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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

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Let it Be Me (Part One)| Kevin Moon Imagine

soulmate au! x badboy! Kevin.

In which soulmates find each other on their graduation day and Kevin gets the growing suspicion that his is just as artistically inclined as he is. Let the competition begin.

Thank you @aniyawoos for giving me such inspiration, and for always listening to me rant about how perfect Mr.Moon is.

Genre: fluff, lil angst, soulmates

Part one | Part Two (Coming soon)

----

Kevin was pissed.

He glared at his canvas, now caked with bold dark lines that mimicked a caricature of an unfamiliar face that he'd never set eyes upon. The girl's deep set eyes were furrowed into a frown, eyebrows perpetually pinched together in constant permanent thought, lips pursed as though silent protests were lingering along her tongue. But while Kevin would've normally been proud of mastering such a face in such little time, this did not negate the fact that this was definitely not his work.

Because the fact was that Kevin did not draw caricatures. He did not use dark tones. And he did not recall having seen such a girl, for he was sure that it would've sparked a memory if their meeting had been so significant.

"Why is this so dark?"

Kevin let out a snort as footsteps walked up beside him. He caught a glimpse of caramel coloured hair, a flash of too-white teeth.

"That's not your style," Jacob remarked as he leaned in close to inspect its details, "where are your watercolours? And your sceneries?"

Kevin's grip tightened impulsively onto his paintbrush. His jaw clenched in silence.

A fresh canvas, wasted just like that. His hand was still throbbing with a familiar tingle that had spread through him the moment his brush had touched the tip of the blank page, and the entire process was like a dream that he had stumbled through only to wake up disoriented and dizzy.

"I don't know," the raven-haired man muttered as his fingers combed through his locks.

"Not bad though," Jacob remarked with a whistle, "not bad at all. Who is she?"

Kevin's shoulders lifted in a half-shrug, though annoyance spiked through him at his friend's curiosity. Today was not one of those days where he could tolerate human beings, especially when nothing seemed to go right.

"Where are you going?" Jacob called out when he stood up abruptly from his seat, chair squeaking in protest as he made a grab for his rucksack and strode out of the room, mind still reeling from the confusion which had come with that sudden artistic turn of events.

Maybe it was his just off day, he concluded mentally, as he tried to ignore the soft tingling sensation thrumming through his fingers, as though a ghost of a presence was still present.

The second time it happened, he was in the middle of reproducing one of Monet's famous water lilies when his hand tingled with that familiar warmth, electricity dancing up and down his arm and numbing it so that his limb took a life of its own. He watched, horrified, as his beautiful lily pond turned into another stranger's face, flowers transforming into dark orbs staring back at him, the water trail twisting into a bold nose, a vine curling to form a cupid's bow mouth.

What in the actual fuck. His mouth moved soundlessly over the muttered words, hands fisting in his lap with the sudden urge to throw his artwork --could he even call it his?-- against the wall.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Jacob said once Kevin complained about his artwork getting ruined by bold strokes. This was the fifth time this week and the latter’s growing collection of portraits was both alarming and fascinating at the same time. While Jacob understood the artist’s growing frustration with the manhandling of his artistic talent, there was nothing to be said about how beautiful they all turned out to be, even though they weren’t originally part of Kevin’s vision.

“A sign of what?” Kevin picked at his fries, mood still sour from the thought of his now empty wallet that was now scraped dry, his savings all flushed down the drain from having spent it all on the last pieces of canvas that were now deemed useless unless he painted them over with white and started again.

But that would take ages and a lot of layers, and a lot of paint. Kevin wasn’t sure whether he was ready for that. Not that he had a choice, considering that these works would count for his final portfolio.

He couldn’t help but let out another exasperating sigh at the thought.

“There are theories circulating,” his other friend, Chanhee, piped up from behind his roast beef sandwich, earrings catching the light of the lunchroom as he spoke, “that a few weeks before your graduation, you might get a few hints about who your soulmate might be.”

Kevin allowed the information to sink in, “why haven’t I heard of that before?”

“Maybe because you spend all your time holed up in the studio,” Chanhee sasses him, “and when you’re not in the studio, you’re doing that.”

Kevin’s eyes find the joint in his hand when Chanhee gestures towards it, before he puts it to his lips and takes another puff just to insult his friend, “it keeps my creative juices flowing.”

“You don’t need that to be creative, Kevin.”

“Stick to your account books, Chanhee.”

“Alright time out," Jacob interrupts before the pair can get into yet another brawl, "Kev, Chanhee's right. You can't keep depending on that to keep going."

The raven-haired man shrugged but kept quiet nevertheless. He knew, deep down, that Jacob was right. But once he started, he found it was hard to stop. It gave him everything he needed; the relaxation, the creativity, everything. Ever since his life had turned upside down, ever since the school had turned its back on him for apparently dealing with heroin when he'd been completely innocent, Kevin had suffered with the aftermath of rumours and the countless amounts of gossiping about his whereabouts. Jacob and Chanhee had stuck with him, but they were the only ones that had. The rest of his so-called friends now deemed him too weird to talk to, as though a foreign body had invaded Kevin's body with a bright red alarm sign to indicate that he was off bounds completely.

It was one of the reasons why he spent most of his time in the art room in the first place. He wasn't going to entertain their stupidly, made - up stories about who he was and what he did.

If there was one thing that Kevin hated the most, it was tattletales. And there seemed to be lots of them around here.

After that, he decided he wouldn't be bothered by the fact that his artworks were not technically his, and instead just used them to his advantage. If Chanhee was right and it really was his soulmate, then all the more reason to do so. If they were using his hands then he was allowed to use their artsy prowess.

All was fair in love and art.

It was on the last day of his final submission, as the art prodigy was finishing his final touch-ups of his now so-called portrait series of weirdly strange people, that he got the sudden urge to just stitch. His fingers shook with desire even though he clamped his hands into fists and gritted his teeth, forcing his limbs to continue working. Pins and needles shot up and down his arms like alarm bells, tearing at his muscles and nagging at Kevin’s subconscious. The more he tried to ignore it, the more the sensation pricked, until it actually hurt.

He dropped his paintbrush and gave in to the sensation. His body reacted on its own, dashed over to one of the unused sewing machines and grabbed a piece of cloth. Five minutes later, he was busy stitching his life away on the machine, the only sounds perforating the air being the loud drumming of the needles piercing through cloth.

Twenty minutes later, barely two minutes before he was to drop his artwork to his teacher’s office, Kevin leaned back in his seat and stared, wide-eyed, at the donut plushie he’d just made.

What astounded him the most was that he didn’t --for the love of god-- know how to sew. He never took any sewing classes and had never really been interested in the field anyway.

So how in the world had his hands worked on their own? He gazed down at his hands with growing horror and apprehension twisting his stomach into tiny knots. Why? Why why why?

“Kevin? What are you still doing here?”

The said young man’s head whipped up at the sound of his classmate’s voice, only to see the ginger-haired girl blinking at him with confusion etched across her features.

“Are you--stitching?” her frown deepened.

Kevin rose without as much as a wince when the metal of his chair scraped against the cement floor before dashing over to gather his paintings. He jostled out of the classroom, ignoring his classmate’s questions while lumbering down the hall as quickly as his artwork would allow him towards the teacher’s department.

He wished he didn’t have to meet his soulmate.

------

“Can I tell you something?”

Kevin looked up from underneath his beanie at Jacob, who sat on the other side nursing a cup of tea. The hot chocolate in his hand was steaming, its delicious scent already wrapping around him like a warm hug, giving him that sense of comfort he craved so much.

Prom had gone and passed without much that was memorable enough for Kevin to be deemed as important. As per Chanhee’s predictions, people started discovering their soulmates in the strangest ways possible, though the group of boys guessed it had something to do with what you were good at and what your soulmate’s passion was. For instance, a girl had found herself going for a midnight swim, only for her reflection to be of a young man living just a few weeks ago from hers. Another boy had the sudden urge to take a ballerina class and was entranced by a picture of his soulmate hanging on the wall of the ballet studio.

As of yet, none of the trio had caught any glimpse of their other halves, and Kevin hoped it stayed that way. After all the incidents that had occured in art class and the countless whims that had taken over his body like he’d been possessed, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know who held the other part of his heart.

What if she was a psycho? He asked himself as he gazed at his drink, what if she was completely not like him and they’d made a mistake from the very beginning?

“What is it?” Kevin prompted his friend. Jacob’s eyes were downcast, the muscles in his jaw clenching as though haunted by his own thoughts.

“Jacob?” Kevin’s fingers toyed with his unlit cigarette. He’d been craving it for the past thirty minutes and now that Chanhee was gone, he was free to do as he pleased. He fished for his lighter and started flicking a flame over the cigarette butt.

“I found her.”

Kevin almost did a double-take. He dropped his cigarette, “what?”

Jacob nibbled on his lower lip, “I found her, I found my soulmate.”

There were many things Kevin wished to say. He decided to keep quiet.

Jacob continued, encouraged by his silence, “I was cooking, the usual. You know I love cooking. So I was making this dish of grilled vegetables and grabbed my knife to cut them all. And then I--And then, I--she--she appeared. In the knife--in it’s reflection, I mean.”

Still, Kevin stayed quiet.

“She’s--She’s not bad looking,” there was the tiniest of smiles, barely visible, on his friend’s face and though Kevin wasn’t an expert on reading emotions, it was pretty obvious that Jacob was already smitten for that girl in particular.

“How do you know you like her?” he asked so abruptly that Jacob blinks in shock.

“Well--I don’t know I--I just do. I think?” the latter scratches the back of his head, “I don’t know, Kev. There’s just--something about her. I can’t really explain. You’ve gotta see for yourself.”

“Hm” was all that Kevin managed to sputter out as he picked up his cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.

“Chanhee won’t like that,” remarked his friend.

“Chanhee’s not here to tell me what to do.”

“Did you even try to stop?” there was a tinge of desperation in Jacob’s voice, “we’re not in school anymore. You don’t need that to cope, you know.”

The raven-haired man exhaled in response, smoke billowing out of his perfectly cupped lips.

He wasn't into his soulmate. Had no interest whatsoever in knowing who laid behind the magic taking over his fingers every time he found himself in the art room. It hadn't occurred since his last deadline and for that, he was glad, because while it clearly hadn't been his style of drawing, his professors had been so touched with emotional depth that they gave him a distinction with passing colours.

Needless to say, Kevin hadn't set yet another foot in the studio.

He really didn't feel like knowing who had messed up his entire style for the sake of her own artistic endeavours.

The summer went by and grades were up. People shouted with excitement at the prospect of last minute freedom before college would take it away this coming September. Kevin had enrolled in Mathieu's School of Art and Design as a Printmaking major -- his dream was to work in textile and fashion-- while Jacob had decided to take up an apprenticeship with the local Culinary School in town. It wasn't the best, but it would do for his first few steps into the culinary world.

As for Chanhee, who was going down the safe route, he was registered to complete his ACCA certification for chartered accountants.

"Keep in touch guys, yeah?" Chanhee had tearfully stated on their last day of summer, where the trio had taken to drink at their local pub.

Kevin clinked his beer with his, his spirits quite high at the prospect of starting a new life, turning over a new leaf, "worried you might not make friends?"

Jacob shot Kevin a look, then said, "relax Chanhee. You'll be fine. You'll probably be the only one making friends."

"Shut up guys, you're not helping," Chanhee sniffed.

It was a somewhat bizarre sensation to be walking to school without Jacob and Chanhee at his side. Kevin's bag felt a little heavier upon his shoulders, his traveling a little longer than usual albeit the fact that his college was barely two minutes away from his high school, just across the street. Kevin's nervousness racked up the back of his throat, practically choking him as he made his way to his first class: illustration design.

Comprising only ten chairs, the class was round, its walls painted a sheer white and the spotlights illuminating the room casting long dark shadows across each head already seated. Kevin quickly hurried over to the back where he took his place.

The girl beside him shifted slightly, but he preferred not to acknowledge her existence. Instead, he slid his sketchbook from his bag and started doodling on the corner of the page, next to where he wrote the date.

It was only when the teacher walked in and the girl's pen suddenly dropped to the floor, and Kevin swooped in like muscle reflex and gave it back, that his eyes caught her face-- he stared.

And stared.

She stared back, unblinking. Unflinching.

"Who--Who are you?" Kevin breathed, all air knocked out of his chest in surprise.

Her hand darted out, whipping the pen out of his hold and turning back to the professor without a backward glance. Astounded, Kevin hadn’t realized his mouth was still hanging open until he felt the warm trickle of saliva dribble down his chin.

He snapped his jaw shut and quickly turned back to focus on the class at hand, all while trying to ignore the weird buzzing that seemed to take over his entire nervous system. His body was heated, as if lit by a wildfire that raged through his insides and swept along his bloodstream so that he was left in a constant state of exhilaration, senses too alert and fingers prickling with the innate desire to just touch, touch her, no matter what.

Stop it, he told himself off. His mind raged back like an aggressive, untamed horse.

It took him so much of his energy not to do something stupid that he only came to attention when the sound of scraped back chairs reached his ears. Whipping his head up at the flow of people leaving the studio, he realized a little too late that the said girl in question was already halfway to the door.

He scrambled up so quickly he banged his shin. Cursing, he ignored its protesting throb as he raced towards her figure, “excuse me--”

Either the girl didn’t hear him through the throng of introductions being conversed by a group of students by the entrance, or she didn’t want to. Kevin pushed his way past students milling about the corridors, excusing himself as he went, before he finally caught up to her at the library door entrance.

“Wait--” he called, practically choking on his own breath. Jesus, he should really work out more. Pressing his hand over his side upon feeling the familiar cramp pinch in, he tried not to collapse in front of the girl, who was now gazing at him in a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Is there something you want?” she asked tightly.

“Well--I--Didn’t you--” Kevin racked his brain and wondered, for a brief moment, whether this soulmate thing was one sided, “didn’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Her eyes were growing more and more alarmed.

“You’re my soulmate,” the words left Kevin in a rush, “didn’t you feel the pull?”

Her mouth shaped itself into a silent ��o’. Her eyes glanced at the floor for a few beats of silence. When she looked up at his face, her jaw was set and her eyebrows furrowed, “so?”

“So?” he gaped at her, “so?”

“Look, I don’t know how they treat people with soulmates in your country,” she shifted uneasily from one foot to another, “but in mine, they’re definitely not something to be proud of.”

He blinked, “you’re not from here.”

“No.”

“Where are you from?”

“Look, if you’re talking to me just because of that soulmate bullshit--”

“Can’t you feel it?” Kevin cut her off, hating the fact that his voice sounded so desperate and needy, “can’t you feel the bond?”

God Kevin. You sound like a wimp, his mind screamed at him. Get a hold of yourself.

“No,” she looked at him dead in the eye, “I don’t.”

And leaving him to deal with the aftermath of the shock, the girl turned and walked away, her soft footsteps echoing down the hallway like the beats to an ending song.

---

STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO! :) Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist <3

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bellesque · 5 years ago

Note

Can you write a smut story with Loki?

Ask and you shall receive! Also on my AO3.

An Inspiring Distraction (Loki x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3.3K (yikes)

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Orgasm Delay, Established Relationship

Summary: You’re adept at pretty much every genre. Except romance. You take to watching romance movies to help you along the creative process, only to be interrupted by the God of Mischief. Turns out, your boyfriend has a better idea of how to spark inspiration and get your juices - creative or otherwise - flowing.

A/N: Well. This turned out way longer (and way dirtier) than I originally planned. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this.

YOU REALLY TRY to ignore the interruption.

The tapping of a finger isn’t totally distracting, a light rhythm on the top of your shoulder. Almost feather-light. Only you expect it to end at some point, if you disregarded it long enough—but it doesn’t. The movie that plays on the screen in front of you has lost your focus, and because of that you huff in exasperation.

“Loki,” you whine, shifting from your position on your couch to sit up and whirl around to chastise your boyfriend.

Except he isn’t there.

You sigh loudly, hitting pause on your movie. “Loki,” you call again, this time with a little bite in your tone.

“You called, dearest?”

His voice comes from behind you, in between you and your television. You shift against the pillows. Most of the time, you loved Loki and all his tricks and games. Other times, like today—well, sometimes dating the God of Mischief had its disadvantages.

The only one being that he could be such a distraction.

You give him a pointed, unamused look in return of his smug, almost Cheshire cat-like grin. His eyes feign innocence, and you roll your own. “Was there any point to your little Morse code message on my shoulder?”

“Of course. I wanted your attention.”

“For what reason?”

“For no reason at all but to see your beautiful face.” Loki steps forward, and you fight the part of you that thaws at his compliment. Damn him and his silver tongue.

“Yeah, well, this beautiful face is still mad at you,” you mumble as he settles on the couch beside you, pulling your legs on his lap.

“You are most beautiful when you’re angry with me, sweetness. Why do you think I tease you so?” He grins at you in that way that causes your heart to seize (just a little; you won’t admit more than that), rubbing your bare calves absently.

You snort, turning your attention away from him and hoping that the warmth you feel in your face isn’t evident.

Loki too turns his gaze to the television in front of you, and you’re reminded to hit play. You allow yourself to relax into his touch as the movie continues, taking mental notes of key points you think would work in your own project. He’s quiet this time, thank goodness, allowing you to return to the level of focus you were at before his magic interrupted you.

He squints as soon as the music begins to soften and the sexual tension onscreen is evident. Leading to the iconic kiss, you can tell. This moment is big, you note, ready to take notes on every little detail that will concoct the perfect kiss—

“What are they doing?”

The speed at which you hit pause is surprisingly fast. “What does it look like, Loki?”

You can’t keep the frustration out of your tone this time. Your assigned project is a romance—a genre you are not well-versed in. Your concentration is broken and you’re not sure if you can pull off constructing a kiss scene that is both believable and emotional enough, and with enough steam that will fog the screens.

“I was not aiming for petulance this time, sweet. You would do well not to be angry with me over a simple question, gorgeous creature though you may be.”

His words are sweet enough, though you know it’s to mask the confusion—and probably slight hurt—he feels.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, reaching up to touch his forearm. “I’m just… it’s stupid. I have this big project coming up and it’s a romance. And that’s the thing I’m the least good at. I was hoping maybe this movie could give me a little inspiration, some tips.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Am I mistaken about our arrangement? Are we not dating, pet? Shouldn’t you be drawing inspiration from your personal experiences?”

“It’s different,” you say, this time feeling the warmth of a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Not everyone has dated a god. And…” you trail off.

Loki looks at you expectantly. “And?”

“There needs to be a love scene.” The words tumble out, rushed and embarrassed.

Loki only laughs, sliding his hand onto the curve of your hip before resting his arm on the edge of the couch. “Alright sweet, let’s do it your way.”

“Thank you,” you say with finality, “now no more interruptions until this movie is done, agreed?”

“You have my word.”

True enough, you and Loki watch the movie in comfortable silence. You like to think maybe he’s even enjoying it a little at this point.

Well, until he’s the one pausing the movie.

“I cannot bear this anymore,” he says, rising to his feet.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“This—this show of yours.” He gestures at the TV. “Absolutely useless material for you, sweet. Bland and sloppy. Amateur at best.”

“I’ll have you know, Loki, a lot of people rave about this movie.”

“Yes, yes, you mortals have such poor taste in the arts because you fail to feel and capture the entirety of passion.” He offers you his hand. “It is up to me for your project to be as evocative as possible. Now. What is it that you want?”

“What I want?” you repeat, allowing Loki to lead you to your feet. “I’m not sure—”

“What aspect of romance, darling.” In an instant, Loki transforms his features into a shy, almost hesitant look, not meeting your eyes and shifting from foot to foot. “Is it the novelty of a new love, perhaps?” he asks, his voice timid and tentative.

You’re about to open your mouth to praise him, tell him that wow, he is a damn good actor, but just as quickly he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. You find your hands against the hard planes of his chest and in a split second he hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards so you lock gazes. The way he looks at you is smoldering, intense and captivating as his eyes pin you in place and you notice just how green they are.

You focus on that color as you forget to breathe, a familiar tingle blooming in the pit of your stomach.

After what feels like way too many seconds, Loki’s eyes flit down to your lips, the subtle dip of his eyelids a subconscious message for you to follow suit in anticipation for a kiss. Sure enough, his head angles towards yours, his eyes fluttering closed as yours do, and your lips pucker just slightly.

The hand on the small of your back moves to the nape of your neck, keeping you in place, bringing you closer towards him for the kiss—

He stops a hairsbreadth away from you, his lips just barely brushing yours. “Or are you looking for the undeniable thrill that sexual tension brings?”

The spell he’s seemingly put you under is broken and your eyes snap open. Your heart is actually beating wildly in your chest, your breathing just the slightest bit heavier. Loki grins at you mischievously.

“Lo—”

Loki spins you around, this time switching your position so that your back is to his chest. One arm snakes around your waist, the tips of his fingers moving underneath your baggy shirt and skimming over your bare skin. His hand creeps up, up, up, until it’s resting under the swell of your breast, his breath hot at your ear.

“Or maybe…” he purrs, moving your hair to reveal your neck to him. He presses open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive spot just under your ear, the hand on your abdomen tracing absent circles now. You can feel the goose bumps rise on your skin, starting at the base of your breasts until your nipples prick up, and your entire body shivers of its own volition, all while Loki sucks a bruise into your neck. “Everything that comes with seduction.”

You exhale, your head falling back against Loki’s shoulder as he continues his ministrations. Everything with Loki is still fairly new, uncharted territory, and you’re honestly liking where this is going.

The plus is that it’s going to help with your project, most likely.

“What will it be, sweet?”

“M-maybe the second option? Or the third…? Since, I dunno, I think that’s what’ll be most helpful for the—the love scene.”

“Well then,” he murmurs in your ear, his silken voice drawing a wanting pang from you, “we’ll just have to continue what we started, won’t we?”

