#like if hearing words in a song was watching each brush stroke in an art piece

[optimistic-autistic]

i personally do like broadway epic iii but the london (2018. not west end. take that thang away from me) one is my favourite by far. like- ''the sun rose and fell in his chest when he held her / he felt the earth moving without and within'' is such a great moment. and it also keeps the garden imagery??? i'm in love. it's so beautiful agdhjzfhs

[rebrandedbard]

If you are still writing 14?

Okay so this one accidentally went from a drabble to an actual fic whoops. The cure is totally inspired by the Rapunzel fairy tale, spoiler alert, where the prince falls in the thorn bushes around the tower and Rapunzel’s tears fall into his eyes, curing him.

14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

wc: 4444 which is an awesome number I’m so happy lol

Robbed Blind

Someone botches a spell to steal Jaskier’s artistic vision and he’s cursed with blindness. Thankfully, he falls into the company of Ciri and Lambert. They journey safely to Kaer Morhen, but what could be the cure to his affliction?

-

She had found him, tripping over the strings of destiny, in Drakenborg. He’d been on his way to Oxenfurt when the curse took hold, and he had gone no further. Jaskier was haggard, gaunt, and looked quite worn. His hair lay flat from constant fussing. It was a habit Ciri remembered well from his visits, always combing a nervous hand through his hair before a performance. She had never seen it look so lifeless. He needed a mirror, she thought. She would soon realize that a mirror would serve him no purpose.

He was blind. He startled when she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. She’d been so relieved to see a friendly face that she’d run right into his arms, nearly knocking him from the stool in the corner of the tavern. Why should he not catch her as he’d always done? He’d been looking directly at her; she thought he’d merely not recognized her beneath the mud and hood.

“Let me go! Who are you? Stop—stop this now or I’ll give you such a wallop, I’ll—!”

“Jaskier!” Ciri cried, shocked. She flinched away from him as he elbowed her roughly against her temple. She rubbed the spot, standing out of reach.

Jaskier straightened up at once. “Is that—? Little cub, is that you?” he asked. He turned his head as if searching for her and reached out a hand, feeling the air. It was nowhere near.

Ciri took his hand. During their long weeks of travel, she refused to let it go again. She became his eyes, and together they started for Oxenfurt and the safety of its halls.

He’d woken up blind one day, he explained. No warning or explanation. The mage had told him what magic was at play. Someone had tried to steal his artistic vision and the enchantment had gone wrong, stealing from him his very sight.

“Is there not a cure?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier shook his head. “The mage said it was a botched spell. There’s no telling what will fix it, only that it must have something to do with artistic vision. The mage suggested it might be cured by the old methods: kisses and the like; gazing upon true beauty.”

He squinted and took her face between his hands. “I’m looking and looking at you as hard as I can, and I remember you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen when you were first born. So what do mages know? Have you become a pox-faced adolescent or scraggly Medusa? Ah,” he chuckled, “but you’d still be a fairytale princess in my eyes if you had the face of a basilisk.”

She laughed and squirmed out of his hands. “You were always very good at Blind Man’s Bluff. Do you remember when we used to play it? Back then, you were always stumbling; you aren’t stumbling as much anymore.”

“I’ve grown used to it, I suppose. But you are a princess—do you suppose a kiss from you might cure me? How are you with frogs? Ever wake a sleeping prince?”

“No, but we may try it. There’s magic in me of a sort, I know. Here, kneel a moment.”

Jaskier knelt on the dry road and closed his eyes, tapping the lid. “Right here. Give it a go,” he said encouragingly. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll practice on a frog and work our way up.”

Ciri kissed both eyes to be sure. “Alright. Open them. Do you see anything?”

She tried not to get her hopes up, watching Jaskier squeeze his eyes tight. He opened them, blinked several times, and gave her a sad smile.

“Not to worry, we’ll find a pond in no time,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light.

-

“Well! I go to find a cat and find a lioness instead. And a songbird. Must be my lucky day.”

Ciri put herself between the stranger and Jaskier, waving a large branch in warning. “Keep away,” she growled. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

The scruffy man put his hands up and grinned. “I’ve heard what sort of screaming runs in your family. Trust me, I would rather not be around for one of them. Heard it knocked pretty boy flat on his back at your mother’s little Surprise party.”

Jaskier put a hand on Ciri’s shoulder. “Wait a moment,” he said. “I know that moniker. Geralt complained of it before.” He was quiet a moment, stirring up a memory. Then, he lit up, asking excitedly, “Did you say you were looking for a cat? A cat witcher, by chance?”

“Why? Find one up a tree?” the stranger pressed.

Jaskier patted Ciri’s shoulder and strode forward, extending a hand. “You must be Lambert! I’ve heard—” his hand buckled against Lambert’s chest, his stride clearing the distance too quickly “—oh, my apologies. I’ve heard about you before. I was hoping to see you under better circumstances if I ever got the chance. Or to see you at all, really. Damnable timing.”

Lambert looked at him, then took his hand. Ciri watched as the understanding settled in, for Jaskier was staring straight at the man’s forehead, a near lucky guess of his eye line. Lambert wore an expression of pity freely, knowing Jaskier could not see it, though his tone was light and cocky as before. “I always wondered what you saw in that sourpuss, following him as long as you did; now I know you didn’t see anything after all,” he joked.

Jaskier snorted. “It’s new.”

“Ah, so you’ve been blinded by love, have you?”

Jaskier flapped his hand until he felt the brush of Ciri’s sleeve at his side, then he tugged her forward and presented her. He cleared his throat, a tad flushed. “May I introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra. Geralt’s child Surprise.”

Ciri tossed her branch aside. “You know Geralt,” she said.

“They’re brothers.”

Lambert sneered. “He got all the looks, Eskel got the talent, but I got the brains.”

“What little there were to be had,” Jaskier added.

“Oh, ho! You’ll fit right in at the keep, talking like that.”

There was a pregnant pause between the three of them. Jaskier nudged Ciri gently forward. “She’ll be safe there. And her wit is more cutting than mine.”

Ciri turned at once to protest. “But what about Ox—”

“And so would you,” Lambert cut in. “A dull knife and a dull wit can be sharpened, and I’d rather keep two knives in my belt than one, whatever their make. Don’t start that maudlin shit with me; you’re coming along.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest and Lambert raised a hand. Then, realizing how ineffective that was against one who could not see it, he recovered and smacked the side of Jaskier’s head to shut him up before he started.

“Come on; it’s a long and dull road we have ahead of us, and you’re my entertainment. I want to hear every embarrassing story you can supply. I’ve long run out of blackmail and I’m in need of fresh material. Besides, what better bait for a cat than a twittering bird? If you sing loud enough, we might pick him up along the way.”

-

They were all together in the great hall when at last he came. The figure stood in the doorway, a black dot against the stark white of winter outside. A pair of bags dropped with a thundering bang upon the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room, and the figure bundled up by the fire started awake in fright.

Jaskier patted the blanket beside him, made frantic by his sudden awakening. “Ciri? Ciri!” he called, for she had been asleep next to him what seemed only moments ago.

She paused only a moment to stare at the imposing figure in the light. Something in her shouted, compelling her to go to him. But Jaskier called for her in that voice wrought with panic once more. She flew from the circle of wolves to his side, abandoning her hand of cards, disregarding the man of destiny at the door.

“I’m here,” she said, taking his hands. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always. I’m not going anywhere.” She and the others looked at each other, looked at Geralt, and said not a word.

Jaskier settled and took a deep breath. “I heard something crash. I dreamed—but never mind that.” He sighed, pressing his head to their joined hands. “I’m sorry. I know it’s safe here. I’m just not used to you wandering off just yet.”

“I know.” She stroked his hair gently. It was soft again, though not as silky as before. Lambert and Eskel had drawn him a bath for the first time in a long while, but he had not his customary soaps and oils. He was … less bright, his appearance dulled with his mood.

Vesemir had examined him. Countless hours, the wolves had huddled together in the old library, trying to find a cure for Jaskier’s condition to no avail. As time went by, the reality of his situation weighed on Jaskier. He could no longer read his notebook, nor write his music to be remembered. Ciri read his notes aloud and studied the art so she might transcribe them for him, but it was obvious how he felt.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he’d said.

And now he gave her that same false smile, the one that failed to meet his eyes. She missed the lines in the corners and wished they might come back. Perhaps they’d flown off with the crows, frightened of the winter snow.

“Go back to your game,” he whispered. “I’ll head up to bed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered.

He shook his head. “I know the way now. If someone will take me to the stairwell?” he prompted, raising a hand.

Ciri looked at Geralt. There was so little she knew of him—stories and songs … words spared in rumors and stolen from conversations where she lingered unnoticed to listen. What she knew of the wolf and bard she had pieced together with care. For all the tales Jaskier would tell, he would not disparage Geralt before her, and he would not tell the story of the dragon hunt. But dwarves talk. Stories travel and lesser bards would imitate the songs of greater. Witchers collect news of other witchers, and two adults would speak as adults when ale made easy speech. Jaskier had confided in Lambert those tearing words once flung at him upon the mountain. And thus she had put the final piece into place of the great mystery between them.

‘If life could give me one blessing…’

“Who will take him?” she asked. She kept Geralt’s eyes as she rose to her feet. “Who will take him into his hands?”

It was only the barest movement, but she swore she saw the wolf of legend flinch.

Jaskier sat up with a huff. “You make it sound so dramatic. Are we playing at a quest now? Very well, who is my knight errant? The princess has thus decreed a quest is in order: a quest up the perilous tower steps, my-my! Such a task!”

“I should think a white knight is the one suited best for the task,” Vesemir grunted. He shuffled his hand, eyes narrowed at Geralt.

The white knight in question let his cloak fall. He shook the snow from his arms and dusted them slowly, looking at each watching face in turn. His hesitation was clear. When none moved to claim Jaskier, he stepped forward cautiously. Without a word, he took Jaskier’s hand and lifted him to his feet.

Jaskier clapped an arm around his shoulder, hands patting the edge of his long hair. “Ah, thank you, Vesemir,” he said. His hand slipped from Geralt’s armour and he made a face, flicking his wet hand in the air. He prodded the armour curiously. “You’re soaked; I thought you said you’d sent Eskel for the firewood.” He prodded again and bumped against Geralt’s shoulder pad. He pinched it between his fingers, figuring out its shape. He hummed curiously. “What are you wearing? Did you go hunting?”

Geralt stared. Jaskier was not looking at him. Geralt looked at the circle of men by the fireside and there sat Vesemir in silence, watching. He was struck dumb. What … game was this?

“A knight needs a knight’s armour,” Lambert called.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh, of course. Such a soft touch; did you get all dressed up for Ciri? Have I woken in the middle of a game?”

Eskel tossed a card in the middle of the circle. “Yes,” he answered, “but we’ve just started on another, different game.”

“Very cold and calculated,” Ciri agreed.

“Cold and calculated. So a snowball fight has become a snowball war, no doubt born of the most complicated strategies. Shame on the lot of you. You ought to let your elders warm themselves before sending them on tasks. You’re young; you’ve got legs,” Jaskier scolded.

“It was his idea,” Eskel replied.

Vesemir nodded, keeping silent as the game unravelled.

Jaskier looped his arm through Geralt’s and stood straight and tall in an affected manner. “Come, my good knight,” he said, “and let us bid good night to these slacking youths.”

He started to walk in the general direction of the stair, Geralt turning them with truer aim. Geralt looked over his shoulder at the others, frowning. This was not the sort of confrontation he expected when next he saw Jaskier. If he ever saw him. And here was his child Surprise in their midst without a word of greeting or explanation, and the bard, the two of them together and settled within the walls of the keep.

It was too perplexing for him to puzzle out. And Jaskier was acting strangely. Where were his speeches? Geralt had expected him to argue on sight, or else to pretend all was right and greet him, “Geralt! How good to see you,” or, “Fancy meeting you here,” and play off the mountain like it never happened. Or at the very least to ignore him. But to call him Vesemir and take to his arm? What joke was he playing at?

The answer came as Jaskier dodged the first step and nearly fumbled upon the stair. He clung to Geralt’s arm with a cry and his other hand shot out to grope the wall. He flailed for it, feeling his way from the step outward, then sliding his hand up the side of it. He turned his head, looked at Geralt and laughed. “I’m still not used to these uneven steps,” he said. “Give me time and I’ll be able to find my way around unassisted. By next week, I’ll be able to navigate every pool in the hot springs, then you four will never see me fully dressed again!”

Geralt raised a hand to Jaskier’s face. He rested a thumb just beneath his eye. They were as blue as ever, nothing seemed amiss, and yet …

Jaskier’s smile weakened. He closed his eyes and pushed the hand away. “I know the three of you are working hard to find a cure. I know the jokes fall flat. But I must make them. If I don’t … Vesemir, if I can’t make light of it, the darkness I see will be all I have left.”

He turned toward the stair again, hand firm on Geralt’s arm, the other on the wall. “Right then. Up we go. Just one at a time,” he said. He stepped tentatively forwards, prodding his foot before him until he nudged the base of the first step. “Got it. First is always hardest, isn’t it?”

They carried on. Two steps, three, one after the other slowly. They were uneven by design: a final defense against those who would try to invade their stronghold. The spiral stair favored those who walked it every day, gave advantage to the men who would be at the top, swinging their swords to fight back those who would dare trespass unwitting. It was difficult enough for any stranger with sight. With Jaskier, it was a quest in itself.

Midway up, Geralt thought to carry him. They were going so slowly; it would have been easiest that way. He nearly offered, but stopped. If he spoke, Jaskier would know him. He began to reach an arm out to simply lift him, but Jaskier fumbled once more, his knee hitting the step with a mumbled curse. And Geralt heard him muttering through his teeth as he crouched upon the stair.

“I will learn,” he hissed. “This will not stop me. I refuse to be a burden to anyone. Never again.” He touched his forehead to the step and Geralt put a hand to his back. He was trembling.

When Jaskier rose again, he did not take Geralt’s arm. He reached out and took hold of the wall on either side, arms stretched wide to hold himself up. He proceeded to climb the stair alone. When Geralt reached out to help, Jaskier waved him away.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re nearly at the top. Just let me do this much. Please.”

And Geralt let his hand fall away.

Jaskier reached the landing with a powerful stomp, expecting a final step. He breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the right wall. Geralt followed behind and patted his shoulder. Small congratulations. From there, Jaskier walked down the corridor, tapping when he came upon a wooden door. He passed three, tapped each with his knuckles, counting. When he reached the forth door, he opened it. In this space, he walked with ease away from the wall. He flopped confidently upon the bed and rested a moment as one does after a long journey.

He shucked off his doublet and loosened the laces of his boots. He set these aside at the very foot of the bed where they might easily be found again. He undid the back lace of his trousers, paused, and inclined his head toward the door.

“Are you still there, Vesemir?” he asked.

Geralt did not know how to respond. He stood fixed in the doorway, but dropped his eyes to his feet modestly. After a moment’s wait, Jaskier finished undressing and climbed beneath the heavy furs. A memory stirred—that was not the final task of the evening. What was the last of their routine each night? What was left undone that made this finality seem so abrupt? Geralt realized it in the darkness of the room. He had no candle to blow out.

The truth struck Geralt sharp as a blade to his gut. He stole through the door, walking quietly toward the bed. He sat on the edge, the furs rumpled beneath him, and listened to Jaskier’s breathing. He was not yet asleep—would never be, so soon—but he did not stir.

Geralt took his hand gently.

Jaskier squeezed it back.

“I only wish that had not been the last I’d seen of him,” Jaskier whispered. “I try to remember his smile now. For all my poetry, I can’t remember it clearly. His smiles were so rare, but I don’t suppose you need me to tell you. Or perhaps you do. I don’t know if he smiled here; I know nothing his life in this place. Were you so fortunate that they were commonplace?”

Silent footsteps creeped up the stair. Ciri had waited long enough to follow. Geralt heard no sign of her under the ringing words of Jaskier’s speech. Though he spoke no louder than the breath of the wind, every last syllable echoed like a clap of thunder in his ears.

Jaskier slipped his hand free and turned on his pillow, hugging it close. “I wish I might at least see Ciri now, know how she’s grown. They change so quickly at that age. Does she look like her mother? Does she look like him? Destiny makes strange things of those it touches. She was beginning to look like him, I once thought.”

She saw him well enough, looking through the open door. She crouched behind the wall, listening as she always did in secret, for the things he would not burden her with.

“I always did wonder what you looked like. Geralt spoke once to me of his brothers, his mentor. You’re still stories to me in ways. I know you have long hair, grey with age. I know Lambert is shorn, Eskel is shaggy. I know your voices, your height, and a hundred other things. But do you share his eyes? What color is the armour you wear? How does the sun set over the mountainside? The carpets before the hearth—what pattern is woven there? What thousands of stories do you keep in that library? What do the monsters look like illustrated in the great bestiary?”

He buried his face in his pillow. His voice was muffled, but both Geralt and Ciri could hear the husk in it. “I won’t feel sorry for myself. It doesn’t mean anything—just idle curiosity. It doesn’t matter how the carpet is woven or if you wear brown shirts or red. I’ve seen a lifetime of sunrises and sunsets and stars. I don’t want them!” he barked. He writhed on the bed, his face falling from the pillow, stained with tears. “I don’t! I never needed them, not one! I don’t care—I don’t! None of them are important!”

Geralt rushed forward and took Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier struggled, beating at his chest, and refused to be coddled. “No!” he wailed. “Don’t comfort me, I don’t need it! I don’t want it! I will not be pitied!” But for his hard words, he clung to Geralt’s armour, sobbing against his shoulder. “It’s unnecessary. It’s just a bunch of poetry. Useless poetry and songs.”

Jaskier pulled away, Geralt’s hands trailing from his back to his shoulders as he sat up. Geralt held him there before he could retreat more. Before he could think twice of it, Geralt leaned in, his hands cupping Jaskier’s face on either side.

“Vese—”

Something warm and wet fell onto Jaskier’s lashes. He heard a shaky breath, felt the warmth of it upon his face. Another hot tear fell into his other eye and he blinked in surprise, for it was not his own. He sat perfectly still in shock, blinking the falling tears away.

“They were never useless,” Geralt said. “They were always important—all of them.”

Jaskier twitched, raising his head by instinct up to look at the man who held him now. “You were—!”

“I’m sorry. For not speaking before. For … not speaking then. After. And for saying what I did that day.” He wiped the tears beneath Jaskier’s eyes away, an expression of pain twisting his hollowed features. “If I’d not sent you away—I don’t know what’s become of you, but I might have—I could have tried to prevent it. You would still have your sight.”

Jaskier covered Geralt’s hands. “No, Geralt. This is none of your doing. You can’t—”

A loud bump from the hall startled him. Jaskier turned at once to look.

“Ciri,” he breathed.

Ciri had a finger to her mouth and was glaring up at a tall man. They both cowed back, being caught. Jaskier looked between them as Geralt’s hands slipped away. He stood, walking toward them. He looked at Ciri, gaping, their eyes perfectly aligned. Jaskier fell to his knees before her and took her hands without fumbling.

