ᵣₑₐₗᵢₜy ₛₜₐᵣ

a prop. that makes him sound so callous. so unaware of his own surroundings. ( and, to a degree, garam supposes he is. he doesn't fair well at events like this. forced interaction was never his strong suit. ) his eyes are a little wide, cheeks a little pink with embarrassment, when he shakes his head. there's an apology that sits on the tip of his tongue, but it's pushed down when the other man doesn't seem to mind. how thoughtful. instead, his eyes widen, and garam gives the man -- woojin -- a nod of appreciation. "garam," he offers, choosing to leave his last name out of it. ( it's not important right now, anyways. it hardly is. ) "it's.. nice to meet you, woojin."

taking a moment, garam tries to steady himself, come back into his senses, as he shifts on the spot. "you do?" he asks, brows raised curiously. ( it shouldn't be that much of a shock -- he's not the only person in the world with overbearing parents. he'd do well to remember that. ) swallowing, he laughs again. "i -- parents can be... a lot, can't they," he muses instead, sympathizing with the man. "i'm sorry you've been on the receiving end of something like this, too. it's never fun to have to hide from your family -- i feel like a child." he pauses, presses his lips together, and tacks on, "i'm... sorry, by the way. for bombarding you like that. i'm not usually this --," his hand flexes at his side, "frantic, i suppose." with another pause, garma's eyes soften slightly, his demeanor relaxing just a fraction as the corner of his mouth turns up in a gentle smile. "i appreciate the favor."

Woojin  watched  the  color  rise  in  Garam's  cheeks  and  had  to  fight  the  urge  to  smile.  The  poor  guy  looked  like  he  wanted  the  floor  to  open  beneath  him.  At  least  he  wasn't  the  only  one  hiding  from  people  tonight.  At  the  mention  of  his  name,  Woojin  gave  a  small  nod.  "Nice  to  meet  you  too,  Garam,"  he  said  easily,  leaving  the  introduction  at  that.  There  was  something  oddly  comforting  about  meeting  someone  who  didn't  immediately  lead  with  titles,  family  names,  or  expectations.  At  Garam's  question,  Woojin  let  out  a  quiet  laugh  and  rubbed  the  back  of  his  neck.  "Unfortunately,  yeah."  His  eyes  drifted  briefly  toward  the  crowd  before  returning  to  him.  "My  father  has  taken  a  few  decisions  in  my  life  that  ,  and  i  quote,  I  will  appreciate  when  I'm  older."  The  words  came  out  lighter  than  he  intended,  perhaps  his  own  way  to  deal  with  the  expectations.  "So  I  get  it.  Sometimes  hiding  is  easier  than  spending  three  hours  answering  questions  you  don't  want  to  answer."

there's a gentle hum that leaves their lips when they settle against woojin. in their opinion, nothing needs to be said. ( minchae is the type of person that does things simply because they want to. no explanation necessary. so, kissing woojin -- while the sky illuminated his face in such a way that make their heart flutter softly in their chest -- wasn't a spectacle. wasn't something they needed to make a scene about. it was simply something that happened because they wanted it to. ( and, from the way he tries to hide his soft smile, minchae has to think he wanted the very same. )

with a shrug of their shoulder, they simply nod. "i did." it's an easy statement, though the way their smile pulls at the corner of their mouth -- a little smug and a little playful -- gives away their attempt at total nonchalance. ( they're happy, sue them. ) shifting, they nudge woojin's arm gently, their eyes just as wide when they raise their brow in his direction. "you looked cute. i don't think i've ever seen you that focused on something before. you could say it," they pause, gesticulating in the air, "inspired me." with a slight chuckle, they remain still, though their head tilts just slightly to rest against woojin's shoulder. "if you want me to do it again, all you have to do is ask." it's not a demand, but rather, an offer. ( minchae tries their best to keep their nose out of other people's business, doesn't pay much attention to the nasty things people can spread. putting the power in woojin's hands just makes sense, they think -- they don't want to overwhelm him, after all. they just want to enjoy their evening together. )

