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#teaching myself how to doodle again but then i never end up making finished pieces LOL

hypherr · 2 years

Note

Hi, I am contacting you because I saw you mentioned somewhere that you have adhd, and I was wondering how did you still reached such incredible level. I have adhd too, and drawing has always been my passion also. But despite a whole life of practice, and doodling almost all the time, I always had a very hard time to understand anatomy and other technics, and because of adhd, I can’t focus neither motivate myself consistently to learn technics. I am also very inconsistent to draw proper illustrations, and also struggle to get things finished. Because of this, I have the feeling that I will never improve, and I gave up my life dream to become an illustrator. So, I was wondering how did you reached such incredible level despite of adhd difficulties, and if you had some helpful tips. Best regards.

Hey dude! Yeah, I can totally give you some tips that worked for me up until I got medicated :D I know a LOT of folks have to deal with ADHD, so I’m more than happy to try and give you some advice.

I will preface that I tend to hyperfixate on things like drawing, so I put 200% effort into learning about it and I enjoy trying new methods of painting/drawing/whatever else. It’s still moreso reliant on the individual artist, but the below list is what I do and have done that kept me going:

Make studying into something that is interesting. By that I mean you don’t have to simply draw/study a pose for life drawing, you can make it interesting by drawing a character in that pose/doing that action so that it becomes something you’re more invested in instead of something you’re doing to just get better. I usually draw my OCs in the poses that I’m studying from pinterest or whatever, and it makes the process a lot more fun -

Do what YOU want, not what others say you should do. Not every style or process is for everyone. Stick with what interests you and it’ll make your ADHD brain happier. Getting trapped into the idea of “Oh, I should be good at line art” or “Oh, I should be really good at drawing in X style” when you’re not really interested in either of those things will bore you to no end. Personally, I settled with the fact that I don’t have patience for line art, I loathe using opaque brushes, and I despise having a million layers on my paintings. SO, I don’t do a line art pass; I just clean up my sketch layer which becomes my line art, I don’t use opaque brushes, and I keep my layers really limited. My way of drawing and painting is kinda unorthodox and I always have to explain it to clients when I send WIPs (I’m srs the way I work confuses ppl, especially non-artists lol), but the end result is always what they hired me for, so there are no complaints. Plus, I am MUCH comfier drawing and painting in my own “unique” way, and they’re cool with that. **NOTE: I still recommend checking out tutorials and such, but don’t feel like the artist who created the tutorial is god and that you must follow their teachings to a T. Ex. I love the artist kawanocy, and I have some Patreon stuff from him. His art process is too slow and clinical for me personally, but I still take bits and pieces from his teachings to incorporate them into my own workflow/my own art hacks. -

Only study when you want to. Naturally this doesn’t apply to you being in school for art (sometimes u gotta cry and just study away for an assignment), but if you’re not in the mood for drawing/studying, just don’t do it. It’s fine to take some time off!! I’ve had periods of months w/o drawing, especially during summer when I was in Uni. Sometimes you need to wait for inspiration to find u again -

Study from artists you admire and it won’t feel like studying. FIRSTLY do not steal from artists you admire, just study their work. It is fine to trace AS LONG AS YOU DO NOT POST IT AND/OR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN WORK. DO NOT DO THAT. I REPEAT, DO NOT CLAIM TRACED WORK AS YOUR OWN WORK. IT IS NOT YOUR OWN WORK. IF YOU POST TRACED WORK, YOU ARE STEALING ARTWORK AND BEING DISGRACEFUL AND DISRESPECTFUL TO THE ARTIST. Tracing is fine for STUDYING ONLY because your hand follows the path of the original artist’s hand and you get a literal feel for how they work and where their pen goes. I don’t rlly do this anymore, but I used to, esp when I wanted to do some low-brainpower studying. The main point of #4 tho is to not be shy abt taking bits of ppl’s style and using it for yourself. Ex: I really really REALLY admire the art of @/xafeelgood on instagram. I am particularly in love with the way they draw bodies and faces. @/chenbearpig on insta has an amazing style too, and I love love LOVE the way he paints. @/kawanocy has a very beautiful rendering style, and his lighting is v dramatic and impactful. Obvi there are more ppl I admire than just those 3, but those were a lot of my inspirations with art when I was in uni, and they helped shape my style and made me excited to keep pursuing art and trying their styles/painting methods. You have to find artists who make you excited to keep going, and just study their art a bit, or watch a speedpaint to see how they make such glorious art. It is really fun and I always enjoy trying to breakdown how they do their art stuffs so that I can try and do smth similar!! -

Don’t give a fuck about how fast other people draw, how good other people are compared to you, or your follower count. The most helpful thing I told myself this year that has sent my career and drawing/painting ability into the next level is, “I don’t care.” So what if other people are better than me? So what if I’m not the greatest artist ever? I’m still good. I’m still getting paid. I’m loving art again. I’m still trying hard. I’m just not getting that worked up abt art anymore. It’s HARD to not give a fuck, I know that, but it’s only art. It’s really not that serious. It’s not life or death. You’re just here to have a good time and work towards getting better at illustration/drawing/whatever, yeah? It’s so cheesy, but we all have our own paths to take to get to where we want to go. I have died inside realizing that people who are like 16 are 100x better than me already. I used to feel like shit and like my progress didn’t mean anything compared to how amazing other people are, but now? I just don’t care. I’m doing my own thing and I’m vibing and enjoying my drawing time, and that is all I can hope for!!

That is all I can think of right now u3u I guess a final note to leave off on is that all of these tips probably won’t 100% work for you, and that’s totally cool. Again, it’s highly dependent on the individual, but I still hope some of these thoughts and suggestions can help you find ways to make drawing fun and interesting for you.

I hope you keep drawing and illustrating, my dude u7u that is the best way to keep getting better

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fireflyinsummer · 3 years

Text

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

“ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem.

“(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

“Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

“Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

“You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

“John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

“Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

“Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

“Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

“Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

“It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

“Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

“Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

“You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

“Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

“Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

“I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

“Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

“Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

||\\

[Fear of the Water, by SYML]

You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.

||\\

“So, how did it go?”

He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

“C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

“Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

“Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

“We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

“Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

“I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

“If you say so.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

“Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

“You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.

“Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

“You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

“Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

“As in bi-curious?”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

||\\

It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

“Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV. “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

“Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

“Okay, then. Be careful!”

“Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

“Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

“Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

“C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

“Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

“Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

“Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

“Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

“Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

“He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

“None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

“Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

“You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

“You better watch out,” he spits.

“Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

He’s lying. You can tell.

“Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

“Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

He’s angry.

You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

“Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

“Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

“Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

“Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

“Well, there’s not much to know.”

You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.

“What is this, an interrogation?”

You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

“I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

“Tell you what?”

“About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

“Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

“Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

“Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

“It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

“Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

“I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

“Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

“Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

“Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

||\\

“(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

“Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

“You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

“It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

“I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

“Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

“Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

“Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

“I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

“Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

“Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

“What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

“Do you mind?”

“Uh… No?”

“Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

“Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

“What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

“Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

“So we’re friends now?”

“Pretty much.”

“Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

“You’re bossy today.”

You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

“Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

“I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.

All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

“Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

“I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

“Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

“I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

“Will I, now?”

“Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“You haven’t convinced me yet.”

“Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

“I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

“I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

“Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

“Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

“I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

||\\

You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

“I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

“I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

“Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

“I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

“How can you even say that?” he barked.

“Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

“Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

“Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

“It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

“I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it.

And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close.

Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together. You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

“Hello?”

“Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

“How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

“I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

“You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

“That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

“It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

“You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

“It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

“Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

“Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

“Where are you?”

“Home,” you answered without much thought.

“I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

“Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

“You’re not.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

“I’m going out for a bit.”

She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

“Last time you said that…”

“I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

“Is your phone charged, young lady?”

“Yep, it is.”

“Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

“Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

“Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

“Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

“You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

“Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

“Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

“I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

“I just… I’ve never done this.”

“What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

“Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

“Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

“I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

“I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

“So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

“I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

“Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

“Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant.

“Yes?”

“Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly.

That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

“For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

“That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

“What about you?”

“Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

“But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

“That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.

You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

Well, shit.

He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

“You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath. You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

“Who is it?”

“It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

“Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

“Sarah? What is it?”

“Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

Your blood ran cold.

“What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

“We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

“Sarah,” you grunted.

“Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

“Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

“Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

||\\

He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

||\\

“What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

“We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

“What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

“Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

“Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

“Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

“Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

“Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

“Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

“Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

“He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

“Yoongi, what-“

“Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

“Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

Brother?

“How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

“Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

“Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

“People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

“I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

“Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

“I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

“Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

“Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

“It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

“What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

“Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

“Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

“Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.

There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

“How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

“I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

“Why not?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

“What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

“Y/N.”

“Yes?!”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

“Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” you answered straight away.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.

“Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

||\\

“Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

No. He promised.

You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

“Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

“When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

“I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

“Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

“I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

“What, now? Y/N-“

“I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

“No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.”

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

“Hello, Mr. Newton.”

“Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

“Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

“Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

“Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

“Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

“No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

||\\

The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

“Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

“In the kitchen, honey!”

The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

“Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

“Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

“It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

“You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

“It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

“Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

“Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

“So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

“Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

“I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

“Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

“Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

“What’s changed?”

“You.”

Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

“H-How come?”

He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

“Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

“That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

“Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

“Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

“Then I don’t understand.”

“I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

“It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

“I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

“Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

“If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

“Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

“Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

“Okay,” he deadpanned.

“Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

“Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

“Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

||\\

“Get in.”

“No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

“Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

“No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

“You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

“You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

“I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

“Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

“She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

“Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

“Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

“We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

“Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

“Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

“Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

“I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

“Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

“Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

“I won’t,” he snorted.

Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

“Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

“Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

“Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

“Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

“Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

“Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

“What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

“Yes. I liked the dragon.”

||\\

His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

“Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

“Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

“Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

“That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

“Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

“Heathcliff? I don’t.”

He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

“Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

“Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

“I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

“Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

“My place.”

Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

“Whatever you want, grandpa.”

“Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.

Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

“Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

“Bedroom,” you commanded.

“Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

“Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

“When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

“A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

“Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

“Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.

“How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

“Father taught me,” he shrugged.

It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

“Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

“Home,” he stated tersely.

“I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

“We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

“Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

“You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

“Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

“I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

“Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

“If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

“I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

“Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

“Me, too.”

“I know. That’s why.”

He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

“I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

“May I know the others?”

“No,” you glared.

“Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

“Not even then.”

“How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

“Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

“Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

Alright. Great.

As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

“It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

“I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

“Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

“It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

“Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

“Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

“It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

“This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

“Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

“How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

“Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

“Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

“Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

“Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

“Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

“B-But the protocol-“

“Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

“That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

“If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

“Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

“Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

“I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

“W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

“Are you afraid?”

Yes.

Fuck, yes.

Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

“Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

“You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

“Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

“An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

“You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

“My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

“Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

“It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

“So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

“Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

“So you rebelled?”

“No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“Not for us, it’s not.”

“Okay. Then what happened?”

“It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

“I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

“Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

“Because of the devil, right?”

“Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

“I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

“I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

“But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

“Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

“I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

“I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

“Is your time up?”

His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

“Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

“No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

“Then why?”

“Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

“You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

“War,” he completed.

||\\

“While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

“I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

“I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

“Don’t I have a say in it?”

“Ultimately… no.”

“Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

“I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

“Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

“Okay.”

The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

[Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.

Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

“Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

“Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

“It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

“I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

“You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

“Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

“Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

“Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

“It’s fine, Tae.”

“It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

“Taehyung…” you warned.

“Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

“Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

“I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

“Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

“Can we go home, please?”

The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

“Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

“You make me call your name

Now I gotta have one more taste

One shot of your whiskey kisses all on my lips

I keep coming right back.”

- Whiskey Kisses, Mic Lowry

A/N: hello :D this one shot was intended to just be a blurb of bartender!harry teaching the mc how do body shots (thank you to the lovely anons that suggested the prompt) but then it spiraled and now here we are with a full-on piece! I hadn’t written true, start-to-finish smut in a while and figured it was time for some filth 😌 hope you enjoy!

masterlist : ask : bartender!harry tag

word count: 10.5k

content: friends with benefits, flirty pest!harry, teasing, fingering, and oral baybeeee

preview:

“So,” Harry clears his throat with a light cough, his other hand coming out from behind the hidden scenes with a large lime cradled at its center, “there’s two ways of doing body shots.”

He places down the lime, expertly halving it down the center and then quartering it in another swift cut, leaving the fruit in four even wedges. He wipes the knife off with a dish rag, twisting around to chuck it in the dirty dish tub behind him. He picks up one of the slices between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up proudly for emphasis. “There’s the disgusting college frat party version of body shots, and then there’s the proper adult version.”

Harry’s nose crinkles in distaste as an afterthought, his next sentence clarifying. “We’re doing the latter because personally, I think it’s gross to drink anything out of someone’s belly button.”

A small, feathery laugh escapes Y/N, her teeth then digging into her bottom lip to keep her jitters in check. “Whatever you say, you’re the professional.”

Harry gifts her a satisfied smirk at the minute stroke at his ego. “Good girl— that’s what I like to hear.”

The phrase was said with nonchalant humourous intentions, but it makes the pit of her stomach tighten nonetheless. She can’t keep it at bay, not when she’s heard those same two words come from him under very different contexts— not when he’s panted them into her mouth in such a desperate, needy way, eager tongue lulling across the inside of her top lip as his long fingers had marked bruises along her jaw, hips roughly meeting her sore inner thighs.

It’s ingrained in her head and she can never disconnect it and she has a feeling Harry recognizes that, which gives him all the more reason to bring up such matters as often as possible just to fuck with her.

And he truly is well aware of the effect it has. He damn well knows the way it disorients her when he offhandedly uses pet names and remarks that have made appearances during their sexual encounters; he knows the way it revs her and it amuses him more than anything to see her fidget and fumble to keep composure. He adores having that influence over her and he thrives on wielding it to his advantage.

Y/N swallows down her nerves, feeling them lodge in her throat and refuse to go down. The way he slowly bats his lashes at her suggestively doesn’t help at all.

Harry reaches across the bar, hovering the lime wedge over her face. He taps it gently against the center of her lips, the acidic juice rubbing off and making her skin tingle. “Open up for me, yeah?”

Y/N’s lips part on command and Harry can’t stop the pompous hum that runs along the back of his throat. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

or Harry teaches Y/N how to do body shots but lime juice isn’t the only thing that ends up dripping down his chin.

///

“I can’t believe you’ve never done body shots before.”

“It’s just never come up!”

Harry snorts in mild, disbelieving amusement, the still atmosphere of the room staining with the sound of his multiple rings clacking softly against tempered glass.

He takes a firm grip around the neck of a Casamigos tequila bottle, dismounting it from its signature spot on the center shelf of the liquor wall, turning back around to face Y/N. He sets the alcohol container down on the waxed wooden surface of his work station, absentmindedly rummaging through one of the clean equipment tubs stored beneath it.

She can’t help the way her lips twitch fondly at the obvious cinch between his thick brows, his mouth slightly down-turned in a pensive pout as he fishes for something out of sight.

Harry comes up fruitful, a black metal pour spout glitzing dully under the muted lights of the closed bar. He unscrews the cap from the tequila jug, carefully fitting the accessory into the neck and turning it tight for good measure. He taps his fingers triumphantly against the crystal clear glass, rings once again filling the empty space with chimes.

Harry’s gaze locks with Y/N’s, brows shrugging in a playfully expectant manner, one corner of his soft lips flicking upwards with sly mischief. “Get up on the counter.”

She rests her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow propped casually on the tabletop to support the weight. She snorts dismissively, shaking her head a tad. “I don’t think so.”

He points at Y/N scoldingly with the tip of the spout, both brows jerking upwards in a deadpan expression. “You’re absolutely fucked in the head if you thought you were gonna confess to a bartender that you’ve never done body shots and leave without doing some. Now hop off it and get up on the counter.”

Y/N rolls her eyes grandly, slumping her shoulders with begrudged annoyance. “No.”

Harry stares at her for a second, reading her body language carefully— the pads of her fingers tapping jestingly against her cheekbone, the tiny crooked grin curling her delicate lips, the way her eyes are half-lidded in amusement, and the taunting rebellious sheen glinting across the glossy surface of her irises. She’s not refusing due to comfortability reasons; she’s refusing in order to purposefully get on his nerves.

He’s not surprised— pushing his buttons is one of her favorite hobbies, usually because the flirtatious teasing and joking defiance spurs into another one of her favorite pastimes: Harry thrusting between her legs.

It’s obvious now that she’s being a pest to get a rise out of him and he’s more than willing to give it to her. Too willing, if he knows what’s good for him, but he can’t ever seem to resist her— can’t resist how much he loves the way she tugs at his strings so effortlessly.

Harry releases his grasp around the long neck of the liquor bottle, setting his palms flat against the smooth red oak of the pub table. He teeters forward on his hands, ducking down until his line of vision is level with Y/N’s, so close to her face their noses unintentionally brush. The distance separating them is nearly nonexistent, so slim that she’s enveloped in a sphere of his intoxicatingly delicious scent as it wafts up from his flexing neck, tingling her nostrils with notes of ocean salt, cedar wood, and vague whiffs of the fresh linen candle that is continuously alight in his flat.

He shackles her into place with unwavering eye contact, the darkened emerald hue around his pupils gleaming challengingly as his fluffy, shiny curls frame his strong jaw so beautifully it’s likely considered sinful. The white tee he’s sporting strains against his broad chest, the blocky, baby blue Enjoy health! Eat Your Honey! text stretching across his pectoral muscles, the doodle of a smiling bumble bee tempting her with the message’s double-meaning. She hates that she can see his nipples printing through the sheer cotton fabric.

The warm breath of Harry’s words scorches her barely trembling lips, his lashes dusting the tops of his high cheekbones with a sultry, domineering air. His accented voice is thick and dark as the syrup he mixes into his cocktails, low in sound but heavy in impact.

“Get on your fucking back or I’ll stretch you out over the counter myself.”

Y/N decides it's in her best interest to oblige.

She currently lays flat across the sleek counter, her hands folded across her tummy, digits tapping nervously at her abdomen.

Harry is off to the side, retrieving a few other ingredients that seem to be necessary for what they’re about to engage in. She sees him shuffling about through her peripheral vision, glancing up at her sparsely and she can just make out the way his lips are cracked into a shit-eating grin at how easily he’d managed to set her in place.

She turns her head to face him fully, cheek pressing along the cold surface below her and causing her spine to involuntarily shiver. Her toes curl in her checkered sneakers as she anxiously waits for him to speak up, watching as he pulls out a black paring knife from below the edge of his bartending station.

“So,” Harry clears his throat with a light cough, his other hand coming out from behind the hidden scenes with a large lime cradled at its center, “there’s two ways of doing body shots.”

A small, feathery laugh escapes Y/N, her teeth then digging into her bottom lip to keep her jitters in check. “Whatever you say, you’re the professional.”

Harry gifts her a satisfied smirk at the minute stroke at his ego. “Good girl— that’s what I like to hear.”

Y/N swallows down her nerves, feeling them lodge in her throat and refuse to go down. The way he slowly bats his lashes at her suggestively doesn’t help at all.

Y/N’s lips part on command and Harry can’t stop the pompous hum that runs along the back of his throat. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

She glowers at him from the side, her grumble strained and therefore lacking any real mass. “Shut up.”

He coos with exaggerated fondness, attempting to stifle an arrogant smirk. “I’m just happy to be your first time, s’all.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

“And yet you always end up in my bed. Funny how that works, innit?”

The tendon along Y/N’s jaw visibly tenses and Harry snickers to himself as he fits the fruit slice between her teeth, the peel facing inwards so that the part he actually needs is accessible. He then slides a bit further down the counter until he’s standing right beside her resting hips.

He goes to lift her olive green knitted sweater, pausing for a second right at the hem. His fingers twitch excitedly as he glances up at her for permission, craving the rush that comes with absorbing her body heat. “Can I?”

Y/N jerks her chin once in a nod, teeth biting down harder onto the lime wedge when she feels his cold digits brush along her sensitive belly.

Harry pushes her jumper upwards, bunching it up just under her bust. He can see how anxious she is from the way her lower stomach jolts.

His hand grabs something off to the edge of her scope and when it comes into focus, she sees its a metal salt shaker. He suspends it a few centimeters over her body, tapping out a line of salt that starts just above her navel and ends halfway up her stomach. She does her best not to move; the last thing she wants to do is make a mess over Harry’s freshly swept floorboards.

He sets down the container, snatching a tiny transparent red glass from one of the decorative drying racks, flipping it rightside up onto the table and laxly pouring out a tequila shot.

“This is the right way to do it. Pay attention ‘cause I’m only teaching you once.” His light-hearted tone eases some of the gnawing in her bones.

Harry bends down, the warm air that puffs from his mouth hitting the bare skin above her belly button and Y/N suddenly anticipates the feeling of his hot lips running across her tummy.

Her entire body begins to quake, overwhelmed by the flurry of sensations. The trembling is hard enough that Harry notices, eyes flicking up to meet her’s, brows furrowed in a teasing chastising fashion. “I can’t do this unless you stay still, Road Runner.”

Y/N has a difficult time talking over the citrus slice in her mouth, her words muffled but understandable enough. “Sorry— don’t know why I’m shaking but...but I can't stop.”

One of Harry’s hands squeezes her outer thigh reassuringly. “I’ve had my lips on you in way more intimate places than this. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

Y/N sputters into a round of nervous giggles. “Fuck off.”

Harry gives her a disciplinary look full of faux sternness, trying to defuse the tension with some comedic relief. “Stop shaking or I’ll have to hold you down.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to hold me down, then.” She quips back, kinking her eyebrows with attitude.

What Harry does next she really wasn’t expecting at all.

