#i finished it TODAY i only had a rough sketch before this.....

[biblically-accurate-dca]

♡ happy valentine's! ♡

( og image under the cut! )

#my art #daycare attendant #dca fandom #sundrop #sunnydrop #moondrop #BRO YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW RUSHED THIS IS MANNN #i finished it TODAY i only had a rough sketch before this..... #i started it BEFORE february but i draw so slowly that i panicked and just finished it all today....... #ougughhghg i feel ill. im gonna go eat now havr a good day everyone #edit: added the image id!! :]

[jenscx]

LET ME IN — yu jimin x f!reader

you return to your hometown after being overseas for years. there was no possible way for you to anticipate your old high school sweetheart waiting at the airport.

TAGS — angst, little fluff, exes to lovers, happy ending, high school sweetheart, cursing

WORDCOUNT — 5.1k

the sweater that you had picked out today, feels unfamiliar on your skin. it’s the one which reads, ‘seniors of 2018’. it’s the one you had never gone near, leaving it to rot in your closet. it’s the one that holds the most painful memories for you. how could a piece of clothing cause you so much pain?

frankly, you know why. it’s the one jimin had given to you as you left for the train to the airport. “something to remember me by,” she had stated after pulling it over the top of your head.

you had huffed, playfully asking, “how could i ever forget you?”

your closet had witnessed your stares— or rather glares at the sweater. not until an hour had passed, when you finally heaved a sigh and grabbed it off the hanger that was situated at the corner of the closet. it’s just because it’s comfortable, you had reasoned before. and it didn’t matter what you wore underneath the puffer jacket, it would end up covered.

of course, these were all excuses, trying to deny the very fact that it just reminded you of jimin. and you were very welcoming towards such reminders.

reminders of what?

you shake your head, picturing a blank canvas before the melodic laughter filled your ears. jimin’s laugh.

the screeching of your luggage’s wheels distract you. aeri’s standing at the door, a hand on your suitcase.

“hey girl,” she checks the watch on her wrist, “we gotta go. flight’s at 2.”

you nod, ignoring the fact that you had spent almost two whole hours thinking about the repercussions of returning back to… home? could you even call it that?

aeri seems to notice your inner turmoil, since in the taxi, she places a comforting hand over yours, sending you a small smile. while it didn’t really settle your nerves, you appreciated the effort nonetheless.

the journey to the boarding gate is like a fever dream. your airpods betraying you, randomly shuffling to a girls’ generation song. it was like a cry back to the past, when you and jimin would listen to girls’ generation songs together.

for jimin, you had complied.

you open your eyes, you can only see the back of someone’s head above the aeroplane’s seat. if you keep your eyes closed for too long, you might start to envision a blur of jimin’s perfect eyes, her nose, her lips that were always pursed in disappointment when she caught you and minjeong stealing her snacks…

the realisation that you can’t remember the face that once made you the happiest girl on the planet hits hard. it hits harder than the guilt and misery you felt when jimin, a week after you had left korea, sent a flurry of messages that went unresponded.

“i didn’t know you liked girls’ generation,” aeri comments. startled, you stare at your phone, the lock screen wallpaper being jimin’s back displaying girls’ generation’s holiday night baseball t-shirt. the girl had forced you to buy matching ones with her, you recall bitterly.

“i don’t,” you answer coolly, swiftly turning off your phone. aeri eyes you weirdly but eventually lets you off the hook and leans back into her seat.

the rest of the thirteen hours flight, you busy yourself with work— leftovers from the time before break, drafts of sketches, thesis statements and long-winded essays. while a plane was not the best environment to finish a full drawing, you could at least make some rough sketches. somehow, your pencil graphite gravitates from sturdy, concrete buildings to soft cheekbones, hooded eyes, pouty lips.

shit, you blink, taking in your subconscious sketch of a woman, familiar to your past.

almost instantly shutting your sketchbook shut, you ignore the implications of what your mind was telling you. the crew neck sweater itches at your neck. it’s almost like the words embroidered on the cotton burn into your heart, to always make you remember and recall the time before messy relationships, longing feelings and just enjoying the present time.

time. you didn’t have much of it anyway.

maybe this trip would allow you to make peace with the past. you wouldn’t flinch whenever your friends would talk about league of legends champion, ‘katarina’, or you wouldn’t immediately decline movie night with aeri in fear that one of the actresses would look eerily similar to jimin.

allowing your brain to wander past your comfort zone, you wonder what she's doing now. was she a flight stewardess? did she manage to finally get better at pubg? was her favourite colour still blue? did she still have that sparkle in her eyes when food was brought up?

the last thought makes you chuckle, reminiscing how excited jimin was whenever food was involved. when yizhuo would bring back mala snacks from china, jimin would be gone in a flash.

(so would yizhuo’s snacks, you can’t count the number of times you were forced to lie about who the perpetrator was.

maybe it was worth it when jimin would beam at you, flashing a bright smile that rivalled the shine of diamonds).

with bittersweet memories, you drift off. sleepless nights made up for, by just giving yourself permission to think about her.

you dream of crashing waves, two people on the shore, just sitting down and gazing at the scenery. the sunset’s everlasting in this timeline. like time doesn’t exist and all they did was stare at the deep ocean.

before you even get to see their faces, the announcement rings throughout the flight.

you sigh deeply, catching the attention of aeri.

“you okay? you slept so soundly, i thought you died,” the japanese girl asks worriedly. you laugh, it was the best sleep you ever got, and it was on an aeroplane.

strange how our consciousness works.

“i’m good,” this time you weren’t lying.

you stare at the glass doors, wondering if minjeong had told anyone else to come fetch you. it wasn’t a far fetched thought, maybe the girl had asked yizhuo to come as well. the chinese girl would kill minjeong if she didn’t tell her about your arrival back in korea after what? three, almost four years?

“hey, i asked my friend to pick us up and she might have brought someone else,” you warn aeri.

“oh that’s fun… why do you sound so scared?”

“because, the other girl is a little overbearing,” you scoff, “she might try to climb you, just a warning.”

aeri widens her eyes as you two drag your luggage to the gates.

she gapes, “no kidding? is she a koala or something?”

“something like that,” you shrug.

the doors open. it’s your first step (not really) into korea. the air is the same anywhere else, but the feeling isn’t.

it’s the feeling of uncertainty. the feeling of fear. aeri clasps your free hand tightly in hers, sensing your hesitance.

your gaze glides over the crowd of people waiting for their own family. aeri makes a noise of recognition and she pulls you to the side, you finally spot someone familiar.

“minjeong…!” you call out, voice going silent at the sight of a girl that is most definitely not minjeong.

it’s not yizhuo either, that’s for sure.

“did minjeong get plastic surgery or something?”

you want to run.

“because… that’s not— that’s not minjeong,” you whisper, “that’s yu jimin.”

aeri deadpans, “you say that like i know who the hell she is.”

you want to kill minjeong. and maybe jimin wants to kill aeri with how hard she’s glaring at her.

jimin only trots slowly towards you.

jimin’s eyes dart from aeri’s face back to yours, her hard, cold gaze trailing down to your sweater that has come uncovered by the puffer jacket. your eyes narrow when she raises an eyebrow at you, as if asking you, “why are you wearing that?”

you don’t answer her, because you don’t know either.

“i’m jimin, y/n’s—”

“friend,” you interrupt, quickly turning away to avoid the flash of hurt on jimin’s face.

the mentioned girl recovers quickly, putting on a fake smile, “classmate of y/n from high school.”

“i’m uchinaga aeri, y/n’s roommate, thank you for picking us up!” aeri grins widely, ignoring the deadly lasers pointing her way.

“where are you staying, if i may ask?” jimin’s sharp tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“with y/n—”

you cover aeri’s mouth, knowing how jimin gets, “it’s none of your business.”

your roommate makes a noise of indignation and licks a long strip across your palm. you groan, taking it off her mouth and wiping it on her jacket.

“that’s so gross,” you mutter in english.

“your english has gotten better,” jimin notes as the three of you walk to her car.

you don’t know what to say, so you stay silent.

“where do you stay, jimin-ssi?” aeri makes small talk to cover up the awkward silence. you thank her internally.

jimin stares at you through the mirror, “with y/n.”

you bite your lip, nervous at what jimin might say next. you had never told aeri about your complicated relationship with jimin and you didn’t plan to. only because of kim minjeong meddling in, now it seems like everything has to be uncovered again.

“she’s a bad roommate, right?” surprisingly, aeri ignores jimin’s statement and instead continues to complain about you.

you’re shocked, to say the least. you thought aeri would have started blabbing and asking probing questions about your past roommate situation. or maybe she noticed your sullen look.

“i thought four years would have been enough for her to change her bad habits,” jimin says.

you know for a fact she isn’t talking about the same thing as aeri. jimin was even worse than you as a roommate; eating your secret snack stash, never cleaning up the pile of laundry she had in her room and always invading your alone time in bed.

“many things have changed,” you mumble, “i’m not the same as before.”

the car goes silent, jimin probably analysing your words while aeri pouts, confused by the strange tension you had with your so-called friend.

“if you desire something enough, you’d want it to stay the same forever.”

you retort, “change is inevitable.”

aeri says quietly in the corner, “i know the guy who said that, his name is like john, or something.”

struggling to keep your laughter silent, you splutter in aghast at aeri’s sudden general knowledge.

“you’re so strange,” you comment.

aeri laughs, “i know, but you like me for that, right?”

(“—only had a brain the size of a walnut, that’s why the stegosaurus was one of the dumbest dinosaurs!” jimin reads out loud from your bed.

you stand at your vanity, finishing up your skincare, trying not to laugh at jimin’s absurd dinosaur facts, “you’re so weird.”

“you like that about me though?”)

you sense how intimate the conversation feels for the both of you, so you stop answering aeri and instead focus on jimin. her grip on the steering wheel has tightened significantly, eyes burning with something you can’t identify.

“you’re being annoying again, go to sleep or something, it’s a long drive from here to my house—” you halt in the middle of your sentence, finally questioning the very fact of… why?

why is yu jimin here? even if minjeong asked her to, why? the jimin you knew would never do this. the jimin you knew would never give up her sleeping time just to fetch an old friend, who she maybe had something going on with, and a stranger? yizhuo had friends from china who were visiting, and even then, jimin refused to fetch them from the airport. she was the only one in your friend group with a licence so it only made sense to ask her.

you try to bury yourself in the sweater even more. it was fine for now. seeing jimin in the flesh. but maybe you were so jet lagged that you hadn’t made sense of the situation yet.

the only sensible thing to do for now, was to let yourself escape into dreamland and wait for the morning after.

you can only anticipate it would be full of awkward silence, tension-filled gazes, hesitant actions.

it’s difficult to fall asleep. you decide to blame your insomnia on the nap you had during the flight. even when you know it’s because of the deeply asleep body, separated by a thin wall.

you’re sitting upright, staring at the unveiled moon. it’s stunning, not like the sun which literally glares. the moon is calming, easing you into the next day, all while making you feel… loneliness.

how could you feel lonely even with so many people around you?

(“do you think soulmates exist?” you had asked, curious of jimin’s take on such tales.

the girl seems taken aback, but she ultimately replies, “if they do, i think you’re mine.”)

you clench the duvet in your fists tightly, mind grasping at any other thought than of yu jimin. it’s unfortunate that you seem to enjoy the pain and torture past memories bring with how often your brain wanders through them.

maybe it’s time to come clean with yourself.

you were back in your hometown. you were staying in the same apartment as you did before you left. one that you shared with yu jimin; one that you called home.

eyes starting to become watery, you wipe them off and take a seat at your desk. if you were going to stay awake the rest of the night, might as well get work done. pulling out your sketchbook, the first page to be opened is the drawing of jimin from the flight. the realisation slaps you.

how long would it take someone to get over the love of their life?

for you, maybe eternity.

the door creaks open slightly. your head turns sharply, hand instinctively covering the drawing.

“y/n…?”

“jimin,” you inhale, “why are you still awake?”

she doesn’t bother to answer you and instead chooses to sit on your bed. once you notice the pyjamas she’s wearing, you feel daggers stab into your heart. it’s one of your many matching pyjamas with her. you hadn’t touched any of them since you left korea.

“are you dating aeri?” she asks.

you know what she’s secretly trying to ask.

“no, she’s just a friend.”

“that’s what they always say,” jimin scoffs. her tone doesn’t sit right with you.

with a sudden urge to defend your friendship with aeri, you shoot back, “i recall you saying that about lee jeno too.”

your words clearly strike a chord in jimin, her eyes widen, hurtful remarks at the tip of her tongue. yet, she merely looks away. you hate how beautiful she looks in the moonlight.

“y’know, technically we’re still dating.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, bewildered.

jimin rolls her eyes, “we never explicitly broke up, you only ghosted me. technically we’re still together.”

“stop spouting nonsense.”

the girl only pouts in annoyance. you hate how your heartstrings tug at her cute expression. right now, yu jimin had to be anything but cute.

“and i didn’t ghost you, i was busy.” the lie slips out easily, revealing how used you are to saying it. jimin, of course, doesn’t believe you. she had never.

jimin frowns.

“you always say that too.”

she stands up, walking bit by bit closer to you. your hand grips the sketchbook protectively.

placing a hand onto the back of your chair, jimin smirks, leaning in. you hate how attractive she looks.

her now blonde locks form a curtain around your faces, preventing any outsider to peek in and see what you were doing.

“i think you’re a bad friend,” jimin claims.

“what?”

you can’t take your eyes off her fluttering eyelashes, her red nose, probably from the cold, and her eyes filled with determination.

“you lied to aeri,” she whispers, “since when were we ever just friends?”

a lump forms in your throat. your heart constricts. you can barely even say a word. you’re speechless.

“we’re barely even friends, roommates, probably,” you splutter out.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jimin eyes you with an amused expression, lips twitching with the threat of a big, wide smile. you realise your words bid you no help, only further supplying as a challenge for jimin— for you to admit that you were more than friends. no words needed to be exchanged about that fact, but you being you, after fulfilling years of ghosting, would never admit that you harboured any sort of feelings for jimin after being the main reason why your relationship fell apart.

you would argue that your absence was just a contributing factor. the real trigger came in the form of lee jeno, a man that you could say with your whole heart and soul, you hated with every bone in your body.

after you had left, with a promise to stay in contact with jimin, you realised how hard it was to maintain your relationship status. and when jimin posted countless instagram stories of jeno, you realised again that maybe it was best to break it off.

never in the duration of your ‘ghosting stage’ had you ever told jimin the real reason for your sudden coldness. madly jealous and insecure, you decided to disappear. disappear just from jimin though.

“i’ve always been curious,” jimin pulls back from your intense gaze, “why you started being so distant, cold and indifferent. tell me, will you?”

“that’s just my personality.” a direct white lie, you decide to tell.

“i was heartbroken,” she ignores you and continues her monolouge, “my girlfriend decides to ghost me, and just me. made me think i did something wrong.”

you lick your lips, suddenly feeling your throat constrict up. no longer was this just banter, the conversation was steering into uncharted territory.

“it wasn’t just you,” you desperately argue, trying to direct the conversation away, “moving to another country isn’t easy.”

“you’re pretending our whole relationship didn’t exist. maybe in your eyes it meant nothing, but for me, it was everything. don’t you know every single day i have nightmares? the craziest thing is that all the demons in my nightmares have your smile,” jimin whispers fiercely, “and yet, i stay faithful to those nightmares, even if i wake up crying for someone who didn’t even bother answering my calls. you may have only been in the states, but it felt like you were on another planet. i was the last person to know you were coming back, even though you promised me; promised that if you were to return, i would be the first person to—”

you can’t control yourself. hearing her words makes your blood boil. the pumping of your heart only accelerates further as you lift up your hand, delivering a heavy slap across her face. how dare she? how dare she act as if everything was your fault? how could she accuse your devotion and adoration for her?

“don’t act like you’re the fucking victim, karina,” you hiss, your words even more painful than the stinging red on jimin’s cheek, “the first morning after, i sent you so many texts, barely even seen. then i see your story. were you acting when you said you were sad about me leaving? or were you happy to finally say that you don’t have a girlfriend anymore?”

jimin cradles her cheek in her hand, eyes narrowing when you finally confess the real reason. you can tell she doesn’t remember anything. her not even knowing what she did that made you feel unneeded only drives the blade deeper into your heart.

“drinking at a club with lee jeno,” you say his name with venom, voice gradually getting louder and louder. remembering that aeri’s only a few walls away, you try to control your emotions. “could you not understand how i felt— you said nothing would come between us and the first week away from home, constantly ignoring me for some guy.”

(“call me when your plane lands,” jimin said, playing with the hem of her sweater on you.

“isn’t it gonna be midnight in korea when i land?”

the girl merely chuckles, “i’ll be up all night just to hear your voice.”)

the realisation strikes you like a lightning bolt.

