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juspeczyk · 2 years

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answering art questions for my beloved @belzebub430

1. Art programs you have but don't use

procreate T-T i don’t draw often enough anymore to keep my ipad reliably charged, and it takes so long to charge up when i DO want to draw, it’s a whole thing. also gimp because it looks like the version of photoshop i’m used to except everything is two inches to the left and i don’t have the patience to learn it properly

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

you expect me to think about what direction my blorbo is facing? you expect me to think and not just vibe with what looks good at the moment?

3. What ideas come from when you were little

my comic/novel princess huntress and by extension my d&d homebrew world! always loved princesses, always loved fantasies, was a tiny lesbian who thought the beast was way cooler than the prince and belle was dumb for de-beasting him

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

plants and buildings :(

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

if it’s drawn, i usually post it somewhere; if it’s a collage, i usually keep it to myself. probably 5% of my collages are shared in the group chat or in person

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

i was a tim burton child and a my chemical romance teen so now i lovingly craft deep, dark undereye bags and shadows on to 90% of the people i draw regardless of how much sleep they get

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

oil painting!!! i dabble in acrylics and watercolors, but i LOVE the texture and color blending abilities of oil, and it’s so so so so so so gorgeous and if it wasn’t so expensive i would dabble in it too. also clay. also stained glass. also prop foam. i did set design in high school and got to make an entire brick building facade for the glass menagerie out of foam and heat tools it was SO FUN

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

markers :/ like they’re great and i still use them but they’re just for fun now, not something i really invest practice in

9. What are your file name conventions

usually [character name/s] [situation/theme depicted] .png

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

veils, jewelry, plate armor

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

whatever playlist relates to what i’m drawing

12. Easiest part of body to draw

hands cause they can be a little funky or a little simplistic and it still looks fine cause hands are just Like That

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

every glassblower ever

14. Any favorite motifs

heresy and sacrilege >:3c

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

my bedroom mostly, i do love drawing outside but i usually get too distracted by the world

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

inking... i’m not BAD at it but it can smell my fear

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

never eat (food on paper!!! bad!!! no!!!), sometimes fix a cup of coffee or tea, set it aside to cool, and then forget about it forever

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

Y’ALL ARE BREAKING YOUR SUPPLIES??????

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

plants, kitchenware

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

noses and hands uwu

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

hyper-realistic painting!! oil, acrylic, digital, it’s all fucking gorgeous and jaw-dropping

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

none. don’t be like me

23. Do you use different layer modes

if i color it yes, if i’m just sketching i usually only change the opacity

24. Do your references include stock images

how do you use references WITHOUT stock images

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

no clue

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

little mini comic of the joker and harley quinn from like 2016 that everyone on tumblr thought was the lead singer of a boy band

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

i start with rough sketches and get more detailed as i go, but i usually just work on one piece at a time, no separate warm-ups or anything

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

i’ve submitted stuff to the county fair (and won honorable mentions!), library competitions, and some of my comic pages from college were displayed there for multiple years!

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

whatever tv shows i’m into at the moment

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

all of them. everyone should be praising me and giving me money at all times forever.

#piri.txt

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katsuwuma · 4 years

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cool mom + (adopted) daughter goin for a run :D

#theyre my ocs from when i was 10 lol #originally wolfpaw (black and white) was marigoldpelts (yellow) bio kid bc i wanted her to have 1 kid w each possible cat color #idk why i did that lol #fun trivia fact: both marigoldpelt/wolfpaw/marigoldpelts dad were all leaders in a row 0-0 #probably was not taken very well in the clan #ANYWAY this was really just supposed to be pose practice for running cats but then i thought it'd look better w a background #only i didnt really wanna draw a background so i just kinda doodled some flowers n made the sky different colors of blue stripes #marigoldpelt #wolfpaw #my ocs #warrior cats #my art

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byulsgrease · 3 years

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duly noted

you've never been one to obsess about your soulmate, assuming you'll figure it out when the time is right. but seriously, what kind of nonsense has yours been writing about recently?

(eventual moonbyul / wheein x gender neutral reader, soulmate!au, trainee/idol!au, ~1.2k words)

a/n: wheein bias wrecker anon! I might've had too much fun with your req and so this is gonna be my first soulmate au 🤠 while byul and wheein don't actually appear in this part (does that make this a prologue? idk), I promise they'll make their appearance soon enough :)

cw: struggles of being a trainee (weight + food talk)

The claps from your dance instructor ring out in the mirrored studio, calling everyone to attention before they send you off for the day. Everyone stands around listening to whatever niceties they're talking about, asking the rhetorical questions of whether all of you want this, how everyone needs to work harder, etc. How many years has it been now, almost three? Evaluations went pretty well recently and you've certainly demonstrated signs of growth since you started, but debut? Who knows. Does anyone, really?

But right now it's late and you're hungry, hoping that your growling stomach isn't loud enough to pierce through the lecture. You're respectfully tuned out anyway, since it's all old news. Nothing you haven't heard before. They clap again once their spiel ends and everyone disperses. Your eyes catch Hyejin's on your way out of the studio, sharing a funny face and an eyeroll before disappearing into the herd of trainees shuffling to the lockers.

Your locker opens with a routine spin of the dial, taking care to slow down and line up the numbers properly so you're not stuck having to do it over again. The inside's pretty cute for a metallic rectangle— it's really the only space of your own besides your notebook. Pictures of your family, old school friends, and fellow trainee friends line the sides beneath a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights. It's not much, but always a humbling reminder of why you're here.

Unzipping your bag, you take out a pair of slides and drop them on the floor while stepping out of your sneakers. There's not much else in your bag, just a change of clothes and your notebook, of course. Everyone has one. Anything inside could be drawn, written, scribbled, painted. It’s your personal creative space and no one else's, but with two conditions:

You can't write your name in it, not even your initials. Of course everyone tried to as kids against their parents commands, but letters simply sink into the page, disappearing as if they'd never been written at all.

You can only mark up one side. Pages on the right side are for you, and the left side pages fill themselves. Fill themselves with what? you asked your parents. They gave you a non-answer, saying you'd figure it out someday. Great. Only other thing they bothered to tell you was that your right-hand pages were someone's left-hand ones. So someone can see what I put here? Their confirmation sounded rather casual, which you found weird. Someone out there was watching what you put in? But you got used to it, especially since every person owns one. It's a novelty for children anyway. Mark up a page however you want, knowing that someone out in the would will see, and sit back to watch whatever randomness shows up on the left side.

Your left side pages were actually empty for quite a while, save for the occasional "UGGHHH" followed by a typical childish annoyance scrawled messily across the entirety of the page in marker. Not that notebook use was mandatory, but parents usually encouraged it because it kept their kids occupied. There wasn't much you could do about empty pages, nor did you care most of the time, but it did leave you a little jealous of other kids at school who'd sometimes open theirs and be greeted with cute watercolor paintings, mini murals, or skillfully written poetry.

For you, the notebook's served many uses. As a kid it was random doodles and poorly-drawn fantasy scenarios— escapism, perhaps. In middle school it was angsty poems and random journal entries about the random happenings of your life. For the first half of high school it became your to-do list, keeping track of school assignments. And on the rarest occasion, song lyrics. Visual art was never your medium of choice, music came more easily. But drawing staff lines for music notation in the notebook usually ended up being too tedious, so your original stuff was mostly relegated to voice memos on your phone. And now? Who knows. Trainee life may as well be a blur. Sing, dance, talk, eat if you can afford to, sleep, repeat. It's hard to find the energy to write anything most days. Whenever you feel like checking, the left side has random jottings, nearly illegible most of the time.

It wasn't until you got older that you realized that whoever read your entries on the was the same person generating content on the left. And supposedly the person you're supposed to be with for the rest of time? What kind of system is that? I'm just supposed to trust blindly? having asked your parents in exasperation after figuring it out. Again with more non-answers— it had worked for them, didn't it? There's also the obvious question of why people don't just write directly to each other, but whatever. You're still young, no need to obsess over "the one" unlike some of your classmates. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, you figure. And it obviously is, you've got a notebook with (semi-)filled left side pages. What more could you ask for?

The cacophony of clanging lockers opening and closing starts to die down as people leave. Hyejin's head pops out from behind the locker door, laughing in your face when you flinch.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec. Man, I'm starving,” you remark while slipping the bag straps on your back and closing the locker door. You don't even want to know how strapped for cash you are, probably in for another night of boiled eggs and canned kimchi.

“Wanna go out for food?” she immediately asks, eyes alight at the prospect of getting to eat something besides convenience store food.