She’d figured he would pin her hips down against the counter to keep her still, but instead Harry coasts a palm up the center of her barely-clothed chest, fingers wrapping securely around her throat.

She nearly inhales the lime wedge.

The pads of his digits squeeze her jugular with just enough strength to jar her system into reboot, her whole body going deadly still in his dominant grasp. He presses the back of her neck down against the cold wood, coaxing her back to straighten out properly so she doesn’t start quivering again. The whole situation is utterly erotic and Harry knows it. The feeling of her pretty throat straining against his palm is all too familiar— they’d been in the same position not even three nights ago, though it had been on the floor of his bedroom and they'd both been wearing way less clothes.

Harry was confident this would get her in line easily. The shock factor of such a bold, brazen move all out of the blue was bound to distract her enough to rid anything else from her mind, including the anxiety. The image it sketched was just a plus: Y/N staring at him all doe-eyed over the tops of her dewy cheeks, lashes fluttering with that needy innocent aura that makes the underside of his balls ache. It’s the same look she gets when she’s spread out across his sheets, clawing at the sides of his torso and pulling him deeper inside, begging for him to go harder.

She had instinctively choked out a teeny whimper the second she felt his hand enclosing around her throat and he’s ashamed to admit his knees had buckled. It had been such a sweet, melodic sound and the fact that he had drawn it out of her so easily was threatening to pop a stiffy into his flared corduroy pants. Not to mention how good the contrast of his lilac polished nails looks against her supple skin, which seems to be glowing in the dim, bourbon-tinted lighting.

Harry licks over his mouth slowly, bottom teeth tugging at his upper lip. When he speaks, it’s soft and deep, stirring the gravel in his chest. “Better?”

Y/N boggles her head in a jerky nod, eyes flickering down to where her stomach is permanently clenched due to the heavy atmosphere of the room.

“Alright, then.”

He leans down once again, glimpsing at her one last time before he makes contact with the plush mound of her stomach.

Harry’s tongue feels warm and textured as it slides upwards over the salt trail, the wet sensation sending her nerves into a numbed frenzy, a certain prickling washing across her scalp and pinching at the shells of her ears.

Y/N drinks up the picture before her like a tall glass of fine wine, her mind absorbing every detail with crisp awareness.

Harry’s messy auburn ringlets fall across his face due to his angle, the silky locks kissing across his prominent jaw and structured cheekbones. His lashes drop over his eyes in a euphoric stupor, faint pulses of white hot energy traveling across Y/N’s flesh and fizzing every cell of his. The salt burns the damp skin of his mouth, grating against his tongue as he works his way up as slowly as possible, refusing to surrender the sweet taste of the delicate skin that undercuts the bitterness of the ingredient.

Y/N’s hand acts of its own accord, fingers prying away from clutching onto the edge of the counter and trading it for Harry’s roots. Her grip cards into the hair along the nape of his neck, following the curve of his skull right behind his small ear.

The area is one of many sensitive spots she’s become accustomed to toying with since they had developed their unlabeled relationship; the vaguely sensual manner of this entire exchange has her unintentionally falling back on muscle memory.

Harry’s actions pause for an elongated second, the broad expanse of his back visibly contracting under the fabric hugging his torso. His tongue leaves her body— much to her pining disapproval— as a small needy hiss escapes his swollen lips, accompanied by a breathy weak sigh through his nose. “Fuck…”

It’s a sound she’d had the pleasure of hearing before, usually when he was getting close and would try to hold off for the sake of dragging everything out. It’s desperate, it tremors, and it packs a punch like nothing else; it means he’s getting into his head about how she’s making him feel and there’s nothing hotter than watching him space out from how much bliss he’s drawing from her— from this. From something as simple as touching his mouth to her skin.

Her thighs tighten together, the area between them growing uncomfortably warm. She wills her hold to ease up and nearly blacks out when he cradles his head into her palm, silently pleading with her to not completely pull away.

Y/N croaks out an apology for her sudden harsh behavior, bottom lip wobbling as his eyes list upwards to meet her own and she notices his pupils are blown way out of proportion. “S-Sorry. Force of habit.”

His head gives a choppy shake within her frail grip, teeth worrying the inside of his cheek. His voice comes out as an airy, intense whisper, almost as if what he’s about to utter next is something so private not even their shadows should be allowed to hear it.

“Don’t be sorry, minx. Was praying you would. You know how much I love it when you’re rough with me.”

With that last comment leaving her embarrassingly breathless, Harry sticks his tongue back out and laps up at the last couple of granules of salt left on her stomach, planting a sloppy, delicate kiss along the crest of her belly button for good measure.

The way she gasps lightly strokes at his ego, a coy simper bracing against her tense tummy. Y/N holds in her next exhale to avoid giving him the satisfaction of gloating, trying her best to diffuse the bristling at the ends of her fingers and across her slightly damp cheeks.

Harry proceeds to sponge his warm, cushiony lips to the different pressure points he, too, has grown extremely familiar with, talking in between each stop on his trek.

He travels up the extent of her belly and across the center of her chest over her jumper, his words heavy and sticky. “Y’know I can tell when you’re holding out on me, right?”

He pools wet, tender pecks into the groove of her throat and onto the curve of her strained neck, finally reaching her face and gently bumping his nose against her chin, a stipple of his mouth chasing the gesture. He murmurs his thoughts in a low tone, brushing the pads of his fingers across her jaw and trailing underneath in such a sweet, admiring manner. He wanders upwards and halts right where her bottom lip curves the deepest, gluing one more light, lingering kiss to her cupid’s bow as the grip around her throat tightens just a hair. “And you know I’m more than capable of coaxing it out of you.”

The hand that is wound into his velvet curls falls limply down the side of his tanned neck, coasting across the strong build of his shoulder and down to rest flat against his slightly heaving chest, nestled between both of his pecs, the joints of her digits vibrating with his gradually swelling heartbeat.

Harry’s nose grazes over hers as he takes the lime slice from between her teeth, juice spurting and streaming out the edges of her mouth as a result. She instinctively licks across her itching skin, just barely skimming Harry’s lips as he pulls away with the fruit wedge in his mouth. She can feel the way his pulse jumps against his ribs just before her hand slips away due to the distance; it leaves her wondering if he had felt her own thundering against the palm he’d had around her jugular.

Harry grasps the halve between his index finger and thumb, fervently draining it as quickly as possible to get the tough part out of the way, tossing it into an unseen bin. His nose scrunches up at the sour, pungent taste, the buttoned tip twitching as one of his canopy green eyes squeezes shut, head ruffling in a sharp shake as if to regain his bearings. She can feel her stinging lips jerk with the beginnings of a fond smile at the way his loosely structured ringlets bounce to his motions.

Harry talks through a full mouth, hand fumbling for the sleekness of the shot glass. “Fucking hell, that’s the worst of it.”

He finds it when his knuckles accidentally knock across the rim, digits wrapping around the small cup securely and jetting it up towards his face while blindly aiming for the general vicinity of his mouth, hoping to get rid of the bitterness coating the underside of his tongue. He pounds it back without a hitch, Adam’s Apple bobbing grandly as the liquor sears its way down the back of his throat, accompanied by its accessory ingredients. Harry slams the stout glass down onto the counter, mouth pursing and both eyes screwing shut as the curdling aftertaste fades into a dull throb that froths the pit of his stomach with a recognizable warmth.

“You would think you’d be able to handle your alcohol better, being a bartender and all.”

Harry’s eyes fly open at the coy remark that tinges the chilled air of the bar, vision zeroing in on its source as she lays across the wooden table with her sweater smoothed back into place, her intertwined hands resting calmly along the dip of her navel, and her enticing lips curled into a mildly condescending smirk.

His brows jump up daringly at Y/N’s dig as he sets down the crystalline cup, quietly clearing his throat to make sure his voice doesn’t crack. He lewdly circles the tip of his forefinger around the hem of the glass once, twice, and then a third time before finally speaking up. “Someone’s being a fucking brat tonight, hm?”

Y/N’s eyebrows mimic Harry’s, her expression slathered in fake cluelessness, though the corners of her mouth betray her with smug glee. “Who, me? I would never, I’m an absolute dream!”

He pushes the glass as far away as possible— he wants to avoid it falling victim to what their conversation is insinuating. “A filthy wet one, at that.”

Y/N’s knuckles whiten as her grip intensifies, her lashes blinking sluggishly. “Is that so?”

Harry leans down, the hairs along his skin standing up as his forearms make contact with the cold surface of the table. He slinks his head to the side, continuing to dance around the subject they both know this talk is unmistakably leading towards. “Very much so.”

“So was that your plan all along, then? To get your mouth on me just to be a pest about it afterwards?”

He bites into the pad of his thumb to muffle a chuckle, irises twinkling like sea glass, framed by his perfectly sculpted, jokingly furrowed brows. His words are unapologetically blunt, biceps rippling against the flimsy sleeves of his tee as he shifts his weight, pastel yellow Vans squeaking against the polished oak ground. “It truly wasn’t my intention, love. But then you let out that pretty little moan and yanked at my hair so hard I saw stars and, well...quite frankly, I can’t let you get away with that, now can I?”

Y/N swallows heavily, drinking up a deep inhale to replace the oxygen Harry has robbed from her— the way he’s knowingly twisting the rusty golden H ring around his middle finger is doing her in.

Her voice lodges in her lungs, the result being a docile, needy tone and the aching between her legs is too much for her to even attempt to mask it. “What do you want from me, then?”

Harry stops turning his ring, instead walking his first two digits over her hip, picking at the button on her jeans mockingly and scoffing in dark amusement when she squirms. “Beg me for it.”

The word slips past her lips all wispy and eager with no remorse or shame whatsoever. “Please.”

Harry pops the metal clasp of her jeans open, smiling deviously around the thumb between his teeth. “Again.”

Y/N puts more emotion into it, trying to convey how much she wants him so he’ll quit this annoying charade. “Please, Harry.”

He folds the flaps of her pants outwards, slowly tugging down the zipper and purring in pleasant surprise when he sees she’s sporting the pair of maroon lace panties he adores so much. “Please what?”

“Please—” She chokes up as she watches him flirt ominously with the tiny bow on the waistband of her painties. “Please touch me.”

Harry hooks his finger into the dainty material of the undies and pulls it back from her abdomen; the potential of the band snapping down onto her skin has her eyes watering. The pastel purple lacquer on his nail glints teasingly while a demand drips from his lips, thick and leisurely as his sight flickers sideways for a barely existent moment, interested in what lays below her undergarment. “Touch you how?”

Y/N’s self-control is wearing critically thin and it’s taking every fiber of her being not to pounce on him this instant. Instead, both of her hands snap around his wrist, the beaded bracelet he’s sporting stamping into her palm. She clings to him like a vine, guiding his fingers below her panties, lungs stuttering as his icey, chunky rings catch on the hood of her clit. Her voice is dry and uneven as she arches her hips just a tad against his cupped fingers. “Like this— touch me like this.”

Harry stays completely still for a few suspenseful heartbeats, staring at her with the colors around his pupils kaleidoscoping with different hues of muted sage and bright rosemary, the amber specks shimmering with silent power. Then, his hand begins to move, the pads of his digits lulling lazily against her core, bolts of bliss shooting up her spine.

Y/N breaks their cemented gazes, watching in a starved haze at the way his knuckles and jewelry tent the flimsy lace of her underwear as his large hand bobs between her parted thighs. She can feel how wet she is— can feel how it coats his skin and makes his touch glide over her with ease. She can see the way his forearm flexes with effort, bent on infusing pleasure into every crevice of her body until she’s left breathless and quaking. Veins carve their way under his smooth, inked skin, shifting and bulging beneath the intricate rose tattoo and creasing the portrait of the nude mermaid she so strangely fancies.

Harry removes the thumb of his free hand from between his teeth, bite marks indented into the soft tissue from how hard he was working on keeping himself together. He caringly tucks a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, his chaste demeanor heavily contrasting the vulgar scene unfolding a foot away.

This juxtaposition of tenderness and eroticism is so typical of him when it comes to sex and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t live off it. The polarity between his gentle, soothing personality and the absolute filth of his sex habits constantly keeps her on her toes, excited to see what comes next and restless to take whatever he has to offer. There was never a boring moment with Harry and she never felt like her desires went unattended; he always gives her exactly what she craves— both the sweet and the sour.

It’s similar to the incredible drinks he’s so well-known for: an even ratio of top shelf ingredients kept at a perfect balance, mixed thoughtfully to provide a signature cocktail that keeps her coming back for more.

The tang was evident in the way Harry would bend her over the back of his couch, tainting dark bruises onto her hips as he would work himself inside her, gasping broken curses into the shell of her hot ear and grunting at her to continue pushing back against him. It’s in how he would decorate handprints across her ass whenever she’d slow down even the slightest, giving a relentless yank at her roots and scratching down the center of her spine until her back would arch obediently. The honey was in how he would then contradict his dominance by planting a gentle kiss to the back of her tense shoulder and to the nape of her sweaty neck, following the gesture with a tight, bashful mumble of, “God, please don’t fucking stop. You feel too fucking good for this to stop.”

The bite of the liquor was in how Harry was willing to drag her up the metal and glass staircase to his loft during the busy hours of a Saturday evening, shoving her flat across the expanse of his kitchen island and ripping his tee over his head. It’s in how he would stuff the shirt in her mouth to stifle the screams he was hell-bent on weaning out of her, all because he had a full pub just one floor below but he didn’t give a single fuck; he just had to feel her stretching, writhing, and pleading under him. The toothache of the syrup was present in how just before he’d stuff her to the brim, he’d dapple his lips to the tip of her heated nose in a quiet instance of reassurance, accompanied by a teeny boyish smile that would hold more warmth than all the rays of the sun.

The acidity of the lime was prominent in how Harry would tug her into his lap and slam her down against his thighs, hooded eyes electric with greedy satisfaction at watching her mewl and quiver with every deep stroke she’d take of his cock, the bottom of her tummy bulging from its girth and length. It’s in the manner in which he’d snake one arm taut around her love-bite tattooed waist, the hand of the other weighing its first two digits heavy on her tongue until she’d gag and whine. The agave nectar undercurrent in tequila was distinguishable in how after they had both dismounted their highs and she had collapsed into his chest, dripping down her thighs and onto the sheets, he would nurse her jaw with the palm of his hand, thumbing over her swollen bottom lip with dreamy affection clouding his dim green irises. He would kiss at the top of her matted hair, tracing her water-beaded hairline with the bridge of his nose and cooing out a compassionate, “Did so good for me, pet. You always do so good.”

Their relationship was sweet and it was sour and it was beyond anything she could’ve ever hoped for or expected. It was definitely beyond what Y/N had expected when she’d set foot in the bar all those weeks ago, tagging along with a friend simply to appease their insistent request, hiding herself in the booth farthest from the thick of the ruckus to make herself as invisible as possible. Bars weren’t necessarily her scene; she’d rather people-watch than throw herself into the middle of a throng of half-conscious, sweaty bodies. She hadn’t expected that the lanky, built, incredibly attractive bartender with an eclectic fashion sense would even notice her, let alone clamber up onto the bar and yell across the room, singling her out as the chosen candidate for the nightly round of complimentary shots.

She hadn’t expected they’d hit it off so well either, mostly because she had harbored a few traces of resentment towards him for forcing her out of the safety provided by her sequestered nook, and also because he had the most stupidly infuriating gorgeous smile she had ever seen— it was authentic, inviting, and it gave her an odd sense of soothing familiarity, which was unsettling considering he was a complete and total stranger. She hadn’t expected he would stir up jitters in her stomach, but after getting a spoonful of his personality, it seemed to be inevitable. He was sarcastic and giddy, full of inappropriate jokes and endless bundles of heart-fluttering giggles; when he engaged with her, he made her the epicenter of his world, which was so rare to find in people these days considering there was always somewhere to be or something else to do other than entertain some random person that was nothing more than a customer.

But no, he gave her his full and undivided attention, listening to every word that rambled out of her mouth as he propped himself onto the counter on his elbows, chin resting on his knuckles with a delicate, encouraging aura highlighting the edges of his rosy mouth. Harry kept up with the conversation without a catch and returned her energy and enthusiasm tenfold. He remembered small details of the stories she was sharing and actually laughed at all her jokes, despite the fact that half of them came out as a jumbled mess; the way his emerald eyes were sparkling under the starburst design lights hanging above-head was fucking with her ability to form coherent sentences.

Talking with him felt like stepping out into the sun on a canvas-worthy spring afternoon, the warmth of the heat waves running its fingertips along her bare arms and absorbing into her skin, making her bones ache in the best way imaginable. Making him smile felt like the shy caress of a faint draft, the wind smelling of honeysuckle as it wove its way between the ruffles of her clothing and skidded over the apples of her cheeks. Hearing his laughter was the equivalent of sitting in a field of grass, the ground warm under her touch, the blades silky between the creases of her fingers. It was buoyant, loud, and admiringly bold— it lacked the insecurity that tended to hold others back from fully enjoying themselves, scared of looking weird or making an unpleasant noise that might garner them disapproving looks. Harry laughed with his entire gut, a hand resting on his stomach as if to keep himself from bursting open, the ends of his eyes wrinkling and his two blocky front teeth showing. The tip of his nose would even twitch some, which was probably the most peculiar aspect of it all, yet it easily became her favorite mannerism of his.

She was taken by him from the get-go and it’s almost pathetic how fast he’d had her wrapped around his pinky.

Y/N hadn’t expected to feel like that around Harry and she had used the vodka shots as an excuse for her overdramatic thoughts, but there was a frayed wire in her mind that had continued to spark for the remainder of that night, wondering how it was possible to connect with someone so effortlessly and provoke such chemistry so soon.

However, what Y/N hadn’t expected in even the slightest was ending up perched on top of the sticky wooden counter after the bar had closed, her arms wrapped around Harry’s strong shoulders as his hips had rocked between her naked thighs. She’d caught his tiny gold hoop earring between her teeth while she poured cracked moans into the dip of his ear, his tongue stifling the burn of the bite marks he was scattering along the underside of her clenched jaw, the low rumble of his accented voice— dense from the liquor— urging the heels of her shoes harder into the backs of his thick thighs.

“Been wanting to taste your lips all fucking night.”

One night stands were few and rare for her before that blurry, alcohol-induced detour. They were risky, unpredictable, and a right plague to leave behind the following morning— an hour or so of fun just didn’t seem to be worth the probable cost. But with Harry, it was like she was sold on the idea before it had even been an offer. He’d had a mesmerizing pull about him that left her wanting to get to know him better in every context humanly available, whether it be physical or emotional. He had puppeted his pretty face and boyish charm without issue and she had been in over her head long before she’d even realized she was sinking.

What made it that much more appealing was that he wasn’t even trying— he was just being himself. The flirty yet non-overbearing, cheeky yet respectful persona he displayed wasn’t a display at all, it was just who he was and that innocent legitimacy is what propelled her to button their lips together the second he had made a move.

A hesitant bundle of pecks had turned into a deeper, hungrier round of kissing that had been speckled with half-suppressed whimpers. It had then morphed into Y/N clumsily crawling over the counter and toppling into his awaiting arms, her whole body buzzing as he had giggled into her mouth between heavy breaths and feverish whines.

The sloppy make out session had led to her fumbling with the leather belt around his slender hips as he had peeled her jeans down to her knees, his forehead falling against hers while he chewed his lower lip raw with impatience. It hadn’t been too long before he had moved her panties to the side with a tug of his index finger, her palm groping him shyly through his trousers and earning a soft, throaty, “Proper tease, aren’t you?” and then Harry was dipping inside her with a hiss streaming past the cracks of his gritted teeth. The drinks in their systems had acted as kerosine, setting every nerve alight as their bodies molded to one another’s quirks and customs, finding much-needed comfort in learning what made the other tick. She can’t recall how long it had lasted— she had been too lost in his company to care about the hands of the aged bar clock on the wall. When he had finally spilled inside her, it felt like forever and too soon all at once. Y/N had fallen apart right in his arms as the flat of his tongue tended to her racing pulse, blurbs of incoherent praise scraping across the roof of her mouth.

And now here they are, after what feels like decades later, on the very same tabletop that had christened their “no strings attached” relationship in the first place. And here Harry is, lovingly petting at her hair while his fingers work her towards utterly ruining her underwear, his intensely colored eyes reading every jolt of her features like the pages of an immersive novel. And here Y/N is, working her hips to match his rhythm, teeth cutting along the inside of her bottom lip as tight exhales falter past her nostrils.

She tilts her chin up, the back of her skull skidding against the counter, every dent and notch in the wood catching on her scalp and helping anchor her back down to reality. Her head halts when the blots of bronze in Harry’s irises come into view.

His defined features have softened into an expression of doting awe, sculpted brows relaxed with endeared curiosity as his usually prominent cheekbones take on a softer appearance, crimson lips slightly agape. He’s studying her closely, basking in how she responds to his actions and using her body language as a cue. He continues to nuzzle at the baby hairs along her damp forehead, eyes flitting across different points of her face, waiting for her to give him any sign as to what he should do next.

Y/N wills one of her hands to untie from around Harry’s lazily flicking wrist, trembling fingers climbing up to tether around the pearl necklace laying daintily within the dip of his collarbones. The beads are ice cold to the touch as she knots them around her knuckles, her sight sewn to his lips.

