A Secret Career (seonghwa X Reader)

a secret career (seonghwa x reader)

pairing :seonghwa x reader

established relationship, fluff, school teacher reader!, business man seonghwa!, older seonghwa, older reader,

rating : for all!

word count : 3.2k

synopsis: You’ve been belittled by others when you told them you were a school teacher. And with Seonghwa and your new relationship, you decided to keep it to yourself, until further notice. 

warnings: I am not an elementary school teacher and I do not have the experience of being a school teacher so I would like to apologize if this might romanticize this specific career or have some false statements. 

You were going through papers and papers, looking at the work and response of your little 2nd graders. It was a Tuesday night and the last thing you wanted to do was grade these papers. Your legs were up on the couch with a blanket that draped over your belly. The papers were gathered in piles on the coffee table in front of you and they piled up one by one into stacks that you labeled as graded and not graded.  

You absolutely dreaded nights like this because all you wanted to do was facetime your boyfriend and talk about your guy’s days. It was only a few months in this new profound relationship, but you knew how different and special it felt. Dating, before you hit 25, felt like a constant hit or miss with all these immature men and boys you found on dating sites and even at work. But dating now, or maybe dating him, was beyond anything you wished for as a young woman.

He was mature, respectful, and was always gentle with every topic, idea, and even event that was suggested. He had a stable career at a world-renowned company, and even became team manager at the age of 28. He had a good apartment and even a car he started leasing. And as much as he told you about his career and lifestyle, you kept yours a secret from him. Well at least for now.  

Keep reading

seni oilai

♔ pairing: servent! j.wy x queen! reader

♔ genre: smut, angst

♔ wc: 2.5k

♔ content: royalty au, sexual servitude, fingering, nipple play, penetration, lots of teasing, unsaid feelings, secret established relationship

♔ a/n: no read more tab because tumblr hates me :/

The bathroom ceiling was decorated with beautiful and intricate designs, all handpainted by the Royal family’s personal painter. You’ve been told that the painter had spent days lying on his back to make the scenery that currently overlooked your bathtub. The inspiration came from the first spring after the long, brutal, and deadly winter your Kingdom endured many years ago. Your eyes followed the swells of white clouds that stretched over the light blue paint and the flocks of birds that stretched their wings and embraced the rebirth of warmth and beauty. Of course, that was just what the painter pictured it to be. But to you, the painting was nothing but a cruel reminder of what you could never have. You stared up at this grand ceiling from your bathtub every night, growing sick from the constant reminder that you were stuck. You felt like a bird being held prisoner in its cage, forced to look at everyone else flap their wings and fly away from this godforsaken place.

After the untimely death of your parents, and there being no male heirs to the throne, the Court decided with great hesitation to pass the crown down to you. No one wanted a girl Queen. Just the thought of you as a ruler gave the Kingdom great anxiety. A girl Queen meant a vulnerable Kingdom, and no one was equipped to handle an invasion. Understanding this sentiment at such a young age, you made it your duty to prove everyone wrong. You wanted to show them that you were capable, if not more capable than your father, of being a leader. Even with your accomplishments at peace and prosperity during your years of reign, that sentiment remained unchanged. You learned that no matter what you did, no one would take you seriously as Queen. And with that, your efforts faltered and you went on autopilot.

There were whispers in the court about an unnamed Prince who was interested in her Royal Highness. The lone Prince was said to have been planning to propose to you and merge both Kingdoms under one rule. The Court took a likeness to the idea. You were bombarded by them, along with the Chief Minister to at least consider marrying him. There were too many reasons not to say no: More land, financial security, and of course, more respect and stability with a man by your side. It amazed you just how much they trusted and respected someone they barely knew all because he had a dick.

You sunk yourself lower into the bath, resting your achy neck on the edge of the tub. You were under a lot of stress tonight after the Chief Minister announced to you that he invited this bachelor for you to meet tomorrow. You were angry, of course, but you were used to him doing things behind your back like this. He was a good friend to your father and looked to advise you as best as he could. But sometimes, he made you feel like you had no say in anything you did. You were just the face of the Kingdom, a puppet for him to puppeteer. As much as you wanted to fight it, you knew that at the end of the day, he would get his way and you will have to walk down that aisle sooner or later.

Honestly, there was no reason to be bothered by this in the first place. Being Queen was a difficult task. To have someone else take the wheel would be a godsend, and could finally take some stress off your shoulders. So why were you so upset?

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard the bathroom doors open and shut from behind you, followed by a hesitant few steps forward. You knew exactly who it was from his timid footsteps.

“You’re late.” You sighed in exasperation. Shutting your eyes, you sunk yourself even deeper into the water, sending some bubbles to splash out from the tub.

“I know. I apologize, Your Majesty.” After a beat of silence, Wooyoung walked over to the bathtub. Your eyes were still shut but you knew he was hovering over you now, most likely with a playful grin, with his hands tucked neatly behind his back as he obediently awaited his next order. However, when you fluttered your eyes open, you were met with the sight of your humble servant gazing down at you with a look of concern. It always amazed you just how beautiful he looked wearing any emotion- anger, sadness, contentment- it was worth more to look at than the eyesore that took over your bathroom ceiling. But of course, your favorite look on him was the look of lust. His half-lidded eyes, rosy cheeks, and parted lips while you sank down his length- that was a sight worth looking at.

“I won’t be needing you tonight. I’ll be retiring to my chambers soon. You should do the same.” You closed your eyes again and waited to hear his footsteps trail away. But he didn’t move.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

You wished he’d just obey and leave you alone. When you two first started, it was supposed to be just a physical relationship. But now it was intimate in a way that you never intended. And you worried if maybe he was too emotionally attached to you. Or maybe it was you that was attached to him.

“Everything’s fine.” You prayed that was sufficient, but to your dismay, Wooyoung wasn’t satisfied and he took it upon himself to sit on the edge of the tub and quietly wait for you to tell him what was really wrong.

“Wooyoung,” you whined, “I’m just tired. That’s all.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you calling your Queen a liar? I’m pretty sure that’s treason.”

Your quick-witted reply earned you a chuckle and you were relieved to see him soften his expression for once that night. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” Wooyoung dipped his hand into the warm bath water and traced his fingertips up your thigh. You bit back a moan as his hand inched closer to your bare heat. “But at least let me help you relieve some stress.”

