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#NONE OF THE COLOURS I CHOSE LOOKED RIGHT AND IT WAS A STRUGGLE TO MAKE SURE NOTHING GOT TOO LOST

devourers-of-god · 2 months

Note

Hii :D

for first i wanted to say that i love your blog and the way you describe the characters!

can i request HC of the characters on valentine's day? if you don't want to do it to everyone, it could be just Travis and Sal. i'll let you decide there, take as much time as you want and if you don't want to do it, everything is fine. (i hope i wrote it well, it's a bit difficult for me to write in english)

HIII! thank you so much for the compliments it is very heart warming :( SOrry im late about your request HAHAH I will indeed do Sal and Travis only,,, you know me so well anon ,,, You wrote everything perfectly !! I couldn't have guessed if you didn't tell me :) ILY REQUESTS ARE OPEN PEOPLE! LOOK ALIVE! /ref but plz everyone, read my carrd In my bio before submitting.. its upsetting to see asks that doesn't meet my rules...

SAL AND TRAVIS ON VALENTINES DAY

Type : Headcanons

Warnings: None! Mostly Fluff sorry y'all I don't write nsfw

SAL

= Sal prepared some things for you by the gentle help of Ashley, because sal didn't know how to please you and Ash is your best friend.

= I think Sal would make you a valentines boo basket like the ones you see on TikTok. Filled with your favourite chocolates and CDS, cute slippers, horror movie blanket, jewelry and some surprises connected to your interests.

= He would come by your apartment/house and wear ''clean clothes'' ( Jeans he washed the night before and his favourite shirt lol), with his nails freshly painted of a beautiful black colour.

= He also brought movies to watch, romantic ones you say? Hell nah this Sal Fisher, he brought horror movies that you would enjoy.

= You were so happy by his gifts that you jumped right into his arms and dragged him into your room, he cuddled and kissed you A BUNCH because boy was he happy his partner liked what he bought them. He filled your entire face with kisses, when Sal started he couldn't stop.

= After all the affection was received, you two were stuck on the couch, under your new blanket, cuddling and watching movies. For the occasion Sal took off his mask, only if no one was there that day, which made you very happy and flustered to see your lover's face after a long day.

TRAVIS (ARGHBHHH EEEK ^0^DNWAODNSNF)

= Travis already struggles with showing affection, it was very hard to warp his mind around celebrating for the first time in his life Valentines day with his boyfriend.

= He also had to ask Ashley because she's your best friend after all, she recommended following his heart and doing something classic to not stress him too much. And that he did!

= My sweet boy put on a suit for you and bought flowers, not just any flowers tho, Travis believe in flower language. Which is that every single flower has a different meaning when given. He carefully chose Daisies (I truly love you), Red Carnation (My heart aches for you), Honey Suckles (Devoted affection) and lastly, Salvia Red (forever mine). Yes he could've chosen classic roses but he felt like you might think that he didn't put in any effort.

= This boy is an hopeless romantic and decided to write you a letter about his true feelings since he was so bad at expressing them in front of you, words couldn't leave his mouth but they were flowing with the help of his fountain pen.

= He then picked up gourmet chocolates, a bit expensive but he thought it would make you happy. Ashley suggested that he makes a mixtape of your favourite songs on a cassette since you had a walkman. He made 2 mixtapes, one of your favourites and the other one is songs that reminds him of you.

= He showed up to your door in the evening and your jaw dropped, seeing your boyfriend in a suit made you feel things you've never felt before. He felt super happy by your reaction and the letter was so profound it made you cry. You also knew flower language and you were basically bawling because of the effort (and money) he spent on you.

OKAY DONE ! you guys can see that I prefer travis over sal oops,,, I hope everyone still loved it! plz plz plz send me things because im desperate.... I love you all guys.......

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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I don't know if you take requested but you write Nesta so well! Can you write a little fic of Nesta calling out Feyre for siding/choosing Rhys's friends/family over her friends/family (sisters and Lucien)?

This was fun to write 🤭 Nesta having balls of steel is always my favourite thing to write.

‘The Band of Exiles?’ Mor arched a brow, barely containing her mirth.

Feyre shucked out another laugh at Lucien’s expense. ‘It’s accurate, at least.’

Nesta glanced sidelong at Elain to see if those infamous mate instincts might come into play as the group chuckled over Lucien’s new found family in the mortal lands. None came. Elain remained fiddling with a bracelet, attention fixed on that instead.

‘Don’t you call yourselves the Court of Dreams?’

Mor bristled at once at Nesta’s words. Her brown eyes narrowed.

‘That’s different,’ Rhys said coldly.

Nesta smirked, giving a raise of her own brows to Mor. ‘Is it?’ For good measure, she let out a little chuckle. ‘I’m of the opinion that people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Especially when the most valuable male in Prythian lives in one.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Cassian’s temper had flared, of course, at the very notion that Nesta might value a male in this world. A male that was not him. She let the moment drag on, let Cassian’s worry wring out of him like a soaked rag.

‘I simply mean that when Lucien is able to move across courts, making friends wherever he goes, that it’s perhaps not wise to mock him. I rather think it is better to keep Lucien on side. His loyalty might match your own, Feyre.’

Nesta catalogued each of their faces; the two Illyrians, the high lord, his cousin, the high lady, her sister, and Amren. They surveyed her with cool disdain, except for Elain who pretended she wasn’t in the room. They were never keen to have their own lives inspected with the same scrutiny or mocking they gave to others.

‘Then again, Feyre, your loyalty moves with whichever wind is most favourable.’

Rhys pressed his palm on the top of Feyre’s hand, comforting or soothing, Nesta wasn’t sure.

‘Excuse me?’

High lady or not, she was still a younger sister and using that voice on Nesta would never sting. It lacked the authority to bring Nesta into line.

‘I mean that you treat Lucien like a second class citizen - as if he should be blessed to be in this city - when he was your first and only friend in Prythian.’

Colour dotted on Feyre’s cheeks. ‘And I should thank him for all the help he gave me with Tamlin?’

Nesta picked the skin around her nails. Nobody could ever accuse her of being hot-headed, no, Nesta was all ice, a sheet so thick that no temper would ever melt it.

‘You feigned a nightmare and put Lucien in harm’s way for your own agenda. That’s right, isn’t it?’

It was Cassian’s turn to redden. He’d boasted of Feyre’s execution of her plan to pull the rug out from beneath the Spring Court’s feet, not caring who came into danger. From the look Rhysand was shooting him across the table, Nesta supposed it wasn’t information that should have been shared.

‘He helped you travel through Prythian, did he not? Would you have made it to this city without Lucien sacrificing his position? Without him crossing a land that he is exiled from?’

Her sister struggled on speech, syllables catching on her tongue.

‘Feyre, the fact is, you never care who gets in your way, whether that’s Lucien or us, as long as you get your way.’

Rhys moved to speak, likely to defend his mate, but Feyre cut in quicker. Her grey eyes were wide with outrage and she’d sat upright in her chair.

‘When have I ever not considered you and Elain?’

Elain chose that moment of silence to gulp. The noise made Nesta’s lips quirk upwards.

‘Would you like it listed alphabetically or chronologically?’

‘Your sister kept you fed. She risked her life every day in that forest,’ Rhys snarled, power swirling around him.

‘Yes and she told a priestess everything about Elain and I. Practically gift-wrapped her sisters for Hybern. You dragged us into this world through your involvement with this court and your meddling in Spring. It is because of you that we went into the Cauldron.’ Nesta slammed a hand on the table so hard that a glass shook. ‘You choose this court above all else, these people who would never pick you over your mate. You see Elain and I - Lucien too - as pawns to be used. Do you think any of them would ever put you above Rhysand?’

Nesta wondered which one would lead the attack. Would Cassian quash his affections for her to serve his master? Or maybe it would be a knife in the dark from the shadow singer? Mor was sizing up the distance between them, bearing her teeth like a rabid animal.

‘You’re a real piece of work,’ Amren said, her voice as sharp as a blade’s edge.

‘Am I?’

Nesta sipped her wine, unbothered by the stares around the room.

‘I am loyal to this court,’ Feyre stated, voice staying strong, ‘and they are loyal to me.’

It was met with nods and Cassian reached out to brush a hand against Feyre’s.

‘Like you were loyal to Clare Beddor?’

All colour drained from Feyre’s face, Rhysand’s too. It was a guess, an educated guess. Clare’s house has burnt to the ground, but her body was never found in the ruin. Feyre had been unable to stomach the news when she’d returned from Prythian. Even now, whenever Elain had mentioned Clare with a wonder over what had happened to her, Feyre blanched. From the high lord’s reaction, Nesta knew he had a part in that poor girl’s murder.

‘Who is Clare Beddor?’ Azriel’s eyes glanced between his high lord and lady. A shadow danced through the room in an attempt to wheedle out the information.

Rhys kept his hand firmly on Feyre’s, willing her not to speak.

‘A girl from our village,’ Elain said quietly, lower lip pushing outwards. ‘Her family were killed. The house burnt to cinders. But they never found Clare. She was our age. One of our friends.’

Nesta held Rhysand’s stare. ‘And how did your friend die, Feyre?’

A heavy silence pushed against the walls. Nesta was spiteful and vicious, she knew it well enough. When it served their court, they relished it. On the receiving end, the Court of Dreamers squirmed with discomfort.

‘With friends like you, who needs enemies?

‘I want you out of this house,’ said Rhys with quiet authority.

Nesta tipped back her head with laughter. ‘Maybe I’ll join the Band of Exiles. I would love to see what stories they tell of you.’

#nesta archeron #sorry for formatting it’s on mobile #nesta roasting feyre

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kroovv · 1 year

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Hi, I love your art so much! You've inspired me to take up digital drawing again! I was wondering how you chose your poses and colors? Your art looks AMAZING, and I struggle to come up with those things. And, if it's not too much of a bother, any tips on messy sketches? I struggle so much with sketching because my silly brain wants everything to be perfect. Sorry if that was a lot of questions. Again, I love your art. You've been a huge inspiration to me!!!

Ahhh thats awesome!! So with poses i usually just imagine it jfjs sorry thats not helpful i have a really clear imagination so i can like very clearly pose characters BUT if im really having trouble with angles ill remake the pose in magic poser to try make sure i get the forshortening. If you are trying to get poses tho absoloutly get references and just work from them! Colours i will usually just play around until i feel it clicks together, understanding colour theroy defonaitly help.

Its good to just experiment with colours and poses, ill usually try to stay away from extreme saturation, so no going right into the corners i like to be a little off so like off whites, off blacks just makes it a little more realistic for example black hair is never true black it can be a blacky blue or blacky brown!

Dor doing messy sketches i used to be like SUPER perfectionist when it came to sketches till a games company absoloutly read me being like....that isnt a sketch...thats a fully rendered character it looks finalised i was like 8U having inperfect sketches is very good its about getting the idea down not the final product, you feel like your sketch has to be perfect final render but it doesnt its the sketch its suppsoed to be sketchy! It took me a while to undo that idea that it has to be perfect but just let yourself be messy, let yourself get down ideas its fun being messy 💕

Im so sorry if none of this is helpful i don't actually know what im doing jshs and im not the best teacher cause im bad at putting stuff into words, but im so glad youre getting into digital art again and i hope you have a lot of fun doing it 💕

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capsulesys · 9 months

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No one in my system can really believe that it’s been an entire year today since we first realised that each other existed. Happy Syscoversary to us! I just wanted to get a few notes down to remember this first year, as it’s been one of the strangest but most empowering years of our life.

<Spirit here! I want to preserve Lex’s words as they were written. If you see anything written like this, in “<>” marks was an edit or addition by me, later on. You all know how editing works.>

Our experience before realising we were plural felt incredibly bland. We had no sense of identity at all, and just felt like we were treading water. We struggled to find new things to do, and if we tried, none of them would ever stick. Those just weren’t things that “I” would do. If we didn’t do them before, then they weren’t for us, and we had discovered everything we’d already liked. Besides, it would be weird for other people if we suddenly started getting into something new! Of course, that isn’t true. People change all the time, and can pick up and drop hobbies on a whim. Doing things based on other people’s perception was how we understood our own identity, which almost led to a build-up of rules and expectations for how we were supposed to act. It felt like a prison!

There were signs we were plural though. Our internal dialogue was always very conversational, and an opposing viewpoint would bubble into our head for every opinion or thought we seemed to have. We would give ourselves pep talks internally, using our name or “we”, but never using “I”. Looking back now, I’m surprised how long it took us to realise, but I’m glad we did eventually.

We first started to entertain the idea of being plural on the 9th August 2022. Initially, we found a split between “Poet” (who turned out to be a large group of headmates), and “Troll” (who turned out to be a smaller subsystem that still considers themselves that way, even if the name changed). The system certainly didn’t stay that small for long.

Over the next few months, more and more folks started making themselves known. Our method initially for finding our headmates was to be very openly accepting of anyone or anything inside us. No questioning why certain headmates are the way they are, no judgment of behaviors or personality traits. This was massively helpful, as even the most unusual feeling headmates felt more okay to make themselves known.

However, we started to hit a problem. Some felt an attachment to what we now consider our deadname. Some didn’t have much drive to choose their own name. In order to be able to think about each other properly, we bought a small box of differently coloured silicon wristbands. The same type as those ones that were all over the place at school in the early and mid 2000s. Each of us chose one of the bands and wore that band whenever we fronted. This really helped us to recognise switches, as we could look at our wrist and see whether the colour felt right. If it didn’t, we’d work out which was correct and change it. Some of us still have attachments to these colours today! For example, the three who wanted to use our deadname now go by Yellow, White and Red, after their band colours.

By learning to distinguish each other, we started to recognise that each of us had different ownership of each of our memories. It’s not obvious to us who owns which, but sometimes we can have a memory and clearly be able to think “That was me!”. We can’t do it for each other, so still a lot of memories remain unclaimed. I don’t think we’re going to be able to pinpoint the owner for every single memory we have, and that’s okay. So much of this journey has been about understanding what's going on overall, rather than specifics, even if knowing the specifics feels comfortable to us.

We started finding more and more headmates until we ran out of colours. We needed a new solution. Thankfully by this time, most of us had names, so we moved over to Simply Plural. We could set the colours we were already used to, but put our names and picrew avatars into! I definitely recommend the app to any system who wants to see, long-term, patterns and trends in how your system functions. I’d write a recommendation, but that’s for another post.

Things were starting to settle a little, until we realised one headmate was really starting to take most of our fronting time. This wasn’t directly a problem, but it meant we had to start adapting our shared life to her more seriously. She was out the most, and so got the most say in how we live. This strategy will not work for some systems, so make sure to check in with your non-fronting headmates and ensure they’re okay with changes! This can be a long and hard process, as anyone who’s dealt with transitioning will understand, and it’s still going on for us.

In the last month, we’ve come to realise how our “host” pattern works. It seems like we have a main fronter, and a backup. The backup definitely doesn’t front anywhere near as much, and doesn’t even need to be the second most frequent fronter, but does provide support and advice to the main fronter. Sometimes, these pairings can change. We don’t know when or why, but it does happen, and trying to cling onto the old pairings can be very harmful to us.

So that leaves me to introduce myself. I’m Lex, the current main fronter. My backup is named Spirit <Hi, lol>, and she’s been such an incredible help, especially with everything transition related. Before us, the tag-team was Yellow as main fronter, and White as backup. While neither of them were really aware of the dynamic for the vast majority of their run as system managers, looking back, we can definitely see how it seemed to work. We’re not sure who was before them, but I reckon The Jazz Club (the group formerly known as Troll) had a stint for a while.

<It’s pretty interesting being the backup. I get the comfort of not being in-charge of everything, but it’s nice to pay attention and cover for things when Lex needs it. Being at front all the time is very tiring, and I’m glad to take some of the load when required.>

We’re still learning so much about each other, ourselves, and how to best fit into the world around us and I hope to be able to make another post like this next year just to compare how Year 2 compares with Year 1!

