i did what any emotionally constipated 15-year-old would do: ignore her.

but then i started to notice that she was ignoring me now too. at first, i thought it was a coincidence, but the more time passed, the more obvious it became.

and honestly? it sucked.

had i ruined my chance of even being friends with her? was she annoyed with me? did she hate me now?

it was all my fault.

i kept overthinking it until i finally decided. enough is enough.

i needed to face my fears and actually talk to her. for once, i would initiate the conversation, not her.

so, i took a deep breath and walked up to her desk, where she was sitting with her friends.

thump thump.

i could hear my heartbeat—it was almost deafening.

kim leehan, calm down. this is not the time to back out.

she turned to me, blinking. she didn't say anything, just waited.

this was it. my once-in-a-lifetime chance.

"y/n, i just want to say tha—"

interrupted.

of course. of course, someone had to cut me off right at that moment. nd out of all people, it just had to be ham jinsik.

i took a step back as he effortlessly inserted himself into the conversation.

tall. handsome. confident.

there was a small pang in my chest, and i hated it. i watched as jinsik stood there so easily around y/n, talking to her like it was nothing.

meanwhile, i could barely get a single sentence out without feeling like i was going to collapse. of course.

jinsik was perfect, the perfect match for her.

i turned back to my seat, forcing myself to focus on my classmate behind me, while batting an eye on jinsik's back periodically. but before I knew it, she was standing in front of me again.

"hey," she said.

i froze.

"sorry about earlier. you were saying?"

there it was. that stupid, dumb leehan who turned into an unfunctioning robot around her.

okay, play it cool. don't let her notice.

i gave her the most casual, indifferent expression I could pull.

"…i forgot," i said flatly.

lies.

she paused for a moment, then simply nodded. "okay then."

and just like that, she turned back to her friends. i watched her walk away, my stomach physically feeling sick.

that was it?

we never talked or interacted again after that. i tried so hard to forget about it—to forget her.

but every time she was around, i felt everything all over again.

i thought we'd never cross paths again after 9th grade. but then, i overheard from them that she was going to seoul high school.

and so, like the absolute fool that i am, i shot my shot.

i took the entrance exams. i applied for the same course as her.

art, my biggest enemy.

but despite that, despite all my regrets, my awkwardness, and my absolute inability to function around her. i still got in.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

everything was a blur. one moment, i was a freshman still trying to figure out how lockers worked, and the next, i was a tenth grader, dragging my feet towards my classroom like a sloth that just learned about capitalism.

my brain was running at full speed despite my body moving at half capacity.

"what if we're in the same class?"

"you absolute goober, isn't that what you wanted?"

great. my inner voice was bullying me again.

i shook my head and picked up the pace, trying to act normal. but the moment i reached the door, i caught a glimpse of her.

inside the classroom.

instant panic. i did a full stop, took a step back, and stood behind the doorframe like some poorly written side character who wasn't supposed to be here.

okay, breathe. don't make this weird.

after a good minute of overthinking every possible interaction i could have with her in the next ten months, or 2 years even, i forced myself to straighten my posture and activated my signature move— dumb leehan exterior™. the ultimate defense mechanism. no embarrassing actions shall be performed under its influence.

i stepped in. and of course, she looked at me.

oh, god. oh, god.

do i look back? no. yes? no, okay, fine, i looked back. i knew the risk. my brain was about to explode, but i still did it.

after the long vacation, i'd be lying if i said i didn't miss her presence. so, in a rare moment of bravery, i nodded at her. a simple, casual, nothing-to-read-into nod.

and then, like the genius i am, i walked straight to the farthest seat possible from hers.

…"by god, i am an idiot."

what the hell was that? now she thinks i'm a loser.

i groaned internally but shrugged it off, pulling out a book to distract myself. a fish encyclopedia, of all things. because nothing screams casual high school student like pretending to be deeply invested in the migration patterns of a corydoras (except i'm actually deeply invested to it.)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

12th grade

it was 1 p.m. i had been here since 11 a.m. and had made zero progress on my sculpture. at this point, the only thing i had successfully created was a misshapen lump of clay that looked like it had personally witnessed the fall of rome.

frustrated, i turned to anton, my classmate and the only person who tolerated my nonsense in the class.

"man, how do you even do this?" i whined, aggressively poking my sculpture.

anton took one look and started laughing. "leehan, that thing looks like it's about to build itself and walk away."

i rolled my eyes and flicked his shoulder. "shut up, i'm genuinely stuck here."

anton smirked, crossing his arms. "then why'd you even take this class if you suck at it?"

"dumb, personal reasons," i muttered, waving him off. "whatever, i'll figure it out."

anton just chuckled, pointing toward the door. "alright, goodluck with that. i'm heading out. see ya."

i nodded, barely paying attention as i slumped back down, staring at my sculpture like it had personally offended me. then, somewhere between my frustration and self-pity, a thought hit me.

me and y/n haven't had a real conversation in two years.

we talked, sure—about projects, pair work (which, of course, made me internally combust every time), but a real, genuine conversation? nada.

and now, graduation was near.

i wasn's sure if i'd ever see her again after this. once, i overheard her talking about universities with a classmate. she mentioned busan. and let me tell you, i was devastated.

this was my last chance. i needed to talk to her before it was too late. just once.

but before i could even mentally draft a script, the door swung open. i looked up, and of course— the classic.

it was her.

she walked in, slowed down, and went straight to her station.

okay, okay. this was the moment. no ham jinsik around to ruin it. no distractions. i had to say something. anything.

and then, she spoke first.

"do you need help?"

her voice was softer than i remembered. possibly a trap.

wait—i was supposed to initiate this. but whatever. this was a blessing. i just needed to respond in a cool, interesting way.

"yes, please," i mumbled, immediately fidgeting with my fingers.

yes, please?

what kind of medieval peasant answer was that?

but before i could cringe myself out of existence, she walked over to my table, standing right in front of my disaster of a sculpture. and next to me.

this was bad.

not because she was this close (which, okay, also bad for my heart), but because she could see my embarrassing project up close.

her eyes scanned it. she was going to judge me. i could feel it.

"do you even know basic anatomy?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

ouch. but that was fair. "i'm… bad at it,"

she exhaled through her nose, something almost like a laugh "well, lucky for you, i don't suck at it."

and then, just like that, she started molding the clay.

i watched, completely in awe. her hands moved like she actually knew what she was doing. my monstrosity slowly turned into something that actually resembled a human sculpture. a miracle.

i glanced at her hands—long fingers, soft palms, steady movements.

wait, no. do not admire her hands, leehan. abort.

i suppressed a smile. if she caught me grinning like an idiot, i'd never live it down.

minutes passed, and she finished fixing my mess.

"thank you. a lot," i said, and for once, it sounded genuine. not my usual dumb act.

the moment felt still, like everything else faded out. i might've even gotten tinnitus.

then, she dropped the biggest bomb of the year.

"why did you take this class if you're bad at it?"

crap, anton asked the same thing. i should've prepared for this. think of a good lie, leehan. think.

"my mom… she wanted me to take arts." sorry, mom.

she nodded, saying something about not letting anything stop me from doing what i like. and then, just like that, she went back to her station.

the entire afternoon blurred past.

before she left, she handed me an anatomy guide. i barely touched it—just flipped through it while it's laid on the table, so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

but the moment she walked out, i actually opened and lifted it. like a normal person.

and then, something under it slipped out. a portfolio.

i picked it up carefully, not wanting to leave a bit of dent on it. her university portfolio.

i didn't open it. that was hers. so, i just shoved it into my bag.

it was almost 7 p.m. now, and i knew i wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. i sighed and pulled out my phone, calling my brother to bring me dinner.

and as the evening crept in, i sat there, staring at my half-finished project.

i admit it. i was a fool.

i've been a fool.

all the effort y/n and i put into breaking the ice—especially her efforts, was wasted. three years, gone. and for what? because i was too much of a coward?

i wanted to tell her everything.

that i secretly admired her all this time. that i wanted to know her more. that i wanted her sns number, at the very least.

but when i looked up, she was already getting ready to leave.

she walked out with moka and minji, her silhouette disappearing through the exit.

and just like that— that was it. the last time i'd see her.

to be continued...

#kim leehan x reader #kim leehan #leehan #bnd x reader #bnd #boynextdoor #fanfic #idol #au #kim donghyun #leehan x reader #park sungho #bnd sungho #bnd leehan

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ayeforscotland · 1 year ago

Text

What is Dataflow? Part 2: Diagrams

This is the second part of a couple of posts about Dataflow, particularly why it's important for the world going forward and relating to the Crowd Strike IT disaster.

