#i also have to lock in and make some kind of art portfolio if i wanna get into like. any. program i actually wanna do đ which bites
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lot going on lots good lots bad but itâs WEIRD bc iâm still like surprisingly pretty present. exhibiting mindfulness and healthy coping mechanisms
#âhealthy coping mechanismsâ 2 cups black coffee one cup green tea one large celsius one protein shake. Sue me!#iâm sure runningâs been doing something to me but man i couldnât tell you what exactly#i think i just feel fresher this year. or semester i suppose#no more random ties to high school friends who donât care about me#best friendâs always busy which sucks but i actually talk to people on campus more now?#been moving more & focusing on nutrition in a way that doesnât make me hate myself#iâll be moved out of this house by the end of this eeekend#Eek! not changing that itâs funny#but#itâs interesting#like yeah iâm also more stressed than maybe ever before đ but like#idk i guess i kind of like it#resume type shit I love adversity!#i need to do an extracurricular or like volunteer or some shit#bc obviously i need to pack my schedule even more#i just think thatâd be like the college admission icing on the cake yk#bc my SAT score is kinda mid for any major tech schools#i also have to lock in and make some kind of art portfolio if i wanna get into like. any. program i actually wanna do đ which bites#but thatâs fine#lots on the agenda one day at a time#iâm getting stress sick though which is marginally less fun#modcheck
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So I'm one of those writers that falls into the trap of world building super hard. I have so many projects I spent months or even years creating, writing lore, doing art for, all kinds of stuff, but never end up telling any actual stories in so they just end up going ultimately unused. One I'm working on right now is likely to fall into this category.
The thing is, I've recently come to the conclusion I enjoy world building more than actually writing in a lot of cases. Don't get me wrong, I still love to write and tell stories and make comics, I won't stop doing that lol, but I also really love making worlds and settings just because I can.
The problem is though, without a story to attach to these worlds, I don't know how to go about actually sharing them in any way. It's fun making things, but to spending so long working on something that no one will ever see is starting to feel... I guess a bit tiering. A few I tried to use little slice of life stories or comics as a way to share the worlds and settings, but they never actually stay slice of lifey. The big comic I'm working on right now, Voidstar, was supposed to be one of these and at some point it went from "cozy space slice of life" to "gay aliens get imprinted on by a baby dragon god and travel the galaxy to fight the government" Needless to say, Scope creep is a bit of an issue for me lol and nothing ever gets done. I also tried making websites on a few occasions or showing stuff off on my portfolio website related to the worldbuilding projects, but that didn't end up working for a bunch of reasons (mainly that my portfolio is on Wix and they're stingy with space for pages/uploads). I also tried World Anvil, and used to really enjoy that, but they've locked way too many features now behind frankly ridiculous paywalls, so It's not really worth it now. Not to mention it was really hard to make WA sites decently accessible.
All of this to say, I want to start sharing these worlds (if nothing else so I stop vanishing from social media for months at a time when I get hyperfixated lol) but I have no idea how. Does anyone have any ideas or suggestions?
#world building#fantasy worldbuilding#fantasy writing#worldbuilding#writing#writeblr#fiction#fantasy#sci fi and fantasy#writing advice#creative writing#writing community
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Polished off Jam 3 today. Out of probably 20 maps, I had 4 or 5 left, and as it turns out... a few of these were a little more Halloween oriented. The problem was, some of them just weren't named, so I figured maybe they were the worst maps of the bunch.
Like the top left map: an absolutely massive environment, featuring four houses, a field, trainyard, the ruins of an old apartment complex, and some kind of power plant facility. You are basically turned loose to explore at your leisure. It kind of reminded me of a Painkiller level, where it feels more like a portfolio piece that they jammed monsters into after the fact. I kind of finished it by accident, too. Not super clear what I did.
Top right map felt like a sequel to Jam 2's acid-filled medieval village. I think it was called something like the Necromancer's Swamp? Felt almost like a Metroid game for how it branched off into all these spokes but always returned you to the central hub at the end. Had a boss fight that crashed Quakespasm every time it died. Thankfully, it was easy enough to noclip through the final door it was guarding.
Bottom left was "The Banquet" which was maybe the most normal Quake map of this entire jam. There was some text about how "dinner is served... and you're the main course!" but it barely registered. Nice architecture, though.
Bottom right was a medieval city with stellar art direction. One screenshot doesn't convey much, but it's so full of color, with great lighting and intricate architecture. It's more of a collect-a-thon -- the idea is that there are three books per the four major districts and you have to collect them all to unlock the final challenge and exit the map. Some books require you to puzzle out a platforming challenge, or you get locked in a crypt with some zombies, or you have to solve a small puzzle. Nothing super revolutionary, but it's fun and easy on the eyes.
There were a couple of other maps, but I did not take screenshots of them and already they've left my brain.
I think I also have an idea why so many of these maps seem to involve some kind of singular, central zone that must be climbed and explored. These Halloween Jams were hosted by Func_Msgboard, and given the discussions on there, it seems like, beyond the concept of "Halloween", a lot of these maps are trying to replicate the pacing of a Metroidvania.
Suddenly it makes perfect sense! While some of these maps are just regular old Quake maps, a lot of the creative thought was put towards making a space meant to be explored, unlocked, and solved. Some maps even delve into the new power-ups provided by Arcane Dimensions, such as the double jump boots and the blaster belt. Those are supposed to be Metroid-style upgrades! (Like, literally, the Arcane Dimensions documentation describes them as "Vania Items").
Shows why you really should pay attention to the documentation instead of just launching yourself into this stuff completely cold, I guess.
On Quake Halloween Jam 3
I remember really liking Quake Halloween Jam 2. But with the way things in my life have been since Jam 2, plus my general forgetfulness, it did not even occur to me that there may have been a Quake Halloween Jam 3 or even a 4.
So I've spent a few hours tonight trying to cure a bad mood with a little catharsis via Halloween Jam 3. It works, too. I first figured it out over a decade ago -- I was fooling around in a Garry's Mod zombie slaughter map, just zoning out while I busted props and blew stuff up. When I was done, I realized the grouchy mood I'd been suffering for most of that day was gone and I felt a lot better. It sounds weird, but sometimes you just have pent up anger for whatever reason and video games can be a healthy outlet.
Back to the Halloween Jam, I really enjoyed Jam 2 because it was just a lot of pretty decent Quake maps, but set in places like... a spooky farm during harvest season.
Or a village sieged by neon green acid underneath a purple sky, two of Halloween's signature colors.
Or even a map set inside and around a gigantic jack-o-lantern.
Jam 3's maps are kind of just... regular Quake maps, to some degree. I guess they're sometimes a little darker than usual, but after playing over half of them, there aren't very many that evoke the feeling of Halloween specifically. That's not entirely the Jam's fault, I guess. Until Doom 3, I'd say Quake 1 was the game that felt like it bore the most of iD's horror sensibilities -- its mixture of gothic, sci-fi and cosmic horror gave it a very strange tone, which lends itself very well to spooky maps.
Ironically, one of the very first maps I picked in the Jam was something called "Hall-o-Win" which both demonstrates my point and also acts as maximum catharsis: it's mostly just a series of very long hallways with power-ups at the end and a lot of monsters along the way. A slaughter map in other words, though it does gradually start asking you for more strategy than "blast everything and never stop moving."
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But a theme in a lot of these maps is less Halloween and more just, like, complex mazes. It's probably the pressure of a deadline talking, but a lot of these maps seem to orbit around a single central room that must be scaled, solved, and traversed. Take "Blackvenom Retreat," the greenish map seen at the top of the post. Most of the map is in one central lake area, with three big cubist structures sitting above the water. It plays out like climbing a construction site, as you go up ladders and leap between buildings in search of crystals to power whatever this thing does.
Or "Abbeytoir", a candle lit mansion that feels more like it fell out of Wrath: Aeon of Ruin with its endless hallways and side rooms that all confusingly loop back in on each other. It's not a very big map, but combined with how dark it is, how similar a lot of the rooms look, and how everything has at least 3-5 exits, as I opened up most of the doors near the end of the map I completely lost my ability to navigate when everything blurred into endless stairs, hallways, and switches.
And then there's "Us," a conceptually haunting map where the map creator's body has been disassembled and scattered amongst Quake's brushes. A texture for his head and hair unwrap along the skyline, you'll find nipples you can push like buttons, and floating eyes that watch your every step. "Strange" is putting it mildly, but it too is mainly one big room where the puzzle is to climb up ramps and platforms in order to reach the exit.
But there is one map I unexpectedly fell in love with -- "Approach of the Second Sun." This map is good enough it practically feels like it's own whole separate game.
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The story is that a second, dark sun is approaching our reality, casting its curse on the land. This provides the map with its unique visual style, where the fog is used to invert the light. Effectively, the closer something is to you, the darker it gets. As objects get further away, they fade into the white fog, making for a game of low visibility and eerie silhouettes. The map uses this in its favor, as you spend most of it navigating a ritual site littered with statues, with the twist being that not everything you encounter is actually a statue.
There are tells, of course. Living monsters have subtle idle animations, so if you pay attention closely, you can pick out what's inanimate and what's alive. But the map also knows this, and plays with that expectation sometimes, bringing certain statues to life when you least expect it. It makes you jumpy and paranoid every time you turn a corner and see the outline of a monster and wait for a worst case scenario that doesn't always happen. It's masterclass stuff, and the map is big enough that it took me almost an hour to ultimately solve (like a lot of the other maps, it is a little easy to get lost).
I've got a few more maps left in Jam 3, and then I've got all of Jam 4 to look forward to. Hopefully there's something a little more seasonally flavorful waiting me.
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The BachelorïżŒ- Damian Wayne x Female Reader
Part 1-
How you got here is still a blur. It had started with your friend submitting your portfolio to the waynes and ended where you are now, in the Wayneâs version of the Bachelor. Bruce would never trust his beloved son in the hands of media producers. For why Bruce made this decision, there are a thousand accounts. The one you had been told was that Damian had been an adverse to dating from the start, and his father was attempting to ignite that flame. You had seen hundreds of photos of Bruce Wayneâs eighteen year old heir, in everyone he was frowning. Now, you stand in Wayne Manorâs rarely used ballroom. About fourteen other girls wait with you. How long will you be here? Your best friend had gotten you this far. You can still remember her face as she hugged you goodbye. You both knew nothing would ever be the same after this.
Cameras are everywhere. You force yourself to stand up straight. Your dress falls down to the floor in gentle waves. Itâs turquoise color highlights your skin tone, but that color does that for any tone. You had been wise to do so. To your surprise, youâre the only girl in blue. The rest are clothed in dark reds and greens. While you had chosen a more elegant dress, the other girls had taken a more sexy appearance. Itâs saddening. The others dress as if the only thing that matters in this âcontestâ is body shape. At least, you stand out in that way. The entire Wayne family, not counting Damian himself, are here. The girls disperse throughout the room. You find yourself nervously watching from the corner as all the others make small talk with the family and each other. This could be your family one day. The idea hits hard. If you win, if you somehow manage to win the heart of the richest teen in the world, you could have Wayne as your last name. You shake your head, what are the chances?
âHello.â
You jump at the unexpected voice. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with Damian Wayne.
âH-hi.â You stammer.
A lock of hair falls from your bun and into your face. You tuck it behind your ear, your hands shaking.
âIâm Y/n.â You whisper.
âItâs an honor to meet you.â He says flatly. It is clearly a practiced response.
A giggle erupts from your mouth. Your face flushes red. His frown deeps towards a scowl.
âWhere are you from?â He asks, probably another rehurashed question.
âYou've probably never heard of it.â You manage.
Did he look this hot before? His hair had clearly been slicked back with gel, but slowly, itâs breaking free. His jaw is well defined, his nose thin and regal, and his emerald green eyes, are the most alluring thing youâve ever seen.
âWhat are your interests?â He asks.
âI like art.â You choke out. You fidget with the fabric of your skirt.
His eye brows arch. âWhat kind of art?â
âAcrylic, Watercolor, sketching. I also do a little digital work.â The anxiety bleeds away somewhat, as you ramble.
âIâd love to see your work some time.â Damian says, with something closer to a smile than his earlier scowl.
âR-really?â Your stammer returns.
âOf course. I dabble in art myself.â The corners of his mouth turn up a little more.
âThatâs cool.â You raise your chin a little more. âWhat d-â
âDamian!â
He turns from you, his expression falling back into dislike. âYes, Father?â
Bruce meets your eyes, then stumps to whisper in his sonâs ear. Damian flat out scowls. Bruce patts his sonâs shoulder before whisking away to greet some of the other girls. Damianâs scowl stayâs planted.
âWhatâs wrong?â You ask.
He scoffs. âIâm supposed to greet all the others.â
âOh.â He looks eager for any escape.
#damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x female reader#Damian Wayne x fem!reader#damian wayne x you#damian wayne x y/n#fanfic#damian wayne fanfiction#fanfciton
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oh, captain, my captain
pairing: professor!steve rogers x reader
word count: 2,090
summary: Steve Rogers got bored in his retirement, so he picked up the hobby of teaching art. But he still feels restless until his missing piece comes along.
warnings: swearing, little bit of smutty smut, dub-con, drinking, manipulation, steve is a little dark but reader is into it in the end
a/n: This is... a little darker than what most people expect from me. But I wrote this for a dear friend, so I really, really hope you all enjoy it!! Also, please read the warnings. I'm not responsible for your media consumption <3
Life after the Avengers was mundane.
Not that Steve didnât like the quiet days, where he knew he wasnât going to be running off and risking his life at any moment, mind you. In fact, he was finding that retirement rather suited him.
Except for the fact that he was bored.
Bucky and Sam were always busy on some kind of mission together, saving the world and splitting their time between Brooklyn, Washington D.C., and New Orleans. Or NOLA, as Buck liked to call it now.
Perhaps the boredom was why he took up art again. He did go to art school, after all, and had even graduated. It was after his first official professional art show that the university contacted him.
They wanted him to teach young minds how to make art.
It was the perfect solution to his boredom problem.
Of course, he shouldâve realized that getting a new job wouldnât make him feel complete. No, unfortunately, he hasnât found the missing piece in his hundred years.
At least until you walked into his classroom on the first day.
Steveâs eyes focused on you immediately, enamored by the curve of your legs and the Cupidâs bow of your upper lip. âHello, you,â he mumbled softly under his breath as he watched you sit down to what appeared to be a friend of yours. He scrolled through his attendance on the school supplied computer in front of him, raising his brows as he found the name next to your university ID picture.
A perfect name for a perfect girl.
Suddenly he felt the need to have a few figure drawing classes. Privately. With you. With your clothes off.
And maybe his clothes would be off, too.
He stood up as the clock finally hit one in the afternoon, holding his laptop. âAlright, please let me know if youâre here as I call your names,â he said, before going through the roster quickly.
When he called your name, and you responded with a soft, âHere!â he almost fucking came in his pants.
âAlright. In this class, as with many art classes, weâre going to get very⊠personal,â he said as he started to walk through the easels and those sitting in front of them. âSo on the first day, rather than reading through the syllabus thatâs readily available on your phone, I like to do some ice breakers.â He couldnât help but grin at the collective groan that rang through the class. âI know, I know. But like I said, this class is going to get very personal. So come on, letâs all get in a little closer.â
âDo you mind?â You asked quietly as you scooted her stool in between two others that he couldnât remember the names of. You gave them a blinding smile as they made room, perching in your seat like a little angel.
His little angel.
Everything seemed to be a blur as he led them in a series of questions, but he barely retained any information from anyone except you. At least he had his phone secretly recording in his pocket so he could go back and relisten later (even if it was mostly just to hear your voice.)
Favorite color?
âGreen.â
Favorite holiday?
âNew Yearâs Eve.â
Favorite artist?
âMarilyn Minter.â
That was interesting to him. That showed that you had a naughty side.
A side he so desperately wanted to get to know.
The only issue was that he needed to find a way to get you alone, and that was going to take trust built up over time.
He was truthfully, absolutely amazed that it only took a few weeks before you were coming to him with wonder-filled eyes, asking him if you could please schedule some time during his office hours to go over some of your portfolio.
Abso-fucking-lutely.
âHey, you made it,â he said when you walked in after a light knock on the door, your portfolio in hand. Steve stood and immediately pulled out the chair for you like a proper gentleman. Subtly, he took in a deep breath as the cloud of your perfume enveloped him like a warm hug.
It was something classy. Something you had clearly splurged on.
Perhaps Gucci or Valentino or something.
âIâm sorry for being late,â you said as Steve glanced at the clock.
You were maybe three minutes late at the most.
âThe subway was delayed, and unfortunately, I canât control when the subway stops and goes,â you continued, letting out a nervous laugh as you opened up your portfolio. âDid you get my email with my previous pieces?â
âYes, I did!â He said as he sat back down at his desk. âAnd honestly, I havenât been this impressed in a long, long time. I would love to possibly mentor you? Of course, that means a lot more hours spent with an old man like me.â Eyes crinkling, he couldnât help but laugh when you laughed.
He was sure that he almost had you right where he wanted you. The corner you were backing yourself into was almost too perfect.
You seemed⊠amazed. Absolutely flabbergasted by his offer. âReally?â You breathed out, leaning closer, elbows resting on your knees. âYouâd really do that? That would be⊠I⊠Thank you.â Shaking your head, you scooted your chair a little closer. âHow much should I pay you? Iâve never had a personal mentor before.â
And there it was. The corner he wanted you in.
âOh, sweetheart, donât worry about money,â he insisted as he looked deep into your eyes. It would be so easy to just get lost in them⊠âBut, I do need assistance with something.â
âOf course!â You were like a doe-eyed little fawn, chasing himâthe magnificent stagâthrough a field of wildflowers. âWhatever you want!â
Steve put on the most bashful, boy next door look he could muster. âWell⊠Iâve been trying to get back into figure drawing, but youâd be surprised at how hard it is finding a class to take that wonât freak out that Iâm⊠you know. Steve Rogers.â
The look on you face let him know immediately there was no way you were going to say no. Hell, you were looking at him like he was the last puppy on the side of the road in a box that had âFREEâ written on the side.
In the rain.
âWhen do we start?â
Steve got everything set up in his home studio that night, only to sit until Friday night, when heâd planned for you to come over. Admittedly, he may have gone a little overboard with the mood lighting and the bottle of red wine that heâd left open on the counter to breathe, two crystal wine glasses resting next to it.
The good crystal.
He practically ran to the door when he heard the doorbell. âHey, I was a little worried you would have trouble finding it,â he said as he guided you inside, a large hand coming to rest on the small of your back.
âOh, I just Ubered,â you said, ducking your head as you let him lead you into his large home. âI donât have a car. Itâs too expensive and thereâs no point when I live in the city. Though, the drive out here was absolutely gorgeous. I can see why you got a place a little bit upstate.â
Steve grinned, fighting the urge to say that it could also be your place. But that was for the future. âYeah, the views and the quiet is worth the forty-five minutes or so I commute everyday.â He opened up the door to his home studio, all the windows wide open.
You wandered around the room, looking at the various art supplies and canvases scattered haphazardly around the room. In the very center was a chaise lounge with a blanket draped across it. âThis is amazing⊠God, if I had my own art studio at home, I donât think Iâd ever leave.â
He poured out two glasses of wine, gently pressing one into your hands. âWell, you can always use this one. I have more space than I could probably ever use.â He sipped at his own wine, watching the way the glass pressed to your lips, watching the way you swallowed down the sweet liquid.
He couldnât get drunk, but you certainly could.
It was around your third glass that he finally got to the point of why you were there. âSo, I really want to paint you lying on this chaise,â he said as he guided you back. âBut⊠Would it be possible for you to pose in the nude? You have just⊠the most natural beauty. I want to be able to only focus on that.â
âOh my god, yeah!â You said as you set your glass of wine on the little table. With your inhibitions lowered, there was no hesitation as you stripped out of your clothing, tossing it all to the side. âYou just move me how you want me.â
Oh, he would.
His own wine glass was set to the side before he moved closer, his eyes locked on yours. âYeah?â He guided you to lie down on the bed, letting his fingers drift over your soft skin. âGod, youâre so fucking gorgeous⊠Could just look at you foreverâŠâ His thumb brushed over one of your hard nipples, teasing the little peak as his cock ached inside his sweats. âI could never paint anything else except for you⊠and Iâd die the happiest man in the world.â Carefully, gently, he moved your legs so one of your knees was bent, your legs spread wide for him.
Your eyes fluttered shut, your skin feeling flushed from the wine and the excitement of this god-like man touching you. âMmm⊠ProfessorâŠâ
Steveâs eyes were locked in on the prize, that blooming flower between your thighs, glistening with sweet nectar. âI always love a hands on approach,â he cooed as he ran a single finger through your folds, gathering up your slick.
The taste was exquisite.
Pretty moans fell from your lips, your back arching as your legs instinctively spread wider for him. âPleaseâŠâ
He knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It was fate, you walking into his class.
âDo you want me to touch you, baby girl?â He asked, loving the purr that rumbled in your chest as he found your swollen clit. âSo needy⊠Whenâs the last time your pretty little kitty got so much attention, angel? Youâve been neglecting her, havenât you?â
At your nod, you tried sitting up a bit, lip caught between your teeth. âY-Yes. Please⊠Please.â
Steve quickly realized you didnât even know what you were asking for.
âSo innocent. So sweet,â he said as he wrapped his hands around your waist to pull you to the edge of the chaise. He leaned in and took in a deep breath, groaning. âI wanna be able to smell you for days.â At the first lick of his tongue, he knew he had you wrapped around his fingers.
And when you finally orgasmed, soaking his beard with your juices? Fuck. He was even more of a goner than he was before.
Steve loved the way that you laid limbless on the chaise, foot lazily bouncing as you dozed. It was easily a sight that he could get very, very used to very quickly. This was going to be so much easier than he thought it was going to be.
While he knew he was the right one for you, being able to know that you werenât going to fight him gave him an amazing sense of relief.