The speed at which Loki shifts your position—yet again—is disorienting. He spins you again so you’re facing him, and he hoists you into the air close to him until you’re sitting on his forearms with your legs nowhere to go but wrapped around his waist. Your hands bury themselves in his soft hair as Loki pulls down the collar of your shirt and begins sucking at the skin of your neck without warning.

“Loki!” you exclaim as he begins walking up the stairs, presumably—where else would you be going?—to the bedroom. The high-pitched squeak you emit as his teeth graze your skin somehow prompts him to squeeze your butt cheek just a little.

Loki uses his magic to fling the door open, a loud bang accompanying it. His lips detach from you as he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You notice that his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a bit dilated, and you think it’s safe to say you look the same as well.

“I apologize if I got carried away earlier, my sweet. Now, the lesson begins here.” He stands, towering over your sitting figure. “You’ve had a taste of the emotions of romance with me as your partner, but think of this moment, specifically, to aid in your project. Was it a proper seduction? Enough for what you will be working on?”

You give it some careful thought. Or at least, you pretend to—because frankly, there is no way in hell you’re letting Loki leave you high and dry after his heavy petting.

“I think I’m seduced,” you say, surprised to find your voice a little shaky. “But I think it needs a little more… something, I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“So it was unsatisfactory.” Loki’s eyes glint a certain way; the kind of look you’ve associated with his games, only this one you’re playing seems to be a very sexual one. “What is it again that you need help with?”

“Romance…?”

“And which of my options will aid in your production?”

“The second or thir—”

Loki surges forward and takes your lips between his teeth, rolling his tongue over your bottom lip and then sucking. You barely register it when your back hits the softness of the mattress and Loki settles himself on top of you.

The way Loki’s lips and tongue moves over and with yours is absolute bliss, and you return his actions with equal fervor. His hands roam across your torso, one hand toying with the hem of your shirt until it slides underneath to caress your warm skin.

Loki pulls away from you and nuzzles your cheek with his nose. “This, sweet. This is what you should be aiming for. The chemistry between us is unrivaled and cannot be duplicated, but you may possibly write something very close to it.”

“Okay,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and as casual as his seems to be. “Uh, I do have a few concerns about the love scene, though.”

He perks up at this, his eyebrows raising and the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Oh?”

You’re finding it increasingly difficult to form coherent sentences as Loki’s hand travels south and toys with the waistband of your shorts. A finger hooks underneath it, just briefly, before tracing a line from one side of your waist, over your stomach to the other side and back again.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to get out, sucking in a breath as Loki’s fingers dance over a sensitive spot you didn’t know you had, “like how would it transition smoothly from the making out to the actual, y’know—sex.”

The way you say sex is breathier than you want it to be, but it’s because of Loki’s stupid wandering hands leaving you a breathless mess. He’s looking at you, desire clouding his irises, and it takes your willpower not to drag his face back to your lips.

“Well, sweet, it would usually go like this—but, from here on out, no interruptions. Just let me show you…” And his mouth descends on yours again, hot and heavy. An inner voice cheers loudly at this victory, knowing that this is how Loki likes to play his games.

His hands begin to pull up the hem of your shirt over your head, your lips parting for the briefest of moments before he’s latching onto you again and tossing your shirt to the corner of the room. Fumbling, you undo the buttons of his black dress shirt and slide it down his shoulders.

Loki pulls away from you and smooths his hands over your body. “You are a goddess, my sweet.” He bends down and presses a kiss to the center of the column of your throat. “Absolutely breathtaking.” Another one in between your breasts. “Maddening.” Another, just above your navel. “My goddess.”

Butterflies bloom in your stomach at his words, and you feel an instinct to shower him in the same praise. “And you, Loki…” You bring him back up to eye level and try to roll on top of him. He lets you, your knees on either side of him. “You are just exquisite.” You kiss his Adam’s apple, where you feel it bob just slightly at your words. “Marvelous.” On his sternum. “My God of Mischief. My Prince of Asgard.” The final one, this time below his navel, dangerously close to the waistband of his pants.

Loki groans, fisting a handful of your hair. “You are the death of me, sweet.”

“Good,” you say, placing a hand over the tent in his pants and flashing him a devious grin. “I should be.”

Loki growls and pulls you up, rolling over so you’re pinned underneath him again. Your shorts disappear in a flash of green, leaving you in only your underwear.

“Hey, no fair, you used magi—ah—” your complaint is cut off by Loki’s mouth on your breast, his other hand pinching and tweaking. Pleasure hums throughout your body.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Loki comments, smiling victoriously until your hand slides underneath his pants and cups his erection—at which his jaw slackens and he groans.

He cups your mound in response and then maneuvers your underwear to the side. Without missing a beat, he slides two fingers into your slickness. This time, it’s your turn to let out a moan. You grip his erection more tightly, pumping up and down, feeling the trickle of precum on your inner wrist, and Loki curls his fingers inside you. Your body arches upwards.

“All this be damned,” he mutters, and with a green shimmer you and he are naked. Loki presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing lazy yet purposeful circles over it, all the while his other fingers continue pumping in and out of you.

Your hand probably stops groping him at some point; your mind is frayed with the pleasure his hands are giving you, but you’re jolted back when you feel him jerk in your hand. Curiously, you swipe a finger of the slit of his head, and Loki’s hips and fingers stutter.

“Loki,” you breathe, gyrating on his fingers, “I need you inside me now.”

He doesn’t say anything, but covers your neck with a wet, hot kiss, applying just a little more pressure on your clit. You bite back a moan and decide to squeeze him harder, your other hand raking a stripe down his back.

“Need to cum soon,” you pant. “I think you do too.”

Loki pulls his fingers out of you and wordlessly places his fingers in his mouth, tasting you, all the while never breaking eye contact. It’s erotic, maybe a little obscene, but your libido only skyrockets.

“I want your eyes on me at all times.” His voice is dark with desire, practically dripping lust, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

Loki positions the head of his cock at your dripping slit, tracing over it with excruciating slowness until you’re covered in each other’s slick. He rests a finger on top of your clit, and then in a fluid motion he buries himself to the hilt as he presses on your bundle of nerves.

Closing your eyes at the heaven you’re both feeling, you both moan, a broken harmony, and the sound adds to the arousal you both feel.

“You are so warm and wet for me. It is almost unbelievable,” he murmurs.

“Your cock feels really good inside me,” you whisper, a little ashamed once it leaves your lips. But Loki doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, he seems to relish the praise. You stay unmoving for a while, your cunt experimentally fluttering around him, until you can see Loki’s restraint is hanging by a thread.

You grind your hips, a silent signal for him to move within you, and soon you’re a breathy, writhing mess beneath him as he thrusts, first slowly, until his movements increase in speed, a crescendo you can also feel in your body.

You feel yourself coming close to the edge of release, the coiling of energy deep within your core, and you reach down to guide his fingers to your clit.

And when his fingers begin their familiar rhythm, his lips crash onto yours in an urgent attempt for dominance, you clamp your walls around him and Loki groans into your mouth. He presses harder against your clit and he swallows the wanton moan that spills from your lips.

“I’m going to cum,” you tell him, feeling the familiar sensation burning even hotter now. “Cum with me. Please, Loki, I need you to.”

Loki’s jaw is set, beads of sweat forming on the top of his forehead. With a little growl he spreads your legs even wider and ruts into you, hard and fast, though only for a moment. His movements slow to a lazy pace, sliding in and out of you while his hands circle your clit in the same rhythm.

“Loki,” you whine. “Please.”

“I’d like to draw it out.”

“You already are, so just fuck me already.”

You clamp down exceptionally hard around him this time, and Loki captures your lips in a kiss as he goes back to the breakneck speed you were in earlier.

And then you feel your orgasm begin to crest, you and Loki moving in sync, your nails raking patterns all over his back you’re sure they’ll be red raw later.

He presses exceptionally hard, rubbing your clit between his fingers as his other hand cups your breast. “Cum now, sweet.”

Your body shudders as you feel the white hot pleasure explode within you, your walls fluttering around Loki’s cock as you cum with a cry. You feel Loki’s close too, so you continue rhythmically squeezing his cock until he cums with his own shuddering groan.

Loki takes your face in his hand and he kisses you, languid and lazy, as you both ride out each other’s orgasms. He rests his forehead against yours before rolling onto his back, pulling you on top of him.

“That was…” you begin after a few minutes of silent cuddling. You stroke his chest.

“Perfect for your project, correct?” he says, planting a kiss in your hair.

A warmth begins to spread across your lower regions. You prop yourself up on your elbow, giving him a particularly blatant nonchalant look. “I don’t know. I think I need to do a little bit more research.”

Loki pulls you down over his chest, his hands playing with the ends of your hair. “Devilish woman,” he comments affectionately. “Wherever do you get it from?”

“A certain God of Mischief.” Your hand snakes down to between his legs.

“Now. I think it’s time for lesson number two.”

Maybe some distractions are worth entertaining after all.

#thenatallie #fic request #tom hiddleston fic requests #reader request #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fic requests #loki imagine #tom hiddleston imagine #by belle

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shamelessllamapeanutthing · 4 years ago

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Ships and Feels about them

HUGE self-indulgent post but my brain is frozen and I need to get the juices flowing so I can start studying, because if I don’t get into the college I want I just might have to kill myself and then y’all can say bye-bye to your fav fics by your majesty.

YoruSoi- status: worSHIPPING (geddit? XD) them like the goddesses they are

I regularly play Wicked Ones by Dorothy and just imagine these two tag-teaming against their opponents, like the crazy, badass, ninja lesbians they are. It fucking gives me goosebumps and makes me blush like I am imagining them rawing each other instead. I am a big time SUCKER for powerful, cut-throat wlw. They make me feel powerful by extension, and my devotion for these two is completely unparalleled.

VictUuri- status: will protect them with my life

First of all, I love how layered and interesting they are. I can think about this show and this ship for hours and hours on end ( @feastingonvicturi will vouch for that). I naturally gravitate towards angsty ships and writing (because I am a weird sado-maso cross, what can I say) except for these two fluffy bastards. I had been putting off watching YOI because of the weird things I had read about ‘yaoi’ animes (IK YOI is not yaoi, now) till someone told me how pure and deep their love for each other was and welp, here we are.

RenRuki- status: comfort ship I’ll defend till death

It was one of my first ships and even as I multi-shipper, I always had a preference for them. Childhood-friends-to-lovers trope tugs on my heartstrings like little else and Renji’s devotion towards Rukia warms my heart. I hear them in nearly every song, imagine them in every scenario I read or write about and even though I have multiple ships I adore involving Rukia and Renji both, the two together is everything to me. (Presently obsessed with the amazing hcs and art by @recurring-polynya you might wanna check them out)

KaiRay- status: heart is taking a break, but remains firmly attached

I got into Beyblade BECAUSE of this ship, because of the moments these two shared in V-Force that I caught glimpses of when my younger siblings were watching the show. I love Kai and Ray’s dynamic and I guess what attracts me the most to this ship is the fact that as a teenager I was exactly like Kai and had my own personal Ray who got me through the worst in life. I love the sense of sweet nostalgia this couple brings me and I believe they are perfect for each other.

MariahEmily- status: coffee shop AU, anyone?

I was HUGE on MariahxRay but strong, stylish, kinda bitchy, dumb thot falling for the highly educated and fierce lady boss she doesn’t really know how to approach is another one of my favourite tropes, (see: PansMione, down under). I saw them interact and due to personal reasons my brain rejects petty rivalry between girls (because we’re all tired of that, children, be honest) and immediately tries to fix it in fanon. ( @trashyartz and her beautiful drawings had a lot to do with fanning these flames.)

ShunUki- status: want them to adopt me

Need I say more? No, but I wanna. I love the steady, secure vibes of this ship. This is the one ship I physically can’t write angsty shit about because of the level of understanding and sense of comfort these two share. They give me kind and strong dad vibes and I have emotionally been an orphan since I was in my early teens so.

WolfStar- status: they’re canon, JKR can suck my toes

Fucking TERF

Listen, listen, have you been listening? I mentioned I am a sucker for angst, right? Are you looking at the angst potential here, cause wow. What originally attracted me to this ship was the Chemistry between the two, cause it’s undeniable. You can NOT imagine Maurauders’ Era without imaging these two pining over each other. It’s impossible.

PansMione- status: toxic and problematic, but oh so hot

I got on this ship because I was craving some quality wlw ships. You guys’ I can not explain to you how often female characters in shows and books do not pass the Bechdel test and I stumbled on some gorgeous PansMione art and just fell in love. IK this ship is hella problematic, but I am firm on my stance that the baby Slytherins deserve a redemption arc.

Can you imagine these two after Pansy realises everything she did wrong and vows to be better? I imagine Hermione stumbling on a hurt and confused Pansy in year 8, who can’t stop her tears from flowing and is so ashamed of herself for that. She is feeling guilty and resisting the emotion with everything she possesses because the world she’d always known has crumbled down around her and everything she believed in has now been proven to be wrong.

She lashes out at Hermione because how dare that smart, gorgeous, courageous girl also be everything Pansy once thought she was? How dare she, a muggleborn, unravel the complicated threads of the wizard world so quickly, so efficiently, and clearly see what Pansy never could? Pansy is hurt and guilty and angry and she hates the fact that fucking Granger of all people has now witnessed her crying.

She feels lost and her anger only rages louder when Hermione doesn’t gloat or belittle her, she doesn’t say anything.

(Why is this turning into a ficlet, WHAT)

Anyways, Pansy gets over herself and she and Hermione get together and oh my god, imagine them then. Smart, powerful, righteous Hermione taking the fucking Wizarding World by a storm every single day with her sexy, vivacious, clever Pansy by her side. They’d be unstoppable and they’d love each other something fierce. It would show in the way they look at each other, with a sense of victory, not only over Voldemort but over the entire Wizarding society that had done everything it could to tear them apart, and ultimately failed.

(BONUS: Imagine Ron and Harry being utter dorks when they go to Pride parades with Hermione and let the image cleanse your skin and soul. @feastingonvicturi @trashyartz one of you (or both?) needs to collab with me so I can write a fix it fic for these two, please. I will pledge my soul to the devil to be used and abused as per Trashy’s whims in exchange. Taura will do it cause she’s my best friend and loves me more than I deserve to be loved.)

(In conclusion, I adore every single one of these ships and am willing to slice a bitch’s throat to protect their honour. Except for YoruSoi, they are fictional characters IK but I am convinced they do not need anybody’s protection, least of all this dumb fuck’s and just might laugh at the very idea.)

Also, feel free to reblog or comment with rants about your own ships even if they go directly against mine. More love to you if you expand on the ships I mentioned here myself. Tell me about your poison of choice, go ahead.

But if any one of you dares to send hate to any of my ships, please know that I am something of a God in my own capacity and will smite you with my preferred weapon of choice i.e. blindness in the face of adorable puppies or kittens (in pictures, videos, art, real life or otherwise). Beware. Let people love what they love.

#my ships #Bleach #Yuri!!! on Ice #Harry Potter #beyblade #YoruSoi #victuuri #renruki #kairay #mariahxemily #shunuki #wolfstar #pansmione

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jvnghxope · 5 years ago

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love sewn | three (m)

part three;

◦ pairing: Jungkook | reader

◦ genre: boy next door au; fluff, smut, a little angsty at the end

◦ word count: 7.4k+

◦ warnings: sexual themes, penetrative sex, swear words, alcohol consumption

◦ abstract: You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

⇥ prologue | part one | part two | part three | final

“So, we are going to steal clothes and you guys are going to lose your job...” Namjoon comments behind your back.

You exchange slightly panicked glances with Taehyung.

"We’re not going to steal anything. We’re just going to borrow,” he quickly interjects before the panic gets the worst of you. You need to admit that you are a little nervous about this, too.

"Still, I think this is a bad idea," Hoseok laughs nervously.

“Hobi, everything is going to be okay." You take your friend’s hand in an attempt to ease his nerves. He doesn’t like to lie. He is really bad at that and he avoids doing anything illegal as much as possible.

“Don’t worry. We have a key. It’s not like we are trespassing.”

Hobi nods, a little calmer now and followed you inside the building.

The gala is next Saturday and you still don’t know which dress you’ll use. Jungkook texted you about the gala theme just a couple of hours ago –you finally decided to reply to his question earlier that day (yeah, it took you a whole week to answer)– and is 'Family'. You have no idea what that means or how you are supposed to wear in a gala with that theme, but Jungkook kindly replied to your panicked text with ‘Dress formal. Like the type of dresses you designed last time. :)’

Your heart jumped at the emoji, but it’s not like you are going to admit that in front of your friends.

That’s why you are now in front of the building of your office. Besides Taehyung, you are pretty sure only Joon owns a dress shirt. Luckily for you and your besties, the firm keeps every piece of cloth designed in a big ass warehouse inside the building. You remember seeing a collection of beautiful dresses and formal suits the last time you were honored to be inside.

Once inside, your group of friends split in the seek for the perfect outfit.

“There’s no way I’ll use that,” you hear Namjoon says from afar.

“What do you mean?” you don’t need to see Taehyung’s face to see that he’s pulling the ‘Are you serious?’ Face. “It’s a beautiful color!”

Listening to your friends arguing, even when is over a simple thing like what color of suit to use, always makes you chuckle. Sometimes is like they are 15 instead of in their mid-twenties.

“Oh my god! This dress is gorgeous!” Anna exclaims next to you. The dress she is holding is gorgeous. Emerald green, long sleeves, lace-made, Greek-style shirt a little over the knees. It is the perfect dress for your cute friend. “I’ll try this one,” she chimes excitedly.

“Perhaps it was not a good idea to bring you here. I’ll need to tear that dress from you if I ever want to return it.”

“Yep,” she quickly agrees before running to the nearest dress room.

You can't help but smile as you keep searching for a dress. But any convince you enough. It is either the design or the color. That pink is too bright; that blue looks so sad; that orange color is not that cute… You are about to give up. Maybe the perfect dress for you is not around here.

But then, you arrive at a hidden space that is not properly illuminated. This time, the clothes are not scattered in counters, hanging from hooks or ordered by color. Instead, they are carefully guarded inside boxes. The wall is full of them.

You know for sure the firm doesn’t throw away the clothes from past seasons. They keep the best designs made every collection. There is a high possibility that some of these designs were used by top models in previous Fashion Weeks.

You open a few of them, finding cardigans, skirts from all shapes, types, and colors. Each piece is carefully saved. You gasp the moment you open another box. The most beautiful dress is inside of it. It is a beautiful tone of crimson and made of silk. It is soft to touch. You carefully take the dress out of the box and with fear you look for the tag to see if the dress is of your size. It must be your lucky day because it is.

“Oh, there you are! I want to use black heels with the dress but Tae told me I should use a pair of silver stilettos. Or even gold ones. What do you think-” She stops talking the moment she notices the dress between your arms and how you are holding it, like is a treasure. “That dress is beautiful! You should wear that one.”

You look at her with wide eyes, “But we’re not supposed to take anything from these boxes…”

“We’re not supposed to take anything from the warehouse. Why don’t you try it on?”

Well, she has a point.

Minutes later, you are staring at your reflection in the mirror.

You look… different. The dress is hugging all your curves in the right way and the color enhances your skin tone. The skirt is pooling around your ankles. You love long dresses. It makes your legs look longer and they are pretty elegant.

Ok. You will just take the dress for one night, like Cinderella, and return it right away.

You turn around and see Anna taking some snaps of herself in excitement. Your male friends are in the corner. Taehyung and Namjoon still arguing about which color of jacket Namjoon should use with his tailored slacks. Seokjin is rubbing his temples like he’s tired of that shit and Hoseok, oblivious to the situation folding behind him, is admiring himself in the mirror. He looks handsome in that jacket. Floral print designs are very difficult to pull out but Hoseok is one of the lucky ones.

It was not a good idea to come here, you quickly realize. Because as you watch the anticipation slowly starting to build inside your friend’s –and your own– chest, you know there's no way you'll be willing to return the clothes, putting your job at risk. But seeing the way your friends are smiling, it'll be worth it.

The rest of the week passes painfully slow.

You haven’t seen Jungkook in two weeks and you are starting to get anxious. The last time you saw him he asked you on a date and you feel like it is a turning point in your relationship.

Since you met, you've been friends. But he asking you out means that he is ready to take the next step. The question is, are you?

Despite the growing feelings you may have about him, you are still not sure if you are ready to be in a relationship. And right now you don't have the energy to stress more about it. So you decide to follow Anna’s advice and let things flow.

In the next few days, you focus on work and upcoming projects.

The firm you work for has a new project and asked you to design a dress for a spring collection. Piece of cake. Or that’s what you thought at first.

On Monday, you managed to draw some decent sketches. On Tuesday, you figured the design was not that good and decided to start over. On Wednesday, you locked up inside your office to get the job done, without good results. On Tuesday, you stayed at your apartment and did some home-office because your creative juices flow better in your studio. Finally, on Friday, it was decided you were having some... creative issues.

Saturday arrived finally and the gala is the only thing you can think about. Seokjin makes waffles for breakfast, making the day twice as special –Seokjin only makes waffles in special occasions–.

Today, it is twice as hard to stay focused on your work. The nerves and excitement make it difficult. You haven't talked that much with Jungkook this past week. He’s been busy with all the preparation for his gala. Your phone chimes with a new text and you are surprised it is of him.

[2:05 pm] Jungkook

The limo will pick you up at 6 pm. Can't wait to see you.

The smile that spreads across your face is unintentional and you feel your cheeks go warm. You are just as excited to see him. Wow, and a limo. That’s so nice of him. You check the hour. Fuck, it is 3 pm!

You have exactly 3 hours to get ready. You text Namjoon before entering the bathroom.