Read the first part here.

Before I get into this one today, I wanted to address a couple of things.

Firstly, Dataflow is something that nearly every single person can understand. You do NOT:

Need to have a degree in Computing Science

Need to work in IT

Need to be a data analyst / Spreadsheet master

If any of you see the word 'Data' and feel your eyes glazing over, try and snap out of it because, if you're anything like me, Dataflow is much more approachable as a concept.

Secondly, what do I mean by IT?

Traditionally in most of our media the all-encompassing 'IT department' handles everything to do with technology. But every business works differently and there are many job titles with lots of crossover.

For example, you can be an infrastructure engineer where your focus is on building and maintaining the IT infrastructure that connects your organisation internally and externally. This is a completely different role from an Application Portfolio Manager who is tasked with looking after the Applications used in business processes.

Both are technical people and come under the banner of 'IT' - but their roles are focused in different areas. So just bear that in mind!

Now that's out of the way, let's begin! This one will be a little bit deeper, and questions welcome!

An Intro to Diagrams

You probably do not need a history of why pictures are important to the human race but to cover our bases, ever since we put traced our hands on a cave wall we have been using pictures to communicate.

Jump forward in time and you have engineers like Leonardo Da Vinci drafting engineering schematics.

You get the idea, humans have been creating diagrams (Pictures) for thousands of years. Centuries of refinement and we have much more modern variations.

And there's one main reason why diagrams are important: They are a Common Language.

In this context, a Common Language helps bridge a language gap between disciplines as well as a linguistic gap. A Spanish electrician and a German electrician should be able to refer to the same diagram and understand each other, even if they don't know each other's language.

The reason they can do this is because they're are international standards which govern how electrical diagrams are created.

A Common Language for Digital?

Here's an image I've shown to clients from governments and institutions to global organisations.

Everything around us, from the products we use to the bridges we drive over and the buildings we live, work, enjoy and shop in had diagrams backing them.

You would not build a skyscraper without a structural engineering diagram, you would not build an extension on your house if an architect couldn't produce a blueprint.

Why is there not an equivalent for the Digital World and for Dataflow?

Where is the Digital Common Language?

This is the bit where the lightbulb goes on in a lot of people's heads. Because, as I mentioned in Part 1, the flow of data is the flow of information and knowledge. And the common mistake is that people think of dataflow, and only ever think about the technology.

Dataflow is the flow of information between People, Business Processes *and* Technology Assets.

It is not reserved to Technology specialists. When you look at the flow of data, you need to understand the People (Stakeholders) at the top, the processes that they perform (and the processes which use the data) and the technology assets that support that data.

The reason why this is important is because it puts the entire organisation in context.

It is something that modern businesses fail to do. They might have flow charts and network diagrams, and these are 'alright' in specific contexts, but they fall to pieces when they lack the context of the full organisation.

For example, here is a Network Diagram. It is probably of *some* value to technical personnel who work in infrastructure. Worth bearing in mind, some organisations don't even have something like this.

To be absolutely clear, this diagram will hold some value for some people within the organisation. I'm not saying it's completely useless. But for almost everyone else, it is entirely out of context, especially for any non-technical people.

So it doesn't help non-technical people understand why all of these assets are important, and it doesn't help infrastructure teams articulate the importance of any of these assets.

What happens if one of those switches or routers fails? What's the impact on the organisation? Who is affected? The diagram above does not answer those questions.

On the other side of the business we have process diagrams (aka workflow diagrams) which look like this.

Again we run into the same problem - This is maybe useful for some people working up at the process layer, but even then it doesn't provide context for the stakeholders involved (Are there multiple people/departments involved throughout) and it doesn't provide any context for technical personnel who are responsible for maintaining the technology that supports this process.

In short, nobody has the big picture because there is not a common language between Business & IT.

Conclusion

So what do we do? Well we need to have a Common Language between Business & IT. While we need people with cross-functional knowledge, we also need a common language (or common framework) for both sides of the organisation to actually understand each other.

Otherwise you get massively siloed departments completely winging their disaster recovery strategies when things like Crowd Strike goes down.

Senior Management will be asked questions about what needs to be prioritised and they won't have answers because they aren't thinking in terms of Dataflow.

It's not just 'We need to turn on everything again' - It's a question of priorities.

Thing is, there's a relatively simple way to do it, in a way that looking at any engineering diagram feels simple but actually has had decades/centuries of thought behind it. It almost feels like complete common sense.

I'll save it for Part 3 if you're interested in me continuing and I'll make a diagram of my blog.

The important thing is mapping out all the connections and dependencies, and there's not some magic button you press that does it all.

But rigorous engineering work is exactly that, you can't fudge it with a half-arsed attempt. You need to be proactive, instead of reacting whenever disaster strikes.

#AyeforScotland #crowd strike #Dataflow #diagrams #workflow

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biblical-chronicles · 2 months ago

Text

Hired

______________________________________________________

where Noel makes sure to interview you rather thoroughly [18+]

______________________________________________________

You were perched on the edge of a sleek, rather uncomfortable couch, clutching your portfolio like a lifeline. The receptionist had offered a forced smile and a vague instruction to "wait here," before returning to her screen.

Minutes stretched into half an hour, the ticking clock not helping your anxiety. You shifted in your seat, glancing at the closed doors that led deeper into the studio building. Just as you mustered the courage to approach the desk again, a door burst open.

A man in a tailored suit hurried out, his expression a mix of guilt and urgency. "You'll be fine, Noel. Do it for me, yeah? I owe you one!" he called over his shoulder.

Behind him stood Noel, arms crossed, a scowl etched on his face. His gaze followed the man until he disappeared, then shifted to you. "You the one here for the tech position?" he asked, his voice tinged with resignation.

You nodded, caught off guard. "Yes, that's me."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Looks like I've been roped into interviewing you. Brilliant." He gestured for you to follow. "Come on, let's get this over with."

He led you through a maze of corridors, the hum of equipment and muffled music growing louder. Finally, he opened a door to a modest studio room. "Here we are," he said, motioning for you to enter.

You stepped inside, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Noel just gave you a look as if he was already regretting this and motioned toward the small corner of the studio where two mismatched chairs sat by a half-dead fern. You followed him in, careful not to trip over a coiled cable underfoot.

He collapsed into one of the chairs with a low grunt, legs sprawled out, arms crossed tight over his chest. You sat down opposite him, a little too stiff, trying not to look like your heart was going at full speed.

He glanced at you once, then again, slower the second time.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “This ain’t me job. Interviewing people. Not really me scene.”

You nodded, but didn’t speak. Not sure if you were supposed to yet.

He sighed through his nose “But apparently today I’m HR.”

You offered the faintest smile, but he didn’t return it. His fingers tapped a silent rhythm against his bicep.

“So,” he said finally. “Why this job?”

You swallowed. “I’ve been doing freelance tech stuff for a bit. Mostly live gigs. Smaller studio setups. I studied it properly, audio engineering, looking to collect more meaningful work experience.”

He nodded once, eyes on you, like he was weighing that against something in his head.

“And what — you reckon you’ve got the ears for it? The touch?”

“I think so.”

“Think so?” He leaned his head back against the wall, gaze still fixed. “Hope so. Can’t be half-arsed in here. One buzz on a mic and most the divs here start flipping tables.”

You didn't know if it was supposed to be a joke, but smiled anyway, trying to ignore the way your palms felt a bit damp against your knees.

His eyes drifted, not rudely, just steady. You felt them flick to your hands for a beat too long before snapping back to your face.

“And what are you like under pressure?”

You hesitated.

He didn’t blink.

“I can handle it,” you said, quieter than you meant to.

He raised one eyebrow like he didn’t quite buy it.

The room had gone still again. The hum of the equipment in the walls felt louder in the silence. You shifted in your seat. His foot tapped once against the scuffed floor and stopped.

You weren’t looking at him, not really, but you could feel the weight of his stare.

Then, without warning, he stood up. Sharp motion. His chair creaked under the shift.

You blinked up at him.

“Alright,” he muttered, stretching his arms once before letting them fall to his sides. “Enough waffle. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He jerked his head toward the console.

You stood too quickly, bumping your knee on the edge of the table. He didn’t say anything, but his mouth twitched like he clocked it.