The next week, he stood at his desk, making notes on his laptop. At five minutes to one, the door opened as the first student to arrive entered.
Immediately looking up, his heart sank. It wasnât you.
Did you panic after you left his place the next morning? Nothing more had happened that night. Surely getting an orgasm wouldnât freak you out, right?
His hands were starting to tremble when the door opened again, and he felt someone standing right next to him.
âProfessor Rogers?â
His head snapped up, relief flooding him when he saw you. âH-Hello. How can I help you?â
A mischievous smile spread across your face, even though you were clearly trying to contain it. âIs there any possible way you have some free time during your office hours for me to swing by? Iâd love to schedule our next figure painting session.â
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apodyopsis (m) | jjk
summary- apodyopsis (n.) ; the act of mentally undressing someone
alternatively, Jungkook is a nude model in your art class
rating- explicit / 18+ word count- Â 12k pairing- jungkook x reader genre- smut Warnings- daddy kink, slight degrading?, mild health concerns, very light bdsm?, masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), rough sex, kind of dom!jungkook, a little name calling?, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it bb)
blkjmn & dontaskshhhhh ( weak&wet âą) ;  2020 all rights reserved©
a/n: our lovechild is born! We worked so hard on this, we hope you love it as much as we do. Currently thanking my lucky stars that @blkjmnâ agreed to collab with me, and that she saved my life with that glorious sex scene because I canât seem to stop writing mushy fluffy smut. I love you so much thank you for being by my side and co-writing this with me. <3
âThereâs one last thing we need to discuss before you are signed, Mr. Jeon. Do we need to backtrack for a moment to review, or shall we continue on?â The business contractor asked, using his thumb and index finger to push his glasses up further onto his nose bridge.
Jungkook wasnât registering a single word that left the manâs mouth. His eyes were glued to the fine print on the page that described the job heâd be keeping for likely most of his (young adult) life, or at least until he was able to successfully rid himself of the guilt that's been resting on his broad shoulders for the last ten years.
He would never be able to forget the way his motherâs face fell every time he was discharged from the hospital. Not only did she have no answers and a still sick child to take home, but she also had a weighty hospital bill to add to the others that she received about once a month. She worked her ass off to take care of him as best she could, even with the gigantic debt she kept under her belt for the entirety of his childhood.
All of this was hidden from Jungkook until he was told he had celiac disease at the age of ten. His symptoms had gotten worse the longer his condition remained unnoticed, even though he would complain to his mother of constant pain everyday, tearful eyes locking with hers as if begging for her to give him any sort of relief.
âMommy, my stomach hurts!â
âIâm not hungry! It makes it worse to eat!â
âCan you please make it stop, mama?â
He cringes every time he thinks about what he mustâve put his mother through as a child, and how she always managed to push a smile even though she was fighting to make ends meet.
Even after all of that, he was hesitating on signing this contract because he was too shy? Bullshit. Heâd be selfish if he were to deny this opportunity because of his underlying fear of being seen naked in front of a large audience of people.
He knew he had no real reason to be afraid, though. After constant teasing in school for being extremely thin due to his illness, he built up the courage to get himself a gym membership when his condition became less overbearing.
He ate more often, built up more muscle, and managed to become more confident in himself and his abilities.
So, what did he have to be nervous for?
Jungkook no longer had any issues with stripping himself down. His body was sculpted perfectly, and he had a massive dick to accompany the figure he had worked for so many years towards.
Sure, everything was all set for him, but not for his mom. Jungkook knew that she barely managed to make her rent last month.
He needed to sign this contract.
âMr. Jeon?â Jungkokâs glossy eyes were blown wide. He hadnât moved an inch in the past minute.
âMr. JeonâŠâ The man rolled his eyes, obviously knowing that it would take a bit more than calling the young manâs name to get him out of whatever trance heâd put himself in. He slammed his fist down onto the table, and Jungkookâs eyes crossed for a moment before he jolted to his senses.
He cleared his throat, and immediately began sputtering apologies.
âI-Iâm so sorry. Iâm not quite sure what came over me, I-â The contractor held his hand up, effectively silencing the boy as he picked up the pen that sat to the right of him while offering it to Jungkook with a raised brow.
âIf this is something that you are not going to take seriously, then you may escort yourself out of my office. If youâd like to begin your career in this field, then take this pen and sign this contract.â Jungkook didnât hesitate in grabbing the pen from the man, immediately apologizing for the way he snatched it out of his grasp.
He gnawed on his bottom lip, eyes scanning over the words on the thin paper as if he hadnât been in this chair reviewing them for the past three hours.
This job paid well, and he had nothing to risk.
Except for the probable denial of any office job heâd try to apply to.
Why would he want an office job anyway?
Probably because--
âAny day now, Mr. Jeon.â He cast an annoyed glance toward the man. Couldnât he see that he was contemplating on signing the damn thing?
He sighed, stretched his neck from side to side, and lifted the pen to the paper with a shaking hand.
The moment he finished signing, the crumpled sheet was ripped from under his fingertips, and tucked away into the desk of who Jungkook really hoped wouldnât be his boss.
âItâs nice to have you along, kid.â Jungkook smiled nervously.
âYouâve got a great look, but of course, nude modeling is about whatâs under the clothes.â His face instantly began to pale as he gripped the armrests of the chair he sat in.
Was this old dude asking to see him naked? Right now?
âYou can step inside of the bathroom behind me to change. There should be a robe hanging on the door. Put it on, meet me outside, and weâll take a few pictures for your portfolio.â
Jungkook sat still in the chair, staring at the man across from him with those adorable eyes widened in slight panic.
He was trying to pull himself up so he wouldnât look like a fumbling idiot, but he couldnât move a limb.
There was no turning back now, and he was fully aware of that.
âAm I⊠am I supposed to be naked for the f-first photo shoot?â Jungkook asked, his voice weak.
The contractor raised an eyebrow. It was normal for newcomers to be nervous, but he couldnât understand why it was so difficult for him to follow directions.
In due time, he supposed.
âNo, Jungkook.â The contractor sighed, pressing his thumb and middle finger against his temples in distress. Jungkook noted that this was the first time the man had addressed him formally as well, so it was probably in his best interest to go get changed if he didnât want to get fired before he officially started the job.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry.â He said, standing from the chair as he looked over the contractorâs shoulder to the bathroom. It seemed to be decently sized, and he could really use some time alone to get his nerves settled before he had to⊠well, pose naked for the camera.
Well, not naked. Not this time. Thatâs what the contractor said.
He looked toward the man one last time, before he began pushing himself in the direction of the bathroom. Upon approaching it, he could pick up the smell of lavender coming from the candles that were lit inside.
He opened the door, and immediately turned around to close and lock it.
He checked to make sure the door was locked before he pulled his shirt over his head and carefully pulled each of his shoes off.
He checked once more as he unbuckled his pants.
He checked one final time as he threw his belt to the floor.
Jungkook slid his thumbs in between his hips and the fabric of the jeans as he tugged them down toward the ground. He had no issue with this as of yet, seeing as he was still in his boxers.
He pressed his body up against the wall, giving himself something to lean up against as he took his jeans off and threw them toward the pile of his clothes he created on the floor.
The boxers were all that were left.
âCome on, man.â He whispered to himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror as he began to get annoyed at his own anxiousness.
It was just a couple of pictures, and heâd be covered by a robe. He was acting like a wreck for no reason.
He closed his eyes and yanked the boxers down in one swift motion, knowing that if he hesitated, he probably wouldâve just left them on.
Jungkook shivered as the cold air went straight to his dick, and he almost knocked one of the candles over and sent the bathroom up into flames as he lunged for the robe that was near the door.
It was soft and fluffy, and it also carried the faint scent of the lavender that engulfed his senses. It was warm as well, like a heated towel.
Maybe this wasnât so bad, then.
He noticed that there were a pair of flimsy sandals sitting near the door as he prepared to leave. He was never told to put them on, or to mess with them at all, but heâd rather not walk around with his bare feet, so he slid them on anyway.
He checked his reflection once more, adjusting the robe a bit so it hung loosely around his waist, and so more of his chest could be exposed.
Sure, he was nervous, but that didnât mean that he wasnât going to put on a good show.
He ran his hands down his sides, purposely brushing them over his cock as he considered giving it a few quick pumps before he made his way outside.
Thatâd be sure to leave a great first impression, which was what he was going for, but itâd be obvious that he was touching himself because his face would blush bright red.
He reached down to grab his clothes, folding them somewhat neatly. He grabbed his shoes and sat them on top of the stack of clothes heâd made.
Worry began to bubble in his stomach once he stepped out of the bathroom to find himself alone in the large office room, but he quickly remembered that he was told to meet the guy outside.
He hummed a small tune as he took quick steps toward the office door, placing his large hand upon the knob and opening it slowly, just in case his boss (Jungkook decided to assume thatâs who this man was going to become. Itâs better to wish for the worst anyway, right?) was right in front of the door.
Once he didnât feel any force being pressed against the door, he opened it carefully and shimmied his way out of the office. He pressed his back against it to close it, and this small action caught the attention of his boss, who was sitting on a small bench a few feet away from the office.
âGreat! Youâre all changed.â The man smiled gently at him, clapping his hands together as he stood up and quickly approached Jungkook.
Jungkook stumbled back a few steps, confused by this sudden change of behavior. Was it because he was finally complying, or was it because he was about to be used for profit?
Either way, he didnât mind. Itâd be a hell of a lot easier to work in a less stressful environment, so heâd take what he could get.
âUh, yeah⊠I wasnât sure of where to put my clothes,â Jungkook began, holding up his clothes as he spoke, âso I decided toââ
âAh, thank you for the reminder!â The man spoke, retreating back toward the bench he sat on to fetch an unmarked black bookbag from behind it.
He handed it to Jungkook, who took it thankfully and with a small smile.
âWhen do I return this to you?â Jungkook asked, not bothering to look toward his boss as he spoke as he was busy stuffing his belongings into the bag.
âItâs yours to keep, son.â Jungkook closed the bag and stood up, tossing it lazily over one of his shoulders as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.
âOh, thank you so much.â He smiled sincerely. He was especially thankful that it was unmarked, because if he were to wear the bag out in public, heâd hate for someone to actually read the company name and google it, only to find pictures of him covered with only a robe on the home page.
He shivered at the thought.
âThe studio is actually on this floor, so we havenât got far of a walk at all.â His boss began to walk, and Jungkook followed a few feet behind him as he began to survey his surroundings at each turn they took.
âNow, there will be a handful of people in this room with you. Other models, photographers, of course, lighting specialists, stylists, and a few possible employers.â Jungkook hummed as the man spoke, ignoring every word that was coming out of his mouth as his heart began to thud loudly in his chest.
He didnât need this explanation, anyway. The average person knows a little something about how a photo shoot works.
Even though he was a considerable distance away from his boss, he was almost sure that he could hear the thudding in his chest.
âEvery single one of the people waiting in this room are going to do their best to make you look good, so thereâs no need to worry. Relax, and you focus on making the company look good.â He laughed throatily, and Jungkook laughed stiffly from behind him.
âMake the company look good my ass,â Jungkook thought.
He rolled his eyes, almost crashing directly into the short man in front of him as they abruptly stopped at a door tucked away into the corner of the hallway they were on.
âThis is it. Do you have anything else to ask of me?â Jungkook hurriedly said no, his nerves being replaced by the excitement to show himself off a bit.
âAlright.â The man nodded once before he opened the door, and once again, Jungkook was slapped in the dick with a blast of cold air.
He raised his eyebrows in interest as he surveyed the few models that were scattered about the different sets that were spread apart in the room. One set was sexy and seductive, dripping in elements of crimson and black, another was a bit more fun, which used orange and yellow to contrast against the white, and Jungkook couldnât even conjure up the words to describe the other sets.
He continued to watch the models pose as if this was natural for them, flinching every now and then at the bright light that would flash every time a picture was taken.
He also noted that all of the models were nude.
They seemed to be masters of their talents, so maybe Jungkook got to leave the robe on because he was an amateur?
âShit.â Jungkook cursed under his breath. Another cool draft of wind ran through the room, and he scurried to look down and pull the robe over his thighs.
Jungkook heaved a sigh of relief once he successfully covered himself, and his boss quickly strolled over to him to grab the bag off of his shoulder. Jungkook immediately looked over to ask him what he was doing, but before he got the chance, he was being whisked away by a manicured hand.
Everything moved quickly, but this shouldâve been what Jungkook was expecting. This wasnât just about his money.
He was thrown onto a couch near the center of the room, which was white just like the walls.
As soon as his ass touched the couch cushions, there were at least four people crowding over him to add some blush to his cheeks, and add some hairspray to his hair.
He was startled, but he didnât mind the chaotic environment. It reminded him very much of the hospital he frequented when he was younger, and the thought of him finally being able to help his mom out after so long brought a smile to his face.
After the clutter of bodies went away, Jungkook was left alone on the couch with a camera pointed directly at him.
He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry.
The man behind the camera snapped a few shots of Jungkook to test the quality of the photos, and once he was pleased with what he saw, he stared expectantly at Jungkook with a raised brow.
âUhâŠâ Jungkook began.
âTake your robe off.â He stated bluntly. Jungkook choked, and immediately looked to where he saw his boss last, but he was nowhere to be found.
That fucker.
âIâI thought that Iââ
âYou may want to be quick about it, too. Time is money, and the more pictures we take of you, the better your chances are at being promoted.â Jungkook sighed.
If there was one thing he needed, it was money.
Hell, thatâs what he got the job for.
He slowly brought his hands down to the sash that was holding the robe together and undid it, tossing it next to him on the couch.
He smirked lightly when he heard a few of the women standing behind the photographer gasp, quickly scanning every one of their faces to see their shocked expressions.
Jungkook could read the women easily. They all bit their lips, winked, or waved flirtatiously as he made eye contact with them, except for one woman.
She smiled teasingly at him, although she was seemingly unimpressed with his level of confidence. She raised an eyebrow tauntingly, pretending as if she didnât understand why everyone was reacting as if theyâd never seen a penis before. Though her cool exterior radiated disinterest, Jungkook could see past her facade, her eyes gave everything away. He could see the desire in her y/e/c irises. Jungkook understood, he felt it too.
Jungkook returned the smile, oddly at ease by her presence. He absentmindedly licked his lips as he raked his eyes up and down the curves of her figure.
She wore a long sleeved shirt that hugged her frame perfectly, a tight skirt that rested a few inches above her knees, and a pair of black heels that made her legs look absolutely stunning from where Jungkook was sitting.
He was sure theyâd still look delicious if he were to take a closer look, which he wouldnât mind in the slightest.
His mind wandered, images of her naked body flashing behind his eyelids. He lost himself in his daydreams of kissing up her legs while she squirmed underneath him.
What the hell is wrong with him? He was made to be the one receiving suggestive glances, but here he was, blatantly checking out the cute girl that was just trying to make him comfortable.
The girl broke eye contact with him, and he immediately looked away as well, squirming slightly in his seat as he felt his cock harden between his legs.
He made no effort to hide it, but he did close his legs a bit to make it less obvious.
He did not just get a boner because he made eye contact with a pretty girl.
Well, on the bright side, he didnât have to worry about getting himself hard in the bathroom.
He glanced over in the ladyâs direction once more, pouting once he noticed that she was no longer paying any attention to him, instead scribbling something down on a notepad she held in her small hands.
Why did he want her attention so bad?
âAlright,â The photographer began, bringing Jungkook back down to earth, âKeep it natural. The more relaxed you feel, the better your photos will turn out.â Jungkook nodded, a bit more eager than he shouldâve been to begin his first session.
âPerfect!â The photographer yelled, snapping one last photo of Jungkook before he closed the lens of his camera and began to pack up his equipment.
Most of the other models and workers filed out already, and Jungkook was overly thankful that it would be his turn to leave this room next.
Jungkook thought the shoot went very well, as it was very easy for him to⊠keep himself encouraged throughout, thanks to that pretty lady.
He relaxed from his position, in which he was leaned forward, his elbows propped onto his knees as he smirked cockily at the camera.
He wasnât sure of what to do just yet, waiting for his liar of a boss to make himself shown again.
Especially considering that the man had his clothes and shoes.
Jungkook sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his back into the couch as he breathed in and out slowly. He continued like this for a few moments, until he could hear heels tapping against the floor in his direction.
He opened one of his eyes, taking a peek at who was walking toward him.
Jungkook immediately sat up upon noticing that it was the woman with the sexy legs that kept his dick hard through the entirety of his shoot.
She approached him with a friendly smile, and Jungkook returned her sincerity with a smile of his own.
âCould I take a seat?â She motioned toward the empty spot on the couch next to him. Jungkook nodded once.
âOf course.â He moved over a bit, his cock swinging against his inner thigh as he did so.
It was then that he realized that he was absolutely naked still, so he grabbed the robe that laid over the arm of the couch and threw it on, as if the woman hadnât already seen everything he had to offerâ and more.
âThank you!â She smiled at him. âIâm Y/N.â
âItâs a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Iâm Jungkook.â She chuckled at this. Jungkook was confused as to what she found funny, maybe his name?
He gripped the robe between his fingers, nervously running the pads of them over the soft material as he pondered over what couldâve made the tempting woman in front of him giggle so sweetly.
âWhyâre you laughing?â She noticed his nerves return, a knowing smirk on her lips as she watched the way he shyly avoided eye contact with her.
âI already know who you are, Mr. Jeon.â She tossed her hair over her shoulder. Itâs almost as if she knew she was enticing.
âYou did some great work today, you know?â She flashed him an adorable smile again.
It was something about the way that âMr. Jeonâ rolled off of her tongue that was driving Jungkook up the wall.
âLook, I know this may seem a bit forward, but you radiate great potential.â Jungkook nodded, thanking her quietly, as she pulled out that notepad that she was scribbling in when she was too busy to give him attention while he was posing sexily.
âI conduct an art class at a community center, and Iâd love it if you were to drop by and model for me a bit, since youâve gotten the swing of things fairly quickly.â She giggled, as she ripped out the page from the small book and handed it to him gently.
âPlease, feel free to decline if youâre uncomfortable, but if youâd like to give it a try then give me a call.â She eyed him carefully as he picked up the paper and read over it.
âThatâs my personal number, so you can call me whenever youâd like.â Something about that sentence put an image into Jungkookâs head.
âAlright, Iâll get out of your hair now.â She stood up, collecting her belongings as she did so.
âIf I never run into you again, then itâs been a pleasure, Jungkook.â She proceeded to walk away, leaving him on the couch alone.
Jungkook lingered just outside the door of the art room, his stomach twisting with nerves. When heâd first been approached about modeling, heâd laughed it off. It started off with easy stuff, brand deals and commercial advertisements. How did he end up here? Posing nude in front of a group of strangers to pick apart his body for their art? This was the best paying gig heâd ever been presented with⊠the small advertising gigs had been a couple hundred at best but this one would put a sizable dent in his motherâs debt, easing her misfortune. Jungkook had to do this. For her.
He held his head high and strolled into the room with a confident air, any trace of his uneasiness washed away. He glanced around at the unfamiliar faces, carefully watching his every move. He smiled in a greeting, until his eyes landed on you. His face lit up at seeing your familiar face and your heart clenched at the sight. Â Should Jungkook have found comfort in your deceptively soft eyes? No. Did he? Absolutely. Your sharp tongue didnât phase him too badly, not when he could see the tenderness in your eyes.
âGood morning, Mr. Jeon.â you smiled, extending your hand in an invitation.
Jungkook reached out, enveloping your small hand in his own larger one, shaking it professionally. He reveled at how soft your skin was.
âGood morning, Ms. Y/L/N.â he greeted. âGood morning, everyone.â he addressed the rest of the room. âPlease call me Jungkook.â
âAlright. Jungkook here is going to be our model. Long gone are the days of fruit baskets. Here is where the fun begins.â you smirked, sending a raised eyebrow Jungkookâs way.
In spite of himself, Jungkook blushed under your suggestive gaze.
âNow, donât forget that this is for art.â you emphasized. âThe human body is a work of art and I expect you to treat it as such. Take this seriously. Okay?â
Most heads nodded automatically, a few older women rolled their eyes or stole looks from each other, mocking you. You were placing a young, muscular man in front of them without clothes. How did you expect them not to ogle?
âFor this particular piece, weâre going to be exploring how to use charcoal to get those little details. Donât forget your shading!â you chimed happily. âReady, Jungkook?â
âI think so.â he smiled.
âShow us what you got.â you grinned, stepping back and sitting at your own easel.
Jungkookâs hands trembled a bit as he unbuttoned his shirt, trying his best to 1. Not look like a total basket case and 2. Not make it super sensual. Deft fingers worked their way down his shirt and soon the material was sliding off his body in a way he felt was unceremoniously, but judging from the mouths hanging open around the room, mightâve been a bit more enticing than heâd intended.
Jungkookâs chest was absolutely flawless, in your opinion. You were one of the few who managed to keep your tongue inside your mouth for the show, but that didnât stop your eyes from wandering over his toned physique. Sure youâd seen him at his photography shoot, but he was wearing a robe and you were trying to be professional. Now, hidden behind your easel, you were free to really take him in.
His chiseled chest, the deep ridges of his toned abs, the smoothness of his skin, the light dusting of hair that teased its way under his jeans. He was a walking wet dream. Your mouth watered as your gaze followed the lines of his V. Jungkook popped open the button of his jeans, tugging the zipper down as well. Youâd never been so entranced by a simple movement in your life. The man radiated sexual energy.
He shimmied his hips free of the denim, his every movement captivating his audience.  Firm hip bones, luscious thick thighs, deliciously tanned skin were all slowly revealed as he tugged the jeans off in one fluid motion. Maybe he should be a stripper instead of a model⊠You shook the thought away, but it lingered. Jungkooks movements faltered for a moment, his eyes seeking yours for comfort. You smiled reassuringly at him, and that was all he needed to tug his boxers over his delicious thighs and let his glorious cock free.