The infatuation she carries for them is sad, really. Y/N thinks he has the most beautiful pair she’s ever seen, the softest she’s ever tasted, and definitely the most skilled she’s ever felt. She could gawk at them forever if time allowed, following every ridge, curve, and peak, idolizing all the different shades of pink that are never quite the same.

But lips weren’t created for the purpose of just being seen— not when there’s so many better uses.

Y/N gives the necklace a signifying tug as a quiet, vulnerable mutter betrays her, her interest still plastered to his swollen mouth. “Kiss me.”

Harry swallows thickly, struggling to catch a breath under her hungry stare, ears flaring at how frantic her sentence had come out. The emotion seems to have worn off on his own voice.

“Say it again.”

The pearls pinch at the loose ringlets that tickle the back of his neck, straining against his skin as she beckons him forward more insistently. He poises himself a mere inch from her mouth, her shaky exhales fanning over his cupid’s bow and fuck, he loves the suspense of it all. Loves the dynamic they share of toying with each other until the tension is practically palpable.

The hollow of Y/N’s throat flexes as she grapples with her words. “Kiss me. Please.”

And when he does, coincidentally enough, sweet and sour is all her muddled brain registers.

Harry always tastes sweet. His lips have an inherently sugary quality to them, almost as if he’s dipped them in honey; it’s as addicting as any other part of him. His tongue is sour. It carries the remnants of the lime and tequila he’d just doused down, the flavor trickling through her taste buds and causing an aching throb along the back of her jaw.

Harry’s fingers shift down from her hairline, his thumb settling on her cheekbone as the other four splay across the side of her face. The kiss is gentle at first, yet teeming with need, and it gradually starts to swell into a more passionate tempo. He slots their mouths roughly, turning his head to delve deeper, noses bumping and eyelashes brushing.

Y/N’s so far gone that when Harry suddenly buries his middle finger inside her, she literally screams into his mouth.

“Fuck, Harry— oh my God!” Her hips thrash upwards into his palm as he sinks up to his amethyst lion head ring.

His wet, moany whisper streams directly into her chest. “Christ, you’re fucking soaked.”

Harry pumps the digit into her groggily, savoring the sensation of her squeezing around it as his thumb continues to stroke at the sensitive nub higher up. The soft sounds that drip from her bitten lips, the lusty fog over her glimmering eyes, and the way she’s guiding his hand nearly make him soil his pants.

In any other circumstance, he’d be too ashamed to admit it— to admit that some casual fingering has him squirming— but with Y/N, he won’t even attempt to defend himself. She has him whipped and it’s more than obvious; fighting it is useless. Whether that extends into emotional territory or not…That’s something he’s not prepared to untangle.

Instead, he just focuses on the moment— on what they have right now; on what she has him feeling presently, which is plenty. The confession airs itself without much effort.

“You look so good like that— gonna make me cum without even touching me.”

The remark makes a lightning rod zip down her spine. “Y-Yeah?”

Harry draws back from her mesmerizing mouth, worrying her bottom lip between his teeth and letting it snap back. “You have me making a fucking mess of myself, pet.”

Y/N yanks him closer than before, planting a peck to his chin and then suckling lightly at the crescent along his upper lip. Her voice struggles to keep steady. “Want another finger.”

“Another one?” He slowly pulls out from between her thighs, aligning his second middle finger accordingly, rings clacking together. His typical snark is ever-present in his scoff. “So demanding.”

He can feel Y/N grin smugly against him, her tone mimicking his from earlier. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

Harry rams her request inside, cooing with faux sympathy when she cracks a yelp.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

He curls the two fingers upwards, hitting a familiar spongy spot that he knows will drive her mad.

“Thought this was what you wanted, yeah? For me to fuck you like this?”

His prediction materializes in the way she claws at the collar of his t-shirt, grabbing at anything she can get as her body starts rocking, riding his fingers. Harry grips her face in a flare of dominance, nudging at her lips with his own.

“Baby just wants me to make her feel good, right? Y’want me to make you cum so hard you can barely walk up the stairs to my flat?”

He’s plucking at a chord at the pit of her stomach, her thighs trembling in response and he furrows his brows into a cautionary expression that warns her not to clamp them shut. It takes every fiber of her being to keep her legs from clenching together.

Harry persists with his teasing, picking up the speed of his thrusts, his thumb relentlessly playing with her clit.

“That is where you’re gonna end up, isn’t it? Same as always— spread across my bed in one of my shirts with your panties hanging off my dresser and my fingerprints bruised across your hips.”

“Harry, I—” Y/N can’t even finish the thought, the words dissolving on her tongue as he bites at the flesh along the slope of her jaw, his own syllables charring her nerves.

“S’not like the underwear matters much, anyways. You won’t need it until around noon the next day, considering you usually spend the entire morning bouncing on my cock. I’m not complaining, though. It’s the highlight of my day, if I’m being honest. You just look so cute pulling at my boxers, half asleep with that needy little pout on your lips, not to mention how adorable it is to watch you crawl across the bed into my lap with your nipples peeking through the fabric of my tee.”

Her hand leaves his wrist and spreads over the back of his, fingers carding between the cracks. She shoves him further inside and his jaw goes slack in aroused shock. She’s so shameless about it all and it makes him twitch in his trousers.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. And, shit, I can’t stop thinking about the way my shirt just bunches around your thighs while you’re fucking yourself on me, thrusts deep and lazy as you beg me to play with your cunt while you use me to get yourself off. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it, love? Using me to make yourself cum? Meanwhile I just sit back with my arms behind my head until you get close. Then you’re scratching across my shoulders and panting into my neck, telling me how bad you want me to fill you up because you like how warm I make you feel.”

Y/N’s balancing on the edge as Harry spins a miracle between her drenched thighs and she feels embarrassed for the puddle that’s likely spreading over the bar counter.

“Such a dirty fucking girl. Especially when you grab my hand and place it right here.” He ducks his head and kisses at the center of her throat for emphasis, a conceited hum thrumming deep in his chest when she whimpers. “That’s when you decide to get into the proper filth. Stuff like, ‘You’re so fucking big, H. Already have me sore.’ and ‘Want you dripping down my thighs.’ But there’s so much more than that, though. What’s that one word you fancy so much? Need you to jog my memory.”

He’s switched to using his whole palm to rub at her clit, pounding deeper until his icy, chunky rings continuously thunk wetly.

Y/N abides to Harry’s condescending question, gritting out the answer shyly. “Daddy.”

“Oh, that’s right. Daddy. How could I possibly forget when you always whine it into my mouth? ‘Harder, daddy, please.’ and ‘Want you to cum, daddy.’ and ‘I’m your good girl, daddy.’ And how about what you have me call you? Fuck, you just can’t seem to get enough of it. Your eyes always roll back when I tell you what a slut you can be. There’s that one phrase that you seemed to really enjoy the other day. When I said, ‘You’re such a darling little slut for me, aren’t you, baby?’ and you just melted.”

Y/N feels a familiar spark igniting at the pit of her abdomen, uncontrollably building. “Harry, I’m gonna—”

All his actions immediately stop, fingers going limp between her legs.

The sob she releases is anguished and irritated. “No, no, no— please don’t stop. M’close, H, please.”

Harry looks down at her over the crests of his brightly pigmented cheeks and she hadn’t noticed until now just how much this was impacting him, as well. She’d been so in her head she had failed so catch the way his whole body is trembling.

He speaks so low and delicately it’s hardly audible, but the meaning of it punctures right through her ribs and into her gut.

“Wanna feel you cum in my mouth.”

A few extended heartbeats tick by before his suggestion sinks into her brain and then she’s struggling to sit up onto her elbows, already in the process of swinging her legs off the edge of the pub table.

Harry’s drops to his knees with a hollow thump to the elegant wooden floor, large clumsy hands fiddling with the waist of her jeans, riding them down her clammy thighs. Y/N maneuvers herself into a somewhat upright position, sitting back on her palms, fingers wrapping around the edge of the bar counter for support. He finishes easing her out of the high-waisted denim bottoms, discarding them on the ground beside his calf.

Harry runs his warm touch up her goosebump-ridden legs, groping at her outer thighs and yanking her closer until she’s balancing on the cliff of the waxed surface. Y/N can’t stifle herself from swinging one arm out from behind her, blindly fisting at the curls along the crown of his head, shivering when he mewls weakly. He stipples his hot lips up her knee caps and along her inner thighs, spreading her open wider and wider as he trails upwards. His grip firms around her hips, holding her in place in preparation for the wriggling and twisting he knows she won’t be able to reign. Harry eyes her center with drunken desire, toying with the waistband of her racy lace undies, taking some time to just get a good look at how dark the fabric has become.

Y/N takes this opportunity to ogle at him herself, gnawing the inside of her left cheek raw at how incredible he looks on his knees. His lavender flared pants compliment the polish on his nails, the pastel yellow of his Vans peeking through as he lounges back against his heels. Amidst all the commotion, his white shirt has become half untucked from beneath his belt and the desperate messiness his image paints is nearly enough to finish her off. Especially as her sight wanders upwards, catching on the small silver hoop shining on his right ear and then leveling with his view, his eyes owlish and puppy-like as he leans forward all the way and presses a lingering kiss right over the wet patch of her panties.

His voice is spaced out and distant. “Been thinking about eating you out all day.”

Harry flutters pecks up to the elastic of her undergarment, taking it carefully between his teeth and tugging downwards. Y/N remains as still as possible as he coaxes the article off, one hand massaging at the back of her calf while the other stays secured to her hip.

Once the last bit of material is out of the way and she’s finally bare, Harry straightens himself into perfect posture, hoisting both of her legs over his solid shoulders in one swift motion. Her heels knock against his taut back muscles, digging in with anticipation as he bites bruises into the junction where her inner thigh meets her crotch.

Y/N tilts his head up a bit to get his attention, her tone bleeding. “Need your tongue. Please.”

He nods numbly in her grasp, wetting his lips slowly before answering in a hushed murmur. “Gonna give it to you, dove. Gonna make my girl feel so fucking good for me. Always do.”

And he truly does; Y/N never doubted that. From the first kitten lick he gives, she knows she isn’t going to last long.

His light strokes meld into deep, needy lapping, the flat of his tongue dragging against her clit in long trails, warm and silky. Every time he gets to the hood at the top, he gives a few quick flicks with the very tip, causing her to wring at his curls almost cruelly. He then proceeds to duck down until he’s at her entrance, flirting his tongue around the rim and dipping it inside as far as he can before the back of his throat begins to ache.

He keeps this rhythm going firmly, every now and then allowing himself to wander some, suckling at the outer lips of her heat and gifting the area sticky kisses that make her shudder.

Y/N’s head falls back between her shoulder blades, the weight straining the back of her neck but she’s too high off him to force her joints to comply. She can only muster enough energy to comb her fingers through his satin locks, scratching at his scalp in agreement as broken sounds of encouragement sting the back of her throat and drive his every move.

“You taste like heaven, baby. So fucking sweet, can never get enough of it. Could spend hours on my knees for you.”

Harry prods the bud of her clit with the tip of his button nose, puckering his lips around it and sucking feverishly, grinning into her cunt when her legs clasp harder around his neck. He talks over a full mouth, the vibrations pinballing up the knobs of her spine. “Liked that, didn’t you?”

She adamantly shakes her head yes.

He coats his palms along her outer thighs, squeezing teasingly and prying them open enough to get a better range. He then shakes his face, tongue expertly caressing every nook and cranny.

Y/N’s nails crunch against the wood that runs along the underside of the counter. “Yes, yes, yes— shit, thank you.”

Harry presses his lips together tightly, tugging at her folds for the heightened stimulation, preening at how the digits in his roots spasm. “More than happy to help, minx.”

She manages to crane her neck forward, chin pressing into her heaving upper chest as she stares down at him with so much lust her eyes water. He returns her starved gaze, the lower half of his face utterly drenched, cheeks glistening with her excitement as the corners of his darkened mouth prick his dimples into place. Every ragged breath and every watery moan is inflating his ego beyond reasonable.

“I’m so fucking close, Har.”

He pushes his tongue deeper, head bobbing with newfound purpose as his lashes flutter up at her temptingly. He looks borderline ethereal with the amber lights reflecting off his glossy, cocksure irises, arms flexing with the strength it takes to keep her tethered down, the inking on his tan skin jumping to life.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, hm? Want you dripping down my chin.”

This orgasm is definitely one of the best Harry has ever given her.

It boils over from the bottom of her tummy, a relieving glow surging through every vein and warming her from the inside out. It splinters her bones with unimaginable pleasure, her whole body caving forward as he eggs the climax to its full potential. He continues licking into her tirelessly, brows raised in amused glee as he watches her come undone at the seams, crying out his name as the waves of satisfaction roll out from the bottom of her feet to the very tips of her ears.

When Y/N finally regains her composure from the unrealistic surge, she nearly collapses right off the side of the bar table.

Harry intercepts what otherwise would have been a very unpleasant finish to the experience, mounting onto his feet and wrapping a strong arm around the dip of her back, keeping her upright and safe.

Her forehead plops against his, a dreamy giggle escaping past her marked-up lips as the last currents of gratification fade away. Harry’s own boyish chuckle tinges the electrified air around them, his free arm coming up to use his wrist as an impromptu cloth, wiping away the leftover wetness. It’s a simple gesture but it makes her belly throb.

He then cradles her face with both of his obscenely warm hands, spongeing his lips to the tip of her unfeeling nose in an endeared, affectionate manner, all the lust in his mood replaced by loving concern. “You alright? Wasn’t too much?”

She wobbles her head half-heartedly, mind still submerged in the aftershock. Her throat is so battered she can barely get out her words. “It was perfect— you’re always perfect.”

To her unexpecting entertainment, Harry’s cheeks and neck dye a dull shade of raspberry red. He follows the outline of her plump bottom lip with his thumbs, attitude bashful and sheepish. “You flatter me too much. My head’s not gonna fit through the front door.”

Y/N snorts playfully, kissing softly at the pad of his left thumb. “As if your head isn’t big enough already.”

“Heyyyyy!” He pouts childishly, bumping his brows to hers as a minute show of revenge. “S’not the way to treat the bloke that just tongue-fucked you into nearly passing out.”

His friend rolls her eyes at him grandly, pinching at his stomach jestingly. “Ever so humble.”

“Keep myself grounded, don’t I?” Harry pulls away from their embrace, ducking down to retrieve something from the floor. He comes up with her crumpled panties hanging off his index finger, pressing his lips together to keep from bursting into a round of immature giggles. “I believe these are yours.”

Y/N snags them, giving him a pointed, deadpan glare as she tentatively slips them up her naked legs, shimmying them over her hips.

A comical memory suddenly surfaces into the forefront of her thoughts.

“Y’know what’s funny? If I recall correctly, you said we weren’t gonna have sex on the bar anymore. Something about it being ‘unsanitary and unprofessional.’”

Harry freely splutters into the cheeky laugh he’d been trying to muffle, casually crossing his arms over his broad chest, tongue sweeping over the front of his top teeth coyly. One edge of his mouth flickers upwards into a shit-eating simper. “Well, this technically wasn’t sex.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N flattens her palms against the wooden counter, hopping off smoothly and sweeping her jeans up off the ground. She’s not sure what magic Harry used to get her pants off without removing her sneakers, but she knows she doesn’t possess it. She toes off her checkered trainers and begins easing her foot through one leg. “What was it, then? Meditating?”

Harry scowls humorously at her quip— it’s an inside joke that pertains to the code word he now uses for “masturbating.” It was courtesy of a drunken customer once asking him for advice on what to do when they couldn’t sleep and Harry had said meditating was a good way to unwind. Y/N had been visiting that night—as she did every weekend— and was sitting two seats down from the exchange when she had overheard the conversation, giving him a knowing smirk over the rim of her highball glass and shrugging her eyebrows slyly, her quiet mumble pouring a blush into his ears. “Yeah, sure. I’ve helped you meditate plenty through the phone.”

Harry leans his lower back against the edge of the pub counter, crossing his ankles and giving his wide shoulders a nonchalant shrug. “It was a little bit of touching and some innocent cunnilingus.”

Y/N scoffs sarcastically, shoving her other foot into the opposite pant leg and yanking it up over her bum, buttoning the article with finality and smoothing her sweater down. “‘Innocent cunnilingus.’ The irony of it all.”

Harry kicks Y/N’s Vans towards her with the flat side of his own. “What’s ironic is you mocking me as if you weren’t begging for it a few minutes ago.”

She wiggles her toes into the shoes wordlessly.

“S’what I thought.” Harry taunts.

Now that she’s fully dressed, Y/N slowly drifts closer to him, finding amusement in how his stance straightens in sudden interest. His forearms tighten a smidgen over his pecs, fingers tucking underneath his pits so she doesn’t see them tapping anxiously.

Y/N stops once her chest bumps against the shield he’s built before him, his neck visibly tensing. When she speaks, it’s suggestive and her undertone resembles velvet. “You know what’s the most ironic thing of all?”

Harry jumps when he feels Y/N’s hands wrinkling the fabric of his graphic t-shirt, a harsh tug untucking it fully from below his waistband. Her hands slip below the material, cold, pliant fingers tracing over the toned muscles of his stomach and massaging at the love handles along his torso. “That you went through all that trouble of showing me how to appropriately do body shots, but you don’t really know if I learned it.”

He starts picking up on her hints, his biceps contracting at the feathery sensation of her fingertips spelling out random letters across the wings of his butterfly tattoo. He cocks his head down to get a better look at her, chin pressing into the alcove between his defined collarbones. Her lips are so close he has to force himself to keep from chasing them.

Harry entertains the little game she’s dishing, voice low and heavy. “I guess that is pretty ironic.”

Y/N reaches over his hip for something behind him, her hand coming back with one of the leftover lime wedges nestled at its center. She glances up at him from beneath her thick lashes, luring him in with that hypnotic aura she always works to her advantage. The lime slice ends up between her inviting lips, the rine facing outwards in the same manner Harry had placed his.

Y/N then balances herself forward onto the tips of her toes, the pads of her digits digging into his chest ever so slightly for reinforcement. She stretches her neck until her face is level with his and goes in as if to kiss him, transferring the lime into his mouth, juice squirting out and fizzing over his itching skin.

“Get up on the counter.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic #harry smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles dirty fanfic #harry styles dirty imagine #bartender!harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #smut #harry styles #1d fan fiction

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kedreeva · 4 years

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Do you have any advice on how to write faster? Though I do struggle with perfectionism and am working on letting stuff be mediocre on the first pass (done is better than perfect, etc), I'm more talking about the speed with which I can generate words in the first place. It takes me a long time to come up with what I want out of a sentence/paragraph, and even longer to actually put it into words. I've dismissed it before as a personal brain thing, but I'd appreciate your thoughts in case it's not!

I don’t have any advice you’re going to like, honestly.

Because the thing about writing is that it’s just a skill. You do it faster and easier by virtue of doing it more. Except that it’s a skill that you can’t practice somewhat mindlessly to develop muscle memory like you can with sports, and it’s not something you can pull up references for when you get stuck like you can with art. You just have to, like... do it. Over and over and over and over and over. And then do it some more after that. That’s how you learn writing patterns for yourself. That’s how you learn to recognize what you need to do in order to accomplish X without thinking about it for as long.

The other thing is something you’re somewhat already working on but I want to... like... I dunno how to say this but I see it repeated so very often in writers. It’s not just that people get hung up on things being perfect the first time (which they can’t be perfect the first time, and you’re doing AMAZING working on letting go of that). People get hung up on... like.... Every Story Must Matter.

I don’t... know where this came from, or why I never... I dunno, why it was never something I believed or saw, until I started interacting with more writers. I’ve seen so many people with this idea that every piece of writing must be something publishable. I don’t even mean Real Life Bookshelf publishable, even just publishable in some “finished” way on AO3. But oh man, I can tell you, as soon as you let go of that idea, you get better.

When I was in the TW fandom, I used to do askbox prompts. Just... you know, I’d take little prompts and USUALLY limit myself to 300-500ish words, and I’d slam out 2-3 in a night. The writing wasn’t great. It often had spelling mistakes. I never reread them before slapping them up on tumblr. They were just gifts (or attacks, like the Chimera fic was but Annabeth deserved that for what she SAID to me). But importantly, they were practice. And not just, like... I don’t mean that they were “writing an amount of words” practice. The prompts I took were “give me a pairing and 3 words” and then I had to figure out how to fit those things together and tell a story in under 500 words with no editing, 2-3 times a night. That helped me develop my ability to figure out how to put down what I wanted to say, and quickly (in both the time and the space meaning).

The thing is, I never intended for those to be anything polished. They were the equivalent of an artist doing sketches. Some of them were better than others. Some of them were just awful. I had no intention of putting them anywhere useful (I did, eventually, collect them into a chaptered fic on AO3 just before the Tumblr Purge, as a precaution). Most of them got 10-15 notes. Literally it was just a tool and a way to interact nicely with fandom for a while. They were writing doodles.

But that, too, boils down to “doing it over and over and over again.”

And finish things. I cannot stress this enough. I know people with a thousand WIPs and nothing really finished. The problem with that is... you don’t learn how to finish a thing. Which means you’re missing out on how to develop a complete story; because the ending SHOULD have some kind of relation to the beginning, even if it’s just “this is how things have changed/remained the same since the beginning” or something. Without writing the ending, you don’t get to see the whole picture, and that makes it hard to build. Finishing things teaches you which building blocks you’re holding while you’re writing in the beginning, and that’s a REALLY important tool for writing quicker. Without finishing things to learn how whole stories written by you look, you’re putting together a puzzle with no picture on the box.