Wooyoung rubbed your inner thigh and waited for you to part your legs. Hesitating at first, you eventually obliged and spread yourself open for him. He made an experimental swipe over your slit which already had you rolling your eyes back. He spread your lips apart, pouting when he saw your aching clit.

“You spend all day taking care of this Kingdom, but who takes care of you?” He poked. It drove you mad when he spoke to you like this, a soft and barely audible whisper like he didn’t want to talk over your moans. After massaging over your clit, he slid his fingers down to your entrance and pushed two fingers inside of you, smiling to himself as he watched you struggle to hold in your gasps.

“Wooyoung!” You gripped his forearm tightly as he pumped his digits in and out of you. His pace was unforgiving and you tried desperately to hold on and control his movements. But Wooyoung was pissed and there was no way to tame him when he was like this. He didn’t like when you kept things from him. He knew you were hiding something and he doesn’t particularly like being out of the loop.

“Shh..” he cooed, “just relax and let me take care of you.”

He began curling his fingers inside of you, and this time you weren’t able to hold in your moans. You were usually good at keeping quiet, afraid of nosy servants hearing what you were up to and spreading rumors that you took a lowborn as a lover. But Wooyoung thought if he couldn’t get you to talk about what’s bothering you, then he deserved to hear your loud and delicious moans as a replacement.

“Too fast…gonna cum” you squealed, sending more water out from the bathtub as you jolted your hips up and down.

“Already?” He grinned. “I barely even started.”

You opened your mouth to tell him to stop teasing, but the feeling of his thumb pressing over your needy clit took the words right out of your mouth. One hand gripped the bathtub, while the other was still holding onto his chiseled arm. Heat pooled in your lower stomach and Wooyoung could tell that it would only take another couple of pumps before you came undone for him. As much as you loved his skilled fingers swirling over your clit, you didn’t want to finish so quickly and go back to another night of sleepless worry. You grabbed onto his hand to stop him from going any further.

“Not like this” you breathed. Wooyoung smirked, his fingers still deep inside of you.

“No? Then how would you like me, My Queen?”

“You know your place.” You pulled your legs up to your chest, hinting at him to get in with you. Nothing else was said as he quickly unclothed himself before slipping into the bath. Before you could climb over him, you took some time to admire how heavenly he looked right now: Wet hair slicked back with a few strands kissing at his forehead, and the way his collarbones glistened from being in the bubbly water. Wooyoung was second to none, incomparable to even the richest of Kings. You never admitted it to him, but sometimes you imagined him in a crown sitting beside you on the throne. Anyone who saw him wouldn’t second guess that he belonged up there with you.

You straddled over him now, taking him into your hands to help him get ready for you. He kissed down your neck before making home on your breast, rubbing his lips gently over your nipples. They were more sensitive and raised now from being in the water for so long, and Wooyoung took advantage of that. He took your bud into his mouth as you stroked his stiff cock, the vibrations from his moans sending goosebumps all over your skin.

Wooyoung took his cock from you and lined himself up with your core. You let out a string of low and shaky moans, waiting for the moment that he’d finally enter and fuck all the useless thoughts out of your head. But Wooyoung had no intention of giving you what you wanted. Instead, he rubbed his tip along your slit in an agonizingly slow tempo, carefully brushing over your clit as he did so.

“Woo…please, can’t wait any longer.”

He looked up at you with hazy eyes, waiting for you to make eye contact with him. But you couldn’t get yourself to look him in the eye. “First tell me what’s on your mind.”He demanded.

You sighed, unhappy when you understood that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted unless you confessed. But the truth was, you yourself weren’t sure what was bothering you. You just knew that you wanted to see him tonight and have him close. Part of you worried it would be the last time.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He sprayed your chest with soft kisses, speaking into your skin in a low voice. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s wrong.” He was circling his tip over your clit now. He knew it drove you crazy, all this stimulation when all you wanted was to feel full from his cock.

“Wooyoung.” You hated begging. You hated that he wouldn’t give you what you wanted, but you were too under his spell to do anything about it other than whine pathetically as he toyed with you like this.

Wooyoung only hummed in response, lips still nipping at your sore breasts. At first, you thought he finally gave up when you felt him push his tip into your entrance. You held onto his shoulders and anticipated the stretch but the anticipation soon turned to frustration once he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty again.

Defeated, your face fell to the crook of his neck and you groaned in annoyance. “I should just have you beheaded.”

He chuckled into your ear. “Then who’ll make you cum?”

Wooyoung continued on with his game, pushing just the tip into you before pulling himself back out. So many thoughts raced over your head, some making sense, some not, but one thing was for sure and that was that you couldn’t bare to go on like this anymore.

“It’s you!” You admitted. “You’re always on my mind and I’m so tired of it! I hate you for making me feel this way, if I could go back in time I would stop myself from ever getting involved with you! Now will you just shut up and obey me for once?!”

Wooyoung was utterly dumbfounded. Although he understood that the true nature of your relationship was purely sexual servitude, he couldn’t deny that he’d often wondered if you, like him, felt something more. After thinking it over, he understood your frustrations. He had heard the rumors about the proposal. He tried not to take it personally. He knew where he stood in this relationship. Being a Royal was stressful as it was, and it was his job to offer some much needed stress relief to the Queen. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel a little depressed after hearing of your coming marriage.

Now that he knew your true feelings, Wooyoung thought about asking you to run away with him and finally free yourselves from this cage. But he also knew where your loyalties lie, and they were tightly knotted within this Kingdom. He wished you knew that his loyalties laid with you. If he told you, would it make a difference? He wondered.

He had so much he wanted to say. But he knew in the end that nothing could be done in your situation. In an effort to make things easier, he decided to finally do as he was asked and help you forget about your troubles- as well as his. Giving you that boyish smirk of his, he lined himself up with your core once again.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

With your slit covered in anticipation, and with the bath water around you, he slipped into you with ease. Both of you moaned once he bottomed out. You stayed still, connecting your lips with his, sharing the same hunger he had for you with him. His hands fell to your hips and he guided you over his shaft. The pace was slow but perfect. You didn’t want to finish so quickly, wishing to savor every bit of him for as long as you could. But all the moaning, kissing, touching, as well as having your bud being rubbed against his abs every time you came up and down his length made it impossible to stall your release.

