#SCREAMING THANK YOU <333333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[yaku-paisen]

Thank you SOOOO so so so much 🧡💜🧡💜omggg my good golly gosh my heart is so warm it's on FIRE

Hi! If you're still looking for fall ideas, what about getting some sweet warm drinks with Ushijima...and he gets a little whipped cream on his nose... 🥺🥺

Omg of course, this is soooo cute 🥺 I think I got a cavity writing this. The fact that it's been in the 90s F the past few days where I live is irrelevant, shh.

(ps to the other fall requests they're cominggg I promise!!)

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

WC: ~900

You've been having a wonderful time with Wakatoshi at the pumpkin patch, picking out the perfect pumpkins to carve later and sampling all of the delicious treats. Still, the autumn chill has begun to settle in, and you're starting to feel it in the tips of your toes. You nonchalantly hug your arms around yourself for a few moments, trying to produce just a little extra warmth without making it too obvious. Wakatoshi still notices, though.

"Are you getting cold?" He asks, his hand at your back as he dips down so his soft question can be heard above the din of the crowd.

"No," You say quickly. His brow crinkles into a slight frown, and you laugh softly. "Well, just a tiny bit," You amend. It's rare that you get to do things like this with your boyfriend, so you want to make this day last.

"Hmm," He hums, then reaches for your hand, tugging you back toward the food stalls. "I think I saw hot chocolate at one of these stands. Would that help?" He asks as you walk.

"Definitely," You grin. "That sounds really nice, actually." The thought of the creamy, warm cocoa already has you feeling a bit less chilly. When your turn comes up, Wakatoshi orders two cups. The woman smiles. "And would you like whipped cream?" Wakatoshi merely glances at you, and you nod quickly.

"Yes please!" It always makes the last few swallows the best part. Soon enough, she presents two steaming cups of cocoa, dolloped with whipped cream and topped with tiny pumpkin sprinkles.

"Sorry, Toshi," You nudge him gently with your elbow as he scans the area for an empty table. "I should've asked for the whipped cream only on mine." You know he doesn't care for overly sweet things, and the cocoa alone is more indulgent than usual for him.

"It's fine," He shrugs as you take a seat at a nearby table. "It'll be nice for a treat." His lips quirk into a smile, and you can tell that he means it.

You draw in the aroma of the sweetened steam, and soon lift your cup to your lips for a careful sip. When you finally look back at him, you realize he must have done the same. It takes everything in you to stifle your laughter. That perfect dollop of whipped cream is now partially smeared on the tip of his nose. He seems oblivious to it, which makes it even more adorable.

"What is it?" He asks with a frown as your giggle slips out.

"Toshi," You crook your finger, "Come here."

"Why?" He asks slowly, but he does as you beckon, leaning across the table until he's in reach and you can swipe the cream off his nose with your fingertip.

He jerks backwards slightly, frown morphing into a look of surprise at your sudden movement. "You got a little on your nose," You laugh, displaying it for him for a few seconds before popping it in your mouth, enjoying the sticky sweetness.

"Oh," He murmurs, the slightest tinge forming high in his cheeks. "Thanks." He lifts his own hand and scrubs at his nose, inspecting it to be sure he'd gotten all of it. "Is it gone?"

"Yes, it's gone," You assure him, taking another sip of your cocoa. Maybe you should've captured a photo before you cleaned it off, you think belatedly. You can't keep the smile from your face as you admire him across the table. "It was cute," You add teasingly.

"Oh?" He shakes his head slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well then." He takes another sip, tilting the cup far enough that it will certainly tip more whipped cream onto his nose, and it does. "Maybe I should leave it," He muses with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Toshi!" You blurt in a peal of laughter, lifting your hand to your lips before any cocoa can spatter out. "I can't believe you just did that!" Soon he's chuckling too, the sound sending tendrils of warmth through your middle. It's not often you get to see your boyfriend acting silly, and you want to savor it.

He finally swipes the whipped cream off of his nose, and you settle into a comfortable silence as you both continue sipping your drinks. You're glad he seems to be enjoying the day. It had been your idea, and part of you was worried it might be boring for him, but the smile on his face tells you it had been well worth it.

"Oh, hold still." He says suddenly, and he reaches out to steady your face with his fingertips as he swipes at the corner of your lips with his thumb. "There." He nods. "You had a little bit of cream stuck there," He explains.

"Oh, thanks," You wipe the back of your hand quickly across your mouth. "None on my nose, though?" You ask with a teasing grin. "Am I clean?"

"None on your nose," He agrees softly, eying you more critically. "But..." Instead of responding, his fingers are back at your chin. Before you can react, he leans across the table, slightly tilting your face as his lips press to the corner of yours.

"There. Now you're clean." He looks a little too pleased with himself, and you? You certainly aren't feeling cold at all.

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix - Sebastian Vettel(ft. Mark Webber & Jenson Button)

[wexhappyxfew]

oh goodness, what about soft john and annie with "it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break." ?

AH HELLO!!!!! first of all; a massive thank you for sending this prompt in and for stopping by the askbox!!! it is so greatly appreciated in my lil corner of the world. and second - SOFT JOHN AND ANNIE!!!! coming *right* up! this was such a good prompt for them and i immediately saw it and was like - i need to do this Right. Now. and here we are! sincerest thank you's for this! please enjoy! <3

cold hands

(a/n): annie x brady girlies i am in shambles over this please know. a whole lot of annie's internal monologue and how greatly she is affected by her traumatizing youth - and her struggle to break free from that. and brady is a part of that healing process <3 annie bradshaw you will always be famous girl - never change! :D

Seeing him sat there, head bowed, body completely frozen had to be one of the worst feelings she had experienced in a long time.

And she'd grown up with a mother who hardly had wanted a thing to do with her, much less take care of the children that were in her care.

A part of Annie saw him as a little boy for the first time, in a way. Knowing that behind this strong facade of an Air Force Captain, who had flown B-17s all over Europe, over Germany, down to Africa, training his heart out, there was still that little boy who lived inside of him.

Annie stood in the doorway of the empty bunk room, entirely unsure of her next moves.

She was her own command pilot, a Lieutenant!

She'd gone through hell and back in her youth, gone through training where she was viewed as nothing more than the bottom of the barrel, fighting her way to both be respected and viewed as a pilot in the Air Force, and equally gone through constant doubt, grief and dismissal because of the fact she was a woman. She'd gone through multiple ranges of situations she'd been lost and confused in; but she'd found a way. She had commanded Silver Bullets on nearly 20 missions, risking her life day in and day out, she'd shown herself in every possible light and proven herself time and time again.

Yet, in this moment, she had no idea what to do.

She was usually great at this; dealing with her little siblings, answering their questions as to why Mommy was in bed again, or where Dad was, or why they didn't have anything for breakfast - yeah, that'd been easy, she'd gotten good at it.

Enough to convince herself that it almost wasn't true (even though it was).

This though? She couldn't stop standing there and looking at him and seeing nothing but that young boy.

Annie took a tentative step forward and it didn't take him even less than a second to look up from the ground and towards her, his hardened gaze immediately growing gentle at the sight of her there in the threshold, his white knuckles releasing the built-up tension that had been there previously.

She didn't miss the reddening hand-mark on his cheek or the bruising underneath his eye - something Bucky had warned her about before going in - she did miss him though.

Even if he was right there in front of her, she'd miss him. Those weeks apart, knowing he was here and she was back in Thorpe Abbotts - that had been enough for her heart to pull into two.

"Hey," she said, her voice quiet, immediately splitting the silence in the room into two, as a small smile darted onto her face, "was looking for you." Brady watched her, his eyes, which had turned soft and delicate like they always did when watching her, darted across her face, as if searching for a hidden wound he couldn't uncover. The corners of his lips rose upwards the slightest bit, the smile tight of his face as he sat up a bit straighter. He was always sitting up straighter, putting on the brave face, trying to do things for her instead of himself.

"Everyone's outside." she said when he didn't say anything - which, admittedly, had made her heart hurt a bit, "The sun came out. It may be gone before you know it." Annie watched Brady's face; she was getting to the point of noticing even the most minute of details about his facial expressions, down to the shifting of his eyes, the way his eyebrow would twitch, even when the corner of his mouth darted upwards or downwards depending on the mood.

She remembered when she was younger and her parents would get into a fight - Annie, at the peak age of 13 - would be shuffling her siblings off to bed, her older brother, Roy, still at work, playing peacemaker with fire and water. She could get to the point when she knew a fight would start - her mother's lip twitch, the blank look in her eye that slowly shifted to despair and guilt. Her father half alive on his feet, yelling about the bills and the house and that damn leaky faucet. She could picture those faces in her mind. Even sensing the slightest change in someone's face made her go into fight-or-flight; she was trying to get better at it.

"Annie." She blinked. Shifting her gaze towards Brady, he was slowly standing to his feet from the bunk, his tall frame coming towards her as he gently placed his hands on her arms, getting a good look at her face as if she was under a light.

"You okay?" he asked her, that worrying look immediately crossing his face like it always did. Annie looked up at him and nodded quickly.

"I should be asking you that," she said softly back to him, the corner of her lip perking upwards again in an attempt at a smile, "are you okay?" Brady watched her and nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "just needed a minute to sit, ya know?" She watched him. "Keep my mind thinking, things like that." Annie quirked out a grin at him.

"Whatcha thinking about?" she asked him, her voice lighthearted as she gazed up at him with that softened gaze even she knew she used on him when it was just them, alone. That got Brady grinning wide, his usual smile a natural comfort to her at this point.

"C'mon, you can tell me," Annie said softly, leaning towards him, tilting her chin upwards with a smile, "I'm being serious."

"Just….things," he said, incredibly nonchalantly and off-handedly, catching her gaze and grinning slightly, "why are you still giving me that look?" Annie smiled at him, relishing the closeness of him, the feel of his hands on her arms, that look in his eyes, him simply there, staring right back at her.

Moments like this she reveled in and drank up. Because in her life, no one had ever taken the time to care for someone like her in a situation like this. She had always worried about the kids, her parents (despite their blunders) and especially Roy who had worked himself nearly to death for the Bradshaws. Now, someone was stood here, caring for her.

