#used our colored pencils for the first time in a while to get more shades of green

[cordycepsbian]

off-duty leafbugs just chilling

[sunnyrealist]

🌶️ Chapter 39: A Delightful Morning 🌶️

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Chapter Background and Summary: Sebastian and Kate are on an adventurous camping trip in the Scottish Highlands. The couple has faced danger, concluded their first fight, gotten to know each other much more deeply, and had plenty of romantic and memorable moments. It is just about time for them to take on the last part of their journey. This chapter features the morning before they move forward into what may be another treacherous foray - exploring the mysterious Blackfold Castle.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x Kate Mayflower (my OC)

Content warnings: In general, this story is rated 18+, so MNDI. This chapter features brief references to spanking and suicide, as well as discussion about how to proceed into dangerous terrain and sex in the missionary position.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 39: A Delightful Morning

Kate wakes up to find herself curled up to Sebastian’s back, holding him close. He is still sleeping soundly, and she gazes upon him lovingly with a warm smile. She can tell that it’s still early and the sun has not quite risen yet. She makes up her mind to not wake him; carefully, she untethers herself from his warmth and gingerly moves off of the bed, which only creaks slightly. Sebastian stirs a little but remains in the world of dreams.

While she relishes any opportunity to cuddle with her boyfriend, she’s been waiting for an opportunity to do some drawing. Lighting just a few candles, she summons a robe along with her drawing pencil and sketchbook. Then, she descends down the ladder into her extendable bag to retrieve some of the flowers and leafy stems she had picked earlier in their journey. Slightly waving her wand in a circular motion and whispering a charm, they twist in the air slowly until they have transformed into two gorgeous and full flower crowns. She tiptoes back to the bed and gently places one of them on Sebastian’s head and then the other on her own

When Kate perches at the edge of the bed, a sharp stinging sensation radiates all over her bottom. In a sharp contrast to his dominance last night, now Sebastian looks so peaceful and innocent, almost boyish in sleep. Her pencil begins to scratch against the paper as she memorializes this image. Eventually, it expands into a picture of the two of them, sleeping and spooning in a colorful meadow in the middle of a forest with flower crowns atop their heads. Her tongue peeks out between her lips as she begins to color the picture. She uses her wand to frequently change the color of her drawing pencil, adding as much shading and life as possible. 

Smiling at the finished product, Kate creates a duplicate on the next page. Quietly, she tears the duplicate page out of her sketchbook, leaving it on the bed right next to Sebastian so that it will be the first thing he discovers upon awakening.

Stretching, she decides to begin working on breakfast since, after all, she is awake and feeling energetic. That’s when she realizes they never cleaned up after the previous night, and the table is an absolute mess. It all comes crashing back, and Kate’s hand finds her forehead in frustration. There’s a lot of cleaning to do before she can get the morning meal ready. With a slight headache from her hangover slowly building, she groans in frustration, wishing it could all just be vanished, but alas, it is not an option - not unless she wants to spend her precious savings to purchase all new dishware upon their return to Hogsmeade. After spending a few moments of fruitless pouting, she comes to terms with the fact that no one is going to do the work for her, and thus, she gets to work with a grimace.

A half hour later, Kate finally places new dishes on the table - scones with clotted cream and raspberry jam, honey baked ham, and omelettes with cheddar cheese and spinach. She pours out cold water, adding a lemon slice in each glass to provide some flavor. Since her love is still asleep, she decides to do some reading at the table. Soon, she is engrossed in Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, her imagination conjuring an image of Mr. Rochester begging Jane to not leave him to see her dying aunt. When Sebastian appears, she jumps.

Wearing just a pair of simple linen trousers and the flower crown, he softly says, “Good morning, sunshine.” He seems amused by her reaction after being so deeply engaged in her novel.

Kate grins brightly upon seeing that he hasn’t removed the flower crown. “Did you like my surprise?”

Sebastian chuckles. “Loved it. I’ll treasure that drawing forever.” He gives her a goofy smile. “Though I must say, I never thought I’d find myself wearing a flower crown.”

She rises from her seat, wrapping her arms around him and caressing the expanse of his back, running her fingers over his marred skin. “Well, the moon prince needed his crown,” she whispers playfully, kissing his chiseled chest, then gestures to the spread on the table. “And I’m certain he will also need breakfast after such a strenuous night.” She winks.

“We’ll need strength for the flight and whatever awaits us at Blackfold Castle,” Sebastian notes, quickly taking a seat and digging into an omelette.

Kate generously spreads cream onto a scone. “I wonder what it will look like.”

“Are you excited?” 

“Yes! I’m looking forward to seeing it. I’ve never done anything like this,” she tells him as she adds jam on top of the clotted cream. “So… since you’ve told me how mysterious the castle is, I’m curious - how did you learn of it in the first place?”

“The Kelpies,” he answers with his mouth full, then quickly swallows. “A man I was partnered with for a mission told me about it. When he attempted to explore, he could not figure out how to get past the protective wards surrounding the castle. I was inspired and wanted to learn more. That led to a great deal of research.” He sips his lemon water. “There’s a fascinating history behind the castle, but no one seems to know the full story, and no one has ever been able to access the interior.”

Kate’s eyes narrow. “Then… how are we going to get inside?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Sebastian admits. “It will be trial and error. But clearly, if it’s so well protected, there must be something worthwhile inside. It’s worth trying.”

She takes a bite of her scone. “What did you learn in your research?”

“Basic information about the late history of the castle. It’s quite tragic, really,” he begins. Determining that she is completely engaged, he decides to tell her everything he knows. “Prior to the mid 1300s, Blackfold was a thriving, bustling castle. It was originally built so high up in the mountains to keep Muggles away. Muggles could never access it. There were, in the past, wizarding villages down below, but they are long gone, and truly, nothing remains of them. It seems that when Blackfold Castle became abandoned, the village inhabitants slowly left as well, seeking protection from other Scottish wizarding royals.” 

“Abandoned?”

“Not… quite. The final monarch was someone named Queen Eilionoir. Supposedly, she was forced into a marriage with the prince, who soon became king, and the two were deeply unhappy. Amidst a war between clans, the king made the unfortunate decision to not lead or even join his people in battle. He was afraid to engage in combat without an heir. Eventually, he was assassinated. Eilionoir refused to remarry and soon dismissed all of the castle staff. She was found dead weeks later, and the leading theory is that she used poison to kill herself. The locals considered the castle cursed, as no one could enter due to whatever magic the queen placed over Blackfold. That is all I know.”

Kate’s brow is furrowed. “That’s a terrible history! Why would she harm herself? Why would she seal off the castle? I wonder what would drive someone to do such a thing.”

“No one knows, or at least, no one confessed to knowing anything. Simple as that. She didn’t leave a note. Villagers just… found her body one day, and that was it,” he replies. “There are strong, very strong magical wards at the entrance to the castle. It seems that Queen Eilionoir didn’t want anyone to enter her world of misery.”

“Do these… protective wards… injure people? Or are they simply repellants? I’ve never heard of wards lasting for centuries. Could it be the work of dark magic?”

“Well, the man who told me about the castle was spooked,” Sebastian explains. “He made several attempts to enter Blackfold. Originally, the wards threw him back over and over. When he figured out what triggered that, he pushed past with great difficulty, but then his arm was slashed, and he felt as though he had been punched directly in the heart.” He takes a scone. “He quit after that. He was too afraid after the injury to go further.”

Kate’s heart rate speeds up, already feeling anxious about what could happen. They’ve already been in one dangerous situation on this trip, and she is certainly not eager for another. “I don’t want either of us to get hurt. We’re up here in the mountains alone… That’s worrisome.”

Sebastian’s gaze never breaks as he meets her eyes. “I will not let anything happen to you. I promise. But after doing all of this research, I just… I have to explore. I can’t just let it be until I’ve at least tried.”

Kate nods, contemplative as she cuts a slice of ham into smaller pieces. “Well, it sounds like we’ll most likely be repelled. If that happens, was this trip even worth it to you?” Her eyes are downcast.

Their tent flaps with a gust of wind. The fire in the wood-burning stove crackles.

“No,” he replies, his voice soft as he reaches out to take her hand. “It will still have been more than worth it. This trip wasn’t just about exploration. It was just as much about spending time with you, my sweet sun.”

Kate’s worry melts away. “I’ve loved our time together. That is - other than the terrifying experience in the cave.” She chuckles, thankful she can laugh about it now. “I feel as though we have learned a lot about each other these past few days.”

Sebastian scoots his chair closer to her. He tilts her chin up. “Learning more about who you are is worth far more than treasure, my Kate.”

She smiles sweetly, closing her eyes in contentment as Sebastian caresses her hair. “And you’ve opened up so much to me. Now I know more about your past, and even better, I know what you want for your future. I don’t know how you managed it, but you’ve somehow made me fall even more deeply in love, Sebastian.”

Drawn to each other, their lips meet. 

Soon, they’ve made their way back to the bed, all of their clothing discarded.

Kate settles her head on her pillow, her golden hair flowing in every direction, as Sebastian leans over her. Her soft skin is his addiction - he just cannot get enough of touching her. He allows himself to indulge in this - in her - in the moment. Their breath mingling, his lips close around hers. He lets himself be pulled in deeper as he falls into the softness that is his girlfriend, his entire world becoming Kate.

She sighs as his weight settles upon her. Rather than feeling crushed, there is something so comforting about his body on hers. Kate’s fingers trace over his freckled face, neck, and shoulders. Sebastian’s hair is a wild mess, and yet, she loves it all the more, running her hands through it as they make out. His kisses become more needy as he becomes lost in the touch, the smell, the taste of his lover. 

Kate gasps for air as they break apart momentarily, then begin making out again. His hands are everywhere - her neck, her breasts, her nipples, her hips… Her mind, just like his, is spinning with only one thought: Sebastian. She kisses and sucks on his neck and shoulders, then nips at his warm skin; she hears him let out a moan, sparking her to continue. 

When he pulls back for a second, he whispers, “You drive me insane… you make me so desperate…”

She whimpers as he kisses and licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. 

“Sebastian…”

His hungry lips travel further south, worshiping every centimeter of her breasts, suckling at her nipples. She squirms beneath him, arching her back. Her breathing is growing heavier, her gasps becoming louder. 

Sebastian’s fingers find their way between her legs. He knows she’ll be dripping, yet still must feel it for himself. He slides a finger over her sensitive bud, tracing circles as she shrieks. 

Kate can feel how hard he is. “Sebastian… please,” she begs. “Please make love to me.”

His heart races at her request. Still teasing her clit, he whispers seductively, “I am going to fill you to the brim. You… You are making me crazy. I want you more than anything.”

Sebastian kisses her lips again, languidly and full of passion. Then, he takes himself in hand, sliding his thick manhood along her slick. Guiding himself, he slowly enters her heat as she moans his name, her legs opening wider for him as she accepts his full length. His eyes never leave her face. Fully sheathed, he leans in to press his lips to hers again. He squeezes her breast as he kisses her, waiting for her to be completely comfortable before he makes any further move.

“Oh, my gods, Bash,” she whines. “Please…”

He begins to slowly thrust, watching her face twist in pleasure. He himself moans, wishing to move faster, and it isn’t long before he makes that change. Picking up her legs, he throws her feet over his shoulders, allowing him to plunge even deeper. 

Sebastian groans. “So tight… so wet…”

His strokes are powerful. Gripping her hips, his fingertips dig into her skin. His speed increasing, he pounds into her as if his life actually depended on the motion. It’s loud. He slaps against the flesh of her arse, still tinged red from yesterday’s spanking.

Kate can’t stop shrieking, not for even a moment. This position is intense, and she feels herself winding up. Wanting to draw it out, Sebastian suddenly changes his pace. After moving so quickly, he begins thrusting slow and deep, over and over. Then, he switches it up again, back to stroking as fast as he can. Kate can hardly breathe; release is coming. Her full breasts bounce up and down, providing a view to her boyfriend that only turns him on more.

“You’re so perfect… so beautiful… Kate… I can’t stop…”

Sebastian cannot think anymore of anything other than fully claiming her as his. His groans grow more frequent and loud as her inner walls tighten around his cock. 

“I’m gonna-” she begins and cuts out, shouting his name as she comes. “Seb! Seb!!!”

There is no slowing down. Sebastian continues thrusting into her tight heat. Her orgasm is long and drawn out, much to his pleasure. Her cheeks are rosy, her body marked by love bites. He wants Kate to only dream of him, to be his possession… This thought and the sight of her lustful release makes him lose control. With raspy breath, he spears into her a few more times and then comes, panting. He moans as an excessive amount of his hot seed spurts out, coating her inner walls. 

As if Sebastian was actually trying to impregnate Kate, he uses his own cock to push his cum, threatening to spill out of her, right back in. The ultimate claim, what he most desires, is for his seed to take root, for life to grow - it is enough to make his heart burst and make him want to fuck her all over again.

Kate’s eyes are blank, as if she is looking at another world entirely. Breathless and trembling, it takes her a while to come down from her high. When she does, she gazes upon Sebastian, his expression both feral and adoring all at once. 

Still inside her, he leans in to kiss her again. “Gods…” he mumbles. “I cannot get enough of you. I cannot get enough of these kisses. All of this - it’s just too short. It needs to be extended for hours.” He presses his lips to hers again, his tongue tracing her bottom lip.