âHoly shit.â you heard from somewhere behind you.
âHe reminds me of a lover I once had in Prague. Iâd sneak him into my hotel room and weâd make love until the sun came up. I miss being young.â
Jungkook coughed and brought his arm up to cover the flush spreading across his cheeks at the older womanâs inappropriate comment. You bit back a laugh.
âAlright Jungkook, just make yourself comfortable and weâll start drawing you, okay?â you instructed, attempting to take his mind off of the earlier comment.
âOkay.â he nodded, settling himself on the stool youâd set out for him, resisting the urge to strike a pose he knew he wouldnât be able to hold.
The room grew quiet save for the scratch of charcoal on canvas as the class began attempting to do justice to Jungkookâs beauty in their renditions of him. You began by tracing an outline of his body, opting not to attempt any details yet. The pink tint that rested upon the apple of your cheeks was hard to ignore, and you werenât sure you could handle trying to get details of certain areas just yet.
You did your best to ignore the effect Jungkookâs naked body was having on your own fully clothed one. He was ethereal, beautiful, the kind of man you could lose yourself in. He had charisma, a way about him that just drew people in. Or maybe it was just you. Every time your eyes locked with his, it was like he was the only thing you could focus on. Everything else was obsolete.
Jungkook held a power over you that honestly scared you a little, and he didnât even know he did. He didnât understand how magnetic he was. Sure, he was sexy and he knew it. Heâd obviously spent hours painstakingly sculpting his body to perfection, but it wasnât even just his flawless physique, it wasnât just his gorgeous, greek-god-like face. His power was inside of him, his strength, his determination, that spark in his gaze.
Jungkook was different from the rest, whether he realized it or not. He was special. Everything about him invited you in and coaxed you to give all of yourself to him. You couldnât stop your thoughts from wondering as you lazily sketched the outline of him. How would his skin feel under your touch? Heat flooded your veins as you imagined what his touch might feel like in return. You shook these thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand and trying to see Jungkook as nothing more than art you were depicting. You were going to make certain you got every detail correct. And for that, you needed to focus.
Jungkook forced himself to look anywhere but at the people who were gawking at his naked frame. He couldnât stop himself from watching you though. Â He found himself wondering what you thought of him. He wanted to see what you were doing on your canvas. He wanted you to look at him. As if reading his thoughts, you lifted your gaze and faltered when you found his already upon you. When your eyes met and he bit his lip in a nervous smile, you knew you were screwed.
The next time you saw Jungkook was a week later. Your class had nearly doubled in size as word spread of the toned man with the impressive cargo. You rolled your eyes to yourself but greeted your new arrivals with the same professional smile. You couldnât blame them, not really. Would you have passed up the opportunity to see him naked again? Hell no. He was already undressed when youâd arrived, running late after a meeting with the program director congratulating you on your ability to gain interest in your class.
âSorry Iâm late!â you announced to the class, then to Jungkook specifically with an apologetic look.
âThatâs alright dearie.â one of the older women commented, and you sent her a gracious smile.
âSo! For those of you who are new, you can partner up with someone and observe or you can find your own Canvas located on the tables in the back. If you need any help please let me know, since you werenât here for the introductory lessons.â
âDoes she really think weâre here just to draw?â you heard a whisper from the back of the room.
âI know. I didnât believe Karen when she told me an asian boy with a giant dong was modeling for her community center art class. I had to see for myself.â another voice giggled.
âIf I were 15 years younger, I would climb that boy like a tree. I may be old enough to be his mother, but I could still give him a run for his money.â
âMmm.. I wonder what he can do with those fingers. I bet he has stamina for days.â
You glanced up at Jungkook, who was actively trying to hide his discomfort, shifting a little on the stool as he attempted to stay still. You cleared your throat, loudly, sending a pointed look to the two women in the back.
âI just want to remind our newcomers that this class is about art, not objectification. Please remain respectful. If you canât manage that, Iâm sure you can manage to find the door.â you nearly hissed.
They shrugged sheepishly and grew quiet. You huffed in annoyance, glancing back at Jungkook again, who sent you an appreciative smile. You nodded, focusing on your canvas in front of you once more.
Once class was over and the others had filed out, you walked up to Jungkook as he was buttoning his jeans. He looked up from his task and greeted you with a warm smile.
âHey, Y/N.â he grinned, apparently forgetting he still needed to put a shirt on.
You used every brain cell you had to keep yourself from staring at his chiseled chest.
âHey Jungkook.â you smiled. âAre you okay? Did those women make you uncomfortable? I can ask them not to come back.â
âOh itâs okay!â he assured you, placing a hand on your shoulder, âI appreciate the offer but I donât want to be a bother. It did make me kind of uncomfortable but they stopped so itâs okay.â
âAre you sure? They said some pretty inappropriate things.â you pressed.
âI donât mind that what they said was inappropriate,â he explained, âitâs more that they were talking about me like I wasnât even here. Like I was some sex doll or something. I donât mind women finding me attractive, but I do have sustenance.â
âI get it. You shouldnât be objectified while youâre doing your job.â you told him.
âKind of hard to remind people I have dignity when Iâm standing in front of them in all my naked glory. I can see how that might be distracting.â he winked playfully.
âAh, thereâs that cocky personality.â you threw back at him with a grin.
âSeriously though. Thank you for being on my side.â he told you sincerely.
Electricity shot through your body when he leaned in and gave you a gentle hug. You took a deep breath to steady yourself but that only resulted in breathing in the scent of him, musky and woodsy, yet sweet. It reminded you of cinnamon. Â It was intoxicating.
You desperately ignored the ache between your thighs and wrapped your arms around him to reciprocate his affections. His body seemed to relax against yours and the embrace lasted a little longer than a hug between mostly strangers should. He pulled away but held you at arms length to watch your features for a moment.
âSee, now thatâs the kind of look I donât mind from a woman. Especially one as beautiful as you.â he smirked, turning and grabbing his shirt off the stool before sauntering away and shooting you a shit eating grin as you stand frozen in place.
You shot up, waking with a fright. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath. Images flashing through your mind once more. Your subconscious thoughts led way to the hottest sex dream youâd ever experienced, and of course the star was your male model. You couldnât stop picturing  his mouth on you, his hands on you. You shook your head to clear it. Alone in your bed, you couldnât get that cocky grin out of your mind. You tried to fight it, you really did. You tried to redirect your mind anywhere but his plump lips, his perfectly sculpted jaw, the way his warm skin felt against yours when heâd hugged youâŠ
Shrouded in shame but overcome with desire, you let your hand dance down your stomach underneath the elastic of your pajama shorts, your fingers finding their way to your slit. You closed your eyes, imagining it was Jungkookâs fingers inside you instead. You pumped them slowly in and out of yourself.
âUngh⊠fuck. Jungkook.â you whined, writhing against your fingers, trying to find that spot that drove you crazy.
You picked up the pace, letting your fingers find a delicious rhythm inside of you, wondering what it would feel like if it were Jungkook inside of you instead. His cock was so pretty. It took everything you had not to stand up and start sucking it every time you saw it.
âJungkook.â left your lips as your whines got louder, moving your attention to circle at your clit with your juices as lubrication.
You wished you had a picture of him to look at while you pleasured yourself to the idea of him, but you let your imagination take control, replaying images from your dream, and creating new fantasies about the model with the sultry eyes. You were close, and the closer you got to the edge, the louder you became. You swore you could almost hear the faint sound of Jungkookâs labored breathing along with your own, but it mustâve been your imagination running wild.
Your orgasm crashed over you, Jungkookâs name leaving your lips repeatedly, like he was the only thought you could muster when your brain turned off and your high took over. You fucked yourself through it, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you pulled your fingers out. You padded your way to the bathroom to wash up, climbing back into bed not nearly as satiated as youâd hoped to have been. You drifted to sleep anyway, thoughts of Jungkook and the hope of seeing him again soon on the forefront of your mind when unconsciousness took over.
Jungkook was early today, you noticed as you walked into the art room. You were the first two to have arrived, you wanted to make up for being late the previous week.
âHey. What are you doing here so early?â you asked, setting your bag down as you made your way over to him.
âNeeded to talk to you.â he responded, voice low and husky.
âEverything okay?â you asked, concern filling your chest.
âNo. Everything is not okay.â he hissed, trapping you against the wall.
You shivered at the sudden change in his demeanor, at his body so close to yours, at the dominating tone of his voice.
âIâve been horny as hell all week.â he grunted, rutting his hips into yours.
âO-oh.â was all you could muster for a response, your body immediately reacting to his movements and sending moisture to your core.
âImagine my surprise when I got a call from you late Saturday night.â he smirked, lips ghosting over the hollow of your throat, allowing his cool breath to fan against the area. He watched your skin flush crimson and felt your heart rate pick up.
Saturday night? You hadnât called him. Saturday night you were⊠oh.
âDo you have any idea how fucking sexy you sound when youâre moaning my name?â he teased, rolling his hips and pulling them back before pinning you to the wall with them once more, his erection pressed firmly against your aching heat.
âI-â you began to explain, but he cut you off.
âFuck, the way you sound when you cum⊠I nearly came too. Listening to you fuck yourself for me. Tell me, what were you thinking about when your fingers sunk into that pretty little pussy? Was it my mouth?â he questioned, letting his lips graze along the shell of your ear.
âWas it my cock?â he ground his hardened member into you once more. âMaybe it was my tongue.â he mused, licking a bold stripe from the swell of your breasts to your collarbone.
A whimper was forced from your throat at his ministrations. You were hyper aware of every breath Jungkook took, feeling his body move against yours. You were also aware that at any moment, people were going to start filing through the door for class.
âJungkook.â you breathed, a warning.
Or was it a promise?
Jungkook groaned, biting down on the side of your neck and sucking a purple bruise into the exposed flesh, then blowing cold air over the injured spot to soothe it. Your entire body shivered. Jungkookâs head turned as he heard footsteps approach the door. With a pointed look directly into your eyes, he stepped back from you and put much needed space between his body and yours, just in time for the first arrival to walk through the door.
You mustâve been a sight to behold, flushed and breathing heavily while pressed up against the wall. You hadnât been able to make yourself move after Jungkook stepped away. He looked unbothered, but you were about to burst. You could feel your arousal slipping down your leg. You cursed yourself for wearing a skirt.
Jungkook, however, was thrilled with your outfit choice for the day. Especially since once youâd taken your seat at your easel, he had a front row view of your white lacy panties. Jungkook had already stripped naked for todayâs modeling session, having put all of his effort into calming his dick down so he wasnât hard in front of everyone. However, his efforts were moot when he noticed the dark wet patch imprinted on the ivory fabric that covered your heat.
Jungkook bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood as his eyes latched onto your core. You shifted in your seat, attempting to press your thighs together to find some relief, an action which made Jungkook smirk to himself. Until his cock started reacting. In front of everyone. Jungkook wasnât sure if he was more turned on or more embarrassed when he noticed your gaze unwavering on his hardening member. Your mouth hung open slightly, drool pooling at the edges. Jungkook chuckled to himself.
The other members of the class were just as astonished as you were, but Jungkook paid them no mind. All he could think about was getting inside of you. He couldnât stop picturing the way your pupils had blown out just at his words, the way your breath hitched when he touched you. He bet youâd be so responsive when his fingers came to tease along your folds. He wondered how tight you were, if youâd be as loud as you were on the phone or even louder? Surely he could make you scream if youâd been that loud with just your own fingers?
Jungkook gave up trying to control his raging boner the moment he saw your arousal pooled at your core on display for him. Suddenly, he saw your hand sneak between your legs and tease along the ivory fabric. His gaze snapped up to your face, your eyes alight with mischief when they met his own. Your fingers pushed the damp fabric aside and began circling around your clit. Jungkook was the only one who could see from his position at the front of the room.
You were putting on a show for him, torturing him when he could do nothing about it. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you, but your face remained impassive, the epitome of feigned innocence. But like always, Jungkook saw the real you behind your heavy lidded gaze. You couldnât hide from him, he could read you like an open book. There was nothing innocent about the way you were licking your lips, slowly dragging the swollen flesh between your teeth teasingly.
Your fingers spread your folds so Jungkook had a perfect view of your clit as you began rubbing it in slow circles. Jungkookâs eyes were glued to your bundle of nerves and the way your fingers teased at it. You gathered some of your slick to coat your fingers and lubricate them so they slid along your cunt with ease. Your digits were shiny, covered in your arousal. Jungkook nearly came when he watched in agony as you inserted two fingers into your entrance, pulling them back out and twisting them so he could watch the light reflect off your wetness. You stuck them in your mouth and sucked your juices off seductively before going back to your sketch.
Jungkook could not wait to punish your naughty behavior. He couldnât wait to wipe that satisfied smirk off your face with an expert flick of his tongue. You had an attitude now, but once he was balls deep inside that soaking wet pussy he was sure you wouldnât be quite so eager to tease him. You werenât going to cum until you were crying and begging for it, heâd already made up his mind.
The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slow, each passing second felt like an eternity as Jungkook waited for class to be over. It felt like his dick twitched every time the little hand on the clock did. No matter what he did, no matter what he thought of, Jungkook could not get his erection to subside. His thoughts only led back to the lewd way youâd sucked your own arousal off your fingers.
Jungkook thought he might cry tears of joy when you finally dismissed the class with a chipper wave of your hand and a sweet smile. The second the last person walked out the door, Jungkook shut it and you heard the click of the lock echo throughout the empty room. You swallowed nervously, bending over to grab your bag, earning a hearty laugh from Jungkook.
âOh baby girl⊠you really think Iâm just going to let you leave after the little show you put on for me?â he purred, advancing toward you quickly until his body was flush against yours, breath tickling the space below your ear. âSo naughty, teasing daddy like that.â he tsked.
His fingers trailed their way up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered under his touch, though it was barely even there. His skin danced along yours, coming to rest at the curve of your breasts.
âMmm⊠I think Iâd like to taste these.â he grinned, suddenly yanking your tank top down so that both of your nipples were exposed to the bitter cold of the room.
A smirk played on his lips at the gasp that snuck its way past yours. His head dipped, and you thought heâd immediately take one of your nipples in his mouth, you were salivating over the thought of his warm, wet mouth on your perky buds. Instead, his pillow soft lips found yours, his tongue roaming along until you parted your lips and granted him access.
His tongue danced with yours as he brought his hips closer to grind into your aching center. You had never wanted anyone as badly as you wanted Jungkook. The man pressed against you had you brainless and ready to do anything he asked with a  simple roll of his hips.
Jungkook decided he didnât like being the only naked one, and pulled your shirt above your head. Were you shivering from the cold air or Jungkookâs predatory gaze? Hell if you knew. Jungkookâs nimble fingers had your bra unhooked in a suspiciously short amount of time but you paid that no mind. He flung it across the room and his mouth was on your breast in an instant. Slick tongue working against your erect nipple while the other was massaged by his large hand. Every movement of his tongue, every playful pinch of his forefinger and thumb against your sensitive skin was sending lightning bolts straight down to your heat.
Jungkookâs mouth left your breast with an audible âpop!â since he sucked the flesh as he pulled away, switching his efforts to the neglected side, this time mixing it up by grazing his teeth ever so softly along the most sensitive part. Soft whimpers left you and you effectively became putty in his hands... and mouth. His tongue darted out to give a final flick against your sensitive bud before his hot kisses descended south. He kissed along the expanse of your stomach, slowly working his way down, sucking and nibbling as he went to leave small bruises dotted over your skin. He flipped your skirt up, exposing the lacy white panties that had been taunting him for hours, and the dark wet patch where your arousal soaked through them. Jungkook let out a growl, ripping the ivory fabric from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your pussy to him.
âSo fucking beautiful. Better than Iâd imagined.â He praised.
Without warning, his tongue darted out and swiped along your folds. Your knees buckled but Jungkookâs strong arms held you up, hands on either of your hips to keep you still and pressed against the wall while he worked his tongue along your slit then against your throbbing clit.
âShit!â You cried out, body jolting forward and hands coming to rest on his shoulders when his plump lips wrapped around the sensitive bundle and sucked harshly.
Jungkook showed no mercy, devouring your cunt like it was his death row meal, the final wish of a man with nothing to lose. He lapped at your juices as if it were the last thing heâd ever do. Your entire body was thrumming, shaking violently as your orgasm was wretched out of you with no warning.
His name fell from your lips like a prayer, or a curse, you werenât sure. The only thing you could focus on was the blinding white euphoria his tongue had shoved you headfirst into. You wouldâve collapsed if Jungkook hadnât held you up, allowing you to slowly sink to your knees to meet his posture as your body twitched and shook at the aftermath of your mind blowing high. Your breathing ragged and your eyes wide, you watched the satisfied smile appear on his angelic face. Cocky bastard. Sexy, skilled, ridiculously beautiful cocky bastard.
âStill feeling like a tease?â Jungkook asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he raised an eyebrow at you. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and all of his words sounded like another language at the moment.
âWhat?â You asked, causing him to laugh a bit at your clearly fucked out state of mind. Although the both of you were stripped down to almost nothing (save your skirt) and on your knees in the ground, it was clear who held the power between the two of you.
âYou wanna taste yourself on my tongue?â He offered, already beginning to lean forward as he reached his arm out to pull your body closer to his, but you shook your head, an idea playing in the back of your head as you quickly conjured up a plan thatâd have him weak and panting instead.
âIâd rather taste you on my own. Stand up.â You ordered.
He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your cute attempt at telling him what to do as if he hadnât successfully put you in your place a minute or two ago. He stood nonetheless, vaguely interested in whatever you had up your sleeve. His goal was to make you suffer, but he supposed you could have a bit of fun before he fucked you brainless over that desk that sat a few feet away from the two of you.
You shifted yourself around a bit, as did he, so he now had his back pressed against the wall. You sat submissively under him, although Jungkook was anything but while he had ravaged your sweetness with his tongue.
âYouâre pretty with your thighs around my face, but thereâs just something about you on your knees.â Jungkook teased, his cockiness never failing to make an appearance as he ran a hand through your hair in appreciation.
You hummed to thank him, a sly smile of your own playing on your lips as you slowly lifted your small hand up to his cock. This small action alone had him tensing up completely, hissing quietly as you squeezed your hand loosely against his length repeatedly until he had to intertwine his fingers with your locks and pull your head up.
âYouâd better stop unless you want to walk out of this room with my cum dripping down your face.â He warned.
You shrugged, leaning forward a bit, placing your free hand on his thigh while you stroked his cock slowly, your eyes honing in on the clear liquid that leaked from the tip of his length. You licked your lips at the thought of swiping it away with your tongue, but you werenât supposed to give in this easily. This wasnât a part of your plan, but youâd give anything just to keep seeing the expression of pure ecstasy on his face.
You continued to stroke him with your hand, purposely digging your nails into his thigh to see if itâd bring a reaction out of him. A shiver ran from his spine to the tips of his toes as you did this, and you couldnât help the giggle that slipped past your lips.
âYou like a little pain?â You teased, narrowing your eyes at him in defiance as you stuck your tongue out, pressing it slowly against his shaft.
You licked a stripe from his balls to the angry tip, looking up at him through your lashes as you swiped the precum away like you originally intended.
It was just as salty as you expected it to be, but you didnât mind at all. You closed your eyes as you brought your tongue back into your mouth, pressing your lips together and swallowing slowly as you allowed the taste of him to burn down your throat.
âYou taste just as good as you look.â You commented seductively, pressing a chaste kiss to his cock head and swirling your tongue around it once more before you began to spread your lips over the expanse of his cock.
Now, youâd definitely had your experience with this sort of thing once or twice before, but Jungkook was big, and there was no way you were fitting your pretty mouth over all of him, no matter how desperately you wanted to. As much as you were dying to get all of him in your mouth, for your own safety and wellbeing, Â you opted to use your hand to continue to apply some relief to what you couldnât quite reach with your mouth.
âOh, shit. Thatâs so good, baby.â You werenât sure if he was just in the moment, but your heart fluttered a bit at the pet name.
You hollowed your cheeks as you struggled to take more of him into your mouth. You gagged a handful of times, but Jungkook didnât seem to mind. He even pulled all of your hair into his hands, using it as a sort of makeshift leash as he pushed you further down onto his cock, wanting to hear you gag on him again.
You worked quickly with your mouth, alternating the flicks of your wrists with your hand to keep Jungkook guessing. He had pressed his weight fully against the wall behind him, his leg twitching occasionally whenever you âaccidentallyâ dragged your teeth along the underside of his dick, not enough to cause any real harm, just enough to ignite a spark.
âOh my GodâŠâ He whimpered.
You did yourself the favor of looking up at him while your mouth was stuffed full, your pussy spasming at the sight. His mouth was hung open in a silent moan, his eyes were screwed shut in pleasure, and a few of his sweaty black locks were stuck to his forehead. You figured you could make him cum just like this, but youâd rather be his personal cumbucket. Was it a bit selfish? Maybe, but you couldnât care less at the moment. He looked absolutely delectable above you.
He cracked his eyes open just as you slid his cock out of your mouth, gathering up the saliva that built up while your lips were stretched around him and spitting it back out onto his manhood. You were deliberately slow with this, wanting him to feel it the moment it made contact with his head. You watched his face as your saliva spilled down onto his shaft, using this as lubrication as you continued to pump your fist against him.
You sank down further onto your knees, only able to give his balls a few licks with your tongue, and a short lived massage before you were yanked backward, head first. Your immediate reaction to this was a rough squeeze to his cock, since it was the only thing in your grasp at the moment. You let out a strangled groan as he clenched his jaw while looking down at you, cock standing at attention as he debated his next movement.
âGet the fuck up.â He commanded you, although he pulled you up off of the ground by the grip he had on your hair on his own.
He pressed your back to his chest, ensuring you felt every ripple of his muscles pressed against your naked skin. Making a path with his hand from your stomach, in between your breasts, then finally to your neck, Â he held you firmly against him, so you had no space between your flushed bodies. You felt every rise and fall of his toned chest, his breathing just as ragged as yours.