"I wish. Actually, you wish," you smirk with longing in your eyes. The "no" doesn't even have to be said, weigh-ins are way too soon to risk it. She hangs her head, jokingly dejected as you swing an arm around her shoulder to walk out of the company building together.

~~~~

After scrounging up whatever food you call dinner, taking a shower, and flopping into bed, you open up your notebook and grab the random pen laying on your dresser, unsure of what you'll write about tonight. There's chicken scratch on the left page already, ballpoint pen. It's actually legible today, though: In my room every day I see your smile.

What the hell does that mean? Whose smile, yours? You haven't even met yet.

Call me everyday every night, hug me everywhere every time

Utter nonsense. Maybe meeting soulmates is just a huge game of catch-up once everything's finally revealed, surely yours will be. There’s just so many questions. Moving to the right side, you jot down a list of cheat meal ideas along with some assorted notes and pointers from practice that you want to work on tomorrow, drawing little characters next to each list item for fun. After accidentally drawing a random squiggle from jolting yourself awake and feeling the heaviness in your eyelids, you cap your pen and shut your notebook, placing it back in your bag. With the lights out, the last thought you have before sleep consumes you is why haven't you ever tried writing directly to each other after all this time?

[next]

#using their real predebut photos feels like a disservice lmaoo #girl crush is my fave cf tho :D #requested #💥 anon #mamamoo imagines #gg fic #mamamoo x reader #hwasa x reader #mamamoo fanfic #kpop fic #girl group fic #moonbyul imagines #hwasa imagines #wheein imagines #mamamoo scenarios #soulmate au

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ibijau · 3 years

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Futures past pt1 / On AO3

Nie Huaisang, sitting cross legged on his bed, tilted his head. It was a rather warm early evening in spring, and he had been getting ready for bed, so he was wearing only his inner clothes, and his hair was done in quick and messy braids so they wouldn’t get tangled during the night. Since he hadn’t been expecting anyone save perhaps his brother, if Nie Mingjue felt in the mood to shout at him for skipping practice again, his room was an awful mess, the floor covered in copies of some prints he’d bought recently. Tasteful prints, at least, not that it would have shocked his visitor too much if it had been porn, he guessed.

“I think I should scream,” Nie Huaisang said without conviction.

“But you won’t because you’re too curious,” Nie Huaisang retorted.

At least, Nie Huaisang thought that was himself. The man who had suddenly appeared in the middle of his room had his eyes, his nose, his lips, his general shape of face, even if his jaw was much sharper. He dressed well, in the sort of ornate styles Nie Huaisang absolutely would do if his brother weren’t forcing him to be reasonable, had a gorgeous fan in his hand, and wore an elaborate guan in his hair, the perfect picture of a rich and refined scholar. He didn’t even bother carrying a sabre, which Nie Huaisang found very satisfying for some reason.

“I don’t have time to play games,” the older man announced, opening his fan with an elegant yet disdainful gesture that his younger self hoped to reproduce someday. He supposed he would, in time. “I am you, from the future. A little over twenty years, if you must know, and it is not a pretty sight here. Some people are going to make a mess of things and while I’ve done what was needed to right every wrong, I don’t see why I shouldn’t try to prevent those wrongs.”

Nie Huaisang hunched up, one elbow on his leg, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t think you’re me. I wouldn’t ever put that much effort into anything. Good try on the disguise though. It’s a bit rude you didn’t make me taller, but it is a good detail, it really sells it.”

The man threw him a disgusted look. “Sometimes, I understand why da-ge ended up like this,” he muttered. “I really was insufferable. Listen up. When you were seven, you stole da-ge��s favourite robes, the set he always wore to go to conferences. You thought they were the prettiest thing you’d ever seen, and you wanted to try them on and pretend you were, against all evidence, as great as da-ge. You wore them for less than an incense stick’s time before dropping ink on them. They were completely ruined, in spite of your efforts, so you just burned them.”

Nie Huaisang startled so badly he half fell on his side, before scrambling toward the back of his bed, suddenly terrified. That incident happened years before, and he’d never told anyone. Nie Mingjue had been furious for weeks. To that day, Nie Huaisang still didn’t know how he hadn’t been discovered… but it was something only he knew, something he’d never shared with anyone.

He stared at this cold, distant man in front of him, with his venomous eyes and disdainful air, and didn’t like what he saw. How could that be his future?

Guessing his thoughts, the man smiled.

“Da-ge dies in a few years,” he announced, startling Nie Huaisang again. “It’s tragic, and cruel, and we’re going to do everything we can to avoid it. You’re going to help, of course.”

So shocked he couldn’t breathe, Nie Huaisang weakly nodded.

It seemed impossible that his brother could ever die, least of all that he might die in the twenty years to come. He would have said the same of his father once, certainly, but his father was well into his sixties already, and anyway he was murdered so it was not the same.

Nie Huaisang gasped and grabbed his pillow, hugging it tight against his body for comfort, as if he weren’t already fifteen and far too old for that.

“When you say da-ge dies, you mean… he’s going to be killed by someone,” Nie Huaisang guessed, curling up on himself, hoping to be wrong.

The expression on the face of that man he would become softened.

“Maybe you’re not hopeless,” he said. “Maybe all I needed was a chance to do a little more… Yes, he’s going to be murdered. Or he would be murdered. We won’t let it happen. You won’t let it happen. I’m only here for a little time, it’s not easy to come here, but I’m hoping to return in a few months if all goes well.”

Something relaxed in Nie Huaisang’s shoulders. It seemed his brother’s death wasn’t something that would happen in the very near future then. That was a relief, when Nie Huaisang was about to leave home and go study for a year in the Cloud Recesses. From all the way down south, it would have been difficult to protect Nie Mingjue.

“So, what am I supposed to do then?” Nie Huaisang asked, still clutching his pillow. “You’d know I’m not much good at anything, so why aren’t you trying to warn da-ge directly? Oh, or am I the only one who can see you?”

“I’m… not sure if others can see me,” the man admitted, hiding behind his fan at that admission, exactly as Nie Huaisang did when embarrassed. “And I don’t have enough time to experiment. Besides, da-ge is so stubborn, he wouldn’t trust a stranger so easily. He can’t be blackmailed over a burned robe.”

“Rude!”

“That’s what you get for calling me short. Now come over here, grab something to write. I don’t want you to forget any of this, and I know how your memory is. Hurry!”

Nie Huaisang reluctantly let go of his pillow, and hopped down from the bed, grumbling the whole time. What was the point of being sent to the Cloud Recesses if he ended up becoming a man with such dreadful manners?

He grabbed a brush, hastily prepared some ink, and sat on the floor before looking up at his future self, waiting for instruction like a sullen child forced to listen in class.

“The first thing you need to know,” the man before him said, “is that there’s going to be a war with Qishan Wen.”

“Duh,” Nie Huaisang retorted, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t the brightest person in the world, but even he could guess as much. “Is that how da-ge dies?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if even Wen Ruohan could do anything to him!” his older self said, with a mix of disdain and pride. “Da-ge becomes a war hero, of course. But that war is what will eventually cause his death. Not that it matters yet, you have about two years and a half before the war starts, so…”

Nie Huaisang dropped his brush with a gasp, splattering ink over his sheet of paper.

“Two years? The war is in just two years?”

His older self clicked his tongue impatiently.

“Focus! This is irrelevant right now! What matters is taking measure so certain things don’t happen during that war. Now, the most important would be…”

He paused, looking down at Nie Huaisang. The longer he stared, the more annoyed the older man appeared. That look of frustration was one Nie Huaisang was quite used to, especially coming from his elders, but also sometimes from people of his own generation. He usually didn’t mind, though just a week before one kid half his age had looked at him like that over his posture during sabre practice, and that had stung a little, to be honest.

More often than not, people would accompany that exasperated stare with a ‘what will we do with you?’ and though his older self didn’t say the words, he was clearly thinking them.

“There’s a boy, living in Yunping City, named Meng Yao,” the man announced, before giving a number of details about that boy, such as the name of his mother, the address where he might be found, his age, his looks, and plenty other things. Nie Huaisang wrote it all down, and even doodled a very quick portrait based on that description, to which his older self nodded, looking nearly approving for a moment. Before Nie Huaisang could enjoy that, the man turned grim again. “You have to find this boy, and make sure he doesn’t join Lanling Jin. Do you understand? No matter what, Meng Yao cannot join Lanling Jin. If he does, there will be great risk to da-ge.”

There was an odd inflection on that cannot. Or at least, it was odd to hear it coming from himself, because it was the tone of voice people had when saying it’d be a shame if Wen Ruohan choked on his next meal, or if Jin Guangshan’s dick got chopped off by a demon on a Night Hunt.

But that Meng Yao was just a boy, just a few months older than Nie Huaisang himself. Even if he became a danger in later times, for now there was no way he could harm anyone. And even if he couldn’t join the Jin, there might be other sects, if he was so determined to be a cultivator. Maybe he could even be brought into Qinghe Nie, if he had real talent. Nie Mingjue didn’t care much what people’s origins were as long as they worked hard, though it was an opinion not everyone in the clan shared. It’d be a great way to kill two birds with one stone.

“Is he going to be a problem soon?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Only, it’s not like I can travel on my own, and Yunping City is pretty far from Gusu anyway, and…”

“A few weeks after your arrive, Jiang zongzhu invites Lan Qiren and his nephews to help him with a creature that causes problems near Yunping City,” his older self announced, lazily fanning himself. “I didn’t go, personally, but I’m sure you could find a way to go along. You’ll have to, it’s your best chance. Speaking of which…” he closed his fan with a sharp gesture and pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. “You have to get Lan Xichen to trust you in the future, so take this year in Gusu as a chance and become the best friend he’s ever had.”

Nie Huaisang nearly dropped his brush again and grimaced.

“Oh. Do I really have to? I mean, he’s so…”

He made a vague hand gesture, words failing him to describe Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen wasn’t a bad person. That wasn’t it. He was, in fact, very good, everyone said so. He was smart, and polite, and well educated, and amazing with cultivation, and with martial arts, and… and he was just so boring. He was, without a doubt, the most boring person Nie Huaisang had ever met. He was always too careful when speaking, too serious, too perfect, too much exactly how grown ups thought boys their age should act. He was an old man’s idea of a young man. He was really, really boring and while Nie Huaisang was very glad his brother had at least one friend, he was very judgmental toward Nie Mingjue for having chosen such a person for a companion.

If his older self’s dark expression was anything to go by, Lan Xichen’s personality didn’t look like it improved much in the future.

“I wouldn’t do this if there was another choice,” the man said. “But if da-ge couldn’t properly burn bridges with san-ge, then it’s pointless to try driving him away from er-ge, they’re too close. So you’ll have to do what’s needed to save da-ge, and become friends with Lan Xichen. It is vital. We’re going to do what we can so da-ge doesn’t die, but if it still comes to pass, you’ll need allies and I suppose that’s at least one thing he might be good for. Let’s see if he really meant what he said that time,” Nie Huaisang’s future self muttered somberly. “I don’t expect anything to come of this, but it can’t hurt.”

“But I don’t want to be friends with him,” Nie Huaisang grumbled.

“Good, because he won’t be your friend,” the man retorted coldly. “Don’t get attached to him, he’s not worth it. But make sure to become someone he’ll fully trust. Make yourself dearer to him than even da-ge is. Nothing less than that will do.”

That sounded even more difficult and boring than actually becoming friends with Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang thought. He pouted at the perspective of such a daunting task, wondering if he really loved his brother enough to put so much effort into saving him.

“I don’t even know how to become close to Lan gongzi!” he whined. “He doesn’t like anything interesting, he’s the most boring person in the world! How do I…”

“Figure it out!” his older self snapped. “Do you think I’d be here if I knew how to deal with him? Besides, I’m running out of time already. I’ll try to return to you a month after Qingming, when the spell has recharged. It should be before the Night Hunt in Yunping City, but you’ll need to have made progress with Lan Xichen already. Remember that we’re doing this for da-ge!”

Before Nie Huaisang could protest, the man standing before him suddenly disappeared, leaving no trace of his presence. It would have been easy to think it nothing but a dream, if not for that detailed list of information about that Meng Yao from Yunping City. Even like that, it really was unsettling, and Nie Huaisang stayed frozen in place for a long while, kneeling on the floor, staring at a list about a boy he was maybe supposed to kill. It seemed like complete madness, and maybe he should have ran to his brother, explained everything to him, except…

Except there had been such pain in his older self’s voice every time he spoke of Nie Mingjue, and his anger at having failed to protect their brother in his own life had been obvious. Something had happened there. Something he hadn’t even explained, Nie Huaisang suddenly realised. His older self hadn’t told him how their brother died, and how could he convince Nie Mingjue that he might be in danger when he didn’t even know who would strike him, or when?

It might be better to wait then. After all, Nie Huaisang’s older self had said that Nie Mingjue would be a great hero in a future war, and that war wouldn’t start for over two more years. Until then, Nie Huaisang might as well try to meet that Meng Yao when he had the chance, and he would also (he shivered in distaste) try to see what could be done about Lan Xichen. Having come to that conclusion, Nie Huaisang carefully folded the sheet of paper containing his notes about Meng Yao, and put it away. He then cleaned his brush, put some order around him, and finally went to sleep.

His last thought was that next time, when his older self returned, he would definitely ask more details about Nie Mingjue’s death.

In the days that followed that encounter with his future self, Nie Huaisang made efforts to be a better brother. He still wasn’t sure how much he believed about that encounter he’d had, but it certainly made him quite sentimental to realise that Nie Mingjue would die someday. It was clear that there would be a war soon after all, whether it happened when his future self said it would or not, and people certainly tended to die during conflicts.

So as he finished preparing for his rapidly approaching stay in Gusu, Nie Huaisang tried to fully enjoy his brother’s company and commit every moment spent together to memory, in case something happened.

A very noble sentiment, except his brother was a complete pain in the ass.

If Nie Huaisang hugged him, Nie Mingjue asked him what he’d broken this time, or what favour he was about to request. If Nie Huaisang suggested they spent more time together, Nie Mingjue just took him to the training grounds and forced him to practice the sabre, or even worse tried to spar with him, which was cruel and barbaric.

Nie Mingjue was the absolute worst person in the entire world, and while Nie Huaisang was still going to try his best to keep him alive, he wasn’t sure why.

Because Nie Mingjue was so unbearable and annoying and unable to appreciate his brother’s immense kindness, Nie Huaisang found it a relief of sorts when he finally left for the Cloud Recesses.

The trip itself was nothing memorable. Nie Huaisang spent most of it wishing he had a golden core so he could fly his sabre and go faster than this carriage, or trying to figure out how he was supposed to befriend the oh-so-boring Lan Xichen. By the time he and the disciple accompanying him reached Gusu, he still hadn’t found an answer to that problem. He would have to figure it out on the fly then.

The carriage was left at the foot of the mountain where the Cloud Recesses laid, and the long trek by foot started. Nie Huaisang, adverse to any unnecessary physical effort, found that he didn’t actually mind too much going up the mountain. The landscape was so exquisite there, every turn of the path revealing something worth painting. On the few occasions he’d been there before to accompany his brother at conferences, he’d always admired how Gusu Lan had found such an amazing place to live in, and promised himself he’d make the best of things if he ever got to come study there. He would have forgotten to bring his sabre if Nie Mingjue hadn’t packed it for him, but his luggage was full of paper of the highest quality, and it wouldn’t be used to take notes.

At the gate of the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang and his brother’s disciple had to wait to be brought in. Because he was a somewhat more important guest than some of the other visiting disciples, Nie Huaisang was greeted by Lan Qiren in person, his eldest nephew in tow.

While Lan Qiren guided him inside and explained a number of rules he didn’t intend to follow, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help observing Lan Xichen with more attention than he’d ever done before. He was somewhat handsome, if you liked that sort. A little tall and gangly, though it was less jarring when he wasn’t hanging out with Nie Mingjue who was older and had fully finished growing. Nie Huaisang figured that hanging out with him would at least give him something nice to look at, even if he didn’t expect the two of them to ever find much to talk about.

“And this is where you will be staying,” Lan Qiren announced when they arrived in front of a small house. “We will let you get settled and rest from your trip. If you have any requests…”

“I’d love a tour of the Cloud Recesses!” Nie Huaisang said without thinking, then turned to look at Lan Xichen. “Lan gongzi, would you please give me a tour? I’m sure there’s no one who could do it better than you.”

Since they had never spoken much before, Nie Huaisang had of course expected that Lan Xichen would be a little surprised over such a request. But Lan Xichen wasn’t just surprised, he was shocked, his eyes opening wide and his face growing pale, as if Nie Huaisang had just grown a second head and announced he’d be feeding on the blood of infants. Lan Xichen’s polite smile even dropped for a moment, though of course it quickly returned. In a moment, he had regained perfect control of himself, but Nie Huaisang was still puzzled and entertained by that extreme reaction.