“this was a mistake.”

“what?”

“this… me coming back. i should have just stayed in the states but fuck, i let aeri convince me,” you run your fingers through your tousled hair, stressed. jimin was going to cause you to have white hair.

the redness on jimin’s cheek is still there. you feel slightly guilty for ruining her clear complexion.

“that was just how i coped with you leaving,” jimin explains.

you purse your lips, placing your open palms on jimin’s chest. maybe she thinks you’re about to cave in since she sighs in relief. however, instead of pulling her in, you push her until her back is touching your door.

“i don’t need an explanation, or an apology,” you say firmly, “i need time alone away from you.”

“you’ve had 4 years to yourself,” jimin states bitterly.

“i’m sorry for slapping you, but please, either show me your actions matching your words, or just get out of my life for good.”

jimin sighs again, this one full of exasperation.

“go,” you mutter under your breath.

the knife drives deep into your already ruined heart as you push her away. the girl scoffs, grasping your open palms into her hands, intertwining your fingers.

“if you insist on pushing me away, i’ll get rid of any possibility of us being together again. just let me into your heart again,” she throws your hands away and slams the door. the loud bang echoes in your ears, but not as loudly as her words. it only takes a few seconds for you to collapse onto the floor, sobs wrecking your whole body.

“morning,” aeri yawns, “i heard a loud bang last night, was that you or is your apartment haunted?”

you drizzle maple syrup onto your stacked pancakes, sending a bittersweet smile to your friend. your night was spent tossing and turning, both guilt and anger consuming you. when the clock ticked at four in the morning, you finally let yourself think about how jimin made you feel. even if she went to drink right after you left, you should have communicated with her instead of ghosting her. you knew for a fact that she was heartbroken based on the numerous texts your friends had sent you.

fuck, you groan into your pillow. getting up from your bed, your eyes roam the room, eventually landing on the sketchbook at your desk. you never finished that drawing on the plane. after considering (or more likely procrastination), you sit down, pouring your hours and feelings into your drawings. countless of them filled up the sketchbook’s pages. the drawings’ subjects all looked eerily similar to jimin. her pointed nose, soft gaze were all captured in the pages. you finally come to terms with it. you were still in love with her. after all, she was your only muse. thinking about her words from before, you knew that she meant them. spending years waiting for someone who was basically a ghost couldn’t have been easy.

you were going to do something about it.

barely getting any sleep last night, you woke up earlier than usual and decided to prepare breakfast. aeri had woken up an hour after, stomach growling and eyes gleaming at the pancakes.

“by the way,” she says, mouth full of pancake, “i’m meeting up with a friend today and she’s bringing someone too. wanna go with me on a double date?”

fate must be messing with you since right as aeri says the words ‘double date’, yu jimin walks in. her hair tousled, puffed cheeks and eyes narrowing. you stiffen, focusing on picking at your pancakes instead. unbeknownst to you, once jimin spots the lone plate of breakfast on the counter, her gaze softens.

“do you know who your friend’s bringing…?” you whisper softly, trying not to catch the attention of jimin.

aeri, although you love her, says in the loudest voice possible, “somi will be your date! i think she’s your type.”

the scraping of the metal fork makes you squeeze your eyes shut, mentally preparing for jimin’s outburst.

“so-mi,” jimin clicks her tongue.

aeri nods, stuffing her face with more food.

she turns to you, “and you’re going on a date with her?”

“double date with me,” aeri clarifies, “don’t worry jimin-ssi, i’ll be there to protect y/n! y’know in college i always had to pick y/n up from her bad dates. her taste in guys suck.”

“seems like her taste in girls has been downgraded,” jimin comments, smirking. you roll your eyes, wanting nothing more than for her to shut up. aeri guffaws, taking out her phone. “i’ll show you somi’s instagram account and you can decide for yourself, y/n,” she says.

you nod, deciding not to say anything in case jimin flares up. somi’s very pretty, anyone would agree. she had her own attractive style and seemed really confident. you liked that. aeri wasn’t wrong to say that somi was your type. it was just unfortunate that your heart was in the hands of another girl.

while scrolling on aeri’s phone, her alarm rings, reading, ‘brunch with yunny.’

“ah! yunjin wanted to meet earlier, just the two of us,” aeri smiles, “text me later if you wanna join!” she stands up from the table. you’re astonished by how fast she managed to finish those pancakes, her stack was evidently taller than yours. jimin glances at you, amazed as well.

“did she inhale those…?”

“i’ve got no fucking clue,” you mumble, digging into your own. jimin only chuckles and you hate how it makes your heart clench up in affection.

the silence is deafening. without aeri, the air thickens with tension between you and jimin, filled with nostalgia and regret. it feels just like last time— you and jimin eating breakfast together at that very same table, giggling about whatever trouble your friends got into the previous day.

“hey, about yesterday—”

“it’s fine,” you interrupt, “is your cheek okay?”

jimin swallows hard, “yes, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“don’t lie, come here,” you instruct, “i’ve known you for so long, you can’t lie to me.”

she just laughs, showing you the slightly bruised side of her face. you feel guilt wreck you. no matter how angry you were, you shouldn’t have laid a hand on her.

“did you ice it?”

jimin shakes her head. you sigh, getting up and taking an ice pack out of the freezer. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, moving around the kitchen like it was 2018 and jimin was the love of your life (she still is). wrapping the ice pack in a towel, you inch closer to jimin, holding it to her cheek. she winces slightly and you resist the urge to hold her hand in comfort.

“y/n…”

“hm?”

the girl seems so small now— her posture deflated, eyes barely meeting yours, biting her lip nervously. you have a feeling you know what she’s about to ask.

“are you going on that date with soyoung?” you laugh loudly, catching jimin off guard.

“jimin, her name’s somi.”

pouting, jimin turns away from you, making your hand falter. “hey, i need to ice your face.”

“i won’t let you unless you answer my question.” she’s so childish it’s adorable. the tension has gone, now filled with uncertainty instead.

“i don’t have anyone to spend the afternoon with. minjeong and yizhuo are busy today,” you explain.

“you have me,” she mutters.

ignoring her, you answer, “aeri seemed really excited for us to meet.”

“you spent all your time in the states with her, you should spend time with your friends here,” jimin retorts.

her hesitance to even admit she wants to spend time with you makes you want to tease her.

“oh? you’re right,” jimin perks up like a puppy. cute, you think. “i should text yujin if she wants to go out, remember her? she was our student council president.”

rolling her eyes, jimin swats at your hand nursing her bruise. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, bantering with jimin like she was the only girl you’ve ever loved (she was).

it’s too easy. between the choice of going out with aeri to meet someone new and staying in with jimin. it’s such an easy choice to make.

you bring the ice pack away from her face, choosing to caress her cheek lovingly instead. she sighs, content, leaning into your touch.

“jimin,” you gulp, “i’m sorry for these past few years.”

her eyes gaze up at you, “it’s okay. i’ve come to terms with it. i honestly wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

“i wasn’t planning to either, but aeri wanted to.”

“good thing she convinced you, huh?” jimin smiles, “at least i know i was the reason for our break up.”

“it’s only a relationship if there are two people,” you say, “it was my fault too.”

her eyes momentarily flicker to your lips, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“i know these years haven’t been easy on both of us, but if you’re willing to, i think i’m okay with giving us a second chance,” you confess, “even if you hurt me again, i still want you. i just want you. you’ve always been the only one in here.” you point at your heart.

jimin’s eyes shoot straight up, finally breaking into a wide smile, “seriously? even after what i said last night? i’m not complaining but like… you were pretty angry. i just wanted to know why you ghosted me and i agree, i deserved it. but why the sudden change?”

“i mean,” you shrug, “it was what you said that made me think about this. i didn’t want you to stop loving me, because i’ve never stopped loving you.”

“you love me?”

“i love you.”

“this is so crazy, you went from slapping me to…” she trails off, grasping your chin and bringing you into a kiss. her lips were so, so, soft. you wondered why you even let her go. once your lips met, you felt her sigh before smiling into your mouth. catching your breath, you run your fingers through her blonde hair.

“still going on that date with suki?”

“jimin, you know her name’s somi.”

“whatever, i love you too.”

#aespa #aespa x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #jimin x reader

[latenighttalking00]

A Work of Art

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a Marchioness from france and your mother is adamant that you wed. She is a very close friend of the Dowager Vicountess Bridgerton who has so generously agreed to be your sponsor for the season. Perhaps in doing this, she has unknowingly found her son's perfect match as well.

Warnings: slow-ish burn, friends to lovers, smut, 18+, minors dni, hair pulling, possessive/dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving). This is just porn with a plot.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Hi! This is my first time writing, so apologies if it's a bit rough; English isn't my native language. Hopefully, you all absolutely drool over Benedict the same way I do. enjoy!

Once the social season had begun its approach, you and your family make haste on your return from france. Due to your newly given title, you are projected to be quite the diamond this season indeed.

As a close friend of the family, the Dowager Viscountess, Violet Bridgerton kindly offers to sponsor your debut this season, meaning that it is now of the utmost importance to arrive promptly at the Bridgerton home in London before the season is to begin.

As you sit in the drawing room, awaiting the next potential suitors you will inevitably send on their way, the clear and evident dread in your expression does not go unnoticed by your mother. A quick swat to your knee from her fan catches your attention, a visible look of warning on her face as your eyes meet hers.

"I do hope that attitude of yours is quick to dissipate." She sighs, "Men will find you quite inadequate to wed if you are to continue this ridiculous behavior. It is quite unladylike." Your mother's words cut right through you as if she had taken a hot paring knife to both of your ears. Not being able to withstand it any longer, you quickly stand from your seat and interrupt her.

"Mother, this gown and the line of men outside the door are quite suffocating enough; no need for your incessant nagging as well." You take a moment to pause, regaining your composure.

"I believe I am feeling quite faint; perhaps I've seen enough suitors today." You threaten rather than suggest, "I will return to my chambers and perhaps get a bit of rest seeing as the sun has already began it’s departure from the sky."

You bow and quickly excuse yourself before making haste out the door, walking as fast as your feet can take you, right past the men who are practically begging for just a minute of your attention.

You race directly to your bedroom, entering quickly and not even fully shutting the door before you are pulling down the zipper of your gown and letting it fall to the floor. "This retched thing must come off immediately," you mumble to yourself as you pull at the laces of your corset, loosening them just enough to slide off your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you slip off your stays and slip on a beautiful white nightgown you purchased from one of the most talented modiste in france.

Shortly after the maids come to collect your gown, you are quick to wander down the halls in search of a cure to your relentless boredom. you find what appears to be an art studio and you are instantly overjoyed. you quietly sneak in through the door left ajar.

Art was your pride and joy; your sketches and the ability to produce beautiful works on canvas were the only things keeping you from becoming a mad woman.

Unbeknownst to you, Violet's second-eldest son and the owner of said art studio had just returned home from the gentleman's club. As he makes his way down the hall, prepared to return to his studio and peacefully finish up some things he started the night prior, he is met with complete and udder surprise at the sight of a woman flipping through his sketchbooks.

He feels as if the air has been knocked right from his lungs. Never once has a woman looked so real, raw, and simply ethereal to him in nothing but a simple yet elegant night gown, the pages in between your delicate fingers, the way in which you sit, your effortless and beautiful features, and the way they change and turn to show your focus, the true and utter intrigue at the charcoal etched on the paper is more than enough to bring a man directly to his knees.

He watches as you adjust your position, your nightgown sliding up your thighs as you cross a leg over the other. He feels as if he might faint.

“those are from my time traveling.” he points, making his way in to the room.

So lost in thought, you are quickly brought back by the sound of the deep and sultry voice coming from the hallway, it sends chills down your body, you are unable to fight the butterflies in your stomach and are completely unprepared for what you’re eyes are met with the second they dare to leave the pages in front of you. He is perhaps one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen, the way his features darken in the dim candle light could cause scandal merely on its own.

As he makes his way over to you, you scramble to find any sort of words to not appear as a complete and udder fool. “désolée, my Lord. All this beautiful artwork caught my eye and i could not help myself.” your voice only making his new found attraction grow even stronger.

“Benedict Bridgerton..” he says just loud enough for you to hear. He is quick to take your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss y/n y/l/n” you respond, a blush creeps over your cheeks as your eyes meet his. Your name and accent are both very quick explanations as to why a very random beautiful woman was wondering in

his family home.

“Ah yes, the Marchioness from France. My mother has done quite a bit of boasting upon your arrival, i can now see why she was so keen on you being the diamond of this social season” he chuckled lightly “merci, Lord Bridgerton.” you offer him a warm smile as you place the sketch book in his hands.

Your hand grazes his and you feel as if your body is set aflame. You quickly fumble to stand, attempting to leave before any further scandal is to happen. he is quick to catch you by the arm, his light grasp more than enough to keep you in place.

“Please, stay as long as you’d like.” He offers, taking a step towards you, but you are quick to shake your head, knowing staying any longer may very well affect your title and rank during this very precious season.

“You are more than kind.” you place a hand over his and squeeze lightly. He leans even closer, your face mere inches from his. his scent fills your nose and you cannot control the heat that consumes your body, the sheer need you have for him in this very moment. “I must- i uh-..” he raises an eyebrow at your words. though his proximity fogs your brain, you attempt to compose yourself. “Perhaps i can show you some of my art in the duration of my stay here.“ he smirks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he nods “if what you create is half as beautiful as you, my art will never hold a candle to yours.” he compliments.

Your breathe catches in your throat as his words. “..Benedict- Apologies, Lord Bridgerton..” you quickly correct yourself, the use of his first name not going unnoticed by him. “I’m sure both your and my Mother will have quite the earful if i am found in here, i must go.” Before he is even able to protest, you are gone.

As the days pass, You begin to consume his every waking thought, the sound of your voice, the feeling of your skin on his is burned in to his memory and he cannot shake his want for you.

Anthony is quick to notice his admiration, the wandering stares and close proximity immediately become apparent in Anthony’s eyes. As the family settles in the drawing room, Anthony is quick to pull His younger brother aside “You’ve grown quite close with Marchioness” Anthony offers his younger brother a warning glance and Benedict simply smirks in return “Brother, are you suggesting that i’ve compromised Miss y/l/n?” he laughs. Anthony in no way finds this amusing “See to it that your intentions are well thought out and you are thinking with your brain rather than something else. She is a Marchioness, toying with oversea affairs may be more than risky, even for a Bridgerton.” Anthony notes, the clear and evident weariness in his voice wipes the smile right off Benedict’s face

“Brother, do remind me. Did you not ask for one Sharma’s hand in marriage and then proceed to marry the other? You need not inform me on scandal for i am more than well aware of what i am doing.” he place a hand on Anthony shoulder and squeezes light before walking away.

time skip

Benedict does everything in his power to gain every fraction of your attention when it is available. The two of you spending more time together than any of the men attempting to court you. This new grown fondness blossoms quickly and Benedict soon becomes one of your most trusted friends. Spending late nights in his art studio, promenades in the garden, pall mall with his family. You’ve never felt more at home than with your dear Benedict and his lovely family. This fondness grows very quickly to something much stronger. Knowing Benedict’s stance on courting and marriage in general, you shake the thought. Knowing your dear friend will never see you as anything but.

While enjoying another late night in his studio, you can’t help but feel different. You both are well aware your time together is coming to end. Suitors begin growing impatient and proposals begin rolling in faster than the tide.

“I quite like Lord Lumley, he is handsome and he finds interest in poetry.” Benedict is quick to laugh “Lord Lumley is a dimwit after nothing but your title.” you wince at his words “Clearly he’s much more of a gentleman than you.” You tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” he asks, the change in his tone sending heat right between your thighs. He rises from his place on the stool and saunters over to you, his large frame towering over yours.

“Repeat what you said.” he orders

“Ben i was merely kidding i-“ you stutter, his proximity making your skin feel as if it were on fire.

“Do not make me ask you again.” he warns, a smirk on his face

You are a bit taken a back by his demeanor but the insatiable desire in your body fills you with a sudden surge of confidence. “Lord Lumley is more of a gentleman than you, Lord Bridgerton.”

Benedict lets out a low chuckle before leaning down, his mouth right by your ear.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps Lord Lumley isn’t plagued by the same un-gentleman like thoughts that fill my head the moment you step into a room.” he sighs, his breath on your skin only making matters worse.

Your hands find his half buttoned shirt and you press your hands lightly to his chest “Benedict.” you warn.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes with his own. Your noses practically grazing as he speaks. “Tell me now that you do not desire me.” His hands rest on either side of your face “Simply speak the words and i will respectfully withdraw and allow you to be with whomever you like but first you must tell me you do not desire me and you wish for me to leave you alone.”