“Oh, my moon,” she whispers, then is quickly pulled into another kiss. “We… We have a lot to accomplish today…”

“But… to do what we must…” Sebastian whispers in her ear, his voice sultry and husky, “Perhaps we should get all worked up again.”

“That’s a terrible idea. There is only so much daylight, and we need our energy for the castle!” Kate laughs. “We can spend whatever is left afterward.” She flashes a flirty smile. “Let’s make our final night of the trip… memorable later.”

“Of course,” he whispers hoarsely, kissing her neck and causing her to whimper as he focuses on a sensitive spot. “Let’s make sure this is the most memorable night of our entire holiday.”

Kate gently pushes him away and speaks playfully. “It’s going to be difficult to top all of the romantic moments we’ve had. Hopefully you have something in mind to make tonight even better.” 

“I have so many ideas - I’m not even sure where to begin,” he tells her suggestively. “I’ll just have to let my instincts take over… and allow myself to lose control…”

“My goodness, Mr. Sallow,” Kate replies innocently. “Is that wise?” She bats her eyelashes. “That sounds a bit dangerous to me…”

“Wise, Kate? I never claimed to be wise… But dangerous? That is precisely the point. I want to just let it all go - let go of my reason and better judgment.”

“If you’re saying you’ve never yet lost control with me, then what on earth will tonight be like?” Kate questions with a sly grin on her face, tracing a finger over his jawline. “But perhaps…” She plucks her finger away. “Perhaps it is best left as a mystery until later.”

Sebastian’s brows raise as she teases him. “Ah, but Kate, my dear…” he whispers in a low tone with a playful smile as his hand reaches out to run through her hair, brushing over her bare shoulder. “Do you really want to leave it all to mystery? You could let yourself imagine… just how uncontrollable your future husband might become…”

Kate chuckles. “I can imagine a lot of things. I have a very active imagination, my moon.” She kisses his cheek. “But come, now, we had best clean up breakfast, gather our supplies, and prepare our brooms.”

He sighs. “You are right, my love. We have a lot to do today…” He turns around, getting a hold of himself. “Let’s get ready to go. We have a whole day ahead of us, and then we can explore your… active imagination.”

Kate stands up, laughing, and then gets to work before Sebastian changes his mind.

[zyrafowe-sny]

For that "directors commentary" ask game, from LuLuRoe:

Lilith found just the right shade and started applying concealer. Nothing could quite disguise the ridges and grooves left on his skin, but at least now the bright pink scars were the same color as the rest of his face. You’d have to get pretty close to see the disfiguring marks now, and she assumed the list of people willing to do that must be fairly short.  Hunter was quiet and thoughtful when she showed him his reflection in her mirror. “Keep that sample." She really was being generous. "The next one is full price.” ***** Her niece did not seem not happy when she came down to the basement later that night. “What exactly did you do with Hunter’s face?” Lilith was bemused. “I just helped him look a little less…off-putting.” “He’s self-conscious now!” Luz fumed. “He didn't need anything more to worry about!” She shrugged. “I’m surprised he didn’t notice all the horrified stares before. Speaking of which,” she cleared her throat, “don’t you think you should do something about your own eyebrow scar?” Luz’s right eyelid was twitching for some reason — maybe Lilith should get her some Avon lavender essential oil if she was under this much stress. “I can find some concealer for you — you’ll need a darker shade than Hunter — and I think we can use an eyebrow pencil to hide that gap a little better.”  The twitching increased as Luz took some deep breaths. “Not cool, Aunt Lilith. Not cool.” For the rest of her visit, her niece was a little distant. No matter — while she waited for the remaining deliveries, Lilith occupied herself on the AVEN forums and managed to attend an in-person meeting with Camila as her chauffeur (and moral support). She even had one of her new AVEN friends almost-convinced to help her sell LuLaRoe. Lilith didn’t know why Luz seemed so upset, but she was sure she’d come around in time.

Here's the director's cut ask game.

You picked a doozy of a section in a very niche fic.

First of all, some context.

LuLuRoe wouldn't exist without @sercezgazety/theprincessofdenial. We had a long thread going in the comment section of one of our fics in which she suggested that Lilith might join/create a cult or get into MLM (multi-level marketing). Lilith+MLM made me think of Lululemon (not actually an MLM, as Google later informed me), but further research got me to LuLaRoe (which is an MLM). That inspired me combine Lulu and LuLaRoe to get LuLuRoe, and once I had a punny title, I felt obligated to write the fic. (And yes, I included a Lululemon/LuLaRoe mix up.)

theprincessofdenial often leans into character flaws, and from the get-go this wasn't going to be Lilith at her absolute best. I wanted to write a Lilith who had undergone the character growth of Season 2 and generally meant well, but who was still struggling and would make mistakes along the way. In other words, that oh-no-Lilith-what-are-you-doing feeling is intentional.

I wrote the fic between Thanks to Them and For the Future, so that also informed my take on Lilith's character. The last time I saw Lilith, she still had dyed and straightened black hair. She was less polished than she was during her Emperor's Coven days, but she hadn't quite let go of the mask she had crafted for herself. Appearances still matter to her, and she's not at a point where she's embracing her natural hair. (This isn't to throw shade at anyone who dyes or straightens their hair - that's a perfectly valid choice - but this show has used hairstyle changes to reflect character arcs a few times.) This would probably be a different fic if I wrote it further into Season 3.

Now onto the excerpt.

Lilith found just the right shade and started applying concealer. Nothing could quite disguise the ridges and grooves left on his skin, but at least now the bright pink scars were the same color as the rest of his face.

Oooph, writing this brought back some flashbacks of trying to disguise acne and old chicken pox scars in high school (these days I hardly ever wear makeup but do need to find a good face cream). It's fine to hide scars and/or even out skin tone if that's what you genuinely want, but this is very much Lilith-driven. She's trying to minimize features that could make Hunter stick out - just as she minimized aspects of herself for decades and just as the ubiquitous masks of the Emperor's Coven helped promote uniformity - even though he hasn't really demonstrated any hang ups about his scars before. (It would be a little different if the scars reminded him of Belos and if minimizing the scars helped him heal - like his TTT haircut.)

You’d have to get pretty close to see the disfiguring marks now, and she assumed the list of people willing to do that must be fairly short.

This also pained me to write. In this fic, Lilith and Hunter haven't had much of a chance yet to get reacquainted after leaving the Emperor's Coven. She still associates him with the annoying thorn in her side when she was Coven Head. Back then, he was pretty isolated, and while she sort of knows he's less alone now, she hasn't fully realized the extent of his new support network.

Hunter was quiet and thoughtful when she showed him his reflection in her mirror.

Again, while Hunter's had an on screen identity crisis over his hair, he hasn't seemed too bothered by his scars before. He's relatively new to not wearing a mask that hides his face, so it may just be something he hasn't thought about much. Lilith's giving him a new worry that could activate old masking habits from his Golden Guard days. This hits harder after all the progress he's made finding and accepting himself in TTT.

“Keep that sample." She really was being generous. "The next one is full price.”

Lilith genuinely thinks she's helping him, though there's still the drive to succeed in her new business venture.

*****

Many of my fics have short scenes, so I very much need a scene break marker. I've been going with 5 left-aligned asterisks since that's a little more readable for me as I write on my phone than the classic 3 asterisk centered dinkus. However, I have been considering making a change since "asterisk asterisk asterisk asterisk asterisk" may sound annoying when using a screen reader. I don't love plain lines as a scene break marker, and have been periodically looking for something that's interesting, screen-reader friendly, and not a big AO3 formatting headache.

Her niece did not seem not happy when she came down to the basement later that night. “What exactly did you do with Hunter’s face?”

I like how Lilith and Luz almost immediately claim an aunt/niece relationship in S2, but there's no clear term for Eda.

I'm also a fan of Hunter Noceda, though Luz is quick to defend all of her friends.

Lilith was bemused. “I just helped him look a little less…off-putting.” “He’s self-conscious now!” Luz fumed. “He didn't need anything more to worry about!”

This isn't the first time that Lilith has meant well but made things worse.

Luz has a better understanding of the impact of Lilith's actions, in part because she has a stronger relationship with Hunter. She knows Hunter spent years trying to be the perfect Golden Guard behind a mask, and she doesn't want him to lose whatever self-confidence he's gained outside it.

She shrugged. “I’m surprised he didn’t notice all the horrified stares before.

There are a few things going on: Lilith hasn't spent much time with Hunter since their Emperor's Coven days, she's not always great at reading people (being surrounded by mostly masked scouts for decades didn't help), Hunter's used to drawing some attention as the Golden Guard, and some people in the Demon Realm may be reacting negatively to seeing Hunter because of his history, not so much because of how he looks like.

Speaking of which,” she cleared her throat, “don’t you think you should do something about your own eyebrow scar?” Luz’s right eyelid was twitching for some reason — maybe Lilith should get her some Avon lavender essential oil if she was under this much stress.

Once again, Lilith's not great at reading people and is (relatively benignly) opportunistic.

Also, while Luz has some experience masking and has absolutely felt pressure to conform, she's often resisted. She frequently expresses herself through fashion choices and rarely attempts to minimize differences (she hides her ears and wears a Hexside uniform, but that's basically it). She's not going to alter her appearance unless she wants to.

“I can find some concealer for you — you’ll need a darker shade than Hunter — and I think we can use an eyebrow pencil to hide that gap a little better.” The twitching increased as Luz took some deep breaths.

I can imagine that in Gravesfield Luz has encountered some insensitive reactions to the Nocedas taking in a random white boy. Lilith is absolutely not intending anything but a factual statement about different skin tones and Luz knows that, but I can imagine her comment still bringing up feelings in Luz. I wasn't consciously trying to communicate all that as I worked on this section, but those were thoughts I had as I was writing down the words.

“Not cool, Aunt Lilith. Not cool.”

I couldn't resist the Cool Aunt Lilith reference/joke.

For the rest of her visit, her niece was a little distant. No matter — while she waited for the remaining deliveries, Lilith occupied herself on the AVEN forums and managed to attend an in-person meeting with Camila as her chauffeur (and moral support).

theprincessofdenial suggested Avon as an MLM to include and had an idea for an Avon/AVEN mix up, but I went in a different direction. Camila is always Best Ally.

She even had one of her new AVEN friends almost-convinced to help her sell LuLaRoe.

For a while, my partner would read through my TOH fics and provide minor feedback - kind of like a very light beta reader (my partner isn't big on fanfic but is a big fan of TOH and tries to be supportive of my hobbies). My partner realized that Lilith wasn't actually doing much recruiting even though that's a key element of MLMs, so I went back and added a few lines like that one.

Lilith didn’t know why Luz seemed so upset, but she was sure she’d come around in time.

During Lilith and Eda's estrangement, Lilith convinced herself that Eda would come around eventually if she got captured and was forced to join the Emperor's Coven. She's falling into the same pattern here.

And that's a wrap! Thanks for letting me ramble!

[master-sass-blast]

I HAVE MADE MORE SEVIKA ART!

BEHOLD IT WITH YOUR EYES!!!

Say one word about the ugly curtains and I will do unspeakable things to you sdlkfjsldfjsdlkfjldsfjk.

Close ups and artist commentary beneath the cut!

God, I struggled on this one. I started this piece back in July of this year. It did spend some time sitting while I stared at it in a deep state of ennui, so it's not like I was actively working on it for *counts on fingers* three-ish months.

This is what I get for trying to make a whole fucking scene instead of just drawing a character with no background.

I am pleased with how everything came out, but I still have a lot of frustrations with this piece. A lot of the perspective is off, the floorboards got lost because I noodled with them too much and you can't erase marker, and the rug is just bad sldjfdslkfjldskfjdlskjf. Still, I had fun (mostly) doing it!

A close up of our lady! (The colors got really washed out on my phone, but the warm filter made everything too red, so *shrugs*.) I wanted to stick her in clothes and an environment that was a complete antithesis to her character -soft, feminine, opulent. The baby pink was my first choice, and while I don't regret it, I had second thoughts (after putting the color down, naturally) about picking green instead because of its association with money. I think baby pink, however, was the right choice in the end.

I went with body jewelry like I did for her formal look. However, I stuck with something less opulent this time because I wanted more focus to be on the lingerie and lace. The glove she's wearing was supposed to be sheer -like her stockings-because I thought it was cool, but it didn't translate well on paper, alas.

I was so excited to do her scars, but they got lost/muted in the shading/shadowing under her arm. I tried to use some acrylic paint to boost them up, but they uh... got too boosted sdlkfjdslfkjldskjflskjf.

Arm close up! I hated drawing and detailing this! There's a reason I hid her arm under a cape in the first piece I drew of her!

I didn't want to just draw her "pre-explosion," though, because there's a lot of prosthetic erasure in fandom (in general) already. The highlighted bits were done with metallic gold paint. Also pls appreciate the lil fiddly scenery details I worked very hard on them sdlfkjdslfkjdslfkjdslf.

Materials used: water and alcohol based markers, colored pencils, and acrylic paint for highlights and details.

Lessons learned: spend more time plotting the background before jumping into drawing the character dslfkjdslfkjdslkfj. Also, pick a color palette first.

Tagging @abitohoney and @sevikasleftpussyflap. Also, Professor Flap has requested that I draw something of Sevika spanking a Reader insert. I've never drawn NSFW art, so I don't know if I will, but it did make me think about what y'all would like to see. I can't promise I'll take every suggestion/request, but if you have ideas, feel free to send them my way and I'll see what I can do.