“I’m glad Nie gongzi thinks well of me,” Lan Xichen said calmly. “But I am sure I can find someone better suited to give you a tour.”

“But I want it to be you,” Nie Huaisang insisted, pretending not to notice the other Nie disciples glaring at him for already causing problems on his first day. “It’d be nice if it were you. Da-ge always says you’re so clever and knows so many things, so I really want you to be my guide.”

Lan Xichen appeared to hesitate. Nie Huaisang braced himself for rejection. He hadn’t expected to have his caprice granted anyway, and just wanted to throw it out there that he was going to be pestering Lan Xichen in the future. Then, to his surprise, the older boy nodded.

“Very well. I will give you a tour this afternoon, Nie gongzi,” Lan Xichen said. “I have no urgent obligations, and it is the least I can do for a friend’s relative. Unless shufu has objections?”

Lan Qiren had none. The Nie were left to settle down, promised lunch would be brought to them soon, and then Lan Xichen would come in the early afternoon to show Nie Huaisang around, while someone else would do the same for the other Nie disciples. It was a great plan, a great occasion for Nie Huaisang to gain Lan Xichen’s favour as instructed… and it sounded impossibly boring.

All too soon, the time for that tour came. Nie Huaisang, unhappy with their too simple accomodations and the unappealing meal they had been served, was not in a great mood when Lan Xichen knocked on the door. He had been in the Cloud Recesses less than half a day, and already the place disappointed him.

To his credit, Lan Xichen wasn’t a bad guide. He made sure to match his pace to Nie Huaisang’s as they walked, he had something to explain about nearly every building, and patiently repeated the most important rules of life in the Cloud Recesses which Nie Huaisang had ignored when Lan Qiren gave them. It was easier to listen to Lan Xichen than to Lan Qiren anyway, there was a certain warmth to his voice that his uncle simply lacked. Lan Xichen could probably have made a lecture sound like a conversation. It would have been a very lovely time, if Nie Huaisang had cared about any of that, which he didn’t. Everything in the Cloud Recesses was about cultivation and rules, which was nearly as boring as the Unclean Realm where everything was about cultivation and martial arts.

“And what do you do for fun here?” Nie Huaisang desperately asked after a while when Lan Xichen explained that a certain building was meant to enhance the effects of meditation.

“The library is that way,” Lan Xichen announced.

“Does it have anything fun, or is it only cultivation treaties?”

“We collect poetry and history treaties as well,” Lan Xichen said. “And music sheets, of course,” he added after a moment, looking uncomfortable. “I… are you much interested in music, Nie gongzi?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “No, but I guess it’s better than cultivation, as far as fun things go. I’m supposed to learn the guqin at some point, but it’s hard to find the time, and da-ge prefers that I focus on the sabre.”

“Qinghe Nie has traditionally been more focused on martial arts,” Lan Xichen noted. “Though since you are here, perhaps you might enjoy trying different things. You are here to learn after all.”

Nie Huaisang stared at the older boy with surprise. Up until then, Lan Xichen had never seemed to care what Nie Huaisang did or didn’t do, and he never contradicted Nie Mingjue whenever his friend complained about having a lazy little brother who wasn’t interested in the things he ought to have been interested in. Without being sure, Nie Huaisang suspected that Lan Xichen thought him a little stupid, and just not very skilled in general.

“Maybe it’s worth a try,” Nie Huaisang mused. “I do like music a lot. My father used to say I have a good ear for it. Not like da-ge. He wouldn’t know one melody from another even if his life depended on it!”

“Is that so,” Lan Xichen weakly replied, turning very pale, as if he might faint.

“Lan gongzi, are you unwell?”

“It’s nothing important,” Lan Xichen said, smiling again in that annoying manner of his. “Let’s continue walking. I think you really might like the library, and then… it wouldn’t be part of a normal tour, but would you like me to show you the way to the back hills if we have time? I remember your brother mentioning that you like birds, and there are many to be seen there.”

“That would be lovely,” Nie Huaisang agreed, surprised and delighted by that offer. It was likely that Nie Mingjue had just been complaining about that particular hobby of his, as he so often did, but if Lan Xichen had translated that into something positive, Nie Huaisang was glad. “Do you like birds as well, Lan gongzi?”

“I’ve never paid them much attention,” Lan Xichen admitted. “I suppose they are fine creatures.”

That, clearly, was all he had to say on the subject. It was a very boring answer, Nie Huaisang thought. But then, Lan Xichen really was a boring person, so that was no surprise. Nie Huaisang thus dropped the topic, and forced himself to pay some degree of attention as Lan Xichen resumed talking about the history of the Cloud Recesses.

At least, the library really did seem quite interesting, aside from all the cultivation texts. And since they actually managed to check the back hills for a little bit before dinner, Nie Huaisang had the pleasant surprise to find that there were a great many birds there, as well as plenty of spaces to explore, and quite a few vistas to paint.

Getting along with Lan Xichen was going to be so boring, but at least the rest of his stay could be turned into something quite fun.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #double time travel #jau writes

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getitinbusan · 3 years

Text

The Music Room -

Min Yoongi 18+ Smut

Part of the Lost Boys Series

JIN • NAMJOON • YOONGI •

Warnings: 18+ smut, MF sex, MF oral, A playful bite, Swearing.

Words: 3075

Summary: A stand alone series about a misfit friend group of seven boys. These stories are a day in the life snip it of who they are, where they came from and how they love.

The melody drifting up the barren hall floated through the air like it was made for your ears alone.

The poetic rhythm of the keys made you pause, listening enviously at the talent of whomever was playing.

But who was playing? It was 8 am on a Friday, the room should be vacant. Pulling up the music rooms schedule on your phone, you weren't wrong. The first spot of the day was yours for the entire semester.

You knocked lightly. The sound stopped and the bench made it's familiar dragging noise across the concrete floor.

Pulling the heavy windowless wood open by it's cold handle you peeked inside. He scrambled, seemingly embarrassed, shoving his sheet music into his backpack.

"You should be more careful with your notes, don't want to ruin any masterpieces."

"No fear in that," he mumbled. "They're just a bunch of scribbled ideas."

Pulling the zipper shut he slung it over his shoulder. "Sorry, I didn't know this was your time slot."

"It's fine." you tried to smile at him but he kept his eyes down.

"Don't you have the schools app? I can check to see when you're supposed to be here." You tapped the widget, "What's your name?"

"It's fine, I'm actually not on the schedule."

"Oh, why not? You sounded great. If you missed the cutoff you can still be added to a wait list. People drop out all the time."

He looked up and grinned. By God if he wasn't the most beautiful boy you'd ever seen.

"I don't belong here."

"Don't say that. I was listening and you're really talented, you deserve to be here just as much as any of us."

"I don't though." His eyes met yours and you were done for. "I don't go here, I'm not a student."

"Ahh, I guess that's a problem."

"I already said I'm sorry," he got defensive. "I'll just get out of your way."

He started towards the door.

You tugged his backpack. "So is breaking into schools and playing piano a weird hobby of yours?"

You tried to lighten the mood, "you've got a little Phantom of the Opera University edition kink?"

He laughed. "I'm not technically breaking in, I do have a key fob." He held up the school ID. "It's my roommates. And if you want to know about my kinks you're gonna have to get to know me a little better."

You stepped closer and took it from his hand.

"Park Jimin, Performing Arts." Handing it back you eyed him up and down. "So what's your story….."

"My name's Yoongi."

Pulling a chair out from the corner you sat and rummaged through your backpack until you pulled out your breakfast.

"Listen Yoongi, I was just going to sit here. I need logged practice time for course credit."

You peeled your clementine, "So if you want to stay and play, be my guest."

He looked at you unsure, "Why would you do that for me?"

You smiled and shrugged. "I like your face."

Turning red he plopped his knapsack back onto the floor and reclaimed the bench.

You waited until his fingers were just about to land on the keys. "I do have one condition though."

He froze, "Yeah, what's that?"

"You have to take me for coffee later and tell me your story. Agree?"

"I Agree. But you didn't have to give up your time for that, I was going to ask you out anyway."

You probably wouldn't have given up your time but you were intrigued. Park Jimin was an amazing dancer. The curious boy who was here on scholarship was often the subject of conversation in the dining hall. Not only was he good looking but he was a mystery. He hung out with the strangest group of friends, seven misfit boys who were proud to not fit in. In this small University town they stood out as odd, everyone referred to them as The Lost Boys. Yoongi, now being revealed to you as one of them, seemed harmless enough and the opportunity to get to know a piece of them was too good to pass.

Walking and talking up the worn concrete path you made your way through the bustle of pajama clad students trying to get to class.

"Don't you have to be somewhere?"

"Yeah, but I don't care. I'd rather get to know you."

"You should go, I'm not so important that you should lose a day of school over me."

"It's all bullshit anyway Yoongi, it's not going to get me anywhere."

He stopped abruptly, now just outside the small coffee shop. "You sound like a spoiled brat."

You were shocked, who the hell was he to speak to you like that?

"I'd kill to be in your position and you don't even give a shit about just squandering it away."

He pulled the door open and looked at you crossly. "Still want that coffee?"

You stepped in front of him and shot him a dirty look. "I do. You owe me AND because I'm a brat I'm going to order the fanciest thing on the menu. TO GO!"

He silently walked behind you, following to the counter while you placed your ostentatious order. You stood studying him while he asked for an iced Americano. His blond shaggy hair skimmed his chocolate eyes and his sexy lips seemed to always sit in permanent pout. They looked like they'd be nice to kiss.

"You want to stop staring at me and take your expensive drink. You're holding up the line."

You blushed, knocked from your daydream admiration by his deep voice.

You huffed while pulling the chair out, making a show of your annoyance, situating yourself at the corner table.

"I thought you were getting it to go?" he barbed.

"Why would I do that when I can be a pain in your ass a little bit longer? You promised to tell me your story, let's hear it?"

His inhale was deep. Anxiety? Apprehension? A mix of both? His eyes stared at his coffee while his fingers fiddled with the straw. "I want to be a musician."

"Well I figured that much."

"Listen, if you really want to know can you just shut up? This isn't an easy thing for me to talk about, I don't just tell everyone."

"If you don't want to tell me don't"

He cut you off. "But I do want to, for some stupid reason."

"What reason?"

He exhaled with a smirk. "I like your face."

You smiled, "Then please continue."

"I want to be a musician. I write music and lyrics and it's all I've ever wanted my entire life."

He took a sip of coffee. "My parents didn't approve of my choices so I decided to move out on my own and live my life how I wanted."

You nodded in understanding.

"I didn't take into consideration how hard exactly that would be, but I'm a proud man, and there's no going back."

"So what do you do? You're not a student, do you work?"

"Yeah, I deliver food and groceries part time. It doesn't pay much but the basics are covered."

You looked down at your shitty expensive coffee in guilt, maybe you were just a spoiled brat.

"So whenever I'm not working I try to get as much practice and writing in as I can. I use Jimin's fob to get into the music room and that's where I am most nights...all night." he shrugged in omission.

"So no time for a girlfriend?" you felt silly the moment it left your lips.

"I didn't think so." He looked up for the first time since the conversation started. "But," he smiled, "I think given the right person priorities could definitely be changed."

Talking into the afternoon time flew away. Several less expensive coffees later he looked at his phone and frowned. "I've got to go to work."

He stood up and gathered his things. "But I'd love it if we could see each other again."

You stood to go too. "Next Friday 8am? I can let you in with my fob?"

"That sounds really nice." His hand reached out and his fingers brushed across yours as he took the tray from you. "But I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait that long. We're having a party tonight at our place...will you come?"

You sat on the edge of the sofa watching the group around you getting drunk and philosophical. Definitely nothing like a frat party, these guys were a different breed.

His roommates were all handsome in their own way and something about them just set you at ease. No pretensions, no apologies, they were just who they were having fun.

Finally seeing him walk through the door your heart raced when his eye caught yours.

"I'm sorry I'm late, they kept getting orders."

"It's okay. Your roommate..." you pointed to Seokjin. "The one with the really broad shoulders, he kept me entertained with some pretty good jokes."

He scrunched his nose, "really, really sorry."

You pulled a bottle vodka out of your purse and raised your brows. "Are you ready for some fun."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the couch until you were close enough to hear without having to shout.

"I'd like to grab a shower. Do you want to wait in my room for me? I mean...if you're uncomfortable down here by yourself."

It was a no brainer, the sexual tension and chemistry you'd had all day was like a current of electricity running between you.

"Lead the way."

You looked around his room while he was showering. Sure the mattress was on the floor but the bed was made and his clothes were hung neatly in the closet. His dresser was stacked with notebooks that were overflowing with lyrics. Pieces of paper with doodles and random words loosely spilling from between the pages.

Pictures, they must be family, small resemblances in their smiles and it looked like he had a brother.

He had a shelf full of colognes. Picking up the Paco Rabanne he walked in as you were pulling the cap off to sniff it.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to be nosey, I just wanted to know what you smelled like." Idiot, of all the creepy things to say.

He smiled, "It's alright, I'm not hiding anything."

"No," your cheeks flushed when it finally registered that he was half naked in front of you. "I guess you really aren't."

"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just forgot to grab my clean clothes before I went in." He opened a drawer to pull out a shirt.

"It doesn't," you blurted embarrassed.

He pulled his hand away from the clothing and raised his brows quizzically, "So you don't want me to get dressed?"

You walked towards him, he was gorgeous. Water droplets still clung to his muscular chest like he couldn't afford the time away from you to fully dry himself.

"I think," you stammered, "That I'd actually prefer if you didn't."

You placed your hand on his bicep and waited for his response.

It didn't come from words, it came from two soft warm lips attaching themselves to yours.

"You're a good good kisser Min Yoongi. Is your mouth that good at everything?"

"You mean like singing?" He teased your lips with his while he popped the button on your jeans.

"No," you giggled.

"Then you must mean biting?" His teeth lightly bit the flesh of your thigh as he kneeled to lower your pants and underwear.

"Nope, that's not what I meant either."

"Oh, I know, you must mean eating?" His warm tongue found your clit and gave it a little flick. "I think I'm pretty good at it."

You ran your fingers through his hair while he looked up at you hungry.

"Prove it," you moaned."

Stepping out of your pants you leaned back against his dresser. Ass resting on the edge he opened your thighs, a low mumble of, "fuck" drifting out of his mouth before he dove in.

His large hands held you open while his silky tongue explored every crevice of your sex sending your senses into a frenzy. Coming up for air every so often he'd moan at the loss of your taste before inhaling and going back in for more. He wasn't methodical, his mouth was unpredictable. One minute his tongue would be deep inside you and the next he'd have his lips around your clit sucking softly.

"Come over here with me."

He led you to the bed, taking off your shirt before guiding you down. Your eyes ran over his body stopping at the bulge under the tightly wrapped terry cloth towel. The wetness in between your legs grew just thinking about getting to see it.

He laid down beside you, holding your face and kissing you while you reached to undo his shroud.

Smiling, he pulled your hand away, "I'm not done with you yet. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

You had to rub your legs together for friction, he was driving you wild. "This morning, when I watched you playing?"

He smiled like he knew.

"All I could think of was how sexy your..." He stopped your words by hooking two fingers into your mouth and rubbing them against your tongue.

"You were thinking about how good these would feel inside you?" He kissed your neck, "You really know what you want huh?"

"Some people even say I'm spoiled."

"Do you always get your way?"

He plunged them inside of you changing your words of, "I hope so," into a long drawn out moan.

Kissing his way down your neck and over your collar bones his mouth lingered on your breasts. Skimming his lips across your nipples he watched as they hardened into excited little buds. A small smile graced his face, he was clearly proud of how he was making your body react.

His long piano fingers played skillfully inside of you while he latched onto your nipple and suckled. Your heart beat loudly like it was part of the parties soundtrack, the music reverberating through the floor as he fingered you. The whole unfolding scene felt like a dream. Dizzy and intoxicated from lust and heavy breathing you didn't want to wake up to a reality other than this one.

A thud outside the door snapped you back, your thighs clamping shut on his hand as you pulled the covers up to hide yourself.

"It's locked, nobody can get in, don't worry." He pulled the sheet back off of you to continue his work.

"Are you sure they can't get in?"

A loud moan rang through the hall and the thuds against the wall gave away the truth.

"I'm sure they have their own agenda."

You flopped back trying to regain the moment while his fingers stroked your walls.

It was distracting at first, people fucking right outside his door. But a few minutes of listening to their pleasure, of hearing their moans and the pleas of harder, you were more turned on than ever.

He watched you unravelling at the pornographic sounds. "You wanna cum when they do?"

"Please..please," you begged in time with the drag of his fingers.

