#and be thankful you guys can’t see the rest of the sketches

[aychama]

Narinder is VERY much the maiden Lamb wants to rescue (I’m so glad you liked it!! Your Lamb’s knight armor was SO fun to draw!)

Im happy you had fun! Have this little sketch I was working on as a treat!

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter thirty two. masterpieces wc. 611 + 2 SS

Hyunjin is nothing but incessant in holding your hand the entire time you guys walk through the gallery. You happily oblige. He all but drags you from painting to painting, literal stars in his eyes while he admires the art. It’s a different look compared to when he’s doing his own sketches, the way his perfectly sculpted eyebrows pinch together and his tongue pokes out.

You will never admit how often you stared at him during your shifts at love stay. Nor are you blind to the others who stare at the pretty boy. For once you’re thankful for your resting bitch face as you glare at them for making Hyunjin uncomfortable under their attention.

Your heart broke when Hyunjin told you about how before he turned 16 people would try to get at him simply for his looks. They had all wanted to wear him like he was a purse, showing him off like he was some trophy. Even after finding his soulmates, people still tried to use him. Some people were shameless.

Yes. Hyunjin is handsome, you’d have to be blind to not think so. But you want to see all the different sides of Hyunjin, learn more about his passions and his hobbies. Even the bad parts, like his caffeine addiction or the constant procrastination on projects.

He’s guiding you through the paintings and statues, leaning close to whisper his own thoughts, analyzing each and every piece. Yet you can’t pay attention to what he’s saying, the way he’s so close that you can smell the floral cologne he’s wearing and it’s making you just the slightest bit light headed. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear, eliciting a shiver running down your spine. You’re pretty sure the boy is doing it on purpose, if his smirk is anything to go by.

You’d like to wipe it off his face.

Preferably with your lips.

Still, despite not being the most artsy person ever or even really know much about fine art you enjoyed looking at all the pieces. An argument could be made that fashion was just another art form and you had enjoyed dressing up, making outfits. It had been the only way you could express yourself and as a bonus it did boost your confidence if not just a little bit.

You know virtually nothing about art though so you’re all the more happy to listen to the boy drone on and on. How can you not when he looks so adorable trying to explain 17th century aesthetics. Honestly it all goes over your head because wow, how can you pay attention to anything when his lips look so enticing? Was he wearing lip gloss? Or were his lips just this shiny?

Jeez, when did you become such a simp? You were simply losing your mind and you’d 100% blame the boys for that. Not that you were really sane in the first place. That’s a different story for another time though.

It only takes about an hour to walk through the entire exhibit, Hyunjin beaming even as you two leave.

“May I escort you home my dear princess,” You rolled your eyes playfully at the boy, slipping your hand into his.

“Of course my lovely prince, I would love nothing more,” His eyes shine a little more as you play along, absolute adoration swimming in his eyes and it makes your heart skip a beat.

And if you kiss him on the cheek before getting out of his car? Well, you’re sure the other boys will know because if you know anything, it’s that Hyunjin will absolutely rub it in their faces.

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[ryuichirou]

I love how you draw the tweels and Azul. They look so imposing in your art style! I know you love drawing Ignihyde, Octavinelle and Scarabia boys a lot, but I'm curious if you have drawings of the rest of the twst cast as well. I'd love to see everyone in your art style!

Anon! Thank you so much for your kind words. I’m glad you like how I draw the Octa-boys. I’m not even sure which dorm I draw most often, but it has to be either them or Ignihyde haha. But in all honesty, I really love drawing all the characters; even if we don’t care much about them, they are usually still quite pleasant to draw at least once.

Which is why I can actually compile my drawings of pretty much every character in this reply! It’s honestly surprising lol but also not really. I can’t believe it’s been a year since we started drawing and posting twst…

Alright, here we go!

Heartslabyul – wow, I can’t believe I don’t have any coloured Aces that are relatively new… We like Ace a lot, I should probably draw him. And Cater too, to be honest, this is my only coloured sketch with him. I never expected to enjoy drawing these boys as much as I do, to be honest.

Savanaclaw – Leona is the only character I don’t have a proper sketch that is not a commission with lol I’m sorry. But I actually quite like the comms of Leona that I got to draw, so here is one of them! I also really enjoyed drawing Ruggie, I should do it again… And Jack too…

Octavinelle – aw yis yakuza fishies babyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Come on, you know I love these guys lol Whenever I look at them I feel at home. It’s a shame I don’t draw them wearing fedoras (for some reason I’m still intimidated by fedoras), because I love everything about their dorm uniforms.

Scarabia – I also don’t feel like I draw these two often enough, but their uniform is probably the most difficult one to draw, simply because of all the details and prints and gold and accessories. But it’s so worth it!... I also think that Jamil is the prettiest snake in the world.

Pomefiore – it’s stupid how long it took me to find a Rook that doesn’t look creepy in my drawings lol I really love this side of him. I also really enjoy drawing Vil, but whenever I do, I feel intimidated. I just can’t mess him up..! But if the Vil that I drew ends up looking good, I get so emotional that I cry (not a 100% lie)

Ignihyde – picking an Idia and an Ortho out of hundreds of sketches of Idia and Ortho was more challenging that I thought it would be, so I picked these because I still really like their faces and think they’re cute! I also can’t get enough of them… to this day… Their hair, their teeth, everything.

Diasomnia – I feel like whenever I draw these guys we have an urge to make it into an art, this is why we have a lot of finished rendered artworks with them. Their aesthetic is just… super fitting for all kinds of dark and gothic stuff. I also adore drawing their eyes!!! All of them have such pretty eyes.

The teachers – if you feel the urge to laugh at Crowley for only getting a black and white sketch, I encourage you to also laugh at Vargas for not being here at all… I think he is the only character that I’m missing, huh.

Others – bonus round! I actually also have a sketch of Fellow Honest and Gidel but by the time I remembered them I got tired of making this thing lol, and we haven’t watched the event yet anyway, so they’ll get their chance to shine some other time (you can find it on my ko-fi though). Meleanor is also here, and I honestly I would be happy to draw every twst mom at some point… And other minor characters too…

But not the dwarves; screw them (just kidding I might draw them too at some point).

[sunboki]

004. SUNDAY’S PARADIGM — ANTHOLOGY

PAIRING. Hwang Hyunjin x gn. reader | WORD COUNT. 2.6k & 15 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing | TROPE. college au, friends to lovers, she fell first but he fell harder (lmao), fluff

( ✉️ ) — hi everybody! i’m very happy to announce that this is the last addition to my mini-anthology “METANOIA”, thank you so much for the support this far and for so much anticipation and patience along the way— have a wonderful day!!

He was a cold person. Spiteful and brash to all people too close, scared to let his walls down. Except, to him, you’re a spectacle. A classmate he realizes he can’t exactly find reason to dislike while he sketched you from his stool in the art room.

Hyunjin knows your habits.

He knows when you’re talking to someone you like your voice becomes higher, knows you prefer to work alone on certain projects, and that you have a low social battery in public spaces. He knows when you're talking to the professor, when you’re anxious, you hold your arms close to your body.

In fact, Hyunjin may know more about you than your friends do. Except, Hyunjin isn’t your friend, nor a stalker or admirer. He’s just Hyunjin and you’re just Y/n, someone he never gets bored of watching from afar without knowing why.

Perhaps it’s the careful sculpting of your nose, the way your eyes perfectly fit with the rest of your face, rose hued lips curling when you smile. Oftentimes he wonders what shade your lips would be if he watercolor painted them. Dusty or dark, pink, or maybe red. He wonders.

And on occasions, he wonders why you aren’t the model for their class while one hand absentmindedly traces you, seated a few stools ahead of him while his canvas successfully blocks the repeated glances in your direction.

Maybe the endless sketches of you in his notebook are the reason he treats that thing like a porcelain vase, held dearly close to his chest as if a mere drop of water would rot the binding.

Hyunjin doesn’t like his sudden interest in you—doesn’t like how he can’t dislike you compared to his usual stark coldness for everyone and anyone, but he can’t help it.

There’s just something peculiar about you that he can’t put his finger on. He doesn’t like that either. But somehow, he can’t seem to get enough.

.

.

.

His lips pull into a frown, the usual one that unconsciously causes the rest of his face to turn grumpy. Oftentimes, Seungmin (the boy occupying the stool to his left) would snap his fingers just to watch surprise cross Hyunjin’s face for a change. He’s a strange kid.

Noticing a friend of yours stumble into the classroom, he can’t help but repeatedly peer from his work, memorizing the small creases of your clothings fabric onto the canvas.

For a moment, Sana (the girl whose name he finally remembered) pulled a small candy from her pocket and popped it in her mouth, urging you to take one as well.

She doesn’t like that flavor, she likes the strawberry flavor better. He thinks to himself.

And sure enough, after delivering a kind smile, you sneakily shoving the treat into your bag when she turns around. Hyunjin bites back the ghost of a smile creeping onto his lips.

Stupid. This is stupid. He tells himself constantly, but still finds his heart beating faster upon seeing you each day.

Really, really stupid, Hwang Hyunjin.

.. .

“I got it!” Sana shrieks, and you attempt to even your sudden panic as the girl begins gesturing wildly. Perhaps Hyunjin isn’t the only one getting surprised on a daily basis.

Frantically piecing together the thoughts circulating around her caffeine dispenser of a brain, she slams her hands down in front of you, another jump scare.

“He’s a ‘look don’t touch kind of guy’, that’s why every girl wants to be in our department!”

Crickets could’ve chirped in the amount of time you blankly stared at her.

She’s fervently nodding, seeming to have discovered an entirely new world in the process of describing your class spectacle as a ‘look don’t touch’.

“..Einstein would’ve stayed in his grave.”

“Would not,” She retorts, pushing her inky black tresses behind her ear and clasping her hands together. “In fact, he would’ve used all of his stone-dead energy to climb out of his grave just to tell me how smart I am!”

“Now that’s just wrong.”

So after more pouting, more glaring, and more unconvinced stares, you finally rise off the bench, shaking the iced coffee in hand.

It’s your lunch, and you would rather not talk about Hwang Hyunjin, but you might just have to give up even trying to avoid the topic at this point.

You don’t dislike him or anything, it just becomes a tad bit irritating once his name has been brought up forty five times in the last two hours, y’know? Because if there’s one thing Sana was right about, it’s that every girl is obsessed with him. Borderline. Obsessed.

Meanwhile, Hwang Hyunjin has no interest. In fact, Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t seem interested in anyone, nor much of anything. That is, unless it’s art.

Back when you had first taken the class the two of you debated on if he was gay, trying to find something that explained it. Although, by the third week you both concluded he acted like that towards everything.

Well, at least he looked bored.

Hwang Hyunjin was hard to read.

Setting your materials in their coordinating places, you steady the easel in front of you, prepared for Ms. Hoon to burst through the door and demand a new mock-up in five minutes or less. She’s known for being spontaneous in all of the wrong ways.

Except, today, Ms. Hoon saunters in, fingers nimbly adjusting her skirt that hangs close to her ankles—close to her tawny leather boots clicking when she walks. She’s pleased, too pleased.

Sana sends you a look saying the same thing you’re thinking:

We’re fucked.

Whipping a random roster from nowhere, her pointed index slides down names before looking up. Right at you.

“For our end of semester project, I want us to explore new options. I’m assigning all of you in pairs to visit different exhibitions around Seoul. Y/n L/n?”

You raise your hand.

“Your partner is Hwang Hyunjin, you’ll be visiting the National Museum of Korea’s Greece exhibition this Sunday,” She smiles, scarily resembling a Cheshire cat. “Infographics are here.” Ms. Hoon finishes, patting the stack atop the podium.

Never has there been so many eyes boring into your back.

And with that, the students either drag their feet or plow through to grab the papers.

Meanwhile, you’re feeling something only recognizable as impending doom.

You’re fucked.

.. .

Hysterically staring ahead, you flinch when a piece of paper is slipped beside you, forcing your eyes off the board.

Can I get your number? It reads, so when you notice Hyunjin’s name is addressed below, you’re convinced you’ve been trapped in some alternate universe. Mere seconds ago Ms. Hoon assigned partners, or did you miss something inbetween the lines?

Your number? Hwang Hyunjin, asking for your number?