“Ben.” You mumble quitely. Every feeling or emotion that the second eldest Bridgerton has ever caused immediately rises to the surface. At a complete loss for words, you do what you feel is right in the very moment and you bring your lips to his.

The kiss quickly fills with passion, weeks of hidden adoration and care comes bubbling over the surface.

“Marry me.” he say breathlessly as he breaks from the kiss. “You have shown me what is it truly like to admire a woman. To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all of her defenses crumble and that you would willingly take on any pain or burden for her. To honor her being with your deeds and words. You make me feel what only a true poet describes." his works nearly bring you to your knees as tears threaten to escape your eyes. “I would move the heavens down to earth for you if i knew it would make you smile.”

“Benedict.. Je vous aime.” you reassure him “I love you mon chéri, more than the moon loves the night sky. You are my everything, my best-friend. I would give anything to be your wife.” He pulls you back in for another kiss which very quickly becomes heated.

He trails hot kisses all over your jaw, neck and bosom. “My beautiful Fiancée.” he mumbles, his wandering hands sliding their way up your thighs, threatening to breach the hem of your nightgown. You are immediately reminded of your current location and you push the dark haired boy back “Ben.. not here” you breathe out, The second Bridgerton son just smirks before kneeling down in front of you.

Unsure of what he’s planning, you remain silent, eyes trained on his as he begins trailing kisses up from your ankle to your inner thigh. His hands trail up the back of your legs, giving your ass a playful squeeze as he reaches it, causing a gasp to escape from your lips.

The mere sight of him like this sends heat directly between your thighs, all logical thinking thrown out the window as he begins to tug your panties down your thighs. A blush creeps over your cheeks and your hands find his hair, tugging lightly. Benedict continues with no hesitation, pressing light kisses all over your inner thighs, leading right up to your aching core. You’re unable to fight back the sounds that leave your lips as you feel his tongue pressed against your clit. “Christ Benedict… you’re going to be the death of me.”

He wastes no time, lapping, kissing and sucking at your soaked heat as strong hands grip on to your thighs, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You lean against his desk to keep yourself upright while quiet moans and whimpers escape your lips, your hands pulling and tugging at his messy black hair, only encouraging him more. He pulls back only for a moment to look up at you “You taste fucking divine, my beautiful work of art.”

He is quick to return to your soaked heat. As his tongue works relentlessly on your clit, he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before slowly thrusting them in and out. Shortly after, you feel an unfamiliar knot form in the pit of your stomach and Benedict is aware immediately due to your incoherent mumbles and the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s my girl..” he says breathlessly “just like that..” After hearing his words, you completely unravel, shaky moans escape your lips as one hand grips on to the table and the other with a tight hold on your Fiancées hair.

Once your body has relaxed, he gently pulls your panties back up before standing to face you. You watch as he brings his fingers to your mouth “Open.” he commands and you immediately oblige, opening your mouth as he slides his fingers past your lips. The unfamiliar taste and the sheer sight in front of you causes a blush to fall over your face. He removes his fingers with a groan and offers your a smirk “You, my dear Fiancée are going to be the death of Me.”

A/N: Hi guys! I really hope every likes this :) if you have any request, feel free to send them to me :)

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x fem! reader #benedict #bridgerton #smut #anthony bridgerton #benedict smut #benedict bridgerton smut

[mactavishwritings]

Fresh Ink

Ghost x Tattoo Artist!Reader

fluff mainly. this may end up becoming multiple parts. I'm not sure yet

you become ghost’s artist and therapist in a way

tw: tattoo needles, retelling of injuries

part one | part two | part three | part four

Being the only tattoo shop within a 10 mile radius of a military base, you’ve seen it all. New recruits who just finished basic wanting to celebrate. Veterans wanting to honor their comrades. Drunk soldiers who’ve lost bets. Soldiers about to be shipped off on suicide missions wanting a way, some way, to be identified.

You’ve seen everything and you did your best to honor each story to the best of your ability. You’ve held the hands of soldiers who would go out and recommend your shop to others, telling them that you were safe and would honor them.

As you set up shop for the day, you looked over your appointment book. You mainly took appointments, but would sometimes take walk-ins. Today, you had a three appointments pretty spaced out so you decided to take a couple walk-ins. You posted on your shop’s social media accounts that you would talk two walk-in and started to sketch your first appointment’s tattoo.

You got pretty far into the tattoo when you heard the bell chime. “Hey, welcome to Dead Shot Ink. My name is (Y/N). How can I help you?” You looked up and saw a man standing in a balaclava mask. You raised an eye brow at him and looked him over. No ink.

“My friend said you tattoo?” A rough british voice came from under the mask and you nodded. “Yeah. The masks stays on, I'm guessing?” He nodded in return, tensing up.

“No worries. I do have a private room if you need it. What’s your name? I’m guessing you want to take one of the walk-ups?” You grabbed your appointment book. He nodded and pulled out his phone. “I'm Ghost. You did my friend, John Price, his tattoo a few months back and he recommended I check out your page. I’ve been meaning to make an appointment, but then I saw you’re talking walk-ins today…”

The name he gave you, John Price, sounded familiar. You nodded along to his words and guided him back to your room. You wrote his name down under your 11:00 spot and had him sit on your tattoo chair. It was a pretty small tattoo parlor since you had just opened, but you were trying to hire more artist.

“So, I do have an appointment coming in at 2. It’s about 11 now so that give us a little under 4 hours. What did you have in mind and where did you want it?” You sat down on your roller chair and grabbed your tablet.

"I'm not really sure. I know you do a lot of like soldier tattoos." Ghost said and he started picking at the skin on his thumb. You forward and gently placed your hand on top of his. "Let me grab something that may help." You stood and quickly walked back to the front of the shop. You grabbed your flash book and brought it back to Ghost.

"Here this may help you decide. What we can do is pick something you like and customize it to your story." You handed him your book and sat back down. Ghost slowly started flipping through the book before settling on a pair of dog tags. You nodded and started drawing.

Soon the stencil was on, dry, and you were ready to go. Ghost was laying back in the chair and you pulled your hair up. "Any particular music you want?" He looked at you for a moment before requesting whatever you wanted. You smiled before putting on (your fav artist). You pushed your sleeves up and got to work.

Every few minutes, you would check in with Ghost. You had your free hand was resting on his bicep since the dog tags were going on his inner forearm close to his elbow. You were on his side, listening and watching for any discomfort. You nodded along to the music and smiled at the tattoo. It was going good and Ghost seemed to like it.

After you finished, you wiped it down and had him look at it in the full body mirror. While you couldn't see his full face, you could see his eyes crinkle into a smile.

-

It had been about 5 months since you had first tattooed Ghost. He would come in every time you posted about taking a walk-in. You were slowly building a half-sleeve for him that was coming together very nicely. He would sometimes come in with new scars or injuries. Never on the side of your tattoos.

"How come you never get hurt on this side?" You asked casually, half way through the next piece. You were slowly getting him to talk to you. "I don't want to ruin your art." He answer oh so casually. You felt your heart skip and your face flushed. "It's art work. You put a lot of time and work into it." He looked down at the other pieces you had done.

"Makes sense." You nodded, your focus shifting back onto the tattoo. Your eyes shifted to the newest scar, "How'd that one happen? Am I going to be turning it into art soon?" You smiled up at him and he chuckled a little.

"Maybe. We'll see how this mission finishes out. I'm lucky I got these three days. This one was a knife fight. Got a little clumsy. You should see the other guy." He smiled. You felt proud that he was opening up to you. As a tattoo artist for soldiers, you had heard tons of mission stories. Ghost's stories were always intense, but told casually as if he had just gone to the grocery store.

"A knife fight? Seems intense. Looks like you won, though. You'll have to teach me." You smiled, dragging the needle down, making a straight line to finish the piece. "All done, Ghost! Go take a peek." You said, wiping away any excess ink.

"Simon...I'm Simon." He said as he walked towards the mirror, not facing you. You smiled and nodded. "Noted. Whatca think? This one pretty much finishes up the half-sleeve. After this, we could go up the arm for a full." You came up behind his hulking figure and showed him what you meant, moving his arm around.

Simon shivered at your touch. He looked over your hands, stained with dried tattoo ink. You arms were covered in your own tattoos. Your nails were painted black and pointed to the uncovered skin on his upper arm. You always worn dark colors, letting the attention fall on your tattoos. Your hair was pulled back and out of your face, but Ghost knew it was soft from the couple of times it touched his arms.

"I like it. I think after this mission we can complete it. Full sleeve sounds nice." Simon whispered, suddenly feeling the closeness between you two. "Thank you. Thank you for being so gentle with me." He looked up at you through the mirror and you nodded.

"Of course. You face so much hardship. You know my shop will always be open for you." You leaned your head against his shoulder and pulled back. "Let me get you wrapped up and you'll be all set." You grabbed your wrapping and wrapped up his fresh ink.

Months had gone by and you hadn't heard from Simon. You had finally gotten enough money to hire a receptionist and it made your life a million times easier. You walked into the shop and your receptionist greeted you warmly. "Morning (Y/N)!"

"Morning Emma! Can I see my book? I wanna see what I have over the next few days, got a client blowin' up my phone." You laughed as she handed you the book. "Oh! Speaking of, you had a call last night. Said you knew him and wanted to make an appointment so I book him for a couple weeks out. He said you would know what he wants. Sounds either crazy hot or crazy mean." Emma winked and you rolled your eyes. "He's booked for the 26th."

You flipped to that day and your smiled brightly. "He's the crazy hot."

Simon Riley.

-

part two?

#ghost x reader #mw2 #mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost fluff #ghost imagine #ghost x you #ghost mw2

[ageingfangirl2]

A Reason To Come Back! Shanks (OPLA) Part 2

Reader is a mermaid who washed up close to death in Luffy's village and made a home for themselves. Shanks comes back and tries to convince y/n to join his crew. Shanks x Female Reader.

Part 1

Y/N

'Then join my crew!' Shanks said in a carefree manner.

That was four months ago, you didn't quite believe Shanks would go through with his promise, so you said yes.

After that first meeting, you went back to the tavern with Shanks to meet the rest of his crew, after stopping at your house to get some dry clothes. Shanks had so many questions about mermaids just like Luffy did and you tried to answer all of them. Maybe Luffy was right about him being a good guy, he gave off the vibe of someone you could trust but wouldn't want to cross.

You were nervous meeting the rest of his crew since pirates were primarily male, but they quickly put you at ease and were amazed at just how much booze you could put away, turns out that was a pro of being a mermaid. One of the newer crew tried to hit on you and it was then you revealed apparently what Shanks suspected when he heard you laugh, and that was your ability to compel. Let's just say the rest of the crew would never let the guy live down the humiliation you put him through.

Before he went to bed Shanks told Luffy of the promise he'd made to you. At first, the boy was upset that you wouldn't be joining his crew but was happy you'd both be pirates one day.

It did feel nice to let loose, laugh and have fun around others. And Shanks kept his eye on you the whole night. Maybe returning to the sea one day might just happen for you. You sketched a rough drawing of the jolly roger you'd seen during your escape, and it turned out Shanks and his crew didn't like that crew already so were all on board to help you.

During those four months, you kept yourself busy, fishing, helping around the village and keeping an eye on Luffy. You also had started putting things aside in case Shanks kept his promise and you had to join his crew which didn't seem that bad.

Today you'd just finished swimming and were returning to your house when you saw a familiar red-haired pirate sitting on your porch.

'SHANKS!' you call out.

SHANKS

I should have known y/n wouldn't be at home. They weren't in town when we arrived so I assumed they were swimming in the cove. Other than Luffy and myself no one else had been to the cove to see her mermaid form, it was her private space.

'SHANKS!' y/n calls out.

I look up to see the red-haired girl walking up the path towards me smiling and dripping wet. It was very unusual to see someone with the same hair colour as myself but y/n explained mermaids either got the colour from their mother or father or could get a mixture of both but y/n got her mother's red hair and tail.

I stand up and embrace y/n, who hugs me back. She was a lot smaller than me, but that didn't mean you should underestimate her, 'I told you I'd come back. You get younger each time I see you.'

y/n blushes at the compliment and playfully shoves me back, 'How old do you think I am Shanks?'

My face drops, this was a trap women liked to set to trip men up, 'err I don't know maybe early twenties.'

y/n grins, 'Such a charmer, we're the same age Shanks, mermaids just age slower and appear more youthful.'

I was shocked by her answer but also relieved. I said the early twenties to not sound awful when y/n could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen. At least we wouldn't have a kid on the crew with us.

'I didn't come to ask your age y/n, I came because I have something for you.'

y/n tilts their head and their eyes widen, 'what do you have for me? How's the arm by the way? Still getting used to only having one?'

Before leaving last time I'd lost my arm rescuing Luffy. I had no regrets and would do it again. It was tough but I was slowly adapting.

'Some days are harder than others but it will take time,' I reply honestly.

I reach behind me and under my cloak pull a wrapped-up piece of black fabric before handing it to y/n. y/n slowly unwraps the fabric and gasps loudly.

'You did it Shanks...this is the jolly roger I saw...thank you...' y/n stumbles over their words, tears pricking their eyes, 'what happened?'

It warmed my heart to see her get happy and emotional staring at the flag belonging to the ship that killed her family, 'they had a lot of enemies, and my crew simply pinned them against each other until they were no more. You're free to return to the sea y/n.'

y/n puts the flag down and throws themselves at me, causing me to grunt at the sudden impact but y/n wasn't that heavy so I was able to catch her as she hugged and clung onto me, 'you kept your end up so I'll keep mine, looks like I'm joining your crew Shanks.'

I laugh and put y/n down, 'Welcome to The Red Hair Pirates. I think you'll fit in nicely.'

It turned out that y/n was already packed, ready for the day to arrive. The rest of the crew and Luffy were waiting at the tavern, so we headed down there with y/n's belongings.

'I'M GOING TO MISS YOU SO MUCH Y/N!' Luffy shouts in y/n's face as soon as we enter the tavern, but y/n simply smiles and ruffles his hair not fazed by the loudness.

'I'm going to miss you more,' y/n replies and squeezes his cheek.

I clear my throat behind them and they both look up at me, 'What about me Luffy, won't you miss me?'

Luffy grins like an idiot, 'Of course, I'll miss you Shanks, you made me want to become a pirate but how many mermaids am I going to meet in my life?'

y/n sniggers, 'and since I'm now a pirate mermaid I guess you're number two in his eyes Shanks or should I say, captain.'

I roll my eyes but embrace the situation. Things were going to be a lot more interesting with y/n on the crew.

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fanfiction #one piece live action #OPLA #opla shanks #one piece live action imagines #one piece live action fanfiction #shanks x reader #shanks one piece #anime imagines #anime blog #anime fanfiction #shanks fluff #one piece shanks imagines #one piece shanks fanfiction #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks #red hair shanks #shanks x you

[dduane]

Middle Kingdoms "Tale of the Five" Mark V covers, minimalist (type 1) group, TDIF

This is the only one of these where I'm not going to put the work under a cut, because there are going to be twelve of them before I'm done, and I don't want to bore people with the roughs in progress.

So this was the sketch for this group's Door Into Fire cover the other day...

And here's a rough example of what I was seeing in my head.

Possibly a little on the nose, but (a) I had to start somewhere, and (b) it was 1 AM when I finished work on this one and I was beyond caring. :)

The "since we're talking about doors, let's lean into that" concept is one that's appeared in previous covers on this series—both mine and other people's—but none of mine have looked this polished, because I just wasn't as good at this stuff ten years ago as I am now, and I've now got far better tools.

...Though one hilarious exception to this situation has been applied to the lettering. The extremely nice Eye Candy plugin from Exposure Software once in its much earlier versions ran on both Corel Photo Paint (my preferred design software for pushing three decades now) and Adobe's various versions of Photoshop. But for whatever reason(s), that situation came to an end. Now, I have Eye Candy for Photoshop... but I really hate Photoshop, and avoid using it whenever possible.

So in order to add some pop to the Cinzel Decorative font on this page, I had to go elsewhere... which in my case means to the little Samsung notebook computer that lives (mostly snoozing) in the front window of the living room, and is still running Windows XP. (Because of this it's never allowed to go online any more, as it can't be made secure.) I refuse to get rid of it because we've traveled too far together, and I've written too many books on it, and I love it too much. But its other chief virtue is that it will still run Corel 11 (which my newer Windows machines refuse to do). And the install of Corel PP 11 in the Samsung will still happily run the old version of Eye Candy, which has all the familiar presets that I tinkered together over years of use. I really need to sit down, eventually, and figure out how to train the current version of Eye Candy to accept the presets from the older one.

But today is not that day. Today I just plugged in the .cpt Photo Paint file and edited it to add the golden-colored effect on those letters. That was all this rough needed for me to kick it to one side and get on with thinking about the next one.