To any newly discovered systems, don’t lose hope. It does get so much easier over time, but you definitely need to set the tone right with each other. Judgments can harm each other. Doubting systemhood is very natural, but try not to dwell on them too much. Easier said than done, especially if your system doesn’t share memory as much as we do. My last bit of advice is to not rush anything. You have your entire lives together to work it all out.

<Here, here!>

Sparkle on!

#pluralgang #actually plural #plural system #syscovery #syscoversary

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linaselandbasil · 1 year

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Chestnuts

Hear the tale of how I grew chestnuts this year! I promise it's not too boring! It also includes some good gardening tips if you're interested in learning. If you don't want to read my damned long rambling about random things, they're going to be a different colour so you can skim through.

Chestnuts!!! I love chestnuts! Though I'm not fond of eating them, I love collecting their seeds because I'm a country boy from the countryside and I didn't start playing video games until I was 11. There wasn't much to do in my small town aside from bullying nature.

I've never considered to grow chestnuts before this year, but in an instant I've made my mind up when I found a single chestnut in my school's courtyard. It had sprouted a tiny little root in the cold January soil. I immediately took my hat off and put it in there for safety.

I would have gladly left it if I didn't know that they would be mowed down by the gardeners. I simply couldn't stand the thought, many of you might know that I'm like a pet rescue person but for plants.... I went to look for more and more I found!

I had a few empty pots, so according to my best knowledge I chose a deep, dark brown one to put all the little babies in. Chestnut seedlings are quite sensitive, but I fucked up a bunch of times and they lived, so all you clumsy besties out there shouldn't worry too much!

I put them in sand mixed with garden soil and put a bunch of dry leaves on it as mulch. (Make sure you put leaves that are good for mulch, some leaves such as walnut leaves stunt germination) the pot being dark would make it warmer, thus making them grow quicker.

I knew some of them would probably not make it, so when they were big enough that I could tell which ones are strong, I put those in their own pots outside. They were put in very nutritious flower soil and I put pinebark mulch on them. It's not as insulating as leaves, but it helps retain moisture better and is less likely to be blown away by wind.

I didn't throw away the ones that I thought wouldn't make it, I kept them because I wanted to give them a chance. They staid in the warm nursery pot.

I found one that hadn't sprouted yet, when I was looking for seeds in January. It didn't grow a root in time, so I threw it in the compost with the definitely dead ones. I was building a raised garden bed with my father, and when we filled it with soil, we found the chestnut seed had sprouted in the compost. I immediately put it in a pot and placed it with the other ones.

At that point an unexpected frost had ravaged the garden and I was devastated, because all of them looked dead... But they lived, literally none of them froze dead!

I never counted them, but I had about 20 of them at the beginning. And now I have 11. That's 55% success! (I'm bad at math don't argue with me if I'm wrong I don't care)

When they first started to grow leaves I took them inside. It is not necessary to do that, but every plant grows quicker in warmth, so I thought it would benefit me. The ones who were the quickest immediately got themselves their own big pots and were left on a windowsill with pine leaves for mulch. They block wind, but not sunlight. (If you pick the right pine) Since it was cold out, they're still nowhere as large as the ones I took indoors, even though they started sprouting leaves weeks in advance.

These are the ones I took in, they looked like this a week after I put them in their pots. The ones I left outside are not struggling, but they're still this small after two months of growing. Meanwhile the indoor ones grew their nursery pots out. I planted them in larger pots just last week. Only one of them looked to be doing worse off than the rest, but the only problem seemed to be a lack of root growth,(blue pot) which didn't stop it from having the most perfect and symmetrical leaves. I planted it in the big brown pot with one of its siblings because when their roots meet in the soil, they will help each other out.

Next week, one of my friends will come and pick one of the chestnut children and take it home with. I feel really accomplished, but so saaaad! They grow up so fast, I'm going to cry! Aaah, my little babies....

That's about it for now, let's talk about why chestnut trees are the best!

They are drought resistant, they are one of the best carbon bonders that the average person can plant in their garden and they're outstandingly resistant to fungal infections! They look iconic, I can recognize a chestnut tree just by their branches alone~ They grow tall without much help from humans, since their branches and roots prefer to expand vertically as opposed to just going all over the place. They like sunlight a lot, so they have full canopies that give great shade in the summer. Unfortunately their leaves aren't the best compost, but that minor inconvenience is dwarves by all the amazing things this plant can do.

Their wood is strong and rot resistant, so it can be used for all sorts of crafts.

Bye besties, that's all the knowledge I'll be dropping on you today!

(Get chestnuts, now.)

#gardening #gardening tips #chestnut #chestnut tree germination #plants

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invisibleraven · 1 year

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Phantom Carols

For the @jatp-adventevent prompt: Who's afraid of Santa?

Day Nineteen: The Sandy Claws <-AO3!

No one in Halloweentown really knew what the Pumpkin King was going on about with his Christmas idea, but they were all enthusiastic to help him realize his vision. There were teams working hard to make toys and decorations, with the good doctor re-animating reindeer.

But the king had given Julie, Luke, and Reggie a special job: bring back Sandy Claws. And of course, once Oogie Boogie heard, he demanded the trio bring Sandy Claws to him, leaving no room for argument.

So off the trio went, beyond the graveyard, into the deep dark woods, until they finally came to the clearing of trees their king had described.

Only there was more than one door.

“Which one do we go through?” Reggie asked, tapping at the shiny brass knobs as he raced past the trees.

“We don’t have to go in all of them do we?” Luke questioned, spinning around in circles, determined to do it until he got sick this time, or at least couldn’t see straight.

Julie sighed, tapping a finger to her lips. The king hadn’t mentioned multiple doors, and she had no clue which one Sandy Claws would be behind-not that she would ever admit it to her cohorts-and surveyed them all. None of them looked like anything that they had seen in the Christmas presentation, nor did they hint of a big fearsome man in red hiding behind them.

So Julie chose at random, pointing to the colourful oval shape-it kind of looked like one of the baubles on the tree they had been shown, so Julie figured it was close enough. Luke and Reggie grinned, and the three of them lowered their masks, hopped in the tub and entered the world inside the tree.

Only, they apparently entered the wrong one, because the large pink bunny wasn’t right, and they were shown the correct symbol to look for. Julie grinned. “I know which one it is! We’ll get it right this time!”

“See that you do,” the Pumpkin King said, his voice ominous, and even though the three of them worked for Oogie Boogie, they were still a little scared of their liege. He was the king of Halloweentown for a reason after all.

This time there was no fooling around, and they went through the right door.

Immediately, the three of them were put on edge. It was so cold here, and so bright. Between the blinding white snow and the twinkling lights everywhere, it almost hurt to look around. Everyone was smiling and singing, making Luke shudder. “It’s so… cheerful,” he said with disgust.

“People are kissing under that poisonous plant!” Reggie exclaimed, pointing to the tiny couple who were indeed smooching under the mistletoe. “Gross.”

“Let’s get Sandy Claws quick and get out of her, it gives me the creeps,” Julie said. She glanced around, wondering where they would find Mr. Claws, and spied a large, ornate house. That seemed a good a place to start looking as any.

They hid their tub, and Luke was elected to ring the bell. He snickered as he did, then dashed to join Julie and Reggie as they prepared the sack, the three of them bouncing with glee as they heard heavy footsteps approaching.

“Hello?” a voice called, deep and merry. Then the door opened, and there he was; Sandy Claws. He was immense, and hairy, and Reggie was disappointed that he didn’t seem to have claws at all. Julie rolled her eyes and directed them to throw the sac, securing it tight.

They were so happy they got into the spirit of the land and started singing a song about their triumph as they started back towards home.

“The king is gonna be so happy!” Luke said, twirling the tail of his outfit, and jabbing the writhing mass beneath them with his pitchfork a few times. “Stop squirming! We’re taking you to meet the king!”

“And then our boss, Oogie Boogie!” Reggie added. “He’s gonna love you.”

“We have to get home first,” Julie said as the tub struggled through the snow, finally reaching the edge of the forest, and they slipped through the door bearing the sign of the jack-o-lantern.

They laughed and cackled, pleased with themselves for helping Christmas come into being again this year. Though they really didn’t get what the big deal about this Sandy Claws was. They had been told he was huge and fearsome, not some fat old man who seemed too naïve not to fall for the oldest trick in the book.

Julie shrugged as they got closer to the town square. Whatever their king wanted. And when he told them to make Sandy Claws comfortable, she bit back a grin, heading towards their treehouse home, and towards Oogie Boogie.

After all, where could be more comfortable than that?

Of course, things went wrong, as they are want to do, and Julie was afraid of getting in trouble. It had been one thing to cross the king by bringing Sandy Claws here, but now that he was in serious danger of joining the collection? Well Julie didn’t even want to think about what would happen to her and her boys if they got caught letting that slide.

So she found the mayor, and they came just in time to see the Pumpkin King save himself, and Sandy Claws, with the help of the doll who always seemed to be hanging around. There was minimal trouble, as Sandy went off to fix whatever had been broken.

And then it snowed.

Julie didn’t like trudging through the stuff, but she found it kind of… pleasant as it fell from the sky. Especially with Luke and Reggie to twirl around in it with. Plus snowballs were super fun, even if their aim was not the best.

And later, when they spied the king kissing the doll under that same mistletoe, well Julie didn't find it so gross. Not with Luke and Reggie’s hands in hers as they skipped off towards home, eagerly wondering what other holidays they could celebrate in the future.

#my stuff #writing #fanfic #rukebox #peterpatterlina #jatpadvent2022 #julie and the phantoms

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kittttycakes · 3 months

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Life has been good thanks, other than the struggle of slowly coming to accept that work and study is about to consume me once more though.

I’m so excited you could reserve it! Libby sounds fantastic and I am so sad that we don’t have it here. Each book is a good 800 or so pages of tiny print (a little hard on the eyes but I love big books and I cannot lie). I’ve exhausted everything for that fandom on Ao3 and mentally berating myself for not pacing myself.

Do you mind sharing what you’re currently reading?

R.e. The OT3, I remember you mentioning the staff party where they confuse everyone about their relationship. Do you think this is intentional on any of their parts?

I love the idea of Hob making the New Inn a space for people to celebrate who may not have anywhere else to go. If some of his students end up coming while Morpheus and Grace are there, I wonder if they pick up on the nature of their professors’ relationships.

The thought of Grace’s Mum knitting Morpheus a sweater and him being emotional is just too much!!! I need to know though, is it colourful or does she stick to blacks? Somewhat daggy or tasteful?

The new year traditions sound fun too, especially the red underwear… how did Morpheus help Grace choose them I wonder? I have a mental image of Grace leading Morpheus into a lingerie shop to get his opinion and modelling a few options from the change room. Morpheus looking at some of the styles for inspiration to craft something made of dreamsilk for later perhaps?

And the fact that they love just being together the most is the best. I love that picture of them all curled up together in front of the fire, hands tucked away into a stolen sweater or wandering between someone else’s clothes and skin to warm them up.

Please don’t stress about the chapter, I am super excited but it will be ready when it is ready, and worth any wait. But it is not worth you burning yourself out or losing the pleasure you find in writing!

This is one of the busier times at work for me too, so I definitely feel that! Hopefully there will still be some pockets of time to take for yourself, too!

I love Libby so much, I’m so grateful my library has it! I used to be a very staunch physical books only person until a few years ago, and while there’s still nothing like holding a book in your hands, I have to admit, I do love the e-book option too.

I am always down to talk about what I’m currently reading! Right now, I’m about halfway through Victor LaValle’s Lone Women. I read The Devil In Silver a year or two ago and really liked it, and so far, I’m enjoying this one too! I love horror, and I think LaValle does a really good horror when it comes to creature features that highlight the horror of humanity. Before that, I finished Alasdair Gray’s Poor Things, which I’m still forming an opinion on. Sometimes I immediately know how I feel about a book, and other times, I need to let it sit for a few days before I can decide.

It’s absolutely intentional on Hob’s part. Messing with people, especially when it’s really harmless, is just fun for him, and it’s as close as he can get to really advertising that yes, these two beautiful people are his spouses and yes, they both chose him and isn’t that wonderful?

The students definitely have a better grasp of what’s going on than some of the department does, if only because they see them in a different context than the faculty parties and rushed meetings in the hallway. They’re also very perceptive when they want to be (and somewhat nosy) and perhaps a bit more willing to recognize a slightly more unconventional relationship structure when it’s being dangled right under their noses. (None of them can explain the bird, though. Some of them have sworn they’ve heard it talk, but that’s ridiculous, ravens don’t talk.)

I think it would be suited to his tastes! Her mum probably asked Grace and she of course told her that all he ever really wears is black, and even though black yarn is an absolute nightmare to work with, her mum still made it because that’s what he likes! (Hob, naturally, also has one, but his is a very lovely red and was gifted years ago.)

I love the idea of Grace taking Morpheus with her to look at lingerie. It’s hard to shop online for that sort of thing, sometimes! She wants to see the color in person, and she values Morpheus’s input. They definitely go at an off time so there aren’t as many people in and they can have a more private (and quieter) shopping experience. (Morpheus spends half the visit making extensive mental notes on what he plans to add to Grace’s wardrobe in the Dreaming later. He can multitask!)

There’s something very novel about that kind of closeness, for Morpheus, and really for all of them. It’s somewhere that none of them are too much, they’re all just right!

I’m excited to finish it out! The fic has been with me for so long and I’ve loved every minute of it but I’m also very much looking forward to nearly wrapping it all up and giving it the ending it deserves!

#anon <3

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moonmoonloves · 10 months

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15 QUESTIONS, 15 (or whatever) TAGS

I was tagged by @poebin

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY?

Yes actually, and it’s an interesting one. One of my mom’s friends had to be put in the witness protection program and she liked their new name. Actually now that I think about it, I question the validity of this story, if they were actually in the program my mom shouldn’t know, right? Idk.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

This morning. I’m a very easy crier. I cry everyday.

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Yes, one.

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?

I don’t think so? I tend to be very literal. I will use it to be obnoxious/funny to my spouse.

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

None.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE?

Um, I have a hard time socially. I tend to glance at people instead of look directly at them, so usually whether or not they speak to people kindly, like I’m determining potential threat levels lol, yay trauma.

7. EYE COLOUR?

Brown. None of that pots of honey bs either, mine are dull and usually bloodshot.

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

Happy endings always.

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS?

Uhh, I guess just general hyper focus. Especially with arts and crafts. I pick up new artsy things pretty quickly and can do them moderately well before moving on to another. Oh wait actually! GIFT GIVING. I have been told I give the best gifts. I often make people cry. Sometimes I make people uncomfortable because apparently not everyone wants someone’s focus on them like that. Also, sometimes people feel obligated to reciprocate and feel bad when they think they can’t. Their joy is my joy though <3

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

Alaska.

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

Reading fic would have to be number one. Cooking/baking which was really a hyperfixation I had like 8 years ago but my family enjoys it so much I’m stuck with it. Artsy things sometimes I guess. Idk.

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS?

Yes, two cats: the best boy ever, and the most jealous snuggly bitch. I love them both so much <33

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5'1". Tall shelves, what secrets are you hiding? <stolen from poebin minus an inch, but seriously, what are you hiding? Sometimes I can’t see even on a chair.

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

English and Art. I majored in Fine Art but didn’t finish. For some reason I chose Photography as my specialty, but I had to drop out pretty early on, so I never got very good at it. I liked the dark room, I was better at printing than I was at actually taking the pictures.

15. DREAM JOB?

I currently have the great privilege of being a stay at home parent. I wish I was better at that job. It’s the first job I’ve ever had where I felt like I wasn’t great at it. I know I’m not the worst, but I know I’m not the best either. We’re both neurodivergent and we have our fair share of struggles. Being a better parent aside I think it would be nice to make some money doing art. I’m indigenous american so something in that area would make my heart happy.

#tag game

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ameliecartledgee · 2 years

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My Visual Journey

My visual journey – Amelie Cartledge

What was your key learning point?

