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pennyellee · 5 months

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔 pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 14K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily) masterlist

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem receiving), forced oral (m receiving) spanking, squirting, cum swallowing, creampie, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language, oppressiveness

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

author's note: so as I said in the preview, this did not go as planned but I really enjoyed writing this to the point that I might do a part 2, perhaps 3, but we'll see about that. JK is delulu af here and the reader does not think through everything. For those who did not read preview and came upon this just now - originally what i wanted to build around was how Rachel Green from Friends was offered a job at Louis Vuitton but it was in Paris and Ross did not want her to go - that was supposed to be the whole plot (with slight changes ofc), well and somehow it went a bit darker than i intended so instead of rom-com, i'd rather listed it as dark romance and yandere. Hope you'll enjoy it! Love, always.

1996

“He said what now?!” The sentence burst out of you with a high-pitched tone, nearly causing your latte to spill all over your pristine white blouse and grey blazer. Not exactly the ideal way to kick off a new month, you mused as your friend dropped the bombshell about a certain someone.

“That you’re the future mother of his children,” said your friend, an amused smirk playing on her face. “I seriously don’t know how you can still resist him, girl.” But resist him, you did.

Jeon Jungkook was undoubtedly one of the most sought-after and sexiest heartthrobs of the decade, possessed the best face card in the industry and carried the biggest ego in all of New York City. You could vividly recall the day he strolled inside of your office with the head of your department. A cocky, playful grin plastered on his face the moment his eyes landed on you.

Right from the very beginning, you made it crystal clear to Jungkook that your relationship would be strictly professional during your collaboration on the Calvin Klein project. He was given his own collection of men’s wear, and the job to work with him fell upon you.

You knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you to elevate your standing within the fashion circle. Jeon Jungkook’s fame was immense, and your name would be signed on the collection too. It’s not like you are head over heels that your name would be associated specifically with Jeon Jungkook, but you understood right away that this could put you on the radar. Your boss had even hinted at the possibility of a higher position within the department.

He constantly teased you, flirted shamelessly, and crossed boundaries by touching you as if you were his girlfriend. It was wildly inappropriate, especially given that the two of you had never even gone out for a work dinner or lunch alone. There were always other people from the team, and yet he always managed to find a way to sit right next to you. But it seems Jungkook was still living in an illusion where you were his girlfriend.

Your gaze shifted to the majestic Twin Towers, standing proudly in the distance, as you let out an annoyed puff of air.

“He’s ridiculous,” you finally declared.

“Or cute,” countered your friend, opposing your viewpoint. She found this pseudo-relationship with Jungkook amusing, but a small part of her secretly wished you’d just give in and go out with him. It was quite some time since you were in a relationship, and Jeon Jungkook would definitely be a nice catch. You were not interested. Or you tried to persuade others that you aren’t.

“No, ridiculous,” you retorted again, lips pursed, and brows furrowed.

“Oh, come on, give him a chance finally!!” she exclaimed.

“Absolutely not! He’s egoistic, manipulative, a cocky little bastard with damn good hair,” you said, your tone rising as you reached your final proclamation, which had simply slipped out of your mind that way.

“See? One good thing — good hair. Marry him,” she laughed it off.

“Now you’re being ridiculous, and I’m going to be late for work.” You said while dusting your black skirt, grabbing your purse, and leaving a few bucks for the coffee. The song on the radio stopped your departure for a moment, listening to the familiar voice coming from it, you rolled your eyes.

“That’s a clear sign, Y/N. Give it a chance!” she called after you, and you couldn’t help but throw a side eye her way, though a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips nonetheless.

As the day passed, you found yourself increasingly entangled in the whirlwind of meetings, fittings, and photoshoots with an ever-present Jungkook. The photoshoots, in particular, became a source of both frustration and amusement. However today, a bigger problem surfaced.

“Why’s he half-naked, Lucy?!” You hissed at your assistant. Normally, you are very kind and respectful to everyone, but Jungkook had managed to irk you the moment you stepped into your office, finding him already seated in your chair with that smirk you despised. Bringing a coffee for you, which you never drink, or donuts that you always share with the department - not eating one yourself.

Jungkook, adorned in the latest Calvin Klein designs you two had meticulously crafted together, claimed a personal touch of his persona— at least, that’s how he described it. He looked effortlessly handsome, the camera adoring him, but what grated on your nerves was that his attention was solely focused on teasing you.

“We also have shirts, why is he not wearing one?!” You continued, expressing your disagreement to what was before you. What angered you even more was that you could not stop staring at his abs.

“We shot with shirts earlier. They said the underwear and jeans will appear more artistic if his V line and abs—”

“Alright! Alright!” You stopped her in mid-sentence. You didn’t want to look that way nor you didn’t want to admit that showcasing his V-line would enhance the aesthetics of the jeans. Therefore, you took a deep breath and walked towards the refreshments, you were in need of a second cup of coffee.

You heard the photographer call for a break, but you were focused on calming yourself with a steaming cup of coffee. Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny that he looked breath-taking in the outfits you had designed, and it infuriated you.

Suddenly, two arms were laid flat on the table’s surface, caging you in between. You could imagine his devilish grin. He did this way too often, whether it was his fingers lightly tracing your arm or tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, looking intently into your eyes until you were fighting yourself to not get lost in his Bambi eyes.

“We’re almost done for today,” he whispered seductively into your right ear, his lips almost touching it. Your breath stammered.

“And yet you did not learn a single thing about professionalism or work ethic.” You bit sarcastically, turning slowly to face him.

Jungkook’s grin only widened at your remark, and you couldn’t decide whether you were infuriated or slightly flustered by his audacity. He leaned in even closer, his breath grazing your ear as he spoke in a low, husky tone.

“Tutor me then, in bedroom — preferably” he suggested, his lips still dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

“I don’t think so. You’re beyond help,” you shot back, trying to assert control over the situation. His proximity was distracting, and you couldn’t afford to let him undermine the fact that you were in charge.

Jungkook continued to hover over you, the photographer calling for everyone to regroup for the next set of shots. You seized the opportunity to escape his magnetic pull, smoothly slipping out from between the table and his arms, deciding to escape to your humble office, seeking solace in the calmness it provided.

It wasn’t long before the shoot officially ended, and you knew damn well, that the man wouldn’t leave you alone. The door creaked open, and you turned to find Jungkook leaning against the frame, that infernal smirk still etched onto his face.

“We did a good job, why don’t we celebrate it over at my place, baby?” he complimented, but there was an undertone of something else in his voice. You overlooked his physique and leaned back in your chair, narrowing your eyes, making a clicking sound with your tongue.

“Jungkook, again, this was a professional collaboration. Nothing more,” you asserted, emphasising each word. If you did not say this sentence at least a hundred times you don’t know. He never takes it seriously; it appears as he is still trying to hammer his way into your guarded heart.

He pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered closer. “We’ll see about that,” he said, leaving you with a cryptic grin as he exited your office. The only thing you could do is sigh.

Before you went to continue working, you heard how Jungkook’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“I bet I can change your mind, sweetheart!”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath.

“Not a chance.”

The denim collection with Jungkook was taking shape, and the buzz surrounding the collaboration grew with each passing day. A success, your boss was much more than pleased.

This success, however, meant even more for you. You were on cloud nine, basking in the glory of your hard work and the prospect of a ground-breaking partnership. Totally, forgetting to play unreachable when it came to the clinging boy who starred in this iconic collaboration. And that must have given him a false hope, perhaps a narrative in which you were his girl.

You were sitting in your office when you hung up the telephone after speaking with the vice president of Guess that contacted you earlier last week, offering you a part in a project for their brand, in Los Angeles. A dream come true for you. Leaving this place, after years of building your career from scratch, felt overwhelming. You loved working under Klein, yet it was time for you to take it higher. Your boss did not offer you a new position, and therefore, you did not hesitate to take the job opportunity and elevate yourself in fashion ranks.

It was an offer too tempting to resist, and you found yourself diving headfirst into the project, not even looking at the door when someone stepped in without knocking.

“You may leave the reception reports on the table, Lucy,” you said once feeling a presence in your office, not raising your eyesight from your computer, writing the prompts for the project Guess wants you to lead. Your twelve days’ notice already printed out, ready to be signed by your boss. You planned to stop by his office after you would finish writing the draft and sending it to the Guess team together with the copy of your portfolio that you needed to make before you leave.

When there were no reports left on your table after a good long minute, you looked up.

“You can’t just leave.” he said, standing tall in the frame of the door, stepping inside once you finally gave him your attention. You could sense a hint of desperation and anger in his voice.

You raised your brows at him. How does he know? The mere thought of you leaving for LA, leaving him behind, was enough to make him confess the depth of his feelings.

You leaned to the leather armchair and listened to him closely.

“What are you talking about Jungkook?” His eyes betrayed a mix of anxiety and vulnerability as he blurted out his fears.

“What about us? What about everything we’ve built together?” He stepped closer to your desk, looking directly to your eyes. You were taken aback by the raw emotion in his words. The air in the room thickened.

The once-confident man now stood vulnerable before you, stripped of the bravado that had defined him. And you were utterly confused and surprised how delusional this man is.

“What are you even saying, Jungkook?” you questioned, your tone a mix of confusion and frustration.

“You can’t leave me!” He raised his voice an octave higher.

“Calm your tits. I’m a grown-up woman. I can do what I want.” You sassed back at him, tired of this made up situation-ship in his head. He scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“We’ve built something special, and I can’t watch it crumble because of some job offer!” He continued his rampage. You took a moment to breathe his words in, closing your eyes and counting to ten to calm yourself.

“Jungkook, I appreciate your honesty, but I can’t give you what you’re asking for.” This caught him by surprise. Instead of screaming at him, you chose to play the I’ll stay calm and professional card.

His eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of confusion and hurt clouding his features. “What do you mean?”

Choosing your words carefully, you said: “I genuinely value this project we worked on together, but it’s time for us to part our ways.” To fool him was your goal.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling upon him. “Who are you lying to, Y/N?” His words shocked you.

“I’m not lying Jungkook, I’m telling you the truth to your face, as you were too stubborn to hear it before.” You stood up from your chair, moving to lean on the front of your desk, to show him he cannot get to you.

The room fell into a heavy silence as Jungkook looked deep into your eyes, searching for the truth in your words.

“So, it’s all about the career for you? You’re willing to sacrifice everything else, including us?” Your jaw clenched, but you maintained your composed façade and with flaring nostrils and clenched teeth, you spoke.

“There is no us, Jungkook. Get it into your head already!” So much for being calm. The room crackled with tension as the argument reached an impasse. Jungkook shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

“I can’t believe you’re throwing away what we have because of some job.” Your eyes widened even more and the fact he would not listen boiled your blood.

“Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m not your girlfriend! I was never your girlfriend, and I will never be your girlfriend!”

But Jungkook wasn’t ready to accept defeat. His frustration reached a boiling point too, and without warning, he grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into an intense, angry kiss. It was a clash of emotions, a tumultuous blend of passion and anger that fuelled the fiery exchange.

Your initial instinct was to resist, to push him away, but the intensity of the kiss ignited a different kind of fire within you. His lips moved fiercely against yours, gripping your ass in his hands, making you moan to his lips. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the dishevelled locks as the kiss deepened, your frustration causing to tug them. He growled from pleasure at the sensation.

It was a collision of lips and tongues, a heated exchange that spoke volumes without a single word. Once his hands disappeared under your skirt and the heat intensified, a sudden surge of clarity washed over you, breaking the intoxicating spell.

With a forceful push, you broke away from the kiss, creating a space between you and Jungkook. You locked eyes with him, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of the situation.

“I need you to leave,” you stated, your voice cutting through the lingering tension, you leaned against the desk, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment.

Jungkook, still caught in the haze of desire, tried to close the distance again, but you held up a hand, halting his advance.

“Leave!” You growled, turning your back to him. You didn’t want him to see your face anymore, because soon enough, tears would break from your eyes. You’re overwhelmed.

A loud bang of the door signalled that he finally understood and left. Breaking down with tears streaming down your cheeks you gasped for air. Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to regain composure.

You’ve counted to ten again, wiping your tears. You felt taken advantage of. He went too far this time. But this was only the beginning of his tremulous and wicked plan he had for you.

You packed your purse, ready to leave your office, you just needed to grab your work portfolio that you needed to send over to Guess. But the space it always inhabited, on the conference table, was empty. And you had one lucky guess who the thief was. “Fucking bastard.”

In the days that followed, the chaos in your personal and professional life escalated. The stolen portfolio, a representation of your work, became a haunting absence. As if the life source of your hard work was cut down.

Determined to salvage what remained of your career, you began the arduous task of recreating it. But time was not on your side, and as you delved into the meticulous process, news of your termination from Calvin Klein reached you like a punch to the gut.

The phone call was impersonal, a cold voice delivering the news of your dismissal as if reading from a script. Some Jack from the HR department spoke to you, someone you have never ever seen in the building whatsoever. Your boss did not even pick up the call when you wanted to ask what made them push the decision to let you go. You certainly did not deserve this after years of working for the brand. The reasons were vague and you knew this had to source from someone powerful. In simple terms, someone snitched that you’re planning to leave.

As the reality of unemployment settled in, you clung to the remnants of optimism that lingered, but even that proved elusive.

You were hundred percent sure that he is trying to sabotage your whole life when the call from Guess, a reason you did not fight for your position at Klein’s delivered another blow.

Their decision not to collaborate with you crushed the remnants of optimism that clung to your spirit. The dream that had seemed within reach now slipped through your fingers, leaving you in a free fall of uncertainty.

They hadn’t even granted you the courtesy of waiting for your portfolio, even though it wouldn’t be what they expected. Whatever oral agreement had been in place disintegrated. So here you are — jobless.

All this left you reeling with disbelief. The career you had meticulously built, the dreams that had taken years to nurture, all unravelling at the seams. The pain was visceral, a mix of frustration, anger, and a profound sense of betrayal.

You were certain that Jeon Jungkook himself was pulling the strings behind the scenes. And you hated him for it, needed to confront him and say that shit with your chest right to his face— he can go fuck himself. Set the record straight once you’re there.

Whatever he was thinking by ruining your career will force you to do, he better fix it before you’ll sing to the media about his bunny smile and kind heart being all fake. The line had been crossed, and he would face the consequences of pushing you to the brink. Or so you thought it would go how your brain delusional thought it through.

Hence, with a heavy heart and a determination to confront the chaos head-on, you stood before the front door of his infamous penthouse. Emotions swirling within you like a tempest.

With a deep breath, you knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. The door swung open, revealing Jungkook’s bunny smile reaching his eyes.

“Well, well well, are we ready to talk like adults, pretty?” He mocked this whole situation because he knew this would end up in his favour, nonetheless.

He moved back to let you in, and you stepped into his apartment, a mixture of anger and desperation in your gaze.

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise, I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink? —” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you could not help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

“I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently, he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—” you pushed him away from you once you heard his words. Grabbing your jacket and storming your way out to the door, angry with yourself that you let it go this far.

“You walk out that door, and you’re done in this city, fuck even the whole continent if I want,” Jungkook declared, his tone heavy with a sense of entitlement. The words hung in the air, a threat laced with possessiveness that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re bluffing.” His eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths.

“You’re underestimating the consequences, Y/N. I’ll snap my fingers, and you won’t get a job. Anywhere.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips. You did not believe him one bit, determined to try harder at the job hunting.

“You’ve already done enough. You can’t do worse.” You scoffed, the absurdity of his demands pushing you further away. He stepped closer, the air thick with tension.

“You’re not leaving, Y/N. Either you’ll be my good girl and apologise, or all it will take is one phone call.” As you reached for the doorknob, he grabbed your arm with a force that bordered on aggression.

“I am my own woman, Jungkook.” Your eyes flashed with determination as you wrenched your arm free, emphasising every word of the sentence you just uttered.

With that, you swung the door open and stormed out, leaving Jungkook’s apartment and the tumultuous mess behind. The city lights greeted you outside, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere within.

Your telephone remained eerily silent, devoid of the calls and opportunities that once filled it with promise. Jungkook’s vindictiveness had effectively severed the threads connecting you to your professional life, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainties.

A tear escaped your eye as you clutched the piece of paper you fetched out of your mailbox — an eviction notice. You had fallen behind on rent, pleading with your landlord for more time, promising to pay in full for two months once you secured a job. But that ended up not happening, and that’s how you find yourself sitting in a messy apartment full of half packed boxes, no job, little money left, and a bottle of cheap wine.

Moving in with friends or seeking refuge with your parents was not an option. They never supported your dreams enough to provide for you in such dire circumstances, especially at your age. Unmarried, jobless, and on the brink of homelessness, you felt trapped.

Despite your efforts to secure another job, including poorly recreating parts of your portfolio, rejections piled up, and the search for a new apartment proved equally futile. Not like you could afford it anyway.

The city that once held promise now felt like a maze of closed doors and dead ends. The mere thought of dialling his number sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of pride and necessity wrestling within you.

You drank the last of your wine, hiccupped, and cried. With only twenty-four hours to vacate your flat for the new tenant to come in. The friends you once thought you could rely on were facing their own struggles, unable to provide the sanctuary you so desperately needed. You had nowhere to go apart to his clutches if you of course did not want to freeze to death in the bustling city. It confused you how it came to having no other option.

Taking a deep breath, you dialled his number, each ring echoing the surrender of your independence. The telephone rang in your trembling hand. As the call connected, a heavy silence hung in the air and you desperately tried to calm your breathing.

“Jeon speaking,” his voice crackled through the phone. You were shaking in cold sweat, your eyes blood red from crying and alcohol clouded your mind enough to call him.

“Hello?” you heard his voice speak again, and another sob left your lips. The lump in your throat made it difficult to speak, but you pushed through the discomfort.

“I-I’m sorry.” The man on the other line smirked, seemingly thrilled to hear your voice. The next sentence you uttered, however, was even sweeter music to his ears.

“I need you.”

You heard his car park in front of your building the next morning. The boxes were long gone on their way to the heart of Manhattan where Jungkook’s penthouse awaited. It was only you and your suitcase with only necessities packed inside. The reality of the situation hit you as you looked around at the empty apartment. The purple walls, once full of pictures from trips with your friends, were now bare. The fridge stripped of silly magnets you liked to collect, stood empty. Nothing left.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the handle of your suitcase with a sense of resignation. You glanced out of the window on your way out, finding Jungkook casually leaning against his shiny black Jaguar, smiling directly at you. Closing your eyes, you mentally said goodbye to your small apartment.

Your hair, lazily put into a hair clip when you woke up, had a few stray strands escaping, framing your face that still showed signs of swelling from crying all night.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the door closing behind you, the weight of the suitcase in your hand served as a physical reminder of the choice you had made. Is this really your only option?

The sound of Jungkook’s footsteps echoed in the corridor, approaching closer with each passing second. He ran up the stairs just as you were locking the door. His gummy smile met your gaze, a clear expression of his happiness. The heartthrob had finally gotten you where he wanted you all along.

He was dressed in a denim jacket and jeans from the collection you worked on. As if he was intent on reminding you of something. His long curly locks were gone, replaced by a short mullet.

You, on the other hand, did not feel to dress classy and elegant as you usually did. You swapped heels for a pair of white sneakers, a tight designer skirt for simple blue boyfriend jeans and your upper body was covered by a white shirt layered with a pink shirt you loosely tight on your waist, leaving the buttons half open.

“Baby?” he called out. You must’ve zoned out, as now he was holding your suitcase in his hand, ready to leave.

