#Leather Notebook Covers

[memetrash-coyote]

While it's a smaller gift, I'm still pleased with this notebook cover I made for @memetrashmom .

The shell is a heavily waxed leather, and as it gets used, the white wax will fade, revealing the purple leather underneath. Meanwhile, the pockets are made from bubble dyed leather, where I also spritzed periwinkle blue ink, as the original intent was to make a cover inspired by her character Amaryllis with notes of her character Zadok and my Eilidh.

Overall, I think the waxed leather still fits (it's also Fancy Leather lol) and I'm very pleased with the bubble dye. Normally I love added tons of color to a piece, so it was a fun challenge to restrain it.

[emillysstudio]

My new 'Book of Lilith'. This has been an enormous undertaking, nearly a year to complete.

[nowoyas]

once again hobonichi has released a cover design in a size that I would quite literally rather die than ever use. caramel pudding my star-crossed lover

[leatherjournalcover]

How Rustic Town Journal Covers Add Elegance to Your Daily Writing

Introduction:

Writing in a journal is more than just a routine task; it's an intimate and reflective practice that deserves a touch of elegance. Rustic Town Journal Cover offer the perfect blend of sophistication and functionality, transforming your daily writing journal into a refined experience. In this article, we will explore how these beautifully crafted covers add a layer of elegance to your journaling routine and elevate the simple act of putting pen to paper.

Exquisite Craftsmanship:

Rustic Town Journal Covers are synonymous with exceptional craftsmanship. Each cover is meticulously handcrafted by skilled artisans, using the finest quality leather. This attention to detail ensures that every cover is unique, with its own character and charm. The rich texture and natural imperfections of the leather add an authentic, luxurious feel to your leather bound journal, making it a pleasure to hold and use.

Timeless Aesthetic:

The design of Rustic Town Journal Covers is inspired by timeless elegance. The natural beauty of genuine leather, combined with minimalist design elements, creates a cover that is both classic and contemporary. Whether you prefer a sleek, modern look or a vintage-inspired style, Rustic Town offers a range of designs that complement any aesthetic. This timeless appeal ensures that your leather journals cover will never go out of fashion, remaining a cherished accessory for years to come.

Personalized Sophistication:

One of the standout features of Rustic Town Collection Journal Covers is the ability to personalize them. You can choose from various leather types, colors, and finishes to create a cover that reflects your personal style. Some covers even offer customization options such as embossed initials or custom stitching. This level of personalized journal adds a sophisticated touch to your journal writing, making it uniquely yours and enhancing your writing journal experience.

Functional Elegance:

Rustic Town Journal Covers are not just about journal cover looks; they are designed with practical elegance in mind. Thoughtful features such as pen loops, card slots, and interior pockets ensure that your essentials are always within reach. The sturdy construction and secure closure protect your journal from damage, while the supple leather exterior provides a comfortable journal for men writing surface. This combination of functionality and elegance makes your daily writing journaling notebook sessions more enjoyable and efficient.

Inspiring Creativity:

A beautiful leather journal cover can inspire creativity and elevate your writing process. The tactile experience of holding a finely crafted leather cover, coupled with the visual appeal of its design, creates a conducive environment for creativity. Whether you're jotting down thoughts, drafting a story, or sketchbooks, a Rustic Town Journal Cover enhances the overall experience, making each journal writing session a moment of inspiration and pleasure.

Conclusion:

Rustic Town Journal Covers bring a touch of elegance and sophistication to your daily writing routine. From their exquisite craftsmanship and timeless aesthetic to personalized options and practical features, these leather journal covers are designed to enhance both the look and feel of your journaling notebook experience. By choosing a Rustic Town leather journal cover, you not only protect your leather journals but also elevate the simple act of writing into a refined and enjoyable practice. Embrace the elegance of Rustic Town Journal Cover and transform your daily writing journal into a luxurious experience.

[arianaofimladris]

I guess my inner Noldo strikes again and it comes up in form of me being interested in making something just to see if I can make it or how it will turn out.

I made a notebook cover. I don't exactly need one since I no longer study, and while I do use a notebook for random notes at work, it is an A4 spiral notebook not an A5 notebook. Still. I had some leather scraps. I had an idea I needed to test. Here's the end result. I consider my curiosity satisfied and if I decide to make another one for whatever reason, I do know what aspects to correct.

[kalpanahandmadepaper]

Handmade Heart-Shaped Paper Journals with Velvet Fabric Paper Cover - Perfect for Valentine's Day! ❤️ Looking for a unique and heartfelt gift for your special someone this Valentine's Day? Our Handmade Heart-Shaped Journals are the ideal choice! Each journal features a luxurious velvet fabric cover, adding an elegant touch to your writing experience. Product Details: - Shape: Heart - Cover Material: Soft Velvet Fabric Paper - Size: 6 x 8 inches - Pages: 96 pages of high-quality 125 GSM handmade paper - Colors: Available in a beautiful array of multicolor designs, perfect for any personality! Whether you’re writing love notes, journaling memories, or sketching your dreams, this diary offers plenty of space for creativity. The charming heart shape makes it a thoughtful gift for anniversaries, weddings, or just to show someone you care. Why You'll Love It: - Each journal is meticulously handcrafted, ensuring a one-of-a-kind piece. - The sturdy handmade paper is perfect for writing or drawing with a variety of mediums. - A delightful gift that combines practicality with romance! Surprise your loved one with a gift that’s as special as they are. Order your Handmade Heart-Shaped Journal today and make this Valentine's Day unforgettable! ❤

[fieldsofview]

Look at what my friend got me for a belated birthday present!!