During the process of creating this performance, my key learning point was learning using elements inspired by Commedia Dell’arte and learning to devise. And to not be afraid to go full out. When we first started to discuss how we wanted our performance to look we all expressed an interest in a comedy style. Ian suggested we all take a look at Commedia Dell’arte to explore different comedy types and character types. This ended up pushing us to take the physical comedy as far as we could and we wouldn’t have had the confidence or inspiration otherwise.

Another learning point was, I think for our whole group, not shying away from making big changes. In the first few sessions, our group were trying to work on a story about Helen of Troy, because she is a well-known character by Homer. But after weeks of attempting to put our ideas together, we realised it wasn’t going anywhere because none of us was enthusiastic or interested enough. And this story had been told enough. But after Alex dug around and found a story about Odysseus meeting cyclops’. We were hesitant at first, switching so suddenly to another story after many weeks of working on Helen of Troy. However, almost straight away we realised we had made the right choice. There were more opportunities to use techniques from Commedia Dell’arte and a broader field for us to devise. I learned a lot about the use of masks and how they can be effective if used correctly. We tried out a lot of different ways to use them for the cyclops but ultimately decided against them as we wanted the audience to be able to read our facial expressions.

What was your key learning block?

As I previously mentioned our group had some trouble figuring out how to use the masks to their full potential, and how to explain our characters. Many different styles, colours and shapes were tested during the rehearsal process. The idea in the first place came from wanting to push the expressions of the cyclops’ to the full as we struggled with how we were going to show that we were playing cyclops’. As a group, we ultimately decided not to use the masks after Grace was able to make eyes out of clay and string that we were able to wear.

I found that one of the most difficult parts was fully finding and committing to my character. The cyclops’ are humongous, one-eyed creatures, so all of their actions had to be exaggerated to the full to be able to portray them properly and to differentiate mine, Alex and Grace’s characters from Ben’s. Because of their size, all of our actions had to be intensified to portray them to the audience, but we discussed my character being timid and a little stupid so finding the balance was difficult.

We also experienced a little bit of conflict amongst the group when it came to staging our performance. I felt as if my ideas weren’t listened to on the directing side as Alex tried to take the lead. I didn’t get to have a say in my character really at all and I think it would have been nice to work on creating her myself. I think that we all had a different vision for the piece initially but as we worked together all of the issues were resolved.

Overall

Overall I’m really happy with our ending performance. I enjoyed working with the group I was a part of and I would love to work with them again. Our ideas complemented each other well and despite the few issues we had, we all listened to each other and had a really fun time in rehearsal. The story we chose to portray was also one I hadn’t heard of before so it was nice to learn about it all together and decide what directions we were going to go. It was also fun to explore Commedia Dell'arte as a group and play around with the different character types and connect them to our characters. We laughed a lot making this piece, and it wouldn't have been as successful if we hadn't. It was a fun piece to perform and I hope that was portrayed.

If I were to do this again, I would not be afraid to try out a few different ideas earlier on in the process. I learned it is helpful to experiment with lots of different ideas instead of going with our first. We found ourselves stuck in a Helen of Troy box, where we couldn’t decide how to tell her story. I would also hope that next time I could be more confident when it comes to sharing my ideas, as my lack of confidence often leads to me not having much say in group assessments. As a group, it took us a few weeks to decide on the tale we wanted to tell as I struggled to attend as I was experiencing trouble with the class as a whole.

Video Transcript – How did my engagement with the story inform my journey and process?

Who are these characters and what story are they from?

Why did we choose this story? What stood out?

Changes we made along the way.

What went well.

What could have made our performance even better.

Here is the link to the video -

youtube

#Youtube

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emo-and-confused · 3 years

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au//// When someone’s causes you emotional damage or trauma, thin flowers raise from your skin. Most people have, on average, three groups. The people of the DSMP typically have a few more than the average. However, Tommy has significantly more, and people don’t realise.

Tommy’s first set of flowers raise when he’s only seven years old. Phil neglected him for his oldest brother, leaving Wilbur to raise him. The group of five flowers raise when Phil misses his seventh birthday in favor of going on an adventure with Techno. The flowers are green and white, and cover his upper thigh, raised slightly from the skin, the marks being tender and feeling slightly like a petal. He doesn’t tell Wilbur, even as his brother holds him while he cries. He knows what the flowers mean, and he doesn’t want Wilbur to feel even worse for him. Even when wearing shorts, the flowers aren’t visible.

(A small flower is added to the group of five on his thigh when he leaves for the Dream SMP, Wilbur promising to come and meet him soon, while Phil and Techno don’t say anything. The flower hurts a little more when it grows in, and the green petals have a mixture of pink swirled in. He still doesn’t tell anyone)

Tommy’s second set of flowers is smaller, during the Disc Saga with Dream. Two flowers raise from the skin along his shoulder blade, both a shade of green usually associated with the admin he’s at war with. He didn’t feel too hurt by the war, but he felt enough of it. He understood though, even if Dream had invited him to his land, Tommy guesses he was just too much to handle. But Tubbo kept him grounded, so he didn’t back down from the war. They were his discs anyways. The sleeve of his shirt covers the flowers; he keeps it a secret.

Tommy’s third set of flowers bloom when Eret betrayed them for the Dream Team. Six flowers bloom across his chest, hurting while they raise. He had liked Eret, he had thought they were friends. Now he can barely look at the guy without remembering the feeling of betrayal, the words “It was never meant to be” ringing in his ears as he remembers Dream killing him and taking his first life (a new green flower is added to his shoulder blade). He trades his red and white shirt in for a bigger size, so the flowers don’t show through the shirt.

Tommy’s fourth set of flowers grow when Sapnap kills Henry. It hurt more than when Sapnap killed Harold, because Henry’s death was intentional. He liked Sapnap at one point, but they had an unsteady friendship. Henry’s death caused a single cream coloured flower to raise at the skin on the right side of his ribcage, creating a constant reminder of the death of his pet.

Tommy loses sight of when the flowers start to bloom after that. He stops remembering which grew in chronological order, and instead only remembering why they grew in the first place.

More neon green flowers raise across both shoulders as Dream continues to mess with him, sometimes the colour of his discs showing up at the ends of the petals. He adds length to his sleeves, and makes the neckline of his shirt a little higher. It’s okay, no one needs to know. He’s not weak, he’s not sensitive (he knows the amount of flowers he already has say otherwise).

The flowers from Eret hurt less as time moves, the king redeeming himself slightly. The flowers don’t fade, he doesn’t think he ever will, but the pain is almost completely gone.

(When he comes across the Final Control Room with Techno, the pain comes back. It doesn’t leave for a week.)

Schlatt causes a grey flower to raise on the back of his neck. He was Tommy’s idol, and he really thought they were, or could be, friends. But his and Wilbur’s exile proved otherwise. His hair covers the flower easily; he doesn’t have to try hard to hide it.

Quackity’s betrayal of L’manburg for Schlatt makes two small blue flowers bloom right above Schlatt’s grey one. It hurts but is almost completely forgotten when Quackity joins them in Pogtopia later.

He gains five brown and yellow flowers from Wilbur during Pogtopia, covering the left half of his stomach. Four more are added when he blows up L’manburg, one more is added when he sees his brother begging his father to kill him. A huge green and white flower is added to those on his thigh. He doesn’t wear shorts anymore to keep it hidden. All of them cause him pain.

Techno causes four pink flowers to run down his right arm. His brother told him to die and spawned withers. It hurt a lot, but he continued to hide. The flowers were thinner than the others, and he starts wearing a white long sleeved shirt underneath his iconic red and white tee. It hides them perfectly. No one questions the new fashion choice.

Seven yellow and black stripped flowers bloom across his heart when Tubbo exiles him. His best friend exiled him and sent him away for a mistake that he didn’t mean to make. The prank had gotten out of hand.

In Logstedshire, the green flowers across his shoulder blade multiply and grow darker, and he has to ask Ranboo to get him the red and white hoodie he has stored in his home, back in L’manburg. He prepared for this, he knew he was going to be covered in flowers one day. People just didn’t like him. Ranboo doesn’t ask why, he doesn’t see the dark green flowers through the white shirt sleeve.

Dream finds out about his flowers. He’s the first one to ever find out. Dream manipulates and gaslights and abuses him, and he almost jumps into the lava so many times. When Dream blows up Logstedshire, no new flowers are added, but the preexisting ones burn. He almost jumps off the pillar he made. (He doesn’t).

When he finds Technoblade’s cabin, he starts to heal. His flowers hurt less and less as the days go by, but they never leave. They never fade.

But then Dream blames him for blowing up the community house, and he and Tubbo fight after Tubbo gets his disc from the enderchest. A new black and yellow flower is added to the bunch over his heart.

Then he chooses Tubbo over Techno. His best friend over his brother. Both have caused flowers but Tubbo was always there. He doesn’t feel like he’s betrayed Techno; he never agreed to L’manburg getting blown up. And Techno sides with Dream, causing more pink flowers to be added to his arm. He understands though, he did chose the opposite side. It doesn’t matter if his brother was the first one to hurt him.

Fundy and Niki both cause flowers; Niki’s two purple and Fundy’s two orange ones intertwining with each other on his ankles. Niki burned down L’mantree and Fundy sabotaged their war supplies. It’s okay though; they might want him dead but he fucked up in the past. He understands their hatred of him.

Other miscellaneous flowers are spotted across him, and his gives up on trying to remember who all hurt him. His skin is painted with thin petals of all colors, from so many people.

When L’manburg’s been blown up for the last time, Dream’s TNT running out and Techno’s withers being dead, and Phil standing with the two of them looking at their work, Tommy is tired. He struggles to breathe normally, but he doesn’t cry. He’s past that.

Dream looks at him, his mask lifted up just barely enough to see the smug smile on his face. Tommy looks down, looks at the destruction. He’s so tired.

“How many were added?” Dream asks. Tommy knows what he means. Tommy doesn’t respond.

Everyone is listening, just like they did at the community house. They’re confused, but they let it play out, not intervening. They never do.

Tubbo moves closer to Tommy as Dream does. Techno and Phil just watch with the rest.

“I asked a question.” His voice makes Tommy shiver and represss memories of Logsted. “How many flowers were added since I last saw?”

Tommy’s reply is simple: a shrug and a quiet “too many”.

Dream moves before Tubbo has a chance to stop him, and Tommy doesn’t try and defend himself. Dream’s axe slashes at Tommy’s hoodie, cutting away the fabric and revealing the flowers that cover his arms and stomach and shoulders and back. The axe cuts at Tommy’s jeans, the denim peeling slightly and showing a sliver of flowers at his thighs and ankles.

No one knows what to do, no one knows what to say, as Dream reveals the pain of the sixteen year old. None of them have as many flowers as that. A lot of them have more than three bundles, but no where near as many as those on Tommy’s skin.

Tommy just closes his eyes, and breathes in. He turns around and walks away, hearing Dream’s laugh coat the silence in the destruction of the broken country. It’s not until he’s at the stairs of the Prime Path that he hears yelling, everyone accusing others and shouting for revenge at Dream.

Tommy doesn’t notice when he gets to the bench, he doesn’t notice when he sits down and watches the sunset. He only becomes aware of reality once more when he feels Tubbo’s presence behind him.

They don’t say anything. They don’t need to. The silence is comforting.

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit headcanon #this hurt to write #but it got stuck in my head so i hyperfixated on it #dream smp #mcyt #mcytblr

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taleasnewastime · 3 years

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The Wedding

Summary: A wedding of close friends is always a nice occasion. But what if your ex is attending. And what if that ex also happens to be sat at the same table as you with a date. Hopefully the mysterious stranger sitting by you at dinner can help save the day.

Pairing: Jin x reader

Genre: fluff; smut; angst

Word count: 11.2k

Authors Note: Happy (belated) Birthday Jin!! I hope he had a fabulous day, he deserves it. Here is a not so little story to celebrate. (Note to self, work on better titles for stories). I hope you all enjoy :)

It had been 4 months. 4 months since you and Harry finally decided you would end your 2-year relationship. Though that makes it sound like a mutual decision. What is it that celebrity’s call it when they’re getting a divorce? Irreconcilable differences. As if there is nothing wrong, just a change in feelings. A mutual decision where two people decide, hey this isn’t working shall we just call it quits?

But that’s not how it felt to you. Harry had told you he wanted to end the relationship and you had no other option but to go along with it. What could you really have done? Refuse? And what, Harry would have just been like sure and stayed with you? No. You left the relationship holding some of your pride (you hoped), agreeing that it was best the relationship ended, even if that wasn’t what you wanted.

In all honesty it may have broken your heart more to do that then to have begged him to stay.

4 months may seem like a long time to some people, but after 2 years together, 4 months felt like a mere second to you. If you think about it you can still picture his face when he sat you down and told you that he no longer loved you. You can still feel the pain of your heart shattering in that moment. You can still feel the tears that ran down your face like a stream. You can feel the nod of your head as you struggle to hear his words, just nodding in agreement to whatever he is saying. And you can still see his back as he walked out the door, leaving you behind.

Friends had told you he was not worth it, that you should move on. And it’s not like you hadn’t tried, you’d gone on a few dates, but none of them lived up to him. Which you were the first to admit sounded stupid, what guy that chose to leave you like that deserves you to grieve that much over him? You told yourself that you were just waiting for the right person to come along, but they were yet to show up. And it made you wonder whether Harry was it, whether he was the one that got away, whether you should have fought harder for him to stay, whether he was as good as it was ever going to get.

The last time you had seen him was when he walked out on you, and as you walk into the church of your friend's wedding there should have been no surprise when you see Harry sitting on the groom's side of the church. They were mutual friends after all, you friends with the bride, him the groom. Though you expected him to be here, there is still a bit of shock that courses through you when you see his figure.

Listening to your friend Eleanor talk as you enter the church, you look around in search of some empty seats when you see him. The black suit jacket fits a little loose on his frame, making it look like he picked it up last minute and got one that didn't quite fit right. But seeing his back causes flash backs of him walking out the door to run through your mind. Eleanors voice seems to fade into the background when you see him, only brought back to the present when she tugs lightly on your arm, directing you to a couple of empty seats.

You attempt to push him from your mind, try to not glance over at him whenever you get the chance. From this angle you can only see his shoulder, and if the people in between you are aligned just right, you get a glance of his side profile. You can see that his hair is styled in the way that you always loved, his dark slightly curly hair flops down over his face covering his eyebrows a few strands poking into his eyes.

Focusing on the wedding, watching your friend walk down the aisle, you manage to distract yourself enough to not think of him. Dressed in white, your friend looks beautiful and you have to hold back a few tears when they say their vowels. Standing to clap and cheer when the bride and groom kiss, you watch as they then walk back down the aisle hand in hand, beaming.

Happiness is your overriding emotion, however you can’t help the pang of jealousy that swells within you, wishing that was you.

Taking the glass of prosecco that is handed to you when you walk into the reception, you have to stop yourself from downing it all in one, instead taking one massive gulp. Eleanor and you had booked into a hotel close by, recommended by the bride and groom, so you had always planned to have a few drinks. The appearance of Harry only confirmed the fact that large quantities of alcohol were going to be consumed.

“I heard that they have a tab behind the bar and when it’s gone it’s up to us to pay,” Eleanor says as she comes to stand beside you, both waiting behind a large group of people who are all trying to find their table for the dinner.

“Are you trying to encourage me to get drunk?” You raise your eyebrows at her, taking another gulp of your drink.

“Merely stating facts,” she replies. “What with the hotel, buying a new dress and having to get the happy couple a gift, I think we deserve a few free drinks.”

“You have a point,” you sigh, taking another gulp of your drink nearly finishing your glass as you shuffle ever closer to dining room door. “Why are weddings so expensive? I thought they were supposed to be pricey for bride and groom, not for their guests as well.”

“All I can say is, the food better be good,” she says as you finally come to stand in front of the board detailing where everyone is to be sat. “Right, where are we?”

Your eyes dart across the chart looking for your names.

“I hope we haven’t been shoved near the loos,” you joke, eyes still searching.

“Oh, come on, we’re better than that right?” Eleanor panics slightly at yours words.