“M’sorry, I was in my head,” you apologised. You didn’t want to upset him by negatively reacting to the pet name even though you irked to tell him you’re not his baby.

He smiled softly, putting the suitcase down, walking over to you. He caressed your cheek, leaning in for a kiss. Turning your face, he landed his lips on your other cheek. The man chuckled and put the freed strands of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t worry. I got you now.”

The drive to Jungkook’s penthouse was filled with an uncomfortable silence as the city lights passed by in a dizzying display.

“Welcome home!” The words hung in the air, the irony not lost on you. This was far from a home; it was a gilded cage you succumbed to. You did not answer him. You couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

He was saying something about a closet, but your mind totally spaced out looking at the boxes that you packed hours prior, casually sitting in his living room.

“Baby?” You looked at him, eyes wide when you realised you were not listening to him again.

“Do you want to start unpacking or should we head out for brunch first?” He approached you. Jungkook did not stop smiling since he pulled his car in front of your building.

Unpacking felt like an acceptance of this new reality, while brunch felt like an attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy.

“I... I think we should talk,” you finally managed to say, your voice carrying the uncertainty that lingered within. Jungkook’s smile wavered for a moment, but he quickly masked it.

You couldn’t ignore the fact that your life had taken a sharp turn, and the unfamiliar surroundings only intensified the sense of displacement. Jungkook threw himself at his sofa just where you were sitting months prior. He motioned with his hand, silently ordering you to sit.

“I promise not to bother you long. I just need you to get me off the blacklist so I can get a job. I can’t be tied to you indefinitely.” You spoke softly, careful to not anger him just yet. You knew he wouldn’t appreciate the direction this conversation was heading, but you needed to set the record straight. This was temporary, at least in your mind.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, a subtle tension in his features. He sighed. Leaning forward, Jungkook grabbed the remote control of the HiFi that was standing proud, setting it on, and whence the soft tones of Isaak’s “Wicked Game” resonated the penthouse, you could not help but raise an eyebrow.

He petted his knee, a silent invitation. You were not stupid to not understand what he wants, yet you opted to sit next to him instead of where he wanted you.

“Maybe we got lost in translation, love.” He spoke leaning closer to you. The music seemed to underscore the unspoken tension in the room.

“You won’t leave me, baby. I’ll keep you so satisfied and happy; you won’t even want to go.” He whispered to your ear. The atmosphere became charged with a palpable desire. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of temptation and resistance.

“You can’t keep me here against my will, Jungkook,” you asserted, maintaining a thin thread of defiance. Yet, the allure of his touch lingered in the air, clouding your better judgement.

“Try me, love. I’ve got ways to make you stay,” he countered, his tone dripping with confidence.

It took all you have in you to stand up and storm to the large windows that provided a magnificent view of Manhattan. This time, however, he was right behind you.

You heard him growl. He was angry, and he proved so once you found yourself pinned to the large window, your back facing him. He attacked your neck right away, bruising every single inch. His hand roamed over your breast, squeezing them to the point you had to moan. The situation escalated rather quickly, your resistance made him press you to his back even harder.

“I’m so tired of your running,” he groaned into your neck. You put your hands on the glass trying to push yourself away and give yourself space to free from his grasp, but he has put a majority of his weight on you. You can feel his growing pulsating bulge on your heart-shaped bottom.

“Maybe I should show you, who you belong to, princess.” He cupped your sex through your pants, and you whimpered from the sensation. You knew this was utterly wrong; you should not react to his touch this way, but you couldn’t help to notice the wetness pooling in between your legs once he continues to attack your neck with his soft plump lips.

“Jungkook-” You tried to resist, but his hand was already done with unbuttoning your jeans, sliding right down to your core. Your panties were sticky, your head was spinning, and the part of a window was getting foggy right next to your mouth from your hot breath.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He pulled his hand out of your pants for a second to wet his fingers and put them right back on the little bud that was waiting to be touched. He pressed his fingertips on your clit, circling it painfully slow. The heartthrob rutted his hips into your ass, looking for a friction, making you move your hips towards his hand. He chuckled to your ear.

“If you want that job, baby, why don’t you deserve it first?” you could sense a little hint of mockery in his voice. The pulsating beats of the music seemed to echo the rhythm of his movements. Now slow and calculated.

As the song reached its crescendo, his finger entered your vibrating heat. “Hm?” He pried, his finger moving in and out in punishingly slow, drawing silent moans from you when he brushed up the right spot.

“W-what do you want?” You stammered out of yourself.

“You. All of you of course.” Jungkook replied in a heartbeat. Your heart raced and your head was clouded by the pleasure he was providing. Moving his finger slightly faster, you found yourself bowing forward, your body wanted him to reach deeper.

“Please—” you whimpered when he slowed down the tempo again.

“Give me an answer baby, will you be my good girl?” Now it was your mind that raced, grappling with the implications of his question while squeezing your walls around his finger.

“Maybe you need a little more convincing, hm?” He softly bit your earlobe whilst inserting his second finger into your heat, making you moan louder than before. You pressed your forehead onto the glass and looked down at his hand in between your legs. The sight made your pussy clench even harder. A small tear escaped your eye, you are overwhelmed, and the pleasure is clouding your sound judgement.

“What will it be, baby?” His fingers finally raised the tempo, and your eyesight was getting blurry, biting your lip from the sensation.

“Fuck—” you nibbed at your bottom lip a bit harder, trying to fight with yourself. But you couldn’t. He was playing a game, and he was winning this round.

“Yes!” you screamed louder than you intended when he hit the sweet spot, making you see stars. You did not necessarily want to agree. It was more of a reaction to how good his fingers feel inside of you. But Jungkook’s interpretation did not align with yours.

What you did not expect is the sudden feel of emptiness once his fingers abdicated its place. You protested with an unpleasant whine of frustration.

He spun you to face him, being quick enough to grab you below your ass, illocutionary forcing you to jump up. Jungkook leaned in to kiss you while he navigated the apartment blindly, right to the master bedroom.

Now you were feeling thrown. Literally. Your body bounced a little while Jungkook stood at the foot of his king sized bed adorned in black sheets. You could smell his expensive cologne on them. He was very eager to continue what you started.

His shirt was long gone and so were his pants when he was pulling down yours, alongside with your through-and-through wet panties. He very quickly inhabited his head in between your legs. Licking all the dirty juice your pussy was producing.

You could not help but to bury your fingers into his hair, slightly tugging on it once he decided to abuse your clit, sucking on it, his piercing cold against your skin. You were starting to feel the knot inside your lower belly, moaning and panting out loud.

“I’m gonna!—” you breathed out heavily. Squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the heat rushing your body.

“Not yet,” said the heartthrob, parting away from you. You shot your eyes open to look at him towering over you, his briefs thrown away somewhere in the room, and his pride leaning proudly against his abdomen, angry and red. The perfect opposite of soft. You gulped down. He was definitely not lying when he suggested he is thick.

The heartthrob helped you get rid of the rest of your clothes, bending down to lay a single kiss right above your clit, maintaining eye contact with you all the time. Sticking his tongue out yet again, making a straight wet line up your belly, ending at the valley between your breasts.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned, squeezing your tits while pumping his dick, he could not take it anymore.

He spread your legs further, making space for him to fit right in. Your walls are trembling from excitement, especially when he presses the length of his cock to your lips, coating himself in your juices.

“Condo—” you went to say when his lips silenced you in a hard passionate kiss. He moaned to your mouth, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance, stretching you open. You pressed your hands to his chest, parting away from him. He looked at you with confusion and you repeated yourself.

“Condom, Guk,” you said, using the nickname in an attempt to soften his hard features. Something told you that you might have just pissed him off. The heartthrob sighed and involuntarily got up, walking all the way to the bathroom, giving you a million-dollar view of his ass. Your gaze then shifted to his muscular shoulders, involuntarily admiring his impressive physique. You couldn’t deny he was hot as hell.

Your nipples were perky from the thrill that your body was going through. It was quite some time since the last you got laid. Maybe that’s why it took him minimum effort to turn you into a whiny, needy little bitch.

You heard the light switch going off in the bathroom, and the man himself appearing in the doorframe with the little shiny square in his hands. Tearing it open, he returned to sit on his knees on the bed while sliding the condom on.

He grabbed your legs under your knees with one swift movement, sliding you closer to him. One hand aiming his cock to your entrance the other finding its place on your throat, holding it with the right pressure to elevate your pleasure. Pushing all the way through, you whimpered loudly at the intrusion. He was big, and you felt like you’re going to explode. The heat rushed through you like a momentary fever.

The heartthrob could not wait for you to adjust to his size, and he started to snap his hips into you in a punishing tempo, making your body bounce up at every thrust and clench your eyes shut tightly. Loud moans coming out of you.

“You take me so well, baby.” He whispered into your ear seductively, panting and groaning from the pleasure. He was on cloud nine, finally having the woman he longed for quite some time.

“Got me waiting for this pussy almost the whole damn year.” You met his hungry gaze, your moaning synchronised with his. He crushed his lips to yours one more time before thrusting his cock in and out of your heat faster and deeper.

You bit down on his lip, him groaning at the sensation, slapping your ass in the heat of the moment.

“This pussy was fucking designed for me.” He claimed you.

He was hitting all the right places, making you squeeze your eyes shut again. He upheld his promise to fuck you good. You can regret this after, now it’s not the time.

“M’wanna pound this pretty ass too.” He pulled out of you, turning you to lay on your belly, slapping the already reddened skin before setting you on all fours, ass up. He did not hesitate to rut inside of you again, feeling him all the way in your stomach, you screamed his name.

“Jungkook!” his thrusts set a brutal pace that you were not sure if you’ll survive. Their moans continued to echo in the room.

“You belong to me.” He growled, pounding your pussy, the sound of skin slapping was audible ten times louder than usual. The knot in your lower belly appeared again, got you moaning uncontrollably.

Jungkook sensed that your climax was near and went to rub your clit with the desire to make you cum all over him while getting himself off with you.

“Guk—” you choked on your words, your legs and hands were trembling, tears springing out of your eyes. You desperately needed to cum.

“I know, baby.” He kissed the arch of your back, making his hand and hips move even faster, hitting your cervix. If this is heaven, you don’t want to leave.

“I-I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” You shouted, feeling the knot untying itself rather quickly. Jungkook growled right to your ear. He was close too, dangerously close.

“Baby!” He whimpered, feeling the tension rising.

Your juice splashed the sheets as you squirted all over his cock, crying, the orgasm hitting you way too hard. Jungkook’s hips did not stop while he chased his own release, complimenting you, your body, and how you are such a good girl while doing so. With a loud moan and one last deep thrust, he came in you, holding you still while he emptied himself. The warmth of his release felt too authentic, but you were too fucked out to notice.

As you were also too fucked out to notice the empty abandoned condom laying on the ground.

“I love you so much baby—”

It was getting dark outside when you woke up, your head pounding as you looked over your naked body and evident ache in between your legs. The sheer curtains that are covering the floor to ceiling windows, once airy and light, now filter the early evening light into a soft, diffused glow, creating a cosy atmosphere. You cuddled the soft sheets that were wrapped around your lower body, thinking that you could sleep some more.

But when you heard the muted notes of En Vogue’s Whatta Man blasting somewhere in the penthouse, any hopes of serenity were shattered. A curse slipped through your lips as the reality of your surroundings hit you.

“Fuck,” you muttered through your teeth, the small fists pounding against the bed. To muffle the scream of mixed emotions, you seized a leopard-patterned pillow, pressing it against your face.

You had willingly let this happen, all for the pursuit of a damn book and damn fucking job and your damn fucking career. But why was it so precious, you might ask? Your portfolio wasn’t just a collection of pages bound together; it was a culmination of dreams, aspirations, and relentless hard work. Each design you made over the years, a carefully curated piece of your artistic vision, held a piece of your soul.

The portfolio was your identity as a designer, a visual storyteller who poured emotions, creativity, and skill into each piece of clothing. It was something you presented yourself with, and you believed it held the power to open doors. It got you your first adult job after you spent two years in the big apple on your own, dreaming big while washing dishes behind the counter.

And it got you the second job of your early fashion career, a higher position than sales assistant, the head designer at the men’s wear division at Calvin Klein. You were aiming to become the head of the department when a better offer came your way, from Guess.

The project they offered you to be a part of was a kind of interview to get through and sit as the executive director of the women’s department. You were thrilled to accept as you always wanted to design for your gender.

And he fucked it up. So, you have to excuse yourself by letting your guard down, giving him a chance to sway you. You are doing this for you and your career.

You sat on the bed, eyeing the modern bedroom that screamed his name as did the smell of the room. Just like you remembered before you blacked out from all the pleasure he forced upon you.

Sighing, you moved your sore naked body to the edge of the bed. A black leather armchair caught your eye, a clean set of underwear laid out on it, burning under your gaze. You gulped down. This was your mess after all. You let him come too close—extremely close, judging by the recurring ache between your legs.

“Fuck it, it’s fine.” You’d manage somehow, or at least, that’s how you decided to play along with his nonsensical fantasy and possessive behaviour.

You tiptoed down the penthouse, searching for the devil. You knew you were going the right way when the music grew louder. Peeking from the narrow hallway into the living room, he was nowhere in sight. Only the RCA telly with MTV on indicated that he must’ve been there.

The sizzling sound of something cooking and a pleasant aroma hit your ears and nose. He was in the kitchen, cooking. Jeon Jungkook was in the kitchen, cooking. A certain degree of domesticity welcomed you as you stepped into the all-blue kitchen. His kitchen was way nicer than yours, you noted. Large cabinets, the island full of food ingredients he was preparing. Your gaze lingered as your eyes traced his masculine, naked back, tattoos shouting at you. Your knees felt weak at the sight, your body reacting to him as if he were the alpha wolf.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip. He was swaying his hips to the rhythm of the song. Even from this point of view, you could tell he is in a very good mood. It seemed like he was glowing.

You leaned against the arch, contemplating whether to make your presence known or observe from the shadows. Before you could decide, he turned around, planning to cut the vegetables, his eyes locking onto yours immediately. Bunny smile plastered on his face, reaching his ears — a juxtaposition to how anxious you looked in his big shirt.

Quickly circling the kitchen island, he reached you in a matter of seconds. The heartthrob was beaming with happiness seeing you in his kitchen, in his shirt, barefoot, face raw, and all his. At least, that was his perspective after he finally got you where he wanted you.

“Baby!” He squeaked happily, pulling you by your wrists. The movement causes your petite frame to collide with his naked torso. Jungkook did not let you speak even if you wanted to, instead he pulled you even closer, pressing his lips to yours. You yelped, surprised by the unexpected collision. The vulnerability you felt in his presence only heightened as he claimed you, his happiness seemingly derived from having you exactly where he wanted—vulnerable and dependent on him.

The kiss lingered for a moment, and as Jungkook pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours again, gleaming with an unspoken mischief you could not decipher. He seemed to revel in the flustered state he had induced, and a cocky grin played on his lips.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, his warm breath grazing your ear as he finally released your wrists, pecking your lips softly again. The shirt you wore clung to your form.

“It’s almost five pm.” You muttered back after you gave the digital clock on the stove a glance. He laughed it off, not replying.

“How do you like your steak?” he asked, his tone casual as if the passionate kiss hadn’t just occurred.

“M-medium rare,” you stammered, still processing the sudden turn of events. He chuckled, the sound resonating in the cosy kitchen as he came back to the stove to resume cooking, what you assumed is your dinner. Your stomach growled loudly when the delicious smell hit your nostrils, loudly. Jungkook even looked your way, encouraging you to take whatever you wanted from the fridge that was next to him, until dinner was ready.

You looked at the silver double-door fridge, and suddenly, your hunger vanished. Those were your magnets that were on your fridge just hours prior. He went through your boxes and unpacked them. The world was spinning, and your stomach was dangerously twisting.

He noticed the change in your expression, the playfulness in his eyes fading as he followed your gaze to the fridge.

“Something wrong, baby?” he inquired. You swallowed hard, attempting to mask the unease that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“No, nothing,” you replied, forcing a tight smile. His attention returned to the stove, the sizzling sounds and savoury aroma filling the kitchen. The clock on the stove continued its indifferent march towards evening. But your mind stopped.

“I-I think—” you stammered, it was hard for you to speak when there was an evident lump in your throat that wanted to emerge to the surface.

“Baby?” he raised a brow at you, letting everything he was doing to approach you again. You gulped down, trying to breathe it out.

“I think... I need—,” you tried, the words escaping in a breathy whisper. Jungkook’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern as he stepped closer. That got you even more anxious and a quick escape was a way you opted.

Your legs carried you back to the room where you knew a bathroom would be near. You heard him calling your name, but he did not run to get you. He must have thought that you’re trying to run again, but when he saw you going the way the master bedroom is, he did not push it.

You slumped right to your knees, emptying your already empty stomach into the toilet. Tears stringed from your eyes. Before you could calm or clean yourself the door creaked open, and Jungkook’s concerned voice seeped into the bathroom.

“Oh my god! Are you okay baby?” He hovered in the doorway, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. You didn’t have the strength to respond, only offering a weak nod as you continued to empty the contents of your stomach.

His footsteps approached, and you could feel him kneeling beside you, one hand tentatively rubbing your back.

“Easy, baby. Easy,” he murmured softly.

After a moment, the nausea subsided, and you leaned back against the cool porcelain, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Jungkook remained by your side, a true concern readable in his eyes.

As you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but notice the familiar objects around the bathroom. Toothbrush, hairbrush, all your makeup and even your pyjamas, had found a place alongside Jungkook’s in the bathroom. He was blurring the lines between your lives.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you winced at the sight of prominent hickeys and bite marks adorning your neck. You caught Jungkook’s worrying gaze but did not pay attention to it longer than you needed to.

“When was the last time you ate properly, baby?” he asked, caressing the small of your back, kissing the top of your head. You touched the tender skin on your neck, a mix of shame and regret settling in the pit of your stomach.

You knew very well that this wasn’t a doing of the lack of nutrition within your body but it did stop you to think for a second. When was the last time you had a proper meal and not a cheap ramen noodles from a convenience store near your building? You did not recall, so you rather opted to shrug your shoulders and reach for your toothbrush that could have melted under your gaze at this point.

“Why don’t you freshen up, and I’m going to finish dinner.” He sighed and kissed your temple. You’ve let him. He has done worse. As he left the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed—physically, emotionally, and now even in your most private spaces. Your eyes lingered back on the assortment of makeup and personal items neatly arranged beside his.

Brushing your teeth never felt so foreign and unnatural. Your eyes darted around his room after you finished, and that’s when you noticed what you did not when you woke up —a closet, half-filled with your clothes. Neatly folded, hanged right beside his. Even your jewellery was sorted by the type of metal. Your shoes, your skirts, dresses, everything. He had seamlessly integrated your wardrobe into his, as if signalling an intention far beyond a temporary stay.

Then all your pictures scattered on the walls as you walked down the corridor back to the heartthrob who swayed you here. Feeling the unease building in your stomach again.

Jungkook stood by the table, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you approach. His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and possession. This all seemed like a stage for a performance you hadn’t signed up for.

The steak, perfectly cooked to your liking, accompanied by a side of vegetables. The spread looked delectable, and your stomach rumbled again, reminding you that you hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The scent of the meal teased your senses.

As you picked at your food, a question lingered in the back of your mind—how had it come to this? Have you really had no choice but him? Was this worth the trouble? Perhaps.

Your parents would think of you as a failure if you returned home. and your pride did not allow you to pick up your old job and be a girl for everything. You worked in the fashion industry and you were willing to do anything to maintain it.