You know the basics when it comes to makeup. But considering this is an important event (and a date), you ask Anna’s help. She was an Ace on that stuff. By 3:30 pm, she already had done her hair in curls and perfectly applied makeup when you were still a mess of wet hair and swollen, bare face.

With his help and an hour and a half later, you find yourselves already tucked inside your dresses and snapping shots in the enormous mirror of the bathroom. You have time to spare while you wait for the boys to arrive. Seokjin even joins you after a while, looking all handsome with his black tuxedo and taking some photos with you and Anna.

As Jungkook told you, the limo is waiting for you at 6 pm sharp. Dressed as you do, you feel like you are a movie star going to a Movie Premier. Someone steps out of the car and a part of you hopes it is Jungkook, but when a smile of a stranger graces your face, you can breathe properly again. This man is going to kill you someday.

“Miss ___? I’m here to take you and your friends to mister Min and mister Jeon’s annual gala. Please, get inside,” he opens the door and motions the inside of the vehicle. Excited chuckles come from behind you as your friends urge you to get inside.

"Man, this is so cool," Hoseok comments while Namjoon pours each one of you a glass of champagne you guys found inside the mini-fridge. This whole thing feels like a dream. Dressed as superstars, riding a limo, drinking champagne.

As time goes by, you notice the limo heading towards a part of the town known as the Art District. It used to be where all the industries held their big factories. Now, the enormous buildings transformed into luxurious art galleries, beautiful museums, bright dance studios, and lush condos. This part of the town supports anyone and everyone who decides to pursue art for a living. Thus, the firm you and Taehyung work for has its headquarters here.

Several minutes after, you have in front of you the most glamorous building. It looks like a skyscraper, tall and magnificent. In daylight, the windows reflect the sunlight and it looks like the tower is made of glass. The locals know it as the Glass Tower. Now, the windows reflect the orange-ish of the sunset.

This is the first time you enter the building, so you are not sure where to go. The driver parks the vehicle near the main entrance and opens the door for you.

“Mr. Min and Mr. Jeon are waiting for you inside. Ask for them in the Lobby. They’ll direct you from there.”

“Thank you,” you say with a smile.

The Lobby is just as impressive as the outside of the building. The white marble-like floor, the plants embellishing the corners, the mesmerizing paintings and photographies and the furniture make the room look artsy yet elegant.

“Hey, we’re here for the gala…” Seokjin comments to the beautiful red-haired receptionist once you and your friends get near the enormous mahogany desk. Then, something weird happens. The receptionist's eyes illuminate like she just saw a star as her glance lay on yours and your friend’s frame. Like she recognizes you from somewhere.

“Yes!” she chimes with an unexpectedly high-pitched voice. “Everyone is waiting for you. Please, go to the 15th floor.”

With a nod, you do as instructed, not without hearing the receptionist over the phone: “The special guests just arrived!”

Special guests?

You don’t have time to dwell in what you just heard, because the next second the elevator doors open with a loud ‘ding’. The 15th floor displays a small lobby –a perfect combination of glass, ivory, and silver. Another beautiful lady is waiting for you in front of a pair of glass doors.

“Welcome,” she says with a smile. “Please, follow me.”

You exchange nervous glances with your friends and follow her lead. The moment she opens the gates is like you are in another world. The room before your eyes is enormous and it is already full of people. Just as you enter, two waitresses approach your group with a silver tray and glass cups with a golden, bubbly liquid. More Champagne.

A man approaches your group once you take the cups. It is not the man you are hoping for but just as welcomed.

“You are here!” Min Yoongi pulls you into a hug. You’ve been texting with him after your little –and too awkward– encounter at the café a couple of weeks ago. He’s pretty nice once you get to know him.

“Yoongi! This is amazing!” you exclaim and he smiles, pleased.

“Thank you.” He just noticed the way your eyes wander around the room looking for him. “I don’t think I have the pleasure.” He gestures your friends and you’re thankful for the distraction.

The introductory part doesn’t last very long and Yoongi leads the group to a part he claims to be the beginning of the exhibition, each piece arranged to tell a story. One that ends with his and Jungkook’s exhibition. As you made your way through the mass of people, it is not the first time you feel someone else’s eyes glued to your back.

“Am I the only one who feels everyone is staring at us?” you hear Namjoon asks.

“I know, right?”

The early discomfort soon soothes away as time goes by and the cups get purred with more champagne. Yoongi, self-proclaimed as your official guide, stays with you and explains the story behind each photography embellishing the gallery walls. It is supposed to be explained by its author, see, but with a large number of people filling the room, everyone’s busy and Yoongi, as the great host he is, is glad to help. It’s not like it is a bother to him. He is so passionate about the matter. A rosy excitement tinting his cheeks, a gummy smile displayed as he happily explains each one of the exhibitions.

It is a pleasant surprise to notice that not only photographies are embellishing the walls of the gallery but paintings and sculptures too.

Yoongi explains to the group the reason why they decided to arrange their gallery as they did: with fake walls placed to form a somewhat labyrinth, each fabricated room gives every exhibition solitude and protagonism. They wanted to enhance the singularities of each of their artists –even when they belong to the same gallery and built their exhibition under the same theme, they wanted to share the beauty in their differences and unique style.

Each exhibition is just as beautiful and mesmerizing as the last one. The vivacious colors are still dancing behind your eyelids as your cup of champagne keeps getting re-filled with excited waitresses. You find yourself having a really good time in the company of your friends and Yoongi (who is slowly becoming your friend too). It warms your heart to see them just as excited as they were in the beginning and asking questions to Yoongi about the exhibitions. You even forget that Jungkook is, still, nowhere to be seen and the bubbling champagne hides the disappointment that sets in the pit of your stomach.

It seems you are reaching the end of the exhibition because a not-naturally shy Yoongi turns around on his heels to face you. “Don’t be so harsh on him, okay?” It is the only sentence he says before he leads you to the last prefabricated room –you don’t have time to register the meaning behind his words before you follow suit. The room is slightly bigger than the previous ones and by the sheepish smile Yoongi sends your way, you realize it’s because it holds not one but two exhibitions: his and Jungkook’s.

His photos are mesmerizing and you don’t have to be an expert on the matter to know he is talented.

The pictures are arranged to tell a story and it impresses you how much emotion they can portray: You can feel the sorrow, the disappointment, the pain of a young man you were abandoned by his family because he wanted to pursue his dreams.

You can sense the relief and genuine brotherhood love he might had felt when he met the younger. He finally had someone who supported him no matter what.

You see a young man who claims to be a loner and cold-hearted but on the inside, he craves the love of a significant other as anyone else and ended being heartbroken when he realized she was in love with his best friend.

Yoongi has suffered. But he's is strong. That's why you admire him.

You reach out to take his hand, "Yoongi, this is amazing." You clutch his hand tightly.

"Thank you," he flashes the brightest of smiles, showing his gums.

Then, you turn around to see Jungkook's exhibition… and now you realize why everyone was staring at you.

The whole wall is full of photos of you and your friends. It is like the last couple of months had been recorded. You remember how Jungkook used to bring his camera everywhere and you didn't quite understand why.

Now you do.

Looking at the pictures you remember all the adventures you all have had together. Like that day when Anna made all of you go to an improvised picnic because the boys started a heated fight over a video game and she was tired of that shit. Then, the picnic ended in a random football game and Jungkook took the photo the moment Taehyung threw the ball and it landed directly in Namjoon’s face. It was a great day indeed.

Or that one time when all your favorite male models got the same stomach flu (weird) and you asked –or more like begged– your male friends to be your models for one day. Taehyung and Jungkook agreed right away but for Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin it took you more to convince them. Using ‘don’t know how to stroll in a runaway’ as an excuse, it took two hours and an express class from one of your girls to finally convince them to help you. At the end of the night, despite their worries, they made it perfectly and Jungkook took some snaps to behold the memory. He now could tell how he was a model for one night and had photos to prove it.

It seems that the photos that embellish the walls of his exhibition are the memories he holds closest to his heart and you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips.

Your eyes kept wandering around Jungkook’s exhibition with a fond smile, only to find your heart rate rise dangerously high when your eyes landed in a particular photo: just you and none else.

And there are a bunch of them.

The sound of your friends happily chatting behind you and other people admiring the exhibitions suddenly become background noise.

Staring at you in the photos is like a third-party experience. It is like you are not seeing yourself but another beautiful woman. And you are doing the simplest of things. Like that one time when it was your turn to feel a little down when one your beloved designs got postponed for the next season and Jungkook took you to a nearby convenience store and he made a super silly joke that almost had you spilling your spicy noodles because you laughed so hard. He took the photo right there.

Sometimes, you pull all-nighters at Jungkook's when the sanctuary at your apartment didn't help your creative juices to flow. He was more than willing to offer his company and it helped you a little. He took the photo when your brows were furrowed and your tongue peaked in concentration because that skirt wasn't cooperating at all.

Or that one time when you took him to the concert of his favorite artist and instead of taking pictures of him as promised, he took some of you.

There are a lot more where you are just laughing, smiling or just doing nothing. There were times when he asked you to take photos of you but you never thought they will end here when you agreed.

What all of this mean? you muse to yourself.

"I'm so happy you could make it," a familiar voice chimes behind you.

Jungkook.

You turn around to face him and what you see leaves you breathless. He is wearing a black suit. One that you designed. You remember giving it to him as a gift after he helped you with the runway. He is also wearing a black dress shirt that would make Taehyung feel proud. The color makes the perfect contrast with his golden skin. His hair is styled in a way his forehead is exposed.

He looks amazing and breathtakingly handsome. The mere sight of him has your stomach doing flip flops and butterflies flying.

“Hi,” you finally salute him with a shy smile.

“Hi.”

He reaches you and pulls you into a hug, one that makes the breath hitch in your throat. He surrounds your body with both arms and your face ends in the crook of his neck. The scent of his cologne makes your head spin. He smells amazing.

“Did you like it?” he asks once he pulls away, too soon for your liking. “The exhibition.”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I-”

“Jungkook, dear.”

A beautiful woman on her late forties gives a loud kiss on both of Jungkook’s cheeks.

"Oh, Miss Smith! I'm glad you could make it!”

A warm smile spreads across his features. The woman –Miss Smith– waves her hand. "That's nonsense. I wouldn't have missed it."

Then, she notices you.

"Who's your companion?"

Jungkook tugs you by the hand and, to your surprise, intertwines his fingers with yours oh so naturally that makes your heart jump.

"This is ___. My-"

"Your beautiful muse!" She muses, her eyes illuminating as she recognizes you from the photos. "Nice to meet you, dear. You two make a great couple."

You open your mouth to tell her that no, you and Jungkook are not a couple, that you are just friends but your mouth goes suddenly dry when Jungkook replies:

"Thank you."

He offers her a tiny smile.

Wait.

Your mind takes a few moments to digest what just happened before you. Your cheeks go warm and you raise your free hand to your chest to make sure your heart is working properly.

"Well, I need to look for my husband but I will call you later. I want to buy one of the sculptures of this artist of yours, Vante. Nice to meet you, ___."

And she disappears through the crowd.

Jungkook turns to you and smiles so brightly.

"Do you want to dance?"

Ten minutes later, Jungkook led you to another side of the gallery, where all the people who finished seeing the exhibition is gathered, with upbeat music and their cups are being re-filled with champagne just as they are emptied. Now, it looks more like a high-society club.

Then, you notice two things.

One, your friends are nowhere to be found. You lost them the moment Jungkook appeared. Two, Jungkook is still holding your hand.

Your poor heart beats nervously inside your chest as you follow Jungkook through the mass of people to the dance floor. Just when you arrive, the music suddenly changes to a slow love song. Your eyes scan the other guests in panic. More than one couple is already dancing and you spot a very shy Seokjin dancing with a very shy Anna in the corner.

Your gaze shifts to Jungkook again, who is looking at you with a charming smile.

"Can I have this dance?" He offers one of his hands.

You gulp and accept his offer. He tugs you close, placing both hands on your waist. His cologne fills your nostrils again and you don't have other choice but place your arms on his shoulders. You just hope he doesn't notice how hard you are blushing.

"It was a really good exhibition, Kook," you say after a while. "I'm proud of you."

"So that means you are not mad?"

"Mad? No. Surprised? Flattered? Yes."

He laughs, relieved. Butterflies erupt in your belly one more time at the way he scrunches his nose.

“I was so worried these last few weeks. I thought you would get mad at me… or something.”

“Why?”

“You helped me to stand on my feet again. It made me part of your family. Opened the doors of our home. I thought you’d think this would be an invasion of privacy.”

You snort.

“Kook, look at them,” you point to your friends in the corner. All of them are laughing, having fun. “Do they look mad?” Jungkook shakes his head. "You are part of us now. That means we will support you in everything you do."

You offer him a warm smile.

"Maybe you should give us a heads up next time. We spent the first half-hour feeling out of place because everyone was staring at us."

He chuckles at that.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry. It was quite an experience."

You continue to dance. Then, he moves his hands. He is no longer resting his hands on your waist. Now, he intertwines his fingers behind your lower back making you move even closer to him.

You are so close that you notice the freckle under his lower lip. The curve of his cheeks. The sharpness of his jaw. The way the galaxies are reflected in his doe-eyes…

"You look so beautiful today," he comments after a while, making you feel self-conscious under his intense gaze. Then, he leans in and whispers against your ear, "Red is my favorite color."

Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize how close his face is. His breath tickles the smooth skin of your lips. You nibble your bottom lip nervously and you watch how his attention shifts from your eyes to your lips. As if in slow motion, he moves forward –shutting the remaining distance between you two. When he is mere inches away, you close your eyes and hold your breath. A content sigh escapes your lips when his mouth brushes gently against yours and… -

“Mr. Jeon?”

To your misfortune, he pulls away immediately. Without thinking, you rest your forehead on his shoulder as you try to calm your heart. It is a pleasant surprise to find his arms are still clutched around your frame even when you stopped dancing a long time ago. It seems he feels so comfortable to have you between his arms to care.

“Yes?”

Jungkook's voice sounds so stern you feel sorry for his poor assistant.

“S-sorry to interrupt you, sir,” she starts and you don’t need to look at her to know she is doing her best to not run for dear life. Talking by experience, you know Jungkook can be pretty scary. “The curator of the Modern Art Museum is looking for you.”

He lets out a sigh.

“Ok, I am on my way.”

Then, he brushes his nose against your cheek to draw your attention. When you meet his eyes, his gaze is as soft as you remember.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

He gives you a chaste kiss to the cheek and disappears behind his assistant before you can think of a reply.

You join your group of friends 5 minutes later and grab another glass of champagne in an attempt to ignore the smirks and pointed looks of your friends.

What on earth was that?

Your cheeks burn again when you remember how soft Jungkook’s lips felt when they brushed against yours… What would have happened if you were not interrupted? Would the kiss have led to something more?

You shake your head.

You can't dwell on these thoughts right now. Not when your mind is full of hormones. Certainly, seeing Jungkook in a tuxedo hit you hard. Just the mere thought of it is enough to make you feel week on the knees. It is not the first time you see him like that, though. But the sentiment was different back when he helped you in the runway. What changed? Your feelings. Besides, with the amount of champagne you've drunk in the night –especially in the last 5 minutes–, your mind is a mess right now.

“Are you okay?”

The voice of your friend brings you back to reality.

“Yeah… I’m just so confused…”

“Hey,” Anna gives you a comfortable squeeze, “I dón think this is the right moment and the right time to think about that. Let’s have fun tonight. Okay?”

Before you could reply, she is dragging you to the corner of the dance floor where Hoseok and Taehyung are having an improvised dance battle.

One of the things you love the most about your friends is that they are capable of making you forget about anything when you were all together. Soon, all about Jungkook and the feelings vanish. At least for a while. You don't see Jungkook and Yoongi for the rest of the night.

Time passes quickly. Before you know it it's midnight and your group is one of the few ones that are still at the gallery.

"Wow, rich people are no fun."

"Yeah. It is just midnight…"

Then, Tae suggested moving to the party to a club.

"Dressed like this, we could enter a high-class club and they couldn't look at us weird."

Hoseok and Seokjin accept right away. Anna is a little reluctant but Seokjin manages to convince her. Namjoon reclines. Something about finishing an article that is due to Monday.

"What about you, ___?"

"I don't know, I-"

"Hey, ___," Yoongi appears out of nowhere.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Jungkook forgot this in the office," he hands you his cell phone. "Can you give it to him when you see him?"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. He left 10 minutes ago." Then, he notices your confused expression, "Don't worry. He had a problem with a client. Nothing serious but you him. He has quite a mood. He probably went to cool off. I guess his idea was contacting you later but he can't with his cellphone."

Now, Yoongi turns to your friends.

"If you need transportation, the limo that brought you guys here is waiting for you outside."

"Thank you, Yongs. Everything was beautiful," you say with a smile.

"Thank you. I'll call you later, okay? I still need to wrap up everything."

In the end, you decide to return home. It was a long day full of emotions of all sorts and your heels are killing you. You plan to return Jungkook his phone in the morning. You are not sure where he is right now.

The guys drop at your building and then they take the limo to the nearest club. The elevator dings when you arrive at your floor. You lazily walk toward your door and then stop. That's strange. Jungkook's door is wide open and the lights are on. This neighborhood is pretty secure but how can you know it is not a thief? You probably should call the police but something keeps you going.

You knock the door.

"Hello? Jungkook, are you there?"

"Yeah! I'm in the living room!"

You sigh in relief. No thieves.

"You forgot your phone at the gallery,” you comment as you walk towards his living room. “Yoongi gave it- Is that my photo?"

The first thing you see when you enter the room is Jungkook holding one of the photos he exhibited and you are the only one in the frame.

“Hmm… Yeah?”

You are beyond shocked to notice the faint blush covering his cheeks.

“Why is it here?” You stare at him wide-eyed.

"One of my clients wanted to buy it, but I just couldn't sell it,” he shrugs like it is obvious.

"Why? They couldn’t pay you what you asked?"

He frowns, “No, that’s not it.” His gaze returns to the photo. "I don't know. This is my favorite photo of you and it was like I couldn't bear the thought of someone else having it."

At this point your heart has gone crazy inside your chest, beating so fast that you can no longer hear it.

"What do you mean?"

He raises an eyebrow, confused.

"Jungkook, why you chose me as your muse?"

There, you asked him the question you wanted to since the beginning of the exhibition.

"Because I admire you," he replies without hesitation. "You are passionate, beautiful and you fight for what you want. You've helped me a lot. How could I not choose you?"

Your heart jumps. He thinks you are beautiful. He takes a step closer to you.

“Ilikeyou,” he blurts out.

“W-what?”

Jungkook groans, dragging a hand down his face.

"I like you,” he repeats slower after taking a deep breath. You’ve never imagined seeing him like this. You are used to his self-confident, kind of dork too, demeanor. “And I'm tired of pretending I don't.”

“Why were you pretending?”

“To be honest, I was scared,” he confesses. “I was scared of how I was feeling; it felt so familiar yet so different. Scared of you not feeling the same way. Scared of the feelings not being real, like they were just an infatuation because you were there for me when no one else was. I wanted to make sure before I talked to you about this.”

He is now close enough to take your hands in his.

“So, you are not scared anymore?" You whisper.

"No, I'm terrified. But in a good way. Now I'm sure my feelings are real and I want to give it a try. You know, go on a date."

"Aren't we were on a date tonight?"

He grins, "But I didn't spend much time with you."

He almost pouts and the view makes you giggle.

"But I had a great time, though."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"Does that mean you want a second date?"

“Do I need to say ‘I like you’ for you to understand what I feel or-”

Your words are interrupted when Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You blink, suddenly speechless.

“No,” he grins at your expression. “I’m sorry. I wanted to do that since we were, uh, interrupted at the gala.”

Jungkook’s thoughts waver when you still don’t say a thing. “Did I cross a line? I won’t do that-”

“Please, do that again,” you cut him off finding your voice again.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, but he takes his time now. He cups your face with both hands and caresses the skin of your cheeks with his thumbs. You hold your breath as Jungkook’s face moves forward and close your eyes when his lips brush gently against yours. The kiss starts at a slow pace. He tastes good; champagne, mint and something more. It is addictive. For a while, you both stay like that. Content with being in each other's arms. You start to feel lightheaded.

There's no place you'd rather be.

Suddenly, Jungkook pushes you to the nearest wall and presses his body against yours. He uses his fingers to tilt your face and deepen the kiss. His body accommodates naturally between your legs. His hands slowly start to unbutton your coat, exposing your dress to him once again. Jungkook slides it down your shoulders and the coat hits the floor. He lets out a soft sigh.

“You are so pretty.”

His hands find purchase on your waist as his lips attack yours one more time. He kisses you with so much fervor that you need to hold his shoulders for dear life.

In all these years, you forgot how good this felt. Having this type of… intimacy with someone. He holds you so dearly it makes your head spin. He whispers sweet nothings against your lips between kisses that make your heart flutter.

Without thinking it twice, you help him to take off his suit jacket and untuck his dress shirt to slide both hands under it. You rake your nails all along his back and Jungkook's whole body shudders at the sensation. He seems affected to the point he pulls away to look at you. When your eyes open, you see Jungkook is staring at you with slightly blown pupils.

"You don't know how much you affect me, do you?"

You can feel his erection pressed against your belly. "I think I have an idea," you reply with a grin.

"Yeah?"

He doesn't give you the chance to reply, because Jungkook is carrying you bridal style and taking you to his room. You've been in this bedroom so many times but your eyes wander nonetheless. Comparing to the first time you entered here, the room is quite neat.

“So, it turns out you are pretty organized.”

Jungkook’s arms slide around your middle from behind. He gives you a soft kiss to your neck. “Well, you met me in one of my worsts times.”

You turn around to face him. Lips crushing together, he hungrily seeks the heat of your mouth. With a sigh, you throw both arms around his neck. His palms fall to your waist. The dress you are wearing is soft to touch. He lets out a whine when you tug gently the hair in the nape of his neck. You look at him surprised.