I love having friends who are also a part of fandom spaces and understand my special interests 🥹💜

[bestjournalcovers]

Unveiling the Finest Journal Covers: A Comprehensive Guide

In the realm of publishing, journal covers serve as the initial gateway to the captivating contents within. As readers navigate through shelves or scroll through online catalogs, the cover stands as a beacon, enticing them to delve deeper. Crafting an exceptional journal cover is an art form melding design, storytelling, and aesthetic appeal. In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the intricacies of best journal covers, unveiling the elements that elevate them to greatness.

Understanding the Essence of Journal Covers

Journal covers encapsulate the essence of the publication, encapsulating its themes, tone, and allure. A well-designed cover beckons, inviting readers to explore the treasures nestled within its pages. Whether gracing the shelves of a bookstore or adorning the digital realm, journal covers wield immense power in capturing attention and piquing curiosity.

The Anatomy of a Superlative Journal Cover

Striking Visuals

At the heart of every remarkable journal cover lies a captivating visual composition. From vibrant illustrations to striking photography, visuals serve as the cornerstone of journal covers, instantly captivating the audience's gaze. The imagery must resonate with the publication's subject matter while possessing a unique allure that sets it apart from the crowd.

Compelling Typography

Typography plays a pivotal role in conveying the tone and personality of the publication. Selecting the right font, size, and placement is crucial in ensuring readability and visual impact. From elegant serifs to modern sans-serifs, typography choices must align seamlessly with the overall design aesthetic, amplifying the cover's appeal.

Intriguing Titles and Taglines

The title serves as the focal point of the journal cover, conveying the essence of the publication in a succinct yet compelling manner. Crafting an intriguing title that sparks curiosity is paramount, drawing readers in with the promise of captivating content. Additionally, a well-crafted tagline can further enhance the cover's allure, offering a tantalizing glimpse into the world awaiting within.

Trends and Innovations in Journal Cover Design

Minimalist Elegance

In recent years, minimalist design has surged in popularity, favoring clean lines, ample white space, and understated elegance. Minimalist journal covers exude sophistication and clarity, allowing the content to take center stage while maintaining a timeless appeal that resonates with modern audiences.

Bold Colors and Graphics

For publications seeking to make a bold statement, vibrant colors and dynamic graphics can be highly effective. Bold journal covers command attention, infusing energy and personality into the design. Whether employing eye-catching patterns or striking illustrations, embracing bold colors and graphics can elevate the cover to new heights of visual impact.

Interactive Elements

In the digital landscape, interactive journal covers offer an immersive experience that transcends traditional print design. Incorporating elements such as animation, sound, or augmented reality can transform the cover into a multimedia masterpiece, engaging readers in a dynamic and memorable way.

The Impact of Digitalization on Journal Cover Design

With the proliferation of digital publishing platforms, journal covers have evolved to adapt to the online landscape. Digital journal covers must captivate viewers amidst a sea of competing content, leveraging techniques such as dynamic imagery, responsive design, and interactive features to stand out in crowded digital environments.

Conclusion

In conclusion, journal covers represent the epitome of visual storytelling, weaving together imagery, typography, and design to captivate audiences and entice exploration. By understanding the key elements that comprise exceptional journal covers and staying abreast of emerging trends, publishers can create covers that resonate deeply with their target audience, leaving a lasting impression that extends far beyond the confines of the page.

[playfullygrownup]

A truly handsome notebook with leather covers and a small dragon silhouette. By Kemal at RareCraftedLLC on Etsy.

[livingdeadvamp]

In honour of it being a month til TTPD is released I'm hoping for a merch drop 🤞🤞

[pahicraft]

[leathertalks1]

Here’s How Notebooks Nurture Productivity in the Digital Age

In the digital age, notebooks serve as a secret weapon for enhancing productivity. Despite the prevalence of screens in our daily lives, it is natural to question the relevance of traditional paper notebooks and planners. With the convenience of smartphones, tablets, and laptops, the act of jotting down notes with pen and paper may appear outdated.

Nevertheless, notebooks continue to hold a significant role in our lives, even in this digital era. This article delves into the reasons why notebooks maintain their importance amidst the abundance of digital devices and still help nurture our overall productivity.

PLAN YOUR DAY:

In our modern, fast-paced world, it can be easy to become overwhelmed with the demands of daily life. That's why having a notebook as an essential tool for planning your day is more important than ever. A notebook allows you to capture and organize your thoughts, tasks, and goals in one convenient place.

This visual reminder of your achievements serves as motivation to keep pushing forward with increase in overall productivity to do more.

Not only does a notebook help with organization and motivation, but it also encourages creativity. Whether it's doodling in the margins or brainstorming ideas for future projects, having a dedicated space for creative expression can spark new insights and innovative thinking.