Unbelievable.

Instead of darting for the door like you’d planned earlier though, you wait until the classroom is empty to approach him, looking unfairly handsome as always. But before he can say a word, you form a jumbled sentence through fast-blinking eyelids and manically expressive nods of your head.

“Hyunjin I— I’m sorry I’m flattered but I don’t think of you like tha—“

“Huh? For the project?” He replies, and a hundred tons of steel might as well drop on your head at this rate.

Not only are you fucked, but now you’re fucking yourself. And not on good terms.

Talk about a bad first impression.

Opening your mouth, closing it, and opening it again, you chameleon redder and redder the longer he looks at you, shakily typing your digits into his phone to spin on your heel and march out at an alarming pace.

Although, you don’t see the small quirk of his lips, nor how he named “Pretty Project Partner Y/N” as your contact.

“God I’m such an idiot!” Clutching your head, you prop your elbows on the kitchen island while Sana sifts through Netflix on the sofa. She chortles, but lets you wallow in your misery no less.

It’s your secret language, a coping mechanism in its own, sweetly bitter truth.

The day of and you’re still hung up about Hyunjin. Well, your overwhelming embarrassment about Hyunjin—something that kept you up well throughout the night.

Weird. Since when did you care so much about your impression on him anyway? He’s never been a particular stake in your road, but now he’s the sudden speed bump in every once-peaceful moment.

Your pocket vibrates with a notification.

Funny enough, he seemed to live up to that speed bump role.

Hyunjin : Can I come over? Chan’s a bit.. busy

You : Busy?

Hyunjin : Busy

You : Yikes, come over

Hyunjin : Thanks

Sprinting into the living room, you have to stop yourself, hoping to appear composed to the all-knowing best friend of yours.

“Hey, um, could you run to the convenience store for me?”

What a side-eye. She could slice cheese with that glare.

Number one rule? By no circumstances can you have Sana plotting something. Especially not with Hyunjin involved.

“Are you constipated?”

Here goes your ego.

“I’m in denial.”

She taunts. “You poor thing.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Fine, send me what you want and pay me back.” Waving her off, you take the opportunity to attempt at rationalizing what exactly you’ll do, say, look like, act like, and the other billions and trillions of possibilities you only have a few minutes to think about before he arrives.

Real reassuring.

Hyunjin : I’m here

He sends five minutes later, sequentially leading to your phone dropping on your face, slipping on the rug, and giving yourself a once-over (more like a thrice-over) in the mirror, where you greet him at the door.

First thing your eyes are drawn to are the bouquet of flowers held in hand.

Flowers.

Flowers?!?

“Look, they were on sale and it adds to the atmosphere.” He deliberately avoids your gaze. You don’t mention it.

You never took Hyunjin as the guy bringing you flowers. Come to think of it, you never took Hyunjin as a romantic either. Guess this project is teaching more things than just the philosophy of Michelangelo’s sculptures.

Placing said flowers into a vase you miraculously found in the cabinet above the microwave, you anxiously tap your finger atop your thigh.

It’s awkward, until it isn’t. Because Hyunjin is surprisingly good at small talk.

“Why are you like this to me?” Blurting, you wish you would’ve bitten your tongue. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind too much.

Instead, he fixates on your face, noting your details as you speak. Dusty red is their color he decides, the watercolor shade matching your lips best.

“Like what?”

“Well,” You meet his eyes. He memorizes that color as well. “You’re just different in class.”

Leaning further into the opposing loveseat, he shrugs.

“For the record, Ms. Hoon wears that awful perfume every day. Not to mention everyone falls asleep anyway.”

He’s not half wrong.

“Aren’t you observant,” You muse, cheekily giggling to yourself.

He rolls his eyes, ears pink nonetheless.

Abruptly interrupting your teasing, there’s a knock, and you haphazardly edge to peer through the peephole, Hyunjin simultaneously tailing behind you.

“Who is it?” He whispers, uncharacteristic to his usual unbothered demeanor.

Shit, it’s Sana!

Already aware she’d find out something was up one way or another, you find yourself with no choice but to slowly open the door, a hand leant against the doorframe, another covering Hyunjin’s mouth where he hides on the wall to your left.

“Hey you better pay me ba- are you okay?” She hesitates, surveying the sweat on your brow and how off-balance you’re standing, plastic bag in clutch.

“Oh yeah, I just remembered! Did you buy the extra bag of potato chips?” Diverting the conversation, you nervously grin, feeling Hyunjin’s hot breath against your palm when he stifled a giggle.

Squinting incredulously, she scrolls through her messages without answering. Shaking the list you sent right in your face, you wrinkle your nose, putting on the best “please? I promise I’ll buy you lunch for a week” face you can muster.

Like you said. Secret language.

Sighing heavily, you thank whomever above when she slumps away and you excitedly slam the door shut, both releasing exhales of relief.

Checking the time, you glimpse outside, making sure the perimeter is Sana-free. You need absolutely no traces.

Great. Coast clear.

“Shhhh!” Shushing him, you carefully lock the door before running out of sight down the hallway at full speed. Bewildered, he chases along, mini ponytail swaying with each stride.

You have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing. Unusually, he’s doing the same.

Your unwavering, certainly monotonous class spectacle is laughing.

He’s pretty.

Wait. Duh.

He’s gorgeous.

Yeah. That fits better.

A soft hue decorates his cheeks, and he stumbles down the stairs like a drunkard. Yet, in the midst of your admiration, your foot slips—more drunkard-esque than him—from beneath you. Before your forehead makes contact with the marble floor though, a hand fastens onto your sleeve.

Hyunjin leans down, brows furrowed worriedly. Also uncharacteristic.

“You okay?” He asks, tone soft, voice concerned.

Responding breathlessly from both your near-death experience and how ungodly close you are to a prince, you meekly nod, allowing the boy to ease you upright.

Dear god what is with you?!

Navigating the exhibition tucked away near a library, neither of you waste time getting to work. So as the sky begins dimming to eve and you briefly think of Sana, likely beyond confused back at the dorm, you curve around to the last sculpture replicated, the world renowned “Bacchus”.

“Greek sculptures are beautiful, aren’t they.” He speaks, voice hollow and hardly audible unless you craned close. His eyes flit to every inch of the statue, taking in the precise attention to detail carving the fingerprints lingering on flesh, specific shadows emphasizing pained expressions or that of happiness, fingernails so deliberately intricate it terrifies you.

Hyunjin has a way of leaving you breathless.

“Yeah..” You mutter, scribbling some messy bullet points and getting a decent basis on the overall anatomy of the sculpture.

You often wonder how such masterpieces have remained perfectly intact after countless years. You wonder if Hyunjin is like that too. That, even if you got close to him, he’d stay the same. Bitter, uninviting. To others at least.

To you, he’s different. You like it.

Or, he’d change.

Perhaps become sweeter, lace his tongue in honey when he spoke to you.

You quickly force the thought away.

However, what you don’t realize is that you leave Hyunjin breathless all the same. Because with your attention being elsewhere (for a second occasion), you hadn’t noticed his gaze landing on you when he said beautiful.

.. .

Hyunjin is a gentleman. And in all honesty, this occasion, despite the fact you’re simply visiting an exhibition, feels more like a date than anything.

He’s geared you to the left of him while he shields the road on your walk home, he brought flowers, and even saved you from a catastrophe. You’d count that as a pretty gentleman-type move.

Arriving at your complex and promising to text more details to each other tomorrow, his hand—stirring déjà vú in your stomach—grasps your sleeve for a second time.

Gently turning you around, his thumb reaches up to lightly press against your bottom lip, index hooked beneath your chin.

You’re certain you’ve forgotten to breathe by now.

“Hyunjin.. What're you doing….?” You hesitantly drag out, phrase muffled.

Absentmindedly clicking his tongue, he maneuvers your head left and right, a slow smile crawling onto his cheeks upon witnessing your flustered state.

“Making sure I get the color right,” He responds nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t mere centimeters away from your lips.

Dusty red, he was right.

Leaning his head down with a small tilt, his breath barely ghosts over your face, mischievous smirk beginning to grate your nerves the longer he holds that smug cockiness.

“See you tomorrow?” He muses, shoving cold hands into his pockets while ensuring you get inside safely.

“Yeah Yeah..” You grumble, praying he doesn’t notice you trip up the stairs, mind buzzing wildly.

He does, and he laughs.

Hyunjin knew your habits, and now, in the middle of your coincidentally ideal project, he finds himself learning again and again. There’s so much to you, so many layers he hopes to uncover, so much that becomes hard not falling for.

He can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

.

.

.

“Y/n?”

Sana knocks on your room’s door. You hum in acknowledgement.

“Where did you get those flowers?”

> SERIES TAGLIST. @phtogravi @liknws @luckieleaf @jhstayy @meloncremesoda @chans1aptop @eternitywaveshello @meanergreener @ladylexis @love-gy-u @hanjingin @idkluvutellme @dark-anxel @yubinism @rachabreathing @seung-scrittore @fylithia @skzsupremacy @alrm02 @ener-energy @koliki @anskiiz @dprkbyn @bellamuerte1987 @ylixbok @hanjisung-enjoyer @youngunknownwitch @hwangflora @starlost-andfound @taeriffic @flwerfield

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[gavitaffy]

Goals of the Heart, part 4

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Paring: Pablo Gavi & f!reader

Summary: Y/N, an artist sketching in Barcelona, has her painting ruined when a stray football crashes into her easel. The culprit, a young man named Pablo Gavi, apologizes profusely and buys her new art supplies to make up for it. She later learns he's a famous footballer for Barcelona but brushes it off, treating him as just "the guy who ruined her painting." Gavi, intrigued by her indifference, offers to take her for coffee, hinting at the start of a surprising connection between them.

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1,5k

Chapter 4: A Quiet Reunion

The weeks that followed felt hollow for both Y/N and Pablo. For Y/N, the absence of his vibrant energy was glaring. Her days were quieter, and though she poured herself into her art, she couldn’t shake the memory of his laugh, the warmth of his hand in hers, or the way he made her feel like she belonged somewhere.

For Pablo, the silence was unbearable. He was used to the roar of stadiums and the chaos of his life in the public eye, but none of it compared to the calm he found in her company. His teammates noticed his distraction on the field, and even his coach pulled him aside one day to ask if something was wrong.

But both of them were stubborn, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

One crisp autumn afternoon, Y/N decided to escape the noise of her thoughts and visit her favorite hidden café in El Born. It was a place she’d discovered long before meeting Pablo, tucked away behind ivy-covered walls and known only to a handful of locals. She ordered her usual—an espresso and a slice of almond cake—and settled into a corner table with her sketchpad.

The café was quiet, save for the gentle hum of conversation and the clink of cups. Y/N let herself sink into the rhythm of her pencil strokes, sketching a scene of two dancers twirling under a canopy of stars.

“Still drawing magic, I see.”

Her hand froze mid-stroke, her heart skipping at the familiar voice. She looked up to see Pablo standing there, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a black hoodie. He looked more casual than she was used to seeing him, but there was something vulnerable in his expression, as if he wasn’t sure he was welcome.

“Pablo,” she breathed, surprised to see him.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Mind if I sit?”

She hesitated, but then she nodded. He slid into the seat across from her, his presence filling the small space between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension was palpable, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Finally, Pablo broke the silence.

“I didn’t know you came here,” he said, his tone light but searching.

“It’s my favorite spot,” Y/N replied, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her sketchpad. “It’s quiet.”

“I can see why you like it,” he said, glancing around. Then his eyes settled on her drawing. “That’s beautiful.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “Thanks.”

He looked at her, his gaze soft. “I missed this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s breath hitched. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I missed it too,” she confessed.

Pablo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About how hard all of this has been for you. And I get it—I do. But I also can’t stop thinking about how much I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want to let this go without a fight.”

Her heart ached at his words. “It’s not that I don’t care about you, Pablo. I do. But I’ve never wanted to be in the spotlight. I just wanted to live my life quietly, focus on my art. Being with you...it’s like stepping into a world I don’t belong in.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know. And I hate that being with me makes things harder for you. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to be part of that world. You don’t have to go to games or deal with the media. We can keep things low-key, just us.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

“I think anything’s possible if we both want it,” Pablo said firmly.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his. She saw the sincerity in his expression, the determination that made him a star on the field and a steadfast presence in her life.