The sounds escalating on both sides of the wall seemed to add fuel to the fires of both immanent orgasms. Just as the stranger in the hall screamed her end, Yoongi pumped and sucked harder until you finished longer and louder than your unknown counterpart. He laughed as he pulled his fingers out of you, the strings of excitement cleaned off with a lurid suck of his own digits.

Your head was still reeling when he pulled his towel off. His thick beautiful cock looked so hard and ripe as he reached in his drawer for a condom.

"Can I put it on you?" You took it from his hand and ripped the package open. Holding it between your fingertips you got closer and ran your tongue around the head of his cock. The taste of pre cum on his freshly washed dick made you ready for more.

Giving him a few deep sucks and pumps you needed him now. He watched while you rolled the thin latex tightly over his twitching thickness and straddled him, wasting no time to begin bouncing on his cock.

Your kisses were messy, hands entwined in his hair, your breasts grazing against his skin with every thrust while you rode him. "Fuck, you feel so good."

His hands gripped your ass squeezing as he moaned underneath you. Orgasm building like a hurricane, the eye of the perfect storm became more imminent with every slide of your pleasure point against his soaked pubic trail.

"Make me cum Yoongi."

He flipped you swiftly onto your back and his hips picked up the pace to the finish line. Thrusting in between your open thighs his cock drove you to convulsively cum, your cunt squeezing his own warm liquid into the condom between you.

He lay with his arms around you in silence. Your head on his chest listening to his heart slowly make it's way back to a normal pace.

"I can't promise you anything more than who I am. I don't have anything to offer you but dreams that may or may not come true."

He stroked your hair as he spoke his truth. "I'm working hard, but I can't guarantee that I'll ever amount to anything more than a delivery boy."

You sat up on your elbow and stared at the man you'd just fallen in love with. "I want to share all of my time with you Yoongi. In fact, I insist you take it. I've heard you play and I believe in you."

You waited until your lips were just about to land on his. "I do have one condition though."

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Yeah, what's that?"

"You've got to promise you'll write me a song. Agree?"

His fingers splayed caressing your back, he couldn't help the huge smile that took over his face when he kissed you.

"I agree. But you didn't have to give up your time for that, I was going to do it anyway."

#Yoongi #Yoongi smut #bts smut #bts #min yoongi #lost boys series #Happy Birthday Yoongi #suga day

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Text

ok i have an inbox full of prompts, but i was making valentine’s day plans & all of a sudden felt very inspired to write some valentine’s day gallavich! featuring uncle mickey, homemade cards and a lot of domestic fluff- i’ll probs have a part two up sometime this week!<3

It was a lazy, slow-paced Sunday afternoon at the Gallagher house. Mickey had been lying on the couch passively watching trashy reality TV for god knows how long—and apparently at some point he’d fallen asleep, because now the TV volume was just a low hum, and he was being woken up to the startling crash of the kitchen back door slamming shut, and the rustling of shoes and coats being taken off and discarded by the front door.

“Alright Franny, let’s set this stuff up on the kitchen table.” Mickey heard Ian’s voice sail across the room, his eyes still closed to block out the cheery sunshine teeming in the living room.

Mickey tried to doze off again, attempting to block out the bright light infiltrating his eyelids, but it was no use— whatever Ian and Franny were doing, murmuring and clanging in the kitchen, there was no way for Mickey to escape the sound now and drift back into his sunwarmed sleep. He begrudgingly shoved the scratchy crocheted blanket off of his lap, stretching as he rose and stumbled into the kitchen.

He wasn’t expecting the carnage that he saw when he turned the corner; the kitchen table was covered in an explosion of sheets of multicolored construction paper, all reds and pinks and whites, with tiny multicolored stickers and tubes of glitter and shiny ribbons arranged and spread wide across the countertop, scattered with glue sticks and pairs of scissors and an exploded box of crayons. There was a small mountain of cut-out hearts piled high on the table, smattered with glitter-glue and blocky handwriting.

Mickey rubbed his eyes, taking in the scene. “What’re you two Picassos up to?” he asked drowsily.

Ian looked up, his eyes light. “Look who’s awake!” He gestured at the table emphatically, like it was Christmas morning. “Isn’t it great? Me and Franny grabbed all this stuff at the dollar store for less than ten bucks. The glue sticks definitely kind of suck, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

Mickeys eyes scanned to Franny, who was hard at work trying to cut a shape out of a piece of red construction paper, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ian kept chattering on as he unwrapped another sheath of the paper.

“Debbie left Franny with me since some rich lady called her with a weekend handywoman emergency that popped up at the last minute, so now I’m helping Franny make her valentines for school.”

Mickey scoffed. “Fucking valentines?”

Ian rolled his eyes as he contentedly started to glue together two pieces of paper. “Yes, Mickey, valentines. You know, those nice things that normal people give to each other on Valentine’s Day, along with a box of chocolates or some shit and a note about how much they love each other—”

“Yes, I know what they are, smartass. Don’t know why you didn’t just buy the little cardboard ones at the store though.”

Ian smirked, his eyes still focused on the paper beneath him that he was smudging glitter on. “Yeah, well. Franny wanted to make them, and I thought it’d be kind of fun.”

Just then Franny gasped triumphantly, raising a lopsided and crumpled paper heart up for Mickey to see. “Look, Uncle Mickey! I cut a heart! Uncle Ian showed me how!”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, who had a sheepish look on his face. “Didn’t know you had so many hidden talents, Gallagher.”

Ian flashed a grin. “I used to be really into art class in elementary school, what can I say.”

Franny looked up at Mickey with wide eyes. “Do you want to make valentines with us? We have to make twenty-seven, because that’s the number of people in my class.”

Mickey faltered. Sitting here gluing fucking glitter to pieces of paper was not exactly what he’d had in mind as his plans for the weekend…

“Uh. That’s okay kiddo. I think you two’ve got it covered.”

Franny seemed to readily accept Mickey’s answer, instantly looking downward again and grabbing a fistful of crayons from the table to continue enhancing her masterpiece. Ian, on the other hand, tore his gaze from his own valentine.

“Oh c’mon Mick, you don’t wanna help?” Ian asked, his voice goading and his eyebrows raised.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” He turned, walking over to open the fridge and grabbing a beer from the top shelf.

“C’mon, just one valentine. Franny can show you how to cut out a heart shape, right Fran?”

Franny nodded vigorously. “Yes, I know how!”

Mickey took a swig of his beer and sighed. “Jesus, fine.” He pulled a chair between Ian and Franny, slowly scraping it on the linoleum, and then perched on the edge uncomfortably. “Alright Franny, show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, so the first thing that you have to do is pick which color is your favorite. What’s your favorite color?”

Mickey had taken another sip of his beer, and now he sputtered slightly. “I don’t know Franny, you pick for me.”

Franny’s face melted into a pout. “But you have to pick, Uncle Mickey, it’s your favorite color!”

Ian bit back a laugh, his eyes still bright and cheerful. “Yeah, Mick, c’mon. What is your favorite color? We’ve never gotten this deep in our relationship before.”

Mickey gulped again from his beer can and flipped Ian off in the process. “I don’t fucking know. Never thought about it before.”

Franny held the stack of construction paper up to Mickey. “Look! There’s red, and yellow, and blue, and purple, and green—”

Mickey cut her off. “Uh, give me a green one.”

Ian smirked. “Green?”

“Fuck you, it was the first color I thought of.” Of course, that wasn’t really true—if Mickey needed to have a favorite fucking color, it was obviously going to be green, like the green eyes that met his gaze every morning and were the last thing he saw before he went to sleep at night— even if he would never be caught dead admitting that sappy bullshit to Ian.

Ian looked like he was holding back a smile. “Right,” he mused. “Hey, Franny, pass me a blue paper? Cause y’know, that’s my favorite color.”

Mickey gently shoved Ian in the square of his chest. “You’re being fucking soft.”

Ian let a crooked smile burst onto his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Mickey leaned back in his chair, holding the piece of thick green paper in front of him appraisingly. “Okay Franny, what’s step two?”

Franny stretched her body across the table to reach for one of the strewn pairs of scissors. “Now, you fold the paper in half, and then you cut out the shape of half of a heart, like this.” She drew an example of the curved pattern on the backside of Mickey’s paper with the tip of her finger. “And then you unfold it and it’ll be a perfect shape!”

“Sounds easy enough.”

Mickey took the scissors from Franny’s grasp, and held them up to the paper. It was just a fucking half circle with a little indent at the top— this wasn’t going to be too difficult. Ian and Franny went back to being absorbed in crafting their valentines, while Mickey started to botch and slash at his piece of construction paper.

When he was finally satisfied he unfolded the shape, the outer shell of the paper falling away. It was… well, it was kind of a heart, with two slanted sides and a wonky top half. It looked more like a blob attached to an angle than anything else.

Ian looked up from where he was doodling on a glittery heart and snickered.

“That’s uh… that’s a good first try, Mick.”

Mickey slammed the piece of paper down onto the table. Fucking arts and crafts, he was never good at this shit even when he was little—he fingers were always too fumbling, too clumsy for him to make anything delicate and pristine. Ian’s hands should have been as ungainly as his, but instead they were quick and nimble, smoothly cutting perfectly-rounded circles and gluing neat lines of glitter.

Franny noticed that Mickey was done cutting his shape. “Good job Uncle Mickey! Now you just have to draw on it, and put on stickers and glitter.”

“Yeah Mickey, let’s see those artistic skills.”

Mickey aggressively flicked some flecks of glitter from the table in Ian’s direction, then picked up a crayon and gripped it with an iron fist. What the fuck was he supposed to draw? This was a valentine for kids at Franny’s school, the fuck did kids like anyways? He started to draw some sort of stick figure, but the arms were too long and the head was too small, so he tried to color over it and make some sort of tree or some shit…

As Mickey scratched at the paper, he looked over at noticed suddenly how content Ian looked—how blissed out and settled he was, just running a crayon over the colorful paper and shaking bits of glitter onto pools of glue. If Mickey was being honest, he hadn’t seen Ian this light and happy in a while; he’d had a hunch in his shoulders for months after the wedding and the pandemic and all the minimum-wage job bullshit, the shadows of expectation hanging over him and causing a deflated weariness in his gaze that was impossible to ignore. But right now, Ian looked like he was having as much fun as Franny was, practically vibrating with satisfaction as he put the finishing touches on his drawing and reaching to place his completed valentine in the growing pile.

Mickey snatched the paper out of Ian’s hand, slightly crumpling it around the edges. “Wait a second. How the fuck did you do that?”

The valentine was immaculate, the heart symmetrical and traced in a thin outline of glitter. In the center of the paper there was a perfect little cartoon of a dog in a top hat, with an air bubble that read “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ian shrugged. “Watched a lot of cartoons when I was little. And I’ve always kind of liked to draw.”

Mickey shoved the valentine back in front of Ian. Goddamn perfect fucking husband who’s good at fucking everything. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, suddenly losing all motivation to play along.

Ian smirked, then reached to rest a hand on the back of Mickey’s neck. “Giving up already?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Gallagher.”

Ian’s smile just widened. “Here, how about I cut the fucking shapes and you glue stuff onto them. That’d still help me and Franny a lot, right?”

Franny nodded. “It’s okay Uncle Mickey, I was bad at cutting the shapes too at first.”

Mickey huffed. Okay, so maybe he was horrible at this shit, but the least he could do was suck it up for Franny’s sake. “Fine,” he muttered, and grabbed a glue stick and a bottle of glitter.

A few minutes passed and they settled into a comfortable silence, enveloped in the sound of the scissors gliding and Franny scribbling on paper.

Suddenly, Franny looked up as Mickey reached across the table to grab a pad of stickers.

“Hey Uncle Mickey, what do you and Uncle Ian do for Valentine’s Day?”

Mickey didn’t really know how to answer that question— he darted a glance over at Ian, trying to signal as much. Could you ruin the spirit of Valentine’s Day for kids in the same way you could fuck up Christmas? “Uh, nothing really.”

Ian chimed in. “We used to like Valentine’s Day when we were little like you Franny, but now that we’re big we don’t really celebrate it. Right Mick?”

“Yup.”

Franny’s brows were furrowed again, this time in contemplation. “But. You love each other, right?”

“Sure, Franny. But we don’t need a special day for us to remember that,” Ian explained.

Franny seemed appeased enough by that answer to resume her drawing. “You don’t give each other valentines or candy or anything?”

Mickey almost laughed. Of course he and Ian had never celebrated fucking Valentine’s Day; if he was being honest, he didn’t remember even really thinking about Valentine’s Day before now, other than it being a day when Mandy came home crying in middle school because the boy she liked didn’t ask her out, or buying all the half-priced chocolates in red and pink wrappers at the drugstore a week later with his brothers. With all the shit in his life the past few years, frilly fucking holidays like Valentine’s Day were just… not on Mickey’s radar.

But maybe— maybe this year was different. This year, for maybe the first time in his life, Mickey felt secure and steady in a way that he never had before, like the ground was solid beneath him and wasn’t going to cave in at any minute. He had a fucking husband that he loved—why couldn’t they celebrate Valentine’s Day like a normal goddamn couple? Ian didn’t seem to be too bothered that they both didn’t give a fuck about the holiday, which was all the more reason to catch him off guard. He kept pressing stickers down onto the construction paper, his mind starting to churn.

By the time they’d made the twenty-seven fucking valentines, Mickey had made up his mind; this year, he and Ian were going to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

part two here!

#my bbys definitely do not seem the type to celebrate valentines day #but i had to make them try lol #lmk if u are interested in a part two!#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey

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systematicallycapricious · 2 years

Photo

Misc. collective doodles round 2!

The top 2 are from an expressions practice thing I was doing for SholarAU, which is why the scar patterning is a bit different than the one shown in the Ultimax manga. (Albeit I haven’t really settled on a set scar patterning for this Sho yet, so these are just kind of random placeholders for now. :P)

The middle two are just random late night doodles if I recall, and aren’t really from anything in specific. Just random thoughts getting intertangled while I work on other things, hehe.

Tsukis! Also from SholarAU, and also more idle expressions doodling (because I haven’t really had the focus to do more involved art lately. <_<; ), with a small guest appearance from another character. He isn’t technically supposed to have a cloak, but I had ‘Tsuki the Persona’ and not ‘Tsuki the character design that I’d made before’ pulled-up for reference, so don’t mind that too much. >w>;

And lastly Izayoi! ...of which the art is actually from like last March but I only got around to finishing coloring a couple days ago. Anyways, Izayoi’s an AU Sho and Minazuki from a non-fandom species of mine. Summarily, the species has a special connection to the life energy that threads throughout the multiverse that both allows and compels them to travel between various worlds, thanks to a patron deity of sorts with domains over stuff like life, travelers, and etc. Akatsuki and Akari got those names instead of “Minazuki” and “Sho” because multiversal divergence. :P

Izayoi Fun facts:

They’re both twin flames and biological twins.

Mentally, Akatsuki is agender, while Akari is male. Physically, they’re both masculine.

Their face “scar” is actually a marking, not a scar, though Akari probably does have a couple scars elsewhere on his body.

Akatsuki has affinities to ice and darkness, while Akari has affinities to fire and kinetic energy.

The two of them got separated at a young age thanks to Akari wandering through a spacetime rift while Akatsuki wasn’t looking. The two do eventually reunite, but it takes them quite a long while to happen to cross paths with one another. (The multiverse is a very big place, after all.)

Beyond their innate instincts to travel, the two of them have this sort of strange yearning that they can’t really make sense of. Like there’s somewhere they’re meant to go in specific, though they have no idea what or why that is. It’s actually just them vaguely sensing one another through the life energy of the multiverse, albeit not strongly enough to actually be able to discern where one another are.

“Akari” isn’t actually Akari’s birth name. Originally, he and Akatsuki were supposed to be “Izayoi” when they were one soul, but when they diverged into two, their patron gave them the additional names of “Akatsuki” and “Aketomo” to reflect that. “Akari” came from Akatsuki insisting on calling Aketomo that when they were still really young, and ended up sticking in Aketomo’s mind once he wandered off, to the point that he remembered that over “Aketomo” as his name. Neither of them remember that happening though, given they weren’t yet old enough to form memories that complex.

Akatsuki’s favorite type of place to visit is “a quiet reprieve in the middle of a bustling area”. So like for (a not particularly great) example... a cafe on a big city main street with a big window looking out onto that street.

Akari’s an adrenaline junkie, so he tends to like exploring more dangerous places. (Dangerous places with a good view are especially places he likes.)

Akatsuki has a sixth sense that Akari doesn't, which at times leads to them sensing the energy of Akari's emotions through their souls' bond. Conversely, their own emotions can affect Akari, but Akari generally can't tell that those foreign emotions are present; though if they're particularly strong, he can recognize their existence (as it's kind of slapping him in the face), they just feel like they're coming from himself and not someone else.

Both as a little kid and as an adult, Akari has the habit of trying to climb over Akatsuki if Akatsuki is in the way of something he’s trying to get to or somewhere he’s trying to go. Even while they’re like weirdly familiar strangers to one another after they first meet again. Akatsuki eventually learns to just let him do his thing, because trying to get out of his way only makes him climb on you more, for whatever reason.