“I don’t know, you were just saying that you’re going to drink them clean of their alcohol,” you joke, laughing lightly when you look at the worry written on Eleanors face.

“Oh shit,” she says, her face going from worry to shock, the colour almost draining from her face as she turns from the seating chart to you.

You give a small humourless chuckle as you look at her, blood pumping so hard you can almost hear it in your ears.

“Don’t tell me they’ve actually put us by the toilets,” you say.

“We’ve actually got pretty good seats,” she replies, though concern swims through her eyes. “Maybe we should get a top up before we sit down.”

You cock your head to the side in question as you look at her. Turning to look over the chart, you are more desperate now to see your name. “Where are we?” You say at the same moment you read your name.

Eleanor was right, you did have pretty good seats. A clear view of the head table where the bride and groom sat, prime seats for when the food would arrive, and easy access to get to the bar and eventually the dance floor. Yet all of this was monstrously over shadowed by the fact that opposite you sat the one person you were hoping to avoid, Harry.

“He’ll be so far away we won’t even notice he’s there,” Eleanor reasons as you continue to stare blankly at the name on the board.

“I think I’d rather the toilet seats,” you say seriously, before you can catch yourself. “No, you know what? It’ll be fine. I had to see him at some point today, why not at dinner?” You rearrange your face, attempting to look like the whole situation wasn’t affecting you at all. “Another drink is a good idea though,” you say before gulping down the last few dregs in your glass.

Eleanor follows suit, necking her own drink before dragging you over to the near empty bar, everyone else still on their first glass.

“I mean why the hell would she sit you and your ex on the same table?” Eleanor turns to you after ordering two drinks, she almost seems angrier than you.

“It hasn’t been that long, they probably couldn’t rearrange it all,” you tap your fingers on the bar, nerves building up within you at the thought of the meal ahead.

“It’s been four months, that’s enough time to change some seats around,” Eleanor sighs as the bartender places two wines down.

“Maybe not in wedding speak,” you don’t know why you are trying to defend the decision but you don’t want this evening to be ruined by your ex.

“Anyway, it will be fine, I’ll be there and I’m sure everyone else at the table will be nice. We’ll still have a great time,” she hooks her arm with yours as she slowly makes her way into the dining room. Unsure why she is trying to convince you on the matter when you haven’t protested at all, you guess that’s just what good friends are for, knowing what to say even when you haven’t said anything.

Letting her drag you to the seats your nerves build to a crescendo when you finally see the seats that are assigned to you. Flicking your eyes to the opposite side of the table to you see the distinctive curly hair, heart pounding in your chest as you remove your eyes from him, not wanting to be looking at him when you reach the table.

“This is us,” Eleanor comes to a stop and places her bag on the ground before pulling the chair away from the table.

Following suit, you keep your eyes down as you busy yourself with arranging your dress so it sits straight. The seat next to you is unoccupied, someone running late from the wedding you reason as your hand reaches for your glass to take another sip of your drink as you build up enough courage to look around the rest of your table. Eleanor is already talking to the cute guy sitting to her left, so you have nothing to distract you.

Next to the empty seat sits a woman in her mid 30s her hair tied up in a neat bun. Next to her is a young child, no older than 10 who sits colouring in a predesigned image, concentration all over their face. Harry is next, and your heart involuntarily pangs in your chest when you look at him. You still don’t have a full front on view of him as he is turned talking to the person next to him, but you can now see the crisp white shirt he wears, that seems to fit better than the suit jacket, a slim blue tie around his neck. You can more clearly see his features now too, his round face, blue eyes seeming to contrast the rest of his dark features, his lips are a bright red and are pulled back showing off his straight white teeth as he laughs at something. You take all of this in in mere seconds, not wanting to linger on him in case he catches you.

Moving around the table your heart plummets when you see who he is talking to, who is causing him to smile so brightly, who is causing the slight pink to creep up his neck. More beautiful than you could ever dream of being, the woman sits straight backed in an emerald strappy silk dress. Her features are delicate, yet you are sure that everyone would look at her if she were to enter a room. Her hair is dark and cascades down her back in perfectly formed curls.

Your eyes skim the rest of the table, barely taking anyone else in as you turn to look at Eleanor who is already staring at you. Giving a tight closed lipped smile you don’t do a good job at trying to convince her you’re fine.

Here you sit, single and dateless at a wedding, when your ex of four months sits at the same table, appearing to have completely forgotten you, bringing a date to a wedding he would surely know you would attend. As if reading your mind, Eleanors hand gently squeezes your leg under the table, almost transferring some of her strength to you.

You would have hoped that Harry would have at least acknowledged your presence, would have at least said hi to you, or at worst given a gentle nod of recognition. But he instead seems to not even notice you are there.

Staring into your glass, you get lost in your own thoughts. Watching the liquid swirl around the edge of the glass to the rhythm of your hand movements. Beads of liquid roll down the edge of the glass when you let it rest.

“Got a lot of wine legs there, must be quality stuff.”

You jump at the sound of a male voice on your right, head whipping in the direction of the sound. Your eyes widen when you realise that the previously empty seat is now taken, and not just that but the man that occupies the seat is devastatingly handsome. He has pink plush lips that curve slightly at the edges to form a soft and welcoming smile, his cheeks seem to be squishable while also sculptured as if made from marble, he has dark brown hair that has been pushed away from his face exposing his forehead, and he has dark brown eyes that are welcoming. You watch as he takes off a dark jacket, using the opportunity to try and formulate a response to his opening statement. But as he drapes his jacket on the back of his chair you only ogle more. A black shirt adorns his chest, pulled not so tight that it looks small but so that you can see how muscular he is as well as showing off his broad shoulders.

Your eyes dart back up to his when he turns back to look at you, not wanting him to know you had been checking him out.

“I thought that was an old wife's tale,” you speak and then feel the need to clarify, as it seems an eternity since he last spoke. “The wine legs thing.”

“Could be. My friend told me and 99% of his facts are incorrect,” he says, smile still on his face.

“I also highly doubt Ben and Laura would have splashed the cash on anything expensive,” you refer to the bride and groom.

“They do seem to have blown the budget on flowers,” he laughs, and you join in as you look around the room that has flowers covering most surfaces. Even the wooden beams on the ceiling had some sort of foliage hanging off it, making the place look beautiful. It must have cost a small fortune.

“Don’t they know the way to a good wedding is through alcohol? They could have held this in a school hall and everyone would have been happy as long as there was free booze,” you say.

“They obviously didn’t get the memo,” he replies and there's a moment pause before he says, “anyway, you must be Y/N.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the fact he knows your name. Thoughts of whether you had met him before are cut off by him explaining.

“The name cards,” his hand does a sweep of the table where names are placed to show where people sit.

Heat rushes to your face as you realise. Trying to cover this up you glance down at the name card in front of him.

“Jin?” You look back up at him and see a wider smile on his face as he looks at you.

“That’s me,” he beams and you can’t help but copy, his smile infectious. “So, are you here for the bride or groom?”

“The bride,” you say. “We used to work together. What about you?”

“Groom,” he nods. “He’s a friend from childhood. I actually don’t know many people here so I’m glad they’ve placed me next to someone fairly normal.”

You shy at his words, turning to look at your glass, as your face continues to heat. “You might not be saying that by the time we get to dessert. You’ll be running to the dance floor just to get away from me,” you try and joke and are pleased when you hear an almost squeaky laugh leave his lips. Looking at him you can see it is genuine, his head leaning back slightly as his eyes close.

“Honestly, maybe weird is better. Plus, I’ll be running to the dance floor anyway, I am a notoriously good dancer,” he says when he has calmed enough to talk.

“Cha cha slide?” You ask.

He gives a small laugh mouth opening to reply but before any words leave his lips a hand is placed on your shoulder and you are gently moved backwards in your seat.

“Finally decided to join the table,” Eleanor says as she leans over you so she can speak to Jin. You wonder whether they know each other and then remember that Eleanor is just that forward and friendly.

“I did hear rumours it was the best table in the place. But then I am sat here,” Jin gives a small shrug of his shoulders at the statement.

“I think that only applies to this half of the table,” Eleanor says loudly and you visibly cringe. “Anyway, me and Jordan were just placing bets on what food we’re going to be forced to eat,” she carries on, waving a hand towards the man sat beside her, presumably Jodan who gives a small wave.

“Easy, isn’t it always a hog roast at these things,” you roll your eyes at her.

“Wow, wow, wow,” Jin says dramatically. “Ben would never stoop that low. It will definitely be some sort of chicken.”

“And just how well do you know Ben? Don’t tell me you’re cheating here and already know the answer,” Eleanor accuses, her finger coming up to point at him as if to better prove her point.

As they bicker and joke about what food is going to be served, you are suddenly aware of how this is the complete opposite to how you expected this meal to go. As soon as you had seen that Harry was sat on the same table as you, your blood had run cold and yet since Jin had arrived you weren’t even aware of his presence at the table. This thought is cut short when you take a glance at him and you can see he is scolding in your direction, the girl sitting by him seems to be unaware that his attention is no longer on her as she continues to talk at him.

Heat rises to your face as you catch his eyes, if looks could kill you would surely be six foot under by now. Wishing you were strong enough to hold his gaze, you instead look down at your lap, fingers fiddle with the material of your dress.

Mere minutes ago you had wanted him to acknowledge your existence, and now he was you couldn’t even hold his gaze. Though when you imaged him looking at you, it wasn’t with the hatred currently in his eyes. You wonder what right he had to look at you like that when he was the one that had completely ignored you when you arrived, and the one that had brought a date with him.

As you think this though you realise that maybe he thinks Jin is your date. Maybe the girl he is talking to isn’t his date and exactly what Jin is to you, just someone who happens to be sitting next to you at a wedding. Maybe you were the one being a hypocrite and you had judged him just as quickly as he was now judging you.

All thoughts are cut off when a plate is placed in front of you. Jumping slightly at its arrival.

“Told you, roast chicken,” Jin says smugly looking down at the food.

“I still think you cheated,” Eleanor replies.

“Ask Ben if you have any doubts,” Jin points his fork at Eleanor while he chews on some broccoli.

“No doubt you’ve sworn him into some sort of secrecy,” she scowls at him before taking a bite of her own food and turning to talk to Jordan.

“I mean, I didn’t,” Jin mumbles with a pout and you give a small chuckle at how serious the discussion had become while you zoned out.

“Go on then, if you’re so good at all of this, what will their first dance be to?” You look at him with a smirk.

“Ben does love the macarena,” Jin says and his face visibly lightens when he watches you laugh.

“Now that would be some first dance,” you say through your laugh.

“It would be the song I’d pick,” his voice is full of cheekiness.

“I pity the girl,” you smile at him.

“Oh really,” his eyebrows raise almost in challenge. “I’ll have you know I’m quite the catch.”

“And yet I see no date,” you raise your eyebrows back at him.

“Everyone knows that weddings are the perfect place to meet people. It’s all the love, people can’t help but want to experience it themselves.”

“Desperation you mean,” you stab your fork into a potato. “Hoping to score a bridesmaid?”

“Not sure I would call it desperation,” his eyes are still on you as you continue to eat. “And none of the bridesmaids really caught my eye.”

“Hum. Yellow was a bold choice for their dresses, even if it is pastel. I guess Laura didn’t want to risk being shown up,” you agree with him. “But, I bet when you speak to them their personalities will shine through,” your voice is thick with sarcasm and you watch as Jins face lights up at the joke.

His mouth opens to reply but once again he is interrupted, this time by the groom standing up and someone tapping a spoon onto a glass. You swear you hear a small sigh leave Jins lips as the room falls silent for the speeches, but when you look at him a smile is still on his face as he looks towards his friend.

The speeches threaten to make you spill some tears, especially when the bride's father starts to well up when giving his speech. By the time it’s all over you hardly get to speak to Jin as he is dragged into conversation with the woman on his right before the party portion of the evening starts.

Everyone gathers around the dance floor when plates are finally cleared from the meal and as you had predicted Jin disappears between you leaving the table and going to the dance floor. You are unable to spot him as you look around the crowd and decide that he is probably doing as you predicted and seeking out a single bridesmaid. You concentrate on Laura and Ben dancing around the floor in each other's arms as they stare lovingly into each other eyes.

“Can I have this dance,” you hold out your hand and bow lowly to Eleanor as the DJ invites couples to join the bride and groom on the dance floor.

Chuckling Eleanor places her hand in yours as you pull her onto the floor, putting your arms around her waist as hers fall around your neck like all the other couples. You and Eleanor had decided to be each other's dates to the wedding, both single. Though you are sure that Eleanor could easily have snapped up a date, you were grateful she offered that you go together.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” you say as you sway around the dance floor.

“Don’t be stupid, there’s no one I would have rather come with. Plus, if I had brought a date that cute guy I was sitting by wouldn’t have chatted me up,” she says, giving you a cheeky smirk.

“Hey, you’re my date,” you mock offence. “Though if he asks nicely, maybe I’ll let him steal you for a dance or two.”

Eleanor’s face visibly lights up at your words though she quickly tries to hide it. “I’m sure that Jin will be asking to dance with you before long.”

“I’m not sure he was interested,” you scrunch up your face at her words.

“Well, you are obviously blind.”

“I think I saw him going off to chat up one of the bridesmaids,” you lie in the hopes it will be enough for her to drop the topic.

“Oh really?” She would sound genuinely surprised, if not for the heavy sarcasm in her voice. “Because I think I see him stood watching you.”

Your head almost snaps in the direction she is looking and sure enough Jin stands on the edge of the dance floor, fresh drink in hand as he watches you dance around the floor. Just as quickly as you look at him, you look away heat rising to your face.

“He’s probably just thinking what a terrible dancer I am,” you half mumble.

“Again, I’m not so sure,” cheekiness is now the overriding tone of Eleanors voice, which is mirrored by the big smile on her face. “If I’m not mistaken, I think he’s actually walking over to us now. Maybe he’s coming to tell you what a terrible dancer you are in person,” the sarcasm returns to her voice as you freeze in her arms.

Your back had been swung in the direction of where Jin was stood so you cannot confirm what Eleanor is saying without obviously looking over your shoulder. But it doesn’t take long for her statement to be revealed as true as a tall figure comes to stand by your side.

“Mind if I steal your partner?” The voice you recognised from earlier asks Eleanor and you watch as she nods, stepping away from you.

Your eyes widen at her, silently pleading for her to stay, though you are unsure why.

“But I want her back later,” she says as she walks off in search of another dance partner.

Jin steps so he is now stood in front of you and you are surprised by how tall he is, his broad shoulders and frame only making him seem that much larger.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says as he looks down at you.

“Not at all,” you gulp down your nerves. “I was hoping to see these amazing dance moves anyway.”

Laughing he gently reaches out to place his hands on your waist, pulling you lightly so that you can more easily drape your arms around his neck.

“I’d hate to disappoint,” he smirks down at you, and you have to look away from his gaze.

A silence falls over the two of you as you gently sway to the music, Jin expertly guiding you around the room. You feel comfortable in his presence, but struggle to meet his eyes, instead choosing to look at his chest. This isn’t much better though as his black shirt has the top three buttons undone, causing a glimpse of his chest. You almost feel like a Victorian with how that small amount of skin gets you hot.

“Black is a bold choice for a wedding,” you finally break the silence, looking up to see he is already looking down at you.

“Do you not think it looks good?” He asks, though his face says he already knows your answer.

“I guess it’s just a colour more aligned to a funeral,” you ignore his question.

“Well, I am mourning the loss of one of my best friends. Now he’s married I will hardly see him anymore,” he says this with a wide smile on his face.

“Oh come on, you’re not one of those people, are you? You really believe married life is like a death sentence?”

“I never said death sentence,” he is quick to correct you.

“You said you were mourning the loss of your friend, that implies death,” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Alright, maybe that was a bit extreme,” he laughs. “I guess I’m not totally sold on the whole wedding thing. Like you said, why not just get loads of booze and throw it in a cheap hall somewhere. Do you really need all of this to tell everyone that you are madly in love?” He looks around the room to further his point. “I’d be happy just to go to the registry office and do it all in secret. Is that not more romantic?”