[ifievertoldyou]

that one adage about pride coming before the fall or whatever

fic: The House Always Wins by @alexanderwesker

mediums- HB, 2B, 4B and 6B shading pencils + crayola colored pencils

closeup + analysis under the cut!

closeups

+ analysis

first of all, there's the significance of the figure itself to analyze. while it's most definitely a nod to how he got his scar, i also tried to make it reminiscent of the fall of icarus, just in the shape of his scar looking like that of a falling person, and i put reddish-purple feathers to further that comparison a little.

also, the colors have a lot of significance. most of the figure is the same color as quackity's magic (or as close as i could get with colored pencils), but i also used purple for 3 specific points that the sky gods left their mark on...

1: his dominant hand. while this can be taken as more literal, since he has an actual rune there from the gods, it also has metaphorical significance. see, hands often symbolize (amongst other things) strength and power, which are two things that our man has learned to value highly. and his emphasis on those things only increased after the ram. and also, quackity gambled against the sky gods in an attempt to get more power and notoriety. and while he did, but it still wasn't enough for him.

2: his left eye. again, this can be taken as literal because of the blessed eye having the rune, but i'd say it could be a symbolic thing too. the sky gods literally changed how he viewed the entire world, for better and for worse (but Especially for worse).

3. his heart. his connection to hearts has been well established in thaw. the poor man's heart gets broken all the time. and because of the sky gods' love of tormenting him, he's learned not to open his heart to as many people, and also not to listen to his heart as much, because it always seems to lead to him being betrayed or getting hurt. but this causes him to become detached to all of the damage that he's actually inflicting by being so cold and harsh to people, even if all that he does is really just his way of protecting himself...

okay that's all, thanks so much for reading!! ^^

[alaskassweetdump]

Some of my favorite beauty creators are also my favorite musicians.

Where do I start? I know!

Hayley Williams, our favorite, angelic voice of Paramore, is also the co-creator (w/ her longtime mua/hs & bff, Brian O’Connor) of the hair dye company, Good Dye Young. GDY has one of the best lightening kits I’ve ever used. And the color options? Omg. They have every fun color you could imagine. And if they don’t have it, you can create it yourself with a little color theory. Not only are the colors vibrant and beautiful, they fade graciously and smell amazing!

Gwen Stefani, my personal all-time (since elementary school days) fashion icon, recently started up her own beauty line. When I first found out about Gxve, I practically burst into confetti & cartwheels. When the brand launched, I grabbed the I’m Still Here liquid lipstick in Gwen’s iconic red shade. Delicious scent and long lasting wear, which we double love. I later grabbed the Xtra Sauce vinyl liquid lip, which became an instant favorite. The shine, the feel, and the long lasting wear is incredible.

Halsey, our other favorite angelic voice, not only blesses us with their music, poetry, and art, but they have given us not one, but two amazing beauty lines! About Face Beauty was the first baby they gave us. I have an obsession with finding the longest lasting liquid lipstick, and Halsey has given us just that with AF’s paint-it matte liquid lip color & the coordinating matte fix lip pencil. I’ve eaten plenty a cheeseburger and haven’t had to touch up immediately after. We all know that’s impressive af. I’ve tried just about every product and the entire line is a win. If you wanna pinch a penny or two, their second baby, af94, is just for you. I am obsessed with the scribble sticks. The feel & color are fantastic. I could talk about these lines forever. I’ll hype these babies up for days.

When I first purchased a jar of Keys Soulcare Skin Transformation skin cream, I had zero idea the company was Alicia Keys’s. I didn’t figure that out until I ran out and needed more (it’s my favorite face cream). It was a pretty delightful surprise. Each product has its own affirmation printed on the jar, for you to repeat to yourself while doing your skincare routine. I’ve tried the comfort balm as well as the face cleanser. Everything I’ve tried, I’ve loved. I can’t wait to see what other products Keys Soulcare has in store for us.

Ariana Grande has r.e.m. beauty. I have read so amazing things about the brand, that I just finally got around to trying it. I recently purchased the concealer, which I must say is very creamy with great coverage. A little definitely goes a long way. There’s plenty of other products to try. I have my eye in the lip stain next.

No list is complete without Rihanna & Fenty Beauty. Rihanna’s second calling in life is 100% the beauty world. Her line gets so much well-deserved hype. I needed a new skin tint and picked up the Blurring Skin Tint. It’s hands down the nicest tint I’ve ever used. I love how it feels on my skin and that it blends perfectly. Another great item I’ve gotten recently is the color customizing match stix cheek/lip tint. The formula reacts to your natural ph balance and leaves the prettiest pink tint behind. And if you need an amazing highlight, grab yourself some Fenty. Rihanna never fails.

I am so happy for all of these artists and their creations. As a music and beauty fanatic, I get a thrill out of those worlds colliding. I will forever be anticipating the next amazing drop from all of these rock stars!

[penkraft123]

Warli Paintings: Exotic form of simple art

A Picture is a ballad without words. The Warli Art shape is the pictorial dialect used to speak to the tribal people craft of the early tribes of Thane area, Maharashtra.

It portrays the dancing, chasing and development of land with the tribal hovels made in a dark, mustard yellow or the white foundation. Keeping in mind the end goal to educate these structures to the understudies, we embrace a particular showing strategy, so that even non-craftsmen can paint the lovely warli. All these and more can be investigated about the antiquated India.

The word “Warli” originates from “warla” which implies a real estate parcel or a field despite being in such closeness of the biggest city in India, Warli tribesmen are as yet not urban. Warli Art was first found in the mid-seventies. While there are no records of the correct beginnings of this workmanship, its underlying foundations might be followed to as right on time as the tenth century AD. Warli is the distinctive articulation of day by day and get-togethers of the Warli tribe of Maharashtra, utilized by them to enhance the dividers of town houses. This was the main method for transmitting fables to other people who are not familiar with the composed word.

These works of art don’t portray fanciful characters or pictures of divinities, however delineate social life. Pictures of individuals and creatures, alongside scenes from everyday life are made in a free cadenced example. Painted white on mud dividers, they are entirely near pre-notable buckle artistic creations in execution and as a rule delineate scenes of human figures occupied with exercises like chasing, dancing, sowing ,collecting, going out, drawing water from well, drying clothes.

It fundamentally comprises of geometrical examples

1. Circle: speaking to the sun and the moon

2. Triangle: triangle got from mountains and pointed trees

3.Square: showing a consecrated walled area or a land parcel. So the focal rationale in every custom painting is the square

These geometric figures are consolidated to shape lovely examples .Like two summits of triangles are combined to frame a human figure.

Warli canvases on paper have turned out to be exceptionally prevalent and are presently sold all over India. Today, little compositions are done on fabric and paper however they look best on the w alls or as colossal wall paintings that draw out the tremendous and otherworldly universe of the Warlis. For the Warlis, convention is still clung to however in the meantime new thoughts have been permitted to leak in which encourages them to confront new difficulties from the market.

Learn this simple art, find designs & explore the world of warlis at Penkraft through our workshop.

Penkraft conducts classes, course, online courses, live courses, workshops, teachers’ training & online teachers’ training in Handwriting Improvement, Calligraphy, Abacus Maths, Vedic Maths, Phonics and various Craft & Artforms — Madhubani, Mandala, Warli, Gond, Lippan Art, Kalighat, Kalamkari, Pichwai, Cheriyal, Kerala Mural, Pattachitra, Tanjore Painting, One Stroke Painting, Decoupage, Image Transfer, Resin Art, Fluid Art, Alcohol Ink Art, Pop Art, Knife Painting, Scandinavian Art, Water Colors, Coffee Painting, Pencil Shading, Resin Art Advanced etc. at pan-India locations. With our mission to inspire, educate, empower & uplift people through our endeavours, we have trained & operationally supported (and continue to support) 1500+ home-makers to become Penkraft Certified Teachers? in various disciplines.

[lavyahairdesign]

Eyebrow Tinting Toowoomba

The journey to fuller brows doesn’t need to be complicated: from trusty pencils to brow-growing serums, there are a lot of products on the market that can give you a better-looking arch. But if you’re ready for something that requires less effort and upkeep—and lasts longer than your standard eyebrow pencil—then it might be time to try tinting your brows.

A popular beauty service that can last up to six weeks, eyebrow tinting Toowoomba dyes the brow hairs, making them darker and creating a more uniform look. It’s a semi-permanent treatment that’s a great alternative to filling in your brows with an eyebrow pencil, and it can also help to enhance their natural shape.

Tinting the brows can take the pressure off of having to use a pencil to fill them in every day, and it can make a big difference in how your face looks. It can also eliminate the need for any brow makeup, cutting your morning routine in half and making you feel more confident in your own skin.

You should avoid getting your brows wet for 12 hours after the treatment, and avoid oil-based facial cleansers as these can fade the tint. You should also avoid exfoliating your brow area, as this can cause the dye to fade more quickly. Using a brow gel afterward can help the color stay in place, and we love Milk Makeup’s Kush Brow Gel ($20).

Eyebrow tinting is typically done by an experienced stylist at a salon, but you can also buy DIY kits that contain all the tools, formulas, and step-by-step instructions to get the job done yourself. However, if you’re considering doing it yourself, it’s important to be careful: eyebrows are close to the eyes and can easily be burned or irritated by the wrong product.

It’s also important to know that eyebrow tinting is different from microblading, which injects pigment into the brow skin via a tattoo technique. While both services can give you a more defined look, tinting simply colors the hairs while microblading adds pigment to the skin.

While both treatments are effective, tinting can be a more cost-effective option for most people, as you can purchase a box of the dye at any drugstore and have it on hand for whenever you need to refresh your brows.

If you’re interested in trying a maintenance-free alternative to your daily brow makeup, you can book an appointment at The Lash Lounge in Cedar Park. Our lash and brow experts can match the shade of your eyebrows to your hair and skin tone, giving you a naturally-looking result. Plus, our mobile app makes it easy to rebook whenever your brows are starting to fade.

Lavya Hair Design are your first choice for a Hairdresser in Toowoomba for modern hair cuts, crisp clean hair colours and naturally nourished hair.

Visit our brand new salon in Toowoomba Plaza near Kmart, where you can relax in style and be pampered whilst enjoying our affordable hair package deals.

[tuilathu]

A place called Here - Cecelia Ahern

1. Helana added another log to the dying fire and its weight sent a pile of adolescent ashes racing one another down the side of the burning tower. The flames were awakened from the embers and sleepily began to climb up the log, casting out heat to Helana and me.

2. It was on that holiday he learned where and how the great river began, slowly and quietly at first in County Cavan before it picked up speed, gathering the secrets and spirit of each county with each part of soil it eroded. Each tributary was like an artery being pumped from the heart of the county, whispering its secrets in hushed and excited babbles until it eventually carried them to the Atlantic where they were lost with the rest of the world's whispered hopes and regrets.

3. "You can't hold on to all things forever, no matter how hard you grip them".

4. It was rich and alive, bursting at the seams with color and sound as though we'd followed the path of a pulse to reach the heart of the woods. And there it pumped, people flowing here, there and everywhere.

5. Each time my lids grew heavy and neared closing, another question would be flung from the depths of my mind, forcing my lids to open again.

6. Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds against her snow-white skin and glinted as they caught the sunlight streaming through the tall trees.

7. Sticks cracked beneath my trainers, the ground was soft and bouncy, covered with layers of fallen, now decayed leaves, bark, pine cones and velvet-like moss. Mist hovered like wispy cotton wool above my head and stretched to the tips of the trees. The lofty thin trunks extended up like towering wooden pencils that colored the sky. During the day they tinted the ceiling a clear blue, shading wispy clouds and orange pigment, and now by night the charcoaled tips, burned from the hot sun, darkened the heavens. The sky twinkled with a million stars, all winking at me, sharing between them a secret of the world I could never know.

8. There was a light tap on the door and it was gently opened by a man so tall and broad he filled the doorframe. White light impatiently squeezed itself through the small spaces he didn't fill, shooting into my eyes like spears of fire direct from the sun.

9. The sun was rising over the trees in the distance, casting orange hues over the blue light, like a giant orange squeezing its colorful juice over the villages, the trees, the mountains and fields, and allowing the liquid light to flow like a stream down the pathways.

10. "Never easier but a little less hard, perhaps. It's always at the forefront of my mind, every single waking and sleeping moment. The hurt begins to... not quite disappear, but it's as though it evaporates so that it's always there in the air around me, ready to rain down when I least expect it. Then when the hurt goes, anger takes its place, when the anger runs out of steam, loneliness steps in to take over. It's a neverending circle of emotions; every lost emotion being replaced by another".

11. "... it's difficult to know which second among a lifetime of seconds is more special. Often when you realize how precious those seconds are, it's too late for them to be captured because the moment has passed. We realize too late".

12. We all get lost once in a while, sometimes by choice, sometimes due to forces beyond our control. When we learn what it is our soul needs to learn, the path presents itself. Sometimes we see the way out but wander further and deeper despite ourselves; the fear, the anger or the sadness preventing us returning. Sometimes we prefer to be lost and wandering, sometimes it's easier. Sometimes we find our own way out. But regardless, always, we are found.

[hardgoateephantom]

Make Your Wedding Day Makeup Perfect With This Simple Step-by-Step Guide

Your wedding day makeup should be as beautiful and natural-looking as possible, so you can feel confident in your look without feeling like it’s too much. The best way to do this? A step-by-step guide that shows you how to achieve the look on your own.