“Ciri,” he said. “You’re so … my good gods, you’ve grown.”

All were still as he reached out, touching her face as though she were made of glass. He smoothed her hair away, taking all of her in. He laughed, new tears falling as he pulled her close and crushed her in his arms. “You’re so beautiful!” he cried. He stroked her hair, cradling her against him as tight as he dared. “And you!” He looked up at the witcher in the hall, reaching out to him and taking his hand. “Which one are you? Say something now, quickly. Let me hear your voice and know you.”

“Eskel,” he answered. And then Jaskier was up on his feet, pulling him into another embrace.

“Eskel!” Jaskier cheered. “Eskel, you look even more heroic than I ever imagined! Oh, let me look at you. Oh, oh! Lambert! Vesemir! Where are you, come forward!”

He dashed into the hall, only to turn on his heel for another look at Eskel, for just one more eyeful of Ciri. Over her shoulder, he saw Geralt sitting there on the bed, his yellow eyes wide, the tears still clinging to his chin.

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered. “Oh, I see. I see.”

He walked forward, gliding a hand beneath Geralt’s jaw. He touched his eyes with his other hand. Carefully, he wiped the last of Geralt’s tears away. It dangled, a little drop at the tip of his finger and he brought it close. He closed his hands around it, cradled them to his chest.

Geralt stood slowly before him. And he smiled.

Ciri tugged at Jaskier’s shirt, her head turned away politely. She cleared her throat and said, “Jaskier? Lambert and Vesemir are on their way up. And you’re … well, you’re not at your most presentable.”

Eskel averted his eyes, his back turned to the scene, however touching. “You might want to get a bit more dressed. And quickly,” he added, for Jaskier was standing in his smallclothes.

Jaskier snorted. “All of you, turn away for decency’s sake! We’re having a moment, here.”

“And what about me?” Geralt asked. “Shall I look away?”

It was nothing but empty jest and Jaskier smiled. “No,” he replied. “No, you’re looking where you’re needed. But I suppose to be fair …”

He clapped a hand over Geralt’s eyes. He leaned forward, whispering against Geralt’s lips. “There. Now no one can see. No one … but me.”

There were no witnesses to that first kiss. It was a secret Jaskier kept for himself.

However, the second, third, and forth had quite a startled audience, as Geralt and Jaskier both fell deaf to the clatter of footsteps in the hall. Ciri took it upon herself to usher the others from the room, explaining on the way. After all, with the curse lifted, she no longer needed to be Jaskier’s eyes. His mouth, however, was currently occupied.

-

Send me a drabble prompt!

[imagine-that-100]

All of You

Description: Alex Turner x Reader (Female) | After getting married, you and Alex go on your Honeymoon that comprises of two destinations. Athens is filled with shitty jokes whilst Bora Bora is filled with compliments and kisses.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Lil smut 

A/N: This was requested by the lovely @ghostlightqueen​. Really hope you like it and I hope the rest of you do too. Likes and reblog are appreciated and thank you so much for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You thought that the day you got married would be the happiest of your life, but it seems that the days that followed were somehow even more joyous. You travelled to your second Honeymoon destination a week after your wedding and the moment you got off the plane with your husband's hand in your own, you knew that this was heaven on earth.

Bora Bora was gorgeous, and it was truly the best Honeymoon destination for you and Alex. You don’t think he’d done nothing in his mind for a long time so the absence of the need to write songs really must have relaxed him.

You’d already been to Athens to see the sights. You both found a lovely antique store whilst you were there and by some miracle you both found an English poetry book in there and each night, before you slept, one of you read one to the other.

The sight-seeing was really fun with him too. You enjoyed going round with your polaroid camera and asking strangers to take a picture of the both of you.

You knew Alex didn’t really like pictures but the ones with you he never failed to smile for. Your husband was also hilarious with you the entire time you got excited to see something new.

Seeing the world was something Alex was obviously lucky enough to do, and you’d been lucky enough to to accompany him a few times, but this was totally different. You were viewing history and you found it so fascinating.

“You’re really Greek-ing out over the view, aren’t you?” Alex chuckles loving seeing you as excited as you are.

“Al, that was awful.” You giggle putting your camera down.

He laughs at your distaste for his joke, but he grins at you and nods, “But you are though.”

“Yes Alex, we’re standing in Acropolis… I’ve always wanted to come here.” You tell him what he already knows.

He smiles at you then before he quickly kisses you. When he pulls away, he says, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you carry on Greek-ing out.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh lord.”

The day after, you both go on a tour around the Parthenon, and Alex catches you looking at an ice cream cart. So, Alex, being the loving husband he is, he goes and gets you an ice cream as you continue to listen to the tour guide.

A minute later Alex came back over with two ice creams in hand and he whispers into your ear after he hands you yours, “What’s Athen’in?”

The way you rolled your eyes at that would have been comical if Alex saw it, but he didn’t, you elbowed him in his side for the awful way he asked, ‘what’s happening.’

“Thank you for my ice cream, you fucking nerd” You whisper back dismissively and Alex chuckles before taking your hand and following the rest of your group as you started moving from your current spot.

Alex continues to make his shit jokes all week and you won’t let yourself admit they are entertaining. You didn’t want to encourage his silly behaviour despite secretly loving it.

On your second to last day before you were due to travel again, you go to a museum and you absolutely love it. But your husband loves to be needy in the crowd of people you were in.

“I love you.” Alex says, leaning over your shoulder and kissing your cheek as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Love you too Alex.” You smile as you rest your hands over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.  

Alex pouts wanting you to return his kind gesture, “Give me a kiss to prove it then.”

“Why can’t I just tell you? We’re in public.” You say, not feeling the need to get off with him as you were standing admiring some art.

Alex grins as you’ve played right into his hands. He jokes, “Athens speak louder than words, Y/N.”

You groan, “That’s the worst one yet.” leaning back into him.

“You love it really.” Alex mumbles as he leans down and places a kiss on your shoulder.

Alex kisses then travel from your shoulder and up to your neck. You’re well aware he likes that your shoulders are available to kiss because you're wearing a white vest top with spaghetti straps. He always loved to follow that trail of kisses.

You pay the loving kisses no attention though, you just chuckle and tell him, “I can’t wait to tell Matt about your shitty jokes.”

“Hey...” Alex pouts, “What Athens in Greece, stays in Greece.”

You hold your groan back this time and curiously ask, “Can I get an annulment or does it have to be a divorce after nearly a week?”

You can’t hold back your smile as he loudly gasps and spins you around. You knew that he knew you were joking but that doesn’t stop his jaw falling open.  

“You love me, you wouldn’t do that.” Alex playfully frowns a little.

“You should know by now that you can’t tame me Turner.” You grin and wrap your arms around his neck.

Who were you kidding, you didn’t care about PDA that much.

“I know everything about you, Turner.” Alex grins, using your new last name against you. “You’ve been my best friend since we were seventeen.”

“I know, you idiot.” You smile as you feel his arms wrap around your lower back.

“That’s how I know you hate me when I do this.” You grin as you reach up, messing up his fluffy hair with one hand whilst stealing his sunglasses with your other.

Alex gasps and laughs, pulling you in tighter so you can’t escape. You giggle like an idiot trying to get away from him but he doesn’t let you go anywhere.

“You’re my wife, you can’t pull shit like that anymore.” Alex says, his jaw still a little agape.

You grin and say, “I can and I will… Gotta keep you on your toes now Turner.”

Alex shakes his head and mumbles against your lips before he lets you fully kiss him, “Like you have done the past twenty years, you mean?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bora Bora was a completely different experience.

Maybe it was because there was less to do or you were both just shocked by the beauty of the place. You felt like you were in Neverland.

The islands surrounding the one your resort was on was amazing. You and Alex were staying in your own water villa and it was one of the end ones so you had the best view and the bigger place.

Not that you really needed it but you had to admit, it was nice to have a big house in a stunning paradise to yourselves.

There was a balcony on the water villa you were both staying in and it was amazing. It came equipped with sunloungers and even a small pool, which was mental to you because the sea was right there for you to jump into if you wanted to swim.  

But that didn’t mean that you didn’t get use out of it.

You’ve both been there a few days and you’ve not yet got bored of sunbathing after your hectic week of being a tourist. Last week had definitely tired you both out, so despite you already having your tans by now, you still loved spending your full day out in the sunshine.

You got up from the sunlounger, that was more of a sun bed, beside Alex not 20 minutes ago, and swam to the edge of the small infinity pool and rested your elbows on the side of it as you watched the sun go down. The view was stunning.

The sun slowly hid itself behind the stray clouds that littered the sky, turning them red which against the now orange sky made it look picture perfect. You wanted to paint the scene in front of you.

But before you knew it, it had disappeared and darkness was creeping its way to the sky. So you slowly made your way out of the pool so you could get ready to go for dinner soon.

“You look so good right now Angel.” Alex says as you walk up the steps out of the pool.

You smile, feeling a little shy for some unknown reason. Probably because you weren’t doing anything that you thought was compliment worthy, “You think so?”

“I always think so.” Alex nods before gesturing for you to come towards him.

He didn’t care that you’d just been in the water at all. His trunks were still damp from his swim earlier so when he guided you to straddle his lap, he didn’t care at all.

You looked stunning in your blue and white striped spaghetti strap bikini. He definitely couldn’t not tell you, even if he did see traces of embarrassment show on your pretty face.

“I love you.” You grin before pressing your lips to his after wrapping your arms around his neck.

Alex grins back and keeps you close as he whispers, “I love you more.”

You brush your nose against his as you shake your head, whispering back, “Not possible.”

You kiss him then and despite it being soft and gentle, you get the same nervous feeling in your stomach that you got the first time you kissed him however many years ago now. The kiss deepened and you guess the two of you just got too consumed in the moment because before you knew it all the strings that held your bikini together were being untied and Alex’s trunks were off.

If you ever cared about having sex and the risk of others seeing you, you certainly didn’t in this moment in time. You were riding your husband on the large sunlounger on your balcony and you felt euphoric.

The intimacy of the moment somehow made it better and you think even the risk of others seeing or hearing increased the pleasure you were feeling too. That must have been subconscious though because all you could think about was Alex.

His hold on your hips was strong and when he pulled you hips down to meet his, it caused the sweetest sound to fall from your lips which made Alex do it again and again. You looked heavenly above him like that.

Eyes closed just basking in the feeling of pleasure you were both giving each other. The sun setting behind you as Alex watched you ride him was stunning, it made you look like you were glowing.

Gorgeous was another word Alex would use to describe you when your head tilted back in the bliss of the moment. The whine you release when Alex starts kissing your neck where he knew you were sensitive was music to his ears.

And the way your fingers laced through his hair and pulled on it causing a similar sound to fall from Alex’s lips. But most of all Alex just thought you were the most beautiful human being and he never had a problem with telling you that.

The things he told you during intimate moments like this just made everything better and when your orgasm hit you, it was unearthly. You cling to Alex like he was going to magically disappear and Alex did the same to you when he got his release.

“I love you Alex.” You just about manage to say into his neck where you were hiding yourself when you came back to reality.

Alex trails kisses from your shoulder all the way up your neck to just under your ear as he’d done hundreds of times before. He breathes you, “I love you too Angel.”

~*~*~*~

Days in this paradise were spent relaxing in each other’s company outside or inside, in bed. The latter happened often as there was no need to get yourselves up in the mornings so you lazed about in bed.

Either cuddling and listening to music or listening to the TV in the background as you both stared out at the amazing view that the island had to offer. There weren’t very many times throughout this honeymoon when you wouldn’t be found touching each other.

Even if you went out for a walk you’d be hand in hand. But mostly you were entangled together in the confines of your own villa.

Either in the same sense that you were when you were on the sunlounger, which you couldn’t look at the same again, or just innocently cuddling. You think that your happiest day had been when Alex showered you with a million more compliments than he did every other day.

Today you’d stayed in your villa for most of the day, first Alex had made you feel euphoric again by making you feel like a queen (his queen). This time in bed though and not on the sunlounger.

Afterwards, you both showered and you were certain you’d never felt more peaceful than in that shower with him after he’d just made you feel pure bliss. After you dried off, Alex catered for you by making you a late breakfast which later you returned the favour for and made him lunch.

After relaxing in the small pool that was on your balcony, you also messed around a little and both jumped in the sea a lot, as if you were seventeen again. Once you decided it was time to make yourselves presentable for dinner later, you both headed back inside out of the sunlight.

You ran yourself a bath and unsurprisingly Alex joined you in it when it was filled. The bath was next to a large window that again showed off the stunning views of your amazing surroundings, so you enjoyed resting back against Alex, listening to the music that was playing out of your phone.

The kisses to your head as you both relaxed warmed your heart more than the water you were both sat in. It made you not want to leave the escape that the villa brought you.

So you dragged the bath out for a good hour and after Alex washed your hair and you had a giggle washing his, you got ready and went out to have your meal.

You came back to the villa long after the sun had set and you couldn’t wait to get in bed so a whole new day could start. Alex had been charming and flirty all throughout dinner so it really wasn’t a surprise when that continued.

The compliments started falling from his lips as soon as you both made it back to bed. Both of you cuddled together but he was once again teasing you with neck kisses.

“I’m sad you took that dress off, you looked stunning tonight.” Alex tells you as he places random kisses just below your ear.

He was pretty much lying on top of you, your chests pressed together and his head was buried into your neck. You weren’t complaining though, you just happily traced patterns on the smooth material that rested on his back, and now and again you ran your fingers through his hair.

You grin knowing he’d like it. “I thought you’d like that one.”

It was a little black dress that you’d bought purposely for a dinner date. You knew he’d love it because of how perfectly it fit you, but you had to admit, taking it off and putting your new black silk pyjama top and shorts on felt comfier.

“I like everything you put on… Or take off for that matter.” He chuckles a little, still lying on top of you and kissing your neck now and again.

He made you feel really warm and you loved the intimacy of the moment. Just lying in bed with him with the balcony doors open and letting the cool breeze run over the both of you as you listen to the waves.

“Very easily impressed, aren’t you?” You grin as you twirl his hair around your fingers.

Alex chuckles before kissing his way back up your neck. “Only by you, Angel.”

You giggle a little then as you play with his hair whilst he still distracts himself with your neck. You were sure he’d keep his head there for all eternity if you let him, and he had even more reason to stay there because he knew you secretly loved it.

“I could name 110 things I love about you right now, just off the top of my head.” Alex promises as he lifts his head and kisses your lips.

You giggle when he pulls away, “That’s oddly specific.”

Alex grins and kisses you again as he says, “Well I could have said 505 but at the risk of being cheesy, I adapted.”

The laugh you released then was something Alex was so glad he could hear everyday now. He couldn’t wait to start a proper life with you now you were officially his.

“Your laugh might be at the very top of that list.” Alex tells you, smiling to himself.

“Then your eyes, they are so stunning.” Alex tells you, his own eyes looking back and forth between yours. Almost as if he couldn’t decide which he liked better. “I’d write a full song about your Y/E/C eyes if you’d let me.”

You grin at him but shake your head. It was an answer that Alex knew was coming but he still loved them non the less. Alex gazes down at your lips then that were tugged up into a stunning smile.

“Your smile is definitely up there too. I don’t think I could ever have a bad day again if you smile at me like that every day.” That fills your chest with warmth.

Alex gives you an eskimo kiss then and your heart skips a beat at your noses brushing together, and again when he softly says, “I love the way you just sort of melt when I do that.”

It was true you really did practically melt beneath him. Your eyes close, you release the breath you're holding and you just bask in the feeling of his nose brushing against yours, you feel like you sink into the pillow beneath you more than you already had.

His compliments continue, “I love the way you run your fingers through my hair and how you twist it around when you’re relaxed and happy.”

You smile as you carry on doing it. And you didn’t plan on stopping.

“I love that you still wear that perfume I helped you pick out years ago.” Alex says getting another whiff of the gorgeous scent.

“I love your kisses. To the point where I think I’d cry if you’d deny me one.” Alex jokes a little with you and it makes you giggle again.

“I love waking up and falling asleep next to you.” Alex admits, “Definitely better than waking up next to the idiots back home on a tour bus.”

“You’re such a lovely friend.” You chuckle looking into his soft brown eyes.

Alex hums in agreement and continues with, “I love that you’re my best friend and have been since I can remember.”

“I adore the fact that you’re amazing at what you do and you give 110% for each new thing that’s thrown your way.”

“You’ve said 110 twice now, should I be expecting another song?” You playfully ask him and Alex laughs before he kisses you again.

“I love your reactions to the songs that are about you.” Alex grins.

Your eyes narrow a bit there as he knew how you felt about the songs. But you could let that go a bit now.

He was your husband after all.

“I love that you get really sexy when you get annoyed at something.” Alex says before kissing you again, and he starts kissing down your jaw and he focuses back on your neck.

“I love the way you pretend you hate this but I know from the way that you react that you don’t.” Alex says and you catch yourself reacting in encouraging ways.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, you gave him more room for his lips to find your skin, and your breath hitched when he teases the spot he knew was your weakest.

“I love that the way you breathe gives away how you want to have sex.” Alex practically purrs in your ear.

Alex’s lips continue to tease you and after a few seconds he nips on a spot he already got before and you release a breathy whine. Of course Alex says, “I love those noises you make so much. I wanna hear them all day.”

Alex slowly moved himself a little further up your body, this time resting himself down between your legs and you can feel him getting hard through the both of your pyjama shorts. You gasp a little, “Alex.”

He all but groans, “I love the way you say my name.”

Your eyes are closed now and you focus on the kisses on your neck and his hand running down your side until he carries on to your leg and he gently guides it to hook around his waist. He felt even better against you then and you bite your lip to stop yourself from giving anything more away.

“I love how you try to stop yourself from wanting us… Makes it even funnier now we’re married.” Alex chuckles before he kisses your lips that he catches you biting.

You don’t really care now, he’s right. He’s your husband, you don’t have to show restraint anymore. Especially on your Honeymoon.

Your kiss is slow but intense. You could feel how much Alex loved you and you wanted to show how much you love him too. And in this moment your actions seemed like no better way.

“Alex.” You breathe to grab his attention.

He kisses you again and bites in your lip as he pulls away. He grins at your whine and innocently asks you, “Yes Angel?”

You grab a fistful of his pyjama top and say, “Please let me take this off”

He lets you and once it’s somewhere on the floor Alex grins at you like an idiot. You know he’s happy, overjoyed even, but there’s a teasing sparkle in his eyes so you lean up and kiss him again to bypass that.

Your top hits the floor next and Alex has his fun attaching his lips to your chest leaving mark after mark. The rest of both your pyjamas are removed shortly after. 

Before anything goes any further though Alex pauses for a second. He looks down at you so lovingly, you feel as if you could literally melt under his gaze.

His chest is still pressed to yours and you’re both breathing a little heavy from previous kisses. But the way he’s looking at you makes your heart flutter.

At this point you don’t think it ever wouldn’t.

