#he was the one who called me out for being mean to a beginner artist online back when we were in HS and I felt so bad about it since I’d

[tariah23]

I got work at 11pm tonight. Also, my sister just texted me to let me know that one of my old, good friends from HS is a heavy MAGA supporter now……. 😭!!!!

[bbyquokka]

slow

– in which it's yn's & jisung's first time together. jisung gets a little too in to it!

pairing | han jisung x fem reader

genre | friends to lovers, fluff, smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship , small mention of anxiety , jisung & reader are not inexperienced, its their first time being intimate together , masturbation (m) , dirty thoughts , orgasm denial , pet names , love bites , biting , grinding , jisung is rough at the start , safe word used , breast & nipple play , oral sex (m & f rec) , protected sex (p in v) , aftercare

words | 7.6k ~ ( 7,630 )

notes | it's been a while.. i still dont feel 100% on this site rn but i wanted to post a lil something! also, this was requested a hella long time ago! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

you never thought you could ever be so in love with a human being, yet here you are, smitten by none other than han jisung.

you’ve read and watched about love, soulmates, marriage, sex, all that type of stuff in movies and books. you never believed in the soulmate's thing or the ‘red string of fate’. you simply thought it was a gimmick to hook the audience into whatever media consumption they were consuming.

but alas, here you are. as you look at your lover and soak in every single precious detail of him, you slowly understand the meaning of soulmate's. your heart thumps every time you hear him speak, stomach fluttering every time you watch him fill his cheeks up with food like a squirrel.

you met jisung by chance. you both were attending a beginners painting course at your local community center. it was a chance for you to step out of your comfort zone and meet new people, possibly make new friends too.

you were nervous to begin with and possibly overwhelmed too. new faces, sounds and smells. you were overstimulated and the raging feeling of anxiety activated your fight-or-flight mode.

luckily for you, jisung noticed and instantly calmed you down. he spoke to you in a gentle and soft manner. he made corny jokes to help relax you and ease your mind. you only just met him and yet, you felt instantly connected to him – like you've known him your whole life.

he mentioned that the teacher, who's name you learnt was hyunjin, was a very good friend of his and that you didn't have anything to worry about. you explained that you're a terrible artist and know nothing at all to which jisung replied “me too! let's be terrible together, yeah?” 

that day was the most fun you've had in a long time. the anxiety you felt disappeared as soon as jisung approached you. you both created god awful paintings but they left you in tears of laughter and by the end of the session, you were sure you developed a six pack due to how sore your stomach muscles were hurting from laughing too much.

you could say that you both acted like two high schoolers goofing around in class. hyunjin did tell you and jisung off but he was just happy that his friend was able to find someone just like him.

you and jisung exchanged contact details. calling and texting each other 24/7. it started off small and sweet, telling each other about your day, telling one another to eat well and stay hydrated. sending pictures of things you both think the other would like.

you didn't realise or consider that your feelings for jisung were slowly becoming a lot more than ‘just friends.’ you couldn't explain it at the time. you couldn't understand why you felt so giddy every time you saw his name pop up on your phone screen. you didn't understand why you wanted to scream and shout every time he sent you a comfy selfie. you didn't understand why your heart raced and why you felt the urge to spend every single second of every hour with him and when he wasn't calling or texting you, that you felt sad and empty.

you simply put it down to the fact that you've never had a close friend before, especially of the opposite sex. you mistook your feelings for love as that of excitement and joy.

however, it wasn't until you saw a picture of him with someone else on a night out, did you finally understand.

the jealousy you felt that night turned you bitter and cold. it turned you into something that you didn't recognise within yourself. you did act a little distant towards him the next day and poor jisung didn't have a clue as to why.

one thing about jisung that you've learnt since knowing him, is that he is very good at getting you to talk about things you don't want to.

“do you think the reason you feel like this could be related to something much more? something you haven't quite figured out yet.”

as soon as jisung sent those messages to you, did you reflect and come to terms that you have fallen in love with your best friend. once that was evident, you had a whole new problem.

what if jisung doesn't feel the same as you? what if it affects the friendship between you both?

with so many questions rushing in your mind, you unintentionally ghosted jisung and he noticed.

he noticed the dry messages. the one liners. he noticed that you didn't seem all too interested anymore. yeah, it filled him up with anxiety because he wondered if he'd done anything or said anything to upset you.

instead of letting his mind run away with negative thoughts, he made the bold decision to go to your apartment and talk it out.

it was a day you'd never forget. it was a day that started off angsty and slowly turned into something magical.

you talked with each other and you confessed through your tears. you sobbed and sobbed, worry shaking your entire existence. jisung hugged you tight, his scent calmed your nerves. once calm, did he too also confess and that was the beginning of something you both cherish to this day.

you both agreed to start of slow. neither of you are inexperienced however, going from being ‘just friends’ to boyfriend girlfriend is a whole new feeling.

you're seeing each other in a new light, learning new things about one another. everything is so different, everything feels different. it feels like your relationship with jisung is starting all over again. what you thought you knew about him, turns out to be completely different.

you went on many dates and outings. you held hands multiple times and cuddled a lot. you both even exchanged sweet pecks on the cheeks before kissing each other. however, you both never did anything intimate with one another.

not because you weren't ready or inexperienced, it's a simple matter of the timing doesn't feel right. you (and jisung) both want to be with each other more, spend more time with one another and learn about each other before taking that massive (and vulnerable) step in the relationship.

not one of you pestered or pressured the other about it. it's as if you both silently just knew. at first you were a little anxious about not having sex with him right away and jisung felt the same, however, as time went on and you both started to find comfort in each other as well as understand one another via social/physical cues, did the anxieties slowly disappear.

that's not to say that you don't feel some kind of lust for him. jisung is exactly the same, thinking and feeling like you. some days he wishes he could just ravish you. when you look that extra gorgeous or do something cute that makes his heart skip, he wishes he could just drag you back to his place and indulge in you.

there have been many times that he's masturbated over you. date nights he would find himself going home, straight to his bedroom and his fist around his throbbing cock. his mind plagued with dirty thoughts of you, imagining you in your date attire.

some nights he wants to ruin you. his hand funnelling for his phone as his other is wrapped around his cock and squeezing tightly to deny himself of his orgasm. it hurts and the longer he waits, the more it hurts him but it makes his toes curl and body shakes with excitement.

he doesn't know how long he can go on like this. he knows patience is a virtue but just everything about you is driving him insane. the more time goes on, the more he becomes impatient. the more it builds and builds until it feels like he is suffocating with an intense amount of lust.

luckily for him, he won't have to wait that long.

“thank you for tonight, sungie.” you smile as you stand on the doorstep of your home. jisung hums softly, his hands in his suit pants pockets.

“my pleasure. i hope you enjoyed the meal.”

“i enjoy your company more than anything.” you feel your cheeks heat up slowly. the tips of jisung's ears slowly turn red at your cute confession.

“i – ahm – i shall bid you goodnight then, darling.” as he turns on his heels, he is abruptly stopped by you grabbing his wrist. he looks up at you, a look of confusion on his face, his brows furrowed together.

“what’s the mat–”

“stay the night.” you blurt out in one sentence. 

his heart stops beating for a second. your cheeks pink as the grip on his wrist is tight. heat rushes down south and his mouth becomes dry. 

“darling, what are you trying to say? do you know what will happen if i stay the night?” he takes your hand gently from his wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours as he walks close to you. 

you become fixated on him and your senses become heightened. your throat becomes dry as jisung holds your hand whilst his other wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

you become hyper aware of the situation; of him! you swallow thickly, jisung's plump lips curled up at the corners in a smirk as they glisten from his saliva. 

“you are aware, correct?” he whispers. his voice is husk and his breath fans against your lips. you nod slowly, unable to speak. you worry that jisung would be able to hear your racing heartbeat. his cologne tickling your nostrils and intoxicating you. 

you've never been this close to him before. you can see every single detail of his skin up close and personal. his grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he shakily lets out a slow breath.

he brings the back of your hand to his lips, pressing them against your skin as he peers up at you through his lashes. you feel warmth flooding your body, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“god you're so beautiful.” he mumbles before kissing each of your fingers individually. “do you want to, darling?”

“i–” you stumble over your words.

“tell me. let me hear your pretty voice.” his hand escapes your waist to be pressed against your flush cheek. you instantly lean into his palm, feeling yourself be swayed by his charms.

“i-i want you, ji.” you whisper as your eyes flutter close. with a small huff, you feel jisung leaning closer to you and within a second, his soft lips are against yours in a slow and rhythmic kiss.

it's different. it feels different. it's not a simple peck or a good night kiss. it's a kiss that is filled with built up fiery passion. jisung has finally been given the go ahead and he can feel it all overflowing and seeping out.

he grips your hand, eyes fluttering closed as his brows scrunch together. you tilt your head to the side a little, lips locking and caressing one another. he presses his body against yours, your back hitting your door which causes jisung to snake his arms around your back and hold you firmly in his arms.

your own arms wrap around his neck, keeping him close to you as possible. the way jisung is kissing you is making you feel lightheaded and deprived of oxygen – but you don't want to escape from his grasp.

the cold night air fans against your hot cheeks, failing to bring down your body temperature. you feel the tip of his tongue glide along your bottom lip, silently pleading for permission. you grant it by parting your lips and letting your own tongue caress with his.

your body fills with tingles of excitement, your abdomen fluttering. jisung's suit pants are starting to feel a little tight. he can feel himself slowly melt into you, his mind turning foggy. he's waited all this time to taste you and now he finally has you, he doesn't want to escape and let you go.

“taste so sweet.” he mumbles for a split second to allow some air to resume into his lungs. you don't have a chance to reply because his lips are instantly back on yours, tongue caressing and colliding with yours. melting at the touch.

your heart thumps against your chest so loudly, you can hear it in your ears. your body trembles with excitement but also another feeling that you can't quite put your finger on.

you hear jisung fumbling behind you, his hand coming into contact with the cold door handle. with his lips still locked onto you, he opens the door and slowly pushes you inside. once inside, he kicks the door closed with his foot as you both stumble whilst taking off your shoes.

you're the first to pull away from his lips much to his dismay. you look at the man that stands before you and notice that he looks and feels different. he no longer feels soft and gentle. his eyes are hazy but darkened with hunger and lust. his cheeks are pink and lips swollen and glistening with saliva. you see his chest rising up and down with every breath and his neat hair now dishevelled.

“where?” his words dripped with a hint of impatience. you swallow a little and chew your lip gently.

“we can go to my room?” you press your lips together in a thin line. you're suddenly aware that jisung is in your home, in your space and it's making you nervous as hell! jisung notices you trembling a little so he places one hand on your shoulder whilst the other is used to lift your chin up gently so you're looking at him.

“are you sure?” his voice is now soft and gentle, the same softness you've grown accustomed too. “we don't ha–”

“i want to!” you blurt out causing jisung to widen his eyes slightly before chuckling to himself. “just give me a few seconds. i need to go to the restroom.”

he gives you a gentle smile and nods. as you go to the restroom, you tell jisung the directions to your bedroom in case he wants to sit and wait and whilst he does, he takes his time looking around your place.

he makes a mental note how it's just like you. how every piece of decoration resembles you in one way or another. he walks to your bedroom, cautiously sitting on your bed as he waits for you.

as he waits, he suddenly becomes hyper aware of where he is. he can smell you. the same lavender scent that emits from your clothing is now tickling his nostrils. his lips part as he lets out small, shaky puffs of air.

“fuck.. this is bad.” he mumbles as he unbuttons the first few buttons of his dress shirt. his body temperature skyrocketing, skin glistening in sweat as your scent continues to hug him deliciously.

meanwhile, you're in the restroom giving yourself a pep-talk. the coolness of the ceramic sink feels soothing against your hot palms.

you're nervous. you've never been this nervous before. it feels like you could throw up. you want to run and hide but the desire you have for him is too strong. you want him and he wants you, it's just because it's all new that you feel like this.

however, you can't shake that hungry look from jisung's eyes away from your mind. he looked like an animal, ready to pounce on you at any second. 

you take a few deep breaths in and slowly release before fixing your hair. “you got this yn.” you mumble to your reflection before walking out of the restroom into the bedroom.

jisung looks up at you and gives you a grin. his legs are spread, hair pushed back with the buttons of his dress shirt still open, giving you a glimpse of his honey smooth skin you've been dying to caress.

he pats his inner thigh, silently beckoning you forward. like a puppet on a string, you feel yourself being pulled towards him. you stand between his legs, his hands on your waist gently as he strokes it with his thumb.

you glance at him, soaking in how beautiful and flush he looks. he tilts his head to the side, his bangs covering his eyes and his lips curl into a smirk as he sees your eyes flicker from his face to his crotch.

“like what you see?” 

your eyes widen and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. your brain melts and your ability to speak fails. words lodged in your throat and all you can muster is broken sentences.

jisung laughs at your flustered state, pulling you onto his lap. he pulls you flush on his crotch, chest to chest. his arms wrapping around your back and holding you close and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

the tips of his hair tickle your cheeks. hot, shaky breaths fanning against your skin as you feel your clothing being bundled up into jisung's hands.

“fuck, i’m in trouble. you’re too cute.” you giggle, your fingers caressing his soft hair. the tips of your fingers rake against his scalp and jisung closes his eyes slowly. his lips brush against the skin of your neck before being pressed against it. 

he starts off slow and gentle at first, peppering and sucking gently. but that soon fades.

you feel his teeth graze against your skin and your breath hitches in your throat. you bite your bottom lip gently before whimpering a little as his teeth dig into your neck. you squeeze your eyes shut, enduring the stinging sensation as you hold your breath. 

his kissing and sucking quickly becomes rough and painful. you grip onto jisung as his hands trail down your back to hold your waist. he grips onto you, moving your hips back and forth on his crotch.

when he pulls away from your neck, do you realise exactly what is happening and why you feel so anxious.

this isn't your first time but with how rough jisung is being is making you feel scared. the kind, gentle man you're so accustomed to is nowhere to be seen. his eyes are darkened, half-lidded. kiss bitten and swollen lips glistening in saliva.

his jaw clenches as he grips onto you forcefully. his mind has fogged over and he is purely chasing his own high. his body is being driven by the intense lust and hunger that had been building for months.

he's a different person and it's scaring you.

“h-hey. why don't we take i–” your attempt at trying to calm him down and bring him back to you cut short due to jisung throwing you onto the bed.

your back is hit with the bouncy mattress, the springs squeaking from impact. you watch jisung kneel between your legs, hands fumbling with the rest of the buttons of his shirt before it's quickly discarded to the side leaving him in nothing but his dress pants.

you wish you could enjoy the beautiful sight before you but you simply can't. you've seen jisung's body numerous times via gym or thirst selfies, seeing it in the flesh and glistening in a thin layer of sweat is a different experience and you so wish you could enjoy it.

“ji–” your eyes widen as he leans down and kisses you. it's not the same as before, it's rough. all teeth and tongues with no coordination. you start to panic, palms becoming sweaty and your heart beating against your chest.

this isn't how you imagined your first time to be with jisung. this isn’t what you wanted. you want your passionate, gentle and loving jisung back.

“v-volcano!” you sob. as if a switch has suddenly been switched inside of him, he is fast to get off you. his eyes widen in pure shock at the sight before him. you chew your bottom lip gently, unable to stop a few tears from trickling down your cheeks.

“oh my god. oh no. yn, oh fuck. i’m so sorry!” he reaches down shakily and presses his palm against your cheek. you lean in as you sniffle.

“it’s ok.” you whisper.

“no!” his sudden loud tone of voice makes you jump a little. “it’s not ok. i lost myself in the moment and i made you cry. fuck, i’m an idiot..”

“hey, it's ok.”

“it's not ok yn. i didn't mean to scare you. i've been wanting you for so long that when i finally got you, i lost sight of everything and in the process hurt and scared you.” his voice cracking and shaking. his brown, boba eyes filling with tears.

you sit up and kiss his cheek gently. your lips are met with the salty flavour of his tears. he wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you into his chest as he sobs.

“i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry. this wasn't how i planned this. fuck i’m so stupid!” he babbles. you hush him softly, stroking his hair slowly. you make a mental note of how he currently reminds you of a lost child, babbling and crying till their red in the face and snotty.

“i’m ok jisung. it did scare me. i saw a side to you that i’ve never seen before and it frightened me but you stopped when i used the safe word and that counts for something.”

“really?” he mumbles against your neck which is currently wet with tears.

“really. it'd be different if you carried on but you didn't. don't beat yourself up about this. this is our first time together.” you pull away slowly, cupping his cheeks. “we’re still learning about one another, darling. intimacy is a big big step in a relationship. it's probably one where we're at our most vulnerable.”

jisung simply nods and looks down, chin into chest as his lips turn into a pout. a few stray tears falling down his cheeks as he sniffles.

he really is like a child you say to yourself mentally before giggling.

“i'm sorry.” he whispers before looking up at you. “can we start all over again?”

you smile softly at him and nod. he leans on, tilting his head to the side and eyes slowly closing as your lips meet again. he is slow, tender and so gentle with you. it sparks butterflies in your stomach and for you to melt and relax into him.

he gently pushes you down so you're resting on your back, the kiss not being broken once. you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close to you. his fingers dance along your jawline and down your neck, trailing down to your breasts when he gently cups them through the fabric of your clothing.

your breath hitches a little in your throat. he gently massages your breast, kneading it in the palm of his hand. you gasp a little and groan, your legs parting a little bit more to allow more space for jisung to situate himself in.

his hand slowly trails up your stomach from under your clothing. his soft fingers dance along your skin like delicate pixie feet. it leaves a trail of heat and butterflies behind making you longing for more.

jisung licks your lips slowly and is pleased to feel them slowly part. the two wet muscles meet in the middle when they collide, hug and caress. his delicate fingers reach to your breast where he presses his palm on the flesh and wraps his fingers around it gently.

he squeezes your breast a few times, kneading and rolling it slowly. he swallows every gasp and soft moan that falls past your lips.

“god.” he mumbles as he pulls away to bury his face into the crook of your neck. “you sound so beautiful.” 

“i do?” 

“mhm.” jisung's fingers brush over your hardened nipple, causing you to moan softly in shock at the sudden sensation and sensitivity. “see? i might become addicted.”

you flush at his words, your stomach fluttering and heartbeat skipping beats. you worry with how close jisung is to you, that he'd be able to hear and feel how erratic your heart is.

he presses his lips against your neck, kissing it tenderly and giving gentle sucks. his fingers work on your breast whilst you're unsure on what to do with your own. jisung notices this.

“it’s ok. you can touch me.” he chuckles against your neck. you flush red with embarrassment.

“i-i know! i just don't know where..”

“you can caress me. hold me. tangle your fingers in my hair. whatever feels natural, yn.” he pulls away from your neck to kneel up. his hand is off your breast as he takes your hand gently by the wrist. he brings your hand to his lips, eyes on you as he kisses your fingers delicately. “i won't break.”

you watch him kiss your fingers before kissing the back of your hand. then, he takes your wrist gently, guiding it to his cheek. he presses your palm against his flush skin as he leans in, his own hand pressed against the back of yours to keep your hand there.

“it’s ok to touch me, yn. touch me as much as you like. i've been dying for your touch so please, indulge in me. be greedy.” he whispers. 

you can't help the onslaught of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. it feels like they're travelling throughout your whole body, hugging your veins, nerves and tips of your fingers and toes. your breathing becomes shallow and jisung becomes the only thing you see.

everything turns blurry and time passes by slowly as you look at the man that is smitten for you. this love you feel from him, the love that's radiating and seeping from his pores is more than you thought.

it's suffocating but it's good. you want to drown in his love, drown in his warmth. you want to be entangled with him and have him be the only person you think and feel. 

you've noticed it for a while. noticed how hot he makes you feel. how his touch makes your skin burn. how his kisses linger on your skin. your lips automatically turned up in a smile whenever you see his name pop up on your screen. you're always thinking of him and you miss him when he isn't with you. you want to lock him up and never share him with anyone else because you'll get jealous. you want him by your side for eternity.

he is your life, your soul. your present and your future.

“i love you.” 

jisung looks at you, his eyes slowly widening. you haven't registered what you've just said, feeling like you're in a haze.

“say that again.” 

“huh?” you blink, coming back to reality.

“do you mean it? like, truly?” 

“mean what?”

“you said… you said you love me.” your eyes widen as you open and close your mouth like a goldfish, words stuck in your throat.

“i… i…uhm..”

“because–” he cups your cheeks gently. his eyes sparkling and wet as they fill with tears. “because i love you too. so fucking much.” 

your own eyes fill with tears as you watch tears trickle down jisung's cheeks. you laugh softly, stroking them away with your thumb.

“yes. i mean it, ji. i love you.”

“fuck.” he sobs before kissing you sweetly. you laugh in the kiss before kissing his tears away.

“yn.” he mumbles. you hum as a response. “i’m really fuckin' hard.. it hurts..” you press your lips together and glance down.

true to his word you can see a bulge in his suit pants. the fabric hugs him nicely, giving you a brief idea of his size and girth. he looks thick and long.

“please yn.. please do something. i can't bear it no more.” his voice is husk and dripping with lust. it tickles your ears and makes you shake with adrenaline.

you reach down and unbutton his pants, pulling the zip down. it gives him a small sense of relief but it's not enough. he lets out a small sigh before raising up a little on his knees to allow you to pull his pants down.

you do so with shaky hands, pulling them down to his thighs. jisung watches you stare at his crotch, watching you soak in all the information you have right in front of you.

his grey boxer shorts hugging his lower half tightly, the material stretching a little due to his bulge. it hugs him, feeling too snug to be comfortable. a wet patch where his tip is resting turning the fabric a darker grey.

“baby.. you're embarrassing me.” you look up to see jisung looking to the side, his bottom lip being chewed and his cheeks pink.

“sorry! it's just..” you trail off. jisung laughs softly and cups your cheeks.

“it’s ok. i understand.” he kisses your forehead gently. his muscles twitch and jerk as he feels your fingers come into contact with his sides.

you hook your fingers under the waistband of his shorts and slowly pull them down. you both hold your breath, time feeling like it's slowed down. you reveal his happy trail, his neatly trimmed hair until finally, his penis bounces free from its restraints.

jisung sighs heavily in relief, his eyes closing. you, on the other hand, stare at him with your mouth wide open. your hands have now bundled up the fabric of his shorts as you swallow and lick your lips.

you knew he was packing, that was evident in the way you could see it in jeans, pants and even his underwear – but you didn't think he'd be this big.

“holy. you're big.” you say without giving it a second thought. jisung stutters and covers his face with his hands, peering at you through the gap of his fingers.

“not sure if that's a compliment or not but, thank you.” 

“it's a compliment.” you whisper before leaning down.

his hips buck and muscles twitch. you haven't done anything but your breath fanning against his hot skin makes him throb and anticipate. you lick your lips and use the tip of your tongue to lick his tip.

“f-fuck.” he instantly moans. your actions are miniscule but it feels so much more than what it is. maybe it's because he's wanted this for so long or maybe it's because you both confessed and said i love you that makes it feel the way it does.

you press your tongue flat against his tip. your taste buds are met with a salty flavour from his pre-cum. you wrap one hand around the base of his penis as you slowly start to become more confident. you stroke him slowly, rotating your wrist a few times as you wrap your lips around his tip.

he feels hot – so so hot. jisung feels like his skin is burning. he feels like he is drowning in molten lava. he pants as he watches you, his eyes half-lidded and his teeth chewing on his bottom lip.

“hot.” he pants. he reaches down to bury his fingers in your hair. “ahh, fuck..” his head tilts to the side as you bob your head in time with your hand, giving his penis equal stimulation from both your hand and mouth.

you flatten your tongue to stoke the underside of him. you can feel the bumps from his veins against your palm. you hollow out your cheeks and breath through your nose the best you can. the corners of your mouth start to stretch and sting due to them splitting slightly. your mouth becomes accumulated with saliva which makes it easier for you to take more of him.

“a-ah.. fuck, yes. that's it. god, your mouth is so warm and feels so good.”

his praises and soft moans hug your ears. the deep octa waves of his voice send shivers down your spine and encourage you to be more brave. your eyes flutter shut as you focus all your attention on pleasuring jisung. 

he slowly unravels right before you. a thin sheen of sweat soaking his body as his penis throbs and twitches. he gently tugs on your hair, his hips bucking several times. soft whimpers and moans leave his swollen and parted lips as he slowly becomes dizzy with heat and lust.

jisung reaches down and gently pushes you away from him. you look up at him with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed together. he strokes your saliva coated lips with his thumb before speaking.

“you're going to make me cum and i don't want to cum just get.” 

you laugh softly but it's quick to become muffled and swallowed by jisung kissing your lips slowly and passionately. you only pull away from a brief second to allow him to undress you.

once stripped of your clothing, you're left in your underwear. just like you did, jisung is currently staring at your body. his mouth agape and eyes filling with love and admiration as he soaks in every single detail of your body.

you become aware of his eyes and feel somewhat violated by his piercing gaze. you cross your arms across your breasts and stomach, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

“hey, don't do that.” he whispers softly to you as he gently pries away your arms.

“but it's embarrassing.” you mumble.

“but you're so gorgeous, yn.” you remain silent. you don't know how to respond. he's always showered you with compliments and love, forever telling you how beautiful and pretty you are but it feels different this time and it's making you feel embarrassed and shy.

your thoughts are disrupted by the feeling of jisung kissing your stomach. you watch him, tangling your fingers in his hair. he reaches up and hooks a finger underneath your bra strap as if he's silently asking.

you nod slowly. he grins, showing his teeth and gums. he takes off your bra and discards it with the rest of the clothing. his head dips low and you close your eyes, whimpering as you feel his lips peppering kissing on your breasts.

“so pretty.” he mumbles between each kiss. your hard nipple is caught between his teeth, lips sucking and tongue licking the sensitive nub.

you chew your bottom lip to suppress the moans that are building in the back of your throat. you tremble a little and let out a small pant. jisung notices and releases your nipple to kiss your neck softly and slowly.

“don't hold back your voice. let me hear your pretty moans.”

tingles are being left behind from where jisung has kissed your skin. heat pools in the pit of your stomach and much to jisung's delight, you let go of the moan that had been building in the back of your throat.

“see. told you your moans sound pretty.” his hot breath fanning against your hard nipple before his tongue swipes over it slowly. it gets covered in saliva and slowly becomes sore and sensitive.

the tips of your fingers and toes feel tingly. you feel restless and needy. you want him to hurry up and touch you but at the same time, you want to indulge and embrace the sweet yet tender moment.

he moves from your breast and kisses between them, kissing, sucking and licking your stomach whilst his hair tickles your skin. he stops just above the waistband of your underwear, eyes flicking up to meet your hungry gaze.

you nod and give him the go ahead. he licks his lips and slowly pulls down your underwear, discarding them on the floor. you swallow, feeling nervous and embarrassed now that you're on full display for jisung to see.

he shuffles between your legs, kissing your inner thigh slowly as well as sucking it. he squeezes your soft flesh as he looks at you and keeps eye contact with you. you bite your bottom lip, loving this new side to him. your once innocent looking skin now tainted with purple love bites and goosebumps.

using the tip of his middle finger, he trails it up and down your inner thigh slowly. he looks at your pussy, humming softly as the sight of your soaked folds and swollen clit.

“all this for me?” he whispers as he drags his middle finger to your entrance and gently scoops some of your slick onto it. you nod slowly, unable to speak with how embarrassed you feel. “cute.” he mumbles before licking his finger clean.

he leans down and in, pressing his tongue flat against your neglected bud. your muscles twitch and you gasp as electric like tingles shoot up and down your spine. jisung hums at your reaction, swiping his tongue along your clit.

“j-jisun.. aah!” your eyes flutter close as you press your head onto the pillows. the tip of jisung's tongue is now swirling around your bud, fingers teasing your entrance slowly. he gently sucks on your clit before kitten licking it and moaning softly.

he hooks his arms under your legs, pulling you flush against his face. his tongue slips down to your entrance where he laps at your slick, moaning at the taste and rutting against the mattress. he huffs occasionally, hot breathes fanning against your entrance.

“so good.” he mumbles. you go to reply but a moan replaces your words due to jisung slowly pushing his tongue into your entrance. your warmth encapsulates his tongue, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs. he pushes and pulls his tongue in and out whilst his nimble fingers work on stimulating your clit.

