[floralble]

the goodies

she/her | infp | carat + atiny |

ateez | seventeen | other

────୨ৎ────

currently writing for: seventeen and ateez

newest work: she's my collar chapter one

[floralble]

she’s my collar

˚｡⋆rock star!ateez x reader

All it takes is a leap, one step. When a washed up groupie attends one less concert, fate plays upon eight hearts. What was mean to be a one night stand turns into something that she dares to wonder: could it last forever? Leather, love, rock and roll intertwined so deeply into her DNA. But can their love withstand the pressures of this silver studded world?

Chapter 1 |

moodboard coming soon…

[floralble]

I get so excited writing for the familiar reader universe. I want to really capture the fine line the familiars walk on. How they hold so much and at the same time little power. How they are dressed and sit in the lap of luxury but they are still human at the end of the day. It's so hard to put into words.

[floralble]

silver and gold

˚｡⋆ pairing: designer!kim hongjoong x muse!black!reader ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ summary: for the first time in a while hongjoong learns to slow down for the holidays, and you patiently help. ˚｡⋆ warnings: none just Hongjoong running out of gems like usual

"We could be anywhere," Hongjoong mumbles. With how bundled up he looks, it comes out like a childish grumble muffled by the warm cashmere blanket he'd recently gifted to you, though with how often he dives beneath it you wonder if it was a secret gift for himself. He looks up at you from his phone. "Spain, Morocco. Just give the word and I'll have us both set somewhere with warmth and free of crowds."

"But Joong," your head pops from behind the tree that you are decorating. "why not stay in?"

"I'm willing to allow the Alps. A ski lodge, just the both of us, a delicious bear skin rug and fire place..."

The pout you send him is enough to silence his pleas again and he sends a silent text to Yeosang to send the flight to Italy to Seonghwa instead.

"Joongie come help," you beckon him over with a flick of your wrist and as he starts to stand you are quick to add, "and leave your phone there."

He huffs and drops it atop the cushion to slowly join you. He looks like a despondant child in his knit sweater, as he crosses his arms in front of you.

"Here," you deposit a handmade ceramic star into his hands. "Pick up some of the slack while I get the cocoa ready, please?"

You brush a quick peck to his cheek just before he could plant a true kiss upon your lips and flutter into the kitchen.

Hongjoong is carefully as he slowly adjusts the decorations in the tree unware as you watch him while the mixture of milk and cocoa powder slowly boils from the stove. It took a lot of convincing to get here now. While you do crave warm, sandy beaches and quiet mornings beneath linen sheets of a fully staffed villa, there was something about the holidays that drew you in to stay in.

You wanted to be around those you hold dear. Tomorrow you would visit your parents for Christmas breakfast, join Yeosang and his family for a quick lunch and then finally deliver presents over to your sister and her children where dinner was always held. No doubt you would be dealing with gloating aunties, mountains of food and silent fists filled with cash passed to you, and the yearly inquiry of when you were going to start popping any of your own out as well.

Before all the chaos you just wanted a little silence.

You carefully pour the cocoa into two mugs and spinkle a few marshamallows topping it with whipped cream.

"Just for the record," Hongjoong bites back a snark as you carefully set your drinks together onto the wooden coffee table and sit in his spot on the couch. You pop open the special cake you'd been raving about pre-ordering for weeks in advance, the one from that old couple that you swear you keep in business with how often you visit. He feels his eyes soften as you curl up with your mug to look at him with lights in your eyes.

Hongjoong hates how soft you make him feel. He made interns cry, unintentionally, but here you stand glowing from the fairy lights strung along the ceilings.

So, he slowly takes a deep breath and walks over to cradle your cheek in the palm of his hand.

" Your bow is crooked," he breaths out reaching behind your head to carefully adjust it against the loose curls in your hair.

"Thank you Joongie," you peck his hand and he smiles down at you, returning to fixing the tree while you get to work setting the plates up. When he is satisfied after moving around nearly every ornament you placed, he takes his spot beside you. Pulling your legs across his lap so that he can hold you close while you settle on a movie.

"New years at my place?" He mumbles around a spoonful of cake.

"Yes," you whisper pressing two kisses to his lips pulling just a breath away. "And I'll even wear that cute slip for you at midnight."

[floralble]

sweet evening

˚｡⋆ pairing: vampire!song mingi x black!familiar!reader ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ summary: gentle evenings with your newly bound master, how can it feel like an eternity when the nights feel like they could last forever? ˚｡⋆ warnings: none, just tooth rotting fluffy domesticity

The gentle touch of a hand lets you know evening is coming. Your dreams fade away as you slowly force yourself to sit up. You always wake up hours before your master. It is the duty of one of the maids of the estate, Mai, who smiles down at your sleepy gaze with her hands folded in front of her. She is close to your elder sisters age and was assigned to you — as a lady, a companion you still do not know. But you enjoy her company alongside chefs. You felt more like a lady of the house than a Familiar with her around you.

And at the same time it feels less like you are far from home.

"Good evening," she ties aside the drapery of the canopy. The sun is setting, golden rays bleed through the curtains of the windows. You’ve grown accustomed to sunsets, they are your sunrise since joining the academy. Training yourself to follow the sleeping patterns of the immortal ones.

And yet even now you find yourself still blinded by there beauty.

"Good evening," you yawn, a shiver crawls up your spine when your bare feet hit the cold marble floors. Your arms reach above and a delicious crack from your shoulders releases whatever tension is left over from the previous day.

The autumn chill lingers as the fire in your chambers fireplace are lit, fighting off the old manors draft.

Breakfast awaits for you by the settee and table as Mai moves on to secure the curtains and light the candles scattered about the room while you situate yourself with a warm blanket. A small bowl of porridge and cut fruts in various bowls spread across the table. A poercelain pot of tea with a matching tea cup sits before you as you knot the belt of your robe.

"Which tea is this, Mai?"

"Chef says it was a gift from your recent binding. The blend's name is translated as spring harvest." As she explains she carefully pours your cup while you pick up a spoonful of pomegranate seeds.

Your binding was only last week and gifts still arrive with each day since.

Gowns and jewels, perfumes and oils from all over the world. It was tradition to provide the Familiar with objects to please their newly bounded Master or Mistress. There were even delicate pieces of lingerie imported from France provided that left a blush when you removed them from their boxes. Your vanity and closets overflow with finery you dreamed of as a young girl.

When you take the first sip your eyes flutter shut as it warms your body, cinnamon wafts in your nose and you take another deep sip.

From your time in the academy until recent you and your fellow cohort have always followed a strict, clean diet. No alcohol, sweet treats or candies, breads and fatty meats were rare. Teas, fruits and clean cuts of fishes and meat were all you grew to know. Blood work was a part of your monthly assessment and you witnessed fellow cohort acquaintances demote from poor health. To even be considered for the Familiar required a clean bill of health going so far as providing family records.

Mingi hated your diet upon witnessed a barren plate filled with food he deemed for bunnies and hunting dogs. And chef was instructed to cook and prepare for you your hearts desires. And while you sometimes indulge in the sweet breads and treats provided, you try to maintain your health.

After a few more bites you find yourself full and stand once Mai steps out the washroom.

Your body goes through the motions after finishing your meal, leading you to the small washroom where you are quickly striped and bathed. Behind your dressing screen you dress yourself in one of your gifted skirts with a red blouse tucked in and Mai helps in lacing the corset.

At your vanity she quickly pulls your hair up and out of your face. And with your pearls fastened you find yourself ready for the evening ahead.

When you step out the room she walks with you to the masters wing, "the lord's schedule for the evening and correspondence from oversea are prepared in his study. A meeting with a highly esteemed buyer over a meal as well and and his partners in Rome await his response for the new stones unearthed to be displayed."

You sigh through your nose which you pinch, "you know how much he despises travelling."

"Which is why you will use your charm to sweeten his disposition and agree." Mai smirks when you look at her as you both come to a stop at the doors.

"I hate when you are right."

"Think of it as a small holiday. Until dawn, Familiar Song."

She leaves the moment you push the doors open. The room is shrouded in complete darkness that you navigate through with quiet ease. Making quick work of lighting the candleabras set up at the entrance then the vanity. Slowly you bring light into the chamber and make quick work of tying back the heavy curtains, allowing the moons gentle light to spill in.

Its silver glow perfectly illuminates the two coffins at the center of the room which you approach. You approach Yunho's coffin cracking it open, "Lord Yu, it is evening."

"Mmm," he grumbles rolling over on his side and you leave the lid cracked to make your way to Mingi.

"My Mingi" you hum after knocking three times and carefully lifting the lid. One arm is beneath his head, the other draped across his abdomen. His hair a wild mess and eyes slowly blinking open. He looks more childish than a man like this, soft and sleepy.

"Dove?"

"It is evening my lord." Your hand catches the arm that reaches up, and you gently guide him to sit upward, his eyes still shut from sleep as you let him clamp it beneath his hand.

"Morning Dove," Yunho drops a sluggish kiss to the crown of your head as he ties his robes shut, sluggishly shuffling to the washing room while you patiently wait beside Mingi who finally opens his eyes. Sleepy sparkling rubies take you in.

His eyes immediately settle on your pearls, how beautifully you bear his mark both in crest and in the faint marks upon your throat.

He's embarrassed at how his fangs begin to ache, and even though he tries his best to soothe his jaw in secrecy you catch the twitch of his tongue running over his descending fangs.

"Are you hungry my Mingi?"

He wants to bury himself back into the coffins cushions, but he finds no shame or exasperation in your eyes as you go to reach behind to remove them, his hand reaches to stop you in the middle. "Let me, Dove."

He uses the same hand to reach behind you and with careful hands unfastens and catches pearls in hand dropping them into the palm of his hand. He cradles them as he carries them to the vanity where he sets them down while you stand beside. You'd practiced feedings often in the academy.

It was easy in theory: proper posture, how to steady oneself, catching yourself should your Immortal take too much. Essentially, you learned to be the perfect Marionette. Allow them to position you, center yourself when they bite too hard. Care for them, caress them, you are providing them life. It is a gift to partake in the act of feeding. This was what you all learned.

But even now as Mingi holds his palm to guide you into his lap you still fluster at how gently he settles you upon his lap. How carefully he cradles your neck and looks deeply in your eyes for permission. And even when you say yes and lower your gaze he still watches you until he descends upon the bite marks waiting for any sign of your mind changing.