Anyway, for those interested in materials: the hand and the doorway were created using Daz Studio. The blue fire is stock art. (I do have a very nice app called Flame Painter, from Escape Motions, but I'm not yet expert enough with it to use it much in cover work.) The basic (parent) font is Cinzel, as I mentioned: both Cinzel Bold and Cinzel Decorative Bold variants are used in this cover.

There are still a number of things that can use some tweaking in this one, but as I said, this is a rough. Over the next week or so I'll get around to the other two in this set, and get a better sense whether this whole idea is workable—as if the style doesn't work well across all three covers in the trilogy, it's useless.

And now I'm going to go make some oatcakes, as @petermorwood someone seems to have eaten all the ones I made last week. :)

(cc: @mutantenfisch: Links to the print copies at Amazon are over here, if you don't feel like waiting for the new covers...)

#Middle Kingdoms #Middle Kingdoms meta #The Door Into Fire #cover design #tag to make finding these easier: #MK Mk 5 covers

[kydrogendragon]

Forehead Kisses

Requested by @introvertbibliophile!! This was a cute and wholesome one to write, so we'll end our day of Birthday Prompts with this!! Thank you and thank everyone for all the requests! It was fun to have something like this to work on and I can't wait to see how y'all enjoy them!

Relationship: Hob/Dream Words: 2233 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

The room inside was dark. The curtains were pulled over the windows, blocking out the sunlight. The only light within was from the bright screen of Morpheus's laptop. Hob leaned against the door frame, watching his husband kill his back from his gremlin seating posture. His legs are tucked underneath himself, his spine curved in a way he knows the chiropractor would have a hernia over. He glared down at the word document in front of him, his hand swiping across the keyboard in such speed that it hurt Hob's fingers just to look at.

He stood there, listening to the furious clacking of keys for a moment before making his way over to the desk. His sock-clad feet were silent over the hardwood floors as he approached. Morpheus hasn't even so much as twitched by the time Hob was standing just off to his side. 

He wasn't surprised.  Morpheus had a tendency to get invested in his work. When he was truly in the zone, he describe it and everything else fading away.  He couldn't hear or see anything beyond the words on the page and the story unraveling in his head.

Hob turned, looking over at the once clean desk that housed Morpheus's work. He claimed that for planning, having physical papers to move and manipulate were better. It made the area much more cluttered, however. Beside stacks of papers, sticky notes, and sketches, dishes and mugs were scattered within.  Hob shook his head gently and grabbed the dirty dishes, leaving the coffee cup from this morning (he still doesn't understand how his husband can tolerate cold coffee) and the water bottle covered in stickers from their travels.

It was only when Hob stretched his arm across the screen of his laptop to fetch the remaining glass that Morpheus finally looked up from his work. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dark environment. "Hello, Hob," he says, that gentle smile on his face as he leans his head into Hob's soft belly. 

Hob chuckles and leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of Morpheus's inky black hair. "Hullo, Love. Just grabbing dishes, don't mind me." He shuffles the glasses and dishes in his hold to make room for the extra mug. "Dinner's on. Should be ready in an hour. Sound good?"

Morpheus hums, pressing his nose into the soft cashmere sweater. "Sounds excellent. What are we having?" His voice is rough from disuse. Hob's not sure when he last heard his husband speak save early this morning. He had barely left his room today. The first draft of his next book was due soon and his husband, ever the perfectionist, was determined to get it right.

"Beef stroganoff and carrots. Figured that'd be a safe choice for you." 

"It is. Thank you, husband mine. I will see you in the hour." Hob chuckles as Morpheus leans back into his usual writing position.

"Can't convince you to take a break early and join me in the kitchen in the meantime?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

To Morpheus's credit, his hands twitch and don't immediately start tapping again.

"I-" His husband starts, his eyes flickering between the screen and Hob's face. "Perhaps, once i finish this chapter, I could join you early. But..."

Hob waves away his concern with a smile. "Don't even sweat it, my love. Just focus on your writing. I'll see you for dinner." He presses one final kiss to the top of his head before heading out of his husband's office, closing the door behind him.

It's only after dinner has finished cooking and the tiny colony of dishes and mugs are cleaned (some soaking from the multiple day old coffee) that Hob knocks on the office door once more.

Morpheus hasn't moved in the hour, though the laptop has been tilted to the side and one of his notebooks rests off to the right. Clearly, he'd either been referencing something or he'd been adding to his never ending collection of notes. Hob walks up and rests his palms over each of Morpheus's shoulders and presses in. He kneads into the tense muscle and bony shoulders causing his husband to moan, his hands freezing in place. Hob chuckles to himself as he leans forward to press a kiss to his temple.

"Hey Dove, dinner's ready." He mumbles against the silk soft skin just below his hairline. Morpheus hums, leaning into his touch. His hands fall from the keyboard and into his lap. Hob smiles against his skin and continues his gentle massage, thumbs swiping up and down the back of his neck. His husband groans, pushing back against his touch. He'll have to set this man down for a proper massage soon. Maybe after dinner. He was far too tense after such long sprints of writing this last week.

They stay there, relaxing in the moment, when Hob sighs and gives Morpheus's shoulder a final pat. "Come on, let's get some food in you, yeah?" 

With a resigned, Morpheus leans forward and slides out of his seat. Even from here, Hob can hear the cracking and creaking of his bones. Yup, definitely doing a massage after dinner. Maybe a nice hot bath too, if he can pull Morpheus away from work long enough.

Hob holds out his hand which his husband takes eagerly. With a smile, he leads the pair of them out of the dark office and into the comfortably dimmed dining room. He's learned over the years that when Morpheus goes through spurts like this and he's spend too long being a cave creature in his dungeon, the soft light is acceptable. Morpheus takes a seat and Hob leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, then nose and cheeks which earns him a nose scrunch that he loves so much, and finally to his lips. Morpheus hums against him. 

"Thank you for dinner, husband mine," Morpheus whispered against.

"Always, love."

Hob takes his seat and gazes lovingly over his water glass at the man he has the privilege of calling his. 

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #Kydrogen's Birthday Prompts

[corvus--rex]

Lance and Keith started dating early in high school, even before Keith came out and started his transition, and it's now just after college and they're engaged. They've been with Lance's family for the day, Sylvio and Nadia included.

The kids are 6 and 4 and have known Keith literally their entire lives. They were too young during various stages to understand what was going on, but they both know Keith's trans.

Needing a break, Keith is curled up against Lance in the living room, while Sylvio and Nadia are sprawled on the floor with a book each. Nadia's only just learning to read, but she already loves books. She's turning the pages, mostly looking at the pictures, when she looks up, interrupting Keith and Lance's quiet conversation.

"Tío Keef, why aren't there families in my stories like ours?"

It's been about 15 years since he's read a kids' book and doesn't understand where's she's going with this. "What do you mean, munchkin?"

Nadia puts her book down, turning to face him in all the seriousness a 4 year old can muster. "They all have a mami and a papi, but not - not -" her face scrunches as she tries to find the right word.

She doesn't need to find the right word, the realization of what she's asking hits him at full force. He sits up, leaning forward to meet her eyes. "You wanna know why there isn't anyone like me?"

She nods. "It's not fair."

It's an innocent question, but she asked it with such naive sincerity, genuinely upset that she didn't see her own family in her favorite books. It gave Keith an idea. He had a new sketchbook in the backseat of his car, a very recent art degree, and the few creative writing classes he'd taken.

Nadia's books didn't have her family in their pages, but maybe they could.

"Y'know what? I'll be right back."

He ran out to his car and back with the sketchbook, plus the mechanical pencil and ballpoint pen from his bag, and sat down on the floor with her, meeting Lance's confused look asking what the hell he was doing with one that said "trust me".

"Ok, munchkin," he said to Nadia, "If your stories don't have our family in them, how about we make a new story?"

Nadia's face lit up. "We can make a new one? With our kind of family in it?"

"We can, but I'll need your help."

Sylvio was pretending to read his own book, but Lance could see him listening in and sneaking looks at the rough sketches. That didn't last long, the book quickly forgotten in favor of throwing out wilder and wilder ideas for the story with Keith gently reeling him in. Sylvio was not one to be reeled in, and Lance soon joined them on the floor to help wrangle the kids' enthusiasm. They stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, neither one wanting to leave when their parents came to tell them it was time to go. They only stopped fighting it when Keith promised them they'd work on the story again.

He kept that promise, taking the kids out every few weeks, showing them what he'd done in between when he had time, and them continuing the story and illustrations.

After it was finished, he left it for a while, not forgotten, but resting. Eventually, he pulled the illustrations and their companion sheets of text from the shoebox-like storage box he'd gotten just for this, matching art to words.

Lance came home from work to their apartment that evening to find Keith on the living room floor, bristol board and printer paper in an organized chaos around him.

"Think it's really done?" Lance asked.

Keith sighed and leaned back against the sofa. There was one thing about the book he hadn't told anyone yet, but after the email he'd gotten earlier in the day, he finally could.

"Yeah I do." He paused and looked up, a little bit guilty, but mostly trying to contain excitement. "I found a publisher for it. They're a queer-owned company. I actually sent it off about a month ago and I finally heard back today. They love it."

It had started as a picture book, but evolved since then into something a little bigger. Nadia wanted cats - all different colors, and not little kitties, no she wanted lions. And the lions had to have knights to ride on them. Sylvio was the one to insist on a princess and that she had to be their honorary Tía Allura. Gradually, all of the knights and princess ended up based on people the kids knew, Keith and Lance included. It made sense and Keith loved it and the idea of family including the one you make for yourself.

When it came time for a name for this story of found family and adventures, Sylvio yelled "Defenders of the UNIVERSE!" at the top of his lungs in the middle of the park. Nadia had been taking a break from the playground, sitting next to Keith with her coloring pad. She'd drawn the lions from their story, facing out in a vaguely star shape, their tails meeting in the middle.

Keith asked for her opinion on a story name and also what she was drawing and without looking up from her coloring, she said "Its name is Voltron."

Keith put the two together, and when the book was published, its cover was the lions Nadia had drawn that day, only by Keith's hand this time, framed on top and bottom by the book's name: Defenders of The Universe, a Voltron story.

No one had seen the dedication, not until Keith got the advance copies, giving one each to Sylvio and Nadia in the same living room the story had started in. Nadia climbed into Keith's lap with it, Sylvio squeezing himself in between Keith and Lance on the sofa.

Looking over Sylvio's shoulder, Lance read it aloud.

"For Sylvio and Nadia, the original Defenders, this book wouldn't exist without you. Don't stop reading or dreaming."

#my writing #love Keith being good with kids #trans keith #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld keith #vld lance #keith x lance #klance #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender

[multistanisms]

Soft Notes & Gentle Shades | Shadowhunters

FANDOM: Shadowhunters

PAIRING: Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane

WORD COUNT: 1246

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A

SUMMARY: Living together has brought some complicated feelings for young artist Magnus and vocal prodigy Alec. The moments where they can sneak loving looks are some of the most treasured.

☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑

Being roommates with a music major wasn’t as terrifying as Magnus had originally suspected. Alec’s preferred instrument was an acoustic guitar, thank Nyx, and more often than not, Magnus found himself listening quietly to the lilt of Alec’s voice as he practiced the assigned music or worked on covers for his hobby posting covers on youtube. Sometimes he would just sit and watch, enjoying the way the slightly younger male got into the music. It was beautiful and inspiring. Magnus would never forget the first time he picked up a charcoal pencil and began rough sketching Alec leaning back on their couch, fingers strumming as he taught himself “Thinking Out Loud”. Drawing Alec was something Magnus did to try and keep his feelings for his roommate and friend in check. Today had been rough, professor Fairchild critiquing works meant to be reminiscent of Van Gogh and only a handful of his classmates got a decent amount of praise. Magnus himself had gotten a fair bit of it, but he hadn’t been satisfied with his work, and he had admitted as such. Professor Fairchild - his favorite of the art teachers he’d had - had smiled as she patted his shoulder and explained that it was okay to not like every work he created.

“Sometimes things didn’t fit our usual style, Magnus. It’s okay to not feel complete when we try something new for the first time.”

Magnus had smiled and offered to let her keep his painting, since he didn’t feel he would do anything with it. The lovely woman had agreed and before he’d left, he had helped her hang it next to the vast window near her desk - the forest creek beautiful, but to Magnus not complete. So he’d walked back to the dorm room and gone to put his things in his room, waving at Alec as he passed the other on the couch, smiling back when the blue eyed man smiled and waved as he held his guitar. He set his bag in his room and grabbed his homework, going to the other couch and opening his textbook to read about the Rococo period with Alec's voice in the background. After finishing the needed chapter and filling several pages in his notebook with notes for the next day, he stopped to get a snack from the kitchen, pausing as he actually began listening to the song Alec was singing. Why was his roommate so damn beautiful? It should be illegal and to top it off, Alec was so talented it was unreal. Magnus was in awe as he watched Alec, the other so lost in the music that he didn’t notice Magnus staring for a long moment. Dark eyes closed and Magnus had to shake himself as he moved back to his spot, pulling his sketchbook from the pile of stuff on the coffee table between them, pulling out one of his finer pencils and glancing up as he began to draw his roommate.

Alec wasn’t sure how to respond when he finished the practice of the cover he was working on to find Magnus drawing on a sketchpad. “Mags?” The nickname pulled Magnus from whatever he’d been working on, and he smiled, dark eyes so loving Alec melted inside. Why was Magnus always so perfect? But after a moment he figured he should say something, so he opened his mouth. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just...I heard you singing and it just kind of...sparked something. I needed to draw it.” Magnus replied, eyes going back to the page and smudging something the lightest bit.

“What is it?”

The artist shrugged a little. “Nothing major. Just a doodle, really.” he replied, waiting a moment with his lip caught between his teeth. “Will you sing again for me, Alexander?” The inquiry came with a smile and Alec forgot completely that he hadn’t been singing for Magnus, or even to his roommate. But he nodded and moved to make sure his guitar was in tune again, letting the song flow from him as he played.

“Pick up the pen, put it on the paper, Write on my skin, bring me to life. Can’t start again, there ain’t no eraser, All of my flaws, you got them so right.”

He didn’t notice as Magnus twirled his fingers to rotate the pencil before the other went back to work, Magnus shading and drawing without looking.

“Everything is blank until you’ve drawn me. Touching on my body like you know me. Write on me, color outside the lines. Love the way you tear me up, baby take your time. Write on me, give me some wings I’ll fly. Love the way you tear me up, I’ll never change my mind.”

Magnus didn’t need to look up to get the details right. He’d been drawing Alec for almost two years, after all. But it all came to life as he brought the image to life, drawn in by the music. The faintest smile curving Alec’s lips as he sang, the easy way slender fingers moved along the neck of the guitar, even the way the light filtered through raven hair. Magnus smiled as he filled in places and left others empty, the image perfect as he set the pencil down and closed the book, getting up to wash the pencil residue from his hands. “Should I give you some time to film so you can post?” he asked, looking over at Alec from the little kitchen island as he washed his hands off and dried them.

Alec looked up and smiled. “No, I’m not posting this week. The state contest is this weekend, I won’t have the time to edit. Besides, it’s not quite where I want it to be.” he answered, looking up as he put his guitar away. “How’d the critique go?”

“Good, I just didn’t feel like my piece was complete. Professor Fairchild has it in her room now.” he replied, smiling. “She loved that I went with the nature aspect. Most everyone went with self portrait style.”

“I don’t see why you didn’t do the self portrait.”

“I’m not good at drawing myself, Alexander.” Magnus replied, bringing a soda from the fridge over and handing it to Alec. “Are you nervous about the competition?”

“Not as worried as I was. We finally got results, and I was second chair.” came the reply as Alec popped the cap from the soda bottle and took a drink. “I mean, yeah, I’m still practicing, but I’m not as super worried about it like I was last week.”

“You’ll be fine, Alexander. One more patch and trophy, right?” Magnus teased, not missing the blush on Alec’s cheeks as the other bit his lower lip.

“I’m glad you don’t put much emphasis on my singing. That’s all some people see.”

Magnus arched a brow from where he had situated with another textbook. “Alexander, there is so much more to you than people believe. Maybe it’s because I have such a close relationship with you day to day, but I know there’s more to you than that angel’s voice of yours.” He gave an encouraging smile and Alec smiled back and when he looked back to his book, Alec moved to pick up his own textbook and the two fell into comfortable silence. Magnus didn’t comment on the fair blush painted along Alec’s face, and Alec didn’t mention the way Magnus’ eyes had lit as he’d said the words ‘close relationship’.

#College Dorm Series #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfic #Malec #alec x magnus #this is what we call style ✭ queue

[pepperonidk]

Moon River || j.w.w.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!Reader

Summary:  Soulmates can communicate with each other through journals. When one writes or draws in theirs it shows up in the other’s.