Which is just “do it over and over and over again- completely.”

There’s a story about a ceramics class that I feel like I try to tell people all the time to express that sometimes it really is just quantity over quality. There was a post going around that pointed out that like less than 1% of Picasso’s works are considered masterpieces. I wrote around 200 of those ficlets I was talking about, and only ever turned a couple of them into worthwhile stories; maybe like 3 or 4.

So just... i dunno. You’re struggling with perfectionism so I don’t know how much this advice will help at all, but just let yourself be bad sometimes. Let stuff not matter as an end goal, not just a “first pass” sort of deal. Sketch some words sometime, doodle something silly in words and toss it. Make lots of small things just to see what shapes they make or what you can do with them.

Artists don’t polish every line they put down. Neither should you, that’s exhausting.

#writing #writing advice #asks #I'm sorry i don't have any better advice #the only other thing I can offer is find a good developmental beta #one that can tell you what you're doing after you've done it #so you can learn to recognize what you're doing #sparrowhawkandco

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catcze · 3 years

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Oh, Catte, my beloved... The bracelet is so beautiful. Goodness, did I cry when I took it out of the envelope. It's almost as beautiful as you are, I love it so much! I'm never ever taking this off. Oh starlight I'm so happy, you may as well have just proposed! I love you so so much, thank you💜💜💜

I'm glad Cyno is doing well for himself these days! It's not really that complex of a spell, simple transmutation really, but I'm sure he didn't want to overwhelm you. He may not talk a lot but trust me; he cares. I should write him sometime, if only so the next time an emergency arises he won't think I only remember he exists when I need his help, hehe... I'm joking of course, he's not the kind of person to care. I do still owe him a favor though. Two, now that he's gone out of his way to teach my girlfriend magic, and specifically for helping you make me this wonderful present. Send along my thanks please, but please don't mention that I said I'd write him, just in case I somehow forget to. You know me, heh..

Also I'm a little surprised to hear that name again! Collei was quite the visitor when she was here a few years ago, it's a long story, and one I doubt very much she'd want me to tell. Suffice to say she and Amber are good friends, but I'm sure she already asked you about her as soon as you mentioned Mondstadt. I'm so relieved to hear she's safe, and studying medicine no less! Tell her I'm proud of her. She'll do great things in her life.

I must admit I'm slightly bothered to hear that so many scholars accosted my poor babygirl to ask if I'd return, I'm so sorry darling. If they give you any more trouble, oh I'll come visit alright. To dispense punishment(although I'd definitely grab some food on the way as we left). Speaking of food, that's so sweet of you to offer to learn the local cuisine just for me~ you're so thoughtful, it's one of the many many things I love about you. My reputation around the school is honestly the only accomplishment you'll find though sweetheart. I wasn't really all that social there, aside from talking to the professors and scholars. I couldn't afford to procrastinate if I wanted to learn everything I could. Funny, that sounds completely unlike me, now doesn't it~ Those lectures can be tiresome at first, did they provide you with the appropriate reading materials, or are you only listening? I still have my copy of the first semester alchemy textbook--it's only about 800 pages, but they're packed to the brim with knowledge. I still reference it sometimes.

Like I mentioned though, most of my time in Sumeru was spent at the Academy or at the local restaurants. If you wanted food recommendations, those I can provide, but unfortunately I won't be of much use otherwise. Sorry cutie~

[the next page of the letter is a list of local restaurants, many with recommended dishes written next to them. There's also a fair number of heart shapes and "I love you"s doodled around the edges of the paper]

I hope you'll try at least some of those and tell me what you think. The more you talk about it honestly, the more it's beginning to grow on me. I do want to go back and visit with you, my love. I miss it, even if I don't want to admit that. It would be so much fun to sight see with you, being able to just meander aimlessly through the city, not a care in the world, and with you by my side... That sounds amazing. I'd want nothing more. Perhaps for our honeymoon~? [the last sentence of the paragraph is crossed out with a single streak of ink cutting through it]

Your photos are all amazing, darling. I just wish I had as many to send you in return, but unfortunately I don't own a camera, nor can I afford to leave the library long enough to travel to Liyue and buy one. That being said, Albedo does have one, and he already took that first photo. Darling, I'm curious, and please, *please* say no if it would bother you even slightly. If I... Perhaps wanted to take some... Pictures, just for your enjoyment~ ...would you mind if I had Albedo continue to serve as the photographer? I want my baby to be thinking of me, especially since I'm not there to pleasure you myself~💜 again, PLEASE say no if you'd have any problem with that. Or I could ask Jean if that would be better. I just want to treat my princess to some candy~

That line is going to have me up all night, I swear. I do wish I was there for you in every sense, but goodness does my heart ache for you. I miss the way you taste so much, my precious little munchkin~ you're not going to sleep at all the first night you're back in my arms, I hope you know that. I'm going to edge you so hard you'll cry for me, hehe~ I'm a little peeved you didn't take notice of my comment about punishing you! There will be ropes involved when you return to me. Just the way you always like it, cutie~ tell me, how bad do you miss me? Miss my tongue you love so much~? Don't worry baby--you'll get everything you could ever want for when you come home. I can't wait to taste you~ goodness, excuse me a moment baby... I need to scratch an itch before I finish writing this letter, hehe...~

Okay, I'm back. That was quite the itch, it just kept coming back~ that picture you sent with this letter may have helped with that... Celestia, you're so so beautiful, my rose..~ I love you so much.

Where was I... Ah yes. I'm very glad you've been eating and sleeping properly. Such a good girl you always are~💜 and don't worry; I'm taking care of myself as well. I've been becoming more adjusted to the late nights lately, since your letters often arrive around this hour(it's 11:30 right now, although up until a page ago it had been 10:15, hehe...). I don't mind it at all, since you know I love to sleep in anyway. I love reading your letters sweetheart. They truly do carry your love across the distance. I'm so happy that you're my partner. I love you so so much. I reread your letters every day, they put such a smile on my face.

Also, what's this about ideas you're having ever since I mentioned the uniform? Tell me!! Pretty please~? 💜

I'm going to call my letter to a close here, before I end up needing a bigger envelope, hehe~ I love you so much, starlight. Please take care, and I hope you're well rested when you read this. Hopefully I can put a smile on your beautiful face. I just wish I was there to see it. I love you so much, take care and write me back when you can, promise~?

Yours Always,

- Lisa 🌺💜

Milddd nsfw here muaH <33

Hi, love, I’m so happy that you like your gift! I love you very much as well— hopefully it can give you comfort on some particularly hard nights where I cannot be with you, dearest. Sort of like a reminder that although I cannot be there with you in person, you always carry a piece of my heart with you, you know?

I’ll be sure to relay your message to Cyno and Collei! They were rather surprised when they found out I was your girlfriend, haha! In a good way, of course— they’ve been great company so far.

And don’t worry about the other scholars, Lisa dear. I can handle them plenty fine. I’m sure they’ll go running if I even so much as imply that you wouldn’t be pleased with them for their behavior, my love. They wouldn’t want to mess with one of the best sorcerers to ever roam those halls, you know?

Regarding the lectures, they offered to loan me some textbooks actually, but I had to turn them down since, well, I am just an observer, and carrying so many books with me to and fro would weigh me down. Still, although I sometimes get confused while I observe, It’s such a fun and interesting experience! I can’t say I’m remembering every bit of knowledge I hear, but I’ve definitely learned at least a thing or two.

Just yesterday, there was a bit of a lull in lectures that I was attending— something about one of the scholars who had agreed to host me taking their class out to fieldwork, and I was unable to accompany them. So I took the time to check out some of the restaurants you listed for me! I went to just one of them for lunch, since I didn’t want to get too full throughout the day, and I enjoyed it very much!! I included a picture of one of the dishes you noted for me (a best seller of theirs, apparently) and I didn’t regret purchasing it at all. It was so good! In my free time, it’s one of the recipes that I hope to familiarize and bring back home to you— I think you’ll rather like it, especially since there’s no meat. Hopefully I’ll get good enough at making it that you’ll be able to savor the flavor too!

Though, I don’t mind either if you’d rather return with me next time, and we can have a dinner date here? I really like the ambiance of the place— its both romantic and private. And the view from the balcony here is absolutely magical. Or we can maybe visit a couple of the other restaurants you’ve recommended to me? I doubt that I’ll be able to try all of them this time, and being able to experience it with you would make the experience a million times better.

Also, regarding the photos you mentioned— well, I’m fine with it if you are. As long as you’re comfortable with whoever is photographing you love, then it’s perfectly alright with me. Besides, I know that we’re devoted to each other, so there’s no cause for me to be uncomfortable 💞 If you so wish to grant me such photos, I eagerly await them, love! They’re not the same as you being here, of course, but I’m sure they could help me with how much I miss you.

And ah, sending such things only makes me miss you more! Perhaps I should take a good, long rest before I come back to Mondstadt, if you plan to keep me up all night. And who says I didn’t notice your comment? Perhaps I was just teasing you by keeping quiet about it, especially if I know what’s awaiting me back home. And yes, I miss you so so much, I miss your tongue and you lips, your touch on my skin, the way you hold me and make me feel so good each and every time— Love, really, if your intention with that letter was to get me all worked up, then safe to say you’ve succeeded. My, I doubt I’m going to be getting any sleep tonight, thinking of you.

And regarding that bit about the Academy uniform… well, I might have found a local seamstress who was willing to make me a version of it, tailored to my measurements. It’s not ready quite yet, but hopefully I can send you some photographs soon 💞

By the way, love, there’s no need to have to wait up for my letters, not if you’re not getting enough sleep! I don’t mind waiting a bit for your reply as long as I know you’re sleeping on time. I worry about you as much as you worry about me, so for both your sake and mine, promise me you’ll get enough sleep? Either way, though, I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself, dearest. It makes me happy, knowing that you and the others are doing well. I love you very, very much you know? Please continue to stay safe, dearest, and know that I’m always missing you.

And, well, regarding a proper proposal, though I can’t say I haven’t thought of it before (how could I not? I can fully envision spending the rest of my life with you) I would much prefer if I were able to give you the ring and ask you in person, love. That being said, take the bracelet as a promise that I’ll return to you soon— and hopefully with a ring that I think you’ll like and a question that I plan to ask you.

All the best wishes, dearest. I love you very much 💞

—Catte 💞

#Character anon 💌 : Lisa #Kisses from Catte 🦩#Catcze.Lingerie 💦#liSA anon ily <333 please get enough rest babes!!!#muAH 💞💞#ALSO have a nice day!!!! ILYSM <33 #Alsooo regarding your other ask I'm so glad you liked the bit about the bracelet aaAA 💞👉👈

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

A Dumb Idea (1.4 k, coda to 14x15 “The Last Holiday”, Sam & Dean, Dean/Cas)

(ao3)

They celebrated Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthdays, even the Fourth of July. What about the other holidays? What about Valentine's Day?

Mrs. Butters actually had a plan for that, but she left before it could come to fruition. Sam, however, stumbles on Dean and a leftover piece from said plan. Something Dean would rather Sam not see. When he does get a peek as to what it is, well... Dean and Sam have a lot to talk about.

Sam didn’t intend this. He called Dean’s name, first. Except his brother didn’t react. Head bowed, headphones on as he studied something before him. Music loud enough Sam faintly heard it from the kitchen’s entrance. Easily obscuring his footsteps as Sam approached, curious.

Moving closer, Sam saw a pencil in Dean’s hand. Wrinkled paper waiting underneath it. Marred with illegible words. He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “What are you writing?”

Dean jumped, headphones slipping off his head. Zeppelin blaring, echoing across the room until his brother slammed a fist on his mp3. “Christ, Sammy,” Dean turned, glaring. Both hands covered the folded paper, pencil forgotten as it rolled away. “Don’t do that! Could’ve had a heart attack.”

“You have a better chance at going deaf than having a heart attack, Dean.”

“At least then Eileen could teach me sign language,” he said, bending forward. Somehow maintaining eye contact with Sam. “And we can gossip behind your back with complicated, advanced signing that you can’t do because of your big moose hooves.”

Snorting, Sam brushed the insult aside. He won’t be distracted that easy. “What are you doing?” he asked, again, “What are you writing?”

Dean’s lip twitched. His gaze flit between the paper and Sam. “I’m not writing anything.” The pencil, thrown from the table’s edge, landed with a guilty clatter. “Okay, I was writing something,” Dean admit, dragging the page towards him, “It’s… a grocery list.”

“Groceries?”

“Yeah, those things you buy?” Dean rose with a nervous giggle, the paper pressed against his chest, “Mrs. Butters wasn’t here for that long Sam, you must remember food doesn’t naturally poof out of thin air. So I set to taking stock of what we needed and… actually, I just finished.” He inched backwards, Sam trailing after him. “Might as well go and get the groceries, now that I have the… the list.”

Sam shrugged, grinning, “That makes sense.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

A beat later, Sam pounced. Dean, anticipating his attack, spun on his heel. Sam’s chest colliding with his back, blanketing it. But Dean hadn’t considered his next move, because the kitchen island blocked any attempt at escape. Trapped between Sam and it, all he could do was play defense while Sam used every dirty trick on making his brother let go. Because Sam already ran through the scenario in his head, planning for this moment. From the second he saw Dean hide that paper.

It wasn’t what he intended; Dean left him no choice.

He tickles, he pinches, and he pulls. Finally, Dean surrenders his hold on the paper. Sam snatches it and bolts, his brother chasing him. “Sammy!”

“Grocery list my ass!” he yells behind him, skidding around a turn in the hall. Narrowly avoiding Dean’s fist, laughing as he slams into the wall Sam avoided. “Let’s see what you were really writing…” His eyes scan the front of the paper, reading aloud what Dean scrawled in bright red ink. “I never really believed in angels,” he says, slowing, “until I met you.”

Dean slams into him, both sent tumbling. They lie on their backs, panting, the paper in Sam’s hand with Dean’s creeping closer. Sam feels it go taut as Dean grabs hold, yet he won’t fight further. Perhaps afraid of ruining what’s there. Of the cheesy pick-up line titling his inner thoughts, bookended by doodled wings and a giant, colored heart stamped on the bottom.

“Really,” Sam gasps, “you got so worked up over that.” His body burns with exhaustion, having overexerted himself. Although not really. Sam should be more concerned with his stamina, except there were other matters that need his attention.

“Shut up…” Dean’s cheeks were red, from embarrassment, exercise, or a combination of both. “Shit’s personal.”

“And grade school,” Sam says. He lurches into a seated position, Dean popping up alongside him. Neither letting go, still. “What are you doing writing a Valentine’s Day card?”

“Why does anyone write a Valentine’s Day card, Sam?” Dean stares at his feet, thinking. The grip on his end goes slack, hand falling to his side. “Read it.”

Sam hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve already seen enough,” he sighs, pinching his brow. “Come on. Do it, before I change my mind.”

Noting the twinges of irritation threaded into his voice, Sam knows he won’t have long. He flicks it open, first three letters stealing his breath. Glancing at Dean, he sees his brother curled. Physically making himself smaller, like Dean could disappear if he tried hard enough. Sam keeps his initial thoughts silent, saving it for the end.

Which was the right choice. If the first word were a seed, then the rest of his message was the flower. Each sentence like a petal that together created a beautiful image. Of a secret love. Simmering feelings, strengthening over time. Insecurities laid bare that Sam had expected yet never confirmed until now. A simple plea – a prayer – that leaves him raw, despite the words having come from someone else.

Sam closes it, wiping at his eyes. “I…” he clears his throat, “Wow. You were planning on giving this to Cas?”

“Yes…” Dean pouts, snatching the card from Sam. He lets Dean take it. “Maybe, I – I don’t know.”

“But you wrote it,” Sam says, “Did you… did you mean it? Everything?”

“Of course I did!” He waves the card about, snarling, “If I didn’t mean it, it wouldn’t be there.”

Nodding, Sam slides closer. Throws an arm around Dean, tugging him into a loose hug. “How long have you been sitting on this?”

“On the feelings or the card?”

“The card.”

Dean relaxes, leaning on Sam. “A few days now. You were getting ready for your date with Eileen and, well… when Mrs. Butters was still here, she was going on about the next holiday we should celebrate. With Eileen here, maybe invite her over and do a whole Valentine’s Day dinner…” He chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “And I was eating some of her snickerdoodles, and she looked at me. Clucked her tongue and said how it’d be perfect to set me up with a girl as good as Eileen. I… don’t know if it was because I was in such a good mood, or it was easier, explaining to a stranger, but it all came – it came rushing out. I couldn’t stop myself. Then… when I was finished… y’know what she did? She magicked up that paper and the – the pencil back in the kitchen. And said I should put everything I said down there. Invite Cas over and then give it to him.”

Sam braves a smile for both of them. “Sounded like it would have been fun.”

“No,” Dean says, “it wouldn’t. Because then Cas would read my card and… and he’d know how I really feel.”

“That’s a problem?”

“It’s a problem if he doesn’t feel the same!” He throws Sam off of him, scrambling to his feet. Sam stands, too. “I have all these big, awful, disgusting… intense, amazing, fantastic feelings for him, but what if that’s where it ends. That for him I…” Dean shudders, body shaking. “I’m just a friend. And this whole time I’ve been imagining more than what was there. Hoping that maybe, the reason we always found our way back to each other, was because we were meant to.”

“Dean,” Sam starts, cautiously approaching him. Gentle, like he was a wild deer. Skittish, alert for any surprises. “You won’t know if you don’t try… I’m sure that, when Cas sees that, he’ll be happy. More than happy!”

“You don’t know,” Dean says, lifting the card. Scowling, he holds it on either side. “This was a dumb idea anyway… I shouldn’t have ever listened to her.”

“Dean, don’t –“

He rips it. Rips it again. A third time, and many more after that until confetti rains from his fingers. Sam watches this happen with a pit in his stomach, all of Dean’s hard work disappearing in an instant. Resolve crumbling as fast.

Dean sniffs, swiping his nose. “Let’s… forget this ever happened, okay Sammy?” he says, stalking down the hall, “Got more important things we should be focusing on anyway…”

He disappears, footfalls echoing until those, too, end. Sam stays, staring at the pile of shreds.

Sam bends, sweeping them into his hands. Makes sure they’re all there. Then he heads towards his room.

Cas is due back soon, anyway. If Sam acts quickly, at least some of what Dean wrote can reach him. Enough for them to have the conversation that’s been looming overhead for years now. The clock is ticking, and Sam will be damned if it runs out on those two.

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x14 #spn the last holiday #sam winchester #dean winchester #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn coda

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billyboymiki · 3 years

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5 Works Tag Game

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and post or link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I got tagged by @tippenfunkaport and @caramelaire for this tag game!!

I’m not one to compliment myself on anything honestly. Recently I remember thinking about how I barely drew anything this year. There was a part of my brain nagging at me to check how much I had drawn last year. So, I uh did. Turns out I drew basically nothing?! I triple checked this in fact. My DeviantART, Tumblr AND my camera roll. Nothing . . . I drew 5 very basic pinback button designs and that was it. I couldn’t believe it; but, it made be feel so much better about what I did this year. Basically my whole instagram is all artwork from this year, since I am actually really new to IG. I got super close to 40 works this year!

Now onto the works! They are in order of when I drew them 😊

Glimmer Inspired Patterns

I wanted to teach myself how to make patterns on Clip Studio so bad! I watched a couple of YT tutorials, and I can’t even remember why I decided to make She-ra ones specifically; I’m glad I did though! The Glimmer one means so much to me. Just looking at makes me so happy! The fact that so many people have now called it ‘aesthetically pleasing’ makes me feel as though I actually created a work that others could relate to. That was enough praise for me; to create something for myself that everyone else loved as well 💖

Glimbow Cuddle

This was my first real She-ra artwork. When I saw there was a Glimbow Week again I knew I had to join this one. I don’t know if anyone knows this; but, drawings take me forever to make. I used to be strictly a traditional artist and still prefer to draw rough drafts on paper. I couldn’t decide if I wanted them on Glimmer’s window seat or in Bow’s dads’ library. I was afraid of doing backgrounds; so, both sounded absolutely terrifying. I decided to go for the fireplace even if it meant fancy lighting on top of the background aspect. I think I actually spent more time on the lighting that’s hitting Bow than on anything else in this picture. It was worth it though. I studied how the show did backgrounds and lighting for a while. I tried so many different attempts at how I wanted it to look and ultimately went with this one! I love it so much 🥺

Bow’s list with doodles

Ah, yes the drawings I did for Tippen’s birthday!! I knew I wanted to draw a scene from ‘Tuna Cans’, but I was worried to try something like this. You see, I’m somebody that likes to stay in a comfort zone and only uploaded fully rendered perfect artworks. This year was the first time that I let the ‘fun’ aspect overrule my perfectionism. I’m so happy that I stepped out of my comfort zone for this, because I love Chibi styles so much. I can’t even explain the absolute joy I had drawing these. I didn’t tell anyone what I was up to, so it was just me laughing at myself for being an absolute goofball. The end result and everyone’s reactions were more than I could have ever expected. I’ve decided I’m going to revive this style soon as well so please look forwards to it!!