When your fingers twitch in your lap, longing to hold onto something he is there. His hand holding yours tightly as your eyes flutter shut and your sweet sounds make the most beautiful music.

When he has his fill he releases you with a wet smack, his cold tongue presses into the tender wound nearly eliciting a quiet groan. Then he kisses, once, twice and a third time.

Thus is how you get to wake him. His eyes shimmer in the candlelight and your hand cradles his cheek, thumb brushing over the beauty mark upon his cheek and cleaning the smear of blood in the corner of his mouth.

"Good evening my Mingi," you mumble.

"Good evening, Dove." He licks the drop from your thumb and takes in your flushed appearance.

This is how he gets to awaken every night.

You in his arms, in his veins.

And he will forever cherish this new routine for the rest of his and your days.

[floralble]

sweet spot

˚｡⋆ designer!kim hongjoong x intern!black!reader

in which the ruthless head of a fashion house finds a sweet spot in the bubbly intern

House of Kim

At the ripe age of 25, Kim Hongjoong would come to build up a fashion empire that would outgrow South Korea. A fashion school graduate ranking top three of his year he would go on to carve out his name and claw his way to the top of the industry. His fashion empire would begin to expand to Europe, America, all of Asia. With runways that very few were allowed to see but from word of mouth it was as though one were entering an entirely new dimension.

In five years he accomplished what dozens yearned and burned themselves out for, for double the amount of time. With a staff and close team just as extravagant he would find his position solidified among many up and coming greats.

He was an extremist.

A heart throb.

He would do anything necessary for inspiration. 

But Hongjoong was getting older, His twenties passed him in a blur with his thirtieth sneaking up on him so quickly, And with it, he began to find himself bored. In need of something new, fresh. As he fingered lazily through internship applications, read through fluffed up heavily edited and pleasing personal statements, he would stop at one in particular. His finger would trace the bubbly senior. Her statement was raw and uncut. And her portfolio and resume stellar.

You were perfect, he mused. He allowed the remaining applications to spill off his desk as he kicked his feet up to hold her portfolio high He took a slow drag from his cigarette and allowed the smoke to pool from his lips as he read her name aloud, “let’s see where you lead me.”

The doors of the tall building no longer fazed you as they once did when you were a student intern. You quickly ran up the steps throwing the doors open with the one hand that was free. In your right arm you cradled four black zip up bags, in your other were two portfolios while you managed to balance in your uniform heels that bled into the loud chaos of the studio.

To this day you won’t understand how the bright red stilettos were a part of your uniform, all you knew was that they were a pair only sold in a specific store that held them just for the staff. As soon as you arrived in an unoccupied elevator fighting against the rush and bustling workers, you dropped your items to quickly fix yourself. You smoothed down the beige pencil skirt and adjusted the matching vest with the pink cashmere sweater beneath. 

Once the elevator arrived to your designated floor you quickly scooped everything up. The silver doors opened and you walked down past designers, sketching at large pads of paper or fiddling with the clothing of their figurines at their long tables. You greeted everyone cheerfully as best as you could buried beneath your work.

“Y/N!” Ana waves you over from her own set up. You wobble your way to her setting down the clothes bags and portfolios at one of her empty tables and lean beside her with a sigh.

“Darling you are a life saver!” You gave her a quick hug sitting down beside her where an extra drink sat beside her own, an iced vanilla latte, extra shot of espresso.

“I feared you would fall over in those heels again,” she chuckled handing you your drink which you took a long sip from letting out a sigh of joy.

“That was only once and it was icy outside! How’s he doing this morning?”

“I haven’t seen him yet today you know he practically lives here, especially after the editorials meeting went left from what I heard.” You both laughed softly together. 

“Plus, he’s getting ready to release the fall wardrobe. And you know he likes to be ten steps ahead,”

“Which means we have to be fifteen ahead of him.” You both say together with a heavy sigh. You take another sip from your liquid energy and stand up rolling your wrists and stretching your arms till you hear that satisfying pop. 

"But how's Wooyoung treating you? I heard he sent Hongjoong in a fit the other day at the meeting, he trashed five designs?"

"You know how he is, he took a flight out to Italy, said he needed some new 'inspiration'," and with a wiggle of her eyebrows and the curvaceous outline she made with her hands you immediately knew the young designers mind was anywhere else but fall. “He left me behind a dozen tasks, and I need to hunt down Song Mingi for these beadings and all this other stuff that he INSISTS be imported from Italy.”

”Mmm good luck getting a hold of him, he’s got his eyes set on getting Hongjoong some rare fabrics from god knows where.”

If Hongjoong was the brain of the entire fashion house then Song Mingi was its neck. With double majors in textiles and business, he was a top negotiator and procurer of the materials. If Hongjoong needed high quality silk tomorrow, the man would have it done. If he wanted sils from Zhejiang, so be it. 'No' and ' we are unable to' are not in hos orbit.

Though there were whispers that he was seen and heard in secret meetings — paying off brokers and men when it came to the rare furs that Hongjoong had in his own personal collections.

Real fur. You’d felt his coats so often, taken nearly hundreds to get cleaned, and the fabrics did feel extremely real to the touch. It unsettled you, but you weren't paid to have opinions. Besides, it was all lunch room gossip. And you weren’t getting paid a monthly stipend that was barely minimum wage to speculate.

“I better hurry off before he burns down the building looking for his precious babies” you said the last part in his whining tone that so many of you are familiar with. You make quick work of rebalancing everything in your arms once more and making your way through the open doors down the hallways past glass walls looking into various offices.

You know you are getting closer whe you see your fellow intern, Yeosang and duck quickly into his office.

Kang Yeosang, from what you heard of the bubbly giggles of the female designers and assistants, was too pretty of a face to be just an office intern like yourself. So many bemoaned when he graced the workers of the fashion house with his presence he should be on the runwat.

To this very day nobody knows why he chose to remain a secretary. He and Seonghwa were gifted with such ethereal features and the perfect figures for runway fashion. Surely he would quickly catch up with his senior. But for now, he was in the process of breaking ground in PR management.

And so far he made his mark with dealing with Wooyoung. He was perhaps one of the rare few who could handle the erratic designer. Covering up messy break ups, questionable social media posts and with branding he was able to maintain the balance between the rockstaresque designer who was extremely well spoken in interviews.

You deliver a stack of paperwork upon his desk which he warmly thanks you for and begins to dive right into.

“Have everything ready today?”

“After the last twenty meltdowns? I think I’ve learned how to tame the dragon Sangie,” he gives you his signature gummy smile looking back down at his work. With your arms more free you approach the dark wood door at the end of it all and enter. You stand out like a sore thumb in the office. The walls were concrete with eccentric patterns covering every inch of the walls.

His sleek black desk overlooked the city like some comical villain and you've often caught him to gaze down from it often. With a computer and dozens of notes and patterns stacked you know you'll have to wait for his lunch break to lightly organize the mess. To the side, his drawing desk and board filled with drawings and reference pictures.

It was all a curated chaos you had accustomed yourself to after facing his wrath when in your first year innocence you attempted to deep clean it.

Your body moves on autopilot mode getting straight into the routine. Hanging up his dry cleaning on a clothing rack, adjusting the designer bags and counting them once more to make sure you didn’t leave behind any. You approach the coffee bar he has and make quick work on brewing a double shot espresso with steamed foam.

You make sure to steam the foam hotter than normal, that's what got the previous intern fired.

The head of it all himself sat upright across the couch, his black frames sitting on the bridge of his nose as he read from a magazine that sat atop his crossed legs. He wore a matching jacket and pants set cream and linen with delicate stitching. Once you set his drink in front of him is when he finally looks up at you with black lined eyes.

“Early today as always darling,” he muttered, he tossed the magazing atop the small glass table and stood up with his drink in hand. You walked behind him silently opening the portfolios to lay out in front of him as soon as he sat at his desk.

“The final sketches for spring and the edits you requested for the upcoming editorial period.” He picked up one of them and quickly flipped through. “I’ve informed the heads of the departments to have any final updates brought to you end of day in preparation for tomorrows all staff meeting.”

“Issues with getting in contact with Wooyoung?"

"His assistant should have his finals and any requests in by the end of today."

He takes a slow sip and nods placing the cup down. His fingers quickly breeze through, eyes scanning fast while his hand snatches a marker to enderline and circle certain portions.

Without looking up he is quick to ask. "And my-“

“Furs?” you turn on your heel to go back and grab the clothing rack which you settle at the front of the desk. “I picked them up this morning. I made sure to alert them of your standards, to avoid any disagreements.”

You carefully unzip and hang each coat for him to inspect each one. His eyes glow like a child in acandy shop. You take a step back for him to swoop around the desk and dive in. He holds up the new leopard printed coat which he buries his face into letting out a content sigh.

“Oh darling just what would I do without you?” He chuckled looking at the rest of his coats. A deep dark red recently imported, a speckled with black and browns followed with his personal favorite, one of two existed. He and Seonghwa alone held the pieces and caused a stir upon their debuts via the fashion houses magazine spread. A sharp contrast of his usual sharp feminine pieces the face of his designs wore a rugged masculine beauty sporting encrusted sterling grill and heavy golden chains wrapped up in what could have been (and what so many tabloids accused) was a bear fur coat.

“Now onto fall.” He drops the coat which you step forward to catch and hang back up.

“I was struck by inspiration while I was on my way here this morning” He shuffled through the drawings at his drawingy desk muttering to himself before letting out a soft ‘aha’.

You take this as an invitation to step closer.

“What do you think?” You looked down at the drawing tracing the sharp figure consumed by the billowing fcoat upon the paper. Messy notes surround her figure, but what stands out to you?

“Spots?”

“Not just any spots darling, dalmatian spots. They’re...different. Much more wild, fierce they’re unpredictable” He said pulling the drawing from your hands to pin back up among the other designs. "I considered other manners of spot, but I could not get these out my mind."

As he speaks he attaches the piece back in the center of the drawing board where you both look upon it.

“The fabric is of no problem at all. Whom is wearing it is where my mind goes blank. I can't envision a single person being able to bring her to life.” He begins to chew the bottom of his lip as his head tilts in thought.

“If you’d like I can call up Seonghwa?”

“He's on respite. And before you mention San, he’s busy being Wooyoung’s mannequin.” He turned sharply on his heel, tapping the ash of his cigarette into a crystalline tray as you scrambled to replace hands with a fresh one. And as you went to light it, Hongjoong eyed you up and down, and tilted his head from side to side. 