She couldn't help but wonder what went on in their brain.

"How'd you get that?" Annie asked him quietly, nodding to his slightly bruising cheek, the faint redness following. She watched him expectantly and held his gaze as he watched her back.

"I talked back. To the Germans, I don't know....I shouldn't have." Brady said quietly, "I hear the way they talk sometimes, Annie. Just….couldn't keep it in this go-round." Annie watched him, before slowly bringing her hand towards his cheek before hesitating. Brady smiled shakily.

"It's okay," he said with a hint of a smile, "you can touch me." He grinned wider, more genuinely. "I won't break." Annie softly encapsulated his bruising cheek in her hand, her thumb brushing against the fragile reddening skin on his cheek and met his gaze again.

"I could try and get you some ice," Annie said quietly, her mind spinning to get an idea going in her head, "or….I don't know, freeze water or something. It's cold as hell here anyway." Brady chuckled at her words and melted a bit more into her touch.

"I'd be fine just like this," he told her with another smile, "are your hands always this cold?" Annie let out a small laugh at his words and brought her other hand up to hold his other cheek, her thumbs brushing against his slightly stubbled cheeks, her touch evidently one of comfort for the both of them.

This.

Whatever this was between them. Holding each other like this, looking at each other like this, being this close without any sort of expectation or explanation.

"Considering how cold it has been outside," Annie started softly, "I wouldn't be too surprised. I did grow up where we were constantly snowed-in in the winter."

"That doesn't mean you need to have cold hands," Brady said softly, bringing his own hands up from her arms and layering his own hands over her own, grasping gently around her wrists and dancing his fingers over her exposed skin, peaking out past the cuffs on her coat, "this'll heal up in no time." Annie gave him a look.

"I'm getting you ice still," Annie said quietly, tilting her head to the side, the feel of his, admittedly, very warm hands, over her own, making her body ache for every part of him in more ways than one - along with the need to take care of him, "no ifs, ands, or buts about it, got it?" She caught that look on his face that told her that he was about to brush himself off again.

"I see that look."

"What?" Brady said with a small smile, as she tapped her thumbs lightly against his cheeks again, "You're reminding me a lot of my mom right now, Annie." Annie watched him, with a smile that warmed up her entire being.

"I had enough little siblings to take care of," Annie said, watching him with an almost more sorrowful look in her eyes than intended, "I guess taking care of others is what I do best." Brady's smile fell the slightest bit, and the room seem to turn into both a stale-air and stilled environment.

"You're the best at a lot of things you do, An, you know that." Brady said - his questioning sounding more like an adamant statement.

And this is why John Brady meant more to her than most - he seemed to notice those moments that she fell back on herself or undermined whatever accomplishments or bettering for herself that she might get.

He always reminded her of who she was.

"A damn good pilot, you could give me a run for my money any day," Brady said with a small, light-hearted chuckle, his fingers still dancing over her exposed wrists, over the few scars that were still there and scabbing, "and you know how to make the perfect cup of coffee." Annie let out a laugh she couldn't hold back. "It's true!"

"You just want a good cup of coffee, huh?"

"Annie." Brady said, almost adoringly as he watched her, his hands still on her wrists and cold hands, "I'll take the ice."

"Good!" Annie exclaimed with an uncontrollable grin on her cheeks, before standing to her tiptoes and bringing Brady's head to her lips, a soft kiss pressed to his forehead, something so damn maternal that she wasn't sure if she was even in her right mind, "I'll go get one of those metal tins. Fill it up." She looked at him with a smile. "And we'll get you healing up with that ice pack." Brady watched her with a slightly halted and dazed look in his eyes, gazing at her like she was a shining light.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

"You don't have to butter up to me, John," Annie said, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks again in a soothing manner, "I'd do it either way." She grinned. Brady watched her and grasped her hands tighter this time; firmer, more confidently.

"Really though, An," he said softly, "you're really amazing." Annie watched him for a moment, her eyes searching his, trying to figure out a way to respond to his words without sounding like a complete, wordless idiot.

Because standing there, she wanted to tell him the same thing right back.

Even more so.

He was beyond amazing - if there was even a word to describe someone like him that was beyond words a dictionary could provide.

"You're pretty amazing yourself, John," she whispered back, a tiny voice in her head telling her to accept his words, "thank you." He smiled at her. Beyond amazing, she thought in her head, way beyond anything her mind could conjure.

[beepbeepdespair]

hey guys did you know that after the events of lisa frankenstein lisa actually just started joining other horror films for funsies. yeah she's having a great time

[cassynite]

LOOK AT THE ADORABLE SPARROW @arrow90-quiver MADE FOR ME!!!!! LOOK AT HER FACE.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

@dollsuguru

geto

[wexhappyxfew]

TAKING MORE PROMPTS!!!!!!

hello my friends! it is an absolutely beautiful day out, i'm vibing to music, the sun is shining and i'm listening to music! AND - in that way, i think it calls for more prompt requests!!! i am working on one final prompt + an idea a mutual gave me from one of my benny/margie pieces, along with a few smaller ideas that i've toyed with. BUT - before the semester really starts up, i really wanted to open it up one last time for prompt request for the Silver Bullets girls!

thank you for all the love and support this crew has gotten and what you've given me - i seriously can't thank you enough! below are three different prompt selections + lists of who the Silver Bullets girls are if you want to take a look and a list of their pending duos! :D

The Silver Bullets

Silver Bullets Couples

Prompt List 1

Prompt List 2

Prompt List 3 (this set of prompts are particularly screaming at me!!)

send whoever you would like and how many ever you want! if you want two characters, please just include both their names, it can be an OC/canon character or two OCs or a group - or a particular duo, such as #1 (insert prompt) for Judy x Rosie or Kennedy x Bucky! THANK YOU!!!! consider me incredibly hyped! :D

[ccraccz]

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Winbre boys X f!reader. LMAOOO PLS

our dear reader is being clingy and playful. Loves PDA and ain't afraid to show it.

ANON PLEASE!!!!!!!!! ON MY KNEES, MY HEART HURTS FROM WRITING THIS, THIS IS SO CUTE. I need them all to cuddle me rn, sight. ANYWAYS, THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH OF THE REQUEST!!! <333333

Characters: Suo, Uryu, Seiryu, Sakura x F!reader

Outwardly affectionate

Suo Hayato

He. would. not. Mind.

Actually, he would relish in your affections

holding your hand, having your arm wrapped around his, an arm around your waist, anything to hold you close and show the world that your his

he lives for it

especially when Sakura is near by and sees you both, you playing with his fingers as he looks at you with the softest of looks.

Sakura basically implodes when he catches both of you

you both find it so funny though, its adorable

when he walks you to school, you don't forget to hug him and kiss him on the cheek or on the lips, depending on how you're feeling, making the girls in your school jealous

the thrives off of your affections, cute remarks, constant touching, it reassures him of your love and more...

Uryu Sakaki

Bro could not care less

he'll let you do whatever you want, and he would not react

but you know him too well, and the light blush on his cheeks makes it obvious that he doesn't mind at all

want to play with his fingers while whispering how much you love him? he'll look at you, eyes gentle and nod along to your words.

he isn't one to be verbal in any way, so he, after letting you say the nicest of words and letting you cling to him as you both walk around, gets you plushies, flowers, any food you want, and more

he would give you anything if you were to even utter the word

Your love language and his are very different, but both of you compliment each other either way

but, he does love when you cuddle up to him, especially since your body heat is one of the most comforting things he has ever felt n his opinion, but he won't tell you that verbally.

h̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ l̶o̶v̶e̶ t̶o̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ h̶i̶s̶ h̶e̶a̶d̶ j̶u̶s̶t̶… s̶h̶o̶v̶e̶d̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶ b̶o̶o̶b̶s̶, s̶m̶a̶l̶l̶ o̶r̶ b̶i̶g̶, t̶h̶a̶t̶ c̶h̶e̶s̶t̶ i̶s̶ h̶i̶s̶ t̶o̶ l̶a̶y̶ o̶n̶

Seiryu Sakaki

He loves it!!!!

he'll kiss the crown of your head, he bring your hands up to his lips and kiss your knuckles, he'll let you cling to his arm, and he'll hold you close by the waist

he'll tell you how much he loves you, and laugh with you when you tell him the stupidest but cutest comments about your love for him

If you're not near him, it feels a bit weird, but its tolerable

his messages with you would be constant whines that he misses you and hat he loves you.

it's a constant I love you, I love you more fight with the two of you that Uryu sometimes has to put on headphones because he's sick of the both you

he bumps into you constantly for funny haha's, making the both of you go into giggle fits as you bump him back and cling to him when he tries bumping into you

He finds it adorable, and especially loves when you run your hands through his hair when he lays on your lap, watching the show you got him into, your nails (manicured or not, even if your nails are bitten) scratching and massaging his scalp

he could literally just fall asleep in that perfect situation he is in.

Sakura Haruka

He hates how much power you have over him He loves it

He's always so red, and you live for it

you kiss his cheek, he screams and gets people watching while you giggle at his reaction

it makes you sad though, thinking about how lonely he must have been to never experience the warmth of love

so you make sure he knows EVERYTHING

you make sure he knows how much you love him, making sure to text him that you're looking forward to seeing him after school, or that you love him, or that you miss him and want his cuddles!

every time he reads those types of messages, he flushes bright pink, grabbing the attention of his friends and making them giggle at him when they find out the message is from you

he would never tell you this, but he loves when you smother him with kisses and hold him close, letting him wrap his arms around your waist while your wrap yours around his neck and kiss his lips again and again and again.

[cherryxsang]

okay so...