Space Suit Squad

Okay, so I cheated a little with this one! I couldn’t just pick ONE of the squad. Honestly though, I drew these with the thought of making them into prints in the back of my mind. I taught myself how to draw a space background and I’m really proud of it! So much in fact that the one in the final pictures is the first and last one I ended up doing! If I had to pick my favorites I think I’d have to pick Glimmer, Bow and then Catra. I LOVE the way I draw Catra I don’t know why? Maybe the eyebrows I’m not sure 🤔 It took me a while to decide on expressions and poses; although, I figured these were the ones because I could look at them and go ‘yep that’s them.’

Winter Glimbow

This one took me soooo long; I actually had to tell myself that I should put my pen down because it was done and I should stop touching it!!! I was sketching pictures in my sketchbook to make more patterns for my Redbubble account, and of course I’m like 100% Glimbow brainrot. My brain went, oooo you know what would be cute? If this skate was actually Bow’s and not just generic. So, I ended up sketching Glimmer’s as well. The heart that their skates make is like the cherry on the top for me, it had to be done! I’m not sure I did the background justice on this one? It doesn’t matter to me though because the concept was worth the effort. It was snowing here and I needed this picture like I needed air, even if it wasn’t even December at the time I posted it 🤣 I liked this one so much that I have similar ideas for the other seasons sketched out as well 👀

I’m sorry that I ramble so often. I’m like this quiet person; yet, it’s hard for me to get out everything I want to say? I’m horrible at it actually my brain runs at a hundred miles a minute and I’m not good with words most of the time. This turned out as more of a thought process than my actual feelings on each one I suppose. SO, in conclusion. I drew A LOT, I stepped out of my comfort zone, taught myself digital art and patterns. I let myself come to terms with the fact that not every piece of art has to be ‘perfect’. I drew at least 5 FULL backgrounds and I never used to draw them! I’ve also always been one for simple shading and lighting, and I do think there’s a time for that type of style, while other times sometimes a more difficult one might be appropriate. I’m glad that I did both because now I know I can do both, and they each give a characteristic that I adore 🥰 Thank you to everyone that has followed me through this journey, or just anyone who read my rambling! I have an honorable mention under the cut and some originals for anyone that made it this far! 💖

I’m not going to tag anyone; but, if you want to do this PLEASE do it. It was so great to reflect on what I did this year, it really surprised me and I think what you have done will surprise you as well! It’s been a rough year, and in the end we have been here supporting each other and that’s one of the most rewarding parts of being in a fandom! 💜

Glimmer screencap redraw

Another picture where I really tested myself on drawing a background! I love it even if it killed my hand!! The background definitely took the longest on this one too. My sister literally said ‘Wait, you did the background? I thought you just drew her?!’ And that was the only validation I needed!! I ended up thinning out Glimmer’s outline so she matched the background better. If you use the vectors on Clip please use this feature! You can do the opposite as well, it’s super useful!

Oh hi! Remember when I said I couldn’t decide between the two locations? Truth is, I also couldn’t decide if I was going to make it traditional or digital. I ended up getting really mad at the traditional version unfortunately. I haven’t gotten the hang of traditional backgrounds. In the end, I should have also done it in Copic and not cheap pencil crayons 😫

Just some space friends! There is something so rewarding about traditional art. Yes, I can see the mistakes and the proportions are most likely off; yet, it doesn’t bother me? I wanted to also show these bonus drawings because nobody is perfect and I thought some of you might like to see some of my process. Being able to hold it in my hands is something I will never tire of, in a way it’s super rewarding. I keep all my art actually and sometimes I like the rough drafts more than the finished work 👀 Outlining artwork can actually ruin the charm every so often 😔 I do really love the final versions of these though!

Annnnnd the last bonus!! As you can tell the final version stayed pretty true to my sketches! I almost went with a more realistic look and made the symbols ‘stitched’ onto the skates. In the end it felt like it didn’t fit the rest of the drawing unless I wanted to add extra details to the clothing as well. The wings on Glimmer’s skates turned into ‘Shwings’ PLEASE tell me other people know what that is? I had a pair a few years ago and misplaced them. I was doing the rough draft and it popped into brain and I treated it as a joke at first, until I gave it a proper chance XD In the end I fell in love with it!!!

#she-ra #spop #fanart #tag game #billyboymiki #Miki speaks #long post #sorry #my art #I actually cried a little writing all of this 😱#the only thing I wanted to do really bad this year was make an spop amv #I might juggle art and making one so I can get one out at some point

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imagineofallkindsxxx · 3 years

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Eternal Flame- Part 6/?

No Need to be a Show Off

Summary: 'You never know whats in a persons heart until you truly know them' - Belle French, Once Upon a Time

Singing. Thats all what Alexandra Gilbert has cared about since she was young and all she would care about until she met him.

With Alexandra fighting vampires, werewolves and all between she may do a thing she vowed never to do, fall in love.

And to think it all started with a walk in the woods...

Needless to say history was a tad awkward after Rebekah made an appearance. I mean Elena and Bonnie were glaring at Rebekah throughout the entire period, not to mention the presence of Stefan, me giving James a kick and quietly reprimanding every time he attempts to stare at Rebekah like the creep he is. Nevertheless, I continued to listen to Mr Saltzman or Ric as he insists on me calling him. He is kind and has been looking after me and my siblings after the passing of Jenna and I respect and care for him.

After fifty minutes of being taught about Native Americans and wondering why I decided to take AP history for a subject when its genuinely the most mind numbing subjects, the bell finally rang which was the indication to pack up before going to the next class.

"Your homework for tomorrow is to read pages 14-20" Mr Saltzman said, at least its just reading knowing other teachers it’ll be full on essays. I sighed along with most of the class before going to our next class. James is in English while I'm in Chem, shame would love to see James and Mr Jones in the same room after yesterdays prank. I bid James goodbye before splitting up, I saw my twin up ahead and ran up as quick as I could in these shoes.

"Elena, care to tell me what the hell is going on? Why's Stefan here and not eating some sorority girl?" Confused at how my sisters boyfriend has chosen to spend his time at school. Her doe eyes look at me nudging me into the side of the corridor hoping less people will hear her.

"Its Klaus" I look at her to elaborate on it "He's told Stefan to watch his ‘new asset' so he’s here acting like he’s some control freak bodyguard" rolling her eyes

"Dick" I said plainly starting to walk with her

"Who? Klaus or Stefan?"

"Do I have to pick?" She laughed before stopping in front of her biology classroom

"This is me, talk later?" she questioned making me give her a strained smile. Honestly sometimes when alone we can get along its just when everyone else is there to complicate the matters. When I say everyone else I really just mean the Salvatore brothers.

I head along two more classes before hitting my chemistry class, looking around the class to see who would be the best person to be partners with for the year. That’s the one good thing about Jones is that he doesn’t believe in seating plans because 'its your fault if you fail." I searched the class then saw a shade of familiar blonde hair in a French plait with an empty seat, I race towards the blonde.

"Ashleigh Jackson." I said grinning at my best girl friend making her look up from the notebook she was most likely doodling on.

"Alexandra Gilbert" she exclaimed before giving me a hug before the teacher came into class. "I haven’t seen you for ever! How have you been?"

"I've been good, I've just been so busy, remember that program I decided to enter? Took up most of my time." I told her referring to the programme which helped children with hearing impairments with learning to play instruments or singing. "What about you though? How's Dylan?" I asked about her dick of a boyfriend but with the shift in her demeanour makes me wish I didn't.

"Me and Dylan broke up a few weeks ago." I looked at her in sympathy feeling horrible about asking but makes me pull my arm around her shoulder knowing that although I thought he was a terrible person Ash still loved him.

"Well... I guess this calls for a girl night. Popcorn. Cringey rom coms. Vodka." This made her laugh a little giving me a smile but before she could say anything Mr. Jones walked in to class.

"Welcome to AP chemistry. This is going to be a difficult and long lesson for not just you but me also." he starts off with making me roll my eyes at the asshole of teacher we are going to be forced to listen to for the rest of the year "Can any one tell me what empirical formula is?" Knowing what it is I wrote it down on my notebook while Ash put her hand up slowly.

"Miss Jackson"

"Is it the simplest ratio of molecules making up a compound?"

"Are you asking or telling me miss Jackson?"

"I'm telling you" she said with confidence.

"What is Coulombs Law?" He asked moving on from Ash, no one dared to put their hand up, to end this torture I put my hand up .

"Miss Gilbert?"

"Coulombs Law is the amount of energy that an electron has depends on its distance from the nucleus of an atom. It has the formula e=k(q1*q20)/r." I told him in the most confident manner.

"Correct. There’s no need to be a show off Miss Gilbert" He replied making me go scarlet learning that its more torturous answering his questions rather than the silence that issues when he asks one.

This continued for the next 10 minutes, the class answering questions then getting berated by the man supposedly supporting us.

Once he finished with his power trip he handed out work sheet. I looked over it and saw it was a five double paged work sheet. Making me wonder if this man should be a teacher at all.

"This is a worksheet so I can see your knowledge and capabilities. If you are below 70% correct you will be dropped from this class. You will get today and tomorrow to finish. You may begin. In complete silence." 70% is this guy mental? He hasn’t even began teaching and already judging us, pathetic. But we all done as he said and began the lengthy work sheet until the bell rang. He then took the work sheets back in while all of us rushed out of the class after packing up our stuff.

Once outside me and Ash began to talk once again.

"God I hate him." I said "'No need to be a show off'" I mimicked his annoyingly monotone voice making Ash laugh.

"'Are you asking or telling me Miss Jackson?' I don't know am I asking or telling you to go and slam your head against the lockers?" she said rolling her eyes making her grin when I gave a huge laugh.

"Ashleigh Jackson" I 'reprimanded'

"What? Makes a change from being you." God I love this girl she makes me forget the while Stefan/Klaus/Original/Dopelganger thing for a while.

"I have to get to class, talk at lunch so we can organise that girls night?" I questioned leaving her seeing her nod with a smile.

I walked into math and saw a hero haired vampire sitting in the middle of the class where I used to sit last year. I sat down next to him looking straight ahead.

"I think your in the wrong class, Elena is in French." I told him in a 'could care less that a hungry, ripper, free of humanity vampire is sitting next t me in my math class' tone but with my voice higher pitch and heart rate increasing I doubt he bought it.

"You see I would agree with you if I didn’t compel Kyle- you know Kyle, right? Anyway to look after her while I watch over you." He informed me of the compulsion of a class mate and borderline stalker tendencies.

"Me? Why?" I questioned doubting he’ll answer.

"Dunno, all I know is Klaus told me to look after 'The Gilbert twins' I didn't question it, don't really care to be honest" Making me roll my eyes. Klaus told him to watch over me? Why? I'm not a walking blood bank for his hybrids like Elena or his newly undaggered and potentially dangerous little sister, so why? Before I could attempt to question him albeit doubting I’d get any answers the teacher came in and started to give us a recap of what we would have done just before the start of summer. Mr Gold was always a decent teacher.

I tried to listen and take notes but it was difficult putting the question of Klaus interesting to the side and focusing on algebra. Before I knew it the bell rang. I stood up and got my stiff before rushing towards the door but got pulled back by the youngest Salvatore.

"What’s the rush Little Gilbert? You need to relax, be like me! That is what you told Elena earlier right?" he sarcastically questioned making me glare and get in his face.

"Yeah right after I told her to dump your ass and be like you 'don't care about anything'." Pulling my arm out of his grip and walking past the classes not missing Ric looking over worriedly giving me a look but I just nodded that I’m fine.

I walked into the class next to Rics my second favourite class. AP American Government and Politics. Its a big jump from music but its just something I get also helps to stop being treated like a child at functions when your able to talk about political situations, knowing more than the person your talking to.

I sat in the middle of the class not knowing any of the people in the class due to me being the only person in both supernatural and human groups whose remotely interested in politics well that was until a blonde original surprisingly walked into the class looking around to find a seat before sitting to at the front of the class unaware of my presence.

In front of me and the rest of the classes desks were a piece of paper listed 'Curricular Requirements' with the syllabus on it, while all of us were reading it another blonde came into the class however this was expected as it was Miss Gold and what the students have gathered is the cousin to my math teacher.

"Hello class, its lovely to see you all after the long break but I hope your ready to learn. For all those new faces let me introduce myself. I'm Miss Gold and I'm going to be your Advance Placement Government and Politics teacher. To start off I have given you all the syllabus and curriculum requirements for this year. I am going to start from the top down so be ready to learn about the foundations of American democracy." she told us writing on the board before turning to the class with a reassuring smile "now before I begin I just want to tell you all that there are no silly or stupid questions in this class and if you don't understand something let me know. Also, if any of you need anything or need to talk my door is always open." She told us, god she is basically the opposite of Mr Jones. So refreshing.

"Right we are going to do a recap from last year. What is the different structures of local, state and federal governments?" Waiting a minute to pick someone "Courtney" Courtney gave a swift and correct answer to the question Miss Gold asked.

"What is one of the founding principles that guided the establishment of the United States Government?" she looked around the sea of hands brief her eyes connected with Rebekah’s "I'm sorry I don’t know your name, miss..."

"Rebekah Mikaelson"

"Well Rebekah you may answer" she knew exactly what to say due to the fact how she probably knew the founding fathers and the principles they decided to use.

After the little quiz she decided to tell the class an overview of what the school year entails in a more detailed manner yet her soothing vice managed to calm the classes anxiety of the seemingly difficult year ahead. Although I was listening and taking notes my mind was still on how Stefan was told to 'watch over the Gilbert twins'. It was confusing how I had to be 'looked after' by a blood thirsty vampire for a reason the he isn’t aware of. Wonderful.

All I know now is that its lunch and that means music studio I go. Just as I was about to leave the cafeteria after picking up some lunch I saw Rebekah sitting their surprisingly alone. I would expect her to be swarmed by people but she was just alone looking down at her 'lunch'. I looked around before walking over to the blonde where she looked up at me.

"Hey, are you waiting on anyone?" I asked kindly as possible

"No. why?" Having a suspicious look on her face after hearing my friends talk about her in an unpleasant way and most likel not very subtly.

"Well I was just wondering if you wanted to come and sit with my friends?" I offered wondering if it was a good idea or not, my sister would kill me but honestly I can empathise with Rebekah, I was her in first day freshman year before I headed to music and met the three most important boys in my life- including Jeremy at this moment- and had a group that would last forever.

Rebekah smiled at me before nodding taking up my offer. I told her to follow me walking out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the music studio Mr Curtis lets us use at lunch and after school.

I heard the boys before I saw them meaning Rebekah probably heard them way back.

"-insane?! That is the worst song to pick!" I heard Sam yell, I stopped in my tracks making Rebekah stop and gave me a look of confusion.

"I'm mentally preparing myself to deal with an arguing group of men like children" this made Rebekah laugh a little bit

"No 'Gives You Hell' is a way better option than 'So Am I'!" Mark yelled

"There’s no way in hell am playing that song when-" I walked in at that moment partially regretting bringing Rebekah along to see this mess of a class.

"Thank God voice of reason is here!" He yelled up to the sky "What’s the best: 'Gives You Hell', 'So Am I' or 'Monster'?" I looked at them confused

"I thought we agreed on 'Mr Brightside' then 'Don't Speak' during the summer?" They all started at me for a few seconds taking in what I just said before remembering the conversation in the park where we picked the first two songs to sing when we perform at the Grille.

"Oh yeah."

"Forgot about that"

"Who's this?" Mark asked confused why their was a blonde in the room

"This is Rebekah. She's new and alone so I invited her to practice." I off handedly said

"Oh your in history with us!" James yelled

"Indoor voices Jamie" Sam reprimanded him making James throw a drum stick hitting him on the head making us laugh.

"Sorry about them. They’re literally children." I apologized for their behaviour watching them fight over the thrown drumstick while me and Rebekah ate our lunch.

"I grew up with five brothers, I'm used to it." Making me laugh. Five brothers. I only know about Klaus and Elijah. I dread to think there three more Klaus's come out of the woodwork.

"Are you boys done yet?" I asked over the nose giving them a look "We have a guest" making them look down like I was their mother giving them a row.

"He started it" Mark pointed to James.

"You litt-"

"Enough!" I point to Mark "Guitar" then Sam “Bass" and finally James "Drums. Now." Making them grumble before getting their instruments. "You don't mind us playing do you?" I ask Rebekah, she shook her head.

"Not at all, just wondering what type of music you play" she smiled sitting down on a chair we use occasionally. I stood on the stage before we began to play. Over and over again.

"...Cause I'm Mr Brightside" I finished.

"That was really good. You all have a gift. Especially you Alexandra"

"oooooh Alexandra" James said in a tone making Rebekah look confused as I attempted to hit him over the head

"She hates being called Alexandra" Sam filled in as I continued to try and hit him with his own drum stick. I composed myself before turning towards my new friend?

"Please call me Andie. Or Alex. Up to you really, just not Alexandra"

"As long as you call my Bex" she mirrored the smile on my face.

The bell rang before we had a chance to practice again only thing was that I had music and then a free. So just down the hall.

"What class are you going to?" she asked me, hoping her newly made friend was in the same class as her.

"Music. You?" getting my stuff together to walk down two class rooms.

"Math" I gave her a small smile.

"We'll be here until half four if you want to come along?"

"Thank you for the offer Andie but I'm trying out for cheer."

"Another blonde intelligent cheerleader, with any luck you’ll replace Jackson" I heard Sam say while walking past us making me hit him on back of the head "Nice to meet you Bex"

"Was a pleasure Bekah" Mark told her with a smile while walking by but James had to take it further by giving her a piece of paper.

"Call me Bex, love to get to know you more" giving her a wink

"Don't be a creep. Leave the poor girl be" giving him a glare then a push.

"In all serious here is my number" I gave her my number to put in her new phone "Text if you need anything" she gave me a grateful smile almost as if she was shocked at the kindness given to her by someone. "Enjoy math"

"I will she laughed as we split ways."

As we head into music where we saw Mr Curtis.

"Ah wonderful the whole band is here" making me smile at him. After the class filled he started to teach as it was a double everyone got bored except 'the teachers pet’s as everyone called us but we took it as a compliment. Just cause they don't understand the art of music like we do doesn’t mean they have to be a dick about it.

He told us to split into four and discuss a piece of music which would resonate with what he was talking about so we spoke about Mozart’s Requiem and how it relates to the music notes that we had to discuss.

Honestly the entire class went like that as Mr Curtis let us do anything for the second period as long as it had to do with playing or discussing music in some sort of fashion. This was usually the time we discussed original songs and what we would sing next week at the Grille. Today we were writing our last verse of our original song we are hoping to perform one day.

"Well what’s going on in this group?" Mr Curtis asked looking over our piece of paper "Original song?" we nodded bashfully.

"We have the bass and drum beat, most of the lyrics and just have to do the guitar solo." I told him which he smiled at seeing our appreciation and enthusiasm about music and making it, you can see it in his eyes that he has faith in us.

"Good luck. I better be the first one to hear it." he told us.

After half hour of that the bell rang insinuating that it was class over luckily for me it’s my last class of the day. The other three not so much.

"I hate you so fucking much.” Mark said the three boys jealous of how my last period was a free.

"Tough luck Mark, enjoy history" making him glare the boys leaving me. I decided to go to the bleachers and study a bit for the rest of the Chem test tomorrow.

"Alex!" I heard looking around I saw a cheerleader trying to get my attention seeing it was Caroline. I grabbed my stuff and stalked towards Caroline wondering what was wrong. I give her a look asking her to explain why she shouted my name.

"Were you hanging out with Rebekah today?!" she asked although she seemed to already know the answer.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Why? She's an evil slutty Original."

"Caroline!" I exclaimed "She's not a slut or evil she’s a lonely girl wanting the high school experience. give her a break." I walked away to the far away end of the bleachers not wanting to hear anymore 'warnings' about Rebekah. I studied well tried to anyway my mind still angry at how Caroline and the rest of the group only see black and white. they have to know there is a grey part. After studying for a good 20 minutes I felt someone sit next to me. I looked over to see the ‘evil slut’ herself.

“I take it from you not being in class you have a ‘free’? I believe that is what they are called?” I smiled a bit thinking about the lack of knowledge Rebekah has on 21st century slang.

“Yeah, it’s called a free. I come up here to study, its quiet and relaxing. What’s your excuse?”

“I’m going to try out for cheer. I better go. Something tells me I do not want to keep Caroline Forbes waiting.” I gave a laugh at the way she spoke out the baby vampire she could probably kill in a millisecond. "That was sarcasm by the way" I shake my head and chuckle a little.

“I’ll see you later. Good luck.” The bell rang two or three minutes after she left however, I waited a bit for students to leave or head to practice before heading back in to practice some more when. I walked by the girls trying out and shouted

“Good luck girls” walking back into school music room to practice with the boys. Hopefully it will be productive?

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

I'm missing the bonfire for this. One of the best parties of the year I mean Ash helped organize it and I’m missing it because of an annoying humanity-less vampire is running around town.

"I'll lure Stefan away from the bonfire. then when he's distracted..." Elena began to explain the plan as a whole with Alaric finishing.

"I’ll shoot him"

"Can't Bonnie just ju-ju him or something?" Damon suggested annoyingly.

"Yes great idea Damon. Lets get the witch to bail you and your brother out the hundredth time." I sarcastically replied thinking that they rely too much on the magic that Bonnie holds and it always end up with her hurt. Does he care? Absolutely not he’s Damon Salvatore after all. He glares at me intensely as I matched his expression.

"I'm trying to keep Bonnie out of this. I don't trust Stefan won't hurt her. Caroline are you covered?" my sister agreed making Damon remove his eyes from me and land on my sisters. Caroline answered my sisters question.