The scales and horns were originally going to be white and black, like Tsukiyomi, but it looked weird so I changed it to red instead. P: (Also I wholly apologize if that scales texture looks awful. I don’t have the time to try and figure out how to fix it right now because that requires learning a whole new graphics program with a hefty learning curve. T-T)

Something more like Sho’s manga epilogue attire would probably be more fitting for Akari’s attire than Sho’s iconic Ultimax garb, but I didn’t yet know about the manga when I drew this, so. <_<;

#Sho Minazuki #ミナヅキショウ #Tsukiyomi (Persona)#Unit 024 #ツキヨミ (ペルソナ)#Sholar System AU #SystematicallyArtistic #Sho's hair is fur you cannot convince me otherwise #It's just too fluffy to be legit hair xP #Oops my original content making is leaking into my fandom work again TwT;#What are consistent characterizations? I only know curiosity and a 1000 myriad directions I can take it-#(I've actually been doodling a fair bit of 024 lately but most of them aren't good enough to post; alas :T)

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remywrites5 · 4 years

Text

Remus looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He really needed to get more sleep, the bags under his eyes had taken up permanent residence there, and his roots were starting to come in. He spat into the sink and then rinsed his toothbrush off. When he glanced back up at himself, there was the same harrowing reflection staring back. He needed to at least re-dye his hair pink or else pick a different colour.

He’d dyed it pink on a whim after his last breakup. He thought maybe going from his usual tawny curls to something else would make him more exciting, more cheerful, more something. “Why are you never smiling?” Benjy had asked Remus all the time. As if Remus should just constantly be smiling like some kind of insane person.

Remus walked over to his desk and flopped into his rolling chair. He sat with one leg bent up towards his chest and hunched over his tablet. The thing was so old it was practically a dinosaur. The program he used to draw on was always crashing – causing Remus to do almost constant saving. Drawing web comics wasn’t exactly the most lucrative use of his art degree, but it paid the bills.

There was some sort of ungodly sound outside and then the distinct clatter of something breaking. Remus jumped to his feet in surprise, wondering if someone had climbed up to his flat to murder him. Two shadows appeared at his door and then one of them knocked. Well, if they were murderers, they were of the polite variety.

Remus walked over tentatively, his pen for his tablet still in his hand as his only means of defense. He figured at the least maybe he could poke a few eyes.

“I don’t think anyone is home.”

“He has to be home. I haven’t seen him leave the house in days.”

“Hmm, paying close attention, are we?”

“Shut up, Jamie.”

“Ow!”

Confused, Remus opened the door to find two guys standing on the other side. The dark-skinned one with glasses immediately smiled, while the pale one with long dark hair kept his face neutral.

“Hiya! I’m James and this is Sirius,” James said, moving what was in his hand so that he could wave. “We run the bakery downstairs. We just came to introduce ourselves and bring you these!”

Remus took the container when James offered it, still a little bit stunned by the whole thing, and opened it up. Inside was an assortment of baked goods. “Oh. Thank you,” Remus said, a little bit at a loss for words. “This is really nice.”

Remus was suddenly struck by the fact that two very attractive men were on his doorstep and Remus was wearing the same hoodie he’d worn for three days. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d put on deodorant. Embarrassed beyond belief, Remus felt his cheeks flush.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” James prompted his friend, shoving at Sirius’ shoulder.

“Hi,” Sirius said, running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

Remus swallowed thickly and quickly put the container of goodies down. He didn’t trust his shaking hands not to drop them. “Nice to meet you.”

“Whoa, are you an artist?” James asked, noticing the pen in Remus’ hand. “Do you think you could design something for us?”

“James, don’t impose,” Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m not imposing!” James insisted, turning and shooting Sirius a look. “We’ll pay for the work. It’s just right now our menus are so bland! They don’t really say ‘Padfoot and Prongs’ Patisserie.”

“That’s a fancy name,” Remus said, tucking the pen behind his ear so that he could shove his hands in his pockets. Suddenly they’d gotten all sweaty.

“Yeah well, this wanker is half French, so he wouldn’t let me call it a pastry shop,” James said teasingly. “By the way, you haven’t told us your name.”

“Oh,” Remus said, realizing that James was right. He shuffled his feet slightly and kind of wished James and Sirius would leave. He hadn’t had such a long social interaction in months. This was getting to be a bit much, and James’ enthusiasm was draining. “Remus. Remus Lupin.”

“So do you think you can design something for our menus?” James asked excitedly, his hazel eyes big behind his glasses.

“Um, sure, I’ll take a stab at it,” Remus offered, even though he kind of didn’t want to. He had deadlines to meet and he was already a little behind. But then James and Sirius had brought him baked goods without having even met Remus before. Besides, how hard could designing a menu be?

“Great!” James said, slapping Sirius on the back. “Isn’t that great, Padfoot?”

Sirius sighed. “Sure is.”

Remus pulled out his wallet and handed James one of his business cards. It had been Benjy’s idea that Remus get them. This was only the second Remus had even given out. The first one had been given the Benjy. What a waste of money.

“My email is at the bottom,” Remus explained, pointing to it on the card. “Just send me the details of what you want and I’ll work something up.”

Sirius tilted his head to the side. “What are your rates?”

“Um…” Fuck, Remus hadn’t exactly thought about it. He knew what he charged per page on his web comic but this was completely different. “How about you just, um, let me get a free baked good from time to time and we’ll call it even?”

“Of course!” James said, nodding emphatically.

“Hold on,” Sirius interjected, putting his hand up to stop James. “For the rest of time you want free shit from us? Just for a doodle?”

“Sirius –“ James cut in, his face slightly aghast at his friend’s harsh tone.

“I – I won’t abuse it or anything,” Remus said, feeling his face heat. Christ, the way Sirius was looking at him made him nervous. “It won’t be every day or anything like that.”

Sirius huffed and turned his face away. “Fine. But I reserve the right to cut you off.”

“Okay.”

“Perfect,” James said, tugging on Sirius’ arm. “We should get back downstairs. We’ve still got a lot to do before we open. I’ll email you later, Remus!”

“Sounds good,” Remus said, waving after them as they started down the fire escape. The moment he closed the door, he felt like he could breathe a little easier. He didn’t know what Sirius’ problem was, but the fewer interactions Remus had with him the better.

***

Remus finished up the latest update for his comic and sat back with a groan. It was already 10:30 at night and Remus hadn’t had any dinner. For once he had been in a good flow and hadn’t wanted to stop. Now his stomach was so empty it hurt. He couldn’t remember eating breakfast either.

He walked over to where he had left the baked good James had dropped off and carried the container into bed. He sat munching on them as he scrolled through his phone. He had eaten about half of them when he remembered James was supposed to contact him. He pulled up his email and sure enough there was a message from James Potter.

Apparently they wanted something kind of classy involving a buck and a black dog. Remus was intrigued, and popped a custard crème into his mouth. Their stuff really was mouth-wateringly good. Remus was glad he had asked for pastries instead of cash. While he could use the money, he tended to live on instant noodles and bacon sandwiches. Having something from the bakery from time to time would be a real treat.

***

Remus’ flat was on the top floor of the building and it meant he had almost exclusive rooftop access. He hadn’t done much with it except put out a table and two chairs. He really only went out there to smoke anyway. He stood by the side of the roof with his elbows on the ledge, watching the street below, his cigarette resting between his lips.

Sirius exited the bakery and walked down the side alley of the building. He seemed to be having a heated discussion with someone on the phone. Remus felt himself tracking Sirius with his eyes, even though he didn’t mean to.

“Damn it, Reg, I already told you –“ Sirius seemed to be cut off by the other person on the phone. “I don’t care if they cut me off. I’m not going on a blind date that my mum set up with a woman! I haven’t lived in that house for five years and she still thinks she can control me. Now she’s even roping you into it.”

Remus felt a bit bad for eavesdropping, but the street was relatively quiet at that time of day, so it was difficult not to hear. Remus wondered why Sirius had said woman like that, as if he were offended by being set up with someone female. Remus didn’t want to get his hopes up that Sirius might also be gay. Thinking that was a dangerous route to go down. He tried to finish up his cigarette and go back inside before he was spotted, but it seemed Sirius was done with his conversation. He dropped his phone by his side and looked up at the sky. His eyes seemed to immediately land on Remus and Remus felt his cheeks heat up in response. He took a slow drag of his ciggy and let it out, letting his eyes drift away as if he hadn’t just been staring.

He wasn’t wholly surprised when he heard footsteps making their way up the fire escape. He finished his cigarette and lit another one. He usually didn’t chain smoke like this, considering all the nicotine often made him dizzy, due to how little he ate most days. He turned when Sirius made it onto the roof and somehow managed to meet Sirius’ accusing stare.

“How much of that did you hear?” Sirius asked, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Remus scratched his cheek with his free hand. “Uh, the whole thing?”

Sirius sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Can I bum one of those?”

Remus opened the pack and shook one out towards Sirius. Sirius slid it between his lips and leaned in when Remus flicked the lighter to light it. Remus hadn’t noticed it the first time they met, but Sirius had grey eyes. Remus had never seen someone with eyes like that before.

Remus had no idea what to say, so he just continued smoking, watching Sirius out of his peripheral vision. It was a little awkward, but not unbearably so, and it seemed Sirius was happy to smoke in silence. Sirius’ apron was covered in flour, and what Remus hoped was jam of some kind. not something more nefarious based on its red colour. The last thing he needed was a Sweeney Todd situation in his building.

Remus and Sirius finished their cigarettes at the same time and both killed them in the ashtray. They were standing so close, should to shoulder, and Remus had no idea why that made his heart race. He turned towards Sirius in order to say his goodbyes, and suddenly Sirius was even closer.

“Well, I should –“

Remus didn’t finish that sentence as Sirius was leaning in. He was moving with intent and his lips just barely brushed against Remus’. Remus gasped, the sound getting swallowed up as Sirius’ lips pressed more firmly against Remus’. Remus let himself enjoy it for a moment, Christ, it had been so long since he’d kissed someone, before he brought himself back to his sense.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, pushing Sirius away.

Sirius’ eyes searched Remus’ for a moment and then he took another step back. “Fuck, I – I’m sorry. I don’t even have an excuse.”

Remus grinned as he watched Sirius flounder for a moment. He decided to let Sirius off the hook. It was just a little kiss after all. “Hey, I’m almost done with the menu design. Do you want to see it?”

The tension in Sirius’ shoulders ebbed at Remus’ offer. “Yeah, sure.”

Remus told Sirius to sit down at the little table while Remus went inside to get his tablet. He brought it out and sat down across from Sirius. He opened up the menu design and placed it in front of Sirus. He was actually a little nervous as Sirius looked it over. It was a buck and a dog running through a forest surrounded by berry bushes. James had explained in the email that their homemade jam was a huge selling point for them and they wanted the menu to emphasize that.

“It’s not too dark, is it?” Remus asked, chewing his bottom lip.

“No, I think it’s perfect.” Sirius glanced up, and for the first time Remus had seen, Sirius smiled. “We’re doing a soft opening in two days. You should come.”

“Will I have to pay?” Remus teased, resting his chin in his hand and looking at Sirius.

Sirius laughed. “Fine, you don’t have to pay. What kind of pastry do you like best? I’ll make it for you.”

Remus considered it for a moment. “Jammy dodgers.”

Sirius’ grin widened. “You got it.”

***

Remus went to the soft opening, even though he hadn’t been around that many people in a while, and it put his social anxiety through the roof. He met James’ wife, Lily, and their son, Harry. He also met quite a few of James and Sirius’ closest friends. Even though everyone was very nice, Remus couldn’t help feeling a bit like an outsider.

However, Remus didn’t miss the way that his jammy dodgers seemed to be the only ones with little hearts in the middle. That knowledge alone was enough to make him stick around.

***

Remus was in trouble. His web comic was about a werewolf and a vampire that fell in love with each other. The werewolf character struck a striking resemblance to Remus, although the character had Remus’ original hair colour. The idea had come to him based on his name. The vampire character, however, had short dark hair and red eyes. Yet, whenever Remus found himself drawing him, his hair seemed to be getting progressively longer for no discernable reason and his eyes seemed to be grey.

It didn’t help that Remus saw Sirius pretty much every day. During his lunch break, Sirius would bring up something from the bakery, and they would sit together at the little table and eat and smoke. Remus had gotten to know Sirius, little by little, cracking away at Sirius’ shell to the gooey center underneath. Despite his first impression of Sirius, and his original cold exterior, Remus found the man himself was mushy and romantic and sweet.

Remus told Sirius about the fact that he’d always meant to make a little rooftop garden, but as of yet hadn’t really gotten around to buying any plants. Sirius showed up the next day with a little tree.

“It’s called Dogwood,” he’d said with a knowing grin. He had continued to buy Remus several flowers and plants since then. He’d even brought some herbs for cooking, even though Remus insisted he didn’t really cook. Every time Sirius and Remus found a place for the new plant, Sirius would get that same smile. A smile that had started to cause butterflies in Remus’ stomach.

There was no talk about the conversation Remus had overheard or of the kiss they’d shared. Remus figured both topics were off limits.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t get Sirius out of his head.

***

Remus dropped his head back and groaned. “I told you if you didn’t stop me I would eat all six éclairs.”

“An impressive feat,” Sirius said, grinning behind his wine glass as he took a sip.

“I hate you,” Remus said, scrubbing his hand over his face. He was starting to sweat a bit from overeating. “I’m going to put on so much weight.”

“You could use some more meat on your bones,” Sirius responded with a shrug. “You barely eat as it is.”

“I was right, this is a Sweeney Todd situation, you’re fattening me up to put me in a pie,” Remus bemoaned, clutching his stomach. That last éclair had really done him in.

“We don’t even serve meat pies at the bakery,” Sirius said in amusement. “I think you’re safe.”

“I’m not buying it,” Remus said, staring at Sirius accusingly. “Why else would you bring me all these sweets?”

Sirius glanced away, twirling his wine glass between his fingers. “For an excuse to come see you.”

“Oh,” Remus said, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Really?”

Sirius stood up and walked over to Remus, placing his hand on the back of Remus’ chair, and leaning into him. “So, I made a mess of our first kiss. Think you might let me try again?”

“Um.” Remus stared up at Sirius and let out a shaky breath. “Yes. W-we can do that.”

Sirius slid his fingers through Remus’ curls until his hand came to rest at the back of Remus’ head. Then he guided their lips together into a soft kiss. Remus opened his mouth first, and Sirius was quick to follow suit, their tongues meeting in a mixture of chocolate, wine and cigarettes. Remus eagerly chased the taste from Sirius’ mouth.

Sirius pulled back after a few life-altering moments. Remus felt his eyes flutter open to find that Sirius was smiling at him. God, Remus loved it when Sirius smiled. “I could eat you up, I really could,” Sirius sang softly.

Remus busted out laughing. “Do not sing Sweeney Todd at me when you’re trying to be romantic.”

Sirius chuckled and pulled Remus up into a hug. “Noted. Should I just tell you I love you then?”

Remus hugged Sirius back, burying his face in Sirius’ neck, ignoring the deep blush currently on his face. “I-I think that would work.”

“Well?” Sirius asked expectantly, turning his face and pressing a kiss to Remus’ forehead.

Remus hugged Sirius tighter. “I love you too.”

Remus stood there, in a moment so like a fairy tale that he didn’t want it to end, wishing he could freeze time. He stood in the moonlight, embracing the man he had come to adore, surrounded by all the plants Sirius had bought just for him. It felt like more than Remus deserved, but he wasn’t about to let it go. He could only hope the next moment would be just as sweet.

#wolfstar #I write things #fluff #bakery au #can you tell I just read The Baker On the First Floor?#sirius black x remus lupin #I don't know why there's so many sweeney todd references in this #they just kind of happened #long post #background jily #pink haired Remus inspired by Fel #artist Remus #baker Sirius #smoking

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juhakx · 3 years

Text

Sketchbooks and Soccer Players- Kim Sunwoo

Genre: Fluff with mild cursing, Soccerplayer!Sunwoo / Artist!Y/N (gender neutral), Slight couple Moonbae because why not

Word Count: 2263

REQUESTED

"Y/N!" You hear someone shout, causing you to jump up slightly and release the pencil that was in your hand. "I've been calling your name for like five minutes! You know I can't go inside the art room without Mrs. Park's permission."

"Sorry, Kev, I guess I got too wrapped up in my piece," You chuckle, quickly closing your sketchbook and packing up your things so he wouldn't have to wait on you any longer. Tossing your bag over your shoulder, you jog up to Kevin and greet him.

"How was your day?" You ask, taking out the lollipop you had stored in your pocket and unwrapping it before placing it in your mouth.

"Raspberry this time?" He asks. "Also, today was okay before I shouted at my best friend so we could go home, but they ignored me and proceeded to doodle in their notebook. Let me just tell you, it made me feel like I was as worthless as the p in raspberry. What were you drawing that had you so engrossed, anyway?"

Kevin pushed the school doors, and you made your way to his car as you recounted how much of a luxury it was that your best friend was also your neighbor.

"You know, just someone," You mumble, putting on your seatbelt.