WRITE THINK STRATEGIES CREATE INNOVATE IDEATE :

In today's fast-paced world, where ideas can make or break businesses, having a reliable tool to capture and organize thoughts is essential. That's where a trusty notebook comes in - an indispensable companion for thinkers, creators, and innovators.

With a notebook by your side, you have the freedom to write, think, strategize, create, innovate, and ideate without any limitations. It acts as a canvas for your imagination to run wild and allows you to document every moment of inspiration that strikes.

CONCLUSION:

Moreover, a notebook allows you to think strategically by organizing your ideas into cohesive plans and strategies. By visually mapping out your goals, timelines, and action steps, you can gain a better understanding of the path to achieving them and thus nurturing our overall productivity.

Leather Talks is a genuine leather accessories premium luxury gifting brand headquartered in Kolkata India. Leather Talks has recently introduced a range of premium leather notebooks Classic, which are A5 size golden gilt- edged refillable genuine leather notebooks crafted with finest of leathers by the craftsman with more than 50 years of experience in the trade. Attention to detail at its finest. Name Personalisation or Company Logo Branding are also possible. Contact Us.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

List of Random Things For Your Dark Academia Settings | For Writers

The Library 📚

Towering mahogany bookshelves filled with ancient leather-bound tomes

Antique globes and faded maps mounted on the walls

Heavy velvet drapes blocking out the sunlight

Ornate brass reading lamps casting a warm glow

The musty smell of old books permeating the air

The Study 🪶

A large oak desk strewn with papers, quills, and ink bottles

Walls lined with pinned insect specimens and anatomical drawings

An antique typewriter, its keys clacking softly

Stacks of well-worn leather journals and notebooks

A cabinet of curiosities filled with skulls, fossils, and scientific oddities

The Classroom 🎓

Rows of old wooden desks, surfaces scratched with generations of graffiti

A blackboard covered in elaborate chalk diagrams and Latin phrases

Dusty shelves holding jars of formaldehyde-preserved specimens

Antique microscopes and brass telescopes waiting to be used

The tick-tock of a grandfather clock counting down the minutes

The Dormitory 🕯️

A four-poster bed heaped with tattered quilts and faded velvet pillows

Parquet wood floors layered with antique persian rugs

Flickering candles in tarnished silver holders casting dancing shadows

A steamer trunk overflowing with vintage tweeds and wool knits

Tea-stained pages of love letters and poetry scattered on the nightstand

The Secret Society Meeting Room 🗝️

An imposing stone fireplace with Latin phrases carved into the mantel

Worn leather armchairs circled around a low table set with tarnished silver

The air thick with pipe smoke and burning incense

Shelves lined with ancient masks, ceremonial daggers, and dusty alchemical tomes

Shadows dancing on the tapestry-covered walls in the candlelight

[fxstpace]

nice boys don’t kiss like that

summary: when your former rival chances upon your diary and reads all the unpleasant things you’ve written about him, he takes it upon himself to change your mind.

⇢ pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, developing relationship au, rivals to lovers au, pining, kind of suggestive? idk ⇢ word count: 3.3k ⇢ warnings: profanity, making out ⇢ a/n: inspired by this scene from bridget jones’s diary. reposted from my old account.

It is on a twilit Saturday evening, at precisely 7:01 P.M, that Kim Mingyu is accosted by a notebook for the first time in his life.

He lets out a startled grunt and finds himself with an armful of things—a denim jacket, a crumpled grocery shopping list, an empty box of Tic Tacs, a woollen beanie with a questionable brown stain he thinks is ketchup; all presumably from whatever depths of your drawer he can see you hunched over, searching for something that remains stubbornly elusive. The offensive projectile whizzes past his shoulder and lands on the polished wooden floor with a thud.

Mingyu stands at the doorway to your bedroom, having bypassed the living room and hallway that leads to the kitchen in favour of pressing heated kisses to your cheeks and collarbones. He watches you, bemused. A few weeks ago, he might’ve laughed at your frazzled state with derision. Now, he still wants to laugh, but more in an affectionate way.

You turn around swiftly, nearly tripping on a stray stocking on the floor, and he bites back a smile when you mumble a string of curse words under your breath. 

“Hi,” you say, breathing heavily. “I’m really sorry.”

Then you slam the door shut on his face.

Well, Mingyu thinks. This is the first time a girl’s closed the door when I’m in her apartment.

Faced with nothing else to do except wait for your arrival, he drops the Tic Tac box on the floor, hangs your jacket and beanie on the back of the sofa, and almost stubs his toe on the corner of the notebook.

Wincing at the close call, Mingyu glares at the book like it’s the cause of all his troubles. DIARY, it reads, embossed in ornate gold letters. The cover is a rich shade of red, rough and leather-bound. He picks it up; it’s rather heavy, and judging by the frayed corners and the random bits of paper poking out of the sides, it seems to be quite old too. Regardless, it is well-cherished—he knows this because he knows you, and you’re the kind of person who wears your heart on your sleeve.

Which is why he knows opening it is a bad idea. 