When you were both done you remained as you were in the bathtub with your head laying against his chest whine he traced his fingers up and down your spine. He let you play with his other fingers as you both came down from your highs. You thought his fingers were still pretty even though they were all pruny from the extended time in the water. “In another life, I would’ve.” You broke the silence. You said it so quietly that you worried if he heard you or not. You didn’t think you had it in you to say it again.

Wooyoung sighed, taking a break from tracing your back to just stay still and hold you. He wondered what awful thing he did in his past life to be born as a servant. But there was nothing either of you could do about it now, other than to enjoy the night before you two went back to being strangers in the morning.

“In another life.” He agreed.

🎧 seni oilai- ALPHA

Your fan, Mingi (part 1)

(pt.2 here)

🎤 pairing: mingi x rapper!reader 🎤 genre: slice of life, mix of fluff and angst, music and the industry, slow burn 🎤 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if mingi was stanning you 🎤 wordcount: 3.4k 🎤 warnings/tags: language, reader is an underground rapper, mingi is totally starstruck, producer hongjoong energy, activism, criticism of music industry, dark side of idol life, hongjoong-ah instead of hyung, yunho is supportive friend (TM), mingi being a rebel, sneaking out, potential rap battles incoming, reader with that mic drop, let me know if anything else 🎤 a/n: Hello there <3 thank you very much for your support, feedback and appreciation, it means the world to me! Here is the next installation of the "Your fan, _____" series, for none other than Song Mingi!! Any reblogs, asks and love is appreciated!

You were an established independent artist, having made a name for yourself among the real veterans and rap appreciators.

Years of tracks, freestyles and collaborations that you had published or appeared in under your belt, you were dead set on making a permanent home in the underground scene, deeming it to be the place where real art was made.

As such, you had openly turned down offers to get signed to bigger labels, spitting on their fineprint.

Besides, after trying to connect with you over music, they had always immediately veered off the trail to discuss image, visuals and something or other about them helping you develop your own style.

Blocked without a second thought. What bullshit was this? You? Not having your own style? Please.

You made it this far riding your own wave, making your own connections, and you sure as hell were not about to sell that off to entertainment industry vultures.

It was the managers, the bureaucrats that you did not want to face. The casting directors with ulterior motives.

You were an activist for creative freedom and helping new artists break through properly. You were vocal about these issues, both in general and through music.

You had first hand experience with how hard it was to become an idol, having actually been cast as a young teen and being a trainee for 2 years, but it turned out that the agency was... questionable, to say the least. And thus your independent journey started, and your doubt of any larger music-related organisations grew.

And the last thing you wanted was to, in front of all those people you were fighting for, who trusted you and saw you as a role model, support those who had questionable intentions. No.

You were a wildfire, spinning things around, remixing reality into raw and emotional lines, your only goal being that at least one person out there could find comfort in your songs.

Fully aware of the responsibility you had as an artist, you breathed your work and never backed down until just conditions for all collaborators, agents and assistants were met.

Though this was honourable, you became notoriously difficult to work with, often deemed to be a pain in the ass.

You would only shrug at that - it wasn't your fault that the music industry was full of self-centred manipulators. Your agent kept assuring you that you were exaggerating, but who said that a nice person couldn't have malicious intent?

Maybe you were overly cautious at times, seeing as you did not enjoy letting people close to you.

Were you alone? No, not at all. You had strong friendships with some legends, attended major events, hell, even gave whole press conferences and readily used the media to spread your message.

You even had some friends who were idols (albeit few), and connected with them deeply over shared passions and visions for the future.

But your soul? Strictly off limits.

Though you did, when the moment called for it, elaborate on one verse or other, either giving it a relatable backstory or linking it to a national or global issue, not once did you bare all.

That was not your style.

Neither was it your fans'.

They did not need to be spoon-fed pretentious monologues to understand.

Your fans were a real unit, many connecting with each other and becoming life-long friends. Since you never tried to gather the bigger venues, even if you were touring the country, you had a chance to interact with them. Reassure them. Connect with them. Human to human.

You understood each other. No accessories. That was the most powerful way to bare all.

It was through these concerts that Mingi had gotten to know you, and soon enough you had become his idol, for the lack of a better word, and muse.

One time he had snuck out of the dorms late at night having heard that a new artist he had heard and liked the sound of was going to be opening for another artist.

By sheer luck he managed to swipe the last ticket available, hours before the concert, and was off, having only alerted Yunho that he was "going out".

The event was held at a club, which technically was forbidden for him, but he was feeling rebellious and wanted to immerse himself in the underground atmosphere for once.

He had to squeeze past many bodies to take his place by a pillar off to the left. There were no seats, as he had expected so he perched himself against the structure, waiting.

The opening act was pretty good, as he had hoped, with the teenage boy on stage having a confident flow. There was that yearning in his eyes, hope for something bigger, like this venue was not enough, but maybe with some time and practice that dream could be achieved.

Mingi was about to leave, turning to try and snake through the crowd that was practically pressing him into the pillar, but their screaming that turned into a hypnotic chant, cult-like made him freeze and turn back.

And there you were. In all your glory. Sitting on a high stool that you had dragged after yourself onto the stage, a wired microphone in your hands that were folded in prayer as you bowed your head repeatedly to the audience.

A single spotlight illuminated your form, clad in pitch black industrial-style trousers, chunky sneakers and matching jacket that was zipped up half-way revealing a black tank top loosely hanging off you.

The aura that spread from the stage into the room was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and it only got stronger as you began to perform.

And not just run through the lines as if you had somewhere better to be, no, you were living through the song, riding the beat, eyes ablaze.

The song you had started with, (which he later found out was something you had written in response to some hate your fanbase had gotten), called "Welcome home, to the show", started with a low hum. It reminded him of a rumbling thunder, your voice distorted by intentionally added digital noise.

Then, you broke into a quiet mutter, each phrase so perfectly constructed that it was sending wave after wave, and he was being swept in. He looked around and noticed that all present were whispering along with you, eyes not leaving the stage a single time.

He was also in shock at how few phones there were, being used to seeing thousands.

And after a few more bars, all hell broke loose, and he was ready to rip his heart out and give it to you then and there.