"Someone? You don't normally draw people. Is your obsession with Lee Dongwook getting so extreme that you started drawing him?" Kevin giggles, thinking back to your avid Viki sessions of watching Goblin and Tale of the Nine-Tailed together.

"No, I'm not that weird," You laugh, lightly shoving him to the side.

"So, who is it?"

Your mind drifts back to yesterday, the day of the encounter. Sceneries: Forests, mountains, valleys. That was more of your expertise when it came to art, however, nothing was as scenic as the boy you met yesterday.

Kim Sunwoo. Everyone knew him. Everyone wanted to date or be him, there was no in-between. You didn't think much about the kid before because your paths never clashed, not until yesterday.

"Woah, I'm so sorry!" He said, his chest heaving from running from the direction of the soccer field.

"Oh, you're fine!" You replied, picking up your sketchbook that fell out of your hands. You were just about to enter the art room, the safe haven where you would draw until Kevin was done with choir practice.

"Y/N, right?" Sunwoo asked. You couldn't help but remember the shocked look on your face when he knew who you were.

"Yeah, Y/N," You replied.

"Y/N," He had repeated, this time with a small smile on his face. It was the most beautiful way you had ever heard your name said, to a point where you swore you heard it echoing in your head right now.

"Y/N."

“Y/N, we're here you weirdo, snap out of it," Kevin shrieked, smacking your arm to get you out of your daze.

"Oh shit," You mumbled, realizing that you were no longer in the school parking lot and instead at your house.

"You zoned out for like ten minutes after I asked you who you were drawing. Is everything okay? Are the paint fumes getting to your head?" He mocked.

"No, just thinking. Anyway, you were right earlier. I wanted to try drawing people, so I was like go big or go home and started sketching Dongwook's face today," You reason. No one needed to know that the only thing running through your head was Kim Sunwoo on repeat, even when you saw him passing by the art room once again.

And that's how the next week passed. You continued your sketch of Sunwoo, trying your best to remember exactly what his face looked like up close. However, he continued to pass by the art room every day, just close enough for you to recognize the familiar tan skin and soccer uniform. Though you never made eye contact with him, you knew when he passed by, your eyes catching the movement across the room every time.

"Aish," You groaned out, erasing his eyes for what felt like the fifteenth time that afternoon.

"Everything alright in there?" You heard a familiar voice say, causing you to look up from the drawing. Upon seeing his face, you immediately close your sketchbook.

"Sunwoo!" You exclaim, half in fear and half in genuine excitement.

"The one and only," He laughs. "I heard you from outside, are you okay?"

There was worry in Sunwoo's voice, causing your heart to clench. "Yeah, I just suck at drawing," You chuckle.

"Oh, I doubt that. You're always in here, so there must be some artistic bone in your body," He reassures you.

You sit there in silence for a moment before Sunwoo's eyes widen, and he begins to shake his head from side to side. "Not that- not that I've been watching you or anything, I just like to pass by the art room now cause I always see you in here. Wait, that sounds weird. I don't just come to see you, but you're just always working really hard, and it's really admirable to see you and you look really nice when you draw. Not that you don't look nice any other time! But also the only time I've ever really seen you is in the art room, so I guess I really don't know what you look like any other time. Not that I wouldn't be opposed to it! I just-" Sunwoo heaves, letting out a heavy sigh before standing there with his head in his hands.

"Sunwoo, calm down!" You giggle. "I mean, I noticed that you were passing by too, and I glance every time whether you notice it or not. The soccer uniform really suits you," You compliment. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, his sudden outburst making you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Oh, this?" He says, looking down at his jersey. "This is nothing, I would much rather be good at art than soccer."

"You? You're not just good at soccer, you're freaking great. I mean, you've been on varsity since freshman year," You exasperate. A small smile breaks out on Sunwoo's face once he hears a small fact of his life slip from your mouth.

"Oh shit, speaking of soccer," Sunwoo mumbles, glancing at the clock that was inside the art teacher's room. "I gotta go. I forgot that break was only five minutes. It was really fun talking to you Y/N. Good luck with your drawing!"

Before you could even say goodbye back, he ran back to the direction he came from.

"Was that Kim Sunwoo?" Kevin says, appearing in front of the doorway from out of nowhere.

"Don't ask," You breathe out, still breathless from the interaction you just had. "Did choir practice end early today?"

"Yeah, you know Jacob Bae?"

"Brown hair, super cute, part of the basketball team?" You ask, wondering if he was talking about the same guy that was in your calculus class. As you await his answer, you pack up your supplies for the day, leaving the portrait of Sunwoo incomplete for yet another day.

"Super cute? That man is like jacked. I fell in love with him as soon as he walked into the room. Anyways, apparently, the choir teacher has been trying to recruit him for like two years, and he finally came by to audition. Mr. Lee kicked us out right away and told us we were done for the day.”

"Oh my god, I hope he joins! Maybe you could finally get a boyfriend," You tease, making your way towards Kevin's car.

"Yeah, well, you aren't much better, sketching Dongwook’s face for the past two weeks."

"Right, Dongwook," You mutter.

It was truly ironic that the amount of time Kevin thought you were thinking about the famous Korean actor, Lee Dongwook, was actually devoted to Sunwoo. Even after talking to him daily when he passed by the art room, you were still just as enamored by him.

"Long time no see," Sunwoo smiles, swinging his body across the doorframe.

"You're right," You look up to see the familiar face that you had quickly grown to love. "It's been a very long 24 hours."

“And how is my favorite artist doing?” Sunwoo asks, making his way over to you. You admire the soccer player, slight sweat beading against his forehead, and his face flushed from the heat outside.

“You know, you’re not supposed to be in here without Mrs. Park’s permission,” You say, knowing that if the teacher found him in here, he would get in trouble. You wait for a witty response back, but you soon find Sunwoo squinting past your shoulder and looking at something.

"I- Is that me?" Sunwoo whispers.

Your head whips back to the sketchbook that you had forgotten to close, Sunwoo’s half-colored face on display for him to see. You shoot up from your chair, hoping that you could somehow fix this, but as you stand up, Sunwoo takes a seat next to the drawing, moving the sketchbook closer so he could examine it.

"I mean," You strain, wanting to burst into tears right then and there. You were finally getting to know Sunwoo and becoming friends with him, and now he was going to think you were a creep, an absolute loser. "I mean yes, but it's not done yet. I still have to color like half your face. Don't be weirded out, please. I don't really draw people, but when I saw you, I thought I just had to. I'm sorry if you think it's weird, I'll scrap it. I promise," You ramble.

You glance at Sunwoo from the corner of your eye, but he continues to look at the sketch you made of him. You couldn't tell how he felt from his reaction, the only expression he was making was a look of ponderance.

"I- You know what," You begin to say, getting up from your seat and reaching for the sketchbook. You pull at the perforation of the page, beginning to tear it out. "I'll actually just get rid of it. It's weird, and I'm really sorry-"

Sunwoo grabs your hand before you can tear it off completely, an exclamation leaving his mouth. "No!"

"What?" You whisper underneath your breath.

"I love it. You're really talented Y/N," He looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes. A soft smile played on his lips.

"But, isn't it weird?" You ask, confusion laced in your words.

"I mean, I passed by the art room every day for three weeks just so I could look at you for a little bit. Every time I passed by, I debated with myself on whether or not I should ask you out. If anyone's the weird one, it's me," He confesses.

The room is silent for a few more seconds, your brain whirring at what felt like a million miles per hour.

“I didn’t think anyone saw me like this,” Sunwoo says, a soft smile on his face as he traces his drawn eyes with his fingers.

“What do you mean?” You whisper. “Everyone sees you like that.”

“Not like,” Sunwoo breaths out, his eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Not like this.”

“Do you think, I don’t know, maybe you’d wanna see me outside of this place? Cause I really fucking like you, and I hope you do too considering you drew me like I hung the stars in the sky,” Sunwoo says, turning to face you.

You break out into a wide smile, relief flushing through you.

“Silly, you couldn’t have hung the stars in the sky,” You sigh, reaching down and brushing the hair that was covering his eyes out of the way. “They’re all in your eyes.”

Sunwoo lets out a breathy laugh at the cheesy line before closing the sketchbook and placing it underneath his arm. No matter how hard he denied it though, a light blush littered his cheeks.

“C’mon, we’re skipping soccer practice,” Sunwoo holds onto your hand and drags you out of the room while you struggle to get your backpack and throw it over your shoulder in time.

“Sunwoo!” You laugh, trailing behind him as he pulled you all the way outside of the school and to your first unofficial, official date.

The local art museum.

“What the fuck?” Kevin mutters, finding an empty art room with colored pencils scattered where you would usually sit.

“Maybe they were drawing so hard that they turned into the colored pencils,” Jacob says, peeking into the room.

“They probably went out with Sunwoo, I had a feeling something was up with them anyway. They tried to convince me they were drawing Dongwook from Goblin, but I don’t think they know that I look at their sketchbook when they get snacks at their house,” Kevin shrugs.

“Dongwook? What an attractive man,” Jacob mumbles, staring into space.

“But not as hot as me, right?” Kevin jokes, turning back around to leave. He was excited to introduce you to Jacob, but it seems like there was something else on fate’s agenda.

“Oh, never. Actually, since Y/N is busy with their lover, want to go to this coffee place I really like? It’s on me,” Jacob says, throwing a wink in Kevin's direction.

“What? No, I couldn’t do that,” Kevin refuses, a blush overtaking his face.

“Nonsense, it’s a date,” Jacob affirms, dragging Kevin out of the very doors Sunwoo pulled Y/N earlier.

a/n i had too much fun with this... and can u tell i love lee dongwook, because i do.

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soda-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Doodle Break | Arin x Reader

Request by @nonsense-on-main : Tiny lil x reader thing where Arin finds a drawing of him that you did and you get super embarrassed about it but he absolutely loves it (and possibly gets a lil flustered but like in a good way)?

Type : Fluff

Pairing : Arin x Reader

Art was always your passion. Growing up, your sketchbooks and pencils were your best friends. During recess, instead of playing with other kids on the slide or playing tag, you sat on the ground with your pencil and paper and doodled whatever you liked. Nothing about it has changed much since then other than you just don’t draw as much since you’re an adult now and working a full time job.

That still never stopped you from bringing your sketchbook and a pen during your spare breaks, drawing whatever was on your mind. The break room was your preferred and perfect place to get some good sketching done while you ate. You even had your own special spot, one farthest away which worked well since you were a little insecure about others seeing your art.

Thankfully, the room looks fairly empty today. You assume your co-workers went out for lunch this time and with a ding on your phone, your suspicions were correct. A message notification was staring you back in the face, from Jory specifically.

‘We’re gonna get some McDonald’s so let us know what you want. ‘

With your free hand, you type out what you want and hit send. Afterwards, you place your phone back in it’s pocket. Although you’ve been to the break room plenty of times, it never ceases to satisfy you with how peacefully quiet it can be. Which is honestly laughable, considering that rooms over Dan and Arin were probably giggling themselves shitless right now.

Thinking about it now, your mind drifted to Arin. Nothing that unusual nowadays, as he took over most of the thoughts.

His name pops into your head and you can’t help but sway a little. As cheesy as that was, nothing was cheesier than the fact that you actually ended up drawing him more. It sounds like it’d be better suited for some high school Disney movie. Yet here you were, flipping through many already drawn pages to a new clean one.

Your pencil traces out the features you can remember. His broad nose, those delicate eyes, his warm soft smile. Things that for some reason you can’t forget, the little details. Sometimes you found yourself getting annoyed after drawing, as if somehow drawing him over and over will make you forget about him. Of course it doesn’t, and sometimes you’re glad for that.

“Holy shit, where is everybody?”

Speak of the devil.

“Uh, I, they-“ Your words nearly trip over themselves, an underlying guilty tone in them as if you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. “They went out to grab something.”

“Shit, really?” He groans, as if he’s been betrayed. Your eyes watch as he brought his hand through his hair in a frustrated manner, the blonde streak and brunette being pushed back. Your throat dries, the muscle under his arm clenches and you notice. “You didn’t go with them?”

“Nah,” You clear your throat, tapping the table repeatedly with the eraser of your pencil. “Jory texted me like, five minutes ago, asking me what I wanted. I thought he would’ve texted you or something.”

His hand falls from his face to his pocket, the once held up ball of hair falling back around him. Arin’s once frustrated expression settles into a relieved one, one that is also a little annoyed with himself. “My phone was on silent,” Another Arin groan. He quickly texts them back and his phone returns to his pocket. The attention is back on you now, as he walks over. “What’s on the drawing menu today?” He takes it upon himself to lean over the table some, elbows resting on the table. It wasn’t unlike him to ask something like that. Working at the Grumps office for nearly a year brought you guys close, a lot closer since video games and art were something you had in common.

Still, in this case, this art was on the secret menu for your eyes only. Your arms were over your work nearly instantly, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. You can’t imagine how red you must look right now.

Arin’s eyes slightly widen and he teases, “Dude, if you’re drawing hardcore porn, at least let me give an opinion on it.”

A soft crack fell on your flushed face, lips curving into a bit of a smile. Maintaining your serious look was hard, especially when Arin decides to crack jokes like that. Jokes that were meant to fluster you. “It’s not porn, Ar. It’s not really anything bad but..”

He laughs and puts on a dramatic scrunched pouty face that made you snort. “Not even if I say pretty please?”

“Especially not that. God, don’t ever make that face again.”

His face falls back to a neutral yet pouty face. Your heart is practically heaving in your chest but the relief settles in. You think that you may have ceased his curiosity or at least put it off. Now though, his eyes were practically setting on you and the gears in his head were turning. Problem was that they’re looking more curious than before.

“Ah!-“ A light feathery poke near your side was all it took for your arms to jolt downward, drawing a sharp gasp from you. You were hugging yourself at this point, to defend yourself from any new attacks. “Arin!-“ Your scolding falls short, eyes landing on your now bare sketch of Arin for all to see. Your eyes fart away and the heat that fills your cheeks is immaculate.

Thankfully, with your head turning the other way, it was impossible to see how he looked right now. You really weren’t sure if you want to either. Sure, he was a popular Internet personality and yeah, you were sure he’s seen his fair share of fan art (some dirtier than others) but still, this held a much more deeper meaning to you. Especially since you have a crush on the guy. At some point, you gather to courage to finally look at him. Instead of the look you expected him to have, Arin was seemingly stunned. About what is something you’re unsure of.

“When did you draw this?” He asks, bringing the sketchbook a bit closer to him. “Is this me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes ago.” You find yourself murmuring now. “Yeah, it’s uh, it’s you. Why?”

Arin breathlessly chuckles, in awe. “Dude, this is fucking amazing for five minutes. I also gotta say, I look hella handsome in your style~.” Although he’s teasing you right now, you turn to get another look and he looks sort of, what’s the word, flustered? It’s a look you’ve only seen Arin have once or twice.

“So you like it?” You ask, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. “If it’s weird, you can tell me. Seriously, I-“

He shuts you up by giving your shoulder a firm pat. “I think it looks awesome. Seriously.” He smiles, a light tint of pink dusting across his face. A part of you knew he wasn’t lying and the relief dawns on you once again. Another part of you knew that you probably shouldn’t worry as much as you do, as things usually went the opposite from what you assumed they were.

“McDonald’s train coming through!” calls Jory, who comes bustling through with a bag of McDonald’s that holds yours and Arin’s order.

Arin’s hand leaves your shoulder to grab the bag, leaving the spot warm and tingly. “Thanks, Jory.” He says, sitting the bag on the table.

“Woah, that’s really good, (Y/N)!” Jory exclaims upon seeing your ‘doodle’. “I knew that you drew in your free time but— wow.”

You awkwardly laugh, not being as flustered as you were when Arin got to see. Arin smiles again, sounding like a proud dad. “They’ve got talent. No other artist has been able to capture the Hanson essence like (Y/N)~”

“...Anyways.” You say after letting Arin’s cocky comment sit a moment of silence, which brought the burliest of laughs from him. Your heart sort of flutters. The fact that you can make a man like him laugh like that kind of brings you hope about your little love situation.

#arin x reader #x nb reader #x male reader #x reader insert #game grumps x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff fic

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meow-bebe · 4 years

Text

stellatus

Pairing: Lee Felix x artist!reader

Genre: fluffffff

Warnings: literally nothing. this is so sweet asghk we’re channeling the cute here. like honestly not even my usual cussing

Word count: 3614 (!!!)

A/n: remember that idea I posted a while ago? well heres the fic! Im suuuper proud of this one because its the longest thing ive written for this blog (3k! more than 3k! that makes me so happy ahhhh!) and also I just really love it! usually I don't particularly like my own writing but this one I feel like is my best work. also about half way through writing this I found this amazing drawing by @panini-byanyothername which gave me the encouragement to finish this and also deserves all of the love because its an amazing piece of art! it was drawn based on another fanfic but its super pretty and is very close to what my story is about so I thought it would be appropriate to include a link