Warnings: absolutely none, it’s PURE FLUFF. so sweet you’ll get cavities ;)

Word Count: 1020

A/N: This is one of the first things I had written soo be gentle with this lmao. Very cozy rainy day vibes, grab a warm beverage, put on some good music, and a fuzzy blanket. (btw this is posted on my marvel blog @capwogers)

Hey soulmate, it’s me again. Today was a great day, even though it was storming all day. I actually really like stormy weather. Do you? I spent all day in bed and finished reading that book I got last week. I wonder what I should read next. Any recommendations?

xx Stardust

The curly loops and feather-light strokes of her handwriting filled the lines of his journal, as Wonwoo read his soulmate’s entry. Her handwriting had become more than familiar to him. He had seen it develop from the sloppy and shaky scrawls from when they were in kindergarten to the neat and compact letters on the page now. Wonwoo couldn’t help but question the whole soulmate thing. How could you possibly know so much about someone without even knowing something basic like their name? It’s a cruel joke, Wonwoo decided. He and his soulmate had tried before, but their names would not show up on the paper, leaving them to create code names for each other.

 But names weren’t the only thing missing. Wonwoo wondered if his soulmate lived near him. He looked out the window and saw the overcast sky, full of dark clouds. If she lived nearby maybe it was possible he’d seen her before. He tried to imagine what she might look like, the slope of her nose, the curves of her lips, the hybrid of colors in her eyes, all the details that could never be described properly with words. Wonwoo was a hopeless romantic and couldn’t help it when his heart sank at the realization that he just doesn’t know. He had always wanted to draw her, and every time he tried to do so in the journal, she would tell him that his sketch was lovely, but he knew he wasn’t drawing her.

Darling, I wonder a lot about where you are. It’s storming here too, so maybe you’re not that far away. I guess I do like stormy weather too, the thunder is oddly relaxing. And you finished it already? You definitely deserve an award, that dedication is unbeatable. As for recommendations, I hear Kafka’s got some interesting work, depending on how you feel about bugs. Today was kind of rough for me, but it’s alright. I’ll take it easy tonight.

Talk soon, Moon River

Wonwoo filled in the next few lines after hers, and signed his code name in his extravagant cursive. Both of their nicknames were references to their favorite songs. Wonwoo had an old soul, and it was evident in his taste in music. He would often let her know when he had found a new old song for her to listen to. Although her taste in music was a lot more current, she always enjoyed hearing Wonwoo's music as she felt it brought her a lot closer to him. 

Shutting the cover of his journal, Wonwoo thought about his plans for the rest of the evening. It had been a particularly stressful day at practice, as it always was when the boys disagreed on anything, and he really did not want to sit alone with his thoughts in his apartment. So he grabbed his umbrella and his journal and made his way to his favorite cafe. The rain had lightened up outside, slowing down to a light drizzle and made his walk down the few blocks all the more peaceful. He took in his surroundings, trying to memorize the details of the signs of life around him so he could draw it all out on paper.

Now inside the cafe, Wonwoo was relieved to see that it was not so full. He didn’t want to be alone in his apartment, but he also didn’t want to be alone in a room saturated with people. He ordered his coffee and sat down at a table by the window. Outside he had a clear view of the small bookstore across the street and people scurrying as the rain started coming down stronger. He pulled out his journal and began to draw underneath his entry a sketch of the scene outside. With his headphones in, Wonwoo didn’t realize how much time had passed until he noticed his soulmate had written underneath his drawing.

You’re missing something.

xx

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at the writing, and directed his confusion at his drawing. What was he missing? He turned his head to look back at the bookstore. There were the shelves of books, somehow still dry under the awning, which was a shade of green darker in some spots because of the rain, the paintings of white daisies on the window, almost faded out now, and the bench in front of it where a girl sat with a book in front of her. Had she been there this whole time? How did he forget to include her?

Directing his attention back to the sketch, he began to draw her in, not bothering to look back up in fear she might notice him staring at her. Her figure quickly came into being on his replica of the flower shop when he noticed another line of writing appear on the lines.

Those are hearts on the rain boots, not polka dots.

xx

Confident that he saw polka dots, he looked up just in time for him to make eye contact with the girl on the bench. His first thought was simply that she was pretty. His second thought was one of panic and fear that she might think he was creepy for staring at her. His third thought was when he put two and two together and realized he was staring at her. At that point he stopped thinking, dropped his pencil and ran out of the cafe.

 Wonwoo practically ran to her, but came to an abrupt stop a few feet in front of her. She stood up from her seat in the bench and smiled at the incredulous expression etched on Wonwoo's face. “It’s about damn time,” she laughed.

Still shocked, it took Wonwoo a few seconds before he finally replied, “I’m Wonwoo,” he stuttered out breathlessly. “And you’re my soulmate.”

#seventeen #jeon wonwoo #seventeen x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #kpop fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt imagines #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo scenarios #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo imagines #svt #svt fluff

[koocycle]

as you were | jungkook one shot

↳ synopsis. He was only two months into knowing you, yet he already loved and cherished you like no one had done before. But now you’re gone, and you brutally left him nothing behind besides a story with missing puzzle pieces and a set of questions.

pairing. architect! jungkook x fem reader

word count. 4.6k

au + genre. summer! au, semi-exes! au, angst, fluff.

warnings. none

author’s note. being on a writing hiatus for more than a year now, you’d think this was planned to make a come back. (jokes on you and me both), but i actually wrote this rough draft half a year ago and never pushed myself to finish it. struggled with it, could cry over it, same old same old when it comes to me and writing. i’ve decided to get my ass out there and post one of my hundred, rotten and forgotten drafts!!

also why i want to thank @latetaektalk for being SO patient with me as she keeps pushing me (in the most unfriendliest ways) to keep it going!! linh who’s been reading every draft (and each version of every draft, if yk what i mean), from hundreds of different aus. MUCH much thanks!!

while i’m working on bigger things that bring me more joy while writing, i want to show my face out here before i hide in my docs again, and until i dare to peek out again with something new and better, i’d love to read what you think!

this is based off the netflix series ‘lovestruck in the city’.

Jungkook was eager to unravel your every secret.

Without much doubt, both parties knew that you’ve gotten him hooked around your finger from the moment he laid his eyes on you. And you knew there was not much that could go wrong; it never mattered to him how mischievous or how harmless your secrets could possibly be, to what limit his imagination dared to sketch the images you never showed him. Never has he cared about the weight they could hold on to, about the depth that only seemed to increase the longer he thought about all the things you could be hiding from him. You drove him insane like nobody had ever done before. There were no restrictions when it came to you and him, never did he even dare himself to think about setting boundaries. Like a love-sick campus boy, Jungkook was only longing to learn more about you. Over his dead body that he was ever losing you like a damned fool would.

‘‘I think what I’m trying to say is that… it’s probably better for us to pretend last summer never happened.’’

Jungkook’s phone screen falls black in his hand when the voicemail goes quiet once more, coming to an abrupt ending that has his office go mute. His fingers travel through his dark locks ever so gently, like they aren’t filled with rage. His body grows tense in his office chair, no tears hanging on for dear’s life in the corners of his eyes this time around. Maybe they were there the first few times he listened to the 30-second audio eight months ago, maybe the tears were shamelessly streaming down his cheeks back then. Yet today, his sadness is replaced with fury, and it’s everything he can’t handle.

Jungkook doesn’t want to go home just yet. The sky above his workplace paints a hideous, jet black shade and the inside of the building is gloomy and tragic at this hour of the day. The place looks a bit unfortunate without the presence of his colleagues around here, but it’s not enough reason to bring himself home. He’d tell you the cheap prosecco he just poured in his coffee cup is what keeps him at the office this late, just like how he’d tell you he’s used to heavier liquids other than the bubbled wine he buys at local night shops. Yet his eyes are starting to get heavy, and there’s no point in lying when you were the person who knew him best.

Your voice doesn’t even sound the same in the message. The merry tone that always colored your words was not there when you told him to forget about you—again, over a voice message. An action so impersonal, so distant and so foolish, like it was easy for you to forget about him, expecting him to do the same thing with a snap of his fingers. And maybe it was him who was the foolish one for not expecting you to be capable of such cruelty.

‘‘You remember my phone number, right?’’ Is what he asked the final time he was able to hold you, beams of sweat dripping down his forehead with the way the sun fell down his skin.

Worried, massive eyes met yours for the nth time that day.

‘‘Yes, Jungkook.’’ You grinned at him, eyes twinkling the longer you watched him in his troubled state. ‘‘You only made me repeat it a hundred times. I’ll probably forget it the second you’re gone.’’

His smile was unbeatable. ‘‘You’re cheeky.’’ His fingers nipped at your cheeks, ‘‘what if you forget?’’

‘‘I won’t.’’

He sent you a knowing glare. ‘‘What will you do if you do?’’

Merely to satisfy him, your hands scurried inside your shoulder bag to find what he was wishing to see. In a rather clumsy manner, you pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, fingers hurrying to open it. ‘‘Then I got this.’’

His teeth showed. ‘‘That’s my girl.’’ It only took another look into your eyes before he felt secured again, arms falling atop your shoulders to pull you closer to him. His chest was firm as your head rested against him, the assuring hand on the back of your head not dismissed. ‘‘I told you to get yourself a phone. Would’ve made this so much easier.’’

‘‘I told you I’ll be getting one as soon as I get back home.’’ You had told him. ‘‘You’ll miss your flight if we’re getting into this now.’’

‘‘You say that as if that’s a bad thing.’’

‘’You’re lame.’’ Your eyes shot up to meet his, the arms you had wrapped around his waist tightening when they did. ‘‘You should go before you actually miss it, though.’’

He took another moment to take your features in, eyes scanning over every possible detail he could find so he could safely hide them in a memory box up his head. That, for what he thought would be for the time being.

‘‘Kiss me first?’’

Jungkook was a dork, you should’ve seen it coming, yet the taken aback looking smile that made your lips curve was there all the same. You reached up as you stood on your tippy toes, a chuckle leaving both you and him before you were able to press your lips against his. ‘‘I’ll miss this.’’

‘‘No need to.’’ He grinned down at you. ‘‘Do you remember our meeting spot?’’

Your eyes flickered back to his lips. ‘‘Of course I do.’’

‘‘When, baby?’’

You studied him. ‘‘The final Saturday of the month.’’ You cooed, meeting his gaze again and a hand reaching up to rest on his chest so you could gently push him away. ‘‘Now go. I’m not joking.’’

‘‘Whatever you want’’

With a silly, boyish grin on his face, he gripped on to the suitcases on his side. A firm grip on them in the hopes they’d increase his will to leave you. And barely later, when he was only a few steps ahead of you, Jeon Jungkook turned back around to shower you with a dozen of pecks, not without muttering a quick but ensured ‘‘I’ll see you soon.’’ after, of course.

The cup of prosecco in his grip feels heavier than ever before now. He should’ve known you were not one to keep a promise.

Jungkook is in a mourning state the day after. Ever since the clock hit 9 AM as he’s cleared his office; throwing unnecessary papers, floor plans and blueprints out of the way, his mind still doesn’t stay on track. The ongoing design that’s displayed on his computer screen stares back at him in a mocking manner and if it wasn’t for the way Jung Hoseok is keeping an eye out on him just outside his office, he’d be losing himself in another bottle of wine by now. He could always close his blinds, a little voice in the back of his head has been challenging him, but Jungkook knows that it’s only a matter of time before the office’s little mouse barges in to give him a lecture about whatever ‘consequences’ he could be going through if he continues now.

And as if proving his exact point not too long after that, it’s exactly Jung Hoseok that titters into the room like it’s him who owns the place.

‘‘Can’t you knock?’’ Jungkook groans when the older man is only a couple steps in, fingertips reaching up to massage his throbbing temples, elbows supporting his position.

‘‘I could if I wanted to,’’ Hoseok sing-songs in response, a disturbing layer of satisfaction coating his voice as he does so. ‘‘But I like the concept of caution. Makes things a little more exciting in here.’’

The younger can only so much roll his eyes at him, swallowing the words that are seated at the tip of his tongue. ‘‘You don’t have to check up on me every hour. I can take care of myself.’’

‘‘Oh, but I know you can. You’re just not doing it.’’ The elder marvels, his voice a tad bit too loud for an already hectic morning like this. He makes himself comfortable in place, diving down Jungkook’s leather sofa with his hands behind his head like it isn’t his first time. ‘‘How is the design going?’’

‘‘Fine, I guess.’’ Jungkook whimpers, palms rubbing his eyes like he just strolled out of bed. His hair looks like something has gone through them a couple times already, and once more, a hand goes up to do exactly that. ‘‘I’m changing it up.’’

‘‘Again?’’ Hoseok asks from his snug position on the couch. ‘‘How long do you want to keep those people waiting for?”

‘‘I wanna give them what they’re paying me for. God damn.’’ He falls back in his chair with a loud huff, fingers crossing over his chest. ‘‘Not some shitty design that’s making me run in circles.’’

‘‘You know you’re not, right?’’ The brunet sits up, tugging his glasses higher up his nose before leaning down to rest his arms atop his thighs. ‘‘Come on, what did she do to you, Jeon?’’

She.

It’s not Jung Hoseok’s fault that Jungkook became so fucking delicate. And the younger usually enjoys putting a flat hand on his chest as he swears it’s merely a phase he has to go through: a phase of heartbreak, a phase of discomfort that takes some more time to heal. It’s easy for people like Jung Hoseok to walk in here and pretend like everything is fine. People like Jung Hoseok who got their lives figured out with the people they love. It’s an easy job for them to talk out loud, and it’s peak arrogance if Jungkook were one to speak.

‘‘Don’t talk about her.’’

‘‘Obviously, it seems like I’ve got to when you’re not doing what those people pay you for. All fingers point her way, Jungkook.’’ Hoseok hisses, pinched brows pulling together. ‘‘You went on a vacation and met that woman just as fast as she disappeared. You used to finish project after project with ease, people quite literally lined up to see you work in action. Suddenly you come back and lose your drive? As if.’’

‘‘Can you stop? I don’t need you to give me a lecture.’’ Jungkook jeers. ‘‘You don’t know her. The way I get to work these days is on me, I don’t appreciate you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.’’

Hoseok nods with a tightness to it, like he’s holding himself back from spilling words he’ll regret. ‘‘Okay.’’ he mutters quietly, fingers grazing over his denim jeans. ‘‘I just want the best for you, you’re my friend and that woman was no good. It’s for the better if you forget about her.’’

For the better, he said.

Jungkook huffs, fixing his position so half his face hides behind his computer screen. ‘‘You can get out if you came to argue.’’ He doesn’t like the way his voice sounds, but he’s having a hard time toning it down. ‘‘I’ve got work to do.’’

Hoseok doesn’t say anything after that, sensing that silence is the best way to deal with his younger friend for now. Thus he gets up and exits the room without another word, leaving Jungkook and his thoughts to suffer by himself for the time being. It’s not something he enjoys doing, but Jungkook has always been a little stubborn, an individual that needs time for himself to sort his thoughts out. He’ll figure it out by himself sooner or later.

On the other side of the door, Jungkook is unsure what to do with himself as soon as the soft thud is heard from behind Hoseok’s back. The office runs quiet again and Jungkook’s thoughts are the one thing keeping him trapped in his chair, still and timid like the incomplete design isn’t staring back at him in a pleading, discomforting manner. He would love to care, take charge and put a little more effort into it, yet his mind is elsewhere, making it hard for him to keep his head into the game.

That woman was no good, he had said. His chest filled with confidence as he spoke, making sure Jungkook understood every word even though the younger boy would much rather cover his ears. It was a work in progress, Jungkook had been telling himself the past couple of months, but people like Jung Hoseok only seemed to be eager to speed things up.

You can’t be a bad person—Jungkook knows you are not a bad person. Jungkook saw things that others didn’t see, felt things that he knew you felt as well. And even though he had known you for no longer than a brisk two months, he was sure he was ready to examine your every persona that was hidden beneath the flowery, dazzling girl he met at that beach last year. You promised him that much.

‘‘I think we should just dive in!’’ You had exclaimed back then, wet sand creeping between your toes the more you jumped around the place. ‘‘I’m like, so ready to catch some of those waves you’ve been gushing about.’’

‘‘Absolutely not.’’ Jungkook scoffed on your side, the slight curves that tugged on to the edges of his lips betraying his cool character nonetheless. ‘‘We’ve got to go through the basics before we actually get into the water, you know that right?’’

He watched as you threw your head back at him, a loud and exaggerated groan leaving your throat before you locked gazes again, an obvious pout on your lips this time. ‘‘What’s even fun about that,’’ you whined. ‘‘You’re so boring.’’