“mhm, fuck. ji don't stop, please.” you moan as you reach down and grab his hair on your hands. you gently tug as your back arches a little. jisung feels your walls flutter on his tongue, your muscles twitching with the stimulation.

your folds get coated in slick and saliva along with jisung's lips and chin. he pulls away for a brief second to catch his breath before resuming back to the task at hand. jisung is thrusting into the mattress, the roughness of the sheets rubbing against his length that's being pressed against his stomach and coating it in his pre-cum.

you feel that all too familiar heat and knot in the pit of your stomach. you gasp and moan, tugging at his hair by the roots. your eyes flutter open and you look up at him as he pulls away, your lips forming a pout.

“i want to carry on, believe me baby but–” he kneels up and between your legs. he looks down and bites his lip. you follow his gaze and press your lips together in a thin line from how hard he is. “it’s painful. i need to be inside of you.”

“o-oh.” you blush. “then, hurry up because i want you.” 

“do you have any protection?” you nod and point to the side drawer by your bed. jisung reaches over you and you take this opportunity to lean up and kiss his neck. jisung grunts and shivers, his lips parting slightly as you gently bite and lick his skin.

“baby.. you're not helping.” 

“shh, just focus on getting a condom.” you purr. jisung's hands fumble around, struggling to open the drawer. when he does, he is met several packs of condoms, lube and some toys.

“i see you're fully stocked up.” he says with a smirk, grabbing a condom and closing the drawer. you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

“there for a friend.” you mumble, averting his gaze. jisung laughs as he opens the condom.

“riiiight, a friend.” 

“shut up.” you whine. “it's better to be prepared.”

“oh i know. that's what i love about you, baby.” you watch him roll the rubber on his length and hold your waist, pulling you closer to him. “ready?”

“i’m ready.”

jisung nods and holds the base of his penis. he guides it to your entrance, rubbing his tip against it and between your folds before slowly pushing in. you both hiss for different reasons.

for him, the warmth and tightness is delicious. you feel so comfy and hot that the heat is spreading throughout his entire body and replacing the blood in his veins with molten lava. he feels his cheeks becoming hot, his palms sweaty and brain feeling like it's melting.

for you, the pain from the stretch burns. you know it'll subside once you get used to him but his thickness is currently the issue. he is being careful and content, going ever so slow for you. he has a little under half his length in and you already feel full.

“it’s not all of it but you're still so tight so we shall go from here.” jisung manages to say through his laboured breaths. he gives you a few minutes to adjust, his hands gripping onto you as he painfully waits.

you give him a nod that tells him it's ok. he starts of slowly, the burn still there but pleasure is soon quick to override it. you reach down and hold onto his wrists as he slowly picks up the tempo. 

his head tilts to the side and his lips part slightly. soft moans and grunts leave his lips. you hold onto him, your body rocking with each thrust of his hips.

“aah fuck. you feel even better than i imagined.” he pants.

“y-you too. please go a little faster and harder.” jisung nods and starts to thrust harder and faster. your back arches as pleasure hugs your body tightly, making you feel like you're suffocating. moans being lodged in your throat.

jisung leans over you, resting on his forearms that are beside your head. the new position allows him to push a little bit of his length deeper inside you but his hips slow down. his movements are long, slow and sensual. 

the ridges of his cock rub your gummy walls, reaching places that have never been touched before. jisung leans down, burying his head into the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“this feels too good.” his voice is hoarse and low due to his throat being dry from panting. his hair sticks to his skin, the tips coated in sweat as his body glistens.

“it does. you're so deep, ji. please don't stop.” you whisper in his ear, moaning a few times.

“fuck.. you sound so fucking pretty moaning my name. is it even possible to become even more addicted to you?” he kisses your neck slowly and gently. 

your gummy walls tighten around him. both of you reaching your peaks. denying yourselves from previous orgasms meant that it's been building and building up to this point.

“i can't..” you stutter, nail digging into his back.

“me too.. i think i’m at my limit.” you whimper and nod as a response. a few more thrusts and you both orgasm together. your walls flutter around him whilst he twitches and empties into the condom.

you both pant heavily, exhaustion settling in. jisung's arms shake a little, threatening to give up and collapse on top of you. using the remaining strength he has, he pushes himself up and pulls out slowly, taking off the condom, tying and discarding it.

you spread out on the bed, eyes slowly closing. jisung laughs and kisses your forehead gently. he rushes to the bathroom, running a warm bubble bath for you both.

he gently scoops you up in his arms, placing you in the tub before settling behind you. after washing yourselves, you both take a few minutes to relax. you lean into his chest, listening and feeling his steady heartbeat.

“i’m sorry about before..” he mumbles as he strokes your hair slowly. “i became too excited and lost myself in the moment.”

“it’s ok. all's forgiven.” you grin, looking up at him. your grin falters as you look at him. his head dipped low, chin tucked into his chest. his boba eyes glistening as he chews his bottom lip. “hey, it's ok.” 

you spin around to face him in the tub, kneeling uncomfortable in the small tub. you cup his damp cheeks gently, water droplets falling from the tips of his hair. he looks at you and pouts softly.

“but i sca–” you press your lips against his to silence him. his eyes widen a little but he is quick to kiss back.

“i said it's ok. you stopped and you snapped out of it pretty quickly. don't beat yourself up about it, baby. besides–” you push his hair back gently “i enjoyed my first time with you.”

“me too.” his cheeks flush pink, whether from him feeling shy or the humidity of the bathroom. “i’d love to do it with you again.”

“the feelings mutual.” you giggle before kissing his forehead. “now c’mon, let's get to bed. it's been a long night and i’m exhausted.”

jisung agrees and gets out of the tub with you. you both dry yourselves off and get ready for bed. jisung suddenly scoops you up in his arms which causes you to squeal and laugh. he walks to the bed, gently placing you down.

you snuggle into the duvet, watching jisung get in beside you. he faces you, holding your hand gently.

“i love you, yn. i love you so much.” he plays with your fingers as he whispers those sweet and delicate words to you. your heart flutters and skips beats, time freezing for nth time.

“i love you too, ji. forever and always.” 

[goldentemplariumcrow]

As a stationery and fountain pen affictionada...

This. Still. Makes. Me. Laugh.

Let me explain why:

Look at how Tim is holding the pen. Stylistic choice or not, that grip means he's putting pressure on the pen. That he's heavy handing his writing.

Now look at the pen. That's a fountain pen. Fountain pens work through combined capillary and gravity action that makes the ink flow down to the nib naturally when the pen is in writing position and in contact with a writing surface; which is, depending on the model, between 45° and 60° angle in the vast majority of the cases.

Most fountain pens aren't made to sustain heavy hand writers. In fact, a great number of them is used to correct the grip, angle, muscle memory and heaviness of a person's handwriting style, since the simple act of touching the nib on paper easily makes the ink come out.

Now, look at Damian's implied facial expression and body language. Yes, we can all shrug it's just his rivalry with Tim that makes him react like that, it's a perfectly reasonable way to explain it all. However, for a fountain pen affictionado, for someone who loves fine writing instruments, that right there is a sentence of death.

Damian isn't just seeing Tim use his pen. He's seeing Tim, a person who couldn't care less for the writing tools he's using, obliterate the tines by placing way too much force on them. He's horrified of his favorite writing instrument being damaged by Tim's disregard with it, which is the most common reaction ever when any fountain pen lover sees their favorite pen being held and used by another person without their authorization.

Damian isn't overreacting at all.

The fountain pen community can confirm it.

[EDIT]

I know it's no ones concern, but as a lover of fountain pens, I kind of had to give a huge zoom-in in a version of this that isn't as pixelated and... guys, I think I know which fountain pen is this!

I may be wrong, but I think that's a Lamy Safari Black Charcoal model!

In the comic we can't see the window or the triangular grip very well (I can kind of see a shadow of the triangular shape, but I'm not calling it without being certain) and it looks a bit chonkier, but look at that cap! That minimalist cap with the sturdy yet simple, black clip and small gap on the top of the cap! That's a cap for a Lamy Safari model if I ever saw one!

Yes, maybe it can be some other fancier and more expensive brand, most Lamy's I've seen are between 30-60USD with special collections being a little closer to the 80USD mark on really expensive shops online, but let me make an argument for it.

A Lamy Safari fountain is considered a popular workhorse among affictionados and artists alike. Not only it's reliable, with a simple yet stylish body and construct that serves to pretty much every occasion, its construct is simple in terms of maintainance and handling. Want to go travel on a plane? No problem, take the cartridges with you! Prefer bottle ink? Not a problem at all, here's the converter for all your bottled ink needs! Oh, the standard medium nib isn't to your liking? Let's find one that you enjoy, there's European extra fine (0.38) to broad, stub, italic and even for writing musical score! Still not enough? Hey, there are many manufacturers that make their own customized nibs for a fair price, maybe give them a try? And the best part? The nibs aren't so expensive that you're breaking the bank with them, so if you break one you can get another with relative ease.

This sweet pen is a monster at work 24/7. No wonder it's a popular model among beginners and long term users and lover of fountain pens. They're just that good.

[valeskakingdom]

I'm an artist. I just want to paint the town crazy (part47)

Some weeks passed by and Jerome indeed made sure Scarlet would recover fast. He helped her with stolen medication against the pain, he robbed every store to get enough other medication for her, and he even robbed blood bags since she lost a huge amount of blood since she was too weak to walk. He cared about her more than he did about himself. Experiencing almost losing his doll made him realize how much she meant to him. She was his weak spot, he wouldn't deny it - but how cruel would it be for Jerome's ego if everybody saw how vulnerable he can be? It would be a shame! Nobody would respect him anymore, nobody would see him as a real threat - they would probably dare to call him a loser or even a pussy that couldn't handle his life without his doll. Whether it was true or not, he didn't want anyone to accuse him of wrong shit that would crack on his ego. He had to show them he was smarter, stronger, and even better than what they would eventually think about him - and he did. Not just the medical care he did, oh no, he did a lot more. He did some kind of training with her like how to walk with a straight back, stretching her muscles, and doing some workouts to strengthen her stamina. Day by day Scarlet needed to jog a few miles, run upstairs and downstairs several times, and do sit-ups, push-ups, and other stuff. Of course, he didn't torture or pressure her. He knew she needed some time to recover, but with the right treatment, you always can recover faster than people would expect.

And it worked. Within weeks, Scarlet recovered super fast. It was like she was never injured, she was never shot by Andy, and she never felt unconscious due to her massive blood loss. Scarlet became the old one, luckily. Her power came back, her mastermind, her stamina - everything was the same - and not to mention her bloodthirst and need to kill.

"So, my love," Jerome grinned, rubbing his hands in excitement "Are you ready for today? Remember today's the day we present Gotham as our real comeback! Better be up to the mark"

"You don't need to tell me what to do or how to be, Jerome" Scarlet grabbed some of her guns and hid them in her clothes anywhere ready to hand "I know myself best what and how to do. I'm not a beginner just because I've been dead. I'm the old one as before with my glorious mind and skills"

"Oh, I know, I know, princess," Jerome snickered "Not even the experience of death can change you - turning out to my advantage. I mean, who would not be happy about having a strong intelligent woman in their life with a deranged mind?"

"So you're calling me crazy?" Scarlet frowned at him, giving him one of her death dares. She hated being called crazy. She wasn't crazy, she was different, ordinary, or special. She wasn't any stupid lunatic who had no plan for life and was talking to some of the weird voices they'd hear.

"No, no, my doll," Jerome cupped her face "Quite the contrary, you're quite talented, you're special! How many people in Gotham do you know have equal abilities as you? There's no one out there in this rotten town. You're the diamond beyond all those mineral ores. You're outstanding, your human physical appearance is stunning, your mental structure is prodigious, and let's be honest," Jerome smirked "You're Gotham's number 1. See, the citizens fear you and adore you at the same time! You could take advantage of this and start a riot, a war of good and evil could be created with one finger snip - isn't that glorious?"

"Sure, J" Scarlet smirked, placing her hands on his cheeks softly "I am prepared for the Noble War, but are you too? People can be outrageous when they're starting a riot, you know? They try to replace someone to be better, we saw that on Dwight, remember? And we don't want that to happen again, do we?"

"Surely not," Jerome chuckled "But don't worry doll, I won't let anyone try taking you away from me. This kind of problem will be erased quite easily" He thought of the way he killed Dwight: manipulation, praising, and then killing. He surely knew that when starting a riot he wouldn't have time to tie people up on chairs and tape some dynamite on their bodies - so his plan was doing a blood rush like killing all men that tried to get in her near. He at least was the one who was allowed to be with her and not the others.

"Of course it will," Scarlet chuckled "It's gonna be a real bloodbath since people don't accept your comeback. Many want you dead after you let the cult fall and conceded them to be arrested in jail."

"They didn't match my expectations. How can I count on those people when they're praising an idiot that's trying to be me? They aren't loyal enough to us, they would follow any guy that's trying to implement apparent visions and plans I might have" Jerome muttered "What we need are trustworthy and loyal partners, people that just trust us. And how do we find them best?"

"We scare the shit out of them and make use of their anxiety like with guinea pigs" Scarlet gave him her darkest grin "We pull them out of their comfort zone and form them into our little helpers who do the dirty work for us"

"Oh, doll," Jerome grinned, cupping her face one more time and pressing his lips on hers softly "What would I do without you and your wonderful mind?"

***

Jerome and Scarlet lurked through the streets of Gotham City to find a perfect place to start the show. It had to be a big place, a public place would be the best. The park? Nah, Gotham's park of a little piece of grass that was surrounded by a little puddle. It wasn't very big, you couldn't even use it for festivals or speeches. The park was so unattractive that almost no one visited it in their free time. The park was always empty, even in summer.

The municipal building was no place either. Most of the people in town didn't pay attention to what was happening at the building's front door. Some eventually watched a scene for two minutes but most of the people simply ignore it.

So what was the best place to start a riot? To spread chaos? To start the end of Gotham City?

You're right! It's in front of the GCPD! You wonder why? It's simple! Gotham is full of crimes, it's full of danger. The people feel unsafe! They're scared! Whenever there was a danger they ran to a hidden track and hide - and their favorite hidden track was the GCPD. It was the place with the employees who try to eradicate evil. They knew they could trust these people, they knew they'd do anything to keep people like Jerome and Scarlet away from the citizens.

Good that Scarlet and Jerome weren't alone though. In the meantime, Jerome organized a little team of his and Scarlet's old friends and people who hated Jim Gordon and the whole GCPD. They wanted to see Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock dead. They wanted to see the GCPD burn, they wanted to see the officers being scared and helpless, not knowing what to do anymore - and so Jerome's and Scarlet's followers would stand in front of the GCPD's entrance with all their weapons to hold the officers back from trying to defeat them. They, especially Jim Gordon should see the ultimate danger in Scarlet and Jerome. He should fear them, he should see their appearance as a threat, he should despair because he wouldn't have a clue how to hold them back - he and the whole GCPD should surrender.

"The boys are on their positions, see?" Jerome pointed at the guys, standing around the street and entrance. They all tho looked like street men, nobody would recognize them - same with Scarlet and Jerome. They wore scarves and masks, gloves, and old, dirty clothing to resemble the underclass. They looked like poor people walking around in the hope to get some money or food for the day.

"Yeah," Scarlet nodded, looking behind her right to the GCPD's entrance "The cops don't notice a thing either. They're probably too stuck with paperwork. You think it's time for us to start?"

Jerome said nothing at first, he was analyzing the situation: many people walked around, there were no cops that would recognize a thing, and there was no Jim Gordon who would become suspicious - the time was perfect! There was no austerity, no danger, no paternalism - nothing! Scarlet and Jerome could simply start with anything they wanted to, no one would give a shit.

"Do it! Now or never" And this was the moment when Scarlet grabbed her rapid shot under her clothing and shot in the air to the signal danger is coming.

She wanted to make people scream, she wanted to see them panic and anxious, she wanted to see them trying to run away but they would be held back by her co-workers - and all this happened. When Scarlet started to shoot, people screamed and tried to flee but they were held back by the other so-called street men, who started shooting too. Some shot at the people, and some simply shot in the air to scare them away. It was so glorious to see how they were driven in the middle like some guinea pigs that were running away from a predator, squeaking, whining, and trying to find a possible way out. Some of them even nudged others forward to be saved from the shots.

On the other hand, it was glorious to see how helpless the cops, especially Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock, watched this scenario. Of course, they sprinted to the entrance to help, they already grabbed their guns to eventually, shoot - not possible. Right in front of them, several men blocked the entrance and pointed their guns at them, ready to shoot at any time. So their only option was to watch and see the chaos and mess Jerome and Scarlet would make.

"Oh, hello Jim, hey Harvey" Scarlet chuckled darkly "Now you see the world burn," She started cackling maniacally and walked towards the scared people that were surrounded by her co-workers "Citizens of Gotham, long time no see, right? I'm about to say we kinda missed you a little, but see: we're back! We have so much to tell you! So much to show you! There's much to do with you!" Scarlet chuckled "Like this" Scarlet went up to her upcoming victims and pulled one girl out of the crowd. She was whining, crying, and screaming at every movement Scarlet made at. She was so scared her hands and legs were shaking, she couldn't even formulate a normal sentence!

"Seems like things getting outta control, Jimbo, huh?" Jerome chuckled darkly "Your little men seem impressed to see us. You see, I'm not dead, I'm fully alive, made of flesh and bone! HAHA!" He laughed "Be honest, you missed to the see good old Jerome in his action, eh? You had enough time to prepare"

"What we miss is a quiet minute in Gotham City," Jim muttered "Ever since you vanished into thin air, Scarlet became Gotham's newest problem. She had caused a stir much more than you. She became bigger than you, worse than you"

"When has she even not worse than him?" Harvey questioned irritated. He just remembered her beginnings: the way she killed her parents brutally with no remorse or guilt, the way she blackmailed and punished her dad's coworkers if they didn't behave, her manipulative behavior toward everyone- she was just pure evil.

"My doll? Worse than me?" Jerome couldn't believe that. His doll could never be worse than him, rather equal to him. No one could be worse than him, right? He was the ultimate "No, no, no. That's not possible, she's been the somewhat decent one beyond us. She-..."

"Then watch this" Jim nodded in her direction to let them watch her scene.

"Oh, I know y'all are scared of me and my boy, by ut you don't need to! See, we all are just humans, right? We have different shoots, and needs, wishes, and demands...but all we want is satisfaction, right?" Scarlet embraced her anxious victim, pretending to calm her down "Shhh, I know you're anxious, believe me, I know how it is being driven into a corner, helpless, feeling boxed in..." she then leaned her head on her victim and slowly grabbed her knife out of her pocket "You think there's no way out but there is! Do you See the light at the end of the tunnel? This is your day, this is your way out of all your sorrows, this is your way to salvation" And so Scarlet stabbed her victim right into her neck over and over again. Scarlet loved it, she enjoyed every stroke she did to let her victim's neck. This blood, the whimpering, the body's twitching whenever the peak of the knife hit a nerve in her neck - it was wonderful.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Scarlet let the bled-out and unconscious girl fall to the ground like some piece of trash "This is no murder, this is salvation! Let's look at this poor girl. She was so young, so anxious about the new, so jumpy about the unknown... And why? Because of her family and all the people that caused her trust issues, fear of commitment, inferiority complex because of her body or her nose, and the feeling of being neglected whenever she was not involved in something. Death through me was the best thing that could have happened to her! There's no more suffering, no sadness, no overthinking, no degrading and reviling! She's free, free like me, free like all of us very soon! You just need to follow us, follow us into our dreams! Let's make our dreams come true! For you! For Gotham!" 

This little speech was what Jerome has impressed again about her. This was the real Scarlet. So manipulative, so creative, so brutal - even though, stabbing someone wasn't something special, the way she did it was amazing though. She was a true cult leader, the things she said were reliable, expressive, so vivid and emotional. This showed her again that she was the one. She was the one he wanted to be with, to make plans with, to kill with - because of this, he knew it was the right decision to talk to her in Arkham back then and to revive her after all. She was his muse, she was his secret weapon, she was his right hand, she was his chosen one.

"Amazing, doll!" Jerome applauded "I couldn't have done it better," he grinned "Y'all don't need to be afraid of us. We want to show you an opportunity without problems and sorrows. We want to show you how it is to be free, how to solve problems without feeling guilty for wrong decisions, we offer you a better way to live! We all know things may be complicated in life, especially with narcissistic parents who implement degrading and brutal measures to form us the way they want us to be. We want to show you how to fight against it!"

"Killing is not the right way! Killing is a crime! Killing is evil! All you want is to turn us into psychos like you to rebel against the GCPD! You don't wanna change Gotham, you want to destroy it!" You heard a younger male voice bravely yell through the anxious crowd. You could see others gave him a shocked look. They couldn't believe what he has dared to yell at Scarlet and Jerome. Has he become crazy? Has he really taken leave of his senses? He dared to insult them! He dared to make head against them!

"Who said that?" was the sentence Scarlet and Jerome equally said with huge devilish grins on their face when they looked over to the crowd. They both thought the same: They were impressed by his brave - he dared to resist even though he knew the consequences, he knew he'd die.

"It was me!" The younger man stepped forward, right in front of Scarlet and Jerome. He really showed no fear. There was no stammering, no shaking hands or knees, he seemed calm after all - he was a real talent, and someone like him would be of good use in their team eventually, that's what Jerome thought if there wasn't the problem of his point of view towards them.

"You're brave, my friend, mouthy but most of all you're silly and dumb. People like you always try to be the hero in every story. They try to rescue the princes from the evil stepmother but end up dead since they underestimate the evil power" Jerome chuckled bitterly.

"You're not even better! You're like every villain in a Disney movie: mouthy, absent of reality, and a megalomaniac! But in the end y'all are failing since good shall triumph!" The young men yelled in the hope to get support by the others. Sadly though, no one supported him with a "yes!" Or a "yeah!" Or any other claim since all the people were way too scared of Scarlet and Jerome. They all knew it was his death desire, they all knew it was a huge mistake to raise his voice against them.

"He reminds me of my brother. Always knew things better, always liked to command, always thought he was right, and always thought he was the better one than me." Scarlet muttered angrily, grabbing her gun and pointing it right at the guy "I hate people like my brother. They're driving me nuts! They make me hear his voice again telling me what to do or how to stop certain things" Then she started even imitating her dead brother "Hands on the table plate Scarlet! Your behavior is so rude, Scarlet! You have no manners, Scarlet!”

Jerome just started grinning, he knew what was coming - Scarlet was becoming insane. She was in psychosis, it was like she was a role in a completely different movie, it was like her personality switched with a finger snip - and this was something Jerome loved about Scarlet. It was her hidden talent, one trigger and she was the most brutal person he knew - he was about to say she became something he would consider a monster in any action movie.

"But I won't listen to my brother anymore! I am my free agent! I can do whatever I want! I'm no minor anymore who needs to be taught what's right or wrong!” And that was the moment when she started shooting at this guy, again and again, and again - up to the moment where she was out of munition. People started screaming, they tried to run away, far away from the corpse, from Scarlet or Jerome - but for sure, they couldn't. One of their sudden moves and the co-workers grabbed their guns and pointed them at the crowd to stand still.

Scarlet was full of hate, she couldn't control it though. She felt such enormous hate towards her brother that every guy who just reminded her a little of him was a red flag. It was a no-go, people like her brother were all the same, she knew that. People like him were bad, they were treating everyone like shit, they were the monsters in the world and not Scarlet! He was the reason why Scarlet became the way she was! He was the one with her parents who drove her insane! She could have lived a normal life as she used to be a normal girl, but no! She was the scapegoat in the family, she was always the guilty one, and she was always the victim! There was no doubt people like them would act the same - she just knew it, and so she had to end their lives.

“And you,” Scarlet looked up at the crowd with the most aggressive and evil death stare she could give them “You should better listen to me: You see, being mouthy and trying to tell me what's right or wrong is not the right way to get put of this situation. You won't anyway! You're stuck with me in here!” She slowly walked to the crowd with her weapon “There's no way out. No fleeing, no fighting, no annoying, no rebelling. If you do, you'll die like your little friend here,” Scarlet chuckled darkly “It would be such a tragedy, wouldn't it? So, I wanna make you a little offer. I don't wanna kill all of you, yet, I wanna make use of you instead. You should be part of our team! You should work with us! You should be free like Jerome and me!” She smiled at the crowd “So who's in?”

[haemey]

As a musician - who do you make art for? Obviously, when your grades depend on it, it's easy to focus on your teachers and peers. But really, realistically, who is your art for? Who do you draw for? Who's your target audience?

What do you think your target audience thinks of you? Really, I adore your style. It's so shape-y and expressive. I don't see the mistakes you make.

Here's another thing - skill and knowledge don't always progress at the same rate. If your skill surpasses your knowledge, you get cocky. That's why so many beginners seem to be so convinced they're the best. Because they don't have the knowledge to see what they need to work on.

If you knowledge surpasses your skill, all you see are the mistakes you make. That's why so many advanced stidents and even professionals have such low self-esteem.

Being able to see the mistakes you make means you already have the knowledge to fix them. Now you just need to find out which skill to develop to do so.

In my experience, as a professional musician, stagnation, or even "loss of skill," usually comes right before a sudden jump in skill. It's like a resistance you need to push through. It's you brain trying to learn and understand what it needs to do. Keep at it and it will click. Not all progress is linear, sometimes you need to take a step back to be able to leap. And not everybody progresses at the same rate.

I've seen people who, over the course of whole semesters, if not years, barely got better. And then, suddenly, the got it. They understood the Thing. They found a new method that worked. They found where the problem lay. And *boom* in a matter of a few weeks, they improved exponentially.

I've seen people (and I'm included in this group) who started out in pole position and progressed at amazing rates - only to drop off and slow to a crawl later.

At one point, where I felt super stuck in my technique, where I saw how good everyone else was and how inferior my skill level seemed to be compared to what it "needed" to be, my teacher told me I really didn’t need lessons anymore becauwe I was already so extremely good. I don't know if he was lying to me or if he truly thought that way, but it felt awful. I wanted to learn and he wouldn’t teach.

I changed teachers and immediately, my skill progression resumed. I am now at a level where even people who have nothing to gain from kissing up to me praise my skill.

After eleven years of studying at uni and three Master's degrees. It took so long. I had so many setbacks. But I got here.

And still I get rejected from jobs and competitions, but such is life in an artistic field. It's something you need to learn to deal with. If you have character, if you have something that makes you unique and recognisable (and trust me, your art style is unique and recogognisable), that means you have something that makes you different. And if you are different in any way, there are things about you or your product that will not be everyone's cup of tea. There will be people who will activeky dislike what you do. A jury member at a competition called me "controversial" (whatever that means), but she said that this is what makes people interesting. This is what gives artists like us an edge. This is what you will get hired for.

Don't worry. If you want to improve, you will. Not always quickly. But you will. Not everyone will like what you do, but that's a good thing. It means you're individual enough to stand out.

And trust me, you do stand out.

The issue I’m having right now with my art and school in general is that I’m just so woefully mediocre. Like..I’m good enough that when I ask my teachers for help they don’t know what to say, or just say keep doing what I’m doing, or like they don’t want to critique me even though I keep asking for it, but I’m also not good enough that people take note of me. Like no one is pulling me aside and telling me they can help with my portfolio, or that they have extra resources. Always “pretty good” but never eve “excellent” or “exceptional.” I’m not blind, I can see the mistakes on my art, and I know they can see it too.