"Yes! I will make sure that the old Forbes jail cell is prepped and ready."

"We're forgetting a key player here. Rebekah?" this making me roll my eyes "Wherever Stefan goes, the blonde ponytail tends to follow." It would be Damon who made this remark I mean after all he’s perfect.

"Which is why it’s your job to keep her away" Elena tells Damon him having the easiest roll in this plan.

"How?!? She's an Original. Last time I checked, we're out of daggers." he complained, shocker.

"So preoccupy her with your charm" Elena told him, I’m not entirely sure if it was a joke or not.

"Might have better luck finding the dagger."

"What charm?" me and Ric both answered

"Are you ever not going to be mad at me for a day?" Damon asked both of us

"Doubtful"

"Unlikely"

Then right at that moment the newest hybrid came in late looking around like everything was just fine.

"Sorry I'm late. What's going on?" He asked the group.

"We need you to raid your mom's vervain supply. Enough to keep Stefan down for a while." Elena told him which to be fair was a good idea but Tyler didn’t think so.

"You can't do that to Stefan" He said looking confused and borderline angry at the group.

"Why not?" Caroline asked her hybrid boyfriend wondering what was with the new attitude.

"Ty he’s out of his mind he needs our help aka the vervain"

"Trust me Tyler, it's in his best interest" Me and Elena tried to convince him to help.

"But its not in Klaus's" He defended making me cock my head.

"But Klaus is the bad guy, Tyler. You know, why are you acting like some freaky, hybrid, slave minion" Caroline questioned her boyfriends behaviour. Slave? Could that mean?

"Uh-oh" I heard looking up it was Damon who was looking at Tyler suspiciously, I looked at the Salvatore and said

"He isn't?" narrowing my eyes as he made a look like 'looks like it Hun'

"What?" Ric questioned both the Gilbert and Salvatore being on the same page for once which was terrifying itself.

"Klaus made me who I am Caroline. I owe him everything." Tyler said once again defending Klaus

"Oh boy"

"He is"

"Okay can we cool it with the commentary, please." giving both of us a look.

"What's going on?" Elena questions wanting to be in the know of Tylers 'condition' but before anything else can be said Damon grabs a vervain dart from Rics desk with no one else noticing.

"I'm just going to go." He tried to escape and probably go to tell his master so as he starts to walk towards the door Damon vampire runs towards the young hybrids and injects him with the vervain dart making Tyler collapse.

"What are you doing?!?" Caroline exclaimed both shocked and angry.

"He's been sired." Damon vaguely explained the condition of the Lockwood.

"What?" Ric asks wanting clarification of what that means.

"Sired, he feels loyal to Klaus because Klaus's blood created him" I explained briefly.

"Loyal how?" Elena wanted more information on how Tyler is going to act.

"He'll seek acceptance from his master." I began with Damon finishing

"Its really rare. maybe not so much in hybrids"

"How do I fix him?" Caroline asks us, I smile sympathetically.

"Get a new boyfriend" Making eveyone in the room act in some sort of negative way towards him.

When we begin to set the plan into motion Damon grabs a hold of my arm.

"I swear the next Salvatore to grab me is going to get a pencil to the eye." he let go after I said that.

"How did you know about the sire bond?" I cocked my head furrowing my eyebrows

"I don't know."

I walked into the bonfire seeing Ash socialising, I gave her a little smile and wave before going over to Sam.

"I'm bored" he told me when I reached him "entertain me".

"I'm not a circus act Sam."

"You look like one" I gave him a look making him smile.

"I'm going somewhere I won’t be verbally abused."

"Where? You don't have any other friends" I narrowed my eyes grabbing his drink and downing it before shoving it back in his hand.

I walked over to the beer tap and got my own drink before settling my eyes on the annoying vampire and the blonde original. I have no idea how but he is actually managing to somehow charm Rebekah? Such an unusual concept. But just as I was about to stop stalking them and see if Ash is free it started to get interesting with Rebekah standing up speaking with Damon also standing before Rebekah stabs Damon in the stomach with a sit causing him to sit back down. The scene playing in front of me makes me laugh a little.

I walk around trying to find someone to socialise with and saw Sam, James and Mark sitting around.

"I'm bored as hell" Mark started

"No 'Hello Andie. How have you been?'" I said sarcastically

"I don’t particularly care though."

"Charming"

"Do you want to leave" James asked

"I've not drunk anything. Parents would kill me. I can drive?" all four of us agreed that leaving the party would be much more beneficial to our mental health.

"I'm telling you I reckon I have a chance with that Rebekah" James said making all of us laugh

"And I reckon your dr-" I started before stopping by falling over seeing blurry images of my friends making out bits and pieces. The back of my head throbbing I saw Sam and James running to get help at least that’s what I think they were doing.

My eyes were fluttering shut, I’m feeling really tired but I got slapped.

"No, don't you dare all asleep you still owe me ten bucks for that cinema ticket I paid for. You are not dying. You hear me!" I tried to keep my eyes open but they just closed. This is it I’m going to die. I felt Mark doing CPR while yelling something then all of a sudden I felt some metallic tasting liquid go down my throat making me open my eyes fully trying to pull away from the wrist of Damon Salvatore.

"Thank you" I muttered in begrudged gratitude.

"What!?" was the next think I heard.

"You were dead and now your..."

"I'm so confused what just happened?"

"Are they on vervain?" I heard Damon whisper in my ear while helping me up. I shook my head.

He walked over to the three if them

"You saw nothing. you four were bored at the party and decided to leave early. Alex didn’t fall, I didn’t feed her my blood, the four of you just left." he compelled making me look away from the three of them, feeling bad for taking away their memories.

"Hey Damon, what are you doing here?" James asked dubiously knowing my dislike for the vampire.

"I'm going to take Alex home to her sister. Lets go Alex" he pulled me away I stopped him and looked at my friends.

“I'll see you in homeroom tomorrow.” With a smile watching them walk away after saying goodbye.

He sped me to the Salvatore boarding house. The last time I was here I nearly died lets hope its not a repeat. I saw Elena and she looked smoky? And had a burn on her cheek?

"I've got cream for that burn mark. come with me" he beckons my sister to follow making me look at them curiously.

I sat on the couch closing my eyes not wanting to go anywhere near Damon’s room especially with Elena in it. I heard a noise, opening my eyes and looked up to see Ric.

"Where’s Elena?"

I pointed upstairs closing my eyes again before saying Damons room. After a few seconds Ric appeared with Elena.

"C'mon Alex time to go."

Three of us left the boarding house in a car that I didn't know making me question who owns this vehicle. Ric saw my confusion at the new car.

"My car got blown up." Not exactly the best explanation but the best they had so far

"Quite an eventful party"

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

A/N: This was huge but I thought I'd split it into two parts, the episode and the Rebekah/Ashleigh/band part.

Next chapter is the dynamic between Alex and Caroline which will be updated tomorrow

Also anything to do with the chemistry and/or politics classes came off the internet so if it's incorrect sorry.

Hope you enjoyed reading.

Any British slang, spelling or grammar problems let me know.

Please comment any positive or negative feedback

Thanks for reading Lovelies xxx

#kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson series #the original imagines #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries #the originals

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otome-writer51 · 4 years

Text

A Ninja’s Kin Part 2

Part 1

Now that both of my sons were busy with their punishments, I could relax. I let out a deep sigh, instantly regretting how harshly I had treated my babies.

‘They’re just children,’ I told myself as I raked my hands through my hair, ‘but they also wish to be just like their father some day. I also know that they cannot be coddled if that is the path they wish to take in life. They just made me so so angry. I just…’

“Mommy?” A sweet, honeyed voice reached my ears, pulling me out of my internal war with my emotions. My gorgeous girl was wanting my attention.

At some point, she seemed to have made her way over to me, nonetheless I answered her in a kind voice, “Yes, my sweet angel?”

“Can you braid my hair for me? It is pretty messy right now and it’s making me hot. I wanted to braid it for training, but I am not as good as you,” she looked at me, “PLEASE MOMMY!!!” she begged, spitting out every word so fast it was hard to tell where one began and one ended. I chuckled as she looked up at me with those big puppy dog eyes I could never say no to.

“Of course I will, my heart and soul. Anything for you.” Maybe it was because I was feeling very guilty for how poorly I had treated my sons, but I couldn’t help but be extra sweet to Sakura.

“That is great mommy! Let’s go back to the veranda.” Gently taking my hand, my baby girl pulled me to take a seat. She plopped herself down in front of me, handing me her favorite comb. I began to brush out her knotty hair.

“Wow!” I exclaimed in wonder, “Sweetie, you weren’t joking, your hair really is a mess!”

She giggled cutely, “I told you, it always gets like this... but training makes it worse.” How in the world was this girl able to survive with her hair like this? I couldn’t believe she lived the way she did, sometimes.

Although her hair was a tangled mess, there was something soothing about combing out her long locks. It was so soothing, in fact, that it cleared my mind of everything, except the one thing I was worried about the most; my boys.

‘Oh my brave, strong, kind boys. I was too harsh on you both. I was just frustrated to see you both so at each other’s throats. That is not how brothers should behave under any circumstances. It was cute at first, but then you two just lost your heads and I lost mine as well. To make my little boy run off in tears like that, I shall forever hang my head in shame. What can I do to possibly make it up to him? Someone please tell me what I can-’

“Mommy, you’ve been brushing my hair for a while, now. I think it's ready to be braided,” said my daughter, turning around to find out why I had not started to braid her hair already.

“Oh, I just got lost in my thoughts dear. I will start right away.” Parting her hair in my fingers, I began to twist the strands together, into a pattern.

And once again, I fell victim to my own thoughts. ‘Just what to do with my boys. ‘How do I make it up to them?’

And once again, that sweet voice brought me back to the surface. “I know it may not seem very wise coming from an eight year old, but… I think you handled the situation the right way mommy.”

‘Oh what’s this? My girl has seemingly figured out the cause of my distress. She is sneaky like her daddy, but she is also quite perceptive as well.’

She continued on, “We are just children, we don’t see the world the way you do yet. With the path in life we have chosen, we are destined to need strict teaching. We cannot be successful without it.”

‘Not wise for an eight year old, dear. Give me a break, you are schooling your own mother here.’

“They were in the wrong, they did not listen to your orders when you gave them to them. A ninja needs to be a master at leading, but should also know when they must follow in line. The two of them have yet to figure that out it seems.” Chuckling at her jibe at her brothers, she gave me one last piece of advice. “A ninja also needs compassion. I feel that you have scared them for long enough and that they are now due for a reward, yes. I say you should let them know that they were completely in the wrong, but you should also let them find comfort in you after all is said and done.”

It was in this moment that I realized how much like her father she truly was. Takeshi may look exactly like him and Haru might be cheeky like their father too, but my beautiful girl definitely is his replica in personality. She is so wise for her age, and I know it is because of how closely she watches him. It warms my heart to think about how much my children love and adore their father. They still are far away from where they need to be, but they are already far more ready than I ever dreamed they’d be at this age.

Finding my resolve, I figured out what I was going to do. ‘When Haru gets back I am going to hug him, and Takeshi, so tight; tell them they don’t have to worry about those chores, and that they will be allowed at supper. I will give them a talk too, along with their father tomorrow, but for today, I believe they have been punished enough.’

“Um, mommy, you’re doing it again.” For the final time that day, my daughter rescued me from the violent waves crashing down on me from above. “You stopped braiding a while ago. Are you ever going to finish?”

It was only now that I came to know what I had done, or what I hadn't done. I stopped intertwining her locks about two-thirds of the way down. I’d been so kept up in my own mind I neglected what I was doing in real life. Finding new found motivation, I finished her hair faster than I had before and then I tied the ribbon on, securely fastening her beautiful hair-do.

“Oh! I love it! I love it! I love it so much!! Thank you mommy,” she twirled, watching her locks fall around her in awe. She ran over to give me a hug and a kiss, both of which I happily accepted.

‘I love you so much my precious angel. It feels so good to have you in my arms. I only wish I could be holding all three of you at the same time. My fierce Takeshi, My beautiful blossom that is you, and my little light Ha-’ I froze, alarm bells immediately sounding in my head at the thought of my son.

“OH MY GOSH!!! WHERE IS HARU?” I yelled, my loud voice right in my daughter’s ear making her jump. Takeshi also raised his head in alarm towards me when he heard the desperation in my voice. “He should have been back a long while ago… Where could he possibly be?” I muttered, worry starting to run through me. The sky had begun to paint itself in beautiful and vibrant shades of orange, yellow, and magenta strokes.

“Don’t worry mom, I will go look for him,” Takeshi said reassuringly to me. He truly was my brave, brave boy. With the way he was acting earlier, you wouldn’t think he would want to go find his little brother. Takeshi turned, and set off to find his brother.

“Honey, don’t do that! I shall go.”

Takeshi smiled, but said in a determined tone of voice, “Thank you mother, but this is the least I can do to make it up to him for being such a jerk, and to you for being such an awful son.”

My heart broke at his remorseful tone. “My dear, you are not an awful son; you never have been, and never will be. I love you so much, my brave boy. If this is what you wish to do, then go do it. Go find Haru and bring him back here.” With a smile of a boy who knew exactly what he needed to do, Takeshi looked at me one last time before he turned to follow the direction in which Haru had gone.

“Thank you, mother. I will not let you down.”

After my boy rounded the corner, I turned around to my daughter who was currently executing her sneak attack on Yogurt. My feathery boy thought he was in the clear in his newest hiding spot. He didn’t account for the fact that his huntress was my daughter, and she would always find him.

Holding in my laughter, I continued to watch my girl who was almost upon the skittish chicken. Tip-toeing closer, she got onto her knees, reached out, and…

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!,” she yanked Yogurt out of his hiding place, unbothered by the ear piercing shriek he let out. Cuddling him tight to her chest once more, she whispered words of affection to him as he tried to get away.

“Hehehe,” a giggle was the only sound I could force out of my mouth. ‘She really does love that chicken.’ Watching her with him warmed my heart and, letting that warmth sooth my mind, I all but put my missing son out of my worries. That was until a look of fear, one I've never seen present on my child’s face, seemingly froze her to her core, making her drop Yogurt in the process.

“Sakura, what is wrong?” Frozen in her fear, she was unable to talk to me. In turn, I followed her wide eyes to… A very horrid sight indeed. ‘“Huh?!” I gasped, startled at the sight in front of me. There were my two boys, not back with the training sword but tied up and gagged, desperately pleading for help.

A man, standing at least seven feet tall, broad-shouldered and built, with scars ravaging his entire body, held both of my children by their waists. His menacing eyes bore into mine with a hatred that spanned more than a decade. This man looked as if he knew who I was, but I did not know of him. He was here to destroy, and I could bet my son's lives that he wanted to kill.

Frightened I might have been, but I had no time to waste on my fears. One mere second was the matter of life or death here.

‘If I wish for my sons to live to see another year, I must act now.’

“SAKURA! GO GET YOUR FATHER NOW!” I yelled to my princess, but she was still frozen in fear. “SAKURA!” Having heard me this time, she ran off to fetch her father, and hopefully anyone else along the way.

My full attention now was focused on my sons’ captor; his inhumane yellowish gaze, just that of a monster, followed my every movement.

Unsheathing my hidden sword from inside my robes, I barked at the creature, “State your name, order, and place if you wish to be alive for longer than the sunset.” I wielded my weapon, pointing it directly at the savage’s heart, daring him to speak.

“Ugggghhhh,” he threw my sons to the ground, and their muffled groans of pain infuriated me even more than I already was.

Surely, I yelled loud enough for the whole castle to hear me, “STATE YOUR NAME! PLACE! AND ORDER! Or, so help me if you do not, I will make you regret it even in death.” My tone could have sent any normal man into hell in seconds, but this was no normal man.

Stepping over my sons, he reached behind his back and withdrew his dual blades. Sizing me up, he finally spoke, “You do not deserve the dirt on my feet, you nasty bitch. All you need to know is that I am the one who is sending you and your disgusting filth of a family to hell tonight.”

His venomous voice wrapped its vice grip around my lungs, and squeezed the air out, chilling me to the bone. He eyed me, similar to an eagle stalking its prey, and I glared at him with just as much animosity.

“If you were wise, you would let my sons go and move your ass along, out of my home.” This man was severely testing my patience.

It was my policy to settle with words before violence. I should’ve known from the start that it would not work with this one. Chuckling darkly at me, what he did next pushed me over the edge and all of my self control came crashing down. ‘My babies!!!’ He raised his left blade to Takeshi’s head, and the other above Haru’s.

Before he could have even thought of striking my sons, I advanced, charging like a wild bull who saw red. “Haa!!,” I grunted as I swiped my sword across his torso, narrowly missing him as he leaped over me, rolling into his battle stance. Sliding in the dirt, I caught my footing, spinning around to charge once more.

Before I could, however, this time he made the first move. He was sprinting towards me with a very clear intent; I was not to survive. If I was any normal woman, I would’ve cowered in fear but, alas, I was no normal woman; I was the lord assassin Kirigakure Saizo’s wife.

While I stood my ground, ready to pounce, my assailant arrived. He thrashed at me wildly and I blocked every swipe, stab, and thrash. Moving in graceful harmony, to an outsider it would have looked as though we had rehearsed the final act of a play. Every attack I had a response for, helping me bide my time for my opportunity to lead this dance.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

#love 365 find your story #love 365 #samurai love ballad party #SLBP #slbp saizo #slbp yukimura #slbp fanfic #fanfic #family au #fluff #saizo fluff #badass chicken #badass wife #badass mom #adorable kids #sexy ninja #YOU ARE A QUEEN AND YOU DESERVE THE WORLD BUNNY

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bigskycastle · 5 years

Note

ask

Yup! I’m gonna use this ask to answer the other ones finally lol

Hehe that’s a cute idea.. that’s sort of what I imagined the “special ready” effect is, but it would definitely be cooler if instead of just glowing/moving a bit their hair cycled through a bunch of colors

Hi! Oh that’s pretty broad uhhhhhhhh id say.. well. it’s N from pokemon bw but most of the characters I end up liking are just, like, silent protags lol

Honestly? at first nervous and uncomfortable because I very much forgot how to draw humans. But i’m feeling tons better about it now and having a lot of fun with it^_^

Awh thank you ! ❤ you’re also cool

Good at the moment! Got a 4 day weekend every week now so I should (maybe?) be able to be more active here. Also FINALLY have a doctor’s apptmt today so i can see someone about my mental health shit and possibly, perhaps, potentially actually get help lol

You’re sweet, thank you❤ I’d like to redo my spectrum piece at some point just because i think i’ve evolved a little stylistically since I finished it, but I still like it despite that. And ty again! They’re very relaxing for me now lol, I’m glad we (against all odds) got a zelda game with one

I think I first saw a streamer playing it when I dropped by their twitch page on a whim, and I saw all the clothing options and immediately decided “i must buy a switch just to play this game”. The fashion aspect is still one of my favorite things about it lol.

I think my Favorite part has to be the singleplayer modes, in partic agents though (predictably), bc they’re exactly the sort of “mostly blank slate” characters+worlds I get attached to.. I’ve always rly enjoyed sort of filling in the gaps left behind in media, even if that means what I end up loving at the end is 90% headcanon stuff. I think that’s the best way 2 interact with media anyway. making it more personal.

It’s always very cool seeing everyone’s different takes on the agents/splat world, and it’s Very cool how I can post a pic of, like, agent 3 and have a bunch of different people each see a totally different character, you know? But yeah i like the shoes in splatoon

Honestly kinda rough but I’m trying! I’ve started college now and the people there are nice enough, plus it’s got incredibly cushy hours and is pretty light on actual “learning”, but it’s good, I needed some kind of break from academia before I straight up died

I’m happy you enjoy it anon!!!!!! I will :-)! I’ve got a lot planned for zelda art in the near future, i just have to finish some commissions and stuff before I can properly work on it

I’ve never “studied” officially, but i’ve been drawing for like, 5-6ish years now? I didn’t pick it up until I was about 10 and didn’t rly commit until I was maybe 12. The course i took at college is meant to be art-focused, however, the stuff they’re teaching is like.. not a brag! but stuff I do already know. Like, a tutor tried to explain what “pixel art” is to me on my first day. I mostly took it to try and learn some Maya skills because I do want to pick up 3D art one day!

Ty! This question’s pretty similar to the last so i’ll put it here. I’ve been slacking on my actual studying a bit, most of what I do is force myself to draw anything every day. Doesnt matter if its a wonky doodle of a face on the back of a napkin or if its a full illust, its practice, it counts. Also, trying to shove myself out of my own comfort zone by doing things like environments and very detailed things (motorcycle.). It’s very rewarding just to look at something you made and think “I thought this was impossible before right now”.

hmmmmMm... I can’t think of any just off the top of my head but my friend @nickymemer (I think?) put the idea of Zelda, whenever shes sick of link and her dads’ collective shit, just running off to gerudo town to hang out with urbosa and the rest of the gerudo court, in my head and i love that a lot

Thank you thank you! As of rn it’s botw but that’s probably because it’s the only one i’ve played by myself. I watched a 30 hour longplay of twilight princess and really loved that though. I did watch an lp of both majora and ocarina but I get the feeling i’m missing a big part of the experience of both bc i’m not playing them. (That or they’re overhyped.) If i get a bit more cash at some point I’ll probably get both on my 3ds.