âIâm going to bend you over that desk there, alright?â He whispered into your ear, his cool breath fanning over your cheek as you nodded eagerly, just wanting him to follow through with his plan instead of telling you the process. After all, actions do speak louder than words.
âWhen I let you go, I want you to walk over there like a good little slut and bend over. Flip that skirt up and show me your cunt. Can you do that for me?â You felt his cock twitch against your inner thigh, and you nodded again with a quiet moan.
âGo.â He let you go with one word, watching you swiftly walk over toward the desk as he took his length in his right hand and stroked it quickly while approaching you with loud, threatening footsteps.
You werenât sure how that was possible since he didnât have shoes on, but it only excited you further. You complied with his orders easily, pressing your cheek against the cold surface of the desk. You  hiked the skirt up a bit around your waist and wiggled your ass teasingly as you waited for him to come ravage you.
âYouâre cute, but youâre so annoying.â He grunted from behind you, slapping both of your ass cheeks with his heavy hands, massaging them afterward before delivering two more harsh slaps.
âYou work me up in front of a room full of people, and then try to collect your stuff afterward as if you werenât practically begging me to use you? Bullshit.â He spanked your ass again, relishing in the way you hissed after every hit and gripped the edge of the desk tighter.
âIâm going to make a mess out of you, you know that?â He pressed his chest against your back, pushing his weight onto you as he whispered into your ear.
You nodded, his eyes scanning over the expanse of your back as his long fingers momentarily kneaded your muscles.
âWhatâre you waiting for, then?â You quipped, although your voice sounded a bit flat because of Jungkookâs body weight. He laughed as he pulled himself up off of you.
Silently, he grabbed his cock and lined it up with your pussy as he pressed the head against your tight hole. You moaned at this, inhaling sharply as he just barely slipped himself inside of you. You whimpered in defeat as he pulled out quickly afterward, not wanting to give you the time to savor the feeling of being stretched out by his length.
âI swear, if you wait any longer then Iâm going to fuck myself on your dick.â You threatened shakily, to which he smirked at.
âIs that so?â He let go of his cock. âBe my guest, then.â He shrugged, although you couldnât see him.
You turned around swiftly, beyond irritated at whatever game he was trying to play. You were turned on, and you wanted to be fucked silly, but he was acting like a brat.
âYou know what? Fine, I will.â You challenged, looking over your shoulder at him to see the intrigued smile on his face.
You rolled your eyes, roughly grabbing his cock and pushing yourself back onto him hastily. Jungkook disapproved of this, landing a sharp slap to your right ass cheek he gripped your hips roughly. He held you securely, preventing you from sliding back any further onto his cock.
âYouâd better slow down, sweetheart.â He warned shakily, his nails leaving small imprints on your skin as he moved his hands down to your ass. âI havenât cum yet, and your little hole is so inviting.â
You gulped, although something about his threat to cum inside of you was one step closer to pushing you over the edge.
âTake it slowly. Take me in slowly, so I can feel you.â With this he let go of your ass, watching with lidded eyes as your arousal coated more than half of his manhood.
He licked his lips at this, loving the way your juices spilled onto him, and onto the desk. Perhaps heâd make you lick his cock clean afterwards. Thatâd be a sight to see.
Your hips stuttered before you could take the last few inches, which sent a gigantic boost to Jungkookâs ego. Of course, he knew he was big, but something about seeing you struggle to take him in fully even after you talked all of that shit previously was egging him on.
âYou at your limit, baby?â He mocked you, and as soon as you tried to respond, your voice cracked.
He hummed, chuckling slightly as he slid his hands up from your ass to your back, scratching his stubby nails at your flesh before threading his fingers in your hair once more. He roughly yanked your head back with a malicious smile. Your body jolted at this, which sent the rest of his cock plunging into you in one go.
âGod, thatâs fucking it. Look at you, swallowing Daddyâs dick like a good girl. You look so pretty stuffed full like this.â You were incomprehensive, your entire being filled with thoughts of Jungkook pummeling your pussy out of existence.
âNot so eager to use that fucking mouth now, are you? Hm?â He asked, pulling your head back a bit further.
Your back was so arched that you could see the ceiling and a bit of his face, and this new position made it so much easier for his cock to brush against that spot that made you a mumbling mess.
âYou should be ashamed, really.â He said, dropping his head down to look at your ass as he slowly began to work his hips against it. âHave you got anything to say for yourself?â You were taking him so well, but he couldnât let his unbothered persona falter just yet.
âWell?â He let go of your hair, and you immediately dropped your head forward, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you struggled to hold yourself up on your elbows while he ruthlessly fucked you.
âYouâre s-so fucking big.â You mumbled pathetically, causing Jungkook to twitch inside of you.
âI know. You like Daddyâs big fat cock inside that tight little pussy. Â Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good you feel.â He pushed one of his hands down against your back, silently telling you to press your breasts against the desk. You obeyed, hissing as your nipples hardened instantly after making contact with the cool surface.
âI likeâo-oh, oh shit.â Your jaw fell slack as Jungkook began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, his expert hips moving with such sharpness that you could feel it each time he pulled back a bit to fuck himself into you again. Although you didnât do what he asked of you, he didnât pressure you any further, his only goal to use you as his cute little cocksleeve.
âSpread your legs for me.â You immediately moved to follow his request, unable to balance yourself on your feet now. This was no problem, as Jungkook easily took a secure grip around your waist to keep you pressed against the desk.
âYou feel so good around me like that, oh shit.â Jungkook whimpered, his tongue hanging out of his mouth slightly as he jabbed his fingers into your sides and pulled you onto the tips of your toes. You were startled at the sudden change, although it allowed for him to drive deeper inside of you.
âPut your hands on the edge of the desk now. Do it right fucking now.â He growled like some sort of feral animal. You scurried to follow his orders, just as he began to slam his cock so powerfully inside of your cunt that your hips banged against the metal desk with every other thrust, and you knew there would be bruises.
âF-fuck!â You screamed, and Jungkook responded quickly by throwing his hand messily over your mouth to quiet your moans.
âShh, Y/N. We canât let you get caught being a little slut.â He chuckled breathlessly, short moans and growls leaving the back of his throat as he continued to piston his hips in and out of you, your ass slapping against his abdomen every time the two of you connected. You were teetering over the edge, desperately wanting to lose control underneath him.
âIâm cumming, Iâm gonna câJUNGKOOK!â You yelled out in frustration as he slipped his cock out of you.
He grunted, pushing some of the clutter on the desk away before picking you up and setting you on top of it, so he could see your face.
âOne,â He said, his voice raspy which caused you to shiver, âYouâre not cumming unless I get to see your face when you do. Two,â He continued, slipping himself back into you with ease due to how fucking soaked you were, âYouâre not cumming until you beg for it.â He reached for one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, gripping onto it as he sustained the rapid pace of his manhood plunging into your inviting heat.
âI-I wanna cum, Daddy.â You whispered in defeat, a twinkle in Jungkookâs eyes as he was beginning to finally get you where he wanted you. You werenât begging just yet, though, which was unfortunate for you because you wouldnât get an orgasm, and Jungkook was going to cum inside you either way.
âYou do, Princess?â He whispered back, still holding your leg while his other hand moved to the back of your head. He pressed your forehead against his, your noses bumping as Jungkook fucked you. You nodded, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes at having to hold your orgasm back.
âYou arenât begging for me, baby. Beg me to give you permission to cum on this dick.â You cried out weakly, knowing that youâd have to give in to his rules in order to achieve that sweet release. It was right in the tip of your tongue.
You placed your arms around his neck, hanging them there loosely as you gazed into his eyes, which were full of lust and carnal desire.
âCan I cum o-on your c-cockâa-ah!â You failed miserably to finish your sentence, as Jungkook began pistoning his cock inside of your cunt with such force that the desk began to screech against the ground a bit, knocking at one of the metal racks behind it.
âIâm so close to cumming, pretty girl. Talk fast.â He warned, thrusts quickly becoming unorganized. You nodded.
âPlease let me cum! I-Ivâe learned my lesson, I swear I have! Iâm so close Jungkook, p-please!â He grunted his approval, nodding once and delivering about a dozen more thrusts before he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, biting down on the skin there as he began to shoot rope after rope of his cum deep inside of your greedy cunt.
You came with him, your body tensing up for a few moments before your release smacked you like a bus, heavy and unapologetic. Â Due to the wild fuckfest the two of you had, though, a few utensils hit the ground, and a can of paint was wobbling on the edge of the rack that the desk was smashing against a few seconds ago. Â Jungkook finally lifted his head up, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He placed one final kiss to your forehead before locking eye contact with you.
âI know for a fact that was the best fuck of your life.â You laughed, shaking your head at the fact that his cocky attitude would never settle. Not even after using up (what you assumed was) all of his stamina.
You didnât mind it, though. In fact, you were starting to grow fond of it.
âIt certainly was, but look at all theââ
The can of paint gave way to the pull of gravity, and tumbled to the ground with a deafening crack, the contents of the can flying out and splattering directly onto you and Jungkook. You knew what it was as soon as it hit your skin, and you immediately wondered why someone would leave a damn can of open paint on the top shelf.
It was brief, a big splash, so neither of you really had time to react to it. When you finally lifted your head up, Jungkookâs chest was covered in black paint, as were your legs and skirt. Seriously, the one fucking day you decide to wear pink?
ââMess. Look at all the mess.â You finished your sentence with a giggle, thankful that you kept towels in the room during your classes. Itâd never come out of your skirt, but at least you could wipe it off of your skin.
Your gaze met Jungkooks and you both burst out in a fit of giggles. You couldnât help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the polar opposite of the domineering man whoâd just rocked your world minutes before. This Jungkook was soft, open, lighter. His laughter was the most beautiful melody that had ever graced your ears and you wouldnât have minded listening to it for a very long time. His joy was contagious, and you couldnât stop the goofy smile from spreading across your lips as he wrapped his arms around you in a playful hug.
Though his touch still sent electricity through you, this was different. It was sweet and gentle. You let yourself melt in his embrace, drinking in the way he made you feel so secure, so wanted. You sighed happily. You grinned mischievously then, collecting some of the paint off of the surface of the desk and wiping a thick stripe of it across his cheek. He froze in shock then glared at you, a hint of a smile playing on those gorgeous lips.
He reached out to grab you, but you were too fast, shrieking in delight as you ran away from him. Jungkook chased you around the small art studio, his laughter floating through the air like your favorite song. His arms snaked around you and he pulled you close, rubbing his cheek against yours to spread the paint over your skin. Your giggles dissolved as he placed a tender kiss to your lips.
Pulling away and placing a peck on his nose, you began pulling your clothes back on. Jungkook watched you, admiring the way your body moved, how much sweeter you were once your attitude had been properly taken care of. You smiled at him over your shoulder, and he couldnât recall a time when heâd ever seen such a beautiful smile on any other woman. He couldnât recall seeing another woman who even compared to you.
Then realization brought a similar smile onto his own lips, and Jungkook thought to himself, that he just might have found the one.
#jungkook smut#bts smut#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x you#jungkook x you#bts jungkook#jeon jeongguk
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Time For a Change [Ch.2]
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Ever since receiving the letter from Ăcole des Beaux-Arts, the life in the Dupain-Cheng household has been pretty hectic.
Sabine and Tom, although believing in their daughterâs great talent, began taking on more difficult orders in case the scholarship wouldnât be granted. They wanted the best for their daughter, and were determined to do anything to make that girlâs smile permanent. The tuition wasnât the lowest, but they could manage to pay for it. Granted, they might not be able to go on a vacation when summer strikes as they normally would, but that was the price they were willing to pay to ease the troubles their daughter had been having in the past couple of months.
Marinette, on the other hand, had been locked in her room for the majority of her days. Going outside was either because of school, or because her other persona was needed in the streets of Paris. Occasionally, she also helped out in the bakery, noticing her parentsâ obvious effort in making more money for the tuition. But she was still focused on her studies the most.
Her classmates noticed the sudden change in the ravenetteâs mood. Going from the straight-faced âI donât careâ attitude to one reminding them of the old Marinette. Of the Marinette that wasnât a bully. Of their Everyday Ladybug.
At first, they were hopeful that she finally came to her senses. That she finally chose to drop the jealousy and realized that Lila is actually not as bad as she thought. They even approached the girl with hopeful smiles on their faces, acting as if there were never any problems between them. Their faces fell right after the smile on Marinetteâs face turned into a disgusted gesture and she asked them harshly what they wanted.
After a bit of a fight happening, they returned to their seats. They were curious as to why their classâ newest bully appeared so happy all of a sudden, but shrugged it off. They shouldnât care about her, she didnât deserve their attention. Not until she changed her attitude.
For Marinette, nothing has changed in school. There were still the occasional attempts to trip her as she minded her business in school, the occasional fights, and so on, so on. As the days continued, though, she became more and more excited to be out of the school. She was almost finished with the essay and she was satisfied with her portfolio.
Now, only to retrieve the school documents.
Sabine made her way through the empty school as quickly as possible, choosing to evade any encounter with her daughterâs soon to be ex-classmates. She swiftly made her way towards the headmasterâs office and entered after hearing a brief âcome inâ.
âAh! Good afternoon, Madame Cheng. How may I help you?â Mister Damocles seemed surprised to see her, she noticed.
âGood afternoon, Monsieur Damocles. I apologize for not calling the school first, but this is a matter I hope will be handled quickly.â She started politely, although she wanted to scream at the corrupted headmaster for everything that he let happen to her daughter. But she knew better. âI came here to retrieve my daughterâs files. All of them. And hand in the documentation about my daughterâs transfer, as she will no longer be attending this school.â The headmasterâs face immediately switched to a shock. Clearing his throat, he calmly asked why her daughter doesnât want to attend the school anymore. Sabine smiled sweetly.
âWell, there are many reasons. The school she will attend is giving my daughter more opportunities to pursue her future career than your school ever did. The programs they offer are simply perfect for our daughter. And of course, they really prioritize their students, their privacy, and most importantly, their security. Which is something I recall your school is greatly lacking, seeing as you expelled my daughter without even checking the security cameras or neglected how my daughter has been bullied for the majority of her school days here. So, the real question is for me; why didnât I let my daughter transfer out of this school earlier?â The headmaster was flabbergasted, staring at the parent with a bit of sweat pouring down his forehead as he realized the truth behind the womanâs words.
âSo, the documents, please?â
âOf- Of course. Ermâ Begrudgingly, the headmaster reached into the appropriate cupboard where the studentsâ folders were kept and, after a little bit of searching, pulled out a slightly full folder labeled âDupain-Chengâ and gave it to Sabine.
âThank you, Monsieur Damocles, and goodbye.â Hearing the door close and the sound of footsteps slowly retreating, he sighed out and turned to do the appropriate paperwork. The teacher would be notified after the classes are over.
Sabine made her way outside just as the school bell rang. Sighing in relief, she swiftly went towards the bakery, missing the curious stares of a few students coming out of the school.
--
The documents, along with the essay and the portfolio, were sent the exact same day they were retrieved. The family waited patiently for a response, with Marinette finally taking a breather and only helping out in the bakery to relax. She didnât worry about school anymore ever since her mom retrieved her folder from them.
Honestly, when she saw her mom with her folders in her hands, she felt immediate relief. She had no idea how much she dreaded coming to Francois Dupont until she felt the happiness from leaving. The documents were a sign. A sign that it was finally over. A sign that she was about to start anew.
A sign she was more than happy for.
She wondered, was there any other solution to this problem? Was there any other way she couldâve handled this âLie-la situationâ?
She would never know. But if this solution was the one to bring her a normal life again, she was more than happy to take it.
âMarinette? Thereâs a customer in the bakery.â
âOn it, maman!â Putting her apron away, she entered the bakery to come face to face with a blonde woman. She smiled politely. âGood afternoon, Madame. How may I help you?â The woman smiled in response, offering her a hand to shake.
âMarinette Dupain-Cheng, correct?â Marinette nodded and took her hand, âIâm Elaina Callier, one of the guidance counselor of Ăcole des Beaux-Arts. I will be the one to interview you.â Marinette looked shocked. She didnât expect the sudden appearance. She wasnât prepared! She was covered in flour and her hair was a mess, she was sure she had a fork stuck somewhere in her hair- it was a terrible first impression.
âI- Em- Oh! Em- I am so, so sorry. I didnât know you were supposed to arrive today! I mustâve not gotten the email or perhaps, it mustâve fallen into spamâŠâ
âDo not worry, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. My arrival wasnât announced to you. In fact, I am not here to interview you yet.â Marinette stopped her mumbling, turning to face the woman with a confused expression.
âOh⊠Youâre not?â The woman chuckled.
âIâm sorry if I caused your panic. I was going to contact you and arrange the date, time and place of the interview. But I planned to come to your bakery anyway.â Said girl smiled and waved it off.
âOh- I understand.â The two then talked about an appropriate date and settled with meeting two days later in a small cafĂ© close to the school she was hoping to attend. After giving the woman what she wanted, which was precisely twenty rolls and four croissants covered in chocolate.
When Marinette told her parents, they were confused as to why was the meeting place not the school, which Marinette realized is a good question.
The days leading up to the day were excruciatingly slow but when the day came, Marinette couldnât be more excited. And more nervous.
She wasnât sure which was dominating.
She passed by the café a few times when helping her parents deliver something, but never actually went inside. It was a small but cozy café with only about ten tables inside. She was pleasantly surprised to see that it was a cat-themed café, meaning that there were numerous cats and kittens inside available for the customers to pet and cuddle with. The overall design of the café was warm, intended to be as if you were in a modern cottage.
She spotted the blonde woman already inside with a cup of coffee in her hand and a small kitten on her lap. She made sure she looked presentable and made her way towards the woman. She looked up upon hearing the chair in front of her screech and smiled kindly at the young girl. They greeted each other and began discussing the school as soon as the waiter took Marinetteâs order.
âFirst things first, I donât want you to feel uncomfortable here. I donât want this to feel like an interrogation. It is far from it. This is only a formality that needs to be done. Consider this more of a⊠Friendly talk rather than a professional meeting, please. We are both equal here.â The woman seemed to be really kind and talkative. Marinette could sense a calming aura around her, which instantly made her feel relaxed.
âNow, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, we donât often get any request to transfer in the middle of the school year, what made you switch schools and join us?â The waiter brought back Marinetteâs order, hot chocolate with marshmallow and cinnamon. She thanked him before responding.
âWell⊠There were some problems with my old school that made us consider transferring. Then I stumbled upon your school and once I read more about it, I found out itâs actually better than my old school. It would help me actually improve my skill in designing and sewing. With the courses provided, I would be able to focus on my future career.â The woman perked at the mention of her hobby.
âSo you are passionate in fashion. How far would you say you are, skill based?â The girl nodded
âIâve been designing ever since I was young, at first it was just for fun, then I thought âwhy not try and make itâ and two days later, I was hanging around the bakery in my newly made dress.â The girl laughed, reminiscing the memory âLetâs just say I misunderstood the laughing of the customers as a form of a compliment. I worked hard to get better at designing as well as sewing and right now, I can say I am proud of how far Iâve come.â The woman smiled at the girl, taking sip of her own beverage before tapping away on her phone before sliding it over to Marinette.
âYou know, I thought I heard your name somewhere beforeâŠâ Taking a glance at the phone, Marinette slightly blushed as it revealed an article about Jagged Stone. Specifically, an article about the girl who designed Jagged Stoneâs glasses, album covers and (as jagged himself revealed) even his clothing. âThat was you, right?â
This is not bragging. You are not acting like Lila. This is a fact. This is your own, true, accomplishment. âYes, that was me. After designing the glasses, Jagged Stone actually kept in contact with me and would occasionally commission me for some work. At first, it was just for a few ideas on his Albums, until it escalated and he asked me to make him a suit for a gala he was to attend. Heâs been sending me commissions ever since.â The woman didnât hide her awe. She was impressed by the girlâs accomplishments at such young age and wasnât ashamed of letting it show.
âThatâs really impressive. Do you work with any other celebrity like you do with Jagged?â
âWell, I do know a few, though I am not as close with any of them as I am with Jagged. Iâve worked with Clara Nightingale in the past, as well as Gabriel Agreste. Though, I cannot really count that as âWork withâ, but I did win a contest of his and my work has been displayed in one of his fashion shows.â
âYou have a lot of accomplishments for somebody so young. From what Iâve seen on the internet, you have an impressive amount of talent, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. Our school would be honored to call you our student.â
That was it.
Marinette felt like she could die right then and there.
From happiness, of course. And perhaps shock or even relief. In that moment, all the anxiety she felt in the past couple of months, weeks, hours, just vanished. Or perhaps, her mind just pushed it aside for a little while. She didnât care at the moment. She was just glad.
âBut before we move on, there is something we must discuss.â
And just like that, it was back. Madame Callier put on a serious face as she pulled out a file from her bag. Marinette nodded when the woman looked up, indicating to keep going. âYour grades are flawless, you were really one of the top students at your previous school. And while your attendance is tainted with a lot of late, it is nothing to hold against you, seeing as it did improve in the last couple of months. But,â She slid the file over to Marinette, turning it upside down so that the girl could actually read itâs content. As soon as Marinetteâs eyes read the first couple of words, she felt the anxiety in the back of her mind amplifying.
There, on her school report, was the incident from the previous year.
There had been numerous reports regarding Marinette Dupain Cheng and her fellow classmate, Lila Rossi. Marinette had been presumably bullying said classmate ever since the girl transferred from her home country. Various other classmates of theirs reported various acts throughout the year, worrying about the sudden change in Mademoiselle Dupain-Chengâs behavior. They confirmed that Lila often opened up to them about how Marinette had been treating her and demanded something to be done. It was until the second semester of the year did Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng step up her shameful acts.