Alex’s declaration of love finishes off with, “I just love you Mrs Turner... All of you”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[saphirered]

Hi! I really love the stuff you've been writing for Molly!! It's so engaging and really sweet and makes me smile really wide, so thank you for that! If you're still taking requests, could I request a romantic Molly x Reader who's a druid/bard multiclass? Who has the same vibes as a Disney princess? I hope you have a great day and I can't wait to see what you write next!!

Aw shucks thank you so much ☺️. I hope this is to your liking. Enjoy 😘

The parade to draw people into the carnival was coming to an end. You were almost back at the tent and had gathered a proper crowd to watch the night’s show. Along the way you did your acrobatics and used some druidcraft to create little flowers in the palm of your hand or letting colourful floral vines bloom throughout your hair and attire. The whole look made you appear like an ethereal creature from the Feywild, perhaps even at the Seelie Court itself. 

Children giggle as you wave at them, snowflakes fall only to melt before they reach the ground. Dancing around you had fun and eventually found your ‘Fire Faerie’ friend. Together you twist and turn in a carefully practiced routine. A cloud of petals floats around you until Orna sets them ablaze, the embers blowing up in the breeze with a soft casting of Gust from you. People laugh and cheer as you both curtsied and move on your way through the crowd. 

You find Molly juggling his iridescent shimmering scimitars. Announcing your presence you dance around him just barely out of reach from the sharp blades. He nearly drops one in surprise, not expecting you to step so close but recovers quickly and it seems either no one noticed or they expected it to be part of the act. He sends you a half smile and a wink as you twist and turn around him avoiding the blades by a hair’s width humming a sweet melody. Gasps came from the people around as you narrowly avoid the scimitar from cutting through you like butter. 

You stop and take a slower pace to fall back a little bit, run and with the momentum, leap onto Molly’s shoulders in a handstand as he continued to walk. You let a couple of the flowery vines weave into his horns as he laughs and you flip over landing ahead of him. Looking over your shoulder you blow him a kiss with a wink as he continues juggling. You continue your routine with the song, the melody turning into a beautiful song people follow behind you as if you were the piped piper. Each time you take your next step you leave behind a path of colourful wildflowers. 

Toya had been feeling a bit under the weather so, you were to take over her act for the night. All dressed in flowy chiffons of greens, blues, purple and golds held together by felted vines and silk flowers, glittery exaggerated makeup, hair braided and teased you’re ready to take on your role. Your devil at your side usual clothes exchanged for dark ashen robes and features contoured in such a way to give him an even more devilishly handsome look. 

“And our next story, comes from far away. The fires of hell know one loyal to Zariel herself! A trickster, traitor and danger to all. One should know better than make a deal with this devil…” You hear from behind the curtain Gustav begins your introduction.

“That’s my cue. Let’s give them a show worth remembering.” Molly kisses your knuckles before his lips meet yours and he’s off by the time you open your eyes. Taking a few deep breaths you wait for the ‘story’ to continue.

“They say a devil’s heart cannot be tamed. They must never have met the Summer Princess! Blessed from the Feywild, what is beautiful is most dangerous and they are no exception. The Summer Princess walks among the Seelie Courts but those who pay careful attention may just hear their song. Be warned, they are much more treacherous than the devil…” Peaking through the curtain just so no one can see you focus on the support beams of the tent and begin casting your spell. Blooming vines creep up the beams wrapping around, flowers drape down. Petals begin to fall down from the ceiling provided by the Knot Sisters from the shadows. You hear gasps as people look around. 

You see Molly walk around, sword dragging in the dirt as you hear him growl at the plants. Time to sing and sing you do. 

The people look around as you tend to the flowers near one post ‘oblivious’ of the presence ‘in your garden’. You interact with some of the people in the front row offering them smiles and making flowers sprout around where they sit, offer an airy touch of the cheek of the poor individuals entranced by your song, unable to keep their eyes off you as they cling onto every word. 

Your song speaks of the beauties of the Feywild. Making use of your training you belt. Birds fly into the tent, swirling around you, the devil watching, his face turning from anger to bewilderment as he sticks to the shadows. You reach your hand to the sky mimicking the melody of the songbirds. Stretching your arms to the side one by one they land. You let them sing replying in a song of your own as if you’re having a conversation with them.��

Molly steps out from the shadows and into the light around you. You hear whispers from the audience ‘watch out’, ‘he’s behind you’ and ‘the devil is coming for the princess’. You continue your song walking along the audience, birds still resting on your arms as you sing with them. Next you turn the edge of the blade of ‘the devil’ is pointed at you and you act surprised, your song stopping for just a moment. 

“What are you?” Molly growls showing his fangs as he does fully committing to his role. You can’t help but hide a smile. Such a lover of theatrics. 

“I’m the Summer Princess and you, handsome devil are in my garden.” You sing, the blade drops a little before it raises closer to you. 

“Do not think you can charm me, wild enchantress.” You hum to the birds and they give a reply. 

“I charm only those willing to listen to my song. Are you willing, handsome devil of mine, walking in my garden.” You harmonise with the birds. They leap into flight circling around you and Molly closer and closer until you’re standing toe to toe. 

“Your song is sweeter than temptation, more treacherous than this devil’s words.” You move your hand to stroke his cheek as you do flowers and vines similar to the ones in your hair begin growing in his much like a crown. You may have overdone it a bit but Molly would see later what piece of art you left for him to remind him of your act. 

“Then join me handsome devil, and let the wildflowers keep our secret.” You tilt your head as if you were going to kiss him speaking the last words. You step back, hand outstretched looking at him with bright eyes. Molly’s hand stretches out towards you as you set pack. 

“Come with me, my handsome devil.” You sing as he begins following you with slow paces. Gustav comes around once more. 

“And so the Summer Princess tames the heart of their handsome devil. Their charm never fails and they are as treacherous as they are beautiful still. Take care to stay out of their garden or you might just end up like their handsome devil…”

————————————————————————

After a successful evening show you sit at the camp attempting to remove the vines and flowers from your hair and clothes. They look beautiful but are an absolute hell to get rid of and leaving them in isn’t really an option. As far as you could tell you successfully got rid of all the vines and flowers without harming the delicate silk greens, purples blues and yellow golds of your show costume which left you with your hair. 

Not even half way through with the moon high in the sky you give up with an exasperated sigh and let yourself fall backwards onto the soft grass. Most of the others had gone to bed already or found the bottom of a bottle so you’d find no help there. The calmness and quiet of starry night brings comfort to your mind and you start to drift off a bit. Your ears still manage to catch the familiar footfalls approaching you and your pile of discarded flowers. What you didn’t expect was about a hand or two full of flowers hitting you in the face. 

Opening your eyes you saw Mollymauk standing above you with half grin. By the looks of him he had attempted to get the flowers from earlier out of his hair but struggled just as much as you had and given up halfway through. He hadn’t gone about it as carefully as you though so the purple knotted mess sticking out at odd angles made him look rather funny and you stifle a giggle as you get to your feet. He puts his hands on his hips.

“You think this is funny? I swear, if I didn’t know any better I’d really believe Gustav’s story, you little Archfey!” He speaks exasperated as you pulled away some ivy circled around one of his horns with a laugh dropping it with the pile you had created. 

“Of course I think it’s funny, my handsome devil.” You patted his cheek and took one of his hands with your free one pulling him with you to sit down on the grass. Kneeling in front of him you begin untangling the vines and removing the flowers using your fingers to brush through, carefully pick apart and untangle the mess he had created. Once you are done and just brushing through his hair making sure you didn’t miss anything and to get it back to its usual state he takes your hands and presses a delicate kiss to your palms. 

“Turn around?” The words come out more as a question but you do and sit between his legs as he starts carefully detangling the vines from your own hair muttering a sorry and kissing your shoulder every time he either has to or accidentally pulls on your hair to take them out. It took him a while but eventually all the vines and flowers are gone and you’re just sat, leaning back against him, listening to sounds of the early early morning and the faint light barely visible from the town you’re set up outside off in the fields. 

Molly’s arms wrap around your waist and his head leaning on your shoulder as he hums a tune all too familiar to you. You elbow his stomach looking at him with a fake scowl. He kisses your scowl away and begin humming along with him, a flock of birds dancing overhead as you do. Surrounded by warmth and comfort you both slowly let the exhaustion consume you as the first lights of dawn draw upon the horizon. 

[aenaxes]

PANSLALSOKAAOOSKWOAMSNA CONGRATS ON 200 BESTIE!! YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE, SUPPORT, AND EVEN MORE!! YOU ARE SO TALENTED NOT ONLY WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING BUT ALSO YOUR ART TOO!!! If you wouldn't mind, I would like to request a sfw to nsfw with Hardcase? The song that makes me thing of him every damm time, I have no clue why, is Ribs by Lorde. For pronouns would be she/her and if you would like to know, I'm about 5'2" with blue eyes, mid back length half dyed hair, the colors I have dyed my hair are purple, blue, and pink!! Even if you don't do this, just know that I wouldn't mind and I'm always happy with seeing you write whatever you want because you are so talented and keep me very well fed 😌🤲💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

we'll make it (divine)

[hardcase x f!reader] loving hardcase is something akin to falling in love all over again and again every time he knocks on your door and pulls you into his arms.

warnings: nsfw, outdoor sex, mushy gooey feelings

w/c: 3.0k

a/n: sage my darling 🥺 ily bb mwah <3 i'm going to be completely honest writing this made me fall so so so much more in love with hardcase (bless u for that)

event details here! requests will be open until july 4th!

“Hey!” Hardcase greets you with that very specific sort of glee only he knows, breathless and bright-eyed as your door slides open.

The durasteel parts to reveal him and a shiny keyring lifted eye-level to the blue ink arcing over his temple. The sparse assortment of bronze and silver speeder keys jangle against a polished leather keyfob as he shakes his fist with boyish, giddy joy. It’s one that, you might add, isn’t exactly fitting of Hardcase’s rough-and-tumble style—ergo, keys that don’t belong to him—and one that begets a few questions as you raise a pointed brow in his direction.

Hardcase only grins wider.

But before you can ask if those are—and they definitely are—the keys to Jesse’s planetside speeder, Hardcase shoots his other hand forward and wiggles his fingers between yours, tugging you into the glare of the fluorescent hallway lights and squeezing snug.

“Don’t have much time,” he nods earnestly. “You ready to go?”

“Go where?” you laugh as he stuffs the keys into the pocket of his bomber, tearing his attention away from you if only to shoot a hasty glance over his shoulder. But you’re stepping forwards anyways, crowding up against his side as your door slides shut behind you.

“Out, duh,” Hardcase says with a scrunch of his nose, the telltale twitch of his left cheek that you immediately recognize as a silent, animated, ‘isn’t it obvious?’ He punctuates his response with a quick squeeze over your hand, and his smile grows wider when you tip your head back and laugh.

“How much of a head start do you have on him?”

“I have about a hallway lead,” he says, sheepish if not for the excitement in his voice. “C’mon! He’ll beat my ass if we don’t get moving!”

You might not exactly know what’s going on, because for all the spontaneous and oftentimes questionable visits from Hardcase that you’ve come to expect as part of your regular routine, Hardcase carried with him some mischievous ingenuity to surprise you each and every time. But you can’t help but mirror the contagious delight in his grin as you squeeze his hand and take off behind him.

And it’s the natural thing to do, the ebb and flow of alternating surprises: Hardcase poking into your room well past lights out with Tup’s holo and a bootlegged movie, and you meeting him with two glasses of single malt whiskey before both promptly gagging on your first sips. It had always been like that ever since you had, quite literally, knocked heads with Hardcase in the corridors of your first jedi cruiser assignment, running a bit too fast a bit too far.

A bit of carefree joy, a bit of light, you think as you run past a loose group of shinies, the squeak of your boots blending with your stifled giggling. And when Hardcase turns his head to check if you’re still there (as if he’s not squeezing your hand tight), you see him as he is, a sturdy piton to keep your hold against war’s steep shear.

“Hurry, hurry!” he laughs as you run through the open blast doors. His voice rises above the motions of the hangar bay like the sweetest song, hoarse and free.

You open your mouth to say something along the lines of ‘I’m trying!’ but your mouth fills with the cool air of the Ansion night, sweet with the fragrance of grass, organic and good over the labored exhaust of the base. And instead of words, laughter, bright and loud, bubbles from your chest.

As soon as you’re entering the hangar bay, you already find yourself at its opposite end. Hardcase’s fingertips dig firm into the soft curve of your waist as he hurriedly but no less gently lifts you off your feet and onto the back of Jesse’s bike. With one final look over his shoulder, Hardcase clambers on after you, jamming the keys into ignition and revving the engine to life.

The low thrum of the bike drowns out Jesse’s muted yelling from across the landing as you peel away from the bay. But above Jesse’s fading shouts, above the rumble of eight durasteel cylinders underneath you, all you can hear is Hardcase’s whoops of pure joy when you wrap your arms tight around his waist and press your ear behind his beating heart.

The recycled hangar bay air gives way to something earthy and warm. You breathe deep, even with the speeder ramped up as fast as you think it could possibly go, and your lungs fill with the fading ghosts of sunlight and Hardcase’s cologne as you squeeze your arms around him and imagine the floodlights of the base blinking out behind you.

It’s only when the bike beneath you sputters to a halt and the roar of the engine gives way to the broad silence, curling over the hilltop on the rich and cool midnight winds, that you turn your head and see Hardcase without the giddy thrill of impromptu adventure.

Hardcase hops off the speeder, wobbling once on his feet with a breathless laugh as he hits solid ground. You watch from your perch on the back of the bike as he dusts off his jeans and shoves the keys into the pocket of his GAR bomber. It’s the one that fits one size too small, pulling at the edges of his shoulders as he rises to his full stature under the glow of twin moons.

But when Hardcase turns around to face you, all wind-kissed cheeks and rosy glow that reaches his eyes, the playful tease dies on your tongue.

“Your hair’s a mess,” he says softly as he tilts his head to the side to flash you a smile. He saunters forwards, eyes gleaming with starlight, and finds home between your thighs with a sigh you almost lose to the rising wind.

He shrugs off his bomber, his face scrunching up in the way that makes you both laugh when his arm catches on the tight pull of leather, and he sweeps it behind you to set it snug over your shoulders. And when you’re snug under his jacket, he lifts his hands to your temples, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he gently pushes your tousled hair behind your ears.

You let your eyelids flutter shut, relishing in the careful touch you know he only reserves for you, nothing like the playful roughhousing and loving shoves he exchanges in the barracks. It’s a slow deliberation, callused fingertips tracing over your scalp, sending shivers down your spine as he strokes from your hairline and arcs over the crown of your head, fingertips giving way to his warm palm cupping at the apex of your neck.

And it doesn’t take wide eyes to know that when his motions stutter to a pause, when you hear him inhale through his nose, that he’s watching you with that unnameable warmth: the one that settles deep and wide in his dark eyes, fingertips hovering just close enough over your skin that you feel the heat radiating across that small breadth between you, wondering how he got so lucky, reveling in how he got so lucky.

You know the feeling. (You feel the same.)

You open your eyes, and Hardcase is there. He is there, bathed in the endless starscape above, but all he can see is you, reflected back at you in fond eyes you commit to memory each and every time.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Hardcase whispers. He lifts one hand to rub over the back of his neck and brings the other flush over the curve of your knee with the boyish shyness of twinkling eyes and starstruck joy that had roped you into his gravity the first time he’d stumbled into your path.

“You’d better be,” you snort, tugging his jacket close to your collar as he shifts his palm higher. There is playfulness, just a flash, but it soon gives way to something warm and low in your belly.

The small, slow movements of his thumb over your thigh strike a warmth that chases the midnight wind’s cold, spreading in thrumming waves over your chest. It emboldens you like a neat shot of whiskey, thrown back at once, swallowed down with raucous laughter, the noise and the lights faded away under the open sky, warm, warm, warm, and you reach up to curl your fingers over the hand at his neck, pulling him close.

You lean forwards, touching your brow to his, and just before you slide your eyes shut, you catch the look in his deep brown eyes. It reminds you of the first time you bore witness to the ghostly blue lights of a hyperspace jump, entranced in honest wonder as he stands between your thighs.

Because it’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you—a warm and bright place to call home. It’s always been you. And Hardcase melts into your touch as you brush close.

“‘cause I think I’m in love with you, too.”

He laughs, and it’s a new sound in the night. It’s not quite relief, nor is it that exuberant glee from your sprint down the base halls. When you think back on it, it was understanding, your secret for two.

“I love you,” Hardcase says again, stronger, convicted, something closer to an earnest prayer than words alone as he looks up at you and greets you with the galaxy bright in his eyes. Not a soldier, not one of millions, just him; firm muscle between your thighs, breaths ghosting over your collar, fingertips pressing warmth into your ribs as he snakes his palms under your shirt and pulls you close.

Just yours.

You’re not sure who kisses who first, too full of a rapturous swell that blooms through your chest. But it doesn’t really matter. Not when Hardcase’s lips curl close against yours, wind-chapped and dry but so, so warm as he presses his fingertips into the skin of your back and pulls you close against him.

When his kiss is broken by the cold air, bitter in comparison to his touch, you let a whimper roll from your tongue. Brief as the interruption may be, it’s an interruption all the same.

Hardcase humors you with a quick peck to the corner of your mouth. But he’s quick to make up for that split second of lost time as he throws his leg over the side of the bike, his knees knocking against yours as he takes a seat before you. In his lovestruck daze, he sweeps his arms wide, letting that brief moment of giddy glee pass over his cheeks before he brings his hands over your waist and gently tugs onto his lap.

“Isn’t this Jesse’s bike?” you sigh dreamily when Hardcase thumbs over the crease of your thighs and noses up against the edge of your jaw, sending want snaking up your spine.

“He doesn’t need to know,” Hardcase says with a noise somewhere between dismissal and apathy as he shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, gross,” and you stick out your tongue as if you aren’t already aching at the thought of straddling his lap and letting him stretch you open under the starscape above.

Hardcase simply shrugs and brings his hand to his chin to offer you his best glamour face in return.

You make quick work of your slacks, kicking them off to the side while Hardcase fumbles with his fly. It’s awkward, if only by the fact that you’re balanced atop each other on the delicate wobble of the hover generator, elbows bumped close in a gentle fumbling that’s simply too genuine to be embarrassing anymore. You’ve done this too many times, shoved up in dark closets and hidden spaces of cruiser corridors, never truly satiated, never having taken your fill.

It’s not awkward—just endearing, you decide as you shift your hips forward and feel the blunt head of his cock dip up between your thighs.

As you sink down onto his lap, the speeder wobbles beneath you, and you fling your arms around him with a half-squeal half-moan, dropping down onto his cock in one smooth movement that sends a shudder through you both.

There is some solace in knowing that if the bike did tip over, that Hardcase would go down with you, his arms tight around your waist as he nuzzles into your chest and laughs. Commitment, you think as your heart bangs up against your ribs, a bit silly and very much dangerous, but commitment that warms you to your core.

“It’s all you, baby,” Hardcase whispers as you finally peel yourself away from him and lean back just enough to catch a full view of his face.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. How could you? How could you assign to the mundane the sweet ease of trust sloped over his brow as he looks up at you like you’re the only thing in the midnight sky, the only thing in his universe?