“I’m scared, Pablo,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I’m scared of losing myself in all of this.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll be here to remind you who you are, even when you forget. And if it ever gets to be too much, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them away quickly. She didn’t want to cry in the middle of a café. But his words touched something deep inside her, melting the walls she had built over the past few weeks.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

“Okay?” he repeated, his face lighting up with hope.

“Okay,” she said again, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But we take it slow. And you have to promise me—no grand gestures, no dragging me into the spotlight. Just us.”

“Just us,” he agreed, his grin wide and genuine.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, catching up on everything they had missed in each other’s lives. Pablo told her about a tricky game against Real Madrid, complete with exaggerated impressions of his teammates, while Y/N shared her latest art project—a series of sketches inspired by Barcelona’s streets at night.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city, Pablo walked Y/N back to her apartment. The air was crisp, the faint scent of orange blossoms lingering in the breeze.

When they reached her door, they stood there for a moment, neither wanting the evening to end.

“I meant what I said,” Pablo told her, his voice low. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full for the first time in weeks. “I know you will.”

He hesitated, then reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was simple, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her cheeks flushed, but she nodded.

He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that made her knees weak. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, like a promise unspoken but deeply felt. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s heart was racing, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Pablo said, his eyes sparkling.

“Goodnight, Pablo,” she replied, watching as he walked away, his hands in his pockets and a spring in his step.

As she closed the door behind her, Y/N leaned against it, her fingers brushing her lips. She had no idea what the future held, but for the first time, she felt ready to face it—with Pablo by her side.

[ireallyliketalldarksultrymen]

MORE STUFF FOR THE TREEBARK COFFEE SHOP AU!! this time its centered around martyns roommates: jimmy and grian (ft. references to flower husbands)

had a lot of fun writing grian and jimmys banter!! gonna clean this up later, but for now, enjoy!

—

Jimmy had no plans today; classes were out of sight, and his shift at the library had thankfully been taken over by Pearl. (who he really has to thank later. She’s practically a saint with how much she checks out stacks of picture books for toddlers) 

He expected a lazy morning he’d start off by popping waffles in the toaster, sipping a cup of coffee while turning on the television. Maybe he’d start his comparative analysis essay on Hamlet and Macbeth that he’s been putting off for at least a week, the due date inching closer each day. What Jimmy wasn’t expecting was his roommate ripping the sheets off him at eight forty-six a.m.

Jimmy groaned, curling in on himself to replicate the warmth his blanket provided. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

He heard a sigh above him. “Tim, if you don’t wake up now, you’ll sleep in for the rest of the day.”

“So?”

Grian huffed. “So, you won’t make it to the florist shop before closing.”

Slowly, Jimmy unfurled his body, lying on his back. He brought up a hand and rubbed the dreariness away from his eyes, yawning as he did. “Why do we need flowers in the first place?”

Jimmy felt a dip in the bed next to him. “Martyn and I think the dorm’s too bland. Believe it or not, seeing white on every surface gets tiring.”

His eyes flutter open, shifting over to see Grian; he’s cross-legged, finger tapping his chin while his eyes are narrowed to the bedsheets. “Dahlia’s would do…maybe azaleas, too.”

Jimmy pushed himself, sitting hunched over. “Why can’t you go and get them?” he whined.

Grian looked up at him and shrugged. “I’m busy; got a Model UN meet later that’ll last a couple of hours.” Suddenly, the corner of his lips turned up into a smirk. “Besides, you’ll get to see that florist you’re into.”

And, oh, Jimmy hated him for that.

He fell back onto the bed, hands placed over his face as he groaned, immediately feeling a surge of warmth grow on his cheeks. 

Grian snickered. “Honestly, Timmy, there’s no point in denying you’re pining over Saul. Sawyer? Skylar?”

“It’s Scott,” Jimmy said, muffled behing his hands. “And I’m not into him. At all.”

Grian elbowed his side. “Denial is a river in Egypt—“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence—“

“Oh, c’mon! Practically everyone we know is aware you’re head over heels.”

Jimmy removed his hands from his face, nose scrunched as he stared at the ceiling. “Sure.”

“Oh-ho-ho, I have a list!” Grian cracked his knuckles. “Well, there’s me, Martyn, Skizz, Cleo, Cub, Iskall—“

“Waitwaitwait—“ He turned over. “Skizz and Cleo I understand, but how do Cub and Iskall know?”

“Whatever’s said in Model UN, stays in Model UN.” He crossed his fingers over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

Jimmy huffs, practically deflating. “Okay, so I might be excited to see him—but that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him!”

The blonde raised his eyebrows. “Don’t lie to yourself, Tim,” he deadpanned, “you and I both know the only reason you’ve been learning different types of flowers is to impress him.”

“I—“

“And I’ve seen the sketches of hydrangeas on random papers around this room. You’ve got some weird ways of flirting.”

Jimmy squawked. “It isn’t flirting!”

“Sure it isn’t.”

“Can’t a guy want to make friends?”

“Did you teach yourself the different methods of brewing coffee to befriend Martyn?” Grian shook his head.

“Really, Timmy, there’s not an excuse from you that’ll convince you’re not attracted to, love-struck, head-over-heels—“

“Okay, okay, I get it—“

“Hung up on—“

“Grian.”

“Obsessed with—“

“Grian!” Jimmy reached to swat at the other, but he only cackled and dodged.

“And I thought Martyn and Ren were bad.” He shook his head, getting off the bed. “Welp, have fun with Stuart!” And before he could correct him, Grian slid out of his room.

Jimmy sighed, rubbing the heels of palm against his eyes. He looked at his alarm clock, which read eight fifty-five. The flower shop was going to open soon, and he really wanted to see Scott.

He heard the jingle of his coming from his left, door opening slightly. Grian’s face peeked through the crack.

“By the way, don’t forget to tell Sloan your knowledge on annuals and perennials. I’m positive he’ll love that.”

Jimmy groaned as the door clicked shut, closing his eyes for a moment.

Today was going to be a long day.

[writtenbyjos]

Ford’s hand looks like it went through a ninja blender so pls ignore it 🤩🙂‍↔️🫣

initially I hadn’t included the other sketch cause I was working on Ford’s face but I absolutely love them and I cannot get enough of themmmm!!

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

A little back story for Matilda my OC, she was a really good friend of Fiddleford who came from Pennsylvania so I have her coming from an upper class Pittsburgh family with too much time on their hands, and not enough love for their only daughter, the only girl of three older brothers. She was an engineer major with big plans and an even bigger heart. She and Ford had a meet cute in the hallway one day in the beginning of their freshman year at Backupsmore U, where they collided face first into one another trying to get to class. The rest was history. We later find out that she has a special ability to see and communicate with ghosts, something only Ford ever knew about. She was the one who helped him investigate the paranormal side of Gravity Falls and even illustrated some entity’s for his journals … *wink wink nudge nudge*

They moved to Gravity Falls together after college, until Ford’s ambition and treaty with Bill pushed her away, to where she loved him and knew she always would, but had no room in her heart for darkness. She came to a cross roads when she got offered a big time engineer job that would change the way the world used clean and renewable energy, but it was in New Zealand. Bill was a big part in their eventual split, ending in her trying to get Ford to come with her, but of course, he was very tempted by everything that Bill was promising. She knew Bill was not to be trusted from the beginning, which strained their relationship further till his mental demise. Before he asked Stan for help, they had somewhat of a falling out and Matilda set off for New Zealand, heart broken. Never to hear from him for another 30 years.

Her story is one of my favorites of any OC’s I’ve ever come to meet, and I can’t wait to publish the rest of her narrative :) I can’t tell you guys much else, but I can tell you a few things. Where the story picks up in that I’m writing now, a year after Weirdmageddon, she is finishing up her term in the peace corp and that she and Stanley have kept up with each other via letters since Ford was pushed into the portal. And she’s coming back, baby. In full force!

Thank you for all the support and hype :)

[romancingdaffodils]

Pictures and Portraits

The Exhibition

LETS GO PART THREE

artist!wilbur x reader

3.1k WORDSSSS

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU LILLY AND JADE FOR HELPING ME OUT!! U GUYS R THE GREATEST

thank u for everyone liking my stuff i’m so grateful and i’m so happy thank you guys i love you so much i’m so glad u like my stuff

once again lilac writes pure fluff nothing but fluff always fluff

Saturday. You were stood in front of the mirror, a frown planted on your face. Desperately tugging on your clothes, you felt so dumb. Once again, you were going over the top to impress Wilbur. You had last seen him on Thursday, you felt sick with nerves. You’d spent all of yesterday texting him, he’d sent you a picture of the painting he had started when you first met. It was almost finished, you’d complimented him and his work nonstop. He’d complimented any pictures you sent, especially the ones of yourself. You decided you’d ask him about your current outfit choice, you still felt stupid.

‘Wil, can you tell me if this looks okay please :)’ you pressed send, along with a picture of your reflection in the mirror. He read the message. He started typing. He stopped. He started typing once more. He stopped.

‘WILBUR JUST RESPOND STOP DOING THAT.’ you added to your previous message. You could practically hear his laugh through the screen.

‘Sorry just had to print out that picture. You’re gorgeous dove. You’re making me feel a bit underdressed actually. Pick you up in 10.’

‘HAHA, okay. No I’m sure you’ll look great Wil :). See you in a bit.’

You panicked. Rummaging around your room, you desperately attempted to find a bag that matched your outfit. Upon finding one, you stepped out of your room and walked to the front door. You paced up and down, your stomach turning. The knock at your door came sooner than expected, you flung your door open and flashed Wilbur your brightest smile.

“Hey.” he said, smiling down at you. His hands were full, one holding flowers and the other had the sketch pad in hand. The sketch pad he had first drawn you in.

“Hi. Oh, Wil you shouldn’t have.” you replied, looking down at his hands. He simply laughed in response.

“Don’t worry dove, it comes at a price. You got a vase for these?” he said, gesturing to the flowers. You nodded and moved towards your kitchen, letting him into your flat. He closed the door behind him with his foot, following you through to the kitchen. You filled the vase with some water and then held it forwards, he placed the flowers in.

“What’s the price?” you asked, head tilted as you placed the vase in the middle of a shelf in your kitchen.

“I can’t quite get the lips right in this, do you mind?” he said, taking your hand and leading you back to the lounge. You didn’t mind at all. You sat down on the couch, your knees pressed against Wil’s who was now sat next to you. He had his pencil pushed against the page, leaning further and further in.The gap between you was barely existent. Wilbur smiled, his eyes flicking down to your lips. Your whole face felt like it was burning, he was smirking at you. “Sorry dove. I just really, really can’t get your lips right. Too pretty I think.” he stated, looking back to his sketch pad and then leaning straight back in. He was so shameless. You couldn’t reply, you were completely tongue tied.

He tilted his head as he closed the gap completely, your lips met. His hand delicately crept up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek. Both of your eyes were shut, your hand shakily moved up to the hair at the nape of his neck. You intertwined your fingers with his hair, scratching at the skin beneath it. He hummed into the kiss, the soft vibrations sending tingling sensations across your body. The butterflies in your stomach had broken free and were now attacking the rest of your body, your head was spinning. Wilbur so expertly moved his lips with yours, you couldn’t tell how nervous he felt. You couldn’t tell at all. But, he was so anxious. You turned him into a fool. He’d told you when you first met ‘You’re going to ruin me.’, and now he had confirmation he was right. You’d flipped his world upside down in the best way possible. Now he was a nervous mess, kissing someone he was so fond of. Someone who never turned him down.

He pulled away, taking in heavy breaths, eyes opening to admire your face. Your lips were still slightly parted, you looked back at him in some sort of daze. You smiled. He smiled. His hand hadn’t left the side of your face, and truthfully you didn’t want it to. Dropping down your hand to his shoulder, you delicately placed your other hand on the side of his neck. It was hot. You had no doubt your face was hot too.

“You alright?” he asked, admiring everything about you.

“Perfect.” you mumbled, you could no longer meet his eyes. You felt far too embarrassed. To you, the kiss had felt incredible, but what if it was horrendous. What if you were a shit kisser? You’d kissed people before, sure, but never Wilbur.