Woojin   watches   them,   the   smug   little   pull   at   the   corner   of   their   mouth,   the   way   they   tilt   their   head   against   his   shoulder   like   it's   the   most   natural   thing   in   the   world.   It   probably   is,   for   Minchae.   He's   learning   that   about   them.   They   do   things   because   they   want   to,   and   they   don't   make   it   into   anything   more   than   that.   He's   not   sure   if   he   finds   it   disarming   or   enviable.   Maybe   both.   He   lets   out   a   quiet   breath   through   his   nose,   something   that   might   be   a   laugh   if   he   let   it   go   any   further.   "Inspired   you,"   he   repeats,   flat,   like   he's   turning   the   word   over   to   check   it   for   cracks.   His   smile   doesn't   quite   cooperate,   it   stays,   small   and   stubborn,   even   as   he   looks   away.   He   hadn't   realized   anyone   was   watching   him   that   closely.

eric can't stop the way he huffs softly at woojin's dramatics. he's always been like this, as far as he can remember. and he knows the younger man means well, so he doesn't comment on it. doesn't say much of anything that's not hiding his grin behind the rim of his glass. "i'm not talking about clubbing, if that's what you're referring to," he points out, raises a brow in woojin's direction. "i'm talking about actually spending time with people -- i know events are stuffy and boring and hardly the place to find true love," he muses softly, chuckling to himself, "but there's other places to go. other things to do that don't involve hundreds of people shoved onto a dance floor like a bunch of... sardines."

rolling a shoulder, eric shifts slightly, head tilted at woojin's comment. and he knows he doesn't mean it with malice -- how could he, look at him -- but, it doesn't stop the soft way his jaw tenses. "optimistic is one way to look at it," he comments curtly. "for me, it's more like a ticking time bomb. i can't even have a casual dinner with someone without my father trying to make... arrangements. and don't get me started on the people he tries to set me up with -- i swear, every other benefit or gala, there's a new prospect shoved in my face. like i'm some kind of... prize to be sold off. it's embarrassing." inhaling, eric chuckles, takes another sip as his eyes narrow on woojin's face. "you should take my place some time, see how awful it is. maybe your soulmate is waiting in the wings."

Woojin  let  out  an  offended  noise  at  the  mention  of  clubbing,  pressing  a  hand  to  his  chest  as  if  Eric  had  personally  wounded  him.  "Wow,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head.  "Do  you  think  that's  all  I  do?"  The  act  lasted  all  of  three  seconds  before  he  was  grinning  again,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  with  his  drink  balanced  loosely  in  one  hand.  Truthfully,  Eric  had  a  point.  There  were  plenty  of  ways  to  meet  people  that  didn't  involve  deafening  music  and  overpriced  drinks.  It  was  just  easier  to  complain  than  admit  that.  The  smile  faded  a  little  as  Eric  spoke  about  his  father.  Woojin  had  heard  versions  of  the  story  before,  but  hearing  it  laid  out  like  that  still  rubbed  him  the  wrong  way.  He  couldn't  imagine  having  every  dinner,  every  event,  every  conversation  turned  into  some  kind  of  negotiation.  "Okay,  yes."  he  admitted,  lifting  both  hands  in  surrender. 

if you are sending to a multi-muse, remember to specify the muse that the prompts are being sent for . you can add + reverse to swap roles . a couple of these are considered usfw / nsfw .

🫣 Kiss the receiver for the very first time.

🥀 Kiss the receiver as if it is for the very last time.

😡 Kiss the receiver during a heated argument.

🧱 Pin the receiver against the wall while kissing them.

🫦 Bite the receiver's lower lip before kissing them fiercely.

😭 Kiss away the receiver's tears from their cheeks.

😴 Wake the receiver up with kisses all over their face.

🔥 Kiss the receiver while snuggled up by a fireplace / campfire.

👔 Pull the receiver in for a kiss by their collar / tie / belt.

🛏️ Push the receiver onto the bed and pounce them with kisses.

💋 Gently kiss one of the receiver's scars / wounds.

🌃 Kiss the receiver while quietly stargazing.

😱 Kiss the receiver to shock them out of an anxiety / panic attack.

🥂 Press a kiss on the receiver's lips / cheek while a little tipsy.

🎭 Kiss the receiver while on a pretend date (for a mission / wedding etc.).

🌿 Kiss the receiver while standing under some mistletoe.

😈 Kiss the receiver on / near one of their private parts.

💦 Kiss the receiver while they slowly come down from their release.