“Are you listening to me, baby?” Jungkook broke the stream of your consciousness, his voice soft yet insistent. You hummed in response but your ears could not pick precise words that left his mouth.

“There’s Grammys next week, do you have any design for the red carpet so we could match—”

“What about the job?” You interrupted him, setting your fork down, staring at him viciously.

“So the Grammys—” he tried to continue without replying to you but you were having none of it.

“So the job, Jungkook.” You said through clenched teeth one more time. You weren’t about to let him sidestep the conversation about your career.

He sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching with a momentary annoyance. The room crackled with tension, the unspoken power dynamics unravelling before you.

“You’ve been a very good girl so far—” he lifted the handkerchief he had on his lap and placed it on top of the table next to his glass of red wine.

“Why do you have to misbehave now.” His attempt to redirect the conversation towards your behaviour only fuelled your frustration.

“I’m not misbehaving, Jungkook,” you shot back, your voice sharp and unyielding. “I need to know about the job. I need to know that you’re actually doing something concrete to help me, not just playing puppeteer with my life.”

“There’s an opening at Givenchy, and Prada or Dior but—” your eyes were full of false hope.

“—until I can be sure you won’t leave me the second you get the new job. You won’t go to any interview.” He leaned back, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as if enjoying the power play.

Your mind raced, torn between ambition and self-respect. You had worked tirelessly to establish yourself, and the taste of success was within reach. Yet, the cost demanded by Jungkook was steep—an indefinite surrender of your autonomy.

“That’s not what we agreed upon—” You whined out, anxiety clutching your insights in tight grip.

“Oh but we did baby.” He answered swiftly, smiling sweetly.

“I—” you wanted to protest, but he was quick to dismiss any argument you wanted to come up with.

“I said I want you, and you agreed, baby. You can’t take it back.”

“What does that even mean?!” You whined out.

“That I won’t let you slip through my fingers again. You belong here with me, and you better learn your place or prepare for a farewell with the magnificent fashion world of yours.” The ultimatum echoed in your mind as his gaze was trying to make you submit. Jungkook’s possessiveness loomed over you, a suffocating force that sought to confine your wings.

“You can’t force me,” words slipped past your lips, a proclamation of your refusal to succumb to his dominance.

“You underestimate the lengths I’ll go to keep you, Y/N,” he retorted, his voice low and laced with a dangerous edge.

“You’re sick.” You spat out at him, standing up to leave when he grabbed you and held you tight. You were looking up at his face, seemingly angry with your words. His eyes darkened, a fleeting moment of anger crossing his features.

“Aren’t you a bit ungrateful, my love?” he seethed, his voice a low growl. The possessive tone sent shivers down your spine, but you refused to cower under his gaze.

“I’m providing you with shelter, food, money and most of all my love.”

“It’s sick, Jungkook. This isn’t love,” you shot back, your voice unwavering. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his grip unyielding. He scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“You’re testing my patience, Y/N. You’re mine,” he retorted quickly, not letting you go. You wanted to protest, to tell him to fuck off, and even worse things, but he was not finished.

“Think with your pretty little head, won’t you?—” you glared at him, defiance burning in your eyes.

“—you can live like a princess, you can have your dream position and on top of that a loving significant other — me.” The seconds felt like an eternity, the weight of his possessiveness pressing down on you.

“What is success for when you cannot share the joy with someone you love.” He whispered, a sinister undertone in his words. You had a feeling he’s not only talking about you. You had to think, and you had to think quickly.

“You’re asking me to give up my autonomy, Jungkook.” You shot back, your voice unwavering. He scoffed, the air heavy with tension.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, Y/N. You need me—” He chuckled, a condescending tone lacing his voice.

“—what were you gonna do if you didn’t come to me? Hm? Your mami and papi who are disappointed in you or your fake friends who did not bat an eye to try and help you out?—” You turned your face away from him, not wanting to let his words affect you.

“—I helped you. I am here for you!” He shook you, still holding a tight grip on you.

“All I’m asking in return is you to give yourself to me.” With a defiant push, you broke free from his grasp, leaving him seething in frustration. Covering your face with your palms, you sobbed.

“Love and loyalty is not that big of a price when you think about it.”

“You promise?” you choked out through your tears. You were tired, exhausted to the bone, and this was taking a bigger toll on you than you would expect. You wanted to trick him and instead he tricked you. But you needed to play by his rules to win in the game he started. His eyes softened momentarily, a twisted form of concern flickering in his gaze.

“I promise, baby,” he murmured, his tone almost soothing. The fire has ceased for now. Or so you thought. Despite the fragile promise, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were dancing on the edge of a precipice, held by the strings he so skilfully pulled. But the stakes were high, and you couldn’t afford to falter. You had no shelter, almost no money and no one to turn to. For now. You promised yourself, this is temporary. You will find a way out of this arrangement.

You finished your dinner. He insisted. You stripped naked while he was drawing the bath. He again insisted. The penthouse, filled with music and the fragrance of expensive candles. You allowed yourself to be led, like a puppet, your exhaustion overshadowing your instincts. As you sat there in the hot water, vulnerable, he wiped away your tears.

The water lapping against your skin is like an ominous reminder of the depths you found yourself in. Jungkook’s hands traced patterns on your back.

Jungkook, seemingly attuned to your exhaustion, wiped away your tears, the gesture carrying a strange mixture of care and control.

“It’s all gonna feel better once you accept it.” Said he, right to your ear, sending shivers down your naked body. You pressed your legs to your chest to hide yourself, a futile attempt at preserving some semblance of privacy, even though he had seen it all.

“I cannot grasp why you would do this to me, Jungkook,” you sobbed, letting him hold you against his chest.

“I did it for us, baby.” His hands firmly gripped yours now, making them stop hugging your knees. The heartthrob wanted you to relax in his presence. A laughable request considering the circumstances that led you here.

“Stop being delusional. There is no us.” You finally let him move your hands only for you to grab the frame of the bathtub and attempt to pull yourself up and away from him. He did not fancy this attempt of yours, and he let you know that by grabbing a large portion of your hair, dragging you back.

Your body slammed to his naked torso with a loud slap caused by the wet skin on skin contact. It took your breath away for a good minute.

“You didn’t seem to argue about it earlier today when my cock was hitting all-the-right-places, making you squirt, hmm?” Said the raven haired man, still holding your hair in his fist. He did not intend to hurt you, no, it was not as painful as the whole humiliating scenery and the fact you could not break free of him. He’s putting an example of what will happen once you stop behaving again. Putting you in your place — that’s what he called it.

“Matter of fact, Imma show you again that there’s us baby, until you realise it yourself.”

Trying to wiggle out of his grasp, you whimpered every time you pulled your hair back to make you stay still. And as if he changed his mind, your body was pulled out of the warm water, letting your hair go, making you fall down to the bright rug on the floor of the bathroom. Soaking it wet you looked up to him towering over your shivering physique.

“It was about time for you to show me how you are grateful to be my good girl—” he stepped closer. You did not want to look at him, knowing well what he is talking about.

“Open up baby—” you shook your head, pulling away from him and his hard member that he was holding just inches away from your face. You felt it meet your cheek and immediately retrieved yourself again which made him even more frustrated. His cock was painfully hard, and you were not cooperating.

The tattooed hand in your hair pulled you right back, his eyes bore to yours with a hard stare, and you swear they got even darker. His other hand was clutching your jaw, harder and harder until you involuntarily opened your mouth wide enough.

Taking the chance right away, he slipped his thick and hard manhood into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. He hissed at how your teeth slightly scraped his dick. You choked on it, but he was unfazed by it, continuing to thrust into your throat, making tears fall down your cheeks.

“I knew you could be my good girl.” He groaned, praising you with each of his hard thrusts into your mouth. Your breathing was shallow, and you tried to get as much air as you could. He was moaning loudly, the wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out of your mouth, covered by your saliva made him even more aroused and hungry for you.

“You just need a bit of a re-education.” He was getting lost in the pleasure your mouth was providing him, and you were deprived of the air you needed. Your hand hit his pelvis when you thought you’re going to pass out soon.

“Just a moment more, baby. I know you can take it.” He said through gritted teeth. Jungkook was panting loudly, mixing it with loud moans of your name.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re my heaven.” Your nails were scratching his abdomen, trying to break free, but his hold was too strong. You were drooling all over his cock, and your hand started to spin from the lack of oxygen and how quickly your head was bobbing.

He was getting dangerously close and his sloppy movements reflected that. He managed to pull one last thrust before he was cumming down your throat. He was letting his dick soften, pressed on your tongue while the hot semen was springing out of his tip.

“Swallow.”

The night wore on, shadows dancing on the walls as you lay there, pressed to his chest, his hand limply laying on your hip, contemplating the surreal turn you took.

If anything arose in you during the intercourse you wish you would wipe out of your mind, it was a determination to break free from the suffocating grasp of the penthouse.

Jungkook laid beside you, his breathing steady, a façade of tranquillity painted on his features. As he drifted into a seemingly serene slumber, you waited for the right moment to seize the opportunity.

When you were certain he was deeply asleep, you carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, a shiver running down your spine as you tiptoed through the room.

The moon cast a pale glow through the sheer curtains, guiding your movements as you tiptoed across the room. Your hand grasped the cold doorknob, the soft creaking of the door threatened to betray your escape. Your body frozen in time, your pupils shaking, fearing what happens if he wakes up. You wait a minute to make sure he is not coming to drag you back before you open the door in one swift movement.

You rethought the tasks you listed in your plan. Find the portfolio and get the fuck out as quick as possible. Everything else is replaceable for you. The mindset that the portfolio is the only key to all your problems, remained.

The adrenaline surged through your veins, the pulse of your heart echoing in the quiet hallway you walked through to get to the front of the penthouse.

He never took you upstairs, therefore you assumed that’s where he must’ve hidden it.

You approached the staircase, the carpet soft beneath your feet. The air seemed to grow heavier with every ascending step. The possibility of him waking up was not zero.

As you reached the upper level, you noticed the subtle shift in the ambiance. The hallway, adorned with pieces of art that whispered tales of luxury, and all his awards he won during his career, displayed to show his success. You passed several open doors, a home recording studio in one of them, be ridden of what you were looking for.

The hallway led you towards a set of double doors. That must be it. The doors creaked open, your gaze scanning for any sign of your portfolio. Your eyes flickering between the meticulously arranged accolades and the sprawling desk. He must be using this room as his office.

The seconds stretched into minutes, the urgency escalating with each passing heartbeat. You began with the drawers of the glass table, trying to be as quiet as possible. You cannot afford to cause commotion.

Anxiety wrapped around you, a vice tightening with every passing moment. You went through the library too, looked under every surface, you could not find it.

With a deep breath, you steadied yourself. There must be another place he could have hidden it. Your eyes fell upon the stack of papers, leaning your head to the side you examined the tabloid underneath with your face on it.

You fished it out in mere seconds, eyeing it unbelievably. If you were on the cover of a tabloid you would for sure know that. But you were not aware that your face appeared in Star magazine, right beside Jungkook. “Jungkook’s Mysterious Muse Revealed!” the headline screamed at you.

It was not only you after all. Society has convinced Jungkook that you two are sort of an item. A clandestine affair, a narrative spun by the society, linking your name with Jungkook’s in a tale of intrigue.

It was dated right when you started working on Klein’s campaign, back in April. It is almost the end of November now, and this is the first time you’re seeing this. You couldn’t fathom how deeply the web had been woven around you. The urgency of the situation intensified, and you combed through every conceivable hiding spot.

A sudden noise from downstairs snapped your attention. Fear gripped you, and your heart raced. Did he wake up? The urgency of the situation intensified, and you felt the weight of the clock ticking against you.

You sobbed and when you went to rub your eyes, they fell upon the other room diagonally from the one you were searching now. The doors were slightly ajar and you could see soft shades of colours within. In a last-ditch effort you marched towards it.

But ever stepping inside you regretted. The whole scenery that was revealed once you opened the door swiftly caught your breath in your throat.

The soft shades of colours painted a haunting picture—a baby room, unfinished and untouched by time. The sight startled you, sending a shiver down your spine. This can’t be.

“No..” You whispered to yourself, panicking. Your hands found their place in your hair. He is one delusional man. There is no other explanation, he is sick in the head if he thinks he is going to baby trap you.

A sense of dread overwhelmed you, and in your shock, you stumbled over something on the floor, hitting your head in the process. You groaned from the pain, forgetting that this commotion must have been loud enough for Jungkook to wake up.

As you rolled to the side, your eyes widened in disbelief. The portfolio was taped to the bottom of a cabinet. Without a second thought, you ripped it free, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

The rain outside intensified, a symphony of droplets against the windows. With the portfolio clutched in your hands, you ran down the stairs, right to the front door you prayed would not be locked. Would he be that careless? Yes. The degree of his mental instability was enough for him to believe that you are his and you would not think of running. He cut off every single option you had.

First, by making sure that your former employer would get to know you’re planning to leave the brand, enough for them to let you go. Second, he successfully obtained your portfolio that you were stupid enough to not make a copy of, which resulted in not meeting the deadline with Guess and losing that job opportunity too.

Third, he did not expect you to not stay the first you went to his penthouse but he was determined to go to extremes. So, every single fashion brand that had department stores in New York and in the rest of the world, backlisted you. No job application you sent, assistant buyer, a visibly lower position to what you had at Klein, would be turned down.

Fourth, make sure your landlord has already a tenant replacing you, ready to pay double for your apartment if they can move in as soon as possible.

That you’re alienated from your parents played his cards right and he never wished anything bad upon someone else, but how he thanked God that your friends have either too small apartments for another person to live in or they were struggling even more than you were. But lucky for you. He was right there, waiting for your call.

The handle felt too cold in your hand once you pushed the front door open merging the distance to the elevators, you were madly pushing the down button.

The seconds felt like an eternity as you waited for the elevator. Your breaths came in short, erratic bursts, mirroring the frenetic pace of your heart. Quickly stepping inside the metal box you heard it.

“Y/N?!” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. His eyes momentarily locked with yours. You were clutching your portfolio to your chest, the other hand pressing the close button, praying it will close faster.

He must have heard you running down the stairs, or perhaps when you tripped and fell. You even forgot that you’ve hurt yourself. The adrenaline was overshadowing the pain.

“Come back right now!” He was mad, that much you could tell.

With the last determined push, you closed the door on him, severing the visual link between you. Letting out a relieving breath, you knew that this is far from being over. The elevator descended, carrying you away from the penthouse.

He cannot make it all the way down in time before you’ll disappear from the area. You prayed, he would not.

The lobby welcomed you as the doors opened, the room blurred as you stormed towards the exit, your heart pounding in rhythm with the rain. You burst into the rain-soaked night. Clutching the book tightly, a surge of triumph coursed through your veins.

The cold drops pelted against your skin. The relentless downpour soaking your clothes and hair. Running towards the street, you waved at the cars, hoping a taxi would stop.

It took a minute for some yellow car to appear at the curb, not wasting time, you ran towards it.

A smile appeared on your face after a long time. You did not know where you’re going, nor what you’re going to do next but Jungkook was never supposed to be your option and now you got the chance to choose differently or not? This is your second chance, and you’re willing to take it.

Your hand touched the handle of the yellow vehicle, opening the door and planning to leap inside as quickly as possible.

A strong tattooed hand closed abruptly. You gulped down an enormous lump in your throat, almost not breathing. How could this happen? It was mere minutes. Did he run the stairs? Did you take too long to catch a cab? Should you just run as far as possible?

Every single thing you could have done differently would not change the outcome it seems. And every single thing worked out in his favour, again.

His palm pressed on the taxi door firm, you could not open it anymore nor he would let you hop in the front seat. Your heart pounded in your chest, the tension and fear to face him was killing you. The portfolio now felt like a burden, if you make peace with losing it and your career, would you avoid this?

You could feel his eyes burning holes to the back of your head.

“I will not go back.” You said, voice resolute, but inside you were shaking. You could feel his hot breath on your cold skin, similarly you could feel his body pressing to your back. Once he reached your ear, you felt his lips mere inches from it, whispering.

“You will.”

I N T E R L O G U E

Jungkook settled into the plush leather chair after he finished carefully unpacking all your belongings, believing he is helping you to settle down. His fingers deftly dialled his mother’s number. As the phone rang, he gazed out over the city lights sprawling beneath him, a realm he had conquered with ruthless determination.

His new song, obviously written about you, was an enormous hit, granting him another Grammy nomination. But what was his success for when he did not have his love to share it with?

He smiled to himself, he got you. After long months of chasing you, then giving you the space you needed to realise he is your best shot in this world, you’re finally where you belong. Next to him.

The familiar voice of his mother greeted him, warm and comforting.

“Eomma—” Jungkook said, his tone affectionate.

“Jungkook, dear! How is my baby?” His mother’s voice held a blend of joy and concern.

“I’m doing well, Eomma. I have some news to share,” he said, his eyes glancing toward the bedroom where Y/N lay, unaware of the conversation taking place.

“Oh? Do tell,” his mother replied, anticipation evident in her voice. Jungkook leaned back, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

“Y/N moved in.” His mother’s delight was palpable through the phone. Jungkook let her know the very moment he stepped into your office that he is very much interested in you. That he met the special one he wants to grow old with.

As he spoke, he subtly weaved a narrative of love and destiny, carefully crafting the tale of their supposed connection. His mother listened attentively, hanging onto every word.

“Are you going to propose over Christmas like you wanted, Kookie?” His mother gasped with excitement. Jungkook glanced at the bedroom once more, satisfaction settling within him. The diamond ring well hidden deep inside of the closet. But that’s given and final in his mind, there’s something more he selfishly wants. Not only will it make sure you won’t be able to leave him any more, it will give you reason to grow to love him back. After all, he would be the only person who you can grow old with.

“We’re trying for a baby, Eomma.”

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy - @mylyus-blog - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim - @doulcha - @sexytholland - @minyngr - @mizuumii @ali99eel - @loomipee @jkslvsnella - @tearykth - @iveivory - @lachimolalajeon - @mother2monsters

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

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askmerriauthor · 1 year

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Homie. Darling. Muchaco. Please help me. You're an animator. You've worked in the video game industry. When you get to That One Memory in TOTK (you know which one I mean and if you don't, you will),

Please help me figure out what the fuck is going on with Ganondorf's face rigging

Man, I didn't even need to look anything up: I knew EXACTLY what you were talking about as soon as you said it.

Short Answer: Need more polys.

Long Answer: It's simultaneously a case of limited model structure and potentially some degree of intentional design choice specific to Ganondorf's presentation in this particular game.

Discussion below the jump, just for the sake of not stretching out people's dashboards. No worries about spoilers: none of this is story-relevant.

So! To give a very broad strokes bit of coverage on the wide and varied nonsense that is 3D modeling, this is a case of Topology. The basic thrust is that topology is the overall structure and layout of the mesh that makes up the 3D model's various shapes. The lower the polygon count on that mesh, the more angular its structure and the less capacity for deformation it has. The higher the polygon count, the smoother its structure and the greater its capacity for deformation. The trade-off, however, is that low-poly models are easier for a game engine to render. High-poly models are a massive drain on processing power, to say nothing if they're built inefficiently with a bunch of wasted geometry bogging things down.

Here's an example of a low-poly model on the left and a high-poly model on the right.

So when you want to make a character emote, you're basically grabbing a bunch of those polygons around the face and moving them around to shape the face into the desired expression. If you don't have a lot of polys to play with, it causes folding and tearing issues where the model and its textures do some pretty wonky shit.