You followed him to the board, pulse in your ears.

He didn’t touch you, didn’t even stand that close.

But you could still feel the heat of him beside you as he reached past you, fingers brushing a toggle.

“What’s this?”

You couldn't even properly look at him before answering, too afraid of your voice failing you. “EQ strip. Four-band. High-pass here.”

He said nothing. Just stood there.

You tried not to glance. Tried not to think about how close he was, or how loud your heartbeat felt in your neck.

He flicked another switch. Closer this time.

“And that?”

You exhaled through your nose. “Talkback mic. Routes to the booth.”

Still nothing. No comment. No hum of agreement. Just the sound of your own breath and the soft mechanical whir of the studio around you.

He moved again, slowly, quiet footsteps on the worn floor, close enough now that you were hyper-aware of where he might end up if he took one more step. His hand slid across the desk, steady, fingers dragging absently over a strip of tape marked with notes.

He didn't speak again for a while. Just watched.

You adjusted the routing, said something about line level versus mic input, couldn’t quite remember how you phrased it. He didn’t correct you. Just stood there, still, like he had all the time in the world.

The silence started to itch. Your leg bounced once, then stilled. You shifted your weight — not much, just enough to feel like you were doing something.

He finally stepped forward and leaned slightly to the side, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, though he didn’t touch you. Just leaned in and pointed at another knob on the console.

“Preamp gain,” you said, before he could ask properly. Your voice came out smaller than you meant. “Input level.”

He stayed where he was.

You stared forward, blinked hard once.

Your palms felt damp, but you weren’t about to wipe them on your jeans. You held them together, knuckles pressed tight. Anything to keep still.

Then, finally:

“Alright.” he said, like a verdict.

You didn’t even notice him move after that, but his presence was suddenly right behind you. You could feel the heat from his body close enough to make your skin prickle.

His breath brushed the edge of your ear, soft but unmistakable.

“What’s this button do?” he asked. You could feel his words against your neck, the way they made you shiver involuntarily.

Your fingers were unsteady on the console as you forced yourself to look at the dial he was pointing to, willing your brain to remember the answer.

“Low-pass filter,” you whispered, trying to push the words out clearly, but they sounded weaker than you intended. Your throat was tight.

A breath of approval, a soft hum, followed by a whisper in your ear. “Good.”

It felt like a reward, but it hit your skin differently, sending a hot wave down your spine that made your legs feel a little shaky beneath you.

His hand moved, his fingers brushing lightly across your shoulder, and your whole body jolted. You hadn’t realized how much you were anticipating his touch until you felt the lightness of it against your skin. You tried to ignore the heat flooding your face, the way your pulse had already jumped too high.

“Next,” he said, his voice quieter, but his proximity making it feel like he was right in your ear.

His finger moved to another dial, and you instinctively followed the motion with your gaze. But you couldn’t focus. Not with him leaning in so close again.

"Compression," you breathed out, your voice even weaker now.

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the edge of your ear as he murmured, "Good."

You shifted slightly, your hands moving nervously over the console, as you looked back at him.

Yet you couldn't even get a word out, as he just grabbed your chin and tilted it slowly, just enough to pull your attention back to the board in front of you.

You tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry.

“What’s this?” His question was almost nonchalant, his voice nothing more than a murmur against the curve of your neck, just close enough that you couldn’t ignore it.

You couldn’t even think. Your mind was empty except for his voice, his presence, the weight of him right behind you.

He waited. He let the silence drag on, stretching out between the two of you. His eyes never left yours, a quiet challenge flickering in their depths.

“Go on,” he urged, soft but firm. “Answer.”

You weren’t sure if you could. The words were stuck in your throat, and every part of you felt like it was burning under his stare. But finally, your mouth opened, and the answer slipped out.

“Reverb unit.”

There was another beat of silence, and then Noel’s lips curled into a slow smile, just enough to let you know he had you right where he wanted you.

“Good,” he murmured.

Noel moved back again, but not far enough to let you feel like you could breathe. Just a few paces back, arms crossed, one hip cocked lazily against the edge of the rack cabinet. Watching you.

“Sit,” he said finally, nodding toward the chair at the console.

You moved without argument.

He stepped forward and dropped back into the other chair beside you.

“Back to it,” he said, like he hadn’t just wrecked your composure. “I’ve still got questions.”

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or fold in on yourself. He didn’t seem to care either way.

“Routing,” he said flatly. “You’ve got drums in one room, bass in another. Tell me how you’d set up the sends.”

You inhaled. Focused. Tried to.

“Separate submixes,” you said quietly. “Drums through a bus with pre-fader sends. Bass isolated with DI and room mic blend.”

He made a small noise. Approval, maybe.

Then his hand slid over to your thigh.

You froze.

Not completely. But enough.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t look. Just traced a slow, thoughtful line along the inside seam of your jeans. Fingers pressing just enough to be felt.

“And what if the kick’s bleeding into the snare mic?” he asked, voice steady. “What’s your fix love?”

You tried to breathe around the bloom of heat crawling up your neck.

“Gate the snare,” you said. “Or… move the kick mic. Change the polar pattern.”

His fingers curved. Just slightly. Like he was rewarding you.

“That’s it,” he murmured.

Then, like it was nothing, he popped the button on your jeans.

Your breath stuttered.

“Need to know how you think under pressure,” he said, voice gone low. “That alright with you?”

You nodded.

The zipper came down with a quiet hiss.

And then his hand slid inside.

You bit your lip so hard you tasted metal.

Noel still didn’t look at you. Just leaned in, adjusted a knob absently on the board with his other hand.

His fingers were already slipping under the waistband of your underwear, dragging the fabric down just enough to bare skin, his ring providing a cool sensation.

“You still answering questions,” he said, “or am I wasting me time?”

You swallowed.

“N–No. I’m ready.”

“Good.” His fingers pressed lower, parted your folds gently. “Let’s see what you can remember now.”

The first touch was maddening — just the pad of one finger circling slow, cruel. Not giving you what you needed. Just letting you know he could.

“What’s your go-to mic for vocals?” he asked.

You blinked, trying to focus past the heat flaring across your skin.

“U87,” you managed. “Or a Shure SM7B if—”

A second finger slipped through your folds, sliding slick over sensitive nerves.

“If what?” he prompted.

“If… it’s a rougher vocal. Or… male.”

He smirked at that.

“Male, yeah?” His voice dipped.

You couldn’t speak. Not when his fingers slid deeper — slowly entering you — his palm pressing flush against you as his thumb dragged up to circle your clit.

“Fuck—” you gasped.

“Language,” he muttered against your neck, lips grazing just under your ear. “You want more, you earn it.”

He didn’t move for a breathless moment, letting you squirm on his hand, your hips twitching upward without meaning to.

“What’s your fix for latency?” he asked.

You could barely think.

“Buffer size,” you choked out. “Too big—lag. Too small—glitches.”

Your thighs tensed, breath shuddering out like it was punched from your chest.

“Good girl.” he whispered.

He continued his almost rhythmic movements. Fingers curling just right, thumb rubbing little maddening circles that made it impossible to keep your eyes open. You were melting into the chair, legs spread, mouth open and breath coming in broken waves.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “You know this one.”

You didn’t even hear the question, only registering his voice, the motion of his hand, the way your body was climbing higher with every stroke. Every flick.

You felt him shift closer, his free hand reaching to adjust a gain knob like this was just another afternoon session. Like you weren’t dripping on his fingers.

He brought his mouth close again, lips barely brushing your cheek.

“How many inputs can you run on a standard 8-bus console?”

“Sixteen,” you whispered. “With pairing—thirty-two.”

He hummed, pleased.

His fingers moved faster. Deeper.

The world broke apart.

You moaned, sharp, involuntary. One hand flying to grip the console, the other to his wrist, not to stop him, but to hold onto anything.

“You’re close,” he murmured. “Can feel it. Don’t hold back on me now, yeah love?”

It rolled through you then, sudden and hot, like all the tension had pooled in your spine and snapped forward all at once. Your body convulsed around his hand, legs trembling, breath gone to static.

He didn’t stop. Not right away. Slowed only when your hips began to twitch from sensitivity, then pulled his fingers out with slow reverence.

You sagged in the chair, half-breathless, eyes fluttering open to find him watching you.

He stood, wiping his fingers on the thigh of his jeans, then leaning forward to tap the console lightly.

“Levels are still good,” he said, like none of it had happened. “Consider yourself hired.”