On March 20, Lila Rossi was seen at the bottom of the staircase, with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng standing right at the top. Mademoiselle Rossi had been hurt in the process and her knee had to be taken care of by the school nurse. After calling Mademoiselle Dupain-Chengâs parents, Mademoiselle Rossi finally informed us about the situation that had been going on. Marinette had been verbally assaulting Mademoiselle Rossi repeatedly, until it slowly evolved into physical harassment.
Mademoiselle Rossi also stated that Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng stole a family heirloom, which was later confirmed when it fell out of Mademoiselle Dupain-Chengâs locker.
Such behavior couldnât be overlooked and Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng was immediately expelled from the school.
She didnât understand. How could this still be in her report? The whole thing had been exposed as nothing but Lilaâs lie because of her supposed âLying disorderâ. Why was it still there? Was Lila going to actually follow her life everywhere she went? Was she going to actually lose her only chance at getting into the school because of Lilaâs lies?
No, she couldnât let it. She couldnât let her.
She sighed and looked the woman in the eyes. She saw her eyes widen slightly before softening. And she could guess why. She could feel the tears in the corners of her eyes, but she did everything she could to push every ounce of sadness and fear back.
âIâm sorry. That- Everything in that report is a lie.â And so, she explained everything. She explained her whole situation in school- leaving out any unnecessary details, of course. She couldnât let Lila win and let her ruin her chance.
She took notice of every change on Madame Callierâs face. Sympathy, anger, confusion. Those were the most prominent ones. Halfway through explaining, a small black kitty with a white dot in the middle of itâs forehead jumped onto her lap and purred. She had no idea whether it just randomly wanted to be petted or if it felt the girlâs sadness and came to her comfort.
Either way, she appreciated the little kitty and knew that if she were to come back, this kitty would surely be her favorite.
By the end of her little biography, both her and Madame Callierâs cups were empty and the kittens in their laps sound asleep.
âWe will have to check this with your previous school, as well as your guardians before we remove that report from your card, but you donât need to worry about it permanently being on there.â She assured with a small smile. âWe had our doubts about the report when we first read it. There are too many holes in the story, as well as the lack of evidence. We will consult this with your previous school and further investigation will be done. If the school neglected something, we will contact the school board to investigate the whole school.â
âThank you⊠You have no idea how much relief hearing this brings meâŠâ The woman smiled and nodded slightly.
âWe do not tolerate bullying of any sort at our school, which is why we were concerned about the report in the first place. I apologize for doubting you, but it is easy to put a mask on nowadays. We knew you mentioned bullying as one of the reasons you wanted to leave your school, but I had no idea how serious it was. I apologize for that. Rest assure that you wonât find such behavior at our school.â A tear escaped Marinetteâs eye, which she quickly wiped away.
âThank you, Madame Callier.â
âNo need to thank me, dear.â Marinette smiled at the drop of formalities. After the heartfelt discussion, it finally felt more as a friendly talk than an interview. âWe will still need to check the story with your guardians and your previous school. Not that I do not trust you, but we must follow standard procedures.â She put away the file before making some notes on her phone. The kitty in Marinetteâs lap suddenly jerked up, stretching and moving to a more comfortable position.
âWhy did we meet up in this cafĂ©, anyway?â She mumbled, eyeing the kitty closely âI mean⊠Arenât interviews usually taken care of on school grounds? In an office?â Madame Callier looked up from her phone.
âIt is quite simple. Unauthorized people are not allowed on campus. We do not allow random people to walk onto the school grounds due to security reasons. We upgraded our security even more when Hawkmoth began terrorizing the city. And even without Hawkmoth, there are many dangerous people out there. You even mentioned one yourself just a moment ago. We intend to keep such people out of our school for the safety of our students. You and your parents will get permission to enter once you are a student of ours.â
Marinette nodded and Madame Callier went back to taking notes for a while, before switching her focus back to the girl. The two conversed for a few more minutes before they parted ways. As she was walking home, Marinette couldnât help but feel as if a heavy burden had been lifted off of her shoulders.
She didnât know whether it was because she was actually accepted, because she would no longer be in that toxic environment, because she would no longer have to worry about her own safety..
Or perhaps, because she finally opened up, and she had a place where Lilaâs lies wouldnât reach her.
After all this time.
She finally felt free.
[masterlist]
#time for a change#Marinette#marinette dupain cheng#MLB#fanfic#mlb fanfic#ml salt#salt#felinette#felix culpa#felix graham de vanily#Felix#ml class salt#lila salt#marinette deserves better
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Muse
Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.
Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didnât expect to become friends, and they definitely didnât expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.
Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but itâs not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)
Word count: 3,721 words
Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by âreadingâ, I meant âscrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindleâ. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem âŠ?
Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldnât be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than Iâd dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones Iâd been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.
My heart skipped a beat â or was it the pothole the bus went over? â when I came across a new post by George. I didnât know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadnât social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.
It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him â or what I knew about him â wasnât beholden to anyone for a moment.
His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: âMood.â I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.
An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances heâd read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. Iâd be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or heâd see my homely mug and locked profile, and heâd think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.
The beauty of the Internet was that it made âout of sight, out of mindâ fairly easy to put into practice.
I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: âHi! Hope youâre doing well. Iâve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. Thereâs something so ⊠raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. Theyâre beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.â
I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something thatâd never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldnât were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from â
âOh, my God!â I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moonâs âShut Up and Danceâ at half of maximum volume, so ⊠loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation â not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, youâd see some real shit in due time, too.
I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldnât think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:
âHey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, arenât they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.â
I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet âŠ
Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name â the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: âAnyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.â
What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.
I replied, âIâm fine, thank you. Iâm on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?â
Most of my notifications that day were from him.
âŠâ§âŠâ§
I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldnât help it. I was so, so excited â and so, so nervous. This was my and Georgeâs first time meeting each other in person. Thereâd be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? Weâd been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. Weâd seen each other even on our âIâll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the bestâ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well âŠ
The sound of someone entering the cafĂ© stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time itâd take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh â probably â time was the charm: it was George â and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn ⊠just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.
I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him â and everything about us â clicked.
He was just like me.
And I was just like him.
And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.
âHi! Oh, my God, itâs so good to finally meet you!â I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, thatâd be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, thatâd be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?
âItâs good to meet you, too,â he said, his expression of cheer unabating. âIâm going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.â His smile turned into a grin. âDo you want anything? My treat,â he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.
âI was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.â I didnât know why I didnât get one earlier. âThank you.â
âNo problem. Iâll be right back.â
As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldnât make this shit up. In all the years Iâd been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didnât even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own â I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasnât exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.
Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was âI never thought Iâd meet another one like meâ.
I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. âMe neither.â Then it hit me, and I quickly said, âItâs fine if you donât want to talk about it, though.â Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.
âAre you kidding me?â His face lit up with boyish glee. âIâve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And Iâm so fucking chuffed itâs you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.â It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.
âSame. How were you turned?â
âI was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?â
âSecondary school. I was walking home from the library.â
âShit, that was some time ago, huh?â
âAlmost half my life a werewolf.â
âDo you know the werewolf that did it?â
âNope. How about you?â
He shook his head. âNah. Kind of sucks, doesnât it, that youâll never get to know the person whoâs changed your life so ⊠deeply? They wonât remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.â He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. âI struggled with what Iâd become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.â Oh, yeah. âI felt ⊠grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didnât want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. Thatâs extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didnât ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasnât there the night before.â
âOh, my God.â
âRight? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. Iâd started some of my art â bet you canât guess which one â on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. Itâs as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.â He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. âSorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. Iâve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.â Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. âShit, Iâm such anâ â he shot me an impish look as he swallowed â âanimal, arenât I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!â
I laughed. He was such a dork. âItâs not âspiritual woo-wooâ. Itâs amazing. How is that even possible?â
âI have no idea.â He held out his hands in front of him. âSo thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.â He waggled his thumbs. âFuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say itâs like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.â
âAnd here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, thatâs amazing.â
âI think thatâs whatâs keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering theyâre such far departures from what I usually post.â
âThat explains why theyâre so ⊠visceral.â
âYeah? I figure youâd appreciate them even more now.â He smirked. âAnd you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didnât make them blurry and made them more explicit âŠâ Oh, heâd get a different breed of followers altogether. âBut thatâs fine. I donât want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. Itâs just a part of who I am.â
âMy turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because ⊠they make me feel seen, because theyâre drawn by you.â
He put a hand on his chest. âThatâs not corny. Iâm happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I donât care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.â He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. âDid you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. Thatâd be giving me way too much credit.â
âNo, I just thought you like wolves a lot.â
âSame here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time ⊠that made me feel something, too.â
âThen Iâm very glad we got to be friends,â I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.
âMe too.â He turned his hand over and clasped mine.
âI have an idea,â I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. âDo you want to meet on the next full moon?â
âSure. I canât wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.â
âYour place, then?â
He nodded. âUnless youâre cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasnât happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesnât like change?â
I stared at him in disbelief.
âI canât help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.â
We sat and talked in the cafĂ© the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didnât want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldnât let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. Itâd be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didnât think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.
âŠâ§âŠâ§
I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, weâd been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didnât question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each otherâs company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not Georgeâs presence, was what Iâd been missing all my life?
My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didnât get to turn into something more: heâd had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.
We wished each other a good morning with a kiss â no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, âDo you want to see what I painted last night, love? Iâm really proud of it, and I think youâd love it, too.â
I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.
He returned as quickly as heâd left the table. His hands held on to a painting ⊠of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed heâd ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. âItâs beautiful,â I said, tearing up a little, frankly. âI love it. Itâs going to look so good in our new placeâ, along with the recent paintings heâd made of a similar nature. Heâd come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his â our â condition on canvas.
âOf course, when I have the most stunning model.â He gave me a peck on the cheek. âI love you, my muse, my mate.â
#exophilia#terato#werewolf#monster love#monster romance#mine#fun fact#I wrote this story in early october last year#and it's kind of truth in television for me now
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this isnât related to a specific episode but Iâm confused about the beginning of John & Yokoâs relationship. Iâve heard so many different things about when/how it started- from she was stalking him to meeting at a gallery to Paulâs manuscripts (or pictures of Paulâs butt?!) to they were sleeping together two weeks after meeting- also varying dates on the 2 Virgins night (before or after NYC?) And was he really pining after her in India? Did he try to bring her? I trust you guys- whatâs the deal?
Hello listener, thanks for the ask!
Regarding John & Yokoâs origins:Â some stories are inconsistent, and some things are unknowable (i.e. internal emotions), but weâll do our best to lay out what we do know.
Yoko approached Paul first, through a contact (probably Dunbar) related to Indica Bookshop and Gallery. Since Paul was a patron, supporter and friend of Indica and was somewhat known within the art community as a rich celebrity with a growing interest in the avant-garde (music, films and art) he was an obvious choice for an artist seeking funding/exposure. Yoko was an avant-garde artist (performance, gallery and film) whose biggest claim to fame at that point was working with John Cage.  This was the credential/name drop with which she approached Paul at his house in Cavendish sometime in late 1965.  Paul (being Paul) invited her inside to make her pitch: she was collecting manuscripts from various composers as a birthday gift to Cage. Paul declined.  (For the record, Paul has never suggested or intimated that Yoko came onto him at that first meeting, so letâs assume she didnât and this was strictly business)  The following year, in November of 1966, Indica hosted an exhibition of Yokoâs work.  This is where John Lennon first met Yoko, when he was introduced to her by Indica co-owner John Dunbar.
This was Yokoâs initiation into the Beatlesâ world and it should ALWAYS be told like this, FULL STOP, END OF STORY. Anyone in 2020 who tells the story any other way is a bald-faced liar and a coward.
Does this sound like an overreaction? Is Paulâs part in this story really SUCH a big deal? Letâs reverse things and imagineâŠ.
In 1965, John Lennon develops a keen interest in photography. He immerses himself in the photography world, creates a dark room in his house and brings his photo influences into the Beatlesâ artwork. John also finances and helps launch a photography gallery in Weybridge.Â
One day, photographer Linda Eastman shows up at Kenwood to show John her portfolio and ask for one of Johnâs original photographs.  John declines.  Paul later meets Linda at her exhibition at Weybridge Gallery. 18 months later, Paul starts dating her, calls her his new partner, declares her the greatest influence in his life, and brings her to every Beatles session. Paul and Linda have a joint photography exhibit at the Weybridge Gallery in 1968, hosted by one of Johnâs closest friends and mentors. Â
Paul then loudly and repeatedly proclaims that he was the only Beatle ever interested in photography, heâs responsible for all the visual art in the Beatles oeuvre and implies that John couldnât stimulate him anymore because he was too square and conservative to understand or appreciate photography. Â
Be honest and try to imagine that. No one would EVER let Paul and Linda get away with that level of bullshit, but for some reason, Jean Jackets are slavishly obedient to whatever John and Yoko say, regardless of facts. Â
So anyway, back to those facts...
After the meeting in November 1966, Yoko began to pursue John Lennon at his home, the studio and even Brianâs office. She constantly asked for funding and money, but was probably seeking publicity as well.  There are rumors that she was also pursuing John sexually, but to our best knowledge they are unsubstantiated. In 1967, Yoko was REALLY trying hard to get her career off the ground and/or get famous; there are numerous accounts from multiple people in the Beatles circle (Hunter Davies, Michael Lindsay Hogg, Robert Fraser, Barry Miles) that Yoko was hustling nonstop at that time. So while Lennon was her main target, our impression is that she was probably just trying to make inroads with anyone who could help her become famous.  Accounts consistently suggest that John intermittently found her intriguing (when he didnât find her scary or annoying), so I imagine she kept soliciting him because thatâs where she made the most progress. Anyway, her stalking is a matter of fact, corroborated by EVERYONE.  Also corroborated by everyone is the fact that John began to sometimes talk to her and occasionally let her inside (the same way the Beatles treated other Apple Scruffs), starting in/around late 1967. Â
Tony Bramwell tells a very bizarre story about John being panicked one day in late â67, regretful and paranoid after giving Yoko a hand-written letter and a lock of his hair (?). A frightened John asked Tony to retrieve the items from Yoko.  Considering the fact that John believed (until his death) that Yoko had magical powers, it sounds as if John asked her to make some sort of voodoo/love potion. Perhaps their early friendship began as sorceress/client (but who knows? Thatâs just a guess).
We know that John continued to receive tons of mail from Yoko while he was on retreat in India. According to John, he eventually began to really look forward to receiving these items. Yoko would send bizarre, artsy stuff like a maxipad with a drop of red paint in the middle. Who wouldnât enjoy weird mail like that?  :)  According to John (in both 1970 AND 1980), he still only thought of Yoko as a weird artist by that point. He insists he was NOT interested in her sexually or romantically, only intellectually, and there is nothing to suggest that he was lying about that. More importantly, John was having some kind of emotional breakdown in India; he wrote and talked about feeling suicidal in Maharishi's camp.  John never specified the exact cause of his breakdown, although he did later pinpoint ongoing feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness. Â
After returning from India, John was highly emotional, erratic, depressed, and abusing drugs and alcohol at an alarming rate. Derek Taylor recounts John taking some acid trips at his house over two weekends.  During one of these weekends, Johnâs now-friend Yoko (who he still insists he wasnât sexually interested in) showed up and helped ârebuild Johnâs ego.â In other words, Yoko threw John a life raft and helped pull him out of the darkest, bleakest depression of his life. Â
Then in May, after months of erratic behavior, John declared he was Jesus in an Apple board meeting (!). The following night, with Cynthia away for the weekend, John invited Yoko over (or had Mal invite her) and the two of them dropped acid, made some tapes and had sex for the first time.  As far as we can tell, this information is accurate as it is corroborated by Pete Shotten (who was making the tapes with John before Yoko came over and replaced him!).  Pete said in the morning John came downstairs and shocked Pete by saying Yoko was the answer to all his problems and he was so certain heâd go off and live in a tent with her. That sounds shocking until you realize John was on acid at the time (in that light, not quite as shocking).  :)  In any event, after that point John and Yoko became basically inseparable for the next 5 years.
There are rumors/theories that John and Yoko were already having sex for months, but so as far as we can tell these are based on nothing but speculation. We believe Johnâs initial interest in Yoko was intellectual and personal rather than sexual, as he contends. We think John slowly warmed to Yoko over that 18 month period; while initially he mightâve found her annoying, frightening and disturbing, eventually he began to find her quirky, intriguing and charming. We believe their relationship was founded in friendship and that Yokoâs emotional support (and her professed admiration for him as an artist) during that acid trip at Derekâs was vitally important to their bond.
Now, hereâs where things get murky.Â
John was also later quoted as saying that in retrospect he realized he was unconsciously falling in love with her from afar whilst in India - which may or may not have been the case. It is certainly common to look back with fondness on oneâs own courtship and also possible to fall in love before you realize you are in love (John described experiencing something similar in 1964) so debating this is kinda pointless and we choose not to nitpick this particular point. However, people have since used this to extrapolate that John was, as you put it, âpining for Yoko in Indiaâ which is simply not what John described.  John described gradually looking forward to her wacky mail and developing a strictly platonic curiosity about her.  If you are highly invested in the John & Yoko love story, itâs easy to spin this into secret âpining,â but when you consider that John was, as he put it, suicidal and going insane, it doesnât quite make sense. What makes even less sense is why John wouldnât immediately ask Yoko out upon returning to London in early April, especially since she was aggressively pursuing him at that point. Yoko was present for at least one of the Derek Taylor acid trips in May.  Why did John wait an entire month to initiate a private moment with her? Â
John also said (in Lennon Remembers, I believe) that he privately considered âbringingâ Yoko to India (though not as a love interest, but rather in her contemporaneous role as amusing curiosity, i.e. Magic Alex 2.0). Once again, this may or may not be true, but we have no reason to doubt him.  Nevertheless, this has also been spun fannishly into âJohn was pining for Yoko as a girlfriendâ which (again) isnât what he said. :)
To be perfectly candid, John & Yokoâs public persona is almost entirely artificially crafted. THIS is corroborated (and detailed) by nearly everyone close to them- May Pang, Ray Connolly, the Dakota staff, etc. That doesnât mean their love was fake, just that their relationship was much different from how they portrayed/sold it (or how fanboys like Lewisohn portray it). At the end of the day, they are just celebrities who we donât actually know.  We want things to make sense, which is why I think the âJohn was secretly pining for Yoko for years and his mind was obliterated by loveâ appeals to some people. Itâs a cleaner, more familiar boy-meets-girl story. Â
Rumors and conspiracy theories are plentiful and can lead you down all kinds of rabbit holes (fun or infuriating, depending on your POV). The âJohn & Yoko were secret loversâ one makes things a bit sleazier and sexier (I believe Albert Goldman really leaned into this one!). But if you really want to consider everything, you should also consider this: Yokoâs Tarot card reader John Green insists that Yoko claims Paul was the one she wanted all along.
She told him: Paul was her first choice (as boyfriend), which is why she approached him first. She moved on to John only to make Paul jealous (!), which ultimately backfired when Paul then refused to make advances on Johnâs new girlfriend. According to Yoko, Paulâs sense of propriety (?!) ironically prevented him from being with Yoko (even though Yoko KNEW Paul was always in love with her)! So Yoko inadvertently got stuck with John, who she didnât really want. Also she was convinced, in the late 70s that Paul was still in love with her and only married Linda because he was devastated he couldnât have Yoko!
