#tipsydrabbles

The fading moonlight, which slowly got blocked by heavy clouds. Still, you could make out the man standing at the gate to your property. He held his side and limped slightly as he grabbed your gate to steady himself.

You noticed the motorbike, which had fallen down to the ground behind him. So that was the loud noise you had heard just a few minutes ago. You grabbed onto the rifle a little more tense when the man suddenly staggered towards your home.

“Stop right there!”

He halted and finally looked up, seeing you standing on the porch with the gun pointed right at him. He shakingly raised one hand, trying to convey that he wasn’t a threat, despite his appearance. “Goodness, you surprised me. I’m so sorry. I mean no harm.”

You squinted your eyes at him. Carefully you took another step forward, appearing in the range of the sensors to trigger the light on your porch. “Why are you here?”

He lowered his hand again, clutching his side once again. “I got hurt and had hoped to find some help here. I didn’t expect someone to live here. I’m so sorry. Goodness, I just, sorry. I’m Christian.”

You lowered your rifle and tilted your head, checking him once over again. “How did you get hurt?”

He slowly staggered closer, appearing in the light of the lamp over your head. Christian wore a tethered leather jacket with a white tee underneath. Though it wasn’t as white as it used to be, spreading blood left a stain on his side. A few tattoos peaked out of it.

“This doesn’t look like a simple motorbike accident.”

Christian smiled lopsidedly. “One of them attacked me as I was on the way to my safe point.” He didn’t have to explain it any further, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

With a nod of your head you beckoned him inside. As you were about to turn around, you saw his expression morph with horror. Your head whipped to face your porch again, seeing one of the crawlers squeeze themselves out of the shadows.

“Watch out!” He rushes forward, ignoring the pain scorching through his body. 

The heavily deformed creature pounced forward as well, its slimy appearance glistening in the light on the porch. ‘They got more aggressive’, you thought to yourself while your body moved on autopilot.

Christian tripped and slammed down on the stairs, groaning in pain. 

You on the other hand raised your rifle and pulled the trigger. You staggered back from the draw back, quickly refilling the gun and shooting once more. You watched the creature fall to the ground, twitching like an insect before it dissipated into smoke.

“Goodness gracious. Oh boy, you’re a good shot!” Christian pushes himself up again, wincing from another shot of pain running through his body.

You grinned at him as you crouched down and carefully helped him up. “I have my moments.”

© all rights reserved

Joohyun spins around, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed in a perfect display of discontent. In this moment, you’re struck with her ethereal beauty once more. Having worked with her for almost half your life, you’re rarely caught off-guard by it. But at this moment, she looks ready to strike you down, like the queen she is supposed to be.

“‘Whatever is the matter’, you ask? The matter is that I have no choice in my future. No chance at finding my own love!” Joohyun’s eyes flash. “And that, that pig is going to be my husband? He has no clue how to run his business, much less the combined efforts of both our families. And yet, my parents decided to have him be the one for me to marry?”

Your eyes widen at the blatant disrespect Joohyun has displayed, your eyes darting around to make sure no one else is within earshot. “Miss Joohyun! You know he’s already part of the board of your father’s company! You can’t say such things.”

Joohyun scoffs. “I’d much rather die than be with him for the rest of my life.” She stalks forward, reaching out to grab your hands. “(Y/N), you’ve got to understand me. You can’t possibly want me to be married to that thug either.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you stare at her. “I–” Joohyun blinks at you, the epitome of innocence although you both know that’s far from the truth. In the many years you and your family have served the Bae family, you’ve grown fond of the young woman who grew up alongside you. And she has found company in you as well. But her feelings surely do not match yours. “I’d rather you found someone you genuinely cared for, Miss Joohyun. But I cannot sway your parents’ decisions.”

Joohyun’s eyebrow raises. “I’m not asking you to. Lord knows their decisions will never change. But there is something we can do.” She leans in, her breath fanning over you and everything in you stiffens. “Run away with me.”

You blink once, twice. “What?” It comes out as a whisper, and Joohyun chuckles at the look on your face.

“Run away with me, (Y/N). Come on. Ever since we got older, we’ve hardly had time to spend with each other. I don’t want to marry Beomjun, and you can’t possibly want to work for my family for the rest of your life. It’s mutually beneficial.”

A frown pulls at the corner of your lips. “But I can’t possibly upend my life like that. My family would be devastated. I want to go with you, but I can’t bring myself to.”

Joohyun’s facial expression changes. Not to disappointment, or anger, but something else you can’t place. Something akin to a cat getting ready to pounce. “(Y/N),” she hums, leaning in just a tad more, and your breath catches in your throat. “Couldn’t you come with me, because I want you there?”

And before you can protest any more, Joohyun leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. Your eyes squeeze shut. It’s what you’ve dreamt of at night when no one is away but your shallow breaths as you sneak a hand down your pyjama pants. A daydream you find yourself in as you clean the kitchen, imagining her slender arms wrapping around your waist as she presses kisses below your ear.