Mingyu shrugs and places the book on the coffee table, taking a seat on the plush, olive green sofa opposite it. He leans his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers under his chin. From the inside of your room, he can hear muffled screaming—should he be worried? The screaming stops. Mingyu lets his tense shoulders relax.

His eyes zero in on your diary once more. He shouldn’t open it—he really, really shouldn’t. It would be a horrible breach of your privacy. Your trust in him would be broken forever, and even if he somehow manages to win it back, it will always be a stain in the fabric of your still-developing relationship.

But.

One tiny peek can’t hurt, right? He’s only waiting for you to come out of your room, after all. Just one little look, and then he’ll close the book immediately. It can’t possibly hurt. Curiosity is both a blessing and a vice, he figures, and since he’s already stacked up on vices, there is no harm in adding to his karmic points.

So he picks up your diary and flips to a random page, freezing momentarily when he hears an irritated grunt and the sound of something hitting the floor from inside your room. Your handwriting is a lot messier than it usually is; you probably save your best penmanship for official things, and your personal diary is not one of them. That, or you were just frustrated.

12th June I fucking hate Kim Mingyu. I hope I never have to see him and his stupid handsome obnoxious face EVER AGAIN. I’m so DONE with him.

Mingyu’s cheeks prickle with heat. He’s thoroughly invested now. He turns to another page.

14th June Ran into KMG again today. He spilled coffee all over me what else is new but. he actually apologised!!! Crazy. Maybe he was just in a good mood. Either way, my new blouse is ruined so fuck him.

The strangest thing is that Mingyu actually remembers that day vividly. You were wearing a gorgeous cream-coloured blouse, and he was so caught up in staring at you talking animatedly with your supervisor that he zoned out completely and accidentally spilled his coffee on you because he tripped over his shoelaces. Now, knowing that your blouse was new at the time brings up a slight twinge of guilt. He’ll ask you about it later.

22nd June KMG is actually…… kinda nice? He supported me in the meeting today with the clients when they were being so tiresome. He has a nice smile I guess.

Mingyu smiles widely. 

23rd June Nevermind. I take back everything I said. Kim Mingyu is a prat with zero social skills. I mean, would it kill him to say hello back??? I get that he’s busy but i thought we’d made progress. One thing is for sure. Kim Mingyu is NOT nice. Not even a little bit.

His smile falters.

The next page contains a similar anecdote—something about how he always vehemently disagrees with everything you say, and how despite his good looks he was a complete and utter asshole. Further investigation reveals the same thing: you hate Kim Mingyu with a burning passion.

And… Well, he couldn’t lie and say the feeling wasn’t mutual at one point in time—but it has mellowed down since then, gently and slowly, like a fallen leaf being carried by a soft wind. There came a day where Mingyu found himself glaring at you, not with disdain in his eyes, but with a steady thrum in his chest where his heart lay. Later, he would realise that he didn’t hate you—not even a little bit.

He assumed you felt the same way. Why else would your smirks, so full of malice, melt into grins that could light up a whole town? Why else would you agree to go on a date with him when he asked you out, one day, after work, tripping over his words like an elementary schoolboy? Why else would you invite him home and ask him to spend the night?

Of course, it doesn’t explain why you’ve locked yourself up in your bedroom currently (frankly, he’s a bit befuddled about that). But the sentiment must still be there.

It’s a diary, he reasons. 

It’s your diary, his brain screams back, and that’s the real issue here, isn’t it?

Diaries are full of crap, anyway, he thinks to himself.

Diaries contain the Real Thoughts And Emotions of a human being, his brain hollers back.

Mind swirling, Mingyu closes the book and places it back on the coffee table, barely aware of his movements. Have you been lying to him? No, there’s absolutely no way—he trusts you far more than that, and besides, what would you even lie to him about? There are no benefits to stringing him along, and you’re not the kind of person who would do something like that, anyway.

You must have had a change of heart, then. That’s the only conclusion he can think of. Your diary entries come to a standstill after 27th June, which means you haven’t opened it in a while. It’s also around the same time you stopped picking fights with each other. Something must have changed by then; Mingyu is glad it did.

Satisfied with his deduction, Mingyu stuffs his hands in his pockets and crosses his ankles together. Behind your bedroom door, you remain suspiciously silent. He considers knocking on the door once to make sure you’re okay—or if you need any help, because staying put inside your room for over twenty minutes is certainly not normal when you have a guest and potential boyfriend over. 

Almost as if you’ve heard his thoughts, the door to your room swings open. You stand at the doorway, breathing heavily.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, quickly standing up. “Everything good?”

You beam at him. “Perfect. Sorry to have kept you waiting, I—”

Your gaze drops to the coffee table, landing on your diary. Mingyu keeps his gaze fixed on you. You look back at him, lips parted. 

“Um,” you begin. “It’s— It’s just a diary.”

“Clearly.” Mingyu fights back a smile.

You chew your bottom lip nervously. “Did you read it?”

“I did,” he confirms, nodding. “I’m sorry. I was just curious—”

You groan, lifting your hands and covering your face with your palms. “Fuck.”