“Hiding your partner away from everyone? Romantic,” you tease. “But you’re not completely opposed to getting married?”

“Hiding her away so that she can be all mine? I think romantic,” he shoots back. “But I guess I’d have to find the right person first,” his words come out deeper and smoother than previously, and again you have to break his eye contact.

The song that was playing choices this moment to stop, the DJ mixing in a more up-tempo track. People all around you break from their swaying and start to dance with more enthusiasm, arms being thrown in the air. You remain in Jins arms, breaking a second before it comes awkward, you being the first to step away looking around the room as you do.

“You should definitely get talking to those bridesmaids then. Maybe one of them is the one,” you try to make it sound sarcastic and like you don’t care, but it sounds anything but. “I’d hate to think I got in the way of anything,” you say, looking back at him to see a flicker of something cross his face. He opens his mouth to reply but for the third time that night you don’t let him get any words out. “I should probably go and find Eleanor anyway. I’d hate to think she’s all alone somewhere.”

Jin continues to stare at you, a now blank stare is on his face, making his emotions unreadable. He gives a small nod at your words.

“Thanks for the dance, it was nice,” you say lamely as you turn and walk away.

Instead of hunting down Eleanor, like you had just said you were going to do, you head straight to the bar, happy when you find out drinks are still free. Standing, waiting for your drink, you think about the dance. Think about Jins hands on your waist, the feeling firm, yet safe. Think about the earthy and woody scent that was coming off of him. Think about seeing his face so close you could see all the muscles moving when his face contorted into a smile.

A glass being placed down in front of you snaps you out of your thoughts, and you take a large gulp in the hopes that would also help to ease your mind. You are unsure why you had just bolted away from Jin as if it was a crime scene. He seemed like a nice guy, and to be honest at the moment a nice guy is exactly what you need. But the problem was that you were not what he needed. Currently still hung up on your ex, not in the best place mentally and just generally a mess, you didn’t want to lead him into anything just to leave him.

And yet you can’t get him out of your head. You had only known him for the past few hours, only spoken to him for a portion of that time, but you feel yourself wanting to go back onto the dance floor and apologise, ask him to take you back in his arms and sway around the dance floor again. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t felt like this about anyone for ages that made you scared. Even when you were with Harry, towards the end, you didn’t feel this way about him. You had to admit that your relationship had started to lack the passion and desire it had at the start, but you had assumed that was normal after two years of being together. But that obviously wasn’t enough for Harry.

You head is almost resting on your arms that lay on top of the bar when you hear a familiar voice. As if your thoughts had somehow summoned him.

“Not with your date?” Harry’s words ring out and you tense at his words. Thoughts immediately flood your mind of how this is the opposite reaction you would have had a few months ago if you heard his voice.

You turn slowly to look at Harry and see he looks somewhat more dishevelled than earlier. He has lost his tie and jacket, the top few buttons undone, and you note that while this was a turn on for Jin, you almost cringed at the look on Harry. His hair is also messier, a look that makes you think he has been running his hand through the curls all night, something you know he does when he’s stressed.

“My date?” You question as you honestly have no idea who he is talking about. Annoyed at the fact that these are the first words he is speaking to you.

“The guy you were sat by at dinner?” He almost spits the words at you, and the action almost makes you smile. You’ve clearly gotten under his skin.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you avoid answering his question, not wanting to give him any unnecessary details.

“She’s gone to the toilet,” he waves a hand dismissively and your heart clenches at the confirmation he has brought a date with him.

“Is it new?” You can’t help the curiosity, but curse at yourself for sounding like you care, which you do, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Harry is now the one that goes rigid at your words and gives a half mumble of “something like that,” that you catch. You turn and take another gulp of your drink, praying someone comes and saves you from this conversation.

“Listen,” Harry sighs, his body relaxing at the motion. “I didn’t come here to gloat or be mean or anything,” you have to bite the words could have fooled me back, instead remaining silent as you wait for him to continue. “I came here to say that I miss you.”

These are the last words that you expect to leave his lips. He was the one who had left you after all. He was the one that had said he had fallen out of love with you. He was the one that ended it and never called you again, left you with so many questions unanswered.

Instead of the effect that Harry must have hoped these words would cause, you feel almost sick when he says it. You feel like in the space of one wedding you have done a complete 180 in your feelings to the man currently stood in front of you.

But when you actually think about it, you had felt this way since he left you. If he had come to you before you still would have felt this hatred and sickness towards him. Because, honestly, you could never have gotten back with him after he had said that he had fallen out of love with you, however much you missed him. You would never been able to trust him again, always second guessing everything, always wondering when he was going to change his mind again and walk out the door.

The feelings you had felt towards him all this time, you now realised, was resentment. You resented that he was the one that left you and felt bitter at the fact that while you still loved him, he no longer loved you. And while you thought those feelings of love had stayed over the months, they had really morphed into something far uglier.

It is only now as he stands so you can fully see him that you realise that you do not miss him, that you do not want him back and that you certainly do not love him. And it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

“You don’t seem like you miss me,” Harry says into the silence, realising that you are not going to be the one to break it. There is a sort of arrogance in his voice, as if he knows, or thinks, that he still has you.

“You are here with a date,” you have to remind him.

“I know. But Y/N, don’t you want to talk? I wanted to say that I regret -”

“No,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any of the bullshit that spills out of his mouth. “No. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to hear you’re excuses or explanations or whatever the hell you are going to say. You left me, Harry. You fell out of love with me. And we are no longer together because of that so you have to deal with the consequences,” you turn and pick up your glass before looking at him.

Before you can walk away, he does a small side step so that he is stood in front of you, blocking your exit.

“No listen to me,” he almost pleads, and it almost sounds good to hear it.

“You have a date,” you remind him once again.

“Who I don’t care about.”

“I’m sure she will be thrilled to hear that.”

“I don’t care,” he almost screams the words, his arms flinging in the air as if to further his frustration. “I don’t care, ok?” He repeats softer. “I just care about you.”

You stare at him, looking into his eyes you try to read what's happening behind them, wishing you could see what he was thinking. And as the silence continues, you can see the arrogance return, as if he thinks he has you again. You wonder how you had never seen it in his eyes before.

“Well, I don’t care,” you say and you can see the shock that comes into his eyes. He definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“Y/N, come on. I’m sorry ok,” his pleading returns, and this time you just feel pity for him.

“You broke up with me Harry,” you remind him. “And so, I no longer have to stand here and listen to what you have to say.” Glass in hand you give him a final look before walking past him.

Heading back into where everyone is dancing you feel a mixture of emotions. Giddy at the fact that you had managed to keep your cool and say everything you wanted to say to Harry to his face, you would never have thought you’d be able to do that. But the sickness remains, confusion as to why Harry would come and say those words to you. He surely didn’t actually want you back? A selfishness must have come out from him seeing you sat with Jin, who he had assumed was your date. Was he really so petty to feel some sort of ownership over you, when he was sat with an actual date the other side of the table.

And now you felt pity towards her. Did she know what Harry was saying about her behind her back? You kind of hoped it was nothing serious, you didn’t want him to break anyone the way he had broken you.

When you reach the edge of where everyone is dancing you have a quick glance behind you, seeing Harry in the same spot you left him, his date now at his side. Shaking your head at the scene, you push it from your mind and turn back in search of someone much better. When you spot her, you make your way over to Eleanor.

“Where have you been?” Eleanor almost shouts when she sees you. “Good dance with Jin?” She wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes.

“You will never guess what happened,” you begin before going onto to retell the story of bumping into Harry and all the things he said to you.

“Well shit. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you,” she gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s alright. It was actually good in a way. I think I can finally see who he is now and how I am so much better without him. It was probably the best thing to happen tonight,” you say and Eleanors eyes widen at your statement.

“God that’s really saying something since you danced with Jin,” she says and you laugh.

“He’s probably long gone, scared away by me running away from him,” you sigh as you look around the room, unable to spot his figure anywhere. “Anyway, I just want to drink and dance and enjoy the night and then go and collapse in a bed that I have paid an extortionate amount for.”

“Amen,” Eleanor says raising her glass for you to cheers.

And that is exactly what you do. You drink, you dance and you enjoy the evening, with little thought of Harry. The man who instead plagues your thoughts is Jin. You find yourself looking for him as you dance, when you go to get another drink and when someone taps you on the shoulder you hope it’s him. But you never spot him, not even a peak of the top of his head or the back of his shoulder. Even as you wave off the happy couple as they leave for their honeymoon, Jin is nowhere in sight. So you assume that he has done as you suggested and gone and found himself someone better.

Eleanor leans her arm on your shoulder before resting her head on it, watching the disappearing car.

“Shall we go to the hotel then?” Eleanor says.

You lean down so that your head can rest on hers. “Yeah,” you reply.

The uber drops you off at the hotel and as you walk into the main room you can see a few other wedding guests chatting in the hall. What with the proximity to the reception and the fact it was recommended by the bride and groom, you aren’t surprise that the place is probably fully booked with wedding guests.

And the hotel was cute. It was a cosy, higgledy-piggledy, countryside hotel that looked like it had almost grown from the ground with all the ivy covering the outside walls. All of this added up to mean it was on the expensive side of hotels, however with the wedding being in the middle of nowhere you didn’t have much choice, and Eleanor somehow convinced you that it was worth the cost.

Walking down the hall towards the stairs that would take you to your rooms, you give a small smile at some of the people you recognised from the wedding, but almost stop in your tracks when you see him. It had probably been hours since you last saw Jin and you had almost forgotten about him with all the stuff that had happened between you dancing with him and where you stood now. But as you see him sat at the bar that is off from the hall, you wonder how he could have left your mind at all. Sat alone, staring into a glass of what looked like whiskey, you wonder if this was what his first view of you looked like.

Noticing where you were looking, if the fact that you had come to a complete stop hadn’t been clue enough, Eleanor smiles at you. “You should go speak to him.”

You have to tear your eyes off him to be able to look at Eleanor and can see sincerity on her face.

“I’m a big girl, I’m sure I can find our room on my own,” she teases when she sees your doubt.

“I should apologise for basically running away from him earlier,” you give out the excuse, though one is not needed.

She gives a satisfied nod, those words being all she needed to slowly turn and start walking in the direction you were previously headed. “If you don’t come back to our room tonight, I won’t worry. See you at breakfast,” she says with a wave over her shoulder.

Heat rises to your face and you turn to make sure no one heard, or more importantly that Jin didn’t hear. But he sits continuing to stare at his glass, too far away to hear the comment.

Before you can overthink it, you start walking towards him. Heat remains in your face as you do. He doesn’t notice your approach so you can fully take him in. His long legs are crossed as he sits on the bar stool and yet they still manage to easily touch the floor. He sits slightly hunched in the chair and his shoulders sag with an unseen weight. His hair is slightly more ruffled than earlier, the previous style not holding as he has obviously been running his hand through it. You take a deep breath when you reach the stool next to where he sits, he is still unaware of your presence.

“Do wine legs still apply when the liquid isn’t wine?” You reference his opening comment to you.

His head shoots up, eyes instantly meeting yours and you can see the clear surprise at seeing you here.

“I saw you sitting here, I hope you don’t mind me interrupting,” you say as a lame explanation.

“I usually enjoy staring at my drinks alone without interruption. But I’ll make an exception for you,” he jokes before giving you a wide smile.

“Ah, an honour,” you take the seat next to his and the barman comes over and takes your drinks order.

A silence falls over you and Jin as you wait for your drink, Jin going back to staring into his cup. As you stare at him, possible questions to break the silence run through your head, all as meaningless and irrelevant as the next, none of them what you really want to ask him. So as a drink is placed down in front of you, and as you turn to look at it you build the courage to ask.

“What you doing here all alone?” You hope your voice comes out as light and trivial as you mean it to, and out of the corner of your eye you see Jin has turned to look at you.

“I thought I made that clear,” his voice is an attempt to tease, but you can hear the sadness in it, or was it annoyance? “I enjoy staring at drinks.”

“Ah,” you raise your eyebrows as if in understanding. “The classic post-wedding-stare-at-an-alcoholic-drink-alone. I know it well.”

“Well, you did seemed to know the wedding-reception-stare-at-a-wine-glass-as-you-swirl-it earlier in the night,” he shoots back.

“I guess we may have something in common there then,” you raise your glass lowly towards him, before taking a mouthful.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, grabbing your full attention. “I’ll tell you why I was staring into my glass, all alone. If you tell me why you were doing the same earlier.”

Not what you had expected him to say. And you weigh it in your mind. Was it worth telling him the truth to find out why he was sat alone? After a moments thought you realise it was.

“My ex was sitting on our table,” you can’t look him in the eye as you say it, not wanting to see whatever emotion comes onto his face.

He hums lowly before saying, “tough at a wedding.”

“Yeah, I mean it happened 4 months ago, but it was the first time I’ve seen him since he left,” you admit.

Jin doesn’t respond verbally to that, instead a hand is placed on your shoulder. Looking up, you finally see the emotion on his face. Where you had expected to see sorry or pity was instead some form of sympathy. While most people looked at you as if you are broken, as if you need to be fixed, Jin was looking at you with understanding, and in your eyes there was a big difference. You hadn’t liked telling people that you and Harry had broken up and as much as it was to do with admitting that you were no longer together, it was also due to peoples reactions. But here Jin sat, hand on your shoulder, but not in a patronising way, in a way that said he was there.

“Anyway, it was nothing in the end,” you almost visibly brush off the words and, in the process, Jin’s hand drops and you instantly miss the feeling. “I had a good night,” you give him a small smile.

“Yeah, it was good. Although, they definitely needed to put more money behind the bar,” he chuckles.

“More money on booze, less on flowers,” you reference his comment from earlier in the night and Jins smile widens. “Come on then. Don’t think you’re going to get away with it,” you say and when Jin doesn’t immediately answer you carry on. “Why are you sat here all alone?”

“I guess I was just hoping to attract over some lovely lady,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you and you laugh, but you can hear the return of the earlier sadness.

“Seriously? Come on, I spilled my secret.”

“Secret? I wasn’t aware it was that deep?”

“It’s not,” you say. “But maybe I wouldn’t have divulged the information if I knew you were going to back out. You were the one that made the offer after all.”

“Alright, fairs fair,” he waved his hand before taking a massive gulp of his drink, practically finishing it off. A massive sigh leaves his lips before he carried on. “I was thinking of you.”

You freeze from shock. Unable to look away from Jin as he doesn’t meet your eyes, you can see red creeping up his neck, his eyes close lightly and it looks like he holds his breath for a second.

“What?” You croak out.

He lifts his head so he is looking straight forward, before twisting so he can look at you. His features are soft as he takes in your shocked face, his eyes darting around your face almost trying to read your thoughts.

“I was thinking of you,” he repeats, though this time you can see his face, the almost embarrassment in his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess I just had a nice time talking and dancing with you and then you ran away and I wasn’t really sure what I had done wrong. But I guess now I can see why.”

“I had a nice time dancing too,” you say and are surprised when your voice doesn’t crack with the shock still in your body.

“You did?” Jin says with some doubt in his voice.

“Sorry I ditched you. I guess it all got a bit much and rather than act like a normal grown adult I ran,” you say.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he says.

“But I do,” you say. “If you think I was running away because of you, then I need to apologise.”

Jin give a small nod of recognition, but his face looks like he still feels the need to deny your apology. He bites back his words by taking a drink.

“You know, we’ve met before,” the second statement he has said in the space of ten minutes that has shocked you. “You probably don’t remember, you were pretty drunk,” he says when he sees your expression.

“I did wonder why I’d never met you before, if you are supposedly Bens good friend,” you admit.

Jin gives a small chuckle. “Well, we have met. At Ben birthday last year. Though, I turned up a bit late and by the time I got there it seemed like you had already had a lot to drink.”

Heat floods your face at the memory. You had had a lot to drink that night, partly to drown your sorrows after a big row with Harry. You honestly had no memory of Jin that night, you had hardly any memory of that night.