“You’re indescribable.” he stated, his thumb brushed over your lips. His hand still on the side of your face, the other had moved to rest on your waist now. “So, so fantastic. You’re everything. Especially for someone I’ve known four days. ” he added, eyes wandering to your lips once again.

“Y’too nice to me Wil.”

“Not nice enough.”

“You’re horrible.”

“You’re cruel.” he replied, laughing softly at your completely love-stricken expression.

“We’re going to be late.” you said, finally meeting his eyes.

“I lied, doesn’t start till one. We’ve got a good hour and a half.”

“Oh?”

“Sorry. I wanted to spend some time with you.”

“You just had to ask.”

“I know. Can I kiss you again?”

You nodded silently, he leant back in. You fell back onto the couch rest of the couch, head resting on the arm, laughing into the kiss. Your arms that had once been supporting you had turned to jelly - you had literally fallen for him. He smiled, his hand never once leaving your face. His thumb rubbed comforting circles on your cheek, the hand on your waist kept a tight grip. He slipped his tongue in, so innocently. As though it were nothing. You had both your hands on the back of his head, he was positioned above you after you had collapsed backwards. The delicate scratching sensation made his heart melt all over again. You giggled into the kiss as he squeezed your waist. His hand moved up and down - reaching your hips and then repeating the action. You were in some sort of trance. Pure adoration had control of your mind as you felt nothing but Wilbur. Wilbur felt nothing but you.

You both pull away, looking at each other with glazed eyes.

“I hope you haven’t crumpled my outfit, Wilbur.” you said, laughing lightly.

“I think that’s the least of your worries.” he replied, using his thumb to try and fix the lipstick that was smudged across the edge of your lips. It was also smudged over Wil’s lips.

“You’ve got lipstick on you.” you stated the obvious, he just raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah? Does it look good?”

“Mhmmm. It’d look better if it wasn’t all over your mouth.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“You kissed me first!”

“You’re the one with lipstick on.” he teased, still trying to fix the mess of your lips. It wasn’t going very well and had just left him with a red thumb and index finger.

“Fair point. It looks a bit funny.”

“Yeah? Look what you’ve done.” he said, lifting his hand into your view. You laughed at his now tinted finger and thumb, he can’t help but smile.

“You tried to fix it. Once again it’s your fault.”

“Oh, forgive me for being kind to you.”

“You’re forgiven.”

He sat up and moved away from you, sitting properly on the couch. He stretched out his legs, knees beginning to ache. “One hour, are you excited?” he said, looking down at his watch. He turned his head to you, watching as you struggled to sit up properly. He laughed, you scowled back at him.

“So excited, I’ll get to see more of your work. And meet Joe.” you said, finally managing to sit up straight. Wilbur laughed, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t make fun of me after what he says.” he said, grabbing your face gently and making you face him. You laughed as he squished together your cheeks.

“No promises.” you said as you swatted away his hand, laughing at him once again. “Come here.” you added, Wilbur turned to face you. You moved onto your knees, and began pressing kisses across his face, the shadow of red lips being left on his skin. You were now the artist, your muse was your canvas. He smiled, laughing as you tilted his head to get a better angle.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his hands safely settled on your hips, helping you maintain your balance.

“Working.” you responded, humming as you pulled away to examine your piece. “One sec.” you said, freeing yourself from his grip. You wandered over to a shelf and grabbed your camera. The same camera you had used the day you met. You walked back and stood in front of him, giggling to yourself.

“Photoshoot?” he questioned, you nodded in response.

“Smile!” you said, beginning to take pictures of him. He did smile. You were so unbelievably happy, so was he. “Pose! You’re a rockstar, you’ve just left your groupie.” you said, obviously joking. You were acting like the stereotypical photographers in film. He laughed in response, hair flopping in front of his face.

You captured every moment. Every smile, light laugh, deadpan, and the kiss he had blown you - you captured it all. He was so perfect, and so photogenic you were actually quite jealous. “Okay one more photo.” you said, grabbing a different camera from the coffee table. This one was a polaroid, you sat down next to him. He automatically wrapped his arm around you. You pushed your lips to his cheek once again, pressing the button. The camera flashed. You had the picture saved forever now. He reached over and took the polaroid from the camera, shaking it. You smiled up at him, he laughed.

“Y’gonna have to get this of my face, you know that right.” he said, continuing to shake the polaroid.

“No it looks nice, call it modern artwork.”

“You need to fix your lips too.”

“Oh, yeah, good point. Let me see.” you said, grabbing the picture from his hand. You smiled, it truly was a work of art. “I can’t paint, but I can do this.” you said, showing him the polaroid. He smiled.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, go on, get some makeup wipes please. I need to look semi-smart if I want to sell anything.” he replied, taking the picture back from your hand. He pulled his phone from his pocket; he removed the case, and placed the polaroid on the back of his phone. He put the case back on. The picture was now sealed behind some clear plastic that was carried everywhere with him. You tried to ignore his actions as you walked towards your bathroom, grabbing the packet of wipes. You hummed as you removed the smudged mess from your own face, quickly reapplying the lipstick. You then moved back into the lounge, Wil was sat with his legs stretched out and his arms laid over the back of the couch. It must be painful being that tall and gangly. Delicately, you sat down next to him, wipes in hand. He turned his head to look at you, smiling. It was such a genuine smile.

“I’m ruining my masterpiece.” you said, frowning as you moved to your knees once again.

“You’re restarting with a blank canvas.” Wil responded, hands resting on your hips once again. He’d never been more delighted to be so affectionate.

“I think my canvas is too good looking.” you said, beginning the quest of wiping away the red stains. He laughed, you smiled.

“Yeah? It’s a good job you’re not my canvas then. Fortunately, you’re my muse.” he said, watching you carefully. The feeling of the wipe on his face was a little funny, he didn’t mind though.

“I think I could get used to that.”

“Good.”

“Okay, all gone. Should we set off now?” you said, sitting back on your heels. Wilbur’s hands never once moved from your waist; instead he turned his body, and moved with you.

“Sounds like a plan. I think my friends are excited to meet you.”

“Yeah… something about you not shutting up about me.”

“Something like that.” he said, letting go of you and standing up. He put his hand out, you took it. He pulled you up effortlessly, he was oh so tall. “Are you ready?” he questioned, looking down at you.

“Sure.” you replied, he slowly began moving towards the door. He picked up your bag for you, tossing you the keys from it. Sweet. The two of you walked out, locking the door behind you. So, the journey began.

You arrived at the exhibition, Wil helped you out of his car, and led you through the gallery’s doors. You could’ve screamed, you were met with the different members of Lovejoy’s artwork. Ash’s cartoon style that completely contrasted Wilbur’s own realistic portraits. Mark’s work that only could be described as fast paced, and Joe’s much tamer pieces. They all worked together so well despite being so different.

“You must be Y/n!” one of the men shouted, you assumed he was Mark by the fact he had been stood next to the big sign that read ‘Mark Boardman’.

“Yeah, uh, that’s me.” you replied, flashing him your best smile. Wil squeezed your hand, a sign of ‘don’t be nervous. they’ll love you.’ you took it gratefully.

“I’m Mark! That’s Ash.” he introduced himself and then gestured to the guy with nice hair next to him.

“I’m Joe. I’ve heard a lot about you actually, Wi-“ he started, once again being quickly cut off by his taller counterpart.

“Shut up Joe.” Wilbur said, pulling you toward the part of the gallery filled with his own work.

“Not even a ‘thank you’ for setting up your stuff?!” Mark said, leaning against a wall. Ash laughed, you were smiling. It was like a family, you could understand why they were so close.

“Thank you.” Wil said, deadpanning at his friends. You laughed, Joe was smirking at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“Y/n, Wil thinks you’re ‘impeccable’ and ‘single-handedly the most beautiful person he’s ever seen’. Oh, how could I forget ‘jesus christ she’s driving me insane’.” Joe said, shouting so Wilbur couldn’t interrupt him. Wil’s cheeks were now dusted a soft pink, he was shaking his head and repositioning the framed pieces. You laughed once again, smiling at his friends once more.

“Oh, really?” you teased, looking over at Wilbur.

“That’s not even the worst of it.” Mark added, Ash nodded along with him.

“Half an hour until we’re open.” Wilbur stated, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. His forearms were now on show, you could’ve died. You were stood awkwardly in the middle of his section, admiring his art hung on the walls. Each time he moved past you, he’d place his hands on your hips as to not bump into you. You weren’t sure if you should scream or cry, delicate touches leaving your head spinning. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it. A subconscious action that was tearing you to pieces. “Y/n, when we open up, you can sit here, if you’d like. Just so you don’t feel like you’re in the way.” Wil said, looking over to you. He gestured to a seat that was in his section. A desk with two chairs at it, it’s where transactions were made. You’d be sat, watching the art sell itself. They hardly had to do any work, though they all thought selling was the worst part - harder than the actual creation process.

You were about two hours in, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of Wilbur. He was mesmerising. He laughed along with potential customers, his art sold itself as you’d assumed. All the customers needed was a little push, a small smile, and flop of hair. Then the painting was sold, gone to a different home. Every so often, he’d look over to you and give you a thumbs up. You’d return it. He had apologised half an hour ago, he hadn’t realised how busy it was going to be. Truthfully, he’d been hoping to take you through all of the artwork in the gallery. Show you the talent that lined the walls, but you said you didn’t mind. You were quite content sitting, and watching him. Plus, you had your phone for entertainment. Then, it was his turn to completely melt. He’d never been more happy.

The exhibition came to an end, everyone looked exhausted. All of the excessively rich men and women had retreated back to their mansions, leaving the artists completely drained. Wilbur collapsed into the chair beside you, the bags under his eyes had grown tremendously.

“Hungry?” you offered, looking at him, and then to the rest of Lovejoy.

“Extremely.” Mark replied, Wilbur laughed.

“I could eat.” Joe said, looking over to Ash for confirmation. Ash put his thumbs up, you already knew Wilbur’s answer. Somehow, something told you you were going to get along well with his friends. Wil leant forward, looking at you.

“Sorry it wasn’t much of a date, love.” he whispered, directly into your ear. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, before quickly leaning back into his chair. He was so close. You felt sick, butterflies in your stomach. Wil smirked at you, eyebrows raised. You scowled back at him, he was just too mean. You couldn’t stay mad at him though, you didn’t mind it not being much of a date. You’d seen a different side to him, he was so great it was unfair.

“Can you two stop flirting please, I’m hungry.” Mark said, groaning after he spoke. Your stomach churned once again, pure embarrassment.

“Piss off.” Wil said, glaring over at him.

“To be fair, y/n did offer us food.” Joe replied, shrugging.

“You’re right. I did. There’s a nice enough pub near here, it’ll still be doing food. You wanna go there?”

“Sounds good to me.” Mark said, the rest nodded.

You were in for a long night, not that you knew it yet.

[succubusphan]

Sweet Juliet

Summary: Dan is a baker in his thirties, feeling the weight of the passage of time on his shoulders, living a content yet uneventful life until a mysterious man takes it upon himself to whisk him away.

Rating: G

Tags/warnings: Strangers to lovers, meet cute, non youtuber au.

Author's Note: Written for the @phandomgiftexchange as a gift to @husbants. Thank you for being amazing Nikki and for continuing this lovely tradition. I hope you enjoy it! thank you @effingmeteors for reading this over.

Total Word Count: 2.5k

Read on Ao3

Dan pulled out a massive cake from the oven and set it on the counter before he dropped it by accident - again. He shut the oven door and straightened up with a groan, hearing his back pop. “Jesus fuck,” he mumbled. No matter what his nNan said, sometimes Dan couldn’t help but feel age catching up to him. Maybe thirty years old was too old to be working this much, as Adrian said, but he just loved baking and running his little coffee shop, meeting new people and learning about their lives when they were up to talking or just observing them and coming up with his own stories for them. 

You see, Dan was proud of the crowd his shop attracted with its various plants and speciality baking, the Colombian coffee and the books readily available for those who wished to immerse themselves in an alternate universe. His patrons were usually bohemian university students, established couples on a quiet date out, and artists who wished to spend hours enjoying the place and eating his various creations as they sketched a new piece. Sadly, the piano he had available hadn’t been touched in the three years since the grand opening, but he could dream. 