As he takes a small first pull, he allows the smoke to billow from his lips. Using it to point to the rack in front of him.

“Wear it.”

What?

He reiterated himself when he was met with your blanched face, "put it on, now darling. First one on the left."

You don’t know why your hands have a small tremble in them, but you follow his instruction and don the coat on with careful hands. Pulling your hair out you adjust the coat with a careful shake. Perhaps cause any damage would cost you your entire existence. But it seems he doesn’t care as you maneuver it to fit you.

Even with the warmth fighting the autumn breeze outside, it's cozy, and you can't help but pull it close to wrap yourself up tightly and let it fall.

He motions you forward and you move around the desk to stand in front of him. He stands to slowly walk around you as though you were one of his pieces.. His free hand slowly brushes through the fur coat which he adjusted mumbling to himself. The other hand discards his cigarette into the crystal.

Finally he stopped in front of you with arms crossed and the grin of a man who won the fortune of his life.

“That's all I needed to see,” he purred. "I'll be a moment dear, have my notes prepped for tomorrow."

He says it so casually as his hand snatches his notebook to exit and address the designers for the day.

When you hear the door click shut your feet finally move.

You couldn't help the heat forming in your cheeks. But beneath the fur you feel powerful, untouchable. You catch your reflection in the window when you round the table to hang it back up, slowly turning on your heel. You don't recognize the woman in the glass.

You should take it off but you don't know what possess you to caress your arms, to shuffle through the wardrobe in your mind and consider what would look good with it.

You dare to imagine gracing a red carpet, a runway, the next magazine, across that couch nak- no! You quickly shrug it off from your shoulders and begin to slowly hang it back up, unknown to you, he'd open the door the slightest bit to watch.

His gaze unmoving as you fluff it up, your hangs lingering for a moment. How you push your shoulders back and fix your gaze till you let your shoulders drop and pushing the rack. If it were up to him, he’d spend the entire day sketching countless rough drafts of you in it.

So for now, he'll watch you hang it back up carefully in the garment bag and make work on the others.

Everything feels off the next day. Perhaps it’s because he didn’t request his usual morning hot americano. Or the voice note Yeosang sent you ranting how something was very wrong because his office which was CLEAN and he made work to organize the editorial notes.

He’s eerily calm as you present his notes for the meeting, as you walk side by side to the meeting room and for the next four hours. He doesn’t chastise or snap at Wooyoung, or at the delay on Mingi’s end for textiles due from Italy now set to Tuesday rather than the weekend.

But what truly is the nail in the coffin? When he says to send word out to the interns and assistants to leave on time. That all deadlines are extended to next Friday, no longer Monday.

All heads slowly turn to Hongjoong's then slowly to you.

But he continues on, as though nothing were wrong. So you return your eyes back to your notes. Your hands move with a learned quickness as you take notes with one hand and type with the other when needed, until a notification pops up at the right corner of your screen.

Sangie: Something’s off

Who are you telling?? Did something happen with Wooyoung?

Sangie: no, as usual his designs came in late but when is that ever new?

any updates on Milan?

Sangie: nothing. Dates are set, updates on the fabrics and other material arrivals are expected within the next 48 hours

you know something…don’t you?

Your eyes cut to your left, but his eyes are lifted to the board that Hongjoong stands before.

YOU DO

DONT IGNORE ME

"....and can you have that update immediately forward to Mingi and his team cc'd on that thread as well," Hongjoong's eyes flutter over to you and Yeosang, brow raising when both your heads snap up together from the screens of your laptops.

"Yes sir," you mumble.

Sangie: don't worry I already have it forwarded

oh so NOW you respond

The meeting ends on the dot at 2. And Hongjoong moves on autopilot back to his office with you a step behind as always. The moment your heel hits the threshold and the door is closed, he drops the bomb,

”I no longer need you as an intern.” Your hands pause for a moment. Your tongue feels heavy, your face feels hot and it takes every thing in you not to throw your laptop at his face in a fit of rage. Damn near TWO tears of your life sacrificed for this selfish, brat of a man child who the actually HELL does he th-.

“You’ll be my muse instead.”

Huh?

”A muse?” Surely your face is drenched in confusion because he repeats himself.

”Yes, my muse. By now Yeosang should have delivered upon your desk the new terms and conditions of this position and updates to your scheduling all of which I will oversee personally. My scheduling, errands, all of that will no longer be a concern. I need your schedule as clear as possible and free of any stress inducing scenarios.”

”Sir my major is in marketing!” Your hands slam on his desk to look down on him. And his unbothered stare makes you truly consider tossing everything on the desk to the floor. He is disgustingly and aggravatingly beautiful as he crosses his legs and places his hands upon them.

”I’m aware, and you will find at the end of the document the terms and conditions include your education and future business endeavors under your new contract.” His hand waves as though he is batting away some pesky fly.

”Darling,” he leans forward hands folded atop his desk but his gaze soft. Too soft for the stone facade she'd worked with for nearly two years. “I won’t force you into anything you don’t want. Read the contract and in three days I will expect a response. No consequences.”

Silence. And the look she levels him with sends shivers down his spine. He hates how beautiful she looks sitting tall with a tilt in her chin. But Hongjoong catches himself as he rips a page from a scattered sketchbook and grabs an ink pen. He gestures with his hand to the open seat in front of him, and you force yourself to sit down.

"I want to settle this now. On my own terms."

"You've guts my dear, so tell me. What are your terms?"

"I want 50% coverage of my tuition with a personal recommendation for the masters in management at the top schools."

"Done."

"I want a percentage of every design that is tied to my...new work. And a better wage with relocation assistance to a closer apartment."

"Done."

"And once my program is complete I want a position here. A real one."

He's silent as he quickly notes her final request and seals it below with is signature. He lays the pen on top and slides it forward for her to read. It takes a moment for her mind to catch up with her hand to grab the heavy pen and with a shaky hand sign her name beside his.

She carefully lays the pen down to slide the paper in the middle and she stands to her feet. "Then it's settled. I have a few items to finalize if I'm going to leave on time. Excuse me, sir."

You bow your head and turn on your heel to exit the office, hoping he doesn't notice how you speed walk out and squeal behind your hands as you run down the hall to your office.

That was SO embarassing!

Meanwhile Hongjoong kicks his heels up with his sketchpad laying as he begins on the first page. With fast and sharp strokes he finds himself inspired. Yeosang doesn't know whether to be scared or hopeful when he hears Hongjoong hum as he enters his office.

That night when you return home, you find a slender gift bag in front of your door with an enormous bouquet of roses that nearly swallow you whole and tip you over as your try to balance it.

With a glass of the gifted wine you share it with Ana who sits beside you while Yeosang grabs the take out from the front and you all read the contract together.

What did I get myself into?

[floralble]

so who’s gonna step up and write a Frankensteins monster fic with mingi as the creature? hm?

[floralble]

she's my collar ⋆｡°✩ chapter one

˚｡⋆ pairing: rock band!! ateez x black!reader ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ summary: All it takes is a leap, one step. When a washed up groupie attends one less concert, fate plays upon eight hearts. What was mean to be a one night stand turns into something that she dares to wonder: could it last forever? Leather, love, rock and roll intertwined so deeply into her DNA. But can their love withstand the pressures of this silver studded world? ˚｡⋆ warnings: mentions of mental illness and struggling with self image

It feels like cotton is in your head, a dull weight pressing against your skull as sleep slowly releases its grip. The aftermath of being shoved into the venue with thousands of screaming fans, the heat, the pulse of the music still echoes in your body – particularly your throbbing skull. You can feel every bruise, every ache, a kind of tender soreness from being packed into a crowd, the buzz of the show still clinging to you like static. Your throat is raw, the sting of it an almost comforting reminder of the night. And right now you're certain you’ve a nail along the way somewhere between the venue to this mysterious room. 

But you wonder if all the delicious aching of your body is truly just the result of just screaming one too many songs. 

When your eyes crack open the first time, the dim light of the room blurs and you blink, trying to adjust. It’s too early to be morning and yet far past the evening judging by the grayness of the sky outside the large windows. A mop of black mullet comes into your  focus. It’s a fluffy mess and lies still. A soft weight settles across your chest, and you realize it’s one of the band members, the drummer, if you remember correctly. His hand is tucked beneath your shirt, lazily drawing small circles on the skin of your bare stomach, and your own hand reaches to stroke the tattoo along his forearm. You smile faintly, remembering the tattoo that had briefly caught your attention in the chaos of the front stage pit.

You don't know what he is humming, it sounds like a song. A gentle song that lets you drift back into sleep. 

When you wake again, a second time, there’s warmth pressing against your cheek, lips kissing it softly. You try to shake the sleep from your bones, but the heat from his body is addictive. A leg sits heavy atop yours, pinning you down, the musky scent of the room mingling with the lingering traces of your own perfume makes your nose scrunch. You’re not sure if you’re awake or still trapped in some haze of a lucid dream and succumb to the gentle kisses that find themselves in your neck. 

It’s the third time you wake that you're really, truly awake. They however are dead asleep. 

The noise of the city outside seeps through the walls, muffled but persistent. And the light shines through the drawn down curtains. There's someone in the next room, probably getting up for the day, the soft strains of lo-fi music slipping through the cracked door. The smell of coffee drifts in. You stretch your arms out, slow and long like some overgrown jungle cat, your body protesting every movement responds with pops and cracks that feel so good you nearly moan aloud. You force yourself to sit up carefully from the mass of limbs you were trapped in. Then still for a moment. You begin the cursed search for your phone amongst the tangled sheets and naked bodies.

You shove your hand beneath the pillow you originally held and sing a silent praise when your hand hits it. 

Your hand reaches to fiddle with your hair that now lay in loose dropped curls. You start to comb through it with your fingers, trying to make it presentable, if only enough to get you through the morning without causing too much embarrassment.

Looking around, you take in the scene before you and it would make for a decent album cover. Gray sheets are tucked around your lower half, and you’re dressed in a graphic tee two sizes too big for you. To your left is the drummer, still sound asleep, the peaceful rise and fall of his chest betraying the energetic performance you shared last night. To your right lies one of the guitarists, his messy hair falling into his face, still deep in slumber, a lazy smile lingering on his lips even in sleep.

But none of this matters right now. The thought that consumes you in the stillness is: where the hell were yoi? 