“Possession of illegal drugs and evading the law. That’s enough for a few months in the slammer,” the man said with a smirk, bending over slightly and lifting you up over his shoulder with ease. You squeaked at the feeling of his arms squeezing around your body, hitting your fists into his solid back and yelling at him to let you go. Whistling a bit, he simply carried you back to his taller, older looking partner who was leaning against the police car with his arms folded across his chest. YESS HE GOD DAMN DID LIFT ME OVER HIS SHOULDER WITH EASE SJDHKJSHF AND THE WAY HE DOESNT EVEN NOTICE ME PUNCHING THE FUCK OUTTA HIM JSDjsJ

“You have the right to remain silent, pretty girl. Everything you say can and will…” his voice trailed off a bit, focusing on pressing himself against your ass, sighing at the sensation. “…be held against you." SDFJKFH JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP ALYSSA JESUS DKJS PRETTY GIRL>????

“Uh-huh.” Yunho lowered his hand to your ass and grabbed it roughly, before sliding his hand in between your thighs, rubbing at the underside of your clothed cunt, pressing his digits down where he presumed your clit was. “Is this where you keep your drugs? In this little pussy of yours?” adkaodk we love a man who can find the clit 😌 ugh and i dunno if there's any drugs in there 👉👈 maybe u could check hehe 👉👈.....

NOW ALYSSA........ HOW R U GONNA PUT THIS: Yunho laughed a bit to himself, nudging Jongho out of habit. Jongho gave him a gummy smile, looking sweeter than he should have. AND THIS...: If he hadn’t just groped you and taken your hard earned money, you would’ve believed that he could listen to reason, unlike the psychopath that stood there gripping the outline of his unreasonably large package. IN THE SAME PARAGRAPH???? UNREASONABLY LARGE PACKAGE ???? WHAT? ?????

Being finger-fucked by him was almost the equivalent to having a cock inside you, especially if he filled you with three. He had a habit of breaking his toys too quickly, so he decided he would take his time preparing you for the real thing. ummm??? it feels like the cock???????? AIOSDJKSLJ and not him taking his time w us 🥰💅

eyeing Jongho through the rearview mirror, who gave you a cheeky wink, im sorry just this sdhsjdh he winked at us >< ////////

Yunho opened his mouth and dragged his tongue across his top set of teeth, the silver finishing of what seemed to be a bottom set of grillz glimmering in the light. “Kinky. I’d like that.”  eeeehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEHE ///////////

Jongho chuckled to himself, licking at the corner of his lips. “Are you going to fall apart for him, doll?” You could see his arm shift a bit and the side of his forearm coming in and out of view from where you were sitting. “Are you going to–fuck–cum all over his fingers?” He was starting to sound out of breath. The motherfucker was jerking himself off and driving at the same time. To be quite honest, you were more disappointed that you couldn’t watch than the fact that he was risking all of your lives on the freeway. Maybe you were just like them. Just maybe. DJFHKHS THERES ALOT TO UNPACK HERE........ FIRST OF ALL DOLL TTTTTTTTT yes mr jongho sir i can be your doll /// AND SECOND HES JERKING IT WHILE DRIVING THIS HAD ME GIGGLING ALL OVER AGAIN THATS SO FUNNY 😭😭

Yunho pressed his lips onto the shell of your ear, feeling you routinely squeezing around him. He needed to send you over the edge. “Cum for me, pretty girl. You know you want to.” You pulsed around him, giving him a good idea of what you wanted to hear next. Sending his tongue up along your earlobe and biting it roughly, making you shudder, he growled, “Be a good girl for me and fucking cum.” you cannOT put pretty girl AND good girl in the same paragraph babe youre tryna kill me and i caught you </3 also kissing the shell of our ear thats so cute TT

He tapped his finger against the glass, watching as a tiny bubble formed inside. “You wanna try it?”  “I mean, yeah, but are you sure you want to?” you questioned, tilting your head. “One of my regulars told me he downed a vial and fucked a lovebot so hard, its system shut down halfway through.”  Yunho smirked at Jongho, before pressing his shoulder into yours. “I mean, you’re the one that’s acting as our little lovebot for tonight, so are you prepared for that?” SKFDJDS THIS HAS ME GIGGLING TOO NOT HIM FUCKING BREAKING THE ROBOT DJSDFKDH and im the little love bot hehe 👉👈<333

This discovery almost distracted you from what was going on in front of you. Yunho had grabbed Jongho by the collar, his other hand clutching the back of the younger man’s head, their lips and tongues eagerly entwining, both occasionally biting at each other’s lips. pls bestie this was so hot they drink the vial and then just immediately cant hold themselves back from making out w each other whatttttttt my mind is blown 😭😭😭😭

With your thighs being held open forcefully by two strong hands, you squirmed around inside Yunho’s lap, barely able to handle the visual of Jongho ravaging your swollen cunt, his nose grinding repeatedly against your clit, his tongue buried deep inside your hole, and his dilated eyes focused solely on yours. NOOOO WHY HIS NOSE ON OUR CLIT- “Stay still, kitten,” Yunho purred, gripping the undersides of your thighs and bringing them upwards so that your knees were up by your chest on either side. “Let my pretty boy take care of you.” SJDHK THATS HIS PRETTY BOY </333 Jongho groaned softly at his friend’s sentence, his hand closing tightly around his cock, fisting it with diligence. He plunged his tongue in and out of you, only stopping to purse his lips and let the mix of arousal and spit drip down onto your clit. Eyeing the wetness longingly, he smacked his hand down onto you, sending a bolt of pleasure through your body,before going back down to slurp all the escaping arousal back into his mouth. hhhhhh AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

It only took one forceful squeeze of your clit and the feeling of being stretched open by Jongho’s large tongue for you to cum so hard you saw stars. When you came to, Jongho was licking your squirt from his chin, his eyes hooded and hair completely soaked in your release. NOT A SQUEEZEEE AND HIS LARGE TONGUE SJKADH AND PLSSS THE WAY I CAN SEE HIS HAZY EYES LOOKING UP AT MEEEE HIS CHEEKS WOULD B ALL REDDDD N HED BE ALL CUTE :(

Yunho cupped your cunt and palmed it just to feel your body begin to shudder against his from the overstimulation, smiling fondly at the sight of Jongho’s rampant lust. “Did you like being squirted on, baby bear?”  ummm yes he did cup our cunt and baby bear now you've gone too far bestie....... too far

Your eyelids lowered, feeling yourself begin to pulse in between your thighs. “You’re going to watch me while I get used by Yunho before you get a turn with me.” After hearing Jongho’s small groan and seeing the lust take over his features, you unconsciously spread yourself further open like you were about to take him instead of Yunho, which they both greatly appreciated. AHHHHHHH JONGHO IS SO DOWN BADDDDDD IM FUCKING LOSING MY MIND MY BRAIN N PUSSY ARE OVERHEATINGGGGG

“Fuck, ifyou’re going to smack me, then at least aim for my p–" Yunho’s large hand slammed down onto your cunt, his calloused palm rubbing against your swollen clit, replacing your words with a choked moan and bringing a smile to his sweaty face.  “Again,” you said, your demand coming out as a plea instead, your legs starting to tremble against the slippery couch. “Do it again.” i- im done........ this is end for me thank you all its been nice 👋

Jongho immediately brought his hand down and slapped it directly onto your clit, not giving you a second to react, before he did it again, both him and Yunho watching with delight as your arousal began to squirt out of you like a small fountain. "Good girl," he sighed, sliding his fingers through the wetness and spreading it over your swollen clit.   this- i- im actually done now i cant take it anymore...........words cant explain.........the things im feeling inside.........alyssa.............

Before you could ever take a breath, you were suddenly being lifted up by Yunho and being set down onto Jongho’s lap. “Ready, doll?” the younger man asked, running his calloused hands up along your curves, squeezing at the softest parts of your body, his fingers settling on your tits and tweaking them. “Yes, sir,” you moaned softly, your words flipping a switch inside Jongho’s mind. YES SIR 🫡 *SOBBING* YES SIR 🫡🫡🫡 why's he being lowkey sweettttt w his strong pretty hands feeling us up *harder sobbing* TTTTTT

“Ride me, baby. Make it bounce.” im moving out i hate this fucking family i feel unsafe i feel violated i feel-

Yunho sucked and licked at Jongho’s neck as he nodded weakly, finding his softer moans to be a lot cuter than the deeper, more masculine sounds he tried to make. “She’s our little cumslut now, baby bear. Fill her up with your honey, okay?”  WHYS YUNHO So THIRSTY FOR JONGHO JSDHSDKJFHKJJ AAAHH AND GIRL WHYD U HAVE TO DO THAT W CALLING HIS CUM HONEY 🙃

“Uh-huh, right.” You tilted your head to the side, batting your eyelashes up at Yunho. “You’re lucky I didn’t give you head. I would’ve given your cock a little chomp if I had the chance.”  Yunho flashed you a wide grin, his silver grillz reflecting in the light. “Well, there’s always next time.” shefkjdfkdshfkh a chomp bestie 😭😭😭😭 AHHH THERES ALWAYS NEXT TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HEHEHEHEHE ><

𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶

pairing: criminal! yunho x fem! reader (criminal) x criminal! jongho

genre: smut, cyberpunk au?? kinda, kinda lore compliant

summary: After finishing up a late night drug deal, you find yourself getting arrested by two suspicious policemen.

w.c: 6.1k

warnings: *possibly triggering content* drug usage, jongho and yunho play a little bit of bad cop nasty cop with reader jshshd <33, hard dom! yunho, dom! jongho, bratty sub! reader, dubcon elements, mxm, kissing, brat taming, degradation, praise, pet names, exhibitionism/voyeurism, manhandling, fingering, spit kink (so muchhh), face slapping, pussy slapping, spamking, oral (receiving), size kink, breeding kink, bulge kink, unprotected sex, sloppy seconds, creampies, squirting, slight dumbification

a/n: choo chooooo 🚂 next stop is smut cityyy – i mean, night city hehe whoops <33 just fyi i renamed the fic and changed the aesthetic to better fit the vibe. also i stg i gave yunho grillz before the teaser came out and i just - someone please write seonghwa with grillz,, i will kiss the ground that you walk on 🧎🏻‍♀️ anyways enjoyy bc this one goes on forever and everrr ٩( 'ω' )و

song rec: numb to the feeling, slow down by chase atlantic

☆ Masterlist ☆

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“How much for Night Serum?” a soft-spoken, disheveled man asked you, only allowing you to see his dry, quivering lips and the few beads of sweat that were rolling along his chin, the rest of his face hidden underneath the heaviness of his coat hood. 