You were captivating, your message and vision resonating beyond the walls of this club. Connecting philosophy, ethics, even politics and popular culture, you were the truth.

You were alive and resurrected those who had broken away from routine to see you.

The concert was as though you were telling a gripping saga, in one breath. No wonder your fans were near mad towards the end, while you finished up with a 'classic' of yours.

The audience begged for an encore.

You were smiling wide, pure ecstasy on your face like you were just coming down from a high. The jacket had long been forgotten, and you were currently wiping sweat off your tattooed arms.

And just when your fans began to quieten down, you raised your mic, and in one motion summoned a beat.

Another roar erupted as you admired your followers. Mingi swore you locked eyes with him, piercing his body.

There it was. A freestyle where you managed to incorporate an impossible flow change, and personally addressed some of the fans you knew personally and spotted in the audience.

After the performance, there was a near total flip in your demeanour. Mingi observed as you settled on one of the seats at the bar, changed in a different top and now sporting a beanie

Both you and your fans were beyond respectful, sharing embraces and kind words like you were old friends. Maybe you were, he still had so much to learn. You looked at each one of them like they were your entire world, recalling and asking about personal troubles they had shared with you before.

Mingi was starstruck, he wanted to learn what you knew. Learn what drove you. Learn how to be like you, even just a fraction.

And that was how you became his definition of an artist, rapper and role model

Needless to say, after the concert he could not just ‘stay the same’.

The members noticed that Mingi was walking around the dorm, travelling and even taking breaks between schedules with earphones in and eyes glued to his screen.

He had also grown to prefer being immersed in his thoughts, more often observing chaos among the members rather than participating in it.

The collection of changes began to alarm the others, as they had no clue what the source of this Mingi switch up was.

All except Yunho, that was. The lad quickly put two and two together, since he was in the know about Mingi's escape to attend a concert, and was homie goals to not spill this information to the others as there had not been any press or spottings.

So during a day when the group was miraculously free, Yunho approached Mingi to go for a drive together, and the latter not suspecting the interrogation incoming, agreed.

While they were navigating around the city, eventually settling for their final destination to be a quick visit to Bucheon, Yunho, passively, in an even tone, inquired:

"So what happened that night?"

Fully not expecting Mingi to BURST. The boy was literally bouncing in his seat recounting the experience, to the point where Yunho had to use "the mom hand" to try calming his best friend.

After agreeing to not act like a car crash risk, Mingi delved into explaining why exactly he had been acting the way he was, happily answering any and all questions that came his way.

Really, he was waiting to fanboy all this time.

He took out his phone and attempted to show Yunho some screenshots and notes, once again forgetting that road safety was a thing that existed.

"Man you really want to Tokyo Drift off this bridge huh?"

So he spent the rest of the drive reading out extensive analysis he had conducted, picking apart your rap and diving into what everything could potentially mean, how the rhyme and structure worked and how he could potentially take some patterns to experiment with.

Yunho was in awe - he could not get enough of professional Mingi, so he was more than happy to hear that he found such a good role model.

It was that sparkle in his friends eyes, the grin that would not leave his face as he talked about a rare video he found on YouTube of you freestyling during a radio show, his pride as he exclaimed that he had found some of your earliest recordings in the depths of SoundCloud, diving into babbling away about how your sound, though had always been unique, had indeed evolved over time.

To Mingi, you were a daring character, not caring for the blueprints or trends, and inspired him to work harder than ever before, hone his skills further so that he could enjoy the music as much as you did. He wanted to live every line.

He already had the ability to feel the music coursing through his body, and move impeccably to every beat, but there was something indescribable about how you created your creations, something unreachable, that drew Mingi in.

He desperately wanted to crack the code - maybe in a way of natural competition, as he was also in the music industry, hell, also a rapper, but when he tried that theory on it did not sit well. Mingi did not see himself ever having even an echo of a thought to surpass you or wrong you – to him, you were in your own unique realm.

The young man had nothing but respect for you and wanted to simply translate that into a deeper understanding of your skills. He knew far too well just how hard it was to make performances like yours appear effortless.

As he listened and listened to studio recordings and compared them to the live versions he had replaying in his head, he noticed how you had even changed up the emotional landscape for the specific audience. There was no limit to how much variability there was.

Seeing how he had won over Yunho and even got him into being one of your listeners, albeit more casual, Mingi became even more bold about his passion for your music and his professional growth.

So, day in, day out he had begun to learn some of your rap, slowing it down, trying to repeat it after you. He had attempted to record himself on his phone to review progress, and then, for the final challenge… he needed Hongjoong’s help.

Upon hearing that the younger member wanted to go to the recording studio Hongjoong quite literally shot up from his sprawled position on the floor, dropping his paint brushes (much to Seonghwa’s rising discontent) and rushing to get ready.

He knew that when inspiration struck, it was a race against time to try recording anything.

Once they were in the studio and Hongjoong checked that all equipment worked, Mingi decided to sit him down and elaborate on what he wanted to do and why.

What he did not expect, however, was for Hongjoong to have a smug expression on his face, leaning back as if he… knew something. And knew it so well that it seemed he could maybe even fact check the information he was being given.

Soon enough, Mingi stopped his monologue to stare his captain down, eyebrow raised.

“Do you want me to text them?”

Mingi.exe stopped working.

What did Hongjoong mean by that? That he could text you? Did he mean to message you on social media? Or to try reaching out to you indirectly through management perhaps? That all seemed more realistic-

“No, for real, I have her number, lucky for you we are what one could consider friends.”

Mingi felt as though he was on some hidden camera prank show, quite literally turning his head to check if that was the case. When the first wave of shock did pass, he managed to mumble:

“But… how? How did you meet?”

“At a speaker and networking event, of all places. It was one dedicated to fusion of different disciplines that fall under the umbrella of creative arts, a few months back.”

“Oh, I think I remember! And wait wasn’t it the event where you presented about combining fashion and music and stuff like that, right?”

“Yes, exactly. So, really, it wasn’t a talk that I exclusively gave. There were a couple of others on the stage with me, and it was like a panel discussion. And guess who was one of the guests there? Your new celebrity crush! We had talked previously on occasion, but after that panel it was a 180 flip.”

“And that is when you got her… number?”

“Yeah. She gave it to me.”