“Not my finest hour,” you say. “I hope I didn’t embarrass myself.”

“I wasn’t sure whether to be happy when I found out I was sat by you because you were the life of the party, or worried you might get as drunk as that night and throw up all over me,” he teases and you give his arm a light punch.

“That was a one off,” you whine.

“You were fine,” he laughs, and his words reassure you.

You give a small nod as a silence comes over you. Both of your stare at your drinks, a tension rises in the air and before it gets unbearable you break it.

“I want to say sorry,” Jins head snaps to you at the words.

“You already apologised,” he says.

“But I want to say it again,” you give a small smile. “I did really enjoy dancing with you. I don’t want you to think that I didn’t enjoy your company tonight.”

“My moves must not have impressed you as much as I had hoped. You did kind of bolt out of there.”

You give a small sigh, embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

“And I meant it when I said that none of the bridesmaids caught my eye,” he carries on.

“I guess I just didn’t want you to be trapped with me all night,” you say.

His face scrunches in confusion. “And what would have been so bad about that?”

“I’m a bit of a mess, if that wasn’t clear. I didn’t want to drag you into all of it.”

“You don’t look like a mess to me,” he says as his eyes scan your body, and you open your mouth to clarify. “You look and sound perfectly put together to me.”

“You’d be surprised,” you give a humourless chuckle, but for once Jin remains serious.

“I’m a big boy, you know. I can make my own decisions.”

Your eyes search his, hoping to find some sort of answer in them. The tension remains in the air, but it has shifted now.

“Want to ditch the drinks?” His voice comes out thick and husky, matching the atmosphere.

All you have to do is nod before he is on his feet and taking you hand in his. You are half dragged to the hall where you left Eleanor and Jin stops suddenly when you enter. Spinning around he pushes you so your back is pressed against the wall behind you and then his lips are on you. It all happens so quickly that you are caught off guard. It takes a second for your mind to kick into action and your lips to start moving, but when they do it feels like nothing you have ever felt before and you never want the feeling to stop.

His lips are as soft as you imaged. Their fullness only adding to the feeling, when you bite down lightly on them you realise how firm they are. A small groan leaves Jins lips and he presses his body ever closer to you. You roll your hips lightly against his and another groan leaves his lips, this time it seems more pained and he pulls away.

Panting gently, you look at each other. His lips have gone slightly redder from your light bites and it makes you want to reattach your lips again, but as you push yourself up, he pulls away. Before your heart can sink, he says, “my room or yours?”

Your eyes widen at his forwardness, but almost automatically you hear yourself saying, “yours.”

And just like that he grabs your hand, pulling you up the stairs, through the twists and turns of the hallways. Before you find yourself outside a door. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a key and expertly opens the door, if it had been you in this moment it may have taken a few more attempts as your hands shake in anticipation.

His door opens and you hardly make it inside before your lips are attached again. Pushing the door shut behind him, Jins hands grasp for the zip of your dress, pulling it down so that your dress slips from your shoulders and is left in a puddle on the floor. Continuing your journey backwards in search of the bed, Jins hands now grasp for the clasp of your bra, managing to unclasp it as your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Half lowered, half falling onto the bed, Jin stays standing between your legs, looking down at your near naked body. The scene is almost serene as you look up at him. Where there was a hungry and desire before, there is now calmness.

“You have far too many clothes on,” you break the silence.

Slowly Jins fingers work at the buttons of his shirt. Almost painstakingly undoing the buttons, working from the top down all you can do is lay watching. His eyes never break contact from yours, but as he undoes the final button and slips the material off his shoulders your eyes flicker to the bare skin.

He doesn’t give you long to look before he is laying down on top of you. Lips touching every inch of skin they can get to as he makes his way up your body. Small noises of pleasure leave your lips as your body arches into his touch.

“So beautiful,” he whispers into your neck.

Your hands go to his hair, pulling him slightly so that you can reattach your lips. Your hands then glid down his back, pushing his body closer so you can grind up into him. This time noises of pleasure escape his mouth.

When your hands finally meet his trousers, you pull away enough so you work at getting the item off. Jins lips never leave you as your frustration grows, first you can’t undo his belt, then his zipper gets stuck, but Jin seems oblivious simply working his way across your neck. You almost cheer when you manage to get his trousers off, and while Jin sits up so he get them fully off you ask, “condom?”

He gives no verbal answer, instead he stands and makes his way to his bag. Turning around with a foil packet in hand. Using his teeth to tare it open, he pulls his boxers down and rolls the condom on. You groan at the sight and wiggle your pants off as he walks back towards you.

“So beautiful,” he repeats as he stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you.

Lowering himself down, you feel like there’s a stiffness to the air, almost how it feels before lightning strikes. The anticipation builds up inside you as you feel Jin stoking himself in you folds.

“Please,” you groan out when it all gets too much.

You barely get the word out before he is pushing himself inside you. If the air felt like before a storm previously, now it feels like the storm is fully raging. Jin hardly gives you any time to adjust before he is rolling in and out of you. You barely know what you do with yourself, the pleasure overwhelming. Hands go from sheets, to his shoulders before finally resting on his back, pulling him as close to you as he can get. He pulls your legs so that they wrap around his middle, before his hands goes back to resting either side of your head.

His head goes to your neck, whispering unheard incantations there. His pace goes from soft and hard to fast and solid. Lifting his head, he looks into your eyes and you feel like you’ve never been so close to anyone before.

“Jesus Y/N,” he moans out.

Noises escape your mouth, but none of them class as words, hardly any sound human. Jins hand travels between your bodies and your pleasure is all consuming. Pushed over the edge, your head lulls back into the bed and you vision becomes blurry. Jin is quick to follow, rocking into you a few more times before he collapses onto you.

Heavy breathing fills the room, and it takes a minute or two before Jin finally pulls out of you and rolls to your side. He doesn’t go far though, after disposing of the condom he pulls you into his side. He places a light kiss to the side of your head that rests on his chest.

You can't help but run your fingers over his solid stomach as you lay there. Drawing random patterns on his smooth tan skin, you revel in how toned he is.

“Stay?” he asks.

You snuggle closer into him as an answer.

His lips come to your temple. “I told you, weddings are the perfect place to pick people up,” his mumbles against your skin.

Your hand smacks his chest lightly and he gives a fake groan of hurt.

“Don’t make me regret staying,” you say, but make no attempt to move, if anything you move in closer.

Wrapped up in the thick duvet you wake up slowly. Eyes thick with sleep, it feels like you’ve been in a deep sleep and something has slowly pulled you out of it. That something you realise is the man currently in the same room as you. Though he isn’t lay next to you, like he had been all night, instead you can his gentle footsteps around the room. As they approach your side of the bed and stop, you finally open your eyes and roll so that you can squint in his direction.

“Oh, hi,” his voice is soft and he is clearly surprised that you are awake. “Sorry if I woke you.”

Your eyes have just about adjusted to the light of the room, so you are able to open them past a squint as you give him a warm smile. “You didn’t wake me,” even though he did, it was the kind of wake up you could get use to so you weren’t about to complain.

“Well, I bought coffee,” he holds up the mug in his hand as evidence.

A small hum of appreciation leaves your lips as you sit up, pulling the duvet with you. Your hands reach out to take the mug off Jin and as you take a sip the warmth fills your body. Jin walks back around the bed so that he can crawl back under the covers and you notice that he wears long plaid pyjamas. He looks warm and comfy and you kind of want to cuddle up to him and never leave.

“You went downstairs?” The questions seems obvious, but your brain works slower in the morning so you can’t think of anything more literate to say.

“No, I actually went upstairs. Crazy that this place serves its coffee on the roof,” Jin teases.

“You should alert health and safety,” you roll your eyes at him. “Do they serve breakfast up there too?”

“Ah, so that’s why you stayed,” you raise your eyebrows at him in question. “You’re just using me for collecting your coffee and breakfast,” he clarifies.

“I didn’t request this,” you defend.

“Well in that case,” he reaches out to take the mug out of your hands but you pull it out of his reach.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it,” you give an exaggerated, over the top smile. “But some form of pastry would also not go unappreciated,” you continue to give your best pleading smile, eye lashes batting lightly.

“Pastries do sound good,” Jin nods, though he makes no attempt to move from his position, which is now closer to you after he tried to grab your mug. “And what would I get if I go and get some?”

“A pastry?” You mock.

He hums as if seriously considering it. “I don’t think it’s worth it.”

“A kiss,” you say in a sickly-sweet voice. “On the cheek.”

“A bit better,” he gives you a cheeky grin. “But I think I might still have to pass.”

“Why don’t you name it,” you give him the power. “I may not agree though,” you warn.

Jin places his hands on his chin, pretending to stroke a beard that isn’t there as he thinks. “How about a date?” It’s the first thing that he has said that morning with some seriousness.

Eyes flicking between his you try and read what he is thinking before giving your answer. “OK,” you agree. “But they better be damn good pastries.”

The wide smile returns to Jin faces, a few creases appearing around his eyes due to the wide beam. He leans closer into you so he can give you a small peck on the lips before he retreats. He doesn’t make it far though, simply sitting in an upright position, swivelling to place his mug on the bedside table you expect him to stand up but he simply turns back to face you, now with a plate in his hands. A plate full of pastries.

You gawk at him. “You tricked me,” is all that comes out of your mouth.

The triumphant smile stays on Jins lips as he picks up a pastry, then offers you the plate.

“I didn’t. I had to come all the way over here,” he points to the spot he is sat, mere centimetres away from his early position, if that. “It was very tough. Especially this early. I definitely deserve a date after all that effort.”

“I thought you were going to go downstairs,” you continue.

“And I did. Just earlier,” he takes a bite and chews, but his eyes remain on you.

You follow suit, unable to form any words you shove a pastry in your mouth to avoid having to think of anything.

“Unhappy with the deal?” He asks.

You weren’t. You wanted to go on a date, but you were slightly unhappy, or maybe just shocked, at the way that he had coaxed you into it.

“No,” you pout at him when you swallow your mouthful of food.

He laughs at the expression on your face before pushing himself closer to you. Pastries abandoned somewhere on the bed, his arms come to wrap around you, face coming to yours.

“I’ll take you somewhere really great, I promise,” he says, mouth mere millimetres from yours you can almost feel it move.

“You better,” you say before closing the gap and placing your lips on his.

557 notes · View notes

apixrl · 3 years

Text

SINCERELY, YOURS.

hanta sero x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 3.0k

song: sincerely, yours // nohidea

note(s): i just think that he'd be the perfect hubby tbh (EDIT: I'M SO DUMB I POSTED W/O TAGS PFAHAHHA)

Hanta finally managed to force open the door to the log cabin that had long been awaiting your arrival, the wooden structure welcoming the approaching warmth and laughter of the newly wedded couple. The ravenette smirked joyously and let out a triumphant 'hoorah', your laughter only adding to the display of ego on his face.

"And you said I'd drop you," Hanta mocked your earlier words, looking down at you with that very same smirk. If not for your arms wrapped around his neck and entire weight held in his arms, you most likely would have pushed his face away by the cheek. To avoid that shit-eating, joking smirk that rarely left his dumb and lovable face. The face you fell for so undoubtedly swift and heavy.

"I didn't say you would I said you may drop me," Was your response. "It's not every day we walk through so much snow!"

"Hush now, that was nothing to me," Hanta lifted the arm that supported your back, planting his lips on your forehead in a sweet welcoming kiss. Your lips curled in approval, accepting the gesture as Hanta used his foot to close the door behind you both, driving away the cold breeze from outside as warmth replaced it. "Now would you look at this place!"

Heeding Hanta's words, your eyes averted from his addicting gaze to the bonnie log cabin interior set out before you two. From left to right the cabin maintained an earthy theme, consistent in wooden textures excluding that of the supple beige sofas in the centre of the room. They were accompanied with ripening red cushions, as well as a few other pieces of furniture containing the same colour to maintain an advertising aesthetic no doubt. Lengthy beams stretched from one end of the walls to the other, set out in rows. The deepest wall (opposite to the entrance) was made mostly out of glass and onlooking a gorgeous snowy forest scene, small golden lights lit up outside to only add to the aura already presented. Built-up by red bricks and extending up toward the ceiling was a great open fireplace, already sparked alight and sensing a contrasting warmth to the bitter cold outdoors. In the corner of the room were a set of stairs most likely directing themselves off to the bedroom, though you and Hanta were so taken by the bottom floor's interior neither of you even processed there were more rooms to see.

"Wow... this place is gorgeous!" You said through a whisper, face lighting up at the sight. Never had you thought a place could be so beautifully arranged and so beautiful in general, and the two of you had this place to yourselves for an entire two weeks... it made you feel like the luckiest person alive! That you were really, as you'd just tied the knot the love of your life and were starting an entirely new journey with him. From the very moment you'd both uttered 'I do' in front of all your friends and family - the paths you lead became one that you would waltz down together.

"So you like it then?" Hanta asked, ebony eyes trailing away from the open fire and down to your own E/C irises. His smirk slowly transitioned to an endearing grin upon seeing your face of wonder, heart skipping a beat as your gaze met his and your expression mirrored.

"Of course! It's just how I imagined it - even more stunning than the pictures online," Your hand grazed Hanta's gloved one, though the barricade of wool and cotton did nothing to prevent the love and desire sent through the tips of your fingers. The ravenette admired your beauty in that lingering stare shared between you, exhaling a content sigh. You never failed to astound him with your beauty, the way your eyes glowed whenever you looked at him. How your hair fell perfectly into place no matter the circumstance (even on your worst of hair days you somehow managed to make it work). Not to mention your smile and laugh - those specific factors alone making Hanta fall for you over and over and exceeding limits of love and admiration he didn't even think he possessed.

Just before Hanta was to fall into daydream you shook him out his thoughts, the shifting of weight in his arms struck him to shake out of it, realising that you were attempting to shuffle out his arms in order to stand. So he let you down, grip loosening and reluctantly allowing you to step away.

"I'm glad," He quickly uttered, his hand lifting to his head to remove the woolly hat resting there. Then he proceeded to unbutton his winter coat as did you, the pair of you making light work of it due to the excitement of exploring your temporary home.

"So our suitcases are already here?" You asked Hanta, straightening out your knitted turtleneck jumper which was a soft pink shade. Usually something you wouldn't wear, but it was well-suited for the weather and didn't irritate your skin. So you took advantage of the purchase. From your left Hanta hummed softly, turning towards you once he was done hanging his coat on the rack. He too had a turtleneck on, but his donned a collect of abstract patterns and stuck to more neutral colours than yours.

"Yep, they should be upstairs," Hanta replied, running a hand through his hair as he looked over at you. He shifted over to your side, hugging you from behind with a mischievous chuckle. "But we can unpack tomorrow,"

"I like the idea of that, I just wanna snuggle," You responded with a giggle, leaning back into your husband's hold. After a few seconds Hanta stepped forwards, forcing your feet to follow suit. The ravenette guided you both to the nearest sofa, where he messily fell back against the ruby red cushions and you alongside him.

"That's because you procrastinate more than you've ever been willing to admit," Hanta turned you over so you sat atop his middle, hands settled on your hips like they were structured to hold them. There was a smirk on his face as you rolled your eyes at his last comment.

"I procrastinate because you distract me," You corrected, poking his chest with a prominent finger.

"Ah well, what can I say? I'm just that pretty aren't I?" He replied, laughing joyously. You couldn't help but echo with your own form of a chuckle, shaking your head as the smile on your face sent Hanta all kinds of elated emotions through his veins.

"You're not wrong there, Tiger," You grinned ear to ear, staring lovingly in his direction. Words weren't enough to express how much you loved him, your mind struggling to form sentences most of the time with just how much he took your breath away. In truth, you would have allowed yourself to remain gazing into Hanta's eyes the entire night. But you were due to catch sight of an envelope on the coffee table next to you both, drawing your attention away from him as fast as it came. The item too out of the ordinary to ignore. Peculiarly you leaned over to grab it, tilting your head at the item.

"What's that?"