Mingyu reaches out and encircles your wrists with his fingers, gently tugging your hands away from your face. He finds it oddly endearing. “It’s only a diary. I’m sorry I read it. I shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t care about that. You… you probably read all the horrible, mean things I wrote about you.”

“Well,” he says, shrugging a little, “some of the entries were definitely… interesting.”

You blink. Unable to help himself, Mingyu drops a light kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” you tell him.

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Mhm.”

“Mingyu.”

“I’ll tell you what I think about your diary later, ‘kay?” he says, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. “Come with me.”

“What? Where?” Confusion paints your features.

Mingyu huffs out a laugh. “Just trust me.”

Mingyu places the brand-new diary he’d bought for you on the dining table with a flourish. “D’you have a pen?”

You eye him suspiciously, gaze darting between him and the new, dark green notebook on the table. He grins, carefree and indulgent. Still wary, you hand him a blue ballpoint pen from the pen stand placed above the drawers to the left. He hums and uncaps it.

Flipping open the book to the first page, he bends down and writes slowly.

This book belongs to Kim Mingyu and

Mingyu stops writing and holds the pen out expectantly to you. “Here. Write your name.”

Confused, but curious, you oblige. Your name, written in your handwriting, next to his own semi-legible scrawl, makes a warm, affectionate feeling bubble up inside his chest. He wonders what it would look like when both your names are signed next to each other on a marriage certificate. Then, he wonders when and where your wedding would take place. A summer wedding sounds nice, but the sweltering heat might be a bit of a problem. Winter weddings are beautiful for sure, but neither of you is a big fan of the cold.

He’s in the process of thinking of names for your children and pet dog when you break him out of his daze. 

“Hey. What’s all this about, hm?” You nudge his shoulder lightly with yours.

Mingyu says, “It’s a diary, but for both of us.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. He swings an arm over your shoulder and draws you closer to him, smiling when flyaway strands of your hair tickle his cheek. 

“In your old diary, it was pretty obvious you, uh, didn’t like me much,” he explains, holding up his free hand when you open your mouth to protest. “I don’t blame you. We were assholes to each other most of the time. But we’ve moved past that. At least, I hope we have.”

Your reply is instantaneous. “Of course. Of course, we have.”

Mingyu trails his fingers absent-mindedly over your arm. “Right. And… It’s kind of silly, I guess—I don’t know—but I thought—if we kept a new diary together, one that we could use to document our journey, with both our perspectives in the same place—I thought it would be nice.”

Your mouth parts and you look at him, an indiscernible expression on your face. He shifts from one foot to the other, feeling suddenly nervous. You don’t betray any hint of emotion on your face, but Mingyu’s heart hammers inside his chest. What if you think he’s being silly and overly sentimental? What if you find the idea ridiculous?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he quickly backtracks. “I know we’ve only just moved past the idea of being more than friends, but—” He stops himself.

“But…?” you gently prompt him, twisting around to see him better.

Mingyu swallows. “But I can’t imagine not being with you.”

He hears your sharp intake of breath, and in the next moment, the breath is knocked out of his lungs when you throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a tight, rib-squeezing hug.  Automatically, his arms circle your waist, and he presses a light, barely-there kiss to the junction of your neck and jaw. 

Eyes shining happily, you pull back slightly with a wide grin on your face. “You’re so hopelessly romantic, it makes my chest hurt.”

“Consider this your trial run. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He sighs, content. “Okay, I won’t.”

“What should our first diary entry be about?” you ask, loosening your hold on him.

“About how you ditched me inside your house for almost half an hour after you invited me over.” He’s only half-joking.

You look away, embarrassed and sheepish. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“I’m being serious, Mingyu.”

“So you’ve said,” he agrees breezily.

“Actually,” you begin, a tad shy, “I was thinking it could be about this—about how you bought us a diary and then kissed me in front of the dining table after we christened the book.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen, but before he can get a word in edgewise, your lips are already centimetres away from his. “May I?” you whisper.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” he murmurs back.

The kiss makes him feel dizzy, like he’s had one too many bottles of soda—fizzy and light-headed. Your lips are soft, mouth warm; you taste like chocolate, and he licks into your mouth desperately. His fingers dig into your waist, bunching up the material of your t-shirt, and you run your hand through his hair, tugging gently. He’s kissed you before, of course, but something about this time feels important, a core memory sort of thing. Later that night, he’ll sit beside you on your bed and watch as you write in your shared diary, and he’ll make fun of the way you chew on your pen cap when you’re thinking of what to write next and you’ll shut him up with a kiss.

But for now, he indulges himself whole-heartedly. You let out little gasps which he swallows with his mouth. He tilts his head and kisses you deeper. Only when his lungs are burning does he pull away, and even then, not without a parting peck to the space in between your eyebrows.

“Mingyu,” you say, breathless. 

“Yeah?” he responds, unable to tear his gaze off of your kiss-bitten lips.

“I really am sorry about what I wrote about you,” you apologise, looking down once and then back at him. “It’s only a diary—everyone knows diaries are full of crap.”

“I know.” Mingyu smiles tenderly. “I’m not mad.”

“You should be. I would be, if I was in your place.”