The bell on the door dinged welcoming the first clients of the day and pulling him from his thoughts. He fixed his posture and smiled widely. “Good morning, Adeleine, how is Richard fairing?” Dan asked his older neighbour and frequent visitor.

“Oh, you know how he is! He says he will be fine but I told him to get some proper rest until Monday. His back is not what it used to and he needs to accept that. We are all ageing as it is,” Adeleine said, swishing her little coin purse as she looked at the pastry display.

“You are quite right,” Dan nodded, hating the fact that he had so much in common with the elderly couple. “What would you like this time?”

“I’ll take 4 pain au chocolates for Richard, and for me… Ugh, I shouldn’t but I can’t resist your eclairs. You are simply too talented for your own good.”

“You flatter me,” Dan said, waving her off as he picked the pastries one by one and put them in a small golden tray with an intricate flower design on the edges. “You get one extra just for being my favourite patron.” He winked.

Adeleine laughed loudly but cleared her throat when she saw a man walk in. Dan hadn’t seen him around before but the guy was breathtakingly gorgeous and if the look she was giving Dan was anything to go by, Adeleine agreed. Dan took a calming breath, trying to keep his nerves in check but he almost burst out laughing when she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Anything else?” Dan asked her with an awkward cough.

“No, that’ll be all, sweety,” she said, grabbing the now packaged pastries and handing him the money. “Thank you, see you on Monday!”

“Of course! Send Richard my well wishes,” Dan smiled.

She nodded and made her way to the exit way too slowly for her usual pace. Dan rolled his eyes and snorted, knowing that Adelaine was just trying to have more time to ogle the newcomer. 

“Welcome to Sweet Juliet,” Dan said with what he hoped was a warm smile instead of the painful expression he was picturing in his mind. “What would you like to enjoy?”

The man lifted a carefully manicured eyebrow and gave him a sly smile. Dan had never been ashamed of the little phrases he had crafted to make his store special, but he did feel the heat rising to his cheeks at the expression the guy made.

“Hi,” he said, leaning on the pastry display. “I’m new in the area but I’ve heard good reviews. What would you recommend for me?”

Dan felt all moisture leaving his throat as he followed the line of the guy’s neck past the two open buttons of his shirt, briefly catching a glimpse of a rosy nipple. Not that Dan was being a creep or anything, but he was just too beautiful and the way he was standing and his inky black hair and blue eyes and -”

“Dan?” he asked.

“Oh,” Dan blinked repeatedly. He had spaced out for a bit. “How do you know my name?”

“It’s in your tag,” the guy laughed. He actually laughed, as if he hadn’t already thought Dan was a fucking dork for his stupid little greeting.

Dan sputtered at his own stupidity and decided that the safest option was to pretend nothing happened. “Right, anyway… I recommend the mocha latte with the Sweet Juliet Tray. If you like sweets, that will give you a taste of everything. 

“Sounds perfect,” he smiled. “When do you get off?”

Dan gasped, his eyes wide as saucers. “What?!”

“From work! Sorry, I’m just -” he laughed, looking a little shy for the first time. “I’m so sorry! Let’s start over, I’m Phil.” 

“Alright,” Dan smiled. Realising he was actually the culprit of the misunderstanding, of course, Phil hadn’t been asking about that, but since he took the fault for it, Dan was not going to argue on the matter. He needed to at least pretend to have a brain to impress this guy. “Hi, Phil…”

“Hi, Dan! I’ll take that mocha with the Juliet tray. And if you’d be so kind, I would like your number, Dan.” Phil gave him a half smile, turning the charm on once again but Dan was not going to make it that easy for him.

“Hmm… How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” Dan asked, only half joking. The guy was too fucking handsome to be chasing little old Dan, on the other hand, people die every day and who was Dan to refuse such an opportunity. Was there really a better way to go?

“I think people would find me easily,” Phil said, his smile dropping slightly.

Dan wondered about the change in his demeanour but tried to keep the joke rolling. “Are you bad at hiding?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Phil shrugged, his smile entirely vanished now. 

“Well, I’ll think about it while you enjoy your mocha, Phil.” Dan said, trying not to sound too bummed about his terrible fail at flirting. How did he even manage to fuck up when he had already been invited to go out on a date?

Phil shook his head, his expression softening. “I should have brought flowers, but how could I’ve ever known I would be meeting you?”

“Wow, you’re really good at this,” Dan commented as he started to prepare the order. Maybe it was best to just let things be. “But I’m afraid you’re coming a bit too strong.”

“Alright, alright,” Phil said, raising his hands. “I’ll just find myself a table for now.”

“Ok, make sure to check our book selection,” he said, but Phil was already scanning the bookcase in search of a title until he gasped, and hurried back to his table with a thick tome in his hands. 

Dan cocked his head as he read the title of the book in Phil’s hands: “The Lord of the Rings.” Who hasn’t read the Lord of the Rings and why read it at a coffee shop? He put the mug and plate with pastries on a tray and brought them over to Phil’s table, which was surprisingly tucked away in the darkest corner of the shop. After setting everything down, he turned on the lamp closest to the table to make sure Phil didn’t strain his eyes too much. “Enjoy!”

“Thank you!” Phil said and looked back down to the book, but when Dan stood there awkwardly, he just let out a little sigh and looked into Dan’s eyes. “Yes?” His smile was polite, yet small. It wasn’t as bright as when he’d walked into the store and flirted with him.

“Um… may I ask why did you pick that book?”

“I just never got around to read it and I thought it would be a good idea since I’ve… since I’m around at the moment.”

“How are you planning to finish it?”

Phil shrugged. “Why? Do you burn the books that have been read or something?”

Dan snorted. “No, not at all.”

“Then I will just have to keep coming over to eat sweets and read here… unless that would be a problem for you.”

“That’s why the books are there!” Dan waved him off. “It’s just that other people are also reading the same book so bookmarks tend to be moved and such, it’s a bit annoying unless you remember exactly where you left off.”

“Ah, I see. I guess I’ll have to write it down somewhere.”

“Not in the book, please!” Dan gave him a horrified look.

“What do you take me for? An animal?” Phil asked, with an amused smile.

“You’d be surprised at what people are capable of,” Dan said, sheepishly. “Now I have to watch everyone like a hawk just in case.”

“Will you be watching me then?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. Think about that date, will you?”

“I’ll think about it,” Dan said as he rolled his eyes and smiled.

And so their little dance began. Phil came to have coffee and eat sweets with the excuse of catching up on his reading but spent at least half of the time watching Dan and giving him little smiles or holding his gaze until Dan began to squirm and blush. He tried his best not to humour Phil, but he couldn’t help the way his smile grew little by little each time Phil came over and asked him out once again. 

One fateful Monday afternoon, Dan couldn’t keep his eyes off the door, silently telling himself how pathetic it was that he was desperate to see Phil again, but it seemed that he would not be coming. Two, his usual arrival time, came and went, then three and four, and by five Dan had already lost hope. Maybe Phil had finally had enough of him.

The sound of the bell startled Dan, bringing him back to reality but his expression rapidly morphed into a smile when he saw Phil walking in. The frown on his usually happy and composed face worried Dan but he tried to lighten the mood, joking with Phil, but this time it was like talking to a wall. There was no reciprocity, Phil looked almost on the verge of crying as he got his usual order and lost himself in the Lord of the Rings universe, not even bothering to look up from the book or say goodbye before leaving.

Having decided that maybe rejecting Phil had been a mistake, Dan promised himself that he would give Phil his number next time, or even ask him out himself if it came to it, but after two months since Phil’s last visit, he realised that the opportunity had slipped through his fingers and he had only himself to blame.

---

Dan looked out the window as he mopped the floors, silently hating the raging storm bending the trees over, dragging trash bins across the road… causing his clients to have muddled the floors inside the shop and stayed over for the heater alone. 

The door announced someone’s arrival. At first, Dan couldn’t tell who it was but he was also upset that the person walked in with their umbrella still open and dripping everywhere. He was about to make a snarky remark when the umbrella was finally set aside and Phil looked him in the eye with a loaded expression.

“Can I stay here until it stops raining?” he asked, water droplets running down his face, his hair sticking to his forehead just as if he hadn’t even tried to use an umbrella.

“Yeah, of course!” Dan said, feeling a bit awkward but still happy to see Phil after so long.

Phil’s leg bounced way more than necessary as he waited for his order, then Dan handed him a towel, which Phil took with little reluctance. The book, however, he never made any move to grab it back.

“Have you abandoned Riverdale?” Dan asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I thought it was for the best,” Phil said, understanding the real meaning behind the question. 

“I see,” Dan replied, pressing his lips into a line. “I thought we could speak next time.”

“Why? What changed?” Phil asked, giving him an odd look.

“Nothing! We just got to know each other a bit better.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Phil asked.

“Yes, why would I lie?” Dan said, taken aback by whatever accusation Phil was throwing his way.

Phil stood from his seat and came to stand in front of Dan. They were so close Dan could smell his expensive perfume; he inhaled deeply without meaning to and let his eyes fall shut. “Do you know who I am?” Phil pressed. 

Dan’s eyes snapped open. “No…? Should I?”

Shaking his head, Phil walked over to the piano and started playing a song that sounded strangely familiar. It was, in fact, one of Dan’s new favourite songs. If he was remembering correctly, the original piece had come out as an instrumental but two weeks after, another version with lyrics was released, it was said to be a collaboration between the pianist and his sister-in-law in honour of the newest member of their family. The pianist in question had teleported to the top of the charts overnight, gotten a record deal, launched an international tour and - apparently - gotten a bunch of stalkerish fans who wouldn’t leave him alone. “Are you… Phil Lester? The guy who made this song? THE Phil Lester?”

“Yes,” said Phil shyly. “I stopped going out much since the song blew up, but this coffee shop served me well to hide from fans several times since I moved to the area, that’s why I kept coming, but my address was leaked a while ago and I had to move away again. Since you had rejected me so many times, I just took it as a sign that we should stop playing games if things are not going anywhere, you know? We’re a bit too old for games anyway.”

“That is true. I should have considered things more carefully,” Dan admitted. “For some reason, I thought we would have more time and things would just flow between us.”

“We ran out of time two months ago, but still, when the storm almost knocked me over, all I could think about was you, how you were doing… and I had to see you, one last time,” Phil said, biting his lip. 

Dan’s eyes and heart dropped to the fucking floor, he wanted to kick himself for missing his chance with Phil.

“I had to see if you still made the best sweets around.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Dan laughed and swatted at Phil’s chest. “Is that really the reason or did you just have to show me your “Mr Darcy in the rain” look?” Dan joked. 

Phil looked at his reflection in the window and laughed. “I do look kind of hot.”

“Kind of?” Dan scoffed. He walked over to the door and locked it before walking back to Phil and pressing their lips together in a sweet yet brief kiss. “Why don’t you go dry yourself in the bathroom? I’ll make us something nice for dinner.”

“What about dessert?” Phil asked.

“We’ll have plenty of that,” Dan said.

Phil smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Yum!”

“I meant the cakes!” Dan laughed, but before he could continue to defend himself Phil pulled him into a heated kiss, though the heat lasted very shortly since Phil was very wet and got Dan entirely soaked as well, resulting in Dan chasing him around the shop with his favourite spatula in search of revenge. It was a good start for the rest of their lives.

[vera-king-hrfl]

Heat of the Night part 3 (thank you @crowwolf for the title, it fits!)

This is still going to be sweet and cute for a while, but y'all know me, I'm a fiend for drama, so there's some foreshadowing in this one. 😈

Also, we're not doing the typical BG everyone is pansexual thing here. Don't get me wrong, I love that and most of my stories are that, but this one is written with more of a 1980s Earth mentality toward homosexuality, so some of the upcoming drama will surround that attitude. It's not in this one, and I will include warnings in the future when it does come up. ❤️

Cal hangs around the house the next day, making breakfast, doing laundry, and cleaning up the place a little. Living with his sister is nice, but they are both rather messy people, so there's always a lot to clean up on their days off. He’s sitting at their little dining table with Lia, eating while she giggles over Baldur’s Mouth, the local tabloid rag, telling him all the juiciest gossip about rich people they'll never meet.