And I get I need to be the one to seek it out, but it’s disheartening when people around you just have the potential that you currently don’t and get noticed for it. I guess I just need to keep drawing but I feel like I’m running out of time. I’m trying really hard. There’s not enough time in the day for me to be doing more. I just want to be successful, but it’s coming so slowly to me and I’m afraid by the time I’m done with school I won’t have much of anything to show for it

[happykjd]

exo-l japan official book #15 - chen's interview

q: are you the type of person who can separate on and off? or are you the type that thinks about work during the holidays? i’m the type that can completely separate them. but honestly, it’s impossible to forget work during private time since it’s always in my head. that’s why i think about what i should do the next day. what are some things i could have improved today, i think of that kind of thing that can help my work in the future, to get rid of negativity. emotionally, i can separate it too, but it’s really hard. if i start thinking of something, i have other thoughts as well and feeling which make it hard to stop thinking. but i try hard to not let out any negative feelings. when i’m on break, i just rest. i space out while playing music or watching movies, or while i’m taking a bath (laughs)

q: how do you “switch” your motivation on? i don’t really need a switch. it might be because i’m too used to the way i live now, but when i’m outside or working i can automatically switch myself into work mode. maybe there’s a switch in my body and that's why i feel i can get into working mode easily.

q: what are some hobbies you’ve been into lately? i’m more into in hobbies i can do at home, since i can’t go out as often because of the pandemic. i’ve been making things with beads, and doing flower arranging. lately i’ve also been challenging myself and cooking, mainly grilled foods. but i’m a total beginner, so i’m not good at all. i only started it a month ago (laughs) but even someone like me can cook with some help through cooking tutorials (laughs) i don’t think it tasted bad. i can’t tell if i have the talent to be good at cooking or not (laughs)

q: what’s the difference between exo chen and soloist chen? they both represent the person called chen. instead of being different, there is chen as exo and chen during his solo activities, they’re all the same chen. however, soloist chen wants to show a more lyrical side, so i think he has a more approachable image. it wasn’t done on purpose, but it’s the way i’m doing things i wanted to do freely as a soloist. 

q: what color would you use to describe your voice? i think it would be like fog. it’s white and a little foggy, with a little sadness to it. honestly i don’t like my voice that much (laughs) i admire a voice that feels white and has a sunny feeling instead of a foggy one.

q: how do you choose which songs to share on your youtube channel? i pick everything myself. i take into account requests from fans, but i tend to pick songs that i like, or things i want to express in the form of songs. i pick them to match my thoughts and interests.

q: what role do you think you play in the group? lately i feel like i need to protect my position as main vocalist (laughs) lately i’ve seen the members practicing their own vocals a lot (laughs) seeing them work hard makes me nervous, and i feel like i should work harder on dancing (laughs) i want to take center of the group. that doesn’t mean i want to be the center in choreography, but supporting all the members. i want something neutral like that. when the other members need me, i’ll support them. i want to make exo an even better group.

q: what motto do you keep in mind as an artist? don’t get too full of yourself. there are times when i’m full of myself, though (laughs) there are times when i need to be that way, but i feel like if i get too full of myself i won’t be working as hard to improve myself and can’t move forward. that’s why i always keep this thought in mind.

q: is there anything you want to work on in terms of growing as an artist? practice. just that, nothing else. as time goes on, music changes with trends, so i feel like there’s often a need to improve my skills. i always practice to match the way trends in music change.

q: what kind of activities would you like to try to challenge yourself as an artist in the future? instead of challenging myself with a specific genre or concept, one of my goals is to work hard and focus on the tasks in front of me. i think the way i sing a year from now and how i’ll sing ten years from now will be different, but i want to make sure i can express all my feelings while performing. (src)

[brooklynmuseum]

Closing out National Poetry Month, our Spring Interns paired some of their favorite poems with works from our collection. We hope you enjoy!

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas

Image: Suzuki Harunobu (Japanese, 1724-1770). Page From Haru no Nishiki, 1771. Color woodblock print on paper. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Peter P. Pessutti, 83.190.1

from Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape...” [Excerpt] By Claudia Rankine 

/

I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter

to be alien to this place.

Wait.

The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.

The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter,

given the histories of you and you—

And always, who is this you?

The start of you, each day, a presence already—

Hey you—

/

— Halle Smith, Digital Collections Intern Catherine Green (American, born 1952). [Untitled] (West Indian Day Parade), 1991. Chromogenic photograph, sheet. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 1991.58.2. © artist or artist's estate 

Ode to Enchanted Light by Pablo Neruda

Under the trees light has dropped from the top of the sky, light like a green latticework of branches, shining on every leaf, drifting down like clean white sand.

A cicada sends its sawing song high into the empty air.

The world is a glass overflowing with water.

Consuelo Kanaga’s black and white photograph captures a dazzling, yet fleeting moment from everyday life. Three textured glasses cast shadows whose patterns are almost kaleidoscopic in effect. We can imagine Kanaga passing by her kitchen table, as she is brought to a halt to take a closer look at, and ultimately to photograph, the simple beauty generated by the play of light and everyday objects. The close-up scale of this image emulates the singularizing framing techniques deployed by Surrealist photographers, who also took parts of everyday life and blew them up in the photographic frame, thereby encouraging their viewers to look at life around us from a different angle. It is a way of saying: Here, take a closer look. Viewing the world with wonder, along with the joy that this act brings, are encapsulated in Pablo Neruda’s poem Ode to Enchanted Light. The speaker observes the way light passes through trees and creates enchanting patterns. He not only observes, but feels the beauty in the simple details of life, from the way light falls from the sky, to the sheen of leaves, to the buzzing of cicadas. Approaching life through such a hopeful lens evokes a glass-half-full perspective. In fact, the speaker is so hopeful that he believes “The world is/a glass overflowing/with water.” I think Kanaga would have felt the same way. 

— Kirk Testa, Curatorial Intern, Photography Consuelo Kanaga (American, 1894-1978). [Untitled] (Glasses and Reflections). Gelatin silver photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Wallace B. Putnam from the Estate of Consuelo Kanaga, 82.65.25

Easter Wings By George Herbert

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

      Though foolishly he lost the same,

            Decaying more and more,

                  Till he became

                        Most poore:

                        With thee

                  O let me rise

            As larks, harmoniously,

      And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne

      And still with sicknesses and shame.

            Thou didst so punish sinne,

                  That I became

                        Most thinne.

                        With thee

                  Let me combine,

            And feel thy victorie:

         For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Easter Wings by George Herbet and Martin Bach’s flower vase from the Brooklyn Museum’s Decorative Arts collection reveal the interrelationship between form and function. In Easter Wings, Herbert strategically varies the line length to create an image that enhances the meaning of the poem; when you turn the poem on its side, it resembles the wings of a bird, of which are symbolic of the atonement of Jesus Christ. In doing so, the author is not only telling us his message, but he is showing it visually as well. Similarly, the vase takes the visual form of its function. Its floral design amplifies the meaning of the object, as the vase is meant to hold flowers. In both instances, we see how aesthetic properties of a work echo the meaning and function of the work itself.

— Amy Zavecz Martin Bach (American, 1862-1921). Vase, ca. 1905. Opalescent glass. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mrs. Alfred Zoebisch, 59.143.16. Creative Commons-BY 

I am the Earth (Watashi wa chikyu) [Excerpt] by Kiyoko Nagase, Translated by Takako Lento

I am warm, moist soil  I am a single supple stalk  I draw my life  all the way up into corollas of wild berries on the roadside 

I am amazed at  a breast of water welling  to flow into the inlet of a muddy rice paddy  I am amazed at  myself being  hot steam blowing fire and sulfur up  from the bottom of the great ocean, deep indigo.  I am amazed at  the crimson blood flow  covering the earth’s surface in human shape;  I am amazed that it swells as the tides ebb and flow, and gushes out monthly under distant invisible gravity … I am the earth.  I live there, and I am the very same earth. 

In the four billionth year  I have come to know  the eternal cold moon, my other self, my hetero being,  then, for the first time, I am amazed that I am warm mud.

The vivid imagery conjured up by Kiyoko Nagase’s poem is beautifully visualized by Emmi Whitehorse’s painting. The emphasis on deep Earth tones and abstract corporeality in both the poem and the painting really creates an intense metaphysical link between the environment and the self.

— Amanda Raquel Dorval, Archives Intern Emmi Whitehorse (Navajo, born 1957). Fire Weed, 1998. Chalk, graphite, pastel and oil on paper mounted on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Hinrich Peiper and Dorothee Peiper-Riegraf in honor of Emmi Whitehorse, 2006.49. © artist or artist's estate

Seventh Circle of Earth by Ocean Vuong

On April 27, 2011, a gay couple, Michael Humphrey and Clayton Capshaw, was murdered by immolation in their home in Dallas, Texas.

Dallas Voice

                                          1

2

                                              3

                                       4

                                               5

     6

                                                                                            7

________________________________________________________

As if my finger, / tracing your collarbone / behind closed doors, / was enough / to erase myself. To forget / we built this house knowing / it won’t last. How / does anyone stop / regret / without cutting / off his hands? / Another torch

streams through / the kitchen window, / another errant dove. / It’s funny. I always knew / I’d be warmest beside / my man. / But don’t laugh. Understand me / when I say I burn best / when crowned / with your scent: that earth-sweat / & Old Spice I seek out each night / the days

refuse me. / Our faces blackening / in the photographs along the wall. / Don’t laugh. Just tell me the story / again, / of the sparrows who flew from falling Rome, / their blazed wings. / How ruin nested inside each thimbled throat / & made it sing

until the notes threaded to this / smoke rising / from your nostrils. Speak— / until your voice is nothing / but the crackle / of charred

bones. But don’t laugh / when these walls collapse / & only sparks / not sparrows / fly out. / When they come / to sift through these cinders—& pluck my tongue, / this fisted rose, / charcoaled & choked / from your gone

mouth. / Each black petal / blasted / with what’s left / of our laughter. / Laughter ashed / to air / to honey to baby / darling, / look. Look how happy we are / to be no one / & still

American.

Ocean Vuong’s “Seventh Circle of Earth” has persisted as one of the great, affective moments of poetry in my life since I first heard Pádraig Ó Toama’s gorgeous reading and discussion of it on his podcast, Poetry Unbound. I decided to pair Vuong’s poem with Mary Coble’s Untitled 2 (from Note To Self) because both works are urgently immersive into the violence and experience of LGBTQ people in the U.S., and for how each work uses text and physicality to address presence, pain, and erasure. Vuong’s poem is actually footnoted to a quote from a news article about a gay couple murdered in Texas. The page is thus blank, absent of text. The reader has to sink below the main stage, the accepted space of word and story, to find the voices of this couple and the depth of their story’s tenderness, eroticism, and utter devastation. Coble’s piece foils the structure and effect of Seventh Circle of Earth by taking what was subverted by Vuong—text and the narrative of violence—wholly to the surface. Her photograph captures her own legs tattooed without ink with the names of LGBTQ individuals victimized by hate crimes. I cannot help but think of Franz Kafka’s short story “In the Penal Colony,” in which prisoners’ “sentences'' are inscribed by the needle of a “punishment apparatus” directly onto their bodies. I was struck by how the curator’s note for this photograph describes Coble’s artistic endeavor here as “harrowing.” The needle in Kafka’s short story is indeed called “The Harrow”. The noun harrow is an agricultural tool that combs plowed soil to break up clumps of earth and uproot weeds and clear imperfections. The verb to harrow means to plague, and in the story’s original German the verb for “harrow”, eggen,  is also translated as “to torment”. Kafka and Coble conflate these definitions of “the harrow” in their respective works: they use a needled device, like the true noun definition, as an instrument of torment because of someone else’s idea of punishment and justice. Here, violence is brought to the surface, intimate in as much as we are brought right up to the artist’s skin and into the presence of her and her community’s pain. Together, one can see how each creator physicalizes their respective artistic space to tell the stories of LGBTQ people, of what is tender and harrowing, below the surface and written into the skin. 

— Talia Abrahams, Provenance Intern, IHCPP Mary Coble (American, born 1978). Untitled 2 (from Note to Self), 2005. Inkjet print. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 2008.10. © artist or artist's estate 

To my daughter Kakuya   by Assata Shakur  

I have shabby dreams for you   of some vague freedom   I have never known.   Baby   I don't want you hungry or thirsty   or out in the cold.   and I don't want the frost   to kill your fruit   before it ripens.   I can see a sunny place  Life exploding green.   I can see your bright, bronze skin at ease with all the flowers   and the centipedes.   I can hear laughter,   not grown from ridicule   And words not prompted   by ego or greed or jealousy.   I see a world where hatred   has been replaced by love.   and ME replaced by WE   And I can see a world replaced                                       where you,   building and exploring,   strong and fulfilled,   will understand.   And go beyond my little shabby dreams. 

This poem is featured in Assata Shakur’s memoir, Assata: An Autobiography. It details her hope for a better world that  her daughter can grow up in. This poem is positioned in the book when Shakur is facing increasing prosecution as a result of her  activism and affiliations with the Black Panther Party and Black Liberation army. Being written more than 30 years after this picture  was taken, the poem summons me to think about the trauma that many Black women face and how much of that trauma gets passed  down to their children. The black and white photo of a mother and daughter provides a nice visual to the poem. “The image of a Black  mother and child sitting on their luggage reflects the little-discussed history of segregated transportation in the northern United States. Through the 1940s, Penn Station officials assigned Black travelers seats in Jim Crow cars on southbound trains” (Brooklyn Museum). The photograph of train passengers waiting outside of Manhattan’s Pennsylvania Station especially echoes the verse “I don’t want you  hungry or thirsty or out in the cold.” The overall optimistic tone of Shakur’s poem alters our relationship to the image as we imagine  the mother pictured above hoping for the exact same things

— Zaria W, Teen Programs intern Ruth Orkin (American, 1921-1985). Mother and Daughter at Penn Station, NYC, 1948. Gelatin silver photograph, sheet: 13 15/16 × 11 in. (35.4 × 27.9 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mary Engel, 2011.22.3. © artist or artist's estate

Crunch.  By Kailyn Gibson 

I retch as a mass of sinew lies between my lips.  The sensation is unbearable.  Fortunately, the jar of flies has gone missing again. 

Slowly, surely, and yet never sure at all,  the quiet of buzzing rings through the in-between. 

It is a symphony wrought from blood and bone. 

Saliva drips from bleeding, hungry gums,  And the crunch of glass echoes the grinding of molars.

If I proffered a sanguine smile, would masticated shards look like teeth?  Would they gleam just as prettily?  

The flies ring,  and the rot calls. 

— Kailyn Gibson Edgar Degas (French, 1834-1917). Portrait of a Man (Portrait d'homme), ca. 1866. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Museum Collection Fund, 21.112 

Excerpt from Autobiography of Red A novel in verse by Anne Carson

7. If Helen’s reasons arose out of some remark Stesichoros made either it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) or it was not.

8. If it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) either this remark was a lie or it was not.

9. If it was not a lie either we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way we are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros or we are not.

10. If we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros either we will go along without incident or we will meet Stesichoros on our way back.

11. If we meet Stesichoros on our way back either we will keep quiet or we will look him in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen.

12. If we look Stesichoros in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen either he will tell the truth or he will lie.

13. If Stesichoros lies either we will know at once that he is lying or we will be fooled because now that we are in reverse the whole landscape looks inside out.

This excerpt comes from Appendix C of Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red, a novel in verse. A translator and classicist herself, Carson mixes fact with fiction in her unconventional retelling of the myth of Geryon and Hercules, beginning with a roundabout introduction to the poet Stesichoros. Autobiography presents a captivating example of recent Queer projects that take up Classical material as their basis. A fascination with the Classical past has pervaded our modern conception of sexual identity politics, down to the very etymology of the word “lesbian.” In this fascination, I see the same desire to capture Classical imagery as cultural heritage which has also pervaded American museums, albeit with significantly different aims. The fresco pictured above comes to mind, which passed through many collectors and was even purchased by the museum before anyone pegged it as a modern piece—not an original Roman fresco. John D. Cooney, a 20th century curator of our Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art collection, wrote that “the unclad and somewhat winsome charms of the lady [probably] diverted objective glances.” Both in the case of the fresco and Carson’s novel, the “unclad and somewhat winsome charms” of the Classical past shape and reshape our understanding of history.

— Kira Houston, Curatorial Intern, Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art Modern, in the style of the Roman Period. Part of a Fresco, early 19th century C.E. Clay, paint. Brooklyn Museum, Ella C. Woodward Memorial Fund, 11.30.

Late Fragment by Raymond Carver From A New Path to the Waterfall, Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989.

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

— Shori Diedrick Brackens (American, born 1989). when no softness came, 2019. Cotton and acrylic yarn. Brooklyn Museum, Purchased with funds given by The LIFEWTR Fund at Frieze New York 2019, 2019.12. © artist or artist's estate

Jaguar By Francisco X. Alarcón

some say                                    dicen que ahora                  I'm now almost                           estoy casi extinto       extinct in this park                      por este parque    but the people                            pero la gente who say this                               que dice esto don't know                                 no sabe that by smelling                          que al oler   the orchids                                 las orquídeas in the trees                                 en los árboles they're sensing                          están percibiendo  the fragrance                             la fragancia of my chops                              de mis fauces  that by hearing                          que al oír the rumblingc                            el retumbo of the waterfalls                        de los saltos  

they're listening                         están escuchando          to my ancestors'                       el gran rugido   great roar                                  de mis ancestros

that by observing                      que al observar     the constellations                      las constelanciones     of the night sky                         del firmamento 

they're gazing                           están mirando at the star spots                       las motas de estrellas    on my fur                                  marcadas en mi piel that I am and                            que yo soy always will be                           y siempre seré the wild                                     el indomable

untamed                                  espíritu silvestre living spirit                               vivo de esta of this jungle                            jungla

While the author of the poem speaks about animals, their words can also speak on behalf of the erasure of indigenous peoples in South America. Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions and culture are very important to life in South America. Despite their marginalization, Indigenous peoples throughout the Andes used coca leaves to help with the altitude. The use and cultivation of coca are criminalized throughout most of South America despite it being essential to indigenous cultures. This vessel was used to contain lime which would activate the coca leaves.  Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions are also faced with endangerment despite being woven into the fabric that is Latin America. Through the opposite man and woman figures, the vessel shows the duality that is important to the Quimbaya people which is still relevant to Colombians today.

Aunque el autor del poema habla sobre los animales, sus palabras también comunican el sentimiento común de la supresión de los indígenas en Suramérica. Con la mención del jaguar, se puede entender en el poema que la cultura y las tradiciones de las personas que son indígenas son sumamente importantes para la vida en Sudamérica. A pesar de su marginación, los indígenas en Los Andes utilizan la hoja de coca para ayudar en la altura de las montañas. El uso y el cultivo de la hoja de coca fue criminalizado (penalizado) a través de Sudamérica, aunque su uso para los indígenas era vital y esencial para su cultura. Este recipiente que se utiliza contiene limón lo que activa la hoja de la coca. Similarmente al jaguar, las tradiciones de los indígenas siempre estaban en peligro aunque estuvieran entrelazadas en las telas de lo que sería Latinoamérica. A través del hombre opuesto y las figuras de mujeres, el recipiente muestra la dualidad de lo que es importante para las personas que son Quimbaya, algo que todavía hoy es relevante para los Colombianos.

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas Quimbaya. Poporo (Lime Container), 1-600 C.E. Tumbaga. Brooklyn Museum, Alfred W. Jenkins Fund, 35.507. Creative Commons-BY 

[sichengtual]

— summary: wanting to make his big break as a song-writer, jun gets assigned to work with a band that has every intent on making it big. but it’s the 70’s, and just as he’s about to discover, love and rock&roll go hand in hand.

— pairing: wen junhui x reader.

— au: 70’s, song-writer!jun, rockstar!reader. 

— genre: fluff. 

— word count: 15, 273 (15.2k)

— playlist: somebody to love — queen ;  your song — elton john ; where you lead — carole king ;  tiny dancer — elton john. 

— warnings: alcohol consumption, some cursing, josh saying groovy every time he speaks.

— a/n: a part of me really wishes i was living in the 70′s and i think it shows here lol also, the moonwalker is inspired on the troubadour and the song jun writes is tiny dancer because it carried me the entire way, what an mvp. 

this one’s for @chocosvt​ ! i really hope you like it <3

Jun is nervous. 

The tapping of his feet against the cold, faux tiled floor produces no audible sound over the music coming from the speakers, but it’s still noticeable to him. He tries to keep a steady pace, even counting along to the beat as he plays the same words over and over inside his head. It’s his own voice speaking back at him, words a mere reminder, and, if he were to be completely honest, part of the reason behind his nerves.

He had promised you, on the very first day he met you, that he’d help you shine. That he’d make you succeed. Part a rush of the moment, part wanting to impress his boss and part a reassurance for himself, his promise had been easy to make. Then. And it’s not that he doubts himself, or you, but, at the end of the day, he’s a 24 year old making his debut in the music industry. And it’s hard, of course, because even when he’s not the one performing, it’s still his words that are being sung. 

Doing what he does is harder than people usually think. Jun’s lyrics are heart-felt, authentic, with his entire soul poured on the paper and ready to be dissected by whoever got to listen to the songs he wrote. He surrenders it to the artist, basically giving up any kind and sort of hold he has over the feelings he’s just reflected, giving them away for someone else to interpret them the way they want. The way they can. And as difficult as it is sometimes, it’s part of the job, and all that he can hope for is for them to be interpreted in the most authentic way possible. It’s hard, definitely, but after years and years of trying, he knows that having them expressed are way better than keeping them in.

Following the loud bang of a drum, he looks around as he keeps the pace with his foot. The entire room smells like entrapped smoke, and warm coffee, and it looks somewhat like it too. There’s a thick, almost translucent layer of fog-like smoke hanging on the air, slowly rising to the ceiling as minutes keep passing. There’s also a big arrangement of paper cups, both full and empty, resting on all possible surfaces around him, almost reflecting the passing of time in their placement; 8 in the morning on the desks, 2 in the evening on the equipment luggage, and a few hours past midnight on some parts of the floor. 

The practice room is a dimly-lit space, with a few round, orange and yellow glass lamps hanging on the ceiling and set a few meters apart, barely even enough to illuminate the entire room. In the evening, the last few rays of sunshine manage to break through the high set windows, reflecting on the tinged glass and breaking upon the dark purple walls in bright, warm shades of orange. 

He hasn’t been there a lot, only a few days since he had arrived for the first stop of the tour, but as he sets his eyes on it, he can’t help but think it almost resembles a sunset. He can see the colors, the exact same ones that paint over the sky just as the night is about to fall down, and it serves to help him ease a little bit. Sunsets, even the ones reflected upon the walls of a world tour practice room, are the same all around. 

“Why are you still getting it wrong? It’s all about the groove, man,” Josh whines. He’s sitting on a small wooden stool, his guitar propped up on his knee. 

“I don’t know, Josh, I’m the one that wrote this riff and for some reason I just can’t play it correctly again!”

“Beginner’s luck,” Chan comments, not really involved in the argument, but never one to pass the opportunity to strike a joke. He looks down to tune down his guitar once Mingyu turns to give him a stare. 

“That doesn’t make sense, I’ve been doing this for years.”

“Well, it certainly doesn't seem like it! Just try to make it groovy!”

He’s still getting used to the band. 

They’re a nice group of people; kind, loud and boisterous, but that’s just every band he knows. Having worked in the label for years, he’s used to seeing bands come and go, submitting his songs with no much more room for interaction left other than a Jun, they liked it! coming from his boss on the good days (the bad days are different, a little less remarkable, but they’re the ones he tries not to think about). This, his first time on the road with one of them, is a completely new experience, and if it wasn’t for finally seeing his dream beginning to get on track, it’d be one that would probably have him shaking in fear. 

But they’re warm, laid-back and easy to talk to, which he appreciates, knowing he’s not the best at initiating conversations... or maintaining them. He had felt intimidated at first, looking into a group of rising rock stars from the outlook of someone who’s just as into their world as he’s out of it, standing somewhere between the line that divides the outside and the inside. But he’s entering, just walking in and slowly stepping his toes on the water; and he’s doing it by the side of people he’s glad he can finally get to call his friends. 

“Jun, could you possibly tell Mingyu he’s been playing the wrong note the entire time?” 

“Yeah Josh, I already know I’ve been playing it wrong.” 

“Please stop fighting so we can practice!” Soonyoung says from his spot on the drums, backed up with a nod from Vernon, the bassist looking surprisingly bored at the altercation.

“Can you tell him to play the right note this time? And remember, make it groovy!”

He hadn’t heard the door opening, but you’re walking in the room just he finally tears his gaze from Josh’s bright red guitar. You turn to give him a smile, one he quickly returns, before turning back to the two bickering guitarists. He turns to look at the set playlist, with his name carefully penned down below all fifteen songs, and he tells himself that, despite his nerves, he might just be perfectly ready for the tour to start. 

“Are you okay? You looked a little distracted today.” 

The diner is quiet. 

There’s really not much movement, with only another customer besides him inside the small establishment. He can focus on the clinging of his spoon as he moves it around in his cup, light, creamy bellows of steam rising as the aftermath of the ripples he creates on the dark liquid. The coffee really isn’t great, tasting a bit tangy against his tongue, even after he had added a small packet of sugar to try and ease the bitterness of the beverage. If he focuses enough, he can even make out a light buzz coming from the neon lights advertising the diner in the street, sound low but crisp against the pouring rain. 

It’s cold, and a part of him really regrets coming to the diner straight out of practice without going to his room first. He had just needed to write, and to do that, he needed silence. He runs a hand up and down his left arm, the coolness from his rings perceivable even through the thick wool of his shirt. 

He looks up, the ripples inside his cup long forgotten. 

You’re standing in front of him, looking just as tired as he feels, with a completely different stance than the one you usually show inside the practice room. Or on the stage. It’s relaxed, at ease, a little shy, even, and he can’t help but wonder if, behind the whole rockstar facade, maybe the two of you aren’t really that different. 

You take a seat in the chair in front of him, the laminated red seat squeaking as response to the movement. 

“Huh?” He lets out.

“At practice,” you move, trying to get comfortable in the cold, plastic chair. “You looked a little distracted. Everything okay?”

Jun shrugs, smiling softly. “It’s just nerves, I think.”

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Jun smile, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him smile like that. And, in complete honesty, it was the first time it had been completely directed at you. He had always been a little quiet, ever since he was first introduced as the “new song-writer” by the label director, and, because of the chaos that naturally ensued whenever surrounded by the entire band, your interactions with Jun had been few and far-between. 

Here’s what you’ve managed to learn about him in the months you’ve known him: he likes to be alone when he writes, but he can also do it when sitting as far away from the speakers as possible. He likes drinking his coffee with both sugar and cream, and even if he doesn’t drink too much of it, he always finds a way to spill even a little bit, be it on his shirt or somewhere near his notebook (which has been the cause of many scares inside the practice room). He keeps a pen in his shirt pocket at all times, whether it be for writing down an incoming idea wherever he found or for clicking the seconds away whenever he got nervous. 

And he’s surprisingly shy about his lyrics, even when he sounds completely confident in them. You can tell, whenever you’re given them to sing them, that they are words he’s proud of; words that came from his heart as bits and pieces of the most beautiful poetry you’ve ever read. And they’re always accompanied by a small, shy smile and the slight reddening of his cheeks. 

“I know what you mean,” you say. You call the waiter just as Jun takes a sip from his coffee, not missing the slight purse of his lips as he swallows down the warm beverage. “I’m nervous too.”

“You don’t seem to be,” he comments. He looks back down at his coffee, hand still making circles with the spoon. “Whenever you sing, it’s like you’re completely used to it. It feels as if it were something you’ve always done, something you know like the back of your hand. And still… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like you’re thrilled by it, even more so every day.” 

Jun looks up at you, hiding his words behind a smile. You don’t notice, too busy ordering a cup of chamomile tea to make anything of the way he’s staring at you from the other side of the table. 

“It’s amazing what putting on a brave face can do, then,” you answer. “I love being on stage. It’s just nerve wracking to think about it when I’m not there. It’s like Mingyu not being able to get his own riff right unless he’s playing in front of a live crowd.” 

“Oh, please don’t remind me of the riff incident. Joshua’s voice hasn’t left my head the entire day.” 

Rain continues falling. You can hear some melody coming from the speakers, which, even when it feels completely unfamiliar, makes Jun’s sway to the side as he rests his head on his hand. Maybe he knows it. 

“I hope it’s not a bad sign,” Jun mentions, pointing to the window with his thumb. “Starting the tour with a little bit of rain.”

“Seungkwan was talking about that earlier, too,” you say, thinking back of the keyboardist’s words from before you left the practice room. “But you know, if anything, I think it might be a good sign.” 

Jun purses his lips, head moving to the side. His fingers move across the table, fiddling with the empty sugar packet he had used. The bright pink paper shines bright against his hands, fluorescent yellow light reflecting from outside. It captures his eyes, and yours, and for a brief second, the both of you are stuck on watching how the packet’s shadow grows whenever Jun moves it around his fingers. It reminds you of him with the pen, a mere distraction. Or maybe just a way for him to set his ideas in order. 

You can tell he’s still a bit hesitant about the interaction, not knowing if they’re nerves at talking about the tour or just nerves at talking to you. As soon as he looks up from his hands, you give him a smile. 

“It’s a bit of a fresh start, isn’t it? And I think, right now, that’s what we all need.”

As much as Jun wants to say he’s not surprised at the turn-out, his eyes are wide open at the influx of people coming through the doors. 

His heart beats loud against his chest as he looks down at the stage, empty of people but perfectly set with an array of instruments that are only waiting to be lit alive. The entire place is full of chatter; the ever-growing excitement of a crowd begging to be enchanted by an unknown performance. Up from his spot at the balcony, he can’t make out what they’re saying but he doesn’t miss how they’re saying it: and the pure excitement in their voices draws a chill from his spine. 