“Lazyass,” you snort, and he laughs.

But clever quips and snarky remarks are forgotten for the night when you carefully lift your hips, knees quivering over the hard press of the bike, and rock back down onto his lap.

Hardcase fills you in the way only he can, toeing that fine line between easy comfort and the satisfying burn of being split open and squeezed breathless.

You sink down with a whimpering gasp, toes curling when you feel him buck up into the soft spot inside you that whites out your vision. Choking on your own moan, you let your head drop down onto his shoulder, already rendered boneless and pliant around him. You fist tight into the soft fabric of his shirt, cunt spasming around him, and you hold tighter when his hips jerk up again.

“I got you, baby. I got you,” Hardcase mumbles into your shoulder, trailing his lips to the base of your neck and kissing sweet. His arms squeeze around your waist once and anchor you close. And he is there, curled everywhere around you, holding you close as the wind rises broad and far between the grassy plains and the universe overhead.

Where else could you ever want to be?

You want to laugh when you remember Hardcase leaving the pace to you as you feel his palms knead into your hips. But it comes out as a soft sigh when he hefts you halfway off his cock and fucks you down onto him again. All you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and hold as he starts a steady pace.

You won’t last long like this—neither of you will, not when you’re bared to the open sky and yet the closest you’ve ever felt to each other in a long while.

Hardcase breaks your dreamy longing with an uneven jerk of his hips. He’s close, and like muscle memory, he immediately drags one hand over the curve of your thigh to find the soft skin where you part around him. But you’re quick to react to him, grabbing his wrist as you sink down onto him with a soft moan.

“Already feels good,” you gasp, meeting him through the blurry haze of the tears dotting your lashes. You can just make out his wide eyes, and you choke out an unsteady laugh. “Hold me, ‘Case. Just hold me.”

“Okay, yeah,” Hardcase babbles, holding you flush on his lap and coaxing a soft sob from your lips. He brings his arms around your ribs, nestling his cheek against your chest, right above your beating heart. “Anything for you, baby.”

And that’s all it takes.

You come with a whimpering cry, and pleasure, luxuriant and warm, floods through your core as you bow forward and clutch tight to Hardcase’s neck.

It’s too much but only in the best of ways. Hardcase gives you little time to breathe, shedding the last dregs of restraint to press you down hard onto his lap and fuck as deep as he can go. Feeling your own high, Hardcase takes his fill and bends you to his pleasure, fucking into you for himself. And you swear you feel it in your throat as he lifts you up to the blunt ridge of his tip and brings you back down all at once.

“I love you,” Hardcase chants, breathy and low as he spills into your pulsing cunt. Your soft moans twine with his own as a second orgasm shocks through you, pulled over the edge again by his words alone. “I love you, I love you.” And he crushes his lips against yours and swallows your honeyed confessions with his tongue.

You feel him come down from his high with you. Your breathing blends as one until you’re gasping softly against each other, having long since parted and pressed your heads close, brow-to-brow, nose-to-nose. You vaguely remember it meaning something to the good brothers of the GAR, and while you can’t quite place a finger on what it was, all you know right now is that it’s closeness beyond physicality alone. And you feel Hardcase’s breaths level out and fan over the sweat on your collar, all you find yourself able to do is press even closer.

And when the ringing in your ears subsides, when you no longer feel your chests heaving against each other, you slowly open your eyes and find Hardcase already there, dopey-eyed and blinking slowly as he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” you whisper, drawing back.

The wind rises again, cool and sharp as it curls and eddies around you.

“Hey,” he replies. Gingerly, immersed in the sudden stillness, Hardcase lifts his hand from your back and brings his knuckles to your cheek to brush soft over the sweat and bliss over your skin.

“I love you,” you say, and the words curl over your tongue, shy and true all at once, like it’s the first time all over again.

“Yeah?”

You can’t mistake the spark that alights over Hardcase’s eyes as anything but breathless joy, genuine and raw and perfect because no matter how many times you said it, the simple power remained. The vastness of a night sky, stars exploding to life, with no clear centre but him and his soft smile that puts the moonlight to shame.

You love him.

You do.

“Good,” he grins. “‘Cause I love you, too.”

[domesticblisss]

Canvas

Jay White x Female Reader Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 1337 Warnings: Flufflity, fluffy, fluff. Sexual innuendos, cursing, friends to fwb to lovers, mutual pining. Summary: Jay is super tired after his flight back from Japan. A/N: Yeah, yeah, another one inspired by another Lana Del Rey song, what about it??? Again, doesn’t have much to do about the lyrics, it’s much more related to the vibes it gives off to me.

Jay uses the spare keys she gave him to get into her home. The house looked exactly the same from the previous times he visited: tidy, plants scattered around, the green foliage she loves so much taking space in every room. The colourful throw over blanket she kept on her cream couch was neatly folded and placed on its back rest. The house smelled like lavender and fresh baked cookies, and just like he suspected, a still warm batch of chocolate chip cookies waited for them on her kitchen counter. Things were too quiet though; he couldn’t hear the radio playing and her characteristic singing. He roamed around her one store home, looking for her. The bedroom? Empty. Bathroom? Empty. The laundry room? Empty, but the washer was working and still, nothing, no sign of her and her two dogs. 

He ran her schedule in his head. Saturday. 01:30pm. She probably already had lunch and would be watching something on Netflix or reading, maybe painting. Then it clicked, it is a sunny summer day. Go to the patio, Jay. 

There she was. In a loose t-shirt that she cut off the sleeves, jeans shorts, hair up in a messy up-do that knowing her like he did, was made in an angry state. She had a canvas in front of her, a brush in one hand and a paint palette in the other, softly stroking the canvas with a mint green paint. 

Bonnie and Clyde, her two italian greyhounds came running to him, their tails happily wagging. 

“Hello, children. I’ve missed you too. Let’s not make any noise, I wanna surprise your mother.” he crouched to greet them, and noticed she was wearing her airpods, probably lost in her own world with whatever song she was listening to. 

He kept looking at her, and the same thought he always had whenever he came back home from Japan ran through his head: “I’m a coward.”

See, to the eyes of a stranger, they could easily pass as a couple. Hell, even some of their closest friends thought they were a couple. 

They met during their ROH days, Jay, of course, a rising wrestler and her, a backstage interviewer. They hit it off instantly, turning into best friends in no time. One night after a few drinks in, some flirting happened, and that flirting turned into a kiss, that turned into mind-blowing sex. In the next morning, after a long conversation, they decided to become friends with benefits, since both of them had busy schedules, Jay now spending most of his time in Japan and her now a NXT backstage interviewer, they didn’t feel like getting into serious relationships, and what’s better than fucking their best friend, right? An easy going, drama free relationship that only benefited the them both and they could pursue other people if they wanted to. Win/win situation. 

The thing is, Jay was already head over heels for her and it only made his feelings grow bigger, but he decided to bury them deep, thinking it wasn’t reciprocated.

Spoiler alert: it was. 

He sets Clyde back down on the patio floor and slowly makes his way to her, being careful not make any sound to not ruin his surprise. 

“Hello, love.” he murmurs to her neck as he snakes his arms around waist, making her shriek and push him away. 

“What the fuck, Jay?! You scared me.” she tells him, pulling her airpods off. 

He laughs at her pained expression, holding one of her hands to her chest. 

“I’m sorry, darling, I wanted to surprise you.” he makes his way to her. 

“Colour me surprised, bastard.” she says and kiss him. “When did you arrive? I thought you were coming home tomorrow.”

“Well, pulled some strings and changed my flight, landed around 4am so I went straight to my place. Just got here though.”

“You look so tired.” she noticed the black circles around his eyes, a sign of multiple days of wrestling nonstop, a long flight and a probably poorly slept night. 

“Yeah, I woke up around 8:30 and couldn’t sleep anymore so I went to the gym. What are you doing over there?” he motions at the canvas. 

“You know this is not healthy, you should’ve had slept a bit before coming here. And I don’t know what I am doing. I was trying to just let it come to me but all I got is this sea of mint green.”

“It looks nice, calming. And I knew you could tire me up enough to knock me out.”

“Jay, seriously?” he laughed at her reaction, sitting down on the big, padded bench that they shared and slept on together several times before. 

She looked at him, really looked him. The beard was longer than the last time they saw each other, his hair had grown so much that the black had faded, and his greyish blonde roots were showing. He positioned his elbows on his knees, holding his head on his hands, with a tired, but satisfied look on his face. He looked almost childish, and she loved that this was a side of Jay the only her got to see. 

“I got an idea.” she suddenly said, grabbing some paint and a few brushes. “Take your shirt off and lie down on your stomach.”

“You know you don’t need to plot if you want to see me naked, just ask.”

She stopped what she was doing, looking him dead in the eyes. “Jay, lie down with your back facing up, please.”

“Fine. What are you doing?”

“You’re my canvas now.” she told him as she sat on his butt, positioning her legs on his sides. 

“You are painting me?”

“Yeah, I had a friend from the art course, and she would always do this to me when I had trouble sleeping or when my anxiety was off the roof. It’s very soothing.”

“Well, this feels very sexual. Fuck, that’s cold.” he exclaimed when he felt the first stroke down his back. 

“Sorry! But yeah, not gonna lie we did have sex a couple times after it.”

“You with a girl huh?”

“Don’t be gross, Jay.”

“Sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

He did and not even ten minutes later, he fell asleep. It took her a while to get the work done on his rather large back. She kept her strokes soft, as light as possible to not disturb him. Almost an hour later and his back was covered in blues, oranges, blacks, and yellows. She made sure to get off of him as slow as possible, to not wake him from his deep slumber. She gave him a few more minutes and got inside, to check in on her cookies and to take her clothes from the dryer. 

She got back to him about thirty minutes later, caressing his hair and calling his name to wake him up. 

“Are you done?” he asked. 

“Mhm.”

“How long was I out?”

“I don’t know, probably over one and a half hours.”

“What did you paint?” he asked turning his head trying to see what decorated his back now. 

“Look.” she showed him the picture she took on her phone. 

“You painted The Scream?!” his voice reaching that high pitched tone he used on his promos. 

“Yeah! It’s a beautiful Edvard Munch painting. And, you scream a lot so it’s very fitting.”

“I scream a lot? You think that I scream a lot?!” his tone rising up in a joking tone, as he pulled her to his lap, both of them laughing. 

His hands cradled her face and pulled her in, kissing her with all the love he could muster, hoping he would tell her everything he felt through his kiss. She’s the one to pull away, resting her forehead in his. 

“I love you.” he whispers, afraid of her reaction.

“I love you too.”

“I know we have an agreement and our schedules are crazy and–“

“It’s okay, Jay. We will figure it out.”

[violetnotez]

Izuku x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff, Artist AU!

⤷ Word Count: 1700+

⤷ Warnings: the reader is preggers in this one!

⤷ Synopsis: All you want to do is to get Izuku back in bed once you realize he’s working on his latest project in the early morning.

Song Recs: ⤷Adventure of A Life Time-Coldplay ⤷Simple and Clean-Mree ⤷First Light-Lindsey Stirling

This is for the Izuku Month! pls go check out the awesome writers participating for this month here!

Also thank you so much @freckledoriya for helping me with this one! 💕💕💕

You sighed as your mind began to drowsily awake from sleep, your eyes cracking open at your nightstand. Your hands went out to reach your phone in the dark, your limbs feeling heavy as you checked the time, flipping over the phone screen sluggishly. The light blinded you momentarily, your eyes scrunching by the brightness. You squinted through your lashes, a fuzzy number 3 in your line of vision.

It was 3 in the morning?!?

Well great.

You sighed in annoyance. You were sick of waking up so early and having such a diffult time going back to sleep. Your hand went out to reach for the man next to you, seeking to touch his warm and calloused skin.

Izuku was always your go to when you couldn’t go back to sleep-all you had to do was snuggle into his body and listen to his rhythmic heartbeat and you be in a blissful sleep in no time.

To your disappointment, though, your arm collided with empty air and a cold bed, Izuku nowhere to be found. You propped your body up on the bed, looking for your green haired lover-maybe he was using the bathroom?

Nope-the light in your shared bathroom was completely off, your bedroom coated in darkness.

You rolled your eyes internally with a smirk-you had an idea where he could be.

Your sluggish feet touched the cold wood floor, the only clothing on your body being a pair of underwear and one of Izuku’s t-shirts, the fabric loose and flowing against your frame.

You wobbled slightly on your legs-waking up suddenly had made your body unbalanced, and being pregnant wasn’t helping it.

You were over 2 months pregnant, the belly of the baby you had with Izuku finally beginning to show.

Izuku was ecstatic to become a father, always showering you with love and affection for you and the baby you shared together. You were constantly being kissed and caressed on your belly, his green tresses tickling your skin as he hummed sweet little phrases to your growing child. He was the most perfect man to have a baby with, always so kind and generous with his love for you two.

When he had heard the wonderful news, he instantly began crying, squeezing the life out of you as he blubbered on about how much he loved you and your child. After you had soothed his weeping state, he had promised he was going to begin decorating the baby’s room in the spare bedroom you two had.

Izuku had never been given a quirk, and it had sadly hindered him from becoming a hero, which was his dream job as a child. After finally coming to terms with his reality, poor Izuku was so devastated he resorted to art as his outlet for his disappointment. He was incredibly talented, and his strong determined spirit led him to being one of the most successful freelance artists in Japan at the mere age of 22.

So now his most recent project was quite simple-make the most beautiful mural ever for his future baby.

It was quite sweet of him to be so caring, but you had to admit-Izuku was taking it way too seriously. He had this wonderful plan of painting the whole room with pearly white clouds and feathery storks, their eyes sweet and doe like as they watched over your future baby as they slept.

You couldn't wait to see the final result, but-Izuku was spending a lot of his time on it.

You were waking up too many times in the night to only find that Izuku was gone from bed, working in your baby’s room at ungodly hours of the morning. You just wanted him to stay-all that work could wait for the morning.

You tiptoed to the room, the room light on as Izuku worked on his masterpiece. The faint smell of chemicals wafted in the air, signaling that Izuku was indeed painting in the room.

Thankfully, Izuku didn’t close the door completely, allowing you to watch him at work.

You loved seeing him when he painted-he always look so calm and at peace with himself, even if the eye bags under his eyes betrayed his actual state. His hair was unruly as ever, specks of blues and white coating the tips as well his nose.

Splatters of baby blue, opaque white, and pearly pink dusted his cheeks, blending in with the faint freckles that were already littered on his face.

You watched his strong muscles move delicately along the wall, the brush strokes going back and forth as he worked on one of the wings of the many storks he had sketched out.

He was so meticulous about each detail, yet so in peace with his work.

You walked in, deciding you were done admiring him and now wanting to complete your original plan- getting him to come back to bed.

He must have been really in the zone, though, as he didn’t even hear the steps of your feet on the plush carpeting as you wrapped your hands around his torso, snuggling his neck.

“It looks so pretty ‘Zuku, your doing such an amazing job,”

Midoriya jumped slightly by your touch, but then quickly eased into it once he realized it was you. A coating of pink blossomed on his face, realizing you must have been watching him work for a while now.

He sighed into your touch, his eyes closing in bliss.

“Hi puppy,” he greeted warmly, his voice low and feathery,” what are you doing up so early?”

He turned around, his eyes searching yours as his hands gently grasped around your stomach, his soothing digits running along the clothed skin.

His heart pinged just by the mere sight of you wearing his clothes-he loved when you wore anything of his.

“I should be asking the same about you.”

He chuckled lightly, his eyes going to the side in embarrassment. He knew he was staying up way too late to finish this project, but he felt in his heart he had to do it. This was for the child you two had made together, your very first one. He had to do everything in his power to make sure they came into a room that was filled with love and comfort.

“Y/n, you should be in bed right now, you and the baby need sleep,” he said sweetly, his hands still rubbing against the skin of your stomach.

“But how can I sleep when your baby misses you-“

You placed your hand on top of his, a giggle slipping out of your mouth.

“I think they know when your gone, because I always wake up when you leave the room to do this project-“

You pretended to look angry at him, a pointed look on your brow.

“-which has been every other night, might I add,”

A soft blush creeped into his skin, his warm lips kissing the top of your forehead.

“I’m sorry, dear, it’s just-I really, really want to finish-“

“Come on Izuku, you’ve got 7 whole months to finish the room!,” you argued softly, your hands brushing against the back of his neck, “you don’t have to rush it so much.”

“I know, but -but-what if I don’t finish it? What if something comes up or I have to paint another collection and I just get too busy? I would feel terrible if I don’t finish it in time for our baby.”,”

You smiled at the green haired man, his eyes drinking you in. God, he felt so lucky. You most definitely the most beautiful woman in his eyes, and he couldn’t fathom how he had snagged somebody as amazing as you.

“You won’t get too busy and you will finish it. I know you Izuku. Once you put your mind to something, you will keep doing it until it’s done. This project is no different!”

He gazed at you with a warm smile, his cheeks glowing under the specks of paint. You could feel how tired Izuku was, his body language a little less energetic than usual. His shoulder slumped as if they were weighed down, his half lidded eyes warm and dreamy. A soft sigh escaped his lips as you brushed the skin under his eyes, almost as if brushing the sleepless bags away.

“Please just come to bed,” you whispered, “I can’t go to sleep without you,”

He sighed as he took a small moment to think. His body was yelling at him to go to you, to just envelope himself in your warmth and comfort. But he really, really wanted to finish his project, because once it was done, he wouldn’t feel such a need to finish.

He gave you a tired smile, his fingers brushing against the skin of your arm as he reluctantly let go of your embrace.

“Okay...just let me finish this one wing and I’ll come back-“

“No!” You yelled defiantly, your hands wrapping around his neck. Your body collided with his strong back, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. A blush erupted on Izuku’s face as you cuddled against him.

“Bed-now,” you commanded softly. Your breath fanned against his skin, making goose bumps crawl up his back.

“Oh y/n, I promise I don’t want to argue with you,” he sighed out as he desperately tries to hold backs yawn, “I just want to-“

You rolled your eyes playfully at the defiant boy.

He really could be the most stubborn person you knew-but after being with him for so long, you knew exactly what would make him change his mind.

You swiveled yourself around Izuku until you were right in front of his face, his bright emerald eye staring at you with confusion. You gave him a soft smile, your lips gently colliding with his as you grasped his face with your hands.

The faint taste of strawberries (most likely from his chapstick) bursted in your mouth, making you smile against his lips. It was adorable to you how nervous he still was when you kissed him, your fingers warming up against his cheeck from his intense blushing. You parted from the boy, giggling at his clearly dazed expression.

“Bed?” You mused sweetly, your lashes fluttering, “Pretty please?”

Izuku chuckled at your attempts to win him over, your plan working perfectly. You knew him too well, and you knew exactly how to get him wrapped around your finger.

He gave you a small peck on your cheek, a smile blessing his lips as he bent down slightly, his hands curling around the backs of your knees.

You opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing, but what only came was a small squeak as he picked you up bridal style, your hands immediately finding an anchor around his neck.

He chuckled at your obvious shock, kissing your nose with warmth and endearment. He smile down at you as he walked out of the room, a contented sigh escaping his lip.

“Bed it is!”

[kookoosbunnynose]

Ch.1 || Ch.2

Pairing: Neighbor!Jungkook/FWB!Jungkook x Artist!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Cursing | Slutty Jimin, we love him | mentions of emotional abuse | large jungcock | dom!jungkook | dom/sub themes |a singular use of a sir kink | dirty talk, lots | oral (f recieving) | he so gentle uwu, and then he’s very not gentle lmao

Summary: You’re an art student in need of a partner for your new collaboration piece, who is there to help you but your new neighbor, Jeon Jungkook. You two paint together but leave with much more than a colorful canvas.

A/N: Hello! I know! Dumb bitch finally updated the fic lmao. but i’m really excited about this part and even more excited for the rest of the fic. If you haven’t read chapter 1 yet go read it! 

-----------------------------------

Thankfully, even though you didn’t get to bed by the time you wanted last night, after the whole ‘y/n is a dumbass and got locked out’ debacle, you woke up with enough time to take it slow this morning. Mornings like these were your favorite, no rush. Just you sitting at your vanity getting ready for your day, jamming along to whatever song comes on your shuffle, using various items as a makeshift microphone.

You’re in the heat of Colors by Halsey when there’s a knock at your door, you abruptly cut off your poorly tuned melody, feeling caught. You quickly finish the eyebrow you’re working on as you don’t want the person at the door to see you with the one and a half you’re currently sporting. Good enough.

You rush to your front door, careful not to let your fluffy socks make you slip on the linoleum. When you open the door only to be greeted by your fluffy haired neighbor. He looks good in the morning too? Well that’s just fucking peachy. You’re making this difficult Jeon.

“Good morning.” You smile trying to hide how distraught you are.

“Good morning, sorry to bug you” he smiles sheepishly. “I was just hoping I could steal an egg from you? We’re out.” He asks hopeful.

“Oh, yeah of course. Just a second.” You turn on your heels to grab an egg from the kitchen. When your face is hidden by the fridge door you take a second to take a deep breath before making your way back to him. “Just one?” You ask when you hand it to him.

“Yeah one’s good, thank you y/n.” He gives you a small bow and opens his door. “See you later.”

---

“Hello gorgeous.” Yoongi says as your trio approaches the counter.

“Morning handsome.” Jimin smirks and steps in front of you.

“I was talking to y/n.”

“Her?” He looks over his shoulder at you. “While I’m here? That doesn’t sound right.” He scrunches his nose as if he’s doing mental math.

“I’ll just get your usual started.” He says leaning to the side so he can see your face.

“Thank you.” You laugh at them swipe your card and take the blueberry muffin he slides your way. You step to the side and wait for your boys to order their drinks.

“Remind me why we still come here.” Joon asks the two of you as you make your way to the pick-up end of the counter.

“Because we’ve been doing it since we started uni. We’re old and stuck in our ways, Joonie. There’s no backing out now.” You reply woefully.

“What are we? Boomers? We can go to a different coffee shop.” Namjoon furrows his brows.

“Order for Sweets!” A now familiar boxy smiled boy behind the counter says.

“Oh no we can’t. Not anymore.” Jimin says his attention caught by Tae.

“Look who wants to fuck the neighbors now!” You whisper yell at them before stepping toward the counter.

“Ha! You admit it!- Wait, neighbor?” You hear Jimin behind you.

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship. 

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.” 

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles. 

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table. 

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?” 

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!” 

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple? 

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go. 

---

  “I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class. 

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class. 

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use. 

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home. 

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name. 

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic. 

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.” 

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.” 

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out. 

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels. 

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.” 

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries. 

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.” 

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?” 

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?” 

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought. 

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.” 

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect. 

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up. 

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends. 

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall. 

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead. 

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.” 

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch. 

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.” 

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye. 

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.” 

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send. 

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (: 

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great. 

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will. 

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall. 

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob. 

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen. 

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so. 

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little. 

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne. 

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute. 

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair. 

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows. 

“Point taken.” 

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis. 

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?” 

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.” 

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant. 

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’ 

But much to your surprise. 

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.” 

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable. 

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you. 

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself. 

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him. 

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey. 

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp. 

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer. 

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot. 

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice. 

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started. 

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky. 

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him. 

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust. 

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.” 

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket. 

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness. 

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow. 

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced. 

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.” 

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil. 

“Can I steal a soda?” 

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you. 

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink. 

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot. 

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!” 

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best. 

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone. 

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you. 

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”  

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?” 

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.  

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas. 

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute. 

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art. 

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you. 

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you. 

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile. 

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch. 

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body. 

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth. 

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature. 

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made. 

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs. 

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him. 

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed. 

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question. 

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between. 

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away. 

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely. 

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again. 

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock. 

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants. 

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land. 

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement. 

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin. 

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay. 

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again. 

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you. 

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress. 

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about. 

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence. 

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him. 

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants. 

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you. 

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint. 

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed. 

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part. 

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle. 

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water. 

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him. 

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him. 

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does. 

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt. 

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you. 

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first. 

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck. 

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis. 

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst. 

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax. 

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin. 

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture. 

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time. 

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes. 

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile. 

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that. 

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?” 

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it. 

You pull your shirt over your head. 

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks. 

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

-----------------------------

Taglist: @taezeus​ @spoopysoph​ @gucci-prince-tae​ @jiminiesthiccthighs​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​ @hermiones-enchantment​ @irissilujm​ @flo-music​ @scalbra​ @sugarrimajins​ @embrace-themagic​ @megsmiiiii​ @nerdycookiemonster-1222​ @livorna​ 

[padme-parker]

no regrets [AU!Anakin Skywalker x Reader]

Summary: You leave Anakin, only a letter in your place.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: some swear words I think, angst, mentions of cancer, some fluff if you look hard enough, this is pretty fucking cliche btw!

A/N: so I was listening to Lewis Capaldi’s discography and that shit was so sad. Like all of his songs are so fucking sad that it inspired me to write this. Mainly the songs: “Forever”, “Fade.”, “Before You Go.” and “Headspace.” (I highly suggest listening to his songs while ur reading!) along with a handful of songs I was listening to while writing this. Also this is my first time uploading my writing so forgive me if it's all over the place. I was just excited to write this lol.

The thumping of the bass made his ears ring, that’s the first thing Anakin noticed when he got home. He was totally and completely shitfaced, drunk out of his mind. The next thing he noticed was the deafening silence. Sure, it was midnight but he knew how much of a night owl you were. He also knew how much you loved to paint at night, a slight breeze from the open window, and music quietly playing in the background. Loud enough just to be heard by the two of you, quiet enough so he could hear the stroke of your brush against the canvas. Oftentimes he would come up behind you, lightly grasping your hips and began to sway along to the music. And some nights he would just sit back and watch you. However tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Tonight would be different, and the next night, and the night after that. Anakin walked towards the bedroom, careful not to wake you just in case you were asleep. When he walked into the room, his eyes immediately searched for you, but landed upon emptiness, that’s when it caught his attention. The last thing he noticed was the envelope placed upon his pillow. 

Grasping the envelope, Anakin took out its content. It was a letter, just for his eyes.

Dear Anakin,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Believe me, I wish I could’ve done this in person but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As I write this letter, you’ll be out celebrating with Obi Wan and Padme. Enjoying life, that’s what you should be doing. And I know it must be shitty to come home to this, but I just couldn’t leave while you were still here. There were so many things I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. But you deserve to know this.

The truth is, I don’t love you anymore, Anakin. I’m not sure when I fell out of love with you, but the one thing I knew was that I couldn’t stay and drag you down with me. Sometimes I wonder how we got here, how I got us here. Then I remembered why, him. In the past six months I met someone else. At first we were just friends. But there was something between us, a connection. The second I laid eyes on him, I knew that he was the one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. Yet, there you were. Anakin, you were- and still are my world, but he’s my whole fucking universe. Without him I feel like I’d cease to exist. Each day, the more I fell in love with him, the more I fell out of love with you. Until one day, I came to my senses and realized what the hell I was doing. All those days I spent with him, coming home late at night, you never questioned me. Stars Anakin, I’m so sorry I took advantage of your trust. I never thought we’d end up like this. I never thought this would happen.

You deserve to be happy. But we both know that’s not something I can give you. You deserve to be able to move on without ever having to see me again. That’s why I’ve decided to leave. Not just move out of the apartment, or town, but move out of state altogether. Please don’t come looking for me.

I want you to know that none of this is your fault. Anakin, I love you so much, but we’re just not meant to be. You were my epic love, not my soulmate. But remember, you’re still someone who had a huge impact on my life. I don’t think I could ever forget you, nor do I think that I want to. I know that even on my deathbed, I’ll be thinking of you.

Forever Yours,

Y/N

P.S. take the time you need Anakin, but don’t get hung up on me. There are people out there who love you, you just don’t see it yet.

He let out a sharp breath, dropping the letter, and began to sob. For the next hour, all he could do was cry. He struggled to breathe, he couldn’t believe what he was reading. What did I do wrong? Where did I go wrong? Was I not enough? He wanted to scream, but chose not to, sparing his neighbors from hearing his sorrows. Anakin was spiraling, he was heaving now. Struggling to breathe he crawled out of his room and into the living room. Your painting materials still left in the corner, easel propped up, and miscellaneous pieces of art scattered across his home.

Anakin couldn’t escape from you, you were unknowingly ripping the air out of his lungs. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of you. It was ironic really, how was he supposed to move on if he had to see everything that reminded him of you.

-

A couple of years passed since you disappeared from Anakin’s life. He had moved on but deep down inside he never really did recover. He was sad at first, but then became angry. How could you use him like this? But of course, like you promised, there were people there for him. Obi Wan and Padme had always been there for him, especially Padme. She was the first one to check up on him when he wasn’t returning their calls. The first to get him to stop crying, the first to cheer him up, the first to get him to go out again, and the first person to say “I love you.” since you’d left. Anakin had felt like he was betraying you, he had fallen in love with someone who wasn’t you, but then he remembered what you did and said. He had the right to move on with someone else.

When Anakin felt like he was ready, six month after your breakup, he asked Padme to be his girlfriend. A year and a half later, he asked her to spend the rest of her life with him. Nine months later, they welcomed their twins into the world.

Both Obi Wan and Padme had been there by his side, along with Dean. He met Dean at the bar, both of them looking like shit. It started with a simple nod, then their small group of three now had four people. Dean became close to Obi Wan and Padme too, helping Anakin to return to his life before you left. It was going well until today.

Anakin moved out of his old apartment a long time ago. He donated most of your belongings and sold your paintings. Except for one. It was a painting that the two of you had created together. A minimal black outline of your silhouettes from your favorite photo together. Simple, but it had meaning to it. The picture itself was taken at a party, a drink in your hand while Anakins was thrown over your shoulder. You were smiling at the camera, drink aimed towards it. However, Anakin was looking at you, a big goofy smile on his face. If there was one memory of you he wanted to keep, it was that one. So instead of selling the painting, he kept it. Obviously he didn’t hang it up, instead he kept in it buried deep inside his closet. Only taking it out whenever he really missed you.

Even though he kept the painting, every aspect of you was completely erased. It’s like you never existed to him. Instead of lining the halls with pictures of the two of you, they were filled with pictures of Anakin and Padme. A small polaroid of them on their first date. A picture at the bar of Anakin, Padme, Obi Wan, and Dean. A bunch of wedding pictures. And finally, pictures of his family. He’d memorized every corner of his new home, never wanting to forget about it because he knew at any given moment, his life could be ripped from his fingers. Everything had been ingrained into his memory, from the toys scattered across the floor to the pristine kitchen. Where Padme was currently making dinner, “Hey Ani, you’ve got some mail, I put it on the table.” He walked towards the table and picked up the envelope, he could recognize your handwriting. Anakin felt like the world was playing a sick joke on him, after all these years, why would you write back now?

“Hey Padme, I’m gonna go change real quick.” He didn’t wait for Padme’s reply before he ran off to his closet, he knew he needed to be alone when he read its contents. Locking the door, he ripped open the envelope and took out your letter.

Anakin,

I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but you deserve to know the truth. The real reason as to why I left. By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. Remember how I told you that I had met someone new? That was a lie. In those six month, I was at multiple doctors' offices getting tested. I knew something was wrong with me but none of the doctors could tell me why. Until one was able to. I had stage 3 ovarian cancer, the chances of me surviving were low. That’s why I left.

Anakin’s eyes went wide, the paper shaking in his hands. “Cancer… she has..” he whispered to himself, he could feel the tears starting to roll down his face. All this time, he hated her for something she never did.

I knew how much you wanted to have a family, and it was something I wanted to give you. But when I found out that I couldn’t do that, I knew you’d be crushed. This was something we both had dreamed of. It was easier for me to make up a lie. I wouldn’t allow myself to put the both of us through this pain. You shouldn’t have to bear my burdens. I wasn’t going to let you waste your life away trying to take care of me. So I hid the truth from you and left like a coward. Understand that I needed you to hate me, Anakin. That you wouldn’t come looking for me or just expect me to come back one day. Even though I did want to come back, I had to hold myself back. I knew you were going to move on eventually.

Do you remember the guy I was talking about? The one who I was so “madly in love with” that I left you? Yeah, well his name is Dean, He’s one of the nurses who was taking care of me during those six months, and for the past couple years he’s been my eyes. Anakin, I never fell out of love with you. Even as I lay on my deathbed, you’re all I can think about.

Dean says that you’ve moved on and married Padme. I’m going to be honest, at first I was shocked and a little sad. But then I remembered why I did this in the first place. Anakin, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Even when we were still together I could tell how much love she had for you. She didn’t act on her feelings because I was still there, which I’m grateful for. But once I left, she saw the opportunity to comfort you, so she did. You looked at me like I was your whole world, but Padme, she looks at you like your her whole damn universe. Truth is, you weren’t my world, you’re my fucking universe Anakin, even if you don’t know it. You weren’t just my epic love, to me, you were my soulmate. But you and Padme? The two of you are soulmates, made for eachother. Dean has shown me pictures of the two of you. I’ve never seen you so happy, even when we were together. I know she brings out a side of you that I was never able to.

There was a point where I was getting better and I wanted to come back. To apologize and maybe try again, but Dean advised against doing so. At that moment in time, you had just proposed to Padme. Who was I to come back into your life just to take away your happiness? So I watched from afar. I watched as you went on with your life and completely forgot about me. And I did it with a smile on my face, because you were happy. Anakin, simply knowing that you were happy and content with your life made me happy, even if I wasn’t the cause of it. For a while, I was better. Then it got worse, my cancer got more aggressive. From there, I was condemned in my own home.

As the months went on, I got more sick and closer to death. After your wedding, Dean came over to my place and showed me videos of you and Padme. I couldn’t help but let out a few tears, you were getting everything you wanted. I really wish I could’ve been there to see you, Ani, but I wouldn’t want to ruin your wedding. I was so ecstatic for you when I’d heard that you were having a child! Twins nonetheless, you must’ve been radiating joy. I really am happy for you Anakin. I only wanted the best for you.

Do you remember the night on the rooftop? You cooked dinner for us on our two year anniversary. It was the most romantic thing anyone had done for me. Do you also remember what we promised to each other? “No regrets.” As simple as it was, I broke our promise, Ani. I regret not telling you. I regret leaving you. I regret ever hurting you. Anakin, I am deeply sorry for any pain I’ve caused you. But if I hadn’t left, you wouldn’t be where you are right now. Do you regret not looking for me?

Anakin stopped reading for a second to think, did he regret how things played out? He wiped his tears before continuing,

Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to stay with you, Anakin, but I couldn’t let myself. I hope the universe will continue giving you what you want, because you deserve it, Ani. You deserve to be happy.

Forever Yours,

Y/N Y/L/N

P.S. somewhere across the stars and galaxies, I’ll be watching over you. I’ll always be with you.

Anakin dropped to the floor, the letter along with him. Muffled sobs could be heard on the other side of the door, but Padme was too preoccupied to hear. Why didn’t I go after her? Why didn’t I try harder? Why didn’t I notice? He asked himself. The truth was that Anakin did regret not going after you, he regretted not trying to get closure from you. Because he knew that if he had gone after you, you would’ve told him the truth. He knew you would tell him the truth because he knew that you couldn’t look him in the eyes and lie to him. That’s why you left, only leaving a letter behind. And he knew if you told him the truth, he would have forgiven you. He would’ve spent the rest of his life, right next to you. Making sure you were alright. Anakin knew he would’ve taken you back in a heartbeat, because he still loves you. Even after you falsely broke his heart and left him, his love for you outweighed the hate he felt.

He got up somberly walking towards the hidden painting. He took it into his hands along with another object. He sat back down, now clutching the memory to his chest. His heart felt heavy, but nothing felt heavier than the small black velvet box resting upon his grasp.

“No regrets, huh?”

.

(A/N): Okay so I know that the goodbye letter is all over the place, but if I was writing a letter to someone I love, my thoughts wouldn’t be able to process properly. So forgive me if some of it seemed random, I’m still new to this stuff. I also feel like this is very cliche but when I heard Forever, my mind was immediately like “omg this song is good inspo for a sad fic.” I also feel like I should’ve added more flashbacks but I’m not sure where they would’ve been placed.... anyways I hope you enjoyed it :)

[tenderlyrenjun]

[1010 A.D.]

“Do you believe in soul mates?” you ask, lackadaisically, dreamily, while readjusting the ceramic pillow beneath a new fabric cover that your loved one retrieved from his latest bureaucratic outing. It is nice to have him back (and the new gifts, too, adorn your villa delightfully, even the ones hidden here in your bedroom, from wandering eyes). Outside your personal chambers, the scholars gather with you, compelled against their will, to indulge your curiosities, and particular student, who you seized from a recently constructed university, revived The Red String of Fate folklore under a new alias: soul mates. You want to hear Renjun’s thoughts on the term, if has has even heard it in passing.

“What are ‘soul mates’?” 

Renjun rolls over in the bed, just as you lift the sheet to join him. Honestly, thank Heaven that your immortal self only requires one night of sleep a month. Leaving your estate unguarded for 8-12 hours of the day is dangerous. Although, months ago, the battlefields healed from the successive, rapid kingdoms popping up every couple of decades. Welcomed peace spreads alongside the rise of education, which is why you and Renjun returned to his home country. Physically seeing a Golden Era circulate the continent gave you two more confidence to re-establish your roots. With your entire coven massacred from rebellions caused by overly ambition vampires and their newborn parasites, the Huang lineage has to counterbalance for the lost political ties and social standing. Fortunately, Renjun’s good looks and charm (and compulsion ability) persuade even the most corrupt aristocrats - which is why he, rather than you, leaves the land every few weeks to reinforce those alliances.

Plus, he does it better: the dirty work. 