Before your anxiety can spiral, your phone buzzes in your lap, the screen lighting up with a notification. 10 missed calls.

Sol: WHERE ARE YOU?

You can't help but chuckle as you type back, one hand clumsily balancing your phone as you type as quietly as possible. 

You: You’re not going to believe me but I think I'm in bed with the drummer.

With a silent groan, you carefully slide out from under the covers, the weight of your night’s choices pressing down on you in your aching hips. You search for the remnants of your concert outfit, the only thing that does not survive are your undergarments, left in a lacey tattered mess among your destroyed fish nets on the floor. So you tug on the low rise ripped jeans, grab your shoes, shove your jewelry that sits on the dresser into your bag and secure the leopard printed fur coat tight like your life depended on it, the one piece of clothing you absolutely refuse to lose to a night out.

You hesitate for just a second, wondering if you should say goodbye as you catch a glimpse of the two asleep in bed. Would they care if you slipped out? Would it even matter?

Solenne let it slip they had girls over plenty of times. You were no different from them. 

But something about this feels different, and you push it as a girlish delusion.  There's a lingering warmth in your chest, a quiet tug toward something you can't quite define as you quietly push yourself to map out your grand escape.. 

Stepping through a maze of scattered clothes and shoes, empty bottles, and overflowing suitcases make it difficult to navigate the room and yet you somehow get to the door making a sound. With the door closed behind, your bare feet make little sound as you do some sort of a job and speed walk to the door of this massive suite. You barely manage to make it to the door before someone calls out from another room, but you move quickly, making your way past a kitchenette and out the door into the hallway, your heart racing as you let the door close shut behind you.

With your life in your arms you shuffle across the hotel's carpeted floors in a pitiful job, whispering an ‘excuse me’ to the housekeeper who watches you with wide eyes as you dash past her and around the corner. With the elevator in sight you press the down button on the elevator like it’s a lifeline and only when you are inside do you release whatever breath you were holding. The mirror above reflects a version of yourself you almost don’t recognize—the smeared makeup, shirt slipping off one shoulder, shoes in hand that you quickly shove your feet into. When you look back up you can’t help but laugh under your breath and snap a few quick pictures, because 1) why not and 2) you needed some sort of remembrance of your last hoorah.When you arrive in the sparkling lobby of the hotel, you finally answer Solenne’s call, her voice coming through with the force of a hurricane. “Where are you? Do you need me to call you for a ride, no I can come and get you- wait no, tell me everything!”

'Dear Applicant,

We appreciate your time and dedication to the application process. It is with our deepest-'

Slam!

You already know where it was going, you've read the same generated, empty soulless turn down wishing you false luck on your journey to climbing the corporate ladder. Pushing the laptop toward the middle of the coffee table, your head falls back to the cushion of your couch. Don't cry, don't cry. Too late. You can feel the warm trickle slowly slide over your cheeks and land in your ears. One after the other. 

Was this the life you wasted four years for? 

Dancing like a fool  and kissing up to the snobbish sons whose fathers could secure them an internship and position with a few signatures, meanwhile you spent countless sleepless nights crawling your way into the top one hundred of your class and for what? Rejection letter fifty two? Wearing the hat of so many leadership positions, volunteering when you had a sliver of free time. All for nothing, you mumble to no one. You sniffle and sit up when your phone vibrates on your thigh. A picture from three years ago of you and the one of few friends that survived freshman year stares at you, Solenne.

The two of you sport matching glitter eye make up pressed against a barricade.

You clear your throat quickly and slide to answer after it rings again. "Hello?"

"Oh lovey, is this a bad time?"

"Oh um no! Just..just read some tough news. I'll survive. How are you doing though? I saw the engagement pictures." You sobbed at the engagement photos. Because all you saw was a life that could have been had you not been such a spineless wimp and took the jump together to study abroad.

Instead, Solenne applied and got in. You were there the night she got her acceptance letter for a global program and she would graduate last year in marketing and be engaged that same day. 

Her chipper voice grounds you as she updates you over the last few months since you'd spoken over the phone. They settled on a venue, began reaching out to family and close friends willing to survive a 10+ hour flight across the world. "Oh you know how my folks are. How are we going to get the family over there? Are we going back over to do a ceremony there as well. Then I have to hunt down my bridesmaids, he has to update his own family. It's all so much."

"But you're happy, right?"

Her lovesick sigh makes your heart warm for a moment. You can picture her now, twirling a curl between her fingers, staring off into the distance. "He makes me so happy," you huff as you begin picking at the carpet. “But I couldn’t help and notice someone has yet to give me an update on their invitation, you left me undecided.”

"Sorry, I'll send my response probably later this week" you flinch at the roughness of your tone. 

"Lovey, seriously, how are you? Do you need help with the flight or the hotel? I need my sister there."

You want to lie, you really do. What right do you have to complain about the life you chose? You dug yourself in it, it was your job to dig yourself out of it. But suddenly, five months of emotional baggage pour out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

"Everything here is horrible. I have internships and a decentish amount of experience but no one is hiring. Plus I just dumped all his stuff to the thrift and I..." you sigh and swallow back the wave of tears. "I wish I was as brave as you. I wish I had the balls to sign up to that scholarship when I had the chance but I didn't and now I'm just this...this. I don't even know what the lower version of a loser is."

"Lovey stop it you are so not a loser. You are the bravest person I know! And you know how your parents were then."

There was some truth to that, your parents refused to send you off to some foreign country on your own. You could barely afford tuition here, what made you think you could afford to study there. They listed dozens of reasons that planted a deeply embedded seed of fear in your heart that made you delete your application without question.

"Listen, I know this is sudden but I was already planning this as a graduation surprise. Come here, a week before the wedding, just you and me. Luc got a few tickets to spare with his job for some upcoming promos with this company he's been doing PR for."

"God, when was the last time we even went out at all?"

"Exactly! Don’t tell me you're too good for it all of a sudden? I know you look good in a blazer set but you look even better in leather and cheap cheetah print.”

You huff pushing your bands from your head. "Actually it's genuine fur and leopard.”

”Whatever, either way you look hot in furs, you’ve got the body for it. Plus free drinks, good music and hot men are the recipe for a weary soul. We've got a spare here in our apartment and no you will NOT pay me back. You can repay me with bringing a buttload of chips, I am craving salty junk food so badly."

"Deal.” You huff with a smile.

"Deal, and no take backs! This band is so hot, Luc let me tag along one day for a photo shoot and between you and me the lead is crazy hot.”

You can’t help the snort as you picture her drooling behind the camera. ”Really?”

”Yes really, and I know you love a pretty boy, I bet he could set you up.”

”Ugh, I think I need a detox from guys Sol.”

”Trust me! This guy is your type. Cute eyes, real soft spoken but on stage? He’s like some freaking sex god.” She lets out a groan that has you laugh.

“Wow should I warn Luc to make sure he’s got his papers set in case you run off with the band?”

”I’m just saying! Don’t let that buttoned up asshole mess with you anymore. He’s taken more than he deserves.”

“I won’t.”

”I’m serious! I’m sending you their essentials now so you can be ready, get that sexy long coat with the pretty fishnets and work your magic!”

When you hang up, you quickly swipe to your bank account. Surely you could move a couple dollars over? After all, a last minute trip across the world to visit your recently engaged barricade sister was definitely a reason. So you dump what you can into your pocket and start looking at one way flights. Even as your hands tremble when you begin to send the email to your boss and schedule it for tomorrow, something helps you to push the fear to the back of your mind. How much longer were you going to let your life vanish as you survived. You deserve to live for once. 

Maybe it was years of pent up unresolved eldest daughter problems that have finally cracked you. But you use the PTO you have saved up, toss your phone onto the couch and make your way to the small closet by your door where you begin to dig through and find it.

Your sweet girl, a vintage piece passed down to you from your aunt when she spent her time abroad in England and went to one too many underground bars and indie concerts at the time. You have an old Polaroid of her in it, and could never force yourself to part with it in the back of your phone. She would be the catalyst for your love of music. 

She was the moon and your mother was the sun.

Total opposites, you remember your aunt bringing you vinyls and cd’s that you keep neatly tucked beneath your tv’s shelf. She would tell you tales of tagging along with groups, watching greats surf above her, how she fell in love with your uncle one night and it was love at first sight.

He was a bassist, and after seeing her at their set the next night, they met in a dingy dive bar where they spent the entire night together.

That following year she hung up her jacket, and eventually passed it down to you on your fifteenth birthday.

”I don’t need it anymore bubba,” she confided in you on that day. Your first concert you snuck out to with Solenne and it was like seeing color for the first time. You rode the high, working babysitting jobs and summer jobs to save enough money to sneak out and see so many groups your mother would surely scowl at. But at the end of every night your aunt was waiting to drop you off at home. 

You clutched the jacket, and for a moment you swear you could smell her spicy perfume lingering on it for a moment. Even now you could hear her screaming Zeppelin in her car as she drove you to school.

You hold the old jacket against your body.

And as you press it close to your body it's like some sort of spell casts over you. You had a lot of packing to do.

[floralble]

puppy love

˚｡⋆ pairing: non idol!lee seokmin x black!reader ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ summary: a classic tale of two fools in love, your dogs are the only ones who realize how dumb you two are and take matters into their own hands. .˚｡⋆ warnings: none

“Alright Lola here I come” Y/N called over her shoulder, the familiar sound of scratching followed with light yelps from the front door. Lola was nearly half your size and only four. Sunday’s were her favorite day. She was a mutt though her Bernese genes were strong and showed in her large size for such a young pup.

She was a rescue from a neglectful owner who dropped her off at a shelter. No one wanted her because of how large she was bound to get, and renters were extremely strict on weight and breed limits. But when homesickness hit you hard, and a trip to the shelter led you to adopting the sweet girl.

You were thankful to the kind older woman who approved your Lola. That was years ago when you were on a student visa, no family, and your sweet girl. And so with your patience, these walks, and lots of treats she gained back a lot of her energy and weight. She helped warm up your life and was your home away from home.

She was a sweet and gentle giant, but to others she came off more bearish than teddy. A lot of owners would coddle their pets when you visit parks, and your heart broke often watching her try and play with others just for them to steer away or jump back.

A kind classmate recommended a park that was more friendly and open minded and it has become both of your haven the last month.

You knelt down in front of her stretching the leash to her collar and picked up your bag once she was secure. Her bags, treats and water bottle nestled with your own books and study material.