Leaning your back against the slightly damp alley wall behind you, your fingers traced the outline of a small pocket that you had sewn onto the inside of your jacket. “120 for a vial.”

He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and smashed it down into your open palm. “I want two.” 

You counted the money and shoved it away into your tank top, then fished out two small vials filled with a glowing blue liquid from the small pocket, dropping them into the man’s eager hands. “Pleasure doing business with you,” you said mostly to yourself, the man already fast walking his way out of there and tossing his head back to down it. You watched with envy as he let out a blissful sigh and headed towards a hologram of a beautiful woman that was beckoning him inside the building she was posted in front of.  

With your hands shoved inside your hoodie pockets, you followed in the direction of the man, heading back out onto the semi-empty street and mindlessly walking down it, your eyes settling on the plethora of neon signs around you, some advertising 24-hour ramen shops and bars where you could drink your sorrows away, some flashing red XXX’s at you, enticing you to settle for a quick fuck with a lovebot of your choosing. None of it really interested you these days. No matter what you did, everything just felt numb. Muted. All you wanted was to feel alive again. Before you could think, you pulled one of the little vials out from your jacket and looked down at it, eventually opening it and swishing the liquid around. 

A pair of blue and red lights suddenly blinded you, an irritatingly loud siren joining in as well to overwhelm your senses. “Oh, fuck,” you reacted, suddenly taking a step back once you realized you had done something incriminating right next to an idle cop car. Just your luck. The vial smashed onto the ground just as you ran in the opposite direction, glancing back in horror to see an intimidatingly solid man with large thighs and equally large biceps already catching up with you.

“Stop right there!” he called out, reaching his hand out in your direction, amused by the fear in your eyes and the quickening pace of your steps.  

You carried your body down the pavement as fast as you could, your lungs already on fire from routinely panting and breathing in the cold night air. Your breath escaped your lungs completely when you were suddenly yanked backwards by the collar of your jacket, the color leaving your face once you got a good look at the serious man standing behind you. 

“Possession of illegal drugs and evading the law. That’s enough for a few months in the slammer,” the man said with a smirk, bending over slightly and lifting you up over his shoulder with ease. You squeaked at the feeling of his arms squeezing around your body, hitting your fists into his solid back and yelling at him to let you go. Whistling a bit, he simply carried you back to his taller, older looking partner who was leaning against the police car with his arms folded across his chest. 

“What do we have here?” Yunho mused, a mysterious glint hidden within his coffee brown eyes. 

Once Jongho placed you down onto the ground, you tried to take off, instantly being yanked backwards by the taller man and shoved down face-first onto the hood of the police car. “Trying to run again, huh? Seems like we have a little troublemaker on our hands.”

“Fuck you,” you replied with your cheek smushed into the cold metal of the hood, groaning from how rough Yunho was as he grabbed your wrists and forced them behind your back in an uncomfortable position. 

“She’s feisty,” Yunho commented to his partner, the two of them exchanging pleased glances with each other, just as you heard a click sound and the sensation of something cold and heavy hanging on your wrists. You were fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. So why were you elated? “You have the right to remain silent, pretty girl. Everything you say can and will…” his voice trailed off a bit, focusing on pressing himself against your ass, sighing at the sensation. “…be held against you.” 

“And you have the right to choke on a dick,” you retorted, squeezing your thighs together, both disgusted and turned on knowing that you could feel just how large the man was in every sense of the word. 

“She wants me,” Yunho stated, grinning at his friend. Jongho playfully shook his head at Yunho, who chuckled and stepped aside. 

Your fingers twitched behind you, biting down on your lip in anticipation for what was next until you began to feel strong hands sliding up and down your thighs, then to your ass, his fingers squeezing into them and spreading you apart through your thin joggers, making your brain feel a bit fuzzy around the edges. “Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” you questioned weakly, lifting your head up to look back at Jongho with a glare. 

“It’s called a body search, sweetheart.” Jongho continued, moving his hands up your waist, going in a slow, deliberate manner, like he was trying to memorize how your body felt inside his hands. Once he got to your chest, he kneaded and squeezed your tits, able to pinch your nipples through your thin tank top, drawing a stilted moan from your lips. 

“Y-you’re a fucking pervert,” you scowled, squirming around, Jongho’s hands continuing to grope at your tits until he pulled the wad of bills out of your top. Before you could protest, Yunho grabbed a section of your hair and lifted your head up to make you look at him, causing you to whimper. 

“You’re the little pervert here, princess. Moaning and squirming around during a simple search. I bet you’re wet too.” 

“Sh-shut up…” you mumbled, your cheeks hot to the touch, comforted by the cold metal of the hood when the man let go of your hair. 

“Uh-huh.” Yunho lowered his hand to your ass and grabbed it roughly, before sliding his hand in between your thighs, rubbing at the underside of your clothed cunt, pressing his digits down where he presumed your clit was. “Is this where you keep your drugs? In this little pussy of yours?” 

You didn’t know what the hell was going on, but you almost didn’t want it to stop. You knew Night City was going to shit, but were these two assholes really allowed to be a part of the force with the way they were acting? Well, anything was possible. “Show me your badges,” you suddenly commanded, only for you to get flipped onto your backside, looking up at the two men who were staring down at you with hungry eyes. “Prove that you’re real cops.” 

Yunho laughed a bit to himself, nudging Jongho out of habit. Jongho gave him a gummy smile, looking sweeter than he should have. His face sharpened when he looked down at you, his tongue poking into his cheek, casually holding what appeared to be a police badge in front of your face, which confused you even more. If he hadn’t just groped you and taken your hard earned money, you would’ve believed that he could listen to reason, unlike the psychopath that stood there gripping the outline of his unreasonably large package. “You want proof, huh, little slut? I got my baton right here.”

You looked as bored as you possibly could, tilting your head, responding with a simple, “Is that it?” The man didn’t appreciate that very much, simply yanking you up from the hood of the car and shoving you into the backseat before accompanying you. 

“I know you want to keep acting like a stubborn little brat, but I know you want this just as much as we do,” Yunho said into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe with his teeth, sending a shiver through you. “I bet you’re soaking wet. Don’t you think, Jjong? Our little plaything is probably gushing for us, huh?” 

Putting the car in drive using the stick shift, Jongho pulled out onto the street, eyeing you through the rearview mirror, the corner of his lips lifting upwards. “Wouldn’t hurt to check.”

Yunho slipped his hand past your joggers, cupping your bare pussy and hearing the audible squelching sounds of your abundant arousal. You were a mess. Is this what Night City turned you into? Someone who was willing to be used by two unhinged strangers? You didn’t like the answer, but at this point, you were too invested to care. “Fuck me, you’re even wetter than I thought. We got a little whore on our hands, Jjong.” 

“Are you gonna do something about it, or what?” you challenged Yunho, your heart ready to burst out of your chest due to the rush of adrenaline flooding your brain. 

On the drive back to what you assumed was their residence, Yunho and Jongho both appreciated your encouragement, resulting in your joggers being pulled down past your knees and your dripping cunt being pounded by two of the “officer’s” sizable fingers.  

As Jongho turned the leather steering wheel to the right to make a turn at an empty intersection, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of his partner in crime. “Add a third finger, Yun. Stretch her out for me.” 

“On it.” Yunho didn’t even bother hiding his giddiness, chuckling to himself, before pursing his lips to drip some saliva down onto his fingers. Being finger-fucked by him was almost the equivalent to having a cock inside you, especially if he filled you with three. He had a habit of breaking his toys too quickly, so he decided he would take his time preparing you for the real thing. 

“I’m really starting to think that the two of you aren’t real cops,” you chimed sarcastically, finally having calmed down a bit, eyeing Jongho through the rearview mirror, who gave you a cheeky wink, before glaring over at Yunho, instantly annoyed by the smirk that his pretty lips twisted into. 

“What makes you say that, princess?” the man asked aloofly, slipping a third equally long, equally thick finger into your tight entrance and stretching it open, leaving with you a pleasant burning sensation. 

“You’re literally knuckles deep in me right now, asshole!” you spat in his direction, resulting in a quick, though rough slap to your cheek, a stinging imprint of Yunho’s large hand still left on your face. It made you leak, aiding him in his quest to make you fall apart. 

“Is that any way to speak to an officer of the law?” Reveling in your clear shock and the influx of arousal slipping past his thrusting fingers, Yunho shook his head. “Oh, you dumb little girl. I’m obviously doing a routine cavity search. Checking for drugs and such.” He began to curl his digits and rub at the little spongy area that made your eyes roll back, noticing how you started to clench around him. “Though I don’t think you can fit anything into this tiny pussy of yours, but you’re more than welcome to try with my cock.” 

“A-as if I’d want your disgusting cock anywhere near me. You’re only getting away with this because I’m fucking handcuffed!” you grunted out, trying to bite back the moans you so desperately wanted to let out, the fire in your belly about to erupt into something that you couldn’t even try to tame. “I’d be choking the fuck out of you if I could use my hands.” 

Yunho opened his mouth and dragged his tongue across his top set of teeth, the silver finishing of what seemed to be a bottom set of grillz glimmering in the light. “Kinky. I’d like that.” 

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to spit on him or kiss him, so you simply looked on, finding Jongho’s eyes routinely locking with yours when he didn’t have to immediately focus on the road. He had hardly spoken a word to you and yet you found yourself pulsing around Yunho’s thick fingers just from having him stare you down. You were getting close and you couldn’t quite hide it anymore, your eyebrows starting to move upwards, mouth beginning to hang open, and your moans coming out embarrassingly high pitched in response to the pads of Yunho’s fingers rubbing at your g-spot. 

Jongho chuckled to himself, licking at the corner of his lips. “Are you going to fall apart for him, doll?” You could see his arm shift a bit and the side of his forearm coming in and out of view from where you were sitting. “Are you going to–fuck–cum all over his fingers?” He was starting to sound out of breath. The motherfucker was jerking himself off and driving at the same time. To be quite honest, you were more disappointed that you couldn’t watch than the fact that he was risking all of your lives on the freeway. Maybe you were just like them. Just maybe. 