It’s a scene like the ones he’s been hearing about for years. Like the ones he’s been dreaming of witnessing, of being a part of it. And now he’s in one, not only as an spectator, but as the man behind the words. 

“It’s amazing, don’t you think? Or as Josh would say, incredibly groovy.” 

Seungcheol, the band’s manager, asks as he walks into the balcony. Him and Jun went way back, much more than anyone else in their group besides the band themselves. They were the new generation, the young dreamers at the office that were only waiting to be given a shot to prove themselves. They had been hired at the same time, both meant to work with a completely different artist that had ended up not taking them because of how young they were. 

They had built up their experience together, and it had been those late-night talks at the label’s office that made Jun able to call Seungcheol his friend, powered through by cheap coffee and tired conversations full of laughter. And they’re only part of the reason why Jun always refers to Seungcheol as a long-lost brother more than a newly found friend. 

“It’s almost sold out!” Seungcheol continues. He’s wearing a dark pin-stripe suit, as he always is whenever he’s on official business. His hair is slicked back, and his usual pair of gold wire-frame glasses rest on top of his nose, specs perfectly clean. “People keep walking in and walking in and walking in! It’s almost as if they’re the freaking Rolling Stones and not a band barely making their debut. Is that Hoshi or is it Charlie Watts on the drums?”

“It’s the Monday night show, it’s a guaranteed success,” Jun mutters. He knows Seungcheol would be able to see past his facade, to make out the true meaning of his words. Three years after meeting him, there isn’t much he can hide from him. “I’m happy for them, though. The first night’s important.”

“Yeah, me too,” Seungcheol smiles. “Vernon’s been freaking out in the backstage since he started hearing the crowd coming in. He’s just staring at his bass and Hoshi’s about to smack his head with his drumsticks.”

“They’re gonna do amazing. If Mingyu gets his riff right, that is.” 

“And everybody’s gonna love the songs,” Seungcheol says, pressing a gentle palm on Jun’s shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed he was shaking. “If only they knew the stud that wrote them. I bet they’d even like looking at those nice bell bottoms you’re wearing. Since when do you like purple pants?” 

“I bet they’re gonna prefer looking at Mingyu,” Jun laughs before Seungcheol does, and it almost distracts him from his surroundings. “Or even Josh. And Minghao gave me the pants, by the way.”

“Or even Josh,” Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head as he looks away from his friend. 

“Groovy,” Jun says. 

“Groovy,” his friend responds. 

Jun’s nerves have calmed down by the time the lights fall down. 

A half-empty beer bottle looks over the crowd, sitting immediately next to the balcony’s railing. He notices an entirely new atmosphere now that the room is only barely lit, as if the lights falling had only served to heighten the people’s emotions. It’s almost as if they’re in a different place altogether, with expectating hanging high in the air and out of everyone’s reach. 

The Moonwalker they had walked in, just a few hours before, barely resembles the Moonwalker they’re in right now. 

It had been lit by the natural light coming from the windows, bouncing over the wood-covered walls and reflecting over the little trinkets that served to adorn them. They had been the highlight of the place, attracting the eyes of everyone that entered to the rows and rows of pictures and memorabilia. What was that hanging over the bar, Bob Dylan’s hat? Jun had only been more impressed by the bright neon sign that spelled the bar’s name right on the center of the stage, after seeing it on newspaper cuttings for most of his life. 

A few days back, when Seungcheol had told him of the gig they had landed the band through a friend of his girlfriend (bless you Lily!), Jun almost couldn’t believe his words. The bright blue cursive sign had been the first thing that had come to mind, consuming his thoughts as a sort of finish line at the end of a marathon. It wasn’t only the bar’s trademark, it was also the backdrop of some of the most amazing debuts in modern rock n’ roll history. And now, looking at it shining brightly against the low-lit room, a part of him still can’t believe he might be about to see one of them with his own two eyes. 

He had heard of concert nights on the Moonwalker the same way he had heard the stories of the great mythic heroes. He had seen pictures the same way he had learned of iconic places and happenings. He remembers spending entire nights finding motivation in the dream of listening to his songs being played in the exact same place some of his favorite songs had been presented, of them finally finding their home within the same crowd that had once listened to The Byrds and Carole King. 

And as you walk onto the stage, commanding attention with each step, Jun is sure tonight is going to become one of those. And that it’s his songs that will be sung back by the crowd, resounding against the walls and enveloping the entire place in their meaning. 

The band had already been introduced by the club owner, but no one had actually turned to pay attention until you had walked on stage. You’re met by countless excited bellowings, a smile on your face forming at the sudden attention. 

“We hope you enjoy the show!”

The rest of the band follows, and Jun is struck by a thought. Words materialize in his head as if prompted by the first few notes, threading together into a complete, coherent phrase. It’s a phrase Jun knows. He might have heard it from someone, or read it from somewhere, and it’s stuck in his brain the same way the bridge of the song you’re singing once was. Or maybe it was just something someone had once told him. 

He knows that there are moments in an artist’s life that will define their career. Moments that let you know how it's gonna go. A preview of sorts. And he knows, looking at you shining under the spotlight, that he’s just witnessed something big. 

The entire crowd has gone wild at the music, and Jun knows it’s only the beginning. 

For now, he just smiles, and like the people dancing down below, he lets himself go. 

The party is in full-swing by the time Jun walks in. 

The house itself is small, one story and a few rooms that hold a big part of the party-goers. He can tell it’s usually used as a holiday residence, not exactly a place of staying but merely a place of passing, because every single thing that’s visible doesn’t really have a function different from simply looking good. The entire place is covered in small, colorful trinkets that look like they’re part of some random collection that everyone always sees but no one actually ever looks at. 

It’s truly a rock-star’s house, because, really, nothing about it makes sense. 

Countless bookshelves rest against the colorfully draped walls, an array of uneven, colorful wallpapers shining under the light of the multiple glass chandeliers, but not a single book is visible to the eye. The floor itself is a great quality wood, but everything’s hidden below a series of fuzzy rugs that somehow match the randomness of the wallpapers. 

The music changes slightly as he keeps walking, an entire ensemble of genres, styles and decades all the product of a number of record players playing simultaneously all over the house. All of them are playing a completely different thing, but somehow it all blends into one cohesive beat. Jun could go into the technicalities behind it and say it’s probably in the beats per minute, or could maybe go somewhere into the meaning behind the lyrics, but for now, he just lets himself get immersed into the scene. 

The party doesn’t resemble anything he had lived before, or even heard of. And it’s full of people. 

The entire team (band and staff alike) had been invited to an after-party held by some music executive that’s friends with the owner of the club. It happened every monday after the show, they had said, entertaining executives, artists, and club-goers alike. And no one really cared who was which as long as there was music playing all around them. 

“Jesus, is that Billy Joel?” Seungcheol asks as he walks closely behind Jun. The two of them and Minghao, the band’s stylist, had been the last to leave for the party, having to stay behind to finish the last of the arrangements that followed a successful concert at the Moonwalker, with the rest of you leaving with some of the club’s crew. “Guys, I think that’s Billy Jo- jesus, he’s talking to Chan and Seungkwan.”

“Of course he’d be talking to Chan and Seungkwan, they probably went right to him when they saw him,” Minghao says. “Hey, can you see Vernon around?”

“He’s probably sitting somewhere next to the drinks or something. Or maybe he’s outside, I think there’s a live band playing somewhere out there,” Jun comments.

“Damn, should’ve booked us too for that, right?” Seungcheol says, laughing with the words.

“Don’t you rather just enjoy the party and forget about performing for a bit?” Minghao questions. Out of the corner of his eye, Jun can see Seungkwan and Chan walking away from the group of people they had been talking to, probably on their way outside for some fresh air. “The guys seem to be having a great time. Let go for a bit, Cheol! Let’s enjoy this whole rockstar life even if it’s just for tonight!”

He can hear Mingyu’s laugh coming from somewhere nearby, even if his eyes can’t locate the tall guitar player. He’s surprised he can hear him, with how low his laugh usually is and how high the music is playing, but once Seungcheol points him out in the crowd, he’s only a few steps away. He’s entertaining a large group of people, with Joshua smiling by his side, the both of them holding two glasses of what looks like beer. 

It’s no surprise the two of them would like to be around the growing crowd, with how easily they seem to be able to strike a conversation with whoever walks by. He had known them to be sociable, in comparison with some like Vernon, Minghao or himself. It’s still a bit surprising, though, how in control they seem to be of a conversation held with people they probably didn’t know five minutes ago. 

“I’m gonna go find us something to drink,” Seungcheol says, patting Jun on the back before walking away with Minghao closely following his steps. 

And Jun is left alone. Still, in a house full of people, he sticks his hands in the front bottom of his purple jeans. They had really been Minghao’s suggestion, along with the slick yellow button up and a pair of red boots. It was comfy, and Seungcheol had assured him he really did look good, so he hadn’t dwelled much on it when leaving the hotel room. 

He debates joining Mingyu and Joshua’s crowd for a second, but the growing scent of tobacco and beer has him making his way to the door after he raises his hand in a greeting. Josh manages to signal him to the backyard before Jun leaves, and he wonders whether he’s simply pointing in the direction of the live band, or Vernon, or you. 

As he walks outside, bumping bodies with a never-ceasing crowd, he discovers it’s the later. The outside of the house is just as impressive as the inside, or, as he finds once he begins to look around, even more. 

The entire yard (or at least the part that’s closest to the house) has been decked in continuous rows of fairy lights, hanging from the trees like a mere reproduction of the constellations shining up above. There are at least five campfires, all surrounded by people holding guitars or dancing along to the songs being played by a live band nearby. Their silhouettes are reflected on the ground, a product of the blazing fire, and it’s almost like they’re dancing with the people themselves, more than being a plain reflection of them. 

It’s almost like a scene taken right out of a move, only livelier than any he could ever think of. 

Jun finds you with your back against a tree, sitting cross-legged on a furry carpet, completely enthralled in the music. There’s a series of carpets draped all over the grass, the exact same kind he saw inside, completing the part of the scene that connects both places. As he walks over to you, he wonders where the rest of the band is, with you being alone in the backyard, until he sees Seungkwan and Chan, still hanging close together, sitting a few feet away with what he assumes is another group. A part of him is thankful at the seeming privacy, finding a bit odd how comfortable he is in the middle of a growing crowd when just a few minutes ago he had felt overwhelmed by the loneliness behind it. But then he turns to look at you, smiling carelessly even with your eyes closed, and he knows it’s not a product of the environment.

It's because of you.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” Jun says, making sure to fall as carefully as possible as he sits down next to you. “Tonight was amazing. Truly, got me tearing up at all.”

“You’ve got your own lyrics to thank for that, mister,” you say, followed by a laugh. You’re still in your concert outfit, although wearing a pair of sneakers as opposed to the platform shoes that had been paired up with the colorful overalls. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t the only one tearing up tonight. I think Hoshi even cried a bit himself.”

“He probably cried at the crowd making tiger claws back at him more than he did at the lyrics.” 

“Yeah, Vernon told him not to do it but he did it anyway!”

“Where are those two, by the way?”

“Somewhere next to where the band is playing,” you answer. You close your eyes as you speak, resting your back against the tree. “I just wanted to get away from everything. Sometimes it’s fun to just observe from a distance.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve been looking at life from a distance for so long, sometimes I forget what it is to actually be living it. I guess it makes for some interesting lyrics though, so it’s been kind of worth it, at least in that way,” Jun says, smiling at you even when you don’t see him. He moves closer to you as he hugs his knees to his chest, feeling the top of your shoulder brush against his. “I think coming with you guys on tour might change that.”

“It’s the rock-star life, huh?” You smile, and Jun can’t help but notice it’s a mirroring of his own smile. In some way, it looks just as vulnerable. He looks away when he feels his cheeks heat up. “You know, you’re much different from what I thought you were when I used to see you at the office.” 

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. I just know I really like talking to you. Every day, I really look forward to being around you,” you laugh, and when he turns to look back at you, you’re finally looking at him again. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Wen Junhui.”

“Says the rock-star,” he laughs. He’s smiling, holding his knees as close to his chest as he can manage as he tries to hide his fluester in his body language. Not that it’s working, anyways. “I’m just some guy.”

“You’re the most interesting guy I’ve ever met.”

You shake your head, and by the way your eyes set on the sky, Jun isn’t completely sure if you’re talking to him or if you’re simply talking to the stars, trying to set your story in the skies for the entire world to see. It makes him smile even wider, anyways. 

“I wonder which one shines brighter. From down here, they look almost the same. But maybe it’s just the distance that taints our perspective,” you mutter, pointing to the lights on the trees. 

“I’d like to think it’s the stars,” Jun comments. “When I was a kid, I always enjoyed watching them. I’d find patterns and have them in my head for weeks as a sort of picture out of a coloring book. Somehow, the stars always seemed to have the answers to every single question that would run through my head, even when miles away.”

“You speak like that and call yourself ‘some guy’,” you laugh. “It’s always poetry coming out of your lips, and I’d listen to every single bit of it.”

The conversation stops, but silence never envelops the both of you, because there is music all around. And there are people dancing, so when you lose focus on each other and gian it in your surroundings, their movement is everything you see. It’s almost as if they’re dancing for the two of you to watch, and neither of you notice the moment your head comes to rest in Jun’s shoulder, way too immersed in a ballet of silhouettes to make anything out of the sudden movement. 

“I hope tonight was good,” you say. “It felt different from other nights, and I don’t know what it was. I’ve never felt that way when performing at home. It felt almost magical, standing there, under the limelight, in front of all those people. Maybe it’s just me, though.” 

Jun shakes his head, muttering a soft no as an answer. You turn to look at each other when he starts speaking, still as close as before. But now he gets to look at you as he speaks. 

“I can’t begin to imagine what you must have felt. I’m not familiar with that side of the gig,” he says, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. Somehow, the beer he had drank back at the club was still making his blood run wild through his veins, cheeks reddening at the eye contact. “I wish you could’ve seen it from my eyes. Listened to it through my ears, felt what I felt the moment you started singing. I’ve never seen you shine any brighter.”

"You’ve been attending our concerts long enough. Well,if the fifteen person presentations back home even count as concerts.”

“I’ve been to all of your concerts,” he laughs. “And believe me, tonight was really special.” 

“It’s the Moonwalker’s magic,” you say, and Jun turns to look at you. “You saw the place, it was special. It made it special.”

And he doesn’t know if it’s the effect of the lights shining above your head, or the remaining adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he’s sure he can hear his heart beating against his chest. He can hear it over the loud music, thumping so hard his mind goes blank, falling closer to you as he begins to lean in. 

Because even when far away from the Moonwalker, he’s still smiling the same. He feels just as happy, somewhere in the backyard of a stranger’s house. The place is special, for sure, but only as much as you made it. 

“It wasn’t the Moonwalker that was magical. It was you.”

And you can hear him, because even when the world around you is spinning completely out of order, his smile is still front and center in your eyes. He’s smiling at you and everything else only but circles around it. 

As a new song starts playing from a record player far away, Jun kisses you under a thousand fairy lights. You’re still not sure of which one shines brighter -the artificial lights or the stars high above- but as Jun’s hand finds yours over your lap, you decide you don’t really care. 

A part of you would really like to think nothing had changed after the kiss. 

In reality, the two of you had been so flustered he had ran back to Seungcheol and Minghao while you went to find Vernon and Hoshi, refusing to say anything about the moment to any of them. It was part of some unofficial and unspoken deal, sealed with only a look, sparing the both of you of any kind of conversation immediately afterwards. It had been a product of the moment, of adrenaline and slight tipsiness combined with a romantic scenery, and nothing else. 

That’s what you told yourself the entire night, even when questioned by Seungkwan about the sudden giddiness in your smile and the change in your gaze, slightly unfocused on the world in front of you, as if something more important was playing inside your head. As if that something was the memory of the feeling of Jun’s lips against yours, leaving your skin tingling as an aftermath of his touch. As if that something had been the way he had smiled at you right after, looking as if the affection you’d just shared was as unbelievable to him as it was to you. 

In all honesty, Jun’s kiss was more than one of the many that were shared that night by the people around you. It wasn’t just a product of the moment, of adrenaline and slight tipsiness combined with a romantic scenery, because the way you had looked at each other just before your lips connected had been a long time coming. That was the product of months of unknown pining; of you looking for him as soon as you entered the office, and of him not being able to take his eyes off you as soon as he saw you walking by. It was a product in the exchange that came with you singing for the world the words he had shared with you in messy scribbles over coffee-stained paper, something about the entire thing feeling growingly intimate the thought ran through your head. 

Because even when he wasn’t writing songs for you, or about you, he still trusted you with them. In your eyes, that was worth more than him signing one of them with your name on top of the page for everyone to see. And while you were sure it wasn’t an act of love (or at least not yet), you couldn’t deny it always opened the door for that possibility to walk in. Or for you to walk towards it, at least. Just like his songs, and for months on end, Jun had always been there. 

Well, at least up until the night he kissed you. 

You weren’t sure if it was intentional or fate making a cruel joke out of your feelings, but Jun had been avoiding you. As much as he could be avoiding you in the span of a few hours, at least. 

“Wanna sit with me on the bus?” 

You can’t really tell what Vernon’s wearing. He’s sitting next to you on the curb in front of the bus, a pair of sparkly sunglasses resting atop of his nose. He’s wearing a yellow hat that matches the color of his shoes, but that doesn’t really go with any of the other pieces of his outfit. 

“Aren’t you gonna sit with Hao?” 

“Ah, I don’t know,” Vernon drinks from a styrofoam cup he has on his hand. It’s the same as yours, so it’s probably to-go coffee from the hotel’s restaurant. “He’s been trying to talk about some outfit ideas he had during the concert last night. He called it a revelation or something. I’m pretty sure Seungkwan could be of more use to that conversation than me.”

You don’t really want to sit with Vernon. And it’s not that you don’t enjoy his company, because out of everyone in the band, he’s always been the one you’re closest to. But somehow, you know sitting next to Vernon will prevent you from any chances of even talking to Jun in the next six hours until you reach the next spot. You’re not sure if he’s even actually avoiding you, but you don’t really want to be correct. 

“Are you kidding? You wear this kind of outfits and you think you don’t have a sense of fashion? Vern, if anything, you’ve always been the Mick Jagger amongst all of us.” 

“Okay, those stage outfits were chosen by Minghao, it wasn’t really me putting together those suits and - whatever he has me wearing all the time.” 

You roll your eyes, playfully. 

“Although, I guess I could use this chance to keep him from putting me in another sparkly overall like the one from last night.”

“But you were such a star! It looked pretty nifty if you ask me.” 

“Keep going and I’ll tell him to find the most ridiculous hats for our next concert, just you wait!”

The rest of the band starts walking out of the hotel, Chan’s laughter pulling your attention from Vernon. As they walk next to you, you decide to ignore Hoshi’s tiger print overalls and Mingyu’s conversation of how he had met and talked to George Harrison at the party once Joshua had walked away from him.

“I don’t believe George Harrison would ever like to be entertained by your presence, Gyu. There were definitely groovier people to be around last night.”

“It’s not my fault you decided talking to Seungcheol was more important than stickin’ around, we literally see the guy every day.”

“Hey, I’m your manager!” Seungcheol wines from the hotel door, walking behind a groggy Seungkwan.

“Yeah, we literally see you every day,” Mingyu retorts. He has one foot on the bus steps, only turning to argue with the eldest. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you so often, with all your random hair-do’s.”

“Can it and get in, we’re late anyways. Everyone keep steppin’!”

“The only reason we’re late is because you couldn’t stop talking to your girlfriend on the phone,” Mingyu lets out before climbing in, somehow managing to avoid getting yelled at yet again. 

You get up after Vernon, following him into the bus as soon as Mingyu, Josh and Seungcheol had gotten in. You’d seen Seungkwan, Hoshi and Chan passing by, and quickly found them sitting together near a small kitchen area. 

The bus itself isn’t much different from others you’ve seen, with rows of faux leather seats set one after the other along the central aisle. All the way to the back there’s an area with what looks like a small bed, a door leading to a tight bathroom and a small kitchen space consisting of two cabinets and a microwave. And every single thing is either muted yellow or a dark orange, making the entire espace look probably smaller than it actually is. It’s comfortable enough, though. 

“Hey, Vern, come here,” Minghao calls from one of the seats. He’s resting his back against the window, with his feet on the couch and his knees pulled close to his chest. A small notepad rests on top of them, having only looked up from his sketches to greet the bassist. “Let me show you what I’ve been thinking of. I swear, the setting of the Moonwalker gave me so much clarity on what I want to put all of you guys in for the rest of the tour.” 

“Hao, give Josh a groovy Bob Dylan inspired hat!” 

“You wear the damn Bob Dylan inspired hat if you want, see how groovy it looks on your head.” 

Vernon looks at you to give you a small smile before sitting down next to Minghao as you walk past, stealing one of Hoshi’s snacks before plopping down on the seat behind him. You shift in your seat, hearing the slick material of the seat squeaking against the courness of your jeans. You quickly look at the small smiling daisies Minghao had painted with black markers all over the light surface, making for an interesting pattern when looked at from far away. Your fingers trace over the figures as you rest your head on the window, closing your eyes until you feel someone coming to sit right next to you. You had quickly placed your book on the seat when sitting down, but you find it on top of Jun’s lap as you see it’s him who’s by your side. 

“What an interesting thing to be reading!” He exclaims, looking at the beat up copy of On The Road. “You’re a Kerouac fan?” 

“You’ve read Kerouac?” You ask. 

Jun smiles. “Of course not,” he says, before breaking into a laugh. He doesn’t give you the book back, but turns it to read the back cover. “Read to me? It will keep us both entertained.” 

Without focusing too carefully on it, you can hear the distinct crisp sound of Joshua’s guitar coming from the front of the bus, and can make out the first notes of the Stairway to Heaven solo. It sounds better than you’ve heard him play, most likely the product of constant practice. But it all disappears when you turn to look at Jun. 

Smiling at you, Jun lets you straighten up on your seat before placing his head on your shoulder as he hands you the copy. You’re surprised by how familiar it feels, and feel your lips curling up at the memory of doing the exact same thing the night before. 

And you know that things have changed from the kiss, because now you’re not able to ignore the feeling in your chest that arises when Jun takes your hand in his. And you can only wonder if he feels the same, because he lets out a soft sigh the minute you tighten the grip, nuzzling his cheek against the fuzzy fabric of your corduroy jacket. 

Smiling at his touch, your eyes start glazing over the print as you begin to read. 

“I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up…”

The dinner lounge of the second hotel is much fancier than the first one. 

The entire place looks like it’s been draped in velvet, every single ridge looking as smooth as a crease in the fabric. There’s a combination of wooden panels and wall-height mirrors adorning the walls, only interrupted by the golden frames of the windows. A dome rises on the center of the center, a thousand red roses painted in a mosaic of tinted glass, while the rest of the ceiling is covered in the exact same wood as the walls. The tables are all draped in expensive looking tablecloths, placed carefully under meticulously set tableware, and they’re accompanied by tufted chairs, all of them in matching red. The dark colors in the scheme makes the entire place look dim, despite all the chandeliers shining bright against up above the clients’ heads. There are candles decorating the tables, along with fresh roses matching the ones in the dome, but they serve more as a simple ambiance decoration than an actual light source.

And, even though the city they had been in had been just as big as the one they’re in now, and the budget had not changed in the slightest, the shiny grand piano that sits at the center of the small wooden stage at the back of the restaurant had caught Jun’s eyes as soon as you had walked in for dinner. 

It was supposed to be a group dinner, but Mingyu, Chan and Minghao had gone sight-seeing, Vernon had fallen asleep and Seungcheol had stayed back in his room to rest (and, probably, talk to his girlfriend on the phone while eating something from the room service). At the end, it’s dinner of five instead of a dinner of ten, and while it would have been nice to share it with everyone, the company you had was more than enough. 

“This place is groovy! Oh, Seungcheol went all out with this hotel,” Josh exclaims as you sit down at a table neighboring the windows, all five of you immediately drawn to the exterior scene. “I’d say he did an excellent job booking if it weren’t for the fact I’m rooming with Hoshi.”

“Hey!” The younger exclaims. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent roommate. Best you’ll ever have, you’ll see.” 

“Yeah, I’ll start thinking that once you pick up your dirty socks from the floor after taking them off, that’s not groovy at all.”

“Jesus, can we not talk about Hoshi’s dirty socks while at the table, that’s fucking gross.”

“You’re just overreacting, and please just stop saying groovy,” Soonyoung says, rolling his eyes and picking up the pastel pink menu from the table, locking his eyes on the cardboard. “Anyways, this one burger looks way too nifty to pass it up.”

“I was thinking of ordering the same thing,” Seungkwan says, closing the menu. 

“Have you seen the kind of restaurant we’re in? Order a pasta, or a salad, not a plain burger, go with the groove.” 

“Do you think we’re Seungcheol, Joshua? If you had asked for his card like we told you, maybe we’d be buying pasta and wine for the five of us without you having to tell us about it!”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re scary when you’re angry?” Joshua asks, probably deciding on a burger as well as he imitates Seungkwan and places the menu back on the table. 

“Only sometimes,” Soonyoung responds, smiling. 

You’re not listening to their argument, though, with your chin resting over your hand and your gaze lost somewhere in the movement of a stranger. 

It’s funny how being in a completely different country, in a city a million miles away, there’s some sense of familiarity behind simply watching people walking by. You’re not sure if it’s just the mere action, or maybe a combination of the movement in a similarly urban setting, with the lights reflecting upon the crowd as a sort of kaleidoscopic filter, but it never feels entirely too different. 

“Do you want to play a game?” Jun asks, whispering right into your ear. He’s leaning close to your body, sitting between you and Joshua. You can make out the scent of his cologne as he scoots even closer to you to point to a stranger outside the window. “Like when we counted the number of headlights on the highway on our way here.”

You nod, words suddenly stuck on your throat as soon as you see Seungkwan looking at the both of you. Because truly, it was oh so very easy to get lost in the moment whenever Jun was around, and the thought has you smiling as soon as you notice. It’s oh so very easy to get lost in him. 

“Okay, we’ll make it interesting. Whoever wins buys the other a cherry cola!” he says, his voice still sounding just as soft. If he’s aware of Seungkwan’s stare, he doesn’t show it. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. “Let's spot all the people that look like they’re dressed by Minghao after looking at the Moonwalker, starting… now!”

But his words have you laughing, so deeply you can feel it in your chest as you throw your head back. He looks at you, a care-free smile etched all over your face, and he can’t resist the laugh that forms at the center of the stomach, completely imitating your actions as the rest of the guys simply observe. And it’s amazing, because somehow, you have found just enough comfort in the presence of each other to be able to forget about everyone else. It’s not shy smiles and nervous laughs when in public, but full on grins and bursts of laughter. 

The thing no one notices though, completely distracted by the boisterous laugh, is Jun placing his hand on your thigh under the table, thumb moving in delicate circles against the fabric of your jeans. He doesn’t spare a second thought on it, finding way too much comfort in your closeness to make it a conscious action. And you aren’t even surprised on how natural his touch feels by now, because, somehow, it feels like coming home. 

Or maybe they do, but they just smile at the sight. There’s something enthralling about watching two people falling in love, bit by bit, gesture by gesture. It’s a tell behind the warmth of a smile and the fondness of a look, and while it’s not entirely common, it’s too beautiful to disrupt. 

“Josh, have you really been looking at your reflection this entire time?” 

It’s late, and everyone but you and Jun have left the restaurant by the time the piano player arrives.

You’ve long since finished your meal, having shared a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs after Jun had said he wasn’t even that hungry anyways. You had ordered two cups of coffee and a shared berry panna cotta, way too lost in making conversation about everything and anything to actually notice the passing of time. In reality, it’s only when the coffee has run cold and the musician has started playing that you notice an hour has passed since the guys had left for their rooms. 

The song is not one you recognize, but apparently does, judging from the movement of his fingers against the table. He’s looking at the musician while he runs his fingers on the tablecloth like it’s some sort of invisible piano, making sure to get every single movement right in a tempo that perfectly matches the one that’s being played. You’re not sure if he notices, but his body has begun to sway ever so slightly, somehow matching the movement of his fingers.

The place is the same, yet it feels like a completely different one, even when the only thing that has changed is the music. It’s almost atemporal, like it could be night and day at the exact same time, as if it was simply something out of a dream. 

“Do you know this song?” 

Jun nods. He keeps his eyes on the musician, and a part of you wonders if it’s because he wishes that were him. 