Alright that’s all I think! Thank you everyone ❤

#joask #there's like 20 under this readmore I'm sorry if it doesnt work oh god #long post #just in case #Anonymous

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softpeetabread · 6 years

Text

University Life part 3

I’m so flattered by the positive reception to this au and the comments I received have encouraged me to continue. Thank you to everyone that’s taken the time to read this little tale. I have more in store and here is but a piece, which I hope can suffice until my next update. Enjoy!

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Katniss had to give Peeta credit for making it till the end of the day to crash and fall asleep, or at least until they made it back to his apartment. He didn’t even reach his bed and opted for the living room couch, even if it was probably uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she found a blanket in his room and covered him with it.

She had been at his apartment plenty of times to know where to find things. She prepared a mug with a teabag for when he’d wake up and started on dinner for them. They usually worked together to make meals, but Peeta needed his sleep and she would not disturb him just so they could cook.

Finnick came into the apartment some time later, a tired expression on his face. He’d probably had a long day as well.

“Did you replace my roommate?” Despite his exhaustion, he still managed to give her a mischievous smile.

“Please, you would be the one Peeta would replace,” she answered, her own playful smile on her lips.

“You’re like his mother. Look at you: making him food while he sleeps.”

Katniss shrugged. “Don’t be jealous just because this isn’t for you.”

After spending so much time with Finnick and Johanna thanks to Peeta, she had gotten up to speed with their jokes and jabs. Had she been a new friend and used that response she would have felt like she was being unnecessarily mean and biting. However, she knew her answer wouldn’t hurt Finnick since they tended to say worse things to one another. Katniss had simply adjusted and learnt from them all. Sometimes, harsh comments would get thrown around and Peeta would step in to defend her from his friends, but she wasn’t bothered because she knew she could hurt them with her words if she wanted to. There was a difference between being defensive and playing along.

By the time she finished cooking, Finnick had left to meet Annie at her apartment, leaving Peeta and Katniss alone once again. She heard Peeta yawn as he sat up.

“What a coincidence that you wake up just as I’m about to serve us dinner,” she said with a smirk.

“My stomach can sense quality food from a mile away,” Peeta answered, stretching his back. “What’d you make?”

“Your favorite: stew.” Katniss brought the pot to the table carefully, setting it on the center where the heat mat rested.

“I think you mean that’s your favorite,” he chuckled and got up to help Katniss set the table. “I’ll eat anything you make, though.”

“It’s not like you have a choice.”

Peeta pretended to be pensive about it. “Well, I could order something, but then I’d be wasting some good stew. And then, I’d get a long lecture from you about how awful it is to waste food. And then, you’d remind me of how long it took you to make it. I’ll save myself all that trouble.”

Katniss couldn’t help but laugh. Was she that predictable? “You are not only smart, but you are a wise man, Peeta.”

“I’ve learnt that I have to keep a woman happy or else I’d be facing her wrath,” Peeta shrugged.

“Don’t tell me your priority is to keep me happy,” Katniss said with mock sarcasm.

“Then, I won’t tell you.” He brought the plates to the table and Katniss served them dinner. “I do admit I have my priorities straight. It just so happens that one of them is to make someone happy.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that as she wasn’t sure who he was really referring to. “That person is very lucky… Now hurry up and eat your stew while it’s hot.”

“I could just heat it up!”

“It won’t taste the same!”

Peeta rested his face on his hand as he looked at her, laughing with amusement at their exchange. “There’s no winning with you.”

“You should know that by now.”

Putting his wisdom to use, Peeta kept quiet save for the chuckles he couldn’t help holding back, which made Katniss look away from him else she risked choking on her food. She had never laughed so much in her life, from what she remembered, until she got to know Peeta and now she couldn’t stop. The real winner was him because he got the last laugh out of her.

Gray eyes scanned the bottom of the pool until they located the colorful rings that had been arrayed in a line, each far enough for a challenge. There was a liberating feeling about swimming that Katniss loved and when she found out the gym had a pool—a bigger one than the one at the apartment complex—she was thrilled and couldn’t wait to jump in. She was practicing on reaching the bottom, which was the one skill she struggled with. Her dives were decent, her speed allowed her to reach the other end of the pool in about four breaths, and her strokes let her gracefully swim across without stopping. After doing this for years, it felt like a reward rather than a work out. It definitely felt like a cool down what with her being in the water, but her muscles still ached and she was more than sure that she would be sore the following day.

Peeta and her worked out together by running and he had showed her how to work some of the machines that appealed to her, but there were exercises in which they did alone. He did weights and boxing while she swam. If one of them finished early, they would wait for the other until they were done so they could leave together. She thought it was a good thing they didn’t depend on each other for all of their exercise routines and gave each other some space, too. Peeta had mentioned he only knew the basics for swimming like floating and not drowning, so Katniss didn’t insist on him to join her. She did offer to teach him and he agreed to it when their exams week would pass.

Katniss pushed through the water to swim downward and reached for a ring, lacing it around her arm as she reached for the next one. She managed to take three from the floor before she floated back up and took a deep breath, feeling how her chest ached and her lungs screamed. They didn’t look like much but pushing herself on the deep end of the pool took the most energy from her. Taking the rings was the easy part. She went back to get the remaining three after taking a few breaths and decided to call it a day.

She spotted Peeta sitting next to her things with a sketch book in hand. Katniss wondered how he had the ability to draw without difficulty, and it made sense to her why he would choose a career like architecture. Although, he could have also succeeded as a painter. She had been in awe at the canvases he showed her that were in his room, full of vivid colors and beautiful scenery. She walked towards him, wondering what it was that he was doodling.

“Drawing people swimming?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

“More or less,” Peeta answered with a shrug before putting his pencil down and closing his sketchbook. Only he found a way to carry that in his gym bag. ‘In case I felt inspired’, he had said to her once.

“May I see it when you finish?”

“I can show you right now, if you want.”

It must please Peeta that Katniss showed interest in his sketches, or at least that’s what it looked like to her. Not that there was anything wrong with that. If anything, she gave him encouragement and she admitted he looked adorable when he got enthusiastic. He flipped to the current page he was working on as she sat beside him, a towel wrapped around her to keep from getting water everywhere.

It was a rough sketch, but she could make out the figure of a girl standing along the edge of the pool and what looked like a braid that swayed to the side, as if she had shaken her head to get water off her hair. Her mouth hung open slightly as she realized Peeta had started to sketch her.

“I think your drawing looks way better than I do in real life,” she said, a playful smile on her lips.

“Hardly. I’m afraid about not being able to do you justice.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, even if it was flattering to be Peeta’s muse for one sketch.

“You could draw me as a fish and it wouldn’t make a difference.”

It was Peeta’s turn to raise an eyebrow at her. “I think I’ll draw your gills on your throat.”

“Don’t forget a fin on my back,” she added. “Make me look scary.”

Peeta put the notebook away as he spoke. “For me to do that, you would have to already be scary-looking, which you’re not.”

Katniss gave him a scowl, trying to prove her point that she was, in fact, as frightening as she claimed to be.

“Wow, you certainly terrified me,” Peeta said dryly.

“Good because I could be your worst nightmare.”

“Katniss, you’re as terrifying as a new born kitten.”

With the strap of her gym bag on her shoulder, Katniss began to walk away from the pool with Peeta beside her. “Just because I’m not as tall as you are doesn’t mean I can’t still scare the shit out of you.”

“I doubt it but keep telling yourself that.”

As she showered, she replayed Peeta’s words in her head and she somehow felt a bit bothered by the fact that he didn’t find her intimidating. She’d show him one day he should be scared of her. He may have been bigger than her in height and size, but he was an even bigger softy. She let it go after a while and breathed out, thinking about his sketch.

Why would he decide to draw her, of all people, anyway? She probably looked like a feral animal if anything, not some attractive swimmer like Annie or Finnick. Maybe Peeta would make her look pretty. He had such a talent for making even the most mundane things look amazing when his fingers created his artwork.

I admit this started off as a short story, but then it grew as I kept writing and I want to write as much as I can about the relationship between these two. I love banter, flirting, and flirtatious banter, so I hope I did something right here. Maybe this feels like these two instances aren’t related, but believe me, I’m following a sort of timeline. This matters to their story. I am open to suggestions about this au if anyone has any ideas they’d like to share with me! Whether it’s for their friendship or when they are dating (I promise, they will get together, just not today *winks*). Let me know what you think. I will update soon!

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark fanfiction #fanfiction #university life #fran writes #I'm getting attached to this now #my writing is all over the place and i've been writing in 3 different times lmfao #I hope you guys like it!!

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kiwiwola · 3 years

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12/01/20

Been doing my pt exercises; neck pain is now pretty manageable on days when I don’t draw or play guild wars (my desk time is pretty minimal/interrupted without those, currently). Have had a few short drawing/doodle days, nothing much. Walked the 1 mile trail by my place twice this week, hoping to squeeze a few more in before the end of the week.

Trying to collect my thoughts for the first therapy appt I’ve had in..a month? Two? Otherwise my mind goes blank and I forget..what moments i came, what moments I’m moving toward. I’ve been periodically checking my blog archive to just..remember what happened the previous month?? It’s been helpful, but still just...weird, how each day and week and month rolls quietly into the next.

So lets see. I was doing some daily pen practice in October; also doing to much Lab in gw2 (finally got my ghost scarf, but at what cost). This, and stress, and nightmares, pushed my neck tension to intolerable, tear-worthy levels at the end of the month. I started playing Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles about that time, because it seemed really chill and casual. Also I wanted to enjoy a final fantasy again, and the Crystal Chronicles universe looked different and charming. Spoiler: it is different and charming. I like it a lot! Rest of November was basically...pt exercises, no matter what, and wishing I could do more than I could. There’s so many goofy little moments, or in-between moments in FFCC I want to draw! A selkie caravanner, looking forlornly into the dark pools of the marsh; a vegetable-themed caravan of lilties; the well-established Sol Racht, continually giving my rough and grubby solo selkie round corns out of an abundance of fatherly concern; Mog with some selkie-style adornments. Oh yeah also hot demon bois from Soul of Yokai, I finally finished that too.

But I still find myself lacking energy (that is, my neck-to-right-hand region still fatigues/becomes painful quicker than usual) and, since I haven’t been consistently drawing, it takes me longer, and usually more frustrated, hard-pressure passes, to get where I want to be in drawing.

I have been trying to detach the product (thing drawn) from the action (drawing) more often, because I want, more often, to enjoy the latter, and care less about the former. Telling myself, as I start, “this doesn’t have to be for anyone but you. You don’t even have to save the file,” has helped. But it is complicated, because I’ve always loved the communicative aspect of the product-- how even a slapdash sketch can, in some instances, portray a joke or emotion better than a comment. I miss being able to make people laugh or feel stuff with my art. But I’m not sure if that’s a communication thing, or a “I need people to think I’m cool and smart” thing. Maybe both? Even if it’s just the former, perfectionism (or more accurately, my need to control how I, and the things I create, are perceived) ensures that I spend way to much time on it, worry excessively over it, and in the end, usually never want to see it again (unless someone else responds well to it and validates it). And I hate that. It’s like putting yourself through a judging competition with everything you do. I just wanna draw dumb embarrassing shit again and not..think about how it may or may not be received...

I watched a Drawfee video yesterday (”Drawclass: Jacob Teaches You How to Practice Effectively”) and there were a couple explanations in the beginning that really hit a different facet of the whole practice vs product, art vs the act of drawing thing I’m trying to untangle in my brain. I’m still trying to figure out what it’s ringing my brain bells, but let me see if I can take some notes and talk it out here as I rewatch it... Practice =Input

Drawing =Output

“When you’re practicing, what you want to be doing is putting new information into your brain; so you need to be looking outwards at things you don’t know how to that you can put inside your brain. And you want to try to get as much new information into your brain as possible when you’re practicing. Which means you’re not making art when you’re practicing. You’re not sitting down to make a piece you’re going to show to someone, you’re not making anything for anyone other than your own brain, to gain more information that it can start analyzing....

Practice is for you. It’s for taking in outside information, and then when you’re actually drawing, you’re taking all that information you’ve got, and putting it out onto the page to make an actual piece. It’s two completely different thought processes that go into these two things.

I think the reason it helps to think of practice as input and not really a creative performance is because that means that practice doesn’t matter--in the sense that you’re not showing it off, it’s not art. So you don’t have to apply the same value judgements to it that you would to art that you make...Practice, in and of itself, is good to do.

So when you’re practicing, you can separate the emotional aspect from it a bit better and say like, this is just work, this is taking information and putting it in my head, and it doesn’t matter what comes out onto the page because it’s not for anyone or anything, it’s just for me....

I think the aspect of pressure, the pressure of looking at a blank page and being like, “what am I gonna draw” stops a lot of people from working, instead of thinking about it as, “what am I going to work on today, what am I going to set out to improve today?” And if you know what types of things you need to improve, then you always have something to draw.”

Practicing-> Fast and numerous iterations, don’t be precious

This particular chunk in the beginning is what I’ve been thinking about, re: the pressure of performative drawing lately. I know it’s important to practice from reference, and I had worked out on some level that it was important, to me at least, that I keep the practice stuff private, but I’m still fuzzy on entirely why. But thinking of practice as almost a wholly separate entity from drawing to create a polished product--as a thought process heading in the other direction, in not out, even, has answered that “why” for me in a way that I understand, I think. It reminds me of the process of note-taking, which I also tbh enjoy--quickly condensing information so you can construct a more whole, personalized understanding that can be retrieved later for a test, an essay, etc.

And i don’t emotionally shit the bed if nobody sees my notes--I don’t worry about what a professor will think about my notes, because it is very much understood that they are meant for me, and my understanding; that they are part of the input stage, and not the output stage. As much as i love the look of polished, color-coded notes, those are not the kinds of notes I take; and on the few occasions I tried to take them that way, I usually end up with less information on the paper and less encoded into my brain, because I’m dividing my attention and focusing now on how I want the notes to look, as a finished product.

But posting practice art is...literally putting it out there, which makes it *feel* like it’s part of the output stage, and should be judged and fretted over similarly. And that is exhausting for me, especially without other things to balance out my day.

I would like to stop fretting over finished, output art as well, but maybe I can build my way there by first starting to think of practice, or “input art”, differently.

#dumb fish stuff #therapy stuff #drawing thoughts

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lenfaz · 7 years

Text

MissMatched.com, Ch.5 (5/9)

In a world where every dating site swears by their algorithms and databases to find the most accurate match with a high percentage of compatibility, a new site is giving them all a run for their money.

Missmatched.com promises no data or algorithm, just a few people that *know* how to find your best match based on their instincts and their vibes.

Emma Swan is hired to investigate if there’s a fraud involved with the site’s claim of not using any type of statistics. That path leads her right into the hands of Missmatched.com founder, Killian Jones, who promises her that he’ll prove he’s worth his salt by finding Emma her perfect match without any data or algorithms involved.

A new story by me, dedicated from the bottom of my heart to the wonderful @businesscasualprincess All the thanks in the world to my beta @sambethe

Ao3 FF.net Tumblr: 1 2 3 4

Mary Margaret & David

Emma was losing her mind. It might have been the lack of sleep from reading file after file, or the endless hours searching through transcripts from interviews with MissMatched’s competitors. It could also be the way she had kept one ear on the ground, hoping for any piece of gossip she could turn into information, any lead she could find that would untangle the scam of all time.

But. There. Wasn’t. Anything.

She took a deep breath as she reviewed the cases in front of her. It was time to go back to the source. To the one case that, according to Liam Jones, started it all.

Mary Margaret Blanchard-Nolan was the modern version of a fairytale princess. From her tender smile to her gentle eyes to the way she remembered details about everyone in the office. The smell of baked goods wafting from the box in her hand only reinforced Emma’s belief that it was simply impossible for this woman not to care.

Mary Margaret placed the box on the conference room table and opened the lid to show a neat row of chocolate chip cookies.

“These are Liam’s favorites” she announced as the man of the hour sauntered over and grabbed a few before pressing a kiss to Mary Margaret’s cheek.

“You spoil me rotten,” he said with a twinkle in his clear blue eyes.

“Please, someone needs to take care of the two of you, and since you still haven’t settled down, it’s up to me.”

Killian’s voice cut through the room as he stole a few cookies. “You’re too good to us, Mary Margaret.”

“Why are you even here?” Emma asked, eyeing him as she debated grabbing a cookie for herself. “I thought this was Liam’s success story.”

“Oh, Swan, when you taste the cookies, you’ll know why I’m here.” Killian bit his lower lip and waggled his eyebrows at her before exiting the room as he gulped down one of the cookies.

“I suppose I should leave you to it.” Liam bowed his head at them. “Mary Margaret, please tell David I’ll drop by tomorrow to watch the game?”

Mary Margaret beamed. “He’s looking forward to it.”

She watched both men leave, with a daydream expression on her face, before she turned to Emma. “Let me tell you, if someone had told me that having those two move in next door would change my life, I never would have believed them.”

“Is that how you met?” Emma asked, making a few notes on her notepad.

“Yes, they had just moved to the city and they ended up in the apartment right across the hall from me. They were both bartenders at a friend’s bar and the building was within walking distance. I woke up one morning to bickering in the hall. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door and they both turned around with those dazzling smiles.”

Emma could picture it well, and part of her wondered how Mary Margaret was able to survive such thing.

“We became instant friends. Liam and Killian didn't know many people in the city and I didn’t have many friends myself, you know…” she trailed off, her tone tinged with sadness, clearly touching on a period she wasn’t that keen on revisiting. “They took me under their wing, as much as I did them, to be honest. I don’t think I laughed so much in my life before I met them.”

“And David?” Emma asked, wanting to understand how he came into the mix.

Mary Margaret’s eyes shone brighter as a slight blush came to her cheeks. “He - he was a regular at the bar. He used to drop by for a beer after work - he worked at one of the local animal shelters - and he and Liam became close. I - I never met…” She gave Emma a rueful smile. “When Liam mentioned he had a friend that he wanted to introduce me to, I refused. My last few attempts at trying to date hadn’t ended well, and I just didn’t want to try. Not again.”

“That doesn’t seem -” Emma cut herself off when realized she’d spoken out loud, her eyes widening in embarrassment. But Mary Margaret didn’t seem offended as she chuckled lightly.

“That doesn't seem like me, right?”

“I’ve only known you briefly, but you don’t seem to be the type to give up on hope.”

“I’m not. But at that time, I had. If it hadn’t been for Liam and Killian’s pestering, I wouldn’t have risked putting myself out there. And when I met David --- it was love at first sight. I know it sounds cheesy and out of some fairy tale no one believes in, but that was exactly what it was.”

Mary Margaret sighed, her attention obviously shifted to somewhere else, somewhere Emma couldn’t meet her at. There was something peaceful in her expression, something that made Emma want to believe people were good and love was all around them. Suddenly, another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

“You were the one who convinced them to do this, weren’t you?”

A blush crept across Mary Margaret’s cheeks as her hands fidgeting over the table. “Is it that obvious?” She shrugged before Emma could answer. “When they couldn’t keep their jobs at the bar…” she stopped, seeming to realize she had said too much, which only peaked Emma’s interest. “The thing is, they gave me my happy ending, and I was sure that with a little nudge, they will be able to give others the same.”

Emma pondered the words, finding it hard not to believe the woman sitting in front of her. “And you think they’ve succeeded?”

The smile Mary Margaret gave her was sure and steady. “Look around you, Emma. This place is filled with hope and love, and people determined to find everyone’s fairytale love story. There’s nothing but happy endings here, and it’s thanks to Liam and Killian.” She sighed, a hint of sadness escaping her lips. “If only they could give themselves one… well, Liam is almost there, if he’d only dare to go for it. But Killian -”

She seemed to really care. Genuinely. Emma wondered what it’d have been like to have people like her in her life. Caring so much for others. Mary Margaret tilted her head, her eyes studying Emma carefully.

“You don’t believe in any of this, do you?”

Busted. Emma shrugged, glancing away as she doodled in her notebook. “I refuse to believe it. I’m a cynic, lady. There are no happy endings where I come from. Just people telling you what you can’t do your entire life.”

Mary Margaret was silent for a long while before she reached out to squeeze Emma’s hand and command her attention. Emma looked up to find nothing but hope and concern in her eyes.

“Maybe the reason you want to prove them wrong is because deep down you desperately want to hope they are right.”

“I don’t do hope,” Emma stated, not ready to let her walls down, not even for someone who seemed to be the kindest woman on earth.

Mary Margaret sighed, standing up and securing her purse under her arm. “All happy endings start with hope, Emma.” She turned around to face a sheepish Liam Jones, who seemed to have made his way into the conference room without them noticing. “And that should go for you too.”

Something resembling ache passed through Liam’s eyes, before he looked away. “Mary Margaret,” he started but she cut him off with a hand on his arm.

“Liam, you know I’m right.” She placed a soft kiss on his cheek and nodded at Emma before exiting the room.

Liam stood there, his eyes lost and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Emma felt sorry for him.

“Is everything ok?” she asked with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

He shook his head and plastered a smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, Miss Swan, it is. Do you need something else from me regarding this case?”

“No, it’s ok, I just want to finish my notes and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Take all the time you need, love.” He nodded briefly before he exited the room and left her to concentrate on her thoughts.

Unfortunately, it seemed her peaceful solitude wouldn’t last long. A few minutes later, Killian Jones entered the room holding a mug. He placed it on the table and took the seat next to her. Emma peeked at the mug and lifted an eyebrow - it was hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon swirling on the surface.