Something both BoTW and ToTK have going for them is that they're actually very low-poly games, which is extremely helpful in making the games run as smoothly as they do given the world size and seamless loading. The lighting and texture work do A TON of heavy lifting to make the game look as good as it does. Really look at these models closely and you can see how angular they are. Look at Zelda's outstretched hand or how sharply light falls across the character's features. In the bottom right, notice how you can see the sharp points that make up Zelda's shoulders? They're not rounded; they're angled just enough to give the general illusion of a curve at a glance. Same goes for her eyes; you can count the angles that make up the shape of her eye but, at a distance and at a glance, they look big, round, and doleful.

Something you can also notice is when characters talk, a lot of them have little to no facial deformation. Mineru, for example, basically has a one-hinge Muppet mouth outside of pre-rendered cutscenes. A lot of characters' eyes are basically painted onto their faces and switch between static texture shapes as opposed to being fully rendered and animated orbs modeled into their heads.

Ganondorf actually has a fairly complex character model, especially compared to Link or Zelda, but he doesn't have a lot of model deformation. Basically the only parts of his head that move are his eyes/brows and mouth/jaw. If you look closely around his eyes you can see they're rendered basically as triangles. There's only two or three points along their shape the model can deform at. Further, since the rest of his face doesn't really deform when he emotes, it means the only thing that really moves are those small key elements. Which yields moments like this:

The animators are basically pushing his expression as much as they are actually capable of with this model's limited structure. See the hard fold in the lower eyelid, or the fact that his teeth aren't attached to anything inside his jaw? It does the job though; it overall looks good and, in the moment this scene happens, really adds something to the unsettling nature of what's going down.

I mentioned before that there may be a certain intent as well. Something specific to Ganondorf in this iteration is that, more than ever, he's become an Oni. Ganondorf's character design has slowly been leaning toward more Japanese-specific visual concepts over the past few appearances but he's gone full yokai for ToTK. Not just in his build, but in his clothing and weaponry. Dude is swinging around a kanabo for the first time ever in the franchise.

In Japanese mythology and Noh theater, a Red Oni basically functions as the embodiment of all the worst parts of mankind. They're greedy, brutal, cruel monsters who revel in causing destruction. If you want to look at their good aspects, it's traits like passion, ambition, and a wild spirit. But, overall, they're the bad guys. Ganondorf is 100% depicted as a Red Oni in ToTK. So when you keep that in mind, add in the implications of what Ganondorf just did in that scene, and consider the traditional appearances of a Red Oni...

...then that face-breaking grin makes a lot more sense.

#totk #botw #ganondorf #legend of zelda #animation

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venomous-qwille · 11 months

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Can you please just tell us what is wrong with ai and why, I can't find anything from actual industry artists ect online through Google just tech bro type articles. All the tech articles are saying it's a good thing, and every pro I follow refuses to explain how or why it's bad. How am I supposed to know something if nobody will teach me and I can't find it myself

I'll start by saying that the reason pro artists are refusing to answer questions about this is because they are tired. Like, I dont know if anyone actually understands just how exhausting it is to have to justify over and over again why the tech companies that are stealing your work and actively seeking to destroy your craft are 'bad, actually'.

I originally wrote a very longform reply to this ask, but in classic tumblr style the whole thing got eaten, so. I do not have the spoons to rewrite all that shit. Here are some of the sources I linked, I particularly recommend stable diffusion litigation for a thorough breakdown of exactly how generative tools work and why that is theft.

youtube

or this video if you are feeling lazy and only want the art-side opening statements:

Everytime you feed someone's work- their art, their writing, their likeness- into Midjourney or Dall-E or Chat GPT you are feeding this monster.

Go forth and educate yourself.

#ai art #asks answered #qwillechatter #for real though guys please dont interact with me about AI #I intended for this to be the last post I'll ever make about it #but tumblr ate it so you miss out on the nice essay #all the sources tell you everything you need to know #Im so fucking tired

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saiidahyunie · 5 months

Text

dance, baby!

park jihyo x choreographer!reader ; fluff, a lil angsty

synopsis: there’s some tension in the practice room, but jihyo comes to realize that you’re actually a simple person with a tough shell to break through.

wc: 6.6k

warnings: cursing ; mentions of smoking/vaping

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

a/n: i actually unlocked an old phase from high school with boy pablo while writing this, nothing but good vibes and good times :D

—

“go again.”

breathless pants filled the empty practice room as jihyo stood with a slight lean back in her posture with her hands on top of each other, looking at her reflection in the mirror, making sure that every single little detail was fine tuned to perfection.

“let’s run through that one more time before we call it a night.”

jihyo turns around to see you stand up from the couch set in the back corner of the room, almost like coming out of the shadows as you stood next to her, finger on chin while you tried to find something to critique about her dance routine she just performed.

“you were late with the body shift on counts three and four.” you say to her, moving your body to the left before tilting your head upwards and down with your right arm shooting to the right, left hand clutching your chest, dropping to a kneel then standing back up.

“everything else is pretty solid, but again it’s just the small little details that will stick out since you’re the center.”

jihyo internalizes this, keeping this in mind as she watches you walk to the rear of the room, playing back the song on the computer for her to run the routine after a long session that had been going for probably a little over two hours.

the fast upbeat rap song blasted through the speakers and jihyo immediately got back into her element, hitting all of the necessary movements and poses with ease. you watched intently from the reflection of the mirror as jihyo did exactly what you told her to fix, slightly nodding your head as you watched her stomp to the 808s before dropping to her knees for a low movement, shooting back up and ending the same position as before.

jihyo’s pants were more audible now, beads of sweat glistening down on her face, looking over to you holding a thumbs up as she plopped down on the floor, laying flat on her back clearly exhausted.

“good job ji-ji.” you say your trademark nickname to jihyo, a slight smile tugging on both of your faces as jihyo sits back up, handing her a towel for her to use to wipe her face and a the bottle of water for her to drink, watching her recover in a rice farmer squat position with your head at an angle just taking in the sight.

“was that good?” jihyo asks you in between pants.

“good for now, but we’ll see how it meshes up with the others next practice.” you reply to her, giving a hand to help her up, crossing arms after while jihyo places the towel over her shoulder.

“still room for improvement though.”

“yeah, there is.”

you pat jihyo’s shoulder, walking back to the couch to grab you and jihyo’s bag, giving it to her as the both of you head out of the dance room, turning the lights off to finally call it after a long day of dancing.

—

jihyo was a woman of ambition.

being a leader of her dance team was something that she was really passionate about, the many dance members knew this since she was one of the founding people of the entire thing.

she was also an extreme hothead at times with that fireball of said ambition. her flame itself burned so hot to a point where it created a small rift between her and the members—the previous choreographer that worked with her team stormed out one practice after having a very verbal dispute that left jihyo disgruntled after creative differences weren’t met.

that’s where you came in.

you were a world renowned choreographer that had multiple collabs with the hottest groups in the industry. your latest work just happened to be with the grv dance unit, aiding them in two back to back dance titles overseas.

a few board members of jihyo’s dance team pulled some strings to get you over here to try and get everything in shape for the upcoming season—everyone was left in surprise when the girls received the news about their new choreographer that first day.

“i wonder who they brought in to work with us closely for this comp season?” sana says while stretching by doing splits on the floor.

“i heard it’s someone that’s a well known figure in the industry.” momo adds while aiding a fellow friend amy with a forward lunge, pressing down on her back to deepen her stretch.

“maybe it’s-”

“alright everybody in the center!” jihyo yells out, the medium sized group of girls gathered in the middle of the practice room to see the door swing open.

kiel, one of the team’s board members walks in with you just tailing behind, a collection of gasps were heard as you flashed a small smile at the group before stopping right in the center standing in front of jihyo and the girls.

“everyone, this is y/n, she’s our new choreographer that will be closely working with you guys exclusively moving forward.” kiel says, presenting you like a brand new art piece to showcase as the dance team applauded to your small wave.

“i think some people here already know who i am kiel.” you beam, taking off your hat and flipping your hair right in front of jihyo, priming a smirk meeting her eyes before looking to the others.

jihyo still kept her eyes locked on you as kiel explained the projected plan and expectations for the team before seeing himself out of the practice room, leaving you with the girls in the room to get started with the first day of practice with the new dance coach.

“you know my name, you know my reputation, i expect great things from you guys moving forward.” you say, plopping your bag and jacket to reveal an oversized shirt that was slightly tucked in towards one side, putting your hat back on, going to the computer to put on a subtle song to start stretches with.

the music started to play with your back turned to the rest of the members, some of them exchanging smiles with each other before you raised your arm up, snapping your fingers to the beat.

“we’re gonna start with a couple of dynamic stretches first! so follow along after me and five, six…”

everyone in the room snapped their attention back towards the mirror as the first practice officially got underway.

—

an infectious passion to succeed, and a motivation to become the best.

that was the message you preached to the dance team in the real stint of your expertise towards these girls. it was easy going for the first few weeks of learning the new movements of choreo to showcase at the first few comps—pulling away with placements in first thanks to you no doubt, but with jihyo’s levelheaded composure keeping the members focused really helped them enjoy themselves but also stay locked in.

you added more and more difficult movements as throughout the next months during the season, most of the girls could keep up but this was you that they were being taught by, the level and control you had with your body was miles ahead than what the members were accustomed to.

the only few that were able to keep up with your fast paced contorted movements were sana, momo, another dancer in rachel, and of course jihyo.

during one practice, you continued to finish up the team’s performance by blocking, the dance in itself was already up to your standards of envisioning how to bring your creation to life for the final competition of the season. there was still an hour and a half left before the team could head out to rest before the weekend when there was a small hitch that didn’t happen up until the last couple of practices.

after swiftly going through a specific body movement that consisted of a swift motion with a body roll followed by extending the arms out from the chest and over the head, you turned around to see if everyone was following along the same as you, noticing that a few members towards the back row were clearly fatigued. you had already asked them before cleaning the movement if they were alright and persisted that they continued, you knelt down at the front, commanding everyone to go through the choreo as a final check.

once they were done, the girls in the back row weren’t the only ones fatigued, you noticed that everyone was a little bit out of pace. you pouted your lips together since you weren’t convinced that the dance wasn’t up to par yet.

“i think we should go over the last few counts before-”

“can we call a break y/n?” jihyo interrupts you, monitoring her fellow member’s conditions, taking notice of her concern as you stand straight while still kneeling.

you scanned the dance members, clearly spent, some of them have never done your choreo like this to your extent. they’ve only seen it in the videos that you were in for various fun projects, but this was entirely out of their comfort zone.

without having any further objections, you nodded to jihyo—thanking her silently for keeping an eye on her fellow friends and members before you stood up, patting your shirt down and wiping your forehead from the sweat in the heated practice room.

“alright, take fifteen or twenty guys.” the whole room sighing out in relief as some of the people plopped down on the floor to relax. “you guys are doing great by the way just so you guys know.” you added grabbing a small bag from your backpack and exited out the room.

jihyo looks at the clock set in the front of the room, staring at her reflection for a second before doing the same by walking out the room.

—

you sit at a nearby table outside of the practice room, staring off into the open space as your ears picked up the sound of footsteps approaching from the left side, realizing that it was jihyo, you motioned her to sit down across from you, mirroring the same leg position like yours, handing her a small lollipop that was from your cute little handbag.

the dance captain unwraps the lollipop from its paper prison, noticing that it was a red cherry flavor, she looks at you with a perked eyebrow. you pulled the lollipop from your lips to show jihyo that it was the same color as the one that you gave her.

you point to a sign on the corner that showed a cigarette with a red circle over it, jihyo slanting her head with a slight bit of confusion.

“can’t smoke in here, would be a bad thing for me to do anyway.” you say, popping the lollipop back into your mouth as jihyo does the same.

“was i being too much today?” you ask jihyo, making eye contact with her as you slouch on the seat.

“a little y/n, but i think we’re gonna be okay. today’s blocking was a little too overwhelming for some of the girls.”

“sorry, just wanted to be ahead of schedule a bit, that's all.”

“you’ve done a great job already for your first year with us.” the dance captain reassures, pulling the lollipop to examine the chocolate core in the center through the piercing light coming from the hallway.

you softly smile at jihyo’s state as she returns her gaze on you, looking slightly down to avoid making eye contact. jihyo however, sees the waves of light emitting from your eyes, you did have a tendency to doze off with your eyes open during rehearsals as she saw them to be inviting, heartbeat increasing slightly as she gulped down the imaginary lump in her throat.

“i do like our small conversations after practices or in our free time.”

“about?”

“anything, it’s always a nice calm conversation with you.”

you scoff into a chuckle, taken off guard by jihyo’s sincerity as you stand back up to head into the practice room.

“we can definitely talk more nonsense once we’re done.” you say to jihyo with a pointed finger as she smiles at the sight of you walking back to the door.

park jihyo didn’t realize at the time that she had already surrendered herself to your charms.

—

you and jihyo had engaged in small conversations either before or after practices throughout the season, but once the final weekend had rolled around with the team walking out as runner’s up in the community, it was a strong result for the end of the first tenure with working with jihyo’s dance team.

those conversations went on for longer, and it even turned into fun sessions just messing around in the practice room getting ideas for potential new projects and dance covers. jihyo learns a plethora of things about you; being a motorbike owner, coming from decent middle-class parents, and even being born overseas but moving back here after your third birthday.

you learn that jihyo herself had been in the dancing community for as long as she could remember. her father was a world class dancer working under jam republic at the time she was little, (she showed you a picture with the team one practice that left you teasing how cute she looked one coffee hangout) she was a former trainee with experience but realized that she can make a living by building a brand for herself, which she did and it was damn successful.

of course, jihyo was thankful to have you as an additional person to talk to about these kinds of logistical things, since it would be an overload that she would eventually have to let out every now and then, but you’d always listen.

you two would spend the little windows of time doing whatever, whether getting coffee, meeting with the board members to talk about how the program is doing for the yearly quarters, and even getting the dance team to collaborate in various events with other big name celebrities.

jihyo would talk to you about almost everything, from her life to her struggles.

keyword almost.

she didn’t know how to tell her feelings about you that she’s been keeping to herself for a while because she would be worried that you might not feel the same way. she liked how you and her have grown to be close friends in a work-related matter, but she was already way past that to no return.

—

the second year of you working exclusively for the dance team had a fair share of troubles and triumphs. new and old faces returned in the ranks, and you strived to raise the bar even higher as the dance team was defending champions in the region.

a big upset happened in the first regional competition where you guys placed second, losing to yg, the former team that you had worked with before switching over to jihyo’s team. that first practice back since that shocking weekend, you let the members hear your flared out rage which even surprised jihyo the way you lectured her and the other people in the group on your expectations from her on out.

jihyo’s fire of ambition had spread to you.

most of the practices from her on out would return to normal, but with a newfound purpose to succeed as you made the choreo more and more sophisticated and difficult, knowing that it was very doable and possible as long as jihyo was leading them in the right way.

then things started to take a turn for the worst.

one day, there was a dispute during practice between two of the members on a break. wendy and amy were in an argument as the rest of the team crowded the two of them when you and jihyo walked in the practice room.

“i won’t be on the team with this two-timing cheating bitch!”

everyone gasped in surpise when those words were uttered from wendy’s mouth, storming out the door and slamming it, only to be followed by amy’s sobs as she fell to the floor, comforted by momo.

jihyo looks in shock at the girl on the floor before setting her eyes on you, with a solemn expression written on your face. you and jihyo were able to talk about anything, but there was one shell that she couldn’t get past with you and that was your love life—you didn’t want to brush on the topic often when you did talk with jihyo, but there was a rift there that was holding jihyo back from ever getting closer with you.

“everything okay?”

jihyo’s voice breaks your train of thought, siting beside you while the other members were on the two couches on the other side exchange light-hearted conversatsions with small laughs.

“yeah,” you mutter, sipping your owala bottle with a quiet sipping sound through your lips. “just surprised with the drama before starting just now.”

“i never had a policy about relationships as long as they didn’t affect the team overall.”

“well consider this to be the first time for you then.” you say sternly, jihyo puzzled with your harsh tone.

“so you’ve dealt with this before.” she observes, reading your face and eyes with so much ease, you glance over to meet hers before looking toward the other side of the room again.

“i’d prefer to keep my dating life separate, but there is…something that wants me to change that.”

jihyo listens closely, like a green flag telling her that she should try prying more into your life deeper, but she doesn’t want to cut all of the wires within you at once, moreso one by one, breaking down that wall you’ve built over the years of turmoil.

she opens her lips, closing them after, holding back to speak about htis another time. for now, jihyo has to make sure that everyone is all good despite the drama that had just occurred.

“say, sana and that one other person seem to have something going on in the team also. i saw her enter the practice room before leaving the other night.”

“relationships are a dice roll, if you’re lucky enough and play your cards right, you win the odds.”

jihyo really wants to try rolling the dice with you, but it isn’t the right call for her to step up to the table just yet and bet on herself.

—

the more jihyo fell in love with you, she starts to have her own internal conflict as well.

she’s admitted to having a sort of crush on you to herself, but she’s worried of the dynamic that she would ruin with you, so she stays silent.

stealing glances at you, a longing for your feelings to be the same as hers, it didn’t kill her enough just yet, but the more she kept looking at you with so much care in her eyes, it was crushing her from the inside.

she has to lead, its all she ever knew how to do. she cared for her fellow dance team members, but you were something that jihyo saw from her telescope—a dying star that needed to be seen and cared for.

you and her comforted each other in the hours after regular practice, jihyo listening to your universe of creative ideas and the direction of ambition that you want to make with the team moving forward. long term wasn’t an idea that you had messed around with, but the way jihyo and the other dance members took your instructions–willing to follow your creativity with so much determination and passion, you couldn’t ignore it.

despite jihyo harboring her feelings and you didn’t want to open up an old wound that would unravel into unbearable pain, it was clear you two had one thing to agree on—the both of you will see it through with each other.

—

drained. that was the perfect word to describe you right now.

the team had a whirlwind of people move in and out of the team because of various reasons, but the main point breaking was amy collapsing on the floor—dazed like she hadn’t eaten anything in days.

jihyo checks on her as the other members gather around for their fallen member, laying her properly on the floor and raising her head up to ensure that she was still breathing fine, eyes swollen and puffy from crying—this was not good.

amy’s breakup with her ex-girlfreind wendy for another woman was bad, it had taken a toll on her mental health to the point that you and jihyo were going to lose an integral part to the of the blocking phase if she couldn’t get her act together.

you cringe at the sight, clearly unimpressed as you storm out the room, jihyo looks at the other members, waiting for their approval as they nodded, following you right after to see where you went.

she spots you on the hood of your car, e-cigarette in hand, puffing an air of blueberry flavored vape out into the atmosphere. jihyo stands square with you, arms crossed as you hang your head down, biting your lip as you tried to find the words to say to her.

“we need to make a judgment call.”

“no, you need to tell me what’s going on with you.”

“ji, i told you this already. i don’t–”

in a quick motion, jihyo claws your shoulders, shoving you to the door of your car, inciting anger in you as well, clearly off guard while the dance leader was almost at an end too. “jihyo, what the fuck?!”

“you’re always so smitten whenever you see couples, whenever it’s here or outside the dance room!” she yells at you, nails digging into your shoulders, pushing them off, still not making eye contact with her whatsoever.

“why are you so pissed off about what i think?”

“because you’re a fucking blank page about it y/n! i don’t know how you are when it comes to things like that!”