______________________________________________________

I am back ya lot !!

hope you liked it, also actual audio engineers please excuse any jarring mistakes, this is all quickly googled knowledge here x

so glad to be scribbling away again xx

#oasis x reader #oasis one shots #britpop x reader #britpop fanfiction #britpop x f!reader #oasis band #noel gallagher x reader #oasis fanfiction #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher x f!reader #noel gallagher x y/n #noel gallagher fanfiction #noel gallagher x reader smut #noel gallagher x f!reader smut #oasis fic #britpop fanfic #britpop smut #britpop x you #britpop x reader smut

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makeyoumine69 · 11 months ago

Text

Flesh n' Bones | Hospital AU (INTRO)

PAIRING: Doctor!Patrick Bateman x gn!Nurse!Reader

SUMMARY: My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st Street in New York City. I work as a surgeon at St. Pierce's Hospital—one of the most upscale medical centers in Manhattan—which happens to be owned by my father. And even though I hate my job, sometimes I can find a little bit of fun in making the experience of my patients in the hospital really unforgettable. Not to mention the dozens of missing nurses who definitely regretted crossing the threshold of St. Pierce's Hospital, but who cares—I was the best thing that ever happened to them.

CONTAINS: Swearing, medical procedures, evil plans, gaslighting, pain, blood and injury, interns & internships, power dynamics, flirting, perversion, pet names, Patrick Bateman's POV.

WORDS: 2.4k

A/N: Hello my dears! This story is based on Hospital AU by @peepoo79! Since the first day I saw her Hospital AU comic I was obsessed with this idea so I decided to write it! Since I am not a doctor myself, some things might not be that accurate to medical standards, but I am always open to critique. As always, I hope you enjoy it! Also, many thanks to @mothhmannn for the amazing Patrick art!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

October 28, 1987.

Today started so shitty that I didn't even want to go to work, but how could I? I was a fucking surgeon who was supposed to save lives, and when I finally arrived at St. Pierce's Hospital, several nurses crowded around me and started bitching about some shitty stuff I didn't even care about.

"Dr. Bateman, your intern has arrived and is waiting for you in your office," one of the nurses said, handing me a folder of papers. "They seem to be very shy, so please treat them right."

Scowling, I took the papers and nodded. "Uh…Thank you."

Without further ado, I walked past another nurse and down the long corridors, avoiding all of my coworkers as I tried to concentrate on the music blaring from my Walkman headphones. Stopping at the door to my office, I made sure my hair was neatly slicked back before opening the door and stepping inside to see a beautiful person sitting in the chair. The blue medical uniform fit them so well that I even wanted to compliment them, but I stopped myself and just offered them a handshake instead.

"Well, hello there, my name is Dr. Bateman," I smiled and continued to examine my new plaything. "It's...uh...nice to see some young blood in our hospital these days."

You were embarrassed so quickly, probably from such a warm welcome, which was more of an exception for me than a regular thing.

"Thank you, Dr. Bateman...it's an honor to be your intern," you replied politely, trying to hide your nervousness as your hands visibly shook. "This hospital is so...amazing! Literally everything I have seen so far is amazing...including this office!"

The office did look luxurious. Everything screamed wealth and prestige, including the wooden desk and a high-end clock on it, the way you looked at the white leather couch in the corner of the room probably sent shivers down your spine, and somehow I really hoped it did.

"So...when can we start?" You asked as you watched me flip through your portfolio, my face stoic, blank, and absolutely unreadable.

As I stopped flipping through the documents and frowned to add some tension between us, I looked at you stealthily out of the corners of my eyes, and when I saw you chewing on your lower lip, I smiled in wicked satisfaction, but that smile never reached my eyes.

"It's very inspiring that you're so eager to get started," I said, placing several pages on the desk, then picking up my Montblanc pen to make some notes. "I see you've been studying pretty well...considering your grades."

Another shy chuckle fell from your lips at my words. "Oh, I did my best," you replied, settling more comfortably in your chair. "Although I didn't really want to reflect on my college years."

"Why?" I asked, writing down all the personal information I could get from your file, including your address, phone number, blood type...

"It was..." your voice wavered and you paused, causing me to look up at you again. "...hard as hell."

"As it should be. Our jobs require hard work as we carry a huge responsibility on our shoulders," I grinned, closing the folder before I could see the name of the college. "So where did you study exactly?"

Just as you were about to answer, a loud knock on the door rang through the office and I couldn't help but grumble in anger.

Can I have a break, for fuck's sake!

"Come in," I almost barked, my attention shifting away from you as I saw a nurse - one of the hottest hardbodies in our hospital - walk in. "Courtney? What happened?"

"Dr. Bateman..." She walked over to my desk, completely ignoring your presence.

"Yes, Courtney?" My patience was about to explode if she didn't answer right away.

"I know you told us not to bother you with non-emergent cases, but other surgeons are busy," she stammered as our gazes met, her blue eyes seeming to brighten even more. "We have a girl whose hand is so full of broken glass, can you please examine her?"

I sighed before glancing quickly at you, a little impressed that you still hadn't said a word. "Does she have insurance? How old is she?"

"Uh," Courtney hiccuped, looking at the patient's medical card. "I checked her insurance, it's valid and... she's nineteen."

"Nineteen?" I replied, suddenly feeling excited. "Well, I think this can be a good start for your internship. What do you think?"

Courtney seemed to finally notice that we were not alone, her plump lips pursed back into a thin line, and I really wanted to laugh at her reaction, but I told myself to stay professional.

"I'm ready when you are, Dr. Bateman," your suddenly confident voice sounded so challenging that it struck a chord in my chest and brought back a long forgotten feeling of thrill. "I'm sure we'd make a great team under your guidance."

How sweet.

I managed to hold back puke at such a silly, saccharine statement. It reminded me of the cliché every doctor used whenever someone asked them why they chose to work in a hospital.

'Oh, we want to save people's lives! And we're not doing it because doctors have almost the highest salaries in the country!'

I grinned insistently, reveling in my own sense of superiority. "All right then," I stood up and put on my doctor's coat over my custom-made scrubs with my initials on them. "Courtney, give the medical card to the intern."

The woman froze in shock. "But...but I thought I would assist you..."

I rolled my eyes as I checked myself in the mirror, adjusting the collar of my scrubs and pulling up the sleeves a bit to reveal my Rolex. "I think I made it very clear that your help won't be needed this time.”

If we were alone, I would probably just boff her before doing my work and that would help me get rid of her until the next time, but hell no, now I had a pain in the ass. And why should I have to teach an intern when I didn't even ask for one?

Meanwhile, you were waiting for me at the door, holding a medical card to your chest as if Courtney or I were about to snatch it from your hands. After I was completely satisfied with my appearance, I pinned my ID badge to my chest and walked to the door, trying not to stare too much at Courtney's ass while she was doing something at my desk that I never really bothered to know.

"You know what," I stopped suddenly before leaving. "Wait for me here," the blonde nurse turned to look at me, still bent over the table. "We'll discuss your new assignment."

A few minutes later, we finally entered the Surgery Division, and since you were a newbie here, I had to guide you all the way, telling you some things from time to time, and at some point I realized that I didn't really hate it, because I could blather on about being a super professional surgeon, and this whole place being mine.

Just like the whole hospital.

"I think this is our ward," I muttered and opened the door to let you in. " C'mon, don't be shy." I pushed you forward a bit before closing the door behind you.

The patient—a young red-haired girl with big green eyes whose tight top stuck to her chest so that her nipples poked out—looked at us the moment we entered the ward.

"Oh, finally," she mumbled in sheer annoyance, her right hand covered in blood-stained bandages. "I was beginning to think everyone had forgotten about me."

Still nervous, you cleared your throat and quickly looked down at the medical card. "Sorry for the long wait, Miss...Miss Ray," you managed to smile, even though you looked like a patient who was afraid to get treatment, but not her, "My name is (y/n) and this is Dr. Bateman, he's one of the best surgeons in this hospital."

One of the best?

Your slightly incorrect comment made me furrow my brow, but in the next second I was smiling seductively at the girl whose scrutinizing look I couldn't miss. She was pretty attractive, hell, just the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra made her attractive.

With practiced ease, I put on medical gloves after washing my hands very meticulously. Then I glanced at the patient's medical card, not taking it in my hands, but letting you hold it for me.