Yunho pressed his lips onto the shell of your ear, feeling you routinely squeezing around him. He needed to send you over the edge. “Cum for me, pretty girl. You know you want to.” You pulsed around him, giving him a good idea of what you wanted to hear next. Sending his tongue up along your earlobe and biting it roughly, making you shudder, he growled, “Be a good girl for me and fucking cum.” 

A ragged cry escaped your dry throat as Yunho shoved his fingers inside you one last time, keeping them there, your arousal pouring out of you, getting all over his veiny forearm and the leather seat below. Once you recovered, you cleared your throat and blew a bit of hair out of your eyes, side-eyeing Yunho. “This is the only way you get girls to fuck you, huh? By handcuffing them and putting them in the back of your car?” 

Yunho felt a surge of anger shoot through him, but it went straight to his cock. “Fuck, you really do like being a little brat for us, don’t you? Because you like how we put you in your place, huh, baby?” Yunho ran a ringed finger through your hair and pushed a few locks of it behind your ear, his dark eyes studying your flushed face with an intensity that made you throb. 

“We’re here,” Jongho interjected, pressing a button on a small remote he had in his hand, the sliding metal garage door in front of the car slowly rising up, revealing a spacious garage complete with a secondhand sofa, a TV, a large toolbox, and randomly assorted car parts wrapped in bubble-wrap lying on the floor in the corner. 

You disregarded their set up, not needing to ask to know that they were probably up to some shady shit. It didn’t matter, anyway. You did what you had to do as well to keep up with the city that was both decaying and upgrading itself at the same time. 

Once Yunho pulled you out of the backseat, you motioned your head to your restraints. “Can you take these off now that you’re done with your little show? If we’re going to fuck, I don’t need my arms to be going numb.” 

He chuckled, sending Jongho a quick, pleased glance as his friend took a step behind you and put the tiny key into the slot to unclasp the handcuffs, not letting you go before he reached around you, pulling your jacket off, leaving you in just a thin tank top. Jongho noticed the sound of two vials clinking together, feeling through the jacket and slipping his fingers inside the secret compartment. 

“Go on and get comfortable, sweetheart,” Yunho chimed, nodding his head up at you, watching you with dark eyes as you sat down in the middle of the couch, one leg crossed over the other. 

Jongho stood next to him, handing him one of the vials. “Is this the stuff she’s selling?” Yunho mumbled, holding it up in the light, eyeing the chemical blue liquid sloshing around inside. “Night Serum, huh? What’s a pretty girl like you doing selling something like this, anyways?” 

You shrugged. “I gotta make a living somehow.” 

He tapped his finger against the glass, watching as a tiny bubble formed inside. “You wanna try it?” 

“I mean, yeah, but are you sure you want to?” you questioned, tilting your head. “One of my regulars told me he downed a vial and fucked a lovebot so hard, its system shut down halfway through.” 

Yunho smirked at Jongho, before pressing his shoulder into yours. “I mean, you’re the one that’s acting as our little lovebot for tonight, so are you prepared for that?” 

Were you? You weren’t too sure of much, to be frank. Just that you wanted to be used and abused by the sleazy pair of fake cops (mechanics?) hovering over you. You simply nodded at him, licking at the corner of your lips. 

“Bottoms up,” Yunho purred into your ear, tilting the glass back and allowing the liquid to drip into his mouth. Before he swallowed it all, he grabbed your chin and forced his mouth onto yours. 

“Mmfff…” you mumbled into his mouth, looking back at him, barely able to handle him shoving his tongue down your throat. The effects were almost instantaneous; your senses and any physical sensations you felt were immediately heightened to the tenth degree. Not only that, but you felt the overwhelming urge to be filthy. You could see why everyone wanted to get their hands on it. 

This discovery almost distracted you from what was going on in front of you. Yunho had grabbed Jongho by the collar, his other hand clutching the back of the younger man’s head, their lips and tongues eagerly entwining, both occasionally biting at each other’s lips. 

Once Yunho sucked on Jongho’s tongue and swallowed down some of their combined spit, he pulled back slightly, their now swollen lips barely touching, the both of them breathing in the same air, sending pleasant zaps of arousal below the belt. “What do you want to do next, Jjong? Tell me.” 

Almost breathless, Jongho cleared his throat, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I want to eat her out,” he mumbled, looking past Yunho and making eye contact with you. “I want her to squirt for me, Yun.”

Yunho smirked, running his thumb across the younger man’s glistening bottom lip. “Mm, you want our pretty little toy to make a mess, huh?” 

Jongho nodded, smiling softly. “A big mess, yeah.” 

-

With your thighs being held open forcefully by two strong hands, you squirmed around inside Yunho’s lap, barely able to handle the visual of Jongho ravaging your swollen cunt, his nose grinding repeatedly against your clit, his tongue buried deep inside your hole, and his dilated eyes focused solely on yours. 

“Stay still, kitten,” Yunho purred, gripping the undersides of your thighs and bringing them upwards so that your knees were up by your chest on either side. “Let my pretty boy take care of you.” 

Jongho groaned softly at his friend’s sentence, his hand closing tightly around his cock, fisting it with diligence. He plunged his tongue in and out of you, only stopping to purse his lips and let the mix of arousal and spit drip down onto your clit. Eyeing the wetness longingly, he smacked his hand down onto you, sending a bolt of pleasure through your body,before going back down to slurp all the escaping arousal back into his mouth. 

“Don’t swallow, Jjong.” Yunho reached around your shoulder to clutch your jaw, forcing it open, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. “Let her taste.” 

Jongho slowly stood up and hovered over the both of you, sending the mixture of fluids into your open mouth, replacing Yunho’s hand on your jaw to shut it. 

Just as you were about to swallow it down, Yunho growled, “Hold it,” near your ear, smiling slightly at the small, obedient nod you gave him. He grabbed Jongho by the chin and pulled him in for a kiss that mostly consisted of teeth and tongue, tasting you on him. The two men grunted and groaned, their hands automatically reaching for each other’s cocks, haphazardly stroking them until they were dripping more and more pre-cum by the second.

“Mmmn,” you mumbled with your mouth full, your back warm against Yunho’s heated chest, your pussy throbbing with urgency the longer you watched them pleasure one another. 

Yunho rubbed his thumb over Jongho’s slit, making him gasp and pull away due to how sensitive he was, a few strings of saliva still joining their lips. “Cute.” He chuckled, almost forgetting you were there until he saw the way you were begging for his attention with your eyes. “Aww, poor baby. Here’s your reward for waiting.” He tilted your face towards his and sent a wad of spit down your throat, making you moan and pulse heavily around Jongho’s tongue once he had returned to the space he took up between your thighs. “Good, now spit it out onto your cute little cunt like a good whore.” 

Biting your lip, you angled your head down and sent the warm liquid down onto yourself in globs, feeling it spread out over your clit and drip down your puffy folds. 

“Good girl,” Yunho praised, reaching down to rub the rough pad of his thumb back and forth over your clit at a rapid speed. He pressed kisses onto your neck, licking and biting at it, enjoying the myriad of moans and whines you let out the closer you got to your release. 

It only took one forceful squeeze of your clit and the feeling of being stretched open by Jongho’s large tongue for you to cum so hard you saw stars. When you came to, Jongho was licking your squirt from his chin, his eyes hooded and hair completely soaked in your release. 

Yunho cupped your cunt and palmed it just to feel your body begin to shudder against his from the overstimulation, smiling fondly at the sight of Jongho’s rampant lust. “Did you like being squirted on, baby bear?” 

He nodded with enthusiasm, standing up to show Yunho his softened length that was covered in his own release, smiling cheekily. “Very much so.” 

“Mm, that’s what I like to see,” Yunho nodded approvingly, his fingers idly slipping into your soaked hole and scissoring his fingers apart. Moaning, you pressed your head back against one of his broad shoulders. He placed his lips onto your cheek near your jaw, humming against your hot skin. “Ready to take my cock, sugar?” 

-

Laying on the couch with your legs spread open, you suddenly stiffened up when you felt Yunho’s cockhead press against your entrance, his large hands gripping onto your hips. You looked down at his condom-less cock, asking, “And what do you think you’re doing?” 

“Aww, come on, princess,” he purred, grabbing one of your ass cheeks and kneading it around. “You’ll let me hit it raw, won’t you? Don’t you want to feel my big cock rubbing against your pretty little cunt?” Sensing Jongho’s presence near him, Yunho moved out of the way and spread your pussy open, watching as Jongho sent a wad of spit directly onto your slit.

You were practically melting in Yunho’s grasp from hearing his filthy words said in such a patronizingly sweet tone and feeling Jongho’s spit drip down your heat, barely able to handle his intense gaze. Yunho tapped your cheek with two fingers. “Tell Jjong that you want it. That you want to feel me pump you full of my cum.” He took a second to let out a pleased sigh, his cock throbbing inside his grasp. “Tell him that you like that he’s going to watch me use you before he gets a turn.” 

“I-i want it,” you murmured with a pout, your eyes solely focused on Jongho. “I w-want to feel Yunho’s cum inside me…and…” You were both so fixated on each other that you didn’t even notice when Yunho slapped his cock down onto your lower abdomen, pre cum smearing across your skin. 

“Finish the sentence, doll,” Jongho requested, his soft, though commanding voice sending a shiver up your spine. 

Your eyelids lowered, feeling yourself begin to pulse in between your thighs. “You’re going to watch me while I get used by Yunho before you get a turn with me.” After hearing Jongho’s small groan and seeing the lust take over his features, you unconsciously spread yourself further open like you were about to take him instead of Yunho, which they both greatly appreciated. 