“Alright are we ready to go Lola girl?” She yipped jumping up next the door pulling you to get out your home. It was a decent walk and a quick train ride away that you knew you'd need a good shower from afterwards, but she loved the fresh air and you needed a good stretch as well. 

On the way their from the trains exit you dropped by your usual bakery to pick up breakfast and a coffee to warm you up. And as soon as you both enetered, the kind older gentleman up front called to the back, "they're here!" The staff rushed out like a flood come and lavish their love on Lola.

"Ahhh look at her!"

"Did our pretty girl get a hair cut?"

"Oh here's a treat and some on the way for her!"

You giggled with the workers who crouched by her outstretched body, rubbing her belly and feeding her. She truly was your spoiled princess, "alright come on little princess."

"Oh make sure you stop by tomorrow with her we've missed you both!"

"We will!"

The park was fenced off and quite large and open with more than enough room for the dogs to run about without the fear of them running off and getting lost. Couples and a few people on their own occupied some of the benches and picnic tables or atop picnic blankets with their own meals or occupying themselves with their books and conversation.

Once you'd found your picnic table you knelt in front of Lola unclasping her leash letting her run off into the grassed area. You spread out the contents of your bag lying your textbook and notes in front of you to begin your upcoming assignment.

Meanwhile on the other side of the park he was watching her. Seokmim let out a soft sigh with a smile on his face. Soonyoung could only roll his eyes at his lovesick friend while Seungkwan scowled at him. Each time she came Seokmin would look at her with those eyes. 

"Oh today she didn't get her usual latte."

"The fact you know she has a usual latte is creepy."

But Seokmin continued in, "but I guess they had her favorite chocolate bread. Good for her," if it were up to him he'd get you a dozen more.

“You’re gonna have to talk to her sooner or later, this is stalking at this point” Soonyoung chided in a teasing tone as his own pup curled in his lap. Seungkwan hummed around a chip scrutinizing the older of the three who only let a love sick sigh out as he cradled his face while his other hand stroked his sweet boy.

“I wish I could” Seokmin pouted.

Seokmin hated to admit, but your dog was terrifying. Woojoo popped up and from his comfortable spot to leap off his lap and trout to the shade of a tree not too far from his owner where Lola lay, her head popped up at the sight of her friend.

“He’s asking about your pet again,” the small dog grumbled stretching his back out and laying across from her.

“I know, she was talking to the one called Ji? She says that your human has a pretty laugh, our humans are airheads.” Lola laid her head atop her paws watching you as you scribbled in a book. Her human was a beauty. She was well kept, smelled and groomed herself daily and provided plenty of treats. How could any man resist?

”I think they may need some help, it is clear neither one of them know what to do.”

”What do you suggest?”

”Follow my lead.”

Soonyoung and Seungkwan’s bickering turned to white noise as Seokmin’s gaze settled back on you. He wondered what his days would look like if he had the backbone to voice his admiration. Would you both share walks to this park? Along the river? Couple holiday pictures with your fur babies? Just the very thoughts made butterflies swarm his stomach.

But he felt his stomach drop and fantasies flutter away when your bear of a dog ran over to him and yipped twice, tapping her paws atop his blanket.

”Ahhh what a cutie, she wants to play.” Soonyoung cooed holding his hand out, but her eyes were settled keenly on Seokmin who gulped and held a hand out. But she yipped again and twirled in a circle.

”Ahhh don’t be a baby, play with the cutie Seokmin!” Seungkwan tapped Seokmin’s back. But as soon as he stood up she circled the man and bumped him i the back of his knees, nudging hm away from the blanket.

Meanwhile at your own table, a tug at your ankle pulled your attention to the small white dog that sat at your feet looking up at you.

“Ahhh hi sweetie, where’s your owner?” You lay your pen down to pet the sweet pup only for it to jump back. Your brow furrowed, were they hurt?

”Are you hurt sweetie?” You stood to kneel and check the small dog only for his to take three small hops back.

”Hey!”

It was quite a comedic sight: you chasing the hopping bunny dog, the bear of a dog bumping her head into Seokmin who stumbled in the direction she needed him at. "Are we dreaming or?" Soonyoung looked over to Seungkwan who watched on with his phone's camera trained on his stumbling friend.

It was a hilarious sight until finally the two of you collided falling into the grass.

”Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!”

”No no I’m sorry he’s never like this!”

You both chattered over one another, flushed faces and hands clumsily trying to catch your dogs who only hopped away from their owners which resulted in you falling into the mans arms and knocking Seokmin back onto his butt whilst trying to keep you from collapsing.

”Are you ok? I should have some wipes in my bag. Ah Woojoo what is wrong with you today!" His hands settled on her shoulders while her hands grasped his biceps and she could only do one thing as she half lie in that grass with the two dogs looking at them with heads tilted: laugh.

It started off as a small giggle but slowly bubbled into laughter that Seokmin found himself joining, his eyes turning into pretty crescents. They prpbably looked insane, but neither one cared in that moment.

”Look at us, huh?” You giggled in response.

”I’m….I’m Seokmin,” he cleared his throat knowing his ears were a bright pink.

You offer your name back, “and I’m assuming that bunny is yours?”

"Bunny? Oh Woojoo, yes! I’ve never seen him so active like that before.” Said dog comes to sit beside his owner looking up at you, it's almost like his way of greeting. and so you bow your head.

"Nie to meet you Woojoo."

”And the little bear is yours?”

”Lola.” When she looks up at Seokmin, he swears she smiles at him with her eyes and the tilt of her head.

"I actuallt have an extra scone where I'm sitting, since you offered those wipes?"

"Yeah, I just need to grab my bag and...and yeah a scone sounds nice. Maybe I can treat you to a coffee, when I see you again?" as he speaks he helps you to stand, your hand not once leaving his own.

"Oh when you see me again?" Your smile is mischevious and turns his ears even more pink if possible, "do you want to see me again?"

"Sorry I-"

"I'll be here tomorrow. There's a really nice pleace not too far, dog friendly."

His lips turn up, "yeah. I'd love that."

[floralble]

moodboard: vampire!park seonghwa + vampire!kim hongjoong x familiar!reader

[floralble]

sunrise ˚｡⋆ pairing: vampire! mingi x familiar!reader ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ summary: Immortals may be dead but feel hevily. After a brush with the sun, Mingi's nest invest in a familiar to help the young immortal. You bring him something he has long forgotten about with centuries of living. ˚｡⋆ warnings: none

To obtain a Familiar was an honor. Contrary to the mainstream media and beliefs held by mortals and immortals, becoming one required years of training with only small cohorts that would graduate and commit to an Immortal. Familiars weren’t lackeys, hunchbacks, half-human, half-zombie beings. 

Not every familiar was a Renfield and not every immortal was a Nosferatu.

They were angelic beings marked by the shiny pearls with their Immortals house engraved into silver pendants upon their throats. 

Violence against a Familiar would incur punishments and instant, harsh demotion in one's place among the ranking Immortal families. The most heartbreaking Familiar trafficking incident recorded in history marked the start of this new era for familiars. Hundreds were found having been kept and bred in farms that would pump them out. They were more slave than human, less cognizant, barely able to function. 

The Immortal in question, heading the trafficking, was sentenced to death by sunrise along with his entire line and those who knowingly purchased an illegal Familiar. It was a bleak, dark moment of history and one of the largest mass death sentences among Immortals.

It struck deep fear into those who held a Familiar, tipping the scale in favor of the Familiar.

Mingi saw no need for one in his fledgling years. He eyed the docile beings plenty of times, sat beside or upon their masters or mistresses. In markets and celebrations of the solstices. Some move without having to hear a single utterance from their bound one. Dressed in silks and lace, their skin pristine and untouched. Their marks were covered by ribbons and jewelry. They had grown into symbols of status. The prettier and pampered one's Familiar looked, the more attention one received.

But Mingi was getting older, and he was lonelier. He could feel the illness coming upon his mind. There was an incident that he dared not speak of, but his closest acquaintance began the process of binding once that day happened.

That's how she ended up at their estate. Yunho was gone on business abroad in Rome, but his Sire, Hongjoong, handled all the details. He filled out the paperwork, which had very detailed questions about blood type, gender, the sector they were raised in, and the school they attended. He provided the council with a letter of highest esteem for his fledgling to help him get at least a step ahead of the hundreds of applicants. 

One month later, he received a letter in the mail congratulating him. A worker of the estate announced your arrival following the receipt of a letter providing him with the next steps in the Familiar binding process. 

You were a stark contrast to the vintage manor. 

Your arrival was marked by a small white car that disrupted the quiet, bleakness of the covens estate, concealed by tall, rusted gates that creaked open to allow the car in and close once pass the threshold.

Your hair was carefully pinned up and out of your face, your eyelashes kissed your cheeks as you kept your gaze to the ground. They dressed you in a long black skirt with beautiful lace patterns, a cinched-in corset with a modest white blouse tucked in with flowing sleeves covered in ruffled trimming. And your headpiece settled beautifully in your curls. To your side were two suitcases, and your hands were neatly folded in front of you. 

Your pearls moved with your breath against the skin of your chest, no silver pendant. An indication that you were unclaimed. Until he gifted you with his house's pendant, you were still a baby in the eyes of your sister and brothers. Unclaimed. He wanted to sink his teeth into your chest. 

He brushed his thoughts and hunger aside to welcome you and your elder sister, who greeted him with a deep bow that you mimicked. She was older than you, and her own pearls held a house seal. One from an ancient and powerful family, an old ally of theirs. She presented you in name with your number and passed off a thick folder with all your certifications and training. 

But all he could remember was your name. How beautiful it sounded in his mind. 

“The council reminds you that in one month, you must lay public claim upon my sister. If not, I will return to retrieve her, and you will receive further instructions and paperwork to register for a new Familiar. I pray the moon shines upon her and you find her worthy of your crest, my lord.”  

Mingi personally showed her your temporary quarters. It was a room double the size of your home in your families sector. The closet was large and empty where two maidens make work of hanging of your uniforms, a beautiful marbled bathroom, and a bed that would surely swallow you whole. A small chaise and table were set up in the corner by large windows which he informed you led to a balcony that overlooked the home’s gardens. 

"You can receive your meals here or down in the private parlor if you prefer."

"Here will be fine, my lord, it is considered rude to eat in the presence of one with such a status as yours," your sisters response makes him raise both brows.

You however did not flinch, nor did you voice your own opinion.