“You are sensitive.”

You repeat the motion.

He groans, “___, you need to stop doing that.”

“Why?” You kiss his jaw.

“I may not have mercy when I find one of your weaknesses.”

Your lips curl, “I’m counting on that.”

Jungkook kisses you again, harder. His hands undo the laces of your dress.

“Turn around for me, baby.”

You exhale at the pet name but do as you are told.

“Are you kidding? These are like tons of buttons!”

“Careful, Kook,” The buttons are one of the things you loved the most about the dress. “If you break it, you pay it.”

He mumbles something under his breath but with skilled fingers, he patiently undoes every one of them. He even takes the moment to kiss every inch of skin is exposed making it so hard to wait. It only takes him a couple of minutes to finish. Then, you return him the favor and help him rid of his clothes.

At some point, you lay down in the mattress, Jungkook hovering above you. There’s a lot of kissing as if you’ll never have enough of the other. Jungkook preps your body using his fingers at a slow, agonizing pace that makes your head spin. He enjoys every beautiful sound that comes out of your mouth. He keeps his promise and he has no mercy when he curls his fingers inside of you to rub your soft spot every time until you are gasping for air.

Soon, you are a moaning mess underneath him. Jungkook murmurs words of encouragement as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses all along your neck. Then, he takes his time to play with your chest, giving each one of your breasts the same amount of attention and care. Your release comes so strong, like a tidal wave. You see nothing but starts for a couple of seconds. It takes another couple of seconds before you can breathe somewhat properly again. A soft moan escapes your mouth when he licks his fingers.

Jungkook massages your thighs, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just wow.”

He smiles, cheeks flushing. You tug him for another kiss, opening his mouth with yours. He gasps at your passion and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue inside the crevice of his mouth. He melts against your touch. You both make out lazily for a while, both legs wrapped around his waist. Your hazy mind barely registered when he moved forward to grab a condom from the nightstand, but he is already rolling the latex down his length.

“Are you ready, beautiful?” Jungkook is staring at you so dearly.

You nod. Holding your gaze, he eases himself slowly inside of you.

You receive him with open arms, hugging his body close to yours. You sigh at the feeling of fullness. He groans at the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

“At this point, I’m not going to last long,” he pants.

He starts at a slow pace. Gentle strokes that hit your soft spot every time. The thrusts might be slow, but he is pumping into you with so much force that you feel every inch of him. At some point, he kisses you again. Slow, languid. Lovingly. There's no rush in his movements. You hug him hard, trying to keep his body as close as possible.

He changes the angle adjusting one of your legs a little higher. His thrusts hit deeper now. Your body starts to tremble and he slides a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, circling it with ease. And then you are coming, your whole body shuddering underneath him. Jungkook only manages a couple of more thrusts before he is following you over the edge.

He collapses on top of you, groaning into the crook of your neck. You both stay like that for a couple of minutes, until your heartbeat calms down and you are breathing normally again. Then, Jungkook stands up to discard the condom and look for something to clean up the mess you just made. When he is content, he lays next to you and tugs you closer, sliding one arm around your waist and adjusting your head to rest on his chest. He even murmurs something but you are already dozing to sleep…

When you wake up the next morning, the sun is already up. You stretch your sore limbs and yawn. Your stomach grumbles. You haven’t eaten in more than 12 hours. You open your eyes and…

Wait.

Why are you in Jungkook’s room?

The memories of last night slowly come to your head.

Oh my god.

You slept with Jungkook and the realization has you blushing furiously and burying your face between your hands. Then, you notice the spot next to you in the bed is empty. You look around the room slightly in panic when you hear the sound of the shower.

You take a deep breath. Right now is not the time to panic. Last night he made pretty clear he wanted to date you to figure if things could work between you, so there’s no point to worry about anything. You can talk about what happened yesterday over breakfast.

But first, what time is it?

You don't know anything about your friends since they went to the club last night. Even when you want to stay with Jungkook, it's probably a good idea to check if your friends are okay. But you are hungry and knowing Jungkook, he is too. You should prepare something and have breakfast together before leaving. With your mind made up, you look for something to wear and walk out of the room.

You locate your purse on the floor of the living room. With a sigh, you pick it up and dig inside to grab your phone to see the hour. 11:46 am. It is not that late. It is when you see an unread message that you notice that it is not your phone you are holding. It is Jungkook's. Yesterday, you didn’t have the opportunity to give it back to him… and the message is from Zoe…

With the anxiety striking every fiber of your being, unconsciously you unlock his phone (he doesn’t have a password of any kind) and you wish you haven’t done that.

[2:37 pm] Zoe

Good luck at the gala tonight. :)

[2:40 pm] Zoe

I miss you.

[3:06 pm] Jungkook

Thank you.

I miss you too.

[6:32 pm] Zoe

Can we meet sometime?

I need to talk to you.

[6:55 pm] Jungkook

I would love that.

To be continued. :)

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfics #jungkook x reader #bts #story: love sewn #jvnghxope

324 notes · View notes

autumnslance · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, I'm gonna need you to give us a short story with Thancred teaching Aeryn how to gunbreaker now, specifically through dueling and close melee range.

((You’re just trying to enable me and get some trope-ridden, indulgent fic posted, huh? Well joke’s on you buddy, I already have a tropey, indulgent draft, though it’s from Heavensward patch era, featuring grumpy Thancred, amused Midgardsormr, and definitely a sparring match. Now on Ao3. So is the follow up.))

——-

“You’re avoiding me,” Aeryn said before Thancred could walk away.

“No,” he answered. “I have been busy. As have you. All of us, preparing for Ser Aymeric’s grand tournament.”

“Then let’s prepare,” she said. “Spar with me.”

“Perhaps later–”

She crossed her arms and glared. “Why? You’re lounging, so please don’t tell me you’re currently busy. I also checked with Tataru.”

Thancred closed his mouth to bite back the ready reply. “Why do you need to spar anyway? We all know you are going to win. ‘Tis what you do.”

She caught the bitterness he tried to hide. “Not always,” she answered. They did not look at each other for a long moment. “Anyroad, I shouldn’t get complacent. And you’re the best sparring partner.”

“Am I?” he asked. There might have been a hint of acid in his tone.

“None better. Absolute taskmaster.”

He snorted and pushed off the wall he was leaning on. “Well fine, if you’re going to be flattering.”

They made their way through the gates and across the Steps of Faith, the wind whipping at their clothes and hair. Aeryn watched him.

“What?” He asked.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked. “After so many years in Thanalan, and you tend to wear lighter gear–”

“No,” Thancred said after a moment. “It is rather refreshing actually. And desert nights are chilly in their own way. Though I admit, I would not say no to an afternoon lounging in Vesper Bay’s square over crossing this bridge.”

“With overpriced orange juice from the Pissed Peiste?”

He did not reply, though for a moment it looked as if he might. He must have remembered he was angry, and wished to forgo banter. Aeryn suppressed a sigh.

“The tournament will be happening around here,” Thancred said as they reached the open plain beyond the Steps. The road stretched east and up toward Camp Dragonhead, clouds gathering over distant Xelphatol beyond the hills. Down to the west, she could barely make out the glint of Whitebrim’s towers.

“You will want to have a good idea of the ground,” he continued, crouching and peering across the open space. “Wouldn’t do to fall face first at some private’s feet because you tripped over a chinchilla’s burrow.”

“I think there’s a detail coming out to grade the area later today,” she said, drawing her rapier. “But that will just make it easier.”

“Hrmph.” He stood again, stretching as he did, then swinging his arms. “No doubt. Still; let us forgo magic for now. I want to see how you have worked on your swordsmanship these past few moons.”

“You’re sure you’re not cold?”

“I am limbering up,” he said, tone as cool as the air.

Aeryn shrugged. If he wanted to be that way. She was about to start her own stretches when Thancred suddenly dashed at her, blades drawn, making her bring her own up to meet them and immediately putting her on the defensive, forcing her back a few steps.

“Do your enemies announce when they’re ready?” He snarled, testing her defenses. He was mostly using his long Allagan blade, but she kept an eye on his smaller off-hand weapon; he had changed how he fought during his time in the wilderness.

Before, he had fought with a single sword, or matched short blades. His style had been flamboyant, even to the point of showing off, as a way to obfuscate his strikes and baffle his foes. As he pushed Aeryn across the clearing, she noted he still fought with flair and panache not found in most combatants–yet seemed more direct, less reliant on feints and misdirection than in the past. There was nothing wasteful in his movement, for all they flowed like a dance.

She could admit she was a bit envious.

And still on the back foot, godsdammit. She tried a parry Haurchefant had taught her, and gained back a few steps. A few quick strikes practiced with Lucia put Thancred on the defensive, and she caught him briefly grin.

“Mayhap your flirting across Coerthas has done you well after all,” he said, a sharp edge to the teasing.

“What?” Aeryn demanded. How dare he, he knew her better than—

The Echo’s warning came a moment too late as he spun away from her riposte, running his blade along the length of hers until with a flick of his wrist, her sword was caught, her arm twisted back as he stepped behind her, his offhand coming up to rest lightly against her throat.

“You’re easily distracted,” his voice rumbled low in her ear.

Aeryn turned her head to retort, but the words stuck when their eyes met and she was suddenly, intensely aware of being pressed against him, back to chest, their breathing heavy from the exercise and nearly in time with one another. They were close to the same height–he was only perhaps two ilms taller–so their faces were close, his brown eye strangely hooded and his lips were right there as he leaned in and gods why was she even thinking that…

They were close enough she could taste his breath, their lips barely brushing. Her eyes closed of their own accord, in anticipation of further pressure.

“…No,” he breathed, and she was suddenly spun, like when they used to dance to entertain the other Scions in that time Before Ul’dah.

Aeryn and Thancred stood in the snow, staring at one another. “That’s enough for today,” he said brusquely. “If you stay focused, you should do well enough against the Grand Companies.”

“Thancred…”

He turned away. ��I apologize; that was an inappropriate distraction.”

She stared at his back for a long moment. Before he could turn his head to look, she cleared her throat. “Nothing to apologize for,” Aeryn said shortly. “All’s fair, as they say.”

“…Quite,” he replied, though sounded strange. “I believe I am rather cold after all, and will retire to the Forgotten Knight for some of Gibrillont’s mulled wine.”

She waited for him to add more, to invite her along, to offer to discuss whatever the seven hells that had been, but he walked on toward the gate. To be fair, though, she couldn’t quite manage to make those offers herself.

Aeryn watched him go, then continued to practice; not as effective as with a partner, but better than nothing, and she wouldn’t be returning to the city with him and the continued air of awkwardness.

“Thou art restless,” Midgardsormr’s voice rumbled from her left. Aeryn paused, looking over to see the small dragonet form of the ancient wyrm sitting upon a nearby stone.

“There is much to prepare for tomorrow,” she answered, returning to her drills.

“Yet there is spare time for courtship rituals?”

Aeryn fumbled mid-maneuver, nearly dropping her rapier. She blinked at him. “What? No! That was…we were sparring. Practicing, for tomorrow’s tournament.”

The dragonet tilted his head. “‘Tis not what it appeared, but mortals are strange.”

She only grunted a response and returned to her ready stance. Feint, riposte, zwerchhau…

“He is strong and skilled,” Midgardsormr continued, in a musing tone. “As I recall, such qualities are sought after, as mortals require physical mating to pass on–

“Midgardsormr,” Aeryn hissed–after stumbling again, her face on fire.

He flapped his tiny wings, and she swore he was grinning. “I was but making an observation, child, and musing on the differences between thy kin and mine own. Draconic mating is a melding of mind and spirit, rather than the flesh.”

“I am aware,” Aeryn said tightly, trying to not snap at the Father of Dragons. This was not helping take her mind off that almost-kiss. She was certain, too, the elder knew that.

There was a shift in the dragonet’s stance, and his deep black eyes now watched her closely, the hint of mirth faded. “Thou hath enjoyed the man’s companionship in the past.’Twould seem since his return, you have been at odds.”

Aeryn sheathed her blade; she was getting no further exercise in today. “…Yes,” she finally answered him. “‘Twould seem that way. I…failed to save the person he entrusted to my care, and then I failed to bring her back.”

Midgardsormr shook his head. “She but followed thy Mother’s call, and made her own choice. There was naught for thee to do upon the matter. Thou shouldst not blame thyself–Nor bear blame from others.” The last came with a slight warning growl.

“I…I don’t know if he does or not,” she admitted. “We’ve worked together, and he was honestly concerned when I was poisoned…And…” Her back pressed to his chest, his eye looking into hers, their lips not even an ilm apart. “…I’m likely imagining things, that’s all.”

That had to be it. A simple distraction, as he had said. She mustn’t read into it.

“Hrmph,” Midgardsormr rumbled. “How thy people have propagated when capable of such self-delusion is one of life’s great mysteries.”

She glowered at him. “Which of us is the expert at mortals, actually being one? You’re mistaken. Thancred is known for his flirtations and distractions; that is all it was. Naught more.”

The dragonet stretched, and made a motion almost akin to a shrug. “Thy protestations are noted,” he responded, before fading out in a puff of aether.

Aeryn rubbed her forehead. She could still sense his rumbling chuckle in the back of her mind. Once she was more or less composed–or at least no longer felt as if her face would set fire to the Gates of Judgment when she passed through them–she made her way back to the city.

—

What in the seven bloody hells had he been thinking?

Thancred ran a hand over his face as he nursed his mulled wine. The problem, of course, was that he had not been thinking. Caught in the rhythm of their sparring match, he had reacted on instinct, and she was right there and…

Inappropriate, he reminded himself. For so very many reasons. He knew at one point he had had a list, the first time he had bucked this ridiculous notion of an interest in the woman who had become their Warrior of Light.

There was one; the champion of the realm could certainly do better than a grizzled, magicless rogue.

There was another; since his misadventure in the Lifestream and being left in Dravania’s wilderness without magic, he now looked and felt closer to his actual age of thirty-two winters. Still young enough to do his job, but it seemed a decent gap against her twenty-six. She was even younger than–

That thought made him slug down a too-large gulp of too-hot wine. It helped focus the pain and gave an excuse for the tears threatening to appear as he coughed, waving away the bartender.

Aeryn had looked him in the eye and nodded when he had told her “whatever it takes” and yet…

That was not fair, and not part of the list, though he couldn’t help the anger, the grief, the shame at lying to F'lhaminn.

He retired to the small room in Cloud Nine that Tataru had rented for him. Laying in bed staring at the ceiling, he found his mind wandering back to the sparring match. How Aeryn felt pressed against him, how she smelled, how her grey eyes had darkened and then closed as their lips nearly touched…Godsdammit.

He could always blame spending time alone in the wilderness for how easily distracted he was by a pretty woman, colleague or not.

That Aeryn had seemed willing did not help; it would have been easier if she had pushed him away, cursed at him, reminded him that she did not experience such base attractions. A voice whispered that did not negate a desire for intimacy, and there were those rumors of her and the knight. He told that voice to shut up as he rolled over. But his imagination continued, conjuring images of furthering that kiss, of pressing closer, his fingers tangling in her fine black hair, the taste of her…

The aftertaste of mulled wine on his own tongue remembered the bite he had smelled in the fallen cup at Falcon’s Nest, her lying on the floor as chaos reigned outside, and the feeling of his heart in his throat at the idea of Aeryn poisoned.

Perhaps that was why he was in such a strange mood, he decided. Fear for his friend’s life, even as he was still grieving Minfilia.

Satisfied, he turned his mind to a mummer’s breathing exercise, a trick to fall asleep quickly, forcing his mind to still so he could rest.

—-

((There’s a lemony solo-Thancred follow-up to this too.))

#Final Fantasy XIV #Heavensward #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Midgardsormr #Lyn Writing #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker #tension #mutual pining #Dragon Dad is the best #hope this satisfies #and hope the read more works #temperjoke

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pythosart · 5 years ago

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A big ol 2019 end of the year update

I felt somewhat compelled to write my end of the year/decade thoughts, but a warning before you read: This one’s going to be heavy, intensely personal, and long. If you don’t feel up to reading that, it may be best to skip it. I promise I’ll go back to shutting up and posting art afterwards. I’m profoundly incapable of being concise, ever, so apologies for the length of this.

2019 was a nightmare.

Some background: In mid 2016, my mother was diagnosed with a rare form of liver cancer. She was given a few months to live. She was given weeks or months to live multiple times, for almost three years. In that time my mom was in and out of the hospital, but spent all her good days living life to the fullest, starting and finishing dream projects, and keeping all of us going despite her own situation. Even when she was bedridden, hooked up to tubes and bags and god knows what, she found time to prop up her loved ones and pursue her hobbies. She even managed to develop new hobbies and interests while otherwise imprisoned by her physical state, something I struggle to do at the best of times even in my young and relatively healthy form. If there’s anything I can make of this experience, it’s that I hope to grow into even half the woman my mother was.

I ended 2018 with my final quarter at SCAD. I spent the entire quarter terrified my mom was going to die while I was away from home. It was horrific, I barely scraped by my last few classes (bless my professors’ endless patience), and immediately left Savannah for home as soon as the quarter was up. I never had room to celebrate finishing college. Any other year it would be a huge milestone, but I barely even care.

This past May, my mother passed away, after three years of petrifying suspense. It happened in the dead middle of the night, while my best friend was visiting for a con, and it still feels like a bad dream. It’s also one of the only vivid memories I even have of this year.

I wish I had more to say on that, but I genuinely think the drawn out suffering and fracturing of my whole world left me unable to fully unpack everything that’s happened. It’s hard to even think about for long, and at times I even half-forget she’s gone. I think of things I want to show her, or tell her, or cook with her. Just the other day I kept thinking I’d tell her how much I liked endive after she showed me how to make it. I found a historical Italian cooking channel that, every time I see it, I just think of how much she’d love it. I knew she’d love Hot Fuzz but never got to show her. Little, stupid things that shouldn’t matter, but they do. They just do.

My mother and I were close, much closer than I am with my dad. Especially towards the end of her life, we had gotten closer, and I felt like I was only just really getting to know her as an equal. I still want to share my life with her, but that chance is gone.

This holiday season has been especially rough in her absence, because not only was my mom the motivational and creative force behind a lot of holiday activities here, it’s the first everything without her. We had Thanksgiving with friends and a catered dinner, instead of spending several days cooking and polishing family silver and setting the table. I won’t be making handmade tortellini with her for Christmas like we did every year. It’s the little things like that.

We’re a tiny family, with over half of us in Italy and lacking much communication due to the language barrier. Family holidays were always small, but there’s just a huge hole how, much greater than the cold numeric value of “one fewer participant.” My mom was always a driving force and a keystone in our support networks, not to mention the main line of contact with the Italian-speaking side of the family, so now the family feels so much more scattered and isolated than ever.

My girlfriend was close to my mother too, and as she’s been living with me for years now and is practically part of the family, I think she took it just as hard as anyone. Cel saw everything I did, and dealt with many of the same uncertainties and traumatic experiences I did.

A month after I lost my mother, I lost my cat too. Galileo was twelve years old, a spry old man who yelled instead of meowed, and just a wonderful cat. I got him when I was in 7th grade, after begging my parents for years to get me a cat. It was my mom who eventually overrode my dad’s hesitations, and from then on Leo was part of the family. He went through a very sudden decline over the course of a week or two, and we learned it was cancer. Feline lymphoma, I think. I had to make the call to put him to sleep, and it ripped what was left of my heart out.

Not that it needs stating, but fuck cancer.

A few too-short months later, I cut ties with a “friend,” which despite how fucking much it hurt, was really for the best. At a certain point one simply can no longer afford to waste energy on a certain kind of person. Unfortunately I’m a persistently optimistic idiot, and it took me too long to cut my losses before deep damage was done. Done to me, my close friends, and even barely involved acquaintances this “friend” dumped on relentlessly and tried to harass into spying on me. Really, if any part of this is unforgivable, it’s that.

All this was, however, a valuable reminder that it’s no good to have any tolerance for habitually dishonest people, even if they think they’re doing it to look “nice.” Chronic liars will gaslight you whether they know it or not, and trying to navigate that in an already damaged mental state is inadvisable. It was an important lesson in picking one’s battles, albeit one learned too late. I’m still holding out hope I can find it in my heart to forgive this person, if only for my own selfish sake so I can move on. I have a lot of experience living on spite, and I don’t want to make a further habit of it.

Naturally all of the above did little to curb my already inflamed pessimism about the state of my country and the world at large, but I need not expand on that, I imagine.

I suppose it would be unfair of me to leave it all at that and only mention the negative, though admittedly positivity is hard to muster these days. A few bright spots of note:

Graduated from SCAD with my BFA in Sequential Art (technically last year, but I did the ceremonial bit this year)

Tabled at Animazement with Woods. We barely broke even, but it was a great time and I plan on doing it again in the new year.

Spent literally an entire month hanging out with my two best friends, which was amazing and exactly the kind of healing experience I needed around that time of year.

Properly did Halloween for the first time in years. I made a costume I’m proud of and we went out on the town… for like an hour, because it promptly started pouring. But fun nevertheless

Started therapy. As of writing this, I’ve only had an introductory session, but it’s a start. Should have started six months ago, but didn’t for reasons to be addressed...in therapy

Started volunteering at the local natural history museum, where I spent like half my childhood. I’ll be doing data entry in collections, but that’s still cool as hell

Got a start on figuring out what I want to do with my life. It’ll involve going back to school for science within the next five-ish years, but it’s nice to have a goal. More of a goal than I’ve ever had, in fact.

Played some extremely good video games (shout out to The Blackout Club and Control)

Made a shitload of unnecessary yet endlessly fun and good AUs with my friends and my one (1) OC

Got an iPad Pro and started learning Procreate, which has gotten me drawing more

Learned a bit of needle felting

2019 was a year of getting much closer to my two best friends, and I genuinely owe them my life at this point. I don’t know where I’d be without them. Nowhere good, certainly.