His eyes dart back to meet yours, and he grimaces. “If you really think about it, I’m the one who should be apologising, not you. I shouldn’t have read your diary, no matter how curious I was.”

“I… don’t really care about that, weirdly enough,” you say thoughtfully. “I was more worried about the fact that you thought I hated you and you were gonna leave me. Not so much about you reading the diary itself.”

“Pfft,” Mingyu says, affectionately condescending. “If I left you, where would I go?”

Your mouth parts as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “Jesus. How do you say things like that unironically?”

“I could compose whole sonnets about you and it wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s ironic, I hope.”

He tilts his head and pulls you close. “Only one way to find out.”

When he captures your lips with his this time, it’s with colliding bodies and biting teeth. He runs his tongue across your bottom lip, and you shudder in his arms, moaning. Somehow, you stumble back into the living room, a mess of tangled limbs.

Briefly pulling away, Mingyu sits down on the same sofa he’d occupied earlier and clumsily pulls you onto his lap. You brace your hands on his shoulders for support, lifting your head up when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you gasp, eyes falling shut.

He hums against your skin. “Tell me what you were doing in your room for so long.”

“I was—ah—it’s embarrassing.”

Mingyu stops his movements. “I won’t judge you.”

“I know,” you say, teeth worrying your lower lip. “I’ll tell you someday.”

When you purse your lips, ready for him to kiss you again, Mingyu lets out a soft laugh. “Sweetheart.”

“What?” 

“I think I need to correct some of your… perceptions of me,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“I’m sorry about your blouse,” he whispers. “You looked really pretty wearing it, you know. Got distracted. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Mingyu, I don’t know what you’re talking—” You gasp when he kisses the column of your throat.

“I’m sorry for being obnoxious,” he continues, lowering his head and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck. “But I’m not sorry you think I’m handsome.”

“Only your face,” you mutter, but you tug on his hair to get him to tilt his head up. When he does, you kiss him again, your hands warm and placed on the junctions where his neck meets his shoulders. 

“I’ll support you in more than just meetings,” he says, pulling back. His breath ghosts over your lips, prompting a shiver to pass through your body. Your eyes widen when you finally, finally realise what he’s talking about. “I’ll tell those stupid clients to shut up and take it.”

You laugh, bright and happy, and Mingyu wants to bottle the sound up greedily. “That sounds kinda wrong,” you say.

He shrugs, his smile turning lopsided. “I’m sorry for ignoring you when you said hi to me. I won’t do it ever again.”

You laugh again, teeth flashing in the warm glow of the living room lights.

There’s an odd feeling in Mingyu’s chest—something warm and golden—something he can only describe as being terribly, hopelessly lovesick for you.

He whispers your name again, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Tell me what you were doing in your room for so long.”

You groan again, your previous amusement turning into embarrassment. Your next words are muffled by his shoulder, your lips warm against his clavicle as you mumble something only you can understand.

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you,” Mingyu says mischievously.

 Another sound of mortification.

“I won’t laugh,” he says. “Promise.”

“Underwear,” you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. “I was searching for a better pair of underwear than the one I had on.”

To his credit, Mingyu really doesn’t laugh. It takes a lot of effort, though, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent his giggles from escaping. 

You lean back and narrow your eyes at him. “Oh, go on. I know you’re dying to laugh.”

He shakes his head, cheeks blown out like a pufferfish. You stare at him quietly.

Minutes later, he exhales shakily. “See? I didn’t laugh. I’m a nice guy.”

His lips find yours again, slower and more languorous this time. After all, he has all the time in the world now—to hold you like this, kiss you gently—and he plans to cherish each second. Your tongue swipes his lower lip, and he parts his mouth willingly. He feels like putty underneath you, as he uses one of his hands to cup your face and deepen the kiss. Your lips move against his, already familiar, but he could never stop craving it.

When you pull back to breathe, your eyes are wide and your lips are swollen—a fact that Mingyu notes with pride.

“Nice boys don’t kiss like that,” you breathe out.

“Oh, yes, they fucking do.”

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: One

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Minor gore

ANYTHING IN ITALICS IS A FLASHBACK

Masterlist

It only started as a cold. Then it spread to a viral infection, consuming people faster than poison. It didn’t take long for the world to stop, for terror to appear, spreading like a wildfire, destroying cities as quickly as they appeared.

It was a vastly asked question growing up, “Do you think you would survive the apocalypse?” and to those who answered yes, where are you now? For you, surviving came easy. You remember it, the scene playing in your head like clockwork.

“Vienna, we have to go!” You spat, your voice scratching against your parched throat as you watched the dead-alive tear at the walls, staggering limbs chasing after the scent of beating veins.

“I can’t run any faster,” Vienna spat, sheer fire running through her exhausted body as she stumbled upon the concrete road. You trusted her. You were going to get through it together. You were all each other had now.

You didn’t stop, only grabbing her hand as your worn shoes skidded against the floor, the smell of rubber burning your nose. “We need to get over that fence!” You yelled, your eyes blurred from exhaustion as you tugged the girl next to you, your sweat dancing along your palms.

You stumbled, heavy feet clamping into the chain as you attempted to pull yourself up. The taste of metallic engorged your mouth as you bit harshly on your tongue, gripping onto Vienna’s hand in an effort to pull her up.