"I don't know," Was your answer. Your fingers proceeded to slit open the top, discovering a smaller, folded piece of paper inside. Curiously you opened it up, voice filling the room as you discovered golden ink was printed on one side and intended to read it out.

" Dear Mr and Mrs Sero,

We are beyond pleased that you chose to stay with us for your honeymoon. Have a wonderful and splendid time at the start of your journey together and we wish you nothing but happiness and joy during your stay.

Kindest regards,

[resort/name] "

"Mr and Mrs Sero," Hanta repeated with a thoughtful stare to the wooden beams above. "I'm still not used to hearing that and we've already been married a week," A smile formed on his lips, releasing a chuckle from the depths of his chest. Almost like he couldn't believe the words he had just uttered. Tilting your head, you pondered on what he meant.

"How do you mean?" You didn't receive an answer straight away, the man you called your husband gently sighed, almost with the case of the lovesick. Somewhere during the exhale Hanta's eyes fell from the beamed ceiling and onto you, gratitude threaded in his expression as he stared at you.

"I just don't know how I got so lucky to marry someone like you," His hand extended to cup your cheek, cradling the slightly chilled part of your face (thanks to the cold air and wind from outside) as his thumb stroked the surface of your skin. Your eyes widened, all too used to the gesture but rarely ever prepared for it whenever Hanta committed to it. You smiled, nuzzling into his warm hold as your eyes closed.

"Me too," You hummed, sighing out yourself as your heart fluttered higher and higher with each passing second. A short silence ensued, ending as you abruptly let out a little laugh. It caught Hanta's attention, his head cosying into the cushion behind him as his brows raised.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the night you proposed. That's all," Another laugh escaped, humour striking you as you recalled how it had played out. From the manner your lover rolled his eyes, he clearly still hadn't emotionally recovered from it.

"That stupid fire pit," He groaned, eyes closing in annoyance. "I can't believe I let it ruin the moment,"

"I don't think that was the fire's intention, Hants,"

Despite being blatantly confident and bold, when it came to more... intimacy-related things, Hanta Sero's expertise dwindled dangerously. It had taken him months of knowing you to actually ask you out on a date, and when you finally got together? Well, it took him four years before he began to think about popping the question - three months more to actually pop it. Whilst you did say yes once he got down on one knee on the balcony of your holiday home for your fourth anniversary together, the events that proceeded after were what truly traumatised the poor ravenette.

Your holiday was spent somewhere in the Caribbean at a beachside residence that locals rented out for tourists. You and Hanta had always been big on travelling, hence your honeymoon location being such an unconventional place. Or as far as you knew, you didn't have an exact number on how many honeymoons were spent in remote mountain ranges surrounded by blustering winds and snow. It was a nice change of pace to the intense heats nearer the Equator.

During that vacation in particular though, that was the year Hanta finally decided to propose. After a long day on the beach, swimming in the ocean and feeling the sand between your toes as evening approached, you watched the sunset on the balcony of the second floor, neighbouring your bedroom. To set the mood the firepit in the centre had been lit, creating a stunning orange glow in Hanta's eyes as he held you close to his chest.

You noticed he was quite fidgety in his seat, wondering what was wrong with your lover as he gripped his knee tight. Like he was uncomfortable or nervous. Like he needed to get something off of his chest. It was only when you pointed out your concern and his odd behaviour that Hanta managed to shift his stance. Moving from his stiff position to wobbling on one knee, then came the heartfelt speech that gave you a sense of where he was going. A subtle reach into his pocket and before you knew it, you were shouting yes into the night sky and your eyes foggy with tears of complete and utter joy.

Hanta placed the ring on your finger, the realisation hitting him at that moment that you and he were engaged. His excitement got the better of him, the male sweeping you in his arms and swinging you around as he babbled sweet nothings into your ear. The speed wavered his balance, his leg knocking into the table holding a bottle of wine he had ordered specifically for the occasion. Much to both of your bad luck, it all collapsed against the firepit and tipped it over - and one can only imagine what happened next. A rather chaotic ruckus erupted between you as Hanta grabbed you by the waist and flung you both out of the building via the balcony to ensure your safety. Then he 'thwipped' straight back up to the fire and frantically searched for the fire extinguisher to put it out, all whilst you sat on the sandy ground outside, frozen to how drastically the mood had changed.

Luckily the fire didn't spread too far. If not for Hanta's efficiency in dealing with it upfront, it could have spread to the bedroom and the rest of the house. It did not, however, the most damage being the balcony sofas that were scorched no thanks to their wooden frame and white cushioning.

Despite having just been engaged, there wasn't much you and Hanta could do to celebrate. So the night ended with you and he falling to slumber in the early hours of the morning, too exhausted after dealing with the owners' wrath after the slight mishap of nearly setting their building ablaze.

"At least you didn't burn the entire house down," You tried after a few seconds of quiet, earning a scoff on Hanta's part as he ran a hand through his hair.

"It felt like it when I called the owner's to tell them what happened," Hanta answered, softly frowning at the shrieking yells he heard during that call ringing their way through his mind again. Long after he'd shut them out based on the humiliation of being on the receiving end. You giggled, recalling how you were able to hear them despite the phone not being on speaker.

"I'm surprised they let us stay for the rest of the week,"

"That's because I paid the money for the damage caused within six hours of them demanding it," Hanta reminded you, dragging his hands down his face as he groaned out. Probably expelling his inner cringe at his foolishness that night. "Times like that make me relieved I'm a top ten pro, helps out with emergencies a great fucking deal,"

"Are you sure that didn't play any part in their generosity? That you're a top ten pro?"

"No way," He said and sat up to meet your height, hands looping to cradle the small of your back. He held back continuing to briefly peck you on the lips. "The bill they gave me was the complete opposite of generous,"

"How much was it again?" You asked, memory not serving you the answer. The ebony-haired male leaned forwards to kiss you again before he moved his lips up to your ear. His voice became a whisper, telling the sum in Yen which made your eyes widen in astonishment.

"Wow," Was your instinctive reply, Hanta scoffing a laugh in agreement based on your tone of surprise. It was there he nuzzled into your neck, inhaling through his nose to catch a whiff of your scent. The aroma acting as a sedative to wipe the memory from his mind permanently. All he wished to remember of that night was the way your face lit up as he asked you to take his hand in marriage. How your tears formed and how your lips uttered the words he had oh, so desperately wanted to hear after months and months of worry of being rejected.

And look at you both now; husband and wife and on your honeymoon. Holding each other as close as close can be with no doubt or hesitancy in your minds at all. Why he had worried so much was something he would never be able to figure out. As looking back, all of it felt like the easiest thing he had ever had to do.

Due to that, Hanta smiled into your neck. The change could have been missed, but you were far too attentive to not notice. The feeling of his cheeks shaping his smile made you smile as well, your arms wrapping around Hanta's neck in a desperate need to pull him closer. Your fingers ghosted the back of his neck, tickling the hairs that attached with care like no other. You rested your chin on his head, eyes closed gently in comfort. In response, Hanta hummed lowly, hands starting to rub up and down your back like he was giving you a massage.

Silence passed, the two of you simply enjoying the other's company and the intimate moment you had welded together. The proximity created a warmth that could fight any cold, the fireplace behind you both unneeded to fight the swirling snow outside. Your eyes peaked open as the faint crackle of the fire nearby caught your attention. You watched the flames dance for a second or so before you plucked up the confidence to speak.

"Just... let's not set fire to this place. Alright?" You mused, holding your breath as you waited for Hanta's response. Luckily he didn't dismiss it, actually finding the comment quite funny. He voiced a blurt of a laugh, head shaking as much as he could make it whilst it buried into the depths of your neck. Hanta's mouth opened to make his reply, quickly hushing up again to return to the peaceful silence of before, not at all ready to let it go just yet.

"Agreed,"

#bnha x reader #x reader #fluff #mha x reader #anime x reader #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia x reader #hanta sero x you #hanta sero x y/n #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero #sero x reader #bnha sero hanta #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #sero fluff #hanta sero fluff

91 notes · View notes

joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

Red Gardenia

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader (non-idol!au, ballet!au)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 7k (she the biggest one yet)

rating: pg

Summary: As a minor ballet dancer in the corps du ballet, suddenly thrown into the limelight you are struggling to cope with the pressure, but when a secret admirer with a love for gardenias comes forth you realise that you may actually be able to do it

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

I want to throw the massivest thank you to my beta the amazing and talented @rosietae she's been the rock that supported this foundation and prevented it from crumbling. I had 2 breakdowns and a couple of identity crises when I wrote this one and her help has been a major pick me up. She made this from a withering bud into a fully bloomed flower and I can't express my thanks to her enough!

This is part 2 of my Love Blossom series and the 3/25 square for the @bangtanwritingbingo event (square: Park Jimin)

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Entrée

A grand pas de deux usually begins with an entrée (literally "entrance"), which serves as a short prelude to and also unequivocally denotes the beginning of the dance suite.

You could do this, you could do this. You could definitely do this. The mantra had been in your head for the past few days. You’d hoped that the psychology articles about daily affirmations you read would work, but it proved to be more difficult than you thought.

Instead you felt like you wasted 10 minutes of your practice time, to stupidly look at yourself in the mirror. For those 10 minutes you kept telling yourself that you were able to dance as the main act in the show your ballet school had signed you up for. Maybe you were not doing it right; probably because you disconnected from those positive affirmations very often. So indeed, those 10 minutes were a waste of time.

Your mouth would say ‘you can do it’ but your brain would instantly doubt you, doubt your skills. You were always a dancer in the background and no one ever complimented your dancing more than necessary. How could you believe in yourself when, for years that’s all that it had been? Was all that doubt supposed to disappear just because all of a sudden you were called by your ballet master informing you of the big role change? You had been specifically picked to dance with one of the most prominent ballet dancers that your school had produced: none other than Park Jimin himself.

Everyone knew of him. He travelled abroad multiple times to be the star of a lot of performances. From New York, to Moscow, to Hong Kong, everyone had seen him in at least one performance. This, as well as the fact that you were a couple of years his junior, and in the corps du ballet instead of a soloist, had made it impossible for you to catch more than a glimpse of him around the school. But of course you had heard of him and his stellar performance. Everyone in your school had, but very few actually had the chance to interact with him. He seemed to have a small group of friends that he mostly spent his time with, but no one else seemed to have gotten the chance to get close to him, which instantly made him a snob in your eyes. He probably had the personality of Narcissus himself. Always so high up his own, it made it difficult for him to get the reality check from the people down below. No matter how much your friends berated you for thinking this way, you were certain you were right.

So imagine your surprise when you were told you had been picked for a pas de deux and he was to be your partner. Surprised was a very mild word for how you really felt. Astonished, perplexed? Those two seemed more appropriate. Not only had you been picked to perform on the stage outside of your usual group but you had the famous wonder boy Jimin as your partner.

For the first few days your friends would only see and hear your excited smile and squeals. You had been waiting so long for this opportunity to come by and now you finally had the chance to prove yourself. No one even threw a second glance at the dancers in the corps du ballet. As a group, you were all there to tie in the loose ends that the soloists and main dancers could not. You were the background of a painting. Without it, the painting was incomplete, but no one observed it in detail. It was not as if you were thinking ill of your fellow dancers, but you had promised yourself and your parents when you chose ballet as your profession that you would make it big. You would stand on that stage and perform as a soloist, in the light, the piece de resistance. And so you worked hard to be noticed. Asking extra questions during lessons, making sure you did the movements perfectly. Staying after hours in the abandoned studio to practice until your feet hurt and bled,having to ice your muscles every night, going home late and heading back out early, the tears, the criticism. It didn’t matter to you. You had a dream. And now, all that hard work seemed to pay off. You would be there on that stage in the limelight.

Soon enough though, reality set in after the second meeting you had with the ballet master. You realised the pressure of not only having to be a main performer, but also standing on the stage with the pride of your school. Your demeanor instantly changed. Instead of exaltation, you were filled with dread and anxiety.

Heading to your locker,you grabbed your gym bag, ready for another hour of basic ballet techniques before you met up with your friends.

“Hey, Y/N, the artistic director is looking for you” they motioned to the general direction of where the offices were.

“After class?” you inquired and they nodded at you.

You gulp, what if they are going to pull you away from the show? You don’t let that thought fester in your head for too long because a red flower taped to your locker caught your attention.

“Oooooh, I see they’re at it again” your friend teased, lightly nudging you with their elbow. You smiled softly to yourself and gently peeled off the tape.

A red gardenia, secret love. Whoever had been harbouring these feelings for you, had been doing it for almost 3 months. They had yet to confess their feelings to you. At the beginning you thought it was a scam and scoffed at the flower, throwing it away whilst telling your friends your opinion of ‘poor jokes like these’. A few weeks after that the flowers kept coming in. You finally accepted that it was not a prank, and someone was expressing their genuine admiration and love for you, when one day along with the gardenia a note waited for your attention.

‘Please accept my feelings’ that was it, no name and no indication of who it may be. But it did make you realise that this person was real, and you instantly felt ashamed of the flowers that you had thrown away until then. Had they noticed you doing that? You hoped not. If they had come out and admitted who they were, you would’ve apologised to their face about your insensitivity.

Without responding to your friend’s playful teasing, you gently put the flower behind your ear and turned around. “Let’s get going, or we’ll be late.”

Unbeknownst to you, a couple of lockers down, a boy with hair the colour of sand smiled fondly to himself, watching your form retreat.

Adagio 1

The adagio or adage (meaning "slowly") part of a grand pas de deux features graceful and elaborate partnering by the dancing pair. In the adagio, the ballerina performs elegant, often slow and sustained movements while the danseur supports her.

“Y/N, thank you for coming to see me before class” your ballet master said, motioning for you to take a seat. “Now, I have told you about the performance, but seeing as things are settling and the performance schedule of Swan Lake will be ending soon, I need to update you on yours.” All you could do was sit in silence and nod once in a while, trying to not look like an excited mess and potentially ruin your chances. After all, a ballerina had to have poise and grace, and if you ruined that image, the role could have been handed over to someone else easily.

Shuffling some papers on her desk, she fished a thick folder out of them and stuck it out for you to take.

“Is this the full schedule for the performance?” your voice wavered, seeing the enormity of the folder reminded you of the enormity of the situation. You were about to perform as a main dancer. No more the quiet mouse dancing in the back or the even worse placement of being a backup for a performance.

“Ah, no dear, this is just the contract. As you know, you will be working with our school’s pride, Park Jimin.” You tried your hardest to keep a neutral face and not scoff at that. Of course the teacher would be shoving Park Jimin’s greatness into your face. “And because he is an international dancer, we cannot afford to have him exposed to any potential issues that may arise if anything were to happen.” Her tight lipped smile stopped you from inquiring what she thought may go wrong, so instead you resigned with a nod of your head. Your friends would listen to your rant later, there was no need to explode in your teacher’s office.

After that encounter, which ended up with you not only being insulted as a ‘minor’ figure in the school as opposed to the illustrious Jimin, but also having to lug a contract as big as a dictionary.

“Who needs a contract as big as this? Who does he think he is? International star my foot” you huffed as you struggled to carry the said atrocity and your gym bag down the hall. “I mean, international dancer but also how much trouble does he get into to need so much coverage for his ass? I get it, his ass is big enough to need a hefty contract….!”

Your friends, who’d tried to warn you beforehand of the situation you ended up up stumbling in, gasped. You were not paying attention to where you were headed and oh so ungracefully smacked your head into someone’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry” not looking up, you bent down to pick the gym bag that fell off your shoulder on impact.

“It’s ok” a soft voice responded and you swear you can hear angels sing in your ear. You quickly glanced up, the gym bag long forgotten by now. You wanted to put a face to the melodious voice. And so the dream ended and the angel choir broke up. No longer apologetic, your face instantly dropped. It did not matter you have never interacted with him before and that for a first time meeting you were being incredibly rude. Not when the voice belonged to the one and only aforementioned Park Jimin.

“Oh, it’s you”

Smiling brightly at you he nodded, “it is me”.