“maybe because i choose to be that way for the sake of my own heart!”

jihyo was on the verge of tears, anger boiling through her hands—she really wants to slap you, but she can’t. your face was too neatly defined to be ruined by some petty act that you were displaying, so she sighs out, receding her previous attack on you, eyes gleaming apologetically.

“i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, you’re just as angry as i am.”

she sets herself next to you on the car door, shoulders meeting, scratching her head trying to gather her thoughts before calming her heart rate. you take another inhale of your vape, blowing out air as jihyo stares at you, side profile in all, the way the smoke passes through your molded, soft lips before staring up to the sky.

“i’ll tell you this, i’m not good at relationships.”

jihyo quirks her head at the new revelation; an opening of you that showed the trust beneath it.

“never was since high school, or college for that matter. so i just kind of focus on my own thing, not giving an ounce of thought of being with someone that matters so much to me.”

jihyo then remembers you saying that you want to change something about your stance on the dating life, but keeps her lips pressed together, lending her ear like the countless times she has before, peering into your eyes as the glint in them was more dim than usual.

she places a hand on your shoulder, providing comfort and proud that you were able to finally chip away the wall that you put up so high for yourself, only letting it down for just jihyo, just this once.

“you can tell me more later, but we have a practice to finish.”

—

after that day, things quickly returned back to normal. you and jihyo agreed to give amy some time off to recover from the whole drama-induced incident with wendy, ensuring that she could take as long as she needed before coming back to practice regularly.

the next slew of competitions were a breeze, they weren’t the same results like the first year, but the team kept placing high with yg taking most of the first place trophies. results were always the end product, but you were more focused on ensuing that jihyo and the team would succeed and be happy rather than vying for a simple plastic trophy that had no real meaning.

jihyo listened to you about your past experiences with relationships, some of them were better with others, but you knew your standards and there’s a hint that you didn’t catch with jihyo. you were quiet and straightforward, jihyo was the opposite. you were all for that genuine love and jihyo was the same. jihyo had been stealing glances at you working and you yourself were doing the same. so why hasn’t anything happened between you two past the barrier of said close friendship?

there was one incident that you didn’t tell jihyo and she would witness it herself.

it was a practice day on the weekend, and jihyo had a meeting with kiel and the other board members to talk about plans for next year’s trip to compete in los angeles. it was just a brush on the event and everything would be sorted out in due time, but jihyo stopped by the room to see if you were there early, hoping for a quick word with you about anything, but the room was dark.

instead, she hears a laugh of a girl walking out the door of the studio, catching the last of your foot and hand walking off to the right side. jihyo, the curious girl that she was, decided to see where you were heading. she peeps her head out the door to the right and sees you talking to someone. the girl that was standing across from you was unfamiliar, probably another person who was using the studio as well or maybe a close friend from one of the board members.

but the next thing she sees just shatters her whole being instantly.

the girl wearing the cap leans forward, pressing her lips on you. jihyo’s mouth drops, covering it up after as her whole body feels numb. a pit brews in her stomach as she steps away inside, trying to erase the image of you kissing the girl from her mind, propping herself against the wall of the hallway to stablize herself.

you and her had grown close to be friends, but now jihyo’s developing crush had suddenly tanked after what she had just seen. she grits her teeth, fighting back tears, knowing that your heart that she thought was hers, actually turned out to be for another woman’s.

that same practice later, jihyo had seemed to be completely out of it. her movements were sluggish, her expressions weren’t as bright as they were before. you couldn’t keep your eyes off her throughout the routine. you stopped midway through the song as the other members are left in confusion to check on her.

“hey, everything okay?”

a lump forms in jihyo’s throat, the memory still fresh in her mind, but in classic park jihyo fashion, she plays it off no problem.

“yeah, just tired.”

you lean back not convinced, standing up to the computer again before instructing everyone to start at the top of the midsection of the second song. you scan the members, the movements were good, all of the choreo that you had come up with was cleaning itself, the synchronization was spot on, but there was one problem again—jihyo.

you stopped the music at the end as everyone dropped down clearly tired. you knelt down to jihyo as her long hair and wispy bangs coversd half of her face.

“jihyo, be honest, are you really okay?”

jihyo stays silent for a second, “i’m fine, y/n, really.”

pouting your lips together, you notice that it has been a little over an hour and forty-five since practice started, long overdue for a break. “okay let’s take ten everyone!” you look down at jihyo again who picked herself up, noticing a slight puff in her left eyelid that looked like she had been crying for a bit, but you decide not to ask.

jihyo could’t get that image out of her head of the girl's lips pressed with yours, it tormented her. she knew about your relationship experiences already since the amy incident, but she was hurt that you didn’t tell her about that girl earlier. it kept running questions in her mind that needed answers.

after the break, the next thing taht was on your agenda was cleaning a solo section with a few members in pods, so this meant that the others could focus on other parts of the routine. for jihyo, she kept watching you instruct some of the newer members, posing their bodies to the proper movement that you had envisioned.

jihyo could all but wish that it was your hands on her body, posing with every movement, matching it against the reflection of the mirror, praising you good job once the had the counts down. it killed her on the inside, and she had to endure it for the remainder of the practice.

—

sana noticed this once practice had ended and they were packing up for the night.

“everything okay with you jihyo?” the slightly taller girl asks her, wrapping her arms on jihyo’s shoulders.

“yeah, just tired that’s all.”

“so what about your crush on y/n?” momo adds in, poking jihyo in the stomach, forcing a needed laugh out of her.

“what are you talking about? i don’t have a crush on y/n.”

“someone’s lying.”

“am not.”

“sure you are, it’s all over your face.”

“i don’t know about this mo,” jihyo then says. “she’s amazing and all but i-”

“ji-ji!”

jihyo hears the nifty nickname you coined for her, turing around to see you with a soft smile, waving at the other girls besider her, folding your hand signaling jihyo to come over to you.

sana pats jihyo’s shoulders, relaxing the tension from her muscles before sliding her hands up her neck.

“i think you have a shot jihyo! she’s calling you over.” sana giggles while momo coos in her funny high pitched voice.

jihyo shrugs the duo off as she walks over to you, returning the same smile that you flashed from a distance which was now closer to look at. she hated how effortlessly pretty you looked by doing the most simple things.

“hey, what’s up?”

“are you free right now?”

jihyo pauses for a second, before nodding her head.

“wanna have karaoke with me? my house is getting some work done so i can’t go home just yet.”

no answer from jihyo still, staring at your lips as the image from earlier pops back in her head again. it was annoying, but she had to get over it quickly.

“sure, let me get my bag first.”

—

the karaoke place was just a few miles down from the dance studio, much more like a quick seven minute drive just down the street really.

you and jihyo walk into the dimly lit place, rooms were already occupied filled with laughs and loud music, and a very terrible attempt of someone covering the fast verses of rap god. getting the room that you paid for and setting your bag on the edge of the u-shaped couch while jihyo scooted herself to grab the song book, browsing through the pages trying to find something that she could sing.

refreshments came after, a simple jug of water along with fries and popcorn chicken that you started digging into as jihyo watches you eat away, prompting her to do the same as she took a singular fry from the tray.

“you sing?” you ask jihyo, nodding your head to the menu music of the catalog on the television.

“every now and then, usually at home.”

you sip your glass of water, looking at the screen to see a song to choose when you finally select one. the song starts to play through the speakers. the upbeat, indie song starts with th riff of a guitar that seems bright for a sunny day–like coasting through the road near the ocean with the rooftop down on a convertible.

jihyo listens to this genre regularly, but then she’s caught off guard when you start to sing.

i’m sitting alone, nobody to hold

the people in here are crazy

faking a smile now, been here for a while now

i’m fed up with this, i just wanna go home.

but damn that girl

set me up with her ~

jihyo is watching you in shock, you lost in the melody of the song, clutching the mic with a small space created by your first two fingers to ensure that you weren’t pressing your lips against the metal head.

your voice was heavenly to listen to, much in contrast to your usual tone when giving jihyo or the other dance members instructions. there’s a break in the chorus, and your voice escalates more.

dance with me, baby, dance with me, baby

let’s get lost right here

dance with me, baby, dance with me, baby

under the chandelier

dance with me, baby, dance with me, baby

don’t turn me down for her

what does she have that i don’t

i could give the world to you if you turned her down for me ~

you got lost in the music, and jihyo got lost staring at you, she had failed to pull her eyes away for the tneirey of the song. letting everything out of feeling with the song, the emotion you carried, another charm for jihyo to be roped into.

handing the mic to jihyo, she selects a similar song from the same artist you just covered, impressed with the choice as you gasp in awe.

“ready / problems, good choice.”

jihyo smirks as the songs starts playing, now it was your turn to watch your dance leader serenade you with a sad, mellow song that was the total opposite of yours.

—

after screaming your lungs out to multiple songs in the span of an hour, you and jihyo sat in the center of the couch, heads leaning on each other as you picked a song to play—not to sing but rather background noises as you just enjoyed the time you were spending with jihyo currently.

“i wanted to ask you about something y/n.”

you lean your head to the left, cheek brushed up in her hair as you hum out in response.

“i didn't see you in the room before practice earlier. what was that about?”

you pause, realizing that jihyo had noticed your encounter with the person from earlier, you were going to tell her, but jihyo had been in a terrible mood for most of the day as it is, so you decided to wait until she’d get over it—which she didn’t until bringing it up now.

“oh, um…” your words getting caught in your tongue, “just showing someone around the studio while the meeting was happening. why do you ask?”

jihyo pouts her lips, the same fashion that she had been notoriously known for doing whenever she’s uncomfortable about something. “nothing, just wondering since i saw you walk out without saying hi to me.”

“ah, yeah i was just seeing that person out that’s all.”

silence fills the room again, the faint versace on the floor-esque beat faintly playing in the background form the speakers.

“are you sure nothing else happened?” you ask her again, no answer from jihyo.

you sigh out, realzing that you can’t keep this act up forever and you surrender the lie, “alright, that person you probably heard or saw was my ex.”

jihyo’s ears perk up after you mumble that sentence up, sitting upright as you put an elbow on the table, rubbing your temple.

“i was going to tell you about it, but i didn’t think that she’d kiss me.”

“who was she?”

“her name was lexus, and her and i have history.” you mutter, groaning as your head hits the wall behind you.

“why’d she come by the studio?”

“i don’t know, it’s all confusing to me, but we ended things a long while back. she said she missed me.”

“and do you miss her?”

“no, i don’t.” you say, looking at jihyo with pleading eyes, not wanting to ruin this thing that you built with jihyo for two years.

“i’m sorry ji, this is exactly why i said i don’t really do well with relationships.” you say, clasipng her hand on the seat, eyes down in defeat and worry that you had messed things up from the get-go from today.

jihyo sympathizes with you not telling her, understanding that you weren’t comfortable about things like these, a soft smile tugging at her face as she rubs your hand with her thumb, comforting you with a hand on your back.

“i understand y/n, you just need someone to help you figure out your feelings.” jihyo says this, setting a small plan–an impulsive plan, but something that she’s been wanting to do for so long now.

you look at jihyo with a small confusion in your face, gazing into her eyes with so much intent, the feeling was reeling you in along with her, but you couldn’t figure out what it exactly was.

leaning close, gravity closing you and jihyo together. the breaths become shorter and your eyes are trailing down to her lips. the r&b music setting the mood right and suddenly the air feels different–like new.

“you saw something else, didn't you.” you mutter, lips inching closer to jihyo’s.

“maybe.” she says before finally closing the invisible barrier in between.

and you two lock lips.

it’s slow, the song in the background really urges you to take your time and just enjoy the moment. jihyo’s lips were so soft—perfectly fitting yours with so much care. you didn't want to stop as you chase for hers, increasing the frequency of kisses in a matter of kisses. you lean forward as jihyo places her hand on the back of your head, laying her down with you on top of her, placing a hand on her cheek as you two get lost in time.

once pulled away, you and jihyo’s heart skip a beat together, a feeling that you want to keep happening over and over and over again, it was too unreal to not keep going.

“bet she didn’t kiss you like that.” jihyo sighs out as you giggle softly at the jab at your ex.

“no, definitely not like that.” you mumble before letting your head drop for another quick peck before it trails over to more kisses all over you and jihyo’s faces.

it was all so adorable for you to finally give in your tough shell, allowing jihyo to ease everything with a new blossoming relationship between you two underneath. it was a long two years coming, but this made jihyo excited for what’s to come with you at her side.

once your hour and a half karaoke session was up, you and jihyo got your things together before leaving the room, jihyo pressing you against the open door frame leading into the hallway.

“what was that song that was playing in the background while we kissed? it was cute.”

“uhhhh, i think the title was same dream, same mind, same night by this band called seventeen.”

jihyo stands on her tiptoes, locking lips with you again, humming at the contact through your mouth, savoring every last bit before someone notices you two.

“i’ll remember that song for us.” jihyo mutters, smiling against your lips before pecking you again, pulling away after.

#twice x reader #twice imagines #kpop x reader #twice jihyo #saiiidahyunee #park jihyo #jihyo x reader #jihyo imagines #twice fluff #jihyo fluff

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asiantransformations · 5 months

Text

Co-Existence

Months and months of online chatting between Tyler and Leo sparked an inner desire inside of Tyler. The more he found out about Leo made him lust over him. Tyler didn't just want to be with him, but he wanted to be him. They were just friends that share similar ideas, but from two very different walks of life.

Both of these guys were working in the same industry in competing companies. Leo was only 30 and already was in a higher position that Tyler, 41, has been trying for years to reach. Compared to Tyler, Leo was young and thriving. At his age, his body was blooming with power through his muscles and virility. Each day, Leo still has the energy to train his muscles in the gym while pushing the limit on his mental capabilities. Being on the wealthy side, Leo could afford the super private gyms and greater things in life. Every girl wanted to get in his pants and every guy wanted to have a body like his. His career is only just starting and the sky's the limit. Although they can gym together, Tyler never had the potential for greater heights that Leo was endowed to have. That urge to be better, that itch to be the best roughed him up

Tyler searched the dark web until he came across the perfect item. Although it was expensive, it was only a small price to pay for his ultimate goal. Sneaking into the same private gym, he ambushed Leo as he stepped out of the gym shower. The magic mirror shone in his hands making him an exact replica of Leo, making him just as big and toned.

"Bro, what's going on? Whats going on? Why do you look like me?" the stunned original Leo exclaimed.

"No, I want your job and if I can't have it, I'll just have to take your body instead. A position that's rightfully mine with a body that matches it. I deserve it more than you." Tyler thought of how he didn't want to be a exact replica of Leo, he wanted to be the one version of Leo that exists. The mirror shone again. Both of their bodies was glowing. Tyler knew exactly what to do.

In one swift motion, Tyler leaped against Leo and their bodies starting fusing into one. Their body was undergoing changes as they blacked out. The pocket mirror shattered, sealing them together.

"Oooh, Arghhh!!!!" a mix of pain and pleasure filled their combined Leo body.

Tyler awoke and rushes of memories shot through him as his personality overtook and awakened. Walking over to the full gym mirror, Leo looked back. His face was young and invigorating. Full of vitality. His muscles were perking under the command of a new master.

All that admiration left the new Leo, hard and at full mast. His new body was responding to Tyler's excitement. He always expected Leo to be big and thick, but was not prepared for feeling of the actual thing. Rubbing his hands all over his newfound body surged his testosterone levels. Tyler formed Leo's gorgeous face into desperate and horny expressions. Panting, salivating like a hungry dog. The orgasm built up in moments.

“You like that? You sexy, sexy beast!” his new low voice commanded “I finally got what I deserve. This is all mine. Everything is perfect. I am perfect." Tyler snarled. “I'm stroking MY cock, with MY hand! That is MY body and MY life." He lapped a bit of the precum leaking everything “This is MY smell and MY taste! And damn do I taste good!"

Leo pumped harder, harder, and harder. He rammed his precum-soaked fingers in his warm hole while massaging his prostate. The high levels of pleasure cause his body to shake as his moaned louder. Droplets of perspiration dripped down his face and appeared on my chest and forcing him to thrust his cock upwards as he screamed in adrenaline. “Arrgghh, Fuck here it comes! I'm coming, Ohhhh! I'm Leo Chen and I’m coming!”

The pressure started in his balls and spread all throughout his body. Waves and waves of euphoria as cum torretted out his glorious mushroom head. With each shot, the love and amazement for Leo intensified. Every part of his being and surrounding was covered in his precious Leo cream. Sweat and cum glistened his body as his muscles were relaxing.

"Fuck my old life and the dead end company I'm with." Rubbing his cum all over his body like lotion. “I am and forever will be Leo Chen.” he flexed all of his muscles. A smile spread across his face and it felt like total domination over my body. He had won. His dick was like a mini baseball bat, his balls was like a giant stress ball. His muscles flex and bend as his command. He was looking at all the small details that made him in awe.

“Don't you fucking think of coming back!” Leo said to his reflection, imagining it as the previous owner. “You've had your fun, but I'm finally home now. Thank you for being a placeholder in my life, keeping this body warm for me. All your hard work and effort will never be waster. But from now on I am the true owner of this body and we’ll be inseparable for the rest of eternity!"

The true acceptance caused more memories and knowledge to truly awakened to its master. Every intimate detail. Every clarity of information from Leo's childhood to his habits and interests crowned his head as he absorbed everything willingly. He felt a sense of comfort and hope like this was the norm for him already. Leo walked over to the shower. He needed to groom himself once again and get ready for his new life .

Unwillingly, his mouth moved. "Damn, that was hot. It looks like we are gonna have fun together. Can't believe you felt this way about me and my body. I'm honored." In a revelation, something in Leo's body snapped and it felt like there were simultaneously two co-pilots. Both of them controlling one Adonis hunk with all their actions and thinking interlinked with each others' feelings and ideas. Basically to say the least, Leo will definitely be living his best life.

#asianbodybuilder #asiantransformations #asianmuscle #asiantoasian #racialtransformations #male possession

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harryisourlover · 3 months

Text

The Second Assistant

Inspired by the tongue guitar playing in Spain

Smut alert 🚨

Harry was in the midst of a whirlwind tour when a recent breakup left him emotionally drained. Determined to avoid entanglements with fans, he found solace in his work. Amidst the chaos, he couldn't help but notice his new second assistant, (Y/N), whose beauty and grace captivated him.

(Y/N) was a beacon of joy and laughter among her colleagues, but around Harry, she turned shy and reserved. Since day one she acted like that. But one fateful night after a particularly electrifying concert where Harry had pushed the boundaries of his attire, revealed A LOT, also was a night extremely hot in Spain and (Y/N) fainted backstage! She was overwhelmed by the intensity of the performance plus hot night and the last thing that Harry did on stage definitely was the final cause of her faint.

Concerned, Harry rushed to her hotel room after his concert, still in his revealing outfit because all that matters was to see of she was really ok!

He knocked on the door, she just got out of the shower and she was expecting her meal, not Harry…

“Oh my god, it’s you!”

“I’m sorry, are you expecting someone else?”

“Just my dinner..” she said moving her eyes from his eyes going down to his torso and abs

He noticed and explained “I’m sorry again, i just got out stage and didn’t saw you there in the corner, they told me… Are you ok?”

“I don’t understand… You barely say Hi and Bye every day, any order of what to do to you i get from Mary because she’s the first assistant and i’m the second… Why do you bother coming here?”

“Excuse me are you implying that i’m a incentive boss-monster? That i don’t care? Only once that i tried to spoke to you, you didn’t looked back at me in the eyes and everytime i see you nice and goofy around the crew but always with a bad face at me, how did you expect me to act?”