Mingi did not want to admit but he was experiencing an odd pang of jealousy, at how serendipity had led you to Hongjoong and not him. How the older member could consider himself a friend of yours, but Mingi was just a fan. But he could not stay in this state for long – after all, this second level connection was an opportunity. He was sure to be able to reach you now.

A silence fell over the two members.

Hongjoong finally broke the silence with a chuckle, returning to what Mingi had been meaning to do:

“So, you want to record a cover, right? Or what was it again?”

“Yep… there is that one track. From her second album. ‘Dum Spiro Spero’. It blew me away. The title means 'While I breathe, I hope', and it tells a story of a child dreaming of making it on the big stage and working hard, and then finishes with them achieving it. When I first heard it... it just spoke to me."

Hongjoong shifted in his seat and moved to search up the track on the studio computer. Once on, he began to nod his head to the entrancing beat.

“This one is one of the less known ones, isn’t it? How did you come across it?”

“Setl-” Mingi slapped his hand over his mouth, realising that he may or may not have just exposed himself and set himself up for the scolding of a lifetime.

“Setl… setlist? SETLIST? Song Mingi… Are you meaning to tell me that you attended a public concert… without telling anyone?”

Mingi contemplated whether he wanted to drag Yunho into this, but chose not to as he merely lowered his head and gave Hongjoong a sheepish smile.

“Mmm… perhaps?”

“Boy, I don’t even need to ask you to come to my room, everything’s prepped already. You are about to get that breath knocked out of you Mingi.” Hongjoong’s expression darkened as he stood up to approach the younger man. But then the latter had the audacity to stand up too.

Ah, the benefits of having a height advantage. “You were saying?”

“Listen here you big little shit-”

After indeed having to listen through an extensive collection of colourful words and a stern warning to never do such risky things (at least without Hongjoong knowing) ever again, they moved to recording the cover.

Since they did not have the instrumental for your track, Hongjoong had laid a beat that was similar and, in front of Mingi’s very eyes sent you a message asking if it was okay to even attempt to do what they were about to do.

Midway through recording, the phone buzzed with a simple offer. To come to your studio so that the three of you could make something even better.

If it was possible for a human being to literally light up a room, Mingi was sure to be the brightest star. Glowing, he stepped out of the booth, mouth wide open, morphing into the most adorable grin.

"Is... that... is that really them?"

"Yep, and you should be getting added to a group chat right... now."

His phone dinged, and he could not believe his eyes. It was a number, your number, on his screen, a notification saying that he was added to 'triple threat trio' and a quick text of you informing that this, indeed was yourself and no one else.

Hongjoong was genuinely afraid that Mingi was going to hit the ceiling because he jumped that high.

A giggly mess, the young rapper and your fan fell back onto the sofa behind where Hongjoong was seated, and typed out a response introducing himself and adding that he really liked your work.

"HYUNG SHE SAYS SHE LIKES OUR WORK TOO AHH"

"You know I sent her some of the tracks from our album before they were even officially released, right?"

"You did what now?"

"Yeah, but don't worry it was just snippets and I had it cleared with the producer. He knows her too so it was easy enough."

"WHY WAS I IN THE DARK ABOUT THIS!!!?"

"BECAUSE YOU NEVER ASKED?"

"I am going to stop calling you hyung I have not an ounce of respect left-"

"Now that's too far boy one more word and I am asking Y/N to write a diss track about you."

"And I would thank you, HONGJOONG" he exclaimed, still beaming, making a run for it out of the studio and into the corridor, the captain hot on his heels.

The only thing on his mind was that he was going to be recording with you. He would be able to hear you, basically one on one, doing what you did best. And on top of that, you would be creating art together.

EXTRA CREDIT

PAIRING — hongjoong x reader x san

GENRE — smut, threesome, fem!reader, dom!hongjoong, dom!san, sub!reader, college au, professor!hongsan

WARNINGS — smut, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), dirty talk/degradation, fingering, overstimulation, public sex

WORD COUNT — 1.5k

SUMMARY — oh the things you’ll do to avoid flunking your classes. but to be honest, being at the mercy of your two professors has more benefits than just a passing grade.

Keep reading

CHAPTER TWO — UNWANTED HOUSEGUEST

lavender blood || park seonghwa

pairing: gn!reader x god of death!seonghwa

word count: 1,713

prev .. next

taglist ( ask to be + or - )

@vemarkciraptor @girlsbyaespa @storminacloud @etrnalhwa @mingiholic @sugarrimajins @gemjimin @alanniys @teezers99 @bobrouxsky @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @actuallyalien @jackinmyarea @honey-lemon-goose @spicyduck13 @seonghwarizon

i am in no way claiming this to be an accurate representation of ateez/seonghwa or any of the other people i mention in my works—everything is strictly fictional and made to be read and enjoyed. they are merely reference characters. i am also in no way glamorizing or romanticizing anything i mention in my works such as toxic behavior and bodily harm, i won’t tolerate seeing such either. with such said, please don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts!

Keep reading

Be The Light (Part 1)

pairing: ateez (ot8) x reader (specifically Black Pirates!ATEEZ x reader)

genre: Dystopian AU, angst, some fluff maybe, based off of ATEEZ's lore

wc: 4.2k+

warnings: language. violence. this is set in strictland. major character death. LOTS OF ANGST. Mentions of food. Let me know if I missed anything.

summary: You lost them, then found them again. And now that freedom is so near, you fear losing them once again.

a/n: I chose violence on the very first day of the year.

Tumblr is based on a system of reblogs, not likes. Please reblog my work. Feedback is always appreciated. Happy New Year!

OUR WORLD IS PERFECT AS LONG AS THERE ARE NO CRACKS.

FEELINGS ARE A WEAKNESS.

EMOTIONS ARE DISEASE.

WE WANT TO PROTECT YOU ALL.

DO NOT DOUBT US.

DO NOT QUESTION.

ALL OF THIS IS FOR YOU.

Z’s voice booms across the vast expanse of Sector 1. You keep your hood up and head down as you make your way through the streets, your mask hiding your displeasure when you see the blank expressions on the citizens’ faces.

The city itself is a reflection of Z’s ideology. Metal and cement dot the skyline, and each building reaching up to the sky has sharp angles. From a distance, they look like spikes emerging out of the ground, punctuated by the airships that hover close to the tops of the tallest buildings. The city is lifeless and grey, as soulless as the citizens that inhabit it.