Woods and Dross kept me talking to people, kept me creating, told me when I was being unreasonable or needed to cool it, heard me out when I needed it but always kept me honest. They helped me keep some creative juices flowing when otherwise I’d have been at a frustrated loss and might have given up for good. If it seems like I’ve kept up my usual art output at all, and if you’ve enjoyed the Lou content (or not, whoops... apologies to everyone who followed me for monster content) you have both of them to thank.

Even moreso, I owe my girlfriend a great deal for being there for me through all of this while she herself was suffering similarly. She and I have had our ups and downs, and been through a lot in the five-ish years we’ve been together. We aren’t the most outspoken couple, but I think our mutual understanding and pain mitigated a lot of the damage this year has done. I don’t think I could have handled it alone.

Furthermore, I really need to thank a lot of other friends and acquaintances I’m not quite as close with, but still talk to. These people especially were willing to call me on my bullshit when necessary, or just talk to me at all, about anything. Even if these acquaintances didn’t know it at the time, there’s a good chance they were dragging me out of one of my frequent existential despair spirals.

I also, weirdly, owe a lot to helping my hen Julia recover from her dog attack. That was around the time that my mom’s health was in its final decline, when I felt the most helpless and despairing. I think having even some tiny something I could do to help was like, the only feeling of control I had in life for a bit there. Julia’s fine, by the way. Still queen of the yard, top chicken boss bitch, etc. Julia was always a kind of kindred spirit with my mom, in a way. Little but not to be underestimated, gray, big personality and commanding presence… Not to mention, she was one of the first in our flock and was always my mom’s favorite.

It would be too much to say I have high hopes or plans of any kind for the upcoming year, but I do have a list of things I want to try and do. Some of which will involve art, and the posting thereof.

Big if on this one, but I’ve also recently started therapy (only took me half a year to work up to making a phone call after the first failed attempt took all the wind out of my sails) and I have…maybe not high hopes, but hopes, for that doing something to help. I should have started therapy two years ago, but the second best time is now, etc etc.

I have a lot of New Year’s resolutions, beyond the usual “get in shape, drink less coffee, blah blah” that I’ll try and write up a little list of separately. Most of them are art-related, so you all will be there to watch me swing and miss I PROMISED I’D TRY TO BE LESS NEGATIVE. New Year’s resolution #1: Maybe don’t make so many self-deprecating jokes.

Anyway, I don’t know how to end any wall of text, be it an OC worldbuilding screed or something serious like this, so... I guess, love yourself, cherish your friends, know when to put your own needs first and when to put your friends’ needs firster. One of the things my mom taught me in this past year or so is that relationships are what you make of them, and that it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. Be generous, be genuine, don’t be a doormat and don’t lie to people you care about, even if it seems kinder in the moment. Savor the time you have with those close to you, and spend time doing things you love. Cliché, maybe, but cliché can still be true. Happy new year, everyone. I sincerely hope it will treat us all better. 2020 may just be an imaginary change of numbers, but I like to think it really does wipe the slate in a way, and make room for all of us to do what we can to be better. Speaking of which, vote. For the love of all that is good, vote.

A little bullet list of New Year’s resolutions, because it’s nicer to look at

Try to get back in shape (of course) - That 30 days of strength thing was good while it lasted, despite my joints hating me

Learn some new recipes, preferably with fewer carbs, you Italian ass

Keep a physical calendar and stick with it for at least a few months

Learn at least one new skill by the middle of the year, whether it’s art-related or something else

Start writing more. Don’t have to share it, but try. Write down ideas somewhere other than Discord where they’re easy to lose

Either reopen Patreon or figure out how ko-fi works. Even if it’s for no money, just to have structure and goals.

Do Animazement again and try out some new product types

Go to SCAD career fair with a decent portfolio

Get better about spending, by whatever method works

Attend some art classes at the local collectives, doesn’t matter what

Play more video games. I swear I only played like three new things this year

Read more classic literature and nonfiction, at least one book per month. I’ve been really enjoying Agatha Christie’s works and am about to start Guns, Germs, and Steel

Read more comics. Basically just consume more media

Do Halloween again, better this time

See friends in person more

Practice accepting whatever shitty thoughts show up and then letting them go, rather than dwelling on them

#not art #text post #death cw

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yangholic · 6 years ago

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Hear No Evil | pt. 2

Summary: Two sets of tenants— both living and deceased living together under one roof? Sounds like the plot of a romcom. Mysterious occurrences baffle the married couple as they try to enjoy their summer vacation in their new home, the cause of the disturbances being two dysfunctional ghosts in a love-hate relationship. So what disasters will they newly wedded couple face when one of the ghosts is not only a murderer but a creepy pervert?

Pairing: Chemist!Yoongi x Fem!Reader and Ghost!Taehyung x Ghost!Reader

a/n: be sure to read part one here!

word count: 4.5k

trigger warning: mentions of grief and guilt, smut smut smut smut (dirty talking), BDSM, ddlg, intentional pollution, dysfunctional relationships, cursing/profanity, and crackheadery

It took a few days for you and Yoongi to properly settle into your summer home. Every now and then, things would be misplaced, only for you to later find them in the dishwasher, or behind a pillow. Sometimes, Yoongi would complain about his office being a little too cold for his liking, despite the thermostat never going below a comfortable temperature.

But most of all, the two of you hated that every time you were in the mood, something had to go wrong. Interruptions ranged from the fire alarm going off — despite no presence of smoke whatsoever— to every single bottle of lube mysteriously finding their ways into the trash can. On one hand, you didn’t necessarily mind the constant teasing between the two of you, but Yoongi, on the other hand, was almost at his wit’s end. He needed something, anything, to relieve him of his ache; you.

Yoongi hastily crossed the apartment until he found you relaxing near the living room window. The lamp that hung on the wall gave off a small illumination in the large room, striking the side of your face as you lay there, resting. The night was dark and quiet except for the soft padder of the rain outside, gently tapping on the windows.

Bending his knees, he softly shook you awake earning an adorable pout and cute view of you rubbing your eyes.

“Aww, I’m sorry baby. Were you tired?”

“Mmm…No...” You murmured, reaching your arms for him to hold you. “Not really…”

Yoongi gently threaded his arms underneath your thighs, hoisting you up to carry you bridal style. You leaned your head on his chest, throwing your arms around his neck as he brought you up the steps.

As he placed you carefully on the bed, he turned on both lamps on each side of the bed before joining you. You fluttered your eyes open, before smiling and giggling as his lips attacked your neck. You reciprocated the gesture, placing delicate kisses on his cheeks and lips. Like sweet vanilla, Yoongi devoured your lips entirely, tasting every crevice of your mouth.

“Is it okay if we do it tonight?” He whispered, tugging at the hem of your shirt, signaling what he was suggesting. Your eyes widened for a second, before smiling warmly at him, your fingers coming up to interweave with his hair. You gave him a nod of approval before happily sighing which seemed to melt his normally cold heart. “Y/n, can I tie you up again?”

You gulped at first, remembering the first time he had proposed this idea, yet, remembering how at-ease you felt with how his arms skillfully worked and tied everything together. It was an indescribable experience; tight ropes clinging onto your skin as Yoongi pleasured you. Nevertheless, you nodded to him, ushering him over to the dresser as he rummaged through it.

As you laid there, you listened to the calming patter of the rain and it was if your ears picked up a sweet hum, the calming effect of the rain helping you get into a proper mindset. Yoongi sat you up, your legs bent underneath you. Gentle kisses trailed inside your right thigh, followed by the gentle tug of jute rope, causing your breath to hitch. He threaded the rope around your leg, securing your thigh to your calf with a classic lark’s head knot. Yoongi repeated the motion to your left thigh, and once both legs were firmly secured, he looped the ends of the jute rope into makeshift cuffs, sliding them around your wrists until it fit snugly. Although your legs and hands were immobilized, you instantly felt the comforting, warming sensation that bondage provided. You had been tied up for less than ten minutes and you were already teetering into a state of euphoria, your thighs rubbing together in anticipation.

A breathy whine left your lips, and Yoongi halted his movements momentarily, his hands reaching for the emergency surgical scissors. “Is it too tight, kitten?” You shook your head, to which Yoongi tutted at your blatant disrespect. “Use your words.”

“I’m okay,” you replied meekly. Yoongi cocked an eyebrow expectantly, and you corrected yourself. “I’m okay, Daddy.”

A devilish smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he admired the haziness in your eyes. You were pliant under his touch as he carefully bent you over, your torso awkwardly hinging over your bound legs, although it was not uncomfortable in the slightest. “Remember your safeword, kitten?”

Your response was partially muffled due to being face down in the bed. “Yes, Daddy. It’s mochi,” you replied obediently. Yoongi hummed, apparently content with your eager response.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed as he dragged his hand across your ass before landing a harsh strike on the flesh. You keened in response, mumbling incoherently into the sheets as another slap landed on your behind. Yoongi gave you no time to recuperate as he spanked you thrice more, each one nearing you closer to tears. “You love this, don’t you, kitten? You love letting Daddy play with you, huh?”

You knew Yoongi always demanded a verbal response, but all you could muster was a weak not, words seeming to escape you entirely. One more spank, albeit this one a bit more forgiving, connected with your bottom, and Yoongi inhaled sharply at the blooming splotches of pink he’d left behind. “God, your ass is fucking perfection.”

The overwhelming snug sensation of the jute rope, paired with the abuse you ass had received, left you a sniffling mess. The sensory overload rendered you speechless, your mouth only able to muster something between a whimper and a moan. “Pleeeease, Daddy. I c-can’t anymore.”

Yoongi huffed, breath fanning his bangs slightly. “Anything for my little kitten,” he said, before slipping two fingers inside of you. At first, his strokes were languid, with his thumb lazily circling your clit. Yoongi wanted to draw out the experience as much as possible so that your high would feel even more euphoric.

Soon, just his touch wasn’t enough, and you began to squirm under Yoongi’s experienced fingers. He couldn’t see your pout, but he could sense you were nearing a bratty stage by the way you impatiently rolled your hips. “Quit being a brat,” Yoongi snapped, turning you on your side in the process. Despite your legs being bound, he angled himself so that you were splayed under him.

"Beautiful." He muttered, dragging his fingers through your hair. "Ready?"

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“Oh God, ” you gawked, staring at the pair on the bed, both in awe and disgusted at their obscenely pornographic ritual. “Could they be any freakier?”

Taehyung sat on one of the chairs by the dresser, his legs crossed leisurely as he watched the duo in rapt attention. “I think it’s art,” he muttered, studying them while tapping the bottom of his chin in contemplation, his creative instinct apparently triggered.

“Just look at the way she’s sittin’ pretty for him!” Taehyung’s eyes widened, staring at how high Yoongi stretched his wife’s leg. “His technique is pretty impressive, truly a man who knows his craft. I gotta sketch this.” he murmured, making for his sketchbook, before remembering that Yoongi had burned it along with the rest of his supplies. He slouched dejectedly in his seat, a forlorn look etched on his face as he realized he had no way to channel his creative energy. You poked your tongue out at him smugly before leaving the room to find somewhere quiet to spend the rest of your evening.

A good forty-five minutes had passed, and Taehyung’s absence baffled you. Usually, he was glued to your hip, always hovering around you like an annoying gnat. His lack of presence meant he was probably still watching the new tenants as they had sex, causing you to groan. He was selfish, petty, a murderer, and now a voyeuristic pervert. And you only had to be stuck with him for all of eternity.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yoongi huffed as he released his grip on your hips, dropping you onto your stomach as you met the plush bed. With his forehead sweaty and his hair matted, he brushed a hand through, the droplets landing onto the floor. You let out a whimper, your legs still shaking from your first high that night as you felt wet kisses on the back of your neck.

“Don’t get tired on me now, kitten.” Yoongi purred. “Daddy still has a lot in him.”

As you took a look behind you, you could barely keep a steady gaze as you met his eyes. Your ass still stood straight up in the air with wet juices, flowing down your bound legs. With half-lidded eyes, you invited Yoongi into the crook of your neck despite your hands being bound together. There was something serene about being completely powerless as Yoongi littered your skin was bites and love marks. He kneaded your ass again, before running a hand over to soothe his marks.

“Yoongi…” You whined, feeling his veiny fingers trail down your skin. He smirked watching as your body shuddered when his hand grazed a particularly chafed spot. “Hurry…”

“Already, kitten? Daddy doesn’t like impatient girls.”

“But, D-Daddy~” You whined, rubbing your thighs together with hastiness.

A harsh slap met your ass as you jumped, flinching and your body tingling. You backed down, continuing to rub your legs together in a needy manner but lowering your jutted ass from him. Yoongi smiled at your bratty behavior before undoing the ropes and tossing them onto the floor.

With the gentleness of a feather, Yoongi massaged your wrists, thighs and calves, making sure the previously-bound areas received adequate aftercare. Once he was satisfied, Yoongi slipped back into his dominant character, his lips tracing the shell of your ear, “Now tell me, does my kitten want Daddy to ruin her? Would you like that?”

You nodded your head vigorously to which Yoongi just smiled. He grabbed you, unceremoniously flipping you over until you laid flat on your back. You yelped in response as he quickly maneuvered you in one fell swoop before giving you a sly grin. He brought his hands up to the back of your thighs stroking your soft skin as he stared straight into your eyes. Using his hands, he spread your legs wide, licking his lips in pure lustful anticipation. You blushed, turning your head the other way to avoid his direct eye contact and to hide your embarrassment from his predatory gaze. Yoongi leaned forward, locking his hand onto your jaw as he smirked.

“Do you remember to keep eye-contact with Daddy?” You gave a weak nod, earning a tickle under your chin before his hand came up to your throat, lightly exerting pressure. With his other hand, Yoongi inserted his cock, watching as your face contorted into a mix of emotions from the sudden intrusion. You gasped, latching onto the blankets on both sides of the bed. He slowly pushed in, watching as your supple walls engulfed him completely. You let out a long whine, your legs coming together to ease the initial burn and stretch from his reasonable girth.

“You’re doing so well, kitten. Daddy’s proud of you,” he said, rewarding the column of your neck with a more constricting squeeze.

Yoongi readjusted his grip on your legs before slowly pumping his cock in and out, watching in delight as you dutifully focused on his face. After several minutes of easing back into you, you let out a desperate whine.

“Nnnn, D-Daddy…?”

“Yes, kitten?”

“C-Can you go faster, please?”

Yoongi smiled at you, his cheeks sticking out as his gums were displayed for a brief second. “Of course, baby,” he said, momentarily slipping from his persona due to your sheer display of blissed-out innocence.

Yoongi reached down, pressing a gentle kiss which you met as he increased his pace, watching as you panted and whined, pushing at his chest in sudden discomfort. He rested his forehead in the crook of your neck, watching the joining of your bodies where you ended and he began. Your fingertips came up to Yoongi’s back, leaving faint scratches as he continuously thrust into you, earning delicious whines and pants from the two of you. With intense determination, Yoongi thrust harshly on one stroke, receiving a loud whine that echoed throughout the room.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed at your over-eager vocalness, you brought a hand down and clamped it over your mouth. At the sound of your muffled cries, his head snapped from your pussy and up to your face.

His hands came up, releasing his hold on your legs. As he pried at your mouth, embarrassing tears filled your eyes, eliciting a look of concern from Yoongi, which you quickly assuaged with a quick nod, signaling him you knew the safeword when you truly needed to use it.

“I want to hear it. All of your sounds. Do you understand?” Yoongi’s hands returned to your hips, hoisting you up before snapping his hips and beginning a punishing pace with an intensity that rocked your body.

“A-ah! Yoongi!” You faltered, flushing a deep shade of pink. Yoongi continued to pound into you as you struggled to reply back. “I said: Do. You. Understand?” He seethed, laying you back down and coming up to your neck to leave more bite marks.

“Y-Des, D-Daddy.” You replied obediently, flinching as his teeth grazed your skin.

From the thumping of your chest to the ringing of your ears, you could barely process Yoongi’s hundreds of compliments and praises. The only feeling was Yoongi dragging his cock out and suddenly pushing it back through your soaked walls.

You whined again, earning a harsh jerk of his hips as he kissed your chest and caressed your breasts. You shuffled slightly as Yoongi continued to move, filling you completely. Yoongi dug his fingertips into your delicate skin, his erratic breathing indicating he was nearing his end. He ruthlessly connected his hips in an intense rhythm, hot breath trailing over your skin as his movements became less fluid.

“D-Daddy,” you gasped, your body unable to take any more stimulation. “Daddy!” You screamed, unsuccessfully attempting to find purchase from the blanket beneath you. “A-ah! I c-can’t! N-no more...please please please!” The intensity of such your climax was insurmountable, the buildup of unchecked hormones nearly maddening you to tears.

“K-kitten…Be a g-good girl and hold out for Daddy a b-bit longer.” Yoongi stuttered, biting his bottom lip as he chased the building of his own release. There was a chance that he’d be interrupted once again, but Yoongi would be damned if he actually stopped.

Yoongi took your leg, throwing it over his shoulders for a better angle, sinking deep until he hit the perfect spot that made your throat compress tightly as you cried out. You buckled your hips shamelessly, moving with Yoongi in rhythm to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing your own climax. The bed shook as Yoongi lost control, mind strictly focused on reaching his high. Your head fell onto the side as Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp sensation ripping through him as he spilled his hot release inside of your soft walls.

With only heavy panting and gasping, Yoongi slipped out before falling next to, his arms coming you to wrap you in his embrace. His hand came to the back of your head as he stroked you soothingly, listening to your breathing even out and feeling your heart steady back to normal. You nudged yourself into Yoongi’s warm arms, your hands coming up to his chest for support. Your legs intertwined with each other as you basked in each other’s sweat and smell of sex.

There were too many times where Yoongi imagined this scene with you, and as he stared down at you, his eyes softened as you quietly breathed in and out. His eyes widened as the moonlight seeped into the bedroom, glowing on your dewy skin. His movements halted for a second as he gulped, feeling his heart fill up with warmth, wishing he could freeze and capture this moment. This feeling was greater than anything he could have created in his imagination. No daydream could outmatch this feeling and the fact that you were wrapped in his arms. Your dedication and trust in him only made his heart swell in love for you. Grabbing onto the blankets, he threw it over the two of you before securing you once again in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes until the two of you fell into a deep sleep.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You slunk back into the room, thankful that the couple had ended their session and were now cuddled into one another. Taehyung was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at the serene sight. The pair reminded you of you and—

“She’s way too loud,” he stated, earning a pointed glare from you. Nevertheless, Taehyung continued, “I don’t know how this fella handles her yapping and crying. It sounds like this bit is trying way too hard.”

“Can you shut up, Tae,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. The nickname caused the artist to perk up, a devious smile curling at his lips. “I like the sound of that, baby. How about you say it again while I have my dick in your—”

“Absolutely not.”

“But why not,” he pouted, trying his best to soften your cold, undead heart. “I know for a fact that you prefer expressing your climax with the cutest facial expressions,” Taehyung added, scrunching his nose in endearment.

Before you could smack the shit-eating grin off of the artists face, the woman in bed started fussing around. She stretched her arms out towards the dark-haired man, who drowsily pulled her closer to him, the two of them exchanging lazy butterfly kisses before drifting back off to sleep. The familiar, intimate domesticity of the couple painfully reminded you of the life you once shared with your husband, and it didn’t help quell the pain in your heart whenever you thought of him. Where was he? How was he doing? Did he miss you like you missed him? Would you ever see him again?

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss everything about Namjoon.

Your heartache was so unbearable that before you knew it, hot tears had unknowingly rolled down your cheeks and off your chin, creating a small puddle on the floor. A slight sniffle caught Taehyung’s attention and he was quick to join your side, his hands poised in anticipation. “Don’t touch me,” you hissed.

Taehyung flinched, his expression softening into one of worry. “But you’re crying.”

“I know,” you replied assuredly, “because I’m sad.”

“Why?”

Your voice cracked, raw sadness squeezing your chest almost insufferably. “Because I miss him.” You paused, “My husband.” Taehyung grunted, at a complete loss for words. It had been almost a year, and your mind was still on a person who was not him. What more could he do? His next question was detached, cold. “Why do you even miss that sap?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water. “Excuse me? Wha— How could you say that?!”

Taehyung shrugged, stuffing his hands inside his pockets, “I don’t see why you think he’s the cat’s meow or anything. He wasn’t anyone remarkable, he wasn’t special.”

Hearing Taehyung badmouth your husband— the husband who had been involuntarily incarcerated— caused a surge of anger to shoot through you. Your hands balled into fists as you reeled back your dominant hand to launch a punch which, surprisingly, connected with the side of Taehyung’s face. He looked taken aback that you could even commit such a violent act; after all, Taehyung saw you as nothing more than his delicate, coy muse.

“Don’t ever talk about Namjoon like that,” you snapped, your breath ragged with raw emotion. Taehyung palmed the side of his face, his eyes wide with shock.

“Namjoon meant everything to me, I loved him so much. But you- You fucked it all up. And for what? So I could be trapped here with you?”

Taehyung tried to respond, but you continued on your tirade. “I hate you. I hate you so much. In fact, I will never stop hating you, Taehyung.”

The artist whimpered pitifully, his heart sinking so incredibly low that he felt an inkling of remorse. All he had wanted was to show you his own kind of love— no matter how possessive or unhealthy it might have been.

“I’m sorry.”

What Taehyung said was so out of character that it was enough to momentarily stop your thoughts of Namjoon. You blinked, not sure if you had correctly heard Taehyung’s apology.

“No, you’re not,” you said bitterly, a new batch of tears streaming down your face. At least ghosts couldn’t get headaches from crying.