~~~

stēllātus; first/second-declension adjective starry, stellate, starred

“I have an idea,” you announced, bouncing with excitement as you ran into the room where Felix was currently sat at your desk on his computer. Latching your arms around Felix’s neck from behind, you rested your chin gently on his shoulder.

“And what would that be?”he asked, spinning the office chair he sat in and successfully rotating within your arms.

“I want to paint on you!” you said brightly as Felix’s hands came to rest on your waist as you snuggled closer, plopping down into his lap.

“What?” Felix asked, slightly startled by your bold proposition.

“I want to paint on you,” you repeated, “like, kind of use you as a human canvas?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and you grinned awkwardly, the incredulous tone of his voice making you shy.

“I’m not opposed,” Felix mused, and you immediately brightened back up again. “Why though?”

“Well,” you said, fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie, “first of all you’re the only person I have on hand at the moment.” You giggled, and Felix raised a hand to his chest in mock offense. “But I’ve always loved painting on skin. There’s some strange appeal that comes with turning another human being into art. Unfortunately, I’ve only ever done it on myself before, but I had this really amazing idea a while ago and have held onto it forever and you are absolutely perfect for it.” You finished by pressing a sweet kiss to his nose. “So?” you asked eagerly, “what do you say? Let me paint on you?”

Felix chuckled lightly, and you could feel the deep vibrations where your hands were set on his chest. “Aren’t you going to tell me what your amazing idea is?”

“Nope!” you said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ as you smiled happily, “You’ll just have to say yes and see what I do. It will be beautiful, I promise.”

Felix playfully narrowed his eyes at you. “You won’t do something stupid or make me look weird?”

“I would never,” you said, sticking out your littlest finger, “pinky swear. And anyway, nothing could ever make you look weird, pretty boy.” Felix’s eyes widened at your compliment, a light shade of red creeping across his cheeks as he wrapped his pinky around yours. No matter how often you complimented him he always had the sweetest flustered reactions.

“What are we waiting for then?” you practically vaulted out of his lap, tangling your fingers together and tugging on his hand to try and get him to follow you.

“What, now?” he asked, a bewildered look on his face.

“Yes, now,” you said, pulling on his hand again, “I can’t wait any longer, I’m dying to finally do this.”

“Alright,” Felix said, laughing as he stood up from the desk, whatever he was working on earlier abandoned as you enthusiastically pulled him along to the spare bedroom turned art studio.

“Here,” you said, tossing one of the already paint-stained cushions you often put to use out of the closet, “sit down while I find what I need.”

Felix grabbed the cushion and set it on the large, clear plastic mat you always kept set out over the hardwood floors. There were several places you had set up for painting, laying on the floor and the easel by the window being two of your favorites, and you rotated between them depending on how you were feeling that day. It seemed like today was a sprawled across the floor day, although that made sense, Felix reasoned, if you were going to be painting on him. He sat down and watched as you zipped back and forth across the room, picking through your jars of brushes and bins of paints to find the supplies you would be using.

Thrusting one of the mason jar mugs you used to wash out your brushes at Felix, you asked, “Could you go fill this up with water for me?” He nodded compliantly, pulling himself up off the floor and traipsing across the hall to the bathroom to fill the glass mug with water. When he came back into the room, you had set up a jar of brushes to pick through, tossed a few tubes of paint to the floor next to the two cushions, and were currently spread across a decent portion of the floor with one of the large folders you had labeled as “inspiration and references.” These were collections of anything you could possibly want to give you ideas or utilize in your art, ranging from newspaper clippings, old photographs, passages from books and poems scrawled on torn notebook paper (or on the more rare occasion, printed out), and absolutely filled to the brim with doodles and practice drawings. You were a firm believer in the idea that anything could be reused or help inspire you in the future, which ultimately lead to your large collection. Usually you tried to date the bits of paper you tucked away, but it didn’t help with your chronic lack of organization.

“What are you searching for?” Felix questioned, assuming that you wouldn’t answer but asking anyway.

“Can’t tell,” you said, eyes twinkling with a spark of mischief, “it’s supposed to be a surprise, remember?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking. What do you want me to do then?” he asked, looking around the room and wondering what you had planned for him.

“Just sit, I’ll find it in a moment.” Felix settled himself back down on the floor as you continued to rifle through the folder barely containing the papers inside it. He watched as you carefully separated a few glossy photos that had stuck together and shuffled through a stack of what appeared to be old school work. “Aha!” you shouted victoriously, startling Felix and holding a few taped together pieces of paper in the air.

“What’s that?” he asked, his curiosity over both the project itself and the haphazardly folded but carefully assembled papers in your grasp too much to handle.

To his surprise, you gave in this time. “Star chart!” you chirped, obviously too pleased with yourself to continue hiding your intentions. “I’ve always loved space, specifically stars, and I took an astronomy class in high school but never got rid of the papers that weren’t just worksheets. I always hoped that someday I would be able to use them for painting. And here we are!” Felix smiled at the happy grin lighting up your whole face, your excitement too endearing to not acknowledge.

“Cute.” Felix grinned happily as you shuffled over to where you had set up all of your supplies. All of a sudden his smile turned bashful, stammering slightly as he asked, “Should I like, take my shirt off or something then?”

You giggled, setting down the star chart and plucking a thin marker from amongst the plethora of materials. “Not this time. I want to do your face!”

“What?” Felix gasped, eyes widened in surprise.

“I want to paint on your face!” you repeated, excitement fading as you rolled the marker between your hands, suddenly nervous. “Your freckles, specifically. Only if you’ll let me though.” You fidgeted slightly, focused on the marker before looking up at Felix who still wore a slightly startled expression.

“My - my freckles?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Finding patterns that match my constellations-” you patted the papers sitting beside you - “and then turning your face into a little galaxy.”

“Y/n,” he said softly, and you braced yourself to be turned down, “I think that’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever come up with. Why would I ever say no?”

Your eyes shot up to find Felix’s, and you could see all of the adoration that he held for you in their depths. “Really?” you asked, pulling yourself into his lap and tucking your arms around his waist.

“Really,” he confirmed, sealing a gentle kiss against your mouth. “Now, how do you want to go about this?”

You clamored off of Felix, grabbing the marker from where you had dropped it at his side and snatching the star chart into your hands before thrusting it at Felix. “Pick a few that you like, and I’ll see if what I can do to weave them out of your freckles,” you said, placing the folded chart into his hands and backing off to begin rifling through the paint tubes you had chosen. “Try not to do anything too difficult, I think the simpler ones would look better for this.”

Leaving him to pour over the constellations, you realized that you had overlooked finding a palette earlier in your scramble to find paints, so you pulled yourself up off the floor to move to the closet once again. Shoving a few bins of paints and stacks of assorted canvases to the side, you finally found the collection of palettes stored near the back of the shelf. Just barely managing to get your finger under the one on the bottom (the shelf was slightly too high, not enough to really bother you, but it could be a minor inconvenience sometimes), you dragged the precariously balanced stack towards yourself.

“What about Lyra?” Felix called from behind you.

“That would work,” you mused, shuffling through the pile in search of one not too caked in dried paint.

“Or Aquila?”

“Also fine,” you responded, selecting a mostly clean palette. “I really want to try Draco, so we’ll do that one first and then fit the others on after that. Sound good?”

"Anything you want to do is good with me," he replied, and you turned to see the pretty blush staining his cheeks.

"But you're the one making this project come to life," you said, crossing the room in a few steps and settling down in front of him. "You should have some input."

"I'm merely the final product in this situation. You, y/n, are the one bringing it to life." Now it was your turn to grow flustered by his compliments.

"Oh hush," you said, searching on the floor for the marker you had set down.

Finding your marker, you uncapped it and scooted closer to Felix. "Ready?" you asked.

He looked at the marker warily. "I thought you were painting."

"I am painting, but I have to sketch it out first," you laughed. "I always do."

"Oh," he said, looking down shyly. He always loved to watch you paint, however paying attention to the process was something else entirely. "Well go on then."

Studying his face carefully, you placed a small dot on top of a freckle close to the top of his cheek. Glancing back at the star chart, you drew another right under it, and awkwardly angled your pen to try and reach better. Pulling the papers mapping out your reference closer, you shuffled to the side and drew another dot.

"This isn't working very well," you said, taking Felix's chin in your hand and tilting his head to the side to try and reach better. "I might move you again, so try not to move and tell me if it's too uncomfortable."

Felix nodded in response just as you set the tip of the marker against his cheek, leaving a small inky streak down his face. You sighed. "Next time just say you heard me. I'm going to get the rubbing alcohol.” You stood up and headed to the bathroom, opening the cabinet and rummaging around to find the necessary bottle. Finding what you needed, you stood up and crossed the hallway once again to rejoin Felix.

"Here." Felix held out a cotton ball that he had no doubt found in the depths of one of your many bins of random art supplies.

"Thanks," you said quietly, already flipping the top of the rubbing alcohol open and soaking the cotton in liquid before scrubbing it gently across Felix's cheek. He held still for the moment, letting you remove the ink from his face and watching your movements carefully.

"Done?" he asked as you tossed the now somewhat grey cotton ball to the floor.

"Yep." you picked up your marker again. "Good to go?" He nodded again, this time making sure that the marker was nowhere near his skin.

You set back to work, switching between analyzing the star chart and making small dots where you could connect the freckles strewn across Felix's face to resemble the constellation you had picked.

After readjusting Felix's face for the nth time, you sighed. “This isn’t working,” you complained, capping your marker and letting your hand fall into your lap.

“I can tell,” Felix mused. “Any ideas?”

You tilted your head, scanning over his face, and Felix could see the imaginary lightbulb pop up above your head as a grin spread across your face. “Maybe,” you said cheekily, crawling into his lap and once again uncapping your marker. Placing the non inky end into your mouth, you cupped your hands around Felix’s cheeks, gently moving his head around until you think you’ve found the perfect angle. “Don’t move.”

Finding that your new vantage point gave you perfect access to the soft skin of your boyfriend’s cheeks, you steadily set back to work, sketching light lines between the makeshift “stars” that quickly began to fill the freckles dotted across Felix’s face.

“Alright! I’m all done.” You leaned back a bit to admire your work, already extremely happy with the way that everything was turning out. “And now -” you clambered off Felix’s lap to let him stretch while you gathered the scattered supplies necessary for the next step of your project - “we paint!”

Felix giggled at the enthusiasm spreading a happy brightness across your face, bringing you closer for a chaste kiss as soon as you had settled yourself back across him. Clasping the brush you had picked up between your teeth as you seemed prone to do, you grabbed two of the few tubes of paint selected from a small box of metallics Felix wasn’t aware you had and unscrewed the one containing silver paint. Squeezing a small amount onto the palette in your other hand, you replaced the cap and set it to the side.

You pulled the paintbrush from your mouth, and said, “This is it. No going back after I start painting,” you warned, absolutely failing to hide the playful tone in your voice.