Green swears this is what Yoko told him (for the record, she also thought Mick Jagger was in love with her). Do we believe Yoko said it, that she believed it? Who knows, maybe?!? Greenâs credibility is certainly questionable. But itâs no crazier than much of the nonsense in Goldmanâs book (or Francie Schwartzâs), and Green is alleging to quote Yoko directly. Parts of this account do ring oddly true; Yoko does seems interested in Paul in the contemporaneous audio/footage from the late 60s. John did ask Paul not to sleep with Yoko (which Paul seemed a bit nonplussed by). John and Yoko are bizarrely convinced in the early 70s that Paul and Lindaâs marriage is doomed (is it because Yoko convinced John that Paul is actually in love with her???). Many believe Yoko was jealous of Johnâs affection for Paul; could Yoko also be jealous of Paulâs affection and respect for John? Maybe. But this story blatantly contradicts the entire John & Yoko Myth and is so over the top weird... thereâs just no room in our understanding for this alternate reality where Paul and Yoko are the true star-crossed lovers :) Â
The point is that you canât believe ALL the theories and rumors because they often directly contradict each other. Sometimes you just have to use your own best judgment. We hope this was helpful and that we didnât just confuse you further. Thanks again for writing in! -Phoebe and the crew
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Winter Bear
â pairing: Photographer!Taehyung X Artist!Reader
 â genre: Slice of life, Romance
â words: 4k
â rating: SFW
â warnings: none~
â notes: I think this may be my favorite one so far, I kind of just woke up last night and started writing and tbh Iâm really happy with the outcome. I hope you all like it as wellÂ
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You hadnât exactly noticed him at first. You mean, at your small arts college you were well into your third year and could name almost everyone by now. Yet somehow in the corner of the class, one nameless student sat. His hair was shaggy and it covered his eyes and most often his clothes were oversized, making his hands look like small paws as he fiddled with his camera. His camera seemed to be the one thing permanently stuck to his body as you noticed, it never left his hands. In class as the professor would demonstrate, you notice rather than looking with his own eyes, he liked to look through the eyes of the camera lense instead, as if it somehow made more sense to him this way.Â
You found all this out from one class period. Soon the professor dismissed the class and you began to slowly pack your belongings, still captivated by the nameless boy. He too quickly packed up his belongings, a canvas tote with some sketch pads and his pencils, and left with his camera in hand. Now you wouldnât consider yourself a stalker so to say, but he most definitely caught your attention. Leaving the classroom only a few paces behind him, you kept a discreet eye on him, as he floated through the halls of the art building. He liked to stop occasionally, at windows, and peer through the camera. You figured he was taking photos, as he would pull back and glance at the screen, either a slight scowl or a neutral look on his face. You followed for as long as you could, before he reached the large stairs leading to the roof. There was no way you could follow without suspicion so you turned around quickly and left down the hall, unaware of the camera angled back at you, the gleam in the photographer's eye as he captured the way your hair moved in the sunlight.Â
Your second day of classes noticing the camera boy went as uneventful as the first one, but today, you learned his name was Taehyung.Â
âTaehyung, how does the composition of this painting make you feel the artist's emotions?â
Your ears perked up at the mention of his name as you glanced at him from across the classroom, Taehyung deep in thought as he toyed with the strap of his camera. He seemed to be deep in thought as he stared at his desk, but soon enough his head shot up to look at the board.Â
âThe composition isnât what makes you feel the emotion, it resides with the colors.â
Your eyes widened a bit, you werenât expecting his voice to be so deep. Your teacher nodded in agreement, âGood I am glad you caught on. See class this painting in particular-âÂ
The rest of the lecture droned on for you, but you couldnât help but be so curious about Taehyung. You hands absentmindedly sketched down every aspect you watched, the profile of his face, his hands, the hair in his eyes. To be quite honest, you werenât expecting to feel so inspired.Â
âMaybe itâs a signâŠâ you thought, as the class ended and everyone began to pack up their things. The teacher had written on the board the final date for your classes end of the year exhibition, and so far, this boy in class was the only thing striking your creative nerve. Making sure you threw everything into your bag, you mustered up enough courage to quickly make your way over to him. Up close, he still didnât even acknowledge your presence fixated on his notes in front of him, until you gently tapped him on the shoulder, shaking him from his daze.Â
âUm hey?â You smiled, gripping the strap of your tote bag nervously. He stared at you wide eyed as he nodded a greeting back to you.Â
âI know this is a little embarrassing, but Iâm Y/n...and I was wondering if for my exhibition, you would model for me?â You asked quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. âYou see..Iâve been in quite a rut lately and well, right now your kind of like...my muse?â You explained, trying not to sound like a weirdo. You dug through your bag quickly and pulled out the few pages you had sketched and laid them out on the table before him. âI mostly focus on sketches and charcoal, so I wouldnât need too much of your time...âÂ
Taehyungâs eyes carefully scanned over your work, his hands lightly brushing the lines on the page as he recognized them as his own. His eyes went a little wide as he stared back at you. âYou really...want to sketch me for your final grade?â He asked, almost in disbelief. You nodded vigorously. âYes!â
He smiled a bit at your excitement before collecting your sketches and passing them back to you. âAlright, I guess Iâll do it then.â You really couldn't contain your excitement as you thanked him fervently. You both planned to meet after classes on select days of the week, after all, you didnât want to take up too much of his time since you knew he would also need to prepare for his final project as well. You used an old classroom on the third floor of the art building that never was used anymore, so you made it your own personal studio. You couldnât lie, you were nervous. After all, it would be your first time alone with Taehyung. As you began to set up your easel and supplies, the door softly creaked open. Taehyung's head appeared through the door, giving you a boxy smile when he saw you.Â
âHey Taehyung!â You smiled, pulling out the last few pieces of your supplies. He entered the room, dressed in a black turtleneck and denim jacket, a small pair of glasses resting gently on his face. He was handsome. That was easy enough, but there was some sort of poeticness to everything he did, from the way he fidgeted with a ring on his finger, or how he fixed his hair. You were utterly captivated by Kim Taehyung.Â
âIâll just have you take a seat, and Iâll start the first round of sketches.â you instructed, pointing him in the direction of the chair. He nodded and sat down quickly, his hands placed in his lap. You tapped your pencil to your lip gently as you examined his position. âYou look just a little too...stiff. How about we try this?â You walked over to the chair, motioning him to stand up. Quickly you flipped the chair around, sitting with the back against your chest, resting your head on your arms with your fingers gently dangling.Â
âI think this will be most comfortable for you, and I will get the points I want.â You smiled. Taehyung nodded as he mimicked your position on the chair, glancing at you to make sure he got it right. âPerfect.â you smiled and began to sketch. The silence at first was awkward, more so for Taehyung as he had nothing to do except not move. You realized this a little too late into the session and felt bad immediately.Â
âSo Taehyung...what program are you in right now?â you asked, glancing at him from behind the easel.
âPhotography.â he answered simply, moving his eyes so he could look at you a little bit better. You cocked your head as you looked back at your sketch. âIf you are in the photography program, why are you in the painting class then?â You asked curiously. âI realized I had never seen you before so I was curious.â you added. He nodded, âWell itâs all relative isnât it? I like understanding the emotions of painting so I could replicate it in my photography.â You nodded in understanding as you placed your tools down, stretching your arms out. âThat does make sense. Maybe you are a genius Kim Taehyung.â you teased as you stood up, grabbing a water for yourself and one for him as well. He gratefully took the drink as he stretched his arms out, groaning from the stiffness of his body. You pulled a chair up next to him and slumped down exhausted. âThat should be enough for today. Itâs already looking like how I pictured.â You admitted, wiping your hands clean on your jeans. Taehyung smiled politely, âIâm glad I could be of some help to you.â You watched him carefully, excited at the opportunity to see him so close. âWhat do you think you're going to do for your final project?â You asked, standing up so you could start packing up your belongings. Taehyung gave a shrug, âI started a few different portfolios throughout the year, Iâm just not sure which one I will use.â You nodded in understanding. âWhat do you like to photograph the most then?â Taehyung thought for a moment as he helped clean up. âPeople probably. I like seeing what others canât.â You bit back a smile at his remark. âHow very philosophical Taehyung.â You grinned as he chuckled sheepishly. âWell why do you like sketching? Specifically me?â He asked with a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes as you took the paper off your easel, rolling it up into your tote. âDonât flatter yourself, you just happened to be there when my inspiration struck.â Both of you laughed as you finished cleaning and locking up the room behind you. âSee you next time!â You smiled as you gave him a wave goodbye. Taehyung nodded his goodbye as he left down the other end of the hall.Â
That night you stared at the sketch.Â
âIt really doesnât capture enough of...him.â You decided as you examined it closely. Sure, you captured his anatomy to the best of your ability but it didnât scream Kim Taehyung. You started closely at the fine lines of his hands before you realized what was missing.Â
The next session, Taehyung positioned himself in his original spot, but cocked his head as he heard your request.Â
âMy cameraâŠ?âÂ
You nodded, âThe sketch is fine but itâs missing some sort of⊠Taehyung essence if you will.â You explained. âYou always have your camera with you, I think that would help in my sketch.â Taehyung nodded, listening to your explanation. He stood up to go to his bag on the nearby table, rummaging through it until the silver device appeared. Putting himself back into the same position but now, from his hand dangled the camera. You stared transfixed on him, now this was exactly what you were missing. Starting to work you quickly sketched the camera into his hand, relishing in the new soul within your piece. Focused on your work, you didnât even notice his finger moving until his camera shuttered and flashed. You glanced over at him, a mischievous smile on his face. âMy hand slipped.â You rolled your eyes as you continued your work, âSo Taehyung, you like to photograph people. Who are your favorite people to photograph?âÂ
You could see his eyes flit back and forth as he thought of an answer. âMy friends. They inspire me a lot.â He admitted as you nodded to encourage him to continue. He started to name off his group, Jimin and Hoseok from the dance program, and Jungkook who was also in photography. Yoongi from music production. Namjoon from political science and Jin from management. âWeâve all been friends since freshman year.. Iâm not sure what I would do without them.â His words were so earnest and full of love it made you feel a bit emotional towards these people you never met. âThey sound like really great people Taehyung.â You smiled, setting down your charcoal and wiping your hands on your pants. âWe can take a break now.â You smiled, walking back over to him. He smiled his thanks as he stretched out from the chair, groaning with pleasure.Â
The sunlight shone in from the large window at the front of the classroom, golden dust particles dancing in the air between you two. The sun caressed Taehyung's face gently, casting him in a golden glow. Smiling you glanced away, your heart fluttering gently. âThanks for taking the time to pose for me. How about we go get some lunch? My treat?â You offered, collecting your bag from off of the floor. Taehyung nodded, âSounds perfect.â As he collected his own belongings. Leaving the room you both made your way outside onto your school's campus, the trees swaying gently in the spring breeze. You both found out you loved coffee and pastries, loved reading and watching movies, and enjoyed the same music. There was a cafe nearby and you two took some seats on the patio across from each other. Taehyung quickly pulled out his camera and started looking through the lense at the scenery before him.Â
âWhy do you do that?â You asked, sipping on your coffee. He glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, âDo what?â You motioned to the camera, âYou always just look through the lense, youâre not even taking picturesâ He glanced at his camera and made an ah sound. âWell you never know when the perfect picture could happen. I like to look around and see if anything looks worth shooting-â He resumed his position of looking through his camera before abruptly turning it to you, quickly capturing a photo. You looked at him bewildered as he glanced at the preview on the screen. âPerfectâŠâ He mumbled with a smile, his eyes glancing up to yours. The blush on your face was immediate as you huffed it off, taking a sip of your coffee. Taehyung grinned as well, not taking his eyes off of you and you quickly changed the subject.Â
Before you knew it, it was the end of the semester, only a few more days before your final exhibition. You were so excited to finally be able to relax and take a break but soon you also realized, you only had one more sketch session with Taehyung. Over the course of the last few weeks, the two of you grew close. The air seemed to change between you two during the last few sessions, Taehyung's eyes somehow always finding yours and when you would call him over to see your work, he would lean in close, one hand one the back of your chair and his face close to yours. After sessions you would stare at your work, a twinge of sadness creeping into your mind.Â
The last session with Taehyung came quick. You found yourself slowly setting up this time around, your hands lingering on the easel and on the paper before you. You almost didnât even hear the door open before Taehyung crept in.Â
âAre you excited Y/n?â He asked with a smile, taking his seat in the center of the room. You cocked your head before he laughed softly, âItâs our last session, your project will be done soon!â Your smile faltered a bit before you were able to nod your head excited, âIâm ready for a break! How about you? Your portfolio coming along?â You two chatted and discussed while you began your warm up sketch, the daylight casting long shadows throughout the room. Before you knew it, the room was starting to grow dark.Â
âNo...no, no, no.â As quick as it began, your last session with Taehyung had to end.Â
âWow Y/n these are amazing. I canât wait to see the final project!â He smiled at you, collecting his belongings. You nodded quietly, rolling up the paper into your bag. It was all too much. You didnât realize how much you enjoyed his company, how quickly he became a constant in your life. You didn't realize a few tears started falling past your lashes, and Taehyung's demeanor changed quickly. Placing his bag on the nearest table he jogged over to you, your head hanging low as you gripped your tote.Â
âY/n, Y/n what's wrong?â He asked concerned, his hand gently reaching for your face, gently lifting your face to his.Â
âI-tâs nothingâŠâ You sniffled, trying to wipe your face quickly. Taehyung shook his head, âNo what is wrong? You wouldnât be crying if you were fine.â He said softly, his thumb gently tracing soothing patterns on your cheeks.Â
âHow can I tell him?â
âDoes he feel the same way?â
Your eyes glanced towards the floor before putting on a fake smile, âIâve just grown so used to seeing you, Iâm sad I wonât see my friend as often.â
Taehyung watched carefully as he lowered his hands, âAh...well were still going to be friends. We can see each other soon.â He said with a smile, âBut donât be sad because of that. Let's get going.âÂ
You couldnât tell exactly what happened, but Taehyung's demeanor dropped. Mentally punishing yourself for making things awkward you two parted ways in the hall, giving one last wave to each other. It felt as though you were leaving something important behind, but he was right, you could see him anytime, after all he even said you were friends. But that was the issue. In your room, you flopped onto your bed staring at your ceiling.
You didn't want to be friends with him.Â
You were in love with Kim Taehyung.Â
The day of your final exhibition was here, and you stood in the classroom carefully arranging your sketches on your display. The class was set up in a museum style, allowing everyone to browse around and visit each other's works, you were even allowed to invite people from other classes. You smiled as some friends came over to see your work before you paused, hearing an all to familiar voice.Â
âJungkook bring them in here!â
Taehyung entered the room, his gray sweater rolled up at the sleeves and a brown coat in his hands. A tall boy entered the room, carrying a large easel.
âNamjoon has the other prints, and Jimin and the others are on their way.â âJungkookâ said, placing the large easel down with ease.Â
âSo thatâs JungkookâŠâ you thought with a smile, watching the two interact like siblings. Your heart sped up as Taehyung caught your eye, saying something quickly to Jungkook and waving your way. Jungkook turned around as well, giving you a friendly nod. You waved back shyly before returning to arranging your sketches.Â
Soon the class started, and the chatter and mingling began. A lot of people gave you praise for your work, loving the different poses and points you chose to work on. You smiled as you waved off their praise before a deep voice interrupted your conversations.
âYouâre Y/n?â
You looked up, a taller individual looking at you.Â
âYeah I am? You are..?â
âNamjoon.â He smiled looking at your work. âYou really drew a lot of great pictures of our Tae.â He said, your eyes widening at his compliment.Â
âHe was a great model, Iâm really lucky he accepted my offer.â Namjoon nodded as he listened to you, âHave you gone to check his portfolio out yet?â he asked. You shook your head, confused. Namjoon smiled as he covered his mouth trying to hold back a laugh. âWell I think you should, he worked really hard and would appreciate your feedback.â You nodded, excusing yourself from the conversation to find Taehyung's table. His booth was laid out neatly, a single binder on the table. In elegant cursive the name of the portfolio was on the front of the book.
Winter Bear.
Turning the first page you smiled, it was indeed full of candid photos of his friends, all in places they seemed to love. Jungkooks photos were of him in nature and with other friends, Hoseoks was on the dance floor, Jimins at the beach. You were filled with a sense of youth and nostalgia, your eyes watering at the blatant love Taehyung had for his friends. You bit back a smile at a conversation with him that rushed to your mind
 âWhat do you like to photograph the most then?â Taehyung thought for a moment as he helped clean up. âPeople probably. I like seeing what others canât.âÂ
Turning the last few pages you realized there were a few extra photos at the end, and some of them struck a vaguely familiar. There was a figure sitting in a chair, a hand delicately reaching towards an easel, the face was focused on the art before them. You paused, staring closer at the work. Was that..you? You quickly looked at the other photos and indeed there was no denying it, the last individual in Taehyung's portfolio was you. There was the photo he took of you at the cafe as well as others you didnât know of. Tons from you in your studio, some from your walks to the cafe, one from the hallway outside of the classroom. You couldn't help your eyes watering as you reached the final page, a simple quote written in the same cursive.Â
 All the bad days
Theyâre nothing to meÂ
With you
-Taehyung
Quickly looking around you searched for his familiar head of hair. Namjoon seemed to notice you looking and you caught a discreet motion to the hallway outside of the class. Giving him a smile, you ran out of the room looking up and down the hall for Taehyung.Â
âWhere could he be?â
You started to panic, unable to think of where he would go to before one idea came to mind. It was worth a shot. Quickly heading up the stairs, you ran to your studio, noticing the door slightly ajar. You paused in front of the door, out of breath, before softly sliding it open.
Taehyung was there. His back against the door, leaning against one of the tables in the room, his hand gently tracing over the easel you had used so many times before.Â
âTaehyungâŠâ You called, a look of shock on his face as he glanced up at you.Â
âY/n what are you doing here?â He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. You made your way to him quickly, causing Taehyung to lean back against the table.Â
âI saw your...portfolio.â You said out of breath, looking him in the eyes. He seemed to grow a bit shy as he glanced away from you.Â
âIâm sorry that I didnât tell you... I hope youâre okay with it itâs just..â He started but stopped, his voice growing soft as he fiddled with his fingers. You quickly reached out your own hand, taking his hand in yours. His eyes grew wide as he stared at you, âItâs just what Tae?â you pressed.Â
He let out a shaky breath, âI never wanted to be just friends with you. You inspire me, you make me so happy Y/n but I just...I just didnât know how to tell you.â He answered, squeezing your hand gently. He looked shocked as you sniffled, your eyes watering.Â
âYou really like me?â you asked.
Taehyung chuckled as he took his hands back, placing them on your cheeks to wipe your tears away. âVery much.â He whispered as he leaned in closer, placing his lips gently against yours. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode as you placed your hands on his, your mouth moving against his. Pulling back you rested your foreheads against each other, basking in the silence of each other. He glanced at you before smiling, âBut how did you know I was up here?â You sniffled before laughing as well, âI met Namjoon...he told me.â Taehyung let out a heartfelt laugh, making a mental note to thank him later. Pulling you into his chest, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, placing a kiss on your head. You nuzzled your head deeper into his chest as he smiled, closing his eyes. You two stayed together like this, the sunlight warming your bodies and the golden dust dancing around you two until you left the studio, hand in hand. The door shut gently, putting the room back into a state of slumber.Â
You sleep so happily I wish you good night, good night, good night Good night, good night
#bts#bts x reader#bts imagine#bts fanfic#taehyung x reader#taehyung imagine#taehyung fanfic#bts taehyung
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164 - The Faceless Old Woman (Live)
[applause]
Jeffrey Cranor: Iâm really excited, we wrote this script recently coming up in this last performance for tonight. And I got real excited for writing it, cause we havenât written like a, to do a live show full length in a new voice. And it was a lot of fun to do.
Joseph Fink: Yeah so tonight we are presenting the first Welcome to Night Vale show that is entirely from the point of view of someone who is not Cecil, this is the time when the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home gets to step out from her secret.. place in your home. [laughter] And tell you a little bit about herself.
Jeffrey: One of my favorite things about writing the Faceless Old Woman stuff is cause the way Joseph and I work is that weâll write episodes or write parts of episodes and pass it to the other and that person will, sometimes have questions but oftentimes just maybe like add something to it. So a lot of times itâs either, when I get stuff back from Joseph and I dunno if he feels the same way getting stuff back form me, with the Faceless Old Woman script it was always either something really hilarious for something really upsetting. [laughter] And I really love that a lot.
Joseph: This is maybe the most upsetting thing weâve ever written, I hope you guys enjoy it. [laughter]
Jeffrey: Have fun, good night! [applause]
Joseph: I guess we should start that show we talked about.
Jeffrey: Letâs do it. You guys, letâs welcome to the stage your friend and ours, Mara Wilson!
[applause] [long silence]
Mara Wilson: I am the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. Hello. You donât know me, but I know you. I know you very well. Iâve been going through your medicine cabinet. You take too much Advil. Do you realize how hard that is on your digestion? I know a couple gelcaps and a glass of water before bed can alleviate a morning hangover, but it also puts you in a bad mood, because you donât get good sleep with all that extra stress you put on your guts. You know whatâs a better hangover cure? Not drinking like itâs the last day of community college. I replaced your vodka with clear Windex, and your Advil with Ipecac. This wonât help your hangovers, but it certainly will be more entertaining for me. I donât sleep, so I need better late night entertainment than Netflix. Iâve already watched every episode of âMoney Heistâ and âCriminal Manâ and âPlanet documentaryâ, I have to spice it up a little bit.
Which reminds me, sorry about the tarantula incident last week. And here Iâm speaking specifically to you, Tony. Yes you, in the shirt. The one hoping Iâm not talking about you. Iâm not sorry you woke up with a tarantula covering your face, nor that it bit you, causing your eyelids to swell up like Kinder eggs filled with purulent discharge instead of toys. I am sorry that I forgot to turn the flash off of my camera, which alarmed both you and the spider, and I never got a good photo. Iâve been building up my portfolio for an art exhibit I call âGross Things on a Sleeping Tonyâ. Itâs going up June 1, exclusively in your living room. Â Iâve already gotten âOpen-mouthed Centipede Bouquetâ framed. Youâre gonna find this show absolutely terrific. Â Wait no, not terrific, whatâs the word? Terrifying.
Tony, youâre one of my favorites in Night Vale. I know you hate your direct marketing job selling high interest credit cards to twenty-somethings, but the benefits are great. You have health care, a 401k, and you get to take advantage of people less fortunate than you. Everything is its own reward. But Iâve read your poetry, you love poetry. To be fair, there isnât a big job market for poets, but you need to explore what makes you happy. I tattooed one of my favorite lines of poetry on you last month. Itâs by Mary Oliver. âInstructions for living a life. Close your eyes. Be scared. Good luck.â And then I drew a little butterfly next to the words. Iâm not the best artists, though, so it kind of looks like a radish or a sarcoma. Doesnât matter, you still havenât noticed. Itâs just right below your right shoulder blade, donât try to find it now, itâs still healing and given that I used the metal rod from that fondue set in your closet as the needle, itâs possible itâs infected. Better to leave it alone.
Tony, look at me. Imagine where my eyes would be. You have a lot to work through. Iâm here to help you, I really am. Iâll prove it by giving you some advice. If a venomous arthropod is on your face, donât scream.
Anyway, itâs not you Tony whoâs bothering me, itâs the new people. They are elderly, like me, and they just moved into a house in the center of Night Vale. Or maybe this is decades from now, time is a little hazy for me. Iâve never been in this house nor noticed it before they moved in. itâs a one bedroom and there are three of them. I thought polyamory, but they have three separate beds and they never speak to each other, rarely look at each other, and never leave the home. The first night I secretly lived in their home, I realized they never slept either. They brushed their teeth, put on pajamas and get into bed. But they all lie there, eyes open, through silent hours of darkness.
I tried whispering to them but got no response. Usually when I reveal myself in the dark, I get the thrill of witnessing horror dawn across a personâs distorted mouth and bulging eyes as they see my faceless face pressed up against their own. One of the best parts of visiting new residents. But not these three. For once, Iâm the frightened one.