You halt in your tracks when you see an Android Guardian in your path ahead and slip into a desolate street, gravel crunching underneath your boots as you take the longer route to the base. Flyers with Black Pirate’s symbols have been pasted haphazardly, and the inaccurate descriptions on each make you laugh. You snatch one meant for Hongjoong from a wall, crumpling it up in your pocket. You’re sure your eight friends will have a field day when they see it.

Ever since The Movement spread in the other sectors, the hold the government had on the citizens has loosened. But Sector 1 is still under their stronghold. In light of the most recent victory, the government had quadrupled its efforts in a desperate attempt to regain control over the population. That effort included trying to capture the leaders of the rebellion that the government had fondly dubbed Black Pirates. You’d taken on the name, using it to spread your cause further.

“All forms of art are prohibited. Those engaging in art, dance, music, or film will be treated as offenders and will be penalized.”

You roll your eyes at the announcement, “Next, they’ll be telling us to stop breathing. Breathing is a sin. Offenders will be fried with bullets.”

You hear a snicker from behind you and whirl around, your leg stopping mere centimeters away from a hooded person. You can’t see his face, but the ring-clad hand that had stopped your incoming kick is familiar.

“Wooyoung!” You hiss at the wide-eyed boy who’s pouting at you, “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me? I could’ve broken your nose!”

“I think he has a pain fetish,” Jongho appears out of the shadows, smirking at the older boy’s appalled expression.

“Hey,” he whines. “Just because I once said I was attracted to Hongjoong hyung when he was rough with me doesn’t mean I have a fetish!”

“What are you two doing here?” You ask, talking over Wooyoung’s complaints. They flank your sides as if it’s second nature, and you resume your journey to the dilapidated building you’ve called home for the last couple of months.

“While surveying the general area, Yeosang saw that Z has stationed more Android Guardians around the route you’d take to come back,” Jongho whispers. “So we agreed to get you.”

The three of you slip into the shadows when you hear an approaching vehicle, and you hide just in time as the very next moment, a tank ambles past the street. The three of you wait for a few moments before Wooyoung steps out, his hand stretched behind him to signal you to stay hidden just in case. It’s not until he gives you the green light that you and Jongho join him.

“They were very eager to get out of the base,” your earpiece crackles to life, and Yeosang’s voice filters in. The amused lilt causes your own lips to curl at the corners.

“You can stay inside for so long before you get bored,” Jongho shrugs in reply.

“I just dropped by to let you know that the main entrance is close to the new checkpoint. So, take the back street when you get back.” Despite his monotonous tone, you catch the edge of worry in his words. You know he always worries, having lost his family in the new regime. It wasn’t until he found his childhood friend Wooyoung and joined The Movement that he regained some of his old snark.

“Noted, Yeo. Thanks for giving us a heads-up,” you murmur, following Jongho as he jumps over the fallen debris of a newly destroyed building and ducks beneath the boulder balanced between the balconies of two skyscrapers.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you spot the camouflaged entrance tucked behind an unassuming barricade. With a quick glance around to ensure no one is watching, you enter the base, closely followed by the two boys.

“Hongjoong was right,” you announce when you’re in the private area, catching the attention of the six boys scattered around. Unlike the common area where everyone who is part of The Movement is allowed, this space was only accessible to the nine of you. “It’ll take more than just a disturbance to execute the plan in the capital. There are Android Guardians everywhere, and that damned audio keeps playing 24/7.”

“It’s a desperate attempt to regain control,” Yunho smirks from where he had been engaged in a dance battle with San. “They won’t know what hit them by the time we’re done with the plan.”

“We’re as prepared as we can be,” Mingi rests his hand on your shoulder, easing some of your worries. But you can’t help but fear for everyone’s safety. This isn’t like the other plans, you’re dealing with the heart of the problem, and it won’t be easy. All of you will be in danger this time around.

“Now, now. Why do you look so sad? You’re our light. As long as you keep shining, we’ll all find our way back to you,” Seonghwa walks up to you, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Out of all eight of them, Seonghwa is still the one whose soft edges haven’t hardened, even though he’s the one who suffered the most under the Strictland government. His empathy always amazes you, and you’ve always felt that he’s the perfect balance to Hongjoong’s hardness. After all, being the Captain, the latter cannot afford to be lenient, not until you’ve gained freedom.

“You promise?” Your voice sounds fragile even to you, causing everyone to soften visibly.

“I promise,” Hongjoong places his palm on the left side of his chest, directly over his heart, and tilts his head at you. His gaze is sincere, but there’s something else that swims in his caramel eyes, and for the first time since you have known him, you cannot read his gaze. You’ve known him since before Z took over, and Hongjoong took you under his wing once The Movement was in place. Even though Seonghwa is his second-in-command, you command the same level of respect as the Captain.

It isn’t long before everyone heads to bed, wanting to be well-rested before the last leg of your plan is executed tomorrow. You, however, stay in the room, gazing out of the crack of the blacked-out window until dusk gives way to the familiar darkness. Sometime later, you hear the door click open once again.

“Can’t sleep?” San’s voice is quiet, and his footsteps even quieter as he makes his way to the ledge where you’re seated. Quiet as a cat, he settles in front of you, resting his chin over his knees while his arms curl against his legs. The image of your cause’s deadliest assassin curled up like a cat is amusing, to say the least.

“I’ll head to bed soon,” you shrug, going back to looking out of the crack. The stars are out now, and maybe, after tomorrow, all of you will be free to relish the beauty of the night sky and everything else that the world has to offer.

“The darkness isn’t so bad, is it? Especially when the stars are out in the night sky. It makes me truly wonder if we’re the only ones out there,” you muse quietly.

“We’re not,” his voice is filled with so much conviction that it surprises you. You turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he scrambles to explain. “I mean, there are so many stars out there. There must be other worlds as well. And don’t forget about Hongjoong’s theory of there being other universes.”

His words bring back images of the two of you sitting on the roof of Hongjoong’s childhood home as you gazed up at the sky with his father’s telescope. He had taught you everything about astronomy. On one such night, a few weeks before the world fell into Z and his Android Guardian’s hands, Hongjoong had shared his theory with you.