"Oh, now this is interesting." She sips her coffee, eyeing Cal and waiting for him to ask her about it. But her brother knows Lia's game; the little tiefling loves chattering on about anything and everything, and can’t hold back for long, so he just smirks and finishes his toast before resting his chin on his hand and staring at her.

The standoff doesn't last long, as he'd expected, and Lia finally hmphs. "Oh alright, fine. Do you remember Lucretious?"

Cal nods. "Mhm. She used to run the extraplaner circus..."

"Yeah, that's her. Well, apparently she's opening an art gallery not too far from here next week. We should go and support her." She perks up and grins. "Hey! You should show her your stuff. Maybe she'd like to give you a bit of wall there."

Her brother snorts. "Pffft. I'm not good enough for that. We can go, Lucretious is a sweetheart, but keep your trap shut. I'd just embarrass myself."

Lia rolls her eyes. "You are so good enough. Your drawings are beautiful, Cal. But fine." She gets to her feet and grabs her bag, and Cal entertains a brief hope that maybe she'd forgotten about the previous evening. He's not that lucky though, and she continues as she roots for a trolley token. "I'll leave you alone about the gallery, if you promise to call that guy today." She grins at Cal's flinch. "And don't think you can avoid it. I memorized that number last night."

Cal huffs. "Meddling brat. Fine. I said I would call him, and I will. Just don't be a pest about it."

"Alright. I look forward to hearing how it went. Just remember, we have dinner at the tower with Rolan tonight. Then you can tell us both." Her grin widens as Cal groans. He loves his brother, but the older Arch Mage and professor is skeptical about anyone trying to date his siblings, and has a tendency to cause scenes. He'd been fine when Cal declared his preference for men, but the young tiefling hadn’t really dated anyone in a few years, and he expects the third degree about anyone he goes out with. So he just waves his sister off and goes to do the washing up while she leaves for work.

Later, he's sitting at the table with a sketch pad in front of him, doodling and stressing. The pink napkin is on the table too, and his eyes keep drifting to it, breaking his dubious concentration. Finally, he sits back and scrubs at his face with both hands before looking at the thick, charcoal decorated paper. All the anatomy studies he'd been working on that morning were quite a bit darker than he was accustomed to doing. It was a challenge to leave enough white space to really define the lean muscles on the tight, limber torso... but the way the light hits that nearly black skin... he looks at the napkin again. There is no way that man will ever let me see him like this.

Finally, after annoying himself to the point of courage, he picks up his communicator and slowly enters the number on the pink paper. He stares at the thing as if it's about to attack him for a second, then sighs and hits send, standing up to pace as the tone plays in his ear.

"Vendui?" The soft voice is familiar, but Cal doesn’t recognize the greeting.

"Uh... sorry, I'm looking for Ryldinn."

He hears the smile, while causes his own lips to twitch in answer. "You have found him. Is this Cal?"

"Yeah it is... we met last night at the White Swallow." He winces. Obviously Ryldinn knows that, you idiot; he was there. But the rather sexy accent is more noticeable now than in the noisy club, and it's throwing him off. As does the pretty little laugh that follows.

"How could I forget? How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks. And you?"

"Bwael, yes, wonderful, now that I hear you. Have you had chance to decide whether to see me? May I think that is why you call?"

Cal has to sit down at that. It’s like a dream, the lovely man seeming so eager to see him again. He holds the device away from his face to clear his throat before answering. "Yeah, it is, um... if you want to. Where would you like to go?"

"There is a café near to my home. Evae Aloun. Do you know it? Right near the Upper City gate. What time would you like to meet? I am not busy today."

"Uh... today? I mean, yeah I know the place. I have dinner with my brother around eighth bell, but anytime before that would be great."

He hears the adorable smiling sound in the soft words again. "Very well. I shall be there at the third. I am happy for this, Cal. Will see you there."

They say their goodbyes and Cal ends the call, staring at the comm for a moment before tossing it next to him on the sofa and sitting back, pushing his hair behind his horns. He glances at the clock. Just after first. He has time to get ready, but he’s not sure if he's prepared to see the beautiful man again. Some part of him still thinks this must be a mistake, or a joke of some kind. Maybe Ryldinn had been dazzled by the flashing lights in the club, or something...

He groans and stands, going into his room to spend an inordinate amount of time agonizing over his appearance. He settles on a short sleeved shirt and some decent jeans, then stands in front of the mirror to fuss with his hair and tug at the shirt to try and hide the little belly that he'd grown in the last few years of single life. Finally he sighs and rakes the dark locks into a ponytail, grabs his keys and money, and leaves the house to catch the trolley.

The time he left at should have brought him to the cute little café a bit early, but a delay in the trolley service makes him several minutes late instead, and he hurries down the sidewalk, hoping that Ryldinn won't be upset. He doesn’t see the man at first, when he reaches the place, and his stomach sinks for a minute as he considers that perhaps Ryldinn had grown tired of waiting and left. Or maybe he'd never meant to come here in the first place. Cal sighs, looking around for a minute.

"Hi."

At the soft sound, Cal spins to see his date standing behind him, smiling. "Oh... hi Ryldinn. Im sorry I'm late, the trolley..."

The drow chuckles and takes Cal's hand to lead him to a table outdoors, near a corner. They sit, and Cal wracks his brain for something to say. "You look nice," is all he can come up with. It's true, too. The pretty little man is wearing loose soft pants that cling precariously to his narrow hips and an expensive looking vee neck t-shirt with some modern art piece printed on it, cropped just enough to skim his waistband. Delectable little peeks of his silky grey skin show when he moves to wave the smiling dwarven waitress over, and it's all Cal can do not to stare at him. Ryldinn is even more gorgeous in the sunlight, his hands, arms and face gleaming, though his big eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses. He'd left his shimmering hair down too, and he sweeps it back after the lady takes their order, resting his chin on his hands to look at Cal.

"Thank you. You look quite good yourself." Ryldinn isn’t lying about that, and he's thankful for the glasses that let him inspect the handsome tiefling without seeming like a creep. He can sense Cal's apprehension, and doesn’t want to scare the man away. But he looks anyway, appreciating the way his chest and strong arms push at the fabric of Cal’s button down shirt. Astarion was right, the beefy young man is undeniably Ryldinn’s type, and he'd been captivated by him the moment he'd walked into the bar the previous night. Said tiefling is possibly blushing now, though its hard to tell with the reddish shade of his skin. Ryldinn can’t see very well anyway, in the bright afternoon sun, but it's impossible to miss the shy grin and the way his burning eyes flicker over Ryldinn in a similar appraisal, and then dart away nervously. The drow smiles, pleased that Cal seems to like the way he looks.

Their drinks arrive, and Cal adds milk and sugar to his coffee while Ryldinn blows on his own decalf espresso. "Do you take sugar?" The tiefling offers Ryldinn the container, but the dark elf shakes his head.

"No thank you, Cal. You sweet enough for the both of us." He's rewarded with another cute little flush, more obvious this time, and decides to make small talk to put the man at ease. "So," he says, sipping carefully at the hot cup. "What was wrong with the trolley?"

Cal shrugs. "Just the usual mess. I guess some rich politician got murdered early this morning and they're doing an investigation. They rerouted all of the cars to another street."

A thin white eyebrow raises above the rim of the glasses. "How shameful. What is the city coming to?" There’s a dash of irony in his voice that Cal can't quite place, but he puts it down to the accent, or perhaps the rumored violence of his former society made the man more immune to things like that. "Do not worry though, I would have waited longer."

"Uh... heh, alright." Cal is actually enjoying the company now, relaxing a little now that they're here and Ryldinn seems to be openly flirting with him. He thinks maybe there's a possibility that the drow does actually like him. He certainly seems to. "So, um... what do you do? For work, I mean."

Ryldinn leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. "I am a procurator at a specialty book shop in the Upper City. It's not that interesting, really. I just find books for people who want them, but the owner is kind to me, and I get to meet interesting people. What about you?"

"Nothing that posh, I'm afraid." Cal chuckles a little. "I'm a mechanic. I work for a friend of the family fixing whatever needs fixed. Including these rickety trolleys, when the company decides they're on the verge of falling apart. But if you do rare books or whatever, maybe you know my brother, Rolan."

Ryldinn sips his coffee again. "Mm, I've never met him; the boss usually entertains the more important clients. But I do believe I have found some things for him. It must be interesting having an Arch Mage for a brother."

Cal grins. "It’s stressful, actually. He's... well. He's a bit cranky and pompous, and very protective of me and our sister. Do you have family here?"

"Oh my. I hope he's alright with us seeing each other. I wouldn't want a wizard mad at me. But no, I don’t have any family." The last sentence seems to cool Ryldinn’s expression a little, and Cal hurriedly moves on, thinking that may be a sensitive subject for the man.

"Oh, he'll disapprove at first, I'm sure, but he'd disapprove if I was dating a Grand Duke. It's fine. Besides. I'm enjoying this. I haven't been on a date in a few years, and certainly not with someone so..." he blushes and buries his face in his cup, hoping he didn’t go too far.

But Ryldinn just smiles, sets his cup down, and lays his hand on the table, palm up. "So what?"

Cal swallows, looking at the offered hand for a second before gently taking it, curling his rough fingers around the slender dark ones. "I'm going to be honest with you, Ryldinn. When I first saw you I didn't think... well I thought you were just being nice, or teasing me because I'm new. I've only really been "out" for about a year and I've never dated a man before. I don’t really know how all of that works. But I do like you and... I think you're very beautiful. I just couldn't imagine what you saw in me. Astarion did say I was your type, but he was being kind of... I don't know. I'm just really nervous."

Ryldinn nods, squeezing his fingers a bit and seeming to consider. Finally he smiles. "Don’t worry about him. We've known each other for about fifteen years, and though he can be a jerk sometimes, he's the closest thing I'll ever have to a brother. So he's a little... protective as well, I suppose. But, Cal... I'm not... I have not dated anyone in... well I've never actually had a boyfriend or anything like that. But life gets lonely, you know? So, if you are willing to give this a chance and see where it goes... I do find you very attractive as well, I will admit that, but there’s something else about you. I cannot really express. I am more good at reading your language than speaking it. I am getting better at it, but my boss speaks drow, as well as Astarion, so I don't practice as much as I should."

"I understand you perfectly, Ryldinn, it's alright." He looks at the soft hand in his for a minute, digesting Ryldinn’s statement. He thinks Cal is attractive, along with whatever else he's noticed that seems to please him. "Yeah, I'm willing to give it a chance. Not only because you're good-looking. You were just really nice to me. You're the first guy who's really shown any interest. I just... I want to get to know you better."

Ryldinn smiles, and they chat for quite a while, about their work, local events, casual things, until the shadows start to lengthen over the café and it's time for Cal to go get ready to spend the evening with his siblings. Ryldinn stands when he does, and Cal hesitates for a minute before gently taking his arm and leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. The drow dimples, pleased. "I am busy tomorrow, but perhaps I could see you the next evening? The view of the sunset from the bluff outside the city is lovely."

Cal grins. "It’s a date. I'll call you later to work out exactly where and when. Um... this was nice. Thank you."

[monsterfloofs]

Hello, could you please write something of a continuation to the reader singing and Thaddeus hears. Where one of the times when he hears them he comes behind them, spins them into his arms and begins to slow dance with them. (Sorry I got the idea when listening ‘Beautiful Tango Hindi Zahra’ and thought of Teddy). Though it’s alright if you can’t, I know the ideas kind of vague but I thought I might try and ask if it does bring any ideas to you. Hope you have a lovely day and thank you regardless!

Thaddeus (Vampire) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw) Singing

Part I ♡ Part II

Haha, I must have really missed Wroughtworth because I dropped about 1.6K in words into this.

(ง｡´꒳`｡ )ง Here you go love, I hope you like it! And I took a look at the song too! It was really pretty, thank you for sharing!

♡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡♡

In the kitchen you sing to yourself softly. Letting the sink drain the soapy water you had been using to scrub dishes. With your meal made and the dishes left drying on a cloth towel, it was time to settle in and enjoy your lunch. You balance the plate of food in your hand as you exit the kitchen and turn towards the lounge.