You prefer to look at the pretty daggers he brings home and to drink red, warm elixirs poured into pretty bronze jia. Still, you admire his insignia ring on your finger during his extended business hours, counting down the seconds until you have him again. The staff are not as nearly interesting as your lover, especially considering how they gossip with you around the corner. Some call you too bold to manage the house; others say you simply lack manners, faulting Renjun for choosing a mate who was not born of noble status (a mere rumor that you take care of, anytime it emerges). Perhaps, that is why you take solace amongst the scholars, practicing calligraphy and expanding your vocabulary, instead of Confucian traditions. At least it gives you something to talk about with your equal, before you two begin recruiting members again - a lone vampire, in possession of a shielding ability, seems promising (and beneficial, in case of another war). So you slide into bed too, pulling his arm under your neck and extendings your similarly, to support his head while you curl into his side, answering his question:

“The sages call them destined.”

Renjun laughs, throwing his head back onto the comforter. He strokes your shoulder with his thumb, bringing the silk material off your skin, and turns to you with a smile that makes his presence natural and bright. Vampire nature is ectothermic and the beds are uncomfortable (how fleshlings survive them daily, you will never understand, not entirely able to recall your own mortality from centuries ago), but Renjun lives up to his name, enveloping you in a sense of reassurance, especially with how his voice melodizes. His opposite arm comes around, caging in you toward his chest so he can remove the strand of hair covering your eyes.

“I thought they were called ‘Soul Mates’,” Renjun counters. After giving you his signature tender smile, he nuzzles his face in your neck, pressing down a soft kiss. The way he lingers makes you roll your face to the window on the ceiling, North Star glowing a little weaker through the glass, now that he is home, holding you. 

You sigh, contently, hearing it returned, ghosting over your collarbone. “They are, but Soul Mates are supposed to be people who are ideally matched together.” You glance at Renjun, hoping to scan his face for another reaction, but his eyes are closed, lips relaxed, cheek losing control to stay upright: he is falling asleep. And you almost let him, knowing how exhausted he probably is, from all the politics, the new studies, the art and literature. He is participating in so much that he will likely sleep for more than 12-hours this month. Unfortunately, you want him to answer this one question, and over the centuries, since his biggest promise, he always swears to give you whatever your heart desires. So, you prod his beautiful face, physically asking for an response. 

“Mmm,” he whines, the hypnosis faltering enough for him to give you one, though his tired state answers your question with a question - you barely hear him, as he mumbles without opening his mouth too widely. He licks his lips, adding another brief love bite to your collar’s collection, before repeating himself louder, enunciating. “Are you asking if I believe that we are soul mates?” You think that he will indulge your new philosophies, using his statement as a thesis question, but he rolls his cheek further on your chest, tiger hugging your upper body. “Maybe,” he says. It should send worry through your body, were you a new couple, like Doyoung, the now-rather ruthless law enforcer of the Kim family. But you and Renjun have been together for half a millennia at this point, none of the passion ever slowing down. “I don’t believe in soul mates,” he confesses, slugging his words, “but we are naturally perfect together.”

The answer is good enough for you, so you brush back his bangs and kiss the crown of his head. He sighs again, squeezing you into the bed frame. This is how you allow yourself to fall asleep with him: no threats to your country, no threats to your safety, no threats to your relationship.

But ten hours later, you wake up to an empty bed, your lover making quiet noises in the next room over.

So, you go meet him, thinking that he has started brewing an early morning pot of tea, meticulously straining blood in a way that you do not understand. It is nice to just watch him cut lemons, slice ginger, arrange bits of flesh with almonds for garnish. And on the rare occasions, when birds are still writing songs on the rays of sunlight, you try to meet him in the tea room, almost falling asleep on his back all over again because the ambience is so soothing. 

Except, you find Renjun hovering over jewellery in your shared walk-in closet, muttering decisions here and there about packing. An odd decision, truly, considering that you have staff rotating hourly. He only does this during surprises. And you sometimes enjoy his spontaneity. So you quietly relax against the door frame, arms crossed and an amused smile on your lips. In the mornings, each time, after he gets back, even without doing anything that might shame the Moon and Stars (before you disappoint Her counterpart, the Sun and Skies), you feel drunk in love, despite having an empty stomach.

“Where are you going?” you whisper, voice yawning the verbs.

Unexpectedly, Renjun jolts, visibly surprised and shifty, then he turns around. And your expression changes with him. Your eyes dart across his face, scanning through his forehead lines to eyes. You hesitate, always glancing back to his eyes, as a precaution in case he might say something reassuring, but he remains frozen, guarded in front of a backpack that you cannot miss.

To reiterate, you sometimes love his spontaneity.

“I’ll be gone for a few years,” he says, slowly returning to the bag, tossing in extra pieces. He contemplates adding a beautiful necklace on display - the one he had handmade for you during the Jade Era, but he shakes his head. No, he has to leave that for you. This break, his packing, does not equate to all the times when he leaves his insignia for you to wear. Renjun looks at his ring, having taken it back the moment he arrived, when you slipped it onto his hand, like a proposal of your own, even kissing his knuckles tenderly. He sighs; the necklace was a promise, and he will come back to you, after he does what he needs to do. And he really needs to do this. Renjun shakes his head, to correct himself, “A couple decades.”

You frown and your eye twitches. “What?” Realization hits you like a moving carriage, horses trampling over your regenerative rib cage. Renjun walks up to you, one hand balled into a fist and the other carrying his bag. You glance at his hands, unable to truly believe his face, and he passes off his insignia. “Tell me where you’re going.” Your voice cracks. “Please.” You can join him - now or in a few days, if he needs space. Although he was gone for a couple months, you can give him more, give him anything, as long as it doesn’t mean what you think it means. “Because we just talked about Soul Mates last night.”

Renjun slouches, opening his arms to give you a goodbye. “Love -”

“Don’t,” you hiss, sustaining red revived eyes at him - a particularly onyx color surges the veins, something Renjun has never seen in a vampire. “Don’t call me that while you are abandoning me.” His timeframe leaps out at you, the expectancy of a human, and you bite again, anxiety manifesting defensively into frustration. “For a mortal, abandoning our promises.” You point an accusatory finger at him, causing him to step back. “We stood before the Heavens and Skies and gave ourselves to each other by side of the Moon and Stars.” Every enunciated syllable pushes him further into your house, until he drops the bag, a shattering sound aiding the action.  “You belong to me. I belong to you.”

You find the valor to look at him, eyes shining a vibrant red, and you think, just for a second, that he might give in, but when you try to deescalate the situation, thinking that this is just a lapse in his judgement, that you have a chance to make him stay, he speeds out of your arms. That is so unlike last night. And as you relive the memory, you realize that it might have been a goodbye. He had the opportunity to leave and not return, then chose to come back. 

Renjun gingerly steps forward, tucking a hair behind your ear sympathetically, pityingly. “No one belongs to someone else.” It is why you pay your servants, generously. “People are free agents.” He glances at your eyes for the last time, picking up his backpack. “I’m sorry.”

And thirty years later, a decade extra than he intended, Renjun reiterates that plea, in a different context, after his medicinal elixir expired. 

“I’m sorry,” he pleas, imploring you with tears pricking his ducts. He can barely see you seated, alone, on a throne, now that the last remaining valet has been dismissed. Renjun drops his bag, walking toward you with intention, pulling your quiescent face into a series of kisses. When you start moving your arms, he thinks that you concede and slows his lips to give you more dominance. You curl your fingers around his palm, a familiar gesture he has missed - mortals no longer give these types of sweet touches. Renjun comes back down to his heels, having edged to the tip toes in excitement, waiting for your embrace.

But you throw his hand off your cheek.

“Get out.”

“What?”

You know that he picked up your request easily, with his super hearing. Yet he asks you to repeat it anyways. Being amongst humans for so long mush have diminished his powers. You so desperately want to ask how he has been. How he has been excusing his eternal youth? Why has no one heard from him, not even Sicheng? Has he been drinking? You lost sleep over all the questions, for years. Vampires may only need half a day per month, debunking the coffin myth, but you have not fully rested in years. So, you repeat yourself, not bothering to glance at him as you walk away to the throne, back turned to him. “Get out of my manor.” You pick up a dagger, soaking it deeply in a jar full of your special poison. “I will not repeat myself again. If you are not gone by my next meeting -”  An execution. “- you will be my next meeting.”

“Please,” Renjun begs. He has lost too much today. 

The antechamber opens, your newest guard, Xiaojun, signalling your attention. So many vampires live in Renjun’s home, his former home. He knows that power naturally follows the ruthless, in this era, with covens and loners trying to gain ties after seeing displays of authority - either to have your killing machine skills used in their favors or to stay in your favor, avoid being slaughtered. And as you leave with Xiaojun, another two vampire guards drag a muzzled traitor to the throne room. Muffled prayers escalate his headache and he nearly exterminates the vermin himself, but you reenter the room and your prisoner shuts up, the end near. 

You throw a dagger beside Renjun’s thigh. The poison you laced it with seeping into the floor, like a tea. While you have yet to singularly perfect the warm beverage, your venom has been shown incurable - a result you feel most proud in. And you burn the bodies before other covens get the chance to examine your work. No one but your shield needs to know that the poison is brewed from the blood of mortals with incurable illnesses: carcinogenesis, dystrophy, haemophilia, etc. Renjun has heard about your cruelty in the last few years, accumulating your dossier before returned home. Rumors circulate the taverns he worked in, spilling story after story about the monster on Oma Mountain between two warring kingdoms where people kept going missing. The immortal community says that you expect loyalty but want none of it, letting vampires reside in your villa lawlessly. Renjun starts to see the origin, especiallly after you rip out your prisoner’s vocal chords, burning it on steel wool and a high molar acid, before it can reattach and function again. He never truly saw you torture anyone, always ending their executions quickly and quietly. This is his fault. Now, you sadistically entertain their pleas for mercy, waiting for them to beg with everything you leave. 

Renjun lets the choking garble for a few seconds more, then severs the head - all while staring at you. You glare at him, daring him to leave one more time.

“Do you want me to rip out your vocal chords too?”

[pixiegrl]

Baby I'll Never Leave If You Keep Holding Me This Way

Calum stops by the flower shop to pick up Michael for date night. 

Hello I'm back with more blurbs from the Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlor AU even though I have not written the whole thing. This was for an anon prompt on Tumblr for "So, can we go eat" with Malum (which tumblr ate im sorry anon i hope you see this). @tigerteeff asked if someone would write a Malum fic for cozy hoodie Malum after the Twitter video today so I wrote this for them. Love you Heath, collector of Trans 5SOS. and thanks to @blackbutterfliescal for editing this for me love you!

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646975

Calum makes his way into Over The Rainbow looking for Michael. It’s late Friday afternoon and the only thing Calum really wants is to find the object of his affection, go get dinner, and go home. He’s been sitting all day, hunched over doing tattoo after tattoo. Every part of Calum hurts. Michael was supposed to meet him at Do Momento Mori when they closed almost 30 minutes ago and Calum still hasn’t seen them. Michael’s never on time, unless there’s food involved and the flower shop closed around the same time they did so Calum’s a little worried. He hasn’t seen Luke or Michael leaving the shop either, so Calum finally grabbed his hoodie and bag and made his way over.

Luke’s at the front counter when Calum comes in, counting out the money in the register, curls pulled back into a bun, humming along to the Taylor Swift song that’s playing over the speakers. He looks up when Calum comes in, surprised, glancing at the clock. 

“Aw shit, they’re late aren’t they,” Luke mumbles, straightening up. Calum can hear the sound of his back cracking from over by the door, wincing.

“Yeah. I was getting worried.”

“Michael wanted to take a nap before seeing your date tonight. I told them I’d wake them up in time, but well, clearly I got distracted with closing things too,” Luke mumbles. He’s flushed and clearly embarrassed. Calum smiles, shrugging as he crosses the store.

“Well, this way I get to surprise them. You should probably head out though. Ashton’s nervously fidgeting in the shop and he needs someone to go remind him to eat,” Calum says. Luke perks up, smiling at Calum. Calum rolls his eyes, fondly. It took far too long for Luke and Ashton to finally admit they liked each other and that they wanted to date and now that they’re boyfriends, they’re insufferable. 

Calum passes behind Luke, heading into the back room of the store. He finds Michael curled up on the couch they keep in the back. They’re curled into a tight ball, hands tucked under a pillow they’re using. Michael’s clearly fast asleep, chest raising and falling softly, fringe in their eyes. Calum drops his bag by door, crossing the room. He crouches down in front of Michael, ignoring the cracking sound of his knees to reach out and brush the fringe away from Michael’s eyes. They blink their eyes open slowly, startling a little when they realize that Calum’s in front of them.

“Am I late?” Michael mumbles, reaching up a hand to rub at their eyes. Calum’s hopelessly charmed by Michael’s too large sweatshirt sleeves, curled over their hands in sweater paws. 

“Only a little.”

“I wanted to be on time. Show you I was responsible,” Michael whines a little. They bury their face into the pillow. Calum chuckles a little.

“I can’t fault you for sleeping a little more. You deserve it if the dark circles mean anything,” Calum says. Michael turns their head, looking at Calum, wary.

“Still. I’m not a very good partner if I’m late to everything,” Michael mumbles. Calum shrugs.

“Well I snore and you’re late to everything. We all have our strengths and weaknesses,” Calum says. Michael huffs out a laugh, rolling their eyes. Calum stands up, nudging at Michael’s shoulders.

“What?”

“Move. I wanna cuddle.”

“Why? Thought you wanted to get dinner together.”

“I’ve been sitting upright all day. Laying down sounds amazing right now,” Calum says. Michael sighs dramatically, rolling over slightly. Calum climbs over them, wiggling behind Michael on the couch. He curls up behind Michael, running his fingers through Michael’s hair. They hum lightly, leaning back into Calum’s chest. They lay there for a few minutes, breathing in sync so quietly that Calum thinks Michael might be asleep until they speak up.

“You’re warm,” Michael mumbles, leaning back into Calum. Calum smiles, keeps stroking their hair. There’s a lull until Michael speaks up again. 

“What are we?”

“What do you mean?” Calum asks.

“Like dating? Are we together? Casually seeing each other? I know labels are stupid or whatever, but I want to know before we go any further. I can’t get invested if you’re not serious,” Michael says. 

Calum pauses, thinking about it. If Calum’s going to be honest, he already assumed they were dating. He knows they’ve never spoken the words aloud, haven’t put the words to their budding relationship, Calum already considers Michael his partner. When Calum talks about them to his mum, he calls Michael his partner. He says it in stores and at restaurants when the check out people ask who he’s buying things for. Calum’s not sure what the feeling in his chest is whenever he sees Michael, when they burst into the tattoo parlor to bring Calum mid-day coffee or bring Calum food on longer days, when they sit with Calum while he sketches, asking questions about the art he’s making, the techniques he’s using. If Calum had to guess, he would say that the feeling in his chest is love. It’s pure, unadulterated love at its finest. Calum’s hesitant to put the word on something so new, but it feels right. The shape of the words on Calum’s lips, the idea of love is so close he can almost taste it. Calum fantasizes sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s trying to fall asleep, what it would be like to have Michael with him all the time. What it would feel like to fall asleep with Michael, curled up around them, pressing close. What it might be like to wake up with them, make breakfast together, walk to work together. Calum knows it’s too early, but he wants a full life with Michael, for as long as Michael will have him.

“I want to date you. I want to hold your hand in public and call you my partner when we’re out. I want to go on date nights and kiss you at the movie theater and I just....I want to be your boyfriend Michael. If you’ll have me, I want to be your boyfriend,” Calum says.

“You can’t just hit me with that kind of confession while I’m comfortable and warm and cuddling with you. I’m emotionally compromised enough as it is,” Michael whines, covering their face with their hands.

“Well you asked! Don’t ask if you don’t want the answer,” Calum says, laughing.

“Terrible, terrible, terrible. I can’t believe my boyfriend is awful and mean and a dork,” Michael bemoans dramatically.

“So, does that mean you want to date me?”

“Unfortunately, I very much want to be your partner. I want to hold your hand and call you my boyfriend and kiss in public until Luke whines at me to stop.”

“Good. Glad to know we’re on the same page with embarrassing our friends with our relationship,” Calum says, laughing. They lay together on the couch for a few moments until Michael’s stomach rumbles. 

“So, can we go eat?” Calum asks, running his fingers through Michael’s hair. 

“No, cozy,” Michael mumbles, burrowing into Calum’s chest. Calum sighs.

“Come on Mikey. I won’t even make you eat a veggie. We can order pizza and cuddle on the couch and watch a movie.”

“But you’re warm and the couch is cozy,” Michael whines.

“It’ll be even warmer and cozier back at my place. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning since it’s a late shop day.”

“Chocolate chips?” Michael asks, cracking one eye open to gaze at Calum.

“Yes, I’ll even add chocolate chips.”

“Fine, I guess going home with my boyfriend won’t be such a tragedy,” Michael says dramatically. They wiggle out of Calum’s hold, rolling over to face Calum. Michael leans forward, pressing a kiss to Calum’s nose. Calum grins, leaning forward to press one to their nose.

“Glad to hear it. Love you,” Calum says before he can stop himself. He freezes, heart pounding, unsure of what Michael’s going to say in response to Calum’s sudden confession.

“Love you,” Michael hums back. They burrow back into Calum’s chest, head tucked under his chin. Calum knows they should sit up, get going, so they can get food and do this at his place under covers and warm, but right now, Calum’s content to just lay on this couch with Michael curled up in their love.

[shiishki]

okay wait, i changed my mind. you should answer all of these questions as well, if that's what you want from me >:)

oof there's a lot of it, that's what i get for wanting to be ✨aesthetic✨

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

vowels (and the importance of being me) - hunny

honeypie - jawny

pretty young thing - michael jackson

mirrors - justin timberlake

sunflower - red orange county

paradise - rude-a

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

a therapist.

ok someone else.. uhh,, my grand grandma because i only have scratches of memories but i dunno if that counts since she passed away...

*rummages through ancient scripts* uhh ok someone who isn't dead.. uhm,, tommie? yeah I'd like to meet them if i could meet anyone on earth

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

ok, the closest german, english or polish book? nvm i have english

"suddenly was. So I just said thank you a few times too, and Mum" ironically this is one of the normal lines in this book

4: What do you think about most?

the fact that I'll have to do something after school. and I don't know if i want to go to college or get a job bc i have no legitimate idea on what to do with my life. it gets overwhelming, just the lack of knowledge about the actual experience.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

Ok

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

with, tho i sleep with just shorts in summer

7: What’s your strangest talent?

not sure if it's a talent, but i can fall asleep anywhere

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

girls are pretty. boys are pretty

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

by me, yes. no one else has written a poem about me specifically. nvm, tommie wrote one and it shall rest on my wall, or desk, i need to find a place for it

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

uhh i think last month?

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

i don't think so, but i am hella afraid of the possibly gigantic, terrifying things in the ocean depths that humans haven't discovered yet

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

yep, beloved legos as a lil child

13: What’s your religion?

i can't ever remember the name, but i believe gods (from all religions) exist in some way or form. so i believe in different pantheons and etc.