“I have sharpie all over my face,” Felix laughed, “I’m pretty sure we reached that point a while ago.”

“Right,” you said, ducking your face a little, trying to hide your embarrassed expression. “Well then, let the painting begin!” Placing a sweet kiss to the tip of Felix’s nose, you swirled your brush through the silver paint and hesitantly hovered over the inked lines connecting his freckles.

“You’re not going to mess this up,” Felix reassured, almost as if he could immediately pick up on your thoughts, “anything you paint is always beautiful and I have complete confidence in you.”

The compliments flustered you even more, and muttering a soft, “Oh, be quiet,” you set your brush down, dragging the bristles across the lines you had laid down earlier.

Felix shuddered under the cool touch of paint stroked across his face, and you backed off for a moment, letting him adjust to the foreign feeling. “Try not to move,” you said, setting down your palette and cupping his jaw sweetly.

You painted thin, careful lines over all of the drawn out constellations, painstakingly smoothing the edges and adding a second layer to those where the black ink was still visible. While you kept all of your focus on the paintbrush in your hand, Felix lost himself in the way that you concentrated on the task you had set yourself to. He loved to watch you paint, and the experience was ten times better when you were right up close. Felix watched your expressions as you immersed yourself in your work, noticing every little forehead scrunch, loving the cute way that you would chew on your lip or poke your tongue out when you got to a particularly tricky spot. There wasn’t enough focus left to be self conscious when you truly absorbed yourself in your art, and it was times like these that Felix thought you were most true to yourself, which lead to it also being when he found you most beautiful. Not that you weren’t other times, certainly, but there was something enchanting about your little expressions and the way your hair would stick up from running your fingers through it. You would always have paint all over your hands, no matter how careful you had been, and when it was still wet the pigment often transferred to your face or hair. Of course you never noticed, and so Felix would let you know you should probably look in a mirror, but only after silently appreciating the way that the smudged paint on your forehead somehow only enhanced the glow of beauty that truly being in your element brought out.

“There we go!” you suddenly exclaimed, startling Felix out of his reverie. “I’m finished with the lines,” you told him, dropping your paintbrush into the cup of water and swishing it around a little. “Now I just have to do the stars.”

You leaned to the side and reached around Felix to grab the other tube of paint you had taken out and added some of the gold to the palette before screwing the cap back on and tossing it next to you. Balancing the palette on your knee, you grabbed the cup containing your brush and dragged it toward you. Quickly and thoroughly rinsing the paint from the bristles, you wiped off the excess water and took Felix’s face into your hand once again, gently maneuvering him back into a position where you could easily paint.

Now used to the feeling, Felix didn’t startle when you began painting again, the cool touch of the paint to his cheek calming. You worked steadily, crossing tiny strokes to form the stars connecting the constellations created by his freckles. Every now and then you would shift in his lap, or make sure that the angle his head was at wasn’t making his neck ache, but for the most part you worked silent and still.

You smoothed tiny lines into shapes, keeping them tidy and occasionally layering more paint on where it had smudged or the first coat had been too thin. After finishing one of the stars higher on his cheek, you leaned back to admire your work.

“I think I’m done,” you said softly, wiping a bit of golden paint off Felix’s forehead.

“Can I see?” he asked, plucking the paint brush out of your fingers and placing it in the paint water.

You nodded, climbing out of his lap and gesturing towards the messy desk in the corner of the room. “There should be a mirror up there. I’m going to go get my Polaroid camera.” You loved that camera, it had been a gift from a friend years ago, and you only pulled it out for special occasions. Felix knew how much it meant to you, and the fact that you wanted to capture this moment with it warmed his heart.

When you returned to the room, Felix was sitting back on the cushions you had pulled out, the small hand mirror next to him on the floor. “It’s beautiful, y/n,” he said, and you smiled at the compliment, whispering a quiet “Thanks.”

“Where do you want me?” Felix asked, nodding towards the camera in your hands.

“By the window, probably,” you said, “I think backlighting would look good for this.” It was reaching late afternoon now, and the sun was beginning to sink to the horizon quickly. The golden light would shine through his hair beautifully, and Felix always glowed in the sunlight.

The two of you moved to the other side of the room, and Felix quickly set himself up in front of the window.

“Should I pose or something?” Felix asked, and you shook your head in response.

“Just do what feels natural,” you said, squinting at him through the viewfinder on your Polaroid before lowering it to watch him adjust for the photo. He seemed to relax under your gaze, and turned his head to the side so he was looking straight into the lens as the light washed over the paint trailed across his face, illuminating the shine of the metallics you used. He stilled after a moment, and after you were sure he wasn’t going to move, you pressed the shutter. The camera began printing your photo, and after a moment you plucked it from the slot, pressing it between your lips and bringing the camera back up to your eye.

“I want to take one more,” you mumbled around the developing photo in your mouth, “close your eyes for me?” Felix complied, letting his lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks as a small smile settled across his face. You snapped your second photo, bringing the camera down and tucking the earlier in between your fingers as you waited for the second to print. Felix came to stand next to you, taking the second photo and looking over your shoulder to see how the first one turned out.

As you watched the color seep onto the glossy paper you knew that the stars across his cheeks, no matter how pretty they were, could never compare to the stars that shone in his eyes. He was truly beautiful, and standing there with your camera in hand, his hair brushing against your cheek, you were never more aware.

#lee felix #felix #felix stray kids #stray kids #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #felix fluff #lee felix fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #felix imagines #stray kids fanfiction #felix fanfiction #maybe ill have to start a masterlist soon this is exciting

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Complexities Unknowable Chapter 3

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274334/chapters/57175900

Chapter Two link: https://tha-best-url-evar.tumblr.com/post/614327945408987136/complexities-unknowable-chapter-two

MasterPost

Relationships: Established Relationship Dukeceit, eventual intrualiceit, background analogince.

Warnings: Remus says some things (mentions of biblically accurate angels, gore art description), food mention, mild sleep deprivation, cursing. As always everyone is sympathetic. Roast me if I forgot something.

Word Count: 1,851

Remus was, once again, sitting on the counter in the light side kitchen. It was an ungodly early hour of morning, so the Commons were deserted. He was supposed to be waiting for Morality, according to the spiteful little plot Dee had offered him that he hadn’t listened to all that well, but he surmised it meant he was supposed to fuck with a light side, so… Duh. Of course he was in.

Truth be told, three out of four of the self-proclaimed ‘light sides’ hardly bothered him! They were stuffy prudes, sure, but their insults slid off his back like blood off of steel. As long as he was doing his own thing with Deceit alongside him, everything was fine (he was still pointedly ignoring the existence of another Creativity). But looks like what Deceit wanted to do was torment Patton into, like, repenting? Or something? Like he said, he wasn’t listening.

Anyway! Waiting and watching was what he was doing! And doodling, because sitting still was literally impossible in Remus’ experience. Thankfully, he soon saw the paternal trait springing down the stairs. Straightening his back, The Duke put on his best intimidating face (which he thought looked rather silly, but Deceit assured him was very unsettling). He set down his sketchbook and blurred his edges. It didn’t work very well up here, but it was a little trick that they’d all- Virgil included- learned years ago. Honestly, he just used it to get cheap scares every now and then.

Patton strolled into the kitchen, whistling some jaunty tune and holy shit , Remus had figured it was some shtick, but was he just a cartoon character all of the time ? That was- sure, very adorable- but mostly all the more entertaining to scare!

“What’s up, Dilf!?”

Patton shrieked, nearly dropping a mug. With wide, startled eyes, he found the source of the noise. Said source watched the emotional trait force his expression into something amicable, laughing loudly.

“Um- good morning, Remus! I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

“That was the point, MoMo,” Remus replied, dragging his claws screechingly down the side of a cabinet; Patton winced at the sound.

“Can I help you with anything?” Read: Why are you still here? Sometimes Remus wondered if he was too good at his job!

“Nope! Just enjoying the atmosphere, sketching, terrorizing…” He flipped onto his back, throwing his arm out and presenting his open notebook.

“You draw?” Patton seemed weirdly happy about that fact, managing a more natural smile. Seemed he thought he’d found something to work with, but that was likely to change.

“Of course I do, I am Creativity, after all! Here .” He handed over the sketchbook with a Cheshire smile. The creative trait had ensured it was flipped open to a detailed depiction of a being composed of several flaming rings, all of which absolutely covered with bloodshot eyes. It had an indiscernible amount of wings that could only be counted as ‘too many’. In the center of the rings was a swirling black void (a type of ink that took Remus weeks to conjure properly, thank you very much).

He watched carefully as Patton studied the image, looking bemused.

“It’s an angel!”

That seemed to only confuse the moral side more, making him tilt his head to a few different angles to look at the drawing. But he still didn’t seem upset by it, oddly enough.

“It certainly is an interesting interpretation,” He responded at last, “and all of these little lines must have taken you forever, that’s so impressive!”

Truth be told, they had taken a while, and Remus was very happy that the effort had been noticed- but that wasn’t the point!

“That’s nothing,” he took the sketchbook back from Patton and flipped through more pages. Aha! This would fuck him up, for sure! A full-color illustration of someone hung up on a meat hook, rib cage pried open like a spike trap to reveal very painstakingly rendered organs. He was actually quite proud of this one.

The only response that Patton gave, however, was a slight wrinkling of his nose when he first saw it, followed by more quiet observation.

“What do you think?” Remus prompted, watching as Patton set the drawing back down on the counter and began to assemble things for breakfast, seemingly unaffected.

“I wish I could draw that well, but I’m still not super good at it,” he said admiringly.

“I had to crack open my own ribs to make sure it was accurate, you know!”

Morality yelped at that one- score one for Remus! Finally!

“You wanna see my re-imaginings of my favorite Final Destination deaths? I’ve painted some with real- well, conjured- but real enough blood!”

But Patton didn’t even flinch this time; he looked more determined even!

“Art is a healthy outlet for expressing yourself,” he was almost certainly parroting Logan there, and he even seemed to believe the statement. Perhaps Remus would have to be a little more creative to get more reactions.

. “I agree! I didn’t expect you to have such an open-minded point of view. I’ll be sure you’re the first side to know when I make my next amateur taxidermy sculpture! Emphasis on the amateur!”

“Great!” Patton practically shouted, very stubbornly staring at the stove.

Before Remus had the chance to continue, the distinct sounds of Logan and Roman arguing their way downstairs met his ears, and he cut himself off. That was enough for one day, he decided. And anyhow, he looked forward to trying new ways to bother Patton next morning.

Deceit rose into the shadows of the Light Side commons with a smirk. It was an awful hour of the night, which was part of the plan. Not only was Patton the first awake in the morning, he was also often the last to sleep. Deceit supposed that Logan was looking after Roman and Virgil’s sleep schedules nowadays, which made it much easier to catch the artificial patriarch alone. That isn’t to imply that Dee had been tracking their schedules or anything, but the overwhelming lie that Morality surrounded himself with made him easy to track- especially in the night, when he had to pretend even harder that he was fine without the presence of his little family. Deceit entertained the idea that he should feel bad for the side, and maybe he did somewhere deep down. Deep, deep down. No, further than that.

Regardless of any such feelings, he was here to mess with Patton. Still unnoticed, he watched quietly as his target scrolled through Netflix, illuminated only by the dim glow of the television. The side looked so tired that he could’ve passed as a corpse, but gave a tiny smile after finally selecting whatever it was he was going to watch.

Wait. Wait. He was watching that ?

Deceit stared at the unmistakable green text that was the intro to The Good Place playing across the screen. If there was one thing he was expecting Patton to watch (Cartoons? Friends reruns? Slime videos?), it wasn't his own favorite show.

“Hm.” Deceit hummed.

In response, Patton shrieked and fell halfway off the couch. His head darted around until he finally spotted Deceit, who had slid down to sit on the sofa as well.

“Oh- um- good evening, Deceit! Wow, today is just full of surprises!”

“ Surely you won’t mind if I join you? This is one of my favorite shows, after all.”

Patton fixed his position so that he was no longer partially on the floor and looked the snake up and down. He paused the episode.

“ Really ?”

“Really,” and then, after some trepidation, “Honestly.”

Suddenly, Patton lit up dramatically, a happy smile stretching across his face. Fuck, wrong direction, Deceit wasn’t supposed to be cheering him up!

“I’m surprised that someone like you would like it,” Deceit continued hastily. Patton’s smile fell a little and he tipped his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ,” He lounged back against the couch, “I didn’t think you’d approve of a show where all of the characters are such bad people .”

“What?! The whole point is that they aren’t bad!” Good, Back on track .

“Oh? Then what are they? Last I checked, the main character was very selfish .”

“I- okay, I see what you’re trying to do,” Patton turned to face Deceit entirely, “But they’re- they also-”

“Also what ?” Deceit was also sitting sideways on the couch now, his eyes glinting. He was certain that he’d talked the trait into a corner, which was why he was so utterly unprepared for Patton’s response.

“It’s, like, they all start off not great, but that’s because they were all set up for failure before the afterlife! They had it hard before dying, but when they were finally given the chance to actually get better, then they got better! They aren’t perfect , but they care about each other! And I think it really shows that sometimes, somebody can be wrong over and over and over again, but that doesn’t mean that they’re hopeless, or that they’re a bad friend, or…” He trailed off, looking down at his lap and blinking very quickly. “Or that they’re a bad person.”

Suddenly, Deceit wasn’t that sure that he wanted to see Patton upset anymore.

After a very uncomfortable silence that lasted far too long for his liking, the scaled side realized that he should probably be the one to say something.

“That’s… a very in depth analysis, Morality. I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Thanks,” Patton replied. When he looked up, his eyes held an odd recognition. It was a look that no Light Side had ever given Deceit, but they gave it to each other plenty of times. The side in question wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he sure knew that he was uncomfortable.

“So… The show…” He prompted.

“Oh, right!”

Patton pressed play.

Deceit had planned on doing some more provoking of Patton as they watched, but he found himself rather caught up in the program. The conversation he did end up making with the other incidentally slipped into chatting about their shared views on the show. It was almost nice. Maybe. Whatever.

After a few episodes, Deceit elected to return home for the night. As he was sinking out, he heard a sleepy voice bidding him farewell.

“G’night, Kiddo.”

He popped up in his bedroom after that, eyes quickly landing on a half-asleep Remus half-watching Saw 4 . The lights were dimmed to a glow, and the TV’s volume was so low that it might have been inaudible to anyone other than the more animalistic sides.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Deceit murmured warmly, sitting beside his fellow Dark side. The trait yawned and rubbed his eyes, instinctively leaning into him.

“Wanted to,” he responded, voice groggy, “How’d it go?”

Deceit snapped his fingers to change into sleep clothes, reaching across Remus to flick off the lamp. As he settled in to semi-watch the movie, fingers automatically moving to card through his partner’s hair, he carefully considered the question.

“Fucking. Weird.”

Chapter 4

Tags: @deceits-left-glove @princemesscharming

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