"Can I take a look?" I finally asked, taking a seat next to the examination table and putting the mask on. Carefully I began to unfold the bandages, the little whimpering the girl made gave me undeniable pleasure. "Well, that doesn't look too bad," I said when I could finally see the wound, and several pieces of glass had sunk quite deep into her flesh. "How did you manage that?"

The girl blushed as I began to examine her forearm, moving higher up to her shoulder, though it wasn't really necessary. I just loved how soft her skin was, as much as I could tell by feeling it through the elastic material of my gloves.

"I...I accidentally broke the mirror." She replied, her breathing uneven and her pulse quickening as I took a moment to check her. "My name is Liza, by the way."

I chuckled charmingly before turning to look at you, as you stood behind my back, watching my work very intently. "Can you bring me forceps? And...a scalpel?"

"Scalpel?" You replied a little confused.

"Yes," I confirmed and repositioned Liza's arm for better access. "And I'll also need a suture kit."

The girl tensed at my words that I would need a scalpel. "Is it...necessary?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, asking her a silent question while you busied yourself with preparing the instruments.

"A scalpel...are you going to make an incision?" Liza asked, giving me a pleading glare, her fear was palpable in the air and I couldn't help but savor it.

"I just want all the instruments to be close by in case I have a need for them, that's all. Now please relax." I murmured this with fake sympathy before resuming the examination, pressing down on one of the shards and making Liza whimper. "Shh, it's okay."

The redhead frowned in pain. "It hurts...doctor...it hurts so much!"

When I heard you return, I removed my fingers from the wound. "All right, no nerve damage and that's good." I smiled, obviously lying, my hand was already extended, ready to take the forceps.

"Your forceps, doctor," the way you said 'doctor' made my eyes glow with a mischievous spark. "Clean and sterilized, just like the scalpel and suture kit."

"Very well," I replied, feeling a chill in the metal in my hand. "Put them here," I tapped the spot on the examination table, wondering how you would do that. "And where's your mask?"

Confused, you stuttered. "Oh...yeah...sorry," you mumbled in embarrassment before putting on a mask. "I'm still a little nervous."

Liza knitted her eyebrows in a skeptical way that almost made me burst out laughing.

Okay, now I'm really starting to like this.

"Don't worry, my pill fairy," I watched you place a metal tray with instruments on the spot I showed you. "It's your first day in the hospital...it's...always a little nerve wracking."

As soon as I said it, you stopped in your tracks, and even though your face was covered by the mask, I was pretty sure you were so damn embarrassed that I was going to burn my finger off your cheek. You didn't make any comments though, which made me a little frustrated, but I didn't show it, I took the forceps more comfortably in my hand and began to remove the broken glass from Liza's shaky arm. The way I used the instruments was always mesmerizing - a work of art - as some nurses said, including Courtney, but today I was trying my best because I wanted to impress you. Shard by shard, I took them all out without causing any pain, something I usually couldn't find anything to be proud of.

"Done," I muttered, throwing the last piece of glass into the steel bow. "You took it so bravely."

The redhead smiled tiredly, trying not to look down at her hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," I allowed you to clean the wound with the antiseptic and dab it with a swab. "It's my job, after all. Now, (y/n), can you please show me how you were taught to make stitches?"

"Of course, Dr. Bateman," you replied without hesitation, and this kind of obedience seemed to become my personal drug.

Standing up, I took a moment to admire how your uniform accentuated all of your curves, especially the roundness of your ass and the arch of your hips.

Shit, maybe I shouldn't have let Courtney stay in my office?

With these thoughts I leaned against the white wall and took off my mask as I suddenly felt a strong urge to smoke, luckily I still had the box of cigars my father had brought me from Cuba. I imagined inhaling the sharp scent of snuff when Liza's sudden whimper pulled me out of my trance.

"Can I have an anesthetic?" She asked, squirming in her place as she watched you prepare a suture kit.

"Just a local one," I muttered, a bit annoyed. "That will be enough. (Y/n), what should you do before using anesthesia?"

My question made you freeze. "Ask the patient about any allergies?"

"Right, but in this case you can find all the information on the medical card," I took off the gloves and took the card in my hands. "Well, I don't see anything that would prevent us from using bupivacaine."

As Liza sighed with relief and I watched you take a syringe, I had to admit that I was amazed at how carefully and attentively you worked.

Maybe you're not gonna get kicked out of the hospital as fast as I thought.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader

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wei-ying-kexing-apologist · 3 months ago

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Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

I've been doing this self imposed challenge where I watch all the films on @bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus. Last month I start Unit 6: Gems which includes the following films: Big Eden, Shelter, Weekend, Private Romeo, Were the World Mine, The Birdcage, Make the Yuletide Gay, The Sum of Us, Boy Erased, Boys, Summer Storm, C.R.A.Z.Y., North Sea Texas, Saturday Church, Boy Meets Girl, The Adventers of Priscilla Queen of the Desert, Too Wong Foo Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar.

Today I watched

Shelter (2007) dir. Jonah Markowitz

[Run Time: 1 hour, 37 minutes, Language: English]

Summary: When his college dreams are sidelined by family obligations, a young man finds comfort in surfing with his best friend's brother.

Cast: - Trevor Wright as Zach - Brad Rowe as Shawn

___

Shelter was such a lovely little film. Another good example of how a film does not have to be ridiculously expensive in order to be good. It’s definitely an indie film, the video quality and the acting is not top tier but the performances are still compelling and the story is able to fit quite a bit of complexity in to a rather short run time. (Especially considering this movie was filmed in 21 days).

I think overall my favorite part of Shelter was the way the film used Zach’s graffiti as a way to show him working through his own feelings. Zach’s life is chaotic even though he is stuck in the same cycles, trapped in the same town and his artwork mimics that. I loved watching the graffiti on the side of the building grow in to something that was chaotic, in to something tangible, something legible, something that was no longer abstract but was a picture of home and of love. To watch Zach build this for himself, to watch him sit and ponder it, to watch him stare miserably at his graffiti disappearing back behind beige paint when he’s adrift after dumping Shawn and trying to wrestle all his dreams back to the pit where he stored them the first time he undermined his own desires for the sake of his family.

gif by @brittany

My second favorite part was watching the relationship between Zach and Shawn unfold. The way that Zach kept going for the intimacy between him and Shawn and then retreating the second that his sister would ask him questions. The second she would call him out for putting himself before others. She didn’t want to deal with the possibility that he was a fag so he internalized that homophobia and started lashing out at Shawn, started getting worried about leaving Shawn alone with Cody because his sister was worried about Shawn being gay and alone with her child. But there was such a hunger and desperation there, you could feel it in the scene where Zach initiates physical intimacy.

gif by @zanephillips

And you know that Shawn is going to be really good for Zach because even as Zach was lashing out at him, even after Zach dumped him, and he got some (imo) necessary correction about the class differences between them and why it is harder for Zach to actually go for what he wants, he still submitted Zach’s portfolio to Cal Arts. Shawn wanted to make sure that Zach had the opportunity to choose for himself what he wanted.

There were a lot of things that I hated about Jeanne, but she was a complex character who did the right thing in the end, and so I have to give her some props for that. I appreciate that the film made sure that we all knew that there was love there between Jeanne and Zach because so many of Jeanne’s behaviors throughout the film feel selfish and detached from genuine care for her family.

And finally, I am so glad that Cody ended up with Zach and Shawn. The kid broke my heart open when he turned to Zach early on in the film and said “you’re my dad” to his uncle, especially when he continued to claim Zach as his father even after Zach explained the nature of their relationship. But jokes on Zach cause Cody was right all along. Zach is his Dad now, and so is Shawn, and that is the best possible outcome for Cody that could exist. I loved that we ended the film on all of them playing together on the beach.

gifs by @deanseyes

Favorite Moment

I was going to initially claim Cody calling Zach his father as my favorite moment of the film, then it was going to be the introduction to the sex scene. But after completing the movie I have actually landed on the moment where Shawn and Zach are in bed together talking about the future and Shawn tells Zach he’s so beautiful and Zach responds with “shut up” and Shawn’s voice goes soft and quiet and asks him why he can’t take a compliment and Zach just goes silent and small under the weight of that. His little “thanks”? Ohhhhhhhhh it killed me. What a wonderful scene!

can't find a gif of the actual scene, so please have this beautiful gif by @indigomood instead

Favorite Quote

“What changed?” “I did.”

Final Score:

9/10

I understand why it has been so high up on the list of the Top 100 Gay Films for so long.