Pick a Great Foundation

There's nothing more important than choosing a good foundation; it's what your makeup is going to build off of, so it needs to look right. If you have acne or scars, you may want to experiment with different brands (including drugstore ones) to find one that's a good match for your skin type and tone. There are also tinted moisturizers and BB creams for people who don't want heavier coverage. The key is to not go too heavy, says Bridal Makeup Artist in South Mumbai. A lot of brides will tend to cake on foundation, but they need something that gives them a healthy glow.

Pick Your Perfect Blush

When picking a blush, it’s essential to know your skin tone and undertones. For example, if you’re more of an olive girl, a mauve or peach color is ideal because these colors complement your skin type. If you don’t know your undertone, take a clean tissue and swipe on your cheeks. The color that appears after blotting is typically your skin tone. Keep in mind that different seasons can affect which shades look best on you; for example, rose gold would be perfect for fall weddings but might look too orange in the summertime. To make things easier for yourself (and save money), make sure to purchase two different blushes that complement each other so they can double as an eyeshadow if needed!

Lengthen Your Lashes

It’s easier to apply mascara if you have longer lashes to work with, so make sure to use an eyelash-lengthening primer before applying your regular makeup. If you don’t wear eyeliner daily, give it a try: it can enhance your eyes and makes lashes look thicker. You can also use false lashes to add length and volume to your natural lashes. To avoid putting too much glue on your skin or lash (which can make them stick together when they shouldn’t), wait until they are securely in place before applying them; then hold one side at a time while you carefully peel off the backing paper. Take care that you don't pull at them with your fingers since that will cause them to loosen and fall out faster!

Define Your Brows

When getting ready for a wedding, you’re going to want to put a lot of thought into your makeup—from your mascara to your lipstick. One thing that shouldn’t be overlooked is your brows. Framing your face and drawing attention to your eyes, can be a great way to draw out a whole new look. While you should try and find someone who specializes in brow grooming (such as an esthetician or an eyebrow specialist), there are some simple steps you can take at home for big results that won’t be too difficult for even those with no makeup experience whatsoever.

Shape and Define Your Eyes

Our eyes are one of our most expressive features, so they must look their best on your big day. Shaping and defining them with a natural-looking eye pencil will help make sure that everyone can see your eyes on your wedding day. Define those brows: A nice eyebrow shape is one of those little things that people won't notice until they don't notice it—in other words, if you have nicely groomed brows, no one's going to realize how amazing they look unless they're looking for flaws. Sharpen an angled brush into a thin point and then lightly fill in your brows where there are gaps.

Highlight Your Face

As you’re getting ready for your wedding day, your groom will want to see a reflection of himself in your eyes. He wants to see that you are glowing from within. The most flattering look is one that highlights your best features and brings out all of their natural beauty. So, how do we make that happen? Well, there’s more than one way to go about it but let's start by highlighting your face with our easy step-by-step guide! First, take a quick selfie or snap a picture of yourself. Use your camera phone or any other device to get a close-up shot so you can see exactly what needs work. Now ask yourself these questions: Does my skin need some extra love? Do I have dark circles under my eyes or redness on my cheeks? Is there anything wrong with my eyebrows (too thin/bushy/thin)? Am I looking good from far away and up close as well? If not, here are three ways you can make some changes…

Bring It All Together With Mascara

Mascara is essential. A good mascara will open up your eyes and make them pop, but remember to curl your eyelashes first. False lashes can help you achieve a glamorous look, but they are not required. After all, what bride has time for individual false lashes? Instead, try taking a piece of double-sided tape and placing it on your upper eyelid in between your lashes before applying mascara. The tape lifts your natural lash slightly and allows for better coverage from mascara; if you apply an extra coat of regular mascara over the top of that special tape trick I just mentioned, people won’t be able to tell whether you’re wearing falsies or not!

[little-fics]

Curiosity Killed the Cat

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Request summary: you are not happy about your daddies new way of keeping track of you, but maybe you could warm up to the idea of it

Warnings: Age regression; pacifier mention; sort of leashes but its like a baby leash connected to a backpack; baby has hurt feelings; I could have missed something so please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I really hope you like it nonnie, I really enjoyed writing it. love you buggy boos <3

You wanted to look at everything not matter where you went with your daddies. At the park it was every dog, every leaf. At the store it was every fluffy thing you could find, every piece of candy or toy. If you saw something you wanted to look at, you were gone. Steve and Bucky had discussed their options after the fifth time you'd run off from them. It wasn't that they didn't want you to look, but you're their baby and you needed one of your daddies to go with you. The problem with that? You forgot in your excitement; a lot.

That's how you've found yourself in this predicament.

You were ready to go to the zoo, tattered thigh jean shorts and a pretty tie-dye shirt with SpongeBob's crew with cute purple shoes. You were bouncing on your heels at the door, waiting impatiently on your daddies. You know better than to go out the door and wait for them by the car, so you're whining, rushing your daddies.

"Papaaaa, it's time to go! We not gonna get to see eb'ryfin'!" Steve came rounding the corner, Bucky trailing right behind him with a lavender backpack in his hand that seemed a little full. Steve picked you up, balancing you on his hip, "We're almost ready little one," he wiggled his finger on your tummy, "we just want to show you something before we go." Bucky held the backpack up, smiling innocently.

It was so cute, it was a shade lighter than your shoes to match perfectly. It was plain, other than the pins and small keychain fidget toys your daddies had surely put on. He opened it up and it had a coloring book, a pack of colored pencils, your favorite pacifier and Lincoln the Ram, the oldest stuffie you had. You reached for the ram, and when you'd pulled him out you saw a bag of candy. Bucky laughed when your eyes lit up, "No baby, that's for today, you can have some later." You jutted your lip out and he shook his head, "Nice try, but puppy dog eyes only work on papa."

When you accepted that, Steve spoke up, "This is a special backpack sweetness." Your brows furrowed as you looked at it, not seeing anything about it. Bucky pulled out a stretchy cord that ended in a scrunchy like bracelet. "When you put this backpack on, daddy or papa will put this on." He slid it on his wrist and tugged at the cord close to his wrist, "So you can't go wondering off like you always do." You whined loudly, "Won' run off!" Your face in Steve's neck, letting out another loud whine.

“Oh silly baby,” Steve kissed your hair, “it’s okay, you’re not in trouble for being curious, we’re just trying to protect our kitty.” You let out a heavy groan, “No, don’ wanna wear it.” You clutched to Lincoln, your chin wobbling on edge of tears. “Dollie,” Bucky said softly, stepping forwards to rub your back, “it’s dangerous when you run away from us, you forget in the pretty head to tell your daddies where you’re going and we can’t find you.” You let out a long groan in protest and stayed in the crook of Steve’s neck, Bucky’s hand still on your back, “We can stay home instead of going and seeing all the animals, would you like that better?” Your head rose and you shook your head at him, “No daddy, I’ll wear it.” Bucky felt a strain on his heart when he saw the way your pout still rested on your face. “You won’t hardly notice it baby,” he kissed your nose, “not with all the pretty animals we’re gonna see.”

When you got to the zoo, Bucky unbuckled you in the back. You always sat in the middle because that’s where you were most protected, so he had to drag you out of the car a bit. “Okay baby,” he held the backpack up, “put ‘em in there.” You just stared at him a minute, “What if I pinky p’omise to be good?” He shakes his head, “Baby, you already are good. You agreed to wear it to be safe, we can’t go in if you’re not going to be safe.”

You huffed and put your arms in it, the band already around Bucky’s wrist. “Good girl, now listen to me baby, you gotta keep your backpack on, it can’t come off or it defeats the whole purpose.” You nodded deftly, body now trained on bouncing towards the gate. As you got around more people, Steve grabbed your shoulder and bent down to your face. “Did you hear daddy baby? That backpack doesn’t come off until we are back in this parking lot or you're in one of our arms, understood?” You nodded and Steve raises his eyebrows, “Yes papa, I understand.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb before giving you a quick kiss, standing back up.

It had worked remarkably well, you’d gotten distracted by all the animals as suspected. You were pulling Bucky around everywhere, and of course with Bucky came Steve. You pulled them to the lions rather quickly, jumping up and down, changing positions all over the outside of the enclosure to see them. “Daddy!” You ran to near the end of the enclosure, stopped dead in your tracks by the leash.

Bucky chuckled, but to you it was no laughing matter. “Wha’ you doin?” You pulled on him, shaking your bag roughly, “Baby, slow down okay, we’ve got plenty of time to look at the lions.” You made an angry face at him and continued to pull at the leash, “Come on! Wanna walk wif it!” You stomped your feet until he finally caught up with you. “Dis’ is why I always look wifout you, you too slow.” Bucky ignores your comment, mainly because you grab his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, shaking his arm and pointing at the big cat, “Take it home wif us?” Steve, who stood behind you, laughed in shock, “That’s a no from me bug, come on, let’s go see what’s next.”

With his recommendation you remember that there are so many more animals at the zoo. You squeak out a high pitched okay and take off skipping. Your long legged daddies had no problem keeping up throughout the next few hours, but then you had to potty. Truth be told, you were tired of looking at the giraffes anyway.

You glanced up to your daddy, who's whispering something in Steve's ear and laughing. You tug on him, and he turns toward you, "Gotta go potty." He smiled, nodding his head, "Of course bug, thank you for telling us without trying to run off." You grumbled and started walking to the bathroom, keeping the leash taught the entire time. You started to shrug off your backpack, irritation creeping up your spine before stopping.

You turned around to Steve and Bucky, a frown plastered on your face. You waited until they were dead in front of you, you slid off the backpack and pushed it roughly into their chest, stomping away to the bathroom. Both of them stared at each other for a moment, Steve commenting lowly, "Awfully grumpy." Bucky's mind swirled, you're not one to be outrageously bratty, so when you came back out, he knelt down and grabbed your hand.

"What's going on my buggy boo? Is something bothering you? You not feeling good?" You shrugged, pulling your hand back and taking the backpack with a wobbling lip. He made a clicking noise, smiling and took the backpack from you. "How about papa wears the backpack and I'll carry you, it's about time for lunch anyway, right?" You seem to instantly relax and let Bucky balance you on his hip, kissing your cheeks.

Steve slipped on the backpack, an odd and tight fit on his body but with the straps completely loosened, it had a millimeter of wiggle room. He starts to lead the way and Bucky whistles sharply at him. Steve turns around with raised eyebrows, but Bucky is looking at you with a 'can-you-believe-him' look.

Bucky turns to Steve, grabbing the bracelet part of the backpack and sliding it on your wrist, "You can't go running off either," Bucky looks down to you, giggling into his shoulder, "isn't that right sweetness?" You nod, looking up to Steve, shaking your wrist, "Papa we gots tuh know you safe!" Steve immediately catches on to what Bucky's doing, and smacks his forehead playfully, "How silly of me, huh dovey?" You pointedly nod, a smug look on your face, "Uh-huh, now nommies please!"

You're in a much better mood being carried by your daddy, shaking the leash playfully at Steve when you sit down at the table. He slid the backpack off of his back, laying it down on the table. "I thought maybe you'd like a dum dum while we wait on Daddy to come back?" Steve was bouncing you on his knee, already popping the sucker into your mouth. You laid your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed while enjoying the sweet lemon in your mouth, too asleep to notice it disappearing from your mouth.

Bucky sits down with Steve, smiling at your tired form, "I told you she'd tucker herself out and we wouldn't be able to get through the whole zoo today." Steve scoffed, "You act as if she's going to be willing to leave." Bucky kissed Steve softly before planting kisses all over your face, rousing you from sleep.

As much as you don't want to be grumpy, you can't help but frowning at Bucky. He just kisses your nose and tilts his head towards the food at the table. Your eyes land on the chicken strips first and your whole body bounces at sight of the large slushy on the table. "I-Buh-'S mine?" Bucky laughs at your apprehension to breaking the rules, don't have too much sugar. "Of course baby, we thought you'd like something sweet, like yourself."

When you are done eating lunch, Bucky tries to help you put your backpack on, but you run away from him, around the table. "Nuh-uh," you cross your arms over your chest and look to Steve with puppy eyes. "Baby," he starts, coming over to you, sitting on the metal seat, "what's going on? Don't you like your new backpack?" Your bottom lip wiggles again, tears in your eyes, "'S ugly." Steve looks shocked, "Honey, you love purple, what's really going on?"

That's when the damn broke, tears falling from your face and broken sobs coming out. Steve's holding his arms around you, and Bucky's found his way to rub your back. "Shhh, dove, tell papa what's got your head going so fast." You're hiccuping, letting out broken coughs with small gags, unable to form coherent words. Bucky grabs your chin, holding your straw to your lips, "Here baby, take a drink of your slushy." Somehow you listen to him, sugar is always a good bribe for you.

"Dollie," Bucky pulls you onto his lap, "what's wrong?" His eyebrows are raised, forehead against yours, noses almost touching. He's waiting for you to regain a normal breath to press harder. He doesn't get the chance, because you start talking before he can ask again. "J-jus- 'nother reason tuh ignore me."

Bucky's heart breaks, Steve's expression matching the hurt Bucky feels deep inside him. "What on earth are you talking about honey?" Your eyes start to tear up again and Bucky scolds you gently, "No, no more of that you hear me?" You nod and let Bucky wipe away one of your stray tears. "Honey, we bought the backpack because we were so worried, not so we could ignore you. You run around and poke at everything, you forget to tell your daddies what you're doing and it scares us. You understand baby?" You shrugged and Bucky sighed, kissing your cheek. He's about to say something else when Steve picks you up from Bucky's lap.