Deep in your mind, you know she doesn’t love you, not in the way she’s promising. The daughter of a business mogul, Joohyun is an expert in manipulating feelings. But maybe you’re so far gone, that if she wants you to believe she loves you, you’ll let yourself fall.

“If you want me, you can have me,” you murmur, and Joohyun’s face brightens at your quiet defeat. The sight of it makes a warmth bloom in your gut and you let a smile grace your face although your brain is screaming for you to pull back.

Minhyuk pushed himself away from the desk and strutted towards the entrance hall. His dark velvet robe flowed behind him from the brisk pace. Once all the men had left, Minhyuk had changed out of his suit jacket, tie and shirt, leaving him in his slacks and the robe he chose to put on.

“Y/N!”

Minhyuk stopped in the middle of the hallway, staring up to the top of the stairs and waiting for you. He was about to call your name again, when he heard the click of a door opening and closing.

Soon enough he heard your soft steps approaching the staircase. His breath caught in his lungs when you appeared, stunning and ethereal. Your cold and calculating eyes zoned in on his body and hadn’t he already stared at you, he wouldn’t have noticed how you faltered in your steps.

“You called”, you said after clearing your throat, slowly descending the stairs while one of your hands glided over the handrail. Your eyes never left his body, feeling how your heart thumbed loudly against your ribcage upon seeing his toned upper body.

Even though you sort of avoided your husband, still salty you never had a say in who’d you marry, you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards him.

“I didn’t see you today.”

“Then I was more successful than the other days”, you commented snarkily once you finally reached him. You grabbed the glass out of his hand, swirling the liquid and taking a short swig of it. You barely contained your neutral expression upon tasting the drink. “What is this?” You asked and handed the glass back to Minhyuk.

“Bijou”, he answered you and stepped closer. Minyhuk raised his hand and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “It means jewel or small and elegant.” His voice was barely a whisper, his breath caressing the skin on your face. Minhyuk placed a finger under your chin and lifted it, so you would look at him. “Just like you’re my bijou.”

Your breath hitched and your eyes naturally fluttered close right before Minhyuk crossed the space between you and his lips pressed against yours.

While you would have loved to choose him as your husband yourself, you didn’t necessarily mind being stuck with him for the rest of your life.

© all rights reserved

As time passed and none of your band members answered your message, you got more and more frustrated. This holiday all of you were supposed to meet and practise for a stage but somehow none of them showed up yet.

You groaned in annoyance, wanting to throw your phone or do something equally stupid. You took several deep breaths, forcing yourself to calm down as you sat down behind the drums. 

“Oh? We’re changing instruments today?”

The sudden voice behind you made you jump in your seat before you turned around with a scowl. 

Hajoon raised his hands, showing his palms, with a soft chuckle. He leaned against the door frame with his shoulder, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly in amusement.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, still with a prominent frown on your features. Yet, you didn’t really know what to say. You wanted to be mad at him for being late, you wanted to scold him and be all fussy about it but the second your eyes landed on him, your brain turned into mush.

Hajoon raised one eyebrow, still waiting on an answer before he turned his head to look at the microphone stand in the front.

Your eyes immediately zeroed in on his sharp jawline, making you tense your own jaw.

“Well, I don’t mind being the front singer today”, Hajoon then said, turning back to you with a teasing grin, “but I don’t know how well you’ll be doing at the drums.”

You narrowed your eyes to a glare. “I might not know how to hit the drums in a rhythm but I still know how to punch you.”

Hajoon chuckled again and pushed himself away from the door, walking over to you - despite the threat of being punched. “Let me show you how to get rid of all your pent up frustration.”

Your breath hitched as your mind immediately wandered to something else.

Again Hajoon raised one eyebrow upon noticing your reaction, a smirk playing over his lips. He stopped right behind you and leaned down to your ear. “Not what I thought of, but I’m not opposed to it either.” His breath fanned over your bare neck as he spoke, making you shiver involuntarily.

You pressed your thighs together, a desperate attempt of taking control over your mind again. Though when you turned your head and your nose brushed along Hajoon’s cheek, the last ounce of control just slipped through your fingers.

“I still wanna punch you”, you exhaled shakily.

Hajoon snickered and shook his head ever so slightly. “Do it with your lips then.” He grinned and tapped with a finger against his cheek.

You narrowed your eyes again and instinctively raised your hand to hit him half-heartedly on the chest, trying to downplay your little grin when Hajoon gasped in mock offence. “I really can’t stand you sometimes.”

“You can always just sit on my lap then.” Hajoon laughed and stepped back, avoiding another hit to his chest. He caught your hand in mid-air and pulled you up into his embrace. “Violent, aren’t we?” Hajoon cupped your cheek, letting his thumb draw soft circles over your skin.

“Only ‘cause you’re teasing me.” You pouted and avoided eye contact. 

Hajoon hummed lowly before he leaned down to kiss you. His lips brushed against yours, hesitating for just a split second in case you wanted to pull away. “I only do it ‘cause I love you so much.”

“Now you’re getting cheesy and my urge to punch you spiked up”, you giggled as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him even closer to you - crossing the distance between you and sealing the kiss.