"Very well, I will leave the two of you to handle your business."

He allowed the two of you privacy to say your final goodbyes. He closed his eyes, focusing on tuning your conversation out. You deserved the dignity. But his heart, if it were living still, broke hearing the telltale sniffles of your crying. It faded as he made his way to the study, but it still buzzed in his ear even as he sat and forced himself to read documents out loud.

Your elder sister held you tight, reminded you of your training, and kissed you on both cheeks, leaving you in the room while led out by a worker. It was better not to prolong these departures. You would surely see her and your family for holidays, but even then something in you broke as she slowly stepped away and released your hand from her own.

She didn't look back.

And her back was the final you saw before the doors closed.

Quickly, you pulled yourself together, reminding yourself of the vows you took some years ago. Your mother took them, her sisters took them, her mother, and so on. You came from a proud line, and you would do well to carry on that legacy. So you dabbed at your face with your personal kerchief, and quickly exited your room, asking the maid who awaited you all questions in pertaining to the master of the house.

You learned that Lord Song kept a tight schedule with his brokers and checking his abroad galleries and pieces.

Right now it was off season and he was in the throes of designs and maintaining his home collection and gallery.

Some way this brings you comfort, perhaps you would not have to feed him, but for how long can you avoid your main duties?

Your master was an odd being. That much you confirmed in your first week of living in the Song manor. 

He hated spiders.

Or anything with more than two legs.

Thus, he demanded the house be thoroughly dusted and scrubbed top to bottom daily.

He let out an unusually high screech one evening when a tiny spider dropped in front both of you as you brushed his dark hair. And he screeched even louder when you calmly clapped it between your hands, killing it instantly.

He was a man who spoke very little but was of deep thought. 

When you first encountered him just two days ago, he terrified you. You were thankful your elder sister handled the talking because surely your voice would crack and waver if you were to handle it all on your own. But you slowly realize that man was softer than he exhibited. Less beastly.

He was picky and had odd requirements for you.  

He didn't want to drink from you the first night, and he refused to be bathed by you. Had he still been human, you were sure he was blushing when you appeared in his room asking if he needed assistance. He sent you to your room, telling you to care for yourself that evening.

But you brushed it away as jitters. By the fourth night, he was comfortable with you organizing his jewelry and helping him get ready for the evening. 

He demanded to eat in your presence for dinners and to be informed of your morning and noon meals as well. You chalk this up as him making sure your diet is well maintained. The chef here, a cheeky sweet soul with beautiful dark hair, feeds you well and sneaks you sweets which you often find by your bedside.

His coffin was large and extremely cushioned. His vanity held cases of scents, jewels, and pieces from his travels all over the world. He shared the estate with a friend away on business. And your master demanded to be called by the first name.

"Lord and master sound too formal, especially for my age" he pouts a bit and you giggle behind your hand.

"If it pleases you my l- my Mingi."

He smiles at that, my Mingi. It stuck instantly.

When you ate your evening meals together, he would eat last. Ensuring you ate everything on your plate. Perhaps he thought you would grow squeamish at the sight of blood, but you all were trained in steeling your nerves and stomachs.

Mingi hated how you calmly picked the crystalline pitcher, no doubt still warm and filled his glass as thought it were water. Your pupils never once dilated, your breathe remained even. He watched for any movement, any sign that you were felt anything in that moment. But you sat back, folded your hands and looked to him for further instruction.  

He's scared to ask you what training you underwent in three years to serve blood like it was merely wine.

He had the workers take your measurements and assigned you an unofficial maid to help you dress and prepare yourself for the days while he slept. All of this was not what you studied for the last three years. During the days, he gave you very few to no tasks. With your free time, you read, you explored, you mourned. Would this be your life forever? You asked yourself on day nine as you stared at the canopy above. 

Just what was his end goal?

You stood beside his vanity on the cusp of sunrise hands folded in front of you as he disrobed himself behind his changing screen. The heavy curtains were pulled back, much to his surprise. He wonders how a tiny thing like you could pull the heavy fabric back. Your eyes fell upon the cases and cushions that held some of his daily pieces you spent shining, you found him to be an appreciator of jewelery and gems.

"We were once a long line of appraisers," he confided to you when he caught your eyes looking over his collection. You thought everything he kept out on his vanity was much, but during the day as you organized his closets you found where his true collection was and couldn't help but wonder,

"Is he a raven?" You cocked your head as you saw cuts and gemstones that looked unreal. Engravings in metals and clusters of stones that made your eyes shine. The maid you work beside with giggles into her hand at your blunt observation. A lot of the staff found your presence of fresh air. From your mornings spent in the kitchens with the kind chef, to the gentle butler who assisted you in learning the masters routine.

"You know," the chef hums as he carefully sets a plate of freshly made biscuits in front of you to accompany your warm tea. "He's really a giant softy."

He huffs as he steals one of of your plate to begin spreading jam onto, "Master Song?"

You hum as you begin to break the sweet roll into smaller bites, "very."

"And what makes you say that dovey?"

"Well he blushes and gets flustered quite often, and he pouts a lot too. Oh and when I read aloud the letter from his companion I swear he was….vibrating? Like he wanted to jump up and down like a child on Christmas morning." As you list off his traits chef lets out a loud lough that makes you straighten up in your seat. "Did I misspeak?"

"Not at all dovey, finish your breakfast," he nudges your plate forward for you to return to. His hand comes down upon your head making you grumble, you'll have to fix your hair piece later before your master awakens.

Mingi rolled his shoulders has he stepped out from behind the screen, his eyes watched as you carefully returned his rings to their cases one by one. He knows you hate how he carelessly tosses his creations. 'You ought to treat them with care, it's your art.'

”You’re not sleeping.” It wasn’t a question. It was an observation, a correct one. He sits down and allows you to reach down and remove his rings.

”No, my Mingi.” 

“Why?”

He feels the tremor of your hands as they now work to slowly remove the diamonds from his ears. “I am well, I swear.”

”Is it the food?”

”No.”

”The bed?”

”No.”

As you open the lid of his coffin, he eyes you, looks for any sign of a lie, but he can’t find it. Your tired eyes look upon him, arms open and palms up, waiting to receive his robe, which he lays in your hands. But he pauses before he can step up into the awaiting comfort of rest. Instead he turns to lean back and cross his chest to look down upon you.

"Why aren't you sleeping dove?"

”Why am I here?” Such an open-ended question has him looking to the dark ceilings. "I feel like I am not performing my duties according to the books and standards of the academy. Is it...is there something more I can provide? I ask myself these questions each and every night."

You felt extremely out of place.

You had too much freedom.

You felt too safe here.

Books to your disposable, access to all parts of his wing. The freedom to communicate with your family often which shocked them as well. You were even alerted that you were allowed visitation into the town during the day following the very few duties you were assigned.

He can see the genuine distress in your down cast eyes.

"My apologies my lord I've forgotten myself."

"None of that," Mingi cradles your jaw to hold your head upright, to look into your eyes with a kindness you forgot about.

"I tried to....I...I," even as he struggles to put words to it, you sit there, your own hand lays atop his own. You wait for him patiently.

"I tried to see the sun one day," your heart jumps, "I truly don't remember the day. They all started to blur together at some point. But...I just woke up and something pulled me toward the windows." His head nods toward the very ones that take up a large portion of the room.

"Yunho caught me before I could fully open them, but it hurt like hell." He shakes his head returning his gaze back down to you. "You're not doing anything wrong. I don't need a wet nurse or someone to warm my bed. What I need is..." His brows furrow. Because truly, he can't pinpoint what it is he got from you.

All he knew was that the days were more memorable. He woke up and his chest fluttered when you were the one to open the lid of his coffin. He felt some sort of warmth knowing you were in the room, even if you didn't spoke. It was like the sun had entered his life.

"Your presence, it's like the sun, at least what I can remember it to feel like. That is what I need from you, dove."

You look like a frazzled cat, eyes going wide and cheeks warming beneath his palms. It makes him huff and finally let you go to lie down, sleep finally pulls him down. But he doesn't miss your flustered face as you stand tall to pull the lid down.

"Rest well my Mingi," you mumble when it is shut. Your hand lies atop the lid for a moment as you take two deep breaths and slowly make your rounds to blow out the candles in his room.

By the time the last one is blown out your cheeks are less rosy, however the pounding in your chest remains the same. It's that very thudding that lulls Mingi to sleep with a smile that he hasn't let free in ages.

Perhaps he is odd.

And a bit of a baby.

But your master is kind.

This you can confirm as you approach week three of being in his home.

You observe this as you both sit outside in the garden beneath the full moon. His legs are crossed as he reads the letters from Yunho while you happily snack on freshly made pastries. As you bite into a bitter sweet tart without even lifting his eyes he reches a hand to pour your tea as you fill his glass.

"Yunho says he is anticipating meeting you, he's to arrive in three nights." Mingi sets the letter down atop the others.

"I look forward to meeting him. your eyes shine when you speak of him. You must adore him dearly," you giggle as his eyes look down to the side while he sips from his cup while you giggle into your tea.

"My lord, the final design." A sealed file is laid in front of Mingi.

"Oh, for the upcoming season?" You ask as Mingi reaches into the folder to pull the sheet.

"No, your pearls."

The way he says it so casually, as though it were typical news. Your heart stops for a moment, your hand stills as it reaches for a second macaron. Your pearls, his mark would replace the barren ones that are upon you. You would be his. He wanted you.

"My pearls," you breath out.

"Yes, would you like to see the final design? I thought you were the type who enjoyed a suprise." He helds the sheet out for you. And while it stares at you so tantalizingly you shake your head.

"No, I...I would like to be suprised at the binding ceremony."

Mingi huffs as he reutrns the deisgn into its sleeve. "Now whose the one mumbling? I don't think I've ever seen you so red like this dove."

"Am not!"

"Ahhh you just went a shade brighter!"

Mingi can't recall the last time he laughed as hard, since he smiled so brightly. It felt as though centuries melted away, gone was the young man frozen for an eternity. He felt like a boy again. Young, dizzy and deeply infatuated with you.

His dove.

His sweet sun.

[floralble]

are there gonna be more parts of sweet spot?

Definitely planning a second part at the moment!

[floralble]

Vampire Mingi with familiar reader coming soon, with a DASH of Yunho

[floralble]

she’s my collar

˚｡⋆rock star!ateez x reader

All it takes is a leap, one step. When a washed up groupie attends one less concert, fate plays upon eight hearts. What was mean to be a one night stand turns into something that she dares to wonder: could it last forever? Leather, love, rock and roll intertwined so deeply into her DNA. But can their love withstand the pressures of this silver studded world?