“I… i was trying to act professional with you”

“I honestly thought you hated me since day one for some reason i quit trying to find out…”

“What??? I don’t hate you! Never! I’m a fan! Actually since 1D to be honest”

“Ok, now i’m the one confused here”

“When Mary interviewed me for the job she said: 1- never mention you are a fan; 2- don’t talk to him looking in his eyes because his girlfriend is nuts jealous; 3- don’t be you the cool girl i know around him, just strict professional”

“OMG i had no idea!”

“Mary says hahahah i’m your type, she’s so wrong! Look at me! But anyway she said if i want a career i can’t cause trouble in my first job ever in this industry!”

“I totally understand She was trying to help you… and avoid drama with my ex… She’s right about you being extremely attractive to me… She’s with me for 10 years she knows me very well!”

(Y/N)’s face is red and she thinks she’s about to faint again. Harry run to her holding her and asking “Are you ok? For sure?”

“I’m fine! Not going down again! It’s.. it’s just too much going on.. i need to sleep!”

“What about your food?”

“I will cancel… can you help me walking me to the bed?”

“I will help but you will eat! And i will go to my room shower and after that i will come back to see you! Where is your extra key?”

“Don’t need to do that Harry…”

“I will! Please let me do this!”

So exactly like he said, after he was back in her room. She had fallen asleep, so he took the tray away, returned to his room but kept her spare key.

Next day, like always when don’t need to travel to do a performance, Harry wake up when he wanted, brushed his teeth and looking at himself in the mirror started to think about (Y/N) and decided to go back to her room.

He wasn’t sure if she was awake yet, was 10 something AM, so he knocked softly. With no answer he did it again… and worried decided to use the key…

She was with her AirPod, laid down on the floor, legs wide open up on the bed, rubbing her covered pussy with one hand and on the other hand watching Harry’s video a fan did of him obscenely flipping his tongue on the guitar…

Harry didn’t want to scare her but she’s couldn’t her him there! And honestly he was hard ASF!!! He decided to remove his clothes and already touching himself he walked to her bed and seat close to one of her legs, he did wile she briefly close her eyes, and when she opened…

“Ohh omg!” And removed Airpod looking at him, iPhone already on the floor and her eyes big in shock looking to Harry’s Big fat cock.

“Don’t need to say anything love, if you just let me finish here looking at you rubbing that pussy for me i will be very happy, and if you want he can pretend never happened… or…. You can get out of that floor and come here to this bed and let me taste that pussy just like you’re dreaming watching that video on repeat”

She was speechless and frozen. Harry smirked at her and that was enough to release her from the frozen state. (Y/N) started to move and stopped standing in front of him.

They connected eyes and he used one hand to hold her t-shirt up and the other hand to grab the elastic of her panties, she nodded and he started to slowly remove her panties…

“All of this mess for me darling?”

“…Y..yes!”

“May i ask you to remove your t-shirt and lay next to me?”

She nodded and did as he asked… slowly Harry moved to the top of her using his knees and hands to spread her legs saying: “Darling I don’t dare to go up there and kiss you like i want, because it’s dangerous… we can fall in love and ruin business! But if you don’t mind i will bury my head in your perfect soaked cunt… and after this anytime you or me need some relief we can count on each other secretly ok?”

“Ok Harry”

“Call me Daddy!” And with that he started to eat her like the hungriest man in the world, stroking his penis at the same time. (Y/N) came like never before and was fighting to close her legs involuntarily.

“Just another one sweetheart, one more of your sweet orgasm juice and i will let go” He said and immediately sucked her clit wile inserted his finger, she cried loud in despair and he was just so impressed by how tight her pussy was, he said “Girl, you can barely take my finger, if i try to put my cock on you I don’t know if will fit…”

(Y/N) moaned and squirted with that dirty talk, Harry drank all and released his orgasm in his hand and belly. “I don’t know if i can keep my mouth out of this pretty pussy anymore girl!”

He started to put his clothes on with the devilish smile saying “I’m getting out of here before someone sees me wile looking for me.. Angel, i will always have your room’s door keys now! This will be our secret!”

And he left…. Not knowing that the biggest secret (Y/N) carries… She’s 22 but she’s virgin…

And now all she can think about is how to tell him! And when…

#Harry Styles #harries #harry styles smut

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adalricus · 7 months

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Infatuated with you

Cw: yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, stalking, gn reader , reader is an amateur model, mafia themes

Pt.2

You had just gotten into the modeling industry, it was hard and full of disappointed trying to get it big. But today was the you would make it big, you walked into your agencies build with such confidence ready for the day. "We're dropping you"..."what?" You answered your manager "You just don't fit the image of our image, and we need to make some cuts on our money and how we use it. Us using our money on you seems extremely futile." Your manager coldly replied. And just like that you sat at home wondering where you went wrong, no you couldn't give up just now you decided to take a chance and search modeling agencies on google, Facebook and Instagram. Hours later you were just about to give up when an agency caught your eye, they were looking for someone who had features just like you. Just your luck, you wouldn't waste your time so you contacted the agency to set up an interview, and send in your resume aswell as portfolio. Finally the day of your interview came, you had driven to the agency and stepped out your car headed for the front just to meet a man who had a very calm yet happy aura. "Hello there I'm Anthony I'll be escorting you to the interview room, and you (f/n) (l/n)?" You nod and with that Anthony grabbed your wrist and you both head to the interview room, "The interviewer will be here in a few moments is there anything you need?" "Uhm.. a cold water please. I'm sorry for asking but I'm just curious who are you exactly?" You replied and asked, "My name is Anthony Davidson, I'm the boss's personal assistant. I usually make sure things go smoothly when he's not around as he is away for business purposes. I'll make sure to get you that water in a moment." With that Anthony left, you sat and admired the rooms interior you noticed turquoise and grey colours with pops of gold. Something deep down in you told you something felt wrong yet you decided to ignore said feeling.Just then the interviewer came in "Sorry for the wait (Mr/Mrs/or what ever you're comfortable with) (f/n) (l/n).

My name is Lucille Roberts wonderful to meet you." She said shaking your hand before sitting down. "So I've read your resume and seen your portfolio and my, might I say I personally think you would be right for this agency." You smiled before thanking her. Lucille continued to ask question as time quickly passed "Well I believe you belong in this company so much infact I'm deciding to hire you on the spot." Lucille announced abruptly and taking a contract with a pen before handing it to you. You read the contract carefully and my, the pay and hours were impeccable almost to good to be true. You were about to sign it before you read "(f/n)(l/n) will work under such conditions provided that they install cameras in their house" How could you accept a job provided you do that! "A-actually on second thought, maybe I won't take the job.." The second you uttered those word Lucille almost snapped "I think it would be in your best interest to work as one of our models especially since we know where you and your family lives. Have nude photos of you on top of that we threatened every other job that would consider hiring you." "What! I'm gonna tell the police how did you get that information!" You demanded to know "The police won't do anything we have all the police stations in this area under our thumbs.. and who want to help someone who got involved with the syndicate?" ... "The syndicate as in the... mafia?" You began to trembled "Mmm-hmm sweetie! You catch on fast, we're willing to let you live a free life mostly, only under our set conditions. So my love don't be a bitch and sign the contract." Lucille demanded before pointing a gun to your head, you obeyed not wanting to get shot and signed. "Good (boy/girl/or whatever you're comfortable with). Now bye bye you start Monday, and if you don't start then say bye to your family." Lucille stated, you could barely stand up and you had to drag your feet out the doors. You got into your care and went home. When you finally sat in your room, you saw a message telling the installation guy would be there tomorrow afternoon at 13:00. You couldn't believe this was gonna be your life now. All you can do is endure it.

adalricus 2023 ©️ you may not steal, translate or post this anywhere but this platform.

#male yandere x you #female yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #tw yandere #soft yandere #yandere #platonic yandere #romantic yandere

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cryptidfuckery · 1 year

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Alex's Guide to Being the Best Ever Client at a Hair Salon

Hi my name is Alex and I've been a hairdresser for about 6 years now. Obviously over that time I've come to learn what things clients do that make me very happy to see, so here's some tips on how to be the best ever client and make your hairdresser love you to pieces!

Also please note that this is coming from a relatively independent hair stylist. My salon does not have a receptionist or assistants, just the stylists. All tips should work across most salons though.

BOOKING AND CONSULTATIONS

When calling or otherwise directly messaging a salon or stylist to book an appointment, KNOW WHEN YOU WANT TO COME IN. If you need to check your schedule, do it before or have it open before you make the call. This will speed up the booking process exponentially!

DON'T BOOK A SMALLER COLOR RPOCESS JUST TO GET IN. If you're booking online, do not choose a color process with less time just to fit in to the stylist's schedule if you actually want a longer process. By this i mean not booking a partial highlight when you actually want a full. We will not be able to accommodate you, and will either have to leave you with the shorter process or reschedule you on another day when we would actually have the time to deliver what you want.

UNDERSTAND THEIR CANCELLATION POLICY. I know they can be annoying, but let me put it this way. When you are booking with a stylist, you're not booking a service, you're booking our TIME so we can provide the service you want. If you cancel last minute or no-show, you are costing us money that we could have made back by booking other clients. Especially on big ticket services that take hours. Cancellation policies allow us to y'know... still make rent.

YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT... BUT... Part of a stylist's job is to ask the right questions to figure out exactly what you want out of your color, style, or texture. If you don't know exactly what you want, BE READY TO ANSWER QUESTIONS AND MAKE DECISIONS. We are trying to get on the same page as you so you will leave happy.

If you are coming in for a color that is more work than just an all over color or root touch up (aka single process), please do a tiny bit of research into what you'd like. You don't need to know EVERYTHING, but for reference showing a search for "BRUNETTE WITH HIGHLIGHTS" isn't going to narrow it down as much as a search for "DARK BRUNETTE WITH NATURAL WARM HIGHLIGHTS" would. A good stylist should be able to ask the right questions to get down to what you want, but this will make it much easier and quicker.

On that note, DEAR FUCKING LORD WE LOVE PICTURES, SHOW US PICTURES. BRING US YOUR PINTREST BOARD. SHOW US THAT TIKTOK YOU SAW. It's one sure fire way for us to physically see what you're talking about, and a good starting point to then ask qualifying questions with a reference! It doesn't mean we can 100% make it happen, but it helps us get on the same page you're on and see what you're looking to achieve.

Last but not least, research your stylists! Check what they specialize in, see if you can find any of their work posted online. Finding a stylist can sometimes be like finding a therapist, you have to find the one that's right for you (both in personality and technique). Don't feel bad about switching stylists; if your old one kicks a fuss they weren't the right one for you anyway. You deserve to be taken care of by a person you're comfortable with, and who delivers the service you want to your standards.

The hair industry is. Fucking huge. There's so many of us. You can literally call and book a consultation for a cut or color without getting it done that day. You can do that at 5 different salons before deciding. If they get weird about it just say you had a bad experience with an old stylist that you'd rather not get into. There is always options for another stylist.

BEST BEHAVIOR IN THE CHAIR

#1 thing i wish i could tell my clients without being rude: phone goes away for the haircut. Color is more lax, we don't always need your head in a specific position to apply it. Hair cutting completely relies on the position of the head, especially for the perimeter length of your hair. If you are looking down at your phone the whole time, the haircut will not come out as good. We also will be asking you to move to other positions, so we need at least some of your attention. It's also so we as hair stylists aren't having to contort our body into weirder shapes to cut your hair.

To piggyback off that, it's also because of the cape. Best client thing to do is once that cape is on you, make sure it's draped fully over the arms of the chair you're in. We'll take care of the back. The cape is there to protect you from getting hair or color on yourself, but it can't work unless you are completely covered by the cape. Including arms. (I'm looking at the fucking phone again >:( )

When you are in the sink, your nose should be pointing toward the ceiling while you are being washed. This allows us to not drench your face or neck when we are washing your hairline around your face. If your nose isn't pointing toward the ceiling, ask if you are able to readjust.

Best ever tip for in the sink: if the stylist is lifting your head up to rinse the nape of your neck, do not lift your whole neck. Crane your head forward while keeping the base of your neck secure to the sink. This will help you avoid getting water down your back. Your stylist might cup their hand at your nape, just lean back into it like you were a rag doll. We don't want to get you wet, but you gotta trust us with your head at the sink.

If you wanna get an A+ as a client, watch how they fix the chair at the sink for you to get in. The clients that put their own feet up or adjust themself to the right position (after an appointment or two with them) are my loves. my life. yes babe make yourself comfortable, you're doin my job for me.

If you are looking for extra styling past a blowdry (IE: curling iron or flat iron), let us know at the beginning of the service. This can take more time or is an extra charge, so letting us know in advance can allow us to communicate that to you or make sure we have the time to provide the service you want.

And probably my best tip/hack for all my introverted or neurodivergent people nervous about having to keep up small talk. Before or after the consultation, when they inevitably ask how you are or how your day has been, repeat after me: "I've had a really long day/week and I'm looking forward to closing my eyes, relaxing, and being pampered." This will signify that YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK other than what needs to be communicated. If they press, just say work or school has been really hard and stressing you out, so you booked this to relax and have some personal quiet time. Heavy on the relax people. Then just fuckin vibe bro.

If we ever give you our number to text, ask if we cant coffee. Ouughhghgh give us a coffe we love a fucking coffefee. Or ask your stylist what their favorite treat is. Just lil things like that. It's like an extra tip for us!

FINISHING AND PAYING

So your service is done! Make sure you check it out yourself and ask for any adjustments. Remember, you're the one leaving with your hair on your head, and will have to live with it until you return to the salon. If you need something fixed or adjusted, ask! A good stylist will prompt you.

Ask how tips are accepted. You can do it during the service or at checkout, but asking is always appreciated! Not all salons allow you to tip on card, but cash will never be turned away. Venmo is also extremely common.

I work in the USA where a 20% tip is the norm. If you can't afford that, don't worry. If you can't tip at all, don't worry. We don't know you financial situation, and we are in no place to judge that. You still deserve to get the service you want. More often than not if you talk to us about it, we will absolutely be sympathetic. If your stylist kicks a fuss about a tip they get (or don't get), drop them and find someone else.

That being said... yes we like it when you tip more than 20%. Of course we do, it's more money directly to us for doing our job. But I'll be honest with you, I will go out of my way for a kind client i get along with that tips 5% the same way I'll go out of my way for a difficult client who tips 100%.

If you like us, rebook! By having an appointment already in the system you're guaranteeing a time for you to get back in. And if you can't make it, you can cancel it or reschedule. It will help your stylist's rebooking data, which can help them within the salon depending how the business is set up. Sometimes stylists have to reach a certain percentage threshold of rebooking to move up a level of prices or get a higher percentage of commission.

Last but not least, if you're chatting with your stylist after the service, be aware of two things. 1) do they have their next client waiting for them? 2) are you their last client? If either of these are true, try not to linger. We hate having to do the "Well, I've gotta get to my next client/start cleaning up to go home." This can change as you form a deeper relationship with your stylist over the years (sometimes even a friendship!), but please remember that we are at our job.

As of right now that's all I can think of. If I come up with anything else I'll reblog and add on. And please feel free to shoot me an ask if you have a question I didn't answer here, or want to know more about something I mentioned.

But finally I will leave you with this.

Yes, the hair stylist is the expert in hair. Yes, we can give you advice about your style. But here's the thing. When you walk out of the salon door, we aren't the one's dealing with your hair day to day. Even if you don't think you know a lot about hair, YOU ARE THE EXPERT ON THE HAIR ON YOUR HEAD. YOU are the expert on what you do and don't want to look like. We're the tool to get it done. Remember that!

#mmmm been a while since i made a long ass fucking post like this #hope yall like #please ask clarifying questions if you need it!#also yes this is long as fuck #i am nearly incapable of doing anything else when it comes to shit like this #also i barely proofread it so like. idk. good luck

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wayfayrr · 10 months

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just got home from work lol - a dq worker. i had an idea of Time reacting to someone who worked as a fast food worker, specifically dairy queen cause of the potential for a funny interaction: "oh yeah i worked for Dairy Queen™" "you worked for lon lon ranch?"

"no there is literally a company named Dairy Queen.. i sold ice cream.." and then starts a whole conversation on what the hell ice-cream is lmao.

gonna be very honest with you dq-anon hope you don't mind me calling you that I've only really heard of dairy queen through that one girl's tiktoks because they don't exist in the UK dvjcedfc one of my wives (@angry-trashcan) told me more about what they're like and I focused more on the ice cream/ customer service voice part of it - I hope you like it!

“So you've mentioned needing to get back to your own world for the sake of your job, if it's alright may I ask what just what it is?"

"hmm? Sure? it's not really private, the only reason I haven't talked about it is because it hasn't come up in conversation yet."

"I work at a place called Dairy Queen™ or at least I did, they might have fired me…"

Time looks like he's about to ask me a question, not that I can blame him. Our worlds are very different. I doubt he's heard of it ever before. Well, I know that because it doesn’t exist here.

"I don't think I've ever seen you at lon lon ranch before, well and the fact that you've already said you're not from Hyrule."

"... There's a company called Dairy Queen in my world. we sell ice cream."

There’s the look I expected from him, utter confusion. Hyrule really doesn't have anything in common with my own world, nothing I could compare to the chains anyway. How could the post-industrial era even hope to compare to a mediaeval land where magic actually exists?

“...Ice cream?”

Yeah, I shouldn’t have expected him to know what that was. Really though does Hyrule not have ice cream at all? It’s not hard to make; with magic, it can’t be too hard to make a freezer.

“It’s well, it’s frozen cream with sugar and flavour? Honestly, I’m not sure the best way to describe it when I can't just show you. For now, I’ll just say that it tastes amazing and that you’re missing out.”

“Maybe you could show me some time then, we should be able to find the correct ingredients at some of the villages here and Wild has a spare ice rod or two to freeze it.”

“Keep the money for more important supplies Time, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Here’s where I’d happily take bets with the others for if he was going to drop it or not, what with how he rarely drops lectures it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t drop it until I agreed with him. But he seems to have more respect for things that people don’t want to talk about with their past than accidents so who knows?

“Aside from that then, what is your work like?”

"It's work..? I mean the only real skills I picked up are accidentally tipping drinks on people and my 'service voice'."

Most of this is just going to be him all confused, isn't it? what I wouldn't do at this point to show him exactly what I mean…

"You haven't got any more questions have you?"

"... what was that?"

"well I can't show you most things are like where I work, but I can show you how I act around customers. So how can I help you sir?"

Laughing at his face was so easy at this point, the fear in his eyes at how much I can change my voice so easily, worse than it's been towards any monster he's faced on this journey.

He’s more worked up about my voice than the shadow…

“...please don’t do that again [name].”

“Come on Time, it can’t be that bad can it?”

“You - you can stop pulling that face Old man.”

He really does live up to that name, now I can’t help but wonder if ‘old man’ is Hyrule’s equivalent of boomer, from how they use it? How mean would it be to teach wind and wild what that means? Introduce Hyrule to ‘Ok boomer’. I’d just have to make sure time never learns what it means or that it's from my world.

“Can we just… just go back to explaining what ice cream is?”

“I think I would prefer to tease you more. But fine I can go back to trying to explain it better for you.”

#sorry this took a while for me to write!!#I've been really busy with work and uni prep!!#hopefully when I start uni I can be more consistent #linked universe x reader #link x reader #lu time #time x reader #moss✦answers #moss✦writes

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ingravinoveritas · 3 months

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I've seen some discourse going on today with one of my other posts, so, very quickly:

The gif above is of David on the Chris Evans Breakfast Show yesterday, where Michael's name was brought up (of course) in reference to Staged. The screenshot beneath that is of a tweet from Anna the day after Michael appeared on Radcliffe and Maconie on BBC 6.