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he answers, smiling. “I used to play it when I was growing up, back when I was learning. I remember how excited my parents were when I finally got the movements right after years of practice. I guess a part of their excitement that day was a part of what made me fall so in love with music that I decided it was what I wanted to do with my life.” 

“How did you learn to play the piano? Seungcheol says you’re really good, and yet, you’ve never played with me around.”

“My mom’s a piano teacher. She used to give classes at this one prestigious school in our neighborhood, and I would hide behind the kitchen door and listen whenever she had a student,” Jun says. “I always liked how it sounded, so one night I just sat down on the piano and started playing. My mom started giving me classes the very next day.” 

“And what about composing? How did that start?” 

You had ordered a refill for your coffee and drink from your cup as Jun starts talking. 

“I don’t know, maybe with school, or maybe just with books in general. I was always dreaming, thinking about stories. Sometimes I couldn’t get the ones I was learning about out of my mind, and before I knew it, there were so many scenarios being born in my head that I simply had no idea what to do with them.” 

“So you started writing them.” 

Jun nods. “After some time, they started turning into songs. I would be looking at the lyrics and would suddenly start hearing a certain tune playing from the back of my mind. It was only a matter of time until I realized what I kept writing were songs rather than just tales, and they started meaning something more to me. Music makes the world go round, but it’s the lyrics that give it meaning.” 

“Said like a true poet,” you say, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you raise your cup to then once more. “I can tell your lyrics mean a lot to you. I know it probably sounds a bit silly, but I can feel it, you know? The emotion behind them. The words come alive before they’re even in my mouth.”

“Sometimes I can’t really tell what I’m feeling until I turn it into a song. The words come from a place so deep inside I can’t reach them on my own, but have to turn onto a pen and a piece of paper to know what they are,” he finally looks away from the musician. He’s still smiling, softly, gently. “It's a little weird. They feel both so deeply personal yet completely different from myself, as if the Jun that exists in the songs is a completely different person from the Jun in the real world.”

You fall quiet. You try to make sense of Jun’s words in your head as he reaches to grab a hold of your hand, but they’re way too beautiful, too meaningful, for you to tamper with. So you feel your heart grow warm at the passion behind them, looking at the man in front of you like he had just painted the stars upon the night sky. 

“Will you dance with me?” 

“Jun, no one is dancing.” 

“And when have you let that stop you?”

Setting the napkin over the table, Jun gets up from his seat. He stretches his arm out at you, offering his hand, his silver rings reflecting the light upon its touch. And he looks at you, eyes sparkling brighter than ever under the restaurant’s delicate lightning, completely absorbed in the way your body imitates his movements.

You let Jun lead you through the sea of tables, all the way to where the little stage is located. There’s a small space that has been left between the stage and the neighboring tables, and you wonder if maybe dancing is what it’s meant for, despite not being used for it. But Jun is quick to replace your thoughts until they’re only about him, pulling you close to his chest and letting his hand rest against your waist. 

“Just focus on me and I’ll focus on you,” he whispers, moving to talk right against your ear. “Hold me a bit closer and forget about everything else.” 

Pulled flush against his frame, you let your hands fall on his back, closing your eyes as you allow him to sway you to the rhythm of the music. He moves in a way that almost has you wondering if maybe you are flying, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his dancing or if it’s just because it’s him. 

You recognize the song the minute Jun starts singing the words. It’s soft, so much you wouldn’t have heard him if you hadn’t been standing so close to him, basically hugging him flush against yourself. It’s Love Is (The Tender Trap) by Frank Sinatra, and you smile at the similarity between the lyrics and the feeling in your stomach. 

He gives you a twirl and it’s like there are a thousand butterflies flying within you, knowing there really is no getting out, because there is no denying something that manages to make you feel so wonderful. He smiles at you and you’re sure you’re falling in love with Wen Junhui, thinking of the way his kiss had made you tingle once upon a starry night. 

“Keep on steppin’, you’re falling behind!” 

Jun laughs, turning back to face you. The breeze ruffles his hair as he moves, thin strands falling onto his forehead. The sky is a bright blue and the sun is shining with all its might, but Jun’s light blue button up and beige bell-bottoms still rustle in the wind. 

“It’s not my fault you walk that fast,” you say, quickening your pace to catch up with him. He moves smoothly as you meet him, circling your waist with his arm and holding you next to him as you walk. 

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he mumbles as he resumes his walk. His pace is not as fast, looking so much more at ease as he looks around at his surroundings. 

It had been Jun’s idea to spend your free day walking around the city, after Mingyu and the rest of his expedition crew had talked about their experience over breakfast. Some of the other guys had left earlier, excited about going to whatever stores they had seen on the bus before reaching the hotel, leaving you and Jun to simply stroll around and see what you find. 

“This is nice,” he mentions. “It’s been a while since I felt this relaxed.” 

“It’s nice you can feel relaxed in the middle of a tour,” you say, giggling. “But I get what you mean, having a break in the schedule, even if we’re only starting.”

“I think you’re the only rockstar I’ve met that actually uses the word schedule in their daily vocabulary.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I’m the only ‘rockstar’ you’ve met. I mean, besides… Seungkwan. Honestly, he’s the most rockstar material out of all of us.”

“Okay, Barbra Streisand.”

“You have not met Barbra Streisand!” 

“In my dreams.”

“Oh, I didn’t know those counted.”

The boulevard is lively. There’s people strolling up and down on both sides of the street, very much like you and Jun, with their pace and actions revealing there’s not much hurry behind their walks. Cars of all models and colors drive through the street, your walk having a varied background orchestra composed of revving engines, passing conversations and the occasional music that was audible from the entrance of some business. It made for the typical city noise, not much different from the one at home, but somehow perfectly fitting for the particularities of the sight. 

The two of you walk while holding the other, occasionally bumping shoulders with some other pedestrian when not paying particular attention. There’s truly not much on either of your minds behind the wonder of getting to know yet another city and enjoying the warmth of a sunny Thursday evening in each other’s company.

“Is there anything you wanna do?” Jun asks, slowing down his pace but not completely stopping. 

“Not right now,” you answer. “We could stop somewhere for a soda or something later, if you want. You know, since you won yesterday and all.” 

“Let’s go in here, then,” Jun says, moving his hand from your waist to your hand, softly pulling on you to the side. 

You quickly follow him as he walks inside one of the stores, never losing the grip on his hand. The front is small, walls painted red and a bright purple signboard hanging over the glass doors, reading Vintage Records and Books, along with a few music notes that look hand drawn over the surface in multiple colors. There are crates full of books and vinyls, the covers of all of them a bit faded by the sun or scraped over the passage of time. At a first glance you can identify some Johnny Cash copies alongside the assorted records, what must have been a bright green cover now looking surprisingly muted. 

And once you walk inside, the interior is just as lively as the outside. The place is covered in shelves, littered with books on one side of the store and with records in the other, with small placards dividing the shelves and categorizing the products. You can tell it’s a wide variety, with hundreds upon hundreds of colorful covers composing a contrast with the burnt purple of the walls. There are horizontal lines painted all across the walls in a bright green and an almost creamy white, which is replicated in a triangle patterned rug of the exact same colors, resting in the middle of the store. 

Among the shelves, there’s an assortment of indoor plants hanging from the ceiling in bright green ceramic pots, along with a few small trees located between some of the shelves themselves. On the rare vacant spaces in the walls there are band posters or book quotes, some of them autographed and some of them pasted one over the other with washed out tape. 

It feels oddly warm inside the shop, and you wonder if it’s merely because of the way the light breaks in from the tall windows up front. There’s a faint scent of flowers that reaches your nose as soon as you walk in, mixing in with the smell of paper and wood. And it’s heavenly.

“Hey, welcome!” Says someone from behind the bright pink counter. He looks around Jun’s age, with a long mane of dark brown hair that goes below his shoulders. He’s wearing a black hat and a green jacket, grinning at the two of you over the pages of a magazine. “Let me know if you see something you’re down with!” 

“It smells nice in here,” Jun tells you, but he must have spoken loud enough for the man to hear, because his grin grows in size. 

“Thanks, it’s home-made potpourri! I make it myself when there aren’t as many customers coming in,” he says, gesturing to a few jars displayed on a small counter. A few minutes ago, you wouldn’t think it was actually possible for someone to smile so big. “It’s for sale too, and it works really well on large spaces! Looks pretty groovy when it’s on display, if I do say so myself.” 

Jun smiles back, walking over to one of the tall stands where a bright orange sign announces a deal on the records.

“Oh, if you buy one of those, you can take a book from this bin right here for free,” the man says. You can’t make out the letters in his name tag from a distance, but you’re almost sure they start with an S. “You can try them out on that player over there, see if it’s nifty. They’re all second hand, but the quality’s off the hook.” 

You look around as Jun’s fingers graze over the records, flicking them so quick you’re not sure if he’s actually reading the title before discarding them. You hadn’t noticed the man had a record playing in the turntable he had signaled to, quickly recognizing the guitar solo of Jimi Hendrix’s Love or Confusion. 

“Hey, wanna get this Bob Dylan one for Josh? See if he likes the hat?” Jun asks, holding a record in his hand without turning back at you. “Maybe there’s a Kerouac book in that bin you can take with you. You know, for the next bus ride - oh, this one’s groovy!”

“Oh, of course you’d pick a Barbra Streisand record.”

“Yeah, she’s my best friend!” Jun giggles. “You know, besides from you. And Seungcheol, but he doesn’t really count.” 

“I’ll keep your secret, don’t worry. He won’t know you like me better.”

“A lot better.” 

You spend hours browsing the shop, laughing at the silly jokes made by the cashier (whose name is Seokmin) and talking about pasts spent together and pasts spent apart, conversations sewn together by a smile. You had even slow-danced to a couple Elvis songs, all while resting your head against Jun’s chest as Seokmin clapped at the two of you for, as he had said it, resembling a romantic scene from one of his favorite movies. 

And you’re not surprised at how familiar it feels, because in the last few days, Jun had come to mean much more to you than anything you could have ever thought. If you were as much of a hopeless romantic as he was, you’d even think it’s because your conexion runs even deeper than the simple process of falling for a friend, but you merely smile as the thought begins to form inside your head. And you laugh at how much it sounds like one of his songs. 

Because there’s as much beauty in the way he smiles as there is in the way it makes you feel. 

The sun’s beginning to set by the time you and Jun leave the record shop. The wind has gotten colder and the breeze has grown stronger, but as Jun tugs you close to his side, you don’t think you’ve ever felt warmer. 

He’s holding just as many records as you’re holding books, letting you make all the picks from the bin once he had purchased his vinyls, along with a jar of Seokmin’s home-made potpourri. 

His hand searches for yours as soon as you step outside.

“Can’t believe we’re almost there.”

The walk back to the hotel is surprisingly quick. 

Jun had been humming the melody to a song Seokmin had played back when you were at the shop, adding a slight bounce to his step as the pitch in his voice rose and fell with the beat of the song. He had smiled the entire way back, occasionally stopping his hum to point at the colors in the sky or their effects on your shadows on the ground, never failing to look at the smaller details that worked together in one beautiful, cohesive picture. 

But it still feels so much quicker than it had been the other way around, almost seems shorter, as if it had been a different path altogether.

Maybe it’s because you’re not as distracted by the storefront and the other passerbys, or maybe it’s just the feeling of bathing in the setting sun when making your way back that somehow makes the entire thing seem shorter. Jun had stopped to get a pair of pastries and two cups of coffee at a small bakery you hadn’t noticed earlier but went unaverted once the signs lit up, which now await inside a small paper bag and in two paper cups, respectively. As you sip from one of the cups, you think it’s the best coffee you’ve had in a long while. 

Jun suggests yet another game on the way back, making you smile as he tries to locate every single red platform shoe worn by a woman over 5’0”, which, surprisingly, aren’t really that many. And you should have guessed from the moment he had said it, but he was just trying to let you win (because, after all, he had won the last two games and just had to pay the coke back). 

“Ah, you’re getting lucky with your pick!” 

“You were the one that chose what we’d look for!” 

“Just let it be our secret,” he says, turning to wink in your direction. 

You can feel the coolness of the breeze nipping at your nose when you finally reach the hotel, walking through the glass doors with Jun following close behind. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. 

“Do you want to get dinner?” You ask. You can smell the sugar and the cinnamon from the pastries, and your mouth begins to water. “There’s this other pasta dish on the menu that sounds just as good as the one we had yesterday.” 

Jun purses his lips, giving a slight squeezing to your hand. “Let’s get room service, I want to show you something.” 

He starts walking towards the elevator, moving slowly and letting you admire the pastel green lobby in all of its glory. There’s some faint jazz music playing as you walk through the lobby, which you hadn’t noticed until then. A big tree rises from the center of the room, matching some smaller ones that are perched next to the deep green tufted couches and complimenting the flower arrangements that have been used as decorations in both the small coffee tables and the bar at the reception. It’s a slightly different vibe than the one from the dining hall, but somehow, both of them look just as fancy. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

“You’ll see.”

“Can I get a clue?”

“No, you’re going to help me finish it.”

“Please don’t tell me you also collect those freaky deaky puzzles Chan likes to put together in his free time.”

Jun giggles, shaking his head as you reach the elevator. “Ew, the anatomy ones? No, no way.” 

The way up to Jun’s room is spent with him trying to guess the elevator music by singing random lyrics and seeing which one sounds best. Not that he got a single one right, but it was certainly entertaining to watch him try. When you finally reach the 10th floor, Jun is singing the lyrics to Cher’s Where Do You Go to a jazz melody very much similar to the one from the lobby, and you’re sure he’s only doing it to make you smile. 

“Bienvenue to my humble abode,” Jun mutters as he opens the door to his room, making sure to bow down and open his arm to signal the room, completing the entire gesture with a short giggle. “I escaped having Hoshi as a roommate so I have the room all to myself.” 

“And you have Seungkwan’s piano,” you mention as you walk inside, pointing to the small electronic piano that was carefully positioned next to the window. “Does he know?”

“No, I stole it from the van last night,” he answers, laughing and plopping onto the bed. “Oh, I’m so tired!”

The room is not too different from yours; a muted orange wallpaper matching the fuzzy carpet. Both twin beds in Jun’s room are covered in a dandelion yellow duvet, one of them holding all of his luggage while Jun rests on the other one (the one he must have slept in last night, closest to the window). There’s a small television on the vanity, the box a combination of bright beige plastic and faux wood, surprisingly going along with the white lamps that stand on both sides of it. 

“What is it that you wanted to show me?” You ask, coming to sit in one of the chairs next to the vanity. They’re big, tufted, and the color matches with the one of the duvets. The chair is not the most comfortable, but as long as the bed is, you don’t really have to worry about it. 

Jun’s purchases lay next to him on the bed, Barbra Streisand’s Stoney End sitting on top of the pile. He had bought five records, four for himself and one for you (though he had refused to tell you which one it was, insisting it would be a surprise). You had selected five books to match his purchase, including a copy of Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles, which Jun had suggested you take because of the colorful cover. 

“I’ve been working on a song,” he mutters, still facing down on the bed. The words come out muffled, but they’re still audible. “I think you’ll like it.”

You let out a laugh. “I like all of your songs.” 

“This one’s special,” he says, moving so he’s resting on his shoulders. His hair has gotten a bit disheveled, falling all over his face as his lips curl up in a hazy smile. “I’m working on the melody, too. I just need to hear your opinion about it.” 

“You’ve been inspired,” you comment, reaching over to the vanity where Jun had placed the pastries bag. You take a roll into your hand and notice it’s still warm. 

Jun winks before sitting up. “You’d know all about it.” 

“All I do is sing your songs,” you say, breaking a piece of bread and tucking it into your mouth. It melts as soon as it meets your tongue. “You’re the artist behind the art. Should I start calling you Da Vinci?” 

“I like Monet better. I’m a huge fan of the Impression Sunrise, even got a poster of it up in my room back at home,” Jun answers. He moves so he’s sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Seungkwan’s piano, grabbing a small notebook from the bedside table. You recognize it instantly, because it’s the one he always carries with him. He pats the space next to himself. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

You leave your things on the bed next to all his luggage, books carefully propped against a faux leather duffle bag. Jun takes a piece of the cinnamon bread as soon as you sit down next to him, moving closer as he does, a whiff of his cologne reaching your nose. The duvet is of fine linen, surprisingly soft against your fingertips as you place your hands at your sides. 

“I started writing it the other day,” he says, opening his notebook and placing it on his laps. You try to take a peek at it, but the (messily written) words aren’t readable from a distance. It looks beautiful though, fine lines of black ink rising like a carefully painted artwork on the thick, creamy white paper. “When you fell asleep on the bus.” 

“It’s your fault for making me read to you!” You laugh, moving and bumping his shoulder with yours. “And, in my defense, the top of your head was extremely comfortable.” 

“Yeah it’s like a portable pillow,” he jokes. “Maybe I should start advertising it.”

“Bet Seungkwan would take you up on it, he got asleep on the bus too!” 

There is something about Jun that makes everything seem lighter, helping the seconds run fast against the clock. 

“Here, I’ll show you the melody,” he says, straightening his back and placing his fingers on the keyboard. The assortment of rings he’s wearing had felt cool against your fingers. “I stayed up all night to come up with it. I haven’t finished the lyrics yet, but the music is already here.” 

“Is that why you asked me for help? Are you gonna fall asleep on me?” 

Jun smiles, but doesn’t turn to look at you. “No, not really,” he mutters. 

He plays a key, but doesn’t give it much thought. It’s a quick, crisp sound, not really one that’s a part of a movement, even less of a song. Maybe it’s a reflex, like the clicking of the pen had once been, a mere outlet for his nervousness. He keeps his eyes set on his fingers as he speaks, not really directing his words at you but surely saying them because you’re there to hear them. 

His voice is soft, almost shy. “It’s because you’re the inspiration behind it.” 

And he doesn’t say anything else, but lets his fingers graze upon the keys as he starts playing. You’re not exactly sure what you’re thinking of, mind and heart running a thousand beats per second as you feel it thumping against your chest. There’s a feeling growing in your stomach, and whether it's due to adrenaline or some deeper, more complex feeling remains a mystery. 

You close your eyes as Jun plays, each note igniting fireworks in your head. The music flows into your ears like honey, setting light upon the darkest places of your mind, overflowing your senses with Jun’s interpretation. Every single note sounds just like him, as if he’s becoming the music as he’s making it. His fingers run over the keys in the same way an artist’s brush glazes over a canvas, immersing itself in their creation to a point their creation is all they are. He has become a song, a beautifully crafted sonata, making your heart feel warmer with every moment. You know it’s because the song itself is beautiful - but so is he, and that translates into every single sound, every single feeling. 

You let out a gasp as he begins to sing; it’s broken, a few lines here and there. You can tell it’s the bits he’s finished, the ones he’s comfortable with, leaving everything like a game of fill in the blanks. He had sung to you before, either in the song demos or in some practices where he had been finishing a song nearby - but his voice had never sounded sweeter. Your heart tugs against your chest as you listen to him, words coming alive in your head like the ones in the pages of a romance novel. 

“Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man…”

Your hands ball up into fists, scrunching the soft duvet as you try to keep your eyes closed, no matter how much your eyelids are threatening to flutter open. You don’t want to see anything that isn’t him, or his voice; don’t want to feel anything that isn’t the sudden warmth that rises all over your body, making you feel like you’re flying - 

And he stops, hands suddenly moving away from the keyboard after a faulty note. 

“Stop distracting me!” He says, laughing as his cheeks grow red in embarrassment. He hands his hands on his lap, fingers absentmindedly fumbling with the rings he has on. 

You don’t open your eyes, joining him in his laughter and falling on your back onto the bed. You bring your hands to your face, hiding behind them as your laughter grows louder. 

“I wasn’t doing anything!” You answer. 

You feel the space next to you dip as Jun imitates your movement, resting onto his back. His notebook has fallen to the floor, open in half, but he doesn’t notice. He brings his hand to your face, taking your own and moving it away from your face. He props himself up on his elbow, connecting your fingers over the duvet in the space that separates the two of you. 

“Did you like it?” He asks, words falling from his lips between jolts of laughter. His voice is soft, and it feels like velvet against your ears. “You know, before I messed up.” 

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” you whisper, opening your eyes and rolling to your side to look back at him. “Did you really write it because of me?”

Jun nods. He’s smiling, looking at you fondly as he searches for the words inside his head. “You’re a song in and out of yourself.” 

He doesn’t move as you stare into his eyes. Looking at him, you’re suddenly reminded of the night he had kissed you - the same constellations that had shined high above your heads now reflected in his eyes, drawing you deeper into his spell. You feel like you’re falling, the entire world falling as you lay on the bed, his hand on yours the only thing pulling you back into reality. It’s as if the world around you changes every single time you’re with Jun, spinning wildly out of orbit and transforming into an unknown fantasy, with the only sure thing being the way his eyes come to rest upon you. You’re not sure if anything else exists apart from Jun, because suddenly he’s all you can see. All you can feel. 

“And I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” he continues. He keeps his eyes on you as he speaks, as if trying to assure you his words are only for you to hear. “Or maybe I already was, but only just noticed. I hear your voice in every word, see your face every time I turn around with your name etched deep in my heart. I don’t think I could get you out of my head no matter how hard I tried. And I don’t think I would ever want to.” 

You hadn’t noticed there were tears forming in your eyes until one fell down on your hand, ice cold against the warm skin. You open your mouth, searching for words deep down in your heart, but Jun shakes his head. 

“Just… let me say it, you can go after,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming of love my entire life. As far as I can remember, I’ve always dreamed of feeling it. It wasn’t just something out of a fairytale or a novel, not even a dream coming out to a song. It’s been the theme behind all my songs and the happy ending of all my stories. And never would I have thought it would feel like this. Never would I have thought those dreams would become you, but you’re there, in every single word. In every single thought.” 

He moves, fingers caressing the back of your hand as he gives it a squeeze. He moves his hand, placing yours over his chest, directly over his heart. Although faintly, you’re sure you can feel it beat. 

And you move forward, your other hand on his neck, connecting his lips with yours. It’s warm, and you can make out a vague saltness that is no doubt a product of your tears. But they are long forgotten, the feeling of Jun’s lips against yours setting your body on fire as his hands come to rest upon your skin. You can feel your every vein light up as you move as close to him as you can manage, the space between you always weighing upon the both of you no matter how much you try to reduce it, because the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other is one you simply can’t get enough of. 

He opens his eyes, eyelids fluttering open at the need to see you; to set the final piece of the puzzle in his mind. It’s a puzzle that looks, sounds and moves like you, composed of a love that burns too bright to ignore. 

And as he looks at you, resting comfortably on the soft linen sheets, he’s sure he has never seen such a beautiful sight.

The next few days go by in a flash. 

The days start early, as early as the sun goes up and you have breakfast on some terrace with Jun by your side, with the sun reflected upon his skin like a golden veil. They’re spent in jolts of laughter with your friends, soaking in the sun when sight-seeing in all the cities you’ve visited. They’re spent carelessly singing in the bus, with Joshua and Chan backing up the vocals with loud strums of their guitars, not really caring about beat, or tune, or whoever may be listening. They’re spent getting to know the world with the people that make the entire thing worth it, smiling and laughing along. They’re spent in sleepless nights on stages or someone’s backyard, twisting and turning in Jun’s hand as he moves you to the rhythm of the music. They’re spent in him watching you from a balcony, dancing and singing along to the crowds adoring your every move, finding himself lost in your voice. 

And they’re spent in composing, with Jun finding inspiration in the smallest of your movements, lyrics suddenly being born in the crack of a smile and the fondness behind a look. 

By the time the song is finally ready to be sung, he’s still a bit nervous. It feels like a deja vu, with him tapping quickly upon a faux tiled floor. 

He rests his back against a wall, standing next to a closed door. He tries to move out of the way as people pass in a hurry, carrying equipment or reading from lists, simply looking around as he tries to count on the passing of time. He tries to maintain a steady beat with his foot, counting along in his head as he reads from the piece of paper he’s holding. Trying not to think about the sounds of a growing crowd, he can feel the paper crumpling in his hand, thinking that his grip on it might be a little too tight. Nonetheless, he can’t loosen it up, no matter how much he wants to. 

Night has fallen, and he can see the stars from the small window that rises at the top of the wall in front of him. There’s some moonlight breaking in, lighting up the ground and the glass detailings on the colorful tiles. For a second, he thinks of how familiar it feels, to be able to see a picture where there is none, and he smiles. Backstage or not, the night looks the same all around. 

He lets out a big breath, moving his free hand around as he does until he hears the door next to him flutter open. A laughing Chan walks out from it, followed by Josh and Mingyu, all of them with their guitars strapped down and ready to be played. They pat Jun on the back before they follow the small arrows on the ground, walking in the direction of the stage. 

He runs through the lyrics in his head as the rest of the band follows, you walking behind while trying to fix the back of your jacket. Minghao had suggested some fringes on the sleeves to add some “movement” but they had proven a bit impractical when getting stuck whenever you moved your arms. 

“Hey,” Jun says, grabbing your attention. “Do you have a moment?” 

You smile. “What are you doing back here? I thought you and Cheol were gonna watch from the balcony.”

“We are,” he confirms, nodding his head. “I just wanted to say hi.”

His voice is shaking as he speaks, as much as he tries to hide it. You take his free hand in yours, stopping his movements in midair, giving his fingers a slight squeeze as you attempt to bring him some comfort. 

“Are you nervous?” You ask. He simply nods, smiling when he feels you tightening your grip on his hand. “Is it because of the song?” 

“I know it’s a bit silly,” he comments. Despite holding the piece of paper, he runs his hand through his combed-back hair, causing a few strands to fall messily over his forehead. It looks so much better than when it’s gelled up. “But it feels different this time around. I don’t know, It feels a lot more personal somehow.” 

Bringing his hand up to your face, you give it a kiss. He sighs at the feeling. 

“They’re gonna love it, Jun,” you say. 

He smiles at you. “As long as you love it, that’s more than enough for me.” 

“Well, you already know that I do,” you giggle. “I’ll always love every single song you write.”

Laughing with you, he pulls you to his chest as he envelops you in a hug. Sighing against you, he tucks his face in your neck as he feels you hugging him back. You smile, feeling him press a light kiss on the exposed skin. He smells of sugar and cinnamon. 

“Leave them breathless,” he whispers as he breaks apart from the embrace. 

He kisses you one more time, quickly pecking the top of your head before he walks away. You give him one last smile, running your fingers down his arm as you begin to part.  

You walk in opposing directions, and Jun quickens his pace as he climbs the stairs leading to the balcony. He can hear the crowd growing with every step he takes, feeling a knot forming in his stomach as he moves his fingers around in an attempt to control his nerves. The way up seems familiar, consisting in dimly lit hallways and semi-peeled off posters on the walls, and he doesn’t even notice a few minutes have passed by the time he finally reaches the balcony. 

It’s not the Moonwalker, but the place shines just as bright. He greets Seungcheol, placing a palm on his friend’s back as he comes to stand next to him. 

“Hey, I was about to go looking for you,” he says, as a form of greeting. He smiles at his friend and motions to the public below with his beer bottle. “Great turn out tonight! I think this is our biggest venue yet, it’s amazing! I was talking to some guy over there, and he says a story is being printed on the newspapers about how successful the tour has been so far.” 

Jun smiles. “They deserve it. They’re an amazing group.”

“And they have amazing songs,” Seungcheol comments, nudging Jun’s shoulder with his own. 

Jun sets his eyes on the empty stage just as the lights begin to fall. A limelight focuses on the center of it, right where the standing microphone rises high among the sea of instruments. You walk out from the side with the rest of the band following close behind, and just like his very own, everyone’s eyes are on you. 

“We have a very special song for you tonight,” you say. You look up in the direction of the balcony, and Jun feels his heart beat loudly against his chest when you wink at him. “We hope you enjoy the show.” 

A breath gets caught in his throat when Seungkwan starts playing, fingers delicately grazing over the keyboard of his piano. He can feel Seungcheol’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze, but all he can focus on is you. 

It’s always been that way, and the feeling on his chest lets him know it always will. It feels like a thousand butterflies finally setting flight. 

He smiles when you begin to sing, forgetting about everything else. The world around him stops existing, and just as the words start leaving your lips, he lets himself go. Because he had spent his entire life dreaming of this moment, thinking about the feeling being born in his chest. And he’s happy he’s waited, because it feels better than he could have ever imagined. 

Completely shaking off his nerves, he closes his eyes and lets out a breath. 