Chapter 1 |

moodboard coming soon…

[floralble]

thoughts floating around my head for head designer hongjoong and muse/intern reader:

ᥫ᭡. designer!joong with muse!reader who wants her as comfortable as possible because if she’s stressed its gonna “bleed” into the designs. Literally has her on a schedule to the spa monthly, if not once a week. Also keeps her fridge stocked with fresh ingredients cause she refused a private chef and has her wine imported because he refuses to let her indulge in the ‘cheap’ unhealthy stuff. But occasionally she’ll use his card for takeout and he only rolls his eyes when he gets a notification

ᥫ᭡. designer!joong whose drawn in by muse!reader because she exists perfectly fine apart from him, I think that’s what draws him in the most. While other interns adapted their personality and workwear to almost imitate or try and sway Hongjoong, muse!reader continued to be how she was. She remained a lover of vibrant collars and patterns and remained bubbly

ᥫ᭡. designer!joong who creates passionately and madly. No one is allowed to shift or move his designs and inspiration boards because he will immediately notice and have to scrape it all and start over again

ᥫ᭡. there was a incident where he went through dozens upon dozens of different fabrics because the blue he was looking for was not just any one. he ends up draping fabric after fabric on Seonghwa for two days

ᥫ᭡. designer!joong who has a lot of odd habits, lowkey one of those prodigal shut ins. The only time paparazzi catches him is coming to or from the studio. The last person who tried to catch him outside his home was sued into oblivion and wiped out from whatever network tried to send them

ᥫ᭡. the media can’t tell if they’re married, dating or just sleeping around because she doesn’t live with him but for some reason they are constantly seen together. She’s been seen in clothing of his and he’s worn accessories of hers, specifically jewelry.

ᥫ᭡. designer!joong’s odd habits include never allowing muse reader to pose when it is raining cause she gets sleepy. When she’s too busy to pose for him instead he’ll lock the doors shut and set out diffusers with a custom oil scent that is similar to her perfume. She isn’t allowed to wear any other brands or rival during her “working” hours. There’s a specific bakery she has to have her snacks and coffee from that he HATES because he could get her authentic french pastries but she prefers the stuff from a hole in the wall mom and pop type of shop

ᥫ᭡. when the media tried to photograph and catch muse!reader thats when he decided she needed security and she immediately declines. Joong only relented when she agrees to have at least ONE person with her during super important events or traveling

ᥫ᭡. designer!joong giving her pieces from the archives and overseas during fashion weeks. Would even go as far as to make sure she only gets the stuff that is rare or few and demands her initials embroidered

ᥫ᭡. I imagine she’s the reason he steps out of dressing his models in edgy and sharp, grunge mixed with old london rock clothing, and leads him in to exploring delicate and soft pieces

ᥫ᭡. takes the time outside of fashion week to set aside a decent amount of one on one time with muse!reader before and after the chaos, he allows her to convincing him to attend one where he can speculate instead of for work or PR

ᥫ᭡. speaking of fashion week here are some looks I can imagine muse reader in:

ᥫ᭡. designer!joong is a sucker for muse!reader in some heels. Even if she is a bit taller than him, he looks upon her like she hung the very moon and stars. Secretly has a collection of heels for her that he breaks out when she can’t figure out what to pair her outfits with

ᥫ᭡. i figure after some time together, designer!joong making sure she (secretly) owns a small percentage of the label and he learns to support her graduate studies in global management because she desires to one day build her own brand up one day and he fully supports her

Bonus: how I envision muse readers wardrobe looks:

[stryhwa]

Yall his proportions are CRAZYYYY

[floralble]

cause respectfully…..how is he built like THAT

[floralble]

sweet spot

˚｡⋆ designer!kim hongjoong x intern!black!reader

in which the ruthless head of a fashion house finds a sweet spot in the bubbly intern

House of Kim

At the ripe age of 25, Kim Hongjoong would come to build up a fashion empire that would outgrow South Korea. A fashion school graduate ranking top three of his year he would go on to carve out his name and claw his way to the top of the industry. His fashion empire would begin to expand to Europe, America, all of Asia. With runways that very few were allowed to see but from word of mouth it was as though one were entering an entirely new dimension.

In five years he accomplished what dozens yearned and burned themselves out for, for double the amount of time. With a staff and close team just as extravagant he would find his position solidified among many up and coming greats.

He was an extremist.

A heart throb.

He would do anything necessary for inspiration. 

But Hongjoong was getting older, His twenties passed him in a blur with his thirtieth sneaking up on him so quickly, And with it, he began to find himself bored. In need of something new, fresh. As he fingered lazily through internship applications, read through fluffed up heavily edited and pleasing personal statements, he would stop at one in particular. His finger would trace the bubbly senior. Her statement was raw and uncut. And her portfolio and resume stellar.

You were perfect, he mused. He allowed the remaining applications to spill off his desk as he kicked his feet up to hold her portfolio high He took a slow drag from his cigarette and allowed the smoke to pool from his lips as he read her name aloud, “let’s see where you lead me.”

The doors of the tall building no longer fazed you as they once did when you were a student intern. You quickly ran up the steps throwing the doors open with the one hand that was free. In your right arm you cradled four black zip up bags, in your other were two portfolios while you managed to balance in your uniform heels that bled into the loud chaos of the studio.

To this day you won’t understand how the bright red stilettos were a part of your uniform, all you knew was that they were a pair only sold in a specific store that held them just for the staff. As soon as you arrived in an unoccupied elevator fighting against the rush and bustling workers, you dropped your items to quickly fix yourself. You smoothed down the beige pencil skirt and adjusted the matching vest with the pink cashmere sweater beneath. 

Once the elevator arrived to your designated floor you quickly scooped everything up. The silver doors opened and you walked down past designers, sketching at large pads of paper or fiddling with the clothing of their figurines at their long tables. You greeted everyone cheerfully as best as you could buried beneath your work.

“Y/N!” Ana waves you over from her own set up. You wobble your way to her setting down the clothes bags and portfolios at one of her empty tables and lean beside her with a sigh.

“Darling you are a life saver!” You gave her a quick hug sitting down beside her where an extra drink sat beside her own, an iced vanilla latte, extra shot of espresso.

“I feared you would fall over in those heels again,” she chuckled handing you your drink which you took a long sip from letting out a sigh of joy.

“That was only once and it was icy outside! How’s he doing this morning?”

“I haven’t seen him yet today you know he practically lives here, especially after the editorials meeting went left from what I heard.” You both laughed softly together. 

“Plus, he’s getting ready to release the fall wardrobe. And you know he likes to be ten steps ahead,”

“Which means we have to be fifteen ahead of him.” You both say together with a heavy sigh. You take another sip from your liquid energy and stand up rolling your wrists and stretching your arms till you hear that satisfying pop. 

"But how's Wooyoung treating you? I heard he sent Hongjoong in a fit the other day at the meeting, he trashed five designs?"

"You know how he is, he took a flight out to Italy, said he needed some new 'inspiration'," and with a wiggle of her eyebrows and the curvaceous outline she made with her hands you immediately knew the young designers mind was anywhere else but fall. “He left me behind a dozen tasks, and I need to hunt down Song Mingi for these beadings and all this other stuff that he INSISTS be imported from Italy.”

”Mmm good luck getting a hold of him, he’s got his eyes set on getting Hongjoong some rare fabrics from god knows where.”

If Hongjoong was the brain of the entire fashion house then Song Mingi was its neck. With double majors in textiles and business, he was a top negotiator and procurer of the materials. If Hongjoong needed high quality silk tomorrow, the man would have it done. If he wanted sils from Zhejiang, so be it. 'No' and ' we are unable to' are not in hos orbit.

Though there were whispers that he was seen and heard in secret meetings — paying off brokers and men when it came to the rare furs that Hongjoong had in his own personal collections.

Real fur. You’d felt his coats so often, taken nearly hundreds to get cleaned, and the fabrics did feel extremely real to the touch. It unsettled you, but you weren't paid to have opinions. Besides, it was all lunch room gossip. And you weren’t getting paid a monthly stipend that was barely minimum wage to speculate.

“I better hurry off before he burns down the building looking for his precious babies” you said the last part in his whining tone that so many of you are familiar with. You make quick work of rebalancing everything in your arms once more and making your way through the open doors down the hallways past glass walls looking into various offices.

You know you are getting closer whe you see your fellow intern, Yeosang and duck quickly into his office.

Kang Yeosang, from what you heard of the bubbly giggles of the female designers and assistants, was too pretty of a face to be just an office intern like yourself. So many bemoaned when he graced the workers of the fashion house with his presence he should be on the runwat.

To this very day nobody knows why he chose to remain a secretary. He and Seonghwa were gifted with such ethereal features and the perfect figures for runway fashion. Surely he would quickly catch up with his senior. But for now, he was in the process of breaking ground in PR management.

And so far he made his mark with dealing with Wooyoung. He was perhaps one of the rare few who could handle the erratic designer. Covering up messy break ups, questionable social media posts and with branding he was able to maintain the balance between the rockstaresque designer who was extremely well spoken in interviews.

You deliver a stack of paperwork upon his desk which he warmly thanks you for and begins to dive right into.

“Have everything ready today?”

“After the last twenty meltdowns? I think I’ve learned how to tame the dragon Sangie,” he gives you his signature gummy smile looking back down at his work. With your arms more free you approach the dark wood door at the end of it all and enter. You stand out like a sore thumb in the office. The walls were concrete with eccentric patterns covering every inch of the walls.

His sleek black desk overlooked the city like some comical villain and you've often caught him to gaze down from it often. With a computer and dozens of notes and patterns stacked you know you'll have to wait for his lunch break to lightly organize the mess. To the side, his drawing desk and board filled with drawings and reference pictures.

It was all a curated chaos you had accustomed yourself to after facing his wrath when in your first year innocence you attempted to deep clean it.

Your body moves on autopilot mode getting straight into the routine. Hanging up his dry cleaning on a clothing rack, adjusting the designer bags and counting them once more to make sure you didn’t leave behind any. You approach the coffee bar he has and make quick work on brewing a double shot espresso with steamed foam.

You make sure to steam the foam hotter than normal, that's what got the previous intern fired.