I've already talked about my thoughts on AL's tweet on this post, so I will try not to repeat what's been previously said. But to be clear, what is being compared between these things is not David's "Martin Sheen" comment vs. the one from the radio hosts. The comparison is between how David's and AL's comments on the same topic come across, especially from an optics perspective.

In both cases, the presenters are getting Michael's name wrong (Chris Evans deliberately; Radcliffe and Maconie seemingly by accident). David follows along with the joke that CE is making and adds to it, without it being at Michael's expense. You can see the sweet smile on his face and even hear how soft his voice gets and tell exactly where this comment is coming from/what he means by it.

With Anna's, we are looking at text instead of video, so right off the bat, I fully concede that this puts her at a disadvantage. In the case of Radcliffe/Maconie, the presenter clearly accidentally misspoke, so AL's tweet seems somewhat disproportionate in response. Michael also spent a good portion of his time on that radio show gushing to the hosts about what a huge fan of theirs he is, and how he plans to keep listening to their show. So it doesn't seem to make sense that he would be okay with Anna attacking people he admires on social media literally the day after he was on the show.

Michael is/will also soon again be employed by the BBC. Looking at it from that optics perspective, it comes across as very unprofessional for Anna to be passive-aggressively mouthing off at Michael's employer, because there are actual potential consequences that can come with that (although we would hope this wouldn't be the case). Am I saying that AL could actually harm Michael's reputation or job prospects? I'm genuinely not sure, but either way, why would she be okay with saying things online that would even have any chance of negatively affecting her own partner?

I would further add that it is not misogynistic to suggest someone should be accountable for the things they write online, or the potential consequences that come with it--whether that means costing Michael jobs, or straining his relationships with industry contacts, or just making him look bad. The only thing that is misogynistic is to say that being a woman means Anna can't be responsible for what she posts online. Because if she is going to be in this business and going for an acting career, then she has to be held to the same standards of professionalism as everyone else.

There are so many other things I could say, but I'm just going to urge folks to read the post I linked to above if you'd like to know more of my thoughts. Hopefully this clears things up...

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #also for the 500th time: Michael is not married and has never been married #so when you say 'his wife' i can't take anything else you are saying seriously #it just confuses me that people can be so intense about defending Michael's relationship #but not even know what that relationship is #holding someone accountable =/= misogyny #again if this was a one time thing i wouldn't even say anything #but what's the old saying: when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #anna lundberg #relationships #discourse

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davidmariottecomics · 6 months

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Goodbye IDW! Hello Something New!

Hi there!

After seven years and some change, today, 12/22/2023, is my last day at IDW Publishing. It's for good reasons. Things just timed out that my last day could be the last work day of the year for IDW and in the new year, I'll be starting a new job elsewhere. I'll still be in comics and once I can talk about the new gig, I'm really stoked to be letting you all know. So, today, I want to say my goodbye to IDW.

But first, before I get to that, I did have something else notable happen this week. I sent my last tweet! I'm officially shutting down my Twitter at the end of the year and if you see a Twitter account claiming to be me after January 1st, it's an imposter. If you'd like to keep up with me, however, I've got good news! There are lots of other ways to find me still. Here are a few!

Check out and bookmark my website! Get access to my blog, plus lots of behind the scenes stuff and new projects at my Patreon! Subscribe to a newsletter version of my blog for free at Buttondown! Follow my blog on Tumblr! Keep up with my main socials: Bluesky and Instagram (I'm @davidmariotte at both)!

Okay, with that out of the way, let's talk about it. This is not my first time saying goodbye. In fact, almost exactly a year ago, I said my farewells to Transformers, one of the hallmarks of my IDW run. I don't want to revisit that too much, so if you want to read about my early days at IDW or that part of my career or a big list of thank yous to my collaborators, you can! And while I've had significant runs with other books, most notably Sonic the Hedgehog which with January's Sonic: Fang the Hunter #1 will mark 100 issues of Sonic at IDW under my editorial eye, or my personally exciting, if shorter runs on stuff like Godzilla, Samurai Jack, the Hasbro Action books, Canto, Scarenthood, The Kill Lock, The October Faction, Wynonna Earp, Brynmore, Atomic Robo, or literally so many other books, I don't want this to just be a retrospective on the work. In fact, I'm largely not interested in talking about the past when I say goodbye this time.

IDW has afforded me a lot. They've helped me find my place in the industry. They let me do some writing. They let me do a lot of editing. I learned various other skills both through directly on the course of the job and through my own interest because of what I was doing and seeing there. I have made true lifelong friendships. And I have made comics. So leaving feels weird. I'm very bummed to be leaving a place that really has been my home (and for the past couple of years, has quite literally been mostly at my home) for so long. But I am even more excited about what's to come. On my side, I can't announce it just yet, but watch this space for some big news soon (after a couple weeks of much needed vacation).

Talking about the future I actually can say a little more about, I wanna tell you how excited I am for IDW. Yes, I'm leaving, but IDW remains home to so many people--both at the company and our freelance creators--and so many projects that are close to my heart. Next year is their 25th anniversary. That is an impressive feat in not just the world of comics, but any industry. For the milestone, they've got a lot of cool stuff planned.

I'm not going to blow up IDW's spot and say anything about what's coming up too early. Just to talk about the things that are already public knowledge, you've got things like the new TMNT: The Last Ronin sequel! The TMNT ongoing on it's road to issue #150! There are cool new originals like Golgotha Motor Mountain! There's the launch of the aforementioned Fang the Hunter which is IDW's first Classic Sonic mini-series and sees 100 unique issues of Sonic at IDW and is just laugh-out-loud funny and full of such good action! And I'll tease this, when the Sonic ongoing is back with issue #69 in May, you'll be in for an absolute treat as that series runs up to #75!

I know some readers of this blog don't read a ton of American direct market comics. You aren't "Wednesday Warriors" who go to the comic shop every week. You like the comics you like and I've been graced to be a person working on those comics. If you aren't as familiar with how these comics work, let me assure you of a couple things. The books I was editing and many unannounced projects that I set up will still be happening. Because of the timelines of comic production, you'll still see my name in IDW books for a few more months and, at the same time, you'll see new credits creeping in. And if we've done everything right, that'll be about the only thing you'll notice is different, at least at first. As the editors really take the reins and take over, we'll both be in for the treat of the unknown! I'll be reading them with a good sense of professional jealousy.

Now, there's one other book that has been announced for next year and I wanted to do a special call out for. Godzilla: Valentine's Day Special went to press this week. It's the last IDW book I saw all the way from inception to completion. And, in many ways, it's kind of a really good analogy of a comics editorial career. I think, genuinely, this may be the book that went from conception to reality the fastest in my career. I think it took... less than a week from a half-joking suggestion of doing a Godzilla Valentine's Day book to getting Zoe Tunnell's pitch in and approved by Toho and getting it on the publishing schedule. Usually these things take a bit--people are working on other projects, licensors need time to review things, whatever other bumps happen along the way--but this was like lightning. Everyone just got it instantly. And then Zoe turned in the script and it was great! Things continued, as they do, and then... we got a curveball or two. I won't go into too much detail, but major thanks to Sebastian Piriz and Rebecca Nalty for getting it done and having a book that we were all so proud of that I could send to press this week. And it struck me on that final press day that despite the curveballs we had been thrown, when it came to actually getting it approved, everything was so easy, straightforward, and smooth. When you read it in February, if I've done my job right, maybe you'll remember seeing somewhere that there were some curveballs. But mostly, you'll just have a really good book in your hands. (BTW, you did JUST MISS the final order cutoff on that, so do check in with your shop about still trying to get you a copy!)

Most of the time, after a book like that goes to press, an editor gets ready to do it again--maybe in a few minutes or days or the next week. For the first time in a long time, I won't be getting ready to do it again at IDW. That's a complicated feeling, but I'm so excited for the future.

The best metaphor I've been able to come up with for what is happening is it's like I've been working in a one room office constantly for the past seven years. It's got that dull office lighting, you know the kind. Each day, projects come and go across my desk, and as they otherwise disappear into the world, I put up one of those glow-in-the-dark stars as a memory of it. And each day, I work with so many people--my coworkers at IDW who've helped foster my growth, my collaborators as both a writer and editor who have made so many stories with me, all the folks where things never quite lined up but we kept trying, and the readers who are an inherent part of the ecosystem, the reason we make what we do. And so, for each of those people, I put up a little glow in the dark toy.

Now, for the first time, I'm going to get up and leave the office. As I flick the switch behind me, everything in there that has been soaking up light for years now glows. Some of the glows are slight. Some are so fantastically bright, it feels like they're drawing attention through the walls of the room. Together, they make the room brighter than it was when I left. Now, sometimes, I might sneak in to borrow a toy--make a copy of it for the new office I'm doing the same thing in. Other people will certainly do the same and make they've got their Evan Stanley figure on their shelf. If I ever return for a longer time, I'll be so glad to flick the light back on and let them all absorb even more light to glow an even longer time. If I don't, I rest happy that the glow goes on and forever people will be able to come back and discover some part of it. And I'll start working on a new office soon.

If I keep going, I'm a little afraid that I won't be able to stop. So, for now, I'll just say again, thank you. The future is about to be very exciting. Next year is for the creators you love or don't know you love yet, the books that are going to light you up that you've come to expect and the ones that will catch you by total surprise. While there are a lot of things I'm going to miss deeply and books that I'm going to wish I had gotten to do more on, I also have the really exciting experience of getting to see this stuff as a fan of IDW, just like you. And, hey, I hope you'll be a fan of the stuff I do next too!

As for next steps, like I've said, I'm not going far. I'll still be in comics. I'll share the news when I can.

Before that, I'm getting a little break. Not too long, just a few weeks, and obviously the holidays are part of those, but in my time between my jobs, I'm going to be working on some personal projects. I put together a little tracking list recently and I have something like 40 projects in various stages of gestation right now. Obviously, I'm not going to be working on all of those at once, and chances are, some of them will never see the light of day, but I'm going to be working on trying to bring a couple of them to you in the new year (and beyond). If you're an artist that I've had the pleasure of working with in the past and you think you might be interested in peeping the list and seeing what we could do together, let me know. You can reach me on my website contact page, through my email, or through Discord (feel free to ask if you don't have it!).

And if you read this blog, you'll see me hyping my last IDW projects up until we run out of what I left behind. Simultaneously, once I've got stuff to start hyping up for my personal projects and for the new gig, you'll see those start to pop up here too! I'll also keep talking about making comics and my thoughts on the state of the world and whatever else it is I blog about here on a regular basis!

Thanks for reading. Bye-DW! Next week, I'll be doing a little Best of 2023. But for now, onto our regular features.

What I enjoyed this week: Dungeons & Daddies (Podcast), Reverse 1999 (Video Game), Nancy (Comic), Lego Masters (TV show), Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror (Short story collection), Yu-Gi-Oh: Duel Links (Video Game), Cunk on Earth (TV show), I'm a Virgo (TV show), The Boy and the Heron (Movie), an easy last week at IDW, all the well-wishes that've already poured in, leaving today to celebrate Christmas with my family and then have some downtime to work on my stuff, signing the paperwork for the new job, not being on Twitter anymore, getting all of our mail out in a timely fashion for the holidays, Chainsaw Man (Manga), I picked up Superman and Hawkgirl, so excited to get caught up on those, and knowing that in leaving this job, there are certain folks I just get to deepen my relationships with as friends, instead of co-workers.

New Releases this week (12/20/2023): Godzilla: The War for Humanity #3 (Editor) Godzilla Rivals: Jet Jaguar vs. Megalon (Editor)

Announcements: The Cartoonist Cooperative is still doing E-Sim cards for Gaza. You can donate a digital sim card so that residents can get access to the internet and have more functional phones and, in exchange, get some comics or a drawing or whatever else is available from the many participating artists. Additionally, the CC is hosting their mini-comic awards! It's a cool way to maybe get your mini-comic recognized and make some scratch!

You can also give more directly. If you don't have money, and I get it, you can call or fax or email or show up at the offices of your representatives. Keep your eyes open for actions too, whether they're another general strike or demonstrations and marches in your area. Given the nature of the things, they often come together fairly quickly, so do exercise your due diligence. Also, of course, being informed and just giving your time to Palestinian journalists and writers is incredibly valuable.

While Becca has got some things brewing for next year (and now on a schedule), you should reach out if you'd like to work on comics with them! You can find their gallery on their website and also, y'know, maybe pick up a few things for belated gifts while you're there!

Finally, I called out my Patreon earlier. You can support me (and boy, that would be cool during the time between paychecks because vacation is nice, but living is still expensive) and get not just this blog, but a lot of cool special features like extra posts, comics, infographics, and more! At the $10+ levels, you can also access stuff like a holiday gift guide I made, a podcast pilot for a spicy show with Becca, and a ton more!

Pic of the Week: Happy holidays from Becca and me! If you wanna full card in your inbox, lemme know!

#comics #godzilla idw #sonic idw #transformers idw #goodbye idw #comics news #david mariotte

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cielcreations · 5 months

Text

Ending 5: Made With Love (Dead Plate)

Trigger Warning: Cannibalism at the very end. Also a bit of mature content. Nothing too graphic, just grinding, but it's still there so if you don't like, ignore.

"Oh, wow, you actually showed up for training." The man said in a deep, gruff voice.

"On time, too!" The energetic man smiled.

"Barely." He sighed, putting one hand on his hips, "This is a highly sought after position, Rody. Be grateful you're even getting the benefit of being told how to do your job. Your resume showed many... many jobs in the service industry, so I assume you already have this down." He sighed again, "Though, I am choosing to ignore the rate at which you got new positions."

"Hey! Having 28 service industry jobs over the course of seven years is pretty impressive when you think about it, Vincent!" Rody smiled sheepishly.

"And even less impressive when you think about it for five more seconds." The chef groaned, crossing his arms over his chest, "But with those jobs, you likely already know how to seat customers. Keep in mind how many people are dining. You don't want a large group crowding around a private area. Once they're ready, they'll put their menu down and you'll go check on them."

Rody grabbed a menu, reading through it, "'What we're serving today?'" He read aloud, questioning.

"Yes, patrons don't pick what they eat, instead we have a strict menu that changes daily." Vincent narrowed his eyes, "You would know that if you read the interview."

"I, uh, skimmed it..."

"Hm." The chef hummed, unimpressed, "Once you have their meal ticket, bring it to the marker between the window and the door, that'll send it to the kitchen. The cooks will start working on whatever order you have right away, but keep in mind they prioritize cooking the dessert, side, meal, and appetizer. In that order. Do not pester or distract any of the cooks if it's taking too long. Once the order is ready, you'll find it at the window to then serve to the customers. They'll ask for more after their appetizer, so do not make them wait too long. Once they're ready for the bill, go behind the counter to check them out. Once they're done with their meal, make sure to clean their table. I don't want guests thinking we leave messes out in the open. The garbage is in the kitchen, right next to the back door. Take the trash and bring it out to the alley behind the kitchen to throw it out."

"Got it!" Rody nodded, taking it all in.

Vincent then took a menu and handed it to the redhead, "Here's a menu. Make sure to study it. Now that you know the basics, make sure you do a good job. I don't want our customers thinking we're anything less than professional."

"But, I'm not-"

"Exactly." Vincent waved him off, "If you need me, I'll be in the back. Good luck."

With Vincent in the back, Rody cleaned off the tables and began his shift. He made sure to seat and smile at the customers, taking their orders and sending it off to the chefs like it was nothing. He cleaned and bused the tables, making sure to take out the trash when needed. He mainly kept his head down the first day, that way he wouldn't get in any trouble and Vincent wouldn't feel the need to either yell or fire him for messing up.

He finished cleaning the last table, washing the dishes, and taking out the trash one last time.

"Rody." Vincent called.

The redhead stiffened a bit but turned around, "Yes?"

Vincent held out a plate, "Green Onion Rolls."

Rody stared at the plate, "...What about them?"

The chef sighed, "Take them home. We had leftovers, the food is for you."

"Really?!" Rody exclaimed excitedly, smiling, "Thank you! Do we have a to-go box or something?"

Vincent looked around. He took an empty box and slid the plate inside it, "It's not a to-go box, but it will make do."

The redhead smiled at the chef, "Thank you, Vince!"

He then went back to his apartment. Once inside, he sat on the couch, reaching for the phone. He dialed her number, waiting. When all he got was the phone ringing, he sighed. Guess she's busy. He thought. He opened his box and stood up, walking to the utensils drawer. He took out a fork, eating the Green Onion Rolls.

"Wow!" Rody exclaimed, smiling brightly, "I'll have to thank Vince again, these are amazing!"

He ate them all and went to bed.

***

"Sorry I'm late..."

"'Sorry?'" Vincent repeated as he turned around, slowly looking up from his papers, "Sorry doesn't cut it, it's only your second day and you're already-" He stopped himself, eyes widening as he finally faced Rody, "-Why do you look like that?"

"I, uh, thought biking through the rain would dry me as I go..." Rody explained, standing on the porch as he squeezed the water out of his shirt, "Turns out? It soaks you faster."

Vincent took a deep breath. He grabbed Rody's wrist, dragging him inside and to his office.

"Sit." Vincent demanded, the redhead doing so. The chef took out two towels, wrapping one around Rody's shoulders, using a smaller towel to begin to dry off his hair, "Dry off. You can't be seen by customers looking like this."

Rody hugged the towel more around his body as Vincent continued to dry off his hair.

"You do know umbrellas exist for a reason, yes?"

"I don't own one!"

The chef widened his eyes, pausing his movements. He seemed to process the words before continuing to help dry him off, lowering the towel to the back of his neck, "I'll give you mine for the ride back. Make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Oh, uh, thanks! But-" The redhead tilted his head back to look up at Vincent, "-how are you gonna be getting home without it?"

"I live here."

"...Like, in the restaurant or-?"

"My apartment is upstairs." He pushed Rody's head down, continuing to dry it.

"Oh." The redhead blinked, "That makes a lot more sense now."

"Is there a problem." Vincent asked, the last word a bit harsher than the rest.

"Nah, it's just... isn't that worrying?" Rody looked up again, "Like, if something happens to the building, it's all gonna be gone."

Vincent dropped the towel on his face, earning a squeak, "If you have enough time to talk nonsense, then you're ready for work."

Rody laughed and moved the towel off his face. He quickly dried the last little bits of his hair and smiled at the chef, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. It's only appropriate. I can't have customers thinking I find that acceptable."

The redhead nodded and folded the towels, placing them on Vincent's desk, "Well, still, thank you."

He walked out of the office and readied himself for work before seating the first people who walked in. He seated everyone, took their orders, served them, cleaned the tables, and checked people out, being able to balance it out very easily. Eventually, when everyone had left, he took out the trash, throwing it away in the back alley before coming back inside. He saw Vincent, staring at the chefs, walking over.

"Hey, Vince, can I ask you something?"

"It's Chef." Vincent corrected.

"Right, uh, Chef, can I ask you something?" Rody once again questioned.

"I doubt you have this much free time to be asking me so many questions, on your second day, no less."

Rody ignored his quip, "Why do you just stand back here?"

"My job is to observe and monitor the chefs. They are to cook my dishes to perfection. If they are to even slightly stray from the way I would cook, I must step in."

"No wonder your food is so good!" The redhead smiled brightly.

Vincent didn't say anything, merely raising an eyebrow.