"Bucky, put the backpack on, let's go," he's gentle about it, but you're still upset. "No! Wanna see more pets!" Steve tries to lightheartedly chuckle, but it comes out dry, "Oh dove, we're not leaving the zoo, we're just moving on." When Bucky has the backpack on he puts the leash on your wrist, just as it was when Steve wore it.

Steve catches you shaking the band around your arm, and a lightbulb goes off in his head. "You see baby?" Steve starts, and you're confused, so he continues, "You're constantly playing with it, that means your eyes are on daddy at all times." You furrow your brows, a pout still resting on your face. "Go on Bucky," Steve nods in an opposite direction, and Bucky starts walking. When the leash reaches the end of its rope, your arm is pulled until Bucky turns around to face you.

You're hesitant, eyes flickering between Steve and Bucky, "No forgettin' me?" You're looking up into Steve's eyes, swimming with love, "Dove, you're everything on our mind every second of every day. We got it so if anything happened, anyone tried talking to me or Bucky, or we argued over dark or milk chocolate, we'd never be too distracted for you." You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling closely to him.

You can feel the leash pulling on you, and it takes your attention away from Steve. Steve doesn't move his feet though, Bucky playfully moving side to side to pull at the cord around your wrist. "Papa, daddy's tryin' to run off!" You could hear Bucky laugh as Steve caught up to you. "Whatdya say we get some of that ice cream you love so much Dollie, before we go see the rest of the animals?"

You beam at Bucky, a genuine smile crossing your face that lights up your eyes. "Dippin' Dots!" You shake and dance in Steve's arms, "Lemmee down, lemme down! Dippin' Dots! Dippin' Dots! Dippin Dots!" Steve lets your feet hit the ground, and you pout a little, glancing to the backpack. Steve seems to pick up on your hesitation, "How about daddy wears the backpack, you wear the bracelet and hold my hand? That way everyone is kept together and safe?"

You happily take his hand, all wariness thrown to the wind when you started skipping. "Dollie," Bucky stops, making you and Steve stop in place. He looks stern for a minute, but then breaks into a laughing fit, pointing to the righthand turn at the intersection. "You were so excited," he kept laughing, moving you to see the stand with many balloons and a sign that says 'Dippin' Dots', "that you ran right by it!"

You take off running, Bucky and Steve quick to follow. They didn't bother trying to gently reprimand you, they didn't care if you were excited and couldn't contain yourself. In fact, they loved it, as much as they needed a way to keep track of you with the leash, they wanted a way to make sure they never miss your bubbling excitement.

When you've made it to the stand, you are tugging on Steve. He looks down to you, watching your eyes flicker to the balloons. He smiles at you, adding your favorite color balloon to the order. Once you'd all sat on a bench, he starts to tie the balloon around your free wrist but you jerk away. "Daddy," you turn to Bucky, "we switch." You starting pulling the backpack off Bucky without waiting for a response, causing him to struggle to shuffle around his dippin' dots while laughing at you.

You've safely switched who holds what, now chowing on your dippin' dots in your hand and a y/f/c balloon on your wrist. You're starting to think the backpack isn't so bad, maybe you can convince them to buy you more of the things you want if they see you so excited over them.

Or you could always pout about the backpack and get what you wanted any ways.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

America X Male Reader X Russia :Captive

Y/N was just trying to have a peaceful afternoon. Trying to finish a commission of two maybe tomorrow. It was just the start of the semester for him and he wanted to be able to get some relaxation in before everything was on fire with a ton of work and requests. He closed his sketchbook and opted to lay under the shade of the trees and relax rather than move his pencil in a rhythmic motion that created masterpieces. He lets out a long sigh and lets the afternoon sun kiss his (skin color) gently. However, his easy-going afternoon was soon interrupted by a loud and imposing American man.

“Y/N!!! WHAT UP DUDE WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?!?!” Alfred shots from about 20 feet away after spotting his resting form. Alfred sprints towards Y/N and tackles him. It didn’t hurt nearly as much if he was standing up.

“Hmpf!” Y/N grunts at the sudden weight that was bearing down on him. He cared for his American friend but boy was he clingy sometimes. “Nice to see you too Alfred but you’re heavy.” You manage to get out while he was crushing your lungs with his weight.

“Sorry about that.” He gets off you and smiles sheepishly while he rubs the back of his head in slight embarrassment. “I just wanted to ask did you want to go out for burgers tonight before the semester hits us like a truck? I mean we’re in our second year and..”

“You don’t have to explain Alfred I know. The tests and dissertations that will have to write this year will be brutal. And yes, I’ll come but no more crushing my lungs I like to breathe you know.” You hit his shoulder playfully.

“How come you did not invite me? Am I not important, da?” A scarf wraps around your and Alfred's neck gently but rather tightly. It was your other best friend Ivan who for some reason seemed to be possessive of the two of you or became jealous when only you and Alfred would hang out together after your classes for the day.

“You are you just didn’t give us enough time to text you.” You say while trying to ignore his dark aura that was festering around the two of you. Your statement seemed to be just enough to get it to subside.

“True.” Ivan states and he brings you into a tight almost crippling hug.

“Ivan, please….Your hugs are kinda tight…” For the second time that day, you try to retain the air in your lungs from another man whom you care for. “True sunflower but you’re just so small and cute.” He finally realizes you after about another full minute of intense squeezing. Alfred during this gives subtle looks of jealousy while he crosses his arms while he smiles pretending that he doesn’t care that the Russian was taking up your time and space.

Your phone buzzed to life and you took a look at it. It had 7 new requests for art commissions from the page that you ran for your art. You were excited if not a little overwhelmed by the interest.

“Hey guys I got to get going I have a few things I have to take care of for tonight and send out a few invoices.” You say slightly frazzled you wanted to knock out as many of these as possible before the semester really began to kick in. “I’ll see you two later for dinner!” You pick up your backpack slap your sketchbook in there along with your mechanical pencil and head for the library for the next few hours before you had to meet them again.

It left the Russian and the American with some time to ‘solve’ their issue when it came to matters concerning you.

“He’s mine Russia and you know that. Stop trying to hog his attention.” He sneers.

“And what makes you think you can tell me what to do? It’s not like I can’t win a war against you.” Russia fires back at the American who was beginning to grate at his nerves.

“Sometimes, Russia sometimes. Not all. But still back the hell off of Y/N I’ve claimed him so that makes him mine.” As America’s eye twitched.

“Let’s make a game of it yes? Whoever can capture Y/N first gets to keep him. This will prove who can be the one who is best at having them, da?” Russia holds out his hand and smiles that dark aura from earlier is back and is stronger than ever. He was determined not to lose against the capitalist.

“Game on.” Alfred gets close to Russia’s face just a mere two inches away. “Bitch.” His blue eyes linger on Russia after he walks away from him attempting to intimidate him.

************

After he had just finished completing 2 commissions he was exhausted and finished working for the day it was about 19:45 and he surprisingly hadn’t received a text from Alfred or Ivan.

“Strange. I wonder if those two are at each other throats.” Y/N mumbles to himself as he heads down the staircase that leads to the exit of the library. He chuckles and tosses on his headphones to blast his favorite music while he decided what he will make for dinner. While he was distracted he wasn’t aware of the danger that was following him.

A tall figure covered by the night trailed behind him by a few feet until the figure decided to grab him from behind and insert a sharp needle into his neck making his vision and entire body go limp within a matter of seconds. He didn’t even have time to scream for help.

By the time Y/N became conscious he found himself chained to a large and luxurious bed that overlooked New York City at twilight time. The view was beautiful as the sunset the lights of NY light up the bedroom greatly through the floor-to-ceiling windows that greeted his heavily impaired vision. The drug that was injected into him earlier still had some side effects even after he became conscious.

“Good to see that you’re okay. Sorry about the drug but I had to win against Ivan.” You hear your familiar American’s voice from the other end of the immaculate room. You hear his footsteps come closer to you as you do your best to concentrate.

“Alfred? What do you mean? And the hell is wrong with you?!?” You state trying to properly process what’s going on and try to break free of your restraints.

“Doing all the things we should have been doing together before.” He puts a hand between your legs near your neither region. Straddling you. He kisses you gently at first on the lips before he turns up the heat on the passionate kiss.

“Y/N, I thought you could tell that I’ve always liked you.” He says as he lets you have oxygen after occupying your lips for a few minutes.

************

Ivan’s Ending

As you had descended the staircase. You were blissfully unaware of the figure that lurked in the shadows. You turned on your music and headed home thinking about the food you would want to have for dinner since Alfred never got back to you about which burger joint you would be going to.

Suddenly you were hit upside the head with a pipe that rendered you unconscious.

By the time you became conscious again of your surroundings, you woke up in lavish ivory, red and gold Pavlovsk-styled master bedroom. Your left leg was chained to the bed frame with enough room for you to be able to look our the long elegant window that greeted you with the rising morning sun that was barely lifting into the cold wintery sky. Someone was peacefully sleeping beside you and shifting slightly in their sleep. You recognize that form that was beside you.

“Ivan!” You said a little louder than you intended and you were intending.

He turns to his right to face you and lazily says. “Y/N your awake. Good morning my sunflower.”

“Ivan, what the hell is going on where am I why are you so nonchalant about everything?!? Do you… capture me?” Shock in your voice along with a plethora of confusion.

“Da, I had to save you from noisy capitalist. He would have taken you away from me. I couldn't allow that.” You knew immediately that he was talking about Alfred. You had always sensed an amount of tension but thought it was all apart of their rivalry as friend considering that they seemed annoyed with one another.

Ivan pulls you close to his bare chest and kisses your forehead. “Stay with me for just a while. I promise I can make you happy sunflower.”

[mypersonmyg]

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante​ <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight,  tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine​

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns  just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon. 

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent. 

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece. 

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.” 

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?” 

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.” 

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin  to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?” 

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.” 

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art. 

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks. 

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway. 

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now. 

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you,  Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek. 

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust. 

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts. 

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded. 

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.” 

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms. 

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due. 

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit. 

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure. 

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze. 

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you. 

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with  a countering taunt. 

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots. 

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe. 

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses. 

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves  to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest. 

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.” 

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling. 

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete. 

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.” 

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

 Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from  the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity. 

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas. 

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms. 

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence. 

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival. 

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you. 

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord. 

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink,  already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile. 

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity. 

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door. 

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance. 

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.” 

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--” 

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you. 

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation. 

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” 

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”  

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting  Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil. 

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission. 

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat. 

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago.  “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?” 

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks. 

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down. 

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with  a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans. 

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion. 

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space. 

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud. 

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning. 

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe. 

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?” 

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.” 

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?” 

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.” 

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop. 

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown. 

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it. 

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay. 

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.” 

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.” 

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest. 

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

 It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare. 

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed. 

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above. 

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo. 

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find. 

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.” 

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end  and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work. 

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.” 

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf. 

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a  rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent. 

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine. 

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix. 

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied. 

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.” 

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum. 

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.” 

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays. 

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips. 

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!” 

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.” 

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry. 

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute.  “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.” 

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him  painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth.  “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?” 

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!” 

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place.  In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation  over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside. 

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud. 

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work. 

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so. 

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of  pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.” 

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face. 

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders. 

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?” 

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?” 

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles. 

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.” 

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?” 

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.”  Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago. 

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin. 

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff. 

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.” 

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk. 

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.” 

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.” 

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.” 

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest. 

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance. 

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job 

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner  

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello. 

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance. 

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page. 

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you. 

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here. 

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you. 

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf. 

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.” 

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.” 

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour. 

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor. 

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving. 

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance. 

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk. 

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length. 

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.” 

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.” 

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.” 

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?” 

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again. 

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take. 

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran. 

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?” 

“What do you know about my meeting?” 

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits. 

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him. 

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?” 

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded. 

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids. 

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest. 

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.” 

“Scared of needles?” 

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.” 

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier. 

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you. 

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.” 

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived. 

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him. 

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from. 

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?” 

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.” 

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him. 

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?” 

“Hm?” 

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly. 

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more. 

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.” 

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…” 

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…” 

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind. 

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.” 

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye. 

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern. 

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken. 

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you. 

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.” 

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…” 

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?” 

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much. 

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.” 

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!” 

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold. 

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture. 

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…” 

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…” 

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.” 

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth. 

“Why are you opening a tea shop?” 

“What?” 

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?” 

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.” 

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.” 

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?” 

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.” 

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?” 

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules. 

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.” 

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.” 

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?” 

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.” 

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.” 

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes. 

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible. 

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange. 

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung. 

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you. 

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.” 

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom. 

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home. 

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils. 

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.” 

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.” 

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.” 

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away. 

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up. 

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response. 

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone. 

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time. 

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa. 

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening. 

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.” 

“You think so?” 

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…” 

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago. 

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.” 

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.” 

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space. 

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?” 

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.” 

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.” 

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner. 

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you. 

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.” 

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.” 

“I don’t yell at Jimin!” 

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.” 

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk. 

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going." 

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.” 

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…” 

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.” 

“You guys didn’t have to.” 

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous. 

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.” 

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.” 

“Or...you could come?” 

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence. 

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.” 

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud. 

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.” 

“I promise I won’t be long.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

And now, we smile. 