“I mean it,” Taehyung insisted, his eyes locked with yours, showing a profound amount of sincerity. “I really am sorry.” Your bottom lip quivered at his honesty, “Tae…”

The ghost’s hand trembled as he reached out to hold you, and for the first time, you accepted his touch. You cried into his unyielding chest as you unloaded all your emotions.

“I hate you so much.”

“I know.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

All Taehyung could do was repeat his apology like a mantra, begging to his deity for forgiveness. He felt pain, remorse— the same weighty sorrow that you had endured without your husband— and accepted it, fully.

After your cries had subsided into sporadic hiccups, Taehyung smoothed the hair out of your face, giving you a lopsided, boxy smile. “I know you probably still hate me, but do you know what might cheer you up?” You cocked your head expectantly, waiting for his answer.

Taehyung’s eyes crinkled as his grin reached the other side of his face.

“Pulling a few pranks.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“Ughh…” Yoongi groaned as he groggily sat up, his blankets falling from his bare chest. He looked over as your sleeping figure and smiled. With your hair a complete mess over the white pillows and your soft skin shimmering against the morning sun, his heart skipped a beat. He scooched forward, bringing his lips down to his your forehead. “Good morning, y/n.”

You moaned, rustling the blankets as you turned to face him, nudging your head into his chest. With your eyes still closed and stubborn to face the morning sun, you hung onto Yoongi. He reciprocated, wrapping his arms around you, feeling your soft skin against his own. He pulled you up, the blankets falling from your body and exposing you to the cold morning air.

“Nnn, don’t…” You complained, grabbing hold of the white blankets.

Yoongi giggled, patting the top of your head as you obediently let him stroke your hair.

“How are you feeling? Sore?” He mocked, earning a click of your tongue.

“Shuddup…I feel fine. Hurry up and shower. I’m so tired…”

Yoongi stretched his arms up, letting out a satisfying groan before slipping out of bed. He entered the bathroom, shifting one leg into the hot water in the shower before submerging his entire body under the constant stream. He sighed, watching as water droplets flowed down his stuck strands of hair. He took several seconds of thinking, spacing out before he snapped out of his memories. From his wedding, how you were dressed for his honor, how he was the one to hold your hand during the ceremony, how that kiss seemed so different from the hundreds you had shared.

Yoongi harshly gripped the handle, turning the water off as he exited its warmth, attack by the chilly air on his skin. As he stepped out, steam filled the entire bathroom, fogging up the glass. Yoongi dried himself off with his bathroom towel, walking over to the bathroom mirror. He squinted, rubbing his eyes as if he was seeing things. Did someone leave a message on the fogged up mirror?

‘You’re so loud in bed.’

The condensation that had built up on the mirror displayed that written message. Yoongi stared at the message for a minute, puzzled why you would even write that. He sighed, figuring that you spitefully wrote it because he was known to be an overly-vocal lover. Yoongi rolled his tongue inside of his mouth before scribbling a response of his own on the foggy mirror:

‘No u.’

He brought his towel to his head, vigorously drying his hair off in annoyance before slipping into a comfortable pair of black shorts and a t-shirt. As he opened the bathroom door, hot steam cascaded in into the bedroom before disappearing and fading out.

You still laid in bed, the blanket covering your naked figure, your consciousness lingered in a deep sleep, indicated by your calm breathing and closed eyes. Yoongi walked over to the vanity, combing his hair as he stared at the reflection from the mirror of the bed. He took small steps over, shaking your shoulder in an effort to wake you up.

“Y/n… y/n…”

You groaned, shifting over as your groggily stared up at Yoongi, placing your head on one of his thighs.

“Y/n, it’s not very nice to make fun of me like that, y’know…”

“Huh?” You questioned, your head perking up at the depth of his voice, a sort of sadness and disappointment lacing each word. “Did I do something…?”

“The mirror.” He stated bluntly, assuming you would fess up to your crime.

“The mirror?” You stared up at him confusion, your eyes scrunching and darting from right to left as you processed your brain for any memory involving a mirror. “You mean the dresser mirror?”

“No…” Yoongi huffed, crossing his arms. “The bathroom mirror. You wrote a little message there for me after I finished my shower?” Lost and confused from abruptly being woken up, you stared at him before shrugging it off, muttering incoherently about ‘being too tired to start pranks in the morning’. You tugged the blankets once again, cheerily saying ‘good night’ as you drifted back to sleep. Yoongi stared dumbfoundedly at you as your head hit the pillow and body eased back into a calming slumber.

“Are you ignoring me?”

He was met with silence.

“Are you ignoring me?!” He repeated, only this time a bit louder.

“Jeez... I’m tired, Yoongi. I didn’t do it, okay?” You countered, your voice laced with agitation as the only thing you wanted to do was to go back to sleep and recover from last night’s events.

“That doesn’t make sense, y/n! There’s just you and me. Stop playing dumb, it had to be you.”

“Well, it wasn’t. Good night.” You snapped, burying your head into the pillows, leaving Yoongi with a planted seed of annoyance.

An hour later, Yoongi came bursting through the door of the bedroom, only for you to jump as you sat in front of the vanity, awake and dressed, your brush halting in the middle of combing your messed up bedhead. Yoongi rushed over, placing both of his hands on your shoulders.

“Where the hell did you put my masks?”

“Excuse me,” you glared, visibly offended at his accusation. “I didn’t touch them.”

Yoongi let out a frustrated sigh, as you took notice of his stiff and anxious body language, from the way his back hunched over to his nervous fingers. His breathing was uneven and unusually rough and quick-paced. You stood up from your seat, remembering the time Yoongi had opened up to you, sharing that those masks were one of the only things that gave him comfort.

“Please...Please!” He grit out in frustration. “Just give them back! I need them! NOW!” He cried out desperately, his hands shaking your body in an effort to release his anxiety.

“I don’t have them!” You complained defensively. “I just woke up ten minutes ago. I didn’t touch them.”

“Cut the bullshit, y/n. I can take you playing dumb with the mirror, but not this. You know what those masks mean to me… You know! I trusted you when I told you that!”

“Are you really doubting me? Yoongi, use your head! I wouldn’t do something like that and you know it!” You protested, pushing him off and away from you. Storming out of the room, you entered the cluttered office space, opening and slamming drawers in an effort to find those masks.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

It was like watching you and Namjoon argue all over again—only this time, you were experiencing it from an outsider's perspective. Yoongi and his wife bickered back and forth as they scoured the house looking for the surgical masks, while both vehemently maintained their innocence. Although it was mainly the husband who was acting argumentative, his wife was dismissing his concerns. It wasn’t until Yoongi condescendingly questioned his wife’s honesty that you realized the gravity of the situation.

With a hand propped on your hip, you motioned towards the arguing couple, whose frustration was increasing by the second, “See, Taehyung, this is why you don’t do things like that.” The artist shot you a pointed glare, his jaw tensing at your accusation.

“Don’t act like a hypocrite, sweetheart. You were the one who told me to write on the mirror.” Defensively crossing your arms across your chest, you huffed in annoyance, an action which Taehyung found incredibly endearing. “I didn’t tell you to hide their stuff…”

Tae closed the distance between the two of you, his thumb curling under your chin. Your pulse skyrocketed, fearful that the annoying ghost would attempt to kiss you yet again. Thankfully, he redirected your attention up towards the ceiling, familiar swatches of black cloth catching your attention. “Hey isn’t that—”

“Yoongi, you’re a moron. Your masks are up there,” the woman said dryly, pointing towards a beam high on the ceiling. The man in question wordlessly fetched a ladder, grunting at the heaviness of the structure. Once he’d successfully retrieved his masks, Yoongi immediately put one on, feeling an immense amount of comfort at having a barrier around his mouth.

Yoongi awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight between both feet. “I wonder how those got there,” he murmured, voice muffled by the black cloth.

She rolled her eyes, face devoid of any emotion. “Yeah, after I wrote something on the bathroom mirror, I totally lugged that heavy ladder to hide your stupid masks. For a scientist who loves getting the facts, you sure do make a lot of assumptions.” You, Taehyung and Yoongi flinched at the woman’s bitter words, feeling utterly intimidated.

Yoongi took a few steps back before instantly turning around and darting from you to his office, leaving you alone in the middle of the hallway. Taehyung leaned into you, snickering at Yoongi’s flustered reaction,“That broad sure is one hell of a badger.”

A few minutes later, Yoongi came back scrambling out from the office, his phone in his hand as he breathed out heavily. He almost attacked his wife with the phone as he lunged it at her face, frightening her as she took a few steps back.

“Mm sorry…” He mumbled, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked down at the floor with a burning embarrassment. “Does this forgive me?” His wife stared at the bright screen, her eyes squinting as she tried to decipher the small print of the Delta Airlines app.

“France?” She asked in disbelief and confusion. “Why?”

Yoongi shrugged, fumbling with his phone as he tried to slide it back into his pocket. “I know you wanted to see go to Le Meurice par Alain Ducasse,” he smirked, leaving you slack-jawed at his boastful demeanor.

You stood there baffled as you watched his wife accept his apology, with a trip to France as an added bonus. “The actual hell—” You muttered, your mouth falling open as Taehyung’s arms shot into the air with elation. “Sweetcheeks, they’re leaving! Isn’t that great?!”

“Oh, so great, I’m practically screaming in anticipation.” You replied, your tone dripping in sarcasm. As the couple packed their bags, Taehyung’s eyes locked onto the bottom drawer of the dresser, his mind instantly recalling the location where Yoongi had left the jute rope. “Hey baby, maybe they left their ropes behind. Let’s practice while they’re gone.”

Tae giggled excitedly as he rummaged through the drawer, only to let out a soft whine when he found the contents were nothing more than spare linens. You ignored Taehyung—who was currently begging you to order rope from eBay— and silently bid the tenants goodbye. Sure, they were hornier than a couple of teenagers, definitely mentally unhinged, but they genuinely seemed happy together.

“It would’ve been nice to meet them if I were alive,” you whispered, waving goodbye assuming you knew went unnoticed. The woman turned around, her gaze piercing straight through you, and for a split second, you swore she could sense your presence. But after she detected nothing in the vicinity, she merely shrugged and turned around, Yoongi reaching for his wife's hand, their fingers interlocking as they smiled up at each other. Your stomach dropped as the whole scene played a painful resemblance to the times you shared with Namjoon, hand aching to be held in someone else’s.

Taehyung’s cautious fingers entwined with yours, giving your palm a gentle squeeze. It was innocent, reassuring; instantly soothing away all your distress.

Perhaps the afterlife wasn’t so bad after all.

#yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #bts angst #bts crack #bts fanfiction #suga x reader #v x reader

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nate-santos · 5 years ago

Text

Am I Alive? || Nate & Remmy

Nate didn’t often let people into his life. The few friends he had were the result of long and tiresome interactions as they slowly infiltrated his careful barriers. His own assistant had never been to his house and never knew where he was from. But something about Remmy felt...familiar. They’d both been through hell, though Nate would never pretend to know what war was like. They seemed like kindred spirits, and Nate wondered if he might actually have found someone who could compliment his neuroticism. Plus he knew better than most how hard it was to acclimate after a traumatic event and he wanted to help any way he could. So he donned his puffiest coat – offering more cushion should something happen. He also made sure to grab his sturdiest umbrella, one that he’d reinforced should any fish come flying down at him. The medical examiner had said four people had died so far, and Nate was not gonna be the fifth. After carefully making his way to Coffee Plus, he set up his little area and ordered a latte, waiting patiently with his hands cupped around his mug for his potential employee to arrive.

The offer for another job was extremely enticing, but Remmy would have to make sure it didn’t pay too much, because they could lose their disability if it did. And then, no more writing off Moose’s food, no more HSA, and no more cheap meds. But Nate seemed like a really nice guy, and he seemed to know how Remmy felt. How hard it was to reintegrate into society after witnessing something that inherently changes you. Inside and out. This time, they made public transport didn’t make them late but catching the bus early. Coffee Plus was the station they’d met Deirdre outside of, and if they didn’t get thrown in front of a car again, then it would already be a better meeting. They’d even tried their best to clean themself up this time. Combed their hair, put on their best jeans-- the only pair with no holes or rips-- and their nice jacket. When they arrived, they had to pause a moment outside, give themself that little pep talk that usually given in front of a bathroom mirror. But Remmy’s room didn’t have a bathroom mirror, despite the landlord saying they were going to replace it two weeks ago. The little bell chimed as Remmy pulled the door open and they glanced around. There, in the corner. Right wher eNate had said he would be. He looked almost as nervous as Remmy felt, bundled up in a puffy coat, tucked into a corner, cupping his coffee. They waved as they approached tentatively. “Nate?” they asked. “It’s um-- Remmy. Hi.”

A large grin spread across Nate’s face as Remmy appeared. Thank god they actually showed up. He shifted in his seat and motioned for them to sit. Nervously, his hands fumbled with the pages of one of his old sketchbooks, one that before this morning he hadn’t looked at in years. It made him want to start drawing again, drawing things that weren’t buildings at the very least. He’d have to thank Remmy for reminding him how much he’d loved doing it. “Hey! Nice to meet you!” He held out his hand, careful not to bump into anything. “I’m so glad you came! You want something to drink?” Nate caught his usual barista’s attention and waved her over. “I personally like the lattes, but everything’s really good!”

Remmy noticed the way Nate stayed tucked into himself and close to the table, but didn’t think it was anything they needed to point out or think about. They took his hand, giving it a firm shake. His hand was large and warm and it reminded Remmy of Dario’s hand. They smiled back. “Nice to meet you, too! Finally.” They slid into the booth across from Nate, glancing around. The coffee shop was small, but had that busy, local atmosphere. It was different from any place they’d been in Bangor. “Oh, um, sure! I’ll just have a um...Americano? Thanks!” Looked back over to Nate once the lady took their order. They had their sketchbook tucked under one arm and their eyes fell onto the one Nate had on the table. “Thanks for um-- agreeing to meet me. And-and offering me a job. And...all that other stuff.”

Nate grinned and took a long sip of his coffee. “Really, it’s nothing. I uh, you seem like good people!” He chuckled nervously, trying not to think about how cold their hand was. He drummed his fingers on the top of his sketchbook and fell silent for a moment. It had been years since he’d shown his drawings to anyone when it wasn’t work related, but this...sort of was. “The job is mostly menial, nothing too exciting, but I could definitely use the assistance.” He shrugged, thinking about the kid currently interning for him. Bobby was next to useless, especially when it came to moving samples around the office. “But whether you take the job or not, I’m happy to have met you!” He began to slide his sketchbook over, his knee bouncing at a hypersonic rate. “Plus I never get to trade art with anyone! Not trade trade, but like...look over pieces...share, that sort of thing.”

“You seem like good people, too,” Remmy said back. This was nice. This felt nice. And normal. Pleasant, almost. They eyed his sketchbook, before setting theirs on the table as well, still holding tightly onto it. They’d never actually shown anyone else their stuff. Except some of the other officers at the camp. “Oh, um-- I’m not sure mine are gonna be really good enough to like...compare to yours, I’m sure. But I’m glad I get to see yours! I’ve never exactly….shared this kinda stuff before. Wasn’t exactly um-- encouraged in the troops.” Stop bringing the mood down, Rem. They shook their head. “But, I mean-- I’m good with menial things! And physical labor. Also good at running errands! Whatever you need! If um-- you decide you like me.”

Nate laughed, wringing his hands anxiously in his lap. “Oh, definitely no comparing here! That’s the worst thing artists can do, really. Everyone’s styles and strengths are so different, like…” He reached out and opened his book to a rather choppy looking portrait. “Soft lines, not my thing. But straight edges, flowing concrete, somehow that I can do.” A hand reached up into his hair and began to twirl. “I’m sorry you weren’t uh...encouraged. Art’s….soothing. Even if what you draw isn’t.” Nate had specifically not brought the book he’d kept right when he first found himself in White Crest. All the images in there were charcoal drawings of pure angst, sadness and desperation. These sketches weren’t great, but they at least weren’t morosely depressing. “Well I already think I like you!” Nate grinned, hoping he wasn’t coming on too strong. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed something as normal as coffee and a job interview, even as lax as this was.

“Really?” Remmy asked. They leaned in a little more when Nate opened his book, gazing in with wide eyes. “Wow, that’s so good! You’re really good.” Hands tightening on their own book. “Oh, it-it’s okay. I don’t think I coulda done anything with it, anyway. I guess it just helps...occupy my mind. I don’t mean like..busy work, or whatever, but yeah-- soothing. Like you said, it’s...soothing…” They remembered how the group therapist had encouraged writing or drawing as an outlet. Remmy had taken quite to it. They liked drawing what they saw, copying down detail in an almost hyperfocus manner. “Well, I think I like you, too! You’re really nice and open and...not weird. If that makes sense? Not that weird is bad! I’ve just met a few...really weird people, too.”

Nate nodded, sucking down more of the hot bean juice. “Like I said, anyone can be an artist. Doesn’t matter if you do anything with it. Just so long as it makes you feel good.” He shrugged, his eyes falling to his lap and his cheeks flushing. Nate never could take a compliment. “I cannot promise that weird won’t end up popping up,” he laughed nervously. What was he supposed to say? I’m normal now but wait till I die in some freak accident and come back trying to eat your brains? “But I’m glad I’m not the weirdest person you’ve met here. I mean, I hope.”

“Hey, a little bit of weird isn’t bad. Don’t they say like, normal is boring or whatever?” Remmy grinned. “You’re not, definitely not. I think the woman I met who tried to push me into a car is the weirdest I’ve met so far.” They shrugged it off. Deirdre was a mystery they didn’t really wanna think about right now. The waitress came back with their order and they took it gratefully, taking a long sip. “Um…” they pushed their notebook over towards Nate, a little tentative, a little shy. “I-if you wanna look.” Though they would never admit it, as they weren’t sure of their own talent, their eye for detail gave them the ability to draw from life fairly well. Thin pencil lines, sketchy figures, and some doodles of animals riddled the sketchbook, an unorganized mess, unlike every other aspect of their life. Some drawings layered on top of others, like stacks of photos. They sipped their coffee again.

Nate smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “I respectfully disagree with those people. I’d take normal over weird any day.” Nate’s life was already filled with too much weirdness. “Wait- like she was shoving you into a car or...throwing you in front of one?” Nate’s brow furrowed and he felt oddly protective over this person he just met. “Of course I wanna see!” He reached out, delicately turning the pages of the sketchbook. It was practically exploding with creativity. Lines and shades he’d seen but never really seen, it was so unlike his personal style and so refreshing. You could see real heart. “These are amazing, Remmington. Remmy? Which do you prefer?” He glanced up for only a moment before being sucked back into the book.

“Kinda...both? I’m not really sure. She said she wanted to test something and almost threw me into a taxi. It was fine, obviously, but I got kinda mad at her after that,” Remmy said, as if getting thrown in front of a car was a normal thing. In all honesty, it just didn’t strike them as odd. After all, they’d stuck their hands into a live case of TNT before. Was getting hit by a car really that much different? They felt their chest tingle as Nate delicately flipped through the notebook, suddenly so nervous they couldn’t even drink their coffee, just hold the cup tightly. “What? Really? Y-you think so?” Swallowed. “Oh, um-- either! Either is fine! I don’t mind.” They rolled their bottom lip between their teeth nervously. “I just...like drawing what I see. Nothing special…”

Nate’s mouth dropped open and he had to actively think about closing it so as not to be overly rude. “She- on purpose?? Yeah! I’d be mad too!” Nate nearly had a heart attack just thinking about the ordeal. But he looked back down to the drawings to distract himself. They were really good. Not professional, but that didn’t mean anything to Nate. He actually felt most professional artists were stuck up and rarely creative. “Yeah, Remmy, these are awesome!” He beamed up at them. “I like what you see.” It had been so long since Nate had really stopped to look around, flipping through Remmy’s sketches was like being unafraid to wander through town. It felt free. “You should keep this up. Seriously. Even if it’s just for you.”

Remmy couldn’t help but give a shy smile. “Th-thanks. I, um-- I will. I haven’t had much time lately between all the...stuff, but...I think I’ll try and make time.” They smiled over at Nate, finally relaxed enough again to sip their coffee. “So, um-- do you like, design the buildings and stuff? Or just do more like...blueprints stuff? I’m not-- sorry. I don’t mean to sound like...rude, but I’m not really sure what architects do, like a hundred percent? I’m totally willing to learn though!”

Nate cocked his head to the side. “Like all the getting shoved towards taxis?” He frowned, hoping Remmy wasn’t befriending people that would willingly shove them into oncoming traffic. It wasn’t entirely unheard of in White Crest, especially in the seedier areas. Yet another reason to never leave his house. “Oh, yeah! It really depends on the project, and most of what I get to do around here is restoring some of the town’s older buildings, making sure they’re up to code while maintaining the historical integrity of the design.” He smiled softly, taking another sip of coffee. “But every once in a while someone wants to build an entirely new house or business, then I get to flex my creative chops.” He sighed dramatically. “Those fun projects don’t tend to come around as often, though, so sometimes I just teach a class at the college.”

“Yeah,” Remmy sighed, “like that.” They still hadn’t parsed out Deirdre’s actual intention with doing that. Was it to see if Remmy would move? If they would let her? If they would get scare and run away? It still baffled them, but she hadn’t been eager to talk after that, so the answer would likely never come. So Remmy would concentrate on the here and now. “Wow, that’s so cool! I had no idea that’s what architects actually did...do you go to the houses and like actually help build stuff? Or do you just do more of the like...drawing and planning stuff?” They couldn’t help but be excited by all this. They’d always loved learning new things, even if public schooling had made them feel inadequate. “And you get to teach at the University?? That’s SO cool!”