Speaking of frightening, did you get your taxes (-) [0:08:20] on time Alex? You, youâre Alex. You with the shoes. I had to file for an extension. I donât owe any money because I have no income, but Iâm over 200 years old, never got a social security number, have no permanent address and I wasnât born in this country, itâs a lot of paperwork. And Alex, you know your Wi-Fi is terrible and I was having a hard time downloading the forms I needed, so I just wrote my name on some yellowish-black Boston lettuce youâve left in the crisper for the last three weeks. But the leaves kept falling apart, I think more like melting. After about 20 minutes, I got frustrated and just made myself a salad. Also, I used the last of your parmesan cheese, but donât worry, I replaced it with dried skin Iâve been collecting from your bed sheets. Donât be grossed out, Alex. Same texture and nutritional value, you wonât know the difference. I got the idea from a Food Networkâs âBeat Bobby Flayâ, where this one winner tied up Bobby and ran a (micro-) [0:09:17] across his forehead to make a chimichurri sauce.
I love that show, but Iâm a bigger fan of HGTVâs âHouse Huntersâ, the desert dystopian version. Thatâs where I met you, Addie. Yes you, with the face. You were shopping for a new home here in Night Vale. You told the realtor - who was inside of a living deer, its belly horrifically distended and quivering with every one of the agentâs words and gesticulation â that you wanted three bedrooms, a back yard, and something close to an outdoor community space. The first home, the yard was not in good shape, lots of (- remains) [0:09:55] and the lawn was glowing, perhaps from underground radiation testing. It was well under your budget, but you would have had to spend your savings on fixing it up. Also, in the bathroom mirror you saw, crawling across the ceiling, a faceless old woman devouring what looked like a rat. You didnât need to worry about a rat infestation, Addie. It was a chipmunk. The second home was a condo right in the heart of the arts district. You loved the design: a simple large black cube, no doors, no windows, no interior. A true closed floor plan, so popular these days. But you werenât sure there was enough room for entertaining, or anything else at all. The house you selected was perfect. Three bedrooms, a Jacuzzi en suite, and a large patio backyard. Plus it was right in the middle of town next to a community dog park. Although you would be disappointed later to learn that your dog had been arrested for domestic espionage after peeing inside the parkâs forbidden walls. I think you made the right choice, Addie, but I canât help wondering every time I watch âHouse Huntersâ, who is this person running away from? You left Queens to move to Night Vale. Queens is where your family lives, where your best friend lives, and your girlfriend of two years. Are you afraid of stasis, Addie? Of being loved, of commitment? You might be afraid of that pinkish ooze coming out of your ear, might wanna see an ENT about that. Or if not an ENT, an entomologist.
Speaking of putting woodboring beetles inside orifices, I tried a similar thing with the elderly room mates who recently moved to town, or will move to town many years from now, again time is strange to me. But these room mates are also so strange. When I went to put a beetle into one of their ears, I noticed a lot of scar tissue there, making the hole too small. In my haste, the beetle scurried away and I got kind of desperate and just made a bunch of spooky moans and hisses like this: [moans, hisses] but not one of the three responded to me. They continued their meaningless pantomime of sleeping, and in the morning they got up and each went quietly about their days. One of them made coffee, but did not drink it. They then went to the window and waved at their neighbor, Susan Willman, who was on her porch stretching before her morning run. Susan looked at the figure in the window next to her and froze. She stared in terror, then darted back into her home and locked the door. Susan has always been unfriendly. I ran her bed sheets through her office shredder as a reminder to be more open and loving toward the world.
The other two room mates climbed into the shower at the same time. Iâm not one to get off on othersâ sexual activities, I just thought I might see something new, something human here. But no, they stood side by side, cleaning their cold gravity-defeated bodies, not once looking at each other let alone speaking. A squelch and a squish and grey water falling around yellow toenails. They toweled off, but when they hung the towels up, those towels were completely dry.
Iâm used to being the one who does inexplicable and disturbing things. Last year during the community playersâ production of âRomeo and Julietâ, I decided it would be more fun if they used actual poison. But it was a last minute idea, so the only poison I could find was Borax. Which just gave the two kids playing the leads several unhappy hours in the bathroom on the night after the show ended, so I donât know. I could have made a stronger directorial choice. But so could the actual director, I get that Shakespeare plays are long, but he cut out all the best parts like the train robbery, and also Tybalt winning his bowling league. Although I did appreciate that they left in Julietâs famous line: âGood night, good night, your blood and guts and marrow, which worms shall eat inside your grave so narrow.â Itâs a classic story. Kids these days just donât try to fake their own deaths anymore.
Oh. And Morgan. Yes Morgan, Iâm talking to you, you with the fingernail sand the teeth. I need to explain something to you. You tip 20 per cent. You can afford it, stop using it as a measure of how much you approve of the restaurant service. A 20 per cent tip is not  bonus, itâs a fee. Restaurant owners donât pay their staffs, instead they make the diners pay their employees through this idiotic notion of capitalist meritocracy. I donât care how bad the service, tip them. You have money, Morgan. I would also tell you to stop asking to speak to a manager every time your Long Island Ice Tea is a bit like, but I got out your tongue last month, so they wouldnât understand you anymore anyway. Do you know what a cut human tongue tastes like, Morgan? Yes you do. You just donât know that you do. Remember Applebeeâs last week? You ordered soup. It was a beef base with  little onions and little perfectly sautĂ©ed flecks of your own tongue that you had used to lash out at a manager the last time you ate there. You could blame them for poorly expediting your orders, but really the onus is on you for going to Applebeeâs. Which serves neither of the items its name promises. Itâs false advertising. Itâs like an egg cream soda, or Taco Bell.
Speaking of eating, the elderly room mates made lunch together, but not for each other. They were all in the kitchen at the same time making separate meals in silence. They sat around the dining room table together and ate. They carved and stabbed and pushed foods quickly into their mouths, but their eyes were empty. One of them began to spit out their food. No one seemed to care or notice. They all began to vomit, but not with muscular heaves of shoulders and necks, the vomit spurted out like water from a hand pump, their torsos and heads perfectly still. After each bodily rejection of food, they would start shoveling it back to their mouths, repeating the same process. Eventually one of them stood up and threw their plate into the kitchen window, glass bursting everywhere. That person leaned into the hole and began punching the jagged shards out with their clenched fists as blood poured out of their forearms and wrists. They screamed mournfully into the suburban street. Neighbors and passers-by passed only briefly, as if they had barely heard the sad howls spreading across the valley. Susanâs lemon tree next door died instantly and all the lemons fell with wet plops to the ground. The fruit pealed open and inside of each was a fleshy crimson pulp, like meat that has been ground for too long. The other two room mates kept eating and vomiting, not even noticing the shattered glass being subsumed by the growing pool of blood on the floor.
You know, I wasnât always like this, faceless or old. Secretly living anywhere. Once I was born upon warm water. The smell I remember is sharp citrus and the peppery sting of grass. The salt funk of ocean. I was once a child. I grieved once. I smelled blood. Once I was a thief. I lived among thieves, I saw empires rise and fall, centuries cast themselves upon infinity as fruitlessly as waves upon cliffs. Once I was a recluse. I lived amongst bandits and farmers, I spoke a different language then. Iâve spoken many languages.
Once I was under the sea. That was a quiet time. I lived amongst the coral and dead-eyed fish. Once I was a wanderer. Iâve seen the (head) [0:18:14] waters of the Mississippi and Iâve seen the cobbled streets of Paris and Iâve seen the empty arches of Franchia. But Iâve never seen anything like those three room mates. Of all the things I've been â child, thief, recluse, wandered, faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, Iâll tell you this: Iâve never been more scared.
Fear is in the unknowing and the mystery. Fear is seeing everything about an old woman except her face. Fear is the uncertainty of her secretly living in your home. Fear is not the spider you see on the wall. Itâs the spider you no longer see on the wall when you look back again.
In the unnerving din of shattered glass and mournful howls of that house, I found the loose thread that unraveled this mystery. The room mate who screamed had no tongue. And one of the others had an ear swollen shut from a previous surgery. And the other had a red mark, like a radish or sarcoma adorned with poetry drawn upon their shoulder blade. I realized I knew these three strange room mates. They are you, Tony, the special tattoo I gave you. And they are you, Addie, with your oral scar tissue from the beetle I jammed in there. And you, Morgan, with your tongue removed and digested. The three of you do not exactly live together in that home, not at the same time. You are living three different lifetimes in that same space. You do not speak or respond, because you are dead. Each of you alone in that house together, or you will be, time is confusing for me. Decades from now after you die, your souls will be trapped in the house, because something in this world is unresolved for you. You know this, paranormal neuroscience is required for all high school freshmen. But what they donât teach you is how to resolve it. I know how and when each one of you die. I wrote it down on the back pages of your journals. Ivâe done this for everybody, but nobody ever reads it, because while people always think theyâll write every day, after a few pages they fall off the wagon and never see the lsat pages of their journals. Except Jonathan Franzen. He didnât seem bothered by what he read. But he did cross out all my adverbs and added some Oxford commas. In case youâre wondering how Jonathan Franzen dies, hereâs the answer: he doesnât.
I am the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home. You might find this ambiguous, after all the word âhomeâ is singular. So whose home is it that I secretly live in? Listen, some things in this tangled world are simple. I live in your home, and your home, and your home, I live in all of your homes simultaneously. I am many. [echo] I am many. I am one. [echo] I am one. You all live such different lives, teeming, thatâs what you are: teeming. And I am there watching you.
You, Tony, you dream of being a poet. Resolve the unresolved. The worst that can happen is crushing disappointment and public mockery, and eviction when you canât pay your rent. Many more awful things after that, get to it!
And you, Addie, you fled your previous city to escape a murder charge. Strangely, you didnât commit the murder you were charged with, but you have committed murder. Weird choice to go on âHouse Huntersâ as a wanted fugitive, but maybe it was a good first step to healing your soul.
And you, Morgan. You have an idea that could save us all, an epic defining idea, one of the greats, but you donât know which one. You have so many ideas. I can tell you this: most of them are not important. One of them is vitally important. Good luck. Also, tip 20 per cent.
And you, I forgot your name, you tweet too much. We all tweet too much, but that doesnât let you off the hook. Thatâs why I ate your phone. You can thank me later. You can all thank me later. Because you all will be seeing me soon. I think that tonight is the night to let slip my secret. Youâll soon see me fumbling wet and gray from out of the bathroom mirror, or folded up strangely loose skin and mashed bones in the bottom drawer of your dresser. Or you will see me scuttle on your walls, the hair hanging down from my faceless face. Or you will look out your kitchen window and there will be someone standing in your driveway, and it will be me, and there will be no one in the driveway and instead, I will be next to you in the kitchen. Faceless and so very very old. Wonât that be nice?
Iâm the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. And your home. And your home. And every home. And I will be seeing you very, very soon.
[music, applause]
Todayâs proverb: Never judge a book by its cover. Judge it by the title page instead.
#welcome to night vale#wtnv transcripts#episode 164#the faceless old woman#the faceless old woman live#finally#thanks for your patience#there might be more mistakes bc there were many big words
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Graphic Design Portfolio
01. Begin with the âCâ
Media: Digital Design
Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm
Description: I took the initial of my name, âCâ, as inspiration for designing the poster. As a student with a fanatical interest in graphic design, I hope that the letter âCâ in my nameïŒcan represent infinite creativity. Just as my name begins with the âCâ, I think the study of design should also begin with another âCâ, which is creativity.
02. Product Similarity
Media: Scriptliner on sketch paper
Dimensions: 380mm x 580mm
Description: Each of us is a product produced by society. We may have different backgrounds, personalities and ideas originally, but, in the competition within society, we tend to be closer to each other's image, so as to form excellent competitiveness in a certain aspect. Society will continue to fill the gaps between people, so that the living environment will reach saturation. Under the influence of many factors, all the âproductsâ become more and more homogeneous, and the pressure of survival also increases continuously.
03. Fist, Female, Fear
Media: Digital Painting
Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm
Description: The difficult position of women has always been a great concern to me. This work presents some of the issues that make me anxious and fearful as a female, such as domestic violence, being followed after 10pm, drinking drugged alcohol in a bar and so on. In addition, it also includes some social inequality restrictions on women. Such as thinking that it is shameful to wear short skirts, it is not allowed for women to smoke or drink, etc. The two fists in the painting are both society's fists against female and the fists that I want to break all this uneasiness and inequality.
04. Mask
Media: Digital painting
Dimensions: 400mm x 400mm
Description: During COVID-19, all of us wore masks, which could both protect us and facilitate a concealment of emotions. We can't see people's expressions under masks, and in many cases, happiness and sadness can't be conveyed only through the eyes. Maybe it prevents us from communicating with each other, or maybe it gives us a sense of security when we don't want to reveal our thoughts to the outside world.
05. âHumanlikeâ
Media: Photography
Dimensions: 300mm x 600mm
Description: When I was a little girl, I was very disgusted and afraid of the models in the window. When I grew up, I realized that this was because of the âUncanny Valleyâ. So now I've chosen to face this fear and take pictures of human limbs next to a dummy. I hope to explore the similarities and differences between them, so as to more intuitively feel the temperature and texture of the human body.
06. Summer Memories
Media: PhotographyDimensions: 102mm x 152mm
Description: I love the summer in Beijing's Hutongs, the small theatre buildings full of creepers, the abandoned furniture and bicycles piled up on both sides of the road, and the boundless green. This work records my scattered memories of summer, and to me, I can nearly hear the sound of cicadas and the breeze blowing through the leaves when I see it.
07. âBe Fake or be Trueâ
Media: 3D Installation/ Mixed Media
Dimensions: 500mm x 500mm x 500mm
Description: Our childhood fantasies about the world are like the perfect stories locked up in the TV. They are the combination of all good things, and the collection of all innocence. But as we get older, we see a more real side of the world. This is like breaking the TV screen, once the dream and cold reality collide, we can choose to believe in good, but also can choose to face the reality.
08. âWay Too Muchâ
Media: Scriptliner on sketch paper
Dimensions: 420mm x 594 mm
Description: This is a sketch of the dining table in my home. I have a slight hoarding habit, so the table is always filled with bottles and jars for a sense of inner satisfaction. But my mother always said that my things were âway too muchâ and too messy. Under her gaze I had to look at the table again in a more introspective manner.
09. The Prosperous Tang Dynasty
Media: Collage/ Mixed Media
Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm
Description: This work embodies my yearning and respect for the costume, culture, aesthetics and so on of the ancient Tang Dynasty in China. I wanted to use it to express the prosperous, open, majestic atmosphere of the Tang Dynasty, and also add my calligraphy work to it. The bright red color is the most important symbol of the Tang Dynasty, and the culture as gorgeous as peony is a beautiful dream buried in every Chinese heart.
10. CD Cover Design
Media: Digital Design
Dimensions: 150mm x 150mm
Description: One of my rapper friends and I wrote a hip-hop song about life during quarantine, and I designed the album cover myself. The empty sofa expresses my loneliness and boredom. Fluorescent green and purple stand out against the grey background, representing that music and art are the only bright colors in my dull life.
11. City Starlight
Media: 3D Installation/ Mixed Media
Dimensions: 1500mm x 400mm x 200mm
Description: I once participated in the window design project of Hamleys, a famous British toy company, and I worked with several designers to make drawings and build models with the theme of city starlight. All the buildings and facilities were designed and cut by ourselves. We hope to remind everyone of the forgotten beauty of the city when they pass this window. Although the plan was not implemented in the end, it was an unforgettable experience for me.
12. Fish Fish Fish
Media: Digital Design
Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm
Description: This is a small project about creative design. I randomly selected three keywords, which are brain, goldfish and hand, so I completed the poster creation with these three elements. The human brain is very complex, carrying a lot of emotional, knowledge burden, but fish only have seven seconds of memory, their worlds are very simple. I hope we can all live like fish, be happy and be simple, and not need to worry about all the mess.
13. Christmas Card
Media: Digital Design
Dimensions: 148mm x 210mm
Description: This is a Christmas card I designed for my friends. Christmas in my heart is different from others. It is purple and pink. And all of these objects, the Christmas tree, the gift box, are just abstract symbols, their specific shape, colour, size is not really important. I use this kind of vague image to express my wishes to my friends. May they not only have a merry Christmas, but also a pink and purple surprise every day.
14. SOS
Media: Photography/ Digital Design
Dimensions: 420mm x 594mm
Description: Born as a woman, sometimes we are bound by a piece of tape to seal the mouth of expression and seeking for help, so we must save ourselves, in the tide of the times to speak and to fight for freedom.
15. Consumerism
Media: Collage/ Mixed Media
Dimensions: 297mm x 420mm
Description: In this era of rampant consumerism, people are gradually constrained by material desire and money, and constantly pursue a more grandiose and luxurious consumption life. However, we are increasingly overwhelmed by endless commodities, so we have to keep struggling with it, trying to stay awake while continuing to consume uncontrollably.
16. Sketchbook scanned copy
Media: Charcoal and crayon on sketch paper
Description: I used charcoal to copy two paintings, Three Wicked Men by Denzil Forrester and Self Portrait In A Straw Hat by Vigee Lebrun.
youtube
17. Happy Birthday
Media: Stop-motion Animation
Description: In the summer of 2019, a friend and I took a course in stop-motion animation at RISD's summer school and made this short film. It was inspired by my grandparents. On my grandmother's birthday, my grandfather always gets up early to cook and make cakes for her. Although this seems to be a very simple thing, it has always been the most touching and warm picture in my memory. I hope I can take this short film as a souvenir.
18. Development Work - Collage Brainstorm
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Dos and donts of Art School
Hey hey Everybody! Happy Sunday ! I hope youâre all doing well during this tough times! Iâve been feeling rather drained but Iâm managing. ;w;
My Blackout series exploded on Twitter and I had multiple inquires on print purchases. So I had to drop practically everything I plotted working on this week and set up an Online store ASAP. Also had to figure out what charities the proceeds would go to. Aaaand unfortunately the prints themselves wonât be here for another week so Iâll be setting up pre orders for the print tomorrow!
Iâve also learned that my University has locked us into our fall Semester and weâre no longer going remote. Cases for COVID Have steadily increased here in Florida which makes going back to school very concerning... If a âcollege experienceâ is more important than someones health and safety then thereâs a problem ;;A;;
Since I have school on the mind, I thought Iâd talk about doâs and donâts of art school. Hereâs some things to keep in mind whether youâre thinking about going OR youâre already in it! Iâll be sharing my personal examples along the way but Iâd definitely like to hear from you guys as well!
(Comparison Timeline Infographic ) Final Project for Intro to Graphic Design Class
DO go to art school if it feels right for you! Ultimately if you want to go to art school then by all means go to art school. BUT if you decide to go to art school just take the time to think about what it is that youâre going for. If you donât have a reason why (no matter how crazy or out there it is) YOU MAY BURNOUT ! Youâre goals will keep you motivated even during your most challenging classes. My main reason to go to art school is to work for the PokĂ©mon company. It sound super ambitious I know and I plan to go in depth on this another Sunday X3 but itâs what makes me excited about everything I learn in my Graphic design major
DONâT just have one large goal! Continuing off the previous point you need to create many realistic goals for yourself. Itâs easy for us to say that we want to work for ourselves or a company but then the question becomes what all are you going to do to reach that goal.Just the thought of reaching this end goal can be daunting but in order to prevent that fear from occurring you need to set small goals. Getting into my major was one of the first goals to my larger goals. We had to apply and submit portfolio works. And now that Iâve achieved that Iâm going to start working on a new mini goal of brushing back up on my languages an start draft works for my future portfolio. And in between those goals Iâve set other mini art goals along the way so I stay on track with my larger goals.
DO make sure when youâre deciding to go to art school that itâs the right fit for you. do your RESEARCH! You donât necessarily have to go to Cal arts or any fancy/expensive art school to succeed. Look into what your local colleges and or universities are offering in their art programs and you might be surprised! This not only applies to classes but also who the professors are too. I found out one of my professors in my major actually did work for the family guy series before teaching!
DONâT Take too many classes. this is a given but itâs something that we tend to not think about when we are applying for courses for the semester. The maximum number of studio classes should probably be three. Each class has its own needs and deadlines and it gets tricky anymore than that (especially if youâre working too) Also be careful about taking studio and academic classes at the same time if you can. Try and separate them out over the semesters. So you could do three art studio classes in the fall and spring but do academic courses during the summer. Summer is the best time to knock out any other academics you might have despite the short semester period mainly because most people take break during the summer. Honestly this allows for more one on one support from your professors if you need it sometimes
DO pick classes that are challenging and interesting to you. Of course there are some classes you have no choice in taking, but Itâs really really good to choose classes that will constantly challenge yourself especially if youâre going for an art major or degree. Some of the projects youâll do can look really good in your portfolio . My most recent spring 2020 semester was most likely the most difficult semester Iâve ever had to deal with mainly because I was learning a variety of different art fields all at once XDD. Each of my classes were kind of unfamiliar territory for me with their own challenges. Overall it was really tough but in the end I learned so much from each of them. You can check out my discussion on collaboration to find out some valuable things learned from my classes https://janishacolors.tumblr.com/post/619694664014004224/artist-collaboration
And thatâs going to wrap my doâs and donâts if you have any art school doâs and donât youâd like to add or discuss let me know!
Next week I plan to talk about my art goals for the remainder of 2020 which Iâm super excited to be sharing X3
In the meantime stay tuned!