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

walking my doggo, skateboarding, thinking about how to make the lives of my characters worse

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

behind it.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

uhmm the arctic monkeys? or the strokes

17: What was the last lie you told?

i know what i want

18: Do you believe in karma?

yes, the rule of three specifically

19: What does your URL mean?

i don't know. it's something me and my sis came up with and that's just my whole identity now.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

uhh greatest weakness.. i can't finish things. strength is that I'm very stubborn so maybe I'll finish that thing out of spite

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

i grew up thinking crushes were like unicorns. my ex was odd enough to argue with that i didn't love her if i didn't have a crush on her. but I think if i had to guess.. selena gomez, especially in the role of alex russo in wizard of weverly street

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

nope

23: How do you vent your anger?

i write angry letters. sometimes they're sad letters. i write a lot of letters. except i never send them out and no one made a movie about them :}

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

jars and witchy bottles, books? scented candles

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

phone calls are stressful enough as is, i don't need you to see my reading off what i frantically wrote to not stumble over my words

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

i think so, yes, but that won't stop me from becoming better

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

hate flies buzzing right by my ear, love cat purring

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

what if I'd been born in a place where it was illegal for me (nonbinary) to live, in a time when others thought of me as a curse?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

they be chilling.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

right arm, doggo, left arm, pillow

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

fresh air and doggo, because doggo is with me and I can't live without open windows

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

i dunno tbh

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

which one is less homophobic?

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

every gender is my opposite gender. selena gomez and justin timberlake

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

to make it easier for people down the line

36: Define Art.

make thing, thing goes woo

37: Do you believe in luck?

yis

38: What’s the weather like right now?

it's nice actually, very sunny, slight breeze

39: What time is it?

12.59 am

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

i don't, but i once crashed into a fire department vehicle with my bike. bike ded.

41: What was the last book you read?

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

i legit ass don't know what gasoline smells like.

43: Do you have any nicknames?

many variations of my name, aka. Luce

44: What was the last film you saw?

i think it was Robin Hood: King of Thieves, but it might have been that half of spider-man homecoming i managed to watch with my poor internet

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

oh man i dunno... it's not an injury, but i was very sickly as a lil kid and almost died :)

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

once, years ago

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

hmmm horizon zero dawn i think

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

proud pansexual ^^

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

not really, i don't think they're big enough to be actual rumors,, meh

50: Do you believe in magic?

yis

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

meh. they suck, i know they suck, that's it.

52: What is your astrological sign?

cancer ♋

53: Do you save money or spend it?

i attempt saving. attempt

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

for my own money, sweets. i bought lizards for my cats so they can brush their teeth from my dad's amazon acc

55: Love or lust?

luv

56: In a relationship?

nope, i buy my own cookies

57: How many relationships have you had?

1, kinda toxic toward the end, very stressful, don't recommend

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

nu ><

59: Where were you yesterday?

on the fields walking my doggo

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

yep, a pastel pink hoodie in my closet uwu

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

yis, thicc warm socks

62: What’s your favourite animal?

cats

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

cuddles and food.

64: Where is your best friend?

bold of you to assume i have a best friend.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

tommie-hildebrandt, kageyuji, nekomas-kuroo, joyful-soul-collector

66: What is your heritage?

I'm a demon boi from Poland tho that's not a thing to be proud of, i mean, look at the economy. awful.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

sleeping, trying to sleep.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

Pinkton. or Satan.

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

this is such an odd combination of words i had to look it up. yea.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

a friend who won't laugh at me when i ask them to order smth for me because I'm too anxious to.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

excuse me? i am saving the doggo wtf. f u boss, I'm gonna sell my tragic story to the news.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) i tell my parents. b) live the hell out of them uwu c) nope uwu.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

trust.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

history maker - dean fujioka :]

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

3332

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

communication, trust, some more communication.

77: How can I win your heart?

let's not pretend to be something else to please each other, and bring some bitter chocolate.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

maybe. it could. i don't have a say in it since my sanity is held by tape.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

eat the pizza. stop caring about others not liking me/parts of me. just living for myself uwu.

80: What size shoes do you wear?

uh i dunno how the american sizes work and i don't wanna look it up so, 39, 40 fits too.

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

demon boi

82: What is your favourite word?

socks.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

the bloody organ that sits in your chest and pumps blood into your body so you don't die.

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

uhm im not sure if that counts as a saying, but fake it till you make it

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

blinding lights - the weeknd

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

oh a normal question people use for ice breaking, sea blue and pastel variations of it.

87: What is your current desktop picture?

like my wallpaper? or the actual picture that sits on my desk? or how my desk looks like atm? it's ugly, a lot of papers and pens and schoolbooks.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

donald trump. or the next asshole who'll try to take the rights of the lgbt and poc away

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

this. this is the question.

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

yo there's a pizza somewhere in the refrigerator, want me to heat it up? we can have a sleep over and talk about our feelings :3

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

telekinesis! or shapeshifting! i could do such fun things with telekinesis ^^ yeah I'd totally eat some radioactive veggies

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

that time my "friends" got me into shoplifting, half-hour is more than enough to punch some sense into my brain and develop good music taste

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

can i save this one? i don't think i have an experience horrible enough to be erased haha

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

sleep as in.. uh no thank u. but I'm down for a sleep over with sam smith ^^

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

just me? what about my pets? my fam? it's lowkey illegal for me to go just anywhere without them owO

uhhmm, greece. imma become part of the greek pantheon out of pure spite. and maybe toronto canada.

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

not any that i know of o.o

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

i think i may have but i honestly don't remember

98: Ever been on a plane?

nope, i dunno if i like planes, but I'd probably sleep if i were on one.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

yeet.

[lovelytsumu]

‧₊˚✧ ཻུ۪۪ ᵕ̈ ART

chapter 1 — “drawings„ 

sakusa kiyoomi x reader | mlist

is having a soulmate necessary? — a bunch of connected stories.

Soulmate AU; if you write something on your skin it will appear on your soulmate skin too.

wc: 1,5k | no trigger warning.

Everyone has a soulmate, everyone deserves love, also if they don’t believe it. Sooner or later, in your sixteenth year of life, if you wrote something on your skin, it would show on your soulmate’s skin, same writing, same place.

Sakusa had never cared about soulmates, probably because a relationship wasn’t one of his priorities. He also thought no one could love him, mainly for his strange, cold and blunt personality, for his germaphobic attitude, and he thought girls liked to go out in crowded places with their boyfriends. He just didn’t care, and he hoped to have a soulmate who didn’t care either.

It happened all of a sudden, while he was writing on his notebook, he saw something appearing on his left wrist: “;”, a semicolon. At first, he thought his pen was bleeding a little ink, but when he tried to rub on it, nothing changed. It was like tattooed, and he couldn’t do anything. A couple of minutes after he realised he had a soulmate. Well, another problem added to his germophobia and mysophobia. Instead of panicking for the small amount of black colour on his wrist, he just pulled on his sleeve to cover it.

He wanted to keep it a secret, at least for now.

Some days have passed since the semicolon, and everytime it got erased, maybe from a shower or a bath, his soulmate was quick to draw it again. For him, if it was just that small symbol, it was okay. “Sakusa, what’s that flower on your arm?” Komori, during the whole practice his eyes were glued to his friend’s forearm, noticing that something was appearing out of the blue. “What?” he was focused on spiking the balls, that he didn’t saw the outline of a flower which started to mark his skin. “Guys! Our ace as a soulmate! And she’s also pretty talented!” the libero said to all his teammates, who got near Sakusa to admire the beautiful drawing on his arm. “Stop, I don’t like having you squished around me like this” he said, trying to move away from the small crowd composed of his teammates.

When Itachiyama’s ace got back to the locker room, he noticed that the drawing on his arm was a sunflower, and now there were also some leaves around it. The outline was perfect, without any kind of mistake or imprecision. But why? Why draw something so big and beautiful which can be easily erased with water and soap? Maybe, his soulmate did it just to annoy him, or because she didn’t care about him. He hoped it was the second.

Practice ended, and he was free to go back home, but something on his way caught his interest. A faint light coming from the art room. Minding other people’s businesses wasn’t his favourite activity, and he didn’t want to annoy who was inside. He stood near the door, and with surprise, a [h/c] hair coloured girl was standing near a canvas, and she was looking for more paint. Then, he looked at the unfinished drawing, representing a sunflower, very very similar to the one on his arm.

He was just watching her looking for some spare paint around the class. Carefully, without wasting a single drop, the girl put the colours on her palette, now looking for an appropriate brush to start her piece. The [h/c] student began painting with a yellow brush stroke, the firm hold of the brush was in contrast with the delicate move. He couldn’t see her face, but he bet it was plain, paying attention to all the small details, careful of what she was doing.

To almost everyone, that movement may seem normal, but there was something more. Her precision, her gentle brush stroke, her concentration. It was almost unnatural. She was in her personal world, a free, peaceful, imaginary space. When you do something you deeply love, it’s like this, reading, playing an instrument, playing your favourite sport... also if you don’t notice it.

While Sakusa was thinking if she really was his soulmate, he didn’t pay attention to the painting, where the petals of the sunflower were almost finished. Yellow, mixed with a bit of orange. Then, she moved on, and picked a dark brown bottle of paint. The girl started placing some dots in the center of the sunflower.

The artist felt eyes on her, but she didn’t care. Art is made to be seen and appreciated, is made to feeling part of it, is made to reveal your own feelings. Writing a story, composing a poem, singing a song, painting a drawing... are just a few of the ways art can express itself. It’s something magical, or at least, she would describe it like that.

“You know, drawing is a really good activity to reduce anxiety and sadness” she said without turning, knowing someone was leaning on the doorframe. Sakusa stayed still and didn’t answer back. “It also helps your concentration and creativity. Someone thought about how our psychic state reverses itself on the paper which we are drawing on. It sounds impossible, but it’s true.”

— 🌻 — some time after

Sakusa was staring to the ceiling of his room, laying on the bed. He was still thinking about the words he had heard before, also if he didn’t know that girl, the one in the art room, he couldn’t do anything besides being impressed. Her technique, her delicate touch, her thoughts.

Maybe it was just a coincidence, but the drawings, the sunflowers... was her his soulmate? Was it that easy find the person who the fate decided to pair you with? Strange. It was common to hear people who had to do kilometres and kilometres before finding their half. Maybe he got lucky.

He didn’t want a relationship, he didn’t define himself as someone who desperately needed a girlfriend, but, for the first time, he had to think again about that idea. Sakusa has always liked who put a lot of effort in what they were doing, as for the girl at school, or him when he was playing volleyball.

He rolled up his sleeves, to see if the flowers were still there. Luckily, everything was like that afternoon: the big sunflower on his arm and the small semicolon on his wrist. He didn’t scream of joy when he thought about his first “move”, because it meant ruin his skin with a pen or marker.

A little arrow pointing at the flower, and “I like this. You’re good at it.” without mentioning who he was. Also his soulmate started drawing on his skin out of the blue, so why couldn’t he write on his own arm? Then, he was just staring at the small comment, waiting for an answer, that could never be written.

Meanwhile, ___ was taking off her clothes to have a shower. The hot water was already running, but before opening the shower glass door, she paused in front of the mirror, looking at her arm. Her soulmate had left a comment near her drawing.

“I like this. You’re good at it”. She couldn’t do anything than smile. She had just received a positive opinion on her sunflower. For someone who doesn’t care about art, or just draw because they have nothing to do, that may sound as nothing special, but for her it was different.

It hasn’t been a lot of time since she had started painting again, and receiving a compliment on one of her favourite subjects made her heart flutter, especially because that comment was from who the fate tied her together with. Also if she didn’t want to be in a relationship, or at least, at the moment she couldn’t be the best girlfriend ever, as she said.

It was the starting of a new era of her life, after a lot of sadness and tears, she was finally standing up again, and maybe, this time she wasn’t alone. She got under the shower, and watched silently how the ink on her arm was already smudging down her arm. “I want to draw it again”.

After she came out of the bathroom, she quickly drew the semicolon on her wrist, and then, a smaller sunflower on her forearm. This time she added a phrase under it. “Thanks for the compliment, I’ve read it just before showering. I hope you won’t hate me for this, but at the moment I don’t feel like meeting you or having a relationship” she cursed at herself for the last sentence, but some words were already appearing again on her skin.

“Don’t worry. I am not the type of guy who wants a relationship for now.” somehow, both Kiyoomi and ___ felt relieved when they read each other’s words.

Maybe their story wasn’t meant to be as one of the thousands clichè love movies.

[to be continued]

🌻 Taglist: @itsmattsunshinehere

[monstaxardeur]

Warnings: Mature, Angst

𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚍 - 𝚒𝚒

His black chipped nail brushed the small chit of paper in his hands as he was questioning himself… 'was this necessary?' He looked out the window of his cab, the early morning wind greeted him but there was no sun in sight…in fact it looked like a storm was brewing. 'Wasn’t there enough rainstorm last night?' he wondered blankly watching the cityscape pass him by, his thoughts starting to tangle in last night’s aftermath.

'She' was gone, just like that, leaving a little pricking void in his heart, no..not just his heart, he was sure she took his soul too, sucking the life out of him. She wandered into their lives one fine day and disappeared one night as if the dark skies swallowed her whole, her being now lay atop the cosmos as perhaps the beautiful moon he witnessed every night…along with her stars she oh so lovingly called 'her little moonbeams'.

Last night had been difficult, his fingers grazed over the frayed edges of the torn fabric, he hated it…how she had intoxicated him, her existence, her touch…her kisses in the dark like a pretty little secret. He may or may not have pleasured himself to the swaying memories of 'Queenie'. Her words, the soft nothings would haunt his nights and keep him from peaceful sleep but it had been a while, a good while and she hadn’t been around anymore. Sometimes it felt like a lucid dream he had, it won’t be long when the affects of her drugging existence wear off and it may just feel like it was never real.

'Why am I even doing this?' He bemused himself staring at the small piece of folded paper. He was sure he wasn’t the only one she left small favors with, but why? Its like she left the boys with her fragments to finish what she couldn’t.

“Will you do me a favor my love?” Her words were soft like velvet, her lips barely away from his, both of their lips swollen from the feverish kiss they shared. “Hmmm?” He had replied and all she did was slide a small piece of paper in his palms. He briefly looked down to inspect it but she closed his palms into a fist and captured his lips onto hers, resuming their romantic escapade.

He bit his lip at the sudden memory vividly playing out in his head and sighed throwing his head back and pulling the hoodie over his face, but his moment of tranquil came to a halt as the cab stopped at the destination.

He hesitated before turning the knob…'this doesn’t feel right' his mind told him but Queenie gave him the keys herself, entrusted him with it for this very purpose. He walked into a room greeted with soft music playing, he recognized the song, 'Art Deco by Lana Del Rey' but his feet stopped at a canvas before him. A beautifully haunting image was splayed in freehand strokes on a dark canvas that lay there. An image of a silver cloaked goddess caressing the cheeks of a butterfly winged human. He could recognize her face anywhere, the goddess..was Queenie, but this other person wasn’t completely visible yet, probably an incomplete artwork?

“It’s still in progress.” You spoke startling him out of his trance and he swallowed a lump he didn’t know was in his throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” He flashed a faint smile and held up the chit, “She sent me.” You paused and he turned and pointed at the goddess in the painting, “I meant her, I know its her you painted.” Your gaze shifted away as you rubbed the back of your neck sighing….you missed her dearly at times. Right now was one of those times, for your home was the definition of grief, it was messy and unkempt and your appearance looked like you were yearning for the moon’s touch, this moonbeam looked drained of her beams, he could see it in your eyes.

~

His fingers dug deep into the skin of your bare thighs and his lips moved feverishly over your hot skin as he trailed them all mottled to find that one spot, on the left of your chest…where your heart beats, he knows the goddess lives there and what was meant to be a soft bruise was a harsh mark, a love bite perhaps? You panted and winced at the sudden surge of pinching pain and your own hands tugged and pulled at his blonde locks. His brows knitted and he growled in frustration….he could feel Queenie all over you, he was convinced you were a vessel. What looked like a drained little moonbeam turned out to be bleeding moonlight the moment your skins touched. Like a butterfly so still but at a mere touch it’s wings were spread wide, shimmering it’s vibrant colors and beauty as it fluttered about.

He dragged his lips back to to the sweet spot under your neck to hear those soft moans that were like comforting music to his ears. One of his hands grabbed hold of your neck in a low squeeze and your eyes met his again as you panted and held his hand that was over your pulsing veins. “Please…let me..” your words barely audible against him in close proximity and he loosened his grip over you, softening up and your lips requested entrance at his own and he greeted yours with a needy urge. Holding his face in your palms, you shifted to sit up closer in his lap and your core could feel his hard on but you were patient and just kissed him the most mind numbing kiss, just as his entire existence was mind numbing to yours.

You wanted out, you wanted it all out, the moonlight in your veins that was injected by 'her' loving words and caring notions, by her presence….by her mere existence. You knew you had soaked in a lot of her essence maybe a little more than what you bargained for and he wanted it like a drug, why else would he wander here upon Queenie’s request, you knew despite your overflowing emotions underneath the moonlit facade…that he was here for her, he envisioned her in your stead, all he wanted was to feel 'her' under his skin and you were radiating with her essence…dripping moonlight at his mere touch.

'What an odd place to find your heart at?' You thought pushing back tears so forceful that your throat hurt and a whimper escaped your lips as he broke the kiss letting you breathe. You had hoped to find the other side of him when you looked into his beautiful dark eyes but all you saw was a disciple’s yearning for his goddess and you let go of yourself to his dark desires..

~

It was nightfall, a silent beautiful night, the moon was full and the starts winked from beneath the floating clouds. He lay bare under the sheets of the bed, he had slept his aching soul away and it was late. '00:00′ the time struck. Was it the witching hour? Did it feel like Walpurgis Night? Sort of, but not in the most devious ways only in the most lulling ways as if the witches themselves descended to sing their lullabies.

When he came to, his nose caught the whiff of scented candles but a very non conventional one, you lived in a beach house but couldn’t get enough of the scent of the ocean. His eyes were greeted by your bare back that had your floral print tattoo, it was so delicate like an old lovers kiss~ When you felt him shift you put on your little crop top sweater and turned to see him, for a moment your breath was stuck in awe as you saw his naked form that lay moonkissed before you. The way the moonlight touched him made you wonder he was perhaps truly made for his muse.

“Were you crying?” His deep low voice was raspy from having just woken, the reason he asked was your glistening cheeks, “I finished the painting.” You changed the subject wiping off your semi dried tears. The painting of the butterfly human was no longer the same, it was in fact everything like him. Changkyun’s eyes were fixated on the painting of what was now the moon goddess and himself…~ “Take it with you.” Came your voice from inside the room, you wanted nothing to do with it anymore, they belonged with each other and you wanted nothing in between their love story, the ache was too much to bear.