Hold me closer tiny dancer… 

[jisungsmochi]

valentine’s day with the dreamies ❤️

hella belated valentine’s day scenarios / dates with ot7 dream hehe <3 

mark lee:

took a while for him to decide on a plan for the day

didn’t want to disappoint you )):

settled with a nice trip to the beach, waiting to watch the sunset as you both had a nice dinner together

he wanted to take you away from the chaos of both your busy lives and just have time to relax with each other

he knows how tired you’ve been lately and just wants to give you some healing time

and he also wanted to profess his love for you on the beach

listening to the waves crash on the sand, the calling of seagulls, the laughter of other couples and families around you

as the sun started setting, you were leaning into mark’s side, his arm draped around your shoulders

he wrapped the both of you in a blanket as you reminisced about your relationship

“remember how you were scared shitless to ask me out? i thought you were going to faint”

“i was not scared! i just ate a bad sandwich that day” mark grumbled, hiding his face in your shoulder

you gently stroked his hair as you continued the trip down memory lane

the sky was now a mix of purple and pink hues

you immediately jumped up, pulling out your phone, to snap a picture of the gorgeous scenery

mark slowly met you, pulling your phone down, holding his hands in yours

he leant down to place a soft kiss on your lips, causing you to smile in between the pecks

“i love you” he mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear

“i love you too”

he ended up pulling out his own fancy camera, taking quick snaps of you being silly infront of the sunset

he eventually asked a nice lady to take some photos for the both of you in which she couldn’t help but coo

“you two make a beautiful couple”

heat rose to both your cheeks, too flustered by the compliment of a stranger

you spent to the rest of night chatting, too caught up endless conversations

huang renjun:

“hey, if your cute ass isn’t here in 10 minutes i’m packing up all the paints and sulking in my room for the rest of the day”

renjun texted you the morning of valentine’s day

you were already on your way to surprise him with your own small gift, having him rush you was adding to your nerves

this would be be first official valentine’s day you’d be spending together so you wanted everything to be perfect

you enthusiastically knock on his door, in which he opened instantly

he pulled you inside, dragging you to the backyard where he set up a nice picnic blanket with paints and canvases on a small table

you couldn’t help but admire all the effort he put in

you gave him a quick hug, your hold lingering on him for longer than he thought

you handed him your gift bag, filled with snacks he loved and a panda plushie with a heart attached to it

he pouted at how adorable your gift was, pulling you down to sit with him

“thank you for the gifts, babe! i hope you also like out little painting date!”

he queued up a tutorial video as you both started recreating the beautiful landscape shown

although you weren’t the best artist he had ever met

renjun couldn’t stop giggling at how concentrated you were with every stroke

“something funny?”

“nah you’re just the cutest”

subtle compliments like that was his specialty

you continued to paint as you snacked on various fruits and biscuits as well as caught up on current events in your lives

it was now time for the big reveal of your artworks...

renjun obviously outshone you but he still insisted you hang both paintings in his room for the memories 

he’d take lots of polaroids to put into his photo album of your memories 

huang renjun didn’t see the big deal in grand gestures for valentine’s day, as he saw every day, as a day to treat you well

lee jeno:

this boy would wake you up at the crack of dawn, practically jumping on you to go biking with him

you had flashbacks to the previous night where you agreed to go with him but immediately regretted staying up to watch new episodes of your favourite drama

jeno dragged you around your shared apartment like a rag doll, helping you change and stay awake

you knew how excited he was to take you biking for the first time, you didn’t want to crush his spirit

so you started slapping your cheeks and jumping up and down to remain awake, which jeno found amusing

you followed closely behind him as he led you through the trail

his initial idea was to get to the top before sunrise so you both could watch it together

but once he reached half way, jeno had an inkling that you were way behind

he was right

he stopped completely to wait for you, more concerned about how you were holding up rather than getting to the top

you were huffing and puffing

“why’d you stop? we have to get to the top!”

“have a sip first, babe” he pats your back as he hands you his water bottle

you felt bad for holding him back, but his concerned expression eased your mind

“we don’t have to get to the top, the sun will rise either way! who says we can’t just watch it from here?” he smiles widely at you

what did you do to deserve him?

you both stood with each other, his arm draped around your waist

the sun slowly started rising, your tired eyes glimmering in admiration

jeno’s eyes were fixed on you tho,, so proud that you attempted to bike with him

he was usually the one who always wanted to do things you liked

but when you agreed to go on this date with him, it just about made him pass out

he felt on top of the world with you by his side

this was a date he will never forget

lee donghyuck:

“really? a couple’s cooking class?” your boyfriend whined (he really loved doing that)

“yes! renjun suggested it to me, it will be fun, i promise!” you plead

as much as he loved to bicker with you, he saw how excited you were to participate in this class for valentine’s day

“do you know what we’re cooking at least?”

“i think we’re baking a cake, actually”

shouldn’t be too bad...he thought to himself

but boy was he WRONG

you both came to realise that you were not the best cooking duo in your friend group

but it didn’t mean you were gonna give up, after all, having donghyuck as your boyfriend made you as competitive as him (if that’s even possible)

he read the instructions as you grabbed the ingredients and threw them in a bowl

he would hype you up from the side like

“that’s my baby, you beat those eggs!” “our cake is gonna look so freaking good”

you would get flustered, earning a smile from the chef teaching the class

once the decoration stage came along, donghyuck insisted he do it on his own

he refused to let you watch him as he did the finishing touches

the chef revealed each cake one by one, when he got to yours, he gave you both a soft smile

“you two make such a sweet couple”

you looked down at the cake, the words

“i love you always and forever” were written on the surface

you were about to burst into tears at how sweet your boyfriend was

when you got home, after taking hundreds of photos with the beautifully decorated cake

you both devoured it like animals while watching tv together 

a simple, yet memorable valentine’s day date — you couldn’t wait to tell your friends all about it

na jaemin:

as some of y’all know, jaemin used to be a short speed track racer

so naturally he was down for your idea of going ice skating for valentine’s day

you weren’t aware of how skilled he was at skating — as you yourself were merely a beginner

so when you saw how knowledgeable jaemin was when you entered the ice skating rink, you started feeling nervous 

jaemin helped strap your skates on, carefully guiding you to the rink

you were still under the impression he was just as bad as you, but once you both stepped on the ice, he was immediately stable

god, he could even skate backwards 

this must be so embarrassing for him to see 

you started pouting,

“what’s wrong, baby?”

“i didn’t know you could skate so well! i’m so embarrassed, i can barely skate two metres!”

“i can teach you, don’t worry so much” he smiled softly at you, hands gripping yourself tightly

you couldn’t stay mad at him, immediately following his instructions

thirty minutes later, one really bruised butt cheek and some elbow bruises from falling down so much, you started getting the hang of it

jaemin let go of your hands and let you skate towards him, once you reached him, he wrapped you in his arms tightly, still gliding on the ice

your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fan your cheeks

you gave him a quick peck, mumbling a quiet ‘i love you’

jaemin couldn’t contain how adorable you were, giving you another quick kiss before telling you he loved you more than life itself

you both skated for a while, listening to throwback love songs playing over the speakers

he rarely let go of your hand, even when you insisted you were getting the hang of skating alone 

he treated you to some french fries and ice cream after you finished skating 

you laughed and chatted the day away, without a care in the world 

being inlove with jaemin was something you would never trade for anything else in the world

zhong chenle:

a homemade dinner was always something you raved about to chenle

so once valentine’s day approached,, he made sure to give you the best dinner you could have ever imagined

he was on a call with his mum, following her instructions for the most perfect creamy pasta

you on the other hand, decided to make chocolate covered strawberries to have after dinner

you asked jaemin for help but then he just screamed he hates strawberries and left

you were placing the finishing touches on the desserts when your phone dings that chenle was ready for you to come over

you dropped everything, rushing to find the outfit you had picked earlier that day

you carefully wrapped the box of strawberries before making your way to his place

he practically swung the door open for you, pulling you to the dining table

he was hella dramatic and had those fancy covers for the food,, so he could surprise you

you just chuckled at his antics, placing a soft kiss to his cheek which made him heat up

he slowly revealed the meal he worked hard on the entire afternoon

your eyes glimmered at the sight, your mouth beginning to water

“how’d you know i love creamy pasta?”

“i listen to you when you talk, ya know”

you both enjoyed a pleasant dinner, chatting all about recent events in your life

the meal was delicious,, but it was now time for dessert

chenle practically ripped open the box, devouring one strawberry before you could even show off your creations

“you animal” you softly shove him, taking one for yourself

the rest of the night was filled with commentating cheesy romance movies and snacking on the desserts

once you finished eating, chenle handed you a small box

you opened it slowly, your jaw dropping at the gorgeous ring he had bought for you

he bought you both promise rings oop 

you squealed before tackling him in a warm embrace

nothing felt better than being wrapped in his arms

park jisung:

sungie: meet me on the rooftop at 8:30

you: uhhh you’re not gonna fight me, are you?

sungie: shut up and get ready

you giggled at his response, giddy about seeing your boyfriend on valentine’s day

you weren’t sure what he had planned, but you were sure he put a lot of thought into it

even tho jisung doesn’t voice his thoughts, something is always going on with that boy

you made your way to the said rooftop he referred to, cautiously walking over to him

he set up two beach chairs with a small table filled with both of your favourite snacks

you also noticed two telescopes placed in front of the chairs, smiling widely to yourself

“is this what i think it is?”

“yes! we’re stargazing tonight! i know how much you’ve been wanting to do so”

you sat down next to him, taking your own telescope in your hands

you couldn’t believe he organised this date, from the fairy lights around the railing of the rooftop to the soft r&b playlist playing in the background

it was perfect

jisung couldn’t take his eyes off you, too eager to determine if you truly liked the idea

when your eyes met, you couldn’t help but lean closer to him

jisung didn’t pull away, smirking to himself before suddenly pecking your lips

jisung also wasn’t usually the one to initiate affection, so this was just another surprise you could never get over

you both giggled, pointing out the different constellations you could make out

you chatted about random things, from video games to school, to when jaemin yelled at chenle’s s/o for making chocolate covered strawberries

everything felt at ease when you were with jisung

he knew you didn’t want such a big fuss for valentine’s day, but you could have never suspected he’d do this all for you

“thankyou for all of this”

“anything for my baby”

and in that moment, you knew, you were falling inlove with park jisung.

[koukouture]

Art youtuber recommendations!

There are good art youtubers, and bad art youtubers. No I do not mean their skill, I mean the content they put out and how they teach their viewers to apply it, as well as how they explain it to their viewers. So, here are my top art youtuber  recommendations for artists of all levels, but I’ll mainly be talking beginners. 

. 

Ethan Becker 

I had to include this guy. If I didn’t, I’m sure he’d somehow find a way to destroy me. He looks like PewDiePie but he’s literally the Gordon Ramsay of art just a little more toned down and actually gives criticism and good advice. (which I’m pretty sure Gordon Ramsay doesn’t do. But feel free to correct me if I’m wrong about that) 

Anyways, Mr.Becker here has a great personality, but most importantly, he is a professional artist and gives good advice. He has so many tips and a lot of experience so you can trust what he says. And if you’re worried about being bored to death, well, worry no more! Because there are jokes left and right with this guy. 

Sam Does Arts 

If you want Ethan Becker level advice but the knives and screaming are too much for you, go check out Sam. He’s a more chill and gives great advice, his videos are long and he’s got a lot of good tips.

I don’t have much to say about him since I’ve only been watching him for a little while vs literally all of quarantine watching Ethan Becker videos, but from what I’ve seen, he produces quality content and has great advice for beginners and experienced artists alike. 

(I also loves the way he renders his art, it looks so ethereal and bright) 

Ross Draws 

Ah yes, Ross Draws. He’s been on art Youtube for about five years now and he’s grown in that time. I’m pretty sure there was some sort of scandal where he was tracing or whatever a few years back but I’m pretty sure it was just him drawing from reference? Idk, I never looked too far into it because I really looked up to him at that time and didn’t want to believe it. 

But that aside, Ross isn’t really beginner friendly, he gives great advice sure but he doesn’t go too in depth like the previous two do. His older videos might be more beginner friendly but idk man I don’t go back to rewatch those. He’s a really upbeat and positive guy which is a great mindset for learning art, he also had a master course a year or so back and a digital art bootcamp currently. 

I think his art is just really nice to reference since he makes great use of colour and shape language. Also during his master course he gave out some pretty good advice, but it’s not his whole thing, his whole thing is fun drawing videos and the occasional advice. And that’s ok, you can learn a lot from referencing an artist, and hey his videos are pretty fun so give it a watch. 

Mohammed Agbadi 

So the thing with this guy is that he’s less actually showing you art, but he does give some nice tips and advice. His main thing is art community drama and the do’s and don’ts of the art community which is a pretty handy thing for a beginner. Plus you get some tea with that so it’s a win win. 

Ergojosh 

Another one I haven’t been watching for long but he keeps it real and cracks a joke from time to time which is very admirable. Nothing much to say, that’s what most of his videos are. Plus he has a very soothing voice so that’s another guy with really good advice who doesn’t tape his mic to a huge knife and call you a child. 

Bluebiscuits 

She’s a really good artist and she doesn’t post much, but when she does it’s amazing. Her art is colourful and her rambling and slightly unprepared scripts are very relatable. But she still gets her point across and you learn something new when you click away from the video you just watched. I’m very excited for new content from her and I think she deserves some attention. 

LavenderTowne 

I love this girl, lots of good advice and her art is so recognizable. She never really demonstrates her advice which is fine, but that’s what pulled Ethan Ahead of her for me. She also puts out some really chill videos where she sort of just voices her opinion or just draws for fun and shares the process with a voice over, which is totally fine! 

.

Now it’s time for some Art Youtubers who sort of just do it for fun, and that’s ok because it’s entertaining! 

ZHC 

He used to do actual art stuff but now he’s sort of just for fun. And it’s great because he’s literally the Mr.Beast of art and it is so entertaining. Occasionally a little childish? Yeah, but it’s still good fun and it works for him. Plus his editing and music choices  S L A P.

Jazza 

Another one that’s mostly just for fun. I don’t have much to say about him since I don’t watch him anymore, but great guy, good art, go watch him in your down time. 

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh���She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

[divyawelby]

— TASK: INTRODUCE YOURSELF

Why was propping your phone up against a bunch of books so unnecessarily difficult? Divya let out a frustrated huff, lips in a twist as she steadied her phone for the umpteenth time against a stack of books comprising of Open Studio: Do-It-Yourself Art Projects by Contemporary Artists, the Beginner's Guide to Digital Painting in Procreate: How to Create Art on an iPad, and Flower: Exploring the World in Bloom. Hopeful now that the device wouldn’t slip and fall, Divya pressed record on her phone’s camera app and retreated backwards to sit cross-legged on the foot of her bed. She let out a breath. “Okay, here goes–”

                                                FLASH BACK: TWO DAYS PRIOR

"What three words would you use to describe me?” Divya asked her brother, his face bobbing unsteadily on the screen of her phone as he made his way through some sort of jungle or something. The ground definitely wasn’t even, that was for sure.

“Is this for a school thing or something? Thought you didn’t start till September.”

“No, it’s not for school. It’s for the retreat thing you and Dad want me to go on. They sent me an email saying I need to film a short clip of me introducing myself and describing myself in three words.”

On the screen, Sean stilled for a moment, lips pressed together. Divya wondered for a moment if he’d froze because the signal was rather choppy but before she knew it, he was moving along and speaking again. “It’ll be more meaningful if it comes from you. It’s just three words, Div.”

“Yeah, I know but I can’t think of anything... All I can think of when I think of myself is like... person, 5′5, brown.”

“You’re describing yourself.”

“That’s the brief!”

“They mean things like nice, tall or strong, adjectives like that and you know it.”

Divya sighed. “I don’t know how to describe myself. I’m boring, mate. It’s like–” Like I haven’t felt like a person in a long time. I don’t know myself, she wanted to add. But she didn’t dare say any of that out loud. She’d gone quiet on her end. She figured Sean noticed because soon, he was offering suggestions.

“How about.... English, you know? Or girl. Or sweet. You’re a sweet kid.”

Divya made a face. “Eww. That’s not right. Can’t be calling myself that. Who willingly describes themselves that way?”

Sean shrugged, sighing before he shook his head. Then she heard someone talk to him. It was from a distance, quite muffled, but something about a mic being hooked up or something? On the screen, Sean’s eyes went a bit wide. Divya thought he looked like he got caught or something. Was he slacking on the job to talk to her?

“Div, look, I got to go,” he was saying the next second, standing up. “But you’ve got this, alright? Ask Dad. He’ll help you.”

Divya sighed again. It’ll be hours before Dad got home from work but she conceded with a nod, knowing Sean had to be off. “Yeah, alright...”

“It’s just three words, isn’t it? Easy shit. Flip through the pages of a Dictionary if it gets too bad. I’ll check in again soon, ‘right? Text me.”

“Okay...” Divya said, evidently in a lesser mood now that one of the three people she talked to had to be on their way. “Take care.”

                                                    FLASH BACK: ONE DAY AGO

“Hey, Dad?” Divya called for her father, wandering into the kitchen from the hall where she knew he was making a cuppa. 

“Yes, darling? What is it?”

Divya slid herself onto one of the stools by the kitchen island, phone in hand with her Notes app open. “If you had to describe me in three words, what words would you use?”

Her father looked up from his mug. “Is this for school?”

Divya wanted to roll her eyes. Sean and her dad were so alike even if they didn’t want to admit it. “No,” she answered, “it’s not school. It’s months away. School year doesn’t start till September, you know.”

“Oh, right, right.” Her dad took a sip of his tea.

Divya sighed. “It’s for the retreat. I have to introduce myself but... I can’t think of anything. Like everything I come up with is so bland and boring and I’m sure everyone else’s is going to be loads better than mine.”

“Well, you can be sure of that,” her father said, not wanting Divya to be down on herself. “Everyone struggles, you know, it’s–”

“Absolute last day to submit tomorrow and I still haven’t thought of anything.” Divya needed her desperation to come across. Her father was usually so detached from things sometimes. She swore he could hardly sense urgency or frustration unless someone was red in the face with their eyeballs about to pop out.

“Well, you know, just list the things everyone says about you, you know? You’re good girl. Funny. Smart. Very nice to people.”

And just like that, Divya knew it was a lost cause asking her father for help. He didn’t get it – why she was so stuck. He saw her the way he wanted to. The way everyone tries to see their own children. He literally just gave her the top three most used adjectives any parent would use for their child. Good. Funny. Smart. Divya didn’t think she was any of those things.

She wondered what it would take for him to be honest. To be present. To really hear her question and give her something of substance. He was still talking now, saying things – agreeable things, uncomplicated things – but disconnected things. Things that felt like he was talking about someone else entirely. Like some other daughter he had that wasn’t just released from an in-patient programme about a month ago. Some person that hadn’t gone through what she’d gone through. It was like her family couldn’t put it behind them fast enough, more than happy to see Divya as ‘better’ now rather than ‘broken’. She supposed she had a part to play in that. 

Ever since she was released, Divya did her best to only show her good side – that she was healing, that she was eating, that she was recovering, that she was no longer a concern. She didn’t want people to worry about her but she also... she felt like she was slipping the more she tried to be better. It didn’t make any sense to her. How could she feel the way she did when all she tried to do was feel better? Do better? She was doing everything right but it still felt... like it was still there. Somewheres. Like maybe it hadn’t gone away, maybe it just got buried. And the longer she went on trying to show people she was all better, she was doing more harm than good. The thought of it made her gulp. Her father still hadn’t stopped talking, doing his best for her even if it wasn’t what she needed.

“Thanks, Dad,” Divya cut in, not wanting to poor man to have an aneurysm with how hard he was trying to list every good adjective there ever was from memory. “I think I’ve got it now.” She pushed her lips into a smile, making sure it was the kind that crinkled the skin near the corners of her eyes. She’s gotten better at being able to tell which smiles her family thought were real. It was dishonest of her to smile this one but she didn’t want him to feel bad that he hadn’t actually helped.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m going to go up to my room to write it all down. You know how nervous I get it.”

“Yes. Good. Always wise to be prepared, darling.”

“Mhm.” Divya nodded her head, making sure her lips were still somewhat pulled at the corners. A smile. I’m doing good, it said. I’ve really got it now; you don’t need to worry. She slipped off of the stool then grabbed her phone off of the island. “Thanks!” She said as she left the kitchen to retreat into her room.

                                          PRESENT DAY, BACK IN DIVYA’S ROOM

“Hi. I’m Divya.” She offered a wave of her hand and a smile. “I’m eighteen. I’m from Singapore.” Well, yes but not really. Usually when people revealed where they were from, they’d state the country they were born in but Divya moved away from England when she was rather young. She didn’t feel as connected to the country as she did Singapore, where she grew up. “And the three words I’d used to describe are...”

She stared at the camera. In real time, it was probably only a moment. A second, if that. But in her mind, it felt like she was contemplating it for the length of a very long breath.

She held up a new finger as she revealed each word. “...Alicia Keys fan.” 

It was an answer but it also wasn’t. It was just enough. Be honest enough. Be okay enough. Not too much but just enough that no one suspected a thing. She pulled her mouth into a grin. Even pushed out a small giggle. If she took the time to comprehend what she was doing, it would scare her that she’d gotten so good at mimicking behavior that would once upon a time be genuine indicators of her being well. Without such heaviness in her mind and on her shoulders. 

“Right then.” She pushed out a breath and clapped her hands over her legs. Then she moved to stand up and walk over to her phone. “I’m probably going to have to edit this bit out,” she said as she neared the device. “Hope I didn’t go over 30 seconds.” Leaning over, she made a yikes face at her phone before smiling – a smile she didn’t have to think about it – and stopping the recording.

[min-chery]

In the way | KTH

Pairing: Artist! Taehyung x Sound therapist! Reader

Rating: PG-13 

Genre: angst

Warnings: Swearing, Both MCs have a sad past :( , side pairing Yoongi x Jungkook and Jimin x Hoseok is mentioned.

Word count: 2.4k

A/n: This is an excerpt from my ongoing series ‘Sky’ that is posted on Wattpad. I’ll insert the link right here if you want to check it out. 

Also I have no much knowledge in sound therapy. So if you find any points inaccurate, you can leave it for me in the ask box!~

“Is that all you’ll need?” Taehyung asks, looking at the one bag that sits on the passenger seat of your car.

"Yes. Everyone in our team decided to split up and bring the necessities. I was in charge of lunch. So... this is enough." you reply. You had packed enough food for 8 people to eat one afternoon, a change of clothes, your laptop and sound equipment.

It had been three months since the two of you started dating. The two of you spent almost all of your free time with each other. A lot of time spent in each others’ homes and even met at each others’ places of work for lunch. One thing the two of you did in common at all places was make out. 

It seemed impossible to keep your hands and lips to yourselves. Kissing against the wall, on the table, on the couch, on the bed and even on the living room floor. Too many times you’ve been walked in on, but you cannot bring yourselves to be fazed by it. 

And now, you are getting ready for a project with your sound therapy group at a mountain a little far away. Another group that had been there before had claimed that the variety of birds that reside in the area make the most beautiful songs in the early hours. It was enough motivation for your group to decide to have a trip and record some of it.

"Okay. I think we're all done here." you sigh, standing on the tip of your toes and pulling Taehyung in for a hug by his shoulder. And he slumps into the embrace, nuzzling his face into your open hair. You rub his back, feeling your boyfriend yawn into your blue tresses.

 "Still tired? You can go sleep, baby." you say, lifting his head and squishing his face in your palms. He shakes his head, pouting while his grip on your waist tightens.

 "Go on, sweetheart. It's only 4am yet. You go catch up with some sleep, yeah?" you usher, wanting to see him well-rested and chirpy when you return in the evening. But he doesn't seem to want to oblige.

 "Can't. Our best friends are too loud in there." He whines, eyes half closed as he falls back onto your shoulder. You laugh, happy for the two who are so in love.

 "There won't be a disturbance anymore. I'm about to leave too." Yoongi joins in, with Jungkook holding his hand. Both of their hair are ruffled, sticking up at random places and clothes crumpled. Both look utterly ruined with blushes decorating their cheeks.

 "Drop me off at my place, will you?" Yoongi asks you, placing a kiss at the side of Jungkook's head. He smiles at Taehyung as he gets into the passenger seat.

 "Bye, Tae. See you later." you speak, pressing a kiss on his cold, red nose. Taehyung reluctantly lets go, pouting as he waves you goodbye. He watches you slip into the driver's seat and disappear into the morning.

 "Aren't you tired? Come sleep with hyung." He tells a very drowsy Jungkook who's rubbing at his eyes, a sleeping yawn falling from his own lips.

 ***

 It's around 1 pm when Taehyung calls you. You close your lunchbox that is almost finished, excusing yourself from the group.

 "Tae bear!" you exclaim into the phone, voice full of cheer.

 "Hey baby!" Taehyung replies, voice equally gleeful.

 "How's the recording coming along?" he asks, sounds of a window being opened accompanying his voice from his side of the line.

 "It went good, baby. Maybe we should come here on a date together some time. The view looks like one of the pictures you painted. Too beautiful."

 "Maybe we should. Have you had your food yet, darling?" He asks and you hum into the receiver.

 "Planning on returning yet? Or do you still have work to get done?"

 "Why? Miss me already?"

 "You know I do." Taehyung laughs.

 "Our work is done but we found an amazing free climbing trail close by. Decided to check it out. And it's for beginners too." Leah says, expecting an enthusiastic response back. But all you's left with is stillness from the other line.

 And then comes the shuffling, the sound of something falling down and Taehyung's muted cursing.

 "What do you mean free climbing?" His voice somehow feels distant, piercing Leah through her heart.

 "You know, rock climbing. And the ropes are going to assist me if I fall." you tentatively answer.

 "And you thought it was okay to do that without telling me?"

 "I didn't know I had to ask my boyfriend before I did things." Both of you speak with an edge to your voices, as if the sole purpose was to hurt one another.

"See ___. I understand that you have to climb up cliffs and dangerously high places for work. But this seems really unnecessary. I really need you to stop doing these things. Are you even aware of how many accidents take place during things like this?"

 "You don't tell me what's necessary and what's not. I do it because it makes me happy. And I'm not going to let you stand in the way of my happiness."

 "You can do whatever the fuck you want! I don't care anymore!" Taehyung yells. It has you flinching, lips wobbling from unpleasant memories of the past swarming you.

 "Don't yell at me." you shout back, unable to hide the tremble in your voice. Taehyung is breathing hard into your ears through the phone.

 "And it's not the first time I've noticed you clam up when I talk about going like this. You need to tell me whatever the fuck is your problem if you-" you never get to complete what you start from Taehyung abruptly ending the call.

 Your hands tremble at your sides, knees feeling weak. It had been true when you said Taehyung clams up when such matters are brought up. Avoiding looking you in the eye and slowly drifting away from the conversation with an uncomfortable smile. It was clear he hated heights at this point.

 But the extent to it was only now becoming clear when the ever calm yet cheerful Taehyung raised his voice. It seemed more of fear and frustration than anger towards you. But you weren't going to let him get away with yelling at you knowing how it affected you.

 You make your way back to your group who are waiting for you with their bags on their back and smiles on their lips. Forcing a smile of your own, you sling the bag onto your back.

 Like you said, you weren't going to let a guy get in the way of your happiness. No matter how much you love him.

 ***

 Taehyung draws deft lines on the page of his new sketchbook with a charcoal pencil. He sighs, hating the texture of the pages with the kind of pencil he’s using. Everything blurs when he feels the tears rise. Hurt and shame surge through his veins for raising his voice at you. He looks out the window of the diner, watching droplets of rain wash over the street. For a minute he wonders what the two of you would've been doing in this weather had you not fought. Would the two of you be drinking a mug of hot cocoa at your apartment as you watch a movie on the couch? Or would the two of you have been watching the rain while cuddling on the swing in his balcony and being huddled in a single blanket?

 ‘I miss her.’ The voice in his head says. He misses you so much that it feels like a knife is lodged in his throat. But it's nothing compared to the way he’s felt when you left him behind that day. Better than being terrified to death wondering if he’d get a call bringing him news he'd never in his life want to hear.

 Taehyung drops his head down on the table, pulling up the hood of his jacket as he goes down. Focusing on the pain that blossomed on his forehead, he forces all thoughts of you out of his head.

 Just as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the loud noise and vibration of something being slammed down on the table reaches him. His head jerks up startled, coming face to face with the very person he’s been avoiding for a whole week. His lips part, nothing but silence falling out of it. You look vexed at his expression. 

 "A 100 calls!" you say, pointing at the phone you'd thrown onto the table with your call log on. "A 100 calls and countless texts. All to you. I even emailed you dammit! What the hell are you doing, huh? Ignoring me like that! Do you even remember you've got a girlfriend?" your voice takes on an edge, volume increasing the slightest than your normal.