“Wow this is- How did you know? I didn't write any of this on that flimsy piece of paper you made me fill out.”

“I’m quite perceptive.”

There was that smug tone that Emma simply wanted to banish from him.

“Are you?”

“Indeed.” His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip as she took a sip of the mug. It made Emma lose her concentration for a fleeting moment, but soon she was back to the business at hand.

“Mary Margaret seems to be very invested in your happiness. In everyone’s really. But especially in yours and your brother’s.”

Killian smiled fondly. “She would be a great asset to the company if we were ever to convince her to give up teaching. She wants everyone to find true love.”

Emma studied his features carefully. “And you’re not up to the quest? The man who finds love for all others doesn't want to find it for himself?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking, only that she wanted to know more about him.

He took a moment to reply, as if he was pondering his words carefully. “Why don’t I see you hammering my dear brother over this?”

He was deflecting and Emma knew it. It only fueled her want to know even more. “Well, because according to you - and the painful look in his eyes I just witnessed - he has found his true love. It’s just not working out for him at the moment. Whereas you, Killian Jones, seem to be the eternal unattached bachelor, according to sources.”

She didn’t want to say more, choosing to give him a look that she hoped conveyed what she wasn’t willing to admit. If he was able to read her like an open book - like he claimed - he would have no issues figuring this one out.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and averted his eyes. “I didn’t know this included a deep dig into my personal life.” He was closing off, Emma could tell. It took an expert on doing the same to spot another doing it.

“It shouldn't,” she started softly, hoping he would meet her eyes. “But things are usually connected, and especially in this line of business people talk. I’ve heard a few things.”

“They were probably true.”

He still wasn’t meeting her eyes and Emma couldn’t take it anymore. Her hand darted out to graze her fingers on his cheek. He finally looked at her.

“I'd like to hear them from you.”

He swallowed, his eyes almost filling with tears. “I truly loved someone once. She was older - and married. It didn't end well. After that, I figured it was easier to help others find love than focus on my own. It would prevent me from moving on from something I had no intention to get over with.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “So you’re cynical of love yourself. You built all this and you don’t even believe in it?”

“Oh no, Swan, make no mistake, I’m a firm believer.” The passion in his voice took her breath away. “I just don't think it's meant for me anymore.”

The words echoed deep within her, to that part of her heart she always kept from others, in the place she never went back to. But now she found that she wanted to. “You sound like me. I was in love - once.”

Killian didn’t say a word, letting the silence stretch between them, giving her the chance to stop the conversation. But she didn’t want to.

“I was young and stupid, and I thought he loved me. It cost me a stint in juvie when I got busted for collecting some watches he’d stolen. He was supposed to meet me after I got them. He never showed up.” The words came out fast, like ripping off a bandaid. It hurt less when she didn’t dwell on it. “After that, I really didn’t care much about finding love. A few years ago, I met this guy who seemed nice and things were good - not great, but solid. Until I realized he was cheating on me.”

Something that looked like anger flashed in his eyes and he clenched his jaw. He was angry on her behalf and a part of Emma was happy he’d reacted that way. She quickly ignored those feelings. When he spoke, his voice was strained.

“I can see why it would be hard to trust people after that.”

“Yeah, keep that in mind when you find me my match,” she teased, trying to ease the tension that had built up in the room.

“I’ll do a very thorough check, don’t worry.”

#cs ff #cs au ff #captain swan #missmatched.com #lenfaz fics #hook x emma #online dating

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velvetchen · 6 years

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11 Questions Tag

so i was tagged thrice (!!!) by three lovely people, thank you so much!! i couldn’t decide which set of questions to do bc i didn’t want to leave any out so i did all three! thank you again for tagging me!

i’m putting my questions & tags right at the top so y’all don’t have to scroll through my 33 questions of rambling lmao

rules: answer the 11 questions from the person who tagged you and then make 11 more for the people you tag.

edit: i was tagged again, so i decided to come back and add on to this and i noticed tumblr didn’t actually tag anyone so yeah i fixed that now rip

here are my questions!

1. Book/movie/art piece that made you think the most and why? 2. What’s your favorite physical/personality feature of your bias(es)? 3. What colors and smells reminds you of home? 4. If you could only listen to 30 seconds of one song for your entire life, what song & time interval would it be? 5. Languages you'd like to learn? 6. What are three pieces of advice you’d give to 30-year-old you? 7. If you bumped into your bias on the street and you had no idea who they were, what would your first impression be and what would you do next? 8. Ultimate holiday itinerary? 9. You go to your bias group’s concert, and you’re one of the lucky fans invited on stage for a ~special performance~... what do you do? 10. What made you first notice your bias? 11. Do you have any bad habits?

tagging 11 people: @blushtones @sehunsface @whimsical-ness @yeoleow @fuck-me-up-fam @romantichen @xingmithefool @honeyjongdae @ineedyixing @dropsofletters @chanyoel

sorry if you’ve already been tagged / you don’t wanna be tagged!

@dragon-dust !! thank you love

What’s your favourite flower?

hmmm i’ve said this before but i do love pink lilies! i also love hydrangeas and orange blossoms and i think the skeleton flower is cool as heck (it’s a flower that turns crystal-clear when wet)

Sunrise or sunset?

i like sunrises bc it’s colder and there are always a lot of bugs around at sunset...not to mention it gets dark really quickly!

Favourite childhood piece of music?

mmm a lot bc we used to listen to a lot of music!! but anything by michael jackson or lucky ali is v nostalgic to me

Name a character from a book that you can’t forget.

i don’t have one from a books (rip i’ve never properly liked a book character) but the magician from the webtoon annarasumanara kind of stuck with me? i just felt so sad for him & he reminds me of what i don’t want to end up being

Pictures or gifs?

pictures!

Is there any really famous movie that you’ve not ever seen?

ohhhhh boy a lot! i don’t watch movies much and if i do the last thing i’d watch is romance/comedy/etc so i haven’t seen all those ‘classics’ like the notebook and legally blonde and so on... i’ve never seen high school musical either (or any of those disney channel shows)

Clean desk or a messy one?

it starts off clean and then it gets messy lmao

If you could start again and change only one thing, what would that be?

i would love myself more, and i would’ve made an effort to speak all my languages :(

Five things, one desert island for the rest of your life. What do you bring

(assuming i can’t bring exo) uhhh, because i’m practical: a good knife, large sheet of tarp, indefinite number of matches, clean clothes and something to hold water

Favourite way to spend your free time.

wasting it tbh... but i love having long chats w my friends

Would you rather be able to fly or walk through walls?

i’d fly bc walking through walls would be a lot more easier to get caught at... @technicallymilkshakes !! (i love these questions!)

You’ve been friends with your bias for some time now and you’re pretty sure there’s some mutual attraction between the two of you. How does this attraction get resolved? Does someone confess (who)? Is it more physical? Do you agree to remain just friends? Or does it stay unresolved?

okay okay ASSUMING this ever happens ... i’d confess! i don’t like keeping things that could change my life. even if i wasn’t sure they liked me too. i’d go for a half-relationship/half-friend thing?? bc i hate proper relationships

Do you have a recurring daydream you like to revisit? What is it?

yep! plenty hahaha. i have one where Ambiguous Person and i are hiking through the woods, another where we’re trying to ballroom dance and then one where we’re forced to share a bed... you know the one... (SORRY i’m so soft when it comes to romance)

How did your bias become your bias?

ahhh okay at first my bias was jongin?? bc i usually like the dancers? and i was watching a lot of exo-k so i didn’t even know about jd but like... i watched a couple of lives and his voice just got me... and then of course all those ‘try not to fangirl’ challenges that sucked the life out of me

What’s one song from your bias group that can always make you happy?

i love love love replay! especially the live ver. where they all cried... i cry everytime i hear it too?? and the whole lucifer album also (surprise!! my bias group isn’t exo lmao)

Are you right-handed? Left-handed? Ambidextrous?

right-handed! i can write w my left hand but not for long periods of time

You call in to the radio show your bias is a guest on. It gets picked up and now you’re live on the air. What would you say to them?

i’d say (in my crappy korean) that i love them and i’m so happy i got to talk to them! and that i hope they’re happy and taking care of themselves

What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to?

i’ve only been to two :( both of them were incredible though! i saw yanni live & a classical concert by zubin mehta + the australian world orchestra and !!!! mesmerizing experiences! now if i could just see tsfh i’d die happy

What’s your favorite film genre and what are some movies you would recommend from it?

like i said i don’t like films much but,,, i do love space movies and historical settings! i can’t recall any besides interstellar which most people have probably watched

What do you think other people’s first impression of you is? What do you want it to be?

they probably think i’m kind of rude? ;;;;;;;; bc i’m super shy so i don’t talk much at all? also they probably think i’m homeless or something bc i’m always barefoot, my hair’s always messy and somehow i end up getting dust all over me RIP

Is there a book that you’ve given up on finishing? If so, why?

i’ve dnf’ed a loooot of books! most recently, a court of thorns and roses (s. j. maas) & caraval (stephanie garber) MAN i really hated those

You went to a fansign and your bias signed your album and drew a special note + a little doodle just for you. What does the note say and what’s the doodle? Do you show it off to everyone when you get home or do you tuck it in a safe spot and take it out once in a blue moon to reminisce alone?

ldkfns i’m imagining this and i’m SUFFERING but uhh i’d ask him to draw a cat lmao and write something that makes him happy! and the second one! i’m not a showy person so i’d definitely keep it somewhere safe and take it out when i want to remember :’)

@jds1andonly !!

If you could have any exo member as your twin, who would it be?

probably chanyeol bc i need some positivity! and he’d be really fun to talk to and do everything with

Imagine you have one day where you can eat anything you want: what would you eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner?

assuming this also means no gastric troubles... i’d go to the most expensive vegan restaurants in the world and gorge myself (bc i’m still morally obligated)

What is something you want to do by the end of the year?

oh boy considering there’s only a month and a half left... finish my ongoing series, be done with all my school stuff and ready for my exams in january, and organize the trip i want to go on with my friends after graduation!

What is your dream job?

i wanna be a teacher or a professor! maybe go around the world and teach in poorer regions? i actually have this dream to start an organization for volunteer teaching in low-income areas around the world. after i retire, i want to run a cafe/library in a really secluded place.

What is your favorite part from exo’s unfair performances (any one of them)

oh my godddd they’re all so sickeningly sweet but i like the christmas one with the santa suits and jongdae’s part in the second verse where he goes ‘oooooh oooooh’ with the finger heart? it’s so cute i wanna die

What was your favorite TV show as a kid?

spongebob ndsfnsk obviously...

What is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard about your bias?

this one video someone tagged me in of jd wearing those periscope glasses and screaming??

What is your least favorite food and why?

i haaaaaaate curry leaves they make me nauseous :-/

What TV show have you been watching recently?

does masterchef australia count? i watch it obsessively!!

If you had a superpower like the exo members, what would you want yours to be?

hmm. hmmmmm very good question. probably telekinesis bc it’s really cool and i can move stuff from across the room without having to get up

If you could be in any kpop group, which would it be and why?

just for the concepts? id say exo or vixx for the music but i wouldn’t really fit in lmfao so like maybe snsd or EXID

okay this was super long i’m sorry but i had fun!!! thank you guys for tagging me again!!!

#ahhh i love talking about myself so thanks for this opportunity #tagged #mine

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houseofvans · 7 years

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ART SCHOOL | LAUREN ASTA (Chicago, IL) | Vans US Open of Surfing 2017

We’re excited to spotlight the artists for this year’s 2017 Vans US Open of Surfing that is set to begin July 29th To August 6th in Huntington Beach, CA. Our first artist spotlight starts with talented, hard working, and art touring muralist and public artist Lauren Asta! Starting with a massive 3,000 sq ft mural at Faction Brewery in 2015, Asta has been non-stop mural and art touring, bringing her signature black and white, free flowing and spontaneous doodles to walls and buildings all over. She’s not only extremely talented but also straight up fearless, as we find out in this Q&A with Lauren, where we talk about how she got started painting murals, her art background, and what event she’s looking forward to see at this year’s 2017 Vans US Open of Surfing.

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself Hello, Lauren Asta here, first time caller, long time listener... I was born and raised in California's thriving Bay Area, but if you ask me I feel like I was truly born in NYC when I moved there after College in 2005. I returned back to California in 2012 where I hunkered down and produced and hustled until I was able to drop all other job training wheels to solely do Art/Murals/Public Art/Street Art 100% of my time and to also travel all year long with no brick and mortar to call my own. I am a citizen of the world dammit. I'd first and foremost like to think of myself as a Muralist/Public Artist but I think it's safe to just say I am an Artist. What’s your art background like? Self taught or art schooled? I've been drawing for as long as I can remember. First memory would be when I became aware of the fact that I would much rather doodle in sketchbooks over writing in all the Hello Kitty Diaries my girl friends had. I did go to school for Art at CSU Chico State. I got my BA in Photography and Studio Art. But that was when Photography was still pretty much taught only in the dark room. Digital Photography quickly became the trend right after I graduated college in 2004, so finding work (and making money) as a dark room photographer in NYC was extremely difficult. The next (and cheapest) artistic expression for me was to go back to pen and paper. I started drawing, drawing, drawing again. That crucial production time morphed and shaped what my style is today. So I guess you could say I am both self taught and schooled.

What’s the best thing you learned in art school or what’s the best thing you learned while teaching yourself? Best thing I learned in school: make art like everyone is watching. Best thing I learned while teaching myself: make art like no one is watching.

This is your first year participating as an artist painting inside the bowl at the Vans US Open of Surfing! What are some of your top 5 things you're sure to bring along? SUNSCREEN, straw hat, game face, headphones, my Vans of course! (honorable mentionable items include: water bottle, lucky paint shorts, GoPro, party fun face).

Tell us about how you started out painting murals? What was the first mural you can remember doing? What was the last mural? Before I was a self employed full time Artist... I bartended... for years. Bartending in NYC led me to getting a job at a Distillery in Alameda CA. This Distillery (St. George Spirits) is located in an old 65,000 sq. ft. hangar. Right next to the Distillery a Brewery (Faction Brewing) was opening up while I was about 2 years into working for St. George. When the Brewery had just opened, a very large ugly unfinished wall went up right smack dab in the middle of the neighboring 65,000 sq. ft. hangar. Hundreds of people were flocking to this new Brewery on a weekly basis taking photos and enjoying life. The number one complaint was "they should really do something with that wall..." So I took it upon myself to approach the owners and give them my proposal. I proposed to prime the whole thing, paint the whole thing white and to do a mural for a small price and if they rented a scissor lift. They agreed, and before I knew it I was tackling a 3,000 sq. ft. mural with no prior large scale work and no sketch to work off of. I literally just went for it and hoped it would turn out alright. I finished it in 28 days and I felt like I was an overnight success. I completed that mural 3 years ago and people still flock to it as a destination point. I quit my day job shortly after that and have been going strong ever since. That mural changed my life and I am eternally grateful. The last mural I did was last month (June 2017) in Chicago! A sweet rooftop patio mural at Chop Shop in the Wicker Park neighborhood. I am booked with solid rad gigs until November!

What’s been the best part of Art Tour life? Anything you’d change about it? The best part about the Art Tour Life? ALL OF IT. Damn it feels good to be a traveling Artist. I meet so many rad amazing people... I have friends all over the country now! I get to experience all sorts of tasty culture found in this Country and outside of it. The way I am able to connect people with art in multiple cities feels like I am planting little art seeds everywhere I go and watching how they grow after I leave is extremely satisfying. Travel is an absolute luxury in life and I am so lucky I get to incorporate it into my work. I love the feeling I get now when I fly into cities I have been before because I can't wait to see friends, revisit favorite joints and of course to get to work... but there's nothing like exploring a new city. I live for it. I am a big fan of walking everywhere, tasting everything and taking in as much as I can.

You’ve been known to freestyle in a way your murals, never using a sketch, projector or traced outline. What about this particular way / process do you enjoy the most? What would you say is the most challenging part of free styling? I find that if I don't have a sketch or drawing to work from, the end result will always look and feel more organic and it will fit the space/environment more appropriately. There's something really nice about working on a mural in a specific space for a few days and to have the people there, the weather, the noises, the food affect the outcome of the mural. It just seems to fit like a puzzle piece the space didn't even know it was missing. The most challenging part about free styling a mural would be if there was nothing around to inspire me or move me. If a space is really sterile, it takes a lot more energy and specific focus to get the job done where as I can usually just get into a zone and almost go into a "meditative autopilot groove."

What do you do with mistakes if you make any? I used to make sure that I always had some white paint on hand... just in case I made a mistake I could "erase" it. But that always took too much time and it never ended up looking as clean as I like it, so I just decided to not make any more mistakes. I mean... if I make a mark that I don't like or didn't mean to make, I just turn the old imagination station on and turn the "mistake" into something else. I have never run into a situation where this method didn't work... unless you count the time I fell in between two ladders and spilled black paint all over the mural I had been working on for three days... that one I had to fix with white paint and start over. But you live and learn! I'll never try to be an dangerous art acrobat again. Maybe...

Recently, you participated in the House of Vans Chicago Prime 8 event. Can you tell us about that evening and what you were doing at the event?

Such a rad event with a rad cause! The 6th Annual Prime 8 Art League provided a free event showcasing the 2017 selected applicant's work (which I am super honored to be a part of). They also featured entertainment, food, refreshments and a charity raffle that included all sorts of prizes. The best part... all proceeds generated from the raffle and related activities were donated to Marwen, an organization dedicated to providing visual arts instruction to under-served youth throughout the Chicago area. Pretty rad right? I was stoked to participate by doing a live painting on a large canvas that was raffled off at the end of the night. Felt extremely good to be showcased at The House Of Vans Chicago and to contribute towards something positive.

Favorite Vans? And how would you describe your personal style? I haven't taken them off since I scored a new pair in Chicago! Right now I am rocking my black SK8-Hi Reissue kicks. I am obsessed. My personal style is pretty functional with some dressy stuff on reserve just in case. Pretty much everything I own has paint on it... even my expensive threads. When I travel, I have to be incredibly thoughtful and smart with what and how I pack. Give me a simple pair of ripped jeans or shorts and t-shirt and Vans any good old paint day, but if there's something fun cooking after a long paint day, I am always fashionably prepared. I guess you can just call it a "fun functionable no high heels but party paint girl with a whole lotta sass" kind of style... If you want to get specific.

Personal words to live by? SO MANY WORDS TO LIVE BY. But my favorite motto (and a very strange motto at that) came from the director of one of my first really big gigs. It was the first time I really felt overwhelmed and that I might not be able to finish the job. One day I was on the phone with him freaking out and he interrupted me by saying: "Lauren... How do you eat an Elephant?" I was kind of dumbfounded. I replied with "What the hell are you talking about??" He repeated with "How. Do. You. Eat. An. Elephant?" "I have no idea" I said. He calmly replied with "one bite at a time." One bite at a time... I repeat that to myself all the time. I even have it tattooed on my painting arm so I can see it when I work. It's a good reminder that you can absolutely finish something, big or small, if you just keep at it and you don't give up. I love it. I also love and repeat the words "I never want to regret a decision based on fear" constantly.

What event at this year’s Vans US Open of Surfing are you most looking forward to checking out? Damn. I am so excited to see some powerful ladies turn up the dial and rock some surfing out! I have an admiration for all of the players in all of the events in store at the Vans US Open of Surfing, but to see some ladies kill it at something so mentally and physically demanding, I have no doubt, will be extremely inspiring and will give me some pretty radical energy to get my job done!

For folks who wanna follow in your path, what advice would you give them? Produce produce produce. Work on your style like no one is watching until you are so proud of it and confident to show it off. Once you unlock that door, the rest is up to you to get yourself out there. If you have the skill, right attitude and a solid hustle/work ethic... the possibilities are endless and people will want to hire you. Failure is part of the journey. Embrace it and learn from it. Too many talented people give up way too early. This is a demanding job, so understanding that you'll need to give up certain luxuries that you might be used to, is a often "not so talked about" part of being successful in this specific career. The notion of having kids is one I gave up a long time ago, a serious long term relationship is near impossible, putting your keys in the same spot every day is unlikely, clean clothes 24/7 is laughable, not knowing where you're sleeping next week is common, saying goodbye to amazing friends and family all the time is consistent, missing Holidays and family events is indeed a reoccurring event in itself, your taxes will be A MESS, figuring out a Southwest Airlines Boarding strategy will become a new favorite past time... But damn it... your life be passionately exciting and leaving your mark by contributing something as necessary and positive as art in the world will be oh so sweet and tasty and satisfying.

What do you have planned for the rest of 2017? I cannot wait to boogie on down to Huntington Beach at the end of the month for the Vans Us Open of Surfing! This mural job is definitely going down in the record books. I can just taste it. After painting the bowl, I immediately head to Chicago where I will be working on murals all of August. Then it's a quick trip to Oakland for a mural job. Then back to Chicago to produce work for a Gallery show at the end of October 2017. Then a jump over to Memphis for a big mural event. Then back up to Chicago for more mural work and I will be finishing work for the Gallery Opening at Chicago Truborn October 21. One more mural job in Chicago after that then I am turning brain off in Mexico for a month on the Beach. Pretty stoked! Follow along!

Follow Lauren Asta Instagram | @Lauren-asta

#Art #Vans Art #vansusopen #vans girls #lauren asta #muralist #mural #art school #Q&A

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