[reidgraygubler]

short skirt, high heels (spencer reid/reader)

Title: short skirt, high heels, 

Anon requested: Hi! May i please have a Spencer one shot? y/n has been part of the team for a while, she’s confident, fun and always wearing professional but slightly sexy workwear. Spencer is caught staring at y/n legs while she’s wearing a skirt. Her and Spence have a flirty friendship that leads to more?

Couple: spencer reid/fem reader

Category: spicy fluff

Content Warning: comments about sex, sex jokes, swearing, low-key sub!spencer, low-key dom!reader, mentions of drinking (but no actual drinking) 

Word Count: 2,371

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on reader since she basically started working for the BAU. It doesn’t help that reader dresses to leave a little to the imagination and is constantly flirting with him.

A/N: this is my first time writing dom(-ish)!reader… let alone sub(-ish)!spencer… so pretty please bare with me with this one… i mean, i think i did a dom(-ish)!reader... but yeah! thank you everyone for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

I don’t know why I wear such revealing clothing to work. It’s modest and professional, I just have to put that out there. But, it is on the sexier side of clothing. I suppose I do it because I like it, it makes me feel more confident. And you need a certain level of confidence to have a job at the FBI’s prestigious Behavioural Analysis Unit. 

The way people's eyes followed me felt great. I loved it. But it was always one person who caught my attention, or I caught their attention I should say. It was always the same person, and will forever be the same person. Spencer Reid’s eyes have been on me since day one, not that I’m complaining. 

I could picture it clearly how his eyes followed me from the elevator all the way to Hotchner’s office. And how red his face was when Derek called him out about. It was honestly my favorite thing in the world. I kinda felt bad about the teasing he got. But, he shouldn’t have been staring in the first place. It was my first day! I didn’t know him… Let alone did he know me.

A pile of files was sitting in one arm, while my free hand held a small briefcase. The elevator was a scratchy silvery color, and the lights from above reflected off every surface. 

My hair was pulled back in a high and curly ponytail. A tight, navy blue, pencil skirt clung to my legs, and a modest, yet very low, red blouse hung from my shoulders. I typically try to do subtle makeup for professional days, but I always look like some sort of supermodel at the end of the day. 

The doors to the elevator doors dinged open, showing me, behind a floor to ceiling window, the open offices of the BAU. Aaron Hotchner would be the man I was looking for, but their offices were so open, people were walking around, bustling because of their copious amounts of work. Can’t wait for that to be my life.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I entered the main office area. A few people were sitting and standing around one person’s desk. They were all laughing and talking to each other as the people around them worked their asses off. Their boss just lets them do this?

I furrowed my eyebrows as I walked into the office area some more. People were still rushing past me, not talking to me. I know for a fact I don’t look familiar to anyone here, and I look lost to everyone. A little help would be nice.

“Could you tell me…” I started to talk but didn’t get to finish my thought when the person just continued walking. I let out an annoyed sigh and went to stop someone else, but fail when they glared at me and kept walking. 

“Uh, Aaron Hotchner’s office?” I failed again. I threw my head back and let out a deep sigh. I didn’t realize just how busy it was today. If I had known it was so busy, I wouldn’t have come in today.

“Excuse me,” I stepped right in front of someone else and they stopped to look at me. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta go. Time-sensitive thing,” they pointed at their watch before pushing past me. I bit my lower lip and shook my head again.

“Can anyone please tell me where Aaron Hotchner’s office is?!” I only half-shouted. I still gotta maintain some level of professionalism. I was just getting fed up with everyone ignoring me. Everyone around me stopped their movement and looked at me. 

The group of people at the desk all stared at me with wide eyes before pointing towards the other side of the room. I looked at everyone before looking at where they were pointing. A man wearing a black suit and a businessman haircut was standing on a small catwalk, looking at everyone in the office area. Although, he was mostly looking at me. I widened my eyes and looked down at the ground with wide eyes before walking over to him.

“Hi, you must be Aaron Hotchner,” I looked up at him before introducing myself. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” I looked back out in front of us. Everyone was back at their work, even the people at the desk. All except for one person.

A man, who was with the group around the desk, was staring at me. Not near me or at Aaron, but right at me. It was just obvious that he was staring at me. His eyes carefully lingering on my legs, or arms, or my chest for the briefest second. But never long enough on my face. Although when he did look at my face, I smiled and winked. His face grew three shades red. 

“No, no, don’t worry. I understand the hustle and bustle of this place,” Aaron laughed before turning to look at me, “Let’s step inside my office.”

So, that’s where I was work-wise. Working on the team with the BAU, with the man who stared at me and became a tomato the second I winked at him. Ah, good ole’ Spencer Reid. That boy doesn’t even know he’s infatuated with me… But I do.

I’ve had my fair share of flirts with him, and scandalous comments made about the two of us. Or, the jokes and teasing made by others. Although, our friendship always had some sort of flirtiness to it, even if he didn’t notice he was flirting with me. There was still something there. I smiled at the thought of him being so oblivious and clueless. 

Derek giving him pointers or tips was my favorite. The help was nice, honestly. But, it was the execution. It was a little sad when Derek left to be with Hank and Savannah, leaving poor Spencer to fend for himself. Of course, Rossi tried but no really let Spencer listen. 

I could hear his voice now when he told Derek and David that he didn’t need tips or pointers, because ‘He doesn’t have a crush on her.’ They never really gave up on that though.

“Seems like you’ve caught someone’s attention,” Emily muttered as she looked down at the desk. I glanced over my shoulder and noted that the eyes one Spencer Reid were wandering up and down my lower half and backside. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dressing for a guy. I mean, I dress mostly for myself. But the unwanted, yet wanted, attention from one guy was excellent.

“And he says he doesn’t have a crush on me,” I looked back at Emily with a smile. She laughed as she looked at the paperwork I was signing. “Do you think he even knows he’s staring?” I spoke as I placed the pen down on the desktop.

“I don’t think he knows he likes you,” she replied, finally shuffling the papers together in a neat pile. I scoffed and shook my head. “C’mon, you know Reid. He’s got the innocence of a 1st grader when it comes to relationships and romance,” she laughed as she stood up straight.

“True, this is true,” I returned the laughter as I stood up so I was no longer leaning over my desk. “All done with paperwork?” I asked, smiling at Emily.

“For now, I hope,” she laughed as she picked up the papers. “Good luck with you know who,” she spoke in a sing-y song tone before slipping away to her office. I looked back over my shoulder and smiled when I saw that Spencer was still staring at me.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I winked once he looked up at my face. And I swear, his face changed several different shades of red as he looked at me. He went from looking normal to looking like Roma Tomato. I didn’t feel bad about my joke either. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught him staring at me. “Or just close your eyes and use your robot brain to take a picture,” I smirked at him.  

“I… I wasn’t staring,” Spencer muttered as he pulled his eyes from my body to look at his own paperwork. I slowly walked away from my desk and over towards him. I leaned over so I was the same height as him. But, that also gave him a great look at my cleavage. I smirked when he struggled to not stare at my chest.

“Sure you weren’t,” I placed my hand to his cheek and smiled. For a moment he leaned more into my touch, but instantly jerked away from my hand, “It’s okay, you weren’t staring at me. I get it.” I smiled and cocked my head, “I know how I look. I’d stare too if I was you,” I pulled my hand away from his face before sitting down in his lap. Spencer held his hands up so he wasn’t touching me at all. I had to force myself not to pout. I’d be okay if he touched me in any way, innocent, not innocent… Doesn’t matter. 

“What are you doing!? There are people here! Watching!” He exclaimed once I was settled on his legs. I smiled and nodded.

“I know, I know,” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his neck, “But, the next time I catch you staring at my ass, I’m gonna do a lot worse than sitting on your lap, Reid,” I smiled and blinked at him. He stared at me and nodded slowly, like even though he understood the words I was saying, he knew he wasn’t going to follow through with them.

It was impressive how his face got even redder. But it was crazy. I kinda liked it too. 

“Do you understand?” I whispered as I looked at him. He nodded. I smiled again before I stood up. “I’d understand if you look again, I won’t be upset. In fact, I’ll encourage it, Spence,” ” I kept smiling at him as I walked away from him. 

I returned to my desk and gathered my things before I left the office for the day. As I looked over my shoulder, Spencer was definitely staring at me, and he knew I definitely caught him. So, I smiled before winking and waving as the elevator doors shut.

{***}{***}{***}

“O’Keefes anyone?” Luke asked as we stepped off the elevator. I rolled my shoulders and looked at him with a somewhat flirtatious smile. He returned the smile and winked.

“I’m always down to go to O’Keefes with you, Lukey Poo,” I cooed as I pinched his cheek. A groan came from the back of the group, causing me to turn and look. A smile grew on my lips when my eyes landed on Spencer, who had rolled his eyes and looked away from Luke and I. “You comin’ with us, Pretty Boy? First-round on me?” I smiled at him.

“I’m definitely in if you’re buying drinks,” Jennifer looked at me before stepping ahead of Luke and I. I smiled at her before looking back at Spencer.

“Pretty please,” I half begged as I pouted my lower lip and gave my best puppy dog eyes. Spencer looked back at me, a pointed stare in his eye. I gave him my best puppy dog eyes and playful pout as I looked at him. “You don’t even have to drink. You can just sit there and be quiet,” I spoke before abruptly stopping in my tracks. And just as I turned around, Spencer walked right into me. In order to keep me from toppling over, he grabbed both my arms to keep me upright. His hands were touching the exposed skin on my arms, causing me to smile. This would be the first time he was touching me, off of a case. Working on a case is a whole different story. Pulling me out of the way of an unsub is different than firmly placing his hands on my arms to steady me from falling.

“You need to be more careful… I won’t always be there to catch you when you fall,” he spoke low just so I could hear him. I smiled as I looked up at him.

“But, I’d love it if you were there,” I lifted a hand to place on his chest. Just as he opened his mouth, someone appeared beside us. I smiled as I looked over at the person.

“Will you two just get a room already?” Emily looked between Spencer and I before leaving us alone. I looked back up at Spencer with a new, confident, and flirtatious smile. He looked clueless as always. Of course, he didn’t know what Emily meant by that.

“Whaddya say we go find a broom closet and show up to O’Keefes a little later than the others,” I carefully wrapped my arms around his neck. Even in my highest heels, Spencer was still a good few inches taller than me. So, I stood on my toes to try to get closer to his personal space and lean closer to his face. “I know where some great broom closets are to get… funky in,” I whispered as I leaned closer to him. We were a good few inches away from each other, and it was taking everything in me to not press my lips to his.  

“I… I, uh... Uh,” Spencer started, but clearly couldn’t find the words to say anything. I smiled before lifting a finger to his lips.

“Just a nod or a shake of your head will be okay…  And, if you say no, I won’t be upset. I’ll stop and I won’t bring it up again… Now, Doctor Reid,” I whispered as I pulled my finger away from his lips. “Do you want to go find a broom closet and have some fun in there?” I asked again. Spencer stared at me with wide eyes before rapidly nodding. I put my arms back around his neck before pressing my lips to his. Spencer placed his hands firmly on my waist.

And after 8 years of working here, I’m finally getting what I want. 

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 4

Hiya @pocketramblr

.

While the other ghosts watched poor Izuku more and more, Yoichi gathered a pile of pillows and beanbags, and a small container of popcorn, then dropped unceremoniously onto the pile, ready to watch a bunch of teens beat the tar out of each other. En noticed this, glanced at him, and did a double-take.

"Since when do you have popcorn? How do you have popcorn? Where did you get it? Have you been holding out on me? Can I have some? I'll fight you!"

"Uh... it isn't real," said Yoichi.

"Neither are we!"

"No, I mean, you can't taste it. Or smell it. It's just a construct. For the aesthetic." Something none of them really bothered with, lately, but Yoichi wanted to put the effort in for Izuku. Even if Izuku probably would never be aware of it.

"But... popcorn..."

"Shhh! It's starting!"

.

The first round was Kouda and Satou vs Yaoyorzu and Kirishima.

If he had to guess, he'd say Yaoyorozu and Kirishima would win. Yaoyorozu's quirk was perfect for setting up quick and simple barriers and traps, and Kirishima's was good for defense as well.

That wasn't to say Kouda and Satou couldn't win as well... Satou had what seemed to be a fairly powerful strength enhancer, perfect for ripping through hastily constructed defenses, and Izuku didn't know if Kirishima would be able to completely counter him.

Izuku also wasn't entirely sure what Kouda's quirk was. His first guess would have been a physical mutation, given his appearance, but thinking back, it didn't seem like he'd used anything like that during the quirk assessment, so those features were most likely vestigial, like Izuku's hair color, which suggested a less physical quirk. It had to be something that could be applied in combat against robots, though. Izuku was the only one who'd passed without villain points.

So, it could go either way.

He could continue to analyze, but his attention was drawn back to the team he'd be facing. Hagakure and Monoma.

A blush rose up in his cheeks. It had to be Hagakure. He still hadn't apologized for running into her during the entrance exam. Hand to hand against her was going to be tough- he could only hope the support department had given her an invisible costume, and she wasn't... well... uncostumed. Again.

But, beyond that, not being able to see her would be a problem. She could get to the fake bomb without him even noticing.

Monoma would be a challenge, too. Given the number of pocket watches on his costume, Izuku suspected he had a time limit for how long he could copy a quirk. But he had no idea how long that could be, and it could be misdirection, too. Izuku certainly wouldn't want to telegraph a weakness like that if he had that kind of quirk.