You nearly jump as you see Thaddeus resting in his reading chair. He had said his farewells to you, and went upstairs to bed hours ago. You certainly hadn’t expected to see him back downstairs. You studied him curiously, he had an uncanny stillness when he rested. He didn’t move, nor did his chest rise or fall with any breath of air. He wasn’t wearing his monocle, and you didn’t see the silver chain dangling from its usual place. When you first came here and stayed with him, his dozing used to make you uneasy. Which then turned into fascination, the death-like stillness something you were eventually drawn to sketch. Your eyes lingered on his expression, calm with just the briefest hint of a smile.

You bite your lip, gently persuading yourself to walk closer. With your heart beginning to hammer, you lean down and risk giving the smallest kiss upon his cheek. He doesn’t stirr and you shy away, turning around to settle down in the parlor to eat lunch.

While Thaddeus rested, you took a few hours soaking up the candlelight to sit reading before taking a small walk through the city alone. While the sun was up, the grand streets and towering gothic buildings felt like a ghost town. It was deathly empty and all the shops closed. Heavy curtains drawn in front of every window, to smother the light. You found an intricate stone wall that was short enough to sit upon and sketch your surroundings. Choosing to draw one of the houses that had a sprawling garden, with red-violet and white bell shaped flowers.

“I think Teddy said that was datura.” You wondered out loud, “Moonflower.” Your attention turns to make a small sketch of the flora, shading in the trumpet-like blossoms.

There is a small tap on your knee, that makes you look up wide eyed.

Beside you sat a small skeleton bird, it’s beak down turned, as it peers at your artwork before raising their little head to look up at you.

“. . . Pip?” You ask, but the small figure just tilts their head curiously.

“O-okay, not Pip. Where are you from, little guy? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

They coo at you, before reaching into the folds of their cloak and producing a letter. Your eyebrows raise as you take the envelope.

“Oh yeah. . . I forgot you guys delivered mail. . . Uh thanks?”

The skeleton bird sits patiently as you tuck the letter into your sketchbook.

“Do I. . . have something to give you in return?” You ask cautiously, “I think I have something— here.” You dig around at the satchel you brought with you. Pulling out a small packet of cookies.

Tiny spindly hands eagerly reach out to receive the packet.

“Don’t eat those all at once,” You warned, “That’s a lot for a little guy.”

They hug the package to themselves and jump down from the wall. Just as their little feet touch the ground, they meld seamlessly into the ground like a dark shadow. Zipping away across the cobblestone path.

You rub the back of your neck, despite the birds not being able to communicate in a spoken language. Thaddeus has pressed the importance that the shadowy bird folk that lived in the city were extremely intelligent and should be treated kindly. They were the eyes and ears of the city. You just hoped you did the right thing and there wouldn’t be someone irritated at you for giving one of them sweets.

With that, you concluded your city adventure, packing up your supplies and heading back home, just as the sun started sinking below the horizon.

“Darling!~ I found something you might like!”

You were taking your shoes off in the hallway, looking for where Teddy’s voice was coming from. You peek into the lounge.

“I haven’t used it in a few years,” Teddy pat’s his hand on the top of a fluted brass trumpet. A gramophone. It looked very old but well preserved. The box composed of dark mahogany wood and elegantly carved, with a hand crank coming out the back.

“Whoa?!” You have one of those?” You enter the lounge, crouching beside the box, to get a look at the intricately carved wood. “I can’t believe this was buried in your stuff,”

Teddy’s eyes glitter, “A little birdy told me you adore music.”

You laugh, “Pip wouldn’t squeal on me! He loves me!”

You laugh even louder as Pip appears, popping up from underneath a pillow and hurrying over to you. You wrap your arms around the small skeletal creature, as they scramble up into your arms enthusiastically nuzzling you.

Thaddeus chuckles and shakes his head at the two of you.

“Give me a little room, will you dear? Let us see if this old gal will play.”

You stand, carrying Pip with you, as he settles up onto your shoulder, feathery cloak falling down upon your back.

“How loud do these things get?” You ask,

“Oh, this one? It is very loud. It’s why I haven’t used it often,” Thaddeus replied, “A few of my neighbors threatened to stake me.”

“Teddy!” You laugh incredulously as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. His fingers close around the hand crank, and you wince as the crank grinds and squeaks as it turns around. You can see that he is also making a bit of a face himself. Scrunching up his nose and closing one of his eyes as turns the crank around and around. He gives a small sigh of relief as he releases his grip on the crank around five turns. Taking a disc out from a wooden box that was laying on the coffee table. He settles the record onto the plate of the gramophone, taking a moment to make sure it is aligned properly. Then, carefully flipping the needle down to rest on top of the record.

At first you hear a crackling, popping sound of static, before the music filters out of the large brass trumpet. You smile, as an orchestral waltz fills the room.

“You’re right!” You call over the sound, “It’s pretty loud!”

“It was meant to fill a ballroom after all,” You hear Teddy echo back to you. “Come now! To the parlor before we destroy our eardrums!”

He holds his hand out to you, and your fingers lace with his. You feel your face warming and you look away shyly as the two of you move away to the lounge. You smile to yourself, softly humming along to the sound.

Once you reach the parlor, Teddy spins you around on your heels.

“A-ah!” You squeak as you land in his arms, your hands flying out to grip his jacket.

“May I have this dance?” He purrs, his voice in a playful tone that causes gooseflesh to rise along your arms.

“I-I,” You stammer, “I don’t know how to waltz.” Your eyes dart around, unable to look into his eyes.

A murmur of laughter fills his throat, “Well, would you like to learn?” A low whisper, a strange sensual tone lingering in his voice.

“I-I Y-yes?” You stutter, the answer sounding more like a question than an answer. Your eyes finally raise to look at him, as he steadies you back onto your feet. You let him position your arms, one hand on his shoulder and the other held in his hand.

As you are guided through the steps, more than once you step on his foot. Apologizing profusely in a panic as he laughs.

“It’s alright! Truly!”

You flinch, “Really— I’m sorry, I’m no good at th—“

Your voice cuts short as he leans to press his lips to yours. Time stopping dead in its tracks. Thaddeus turns his head, just enough to nuzzle your nose sweetly before pulling back.

“I’m having fun dear, as long as you are having fun, that is all I care about. Of course you won’t be successful at something as soon as you try it. That is. . .” He closes his eyes for a moment, cheeks flushing. Petting your lips gently with his thumb.

“That is a luxury that only a few have.”

Your hand raises from his shoulder to cup his cheek. He leans into your hand, one eye fluttering open as he smiles at you.

“I think, you’re the luxury,” You muse, and that smile turns into a wide impish grin.

“Oh, are we deciding to turn the tables now? I start to swoon and you take your chance to see what color my face makes?” He teases, as you squeak and press your face into hands in sudden embarrassment.

“D-don’t tease!!” You splutter, a gasp leaves your throat that turns into raucous laughter as he once again sweeps you off your feet. Peppering kisses along your cheek and throat as you wriggle within his grasp.

Your chest rising and falling as he stops his shenanigans to give you a chance to breath.

“You know,” He murmurs lovingly against your ear, “I have always been so worried to take the leap and kiss you. . . until today.”

You look up at him, feeling a new flood of warmth take over your face.

“You-you- were awake when I—“

He giggles, “Not exactly, your heartbeat made me stirr, why, it was pounding so fast I was worried something was wrong.”

You give a wheeze of laughter, burying your face into his shoulder.

“Hhhhhhh th-that’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” He hums lovingly, “It was completely and utterly precious <3”

[fandomsnstuff]

After writing 5k for yesterday, have some short and sweet blupjeans (from an old blurb that i made some edits to)

Two more days!

Day 28: YES

Barry's just trying to get some work done when a woman he's never seen before asks him to lunch. Surprisingly, he says yes.

Read it on AO3

Sildar Hallwinter is on his deathbed. He’s wrinkled and grey and his body won’t hold out for much longer. Lup, his wife and the love of his life, sits on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. His vision is a little bleary, but he knows she’s beautiful. Her hair still blonde, her skin unmarred, her mind always as sharp as ever. He feels her lips press against the back of his hand.

“You’ll remember me, won’t you?” He asks, his voice quiet and weak.

“Of course, my love,” she says. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. “It’s just the question of if you’ll remember me.”

“I could never forget you.”

She smiles a bittersweet smile, tears pricking at her eyes. “That’s what you said last time.” She presses another kiss to his forehead. “And the time before that-” a kiss to the corner of his eye- “and the time before that.” She kisses him properly, soft and slow.

He takes a long moment to open his eyes after. “I mean it this time.”

She laughs lightly, “you said that last time too.”

“Lup-”

She hushes him, stroking his cheek gently. “Don’t argue, love. You can rest. I’ll find you again. I always do.”

By the time the sun rises, Sildar Hallwinter is dead.

Barry Bluejeans is sitting in the back corner of a library, working furiously.

Should he have had this project done three days ago? Yes. Did he do it? No. Does it need to be done by tomorrow night so now he’s freaking out cause it’s a lot of work? Yes.

It’s fine. He’s camped out in a quiet corner, his laptop and sea of notes acting as a deterrent, no one’s going to–

“Hi.”

Barry pauses in his work. He looks up to tell whoever’s come over to his table that no, they can’t sit here, but his words die in his throat. Standing next to him is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his life. She has short, curly blonde hair, she’s tall, her eyes are sparkling and piercing. Barry feels like she can see right through him. He stares at her dumbly, lost for words.

“I’m Lup.” She holds out a bouquet Barry didn’t notice she was holding, “do you want to get lunch?”

Barry looks at the bouquet, then back up at her. “Yes,” he says. He packs up his stuff in a rush and stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. His project is now second priority. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

She links her arm with his. “I always do.”

As they walk out of the library arm in arm, Lup still holding the flowers she brought, he can't help but picture a wedding. Bride and groom walking back up the aisle together after promising to spend forever at each other's side. He clears his throat and tries to subtly shake his head to erase the thought like an etch-a-sketch. What a weird idea to have about a woman he just met ten seconds ago.

“You okay?” She asks. There's a glint of amusement in her eye. She's laughing silently at him. This must be a prank or something. Ask out the quiet nerdy guy and then laugh at him when he thinks it's real. It's a classic. But something in the back of his head nags at him, telling him she wouldn't do that. He doesn't know why he's confident about it, but he just knows that she would never.

“I'm fine,” he says. “I– have I introduced myself? I'm Barry.”

“Barry,” she says it like she's trying it on. “I like it. Maybe your best one yet.”

“Thank you?”

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! A couple about daily posting, some about twst boys.

Anonymous asked:

I hope you don’t feel rushed to post every alternate day. It’s your blog, and if you ever want to take breaks, please take as much time as you want! Always prioritise yourself first! Anyway, that aside, thank you for bestowing upon this fandom such incredible work!

Thank you so much, Anon! This is very sweet, I am very happy to hear that!

Don’t worry about it: we love this blog too much to let ourselves get burnt out by it, so whenever we’ll need it, we’ll take breaks or skip days. Fortunately, you guys are very understanding of our circumstances, so it’s all good <3

Anonymous asked:

I did see the tail post (though I had to check twt before realizing it was a tail... I didn't see the caption.) You just tend to upload multiple times every day (now that I think about it, how do you work with all the art? I want a job with that much free time! ...Sleep is important despite what Idia would say) so I was worried. Glad to know your ok!

-(Overly(?)-)Anxious Anon

P.S. Sorry if I asked to many personal questions: boundaries are not my strong suit. Feel free to ignore them, and please tell me if I make you uncomfortable. I really like your work, and I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable by asking something too personal.

It's okay, Anon; I understand! It must be weird when someone who posts multiple times per day suddenly doesn't post anything, but it really isn't anything to be worried about. It also still feels a little bit weird to skip even a day after that twitter thing that happened in May on my fucking birthday. It was a month-long forced break, and it still haunts us lol Your questions and concerns are perfectly fine and not out of any boundaries.

I draw a lot and pretty much all the time: I start the day by drawing for work (commissions and such, up to six hours), then I take a break to write replies (one hour, or sometimes more, on weekends it can go up to two), then I prepare something for us to post (2-3 hours) + draw for fun for the rest of the day. I also have long sketching sessions whenever I can, and it usually results with a bunch of simple sketches. And we always end up having some stuff to post. Well, usually it’s too much stuff lol Fortunately, I don’t have to ever think about what to post because Katsu does pretty much 100% of our posting. Because of that, I can focus on what I love to do most – you guessed it, drawing. I can’t stress enough how much it helps me out woah.