Your missing band members were long forgotten as the two of you deepened the kiss, losing yourselves in the building desire. 

Both of you silently agreed then and there band practice would get cancelled, instead wanting to focus on exploring each other in more ways than just kissing.

© all rights reserved  

-

ATEEZ

A Rose is a Rose - mafia! Seongjoong x f! Reader ♥

After leaving the mafia scene for five years, you’ve had to go back and beg for help from the boss of your former family…and your ex.

Manhattan - photographer! Hongjoong x gn! Reader

A late night photo inspiration leads to something more.

Brooklyn - photographer! Hongjoong x gn! Reader

Hongjoong invites you to his studio, but some complications occur [sequel to Manhattan]

GOT7

Bear like Marmalade - hybrid! BamBam x gn! Reader

You just want to enjoy a (pretty sad) dinner after moving. But your simple meal consisting of toast and marmalade is interrupted by your neighbour. Who really, really likes your food apparently.

Mini-Series

Red Lotus, Red Herring - assassin! BamBam x assassin! Reader (platonic) | An assassin should always be on their toes, a lesson you think you have down.

Between the Sheets - police! Yugyeom x gn! Reader ♥ | Yugyeom didn’t expect this.

Death in the Afternoon - husband! Youngjae x f! Reader | Youngjae’s late, and you’re worried.

Adios, Motherfucker - no pairing, Mark centered | All occording to plan. Remember Murphy’s Law, Mark.

Painkiller - yandere! Jackson x f! Reader | Jackson’s addicted to you.

Blow My Skull Off - implied police! Jinyoung x assassin! BamBam | A deal is struck.

Tuxedo - no pairing, Jaebeom centered | The game is almost over, but how will it turn up?

Last Word - light husband! Youngjae x f! Reader | Youngjae wakes up and can’t quite remember what happened.

MISCELLANEOUS

Planter's Punch - ex! Yoongi x Reader

Yoongi finds you drinking your break-up away in a bar. He wants to get you to stop drinking….but he is the cause of your break up.

French 75 - heiress! Joohyun x gn! Reader ♥

The city's lights were just so brilliant tonight,and paired with the strawberry supermoon, you couldn’t help yourself.

You find yourself in a park, getting a gorgeous shot when a voice interrupts your artistic journey. “I guess we’re after the same thing, huh?”

You spin around, and a young man with grey hair smiles at you. He’s skinny and petite, and yet his smile draws you in and gives you a sense of fire in his heart. It’s only after a moment do you notice the Fujifilm in his hands.

“Maybe we are,” you offer him a small smile, clearly hoping he would leave you and your socially awkward ass alone, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.

He nods at the camera clutched in your hands. “Mind if I take a look?”

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. You’ve never really shown your work to others outside of your family and friends—you aren’t truly a professional, not like he seems to be.

As if sensing your hesitation, the man whose name you still haen’t got smiles reassuringly. “No pressure of course. Sometimes it really can feel like bearing your soul to someone.”

The complete and utter understanding in his voice does the exact opposite of what it was meant to accomplish, and you get a bust of confidence. “Here,” you say, offering out your old and worn camera. The stranger is surprised but takes it with a warm smile and a small ‘thank you,’ suddenly seeming less intimidating and more…human.

There is a moment of silence as he clicks through some of your pictures. “These are really good,” he says, looking up at you and you avoid eye contact, instead focusing on the streetlamp over his head. “You’re very talented and have an eye for composition.”

“Ah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t draw inspirationg from my–” you start to mutter, but he holds up a hand to stop you in the middle of your sentence.

When he finally is able to meet your eyes, it feels like you’re rooted to the ground and yet sinking into his gaze at the same time. “Don’t say that,” he says quietly but with such intensity that you wince. “Although it’s often said that the best art comes from one’s experiences, that’s not always the case. Even the most casual pieces hold just as much integrity as the more soulful ones. It’s clear you did your best, and that’s what matters.”

There is so much sincerity in his voice that you can’t help but look away. It’s not often you get a thought-out opinion on your work, and hearing it come from a stranger just makes those words mean even more.

“Thank you.” You almost whisper your words of gratitude but the man takes no offence, instead returning your camera with a smile. When you put it back into its bag and sling the strap around your shoulder, he raises an eyebrow.

“Done then?” You nod, and he fumbles in his pocket before pulling out a business card and handing it to you. “I know it may seem like a scam, so feel free to ignore it if you want, but I actually run a studio and I would love for you to come in and chat more. Have a good night.”

And just like that, he walks away and is gone before you can even blink. It’s too dark to look at the card, even under the flickering streetlamp, so you put it in your pocket and it weighs heavily until you reach your modest apartment.

It’s only then you pull it out and look at the name on the sleek, silver card. Kim Hongjoong. A quick google search later and you almost drop the card to the floor. You just had a three am conversation with a world-renowned photographer.

Almost a week passes before you have the courage to dial the number and it rings for such a long time that you think he may have forgotten when a click is finally heard. “H-hello?” you practically whisper out and there is such a long silence that you think he’s hung up when–