"Your food was delicious! I've never tasted something so good! It filled me up and made me crave for more!" The redhead giggled, "No wonder you're an amazing chef, your food makes me feel warm inside!"

A light pink dusted the chef's cheeks as he looked away, "...Get back to work, Rody."

The redhead giggled and nodded, going back out to the dining room. He continued on with his work, seating people and taking their orders once more. After another few hours, his shift ended. He finished cleaning what he needed to and got ready to leave.

"Rody, wait." The redhead turned. Vincent walked over, offering his umbrella as well as a small box, "Inside is Blueberry Crepes. You said you liked the food I made, and there was extra. Here."

The redhead smiled brightly, "Awesome! Thank you, Vince!"

Vincent merely nodded in response. With the chef's umbrella and the food in his hand, Rody went home. Once he got back to his apartment, he once again sat on the couch, looking at the phone. This time, he was a bit hesitant with calling her. However, she once again didn't answer. Guess she's still busy. Rody thought. He changed into his pajamas before sitting on the couch to eat the crepes. He hummed, smiling brightly. They were so fluffy and light, making him smile as he ate the entire plate.

Vincent is such an amazing chef. He thought, smiling slightly, ...So considerate too...

He put the dirty dishes in the sink before laying on the couch to fall asleep.

***

The shift started out normal. He seated who needed to be seated, took the orders to the kitchen, served the food, checked them out, and bussed tables. He was beginning to make very decent tips and was extremely upbeat and happy with his progress. Eventually the trash got full and he had to take it out-

"Ow!" Rody exclaimed, looking at his hand, dropping the bag, "C-Crap-"

"Rody."

The redhead turned, facing Vincent, who was staring at him. He turned panic, "I-I'm sorry! T-There's something i-in the trash!" He looked at his hand, "I-I think it m-may have ripped the b-bag open w-when I dropped it a-a-and-"

"Rody." The chef repeated, taking a step forward.

Blood spilled from his palm, a large cut on it, "I-It cut me! I-I swear, I didn't throw a-anything I-I wasn't suppose to, I-I'll clean it up-"

"You don't need to worry about that. Let me see." Vincent said gently, face remaining calm. He gently took Rody's wrist in one hand, spreading his fingers with the other to see the damage of the wound, "It's a shallow cut, nothing too serious."

"I-I'm sorry-"

"Hush, Rody. This way."

"But the mess-"

"I said you don't have to worry about that. Someone else will clean it." Vincent turned to face the chefs, two immediately jumping to do so. He then led Rody into his office, sitting him in a chair as he carefully applied ointment to the redhead's hand, "You can't be serving customers with this."

"I-I'm really sorry." Rody looked down as Vincent wrapped his hand.

"Accidents happen. It's alright."

"Am I fired?"

"Was this intentional?"

"N-No, of course not-"

"Then there's no reason to be fired." The chef reassured, "Is that why you got freaked out?"

The redhead remained silent.

"Your silence speaks volumes." Vincent stood up, "Stay here for a moment. Collect yourself."

"I-I can-"

"Rody, I'm not asking." The chef interrupted, "You are a little shaken up. That is fine. I can handle the customers for a few minutes. In the meantime, collect yourself. It's alright."

Rody stared at the man before smiling gratefully, "T-Thank you."

Vincent nodded in response. He walked out of his office and Rody sat for a few minutes, calming himself down from his panic attack. When he felt he had calmed down enough, he left the office. He went out to the floor, where Vincent had just finished giving an order to the kitchen.

"I'll tag in!" Rody exclaimed, offering a high five.

The chef rolled his eyes, but let out a small chuckle, gently tapping his hand against the redhead's, "Good. You're feeling better. I'm terrible with customers."

"Never would have guessed." He said sarcastically.

Vincent chuckled once more before disappearing into the kitchen. Rody finished his shift and cleaned everything up. Once he was sure everything was ready for tomorrow, he went into the kitchen to bid his goodbyes. Vincent gave him a plate of Squid Ink Pasta with Shrimp, Rody thanking his profusely. He went home once more, sitting on the couch. He stared at the phone for a minute.

Should I call her? Rody thought. He hesitated but did. He dialed in her number and, with every passing digit, he couldn't help but hope she... wouldn't answer. He didn't want her too, which felt odd when a few days ago, he would have begged her to answer his calls. When she didn't pick up, he sort of sighed in relief. She must be busy. He sat back into the couch, taking a bite of the pasta.

Rody smiled brightly, eating the entire portion, "Man, I totally have to get something to properly thank Vince for all this delicious food!"

He watched a little TV before falling asleep.

***

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Rody wasn't sure what he walked in on. He was working his shift and was bringing in some dirty dishes to take out the trash when he saw Vincent standing in front of another cook, glaring with such hate and malice.

"I-I apologize, Chef-"

"A 'sorry' doesn't fucking cut it, now does it?" Vincent hissed, accenting his words.

Rody shut the door behind him, not wanting customers to hear as he watched the scene.

"Do you think a dish like that is at all acceptable in my kitchen?!" Vincent gestured to the plate.

"N-No, Chef-"

"Then why did you make it?!"

"I-I don't know, Chef, I m-must've-"

"'You don't know?!'" Vincent raised his voice, his burning hate becoming more pronounced in his voice.

"I-It must've slipped my mind, Chef!" The cook managed to squeak out, "S-Some flour had been left near the stove and I-I didn't want to get burnt-"

Vincent put the man's hands behind his back. One of the Chef's hand held the cook's arms in place as the other grabbed the man by the back of his hair. He then shoved the man's face towards the burner stove, keeping it out of reach of the flames, the man squeaking, Rody gasping.

"Don't back talk me in my own fucking kitchen, you damn pig." Vincent growled, "If you plan on being a semi-decent cook, you have no conceivable reason to be scared of something like a stove. If you get burnt, you keep cooking. If you can't follow simple safety regulations, it'd be your own damn fault."

The cook gulped, whispering out, "Y-Yes, Chef."

"I can't hear you."

"Y-YES, CHEF!" The cook yelled.

Vincent hummed. He lifted the man back up and let go, "Get the hell back to work." He demanded before turning. His eyes met Rody, the redhead staring with... awe.

Vincent walked to the back corner of the room to once again watch the cooks, Rody moving to stand beside him, "What? Are you going to tell me how what I did was wrong?"

"Are you single?"

"P-Pardon?!" Vincent exclaimed, his composure breaking. He coughed into his hand, quickly regaining it, "W-Why do you ask?"

Rody giggled, smirking, "Was wondering if that's how you treat your lady~!"

"I-I beg your pardon?!" Vincent's composure broke once more, his face turning bright red.

The redhead laughed before he waved his hand around, "I'm teasing, I'm teasing!" He giggled, "I mainly ask because I wanted to know a bit more about you! You must be a ladies man, right? With owning your own restaurant and all?"

"I-I suppose I am..." Vincent cringed.

"So, do you plan to settle down? Maybe have a wife and some kids, hire a manager to run the place?"

"...This is me settling down. I do this for myself."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"What?"

"Are you single?" Rody hummed, smiling.

"...Yes, I am." Vincent admitted, "And no, I don't wish to have a wife."

Rody widened his eyes a bit, "...You bi or something?"

"If you must know, I label myself as gay." Vincent blushed, "Are you satisfied with knowing my nonexistent love life?"

"Yep!" Rody stood in front of Vincent, winking as he smiled slyly, "Cause now I know I might have a chance!"

Before Vincent could respond, the redhead quickly moved to clean his dishes and get back to work. He finished his shift and went to the kitchen. Vincent had a proper to-go box ready for him, the Chef giving it to him and turning away, face still a light shade of red. Rody giggled, winking once more before leaving. He got home and opened the to-go box.

Strawberry Shortcake.

The redhead happily ate the food before turning on the TV. He then grabbed a magazine that was dropped off with the daily newspaper. He browsed through it and looked at all the ads before he widened his eyes. Oh, that's it! That's what I need! He thought. Rody shut the TV off, grabbed a marker, and circled it before laying down on the couch.

He looked at the phone. He reached out before stopping himself, shaking his hand as he closed his eyes.

She's probably busy, and I don't care. Rody thought, falling asleep.

***

The next two days were uneventful in terms of work. Rody and Vincent continued to talk between shifts when they could, the redhead smiling every time and standing a bit closer each time they did talk. Vincent didn't seem to mind. In fact, his stiff posture was loosened as they talked. His shoulders would slump, he wouldn't look so stern. He still tried to maintain a blank face, but he couldn't help the occasional smile that fell on his lips. Rody was sent home with a Croque Madame and a Lemon Tart the previous two days, which he ate and made sure to praise Vincent for.

However, the third day, Rody went into the kitchen and Vincent wasn't there to give him a plate of food. In fact, Vincent wasn't there, period. He looked around, even knocked on his office door. The Chef just wasn't there. He sighed. Granted, he wasn't owed any food, but he did appreciate the food and he did want it, simply because he loved Vincent's cooking.

No matter, he went home and got changed, beginning to think of what to order offline. However, the phone started to ring.

Rody answered, "Hello?"

"Rody?" The deep voice on the other sighed asked.

"A-Ah, Vince!" The redhead cleared his throat, smiling, "Hi! What's up?"

"Are you free tonight?" Vincent asked.

"Huh?" He blushed.

"I'm hosting a dinner party at my apartment and was checking if you're available."

Oh, that's what you meant. Rody thought, frowning a bit, "Yes, I am..."

"Good. Be here in the next few minutes. Oh, and, I..." Vincent trailed off.

"Vince?"

"I apologize."

"For what?"

"I... I disappeared before you came into the kitchen and I wasn't able to give you a plate of food. I apologize."

Rody smiled, He remembered? "It's fine Vince-"

"No, it isn't. I... I like cooking for you."

The redhead blushed, "...Well, I like eating your food."

"Good, you'll have plenty of it tonight."

Vincent hung up and Rody chuckled. He put the phone down changing to a more casual outfit before going back to the restaurant. Vincent was waiting outside, the chef holding out his hand to the redhead. Rody was confused and placed his hand on the Chef's. The man gently intertwined their fingers and led Rody inside the restaurant. The redhead blushed as he was pulled along up the stairs and to Vincent's home.

"Wow, this place looks..." Rody took everything in, from the bright red couches and loveseats, to the triangle coffee table, to the cow hide rug they stood on. He smiled awkwardly, "No offense, but stick to being a chef."

"Excuse me?"

"Wait, I thought you said this was a dinner party?" Rody changed the subject, "Where are the other people?"

"They will arrive shortly. I-" Vincent looked away, "-wanted you to get here first..."

Rody blushed. Vincent led him to the couch and had him sit before leaving to the kitchen to grab some plates. When the Chef returned, he was balancing three plates; a plate of escargots, a cheese plater, and deviled eggs. Rody smiled brightly and happily took a couple of eggs and a bit of cheese, smiling brightly as he ate. Vincent smiled softly as he watched other.

"Your food is so good!" Rody smiled brightly, "I could eat it forever!"

Vincent smiled, "I'm glad."

Before they could continue, the doorbell rang. Vincent sighed before he stood up, going to the door. He allowed the people in, Rody watching as the people came in. He stood up, the people coming in and beginning to mingle. The redhead, feeling nervous and out of place, moved to stand in the corner as Vincent left to get some wine and champagne for everyone. The redhead stood to the corner, looking over the rewards Vincent had gotten.

"Is that-? Hey, Rody!"

The redhead turned around. A tan man with dark brown hair walked over, smiling brightly.

"Uh...?"

"It's me, Richard!"

Rody stared.

"From econ? College? You were majoring in hospitality, right?" The man offered.

"Oh, y-yeah, hey!" Rody exclaimed, "S-Sorry, college is kinda... fuzzy, I guess?"

"I stopped seeing you after awhile, did you switch majors?"

Rody stiffened a bit, before smiled awkwardly, "You must be thinking of someone else."

"Huh? No, it was definitely-"

"Not me. You're thinking of someone else."

"I could have sworn-"

"You're thinking of someone else." Rody hissed before stepping away, "I need to piss."

"Huh, wait, Rody-"

The redhead pushed passed the man, going into the kitchen. He went into the kitchen and then into the connecting hallway, walking down it. He pushed the door open and walked inside, closing it behind him. He leaned his back against it, sighing and shaking a bit. Rody took a deep breath and looked up before gasping.

"O-Oh, crap, this is not- wait..." Rody blinked, staring at the scene in front of him, "...This is Vincent's room... I wonder if I can find anything interesting!" He giggled.

The redhead looked around the room. At the back corner, there was a desk with some paperwork. It looked like it was for the restaurant, but the handwriting was barely eligible. He hummed before he looked at the typewriter, seeing Vincent must've been typing out recipes. The shelf beside the desk was filled with books and the Chef's diploma was resting on the top. He walked towards the bedside table, opening the drawer.

A key? Oh, the freezer key! He thought, putting it in his pocket. He closed the drawer and turned towards the window.

"Looking for anything specific?"

[TW: Mature part here. Again, it's just grinding, but still, don't like, don't read.]

"AH!" Rody turned around, seeing Vincent, "Ah! Vincent, you scared me!"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I-I, um, was looking for the bathroom?" Rody smiled awkwardly, shrugging.

"Uh huh?" Vincent stepped closer, Rody stepping towards the window, "And when you realized this wasn't the bathroom, you didn't leave?"

"Well..." He trailed off, "Would you believe me if I said I had short term memory loss and got distracted?"

"Not a chance." The Chef chuckled, now in front of him.

Rody smiled, one hand dancing on Vincent's shoulder, "Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to get to know you on a more personal level?"

"That's more believable. But I would think you're crazy." Vincent placed his hands on the redhead's hips.

"Didn't you already know that?" Rody teased, leaning towards him as his arms wrapped around Vincent's neck.

Vincent leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to the other's forehead, then his ears, then his neck, "Yes, but I don't believe I know the extent."

Rody shivered as the Chef kissed and sucked at his neck, "W-Want to find out? H-How crazy I am?"

"More than you know." Vincent pushed his leg between Rody's.

The redhead moaned as he leaned into him. He glanced out the window and widened his eyes. He gently pushed Vincent back.

"Is something the matter? Did I-"

"S-Someone's out there."

[End of Mature part.]

Vincent stared at the redhead for a moment before looking out the window. He narrowed his eyes and sighed, looking at Rody, who stared at the shadow of the figure, "...Why don't you go home?"

"Oh, uh- w-wait, what about the party?" Rody looked at the other.

"It's over. It was more of a work related party. Marketing and such. You just made it more bearable." Vincent offered his hand, "Come, I'll see you out."

Rody blinked before he smiled, nodding, "S-Sorry about f-freaking out."

"It's only natural. I'll deal with it." Vincent reassured.

They walked to the front door of the restaurant, where Vincent stopped. He shut the door behind him as the two men stared at each other. Rody hesitantly leaned forward, Vincent following his lead. It was a small kiss, nothing to major, but it made the redhead's heart burst into butterflies as they kissed. When they pulled back, Rody smiled brightly and blushed at the Chef, who smiled softly back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rody."

"See you tomorrow, Vince."

***

Rody came into work the next day, heart racing, a smile as bright as the sun resting on his face, butterflies fluttering in his stomach and chest. He set up the tables and did all the cleaning he needed to before going into the kitchen. He didn't see Vincent anywhere. He walked to the Chef's office and knocked, hearing no response. He was confused before remembering the freezer key in his pocket. He was curious as to what's in it...

He opened the freezer door and walked inside. Rody looked around it, seeing blood. It wasn't too abnormal, it was from the animal meat.

At least, that was the assumption.

Rody saw something sparkle. He turned his head to the meat grinder. He blinked, walking towards it and picking up a golden locket. He widened his eyes, opening it to see...

Him.

Him and her.

Him and Manon.

"What..."

THUNK!

***

Rody fluttered his eyes open, confused. He was bound in ropes, laying on the freezer floor. He blinked and looked around, not bothering to struggle. His lip quivered as he curled into a ball. The door opened and he looked towards it. He managed to sit up, glaring at the Chef.

"Get away from me, don't come any closer, you-"

"Stop, stop." Vincent cooed as he cleaned a sharp looking knife, "Calm down, you don't have to be doing any of that."

"WAS IT ALL A LIE?!"

The Chef widened his eyes, staring down at Rody.

"All that flirting?! All that bonding?! I-I actually thought y-you liked me..." The redhead's tears began to fall, despite how hard he tried not to, "Y-You played me! I-If you were just g-going to kill me to get to Manon, w-why didn't you just do it?!"

"What are you talking about, Rody?!" Vincent yelled, swinging his knife down, "I was never going to kill you to get to her! I told you before, I have no interest in women! What would be the point?!"

Rody blinked, "...T-Then... why do you have the locket?"

"I forgot to throw it away after I killed her. A simple mistake, honestly."

The redhead blinked again, "So then... the blood? The meat?"

"Was from her. I was going to make you a dish and-"

"Is it done?"

Vincent widened his eyes, staring down at Rody. The redhead stared up at him, green eyes wide in wonder and awe.

"Vince, is it done?"

"...Pardon?"

"I wanna taste it, is it done?! Please tell me it's done! I want it!" Rody smiled brightly, crawling forward, "Please!"

"You... want to taste it...?"

"Of course!" The redhead giggled, leaning into the Chef's legs, "It's your food! You're gonna cook her so well! I-Is it going to be smoked?! Grilled?! Boiled?! What sides are you going to serve with her?! Are you going to serve all of her?! Oh my fucking god, Vince, you have to tell me!"

Vincent knelt down, cupping Rody's cheeks, smirking deviously, "Are you that desperate to eat her?"

"No, it's not about the fact that it's made from Manon!" Rody leaned into the Chef's hand, smile manic, "It's the fact it's your food. I don't care what you cook for me, you could server me horse dong and I'd still eat it!"

"I would never serve you that-"

"The point is-" Rody interrupted, leaning forward, brushing their noses against one another, "-I will eat anything you make me. I want it. So bad. Your cooking makes me feel so warm. It makes me feel so good. I want it so bad, I need it. I need your cooking more than I need to breathe, please-"

Vincent shut the other up with a kiss. Rody moaned into it, kissing back as the Chef cut the ropes around him. The redhead wrapped his arms around Vincent's neck, moving to sit in his lap as he deepened the kiss. Vincent held Rody's hips as they pulled away, the redhead smiling brightly down at the chef.

"How are you going to cook her?" Rody asked, giggling.

Vincent cupped his cheek, "Let me surprise you."

***

[TW: Cannibalism part here. You don't miss out on a lot if you don't want to read.]

Rody sat on the bed, swinging his legs as he hummed a tune to himself. He waited patiently (okay, not patiently, but he still waited!), barely able to control his excitement. The doorknob twisted and he smiled brightly as the Chef walked in, a plate in his hand.

"Is it done?!"

"I wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't." Vincent chuckled at the redhead's eagerness. He offered the plate, "Dinner is served, Coal-Fired Heart."

Rody smiled brightly, accepting the plate. He took his fork and knife, cutting into the meat. Once he had a small piece, he put it on his tongue, chewing slowly, savoring the food.

"Well?" Vincent cupped his cheek, rubbing his thumb across it.

Rody smiled brightly, genuinely, lovingly, "Amazing as always, Vince."

Vincent smiled, "I will cook for you for the rest of our days." He kissed Rody's forehead.

"I'm holding you to that." Rody giggled, taking another bite.

#dead plate #rody lamoree #rody dead plate #vincent charbonneau #vincent dead plate #rody x vincent #cannibal #cannibalism #tw cannibalism #suggestive

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