💄 Leave lipstick marks on the receiver's face / neck / body.

shuffling on the spot, garam tries his best to remain nonchalant. ( events were... hard. he's been able to keep to himself, mostly, without the overbearing weight of his mother's gaze piercing him from across the room. however, within the last thirty minutes, she's been... watching. and, so, garam did what any foolish person would do -- cling to the nearest person in a lame attempt to seem busy. he just hopes his new friend doesn't mind the sudden intrusion. )

wetting his lower lip, garam's eyes cut to the buffet, where his mother is enthralled with a new victim. perfect. he exhales slowly, ducks his head down to hide behind the back of his palm, and lets out a long breath. it takes him a little too long to remember he fully interrupted someone, and his eyes go wide with horror. "oh." the syllable leaves him in a rush, like he's been caught doing something wrong. shaking his head, his fingers flex, hand returning to his side. "i -- i'm sorry," he starts, "i didn't -- i have no question." it leaves him a little too fast for comfort. he wonders if this is why people think he's cold. clearing his throat, he tries again. "my mother is watching me and i needed to say something, and i guess," he pauses, "that's... the first thing that came to mind? which doesn't make sense, but," his lips press together, "... i'm sorry. i didn't mean to -- interrupt you."

Woojin   had   been   mid-conversation   with   someone   from   the   label's   PR   team   when   the   interruption   happened,   abrupt,   a   little   frantic   at   the   edges,   though   clearly   trying   not   to   look   it.   Woojin   had   let   the   PR   woman   excuse   herself   without   much   protest,   attention   already   shifting.   He   was   curious,   and   partially,   he   had   been   bored.   He   hated   the   more   business   aspect   of   everything.   He   watches   the   exhale,   the   hand   half-raised   over   the   mouth   like   a   shield,   and   Woojin   has   to   work   to   keep   his   expression   neutral.   Just   because   the   alternative   is   laughing,   and   that   would   probably   make   things   worse   before   they   got   better.

wide eyes study his friend from across the table. there's something unusual reflected back in woojin's gaze, but eric doesn't comment on it. after years of conversations like this, he's become used to the way the other man's shoulders sag when things go wrong. ( and, for what it's worth, he doesn't think it's woojin's fault. the world is cruel, and people are crueler. and despite the years that've passed since he's seen him proper, the same yearning disposition rests heavy on his features. the same sparkle in his round eyes still holds on. )

quietly, he snorts a soft laugh under his breath. "i don't date because if i did," he leans back, taps a finger against the side of his champagne flute, "my father would plan a wedding the next day. you, on the other hand," he raises a brow, "simply have what i like to call bad luck." there's a moment where he's quiet, his eyes cutting to woojin's phone with a slight huff. crossing his legs, eric puts a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder. "you'll find someone," he says, words quiet and honest. "maybe we're just looking in the wrong places, hmm? tell me -- when was the last time you just... went out for a night on the town?"

Woojin   stares   at   the   phone   screen   a   second   longer   before   he   sets   it   face-down   on   the   table.   He   exhales   through   his   nose,   not   quite   a   laugh,   not   quite   a   sigh   —   somewhere   in   the   middle,   which   is   probably   where   most   of   his   life   lives   these   days.   Eric's   hand   on   his   shoulder   is   warm   and   steadying   in   a   way   Woojin   doesn't   comment   on,   though   he   feels   it.   He   reaches   for   his   own   glass,   something   cheaper   than   champagne,   and   turns   it   slowly   between   his   palms.   Bad   luck.   He   rolls   the   phrase   around   privately,   deciding   it's   generous.   He's   been   called   worse   things   —   by   himself,   mostly. "A   night   on   the   town,"   he   repeats,   dry   and   unhurried,   like   he's   reading   a   foreign   phrase   off   a   menu   he's   unfamiliar   with.

Woojin   watched   him   lean   forward   with   the   particular   patience   of   someone   who   had   sat   across   from   a   hundred   versions   of   this.   He   let   Jiwoon   finish,   let   the   silence   after   the   words   breathe   for   a   moment,   and   then   he   uncapped   his   pen   without   looking   down   at   the   notepad   in   front   of   him.   "Dramatic   entrance."   He   repeated   it   back   flatly,   the   way   someone   might   read   aloud   a   grocery   list   they   hadn't   written.   His   eyes   hadn't   moved   from   Jiwoon's   face.   "I   don't   cry   easily."   Woojin   gives   after   a   moment.   He   wrote   something   down   —   or   appeared   to.   The   pen   moved.   "But   I   can   try.   If   that   gets   me   the   shot   I   want."   Whether   it   was   anything   useful   was   between   him   and   the   paper.   When   he   looked   up   again   there   was   no   particular   warmth   in   the   expression,   but   no   hostility   either.