Yunho suddenly slapped his length down onto your abdomen, lining it up so that you all could see just how far he would reach inside you. The tip of his cock reached just above your belly button. You whimpered, feeling dizzy at the sight of it, wondering how something so big was going to fit. Yunho, however, was having the time of his life. “Oh my god, I’m going to rearrange your fucking guts,” Yunho groaned huskily, sliding his cock back and forth across your clit, using your combined arousal to stimulate the both of you. Enjoying the sounds of your small, breathless moans, he smacked his cock down onto your clit, making you let out a sudden gasp. 

“G-go slow, okay?” your voice not coming out as commanding as you wanted it to, your eyebrows furrowed, despite giving the two men a pout. “I don’t want to be split in half.” 

Yunho could’ve cum right then and there, too delighted with your acknowledgement of your clear size difference.

Noticing his friend zoning out, Jongho wiped some of the drool that was starting to escape Yunho’s lips. “What’s on your mind, Yun?” 

Yunho smiled gleefully at Jongho. “I’m going to break her, aren’t I?” 

Jongho shook his head, returning the same glazed over look that Yunho was giving him. “We’re going to break her.” 

-

You couldn’t quite remember how you got here — getting pounded into next week by some pervert with grillz and a silver chain hanging in your face, letting him use you to his heart’s content, while his partner simply watched on, steadily fisting his cock with unwavering enthusiasm. You never would’ve guessed that you’d be getting your brains fucked out in some random criminal's rundown garage that night, instead of just heading back to your apartment downtown. 

“Jjong, she’s zoning out again,” Yunho spoke up in between grunts, letting go on one of your spread thighs to rake his fingers through his sweaty hair. “What should I do?” 

Repositioning himself on the couch beside you, Jongho grasped your chin and tilted it upwards. “Give her a little smack.” 

Smirking, Yunho backhanded you, just hard enough to bring you back to reality, immediately allowing you to feel the immense pressure of the man’s hips rocking into yours, his cock plugging you up over and over. “Fuck, if you’re going to smack me, then at least aim for my p–”

Yunho’s large hand slammed down onto your cunt, his calloused palm rubbing against your swollen clit, replacing your words with a choked moan and bringing a smile to his sweaty face. 

“Again,” you said, your demand coming out as a plea instead, your legs starting to tremble against the slippery couch. “Do it again.” 

“Who knew such a feisty little thing would become such a needy slut for us?” he asked his friend, who shrugged his shoulders. Yunho removed his hand from your pulsing cunt, instead lifting your hips up and slamming into you at a deeper angle, making you let out a yell of pleasure.  “Would you like to do the honors and help make our new little toy cum all over my cock, Jjong?” 

Jongho immediately brought his hand down and slapped it directly onto your clit, not giving you a second to react, before he did it again, both him and Yunho watching with delight as your arousal began to squirt out of you like a small fountain. "Good girl," he sighed, sliding his fingers through the wetness and spreading it over your swollen clit.  

You looked to Jongho for a moment, your cheeks burning from the way he was gazing down at you with his pulsing cock in his hand, but Yunho's grip on your jaw brought your attention back to the cock that was currently drilling into your spasming cunt. "P-please cum," was all you could verbalize, a line of drool escaping past your lips.

Yunho continued to fuck you through the overstimulation, leaving your inner walls slick and warm with the heavy amounts of pre-cum that were spilling out of his cock. “Mm, that’s right. I bet a slut like you wants to feel every drop of my load when it spills into your womb. Don’t you? You want to know the exact moment that you get pregnant for me, huh?” 

You let out a long, drawn-out moan, gripping the edge of the couch, chipping off some of the faux leather material from the cushion with your nails. “I’ll…nnngh…kill you if you get me pregnant…” 

“What, you don’t like the idea of someone like me pumping you full of my kids?” he asked near your ear, his body pressing heavily against you, smacking his hand into your ass so harshly, he left a lasting handprint. 

“N-no, dumbass,” you choked out, throwing your head back into the couch cushion once Yunho persistently bucked his hips into you, sloppily and without nuance, like you were just a sex doll he had just purchased from Night City’s local rundown sex shop. 

Yunho scoffed, shaking his head, his raven locks starting to stick to his forehead. “Then why are you throbbing around my cock, pretty girl? Why are you about to cum all over it?” He bit his bottom lip, pulling all the way out and shoving himself back into you, your combined arousal making a filthy squelching sound. “You want it so bad, you’ll let Jongho fill you up too, won’t you?” 

“Fuck, just fill me up, please, both of you,” you finally admitted, your voice barely coming out, the way Yunho picking up his speed and slamming himself repeatedly into your sopping wet cunt sending you into another state of euphoria.

“I'm gonna fill you up, baby. Oh, fuck, here it comes,” the man grunted in between thrusts, letting out a series of low, gutteral sounds, holding his hand down on the bulge in your lower abdomen, cum shooting out of his cock in long spurts, coating your walls with white. It felt so good, you almost lost it, whimpering and whining. “Yeah, you fucking like that, don’t you? You like how big I feel inside you? Like I'm gonna split you open, huh?” You simply nodded, unable to think, let alone speak. Chuckling smugly, Yunho pulled out, fisting his cock until a few more dribbles of cum leaked out of him and dripped down your mound. 

Before you could ever take a breath, you were suddenly being lifted up by Yunho and being set down onto Jongho’s lap. “Ready, doll?” the younger man asked, running his calloused hands up along your curves, squeezing at the softest parts of your body, his fingers settling on your tits and tweaking them.

“Yes, sir,” you moaned softly, your words flipping a switch inside Jongho’s mind. 

Jongho picked your hips up and lowered you down onto his thick length, slowly pushing the entirety of it inside, his hips already moving like it was second nature to him, efficiently fucking Yunho’s cum back into you, some of the milkiness dribbling down to the younger man’s heavy balls. “Feels good?” 

“Really good.” You panted, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding onto him. “So good. More, please.” 

When Yunho nudged his neck and jawline with his lips, whispering something into his pierced ear, his tongue eventually sliding across his heated skin, Jongho leaned his head back, inviting it. He kept one hand on your hip, the other moving to stroke his friend’s cock. “If you want more, you’ll have to work for it,” Jongho stated, smiling lazily at you, his hand moving down to squeeze your ass. “Ride me, baby. Make it bounce.” 

Feeling desperate, you obliged him, gripping his broad shoulders tightly, his muscles tightening underneath your grip, lifting yourself up, only to drop yourself down onto him, his groans of approval urging you to go as fast as you could. “I’m riding you, sir, just how you want, so please give me your cum. I need it.” 

Yunho sucked and licked at Jongho’s neck as he nodded weakly, finding his softer moans to be a lot cuter than the deeper, more masculine sounds he tried to make. “She’s our little cumslut now, baby bear. Fill her up with your honey, okay?” Jongho’s hand tightened around the older man’s length, squeezing out more clear liquid and using it as lube, drawing muffled groans from Yunho. 

Determined to take the strangers’ loads one after another, you bounced on Jongho’s cock with fierce determination, his cum-covered length stretching you open over and over, effectively setting your insides ablaze. “Please,” was all you could whimper out, wiping some sweat from your forehead, looking between Jongho and Yunho, hoping to bring attention to your desperate situation. 

Yunho pressed his lips onto Jongho’s earlobe, mouthing something into it, both of their hands eventually traveling to your pulsing clit, taking turns thumbing it eagerly and rolling it around. “Cum for us, sugar.”

Drawing short, airy moans out of Yunho with his skilled hand movements, Jongho smiled softly at him, then looked at you, his fingers roughly squeezing your clit, as he studied your pleasure-struck face, chiming in, “Make a mess.” 

Letting out a ragged cry and blacking out for a moment, you came undone, the sensation of warm creaminess spurting into you bringing you back to reality, your head spinning from the feeling, as well as the sight of Yunho shuddering and covering his chest in his own mess. “Fuck….” you exhaled, leaning forward into Jongho’s arms, who wrapped them securely around you, all your strength suddenly leaving your tired body. The drug was starting to wear off, and you were left accepting the decisions you made, some of it dripping out of your cum-filled cunt. 

-

“The comedown from Night Serum is really rough, you know,” you sighed, sliding your fingers through your damp hair and leaning your head back into the couch cushion, puffing on the cigarette that sat between your lips. “Hot flashes, the shakes, cottonmouth, fever, the list goes on.” 

“I guess we gotta keep busy, huh? Maybe I’ll just fuck the fever out of you since you love to take cock so much,” Yunho replied smugly with a short, brusque laugh, buckling his belt and nudging Jongho with his elbow as if he was asking him to laugh along with him. Jongho gave him a small exhale of air, barely a chuckle. A pity laugh, if you will. 

“Uh-huh, right.” You tilted your head to the side, batting your eyelashes up at Yunho. “You’re lucky I didn’t give you head. I would’ve given your cock a little chomp if I had the chance.” 

Yunho flashed you a wide grin, his silver grillz reflecting in the light. “Well, there’s always next time.” 

Not that you didn’t know before, but Yunho had to be a psycho. You weren’t quite sure about Jongho yet, but there was always time for him to surprise you. Were you actually considering sticking around these two after everything they did? Arresting you, manhandling you, fucking you within an inch of your life — were you really capable of handling that for god knows how long? 

You sat up, flicking the cigarette stump away onto the dirty ground and smiling over at Jongho, who quietly observed you with the same pleased expression he had the entirety of the night, before gazing up at Yunho, your eyes full of determination, fire, and maybe a glimpse of insanity. “I’m looking forward to it, Yunnie.” He took a small step back, caught a bit off guard, letting out a nervous chuckle. You suddenly stood up and bit down onto your bottom set of teeth, making Yunho stumble back into the cop car and slide down the smooth metal until he landed on his ass, resulting in a hearty laugh from Jongho. 

Yunho appeared to be shocked, until his pretty lips twisted into a mischievous smile, his eyes upturned with satisfaction. “The others are gonna like you.” 

“O-others?” you squeaked, feeling Jongho settle a strong hand down on your shoulder and pat it, as if he was already apologizing for what was about to come. 