The mattress depressed beside you as he sat down next to you in nothing but his undone jeans, he followed your gaze to the night sky outside your window from where you sat. “Isn’t she beautiful?” You asked smiling melancholic. “And haunting.” he added as his fingers traced patterns on your arms trailing them to your wrist. “Do I still bleed her soul?” You asked looking at him, your expressions always softening up while looking at him. He hummed a nod still playing his fingertips on your skin. “Just a little though but it’s always there, like a dormant demon wanting out….I felt it in your heart beat.” and his eyes glance at the mark under her left collar bone, a deep bluish purple bruise and he couldn’t help but feel a little smug for his doing. He marked your heart so harshly, you’ll probably remember it for days to come.

You felt defeated at his reply, “I’ll always be with you my little moonbeam, shhh don’t cry now. You’ll see me again, I promise~” were her words and back then they felt like warmth, comfort & home but never did you ever thought that too much of even such a deep unexplained love could leave you scarred and over flowing with her memories. It’ll take forever for someone to find the real you deep down trapped under the smothering love of your Queenie~

Just as he came, he had left, leaving you in your sheets bare and bruised with his love marks. His touch always burned, always left indents because he was always searching for someone within you. You lay fast asleep exhausted from your little sexual escapade but in the dead of the night you may have felt a comforting touch stroking your head as if a guardian angel watched over you. “I’m so sorry my little moonbeam.” The muse softly kissed your head and fixed your covers, “My poor baby, I’ll tell him to be kind to you hmmm?” she cooed. “I’ll have to pay him a visit though.” her words trailed off as she looked up at the sky and the moon was now completely covered in clouds….almost as if it was never there in the first place~

…𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚍𝚎

mood song: art deco by lana del rey

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

And I Love Her

Harry Styles x OFC

Warnings: drinking, mentions of substance abuse

A/N: I have a lot of fics I'm working on at the moment. I have so many ideas I just can't keep them in my head. I hope you guys enjoy this one. Please let me know, the feedback is always appreciated. Much love to you all

  The summer of '92 in Seatle Washington was like some weird fever dream. Nirvana was hot, everyone smelled like teen spirit and the dirtier you were, the sexier. We partied all night, slept all day, didn't give a fuck about the man and smoked all the pot we could get our hands on. I crashed on friend's couches or slept under the stars when it was nice. The freedom of having nothing to tie me down was intoxicating and I ate that shit up. So when my best friend Anna asked me to go out with her to see some bands at a local bar, I didn't hesitate.

    It was a shitty little bar. But I guess it was supposed to be. It was the 'aesthetic' of the day.

     My best friend Anna tugged me along behind her. The music was loud, the makeshift stage upfront holding a band that looked like they were plastered and played just about as well. The singer crooning into the mic about losing someone they loved and how life was a bitch. Didn't we all know it too.

    Anna pulled me to a booth, out of the way of the small crowd that had crammed into the bar to hear this band play. People thrashing and head banging, twisting their bodies and writhing to the music. Red lights set an ominous glow, the smell of booze and weed filling my nostrils.

    I slid into the booth beside her, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. She ordered two shots from the waitress that came by while I fiddled with my lighter.

    "I thought Shannon and Reggie were meeting us here." I said loudly in her ear. Christ you could barely hear anything over the dude screaming on stage. I rubbed my temples, a slight headache forming.

    "They are. But they had to work. Said they'd walk over after....not everyone can live off of painting and commissions." I rolled my eyes. I was a visual artists. I did a lot of abstract and weird art. You'd be surprised by all the people that are willing to buy the craziest shit. There's a lot of weirdos like me out there.

    The waitress came back with our shots and I downed mine immediately, ordering a beer behind it. Anna sipped hers, don't ask me why, she always did shit like that. I was getting ready to say something to her about the band playing when I saw him. He came in through the front door and my eyes immediately landed on him.

   He had long curly hair that looked as though it hadn't been brushed or washed in weeks. He wore a baggy plain black shirt, ripped blue Jean's and what looked like jet black Doc Martens. A green flannel draped over his shoulders and sunglasses draped on his head. If I had a type, he was it.

He was with a group of people. Anna was talking in my ear but I couldn't hear her, entranced by this good looking man who was now making his way towards our booth.

"You look like a prince." I smirked as he walked by, stubbing out my cigarette. The boy stopped, turning to look me up and down. A wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Would a prince do this?" He grabbed me by my forearms, pulling me to the ground and flipping me onto my back. The floor was soaked in beer, my dress instantly wet as I squirmed beneath the boy above me. He grinned triumphantly as we rolled around, wrestling against each other.

"Stay down." He commanded, pressing my wrists into the floor. I smirked up at him, shaking my head.

"Never." He licked his lips.

"You're a fighter....I like that." His accent was thick. His words rolling off his tongue like poetry as he spoke. It had to be English. His voice was low and deep, his words slow, enunciating every word.

"You have no idea." He stared at me for a moment, eyes leaving my face, trailing down to my chest, I squirmed again only to have his grip on me tighten before his eyes snapped back up to mine.

"Sassy one aren't you." He let me go, getting off of me and helping me to my feet. "Sorry about that love...I really couldn't resist." His shirt was wet with beer, his hair matted and pressed against his cheek and neck. "I hope you stick around for the rest of the show."

"You playin'?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Could be....gonna have to stick around to find out." He reached out, wrapping a hand around my wrist and pulling me towards him again. "If you do decide to stay, meet me in the hallway after the set yeah? Wanna see just how much of a fighter you are." He winked at me before letting go, leaving me breathless and blushing.

What in the fuck?

"Tabbi, you know who that is?" Anna asked me with wide eyes. I shrugged, climbing back into the booth, my dress soaked and reeking of the spilt beer that had lathered the floor. "That's Harry Styles."

"Okay?" I said, glancing up to see him conversing with the band setting up on stage. "Is that a big deal or something?" she looked at me like she couldn't believe I didnt know who he was. it was annoying really.

"He's in the band about to play. One direction and...." she leaned forward across the table, trying to whisper now. "He's just....there's a lot of rumors about him. I'd steer clear if I were you." I wasn't impressed. I thought maybe she wanted him and was jealous of our little flirtatious action a minute ago. I rolled my eyes.

"Come off it Anna. It was just a little harmless flirting. Nothing more...."

Anna didn't say anything else, our attention turning to the stage as the soundcheck was coming to an end. Girls screamed endlessly as Harry stepped forward, guitar slung around his shoulder, a confident smirk on his face.

They opened with a number called 'Little Black Dress.' Wasn't really my style but I listened, observing the band as they played. The short, lanky bassist, covered in tattoos, the drummer with the arrow tattoos on his arm, he was cute too. The blonde one playing guitar alongside the boy I had wrestled-Harry.

And boy did he know what he was doing. Once the song ended and they started 'Stockholm Syndrome' his movements became so sexual. He stroked the mic stand with his fingers, loosely twisting his wrist up and down it, grinding against it, licking his lips, winking and sending kisses into the crowd. The men seemed to love it almost as much as the women.

"Hey guys!" Reggie and Shannon showed halfway through the set. I waved half heartedly, still intrigued by the boy commanding the stage. The music wasn't my favorite. But damn if he wasn't a great performer.

"She was wrestling with Harry Styles." I heard Anna telling them what had happened. Reggie called my name but I ignored him in favor of the band. I wasn't going to explain myself. I hated judging people based off of what other people told me about them. I'd rather find out for myself.

I decided not to meet him after the show. It was true, I was attracted to him. But he was going to have to work for it.

We were standing outside, huddled in our group, smoking and talking about the music when I felt an arm snake it's way around my waist.

"Left me in the hallway. Tsk. Tsk. What a tease." My stomach flipped and I gasped as his fingers slid just beneath my t shirt, just enough to trace over the waistband of my Jean's. I turned to see Harry, his pupils were blown, the green of his eyes only slightly noticable, giving his eyes a soft glow. I smirked, leaning in close, eyes darting to his lips before looking him in the eye.

"Don't you know? It's all about the chase." He chuckled, running his hand through his hair. His fingers glinting with the rings on them when they caught the streetlight.

"The thing is...I don't chase baby." He looked me up and down again, sighing heavily, as though he were bored. "You'll come to me when you're ready for me."

"Harry-" I gasped, a blonde girl shoving me back as she threw herself at Harry, kissing him hard on the lips. I rolled my eyes in disgust, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart and the disappointment in my stomach.

"Hey," I turned to see the bassist, the other one with a shit ton of tattoos. He smiled at me, holding his hand out. "I'm Louis. Sorry about Camille. That's Harry's girl."

"No worries. I'm just glad I didn't hit the pavement." He chuckled.

"Can I bum one?" He asked, watching as I pulled out my cigarettes. I held the pack out to him, he took two, stuck them in his mouth and lit them at the same time. 

"Neat party trick." I teased. He shrugged.

"Nicotine addiction. You know."

"Lou." Harry's voice was low, his tone darker as he shouted at his bandmate. Camille had her arms wrapped around his shoulders, he had one hand wrapped around her waist. "We gotta go. Get a move on yeah?" Louis smiled at me sympathetically, pulling a crumbled piece of paper from his pocket.

"My number....I'm havin' a party at my place in a couple days. You should come through. I like meetin' new people. Be cool to hang." I check out of the corner of my eye and see Harry watching me closely, nostrils flaring as I stick the piece of paper in my bra, giving Louis my most seductive smile. Harry wasn't going to win me over. Not that easily. Like I said I like the chase.

"Cool. Maybe we'll swing by."

"Tommo." Harry said louder, a warning beneath his tone. Louis shook my hand again.

"By the way," he asked, before letting go, "what's your name?"

"Tabbi. It's Tabbi." He smiled, bringing my knuckles to his lips and kissing them gently, his lips were soft and he was sweet.

"See ya later Tabbi." I looked, just in time to see Harry look me over once more, licking his lips before walking away with his bandmate and his girl. I kept hoping in a small way that maybe he'd look back.

He didn't.

[rigel126]

RK1K Week Day 1 Fic

Day 1 – Painting | Playing an Instrument by Rigel126 Tags - Fantasy AU, Fluff, Established Relationship, RK1K Kissies

*

Ever since the Kingston Senate voted to grant rights to Spellcasters, great changes have swept through society. Prejudices against Spellcasters were slow to change, but now many of them found the courage to stand up tall, proud and open in the streets.

Foremost among the Spellcasters living in Kingston was the Jericho Coven, who now had their own shop called the Manfred Art House down in the Merchants Quarter. The group of Spellcasters who dared to stand up to oppression and fight for the rights of their brethren had achieved a certain level of fame within the city and beyond.

Lieutenant Hank Anderson and Inspector Connor were summoned to the Manfred Art House for an investigation, ever since Captain Fowler, leader of the Kingston Peacekeeper Corps decided that they would specialize in Spellcaster-related crimes. When they arrived, other Peacekeepers were already at the scene, with several nasty-looking men lumped together on the floor with their hands tied up. There was evidence of an altercation in the shop, with shattered fragments across the floor.

“What happened here?” demanded Hank to no one in particular.

A Peacekeeper officer jogged up to Hank and saluted. “Sir. The shop owners called us in. Witnesses say that these men came here to scare off customers, vandalize the shop and intimidate the witches-“

Hank clapped one hand heavily on the Peacekeeper and growled. “It’s a new age with new laws, lad. And the word you should be using now is ‘Spellcaster’.” Hank squeezed hard until the Peacekeeper winced in pain. “You hear me?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Good!” Hank gave him a shove as he released the man. “Bring these thugs back to the station for questioning. I’ll have a word with the staff here.”

The Peacekeeper was not happy, but he saluted Hank and went on his way.

“Hank! Connor! Thank you for coming so soon.” A wooden wheelchair rolled across the floorboards, propelled by nothing except magic. Upon it sat Carl Manfred, master painter, owner of the shop and a respected elder of the Jericho Coven and among Spellcasters.

“Master Manfred,” Connor took a step forward and bowed. “I heard what happened here. Was anyone hurt?”

Carl smiled at the young man. “No, my good boy. A few of our customers were shaken and we lost a few of our wares as you can see around us -” Carl waved a gnarled hand to the debris on the floor, “but fortunately my children were able to stop those brigand before they could cause any serious harm.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Hank. “This looks like a clear-cut case of hate crime against Spellcasters. I’m sure they will be convicted pretty easily. As for your loss in goods, you can file a claim for compensation against those good-for-nothings.”

“Certainly, and thank you so much for your help and support.”

Carl noticed Connor looking around and grinned. “Looking for someone, my boy?”

Connor looked startled but quickly recomposed a stoic appearance. “No, sir,” was his mechanical answer.

“If you’re looking for Markus, I believe he’s still at the palace to discuss some draft laws with His Majesty and the Elder Senators.”

“Connor?”

Just the sound of that familiar voice was enough to make Connor’s face light up. “Markus!”

“Hank! Dad! What happened here?” Markus demanded, alarmed by the mess.

“My son, do not worry. We had a few troublemakers come by, but everything’s fine now. Luther and Leo took care of them. Hank and Connor are here now so it’ll be just fine.”

“Ahem!” Hank cleared his throat. “Connor, it’s nearly the end of your shift. Why don’t you let me wrap this up?”

“But Lieutenant,” protested Connor. “Your shift will –“

Hank silenced Connor with a hand. “You haven’t seen your boyfriend in a while, haven’t you? You’re dismissed.”

“Hank, I –“

“But! In return I want you to write up the report for me tomorrow morning, you hear? No more arguments from you, kid.”

Connor’s stiff lips showed his mild displeasure. “Fine.”

Hank nodded smugly. “Good.” He glanced at Markus and pointed a finger. “I’m leaving my boy in your hands. Be sure to return him to me in one piece tomorrow morning or I’ll break you in two, even if you are the most famous Spellcaster in Kingston.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Markus blinked, then smiled broadly. “Absolutely, Lieutenant Anderson. You have my word for it.”

“Hank!” Connor blushed, but Hank was already on his way out of the shop.

Carl’s magical wheelchair creaked again, and the old man rolled over to the shop counter. “Don’t you boys worry a thing about this mess. The others can help me clean up. You two just go upstairs and get some rest till dinnertime.”

“Dad –“

“You heard your old man.” North cut Markus off, hefting a broom and a bucket in his hands. “Now go snog your man where we can’t see you.”

“Screw you North.”

“Hah! Just try, jackass! But it’s not like you can take your hands or eyes of your doe-eyed boyfriend long enough for that.”

Markus pouted and crossed his arms. “Hmph! That girl.”

But Connor was smiling shyly in the way that always made Markus’ heart beat faster. At times like this it was hard to believe that Connor was a Peacekeeper and before that a Paladin tasked with hunting Spellcasters back in the days when the zealotry of the Sanctum of Life fed hatred and fear into the minds of the people.

“Come on Connor. Let’s get you changed into something more comfortable. After that, I want to show you something.” Markus took Connor’s gauntleted hand and led him towards the stairwell.

*

It took Markus all his willpower not to drool as he watched Connor change out of his armour and Peacekeeper uniform and into Markus’ clothes.

Connor hardly fared better, gawking like a love-sick idiot while Markus shrugged off supremely annoying toga and sashes in favour of something more comfortable and less restrictive.

“This way.” Markus waved at Connor to follow him to the back on the spacious loft which housed Markus living space and personal workshop.

Connor lips parted and he gazed in wonder at a painting that Markus was working on. It depicted a young man in a ancient-styled tunic with a lyre on his lap and a soft cone-shaped cap on his head, playing music for a beautiful dancing woman. Although the painting was only half-finished, Markus’ artistic skill was apparent in achieving the summit of realism – no, it was beyond realism, for Connor felt his gaze drawn to the painting, almost as if he would be sucked into it.

“It’s beautiful,” marvelled Connor, his soft brown eyes running admiringly on the strokes of grey outlines on the canvas and colours between them.

“It’s a commission from the wife of Senator Brielle. I call it ‘Orpheus courting Eurydice’.” Markus put his hands on his hips to survey his work thus far.

Connor stepped closer, but cautiously, careful to keep his distance lest he inadvertently ruined such a masterpiece. “I can see how your painting alludes to the legend.”

“Would you like to help me finish it?”

“What? But I’m not painter, Markus. I can’t even hold a paintbrush right.”

Markus chuckled and fixed his green and blue eyes on his lover. “Maybe, but that’s not what I’d like you to do. You see, I’m experimenting with a new form of art, one imbued with magic. I call this art-form ‘living painting’.”

Connor tilted his head, casting an inquisitive look at Markus, whose rust-coloured skin seemed to glow when hit by rays of the late afternoon sun that filtered through the window.

“When this painting is finished, the figures will move as though they were alive. And since I’ve depicted Orpheus here playing his lyre, I thought that it would be wonderful if I could incorporate music into it.” Markus turned to Connor and looked at Connor hopefully. “Would you play the lyre for me while I paint and enchant the picture?”

Connor hated himself for being so weak to Markus’ puppy eyes, but really, who could say no when Markus had that look? He sighed. “Alright, I only know a few songs, however. And I can’t say that I’m the best bard in the city either.”

Markus kissed Connor on the cheek. “Just play what you can and try to put some magic into your playing. I’ll do the rest.”

Connor rolled his eyes with a sigh, picking up the lyre that Markus had left for him. Connor got comfortable on a tall stool, balanced the lyre on his lap and propped it in place with his left hand. In the fingers of his right hand, Connor held a pick into which he channelled his magic. Not too much however. “Whenever you are ready, Markus.” Connor’s magically charged fingers hovered next to the strings.

Markus picked up his paintbrush and palette. “Let’s do this.”

Pick in hand, Connor began to pluck a calming, nearly hypnotic melody while Markus’ paintbrush swam across the tightly-drawn canvas strung up on his easel. Magical energy flowed in both the brush and the strings, the colours and the music, obtaining an ethereal quality born out of the synergy of two lovers who completed each other.

Nearly two hours later, Markus put the last dab of paint and gently blew life into the two figures that he drew. At the same time, Connor drew his song to an ending cadence. The two men laid down their respective instruments. Connor came closer until his shoulder brushed lightly against Markus’ to see what was done. If Connor had not been impressed by Markus’ work earlier on, he would be now.

Markus chuckled. “Now watch this.” He touched his fingers on a discreet line of runes painted at the bottom corner of the canvas, and the painting came to life: Orpheus, seated on a mossy rock, began to strum his own lyre to the tune that Connor played while his wife Eurydice danced, her loosely pleated hair and the folds of her dress twirling with every spin and sway body made. The flowers around Orpheus swayed too, as if moved by wind, and in the background birds glided across the blue skies.

“This is amazing,” gasped Connor, his voice filled with wonder.

All of a sudden, Connor grabbed Markus and pulled him close; he kissed Markus deeply for the longest time, arms holding tightly onto Markus as if Connor was afraid of losing him.

Even after they stopped for air, Connor continued to hug Markus. “You’re amazing, Markus,” Connor breathed.

Markus leaned in. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a while,” he whispered. “Kiss me again.”

And so Connor did. Again and again. As many times as both he and Markus desired, with all the overflowing love in their hearts while the Orpheus continued to play his lyre in the background.

END