#bengiyo queer cinema syllabus #queer cinema syllabus #shelter #shelter (2007)#unit 6: gems

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goddessinnerglow · 7 months ago

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Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 13

Financial Planning and Budgeting

Hello Goddesses! I know that talking about money, can feel scary or boring, but after working on our stress management tools yesterday, it's perfect timing to address something that's often a huge source of stress for many of us: finances.

First things first: if thinking about money makes you want to hide under your blanket, you're not alone. But taking control of your finances isn't about becoming a math genius or never buying another coffee again. It's about making friends with your money so it can help you live your best life.

Let's break this down into bite-sized pieces that won't give you a headache:

Start Where You Are

Remember when you first learned to ride a bike? You didn't start by doing tricks, you started with training wheels. Money management is the same way! First step: just look at your current situation. Open those banking apps you've been avoiding. Take a deep breath and look at your statements. Knowledge is power, even if it's a bit scary at first.

The Money Map Exercise

Grab a piece of paper (or open your notes app) and let's do something simple:

Write down all your income sources

List your regular monthly expenses (yes, including those sneaky subscriptions!)

Don't forget those irregular expenses like annual fees or seasonal costs

Look at what's left (or what's missing)

Congratulations! You've just created your first basic budget outline.

The 50/30/20 Guideline

Here's a popular way to think about your money:

50% for needs (rent, groceries, utilities)

30% for wants (fun stuff, shopping, entertainment)

20% for future you (savings, debt payment, investments)

These numbers might not work for everyone, especially depending on where you live. The important thing is to have some kind of plan that works for YOU.

Smart Money Habits You Can Start Today

The 24-Hour Rule: For non-essential purchases over a certain amount (you decide the number!), wait 24 hours before buying. You'd be surprised how many "must-haves" become "maybe nots" overnight!

Bill Calendar: Set up a simple calendar with all your bill due dates. Future you will be so grateful!

Automate Your Savings: Even if it's just $5 a week, set up automatic transfers to a savings account. It's like hiding money from yourself!

Track Your Spending: For just one week, write down every single purchase. No judging, just observing. You might find some surprising patterns!

The Emergency Fund Challenge

Let's start building that safety net! Even $500 in savings can make a huge difference in an emergency. Start with a goal of saving just $25 this week. Too much? Start with $10. Too little? Make it $50. The amount isn't as important as getting started.

Money Goals That Make Sense

Instead of vague goals like "save more," try specific ones like:

Save enough for three months of basic expenses by December 2025

Pay off one credit card by summer

Create a "fun fund" for that hobby you've been wanting to try

Your financial journey is exactly that, YOURS. You don't need to compare yourself to anyone else. The person on Instagram showing off their investment portfolio might still be paying off massive debt. Focus on your own path!

Your mission for today:

Look at your bank statement (I know, scary, but you can do it!)

Pick ONE money habit from this post to try this week

Set ONE specific financial goal for 2025

See you tomorrow for Day 14! Remember, every financial decision you make today is a gift to your future self.

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ratedfleur · 1 year ago

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i'm obsessed with scream rn and i'm thinking abt ghostface!wonyoung.. that woman is so—[gunshots]

I JUST NEED TO SCREAM RNNNNN!!!!! also i feel like this is messy so! and i added this post i saw on x which pretty much gave me an idea for this request soooo 😁

🔞 under the cut: bloody themes, ghostface, knives, blood.

okay so ghostface!wonyoung right? i just thought of her being a part of the photography club and she’d be the president because of her experience and portfolios. one thing about wonyoung and her works is that they were either gore themed or bloody.

her co-members praised her for her creative eye, always capturing her art in such a captivating way. the backdrop would be so simple and yet it would send a shiver up your spine once you saw her model. her models would be women and only women, her model would be unclothed as she lied on the floor, eyes all drained out with no signs of life with her body covered up in blood.

“oh no, it’s just that my models are just good at what they do.” wonyoung smiles when one of the members compliment her work, pointing out parts and bits that they liked meanwhile wonyoung simply listened and agreed.

“you need to send me at least one of their numbers, i need to shoot with them too.” sunghoon commented as he nudged wonyoung’s arm. the woman laughs as she shook her head, “they only work for me, oppa.” she chuckles.

you knew something was up, it was eerie how the ghostface reports would be put up in the newspapers right at the same time that wonyoung would send her portfolios in for approval.

nobody batted an eye, everyone had their own suspicions on who the ghostface was and their fingers would never point wonyoung.

deciding to follow wonyoung after she left the building, you trailed behind her merely a few steps away, close and yet far enough for wonyoung not to notice you. your strides become bigger as wonyoung picks up the pace as she crossed the street, head high as people looked her way.

feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you take it out as you answered your phone, “hello? no, i’m home. i’m just busy with the club, i don’t have a portfolio for the month so i’ll call—“ you say before someone pulls your arm, pushing you into a dark alleyway. a hand quickly snatches your phone and slams it on the floor, making you gasp as you looked up and saw wonyoung standing in front of you, eyes staring right into your soul as she looked down on you.

"why the fuck are you following me around, ____?" wonyoung spat at you as she stared you down, eyes piercing and terrifying as you looked up at her with your own shaky ones. you blinked profusely as you tried to look for a way out, "i-i.." "you what, you little rat?" wonyoung spat once more.

seeing that you were unable to speak, wonyoung scoffs as she corners you into the wall, head still held up high as she looked down on you, “it’s because you’re jealous of me, huh? you want to be president of the club that’s why you’re trying to look for holes in my career.” wonyoung smiles sinisterly, orbs of brown shining with something else.

“it’s not like that—“ you say before she interrupts you once more, “then what the fuck is it, ____?” wonyoung replies as her face falls into a stoic expression.

“what? are you curious about how i work? is that how desperate you’ve become to try and beat me?” wonyoung exclaims, throwing her hands in the air like a maniac as she cackled— then her face falls flat, eyes no longer full of any life.

unable to respond, you watched as wonyoung silently turned around before she faced you. to your horror, thee ghostface was standing in front of you, “what if i tell you that all of those models were my victims?” the voice says— real voice hidden and morphed through the voice box in the mask.

“do you want to be next since you’re that curious?” ghostface says to you as she takes a knife out of her black coat, the knife shines under the white light in the alleyway, tip sharp enough to cut after one soft touch.

gulping a ball of saliva, you start to panic once wonyoung ghostface starts to walk over to you, knife facing you as she came close. you gasp when you feel it poking your shirt, close enough for you to feel it’s presence.

“stay silent about your little discovery and i’ll step down from president, take it for all i fucking care." ghostface says as she fiddles with the knife’s handle, making the tip nip a small cut on your shirt when she pushes it slightly. ghostface reaches up to push her mask up, revealing wonyoung’s face once more, “got it?” wonyoung says firmly as you nodded, eyes brimming with tears as her knifes digs past your shirt and into your skin, leaving a cut on your stomach.

“good.” wonyoung says as she stashes her knife back into her coat and her mask back into her bag, she steps away from you with her eyes full of fury and warning as she leaves you in the alley, knees all shaky before you fell to the ground, still in disbelief about what occurred.

#mikha’s asks.#ive #ive jang wonyoung #ive wonyoung #wonyoung imagines #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung headcannons #jang wonyoung #wonyoung

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invis-o-william · 2 months ago

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Dannymay 2025 - Day 21: Tremors

When the ground trembled, making buildings and the earth itself shake, Amity Park was usually nonplussed about it. Situated near a minor fault line, the city was used to seeing between 5 and ten earthquakes a year. Typically, these were incredibly small. People would feel the earth shake a bit beneath their feet, maybe some taller buildings would sway just a hair. Occasionally, there would be a larger quake, causing buildings to quiver and items on shelves to fall from where they stood. Still, the citizens of Amity Park would just brush themselves off and go about their day.

When ghosts began to arrive in the city though, that’s when people started to notice some changes. The occasional tremor every month or two started to become every few weeks. In addition, the quakes were slowly increasing in intensity. It had taken nearly a year for people to realize once datasets were gathered showcasing the information, and the science department at Amity Park State University had grown quite concerned.

It was on a Wednesday when it occurred. Dr. Gabriele Abara, head of the APSU Earthquake Center, was on her way to a meeting with the city council. She was planning to present the center’s research on the area’s increase in earthquakes, as well as different ideas for damage mitigation should stronger ones occur in order to try and get ahead of the situation at hand.