‘‘Patience, baby.’’ He beamed, two hands curled around each hip from behind with a slight push forward, ever so gentle, of course. ‘‘Now, get on that board for me. I’ll teach you some positions.’’

He knew what was coming when he saw the way your brows shot up. ‘‘Positions…’’ You sang, a teasing edge to it as a silly grin spread on your face.

‘‘Keep on dreaming, doll.’’ He quipped, fingers nipping at your chin and the way he fought his smile back not missed by you. ‘‘Now do as I say before I make you figure it out yourself.’’

You complied with ease after deciding you shouldn’t be the one to give him such a hard time that early into the crisped morning. He noted how you were having a difficult time keeping your lips sealed shut as he kept stepping around the surfboard beneath your feet, knowing he got the upper hand even if it was you who slipped inside his trailer that morning. Ever the sly little fox you were, your feather-light footsteps did nothing to wake him up as you sneaked into his cramped bed—it was nothing compared to the queen-sized bed you hid from him inside your hotel room just a little away from the beach’s area, but you were not planning on telling him as long as you could slip beneath his thinned covers instead.

It wasn’t like Jungkook was giving you a run for your money, either. Even that same night, when you eventually snuggled deeper at his side and let your arms fall all over his body, outside’s chilly air still lingering on your skin as you did so, he didn’t complain one bit. Jungkook slept with his door unlocked for a reason, and he thought it was more than worth it. Not even when you dragged him out of his bus barely an hour later, clumsily tugging his surfboard beneath your free arm on your way to the shore as you begged him to teach you how to surf. His eyes were still puffy and his hair was a hot mess in the middle of the empty beach, pushed out of his face by the many times you had run your fingers through it.

Yet still, he taught you how to surf. Because Jungkook could never say no to you.

‘‘Basically,’’ you had started, feet planted on the wooden material. ‘‘We live together at this point.’’

‘‘Is that so,’’ Jungkook chirped, his question not really a question. ‘‘Spread your arms. Like this,’’ his hands moved from your behind to grip on both of your wrists, spreading them to match the board beneath you.

‘‘Hmm, yeah,’’ your head fell down his shoulder as soon as you felt his chest pressed against your back, hot breath fanning in his neck. ‘‘Don’t you think so? I’ve been sleeping in your trailer for a week now and you haven’t kicked me out once.’’

‘‘I should’ve.’’ He piped, his smile evident in his voice. ‘‘Spread your feet as well.’’

You did as he told you, curving your upper body when you felt his hands guide you. ‘‘You would never,’’ you snapped back at him, a smile fighting its way on your face. ‘‘Could never.’’

‘‘Curve your back and go down your knees a bit. Your posture looks off.’’ Ignoring your previous comment, he knew he couldn’t beat you to it.

‘‘I think I got it now.’’ You started, waving his hands off you before you turned around. ‘‘We should totally get into the water now that we’ve got the place to ourselves.’’

Jungkook was nearly melting in your hands when you brought them up to cup the plush of his cheeks, ushering him a tad bit closer to place a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, another one followed against the corner of his mouth when he didn’t provide you an answer.

Hooded eyes looked down at you instead. ‘‘You’re underestimating how complex of a sport this is, doll.’’ His features fell serious even as his thumb rubbed circles on your hip bone, a small gesture of kindness Jungkook always seemed to carry with him.

‘‘I don’t doubt that at all.’’ You preened, hands playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, ‘‘but I got myself such a great tutor, not much can go wrong.’’

With a pause and another look into your eyes, he couldn’t pass. ‘‘You’re so used to having everything your way, I don’t know how you do it.’’

Correction: Jeon Jungkook knew quite exactly how you did it—it was like you had put a spell on him that’s got him looking like a lovesick fool chasing rainbows. Hence it didn’t surprise him when your fingers intertwined with his own the moment a smile flashed up on his face. With your hand that had looked so much smaller, so much more delicate than his rough ones, he underestimated the power they held when you dragged him forward, heading straight towards the water with his surfboard clutched beneath your arm.

‘‘I told you it seems easier than it actually is.’’

The damp piece of cloth felt hot against your skin the more pressure Jungkook put against it, the shed’s familiar scent of old paint and planed wood reaching your senses as soon as he told you to sit down. ‘‘And I believed you,’’ you chirped, ‘‘but we had fun, right?’’

Jungkook huffed. ‘‘There is no fun in you getting hurt.’’

‘‘Good thing I’m not hurt anywhere.’’ Jungkook crouched down to match your eye level, not offering you a response as he pinched his brows together and gently continued tapping the cloth against the blossoming bruise on your forehead. ‘‘Can you stop worrying that big head of yours? You’re making me nervous.’’

‘‘I make you nervous?’’ He snorted. ‘‘You fell pretty fucking hard, ___.’’

A hint of annoyance coated his voice like you haven’t heard before. The lips that curled inwards gave it away. ‘‘So? I feel fine now.’’

He didn’t say anything at that and continued to focus on the bruised spot above your brow. You took the opportunity to inspect his features as he did so, allowing your head to fall back against the wall on your side as your eyes attempted to pry into his. Silence took over when you waited for him to say something to tame the tension down, but yet again, without much luck on your side.

‘‘Now what, you’ll just ignore me because you don’t believe me?’’

It didn’t take much for him to drop his hand then, thighs supporting his elbows as a hand ran over his face with a huff. ‘‘It’s not that, ___.’’ He refuted, cheeks blown out. ‘‘You’re just so fucking careless, I wish you wouldn’t push your safety aside just because you,’’ he air quoted, ‘‘‘had fun’.’’

The look that swam in your eyes after that was something he had rather not seen; they were a little conflicted, unable to think of words to say next and the silence that ran through was a bit strange for the type of relationship you shared.

‘‘Ah,’’ he groaned, standing up on stretched legs once again. ‘‘Forget about it.’’

You gave yourself a little longer to keep quiet then, watching as Jungkook awkwardly dusted his pants off and casually started to pace around the shed like you wouldn’t notice the way his cheeks colored a pretty pink. His tattooed fingers played with a couple figurines by the window and it took everything in you to keep yourself composed, (for the sake of his own ego).

‘‘It’s okay,’’ you stood up from your seat, the rusted creak obvious to Jungkook’s ears. ‘‘I like listening to what you’ve got to say.’’

His stomach grew warmer the closer you got, and unlike the floor in his camper, where you tried your best to hide every footstep from him, the shed’s unoiled floor gave them all away.

‘‘It wasn’t important.’’ He had said, body visibly relaxing at the feel of your arms that wrapped around his waist, cheek squished against his back like you knew what it did to him.

‘‘Sounded important to me,’’ you replied, voice small as you hugged him tighter. ‘‘Besides, I like it when you get concerned like that—at what? Week three into knowing me?’’ You teased him, knowing he felt the way you looked up at him from behind. ‘‘When will you be proposing, Jeon? You can’t keep me on my toes forever.’’

‘‘Please,’’ He prattled, no way you couldn’t sense his smile. ‘‘Like you’d say yes.’’

You hummed, the vibrations running through his skin. ‘‘You don’t know unless you try.’’

It didn’t surprise you when he turned back around with a toothy grin on his face. ‘‘Alright, you little tease,’’ he cooed. ‘‘Show me that huge bulge on your forehead.’’

You slapped his chest. ‘‘It’s not huge!’’

‘‘Hm, sure.’’ He mumbled, thumb softly stroking against your forehead. ‘‘It’s massive. Can’t keep my eyes off it.’’

You crossed your arms, muttering a quiet ‘‘jerk,’’ underneath your breath but swallowed the rest of your complaints when his hands cupped the sides of your face, fingertips tugging strands of hair behind your ears as his eyes flickered down your lips. He didn’t ask for permission this time, feeling like it was the right thing to do when your mouths molded together, his fingers resting at the back of your neck as his thumb caressed your cheeks, lips guiding you for better access. Jungkook’s hands slipped lower down your back and rested in place before he pushed you closer to stand chest to chest.

A look of uncertainty painted his face when you broke the kiss, ‘‘You haven’t brought me here before.’’ your arms still embraced him but your curious cat eyes scanned your surroundings. ‘‘Is this where you hide from me?’’

He snickered. ‘‘Can’t hide from you, doll.’’

Jungkook leaned down to press another longing kiss on your lips again but you moved away, resulting in him kissing your jaw instead. ‘‘Are those yours?’’

‘‘Mhm.’’ He hummed, nose pressing against your skin as he inhaled your sweet fragrance.

‘‘You’re not even looking!’’

The heavy man in your arms didn’t bother to lift his head from the comfortable spot on your shoulder this time, the small, wet pecks he left in the crook of your neck not coming to a nearing end, either. ‘‘I don’t have to look. Everything in here is mine.’’

‘‘You’ve got to be kidding.’’ You struggled yourself out of his arms when your eyes fell on something in the distance, moving past him to reach out for it. Jungkook followed after you with a long huff, arms limply falling next to his frame. ‘‘These are yours?’’

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, but your excited voice made up for it. ‘‘Yeah,’’ he grinned. ‘‘You like them?’’

‘‘Do I like them?’’ Your eyes bulged out of your head, a camera in each hand that you came to admire. ‘‘I love them Kook, what…’’

‘‘Careful with them, baby.’’ He quickly reached out for them just in case anything went wrong, one hand on your hip as the other went to the heavier device. ‘‘They’re fragile.’’

Heartening eyes met his, yours filled with curiosity. ‘‘Can you teach me how to work with them?’’

And there you went doing that again; eyes growing until they couldn’t increase any more, corners of your lips that were unable to stay into a straight line due to the excitement that became visible feature by feature. And yes, Jungkook fell for it, once again.

‘‘Again,’’ he began, wanting to tease you a bit further. ‘‘It’s not the easiest hobby out there.’’

He watched as you rolled your eyes to the back of your head. ‘‘We get it, you’re a genius. But I’ve got to start somewhere, no?’’ You gauged, fingers playing with the buttons before you looked through the viewfinder. ‘‘How hard can it be to shoot a couple pictures?’’

Jungkook studied the way you pinched one eye to a close, how your nose scrunched and lips pursed. ‘‘There’s a lot you need to keep in mind while doing so,’’ he dared to wrap his arms around your waist again, nice and warm as he placed his chin on your shoulder. ‘‘Where is all this curiosity coming from anyway? First the surfing, now the cameras…’’

‘‘Hm, can’t I be curious?’’ You smiled, loving the way his breath fanned your throat. ‘‘You’re an architect that surfs and photographs? Something is not clicking.’’

He listened to your mumbles, the teasing tone not dismissed. ‘‘Are you doubting my skills now?’’ He jabbered, ‘‘Come on baby, can’t deny that I was pretty impressive out there. Don’t think I didn’t see you drooling all over me.’’

‘‘Of course, Kook.’’ You hummed, a pretty smile on your face. ‘‘My boyfriend is pretty impressive.’’

The larger man grew still against you for a moment, progressing your words first. ‘‘Boyfriend…’’ he muttered, arms growing tighter around you as his fingers intertwined. ‘‘I like the way you say that.’’

‘‘Do you?’’

‘‘Hm, yes.’’ He pretended to think, trying to hide his beam in the dark spot of your neck. ‘‘Say it again?’’

You put the camera away. ‘‘Say what again?’’ You quipped, turning around to face him and wrap your arms around his neck. ‘‘Boyfriend?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ he groaned, squinting his eyes. ‘‘Feels good.’’

It did feel good.

© koocycle 2022

#jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts #bts au #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #bts x you #bangtan

[forever-rogue]

The Painting

AN | There is absolutely no reason for this except I saw some vague prompt somewhere about two individuals meeting in a museum while looking at a portrait of people who exactly like them. I couldn’t get the idea or the Thief out of my head so here we are! Part soulmate au, part sugary sweet fluff, but all softness! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | The Thief x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | PP Characters, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taking the chance and moving to Italy to finish your studies had been both the easiest and hardest decision of your life. The opportunity to live in the birthplace of the renaissance seemed like a dream; but having to leave behind all of your friends and family had been rough. But in the end, as you traveled throughout Europe and had the opportunity to see some of the most beautiful sights in the world, you’d decided that it was worth it. Nothing could compare to the experiences you were having, the art you were able to see and study in real life instead of through books and pictures. 

You loved getting to walk through hallowed halls filled with both beautiful artwork and centuries of history. There seemed to be a new place to explore every weekend and you often let yourself go wherever the day took you. But there was one feeling you could never quite seem to shake. The feeling that something was missing…like a piece of you wasn't quite there. And no matter how many adventures or wonderful things you got to do, that hole in your heart never seemed to be filled. But that was a matter for a different day.

This particular afternoon found you wandering through the halls of the Uffizi Gallery. You’d been here many times before, spending hours walking around and taking it all in, working on your own sketches from all the inspiration around you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was quiet today, the mid-spring rain seeming to keep most people inside or occupied elsewhere, which left you as one of the few stragglers inside. Your sketchpad was clutched tightly against your chest as you made your way upstairs to one of your favorite spots. It was in the back of the gallery and often quiet. The bench in front of your favorite painting was empty so you quietly slid into it, setting your things down before giving the painting a cursory once over. It was only then that you noticed that the painting that normally hung there was gone. The replacement was one you’d never seen before, not online or in books or texts. 

Your breath caught in your throat in a flurry of excitement as you stood up to examine it. At first glance it appeared to be in the vain of Botticelli or Caravaggio, but it had a certain distinct quality to it that you couldn’t quite place. There wasn’t a signature to be found, nor had there been any announcement about any new artwork. How very curious. 

You got as close to it as possible without setting off any of the alarms, taking in the brushwork and color choices in an attempt to see if you could discover the artist. It was some time before you stepped back to take in the composition and subject. The portrait was of a man, shielding and protecting a woman from something off canvas. You wondered what it could have been, what could have prompted the artist to want to capture this particular moment. The man in the painting was handsome; you could see that he was the essence of beauty with dark curls that framed his face and a strong jaw and nose. There was something unique about him, but at the same time you felt like you had seen him before; like you knew him despite the fact that whoever the inspiration was had likely been dead for centuries. 

It was the woman that you noticed only after a thorough study of the gallant man clearly portrayed as a hero. She was beautiful, stylized with a light glow behind her as she gazed upon the man with a serene expression. It wasn’t until you really took a close look that you realized…she looked a lot like you. Or perhaps you looked like her. She had extremely similar if not the same features as you from your nose to your eyes and lips, the same hair only differently styled. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were looking at a portrait of yourself. One that had been created hundreds of years ago. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you hadn’t even heard anyone come up or approach, and you jumped back in surprise, almost falling over your own feet. Once you steadied yourself, your heart beating wildly, you looked at the stranger that had suddenly made their appearance, “I didn’t mean to scare you! I thought you heard me coming.”

“N-no,” your response was a nervous stammer, “I guess I was too caught up in looking at the painting.”

“I can understand why…it’s a remarkable painting,” it was only now that you took a proper look at him. You were caught off guard for the second time since he’d appeared, but this time it was by his beauty. His was handsome, in a roguish type of way, with a head full of thick dark curls, soft but deep eyes, dark but patchy facial hair flecked with grays, and a strong nose and jaw, He was impeccably dressed in a suit that must have been tailored for him; way better looking than anyone had the right to be and completely out of place in the quiet gallery. You look down at yourself and immediately felt underdressed in your simple jeans and sweater. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, offering him a small smile and wondering if he could sense everything you were thinking and feeling. You reached for your bag and sketchbook, ready to make a hasty escape to try and process the sudden onslaught of emotions. How could they be this strong about a stranger? None of it made sense, “I-I should get going.”

“Why did it capture your attention?” it was like he had reached out and taken hold of your arm to stop you. But in reality he had only asked the question as you attempted to rush past him. You turned back to him with an eyebrow raised, “this particular piece has captured your fancy. Why?”

For whatever reason, you felt compelled to walk back to him, standing to where your shoulder was almost brushing him. You could smell the light but undoubtedly expensive cologne he was wearing, and it made you want to bury your face in his neck and breathe him in. You shook your head to get yourself out of this silly daydream little fantasy, “I’ve never seen this painting before…I study art, especially medieval and renaissance art and I’ve never come across it. It’s unique - the composition, the brushwork, all of it. I was looking for the artist’s name but couldn’t find it. Whoever they were, they must have been educated or at least heavily inspired by Botticelli or someone like him.”

“It’s anonymous,” he stated simply as your eyebrows raised in surprise, “the artist was never identified and we’ll never know if they’ve done any other work. Which leaves us with only this piece."

“How did you…know that?” handsome and mysterious? He had your attention to say the least, “I haven't seen anything announced about the painting at all.”