#janishacolors#art blog#art advice#artist thoughts#art thoughts#artschool#art school#art tips#art goals
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Andrew Krychek - Andrew is a former national geographic photographer turned fashion photographer. He has been requested and sought after by the likes of Vogue, Runway and numbers of celebrities that want his attention. Andrew, while he prefers adventure and finding beauty in everything wants more than anything to finally find a wife and settle down and have a family. After parting with his model girlfriend in California, he moves to New York and takes a job as a photographer for hire, opened his own studio and uses his name and his accomplishments to get ahead. He starts out with a few larger name brand jobs, most notably for the female run magazine called Bust. He did a few portfolio shoots for the company before getting hired by Sylvia Summers to do a piece on her home and the kids that live there, hoping to get some of them fostered or individual pieces on some of the more serious cases. While there, he meets Rebecca Summers, Sylviaâs niece and fell head over heels for her. After a couple of missed connections, Andrew finally throws himself in completely.Â
Ariel Marsden - Ariel is about 15 years old and currently living at Sylvia Summerâs childrenâs home, mostly because she was kicked out of her familyâs home for practicing magic. Her mother is a sort of Mrs White type, where magic is the thing of the devil and her daughter having an interest in magic is one thing, but actually wanting to practice and being able to conjure...it was enough to get her thrown out on her ear. She worked at 13th Moon Emporium but when the owner (Logan Allerton) found out she was sleeping in the storage room, he tells Sylvia when she comes to pick up some of the herbs she uses for teas and she takes the young Ariel in. Ariel still works at 13th Moon but only part time and generally worked the bar with Grayson Lewis until he leaves for California. Ariel makes fast friends with David Bournecelli, spending time with him and ultimately finding something to help distract him from his lost state of mind. (Ariel likes to make wrapped wire trees, she shows David how to do it and he takes to it really well). Ariel has a crush on Bastian.Â
David Bournecelli - Davidâs picture isnât new, I just made it less blurry. And heâs also not as bad as I thought he was originally, mostly because he doesnât want to be as pathetic as he was originally. So...while David does still suffer from debilitating mental abuse following electro-shock torture in a âfamilyâ run hospital in Sicily. David is part of the Bournecelli family that can shift into an animal form, but was born to one of Liamâs brothers who dislikes the shifters with a fiery passion. It wasnât the first time this man had tried to rid his family of the animal âcurseâ by locking his eldest son, Colin, in the same place. Colin managed to get himself out only a few years after he was locked there and when David was born already exhibiting some kind of mental disability (Iâm pretty sure itâs Aspergerâs Syndrome) as well as the birthmark that signified the curse, he was locked in a mental hospital that was owned by an older Bournecelli member and run under a different name (I donât know it, I know theyâre somehow related to the Bournecelli and the Medici family) David is mostly mute, making softer sounds like whimpers and groans most of the time, though if he wants to talk he uses an app on a phone where he types out a text and a device adds a voice to it. His severe epilepsy caused an incontinency issue (which is really embarrassing for the 19 year old, having to wear depends bothers him) and causes him to have a balance issue, sometimes unable to hold himself up without help. (One particular issue I found out about involved him sitting on a shower chair and somehow him falling off of it. Afterward he resolves to sitting on an anti-slip pad in the bathtub.) Liam is trying to do everything he can for his nephew, hoping thereâs some way to trigger his shift in hopes it might help him come back even a little bit.
One thing David is starting to get good at is working with Ariel Marsden, she makes wire wrapped trees that she sells at 13th Moon Emporium, and following one of Davidâs seizures she had sat beside him, playing with his hair absently while she was working on one of her newer trees. When she had gotten up for something, she came back to find David playing with the wire and rather than get upset about it, she sat back down with him again and started showing him what she was doing. David finds it calming, since generally the motion is repetitive and thereâs no way to make a mistake.Â
The last one is Louis Traverou, another one thatâs getting a little bit of an update. Louis was originally a boyfriend of Ryki Paelyae when he moves to Illinois and heâs pretty much the bitter, neglected gay man. Louis actually doesnât date Ryki so much as acts as a one or two night stand, and while he is kind of a disgruntled gay man, he has more interest in throwing his depression into his paintings and attempting to find some kind of comfort in his darker arts. He and Travis Angel had a short thing for a while too, but two people going down a dark hole does not a good relationship make.Â
@fat-and-nerdygirl
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DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 4
AN: Hello ! In this chapter we go on an investigation! But also we get closer to God Jake. Iâm writing the 7th part at the moment, and I think the 8th one will be the end of my dream, but not of this fanfic. Let the fluff begin !
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader
Genre: College AU
Previous parts: Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3
Masterlist : here
Chapter four : Need a hand ?
It became obvious to both Mandy and I that I was starting to have a crush on Jake. How could I not ? For a far as we knew him, he was perfect in every way.
At first it was discreet. My new hobby of staring at him during lectures was unnoticed by both of the Kiszkas, or if Josh noticed something, he at least thought it was me waiting for his next paper ball notes and getting impatient. Regarding my class daydreamings, they weren't new so classmates and teachers didn't think much of it. Although it became very apparent something was up when I started unintentionally drawing his face several times in the workshop during portraits studies. Even though my photo reference was Kurt Cobain. It could've been easily mistaken for a very bad observation job (and it did), if it weren't for Mandy who saw me coming home after a long day with a painted 50x70cm Jake canvas under my armpit. Judging by my defeated look, she didn't address it, but she knew.
It's a few days later that we had that talk. It was getting so bad that I began mistaking people in hallways for him, smiling or even giggling to myself as I was remembering stuff he did or said, and again, drawing him.
- I can't focus on anything, I sighed defeated. I have this assignment due to next week and I can't draw any character right. I even dreamed of us doing grocery shopping.
I let my head bump loudly against the dining table as she made me a cup of tea/coffee and placed it in front of me. She knew perfectly how I felt because we all went through the same, that's why she softly pulled the chair opposite mine to sit and have a chat.
- You should talk to him more, get to know him, she encouraged. He's nice and now we sometimes hang out so it's not that weird wanting to know him better.
She was right. Sooner or later I'll had to talk to him and even tell him how I feel anyway. Not now though, it was too soon. I kind of got struck by lightning when I first laid my eyes on him and it got worse when we spoke, but it still rarely happened for people to fall instantly like that. There was no way he'd understand if I just confessed my feelings out of the blue. I should wait and see if there's any chance that my feelings are shared, because there was no way in hell I'd tell him if I wasn't sure I had a chance to date him. Speaking of which...
- Should I ask him out on a date?
As an answer, Mandy smacked my head accross the table with an empty box of biscuits.
- Are you out of your mind ? I just told you to wait ! I know you're impatient to get into his pants but think about all the times you rushed things and how many times it worked.
Raising my head to rest my chin against the plastic flowery tablecloth, I considered it, looking at her munching on chocolate biscuits, browsing a fashion magazine for inspiration. Defeated once again, I let out a sigh and shifted so my cheek was against the table.
- First of all, I don't want to get into his pants- Not yet. Second of all, you're right. I don't want to screw up this time because it'll be so awkward afterwards.
She closed her eyes and quickly nodded because she knew she was of good advice, as usual.
- You forgot something essential boo. You don't know if mister doe-eyed guitarist is single.
Fuck, that's right. Neither of them mentionned it but it's not something you just blurt out. We exchanged a look, and she grinned at me in a knowing way.
- Let's investigate.
The first thing to do was to go on his Facebook. It did seem a bit wrong searching him like that instead of asking straightforwardly, and as if karma thought the same, we found that his infos were set on private. We didn't even bother searching for instagram or twitter as nobody puts their real full names on these, so the second thing to do was to go on the field.
Despite all the departments, the school was small so buildings were close to each other and all communicated (except for the fashion workshop). I kind of knew where everything was, since you could tell just by looking at the people hanging around. And as cliché as it sounded, it was true. Illustration students were always carrying ridiculous amounts of art supplies. Entire bags of paint, books and pencil case in their backpacks, giant portfolio under an arm, A3 sketchbooks in the other, and somehow they still found a way to carry their coffee cups. Architecture, Carpenters and Furniture Design students were often seen with big mock ups and models in their arms, tools or wood. Photo and Fashion peeps were carrying the less stuff since they worked mainly on computers in the Photography dep and let all their mannequins and fabric either at home or in the Fashion workshop. It was as easy to spot dudes from the Music dep, with their guitar on their back, hanging around the Architecture building, smoking, chatting, and drinking soda or coffee.
Their building was near the park, so they were mostly seen in that area. And thank God because I would've look so stupid passing by purely « by chance » in an area where no one ever went except for the people who actually studied there. The park was great. A lot of us used to play ball, sit on the grass to drink, chat or have lunch. It was big enough that the Architecture jocks built some cabins in a corner of it to host parties. I still don't understand how the school allowed that, but anyway, the plan was simple, make a little detour to see if I could spot Jake.
It was so cold outside that students were just hurriedly passing by, quickly making their way inside where it was somewhat warm. As a result, there wasn't many people in the park at this hour of the day and I wondered if Jake was in the dorms or in class before catching a glimpse of his hair in the corner of my eye. Okay time to be discreet. I put my bag down near the trash to fake looking for something while watching him. Fuck he looked good with a scarf and head covered with a beanie. Aside from his looks, he seemed rather bummed. Passers by kept shaking him off as he tried to hand them yellow papers. Probably flyers.
- Jake, I'm taking 5Â !
Some guy just beside me doing the same task called him loud and clear, and I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes when Jake turned around to reply and locked eyes with me. I instantly felt very dumb, crouched next to the trash with my hands on my bag. The mental image I had of myself at that very moment was that of a raccoon. Running away was out of the question since he was approaching my way already, one hand holding the flyers and the other in his jacket pocket.
- Hey.
- Hi, I replied without moving an inch.
- Need a hand ?
Shaking out of it, I got on my feet by myself and lied about just passing by. Karma really was a bitch, wasn't it ? Henceforth no more weird MI6 strategies for me. Avoiding staring at the blushed tip of his nose, I gazed at my hands and saw his in the process.
- Are you giving out flyers ?
- Oh yeah, for the Christmas school festival, but no one is either interested or invested in it unfortunately. It's a shame, I think it's gonna be great. I don't know what's holding them, he added while scratching his beanie, it's free and there's gonna be music and food and booze, what more could we need ?
To be fair I understood both parties. Jake was right but some students probably had exams or homework, and it was freezing and they were doing it outside. Well if we were honest it never stopped anybody from partying so maybe the event wasn't the issue.
- I saw people displaying posters, I remembered, can I see the flyers ?
Without missing a beat he handed them all to me and dear lord I almost got blind just by looking at them. That yellow and black and these awful drawings weren't doing anything good for the event. He must've saw it on my grimacing face because he sighed.
- That bad ?
- Honestly ? It looks like a Bee Movie add.
It actually made him let out a chuckle before puting a hand to his heart.
- That hurts.
That flawless smile made my cheeks burn, thank god they were already red because of the cold. His thumb brushed mine when I handed the flyers back to him, and at this moment I knew I was gonna act without thinking again, because my brain went on vacation the second his skin got in contact with mine.
- I can make you new ones, if you want.
His eyes searched for any traces of a joke on my face before realization hit him and his brows frowned lightly.
- Are you sure ? 'm not an expert but this looks like a lot of work.
As backup to his words, he shook the big bundle of paper between his fingers. Jake genuinely looked worried about me, and all the work it'd put me through. Deep down I knew there was a little voice in my head screaming that helping him only meant more sleepless nights but all the other parts of my brains ignored it when two gentle brown eyes stared at me with concern.
- It'll be fine, I assured with a smile. I'm working fast. I just have to do one design and the rest will be printed, right ? No big deal.
Hand on his hip, Jake let out what sounded like a relieved breath and cracked a smile.
- Thanks, I really appreciate it. Do you have a pen ?
Of course I did, I even got one on my coat pocket for some reason. Things I just forget to remove. He gave me the flyers for me to hold while he uncapped the black marker and took my free arm.
- I'm giving you my number, so you can text me if you're having troubles for the design, and show me some pics if you need advice.
With cold fingers, he gently grabbed my wrist and pushed back the fabric to expose my already shivering skin, and started writing numbers on my veins. It tickled, and I got goosebumps, mostly because of the cold wind but also because of his hand around my arm. The soft touch of his calloused fingers felt right on my skin, replacing the freezing feeling of his digits by a sweet wave of heat and I unconsciously held my breath to focus on the new sensation. He let the ink dry a bit before covering my arm again, raising his chin to meet my face.
- I could've write it on one of the flyers but I got a feeling you would've lost it, wouldn't ya ?
A playful smile danced on his face and once again I found myself mesmerized by him, nodding and chewing on my lip in a childlike manner. Jake tapped me on the shoulder to thank me again, saying he'll make it up to me, but I was too absorbed by the burning feeling of his skin on mine.
- I have to go, he said after sliding the marker back inside my breast pocket. My band's playing at the christmas party by the way, I hope you'll come!
#gvf fic#gvf x reader#gvf imagine#gvf fanfic#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka imagine#josh kiszka fic#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet imagine#greta van fleet#jake kiszka
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Thereâs beauty in imperfection.
Pairing Bucky Barnes x reader
Prompt âOne day, youâll believe me. One day, youâll see that Iâm right.â
Summary You try to make Bucky see that he is beautiful despite what he thinks about his disability.
Words 2120
Warnings: talk about war, prosthetics and diasbility
Modern AU
A/N: This is entry for @propertyofpoeandbucky mystery writing challenge. Hope you like it and sorry it took me so long to write it.
@outside-the-government @yallneedtrek @musikat18 @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse  @writing-journeyx  @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse @ohyesmarvelâ @agentpeggicarter  @buckyofthemyscira @romantichen @once-upon-an-imagine@locke-writes @marveliskindacool @captainrogerss  @soldatbarnes@jurassicbarnes@uncomfortable-writers @theassetseyelinerâ @sgtbxckybxrnesâ @thetherianthropydaily @dresupi  @captainrogerss@imamotherfuckingstar-lord @mattaretto @imagine-marvel @dinnafashsoldat@bookgirlunicorn
When your sister suggested the two of you go into business together, the idea sounded crazy. She had just finished her residency in one of the best hospitals in New York and instead of staying there, as you advised her to, she chose to quit. Her dream was to build her own private prosthetics clinic that would help everyone in need. Â You admired her kindness and dedication to helping people. She always hoped to help everyone regardless of their financial abilities. The reason you were surprised by her suggestion, was that you knew next to nothing about her job. Your degree and passion was art. You wanted to create beautiful paintings that would make any space welcoming.
Despite your initial hesitation, you accepted her offer to help in the clinic by designing the prosthetics. You soon realized how good you are at this and how rewarding your job is. You have made some unique creations and all your customers were astonished by your work. All your worries about what to do with your art degree had been evaporated.
ââI have a unique job for you.ââ Your sister announced you one day during breakfast. ââBilly came up with an idea that I loved. However, I want to hear your thoughts on it before we proceed.ââ Billy Russo had been your sisterâs boyfriend since high school. They were always together and everyone was thrilled to hear they were thinking about moving in together after Billy came back from the army.
ââ I am sure it will be a success like his last one, he is a business genius. He managed to create one of the most profitable private military companies within a few months. Besides, convincing Frank and Curtis to go on business with him was his greatest achievement.ââ The three of them were best friends for years. You and your sister loved them as if they were members of your family.
ââSpeaking of Curtis, that job I have for you is about him too. Â You will require his assistance. You remember the Veteran center he volunteers at, donât you?ââ You nodded and picture the time you helped Curtis set up one of his meetings. It was so inspiring seeing him be so invested in making sure the people in his groups had someone to talk to.
ââHe talked to his boss about our clinic. Billy thought it would a good idea to advertise there. In addition, I believe we should offer our services to everyone there. Some of the people are either poor or homeless and I would like to help them if they need us.ââ
ââI agree with you. Your vision has always been to help others and we make enough money from our wealthiest clients to afford something like that. Â Do you want me to advertise our initiative at the center?ââ You already started brainstorming ideas for a name for your cause and that you might need more business cards.
ââYes, it would be great if you designed a poster. However, Curtisâ boss asked us to meet with a friend of his who will need an arm prosthetic. So, could you meet with him for a consultation? I was informed he would be there tomorrow.ââ You agreed while being a little skeptical about whether your new client knew about this meeting or not.
Meeting Sam went better than you could have ever expected it to. He was as charming as Curtis described him on the way there. You immediately figured out why your friend was so eager to volunteer there.
ââSo, we agree that your proposal will be beneficial for us. We get a lot of people who could use your companyâs help. And of course, I didnât have to hear about you just from Curtis. Your reputation speaks for itself. I always wanted to meet one of the founders of the best prosthetics clinics in the country.ââ
ââYou flatter me, Mr. Wilson. Likewise, I have heard some heartwarming stories about your work here. Curtis could consider himself your biggest fan.ââ You smile at him while he was trying to hide his embarrassment.
ââI admire him just as much. And please call me Sam. I have a meeting to get to right now so my fan will lead you to the break room. My friend is waiting for you there.ââ He gave you a huge smile and looked at Curtis to make sure his teasing didnât offend him in any way.
Curtis tried to inform you about your client but you stopped him since you always preferred to learn everything first-handed from them.
As soon as you entered the room, you saw a beautiful man sitting there just staring at his cup. He seemed in deep thoughts and your first impression of him was that he must feel sad over something. Â Therefore, you announced and introduced yourself before sitting across from him.
ââI bet you already know everything about me. I donât know exactly how much Sam told you, so just ask whatever it is you need to. I will answer everything to get you to quit staring and make sure I wonât make you uncomfortable for any longer.ââ His tone revealed that you were true about his emotions. He wanted to sound cold and unfazed except his voice for full of sadness.
ââI actually donât know anything about you. I prefer to get to know the people I work with before I read any files about them. So, do you mind telling me your name and why did Sam arrange this meeting for you?ââ
ââNameâs Bucky even though the files say Sergeant Barnes. Â As you can see, I lost my arm. It happened a couple of months ago.ââ
ââAnd did something make you want a prosthetic now?ââ
ââWell, I am used to the stares and the comments behind my back. I know how I look like to most people. However, most people donât include my best friend who is coming to visit me and he plans to bring his daughter along. I donât want the girl to be scared of me because of how I look. I wanted to remind myself how I was like the last time she saw me.ââ
ââFirst of all, even though I just met you allow me to disagree with you. You describe yourself as a monster in a fairy tale and thatâs not the person in front of me. Iâm not a therapist or anything but hearing you talk about how others see you, makes me believe that you see yourself like that.ââ His face fell listening to your words then again you knew that it would be good for him to hear it.
ââThe person I am looking at right now is a stunning man who is willing to go through a difficult procedure for someone who would love him no matter what. Donât roll your eyes at me Bucky. One day, youâll believe me. One day, youâll see that Iâm right about you. Scary people donât do all that for others. And they donât have friends like Sam who are willing to ask people for favors.ââ
ââI am not sure if I can believe you right now but Iâm willing to try. For Sara, thatâs the girl I mentioned earlier, that is coming to see me. She deserves an ââuncleââ that doesnât loathe himself.ââ He couldnât bring himself to smile although his eyes lit up thinking of all the stories Steve had told him about the girl.
ââHow old is she?ââ
ââShe is four now. I used to live next door to them for years before going to war. Steve sent me a letter while I was away telling me that his wife got a job in Chicago so they moved. This is their first time back in New York.ââ
ââYou must have missed them terribly. I can understand that and I am here to hopefully help you feel better about yourself before they arrive. Is there something you want to ask me before we start talking about designs?ââ Not knowing exactly what your sisterâs job was you could always comfort her patents about the procedures.
ââI was wondering about how much the arm will weight, but I donât know if you would be the one to answer that.ââ
ââWell I donât deal with that; itâs my sisterâs area of expertise. However, she taught me that usually, they are lighter than 10 percent of your body weight to be easier to move. Also, let me tell you that we use carbon fibers covered in flesh-colored plastic. And of course, we can design anything you want. Thatâs when I come in.ââ
ââThanks for telling me these. Have you designed many prosthetics before?ââ You gave him a portfolio with some of your works. He was impressed by your talent looking closely on a transparent leg you had created for someone last year.
ââI can make anything you want. If Iâm not biased, I am a little keener of the tattooed ones myself. You can even have a black one with only the outlines. That way once Sara sees it she will be able to color it with washable markers.ââ
ââThat would be amazing. She loves drawing and we would spend more time together to make sure she accepts me again.ââ
ââYou are being harsh on yourself and on her again. I have seen many kids being nice and accepting of disabilities and others being different. I am sure she will be like that too.ââ
ââYou are probably right. Oh, you donât need to make the sketched today right? I just thought about having something Sara draw on top of my tattoo.ââ You loved the idea and you proceeded to brainstorm ideas of that would look good on him.
During your appointments, he became closer to you and opened up about his insecurities. He narrated stories from the army and he even found the courage to tell you about the incident that cost him his arm. The scar that was on his shoulder was a reminder of his bravery and sacrifice so you were pleased to hear your sister didnât erase it. Most people hated battle scars yet she knew how important they are. You even heard her talking about this to Billy one night when he felt like he wasnât enough for her.
The tattoo at his arm turned out beautiful. It featured a castle with a princess and a dragon that Sara had drawn for him right before he got send away. You also made him a futuristic abstract one on his upper arm so the girl can have fun when he was around. Bucky loved it because he loved space and you had added stars around it. Seeing the change in his demeanor and how comfortable and talkative he was around you by the end or your appointments made you thrilled. You were almost sad to finish working with him. You rarely get to meet the patients that were there for training so as soon as the fitting stage ended you never saw them again.
One day, two weeks after his last visit, as you were training the new receptionist on how to book an appointment Bucky entered the clinic. He looked even more gorgeous that you remembered him. He had a cute little girl with him.
ââHi (Y/N), are you busy?ââ You greeted Bucky and asked someone else to take over.
ââAre you Sara? I heard many things about you.ââ
ââI have too. Uncle Bucky said you draw the thing on his arm. Itâs very good. I drew you something to thank you.ââ She gave you a picture of a castle portraying you as a queen and her as a princess.
ââItâs perfect Sara. I love the dress you put me in. Thank you so much.ââ She gave you a hug pleased that you liked her gift.
ââCome on Sara. We have to get our ice creams.ââ
ââDo you want to come with us? We will get you ice cream with sprinkles too.ââ You looked at both of them and agreed since you couldnât say no to the girl. When you walk towards your sisterâs office to let her know you were leaving, you heard their conversation. Â Sara was telling Bucky that you were pretty and he should date you. He agreed about your beauty and he was flustered during your date thinking about it. Your instant connection with Sara helped him see that she was right. He would definitely ask you out when they would take you back to the clinic.
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