Unfortunately, the ideas her faculty had developed would be too little too late. As she was walking up to the Council Chambers building, portfolio in hand, yet another earthquake hit Amity Park. Dr. Abara stumbled as the ground shook like never before. This was no small quake, like the ones earlier observed. The earth around her emitted a terrible groaning noise as it began to tear itself apart, the crevasse it made ripping its way down Court Street.

It only lasted about a minute, but that was enough for the devastation the earthquake left in its wake to wreak havoc upon Amity Park. Car alarms were blaring, a water main had burst, and rubble filled the street.

Dr. Abara managed to right herself, and against her better judgement, stepped closer to the gap that had formed in the road. The fault rupture was huge, the bottom of the newly formed gorge stretching down at least thirty feet. Eyes widening at the immense scale, she looked down the road to see where the destruction ended. The rupture had traveled down Court Street almost perfectly, going for several blocks and forcing cars to a standstill at many intersections.

There were many others out on the road, and she could see cars stuck in the bottom of the gorge, some stuck upside-down. There were people stuck down there, and who knew how many had perished. Absently, the research papers still held firmly in her grasp slipped from her hands as she scrambled forward. There was no reason for her to call emergency services, the lines were more than likely clogged with how many people there were around her calling for help. Instead she ran to the nearest car that was hanging just enough over the edge of the rupture to cause concern.

The driver’s side was too close to the edge, but through the back window she could see that the driver was thankfully alive. It looked like they were trying to get a sense of their bearings, so she moved into action. Carefully, she opened the back passenger door and called out to the driver.

“Sir! Are you alright?”

The man jerked his head towards her, clearly caught off guard and in shock.

“I, no, I mean, what the hell just happened?!” He managed to get out.

“An earthquake, we need to get you out of here,” Dr. Abara said as calmly as she could muster. Panic would definitely not be of help in this situation. “Can you climb over to the back seat to get out?”

The man glanced around, but nodded and carefully shuffled himself over the center console, all the while Dr. Abara offered reassuring words. Once the man was safely outside the vehicle, the two backed up from the rupture, the vibration of aftershocks starting to run through the street keeping them on their toes.

“What the hell do we do?” The man asked, but before an answer could even be thought of, the two were distracted by the sound of screaming. Looking down the street, people were running en masse. Cries of ‘Where did they come from?’ and ‘Ghosts!’ were heard.

The two glanced at each other in confusion, noting that those around them were also frozen in shock and terror of the events. Either they hadn’t noticed the screaming masses, or were unable to process it all. As the crowd drew closer, a faster woman in the lead made it to the front of the Council Chambers building. The man from the car acted fast though.

“Hey! What’s going on? What ghosts?” The man asked, snagging the sleeve of the woman fleeing the scene.

“The earthquake, it split the ground open in the old Settlers Cemetery!” She cried, eyes wild and full of fear. “Hundreds of ghosts are crawling out!” The woman tore her sleeve from the man’s grasp and continued running away from the scene.

“Wait! Hold on!” The man cried after her, but it was useless. People were now running through the area, causing those who had been in the vicinity for the initial earthquake to follow in fear like lemmings. Dr. Abara, though, had kept her eyes trained on the origin of the chaos. She watched now as glowing greenish figures began to emerge from the fault rupture, getting closer to where the crowds now were. Following those that fled. Instinctively, she grabbed the man’s hand.

“What’s your name?” She asked, voice barely heard over the cacophony.

“Richard,” he said, catching sight of the mob of ghosts before he could think to ask her why.

“Ok Richard, I’m Gabi. I think we should run.” She sprinted off, hand still clutched in Richard’s as he followed her on her path, weaving in and out of the crowd. They didn’t dare look back at the ghosts, only praying that ghost hunters or the local hero would arrive in time to help before it was too late.

#dannymay #dannymay2025 #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfiction #fandom #amity park #amity parkers

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year ago

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Honey’s Tattoo Tour—

Au Masterlist!!

I was thinking a little bit about Honey, and I was like imagine how sick it would be if she just had all these cute tattoos littered all over her skin!!

So here’s a little tattoo tour for her!!

For the most part, her tattoos all have important meanings to her, it started as just a little fun and cute thing, but the more she worked with artists in the Vancouver area the more she realized the sort of art behind it!!

A little added piece of information is that Quinn normally has a strong dislike for tattoos, but the look of Honey with tattoos has his knees weak! They are all just so pretty, and a little sexy, that he has no choice but to love them, plus some of them hold such importance in their relationship and he just adores them!

Her first ever tattoo was the lyric “Honey, there is no right way” from Hozier's song ‘Someone New’ that she got in her senior year of high school on the inside of her right arm just a few days before she graduated. The song is a reflection on the complexity of love and the human desire for connection, which at the time was something Honey was just out of reach of. It highlights the need to find a love that brings meaning to one's life and at this specific time in her life, she deeply resonated with wanting to find that one.

She didn't get her second tattoo until her final year of university, during a break with Quinn. The tattoo is a black and white depiction of Sir John Millais' "Ophelia." Being the angst teenager she was, she felt a deep connection with the character Ophelia from William Shakespeare's play "Hamlet". Ophelia's emotional vulnerability and her descent into madness felt very personal to Honey when she was at the ripe age of 16 (dramatic as shit... but she is so me), the character embodies the fear of losing oneself in the face of overwhelming emotions such as love and anger all the while dealing with external pressures. It was definitely an ode to her younger self but also resonated with the 20-year-old version of herself who was trying to navigate the break with the love of her life. aren't we all just a deeply disturbed teenage girl at heart :)

Her third tattoo happened a few weeks into the summer of 2021, just after her University graduation. She had just gotten back together with Quinn and moved her entire life to Canada to be with him, and now she was beginning to build her media marketing portfolio by taking some shots for a tattoo and piercing shop in downtown Vancouver. The artist she had been doing shoots with and helping to manage their websites offered to do a tattoo for her at a discounted price if she ever wanted. She ended up getting leaves on her hip bones, it was her first really impulsive tattoo and one of the most painful, but she was obsessed with the outcome. They don't hold any significant meaning to her, but they really boosted her confidence and Quinn was absolutely obsessed with them when she surprised him with them, so she really loves them.

Her fourth tattoo was the big piece on her back, she reached out to an artist who specializes in floral and colour tattoos and commissioned a piece that was in homage to paintings her mother made when she was a child. Her mother used to paint these intricate floral pieces to hang up around the house, and eventually, every extended family member in her family had a signature piece in their home. Honey was gifted the one that hung in her grandmother's lake house just after she passed, and she hung it up in hers and Quinn's room at the Michigan Lake house. She got it tattooed on her back a year later (around Warren's first birthday) so she could always have a piece of her grandma and her mother at her at all times!

Her fifth tattoo was one she got during All-Star week a few years after both Hayden and Warren were born. It was the first time they were kid-free in a long while, and while he and the other all-stars were doing media for Bauer and other league activities, the girls went out for the day. One of the other wives suggested getting tattoos. Initially, she got a simple "43" on her sternum, following the trend of other wives and girlfriends getting their partner's numbers. However, she ended up really liking the artist's line work and asked if she could get a full piece done before flying back to Vancouver. The artist had availability the next day and managed to fit Honey into her schedule before the skills competition. She ended up getting a lunar moth just beneath the "43," starting on her sternum and dipping down to span her abdomen. The tattoo was an homage to their first summer as a married couple, a summer where everywhere they seemed to go lunar moths followed them. Quinn finds it incredibly sexy, thinking it makes her boobs look even more perfect (which he didn't know was humanly possible), and he couldn't stop kissing it once it healed.

Her final tattoo was one she got when Maeve was around 3, Hayden was 8, and Warren was 10. It was a collaborative piece by all her kids: Maeve drew the basic shapes of the flowers, Hayden added the details, and Warren contributed the fine lines. This tattoo is a little piece of her babies and their childhood, etched onto her forever. It's probably her favourite piece because it means the most to her.

#thelittlesthughesau!!#dad!quinn hughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x oc #quinn x honey

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minniesmutt · 1 year ago

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☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: I.N X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: FINGER SUCKING, HAND KINK, TEASING, PET NAMES, MARKING, HAIR PULLING, BEGGING, SCRATCHING, UNPROTECED SEX, CHOKING, CREAMPIE ☾ ━━━ WC: 1.7K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Y/n💘: what’s your favorite color? Innie💕: green Why? Y/n💘: just wondering Are you still okay to come over after practice? Innie💕: Yeah. Might be a little late but I’ll text you when I leave the company Y/n💘: okie!!! Love you bub 💚 Innie💕: love you too bun 💞

Y/n set her phone down on the nail table and looked at her friend. “He said green, I trust your judgment on what to do.”