Another option could be that he could only hold one quirk copy at a time. That'd be trickier for Izuku to deal with. Either way, he doubted Monoma could permanently hold an unlimited number of quirk copies. Monoma's personality was all wrong for that, and he didn't have Iida's engines anymore- unless he could choose to dump quirks? But why would he do that? Izuku's (formerly) quirkless sensibilities rebelled against the very thought.

He was overthinking this. He'd have to assume that Monoma could come at him with any quirk in the class. So. What would be the most inconvenient? All Might's, except Izuku had All Might's, and Monoma wasn't able to use it.

(Oh, and that could be a problem, couldn't it? Could Monoma be able to tell All Might didn't have a quirk anymore?)

Well, judging from what he was seeing right now, Izuku really didn't want him to take Yaoyorozu's quirk. It was sort of terrifying.

Other scary ones would be Todoroki (he'd launched that ball with a glacier) and Tokoyami (a sentient quirk! So cool!) but he thought Monoma would avoid Shouji and Asui (full body mutations). Other than that... Monoma would probably wait and see who did the best, or which quirk would work best with Hagakure's.

He'd have to take Hagakure's quirk into account, too. What if they both came at him invisibly (and naked)? Izuku would die...

Each battle lasted for up to fifteen minutes, not counting the ten minutes the villain team had to set up. That's how long Izuku had to defend the fake bomb. As the defender, Izuku had another handicap. He only had to fail once to fail entirely...

No. Stop that. This was a school exercise, and All Might wasn't going to expell him. Losing would suck, but he'd be together with half the class on that front. The important thing was learning from the experience. And not getting too hurt.

Right. He returned his gaze to the screen as the match started.

.

"We're a sentient quirk, too," said Banjo. "Aren't we cool?"

"He doesn't know we're sentient, though," said Yoichi. "Also, he spent like two months straight gushing about how cool One for All was when we were with Eighth. Didn't you get enough?"

Banjo sulked. "It isn't the same."

"Speaking of Monoma," said En, "why didn't you slap his little grabby hands away from One for All yesterday?"

"Because a late bloomer is one thing, but someone confirmed not to have a quirk suddenly having bone-breaking super strength? Yeah. No. Yagi might have beaten my brother, but that doesn't mean everyone who worked for him is gone. Eight never knew about Garaki at all."

"Way to bring down the mood, En," said Banjo, elbowing the younger ghost.

"The mood was already brought down by the fake popcorn."

.

Izuku wrote furiously in his notebook, trying to record every detail of the match. He pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth to get a better grip on his pencil. He'd need to practice writing with gloves on. He was missing important notes. Speaking of which...

"Can we get copies of these recordings?"

"You should be able to access them through your Ultra Account on the school website!"

Izuku nodded and continued writing. As expected, Kirishima and Satou had gotten into a one on one fight down the hallway from the bomb room. Unexpectedly, however, they had seemed rather hesitant to hit each other. At least, until Satou dumped a packet of white powder (sugar according to All Might) into his mouth and started smacking at Kirishima indiscriminately. Kouda, meanwhile, had sent a small army of mice (animal control! Very cool) at Yaoyorozu, who had responded with mousetraps.

The clock ran out, to the villains' victory.

.

"It was surprisingly hard to hit someone," admitted Kirishima in the debrief.

"We've been socialized to avoid violence," said All Might, nodding. "Overcoming that hesitation is part of our training. As is when not to use force."

.

Next up were Kaminari and Sero vs Aoyama and Jirou.

Kaminari entered the building first, quickly engaging Aoyama, who had been directed towards Kaminari by Jirou. That fight got loud quickly. Sero, meanwhile, scaled the outside of the building with his tape.

Kaminari ultimately defeated himself with his own quirk (that was a pretty severe drawback- maybe Kaminari should consider other fighting styles?), which allowed Jirou to hear Sero climbing up the wall. But Aoyama couldn't get back fast enough to prevent Jirou from being captured by Sero.

.

"I think Kaminari was the MVP," said Izuku. "He did hurt himself, which was bad, but his sacrifice allowed his teammate to safely reach the objective. If he hadn't, um, shorted out...? It would have been better, of course, but..."

Yaoyorozu shook her head. "Sero managed to capture one of the villains and safely reach the bomb. Additionally, he's the one who came up with the plan of attack."

"Ah," said Izuku, "that's- that's true..."

"Regardless, it is a plan that only bore fruit due to teamwork! Excellent work! Jirou, Aoyama, your division of labor was also a good plan, but don't forget the enemies you don't see! Time for our next match!"

.

This time, Asui and Tokoyami were defending against Todoroki and Uraraka.

"Good luck," Izuku said, waving slightly to Uraraka.

"Thanks!" She gave him two thumbs up as she trailed slightly behind Todoroki. "So," she said, as they walked out through the door, "how are we doing-?"

The door closed. Izuku winced. Surely, they had strategized beforehand...

.

"Young Todoroki," said All Might, somewhat sternly, "you... that was certainly an impressive display, but even when dealing with real villains, a hero has to be conscious of the damage they may do. A large number of villains are only minor criminals, or even otherwise ordinary citizens having a bad day."

"That's not what the media says," mumbled Todoroki, though he looked pale as medi-bots carried Asui from the scene.

"The media is full of sensationalists. And even if it weren't, Asui isn't a real villain. There is a difference," he said, very gently, "between going beyond and going too far."

All Might paused. Todoroki hunched his shoulders. There was something familiar about his posture, something that made Izuku's stomach knot.

All Might continued. "It was a good strategy. Against another team, or against real villains, it would have been a more than appropriate strategy. In fact, it was even an appropriate strategy in this case, since you didn't know Asui had trouble with cold temperatures. But when you encountered her in the hall and noticed how poorly she was doing, you should have hit the emergency stop button."

Instead of laying down mode ice when Asui struggled to get free, which was what actually happened.

"Why didn't you stop the match?" He didn't sound accusatory. Just flat and resigned.

All Might made a face and gestured to the screens on the wall. About half of them showed static and the rest blurry shades of white and gray. Like the rest of the building, they had been iced over.

Todoroki sighed. "How much trouble am I in?"

"You aren't," replied All Might. "In trouble, that is. As your teacher, this is entirely my responsibility. I shouldn't have set you against Asui or should have gone over safety concerns more clearly..." All Might paused, his face that of someone who knew they weren't getting their point across but didn't quite know what the problem was. "Injuries are inevitable in heroics and hero training, but you don't want to maim your classmates. Or minor villains, really, if you can help it. So... consider this a learning moment."

"But it was just ice," said Kaminari.

"Cold kills people frequently," said All Might. "People lose fingers and toes to frostbite regularly. Again, for anyone but Asui, this level of ice for such a short time period wouldn't have caused lasting damage, but it is something to be mindful of. Does... that make sense, young Todoroki?"

"Yes," said Todoroki, head bowed.

"All right. Young Uraraka, thank you for hitting the emergency stop button. It showed good thinking and good awareness. Young Tokoyami, your decision to hide the bomb in the basement was a good one, complimentary to your quirk."

Izuku glanced over at Monoma. He had a sinking suspicion he knew what quirk he would copy.

.

After moving to a new building, Iida and Ashido managed to pull a win as heroes from Ojiro and Shouji by melting a hole in the ceiling above the bomb and then jumping through to tag it after Iida confirmed its location with a scouting run. The general consensus of the class was that it was surprisingly clever and out of the box, but that it probably wouldn't have been feasible in real life. Ashido had then sheepishly admitted that she'd come up with the idea after hearing Izuku mumble about it.

This, of course, made Izuku blush. Strawberry would probably bee his nickname from now on.

Better than Deku.

It was his turn to go set up, now.

He was unlikely to be able to beat Hagakure and Monoma at the same time, even if Monoma didn't copy any quirks at all. Assuming they didn't split up, a ridiculous course of action, he'd have to find a way to protect the bomb other than physically defending it.

This was the problem that had been plaguing him all afternoon.

He had to hide it. Then, he either had to hide himself or use his location to steer them away from where the bomb really was. His capture would also lose him the match, so he had to be careful.

He carried the bomb to the top floor. Uraraka's quirk could get them up there, but Izuku didn't think Monoma could handle the nausea. And if he did have a time limit, he wouldn't want to be airborne when it ran out. Sero had demonstrated his quirk could get him up the side of the building, but that had clearly also required a lot of skill in climbing, not just the quirk itself.

Iida's quirk would get Monoma to the top of the building fast, but since he'd have to go room by room... Either way, the top floor would slow them down the most, buy Izuku the most time.

The room he picked was full of prop boxes. Izuku had to rearrange them to completely hide the bomb, and there was a chance Monoma and Hagakure would remember what it looked like before, from the camera feeds, but he hoped they'd overlook it.

He still had time. Next...

The second floor had office equipment in it. Clearly old junk the school didn't mind loosing. Izuku pulled as much of it out into the hallway as he could, his experience from the beach helping him maneuver quickly. He dumped a lot of it into the stairwell. The rest he left in the hallways.

How much time did he have?

Not long.

He ran up the stairs, to the fourth floor, where Ashido had melted a hole in the floor. Here, he had multiple egress points. It would be harder for them to corner him. Also...

He randomly closed half the doors on the floor. He could pretend to be guarding one of them. Delay them. How much longer?

No time at all.

Right on schedule, the air went dry and cold. Izuku, having planned for this, leapt for one of the door frames and held on. A thin layer of ice, not as thick as the one on the floor, crusted over his gloved fingers.

Izuku counted to five, then let his hands slip out of his gloves and dropped to the floor. Then he reached up and tugged his now empty gloves out of the ice.

He inspected the ice momentarily, and tested his ability to move on it. It wasn't as even or as thick as it had been when Todoroki used it, and the surface was a difficult and unpredictable mixture of smooth and rough... but it would become slicker as it melted.

Good. Izuku had predicted this. It made his closed doors and stacked boxes much more formidable obstacles. The ice wouldn't allow doors to open easily, and the boxes would also be reinforced and hard to move.

Izuku was glad for the conversation All Might had with Todoroki. Although it probably hadn't been his intention, the way he had phrased his commentary on Todoroki's freezing strategy had made it seem like an automatic win, given that it wasn't used against someone who'd be seriously injured by it.

Izuku hadn't been sure they'd do it, since it would handicap Hagakure so much. She couldn't walk around on ice barefoot. Unless she had a secondary mutation that made her skin tougher, or less sensitive to temperature- that would be so cool! No, focus, focus.

Monoma wouldn't have Iida's quirk, either with this strategy. Even if was unfamiliar with speed quirks, he would know that high speeds and ice didn't mix... Unless you were a speed skater, Izuku supposed. But Monoma didn't have ice skates- Unless, unless he took Yaoyorozu's quirk and made ice skates. But that would be horribly impractical with this uneven ice, and probably wouldn't work with Iida's quirk at all. So.

He'd probably have Yaoyorozu's quirk anyway. And after that, for this exercise, Jirou's would be the most valuable. With Jirou's quirk, Monoma would be able to locate Izuku quickly.

Another reason to separate himself from the bomb.

They were coming.

He hid himself out of immediate sight, in the room with the hole, on the off chance that Monoma couldn't hold that many quirks.

There was a clatter from the stairwell.

They were coming.

Muffled voices. A louder thump.

"Maybe if you hadn't frozen everything-"

A sort of fwoosh brought an oddly warm breeze and Izuku hissed. Todoroki's quirk must be more than ice. Given his overall appearance... Fire? Izuku was screwed.

Well. Hopefully his precautions would at least get him a good grade.

There were more scrapes and clatters as Hagakure and Monoma forced their way through the stairwell. Then, relative silence.

They were coming.

"I thought you said he was on this floor," said Hagakure, plaintively.

"He must have gotten free," said Monoma.

"Can't you listen for him again?"

There was a pause. Monoma must have responded nonverbally.

"We'll just have to be careful checking everything out," said Hagakure. "The bomb must be on this floor, after all."

Okay. Okay, great, this was good news for Izuku. He eyed the hole in the floor. Part of him really didn't want to jump through. His brain was supplying him with all the things that could go wrong with such a jump. Especially with the layer of ice. Ugh, he should have dragged one of the office desks up underneath it.

Too late now.

Minding his visibility, Izuku crept over to the side of the hole and lowered himself until he was hanging by his finger tips.

It was still a long fall. Monoma and Hagakure's footsteps were growing closer.

He let go.

He tried to hit the ground properly, but his roll turned into a slide, and he hit a wall at a higher speed than he would have liked. Reflexively he grabbed at his left arm. Ow.

He knew this was going to happen.

"He's on the third floor!"

"What?"

"He jumped through Ashido's hole!"

Izuku forced himself to his feet and sprinted towards the stairs. The second floor had more hiding places than the third. At the last minute, something twinged in the back of his mind, and he tried to stop. Tried. The ice made this difficult.

His legs went out from underneath him, and he went skidding down the hallway on his back, taking a mercifully, mercifully, clothed Hagakure out at the ankles. They slid together into the bottom of the stairs descending from the fourth floor, further battering Izuku's poor arm.

He dodged Hagakure's capture tape and briefly considered pulling out his own, but there was Monoma, cautiously coming down the icy stairs.

Icy stairs.

It seemed neither Izuku nor Monoma had fully considered the obstacles that would result from coating a building like this in ice. Todoroki's ability to maneuver easily on this terrain was, in retrospect, a keystone of the 'freeze everything' strategy, not incidental.