“That’s because it used to be my personal collection,” it was a revelation that left you floored. With that knowledge, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps it was a recently created painting paired with some made up folklore and sold for money. But no…this painting was undoubtedly old and the Uffizi would never bring just any painting into their gallery, “I thought it was time to share it with the world. Even if just for now.”

“That’s…extremely generous,” you smiled at him, “how does one happen to come into possession of potentially priceless art?”

“There is always a way,” he played it off with a small smile, not completely dodging your question but also not answering it, “I’ve been waiting for the day…”

He trailed off as he studied you intently, causing you to want to squirm and want to melt into the floor. Instead, his large hands gently found your shoulders and he moved you to stand in front of him. You could feel his breath tickling your neck as you tried to keep it together. His hands delicately skimmed down your arms before he stopped at your wrists, brushing your fingers with his before they settled on your waist. A small little moan escaped your lips and you were already too far gone to realize that you were standing here with a virtual stranger where anyone could walk up. 

“What do you see?” his voice was low and velvety smooth in your ear, and it was only then that you realized you’d closed your eyes. You looked the painting over, taking it all in just as you had when you’d first laid eyes on it. Your breath caught in a small gasp as you realized what he was trying to get at. You felt him push your hair to the side before he dragged his nose against your neck, stopping with his lips at your pulse point, “tell me.”

“I-it’s you,” your voice was a small whisper as you realized that it was him in the painting. Maybe it was just…someone long gone that had shared an uncanny resemblance with him. But…no. That was him; it was clear as day now, “the man in the painting is you.”

“Yes,” suddenly you wanted to feel his lips all over his body, to hear him speak the most innocent and sinful of words for just you to hear, “what else?”

“The woman…she’s…me,” you concluded softly, his hum vibrating in his chest, “I don’t understand…how?”

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” he whispered before delicately turning you around so you could face him. You flushed with warmth and tried to turn away, but instead he put his finger under chin and kept your gaze trained on him, “I thought I might never find you again.”

“What do you mean?” you leaned into his touch as his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You had questions, but at the same time, you knew that you already had all the answers you could ever need within you, “tell me.”

“I have looked far and wide for you, mi tesoro,” he leaned in, leaving very little space between your bodies. If you leaned in any further, you could kiss him; and that was currently all you wanted to do. Your whole body was practically humming with excited, nervous energy, “I thought I might not find you in this lifetime. To think I might have lost you forever…I couldn’t bear the thought.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” you allowed yourself to touch his face, ghosting your fingers along his jaw, “I…why can’t I remember everything?”

“You could say I had a feeling,” he admitted with a small smile, “and those feelings have been right in the past. I’ve been watching you, waiting for this moment until I couldn’t wait for you any longer.”

“Oh,” you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes and his heart melted, “how long have you been here? In Italy?”

“Some time,” your heart felt content, like it was suddenly at home after searching for so long. You supposed it had; like it had finally found the missing piece, "I waited until I was sure you'd remember me. At first I thought you didn't…"

"I didn't right away…but now," you cradled his face in your hands, "my heart remembers. I've missed you this whole lifetime but didn't know what was missing. It’s been like a big part of my heart was missing until now - until I felt your touch again. It just needed to see you again, amor."

“May I kiss you?” his umber eyes, soft but ever so expressive, searched yours as held himself back. A small, wistful little sound left your lips as you nodded, wanting to feel his lips on yours once again. You closed your eyes as he kissed you - again, finally - after so long. It was a soft, delicate thing, hardly more than what would be considered a chaste kiss rather than one between lovers. You could feel he was testing the waters to make sure you were still okay with it, with him. You pulled him back down to your lips and stole a few more kisses from him, before letting him go, “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t know what I would have done…any lifetime without you would not have been worth living.”

“And now you will not be alone,” you promised, “we have always found each other, through centuries and lives that were not easy or kind to us. I think we’ll always be together in the end. It’s…the memories are there, vague and distant, but they’re coming back to me.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to kiss you until you remember everything,” there he was. That silly, playful man that had your heart for as long as you could remember, for as long as time itself, “you get more and more beautiful all the time. It hardly seems fair that you’re stuck with me.”

“As if you don’t know you are the most handsome man," you carded a hand through his hair, careful not to mess it up, "if there's anyone that my heart has to be bound to, I'm glad it's yours."

He took a step back, his hand still holding yours as he admired you. The familiarity of the gesture reminded you of the countless times he'd done this in the past. It still managed to make you feel like he thought you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. In his eyes, you easily were.

"You've always been a flatterer."

"It's always worked," you reminded him as the corners of his mouth tugged up into a small smile, “how did you know to have them put the painting here now? That I would be here today?”

“When you have known someone through so many lifetimes, it’s not hard to anticipate what they’ll do,” he had leaned in so he was whispering in your ear, causing gooseflesh to break out all over your skin, “I know you better than you could ever know.”

“That’s very romantic of you, mi amor,” you tugged on the fine, soft lapels of his jacket to keep him close, “but I’m pretty sure I know you just as well. I might not remember everything just yet, but I know that much. Just how closely have you been watching without me noticing?”

He laughed at that, a deep hearty laugh that caused his eyes to crinkle in the corners and that one dimple to become more prominent. How you had missed that laugh; your heart felt more than full at hearing it again, “like I said, long enough. I wouldn’t have said or done anything if I wasn’t sure the timing was right.” 

“One more thing,” you held up your hand and he pressed his against yours, his much larger hand dwarfing yours, “how did you find the painting? Wasn’t it…lost at some point?”

“It was…some few centuries ago,” he brought your hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss to each finger, “but like I said, I have my ways.”

“Once a thief, always a thief,” you shook your head in amusement, “but I think whatever heist brought it back to you was worthwhile.”

“That’s I stole your heart as well,” this time it was your turn to laugh, causing him to feel warm and at ease, “don’t deny it, tesoro.”

“You are a fool of a man and always have been,” you worried your bottom lip as he stared at you in what was nothing but pure adoration, “thank you for finding me. I suppose next time it’s my turn.”

“My heart will always find yours,” he promised, “in every lifetime. Will you come home?”

“I already am home,” you teased, “but for all intents and purposes, yes. Of course I will.”

He took a small step back and held out his hand to you, waiting to see if you would take it. As if there ever had been any doubt that you would. You might have enjoyed giving him a hard time, but you would always follow him, as he would follow you. You grabbed your bag and slipped your hand in his, “preciosa.”

“One more thing,” you insisted before he could walk away, “how are you going to get that painting back? I’d like to keep it with us, amor.”

“I can find a way,” he winked as you sighed playfully at him, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always and forever.”

#the thief #the thief x reader #the thief x you #the thief x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #sigh....yeah

[space-writes]

a little thing for wip wednesday, because i finished up Vren's main backstory scenes! they're just rough sketches to flesh out his character, but I think they're neat~

this scene is where he first sees the tally of debt the Zarahmin have on him. He's around 16 here, and has been in Zhirasea for just over a year.

Renegade Prince | Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist @at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting (ask to be +/-)

He knew he shouldn’t have looked, but being alone in Zhira’s office was too much temptation. Back in Maziz, he’d never had the slightest chance of seeing his tally—only the Zahin and his closest sons knew where they were kept. Here in Zhirasea, Vren was surrounded by them. The cabinets that lined the walls weren’t even locked. These weren’t the only copies, of course. Zhira had duplicates made and kept updated—at the expense of those named, naturally—and those were kept in some secret place. So it didn’t matter if you tried to destroy the one in his office; your true debt would always find you. Vren yanked open drawer after drawer, quickly realising they were alphabetical. He raced to the far end, glancing constantly at the door, ears straining to hear Zhira’s returning steps. Pages and pages flicked through his fingers, until there it was. He drew the slim file out with hands that refused to stop shaking. There were three sheets of paper inside, each with a neat tally written upon them. On one side, the item. On the other, the cost. Expenses in red, repayments in black. The price of his entire life, spelled out plain for all to see. The sheets were, at present, entirely red. He hadn’t worked yet, not properly. The handful of excursions for the Maziz family had been tagalongs, not jobs. Vren gnawed at his lip as he read over the totals. Two digits. Three. Four. “I wouldn’t worry over that just yet, sha’bhan.”

Vren jumped, dropping the sheets. Khazen Zhira pushed the door closed with his cane, and strolled to his desk. He did not sit behind it, but rather leaned upon it, tapping the tip of his cane against his sandaled foot.

“It cost that much to bring me here?”

“It is neither a short nor safe road from Jamarda to Zhirasea. Rest easy; we split the cost between you and your friend.” Zhira offered a friendly smile, which did not crease his eyes. “It seemed unfair to charge you both, when you rode with the same caravan.”

Vren swallowed, thickly. Aliyne had a tally in here too, the opposite end of the cabinets to him. He should have checked hers too. It had to be nearly as high as his, and climbing every day just the same. All their training, their food, their clothes, their home—none of it was free. They both knew that.

“Let me start working,” he blurted out. Zhira arched an eyebrow. “Red—Redemption will tell you, I can do it. Let me start paying you back.”

“He’s training you for a very specific and dangerous field, thanks to your trinket. Are you certain you’re ready?”

He couldn’t afford not to be. Vren nodded. Zhira eyed him for a long moment, his cane still tap-tap-tapping the side of his foot. Then at last he nodded.

“Very well. I had summoned you today to discuss such a possibility anyway. As you say, Redemption will tell me you are capable. He has been angling to take you along on a job for a while now.”

“Really?” Red hadn’t mentioned that.

“Truly. Tidy up after yourself, sha’bhan, then come sit with me. If you are to start working for this family, there are a few things we must discuss.”

Hands still shaking, Vren hurried to put his tally back in its proper place. He caught sight of the total on the last page again, and his stomach churned. Red made a few hundred gold on big jobs, or so he said. That was before the Zarahmin took their cut.

As he went and sat and discussed his future with Zhira, Vren knew in his heart that he could work for the rest of his life, and never, not ever, pay the family back.

#c: vren #valloroth blogging #writeblr #snippets #wip wednesday #am writing #wipwednesday #original writing #this is only a rough draft thing but it's an important scene for vren #and also helps me with aliyne because she has a tally waiting for her in Zhirasea too #the tallies exist because i needed a reason for vren to be 1) as mercenary as he is and 2) as resigned to his life as he is #he wants money to buy himself free but he also knows he realistically can't ever do it #he's trapped by it but can't see any other way to live #being in the zarahmin is like getting student debt only you learn how to stab people

[rikeijo]

Today's translation #393

Ferbi vol. 41, Sayo Yamamoto's interview

Part 5.

-- When did you start to feel that the effort you put in is paying off?

Y: I think it was the ending of TRAVA, that I've talked about a moment before. When I was at uni, I really loved a band called Mott the Hoople. An ex-keyboardist from that band, Morgan Fisher, wrote the music for that ending. I was very excited that I could work with somebody like that, so I felt a sense of accomplishment then, or should I say - my fangirl heart was very satisfied. What's more, in case of TRAVA, there was only me, and Koike-san, and color setting staff working on the project... It was a very small team. Koike-san was drawing sketches, which I then reworked into key frames and movies. Matching backgrounds with animation before recording was also done by me and Koike-san. After the recording was finished, we had to transport the product to Tokyo Laboratory, Ltd. [for post-production], and then we went to sleep, while waiting for the finished product. When it was ready we check every frame on a big screen by ourselves - that is how the production looked like (laugh).

-- Sounds a bit like an independent production (laugh).

Y: Yeah, like something that an art student would make... Imaishi Hiroyuki and Kitakubo Hiroyuki also took part in TRAVA project, drawing storyboards. There wasn't anyone like that at Madhouse Studio, and to me that was a huge stimulus. I personally went to Gainax to get [finished materials] for the cuts that Imaishi-san worked on. I received a very thick and heavy stack of rough layouts for his maybe a 5-minute part.

#yuri on ice #yoi translations #yuri on ice translation

[acetechne]

Condensed Milk - A Dirty Money Comic pt 8

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ part 3 ] [ part 4 ] [ part 5 ] [ part 6 ] [ part 7 ] [ x ] [ part 9 ] [ part 10 ]

Did ya miss me? :)

I had like 75% of this page done before I left the province and got stuck for two months, haha, so I finished some up today. If you could make it to the stream, thanks for coming :) I have the next two pages sort of sketched and typeset, I’m still not 100% happy with the ending on the latest page (and I’ve got an epilogue that I was supposed to finish writing on vacation, oops.)

a great chunk of Ben’s dialogue on this page was contributed by the incorrigible @quatschmachen as well as a certain line of Bertie’s.

This comic would be a lot shorter if Bertie could just suck it up and say “i missed you” but he can’t. it would also be a lot shorter if Ben didn’t like teasing him so much.

I think there’s a contrast in attitudes towards home provinces here that I tried to poke a little, I get the impression in NL it is “yes it’s rough but it’s home so only we are allowed to talk shit about it” and here in AB I think we have the (somewhat American) “love it or leave it” attitude where of course it’s the best place to be and you’re lucky to be here and if you’re suffering it’s your own fault!.

The image behind Ben in the penultimate panel is Moraine Lake - I had it stuck in my head all day and then I realized it’s because it was the random background on my browser extension so I was literally looking at it all day.

#iammatthewian #projectcanada #iammatthewian project #iamp: alberta #pc: alberta #iamp: newfoundland #pc: newfoundland #ralph campbell #benjamin o'reilly #hapo art #digital art #clip studio paint #dirty money #condensed milk comic

[ninjakk]

Silenced with a kiss - A Cloud Recesses romance fanfic ☁️

Another fanfic I wrote about WWX and LWJ during their time at the CR ☁️🐰❤️

*Currently ongoing - Find more chapters on Ao3

Twilight fell over the Cloud Recesses, steeping the picturesque surroundings in soft hues of calming purples and blues. Stars were scattered across the clear dark sky above, gently twinkling as they captivated all that gazed upon them. 

In the distance a large magnolia tree stood majestically outside the impressive Lan sect Library Pavilion. As it swayed softly in the wind, a warm glow of light could be seen seeping through the draping branches that obscured one of the windows of the library's many room. It seemed to be the only room still occupied at such a late time in the evening. 

Within the room two figures sat across from each other, silhouetted in the soft candlelight of a paper lantern. One sat rigidly upright, their back perfectly straight as he read a book that lay on the shared table between them. The other sat slanted, leaning over towards the person opposite ever so slightly, as he scribbled messily on the parchment paper in front of him.

A candle flame flickered from the gentle breeze that blew through the open window, causing shadows to dance across the walls evocatively.

The atmosphere in the room had a strange air of something Wei WuXian couldn't quite explain. It made him feel slightly dizzy, almost drunk and a little excited, as if he was anticipating something exhilarating might just happen. Glancing up towards the boy who sat across from him, he suddenly noticed an odd bubbling sensation in his stomach that had not been there a moment ago.

I must just need some air, I've been in this library all day after all. Wei WuXian thought to himself as he put his brush down. His attention instantly drawn towards Lan WangJi's slender finger, watching it closely as it slowly skimmed down the book he was reading, before turning the page with such gentle care as he continued to ignore the other. 

Wei WuXian had already been silenced twice today. The most recent spell had just worn off and he was still pouting at his latest defeat. Looking for something more interesting to do, he picked up his brush again, dipped it in the inkstone well and started sketching out a rough drawing, inspired by his unwilling companion's pretty face.

Hmm... It's just not quite right. He thought to himself, frowning at the portrait that did not fully capture the other's exceptional beauty. Slipping the drawing between the pages of one of his books, he tapped his fingers on the low table, drumming out a frustrated beat as he propped his head up using the other hand. 

It was almost time for them to finish for the day, before their evening meal was served in the large hall they all dined in. Pouting incessantly, Wei WuXian sat there with a heavy heart. He was not looking forward to the awful bland food of the Lan sect, or the regimental nightly curfew the Cloud Recesses enforced either.

Wei WuXian sighed deeply, feeling the boredom wash over him with a wave of frustration flooding his senses. Never one for learning his lesson, he looked up at the pale handsome boy that sat across from him, mischief drifting into his mind and clouding over his judgement.

Gazing at the pretty, yet impassive face of Lan WangJi, he suddenly got the urge to tease him once again.The candlelight was softly reflecting in the other's eyes, making his dark pupils sparkle slightly as they roamed over the page he was currently reading.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei WuXian uttered softly, his voice as sweet as honey. With no reaction from him, he continued to push for a response, adamant he would obtain the other's attention one way or another. "Lan er-gege..." He whispered gently as he watched for the slightest reaction from the boy.

Lan WangJi tilted his head and looked up at him for the first time in quite a while, a flash of something Wei WuXian couldn't quite place appeared in his eyes, before disappearing as quickly as it had surfaced. It almost resembled something predatorial, like a beast eyeing its unsuspecting prey, immobilising it with just its gaze alone. 