We usually post replies at around tea time in our time zone (well, Katsu’s), and we post my art ~three hours before going to bed, so to us, this posting feels like once a day. Things for ko-fi and my private twitter are posted in the morning, but if ko-fi posts are twice per day, then one of them is in the evening for us... It’s a lot to keep in mind lol But sometimes we have a couple of things to post, ofc, so these go an hour before our usual posting time so that we won’t replace it with something fewer people are going to like. This is why I said that it helps me out a lot...

I am pretty sure that I am an obsessive weirdo when it comes to drawing, but to be honest, I’ve always been this way. Don’t worry though, I take good care of myself and after a certain point stop drawing for the day; plus, I never draw when I’m tired, and I would never force myself when my back or hand hurt (that doesn’t really happen btw).

And I know that we probably won’t be able to post twst every day for the rest of our lives (for starters, we won’t be into twst forever, as sad as it is…), but for now we can and we’re having fun with it, so I’m very happy about it! Thank you for enjoying our stuff; I say it all the time, but I mean it.

It’s going to sound cheesy, but for now I feel very happy and lucky to be able to draw so much and post so often. With the help of people around me (especially Katsu), with your support, it’s been really great. I want to keep doing it while it lasts and while I can.

Anonymous asked:

Yes, I’d like his number. But considering how old he is maybe smoke signals are more up his valley

(this is about Lilia)

Apparently he likes written letters, Anon, so maybe it will work just as nicely lol

Anonymous asked:

Great. I now low-key ship desperate/thirsty ghost and rook

Well, let’s be honest. Rook would.

[skitskatdacat63]

For your lore a day, I know you’ve made separate portraits of Vettonso but how would they react to a joint portrait? I feel like they’d argue on their poses seeing that their image is important to them

— Penalanon

misc lore drop day 38/?

Ahhhhhhh oh my god penalanon ilysm, thank you for the prompt, I really appreciate it!!! <3  Funny you should ask this specifically though when I'm already dr- no no, spoilers, I shan't. Also, I like how one of the first sketches for this AU was a joint portrait but...it never got past the sketch stage sigh.

You know them so well!! I think they'd debate over every aspect of the portrait, there's just so many crucial elements. Fernando constantly micromanaging the painter, and Seb's like, don't worry he's always like this. Then proceeds to contradict every specification Fernando gave. Though please do note that having joint portraits is very important to them, since they need to portray they’re a very functional, efficient, combined unit. But as you said, it’s tough to decide how to portray themselves. Because Seb is very much: this is an era of peace, let’s look very friendly and magnanimous! And Fernando on the other hand thinks people should be in awe and a bit of terror upon seeing the painting, like wow, I don’t wanna mess with these guys. They can’t figure out whether to wear matching outfits or opposing colors both to represent their kingdoms but also broadcast that they’re very much individuals. Matching colors would represent that we’re a unified front, Seb says. I’d rather die than wear your colors, says Fernando. So they’d have to settle on a midground, maybe neutrals but with special accents for each of them. Okay that’s sorted, what next? 

Oh no, they’re arguing over what color the background and/or seating should be. A neutral, okay okay. Now how do they pose? This is the part where their obsession over image comes into play. They don’t really have to agree on anything jointly necessarily, but you know they'll still snipe at each other. Seb would probably sit all demure, very coy, and Fernando’s like “...are you sure you’re the Emperor…?” Then Fernando sits in a way which he says “exudes confidence and manhood.” But it’s like the most uncouth thing ever, like that meme about “pussy facing the world.” He cares a lot about decorum but he also cares a lot about being front and center, and taking up all the space. Borderline trying to shove Seb out of frame, is this a couple’s portrait or solo, asks the artist. Also you know how when you take group pics, the photographer is like, “now a silly one!!” That's what Seb is constantly trying to pull. Fernando thinks they should be stoic, Seb thinks they should smile, as he said before, it’s an era of peace after all! They see the progress of the portrait after, and are like, “why does Fernando look so constipated, and why does Seb look so mischievous?” So yeah, they have a few kinks to work out before the next painting session. 

Also Fernando would get so annoyed at the fact Seb can't keep a straight face, or keep his pose consistent across multiple sessions. YET Fernando's the one who keeps whispering things to Seb and subtly poking him. And then gets fake annoyed like, "OH MY LORD, SEB, CAN'T YOU KEEP STILL!?" The artist is probably like, don’t worry, I’ve got it down mostly! Seb then pretends to get all huffy and annoyed, and threatens to get up and leave the session. Then they have that iconic wrist-grabbing moment, “No, stay stay Sebastian.” They look at the version of the portrait after that session and start dying together over how it looks like they’re eye-fucking each other. “Hey, no, it shows we get along!!” “We cannot let anyone see this Seb…” Rest in peace the artist who has to start over because that particular work in progress “went missing.”

[medicbrainrot]

knowing that canon simon grew up in an abusive home with him regularly seeing his mother (and him and his brother tommy) getting beaten up by his alcoholic dad that the first thing he did when he was able and earning was to kick that guy out, your fic feels wrong and hurtful.

i can’t believe that simon would do that, not to mention the disgust and disbelief for the enabling actions of price and the rest of team, i just refuse to believe that they would do that. but i also know that that’s wishful thinking. i know because i am my father’s daughter and fact is, hurt people hurt people. and for all the many fanfic written here about fluffy or softie simon, the reality will probably be nowhere near that. i guess what im trying to say is, your writing is good and too realistic that it wakes up feelings that i tried to bury.

i want to say that i wont read anymore of your fics but that would be a lie. nevertheless, thank you for sharing your work with us.

Hey anon, thank you for your feedback.

I honestly deliberated back and forth a lot as to whether or not I wanted to even publish the “deep end” series. It’s one of the heavier pieces I’ve published, and while I agree that I hope Simon wouldn’t do something like that, I wanted to explore the darker aspects of his personality as it relates to his previous trauma.

The original version that I sketched out was much darker than what I published, dark enough that it made me reconsider what I was writing out.

Juliana as a character isn’t fully fleshed out yet, but she has a very labile personality, and tends to feed into her insecurities in order to try to push Simon’s buttons in hopes of getting a reaction out of him. 

At the beginning of part 1, it says that tensions have been high the past couple of weeks due to multiple failures, and that Simon and Jules have been arguing more and more in the time leading up to this fic.

I haven’t written out what happens just yet, but the idea that I have so far is that Jules has been pushing and pushing Simon, waiting for him to snap. 

Part of Juliana’s issues stem from the fact that while she believes that everything bad that happens to her is her own fault, she still instigates conflict in order to get reactions from people, because her past experiences have taught her that any attention is good, whether the reactions are good or bad. 

She has a very unhealthy view of herself, and she hasn’t really taken the steps to try to figure out why that is.

Simon never had the intention to hurt Jules, but she’s been pushing and pushing him, and with enough force, people eventually snap. Hence why he feels so incredibly guilty, because he loves her, and doesn’t ever want to cause her pain again. 

As for the team’s reaction, I would hope that they wouldn’t let an assault incident slide, but I feel like I also don’t know all of their characters well enough to say so. I’ve been trying to work off of what I know from the canon, but between both versions of MW, I feel like there isn’t enough information as to what the team is like outside of the field. 

Unfortunately, I’ve seen enough incidents where the chain of command gets a little messed up, and people try to cover for each other when something happens, hence why their reactions are a little convoluted.  

Whether or not you choose to continue reading any of my works, I do appreciate the feedback. I use my writing as an outlet for my own problems and feelings, and that tends to influence the type of content that ends up in different fics.

Should you choose to continue reading, part 3 of “deep end” should be finished within the next day or so, and hopefully it can provide some context to the first two parts.

[rpf-bat]

samy/niko and no. 9 please 🙏🏻💜

and happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈✨️

Happy Pride, Alex! 🌈 I almost didn't recognize you, with your new url and pfp :0

I feel like something....bad… must've happened while I was away? But at this point, I'm kind of afraid to ask 😅

Anyway! Here's 740 words worth of Samy pining.

9. “Fine, you can use me as a pillow.”

Samy stood in the middle of Helsinki Central Station, trying to look nonchalant. He definitely hadn’t spent twenty minutes debating which earrings he should wear today, and he certainly hadn’t splashed on more cologne than normal. Because this was not a date. He was just accompanying his bro to the tattoo parlor. 

“Hey!” called out a familiar voice, and he turned towards the sound. 

“Were you waiting long?” Niko grinned. 

“Nah,” Samy shrugged. He absolutely had not arrived half an hour early, with butterflies in his stomach. 

“Oh, here’s the train,” Niko noticed. “Perfect timing.”

He boarded the train car, and Samy quickly followed him. They sat down beside each other. 

There weren’t a lot of passengers onboard. It was only eight o’clock. 

“….Nice glasses,” Samy said awkwardly, after a moment. 

“Oh, thank you,” Niko smiled. “I normally just use my contacts, but lately I’ve been wearing these more.” 

“It, uh, it suits you,” Samy nodded. He wasn’t sure what his deal was today. Normally, he was anything but shy. 

Chill out, he warned himself. 

“So,” he asked, finally finding his words. “What are you getting done today?”

“It’s going to be a big sleeve this time, on my right arm,” Niko explained. 

“Oh, wow!” Samy’s eyes widened. “Nice. It’s about time you filled up your right side. It was looking so blank and sad compared to your left.” 

“Hey, not everyone gets new tattoos as often as you,” Niko laughed. “Do you even have any room left on your body for more?” 

“Yeah, I’ve still got some space on my legs,” Samy replied. “I was thinking of getting a little something on my knee, while you’re doing yours.” 

“What kind of design?” Niko asked curiously. 

“Not sure yet,” Samy confessed. “I think their new apprentice has a flash sheet on the wall. I’ll have to take a look at it. What about you?” 

“So, I’m going to get an astronaut,” Niko revealed. “But, he’s going to be like, swimming in the sea. And there’s going to be a space whale behind him.”

“A space whale?” Samy repeated, giggling. 

“Don’t knock it until you see it!” Niko insisted, turning red. “I swear, the sketch the artist did looks cool as fuck.” 

“Well, in that case,” Samy smiled, “I can’t wait to see it.” 

“I just wish I hadn’t scheduled the appointment, so fucking early in the morning,” Niko yawned. “I was up late as hell last night.” 

“Oh really?” Samy blinked. “Doing what?” 

“I was in the studio with the guys,” Niko explained. 

“Oh, you too, huh?” Samy raised an eyebrow. “You guys are working on what - your fifth album?”

“That’s right,” Niko nodded. 

It didn’t seem like all that long ago, that Samy (and the rest of his band) had been touring with Niko, promoting the fourth Blind Channel album. But, when he thought about it, he realized that it had already been a year. 

“..And you guys are working on your seventh album, right?” Niko asked, pulling Samy out of his reminiscing. 

“Yeah, we are,” Samy mumbled. He still wished they’d been able to find an artist in Poland, to give them matching end-of-tour tattoos. 

“Fuck,” Niko swore. “I’m worried I’m gonna fall asleep in the middle of my appointment. I could really use a nap.”

“Fine,” Samy suggested, with a sly smile. “You can use me as a pillow.” 

“…You sure?” Niko hesitated. 

“Totally!” Samy said brightly. 

He’d expected that Niko would just lean his head against his shoulder. Instead, his cheeks grew hot, when Niko laid down across his lap. 

The cheeky little shortstack fell asleep almost immediately. Dammit…The back of Niko’s neck was so warm against his thighs. 

Samy glanced around, suddenly feeling self conscious. They were in public, after all. 

But, when he looked down at Niko’s peacefully sleeping face, he simply couldn’t help himself. He ran his tattooed fingers through the shorter man’s long, brown hair. 

“….Is that your boyfriend?”

“…Huh?!” Samy snatched his hand back, when he realized the old woman sitting across from them had asked him a question. 

She stared at him, waiting for an answer. 

“…Yeah,” Samy replied. He wasn’t sure why he had chosen to lie. Maybe because it was weird as fuck to stroke an unconscious person’s hair, if you were just friends? 

“That’s nice,” the woman smiled, surprisingly open-minded. 

Fuck, Samy thought with a frown. I really wish I was telling her the truth.