He needed to get away.

He pushed Hagakure off of himself (and noted that she was just as muscular as he was) and slid on his knees to the banister. He pulled himself up and slid down the rail, using the ice to his benefit. Using his uninjured arm, he gripped the end of the banister connected to the wall to slingshot himself down the second floor hallway.

... and almost right into a desk he'd half forgotten he'd put there. He dodged it and recovered quickly before scrambling over the other obstacles in the hallway. He came to a scraping halt and tucked himself into the leg well of one of the desks. A convenient bar meant he could keep his feet off the ground and out of sight as well.

Just like hiding from bullies. Only less dangerous and more fun.

How much time was left?

It had taken them about five minutes to get past the desks on the stairs, then maybe two or three to get to the fourth floor? They hadn't been moving quickly, probably because of the ice. Then, they'd been on the fourth floor for another couple of minutes before Izuku dropped to the third, even if it had felt longer to Izuku. The tussle on the third had taken a minute, tops, so he had... Four minutes left? Less, now.

He could win this. He could run out the clock. Maybe it wasn't the most heroic way to win, but he was supposed to be playing the villain, and he hoped Mr. Yagi would be proud of him anyway.

"Show yourself!" called Monoma. "Or I'll freeze you out."

Could he do that? Maybe he had Jirou's quirk at first, but switched to Todoroki's later, and lost access to Jirou's? If only he knew more about how Monoma's quirk worked... It could be a bluff, too. Even if it wasn't, why would he reveal himself? This late in the game, even if he was frozen in place, he could still win.

And winning... it wasn't something he got to do very often.

A buzz signaled the end of the match. "Villains win! Or, rather villain wins? Good job everyone! Come on out for the final debrief."

.

"MVP, MVP, MVP," chanted Yoichi, Banjo, and En, arms slung around each others' shoulders.

"Our boy is MVP!" cried Banjo.

"You know what this means, of course," said Hikage during a pause in the noise. The other ghosts looked at him. "It means, my quirk is the most valuable. The greatest power in the universe is the power of anxiety."

"Take that back!" said Yoichu, throwing an imaginary kazoo at Hikage. "The most powerful thing in the universe is the power of friendship. Everyone knows that!"

"What about those two?" asked Hikage, pointing at Second and Third.

"Unfortunately, the power of spite is also great," said Yoichi. "Even so, they will soon find themselves defeated."

Nana rubbed her temples. "If I hadn't given up on sanity within ten minutes of waking up in here, this would be what did me in."

.

After an intense practical, the next stop was the nurse's office. There, the class found Asui already mostly recovered, and Izuku found out that he had, in fact broken his arm.

"Are you sure it isn't just a sprain? It is broken?"

"A fracture, and, yes, quite sure. But a sprain can actually be worse than a break- many true sprains never quite heal correctly... either way, with my quirk you don't have to worry about it." She pressed her lips to Izuku's forehead. He felt his energy ebb to a new low. "You should talk to Mr. Aizawa about falling techniques. Your body type is more like his than your other mentor's."

"I- I will," promised Izuku.

"Good. You can go get changed, now."

"Thanks," said Izuku, not quite wobbling out of the room.

"Midoriya!"

He almost jumped out of his skin. "A-ah! Uraraka!"

"Sorry to startle you!"

"No, no, it's fine. What is it?"

"Oh, well, Iida and I were wondering if you'd like to come out with use to a café after school? It's nearby and apparently it has discounts for UA students?"

"Indeed! My older brother talked about it frequently when he was a student here!"

"W-well," said Izuku. He looked at All Might, who was awkwardly supervising and directing other students in the hallway to the locker rooms. All Might caught his eye and nodded. "Sure! That sounds like fun!"

.

This would be the last time Shouta would have to nap after school for a while. From tomorrow on, he'd be alternating quirk counseling with Midoriya with hero work. Why did he agree to do this again?

Kan opened the door to the break room. With him came the acrid smell of smoke and hot dust. "Which companies did the first year costumes this year?" he asked, voice dangerously soft enough to impress Aizawa.

"Why?" asked Hizashi.

"Because I want to... talk to whoever thought it was a good idea to give a fifteen-year-old with no training in demolition not one, but two weapons that could level buildings at full charge. I just want to talk."

Judging by the expression on Kan's face, Shouta seriously doubted that.

Kan took a deep breath. "What about your hellions?"

"Don't know. Yagi had them today."

"And you didn't watch?"

"I was in court."

"What's wrong with Yagi, anyway?"

Shouta, Hizashi, and Kan all turned to where Yagi was splayed in a chair. If the scene were a painting, it could easily be titled 'depression.'

"I'm a failure as a teacher and a hero," he moaned.

"Huh?" said Hizashi. "Why?"

"Young Asui nearly became hypothermic, and young Midoriya fractured his arm."

There was a beat of silence as the others waited for him to go on.

"What?" Kan asked. "Is that it?"

[avengerscompound]

Canvas

Canvas: A Captain America Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1844

Warnings:  smut (vaginal sex, messy sex,)

Synopsis:  Steve has been painting you for a while.  In a lot of ways you’ve been his must.  This time, he has decided to use a whole different canvas to practice his art on.

Canvas

The brush was soft and tickled your skin.  Paired with the cool, wet paint, it set off a ripple of goosebumps in its wake.

Steve was an artist.  You hadn’t known that when you’d first started seeing each other.  The serious and stoic Steve Rogers who had devoted his life to protect the world as Captain America didn’t seem to be the soft artistic type.

He had surprised you though.  First with the fact he wasn’t as serious as he made himself seem when he was in uniform.  He was funny and snarky, and he cared deeply about people.

And he liked to paint.

You’d first discovered his artistic side when you’d woken up to find him sitting on the end of the bed sketching a picture of you sleeping.  There was a way about Steve - an open vulnerability - that meant he could get away with doing things like watching you sleep that didn’t feel creepy.  There was something romantic about the way that he wanted to capture the moment.  Not with a camera to show how it was, but with a pencil to show how it made him feel.

Since that day he’d gotten more and more into his art when he was around you.  Your place and his became littered with sketches and drawings, mostly of you, but sometimes just of things that made him feel real.  Not the symbol of America, but a real man who wanted a quiet life with someone he loved.

When the painting started, you would sit for him.  You were his muse and when you would sit for him, you’d find yourself holding all kinds of unlikely positions, in a variety of different states of undress.

It was a strange feeling being his life model.  Sexy.  Uncomfortable.  Flattering.  Safe.  The best part was seeing the finished product.  It was like getting to see yourself through the eyes of the person who loved you most and there was nothing more intimate than that.

Today Steve was interested in a different canvas.

You stood naked in his home office, a drop cloth below you to capture any stray drops of paint.  Steve had his shirt off too, and there were already a few smears of paint on his perfectly sculpted chest.  There was something sexy about the look.  Like the mess made him seem raw and unbridled in a way Steve rarely was outside of sex and battle.

The brush moved down and around the curve of our breast in a long sweeping motion.  You shivered as the cool of the paint sent a tingle up your spine.  Your nipples hardened and you weren’t sure if that was only because of the cold.  Steve’s eyes drifted from the line of his paint to your breasts and his cheeks turned slightly pink.  “Is it very cold?”  He asked.

“It’s cold, but I’m not sure that’s the whole problem,” you coyly answered.

The blush deepened in Steve’s cheeks and his tongue glided over his plump bottom lip.  “Mm… for me too,” he said and leaned down, pressing his mouth to your breast.  Your nipple fit perfectly between his soft lips, and as his tongue swirled over it, you let out a sharp breath.

“Steve…” you sighed, your hand going to his shoulder to steady yourself.  He sucked on your tender flesh, his tongue curling around your hardened nipple, and as he pulled back, his teeth grazed over it, making a buzz spiral out under your skin.

He returned his attention to his art, leaving you trembling slightly from the brief interlude.  You blinked and shook your head as you tried to focus on the art, rather than the heat building between your legs.

You watched as he added some black to the blue he was painting on your skin, darkening the shade as he filled in the color under your stomach.  “What are you painting?”  You asked.

“You’re just going to have to wait and see,” he said.

“It’s not a flag, is it?”  You asked.  “I don’t want you to paint me to look like a flag.”

Steve laughed softly and shook his head.  “No.  It’s not a flag.”

He dipped his thumb into the purple on his pallet and ran it down between the two shades of blue on your stomach.  It tickled and you squirmed away from him a little.

“I need you to try and stay still, sweetheart,” Steve said.

“You try it when someone’s doing this to you,” you teased, and poked him in the abs.  He jumped away with a laugh.

“That’s cheating,” he said, grabbing your wrist.

You giggled and he kissed your hand before letting your wrist go again.  His fingerprints remained on your skin.  Blue spots to mark where he’d held you.  You studied them as he returned to painting.  Admiring the way they marked how easily his large hands wrapped around your wrists.

You took one of Steve’s spare brushes and dipped it into the red paint.

“What are you doing?”  Steve asked, raising his eyebrow though he didn’t look away from his work.

“Thought I’d do a little bit of body painting too,” you said and pressed your red palm against his chest.  When your hand left his body, the perfect impression of your hand was left in scarlet against his pale milk skin.

Steve’s lips quirked at the side and he shook his head.  “Very pretty,” he said.  “Shall I give you one?”

“Won’t it mess up your design?”  You asked.

“I can paint over it,” he said as he began painting his palm with purple paint.  “Where should I put this?”  He teased, waving it in front of you.

You squealed but your body seemed to curve toward him like it was aching for his touch.  He hovered his hand over your breast.  “Here?”  he whispered and watched as you shivered slightly, pushing your chest out toward him.  He licked his lips and moved his hand up to your neck.  “Maybe here?”

You swallowed thickly.  “Please?”

He moved his hand down around your waist and smacked it down on your ass.  It was firm and made a sharp crack as his skin met yours, but it wasn’t painful.  You gasped and he dragged your forward, his fingers digging into your ass.  “Here?”  He said, bringing his lips to yours.

You kissed him hungrily, his other arm curling around your waist.  You moaned into his lips and pressed your body against him.  You could picture the mark on your ass.  His large palm staining your skin purple.  His hands slid around your waist, smearing the paint as he moved them, leaving a wet trail up to your ribs.  His fingers tightened and he pushed you back against the wall.  You submitted to him, melting under his touch.  His hands gripped your chest just under your breasts and he dragged them up, breaking the kiss so he could lean down and suck your breasts.  You let your head fall back against the wall and wrapped a leg around him, pulling your bare cunt against his clothed crotch.  His cock was hard and strained against the thick fabric of his khakis.  You cunt smeared your fluids on his jeans as the friction drew them from you, sending a hot tingle spiraling out through you.

He sucked and bit at your breasts like a hungry man.  Dutifully moving from one to the other and back again, sending a dull ache down to your core.

“Steve,” you moaned.  “I need you.”

He groaned and spun you guiding you back to the tarp and knocking his paints to the floor so they splattered over the drop cloth.  He lay you down, ignoring the paint as it pooled around your body.  You put your hands in the wet mess and watched as he hurriedly unfastened his pants.  As he positioned himself above you, you spread your legs wide and wrapped your arms around him, welcoming him in and marking him as your own.

He was kissing you again, hard and passionately.  You matched him, bringing your tongue to meet his and swirling it around.  He lined himself up and with a hard thrust, he was inside you.  You gasped arching up into him as an eclectic pulse passed through your body.  He didn’t wait for you to adjust, he just began thrusting into you again and again.  The head of his cock hitting your cervix and sending sharp jolts through you again and again.

You cried out and bunched your hands in his hair.  The paint on your hands clung to the strands, sticking them together and making them stick up in clumps.  You could feel your climax building, and you nudged him.  He took the hint flipping you over.

The paint you’d been lying in dripped down your back onto his thighs.  He smeared his hands through it and then used it to finger paint on your body as you rode him.  You started slowly, swirling your hips like you were doing a seated dance, his cock moving inside you and pressing against your walls.  You began to move faster, bouncing on his cock.  Steve groaned as he watched you, his hands caressing his body.  Faster and faster you moved, up and down, up and down.  Sweat mixed with the paint as you chased your orgasm.  Steve began to snap his hips up into you, your bodies slapping together each time you connected.

He pushed you back, first so you were seated face to face, you sitting in his lap, and then pushing you back on the floor again.  He pushed your legs up so they were pressed against your chest.  His cock penetrated you so deeply you thought it was going to split you in two.  You cried out and your orgasm hit, shuddering through you and making all your muscles seize up.  Steve kept thrusting, fucking you through it, and as he reached his own climax, he pulled out pumping his cock in his fist and releasing, spattering your stomach and chest with thick white ropes that stood out against the rainbow of paint.

You lay back panting as you came down from your orgasm high and Steve lay down beside you.  “God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed.

“We ruined your art,” you said, looking down at yourself.

“I think we made it better,” he said.  “I know I’m going to remember you like this for a long time.  My gorgeous artwork.”

He brought his lips to yours and kissed you deeply and tenderly.  You closed your eyes and hummed, relaxing into it.  When he pulled back he smiled at you.  “We really should go shower.”

You giggled and Steve helped you to stand.  He looked down at the drop sheet below him and smiled.  “I think I might frame that,” he said.

You looked down at the colors.  They swirled together, but you could see everywhere the two of you had touched.  You liked the idea of hanging it in the apartment.  A permanent reminder of what you and Steve had.