 He can't do anything but stare at your red face. He’s washed over with worry with how little you've dressed for a rainy evening. He holds himself back from swiping your wet lips in for a breathless kiss.

 "Answer me!" you yell, slamming your hand down on the table. It makes him flinch in his seat. And the women at the counter. 

 "I don't want to." he says, a slight tremor in his voice. He avoids looking you in the eye, instead setting his gaze on the device on the table. He’s afraid anything he does will anger you further. And it does. 

 " 'Don't want to'?" You scoff dangerously. "What else do you not want!? Your girlfriend spending time doing something she likes!?" you grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him up from the chair and in front of the table. 

 Taehyung’s jaw ticks at your words and actions. He pushes your hand away and straightens the shirt. Dominating him like that in front of another person jabs at his ego as a man.

 "That is not something I'm ready to talk about yet!" He shouts. Memories from the past swarm him, choking him so hard that it feels like he’s combusting from the inside.

 "I'm your girlfriend, asshole! I would've listened to you if you had told me that at the time instead of yelling at me!"

 "Stop repeating that you're my girlfriend!"

 "Why!? Do relationships scare you now too!?" 

 "Because I'm not sure I want this anymore." he whispers, head falling low in resignation. It's only half-true. He does want it. More than anything else. But he’s too scared. 

 Fear, he learns, is the most dangerous emotion.

 "You are breaking up with me?" you ask, voice too composed than earlier. Taehyung keeps looking down at his shoes. Big mistake.

 You lift up the cup of hot tea from his table and smash it on the wall at your side. You throw it with so much force that the shards fly back at you, slashing you on the cheek. The hot liquid splatters all over your hand, turning it an angry red. You don't flinch. You stare at him, eyes void of anything he's ever seen in them. Like he has no more access to you. 

 You rove your eyes over him one more time and then turn away with your phone. You slam a fifty-dollar bill in front of Mrs. Choi at the counter and leave without looking at Taehyung again.

 Taehyung looks around the cafe at the wreck the two of you have caused. He bends down to pick up the shards of glass through the tearful blur. He stays back, helping the part-timer clean up before he leaves. Mrs. Choi even comes around to take him into her arms, bracketing him into her motherly embrace.

 Crying all through the walk back to his house, he asks himself the same question over and over again. 

 ‘What the hell have I done?’

 ***

 Yoongi can clearly see the smoke come out through the gaps of your bedroom door. His jaw ticking in anger, he pushes it open and immediately meets with the sight of his best friend.

 You are leaning against her headboard, a cigarette clutched between the index and middle fingers of your healing hand. You leave out a puff of smoke and when he enters, you hurriedly push the remaining against the ashtray. You put it away in your drawer with wide eyes and fumbling hands.

 "I saw that, ___. You're smoking again?" He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 "Sorry I just... I didn't know you were coming over."

 "So you were planning on keeping this away from me? You promised me you'd stop." He says, seating himself down beside you.

 "You know why I do it." You sigh and pull the comforter over the lower half of your body, pulling your legs towards your chest. Clutching your face in your hands, you put it on your knees.

 The sight of you, curled up against the headboard has Yoongi's heart wrenching in sadness. It had been a week since the breakup and you were still as broken as the day at the diner.

 Moving closer, he pulls you to his side. Almost instantaneously, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl up against him.

 "Why did you come over without telling me? You always call me before."

 "Jimin called me. He was scared of how little he saw you around the house. And any time he did see you, he said you were high. Barely aware of what was happening."

 "I should've worried him a lot. Where is he?" a troubled look crosses your features. 

 "Apparently it's been affecting him too much. So, Hobi took him out for some breakfast." 

 You hum. You are glad Hoseok is being a good boyfriend to your other best friend.  

 "You need to learn how to control your ang-"

 "I can't Yoongi." You say, lifting up your hand. It trembled in frustration.

 "I almost smashed a cup against his skull. Had I not mentally reminded myself of who was in front of me, I would've put him in the Emergency room." you recollect, wiping the tears.

 "We can always seek help, ___." He rubs up and down your arms to soothe your emotions.

 "Is that okay?" He asks and you nod against his shoulder blade. The two of you bask in the silence afterward. Embracing the calmness that you knew wouldn't last once the voices in your head get too loud.

 "Should've known it was too good to be true." You sniffle, "He was way too perfect from the beginning."

[anothertimdrakestan]

Total Flirt

Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 1.3k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“could you do 28 from the prompt list ("are you flirting with me?" "thank god you finally noticed") with jason todd??” 

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I wanted to do a reader works with Dick and Jason finds her but I hated the idea of writing as cop right now so we are saying fuck canon Dick Grayson is a child gymnastics teacher! Idea courtesy of the Batfam Support Group Discord!!! The people are so amazing and kind and supportive it’s crazy - any batfam artists and writers need to join asap!

“Yes you did it!” you cheered, reaching to high-five Quinton, the eight year old who just mastered his standing back tuck. The beaming child threw himself into your arms then proceeded to do another jump. Letting him go get some water and a quick break you moved over to help Dick who was trying to convince a beginner that standing on a beam two inches off the ground wasn’t scary. Together, with coaxing words, she got on the beam and begun taking her first steps forward. 

Between the two successes and many other wins and losses, it was an unbelievably long day. As your final classes finished you joined Dick in rolling up mats and cleaning up some of the loose chalk. With a sigh you moved on to your shared office and began wiping down boards and rewriting tomorrow’s schedule. “Long day?” a familiar voice jumped you out of your own thoughts. Whipping your head to the voice, you saw Dick’s friend Jason Todd. Occasionally he would pick Dick up for “nightly activities” which you assumed meant a relationship. The two bantered like a married couple, Dick always mothering Todd, who was a bit of a loose cannon and an intense flirt. You couldn’t really figure out the relationship between the two, and part of it was because of the way Jason talked to (and about) you. 

You remembered the last time he picked Dick up. You had a late night private lesson with Dick’s younger brother Damian. The kid was untrained but crazy talented and strong. Dick begged you to teach him because he wouldn’t listen to Dick and usually ended up threatening his older brother with sharp objects. So, after a long night of explaining that you were a gymnast not skilled fighter and trying to show the boy basic gym skills he’d missed in previous “training” you went to grab Dick from the back where he was cleaning mat covers. To your surprise, Jason was there too. Not being much help he leaned against a shipment of foam cubes complaining about something to Dick. His eyes shot up when you walked in, his face easily falling into his usual smirk. As you walked closer you noticed his eyes fall down your figure, slowly raising again to meet your eyes with no shame. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, wondering if you had a stain on your shirt you brushed him off, turning to Dick. “Hey D your lil bro is done, I think he learned something hopefully so let me know if you need another” Dick nodded and looked over to Damian.  Eyes widening he sprung up, “Damian NO!” and he took after Damian who you couldn’t sworn had a literal sword, but it was late. “So y/n got plans tonight?” Jason cocked his head grinning at you. “Oh not really, gonna go home and relax. Maybe pickup some dinner” you shrugged, confused as to why Jason was interested in you. Before he could reply Dick was calling Jason over, J looked annoyed to be pulled from you but he left before you could figure out what his goals were that night.

One of your favorite Jason-themed memories was when he took a lesson with you after he lost what seemed to be an intense bet. He said he’d had training when he was younger but you could tell now his skill had frozen over and been replaced with a reckless need to complete whatever he’s assigned no matter what. Reckless. After going over the necessity behind a perfect back handspring and letting him practice on the bounce track he was ready for the mats. Somehow he got turned around (?) and ended up flipping on to you, the two of you landing with him on top of you, arms cased next to your shoulder. Being just inches away from Jason was breathtaking, neither moving out of the other’s presence for just a second longer than you should’ve. Snapping out of his trance, you moved to get up and he hopped off of you. At the end of the lesson he went to leave, not before turning around saying “I think I’ll have to take more lessons if it means your there to catch me y/n” and with a wink he left, leaving you confused, but excited.

Now he was in the same relaxed position against the wall in your office. “God Jason you scared me! Yeah it was long, I guess I’m just gonna go relax, the usual” the butterflies appeared again, you smiled trying to peak over to Dick to see if he was coming towards the office. Jason filled you in, “uh Dick doesn’t know I’m here” he gestured to the back door which you could’ve sworn was locked. “Oh uh, are you surprising him?” you closed the door leaving just you and Jason alone. Again his eyes cascaded down and back up, no smirk this time. He looked sincere and slightly nervous, but after the second of doubt he wiped it off with a grin. “I’m here for you gorgeous” he started towards you with a wink, closing the distance between you in a few strides.

Then it all made sense.

The late nights where he picked up Dick but always tried to talk to you, comments on your skill and how great you were, and the stolen glances he was always taking: Jason liked you. Unable to contain the revelation; you placed your hand on his chest, looking up at him. “Have you been flirting with me?” you questioned, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Thank GOD you finally noticed!” he grinned. Shocked you were excited that he’d taken a liking to you, he was totally cute, your age, type, way taller than you, not to mention ripped and- “mph” as thoughts raced about how totally hot he was you didn’t realize Jason leaning down, closing the distance between your lips. Smiling into the kiss you bunched up his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Fitting together perfectly, his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you sweetly. 

“There’s no mission this time is there” you gasped, pulling away from Jason to see Dick leaning against the office door. Sheepishly you slid out of Jason’s grasp, his hand moving to the small of your back. “Sorry D I came for y/n this time” Jason grinned while Dick rolled his eyes. “Whatever I’m going home” Dick smiled at you and gave Jason a glare. “I don’t care if you’re my brother I’ll beat you up if you mess this one up” Dick quipped before leaving. “Trust me I know this is special” Jason retorted as Dick walked away, grabbing your hand and giving it a tug. 

The two of you somehow made it back to Jason’s apartment. It was messy but it was warm and comforting. Seated on his couch the two of you questioned each other about your lives, the feeling of just being in the other’s presence just felt right. “So, what did Dick mean by ‘another mission’ is that where you guys go cuz I just thought you were dating or something” you admitted, and Jason was stuck somewhere between a grimace, embarrassment, and laughter. “Well obviously he’s my adoptive brother not secret lover, that’s an easy one. And mission is something we do with our family, it’s boring but I can tell you about it later if you stick around” seeing as it was your first “date” on his couch you let it rest, happy to finally understand the relationship between the brothers. 

“I think I’ll definitely be sticking around” you grinned, scooting over to give him a quick peck. With the grin that continued to give you butterflies, he squeezed your hand. “I think I’d like that princess”

[vanaera]

Defining Epilogues (ksj)

Synopsis:  Seokjin thinks he could always see the end of something before it even comes. When an annoying girl starts to rent the weirdest books from his shop, all Seokjin could see is how she will be the one to end him.

Characters: Seokjin x Female Reader

Trope/Au: Book rental shop owner!ksj x animator/artist!you (onesided enemies to lovers)

Genre: Fluff, comedy that’s close to crack

Wordcount: 6.3k

Warnings: Books with weird titles and secondhand-embarrassment-inducing sfw sex jokes (PG-15 Rating)

A/N: Happy birthday to my best girl @sophrosinn!!!  This is my gift for you! This fic is done with the great help of the ever wonderful @senfleurs who edited this story and stayed with me for the past 24 hours while I cry, laugh, and panic writing this fic! This fic also ended up helping me ride out a massive writer’s block.

            If Seokjin ever prides himself for something, it’s on his ability to tell how things will end the moment he sees them. He can tell when someone is about to fail their exam. He can sense a fight within a crowd before it even happens. He can stand at the end of the street and know the woman with the umbrella is about to break up with her boyfriend. And it always ends with Seokjin being right.

          Seokjin’s thankful for this skill because he’s been able to learn when it’s the right time to pursue something or when it’s time to give up. If it weren’t for this ability, he would have not been able to accomplish his dream of having a book rental shop that actually sells. Seokjin just didn’t expect he would have to start thinking twice about this skill soon after his shop’s opening. All because of a Y/N L/N who appears in his life like a wild Pokemon.

          From the start, Seokjin was already certain of one thing: Y/N is far from his type. For one, he didn’t even like having her as a customer.

            “Hey, I think that girl’s been staring at our way for three hours now. Are you sure I’m not supposed to go help her out?”

            Seokjin turns around to face his assistant and he hates that he’s able to see that girl from his peripheral. Seokjin shakes his head and turns back to the new books he’s been putting on the database, “I’m sure, Jungkook. Go back to work.”

            “Are you really sure? I think she’s the type who’s too shy to ask for help and instead, hopes to send a telepathic message by burning holes on our heads.”

            “I’m sure, Jungkook,” Seokjin repeats with a sigh. “Now why don’t you try working on that next book instead of stalling?”

            “I’m not stalling—”

            “Hello. I want to borrow this book.”

            Seokjin looks up from his counter. The girl stands in front of him, staring straight into his eyes as she pushes the book his way.

          Natural bust enlargement with total mind power: How to use the other 90% of your mind to increase the size of your breasts by Donald Wilson.

            Seokjin looks back at his work and sighs, “Jungkook, get this.”

            Jungkook picks up the book. He must have been taken aback as he looks at Seokjin, confused.

          Seokjin closes his eyes and waves him off. “Don’t even ask. Just do the usual.”

            “Okay,” Jungkook says. “Uh, ma’am, please write your name here. Okay, so Ms. Y/N L/N, you’re gonna return this—wait, you’ve been borrowing this book for three weeks?

            “Yes. Why?”

            “U-um, n-nothing. Just curious. It only has 141 pages and you’re not, um, finished yet?”

            “Well, I want to learn more about how to mind control my breasts to make them bigger.”

            “Uhh…”

            “Alright,” Seokjin stands up and nudges Jungkook away. “Ms. Y/N L/N, you’ll need to return this book five days from now, on March 23rd.” Seokjin slams his date stamp on the paper. “If you fail to return this book on time, we’ll have to charge you $1 for every day past the due date. And if the copy gets destroyed or lost, we’ll also have to charge you. Understood?”

            “Yep.”

            “Now, that will be $17.”

            Y/N places the money on the counter and heads for the door. But she doesn’t leave without sending one last stare into Seokjin’s way.

            Seokjin plops back down on his seat and clicks his tongue. “She didn’t read the book again.”

            Jungkook rolls his chair next to him and asks “Aren’t you being judgmental? Maybe she’s just a slow reader.”

            “No, she does not read it. The author didn’t mean literal mind control as she said. The book is about conditioning your mindset to a more positive view of your body image.”

            Jungkook looks at him with his forehead scrunched, “Wait, you’ve read that book?”

            Seokjin’s lips turn into a frown and he rolls his chair away from his assistant. “Don’t even ask.”

            When Seokjin first met Y/N L/N, he was convinced that she’d be the type of customer he’d hate the most. The type that comes in, picks a book, stays for god knows long, and leaves without borrowing anything. She used to do this back when she first came to his shop within its first week of opening. She kept the tradition strong for a solid month, and Seokjin was convinced that some highschoolers noticed her behavior and attempted to use his shop as their new hangout spot. He’s glad his shop was getting packed as the days went on. It’s just a different story when a hoard of teens started flocking around his shop without renting anything and prevented actual renters from entering his shop. Seokjin had to put up “No loitering” and “Maximum of 3 hours stay” signs on his windows to end this money-ripping tactic once and for all. 

          That didn’t seem to stop Y/N, though, as she would still come to his shop to pick a book to read right in front of his face without ever renting it. This time, however, she made sure to follow the three hours maximum to avoid getting called out. This went on for another week until Seokjin decided he had to talk with her about this. That didn’t end as well as he had hoped, as Y/N just looked at him straight in the eye and left immediately after he got his last word out. 

          Seokjin remembers getting so embarrassed at how he unknowingly did a monologue to a single-person audience. He wasn’t left mulling over it for long as Y/N came back the next day and actually began to rent a book. She still stays the three hours max limit most of the days but she doesn’t let a week pass without renting a book. She also manages to lower her ‘miser’ type level to the ‘weird borrower’ level in Seokjin’s annoyance scale. Having a customer with a renting history surrounding the most ridiculous-sounding books is much better than having them rent none at all. 

          Albeit, that’s a bit of a stretch, too, as Seokjin finds out that Y/N’s not exactly the weird borrower type, but the weird borrower who comes again on time just to rent the same book for weeks. And she doesn’t even read them. Seokjin confirms it one night when Y/N came to his shop a minutes-breadth away from the closing time.

          “Wait!” Y/N screams, running towards the shop.

          Seokjin stops pulling down the metal gate to give her a glare, “I’m already closing, L/N. Come back tomorrow.”

          “But I have to borrow something!”

          “Oh no you don’t—”

          It’s too late though, as Y/N slips under Seokjin's elbow and pushes the unlocked glass door open.

          Hearing his bell on the counter ring for consecutive times from the incessant taps of the infamous L/N, Seokjin knows he’s already lost the fight. He sighs as he makes his way back to the counter.

          “What do you want?”

          “This,” Y/N smiles. 

          The Beginner’s Guide to Sex in the Afterlife by David Staume.

          Seokjin eyes her as he picks up the book, “This again? You’re still not done reading 164 pages after, what, two months?”

          Y/N gulps as she clasps her hands in front of her, “Well, um, I still don’t get how people engage in sexual intercourse in the afterlife.”

          Seokjin decides not to reply and continues to do his job.

          “If they believe in a god. Or gods. Wouldn’t they worry about their god seeing them do...lewd stuff?”

          Seokjin feels his right eye start to twitch.

          “Unless...their god is a sex god?”

          Seokjin closes the book louder than necessary. He pins Y/N with a glare. “Look, Y/N. This book is about sexual energy transcending material life and even moving to the astral world. Just like how people pass away. What made you think that this book was about literally having sex in the afterlife?”

          Y/N looks at him with wide eyes, “You read the book?”

          Seokjin scowls. “Don’t turn this on me. We’re talking about you. Why do you keep borrowing books you don’t even read?” 

          Y/N looks at him then back at her clasped hands. “You don’t have to know,” she mutters under her breath, taking Seokjin by shock when she slams the payment on the counter and leans over to stamp the renting slip with the due date herself.

          Seokjin tries to call after her retreating figure by the door. “Wait, I didn’t even tell you the—”

          “Yeah, $1 for each day after the due date and you’re gonna charge my card if I destroy the book,” Y/N yells over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna come back on time!”

          Seokjin pales in his seat. Her announcement sounded like a death sentence.

          He wishes he wasn’t so easily bothered at the slightest of things Y/N said. He wishes he didn’t spend too much time deciphering a way to stop her. Most of all, he wishes he didn’t become too intrigued by her to the point he’s started to care about what she’s actually doing.

          And Seokjin hates it. He hates how he stresses himself reading the books Y/N borrows. He hates how he wastes his time trying to re-arrange the books in the shelves just so Y/N would start picking books with titles that actually made sense (which he learned is futile as Y/N had a penchant for finding weird books around his shop whenever and wherever). And, Seokjin hates how he basically studied her long enough to memorize her pattern. Long enough to realize that underneath all that weird borrowing behavior, Y/N just comes to his shop to stare at him. Moreover, Seokjin hates how he confirmed it with a friend.

          “Y/N must be making you quite busy, no?” Jimin asks over a mug of coffee.

          “You know her?” Seokjin asks in disbelief.

          “Yeah,” Jimin nods, “I’m friends with her. I consulted their animation company for the ad I told you I was making for Books to Tell. She was the one who assisted me and we just clicked. Especially after I learned that she’s also friends with Namjoon.”

          Seokjin’s eyes go wide, “She’s also friends with Namjoon?!”

          “Yeah, they kinda knew each other in college. Why are you so shocked? You were in the same major as Namjoon. You could have seen her with him around uni.”

          “Uh, no, I didn’t.”

          Jimin rubs his chin and shrugs, “Well, it’s a small world then. So, how is she? I actually told her to go visit your shop when you first opened.”

          Seokjin chokes on his coffee and Jimin hurries to pat his back. “God, why are you like this today? Is something wrong—"

          “How come you’re just telling me all of this now?!” Seokjin cuts his friend with a glare, making Jimin jolt in surprise.

          “W-what? Was I supposed to tell you about this earlier?”

          “Yes! Y/N’s been annoying me for four months now!”

          “I…didn’t know about that,” Jimin steps back and sits in his chair. “I just told her to take a look at your shop and she said ‘okay.’ She didn’t say anything after that so I figured it left her mind. I didn’t know she was a regular in your shop. She just brought it up again yesterday when she told me how…” Jimin zips his lips and shrugs.

          “How what?”

          “...how she likes your face.”

          Seokjin chokes again. This time on his own spit. He should have seen this coming. He was long aware that some of his renters only went into his shop to get a look at his face. Even if he had to suffer through the tedious cycle of rejecting their queries for his number and offers of coffee, some of them ended up as his regulars. Seokjin didn’t mind. Money is money after all. He just didn’t expect Y/N to be like them after all the months he spent trying to decode her actual intentions.

          Seokjin tried to brush Y/N off just like he did with the previous renters. Although she hasn’t pulled off anything yet, Seokjin believes it’s better to set things straight before it happens. The sooner he ends this, the faster he’ll find his peace again.

          Seokjin hired his neighbor, Jungkook, who’s been bugging him for a part-time job for so long and made him his assistant. He entrusted him with entertaining the customers so Seokjin wouldn’t have to deal with Y/N bugging him anymore. And like always, that plan goes down the drain because Y/N always, always ends up in front of Seokjin even when he’s countlessly told her to go to Jungkook.

          Seokjin’s tired of stressing over her so he forces himself to ignore her and the ridiculous books she borrows. But even that proves to be hard when Y/N hasn’t even done anything untoward but to stare at him from time to time. And give him a headache with the books she borrows like The Stray Shopping Carts of Eastern North America by Julian Montague, 50 Sad Chairs by Bill Keaggu, and Collectible Spoons of the Third Reich by James Yannes. For after all the progress he thought he’s put in, Seokjin still finds himself reading these books all because of a goddamn curiosity he couldn’t put down.

          It becomes harder when Namjoon and his friends pick up Seokjin’s weird setup with Y/N. And mutual friends being the annoying mutual friends they are, Namjoon and the gang begins to invite him and Y/N to hangout.

          “Why is she here?” Seokjin mutters to Namjoon the moment he sees their table.

          “Who?”

          “You know who.”

          “Oh, Y/N,” Namjoon prolongs the syllable as if her name is the most amazing thing ever. Seokjin grimaces. “Why? You got a problem with her?”

          “No,” Seokjin instantly denies. “I’m just asking why you invited her. It used to be just us for so long.”

          “Yeah, it’s always been just us that’s why it became boring.”

          “Boring?”

          “Yeah, I’m getting tired of your face,” Namjoon chuckles, stepping ahead of Seokjin. “Besides, what’s wrong with adding a new friend? Y/N is cool.”

          Oh hell yeah, Y/N is cool. She beams at Seokjin like she always does as if their legs weren’t just casually touching after their friends made it a point to choose a cramped barbecue restaurant and sit the two of them next to each other.

          “So Seokjin, I heard you and Y/N are getting close,” Namjoon starts and Hoseok hoots in support.

          Jimin, being as annoying as ever decides to ride in too. “Yeah, why don’t you tell us how you met.”

          “I was doing my business and Y/N just rented a book. That is all,” Seokjin says dismissively as he grabs his shot glass and downs the gin in one go.

          “Are you sure, that’s all, Seokjin?” Rose leans forward, grinning, “Maybe you’re hiding something from us.”

          “I’m not—”

          “He’s not hiding anything. That’s true.”

          The table pauses as all eyes dart to Y/N. A wave of self-consciousness washes over her and she directs her focus back on her clasped hands on the table, “S-Seokjin’s right. I just rent books from him.”

          Seokjin glances at Y/N then back at his drink. It’s the first time she actually addressed him that night after engaging animatedly with Namjoon, Jimin, and Rose for the past hour. The table nods slowly and Seokjin guesses they’re already about to drop the subject. Seokjin’s lips tug in a small smile. Maybe tonight’s not gonna go as bad as he initially thought.

          However, Jungkook,  being the ever-living oblivious fuck that he, must’ve not gotten the memo, decides to stir up the subject again.

          “No, I don’t think so. Seokjin and Y/N do have something going on. I catch Y/N constantly looking his way and Seokjin for some reason, knows every single weird-ass book Y/N borrows.”

          Seokjin’s lips part in shock. Jeon Jungkook did not just give him away like that. “Of course, I’ll know those books. I bought them to rent them to people. That’s my business!”

          Jungkook blinks. “But you know every single detail about them.”

          The table goes silent. It doesn’t last very long, though, as Rose and Jimin break into simultaneous laughter while Namjoon repeatedly slaps his thigh. Hoseok shoots, “Oh my god, you must’ve kept on buying books with weird titles just to keep Y/N borrowing!”

          “What? I did not!” Seokjin yells but his voice is lost in the sea of laughter and teasing. Seeing as there’s no hope in making his friends stop anytime soon, Seokjin decides to lean on his seat and cross his arms in silence. His friends are going to jump onto another topic eventually. Looking at his empty plate, his eyes glance at the person who’s equally quiet next to him.

          Y/N is busy fiddling with the seams of her jacket. She looks up from time to time to their friends to wave off their playful jibes at her with a laugh.

          Seokjin feels an annoyance prick on his skin. His friends invited him over just to tease him. Seokjin is sure it’s only him because he’s the only one who’s gotten frustrated over this debacle while Y/N sits chill beside him. Y/N doesn’t even break a sweat laughing with the others as if she hasn’t been bothering him for months now. Seokjin swears he’s gonna decline the next time his friends invite him again. Or at least try to, because he’s gullible to their promises of “Hey, they’re giving out free drinks. Free is free!”

          It’s the same as that one fateful night.

            Seokjin stops in his tracks and grabs Hoseok by the shoulder. “Why is she here again?”

            “Who?”

            “Y/N.”

            Hoseok raises a brow, “Why do you keep asking this question when you already know the answer?”

            “I don’t,” Seokjin shakes his head. “I don’t know why you keep inviting her whenever I decide to join you guys.”

            “Oh, don’t be such a grump. Y/N’s our friend, too.”

          Feeling Seokjin still in his spot, Hoseok turns around and sighs, “Hey, we only see each other ‘bout twice a month, you know. Let’s have some fun, okay?”

          Seokjin should have known Hoseok’s definition of ‘fun’ is far from his as he sits across Y/N in the restaurant. All their friends out of sight.

          Hoseok started a game after dinner where everyone had to draw a piece of paper from the cup being passed around. The partners would then have to leave together in a form of a friendly date. It’s similar to seven minutes in heaven but messed up because instead of seven minutes together, they had to spend the rest of the night with the person they’ll end up picking.

          Seokjin should have known that this was all planned when Namjoon oh so coincidentally pulled Rose, who everyone knows he’s been secretly crushing on. Meanwhile, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook obviously ended up drawing each other’s name just to purposely get Namjoon and Rose together. And well…him and Y/N together. Seokjin sighs as he stands up. He just had to get this done and over as quickly as he possibly could.

          “Look, Y/N—”

          “I know a good place near here.”

          Seokjin halts. He looks at the girl who’s already looking up at him with wide eyes. "There's a cafe down the block and I heard it's really nice."

          "Uhh, that sounds amazing. I guess. Look, Y/N-"

          "They let you play with board games and borrow books, too."

          Seokjin scratches his head, "Uhh, I don't know about that, Y/N. I haven't had the time to check them out yet...I mean...if those cafes are good...or bad," Seokjin internally cringes at his words. Making believable excuses was never really his forte.

          "Oh, it's good!" Y/N smiles, “I’ve tried it before and I had a really good time."

          "Uhh-"

          "It's really good. You can trust me on this.”

          “No, I can’t,” Seokjin says before he could think about it and he immediately feels the guilt pang in his heart when he sees Y/N’s eyes drop to her feet

          “That’s…okay. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make up for the days, and uh, nights I probably made you uncomfortable. I thought, maybe you'd enjoy having a few drinks at the cafe since I always see you with a to-go cup on your counter."

          Seokjin looks at her with surprise written on his face and Y/N flushes. "Sorry. I tend to observe... stuff. I’m sorry," she repeats again, voice dripping with remorse.

          Seokjin bites his lip. He didn’t mean to make her sad. He just wants to…run away from her. The reason? Well…Seokjin doesn’t exactly know why. Maybe it had to do with the feeling that nagged at him since the night started. The feeling that something may happen tonight that he wouldn’t like. He tends to prioritize his disposition because more often than not, his gut feeling has saved him countless times from unnecessary drama and unpleasantries. But for tonight, Seokjin decides to shake them off. It wouldn’t hurt to take up Y/N’s offer, right? It’s just some coffee.