“You need to hurry!” Your voice yelped out, dragging the girl as if she was a rag-doll, your efforts rushed as you attempted to pull her up. It felt like a movie, the sound of gargling flesh, mangled between broken teeth and rotting skin acting as a soundtrack, yet it wasn’t fiction. This was real, this was reality.

Your leg was now hunched over, your body positioned between the fence as you focused on saving your friend. The clamminess between both of your hands, causing a friction as she continued to slip. “I-I can’t, Y/N, pull me harder,” Vienna exasperated, her voice high pitched as she watched behind her, rotten claws scratching the air.

Vienna’s feet dug into the chain as she wobbled, slick pools of blood flooding at her palms as she sliced the tender skin upon the metal. A grunt left her mouth as she clasped onto your hand, the dead swarming closer, desperate and starved.

Almost comically, Vienna whispered out an “I’m sorry” before tugging. You landed with a whack, your knees hitting the ground as you winced, your jeans skidding across the ground, fresh marks of friction, followed by the prickle of blood appeared quickly upon your palms and knees as your eyes darted to the girl infront of you, clambering up the fence.

Your breathing stilled, the sound of static filling your ears, muting everything around you as your limbs froze up. This was it, you thought, the stench of death approaching you as you attempted to stand, hands gripping out to reach for any weapon as the sound of struggle behind you deafened you.

You covered your ears, tucking your face into your knees as you sat up, flashes of everything you were running through your brain like a compilation. Instead, you were met with the trample of feet and bodies toppling over you. Your eyes adjusted, looking at the huddle of zombies walking near you, not paying you a care as they focused on the flesh of your once friend.

Your body stirred for a second, your flesh searing in the sun as you crawled up, your legs weak. You almost wish you had died then, the sound of Vienna’s scream even after her betrayal paralysing you. You didn’t stick around, your hand securing your satchel as you limped off, the sound of squelching and gnarling being the only thing you left behind.

You kept a calendar on a torn, leather notebook, marking each day carefully since the first. It had been 296 days. 296 days of being alone. 296 of being invisible. 296 days of nothing. You survived in an old farm house, tucked away in a rural forest in God know’s where. It was funny, you expected to see someone, anyone, but you never did.

Maybe it was easier that way, you were a given a chance with someone, and they left you to die. It was easy to make a simple life for yourself out here and you often wondered why the previous owner’s had left.

Your food was supplied by the garden, a plethora of fruits and vegetables adorned across the land as you tended to them. There were animals too. Cows, chickens, horses. You grew to care for them, speaking to them often as if they would reply. It was worth a shot, you thought, and it made you less lonely.

You survived by fending for yourself, learning how to shoot an arrow as you hunted the occasional deer in the forest, tenderising the meat on their gas stove. There was a small town nearby, practically untouched that you had raided, using the spare pickup truck that dusted away in the garage.

You had never seen anyone, but if you did, whoever lived here didn’t shy away from guns, the shotgun he left behind and the small pistols he littered around the house, along with your bow and arrow, were your forms of protection. Everything was simple. Everything was as perfect as it could be, you were fine.

It was a regular occurrence for you to ride now, your ass plush against the saddle as you trotted around the acreage. It was rare to see zombies along here, the silence speaking for itself, and if they did, they didn’t pay any attention to you walking over to them and chopping their head off with an axe. You found it comforting as you listened to the whistle of the horse’s nostrils, breathing out slowly.

As it grew dark, you locked the barn, securing it tightly before heading inside. You were thankful for fire as you chucked a log of wood you had chopped into the burner, lighting it with a match. You locked the door, front and back, as you shut the blinds, a simple routine you did to soothe yourself. Your feet, covered by fluffy socks you had found in a cupboard, padded against the floor as you headed up the creaky stairs.

Your body conformed to the blankets covering you, hushing you to sleep as your body gratefully accepted. The only thing that would wake you would be the sun, and the haunting memory of Vienna.

The teapot whistled, steam singing out of the nozzle as you carried it to the bath. Though it was a luxury to shower in hot water, it had rained these past couple of weeks, allowing for the rain tank to fill up and be put to good use.

Your body scorched against the porcelain tub as you stepped in, the muscles in your thighs kneading themselves into tight balls before the tension released. You used one of the several soap bars you had stored, scrubbing against your tender skin as you washed yourself. Your fingers trailed against the gash of a scar on your forearm, a reminder of the fence, a reminder of her.

You finished up, your body snug around a towel you had recently washed using an off-the-grid washing machine they kept stored in the basement. Thank God people lived like that before civilisation turned to shit, either that, or Amish. You weren’t complaining about either.

You changed into a pair of shorts, the weather slowly warming up as the winter passed, the celebration of spring approaching on your calendar. You fed yourself with an apple before approaching the barn, the key clicking against the door as you greeted the animals, feeding them with a mix of leftover animal food and vegetables. Sure, it wasn’t the best diet, but it fed them well enough to provide milk and eggs.