“I read in one of my father’s books about parallel universes.”

“Parallel universes?” You echoed, confused as to what he meant.

Hongjoong hummed, “They are alternative worlds that are similar to ours but also have some fundamental differences. In some of them, other versions of us exist but lead vastly different lives.”

“So, like, in another universe, you might be a pirate raging the deadly seas and fighting monsters?”

He barked out a laugh at your words, “A very vivid example, but, yes, something like that.”

“It sounds like magic,” you mused. “Though magic doesn’t exist.”

“It does.”

You tilted your head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Magic is what you do to make the outcome you desire to become a reality,” he replied, smiling when a huge grin spread on your face at his words.

Even after the world was turned upside down, Hongjoong hadn’t stopped searching for a way to contact other universes. In fact, he doubled his efforts, hoping to find someone out there who would help to overthrow Z’s government.

“I wonder what I’m doing in another universe,” you wonder as you recall Hongjoong’s words from long ago. Maybe you are gazing at the stars there as well, but maybe you’re happier there. Maybe you live in a world that’s free of constant surveillance and fear.

“I don’t know about that, but I’m sure you light up the world in all other universes as well,” San’s eyes twinkle like the sky above as he gazes at you with a fond smile on his face. “You’ve been our light in this darkness, and I hope that you’ll be our light in the future as well.”

“Why does it seem like you’re saying goodbye?” You narrow your eyes at him, fear rising like a tidal wave within you.

“I’m not saying goodbye. We promised that we are not going anywhere, didn’t we? We’ll see each other in the New World after tomorrow, and then we can finally rest.” His eyes are ablaze as if he truly believes that they’ll come back to you, their light.

But even then, you can’t help but feel like you’re missing a very important piece in the puzzle.

“The Captain has been spotted!” You hear someone shout and hide behind a pillar as scores of Android Guardians run past you. Your heart hammers in your chest in worry before you stop short. The Guardians are going in the wrong direction; the last time you checked, Hongjoong was near the factory to the south of Sector 1 and not in the North, where the main warehouse is.

You take out the smartwatch Yeosang had designed for you and watch the eight dots light up the screen. Seven of them are in the south, at the heart of the government, but one of them is in the North. Your eyes go wide when you see the name against the dot. San.

“Now,” Yeosang’s steely voice sounds through your earpiece, and suddenly the world descends into chaos.

“People! Open your eyes for our lives! Keep your mind! Now is the time for freedom if we try! Listen, look, write! OPEN YOUR EYES!” Hongjoong’s voice intercepts Z’s message that is being played on loop. “One ray of light will be enough, just follow me. It is time.”

Then as if on cue, music starts blaring through the speakers, the familiar bass hammering in time with your heart. The citizens gaze in awe at the flashing screens where The Movement’s message is playing. But you don’t pay attention to any of it because right now, you can feel nothing but fury.

You should have known. San and Seonghwa’s cryptic words. The way Mingi and Jongho were unable to meet your eyes at breakfast. Wooyoung and Yeosang’s unnaturally stoic expressions. Yunho’s silence. Hongjoong’s unreadable gaze. You should have known.

You remember how two weeks ago when the nine of you were in a meeting, and Hongjoong had said it.

“What if one of us becomes the decoy, baiting the guardians to go in the wrong direction?”

You had shut down the idea fairly quickly, not wanting to risk any of the boys’ for the cause. But you had never thought they would plan this behind your back. You swallow the bitter taste of betrayal, turning to follow the soldiers when someone grabs your arm and presses you against the wall with their hand covering your mouth.

Hongjoong’s familiar eyes peek from beneath the hood as you try to squirm out of his hold. But he’s stronger than you, always has been, and you would have to hurt him badly to get out of his hold. Despite your anger, you do not want to wound him.

The mere thought of San getting captured and tortured is enough for you to sink into the depths of despair. He may be strong, but no one can win against battalions of Android Guardians. With the Captain’s armband, they won’t stop until they have him. A sob erupts from your lips faster than you can even register the tears spilling from your cheeks onto Hongjoong’s hand. 

“Y/N,” the earpiece clicks to life with San’s voice. He’s breathless, and you can hear the wind rushing past as he runs from those who are chasing him. Your stomach twists in fear as you close your eyes, blocking out everything but his voice, “I’m sorry, but this was the only way. There’s a small something for you in your room just in case.”

He omits the ‘I don’t make it’, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he means. The idiot has always been too soft-hearted, always ready to sacrifice himself just to keep everyone safe.

“San,” you manage to choke out when Hongjoong’s hand slips from its place over your lips. “Please, don’t. Don’t do it— We’ll find another way, just, please. I can’t—”

You hear San’s breath hitch at the agony in your voice, “I’m sorry, my light. I’d do anything to keep you safe, and right now, this is the only thing that will keep them off your tracks. I’ll be okay. I’m a fast runner. We needed a distraction, and I agreed, don’t hold it against them.”

You hear an explosion, and San’s gleeful voice tells you that he has destroyed the main warehouse that houses all weapons. But the very next moment, you catch a soft curse, and then there’s a gunshot and a sharp intake of breath. Fear returns in full force, slamming into you like a tsunami.

“San?! What’s wrong?” You scream into the comm device. “Are you okay? What was that sound?”

“Hongjoong hyung will explain everything,” he manages to say between coughs. “Listen to him, okay? Remember, be the light.”

“SAN! NO!”

But your voice doesn’t go through; someone had cut off the connection, ensuring that they wouldn’t trace the comms back to you. The very next moment, you hear alarms and the panicked voices of your comrades.

“RETREAT,” Seonghwa’s voice is firm as he commands everyone. “Don’t look back, just go. We’ll regroup later.”

“Hyung,” Yeosang is next, and you realize he’s using the private channel to talk to you and Hongjoong. “The six of us won’t make it out of the building. They knew we would be here. San has been captured. They're after you, you need to take them to a safe place and tell them about Plan B. Stay safe, my light.”

There are a few crackles, and then the device falls silent. You’ve lost signal, and when you see the seven dots on your smartwatch turn red, your legs give way. You crumple onto the gravel, sobs wracking your body even as the world falls into despair around you. You can’t seem to care about the fact that if you stay here, you’d be captured too. What’s the point of it all when your family has been destroyed by the very forces you are fighting.