“Let’s do it,” Her friend smiled at her before grabbing her hands.

Her friend had recently gotten into doing nails and after practicing on fake hands, she felt up to the challenge of trying out on human hands. Y/n took her up on the offer to help her out and give her a form of self-care too, having been a bit too busy to do any.

The two girls chatted as her friend prepped her nails, pushing back the cuticle, getting rid of the dead skin, and buffing the nail. Getting to applying the tips and acrylic powder.

Y/n let her friend concentrate on the design as she moved her hands around where she needed them, working quickly with the acrylic and the gel.

Putting cuticle oil on her cuticles before letting her look. A white and green French tip except on her ring fingers. A green heart sat in the middle of the nail with a pattern of white and green surrounding it, giving a pulsing effect.

“I like it,” Y/n smiled

“Yay,” Her friend smiled back as she graced her light to readjust for a picture. Y/n let her position her hands to take a couple of photos and videos for her portfolio. Y/n paid her friend— more so forced the money into her hand while her friend denied her— and said goodbye before leaving her apartment and going down to her car. Phone connecting her car and Y/n going to turn on her music just for her boyfriend to call her.

“Hi bub,” Y/n said as she set her phone down and pulled away from her friend’s building.

“Hey, bun. What are you doing?” Jeongin asked

“Leaving (friends) apartment. Are you on your way over?”

“No. We’re taking a break and kind of wanted to hear your voice.”

“Don’t let the boys know that,” Y/n giggled

“I’ll be teased for eternity.”

“How much longer have you guys got?”

“Probably another hour or two. Trying to get this choreography down.”

“Don’t overwork yourself. That goes for the others too!”

“Y/n says not to overwork!”

Y/n laughed at him yelling at them before she heard a happy little voice, “Hi Y/n!” Felix said to the speaker

“Hi, Felix.”

“Y/n, we need I.N back!” Lee Know called

“Sounds like you’re needed bub.”

“I’ll see you later bun. Drive safe, I love you.”

“I love you too bub, text me when you’re leaving.”

Jeongin hung up and got back to dancing. Y/n got to her apartment, safely like her boyfriend told her to, and went up to her place. She had some time to relax and clean up her apartment before Jeongin texted her that he was leaving and picking up some dinner before coming over. Y/n thanked him and set up her living room for a movie night after taking a shower and putting on some loungewear to be more comfortable.

Brought blankets and pillows out onto the couch and set them up as he unlocked her door.

“That was fast,” Y/n said as she walked to ther entrance to help him.

“Called in the order before I texted you,” Jeongin told her as he put his bag down next to his shoes.

“How was work,” Y/n asked after he pecked her lips.

“A lot,” He sighed as she took the food to the coffee table. Jeongin followed behind her and plopped down on the couch behind her. Y/n passed him the remote to pick a movie only for her boyfriend to grab her hand and pull her down onto his lap. Y/n squeaked as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Hi bun,” Jeongin kissed her shoulder as he grabbed the remote from her

“Hi bub,” Y/n smiled before he grabbed her hand and looked at her nails

“Got you’re nails done today?” He asked

“(Friend) offered to do them since she wanted to practice on human hands,” Y/n told them

“This why you asked me what my favorite color was?”

“Yeah. Let her pick the design.”

“I like them. She did a good job.” Jeongin brought her hand and kissed her fingers

“I’ll let her know you think so.”

The two sat and watched a movie, enjoying the food he brought before lying on the couch and cuddling up. Jeongin playing with her hands more than actually paying attention to the movie. Y/n was sure he wasn’t even watching the movie.

Y/n turned to her boyfriend and— jokingly— tapped his lips. Jeongin smiled at her and opened his mouth wrapping his lips around her fingers. Watching her eyes go wide, tongue running along her fingers before wrapping his hand around her wrist and pulling her hand down and fingers out of his mouth. “Hi, bunny.”

“Hi,” Y/n replied, face all red from watching him suck her fingers.

Jeongin smirked at her, placing her hand on his neck before pulling her lips onto his. Y/n melted into the kiss, his hands pulling her closer to him. Slowly rolling her onto her back and moving his lips down her jaw to her neck, “Pretty bunny.”

“Innie,” Y/n whined

“Got your nails done all pretty for your Innie?” He teased, hands roaming her body

“Mhm,” Y/n responded, threading her fingers through his hair as he sucked hickeys onto her neck. Pushing her shirt up a bit to get more access to her skin.

He moved slowly, lips taking their time on her neck as his long fingers trailed along her skin. Pushing her shirt up till his fingers brushed against her nipples. Y/n moaned as he continued plaything with the little pebbles under her shirt as she pulled at his t-shirt.

“Take it off,” Y/n whined, crumbling more of the fabric in her hands

“Why are you being impatient bun?”

“Wanna mark up your back,” Y/n whined

The edges of her nails were still sharp from shaping. First-day nails needed time to dull down. It is easy to scratch yourself if you’re not careful. Either way, it turned the idol on, quickly pulling back and discarding his and her clothing before smashing his lips back onto hers, greed and lust dripping into her mouth from his lips. Y/n moaned into his mouth as she grabbed his shoulders. One of his hands moved between her legs and ran two fingers between her legs and teased her wet cunt.

Y/n rolled her hips against his hand as her manicured hands moved to his back. The acrylic just barely scratched his skin, but the feeling went straight to his dick. He pushed his fingers into her without wasting another second thought. Stretching her out and reaching into her while his tongue slipped into her mouth. Y/n dug her new nails into his back.

His thumb came to rub her clit, fingers working magic on her cunt while her nails digging into him gave him his own sense of pleasure and spurred him on. Pulling his lips away from hers to catch his breath and moved back to mark up her neck. Listening to her moans and his fingers moving in and out of her wet pussy.

“Nails feel so good, bun. Gonna make me cum before I get inside you.”

“Put it in Innie. Need you inside me,”

“Desperate today huh?”

“You started it.”

Jeongin bit her shoulder in retaliation before pulling his fingers out of her and licking them clean. Y/n watched him as she brought her hands down his front, dragging her nails over his chest and abs. Watching him shudder as he went to grab his dick.

Spreading his pre-cum over his cock as he pumped himself a few times. Jeongin lined his tip up at her entrance. He stroked her hole with the tip before pushing inside.

Both moaned at the feeling as Jeongin grabbed the arm of the sofa, slowly rolling his hips into hers. Her arms wound under his and scratched at his back.

“Fuck that feels good,” Jeongin groaned, the pace picking up the more she scratched at his back.

His hips snapped into her harshly, making her moan loudly. He moved one hand down from the sofa to hold her neck. Long fingers wrapped around the column of her throat, making her take a deep breath and keep quiet.

Y/n clawd down his back, making him shiver and his dick twitch inside her. Letting out a deep groan and driving his cock into her G-spot. Y/n clenched around him as her eyes started rolling into the back of her head.

Jeongin let go of her throat to let her catch her breath but also to bring his fingers down to play with her clit. Thumb rubbing circles into her little bud.

“Innie,” Y/n whined as her wall pulsed around his twitching cock.

“Close bunny?” Jeongin smirked down at her, watching arch towards him

“Yes,” Y/n whined, “harder. Almost there.”

Jeongin pressed harder on her clit, trying to keep a steady rhythm with his thrusting. Feeling her get tighter around him before she let out a silent scream, soaking his cock with her essence.

The feeling of her nails digging into his skin and her warmth encompassing him triggered his orgasm. Spilling inside of her, muttering a few curses and he pulled his hand away from her clit to hold himself up so he didn't fall on top of her once he finished.

Both took in deep breaths as they came down from their highs. Slowly Jeongin pulled out and took a moment to find the strength to keep up and grab a couple of wash clothes to clean them both. Then he lay down on her, laying his head on her chest, wrapping his arms around her body.

Y/n smiled down at him and played with his hair, “Your back’s all red now bub.”

“Good,” Jeongin smiled and kissed her collarbone, focusing back on the movie they had forgotten about.

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST TIP JAR

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#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #stray kids smut #skz #skz x reader #skz x reader smut #skz smut #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader smut #yang jeongin smut #i.n x reader #i.n x reader smut #i.n smut

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