The sudden movement momentarily caught Wei WuXian off guard, causing his heart to palpitate in response, his breath catching in his throat as it did so.

Regaining his composure, he finally spoke. "What? You wouldn't answer me?" He shrugged innocently, flashing him a devilish smile that he couldn't hold back any longer. 

"Silence." Lan WangJi finally spoke, still holding eye contact, a hint of warning in his words. The simple and succinct answer, a verbal caution of what would come if he persisted. His usual pale eyes, were almost entirely engulfed by two large dark pupils, sparkling in the dim candlelight. Wei WuXian could see his smiling face reflecting back at him within the boy's pinning gaze. Staring at him a moment longer, before flicking his long eyelash back down, Lan WangJi began to read his book once more. 

Wei WuXian was more than used to certain people disregarding him completely, while others lavished him with attention and admiration. But for some reason, from the minute he had met this boy, he couldn't bear the thought of being ignored by him. So much so, he would practically do anything if it meant the Second Jade of Lan would notice him, even if it was in a fleeting moment of anger. Anything was better than being completed overlooked by the boy. In fact, if he was being honest there was something rather intoxicating about making this virtuous peer lose his composure, all because he had elicited such a reaction. Like he was the only one who could do such a thing to him.

Perhaps it's because I enjoy the challenge... He mused to himself, trying to stop another roguish smile appearing across his face and giving the game away.

Just then, a little voice in his head spoke quietly. Or perhaps it's something else? This tiny thought went unnoticed, as many of them often did. He would rather protect his heart, than pay any notice to things that may cause him hurt. As such he would mostly ignore these intrusive emotions, pushing them into his subconscious and carrying on, smiling regardless. He would rather live in the moment, enjoying life, not dwelling on the past or things that might upset him.

Sighing to himself, he decided to push the boy further. It was nearly the end of the day and he had lost miserably, unable to obtain a glimpse of the vexed boy he had crossed swords with the night they first met. 

"You know Lan Zhan, there are other ways to silence me..." Wei WuXian grinned as he spoke, still watching his eyes intently, the enticingly black pools dominating his light irises were almost deep enough for someone to fall into and lose themselves completely.

Lan WangJi's gaze suddenly snapped back up to regard him, his beautiful eyes fixed on his own once more. "Such as?" He enquired, seemingly impassive to the whole thing. Although his tone was as calm as ever, his hand inadvertently tightened on the table between them, knuckles turning white. 

"Well you could.." Wei WuXian murmured as he leaned in close to him involuntarily, drifting further towards those invitingly dark pupils. Although almost void of colour, he noticed Lan WangJi's eyes looked very warm in the candlelight. Or perhaps it was more heated, rather than merely warm. If he had not been lost in the other's gaze, Wei WuXian might have noticed the difference, instead of being sucked further into the moment between them. 

"...You could always just answer my questions and then I'd be a good boy and shut up, I promise. Just a conversation with you, is that too much to ask?" He pleaded shamelessly, edging even closer to Lan WangJi as he noticed the other's breathing seemed somewhat more pronounced than usual.

Wei WuXian grinned to himself inwardly, Lan WangJi was about to lose his temper, he had finally broke him!

He braced himself for the brunt of Lan WangJi's temper, feeling oddly excited as he waited in anticipation.

But it never came.

This boy is surely made of stone! Where is that fiery temper I only managed to take a peek at on the rooftop the first night we met?! What have I got to do to see that again!?! Wei WuXian thought to himself, trying hard to hide his disappointment. 

Lan WangJi's breathing suddenly calmed again, as if he had regained some composure and inner peace in those few short moments.

"Then ask." He responded, averting his gaze back to the book he was reading, seemingly ignoring how close Wei WuXian had suddenly became.

Surprised that he was allowing him to ask a question, Wei WuXian was momentarily floored.

He thought for a second, as he glanced at Lan WangJi's pale skin, that appeared to almost shimmer in the candlelight.

Wei WuXian's heart quickened for an instant.

Playing around with Lan Zhan really was quite fun indeed. Now what to ask... He thought to himself, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Do you really hate me? Everyone says that you must despise me." Wei WuXian had intended to rile Lan WangJi up by asking stupid questions, but this question slipped out in their place.

Without moving his head up from the book, Lan WangJi's eyes flicked up to meet Wei WuXian's own once again, causing him to look up through his long dark eyelashes.

As they held each other's gaze, Wei WuXian's eyes involuntarily roamed over Lan WangJi's face once more. As he scanned his pretty face, his eyes landed on Lan WangJi's pale red lips, watching as they parted slightly.

Snapping his attention away from the other's mouth, he looked back up into his eyes, eagerly awaiting an answer.

Lan WangJi breathed out as he finally spoke "I do not." His deep voice answered in a resolute tone. 

Wei WuXian's heart skipped another beat. He...he didn't silence me. I finally got him to talk to me properly! He thought to himself as he held back a grin.

Lan WangJi lowered his eyes, returning his attention back to the pages in front of him. His long lashes casting a shadow over flawless jade skin, as he busied himself in his book once again.

Before Wei WuXian had time to think, another question blurted out of his mouth as if it was eager to be answered also. "Then why do you ignore me so much?"

Lan WangJi did not look up this time, instead he continued to stare at the same page of his book he had unknowingly left unturned for quite a while now.

No answer came.

"See, you're ignoring me again." Wei WuXian whined shamelessly. Leaning closer still, he lowered his head over the book as well, their heads almost touching. "What's so interesting about this book? You can't answer one more question? Then I'll be quiet, I promise." Wei WuXian pleaded, scanning the pages of the book the other was reading as he did so. It was just another set of ancient texts that had been copied over into a book for others to read.

How could he seriously be more interested in reading such a boring book instead of talking to me, just for a little while? He huffed to himself in frustration.

Goosebumps suddenly crawled all over Wei WuXian's body, as he felt a strange sensation like he was being watched. Turning his head to the side slightly, his eyes were met with Lan WangJi's light coloured iris and enlarged pupil looking at him from the corner of his eye. Wei WuXian's breath was momentarily taken away from him for a heartbeat, pinned by Lan WangJi's predatory stare once again.

Is it getting hot in here? He thought to himself as he moved his head away, leaving a few inches between them. It definitely seemed to be getting rather warm in the stuffy library.

Lan WangJi's gaze followed him as he backed away slightly.

Wei WuXian suddenly felt even warmer. As if something inside of him had sparked into existence, kindling new emotions that had slowly started to burn, growing evermore intense with every passing moment.

Ignoring the strange feverish feeling, he decided to press for an answer, breaking eye contact from Lan WangJi's intense stare as he spoke. "Why do you ignore me? I just want to be..." Before Wei WuXian could finish his sentence. His mouth had been sealed shut.

Not by the usual silencing spell, but by a warm pair of soft thin lips.

Wei WuXian's eyes widened at the surprise of what was happening. Before he could react to being kissed so suddenly, he felt a slight shiver all over his body as the pair of lips moved away from his own as fast as they had arrived.

He looked up at Lan WangJi, still trying to understand what had just happened.

The library suddenly felt like a furnace. Wei WuXian's whole body was burning up to the point he could no longer ignore it, his heat crawling over his cheeks.

"Well that's certainly one way to shut me up." He finally breathed, still somewhat dazed at the turn of events.

Lan WangJi turned his head to the side and averted his gaze, revealing an ear that was tinged pink. Wei WuXian's heart ached slightly at such a sweet and somewhat vulnerable sight. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to get closer to Lan WangJi again, to feel his lips gently caress the other's once more.

Before he could move, Lan WangJi abruptly stood up and recoiled, as if he had just been bitten by a snake. Shifting as if he was about to leave, the boy hesitated as he looked down at Wei WuXian, his eyebrows slightly knitting together with an apologetic expression spreading across his pretty face.

"I... I..." Before Lan WangJi could finished his uncharacteristically stuttering sentence, it was his turn to be silenced by a pair of lips.

Wei WuXian had jumped up without thinking, pulled on the front of his robes and roughly pressed his lips against Lan WangJi's.

Melting into each other, the two began to kiss passionately as they finally embraced, arms swimming up around one another.

Wei WuXian couldn't quite understand what was going on, he just knew it felt right. So incredibly right. He had never felt this way before, not for a man. Then again, he'd never felt this way about a woman either. He just assumed he'd not met 'the one'. But as the two kissed, Wei WuXian couldn't help himself, he wanted more. He did not want this sensation to end, it was absolutely intoxicating, almost addictive.

Tracing the outside of Lan Wangji's lips using his tongue with much pleasure, the other's lips parted in response, inviting him inside. Suddenly the kissing intensified as they sensually explored each others mouths. Wei WuXian was starting to feel rather dizzy, his knees beginning to weaken slightly as he struggled to breathe properly. Luckily he was held firmly in place by a pair of strong reassuring arms, grounding him in this moment of weightless bliss.

After what felt like quite a while, the kissing slowed and Lan WangJi tenderly bit down on Wei WuXian's lip before pulling away quickly.

Feeling a little disappointed as they reluctantly parted, Wei WuXian had to stop himself from pouting in protest. Before he could say anything, he realised why Lan WangJi had moved away from him so quickly. Footsteps could be heard approaching from somewhere in the distance.

This must have been why Lan Zhan suddenly stopped and began to tidy up instead, acting as if nothing had happened. Wei WuXian thought to himself as he smoothed his tousled hair down and fixed his expression. 

Finally gathering his composure, Wei WuXian turned to see who was approaching. Just as he glanced over, Jiang Cheng appeared in the doorway looking annoyed.

"Are you coming to eat or not? I've been waiting outside for you for ages. If you don't hurry up, I'm leaving without you." He snapped at Wei WuXian, completely forgoing any pleasantries and ignoring Lan WangJi in the process.

"Coming!" Wei WuXian responded casually as he grabbed his books from the low table and walked towards Jiang Cheng, grinning at him as he did so.

Jiang Cheng finally gave Lan WangJi a small nod, as if suddenly remembered his manners, before turned on his heels and walking out of the room as fast as he had appeared. Wei WuXian looked over his shoulder to hold Lan WangJi's gaze, shooting him a flirty wink as he began to follow the other out of the door.

Flashing him a devastatingly bright smile behind Jiang Cheng's back, Wei WuXian began to tease once again. "Same time tomorrow? Copying more sect rules and being silenced all day long. I cannot wait." He said playfully emphasising the last sentence, masking his words as sarcasm for Jiang Cheng.

Lan WangJi stood still in the middle of the library with a glazed expression over his face, completely lacking his normal grace and composure. His light coloured eyes locked on Wei WuXian, silently following him as he left, still trying to understand what in the world had just happened.

Wei WuXian was feeling quite pleased with himself as he left the room. A giddy sensation started to bubble up in his stomach, causing him to smile widely in response. Following Jiang Cheng out of the library and into the cool evening breeze, the fresh air hit his burning cheeks and caused him to breathe in deeply.

Jiang Cheng scoffed at him as they walked out. "You almost sound like you actually can't wait! Who would want to be silenced and stuck in the stuffy library with such a boring person." He said as he continued to walk ahead of Wei WuXian.

"Oh I don't know, it's not so bad. Lan Zhan is pretty interesting when you get to know him a little more." He chuckled nonchalantly, placing his hands behind his head as he walked along in the other's wake.

"Yeah right!" Jiang Cheng spat mockingly, turning around to frown at him as he spoke.

Sighing softly, Wei WuXian touched his slightly swollen lips absentmindedly. My first kiss… I can't wait to tease Lan Zhan about this tomorrow! He mused to himself as he grinned inwardly, his stomach swooping as his mind drifted to thoughts about Lan WangJi once again.

As they entered the large hall a voice rang out nearby. "There you both are! I thought you might have gone on a sneaky crusade for tasty food and abandoned your dear loyal friend." Nie HuaiSang exclaimed theatrically, shooting them both a look of betrayal as they neared.

"I was waiting outside the Library Pavilion for this one. You would think he didn't want to leave!" Jiang Cheng retorted with agitation in his voice, as he put his food down at the table with a audible thump. 

Already very used to the Jiang sect heir's irritable nature, Nie HuaiSang seemingly decided to change the subject. "Wei-xiong, why do you look like the cat that stole the fish?" He questioned suspiciously, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinised the other's expression. 

"Hmm? Do I? I guess I'm just trying to convince myself tonight's food will actually taste nice." Wei WuXian laughed, sitting down beside him and glancing down at his bowl full of dull yellow vegetables as he picked up his chopsticks. 

Taking a deep soulful look at his own food, before looking up and meeting the other's gaze once more, Nie HuaiSang raised his eyebrow unconvinced. "You look a little flushed as well. Are you feeling okay?" He asked with apparent concern, his keen eyes still observing the other. 

"Never better." Wei WuXian grinned at his friend, before making a valiant attempt at eating some of his food.

"It's probably from being cooped up in that stuffy library." Jiang Cheng muttered with disdain, unceremoniously shoving a piece of vegetable in his mouth as he spoke.

"Hmmm." Nie HuaiSang hummed thoughtfully. "Let's hope you can keep out of trouble long enough to finish your punishment quickly. Before you end up getting an extra month added on, due to bad behaviour!" He cackled in amusement at such an unfortunate possiblity. 

"I can only hope!" Wei WuXian replied honestly. I can only hope to end up having an extra month alone with Lan Zhan that is… He thought to himself shamelessly. 

"Hope? You just make sure to keep out of trouble, you've embarrassed our sect enough." Jiang Cheng reprimanded, continuing to eat his meal without any fuss.

Wei WuXian dropped his chopsticks into his bowl, harshly swallowing what he had in his mouth before replying exasperatedly. "All I did was answer a few questions the old man asked me and then posed my own theory in response. Isn't that what we're meant to do in these lectures? Actually use our brains!" He huffed, picking up his chopsticks again and continuing to eat.

"Just keep your crazy ideas to yourself from now on." He shot back, giving him a glare that signalled there was no further room for discussion on the subject. 

Feeling a familiar tingle crawling up his body, he suddenly turned to look at the Lan family table. Every single one of the main clan sat meticulously upright, slowly eating their food in peaceful silence. All except one.

With a slight jump of his heart, Wei WuXian was met with the pale gaze of Lan WangJi, who was currently looking straight at him. The boy still looked a little dazed and confused, as if he wasn't quite sure what had happened not that long ago. Almost as if he was contemplating if the whole kissing frenzy was even real, or just some incredibly vivid hallucination of his rather imaginative teenage mind.

Before Wei WuXian could send the other a reassuring smile in response to his quietly questioning stare, he felt an elbow nudge into his ribs in an attempt to obtain his attention. 

"Is he looking right at us?" Nie HuaiSang buzzed near his ear, a puzzled frown creasing his brows as he covered his mouth with his fan, just in case Lan WangJi was as excellent at lipreading as he was everything else. "But we weren't even making much noise! Yet he's still glaring at us like that?" He cried behind his fan, causing it to shake slightly as he spoke.

"Don't be so paranoid HuaiSang-xiong." Wei WuXian laughed, picking up a pale yellow vegetable between his chopsticks and eating it without protest. He wasn't quite sure why, but tonight's meal tasted a lot less bitter. In fact, he might have even said it tasted quite sweet, for some strange reason.

"He's not glaring at us, he's glaring at him." Jiang Cheng mocked as he pointed his chopsticks at Wei WuXian to emphasise his statement. "It's obvious he's just like his uncle, he must surely hate you by now." He said looking up at him through furrowed brows. 

I think I might beg to differ… Wei WuXian mused to himself as the rousing sensation of Lan WangJi's soft, passionate lips pressing against his own flooded his senses, causing goosebumps to appear over his entire body in obvious excitement. 

With the sudden unwanted attention from the rest of the boys at Wei WuXian's table, Lan WangJi finally looked away, concentrating on the food in front of him instead. As the boy shifted slightly, assuming the regimental position of the other Lan clan members, his long inky black hair revealed a delicate pale ear that was tinged a noticeable shade of pink.

He really was quite the bashful beauty. Wei WuXian thought to himself fondly, as he watched the other for a moment longer. I guess it shouldn't be much of a surprise I have developed such feelings for him, he is the most beautiful person I have ever seen, after all. Not to mention he's incredibly skilled and such fun to tease! Who wouldn't like him in such a way?!

With their medicinal meals finally consumed with no further complaints, all the disciples in residence were soon heading back to their rooms, before curfew was upon them. In a large group Wei WuXian and the other guest disciples walked through the serene grounds of the Cloud Recesses, the night sky starting to glitter with even more stars as hai time neared.

Cheerfully, he strolled along the white stone path towards his room in the gust quarters. As he sauntered along, he noticed the ground beneath him was covered in a low lying mist, floating around his feet just like clouds.

In that moment, Wei WuXian truly felt like he was walking on air.

☁️❤️☁️

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