The head of it all himself sat upright across the couch, his black frames sitting on the bridge of his nose as he read from a magazine that sat atop his crossed legs. He wore a matching jacket and pants set cream and linen with delicate stitching. Once you set his drink in front of him is when he finally looks up at you with black lined eyes.

“Early today as always darling,” he muttered, he tossed the magazing atop the small glass table and stood up with his drink in hand. You walked behind him silently opening the portfolios to lay out in front of him as soon as he sat at his desk.

“The final sketches for spring and the edits you requested for the upcoming editorial period.” He picked up one of them and quickly flipped through. “I’ve informed the heads of the departments to have any final updates brought to you end of day in preparation for tomorrows all staff meeting.”

“Issues with getting in contact with Wooyoung?"

"His assistant should have his finals and any requests in by the end of today."

He takes a slow sip and nods placing the cup down. His fingers quickly breeze through, eyes scanning fast while his hand snatches a marker to enderline and circle certain portions.

Without looking up he is quick to ask. "And my-“

“Furs?” you turn on your heel to go back and grab the clothing rack which you settle at the front of the desk. “I picked them up this morning. I made sure to alert them of your standards, to avoid any disagreements.”

You carefully unzip and hang each coat for him to inspect each one. His eyes glow like a child in acandy shop. You take a step back for him to swoop around the desk and dive in. He holds up the new leopard printed coat which he buries his face into letting out a content sigh.

“Oh darling just what would I do without you?” He chuckled looking at the rest of his coats. A deep dark red recently imported, a speckled with black and browns followed with his personal favorite, one of two existed. He and Seonghwa alone held the pieces and caused a stir upon their debuts via the fashion houses magazine spread. A sharp contrast of his usual sharp feminine pieces the face of his designs wore a rugged masculine beauty sporting encrusted sterling grill and heavy golden chains wrapped up in what could have been (and what so many tabloids accused) was a bear fur coat.

“Now onto fall.” He drops the coat which you step forward to catch and hang back up.

“I was struck by inspiration while I was on my way here this morning” He shuffled through the drawings at his drawingy desk muttering to himself before letting out a soft ‘aha’.

You take this as an invitation to step closer.

“What do you think?” You looked down at the drawing tracing the sharp figure consumed by the billowing fcoat upon the paper. Messy notes surround her figure, but what stands out to you?

“Spots?”

“Not just any spots darling, dalmatian spots. They’re...different. Much more wild, fierce they’re unpredictable” He said pulling the drawing from your hands to pin back up among the other designs. "I considered other manners of spot, but I could not get these out my mind."

As he speaks he attaches the piece back in the center of the drawing board where you both look upon it.

“The fabric is of no problem at all. Whom is wearing it is where my mind goes blank. I can't envision a single person being able to bring her to life.” He begins to chew the bottom of his lip as his head tilts in thought.

“If you’d like I can call up Seonghwa?”

“He's on respite. And before you mention San, he’s busy being Wooyoung’s mannequin.” He turned sharply on his heel, tapping the ash of his cigarette into a crystalline tray as you scrambled to replace hands with a fresh one. And as you went to light it, Hongjoong eyed you up and down, and tilted his head from side to side. 

As he takes a small first pull, he allows the smoke to billow from his lips. Using it to point to the rack in front of him.

“Wear it.”

What?

He reiterated himself when he was met with your blanched face, "put it on, now darling. First one on the left."

You don’t know why your hands have a small tremble in them, but you follow his instruction and don the coat on with careful hands. Pulling your hair out you adjust the coat with a careful shake. Perhaps cause any damage would cost you your entire existence. But it seems he doesn’t care as you maneuver it to fit you.

Even with the warmth fighting the autumn breeze outside, it's cozy, and you can't help but pull it close to wrap yourself up tightly and let it fall.

He motions you forward and you move around the desk to stand in front of him. He stands to slowly walk around you as though you were one of his pieces.. His free hand slowly brushes through the fur coat which he adjusted mumbling to himself. The other hand discards his cigarette into the crystal.

Finally he stopped in front of you with arms crossed and the grin of a man who won the fortune of his life.

“That's all I needed to see,” he purred. "I'll be a moment dear, have my notes prepped for tomorrow."

He says it so casually as his hand snatches his notebook to exit and address the designers for the day.

When you hear the door click shut your feet finally move.

You couldn't help the heat forming in your cheeks. But beneath the fur you feel powerful, untouchable. You catch your reflection in the window when you round the table to hang it back up, slowly turning on your heel. You don't recognize the woman in the glass.

You should take it off but you don't know what possess you to caress your arms, to shuffle through the wardrobe in your mind and consider what would look good with it.

You dare to imagine gracing a red carpet, a runway, the next magazine, across that couch nak- no! You quickly shrug it off from your shoulders and begin to slowly hang it back up, unknown to you, he'd open the door the slightest bit to watch.

His gaze unmoving as you fluff it up, your hangs lingering for a moment. How you push your shoulders back and fix your gaze till you let your shoulders drop and pushing the rack. If it were up to him, he’d spend the entire day sketching countless rough drafts of you in it.

So for now, he'll watch you hang it back up carefully in the garment bag and make work on the others.

Everything feels off the next day, like there's an itch you can not locate. Or the nagging feeling of you'd forgotten something though you can't pinpoint exactly what it is. Perhaps it’s because he didn’t request his usual morning hot americano. Or the voice note Yeosang sent you ranting how something was very wrong because his office which was CLEAN and he made work to organize the editorial notes.

But it feels like the world is on a tilt and you can't find your footing.

He’s eerily calm as you present his notes for the meeting, as you walk side by side to the meeting room and for the next four hours. He doesn’t chastise or snap at Wooyoung, or at the delay on Mingi’s end for textiles due from Italy now set to Tuesday rather than the weekend.

But what truly is the nail in the coffin? When he says to send word out to the interns and assistants to leave on time. That all deadlines are extended to next Friday, no longer Monday.

All heads slowly turn to Hongjoong's then slowly to you.

But he continues on, as though nothing were wrong. So you return your eyes back to your notes. Because for the first time in a long while: you don't know what you can do. Your hands move with a learned quickness as you take notes with one hand and type with the other when needed, until a notification pops up at the right corner of your screen.

Sangie: Something’s off

Who are you telling?? Did something happen with Wooyoung?

Sangie: no, as usual his designs came in late but when is that ever new?

any updates on Milan?

Sangie: nothing. Dates are set, updates on the fabrics and other material arrivals are expected within the next 48 hours

you know something…don’t you?

Your eyes cut to your left, but his eyes are lifted to the board that Hongjoong stands before. The cheeky nerve of him.

YOU DO

DONT IGNORE ME

"....and can you have that update immediately forward to Mingi and his team cc'd on that thread as well," Hongjoong's eyes flutter over to you and Yeosang, brow raising when both your heads snap up together from the screens of your laptops.

"Yes sir," you mumble.

Sangie: don't worry I already have it forwarded

oh so NOW you respond

The meeting ends on the dot at 2. And Hongjoong moves on autopilot back to his office with you a step behind as always. The moment your heel hits the threshold and the door is closed, he drops the bomb,

”I no longer need you as an intern.” Your hands pause for a moment. Your tongue feels heavy, your face feels hot and it takes every thing in you not to throw your laptop at his face in a fit of rage. You don't know if you want to scream or vomit your guts out right then and there. Damn near TWO tears of your life sacrificed for this selfish, brat of a man child who the actual HELL does he th-.

“You’ll be my muse instead.”

Huh?

”A muse?” Surely your face is drenched in confusion because he repeats himself once more.

”Yes, my muse. By now Yeosang should have delivered upon your desk the new terms and conditions of this position and updates to your scheduling all of which I will oversee personally. My scheduling, errands, all of that will no longer be a concern. I need your schedule as clear as possible and free of any stress inducing scenarios.”

”Sir my major is in marketing!” Your hands slam on his desk to look down on him. "I have no skills in....that." you can can only wave a hand towards the pictures and shots from previous campiagns and runways that fill his designs area. And his unbothered stare makes you truly consider tossing everything on the desk to the floor. He is disgustingly and aggravatingly beautiful as he crosses his legs and places his hands upon them.

”I’m aware, and you will find at the end of the document the terms and conditions include your education and future business endeavors under your new contract.” His hand waves as though he is batting away some pesky fly.

”Darling,” he leans forward hands folded atop his desk but his gaze soft. Too soft for the stone facade she'd worked with for nearly two years. “I won’t force you into anything you don’t want. Read the contract and in three days I will expect a response. No consequences.”

Silence. And the look she levels him with sends shivers down his spine. He hates how beautiful she looks sitting tall with a tilt in her chin. But Hongjoong catches himself as he rips a page from a scattered sketchbook and grabs an ink pen. He gestures with his hand to the open seat in front of him, and you force yourself to sit down.

"I want to settle this now. On my own terms."

"You've guts, had them since you enetered here. So tell me, what are your terms?"

Hongjoong favors the arts above all else, but to have survived this long in the world of fashion it takes a certain level of knowledge in business as well. He may be an artist, but he is no artistic fool.

"I want 50% coverage of my tuition with a personal recommendation for the masters in management at the top schools."

"Done."

"And a percentage of every design that is tied to my...new work. And a better wage with relocation assistance."

"Done."

"Once my program is complete I want a position here. A real one."

He's silent as he quickly notes her final request and seals it below with his signature. He lays the pen on top and slides it forward for you to read. It takes a moment for your mind to catch up with till your hand finally grabs the heavy pen and with a shaky hand you sign your name beside his.

You gently lay the pen down to slide the paper in the middle and with whatever grace you have left in you, stand to yourfeet. "Then it's settled. I have a few items to finalize if I'm going to leave on time. Excuse me, sir."

You bow your head and turn on your heel to exit the office, hoping he doesn't notice how you speed walk out and squeal behind your hands as you run down the hall to your office.

That was SO embarassing!

Meanwhile Hongjoong kicks his heels up with his sketchpad laying as he begins on the first page. With fast and sharp strokes he finds himself inspired. Yeosang doesn't know whether to be scared or hopeful when he hears Hongjoong hum as he enters his office.

That night when you return home, you find a slender gift bag in front of your door with an enormous bouquet of roses that nearly swallow you whole and tip you over as your try to balance it.

With a glass of the gifted wine you share it with Ana who sits beside you while Yeosang grabs the take out from the front and you all read the contract together.

What did I get myself into?