Your feet padded against the hay-covered floor, arms stroking the horse you were most fond of (that you called Nancy) before letting her out, straddling her waist with a saddle as you dragged her to the fenced paddock. You were quick to grab Cecil, the male of the pair. While he was now fond of you, your stomach had still not fully forgiven him for the brutal kick he gave you when you first met.

Once your legs grew, sore, staggering to continue directing the horse, you huddled inside, as you began to sew, using an old dress you found to create a shirt and a skirt. You hummed softly to yourself, the silence of the house speaking back to you, the distance sound of a chugging engine humming in as you stilled.

Like a statue, you froze before dropping expletives, your body slinking over to the window as you looked outside. Is that.. a truck? The soft hum of the engine grew closer as you rushed to grab your shotgun, before rushing outside, hands flailing around as you waited for the car to turn around.

“This is private property!” You yelled, your voice stern, “You need to leave.” Your face was vastly covered by the large gun you held, doing your best to intimidate whoever it was that drove on the land.

You heard the sound of doors opening, before four different doors closed. You lowered your gun, eyes squinting as you froze. You almost felt like your eyes were betraying you as you took in the group before you.

A man wearing a bucket hat, raised his arms slowly, slinking towards you as you stepped back. “Listen, we ain’t- we ain’t trying to scare you,” he spoke, his voice authoritative, “we didn’t think anyone would be out here.”

“Well, I am,” you snapped, lowering the gun slightly to look at him, “So fuck off, you and whoever is behind you isn’t welcome here.”

A man, the tallest of the group, stepped forward. He was intimidating, a black balaclava with a skull face situated on top covered his identity, his frame bricked with muscle as his chest puffed forward, “Listen-“ he began before the man with the hat cut him off.

“We ain’t here for issues, sweetheart, simply need a place to stay. We were in the military and we would greatly appreciate it.”

You furrowed your brows as you raised your gun again, “If you were in the military, why the fuck are you still here? Shouldn’t they have shipped you off somewhere safe?”

“We were on a mission, stuck in a safe house in the middle of nowhere. We assumed we had lost connection when no one could contact us. Took us a while to realise what had happened,” he spoke, arms over his chest, “I promise we ain’t here to hurt ya, at most we just want to eat and if you don’t want us here tomorrow, we’ll get out of your hair, a’right?”

You stilled, taking in their clothes, lined with badges and gear you would only seen on someone in the military. You lowered your gun before turning on your heel back to the house. You waited for a second, not moving, before you heard the sound of multiple feet against gravel before they walked into the house, soft sighs leaving their lips.

“Do you have supplies?” You quipped, tone harsh as you looked at them, placing the gun down yet keeping it in arms reach. Sure you had never shot one, but how hard could it be?

Another man nodded and you could finally take a look at him. Does he have a Mohawk? You couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh as you stared at him. “Got some bottled water in the boot, and some military meals we found at some shops along the way as well as some toiletries. It’s not a lot- but it’ll help,” he said, a thick Scottish accent causing you to scrunch your brows together in an attempt to understand him.

You nodded slowly, still not taking your eyes off of them before reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a labelled pot. The words stew stared back at you before you turned on the stove, letting it simmer. “The best I can feed you all with notice is left over deer stew. If you don’t want it, fend for yourself else where,” you snapped, rubbing between your eyebrows as you grabbed a spoon.

“That’s more than enough, thank you,” the hat man said, his arms resting on the table before he headed outside, to presumably grab the supplies in the boot.

“You been out here this whole time?” An unfamiliar voice spoke. You turned to him. He was handsome, with a boyish smile and soft features, his skin a complimenting shade of brown.

“Not the whole time, ended up here by mistake I suppose but I’m not complaining.”

“You survived this entire time by yourself?” The masked man gibed, looking you up and down as if you were useless. You shot him a nasty glare, your tone spiteful, “Yes, I have and now I have four dickwads at my door, begging to stay with me.”

The man silenced himself, eyes crinkling slightly as he turned around. “What’s your name?” The Scottish one asked, stepping closer to watch you heat the food as your body tensed.

“Y/N,” you said curtly.

“I’m Soap,” he announced, bouncing softly on his feet as he breathed in real food for a change.

“Hell kinda name is Soap?” You spat, staring at him.

“Military name, lass. Real names John,” he added, a small smile on his face before he turned to the others. “That’s Gaz, or Garrick,” he said, pointing to the handsome one, “and that’s Ghost, or-“

“Just Ghost,” the masked man grumbled. You rolled your eyes at his lack of manners, growing more frustrated by the second.

Soap strummed his fingers against the counter before clearing his throat. “The one outside is Price, names also John so it’s easier to just call us Price and Soap.”

The man you now knew as Price walked back in, hands clutching plastic containers filled with water bottles, items stacked on top as he placed them on the counter. “Thank you,” he said, gesturing towards the stew as you nodded.

“There are two spare bedrooms upstairs that you can rest in for the night, I’ll show you to them after we eat,” you say, grabbing a ladle and 5 China bowls.

As you sat down, you felt yourself relax slightly, trying to reassure yourself that if they wanted to hurt you, they would have done so already. Would others around the house be that bad? You shook your head, shaking the idea away.

They’re leaving first thing tomorrow.

[sovereigngear]

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