Nate frowned, already feeling the twinge of protectiveness over this person he’d literally just met. Remmy had already been through so much, they needed a soft place to land, not a place where people literally threw them into oncoming traffic. But he would drop it- for now. Not like he was in any position to go hunting down this person, and to do what, exactly? Yell at them? Punch them? Neither of those things were in Nate’s wheelhouse. “I don’t do too much building, but I do get to visit the sites sometimes to help oversee everything! A lot of what I do is actually project management and organizing the construction crews, but I’ve gotten to know most of the crews around here pretty well, so they send me progress photos and stuff. It’s really cool to see an idea you have come to life right before your eyes.” Nate paused, smiling sheepishly to himself. “It’s really not that cool, most people find it kinda boring. But I love it.”

“Oh, I think that sounds amazing!” Remmy blurted, without thinking much. They reigned themself back in sheepishly. “Sorry. I just-- I don’t think it sounds boring at all! I think that sounds amazing. Getting to do something that actually changes the world around you...even if it’s just a building. And seeing it in progress? That’s just…” they trailed off a bit. “That’s incredible.” They took another long sip of the coffee, realizing it didn’t much taste like anything. It didn’t fill any sort of need inside of them. Not like it used to. “It sounds kinda lame but...when I was younger, I think I always wanted to do something that could, like, change things for the better. I guess that’s why I thought going into the military might...you know. Be like that.”

Nate’s eyes lit up. He so rarely spoke to anyone, let alone about his work, it was refreshing to be able to gush about it to someone who thought it was as interesting as he did. Well, maybe not as much, but at least Remmy was feigning interest! “I’m glad you think it’s interesting! I could definitely tell you more about it, and I mean, if you come help out, you’d get to see a lot of it first hand, too.” Nate knew exactly what they meant. It was the reason so many of his high school peers had enlisted, not knowing what else to do but needing and wanting to do something. He smiled softly, feeling his body loosen a bit from the tense ball it had been in. “I’m Sorry. If it wasn’t, I mean. Like that. Doing something for the better. Or that’s presumptuous- was it?” And he tensed right back up again as he stuck his foot in his mouth.

“Oh, yes! That would be great!” Remmy said excitedly. They had no idea someone would think they were just pretending, because Remmy didn’t have it in them to lie or pretend. “I’d love to learn all that stuff! Even if I’m no good at it, I think it’d be cool to know!” They sipped the coffee again, their legs twitching excitedly. Remmy had never been this excited before. Was this was it meant to find something they loved? “Oh, um-- I think it was, a little. I don’t um-- it’s hard to explain. I think there’s better ways to change things, but...it felt like my only option. I wasn’t the smartest or funniest or strongest. So...that was pretty much it.” They shrugged. “But, I mean-- as far as job offers go, I um-- think I’d be happy to come work for you. I-if you’re still looking.”

Nate sometimes felt like he was looking in a mirror when he talked to Remmy. They’d only known each other a short while, but he felt like he understood them in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Sure, some of that might be how excited they were about architecture, but it was something more than that, too. Nate remembered what it felt like to be so lost, heck he was still unbearably lost. But when he did what he loved, it wasn’t quite so unbearable. It was part of the reason he hadn’t tried to just end things. Seeing Remmy light up like this, it ignited something in Nate too. “I would be more than happy to have you join the team, Remmy.” He grinned, holding out his hand more confidently than before. “Welcome to the family.”

Remmy couldn’t remember the last time they’d been this excited. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d felt this hopeful. Sure, it was just an assistant job, helping out around Nate’s firm, but it was more than anything they could’ve hoped for in coming to White Crest. Being a security guard was easy and it paid the bills, but it wasn’t exactly the most riveting job. After being in the field for so long, Remmy had found life wasn’t exciting anymore. Remmy took Nate’s hand eagerly. “Thanks, Nate. Really, thank you so much.”

@whatsin-yourhead

#remmy1

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missmeikakuna · 5 years ago

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(GL/Yuri) Shoujo Heroine... and Friends Chapter 5

Now for Kunie’s backstory. Please comment your thoughts and like it if you, well, like it.

Rated: T

Fandom: Original story

Relationship type: F/F with some F/M

Description:

Sahana is friendly, innocent and optimistic, making her the perfect shoujo anime heroine… except she’s not the main character of this story.

When school prince Toyomi asks her out, she starts hanging out with him and leaves her friends behind. Prim and proper Masami and tomboyish slob Kunie don’t seem to have much in common outside of their friendship with Sahana, but they try to make the best out of a lonely situation.

So why is the god of love and marriage watching them, red string of fate at the ready? CONTENT WARNING: Some homophobic language and bullying.

Chapter 5: It’s obvious why you joined the theatre club

Once again, Sahana decided to hang out with Toyomi, leaving Masami and Kunie alone. The abandoned girls found solidarity in a shared mission to find a new place to eat. They searched heaven and hell to find the perfect spot, eventually settling on a tree with wide roots.

At least, that was how it was supposed to be. Surprisingly enough, roots aren’t exactly comfortable, and the dirt on the ground did little to ease Masami’s mind.

After a few minutes of shifting butts, the pair stood up and wordlessly shuffled back into the school building. Masami surveyed the school evacuation plan and noticed the Home Ec room. At long last, they had found their sanctuary!

Masami made sure to finish chewing before asking Kunie a question. ‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, but why is someone like you in the theatre club? Your… aesthetic gives me... track and field vibes.’

Kunie chuckled. ‘Just say I’m a tomboy.’ Masami bowed her head in apology. ‘It’s all right. I’ve always loved the theatre, even when I was a little kid. It felt like a place I could be myself. Ironic, huh? Playing characters makes me feel like the real me. One time I saw a Kabuki play and was amazed that there was a male actor playing a female role. If someone like him could do that, I could do anything, really.’

‘Wow, that’s really-’

‘Don’t say deep. I don’t really care about that nowadays. Now I just like playing characters like I’m a kid playing house. Though I will say that Sahana understood my old motivation.’

Dooru snatched Kunie’s paintbrush from her. ‘This set needs a delicate touch,’ she said as she painted a thin stroke of orange on the sunset-adorned timber.

Kunie looked at the ground. ‘Why do we have to paint the set, anyway?’ She grumbled. ‘Can’t we get the art club to do this?’

The teacher turned his head, paintbrush in hand, and answered. ‘It’s a good idea to gain an understanding of all departments in charge of putting on a play. It gives you an appreciation of every role’s hard work.’

Toyomi nodded in agreement. ‘And this is nice. It gets the creative juices flowing, doesn’t it?’ He painted a ripple of sunlight with one big stroke. Dooru had to stop for a moment to bask in his glory.

He looked at his watch and said a quick goodbye before heading out the door. Dooru sighed, absentmindedly drawing rays of sunshine where there should not be any.

‘Isn’t he dreamy?’ she whispered.

Sahana blushed, missing a nail with her hammer. ‘Well, he is a nice person.’

Kunie offered to give Sahana’s job a try and Sahana handed her the hammer. Dooru snickered when Kunie managed to hit the nail with ease.

‘So, what do you think about him?’ A shrug from Kunie. ‘Seriously? Who wouldn’t like him? Unless…’ Dooru scanned the girl up and down. ‘Oh. I see. Now I get it. It’s obvious why you joined the theatre club. You thought you would get girls that way, didn’t you?’

Kunie tightened her grip on her hammer and yet Dooru continued. ‘Shame Toyomi is playing the prince, or you might have succeeded. With that hair and your acting skills, you could have been a charming leading man. But I guess that would have required all of us to be big lesbians, wouldn’t it? How sad for you-’

Place your bets. Did the teacher tell her off or did Kunie smack her with a hammer?

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Do you have your answer?

Bzzzz! You’re wrong if you chose either answer because the first to respond was none other than Sahana.

‘Just because she has short hair doesn't make her a lesbian. Kunie is a wonderful person and I don't think she deserves you being so mean to her!’

Dooru stepped back and looked around her like she had a harsh spotlight put on her. ‘I… wasn’t trying to be mean.’ She whipped back towards the set and resumed painting it.

Sahana kneeled down next to Kunie with eyes that warmed Kunie’s soul. The short-haired girl gave her thanks via a smile.

Realisation dawned on Masami’s face. ‘So that’s why Dooru is always calling you a prince. I’m surprised Sahana’s words didn’t get her to stop picking on you, though.’

‘Yeah, it’s weird, but at least I know I’ve got Sahana on my side no matter what,’ Kunie said with a smile that quickly plummeted. ‘It would be nice if people stopped making assumptions about me, thinking I’m a lesbian.’

She paused for a moment, biting her lip. ‘I’m glad that Sahana defended me but sometimes people’s words do kind of get to me. There are times when I wonder if I should grow my hair out and wear lipgloss or something. I only wear makeup for theatre, so I kinda wonder if I would look like a clown if I tried to wear it regularly.’

Kunie’s expression punctured Masami’s heart, spilling out an idea. Masami stood up and headed to the pantry. ‘What are you doing?’ Kunie asked with one eyebrow up and her mouth curved into a smile. Masami didn’t answer her, focusing on pulling out ingredients.

‘Turn around or close your eyes. I have a surprise.’

Kunie followed both orders. She could hear the chopping and crushing of food. She could vaguely smell sushi and some other unidentified food.

After ten minutes, she asked, ‘Is it ready? I’m pretty sure lunchtime is almost over.’

Masami slammed a plate on the bench and turned Kunie around. ‘Enjoy, if you can.’

Sushi with chocolate. Sushi with chocolate. Sushi with chocolate.

Now that she was closer to the meal, she could smell it. Not wanting to pinch her nose, she scrunched it and held her breath.

She picked up the chopsticks and put the sushi in her mouth. The raw tuna underbelly and sour vinegared rice clashed with the richness and sweetness of the chocolate. As soon as it touched her tongue, Kunie had to spit it out. She looked at Masami with apologetic eyes but spoke her mind.

��This is terrible,’ she said with a laugh.

Masami sighed in relief before joining in the laughter.

Despite succeeding at her initial mission, she mentally filed the meal under ‘failure’. She had a feeling she would continue to do this with multiple subsequent meals until she found one that Kunie genuinely enjoyed.

For now, she watched Kunie smile as she stabbed the sushi with her chopsticks like doing so would kill the horrid flavour.

#lesbian #yuri #anime #fiction #romance #writing #LGBT #lgbt romance #Breaking Stereotypes #original fiction #drama #comedy #parody #Shoujo Heroine... and Friends

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runningwolf62 · 6 years ago

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@wardencommanderrodimiss @pachelbelsheadcanon

The new chapter is here featuring emotional whiplash and allegiances finally.

On AO3

What happens next is a series of incidents so coincidental and yet so perfectly aligned Larry would be tempted to call it fate. He had headed to a book store to chill and he would swear he’d just gone in to look for a book for Nick or Edgey as a Christmas present. Nothing dramatic, he’d just been caught up on his word count for the day and he’d wanted to shop and treat himself and get things out of the way so he didn’t come out of December confused and lacking presents for anyone.

And while he was there he’d remembered his promise to himself to get Tallstar’s Revenge, after WolfDragon had recommended it. So there he was in the children’s section, looking through the Warrior cats section - which he had half a mind to sort because someone respected neither series nor numbers and honestly it was a disaster trying to find anything, was this supposed to be alphabetical, because he was not going to find Tallstar’s Revenge at all like this - when the book caught his eye.

The Magic Bottle.

A simple title really, but the art on the cover was beautiful. Larry abandoned the Warrior Cats books for a moment to pick up this one, whoever the cover artist was they were fantastic at their job because Larry was for sure curious now. He flipped it over to scan the back, and cracked it open.

Well it turned out Elise Deauxnim could both write and draw, and Larry was enthralled. God where had she been when he was a kid, this shit was fantastic. He ended up buying it and after asking a worker, maybe making an excuse of shopping for a niece (listen that was the simplified version of what Pearl was and if he liked the book this much he might tell Nick to get it for her for Christmas so you know, valid) he also got Tallstar’s Revenge.

Now Tallstar’s Revenge was great, especially by Warrior standards, but he kept coming back to The Magic Bottle, the art, the characters, the pacing, it was fantastic. It made him want to write kid’s books.

Why not? You’re a really good writer and it’s not like you’re unfamiliar with kid’s lit

Thanks!

But she’s super good and I wouldn’t even know where to begin!

Stripes stop selling yourself short you’re a fantastic writer

Stripes?

I’ve mentally called you that for years deal with it

I guess it beats Orange.

“Graypaw what have I told you about talking to basketballs”

What?

Okay I’m sending you that parody as soon as I find a link to it but you should go for it! You’re talented currently inspired also unemployed

Thanks

Hey, I meant now more than ever is your chance

So what should I do?

Google this author see what else she’s written and maybe write her some fan mail

“Hi I’m a twenty-something dude, huge fan”

Look Mr. smartass if you don’t want my help

I’m just worried I’ll come off as weird!

Then lie, say it was for a nephew or something and you were really impressed too and it made you want to try writing children’s lit, how did she get started

Think she’ll answer?

She might

Worth a try

Well I did read it so only fair I review it.

Atta boy, go get ‘em

Larry grins to himself and does exactly as Wolf suggested, googling Elise Deauxnim to find that she had a PO Box. With some help and a little more encouragement from Wolf, he sends off the letter. Then he tries to calm down by focusing on his NaNo, which is mostly just him writing oneshots and a chapter or two of the fic. He hasn’t brought in Godot yet because he’s not sure what the absolute hell is going on there and he doesn’t like thinking about that day in court. He keeps sending out his resume but after how he lost his last job he’s thinking it’s a good thing he has as much in savings as he does, and he’s thinking about emergency commissions.

Until the letter arrives. He’s not sure he believes what he’s seeing but a photo sent to Wolf on discord proves that not only did Elise Deauxnim not think he was a creepy loser, she was encouraging him. She wanted to see some of his art and writing so she could tell him where he might find some agents interested in him.

DUDE

RIGHT I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW!

AGGHHHH!

That’s amazing!

AGGGHHH!

I told you you were an amazing author

OH GOD WHAT DO I SEND HER

Not the Warriors Fanfic

OBVIOUSLY

Look, take a deep breath, and like, think of a story

Doesn’t have to be great, just some kids story thing

Do some art with it

Oh god, dude that’s terrifying, every idea I had just vanished.

Alright, listen you don’t have to write the damn thing just the first three pages of something

Uh, what are kids into these days?

Great question

I’m super good at drawing cats, what do I do with that?

Write Warriors but gay

Don’t we call that Wings of Fire?

Shots fired

More seriously, what do I do with that?

Well you’re good with a very open world series with a set of rules that is easily adapted to a setting

And cat anatomy

So I’d take those elements and make it into something

That’s a horrifying Chimera.

…

You know, that could be a plot hook

What?

Well like kids love monsters right?

Write a series with a Chimera as the main character, it’s part lion

Dude, you’re a genius, I owe you my life, and the response of “no thanks I’ve seen it, I don’t want it” is probably valid

Well get to it writer-boy, you’ll do great

What he ends up with is a book series about various mythological monsters on an adventure, and an offer from Elise Deauxnim to be an apprentice under her. He says yes, of course. He moves out of his apartment and to a smaller and cheaper one closer to where she works.

It’s awkward at first, on both ends. He can tell he’s not what she expected but he tries. She helps him with his writing, telling him what his strengths are first and then slowly moving to where he needs some polishing. It’s still strained though.

The breakthrough comes one afternoon, when Larry’s phone alarm goes off. He reaches over, swipes it off, and then flips the sketchbook page he’s on to start drawing something else.

Elise, - she insist he call her Elise which is weird to him but she’s a firm but matronly woman and so he obeys – looks up at the sound.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers a quick sheepish grin but she only looks more confused.

“Did you force yourself to get a drawing complete in a certain amount of time? You know that won’t make it turn out well.”

“Oh, no,” Larry flips back to the previous drawing to show her that it’s far from complete, “I got art block so rather than sit here and think about how I had the perfect image if I could only draw it for the next hour I worked on something else for ten minutes.”

“You’re quite talented at drawing cats,” she remarks, and Larry grins.

“I’d hope after how long I’ve been drawing them.”

“So this ten minutes of drawing, does it help?”

“Kind of yeah,” Larry pulls his sketch book back to him, looking at the sketch of Cherrywing and Spiritstar, he should draw Maya and Mia sometime. Maybe- no probably not for Christmas but at some point he should. “It forces me to relax and focus on something else, and get the creative juices flowing while I work on something that’s just for me so there’s no pressure or anything. That’s why I can only do it for ten minutes or I’d never get any actual work done!”

“That’s very clever,” she’s focusing on him now and Larry can only shrug, it’s just something that’s worked for him.

“Are those your cats?”

Oh no.

“Uh no, they’re-” he scrambles for a moment, “they’re just cats.”

Elise looks at him with a look of doubt but doesn’t press, instead she turns her focus on the picture, her eyes softening as she looks at Spiritstar and Cherrywing sitting together, “you have a real talent for capturing the emotion of a scene, there’s something very peaceful and loving about it, even for a sketch.”

Larry blinks in surprise, “thank you!” That was very much what he had been going for and he was pleased that he had succeeded at such.

Elise smiles at him, “you have such a talent for landscapes too, the nature looks natural while still framing them.”

Larry rubs the back of his neck with a grin, “now you’re going to give me an ego,” he jokes but he hopes she understands how grateful he is.

By the way she looks at him she does.

Merry Christmas Nick!!

merry xmas

Hey Maya, Merry Christmas!

Message failed to send.

Figures.

Message failed to send.

You okay man?

I appreciate your concern Larry but yes, I am fine

If you need to call just let me know

Before you joke yes I’m single this Christmas

That’s a kind offer but I am with my sisters

THERE’S ANOTHER ONE?!?

Her daughter has a dog named Phoenix

Holy shit

Quite

Merry Christmas Stripes!

Merry Christmas Wolfman!

Larry has to say, having your mentor frame and hang your finished and signed piece because she likes it so much is like having your parents hang art on the fridge but somehow a thousand times better.

They spend the winter working, her on her story and on helping Larry grow as an artist and writer and working on her own story.

Larry helps where he can with that, mostly by trying not to bother her when she looks busy but she does ask him to do some illustrations for her, citing his abilities with landscapes. He accepts and pours his heart and soul into it.

SHE’S GOING TO HATE IT

NO SHE WON’T JUST GIVE IT TO HER

AAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH

Dude

Fine! Fine!

You’ve got this, you’re a really good artist and you’ve said she’s proud of you

As she should be

So you’ve got this

Thanks man

Go get it writer-boy

You gonna buy my book Wolfman

Of course

Larry can’t help but smile at that.

But you’ve got to publish it first

Rude.

Larry tucks his phone into his pocket and hands the portfolio over to Elise. She accepts them with a smile and begins to flip through them, seeming oblivious to Larry’s nervous shuffling. She pauses at one and studies while Larry does his best to not explode or start nervously babbling.

“These are beautiful,” she remarks and Larry can feel his shoulders sag in relief, “you’ve done fantastic work.”

“Thank you, I went to the park a lot to try and get all the details right.”

“It shows,” she continues to leaf through them, Larry feels more confident so he begins to point to details he feels proud of or wants to make sure she notices.

“These are just the illustrations my book needed if you’ll allow me to use them.”

“I, uh, yes!” Larry stares at her eyes about to jump out of his skull, wait until he tells Nick! He’s successful now, look at him!

Elise laughs fondly and hands them back, “hold on to these and let me talk to my agent but that’s exactly the kind of work I couldn’t find anywhere else, your watercolor style is just what I needed.”

Larry is going to cry and just manages to thank her long enough for him to slip out and tell Wolf everything.

I’m proud of you Stripes

I’m proud of me! I feel like I’m really making myself a new person!

He’s tempted to also tell Nick but he decides to wait. To drop the book on Nick’s desk at his office. That’s how he’ll do it.

Okay so get this

Yeah?

Apparently my last name “can’t be taken seriously by publishers”.

And I thought elementary school kids were hurtful.

Oh my god

So she’s going to have me use her last name.

WHAT

Her publisher loves the idea too.

Makes me look like family.

Which sells or something?

Hey I’ll take it, I’m getting paid.

So what name should I keep an eye out for

Larry pauses, they’ve never told each other their real names, years of being Wolf and Stripes and now occasionally Writer boy and Wolfman on top of having internet safety drilled into them has always stopped them.

Look for Laurice Deauxnim.

As your number one fan I want a signed copy at some point

“Larry,” he looks up from his typing craze at the sound of his name, he’s made a lot of progress on this chapter and with Elise’s help he’s hoping to get it done and sent to publishers by May. That’s his new year’s resolution, getting published this year.

Elise pauses her typing and he hears her sigh. He looks up to her, her face is set and determined but when she looks to him he thinks he sees regret.

“Larry, I’m afraid a situation has come up and I know it’s very last minute but unless you want to come to a monastery with me I’m afraid you’re going to have to spend the next week or so without me.”

“What?” Larry feels a surge of panic not unlike the time he discovered he hadn’t saved in an hour, “a monastery? Why are you- where are you going?”

“Hazakura Temple,” she replies with a pause, Larry has never heard of it but he pulls it up on google quick enough. A teaser for an upcoming edition of the “Oh! Cult” Magazine pops up with some lovely images. Looks cold but interesting.

“Sure I’ll come. I’ve had art block for the past week maybe trying to do some temple scenes will help!”

Elise pauses and smiles kindly, “if you really want to…”

“I need some winter scene practice too,” Larry is not looking forward to wandering around the cold but Elise was going there for some reason, maybe he’ll find a muse there as well.

He flicks his finger over the picture hanging on the wall, the one that still made him smile to see there, “and I’ll give you a winter scene to compliment the summer one.”

Whatever hesitation Elise seems to be having vanishes as she laughs softly, “alright. Make sure to dress warm.”

And in honor of @pachelbelsheadcanon‘s fantastic art, here’s a list of the allegiances.