             “Okay. Um, I forgive you.”

             “You do?” Y/N perks up, lips curving up again.

             Seokjin looks away, “Yeah. I think I’m being difficult, too. I’m sorry if I also made you uncomfortable.”

             Y/N waves her hands, “Oh no, don’t apologize. You don’t make me uncomfortable. Far from it, actually.”

             Seokjin doesn’t know what to say to that so he clears his throat, “Okay, so...let’s go to the cafe?”

             “Sure,” Y/N grins.

             It feels weird to walk side by side with Y/N when he’s gotten used to having a counter between them. It’s even weirder that he actually enjoyed their time together inside the cafe. The cakes were delicious, the coffee was amazing, and the books and board games were a wonderful addition. Seokjin didn’t know he'd actually have fun playing scrabble against Y/N.

             “I can’t believe I lost again!”

             Seokjin chuckles at her, “That’s because you kept using short words.”

             Well, it really is fun when he’s winning.

             Y/N pushes the game to the side, “I don’t want to play scrabble anymore.”

             “That’s okay,” Seokjin chuckles, “I can find another game I’m sure to win again.”

             The two of them fall in a comfortable silence. It’s the first time Seokjin felt this way around Y/N. For all the months she came to his shop, he did nothing but be forever on his toes around her.

             “You know...I really like your face.”

             Or maybe not. Seokjin tenses up in his seat.

             Y/N puts her hands up, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like, in a bad way. I mean, I like your face. It’s so...expressive.”

             Seokjin looks at her, confused. Expressive?

             “You’ve asked me before about why I keep on borrowing books I don’t even read and I told you that you didn’t have to know. It seems right to tell you the reason behind it now..” Y/N fiddles with her hands, “Since you’re now paying attention to me.”

             Seokjin knows this isn’t true but he doesn’t say anything.

             “You see...I’ve been fumbling around my work for so long. Well, it’s more like a personal project for now. I’ve been meaning to pitch in the idea of a lighthearted romcom series to my department. I just wanted to have a solid draft first so I could at least let them see my vision. I’m pretty bad with words. I need things to be spelled out completely and I don’t think I can do it with this one so I will have to get the drawings complete instead,” Y/N scratches her head. “I want this pitch to have a solid chance. I’ve been working on it for almost three years now. I just can’t seem to finish it because I didn’t know what to do with my lead male. Until I heard about you from Jimin.”

             “Me?” Seokjin points to himself.

             “Yeah. You have this look in your face that just exudes…greatness. It’s like you’re telling me...‘I’m a star.’”

             “Huh?”

             “What I mean is, your expressions are perfect for a leading guy!” Y/N squeals, “Oh my god, I just found the right words.”

             Seokjin laughs nervously, “Y/N, just so you know, you’re not making any sense right now.”

             Y/N cautiously fixes herself again, “Uh, what I’m trying to say is, you have this aesthetic around you that’s just perfect for the male lead I am envisioning. It’s easy for you to make various expressions that stretch from annoyance to glee and beyond. I’m really surprised at how well you could do that. If you think about it, you can be an actor if you’d like. You’re even handsome.”

             Seokjin flushes at the sudden compliment.

             Y/N continues, “And that’s that. You became my muse and I kept visiting for inspiration because I obviously couldn’t take pictures without your permission. That’s illegal.”

             Seokjin should be appalled. He’s never met a person before who said such...things aloud in the open as if they’re just talking about the weather. But here he is, looking at Y/N, and feeling at peace. Maybe it had to do with him finally getting the answers he’s been looking for for months.

             “Well, you should have just told me from the start. I wouldn’t have been...too weirded out by you.”

             “Yeah, I’m sorry. My bad,” Y/N softly laughs.

             “I thought you’re purposely messing with me with the way you pick the weirdest titles from my shop.”

             Y/N awkwardly shrugs, “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

             Seokjin chuckles but halts. Why does Y/N bother to pick the weirdest titles when she can just pick from the hundreds of normal-looking books he has? She won’t even read them anyway.

             Seokjin clears his throat, “Um, Y/N, why do you always borrow the weird-looking titles?”

             Y/N’s eyes grow wide. She darts her eyes at her lap, “Uhh, I just, uh, do.”

             Seokjin isn’t convinced. No one spends time finding the weirdest of books in a shop ‘just because they do.’ Seokjin feels the familiar itch of his curiosity. He needs to know why. Only then will he probably stop finding a pattern in the ridiculous-titled books Y/N borrows.

             “Okay, you can keep doing your...inspiration thing.”

             “What?”

             “I’m not angry about what you said. You don’t have to worry. Everyone has their own inspiration. You can keep coming to my shop. After all, you’re my regular renter.”

             Y/N’s smile immediately grows into a grin, “Okay. Thank you, Seokjin.”

             Seokjin feels his chest lighten with satisfaction. But at the same time, he can’t deny the feeling that he’s probably signed himself up to something he’s unprepared for. He presses his lips together. His gut feeling was right. He doesn’t like this night.

          Seokjin confirms this when tomorrow comes as well as the following days. Y/N comes in like usual in the afternoon, maxes her three hours, and finds a book with a weird title to rent. Nothing had changed much except now, Seokjin had to see her stare at him openly and not behind a book, as she intermittently looked towards his counter then back to her sketchpad. He regrets having ever welcomed Y/N because now he thinks he’s the one who’s weird for feeling his heart pound in delight whenever Y/N looks at him.

          Seokjin hates what he’s become. He hates how he simultaneously dislikes and likes Y/N’s presence in his shop. He likes how Y/N has begun using her three hours to tell him another story from work. He likes how she makes him laugh even when her jokes don’t make any sense. He likes how easy it is for him to tell her his own stories—his dreams, his fears, his past relationships. He could even say the most ridiculous musings he ever had without feeling ashamed of it because Y/N understands. But at the same time, he can’t help but dislike how he’s started to constantly wait for her return in his shop. He hates how he instantly feels so down when he realizes Y/N won’t be able to make it to his shop. He dislikes how he finds himself oversharing stuff without feeling any guilt when all his life, he made it sure not to say to let people know too much. The more they know, the easier it is for them to inflict hurt. Because they know what part is gonna hurt the most. And so, Seokjin tells Y/N everything other than the things he feels about her. The things he really wishes to say.

          All his life, Seokjin has always anticipated seeing how things will end up. Because he knows he’s right. And he always almost is. He knows that this relationship he has with Y/N is purely transactional. Y/N just kept coming because she needs someone who’ll give her inspiration. Seokjin knows if he ever lets his feelings out, he’ll only end up breaking his own heart. He knows how this will end and yet he can’t but wish he isn’t always right. Now, he sits fearfully in anticipation of the day Y/N stops her visits as soon as she finishes what she started coming to his shop for.

          Turns out, Seokjin didn’t have to wait very long. Because on one Thursday morning, he finds a copy of Y/N's final draft on his counter and no presence of the girl. Y/N doesn't appear during the following week. Or the week after that.

          "What do I do?" Seokjin mumbles. He covers his face with his hands as he slumps on Jimin’s dining table. The rain thundering outside fits his current mood so well. Seokjin hates it.

          "Well, you shouldn't have been so hostile to her from the start," Jimin says with crossed arms.

          "Don't you think I already know that? I've already played through all the different things that could’ve happened if I didn't pick on her borrowing habit."

          "It's not that," Namjoon says. "We meant how you usually react when we invite her over to our hangouts."

          "Yeah, you always look so stiff next to Y/N even after we set you guys up on a date," Jungkook remarks. "Anyone would have looked at you and would’ve commented on how uncomfortable you looked right next to her."

          It's true. He felt uncomfortable whenever he sat beside Y/N. In his defense, it no longer felt like the uncomfort he felt when they had first met. This feeling of uncomfort felt different, it’s brought by the heat that fills his body when Y/N's leg brushes against his.

          And it didn't help that earlier that day, Y/N pulled quite a stunt on him.

          "Hey, you have something on your hair," Y/N points at his head. But before he could pick it up on his own, Y/N had already leaned over the counter and picked it away for him. She came so close that Seokjin could clearly see how long her lashes actually were and how pink and soft her lips looked. He feels his Adam's apple bob up and down.

          "There," she smiles, "All handsome again."

          Seokjin feels heat rush to his ears as he looks away.

          Seokjin looks at Jungkook, “Well, I can’t control how I feel. You know how bad I act when I’m not okay.”

          “So you’re not okay being by her side in public but you’re okay when you guys are alone?” Jungkook eyes him, “Don’t you dare deny it because I saw you guys getting chummy across the counter.

          Seokjin gulps. He knows what Jungkook is talking about. He didn’t know where and when but somewhere along the way, he and Y/N started to blur any nuance of personal space around each other. He just found it natural to tuck her hair behind her ear when it falls on her face as she draws. He found it natural to let his fingers brush on Y/N’s own as he grabs a book from the upper shelf for her.

          “You must have been watching too many romantic movies.”

          “Why?”

          “You’re really acting like a main lead now. You’re making me feel as if I’m the female lead.”

          Seokjin freezes and tears his eyes away from Y/N. He pulls the book and unceremoniously pushes it to her. “Here’s your book,” he mutters before walking back to his counter.

          “Hey, don’t just leave me here!”

          And Seokjin found it natural to let his actions do the talking for him instead.

          “Do you trust me?” Y/N asks as she looks up at him. “I already made you look good on paper. What more if we go to this amusement park together?”

          “I don’t trust you,” Seokjin says but his hand grips on hers tighter. 

          “Of course, I’d feel better when we’re alone,” Seokjin grunts as he grabs his coffee, “Who would want to see two people touching each other in public? Not to say people who engage in PDA too many times will eventually break up since the pressure from the public-”

          “We’re not telling you to engage in PDA,” Namjoon cuts him. “What we’re trying to say is that, why do you refuse to act on your feelings?

          “Yeah,” Jimin seconds, “It’s obvious that you like her. You wouldn’t keep on buying weird books and reading what Y/N borrows just to check if Y/N will indeed read it. You wouldn’t keep asking me if she’s alright at work whenever she doesn’t show up or leave you any messages under the pretense of ‘ensuring she wouldn’t come to your shop to disturb you’. You keep asking me because you’re worried about her. You keep buying her weird books because you’re happy seeing her smile happily about them. You keep welcoming Y/N into the shop even when you hate getting distracted because you like her!. It’s so obvious! Why can’t you say it?!”

          “Because I know how this thing between us will end. What we have is purely temporary. Y/N came in to find a muse and that’s that. She comes to my rental shop just to finish her project. Y/N never intended to stay long, and I made sure she didn’t. I knew she was leaving the moment she finished. If I said I liked her then, it would’ve only made us awkward and I would’ve ended up absolutely miserable.”

          “Well, she already did leave,” Namjoon deadpans. 

          “And you didn’t say anything but you’re still miserable,” Jungkook says.

          Seokjin closes his eyes and nods. He’s fully aware that Y/N is gone, but it’s not like he can act like nothing happened. It was his fault, after all. “Yeah, I know now. I’m stupid. I’ll just have to deal with it on my own and move on.”

          “You don’t have to deal with it on your own.”

          Seokjin jolts at the familiar voice. He turns around and finds the very person he’s been missing for weeks. Y/N. With the deep bags under her eyes and her hair all mussed up, she looks far from Seokjin’s type. But she’s still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life. 

          “Okay, I guess this is our cue to go.”

          Seokjin whips his head to Jimin, his eyes wide, “You planned this?”

          “Obviously. It looks like you still needed a little push after the last stunt we pulled. Jungkook, stand up from your goddamn seat.”

          Y/N stays in her spot until their three friends leave them alone. Seokjin looks at his feet as shame and self-consciousness mingle in an unsettling mix in his stomach. Y/N is here and he must look like the stupidest idiot in the world right now.

          “Did you mean it when you said you liked me?

          “Yes,” Seokjin sighs.

          “Then why didn’t you say so from the start?” Y/N says in a soft voice. “You kept blocking my advances. I was trying to let you know that I liked you, too.”

          “You like me, too?” Seokjin asks, shocked and confused.

          “Of course! Did you really think I just picked weird books out for fun? Okay, I did have a lot of fun picking them — but the point is, I did all of them to get your attention!!! For god’s sake, did you think I sat through your lecture on divine afterlife intercourse “just because”? No!! Okay,” Y/N closes her eyes, I first went to your shop for inspiration. But that all changes when I started liking you. You’re just so hardworking and smart and even if you’re grumpy on bad days, you actually care so much. I just want to stand out at least a bit so you could see me, too. And just when I thought I had finally succeeded when you agreed to let me draw your face, you started giving me mixed signals. You’d come near me and touch my hand and would let it go right when I started to talk about it. You’d act so affectionate then say the exact opposite. Do you know how bad it hurts when I ask you if you’d trust me—even when I sound like I’m joking—and all you’d ever answer is ‘no’?”

          “I thought...you already knew the answer.”

          “No, I don’t, Seokjin. I told you I’m bad with words. I need things to be spelled out. I-”

          “Y/N, I trust you. I thought you figured it out already when I told you everything about my life.” Seokjin looks at his hand, “But it turns out it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry we had to take the long route like this because I couldn’t say what I really wanted.

          “And what is it?”

          “You.”

          Y/N flushes at his sudden confession. The surprise in her eyes morphs into a satisfied glint as Y/N’s lips curve into a soft smile. “It’s okay. You have me now,” She steps into his arms and Seokjin immediately engulfs her in his embrace. For the very first time in his life, he doesn’t anticipate anything. His mind doesn’t conjure any endings. All he could think of is how he wants to prolong this moment as much as he can. Seokjin smiles into her neck as he tightens her hold on her. This must be what it feels like to be finally at peace.

          “So you like me now, huh?” he feels Y/N murmur at his chest.

          “Yeah.”

          “And you trust me now?”

          “2000%” Seokjin grins.

          “Good. I’ve been wanting to try out something that I read.”

          “Oh, so you’ve finally read something,” Seokjin chuckles by her ear.

          Y/N giggles, “Yeah. I wanted to do it right this time for this book.”

          “What book?”

          “Edward Jaye’s The Cookie Sutra.”

          “What?”

          “Cookies and Kama Sutra.”

A/N pt. 2: Hello my dear @sophrosinn. Happy birthday! First of all, I love you. I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH. AND MY LOVE FOR YOU CANNOT BE CAPTURED ENOUGH BY THESE WORDS. You’ve been with me for four years of my life and I couldn’t believe it’s just four years when it feels like I’ve been living my whole life with you. Yeah, you made a super large mark in my life and I couldn’t imagine what my life would have been if I didn’t meet you. You’ve helped me out in so many difficult times of my life. Through all the shits and slumps I had in school, in my family, and in my writing journey, you’ve stayed with me throughout all of those things. Gave me the advices I needed to hear. You’re still here, helping me heal from the pain I’ve suffered and still suffering. You’ve always been a rock of support in my life, @sophrosinn, and I wouldn’t have come this far if it weren’t you. When I look at you, I still wonder how life managed to let me meet such an astoundingly wonderful person like you are. These days have been tough but I hope you know you don’t have to suffer through it alone. I and @senfleurs will always be here to hear you rant, listen to your basog moments, and help you lighten your load as much as we can. Whenever life brings you down, I hope you always remember I will be here for you to give you an ear that will listen to you, to give you a shoulder you could cry on. I want to also be your rock of support you could always go to without hesitation just like you’ve always been for me. So Happy happy birthday my dear best girl! You have gotten a year older today but don’t worry, you’re not gonna be alone. I and @senfleurs will be by your side as we grow old with you! Here’s to more amazing years! I love you!

P.S. Yes, this fic is inspired by this reddit post you sent to us.

I just changed it up a bit bc my mind went blank when I first drafted the “we’re married” concept. Hope you like it, anyway! I tried writing both your serious and quirky sides through Seokjin and the OC!

P.P.S. I’m sorry I couldn’t get this fic out much earlier. My writing slump is still as bad as it can be but oof, I managed to get it out just before August 11 ends! I hope the wordcount and the feels and laughs make up for that   > u <

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

Proposition and Accord-part VII

"Ghoooost! Good noon!"

"Hello!"

You opened your eyes slowly, barely awake from the deep sleep you had. The grogginess in your voice shadowed by the abnormal deepness of the voice changer.

"Hey, ghost."

"Corpse! Always pleased to hear you."

"Always ,ey?" Toast picked what you said in a more suggestive tone, teasing you with it.

"Cut it ,man."

You didn't bite on the trap however.

" Anyway, mind if I bring a friend?"

"Of course!"

"Sure why not."

"Okay,brb."

"So ,Corpse..."

"To early for that ,Toast."

Near the white astronaut Ghost had, a new little one came. It was black with a pair of headphones and a Wall-e companion. On top the name Charon was displayed.

The others started circling the new mate as Corpse's pink character stood unmoved by your side.

"Good evening!" A low and mature voice came from a woman. It didn't had a mechanical effect to it so it was coming in naturally.

"Hiiiii!"

"Hello!"

"Guys this is Andreea, Andreea this is the Peanut gallery."

"Ha,nice. Good to meet you all."

"Likewise."

"You too."

"Your robot is cute." Corpse remarked.

You smirked when your phone immediately lighted up. A message from Andreea written in big bold letters: 'HIS VOICE IS HOT!'

'I know :)))'

"Andreea , you know how to play this game?"

"Y-Yeah ummm..."

"Sykkuno."

"Sykkuno! Yeah, I know me and Y- I mean ghost sometimes play it. "

"You play together?"

"Well yeah, we play Fallout together, sometimes Minecraft even Eyes the horror game. Speaking of which ghost?"

"Yeah?"

"My place tonight?"

You smirked knowing what's to come.

"Time to corrupt another soul?"

You laughed was intentionally made to be interpreted by the others as evil and dark. In the inside you cringed, you sounded so stupid.

"Umm,guys?" Sykkuno asked for clarification, to which he will not receive.

"YOU GUYS LIVE IN THE SAME CITY?" Pooki asked all excited for some reason.

"Yeah?"

"Same city? We leave in the same apartment building." Andreea told ,a pleasant hiss rang as her long nailed hands opened a Pepsi can.

'Cola is better'

'Fuck off, Y/n'

':))🖕'

"That's so cute!"

"I guess,but she's a pain."

"A pain? Moi? Please, I am only in pain not one."

The others chuckled at your shenanigans, the humour between you and Andreea being based in play fighting, cursing each other and bumping as hard as you can into each. Considering how much of a height difference is between you two, everything just gets more interesting.

"Maan,I want to stay in the same building with you guys also." Corpse pouted.

You two sounded really nice to be with, especially you. You were fun to talk witg and your natural voice was a godsend to his anxiety and insomnia. It made him sometimes slip into a blissful sleep,especially when you began reading to him Doom lore in the late hours of the night.

' "The Maykrs' need for the Essence is prime. Without it they must suffer the monstrous fate of Transfiguration, and see their wisdom and faculties slither from their twisted forms. By bidding of the Khan Maykr herself, the Order of the Deag has devised a method to improve and accelerate the production of the Hell aura. What once took eons for the savage beasts to attai...oof. Wait."

Corpse heard you move in the bed, your body getting its pressure off it before settling back in.

He wanted to start to ask you to read again when he was interrupted by the sound of smooching ? You were kissing somebody?

You puffed and smiled as Sergiu bombarded you with another waves of kisses, a tradition in your group. You all were touched starved creatures so you showed your platonic affections through hand holding, sudden hugging, cuddling- sometimes propping your cold feet on the other person's back just to be dickish- and rains of kisses.

Sergiu was the most affectionate out of all of you, the rain of kisses being something that his mother used to do before she left to work. 'A kiss on the forehead to brighten your thinking, two on the cheeks so no one is lonely and one wherever you want.'

"Alright! Alright! I get it, you are leaving!"

You laughed as you pushed the cuddly golden retriver of a man away.

His chains attached to his black leather belt with grey 3d rombes running all over it clicked as it bounced. His hair smudged on the worn out black leather jacket and his face all but a smile. He was happy and you love to see it.

-Vrei ceva? ("You want something?")

-Umm...PIZZA PĂTRATĂ DE LA DEDEMAN ȘI MOUNTAIN DEW.("Um...SQUARE SHAPED PIZZA FROM DEDEMAN AND MOUNTAIN DEW.")

The man laughed at your antics, roughing up your freshly washed hair and closing the door as he left.

"Corpse? You still there buddy?"

Corpse felt a pang in his chest, you sounded like you have much more fun with the other person. He knew it was stupid but he couldn't help feel jealous and worried at the same time. He wanted to be the reason to make you sound so happy and he didn't want to be worried of being replaced anytime soon.

"Corpse? My petit orchid? Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah,I am fine."

It came out shaky and too abrupt for your liking. Something's wrong and you didn't want to overstep your boundaries but you couldn't let him go about his day while having something munching on his good mood.

"Hey,hey Corpse."

"Yes?"

"Wanna see my cat?"

"YOU HAVE A CAT?"

"Yes,so do you..."

"Hell yeah. I mean...sure I am cool with that."

You shook your head and became giggling, it's good to know you weren't the only one who didn't know how to cover their slip ups.'

"Trust me Corpse. You don't want to live with this anxiety filled owl."

"HEY! My anxiety adds spice."

"Oh my god!"

"Guys, guys. Can we start the game please?"

"Oh for sure."

————————————————————

"Watch out for the wall, ghost. Watch out for--GHOST! Oh shit ,I lost her guys! Ghost, where are you?"

His character ran in desperate search to find you. When it left the snowy environment from outside , it stopped abruptly. You were there in the office with Sykkuno ripped apart body in front of you.

"Oh shit! Sykkuno!"

His thoughts ran wilde as they hurried to reach a consensus. He knew that you will probably kill him also as you waited for those 10 seconds to pass.

His premonition was proven true went you shut the doors of the office , your character moving slowly towards him.

"Ahhh! Guys ,what the hell do I do?"

His eyes clenched shut as his finger hovered the report button.

The sound of a meeting went off,forcing him to let out the breath he's been withholding. His hands shook as he relaxed himself when his friends started discussing aka screaming at each other.

Someone else called in another body.

You held your fingernails between your lips, leg bouncing from the nerves. You knew Corpse will snitch you out,after all you did killed Sykkuno.

I am so fucked...

Your body covered in a white and black hoodie contorted itself into a smaller position.You ignored the pain that your dead thighs were trying to emit while being in a cross position. Head to busy with anxious thoughts of what Corpse may do.

"Phew, Jesus. I am too nervous for this game."

Andreea's words caught you off guard. She nervous? It's more likely than you think.

Your feelings long forgotten as your protective nature sprung out of the shell.

"You? Nervous? Andreea you are a freaking talented tattoo artist."

"It doesn't matter, my hands are sweating like they are the Danube river."

"Wait ,are you a tattoo artist?"

"Yeah ,I am. I started tatto--"

Mission accomplished! Your goal wasn't to comfort, you knew you sucked at that but to distract. To take her mind away from whatever cause her pain ,then to secretly totally not obviously attack the shit of whatever upset her even bad vibes. Fuck them bad vibes! You and your friends are bad bitches not second hand embarrassments.

"It will be nice if I could do henna also but this hoarding gremlin was only calm enough when she did them. So basically it became her summer job."

Ah. Your mind realised she was telling them how you two met.

You wanted to get some henna tattoos, see if you liked the way the look at you. Andrea was just a beginner when you entered the tattoo shop and her life.

You weren't always an anxious person,the situation changed when your math teacher decided to be a bitch and humiliate you for not knowing geometry. Since then you were always out of breath when you spoke in public, always bouncing your leg when stressed , biting off your nails and having a constant dread when it came socialising with others. And when you are a big girl that amplifies considerably.

People are just shallow like that and you learned a long time ago that their intolerance towards you was a THEY problem rather than a YOU problem.

It's hard thought, sometimes their words and disgusted glares burn you from inside out. Make you feel inhuman ,that your anger,sadness and your passion don't mean anything ,that they are not valid, that you cannot be yourself and liked at the same time nevermind seen as a romantic interest.

But I digress, when it came with Andreea ,everything when abnormally smooth, you joked and laughed, bitch about people and so on. You hit off immediately.

So when you wanted to make a bit of cash ,Andreea didn't hesitate to teach you how to do temporary tattooing.

"That's so nice guys,the body was in specimen room by the way." Dave said.

The others for some reason started blaming Rae , you didn't said nothing as you were still waiting with your breath tight for Corpse to rat you out.

"Corpse? Where were you by the way?"

Here comes the expose.

"I ..uh...wait. I was in the storage then I met Sykkuno in the office but left with ghost."

What?

"Ghost? Can you collaborate his story?"

"Yeah , me and him left Sykkuno. I think orange was with him last time we saw. I am done with my tasks by the way."

"What?"

"LUDWIG! HOW DARE YOU KILL SYKKUNO?!" Corpse growled.

You muted yourself as you squealed. You couldn't believe him. He really took your side!

You took a sip of your green tea, patting yourself on the back for being calm and getting back in the game.

————————————————————

"How could you ,Corpse? I trusted you and you stab me behind my back." Sykkuno exclaimed, pout evident in his voice.

"I am sorry Sykkuno..i-it's just...I...uhh.."

Your microphone was not muted this time so when you burst in laughter you dominated the whole discussion. You laughed ugly but happy as you always did, holding your lower abdomen as it clenched muscle you didn't know you have.

"It's NOT funny, ghost!"

"It'S nOt FuNnY, GhOsT! Bwahaha..."

Despite laughing ,deep down you worried you may have offended your new friends? Nah, too early to call them that.

"I think I know why Corpse did what he did." Grease started in a dramatic sober voice.

"You mean cheated on Sykkuno."

Ludwig ignited couple of laughter from the group.

"Yeah. He did it....drumb rolls please. "

Sean provided the suspenseful roll.

"Because he is a SIMP."

"WHAT?"

"No way..."

"You heard me."

The group went wilde. You didn't know what you could say, your mind crazy yet also numb. Poor Corpse.

"Hey, hey. Guys, please calm down. If you want to come for someone, come for my neck."

Your hands flared up into a peaceful backing sign, you knew of Corpse's bad anxiety and you didn't want to cause him distress by bringing the limelight into his face.

"It's alright, ghost. I am a big boy, I can take it."

You tried to keep it short, you really did but your mind wanted to say one more thing.

"Just like you can open foil?"

You heard a breath intake. You lowered your volume, thinking of what he may do.

"I FUCKING HATE FOIL!"

————————————————————

"Tonight was fun." Corpse said after taking a sip of water.

"Yeah, it was."

You watched your dark hair moving in the air as you played with your toes.

"Sorry again for bringing all the...uh...attention on you."

"It's fine,ghost. I know you didn't mean it."

"Y/n."

"What?"

"My name is Y/n."

Ah!

His heart jumped a bit ,you told him your name that means you trust him right. Lily doesn't know your name so he is the first to know. The first to guard this special information.

"Ghost was kinda wearing down,you know?"

"Y-yeah,...uhh..I mean no! Yes? No? Fuck...It's a pretty name,um...Y/n."

You haulted, getting used to him saying your name will take a while.

"Heh,thanks Corpsie."

"Mhmmm, did you have time to think about what I told you?"

Couple of nights ago,Corpse proposed the idea of starting your own Youtube channel. You were hesitant.

"Corpse, I told I don't think people really like me. I think they just like the voice."

"Non sense. You watched our stream?"

"Noo...? Sorry,I didn't really have time to..."

"Hey, it's okay goofball. Anyway,they were asking more videos with you. Maybe some of them like you because of your voice but most of them like you because they like your personality, gh- Y/n."

"Yeah, I guess..."

"Look you don't have to do it if you don't want to. I just feel bad for all the fans that want to talk with you or sometimes I found something funny and I want to send you or tag you. It's stupid I know."

You didn't like the sad tone of his, your heart tightened and your worries worsened.

"I think I am going to sleep. Goodnight, ghost."

"'Night,Corpse."

You were left in the darkness of your room, at the end of the bed with your long fingers reaching towards your knife, your personal fidget spinner. You chew your nail as you moved the blade unconsciously.

Corpse's account:

.ghost added you. Add them back?

————————————————————

Hey,guys!💖💖

Hope you like the seventh part of the serie. I almost went into a writing block with this one.

Anyway, have a nice day!💗💗

Tagged💖💖: @moolujk @magenta-skyline @yikesyikesyikes95 @mythicalamphitrite @yoyoanaria @simonsbluee @cherry-piee @gaysludge @softboiicorpse @heavenly3308