➽───────────────❥

2ho fic taglist:  @aaaaajonghooooo @darlingaurora-h @marii1087 @yunhoslutt @spacial-pieceofshit @goldnhwa @jyhvoid @mingki1117 @bangtan-jam @nwwoooyyy @justaaveragereader @2-daddies-kitten @harditzybtsvoid @Woosanstarfire @groundmedolly @yuyum00n @metalhead-atiny @huachengsbestie01 @lavishloving @jessi-outdated @sophxom

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Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[mrsparrasblog]

Girlie your brain is wrinkly 🧠 can u write kyle being in a competition against Rudy to woo reader? Only one of them will get her in the end🥺👉👈 personally I am rooting for Rudy but you decide in the end😘

Hey first of all Thank you <333333 wrinkly brain is now my favorite new word thingy. It feels criminaly wrong to let my character pick someone over Kyle but Rudy deserves everything too. Just enjoy my midnight thoughts.

He had been pining after you for six years—six terrible, long years—where you had several shitty boyfriends or were too oblivious to realize he even liked you. At this point, it was tiring for Rodolfo to love you, but how could he stop? He had never met someone like you: so eager, beautiful, loving, and funny.

He remembered the day he first met you like it was only yesterday. You were so curious and full of passion, almost more than Alejandro had. Since then, you had grown up to be one of the most essential parts of the vaqueros. If you weren’t a medic, you would have been the third in command five years ago, but saving people was just your thing.

Alejandro, Rudy, and you spent most of these five years together on duty, and even in your off time, you went to bars with them, family gatherings, and even on vacation in Cancun. And all these times, Rudy didn't have the guts to ask you out. Alejandro always told him that he should just try, the way you looked at him or how you screamed and cried as he almost died—this is love, but he didn't believe it. And you thought he saw you more like a sister than someone to love, so you both silently gave up.

When Graves' betrayal happened, you fought alongside Rudy's, Ghost's, and Soap's side. You were so happy to have the help of their captain and another Sergeant. What surprised you was that the other Sergeant, Kyle, was so attractive.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but after the great win, you were in a pub with all of them—141 & Vaqueros—sitting on Kyle's lap. You were a bit too tipsy to realize Rudy's jealous glance and Alejandro's disappointed look. All you noticed was the pretty boy whispering sweet nothings into your ear, "Such a beautiful woman. Mhm, the most beautiful girl I've seen in ages." His hot breath tickled against your ear as he slowly wrapped his lips around your neck, eliciting a moan from you, much to Rudy's annoyance. He was almost fuming, and as you noticed it, you couldn’t stop yourself from making him a bit jealous.

So, you ended up in the corner with Kyle. His hips were pressed against yours as he pulled you into a deeper kiss. His tongue fought for dominance, his hands grabbing your ass and squeezing it lightly. "I want you, Kyle."

"Want you too Doll"

It took seconds for your luck to disappear when you went to the bathroom, returning to see Rudy punching Kyle. "Leave her the fuck alone, pendejo."

"She wanted it."

"Who cares? She’s mine."

"Rodolfo, Kyle, both of you stop," you commanded, pulling Rudy by his ear outside of the shady bar of Las Almas.

"What was that?" You asked, lifting your brow in question.

"Mhm, sorry, mi amor."

"You're a childish idiot stop punching every men I give a bit of attention, and now let me fix your cheek," you said, gathering a napkin out of your bag and removing the blood from his cheek.

"I know."

"What did you mean with 'I'm yours,' Rudy?"

"Come on, don’t act like you don’t know." he rolled his eyes, he couldn't believe you were so oblivious, you should have noticed ages ago like everyone else.

"What know?"

"That I've wanted you all these years, just couldn’t stand seeing you with another idiot again."

"You're joking, right?"

"No."

"Oh, Rudy, you should have told me."

"Why?" he mumbled not seeing the point in getting rejected

And with that, you grabbed his face, and after all these years of longing, you finally had Rodolfo where you wanted him: right beside you.

"Finally" Alejandro whispered in the corner of the bar, his two best friends were finally where they belonged.

[mellozheist]

Hi guess who got no sleep last night (thanks doctor's appointment) and decided to watch your animatic again

I quote myself about 1 hour ago in a treebark channel on a discord server my friends and I made (to anybody that reads this i am so sorry):

(Also I'm sorry if somebody's uncomfortable with swearing :'D)

"[Link]

I'm sorry I still can't handle this animation's existence peoples

I can't with it

I'm crazy

Like REN PUTTING HIS HEAD BACK ON AND CALMING DOWN MARTYN WHO'S PANICKING?????

REN BEING SO CALM AND THEN FUCKING CRAZY IN THE NEXT SHOT?????

FUCKING HELLO????

THE VERY FIRST FEW SHOTS WHERE MARTYN IS LOOKING AT REN BEING ALL EXCITED AND BLUSHING??????

THE END????????

THEM HAVING THEIR PINKIES WRAPPED AROUND???? I EVEN SENT MELLOZ AN ASK ABOUT THAT AND THEY TOLD ME "oh yeah they indirectly promised to see each other in the next life series :3" MELLOZ IS SINGLEHANDEDLY KILLING THE TREEBARK SHIPPERS WITH THIS ONE

MARTYN HOLDING REN'S HAND AND KISSING IT BEFORE DYING ALSO

GUYS I BEG

I CAN'T WITH THIS

I CANNOT

I AM UNABLE TO

Oh my gosh FCUKING REN PUTTING HIS HEAD BACK ON AND LOOKING AT MARTYN WITH THOSE DANG EYES

Guys I need to resist spamming this thing in here

But at the same time IT'S SOOOOOO TEMPTING

FUCKIN

LOOK AT IT

[Link]

GRIPPING MY HEAD FURIOUSLY

THIS WHOLE BEHEADONG SCENE

I JUST NOTICED REN'S NECK DOESN'T LIGN UP PROPERLY IN THE SHOT WHERE MARTYN KISSES HIS HAND

GUYS I'M INSANE

GIYS I'M INSANE

LOOK AT THISSSSSSS

Furiously rattling the bars of my cell is that what it's called

Honestly I never thought I'd go insane over a ship called treebark

IT'S FUCKING BAUMRINDE IN GERMAN

BAUMRINDE IS SUCH A SILLY SHIP NAME ISTFG

I don't think I've ever loved an animatic thid much

I'VR NEVER LOOKED AT AN ANIMATIC SO CLOSELY

THE FACT THE FIRST SCENE IS SO SWEET AND THE SECOND ONE IS ALREADY REN BEING BEHEADED

I wish they won. I wish Ren or Martyn was the winner of 3rd Life

CAN'T I HAVE L8KE

A LITTLE FAIRY THAT MAKES MY WISHES COME TRUE?

C'MOOOOONNNNN [insert a bunch of screaming emotes here]

AGH I CAN'T

...what if i copied every single message and sent melloz this as an ask to show my appreciation

CUZ I SURE DO APPRECIATE THIS ANIMATIC

[Link]

WATCH THIS. WATCH. OBSERVE. NOW. I BEG.

I'VE WATCHED THIS FOR 5 TIMES IN A ROW NOW

I'M VERY SANE

I STILL CAN'T GET OVER REN'S NECK NOT ALIGNING PROPERLY

also the feather and the poppy but this is the treebark channel

Not

Not desert duo

I CAN'T

.........do i send this as an ask i am very sane i promise

One of my very favourite scenes though is the beheading scene, funnily enough

Me literally passing out when I see gore but not here cuz idk baumrinde <333333

Also here

HIS NECK.

IS NOT.

ALIGNING.

Or what if it's his head falling off after death cuz he died and that determination is no longer there to keep dogwarts, causing his hesd to fall off

New headcanon i think

And I just noticed I watched this like 6 times now DESERVED THOUGH

Gonna watch it again

I love them so much

I love this animatic so much

Guys I can't

WAIT DID MARTYN'S EARS TILT DOWN IN THE REN DEAD SCENE

HOLD

WAIR YEAH

HIS EARS TILTED DOWN

I CAN'T

Somebody stop me

Actually no

Oh also the song choice IS PERFECT????????

WAIT REN'S PONYTAIL IS GONE IN THE LAST SCENE HIS HAIR IS OPEN

YAAAAAYYYYYY

Anywhoozles

[Link]

WATCH THIS.

I BEG

EVERYBODY THAZ DOESN'T IS MISSING OUT THIS IS SO COOL"

And with that, Melloz you're amazing, EVERYBODY WATCH THE ANIMATIC EVER >:D

I have so much fun reading this, It's like I'm in a theater seat watching this happen with 4D sound surrounding Lmaoooo

Thank you for sending this to me I really appreciate this <3333

I'm so happy you eating all the details I put in hehe

though the part where you describe Ren's neck as not aligning is probably just my error in art but that's also a really cool headcanon!

I might adopt that headcanon :d Like drawing Martyn carrying Ren's head

you really made my day Thank yooou :D

hope you get a good night sleep bud

[cartwrong]

For the hurt/comfort dialogue prompts I would love to see 13 or 19 (or any of them honestly).

I absolutely adore your slow horses fics and always look forward to reading them!! 🫶

aw you're so sweet! thank you <333333 and for you, anonymous friend, you get both! #19 is here :) (from this prompt game)

Also, just a heads up, I'm often incapable of writing a drabble. So, yeah, this is 619 words. Oops.

13. "Can't--breathe--".

“River! River! Look at me!”

He did, and God help her that was worse for Louisa. His eyes, glassy and unfocused, bulged in an unspoken question. His chest looked odd, one side concave in an unnatural way as it heaved in an uneven agony and River struggled to breathe. 

“Oh Fuck.”

Louisa turned desperately to Shirley, who was pale and wide-eyed but was thankfully already calling 999. 

“Can’t–breathe–” River gasped, grabbing onto her wrist with a bruise-inducing grip. 

“It’s going to be okay, We're going to get you help,” Louisa said, her voice somehow absent of the terror rampaging through her as her free hand hovered over River’s chest, unsure what to do, where to touch without causing him further pain. 

She hadn’t seen him fall, only heard as he tumbled down the metal staircase outside Slough House. The thing was a death trap, abnormally slick whenever it rained and more than once Louisa had an oh shit moment when her boot momentarily caught on one of the grates. It was only a matter of time before someone fell to their death on it. 