It’s only when Hongjoong kneels before you and brings you into his embrace that the ringing in your ears quietens a bit, allowing you to hear the sounds of the fight raging around you. You hate how much power he has over you, his mere touch grounding you to reality. You want to be angry at him, hit him into the next century. But you can’t, and you hate yourself for it. Hongjoong presses something into your hands but stops you from looking at it by keeping your face pressed into the crook of his neck.

“Listen to me very carefully,” his tone leaves no space to disobey, so you nod. “We had an inkling that this would happen, so we made another plan. I’ve been in contact with a group of people from another dimension of sorts, and they agreed to help you out in case something happens to the eight of us. They know the risks, and it took me a lot to convince them to agree to this. In four days, when the moon is full, use the Cromer to bring them here. Trust them. And if you can’t trust them, trust my decision to bring them here. I promise everything will be okay. I’ll find my way back to you. If not in this lifetime, then I’ll see you on the other side.”

The next thing you know, Hongjoong is pressing a cloth to your nose, and the sweet smell of chloroform hits you. You struggle fruitlessly against him, your movements slowing down as the chemical takes effect. The last thing you feel before darkness envelops you is a feather-light press of lips on your forehead.

When you come to, you’re engulfed in darkness. It’s so heavy and all-encompassing that, for a moment, you wonder if you have gone blind. You’re lying on your back, waiting for your eyes to adjust so you can figure out where you are. A shiver runs down your spine when you notice that you can’t hear anything. For the first time since Z has taken over, the world is silent.

It takes all you have to not start hyperventilating then and there. Trying to focus on breathing while there’s a pounding headache is harder than you had assumed it would be. Through the haze of your senses, you assess the state of your body. Nothing hurts except for the raging headache you have, and you seem to have no injuries. You focus on making sure each of your body parts is in one piece, following the checklist Seonghwa had hammered into you early on in your training.

Seonghwa.

His name brings the memory of what happened to the front of your consciousness, and you find yourself drowning in the realization of how you had ended up here. The gravity of the situation you are in settles onto your shoulders. You sit up, suddenly unable to breathe.

The clutter of something falling is what snaps you back into reality, and you wipe your tears to see what it is. An hourglass lies on its side, glowing an unearthly blue. You blink once, twice, before realizing this is what Hongjoong had pressed into your hands.

The Cromer.

Hands trembling, you reach out to hold it, the device feeling warm in your hands. You know how it works, having come across Hongjoong’s notes in his office. When you questioned him, he had explained to you in detail. 

“It works according to the moon phases. During a full moon, the ones who have the Cromer can travel from one dimension to the other. While during a crescent moon, you can deliver messages through dreams.”

You sigh, looking down at your wrist, and see that all eight dots have disappeared. Choking back a sob, you press a button on your smartwatch that bathes you in bright light. You’re thankful now that Mingi insisted on Yeosang adding a flashlight to these things. Assessing your surroundings now that it isn’t dark, you realize Hongjoong brought you to one of the secret hideouts that leads to a tunnel that opens directly into his office. You’re thankful that he had enough presence of mind even while being hunted down to give you this one last thing. He knew you’d not want to face the members of The Movement tonight.

Our Light,

We’re sorry that we broke our promise. We’re sorry that we couldn’t make it back to you. For what it’s worth, we hope you know that we tried our best.

We hope our Captain was able to tell you about Plan B and that you will be able to bring them to our universe. They’re nice guys, not as nice as us, but they’ll have to do now that we won’t be able to protect you.

Don’t be too sad, okay? Don’t let this obstacle dim your light. Keep shining. Keep leading The Movement. Keep bringing joy into other people’s lives. We believe in you. We’ll be watching over you from the stars. Take care of yourself.

Thank you for bringing all of us together, for giving us love, and for lighting up our world.

Be The Light.

Yours Forever,

Black Pirates.

1. Eat and sleep on time. Don’t skip meals. And stay hydrated, little one. I am sorry I couldn’t find my way back to you, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you or the others. Please don’t cry, okay? I can’t stand your tears. Thank you for giving me a family once again. I love you. —Seonghwa

2. I have never been good with expressing my emotions, but I am always thankful that you were by my side throughout all these years. Thank you for enabling me before and after our world changed and for staying even when I was being difficult. I love you, always have, and always will. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me for allowing San to do this. —Hongjoong

3. Shortie, thank you for pushing me to dance again. I had been working on a choreography for you. The recording is in one of the memory cards lying around in Hongjoong hyung’s drawer. Watch it when you miss us, okay? And don’t you dare shed tears for us; we don’t deserve it, not after we broke our promise to you. —Yunho

4. Every single day since you found Woo and I, I’ve thanked my stars that you were the one who came across us. Thank you for being kind even when I acted out and was a handful during the first few months. Thank you for not giving up on me. Don’t give up now. See that our cause is brought to fruition. Maybe one day we’ll meet each other, and you can tell us all about your stories from the New World. —Yeosang

5. I think you’ve figured out by now that I was saying goodbye last night. And if you are reading this it means I wasn’t fast enough of a runner to come back to you. It was my choice to be the decoy. Please forgive us for going behind your back like that. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry for the pain I have caused you. Keep shining bright. —San

6. I don’t think I’ve ever truly thanked you for everything you did for me. So, here I am, telling this to you as I write my last words to you. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, just know that I’m really glad I met you in this life. Thank you. Stay safe, and keep shining. —Mingi

7. I wish I could’ve been a part of the New World with you, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case anymore. I won’t be there to protect you, so please, take care of yourself. I’m sorry that we broke our promise to you, but I’m sure we’ll find our way back to you in some form or other. —Jongho

8. Pretty sure the others’ words will make you cry, so here I am to brighten up your day as usual. There’s cake in the fridge, please eat it because I took a lot of pains to find fresh ingredients in this place. I can’t believe these people live like this. You should teach them how to cook food once you bring Z down. Carry us in your heart always. —Wooyoung

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, erupting even as tears trickle down your face. Trust Wooyoung to be the clown even when writing a goodbye letter. You curl up against the sheets on Seonghwa’s bed, grieving for your loss. You allow yourself tonight to break apart, consumed by the grief of losing your family. But tomorrow, when the sun rises, you’ll rise with it, once again assuming the role of The Movement’s Light.