SpiritClan

Leader

Spiritstar – a cream she-cat with darker paws and face

Deputy

Darkleaf – a dark brown tom

Medicine Cat

Cherrywing – a cream she-cat with darker striped paws and face

Apprentice: Splashpaw

Warriors

Firebirdstorm – a bright orange tabby with spikey fur

Orangestripe – an orange tabby tom with scruffy fur

Beetlelight – a brown tabby tom with a white chin

Apprentices

Splashpaw – a white she-cat with brown paws and face

Demon’s Group

Demon – a dark gray tom with thick fur, especially on his chest, formerly Sharppaw of SpiritClan

Viper – a gray she-cat with cold blue eyes, formerly a rogue

Timber – a brown tabby tom with messy fur

Bird – a calico she-cat with mostly dark red patches

Wolf – large thick furred gray tom

#Ace Attorney #Thank you now I get to rewatch Bridge to Turnabout and probably cry #Larry Writes Warrior Cats

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catholicartistsnyc · 6 years ago

Text

Meet: Jennifer Delac

JENNIFER DELAC is a choreographer and stage manager living in NYC. ([email protected] or JenniferDelac.com)

Catholic Artist Connection (CAC): What brought you to NYC, and where did you come from? How long have you been here, and why did you decide to move here?

Jennifer Delac (JD): I had always wanted to be in NYC. The vibrant art community has been a huge draw since I first visited in high school. I transferred to Fordham University at Lincoln Center my sophomore year and just stayed. I've been here almost 8 years now so I guess I'm a New Yorker at this point.

CAC: Do you call yourself a Catholic artist?

JD: I don't know that I identify myself as specifically a "Catholic Artist." I am a Catholic. I am an artist. But I don't work exclusively on Catholic projects. Much like a musician that isn't necessarily classified as a "Christian singer" by genre but still makes a point of pursuing artistic endeavors that encompass the values that they believe and support. I'm always looking for projects that bring beauty and hope to the forefront and that can be found in so many different places.

CAC: Where have you found support in the Church for your vocation as an artist?

JD: I've found this incredible community as part of the young adult choir at St. Paul the Apostle. It's a volunteer choir made up of a lot of people pursuing art as a profession. It's so nice to be able to come together once a week and share our struggles and triumphs in the entertainment field. I've found it to be so important to have someone to talk to who is experiencing a lot of the same things you are in the city.

CAC: Where have you found support among your fellow artists for your Catholic faith? How can the Church be more welcoming to artists?

JD: Inviting artists to use their God given gifts and talents to be involved in the community. For example, Inviting an actor maybe be a reader at mass and presenting it as a way that acknowledges and utilizes their skills. This could go even further in displaying artwork on a rotating basis or allowing musicians to host concerts in the church.

CAC: How can the artistic world be more welcoming to artists of faith?

JD: I often find myself wishing the artistic community wouldn't be so quick to judge. In an often incredibly accepting community, I find there is a prejudice against artists of faith. Sometimes its because of a bad experience they've had or an unwelcomeness they have felt in the past. Their feelings are valid and I'm finding it takes patience and a lot of listening on both ends to not generalize when it comes to being an artist of faith and associating one person or experience with faith in general.

CAC: Where in NYC do you regularly find spiritual fulfillment?

JD: As an artist, there is an endless list of things to do, people to meet, dreams to chase. I'm learning slowly to take time out of my day for prayer or to simply just sit in a park for 15 minutes and be still. Yes, I could knock something off my to do list in that time but there will always be another item added behind it. It's so important for your spiritual life and for you as a person to take that time.

CAC: How have you found or built community as a Catholic artist living in NYC?

JD: By connecting with artists who also practice their faith. There are so many more people in the city than you would think who fall into this category. Just like in anything else, you need to find people who are after the same things as you in life and reach out to them. It's good for you. It's good for them. It's good for the art you are trying to put back into the world.

CAC: What is your daily spiritual practice?

JD: I try to start my day with a rosary on the train. The subway is a fountain of frustrations and I find that focusing on prayer as a way to start, helps me to keep perspective and not get bogged down by the little things that can affect my mood and mindset for the day.

CAC: What is your daily artistic practice?

JD: I don't know that I practice my art daily. There are certain weeks that seem full to the opportunity to practice my art and then there are months when I feel like I haven't done much at all to contribute to my artistic growth. When I find myself in a dry spell I try to sign up for something like a choreography festival or a reading or a music series to give me a deadline to work towards and not stay too far away from it. There are so many ways to be involved in small projects in the city to keep the artistic juices flowing. It just takes a little internet research and a yes. Also, singing at mass on Sundays as part of the choir has been a game changer for me in terms of feeding both my spiritual and artistic self on a weekly basis in a non competitive, community driven environment.

CAC: You actually live in NYC? How!?

I currently live with a wonderful stage manager I went to school with! I subletted for a long time through friends I knew or through the FB group Ghostlight Productions. I was in and out of the city a lot with shows so it didn't make sense for me to sign and pay for a full lease. It also gave me time to figure out which neighborhoods I enjoyed living in and what commutes I could do on a daily basis that didn't make me crazy.

JD: But seriously, how do you make a living in NYC?

That is always the tough question and I don't know that I will ever perfect that answer. But there are many different opportunities in the city. I'm fortunate in that I pursue stage management in addition to choreography so it opens up a wider pool of job opportunities in the arts. I've found temping to be a good fit for me in between shows, especially when I'm often only trying to fill in a week or two here and there. I know many friends who work in restaurants which can be a great income source but easy to take up a lot of your time, leaving you too tired to pursue the artistic endeavors you came to the city to pursue in the first place (I will note that some people can manage this extremely well but it is not easy for everyone to juggle).

I would encourage you to delve into other skills you have and the crossover skills that make you a good artist that can be carried into other fields as well. Some jobs allow you to work remotely for companies part time, giving you freedom to work around artistic projects, things like real estate, doing digital graphics, video editing for a marketing group, etc.

CAC: How much would you suggest artists moving to NYC budget for their first year?

JD: Ideally, you would have enough to cover 3 months rent (approximately $3,000). You often have to put down a security deposit on an apartment (even if you are subletting) and it's good to be able to focus on settling in and giving yourself time to find a "survival job" that would be a good fit for you rather then settling on the first thing that comes your way.

CAC: What other practical resources would you recommend to a Catholic artist living in NYC?

JD: Make friends with the people around you and don't be afraid to reach out to people for advice. It's a lot of information to learn on how both the city and the industry work. Most artists had someone give them advice and are happy to pass it onto a new person. Many people grew up elsewhere and moved here for a reason so they were once in your shoes and know how overwhelming it can feel sometimes. The Actors Fund can be a great resource as well as churches that have an artist community like St. Malachy’s. I've also found little coffee shops (not starbucks) to be great places to be productive and to meet other New Yorkers (Gregory's, The Chipped Cup, and Hamilton’s Bakery are some of my favorites).

CAC: What are your top 3 pieces of advice for Catholic artists moving to NYC?

JD: 1. First and foremost, stay close to God. It's not always easy and holding onto your faith will keep you grounded and sane, truly. It will remind you of why you started this artistic journey in the first place. God is the ultimate creator after all!

2. Find a community to both hold you accountable and to support you in the high and low times. This is a big city with lots of people but can often feel incredibly lonely so find those people you can sit down for coffee with when you feel stuck or to have a drink with when you are celebrating your first NYC show! I would be nowhere without family and friends who remind me of the important things when I forget.

3. Don't take life too seriously. Find time to take a run through the park, go to a pop concert, try the newest dessert that you see in the window of the bakery you walk past every day. It's a journey and there will be tough times but there is so much beauty and joy to experience as well.

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iamanartichoke · 7 years ago

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It’s almost 4am, I can’t sleep because of Reasons, and my brain isn’t functioning enough to be productive, so I’m just gonna fill out this writing meme. So, yeah, if you’re interested in some very long, self-indulgent writing babble, keep reading, and if you’re on mobile, I’m sorry the cut doesn’t work.

1. What are your favourite genres and/or styles to write in?

Contemporary lit has always been my thing. I was never really into reading or writing much action/adventure or fantasy, which is weird because I was very into shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and LOST - but, I was mostly into those shows for the very rich character dynamics and developments, so. Anyway, Sanctuary is the first thing I’ve written in my life that isn’t in the contemporary, real-world genre and I’m doing okay with it, but I do sometimes get a little paranoid that it’s too character focused with not enough action/comic-genre stuff going on. This is really stepping outside of the box for me, to be honest.

(I just remembered that I did write some Batman fanfic when I was maybe 16 or so, but I’m not sure it counts bc it was terrible and I pretty much just wrote a Buffy-esque character to be Batman’s sappy love interest. God, how embarrassing.)

2. What was the last writing project you finished and felt successful with?

Okay, so, when I was finishing grad school, I had to complete a “publishable” thesis project and mine is/was this collection of linked short stories that I spent probably a good year and a half (including my thesis semester) working on. Technically, I did finish it enough that it passed the graduation requirements, and I have been chipping away at it on and off since then, but after I graduated, I just ... stopped writing, in general. Depression and real life are a shitty combination for writers with very little internal motivation. But, despite that, this collection holds a very dear place in my heart. There are seven stories total, all young adult, coming-of-age themed, and they’re linked by character in that they all take place in a small town and the characters from each story sort of know each other in passing, as happens in a small town. There’s room for ten stories, because it’s a nice, even number. I love all of the characters and I think it could be something really great and could be published successfully - just, it needs a lot more work to get to that point. Eventually it will. Anyway, yes, that’s my last “finished” writing project and I do feel a modicum of success toward it, for what it’s worth.

3. If you have a WiP how do you feel it’s going? What stage are you in?

I am actually 85% pleased with how Sanctuary is going. I started writing the fic without any real idea of what I wanted to do with it or where it would go - I was just having a lot of Loki feels during a difficult time in my life. Prior to this, I would handle my Character Feels by indulging in a lot of watches and re-watches and occasionally making music videos and sometimes fan art (graphics, I can’t draw for shit), but these methods just weren’t cutting it this time ... and hence, fic was born.

It’s not a perfect story, of course - there are some inconsistencies and errors and the writing can always be more polished, but I’m just happy that I’ve stuck with it for this long and allowed it to develop the way that it has. I’m able to flex my writing muscles and get back into the practice of it while having fun at the same time. The story is four chapters away from completion, but I have plans for a sequel and also a couple of one-shots from Thor’s POV that I want to play around with. Overall, I’m pretty pleased with where I am in my little fic-verse right now.

When it comes to original fiction, aside from the aforementioned short story collection, I am in the plotting stages of a novel involving reincarnation, because I am tropey trash, but it has potential. So, there’s that.

4. What are your favourite places to write?

I actually feel like I write more productively when I am away from my apartment, which is a conundrum because I pretty much only leave my apartment to go to work or, like, the grocery store. I have a job that allows me to be at a computer for most of the day, so when I’m not busy, I like to write at work. I weirdly feel more productive and clear-headed at desktop computers, but I don’t have one of my own, so when I’m not at work or at the library, I write on my laptop in places like Barnes and Noble or laying in bed like a lazy bum. I do have a desk at home, but it is woefully neglected, I’m sad to say.

5. Do you prefer to write with long hand or type? Or some other method?

9 times out of 10, I type. However, when I am struggling particularly hard with writer’s block, I’ll write long hand because, for whatever reason, switching methods jolts my brain a little bit and gets the juices flowing again. I wrote the entirety of the Kree battle and Val/Loki in the infirmary (I forget what chapter that was) long hand, among other scenes.

6. Do you remember your first character? If so can we meet them?

My childhood is filled to the brim with embarrassing fiction. I don’t remember my first character, to be honest - I remember being in fourth grade and writing some kind of story for Young Author’s Day at school, and that’s the first thing I remember even writing, but I couldn’t tell you what the story was or who the characters were to save my life. When I was in sixth grade, I discovered S.E. Hinton’s books, and from that point on, I spiraled down into the genre of coming-of-age, tortured, sad protagonists (God, Ponyboy Curtis was my first spirit animal, talk about tragic) and I’ve never quite looked back.

7. Where do you get your inspiration?

Where don’t I get my inspiration, would be a better question. Music is a big inspiration - sometimes I’ll hear a lyric that I want to put to a story, or a song will have a storyline that I like and that’ll get the creative juices flowing. I do get some inspiration from real life, but I shy away from writing anything too closely related to my own life - things that I pull from my life are incredibly fictionalized, but the roots are sometimes there, if that makes sense. Movies and TV shows, of course, especially with character types that I’m drawn to. Other people’s literature is a big inspiration, too. Idk, I think inspiration just comes from everywhere. Everyone and everything has a story that can be told.

8. Do you outline a story before writing it, or does it all live in your head until the first draft gets put down?

I’m kind of 75/25 on this - 75% lives in my head and 25% is outlined, but the outline is always kind of a loose guideline that may end up completely changing by the time the words are actually on the page. I mostly use outlines to put things down tangibly when they get too cluttered in my head and I start confusing myself. I also use outlines to keep track of plot threads, to try to keep things consistent. For Sanctuary, my outline is a mixture of what I want to accomplish in each chapter and an extensive notes section on various canon I’m using, so that I can keep things straight.

9. Where do you go/ What do you do when you’re feeling stuck?

Writing long-hand is a thing I already talked about. Other things I find helpful: going for a long drive to just sort of let myself zone out and think about the story without the pressure of sitting at the computer, listening to music ... sometimes I just put the story away completely and let it sit while I do/focus on other things, and I come back to it refreshed and ready to try again.

10. What got you starting writing/doing Art? (Because I always love origin stories)

I don’t know - writing has just always been a part of who I am. The urge to write was something that came very naturally to me. I’m sure being a voracious reader was part of it, too - I grew up reading books like there was no tomorrow, and I was a very introverted, shy child, so I read more than I talked to people, and that just sort of naturally translated into writing stories of my own. I’ve never been a people-person in that I don’t like interacting with people much (in real life, anyway) but I like to examine and think about how people work, and it’s a strange thing but so it goes. But yeah - there’s no real “origin story” with me, just a long history of being a reclusive nerd.

I guess this is a tagging meme but I wasn’t tagged, so if anyone out there wants to do it, feel free, I’d love to read other people’s responses if you feel like sharing them. :)

#sorry for the babbling #and any mistakes #it's very late/early #i'm just kind of stream-of-consciousness-ing #charlotte writes #the real life of charlotte lennox #writing meme #writing #fiction #fanfic

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healing-crystals-guide · 7 years ago

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CRYSTAL CRASH COURSE: A BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO HEALING CRYSTALS

Created over the millennia, healing crystals harness the life giving elements of the Earth and the universe. Harnessing the energy of the Sun, the Moon, and the oceans, semi-precious stones connect us to Earth as soon as we come into contact with them. Many people wonder if crystals have healing powers, and while there are many anecdotes describing the curative effects of healing stones, it really depends on your own experience. It takes a conscious effort to open your heart and mind to the power of crystal healing, but once you begin, the journey is studded with beautiful, mysterious, and unique crystals that will rock your world.

What can crystals do for me?

If you’re just beginning to use crystals, a great way to harness their healing power is by using healing stones for manifesting your intentions and what you want to create in your life. When it comes to crystal basics, these otherworldly rocks connect us to the Earth because they are tangible, physical forms that have powerful vibrations. This energy continues to connect with you when you wear these intention crystals close to the skin or place them in your environment. With every thought and intention, these crystals pick up on your unique vibrational energy and amplify the positive vibes that you’re cultivating.

In this magical world of vibrations, crystal energy helps you on your spiritual journey because it works to hold your intention and remind you of your connection to the Earth. A well thought out intention is the starting point for healing crystals because specific intentions instilled into your daily thought patterns also become part of its energy.

Why do crystals work?

Clear Quartz has been on Earth since the beginning of time and ancient civilizations have used crystals as protective talismans, peace offerings, and jewelry. Today, quartz makes up 12% of the Earth’s crust and is used in almost every kind of technology, including time keeping, electronics, information storage, and more. If it’s possible for crystals to communicate through computer chips, then isn’t it possible that this vibrational energy could be transformed in other ways? And with its connection to the Earth and its life giving elements, it makes sense that crystals are universally healing, especially since they’ve made their mark in almost every civilization before us.

One of the first pieces of scientific evidence relating to the power of crystals is the work done by IBM scientist Marcel Vogel. While watching crystals grow under a microscope, he noticed that their shape took the form of whatever he was thinking about. He hypothesized that these vibrations are the result of the constant assembling and disassembling of bonds between molecules. He also tested the metaphysical power of quartz crystal and proved that rocks can store thoughts similar to how tapes use magnetic energy to record sound.

Albert Einstein said everything in life is vibration, and just like sound waves, your thoughts match the vibrations of everything that manifests in your life. Therefore, if you think crystals have healing potential, the positive vibes of the stones will amplify those thoughts.

At every moment, we have the ability to choose our thoughts and as we continue our journey, each day presents us with new challenges and wonderful beginnings. Healing crystals remind us to quiet the chatter of the mind and reconnect to the universally healing vibrations of the Earth. An important lesson to learn from crystals is patience, because just like the eons of time it took for these semi-precious stones to evolve and transform, working with the healing power of crystals also takes time. As you learn, grow, and evolve, use crystals as a reminder to be grateful for the abundance of Mother Nature and the great mysteries of the universe.

How do I choose a crystal?

Healing crystals have been used since ancient times, so there is a wealth of knowledge and experience that has been handed down from generation to generation. Once you know the crystal basics, use your intuition to choose the right healing stones for your spiritual journey. Crystal experts often say that the crystal chooses you instead of the other way around. Walk around the room and see what crystals stand out to you. Whether it’s the dazzling colors or otherworldly shapes and patterns that draw you in, each crystal has a unique vibrational energy that works to clear blockages and ward off negative energy.

Finding the right stone is like any practice of wellness. It requires patience while you quiet the mind and realign the mind/body balance. Hold the stone in your hand and quietly think of your intention. Notice if you feel sensations such as hot or cold, pulsations, or calmness and tranquility. These are all signs that this particular rock is perfect for your healing needs.

It also helps to identify a particular problem or challenge you’re currently facing. If you’re having trouble concentrating, Fluorite help clear mental and emotional confusion, which can prevent concentration. To bring abundance into your life, citrine helps you manifest your dreams by channeling the positive vibrations of the sun. Carnelian is a powerful crystal to get the creative juices flowing.

If you have difficulty letting go of old ideas that are no longer serving you, Black Tourmaline is a powerful gemstone for releasing unwanted patterns that may have turned into bad habits. It helps release all the negative energy in your body and within your energy field. This stone also serves as a talisman for protection, which is essential if you’re the type of person that easily picks up on other people’s energy. Hematite is great for deflecting the negative moods of others by grounding you and reconnecting your spirit to the energy of the Earth.

If you’re seeking more tranquility and calm in your life, amethyst is one of the best intention crystals for relieving stress and bringing balance back into your life. Another gemstone that helps balance out emotions is moonstone, which gives you support when you’re feeling overly emotional or out of touch with your feelings. Rose quartz is also helpful for emotional well being because it opens and realigns the heart chakra, which magnifies feelings of self-love and the unconditional love of others.

Whether you’re seeking out gemstones for their physical beauty or to bring peace and tranquility into your life, they all work to increase your vibrational frequency. If you feel good when you hold the crystal in your hand or have it touching your skin, get ready for opportunity to rock with this ancient healing art.

What is an intention?

Thoughts create vibrations throughout the universe, which makes setting intentions a powerful tool for achieving happiness and well-being. Having a clear purpose provides us with insight into our aspirations, dreams, and values. It also helps us live in the present moment instead of being caught in negative thought patterns. Intentions are like magnets. They attract what will make them come true. Setting an intention is a powerful tool for achieving happiness. Crafting an intention starts by setting goals that align with your values, aspirations, and purpose.

Decide what matters to you. Your values drive the actions in your life, and you’ll need to recognize what truly matters to you if you want to find fulfillment.

Explore areas of your life that need an upgrade. Consider how you can improve your relationships, career, social life, spirituality, health, and community.

Be specific about what you want to achieve, when you want to achieve it, and why.

Bring your intentions to life. Certain rituals in the following chapters will ask you to write them down. Make sure you write them in the present tense, as if they’re happening now, and affirm only what you want. You should also write down your goal, the end result of what you wish to manifest. Put feeling into it!

I have my crystal. Now what do I do?

One of the most important, and often overlooked, components to working with healing crystals if setting your intention, or programming. In our own words, you have to give your crystal a job and a purpose! Crystals want to work for you, but you have to tell it what to do. In the moments when you’re vibrating at a lower frequency, your intentions can fly out the window. When you reconnect with your programmed crystal, it will help you remember your goals and limitless potential.

Programming your crystal is simple. The first step is to cleanse your crystal. You can choose your preferred method of clearing, and what resonates with you the most. Immerse your crystal in the smoke of a burning sage stick, Frankincense resin or Copal incense. Place your crystal out under the light of the sun or the full moon for at least 4 hours. Bury your crystal in the Earth and allow it to become recharged with Earth energy. If it’s a smaller crystal, you can place it on top of a Clear Quartz crystal or selenite crystal to clear and cleanse any stuck energy.

Next, hold your crystal in your hands, close your eyes, and take three deep breaths. Reflect on your faith, the Earth, and what makes you happy. This will connect you with your highest vibration. Your highest vibration may be associated with a religious or spiritual belief, God, or simply a divine power that’s greater than you. Or it may be associated with a scientific connection—zero point energy. You decide what to call it. Then, while in this space of love and light, ask that your crystal be cleared of all unwanted energy or previous programming.

Aloud or in your head, say: “I ask that the highest vibration of love and light connect with my highest self to clear all unwanted energy or any previous programming. I command this crystal to hold the intention of . . .” To finish the sentence, add three intentions for your crystal—energies that you wish it to hold for you. End by repeating “thank you” three times. By saying it three times, you emphasize that what you’re asking for already exists in the universe.

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