But, of course, it had been River who had been the unlucky bastard to stumble down the stairs. River, who never met a mirror that he couldn’t break, a ladder he wouldn’t walk under, a black cat he wouldn’t pet. Now, as he lay crumpled and bleeding with his chest caved in on one side and his leg in angles legs weren’t supposed to bend, all she could do was hold his hand and wait. 

All she could do was hold his hand and pray. 

Louisa couldn’t lose him, not now, not after everything, not because he fell down the fucking stairs. 

She squeezed his hand harder. It was clammy under her touch, rubbery, not like River at all. River’s hands were warm, warm and comforting and safe. She touched his face with her other hand and he looked at her again, his pupils blown wide and begging her to help, begging her to take away his pain as his breaths came in uneven gasps and his chest shuddered and sputterd to an unholy rhythm. 

Louisa squeezed his hand harder and didn’t let go, not when the ambulance arrived, not when Shirley tried to pry her away, not when they loaded him into the ambulance and covered his face with an oxygen mask and shoved a needle into his chest to inflate his collapsed lung. Louisa didn’t let go until three orderlies at the hospital held her back as she screamed and wailed and tried to follow into the operating room. 

Her hand felt cold without his and Louisa felt all hope slip through her fingers like grains of sand as she collapsed crying onto the floor of the hospital and tried to catch her breath. She was in the same position when Shirley and Catherine found her, her chest heavy, her breathing laboured, her world shattering around her. 

“Can’t–breathe–” she shuddered. 

With surprising strength for her size, Shirley shoved Louisa into a chair and then pushed her head between her knees. 

“You’re having a panic attack,” she said, her hand firm between Louisa’s shoulder blades. “Follow me, alright? Inhale–hold–exhale–and hold again. Okay, again, inhale–hold–exhale–and hold. That’s it.”

By the time Louisa could breathe again, Lamb had arrived, Roddy and Coe trailing behind him like two sullen teenagers who just got told they couldn’t meet their friends at the mall. Catherine shoved a bottle of water into Louisa’s hand and Shirley left her hand firmly on Louisa’s back, but they were nowhere near closer to finding out anything about River’s condition. 

All Louisa could do was sit and wait and try to remember how to breathe.

Inhale–hold–exhale–and hold.

Inhale–hold–exhale–and hold.

[starrysvn]

this has to be one of the most wonderful, romantic, introspective fics i have ever read. it left me speechless, i can’t quite come up with the words to say how i felt reading it.

it’s so clear the love that they have for each other transcends the fabric of time and place and forever will. the way mc can’t help but fall, totally on their own, for him got my heart melting. it’s not because of phantom memories or feelings, not yet at least, and what it is for that too, this love just explodes. that one “i miss you” hit square in the chest. hwa has them right there and loves them, but also misses what they once were, the person he’s known and longed for and loved for literal ages i wILL SOB-

The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before.

LIKE HELLOOO?????? he- HE!!!!

and the ART!! don’t get me started on it, it’s like it’s theirs. their thing, their red string of fate, the thing that both love and breathe and appreciate, shared but also their own. and let’s not talk about impressionism and art and the pieces that you chose and what they mean also to me bc i will start sobbing. and also i shall not speak of the way you wrote about the pieces and incorporated them into the story and how perfectly it was done. i WILL cry.

Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow.

i shall not speak of this. or else. oR ELSE!!

bai i truly can’t thank you enough. you are art. you do art. whatever shape it takes, i will always marvel at it. i love you so so much, words can’t say it.

Impressionism

(masterlist) (taglist)

🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader 🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding 🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art? 🩸 wordcount: 12.3k 🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa 🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting

‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.

While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.

And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?

It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too. 

A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.

Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him. 

There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.

They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response. 

His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ . It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.

‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.

You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.

While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-

A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.

Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath. 

“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”

“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.

“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt. 

“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.

“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?

“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”

“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.

“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”

“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”

“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”

“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.

"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.

"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.

“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.

“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.

“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.

“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”

“Ah, I see-”

“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:

“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.

“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”

“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”

“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”

“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”

“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.

Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture. 

You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers. 

“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home. 

Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before. 

“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”

“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.

“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger. 

While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.

“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”

“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”

“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries. 

���An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.

“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”

“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.

A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.

“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”

“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.

“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting. 

From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth. 

“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”

“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.

“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”

“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”

“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story. 

“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served. 

A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring. 

You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in. 

“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass. 

“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”

“Pardon?”

“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”

Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.

“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.

“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”

“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”

“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”

“Elusive, aren’t they?”

“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”

“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”

“Two of us who are searching?”

“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”

“Then we can keep searching together.”

While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.

Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him. 

“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.

“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”

“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”

“There are private clinics?”

“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”

In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet. 

“Ah, yes, I see-”

“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”

“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”

“Careful-”

“Sorry wha-” 

With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.

“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.

“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”

“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”

“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.

“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.

“How so?”

“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore. 

There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement. 

‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.

Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.

You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.

“This really is a rainy day,”

“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it. 

Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.

Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.

“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”

Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another. 

With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin. 

The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.

He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed. 

“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:

“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.

The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one. 

Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought. 

“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”

“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.” 

Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.

“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.

“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.

Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.

“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”

“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.

“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”

“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.

“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”

“...I’d like that.”

In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past. 

“Pissarro.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.

“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.

“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”

“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.

“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.

As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.

Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.

On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.

“I know. I can wait too.”

“Soon, my love.”

“I-I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”

One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.

Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within. 

You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.

“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.

“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”

“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”

“Seonghwa-”

“Work can wait, I just need to-”

“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.

“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.

You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.

Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.

“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:

“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”

“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”

“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”

“Shh-”

“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”

In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.

“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”

“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”

“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”

As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.

Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you. 

“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”

“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine. 

“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.

“What were you scared of?”

“Losing you again.”

“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”

Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own. 

“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you. 

The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?

“But they didn’t.”

No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports. 

“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”

“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”

You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.

When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.

Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.

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[aziraphales-library]

hello!! i love you all so much (platonic) and appreciate the work you do. do you have any recs where one/both of the ineffable husbands/wives is getting out of a relationship and goes to the other for comfort and maybe realizes they've been in love with them the whole time? thanks so much <333333

Here are some break-up friends-to-lovers fics for you...

I'm All Yours by FeralTuxedo (E)

Anthony J. Crowley knew he looked like a walking mid-life crisis. The tight jeans, half-up bun and sunglasses positively screamed ‘I left my wife for the babysitter and bought a vintage car just to feel alive again.’ In an adaptation of his life, he’d be played by Hugh Grant. He looked like a divorcee desperate for action, and it didn’t help that he was currently standing outside a nightclub surrounded by drunk twenty-year-olds. But Crowley wasn’t here for a good time tonight. He was on a rescue mission. Crowley has been rescuing his friend Aziraphale over and over again for a decade. Hopelessly in love, ready to jump at a moment’s notice when he was needed. When Aziraphale finally breaks up with his partner, Crowley is there to help him through what’s looking to be one hell of a mid-life crisis. Things could finally change. If he manages not to mess it up again. A human AU with a whole forest’s worth of pining squeezed into a single day.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

Ezra at the Wedding by tenandi (E)

Ezra's ex is moving on but he's determined to stop the wedding. With his handsome neighbor masquerading as his new love interest, will he win back his true love and rewrite the happy ending he deserves? - Crowley was leaning against the doorframe, obviously hungover and running on about two hours of sleep. A ripped t-shirt hung off one shoulder over a pair of boxers with devil ducks printed all over them. To top it all off, he was wearing black velvet slippers embroidered with his monogram. In any other instance, Ezra would have laughed but he was too busy being wrapped up in his anguish. “What do you want, Crowley?” Ezra fumed. “I am having a moment here!”

You are HoMe (Half of Me) by angelsnuffbox (T)

Aziraphale had gotten dumped, plain and simple. But that small detail wasn’t nearly as important as all the things that happened after he’d gotten dumped - such as coming to a few realisations about his best friend of sixteen years.

Hooped Earrings by OfEden (E)

After 29 years Azira comes out. While her family and ex boyfriend don't support her, her life long best friend is there by her side every step of the way.

Crawling Back To You by madrabbitwrites (NR)

College-age Aziraphale pushed his closest friend away and moved out of town with his married Literature professor in a panicked attempt at escaping his family’s rampant homophobia. Years later, devastated by a dreadful break-up, he’s returned to his small hometown to live with his brother and attempt to heal his broken heart (and broken life, if he were being honest with himself). What he didn’t count on was his old friend Crawley- now calling himself Crowley and looking dashing as ever- to have returned as well. Crawley’s wounds from their last argument are deep and Aziraphale may never be able to regain what they once had, but he’d certainly like to try. The two of them need to have an actual conversation, but that’s not really how these plots go, is it?

- Mod D

[starrierskies]

Just wanted to share my fanart of your Headfirst in the dirt Jeff and how I see him :))

OH MY GODDDD THIS IS SO GOOD THIS IS SO AMAZING IM SO IN LOVE <33333 LITERALLY SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THIS OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH!! <333333

[elmaxlys]

OMG MEGAN THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!!!! There's so much here I don't know where to start... So I'll begin by saying THANK YOU 😭❤️❤️❤️

I love that we get to see so many types of inmates haha it's so cool to see all of them. I was laughing so hard at the 240 panel!! And then it was Donato and it had me squeeing like you wouldn't believe, I screamed out loud on the open mouth panel, seriously!! So so cool!! 🤗🥰💕💕💕

Hinami honestly brought me to tears..! My heart was so tight, and then Haise passing by... 😭😭 Hinami's place now being Saiko's... 😭😭😭

The conclusion tho... Howling on the floor 😂❤️ the bandage! The "ow"! The defeated expression!!

Also I loved that you went around his lack of name with [redacted]! So cool hehe 😁👌

Friendly fire on @elmaxlys ! I have been thinking of making this since the very second I saw your hairdresser OC. Too bad we ended up on different teams but that's what friendly fire is for haha. This is also to congratulate the 6 points you gained our team alone! We would not be winning right now otherwise :D