His soft and plush features were enough to intimidate you. Not that he looked fierce, not by a long shot. It was the opposite, he looked so innocent it almost made you regret ever thinking he was a stuck up brat. Round cheeks, plump lips and eyes that reflected his bright smile, he looked handsome. His sand coloured hair and the blue contacts made him look princely handsome. And you hated it. “Are you Y/N by any chance?” you pondered whether or not you should have responded to him, but your friends made that decision for you before you could utter a word.

“Yes she is” they nudged you to say something. You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

“Yes, hi….” you trailed off. You were not close enough for you to be calling him by his name before he even got the chance to introduce himself properly to you. “Jimin” he filled you in, offering you his hand to shake. Having little faith in you and your ability to be polite, your friends nudged you again in a silent warning to not push his hand away. You had to admit the thought had crossed your mind for a couple of seconds, but your parents had not raised you that way. Glaring at the offered hand, you grabbed it in a firm shake.

Jimin faltered a bit, your intense grimace making him think he was an inconvenience. “Well, uh, nice to meet you” you glanced at him, catching the shy look he was giving you before letting go of your hand and stepping aside. “I will not keep you any longer, I will see you later” He hurriedly retreated to his friends, who were on the side waiting for him. You observed the scene silently for a few seconds whilst chewing on your bottom lip. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you made him out to be. But when two of his friends laughed and patted his back in a congratulatory way, you instantly changed your mind.

Variation-Him

Upon completion of the adagio, the dancers separate and each dancer, in turn, takes center stage and performs a variation (1)

To say you had stopped thinking about the pretentious Park Jimin and the encounter you had would be a total lie. How could you, when you were meant to start practicing for your duet in a few days?

Not only that, but from someone who you’d barely see around the school, he turned into someone who would not leave your eyesight. Not by choice, though you would admit sometimes you would seek his form after hearing his laughter nearby. In your defence, he had a very light and airy voice, one that was instantly recognisable and so your traitorous eyes would be drawn to the sound.

Moreover, the way you treated him at the time, as well as the knowledge that you would be performing a pas de deux together, made it impossible for your peers not to gossip. And so, your name and his were strung together and uttered by everyone that would pass by you.

“It is becoming kind of annoying now,” you muttered angrily to your friends. They had tried their best to keep you level headed during the period but they were finding it more and more difficult to try to reason with you.

“Look Y/N, you are getting to perform on stage, with a great dancer” your friend raised their hand up and covered your mouth with it when you instantly tried to protest. “Nuh-uh, as much as you have a personal vendetta against him, you have to admit he is a great performer. This school does not pick talentless people'' you sighed, they were right. He was a good performer, but you were not ready to admit that yet. Not when that would have given him more rights to be prideful about it. Pushing your friends’ hand away, you whined, “He may be a great dancer, but that puts even more pressure on me to be good, otherwise any chance I may have had at a career as a main performer is gone!”

“Hey, you will be just fine! You got picked for a reason!” your friend tried to encourage you but you could only smile sadly at them, finding it hard to believe it. “Plus, your admirer seems to think so too” your friend smiled smugly at you.

Rolling your eyes at them you scoffed, “what, am I supposed to believe the words of someone who can’t even come out clean with who they are? All I know is that they could be someone who has no clue what they are talking about. I mean, they are confessing their love for me. I wouldn’t call that good taste.”

“Maybe you should,” the voice you had come to know very well over the past few weeks spoke from behind you. Confusedly, you turn around “huh?” did he happen to know something about it? Could it be him? Giving you a once over, Jimin cleared his throat. “Maybe you should, you know, hurry up. Our first practice starts in less than 10 minutes. Don’t know about you, but I would like to warm up before anything” his soft smile faltered when you glared at him. You couldn’t help it, spending so much time hating a made up version of him in your head made it impossible for you to warm up to the real version. And his last comment did grate your nerves, was he implying that you weren’t able to manage your time effectively?

You didn’t miss the slight hurt in his eyes as he passed by you, and against your better judgement your heart twinged. Saying a quick goodbye to your friends, you rushed down the corridor to catch up to him.

“Hey, Jimin” he didn’t stop. Not because he couldn’t hear you, but because the slightly panicked look on his face was not something he wanted you to witness. He had almost given himself away, but he couldn’t stand hearing you talk about his admiration and yourself in that way anymore. He tried to play it off as reminding you of the time, but then you gave him that look, a look that told him you really did not want anything to do with him. At that thought, he felt his heart drop to his stomach faster than he could say pas de chat.

“Jimin wait” he did not want to wait, but he listened to you. Why? Because even if you seemed to hate him with a passion, he would do anything for you.

You thought you had not met before, and in a way Jimin supposed you hadn’t. Not in person at least. But he was there when you had your performance for the entrance exam. To say he was entranced from the very beginning was an understatement. His eyes didn’t leave your form. Every pirouette, every arabesque, glissade, plie... you moved like silk in the wind: smooth, seamless, weightless. When your performance was finished, his heart felt weightless and completely enamoured.

He tried to talk to you after, but you disappeared as quickly as you had done your jete. All he was left with was your name from the application form and the hope that you would succeed in entering so he could see you again.

Bringing himself back to the present, he didn’t turn to face you, and you could not bring yourself to apologise, as the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you walked a few steps ahead of him and stopped. Doing a silly turn on pointe you gave him an unsure smile, “you coming?”

Variation-Her

In general, the variations are intended to showcase spectacular, acrobatic leaps and turns, as well as the skills and athleticism of the individual dancers.

“Now, Y/N, what did I tell you? This has to be all allegro! Quick, quick, quick!” Your director clapped his hands as if to make a point of what quick meant. You nodded, your breath coming out in heavy pants. Having been practicing all the brisees and pas de chat for a good four hours, you were already tired. Your limbs felt like they were made of lead and your breath came out in shallow rasps.

“Once more” You bit your lip as you tried not to glare at them. You barely got a break and it was just the first week. You had a lot more weeks to perfect it. Indeed, it was not perfect and your insistence on not being closer to Jimin during the partnered moves made it even more awkward. The dance was just not flowing as it should have. Flower Festival in Genzano was a classical pas de deux performance, with rapt moves expressing the happiness and flirtation between two young lovers.

Yours portrayed more of a tragedy between two lovers than the blossoming of love between them. Your movements were adagio instead of alegro, and the swiftness of the intended movements were rough and unsure. Frustrated couldn’t even begin to explain how you were feeling.

Jimin, had yet to utter a word during this time , and in a way you were grateful. You didn’t think you could stand it if he’d opened his mouth to boast about his skills. His moves were graceful, quick, resembling a lark hopping through the grass. He had a lightness of movement that made you realise why he was called the wonder boy of the school. Looking as if he was as light as a feather, he breezed through his variation with ease.

“Y/N, come on, up up up!” the director clapped their hands impatiently. “Your variation from the beginning” gesturing you to get off the floor they restarted the musical accompaniment. Huffing in distress you quickly got on your feet, a sharp pain shooting up your calf. Grimacing you tried to get into position, but with the music being way ahead of your start you fumbled around to get into the right position. It only took a wrong turn of your ankle during a quicker brise for your whole leg to cramp causing you to fall into a heap on the floor.

“What are you doing? Up! From the beginning, you can’t be lazing around. Look at Jimin, he’s done his perfectly. You can’t be sullying his name like this.” Trying your hardest to hide the tears of pain and humiliation out of your eyes, you slowly got on your knees in an attempt to get off the floor.

“Uhm, maybe it would be better if we took a small break?” for the first time since you’ve started Jimin spoke up. Shooting him a stubborn scowl you pushed yourself up with great effort. Stumbling a bit from the pain in your leg you refused to give up. “No, I can do this”

“Y/N, look at you” he slowly approached you as if you were going to strike like an injured animal. And maybe that is how he viewed you. Weak and easily hurt by your lack of talent and professionalism. Before you could retort, the artistic director abruptly stopped the music.

“Yes, Y/N, look at you. You’re stiff and uncoordinated. You’re making the proverbial bull in a chinashop look like a ballerina. How can I let you perform next to Jimin? He’s an international star and he has a reputation to maintain. You’re doing your best to sully that” hurtful tears started pooling in your eyes. Maybe you should just withdraw now. Clearly, no one thought you were good enough. As if to confirm your unspoken thoughts, they carried on, “you were not my first choice by any chance. But you were asked for, specifically, so I had to comply. Please don’t treat this like you do with the corps du ballet.”

You tried your best to reign in your tears, you could not expose your feelings like that. One wrong move and they could’ve removed you from the performance.

“Sir, I think it is best we stop here for the day” Jimin suggested. Who was he to ask for such a thing? How dare he ask the artistic director to stop for the day, as if they would listen to him. “I, uh, forgot i have another meeting in half an hour and it’s best if I don’t miss it” you glanced at the two, a heavy feeling settling into your stomach when you observed the change in the director’s demeanour. Grovelling, he assured Jimin that you’d stop there for the day, flourishing his respect and admiration for how hardworking he was. With a last disappointed glance at you and a scoff, they exited the studio.

It was just you and Jimin left, the silence deafening. Pretending to be busy with tying your pointe shoes, you refused to glance at him. You felt disgraced and belittled. Even though you were aware that Jimin had said nothing against you or your performance, you couldn’t help but channel all your hurt into your behaviour towards him.

“You ok? You should go get that checked” finally gathering the courage to address you, Jimin crouched down to have a look at your leg. You retracted it instantly before his hand could touch you.

“I’m fine, don’t be late for your meeting” you snapped at him.

He observed you in silence for a few moments, and you didn’t know if it was the look on his face which screamed pity to you, his concern for your wellbeing, or the humiliation that you have faced because of him, but your anger levels increased exponentially.

“Look, you don’t need to pity me, I’m fine, just go and show the world your greatness and stop bothering with the likes of me” you huffed. “I’m clearly not good enough and need to improve” your voice softened. You knew you were angry at yourself and not at him. He’d been nothing but kind to you from the first moment you have spoken. Maybe that was why you were taking it all out on him. He was always close to perfect. And it irked you.

“I’m not pitying you. In fact, I admire you a lot.” His confession made you snap out of your thoughts and look at him in disbelief. His cheeks were tinted red and you couldn’t help but think of how cute he looked when he was bashful like that.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered. “Why would you mean that?”

The silence that ensued, along with the uncertain look on his face, made you think that he would finally admit his joke and tell you that he didn’t mean it. He was him, and you were you. The thought made your heart ache.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he finally asked, and you were once again taken aback, not expecting the change in subject.

“I— don’t. You irritate me, but I don’t hate you,” at your words his expression instantly changed to confusion and a slither of hurt flashed across his face. You hurried to explain yourself, “look you are perfect, everyone clearly loves you, you are nice and everyone flocks around you like bees to honey. And it annoys me. But that is my shortcoming, and not your fault so forget I said that” you sat up quickly, the pain in your leg making it difficult. But a warm hand grabbed your forearm. You wanted to shake it off since you did not want his help, but the heat and support it provided was exactly what you needed. And in that moment you realised that, just like everyone else, you had fallen for him and his charms. He was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was to be able to perform to the best of your abilities, to stand on that stage proudly next to him. But what you actually needed was him, his soft words, and his sweet gestures that somehow managed to lift you up and nurse your pride, if only by a bit.

With that realisation, fear and determination gripped your heart. “You should go to your meeting” you nod towards the door. “I’ll be fine” seeing that he was prepared to protest, you added quietly, “please, I would like to be alone right now.”

With a heavy heart, Jimin let go of your arm and retracted slowly. Your words hurt, but they also gave him hope that he may actually stand a chance at becoming your rock. And for now that was all he wanted from you.

“Please rest and get that checked” He said, before he turned around and looked at you wistfully one last time, “I don’t really have a meeting to go to, but i will leave if you want me to”

His exit was swift and graceful, but his heart was heavy and uncertain. How could he make it better for you? How could he convince you to trust in your skills more? Suddenly, he got an idea and he prayed that it would work. It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only one he had.

Adagio 2

A few days after that, you were by your locker once again, with a red gardenia in your hands. With a letter grasped between your fingers, you decided you would read it later as you saw your partner approaching. You hadn’t practiced together since that day, left on your own with the artistic director to practice your variation. The first time you entered the studio and realised that Jimin would not be joining you had made you nervous.

As much as you’d tried to ignore it, it strengthened the realisation that you did need him. In such a short amount of time, he made it so that you saw him as comfort and protection. His soft demeanour and worried glances melted your resolve to loathe him. You were ready to admit you were wrong about him, but you did not get the chance to until now.

Approaching you, he smiled unsurely. You looked a lot better and a lot more rested. He only hoped that having a separate chat with the artistic director gave you a small break in his absence. Sparing a short glance at the flower and letter in your hand he tried his best to hide his smile. Instead he motioned to it as nonchalantly as he could, “Secret admirer?”

With the flower in your hand, forgotten at the sight of him, you quickly rushed to hide it behind your back. “Uhm, none of your business” your cheeks were dusted in pink, making him smile at you fully, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You ready for today? We’re practicing the duet together”

“Ah, so you will be part of this one then?” You tried to make it seem like you didn’t care as to where he had disappeared in the last few days as you subtly prodded him for more information. Quickly catching onto your scheme, he smirked.

“Did you miss me?”

You scoffed, “Not by a long shot wonder boy. Let's go or we’ll be late, don’t know about you but I would like to warm up first” You turned around and started walking away from him, completely missing the lovestruck Jimin you left in your wake.

“Huh” he whispered to himself. You'd rendered him speechless once again.

Hours of practice later, everything went down better than the first time you’d worked together, as you had all the movements down to a ‘T’. Unfortunately, you were so focused on getting the technicalities right that you forgot about the freedom of the movement that went with the dance. You were stiff once again, and lacked the passion that the female lead should portray.

“No, no, no, Y/N. Once more from the top” the artistic director shooks their head in disapproval. You could feel frustration bubbling up threatening to spill in the form of tears once again. Before that could happen, Jimin instantly called for a small break, under the excuse that he needed to readjust his pointe shoes. He motioned for you to sit down next to him, and you shakily and reluctantly took a seat next to him on the floor. You couldn’t even look at him, let alone address him. Once again doubt started creeping in your thoughts.

“You need to relax more. Feel the steps, don’t think the steps” he whispered to you. Without giving you a chance to respond, he quickly got up and the artistic director immediately rushed to start the music again. You had no choice but to get into position, his words still swimming inside your mind. Feel the steps.

You tried, you swore you did. But somehow, it wasn’t working. By the time it got to the adagio, which was less slow and more of a petite allegro, with smaller and quicker movements, you were ready to give up. You felt as though you were made of wood. When it came to the partnered planche, all you did was stiffly raise your left leg to the back with your arms behind you, waiting for Jimin to grab them.

Improvising, he gripped you from the waist to support your planche, instead of grabbing just your hands from behind your back. He brought himself as close to you as he could, his warmth enveloping all of your senses. Luckily this planche was on flat— your foot planted firmly on the ground, rather than on pointe—otherwise you would’ve lost your footing and toppled over on the floor. He smelled good. Funnily enough, he smelled like gardenias in the warmth of the sun. For a second you couldn’t breathe, forgetting entirely where you were. All you could focus on was his gentle grip on your waist and his breath in your ear as he whispered, “focus on me”

As if he’d muttered a magic word, your guard fell down. All your insecurities melted away at his touch. Your brain was filled with the thought of him and as soon as you came down to pirouette in his arms, he was all you could see. Today he wasn’t wearing contacts, offering you an unobstructed view into his chocolate coloured eyes. His smile was soft and encouraging and his hands around you were strong and supportive. He was silently attempting to tell you that he had you, that you could trust him. There was something else hidden there deep in his eyes, however. As you stared at him for a second longer, trying to decipher what it was, something in you shifted. But the next move didn’t wait for either of you, so you quickly moved away from his arms and into the next position.

This time though, things were different. You feltl it in your movements. The uncertainty and stiffness was long gone. You both moved as one, even with your individual variations, you both came back together as if an unknown string was connecting the two of you.

As the end of the last note on the track rang out into the studio, so did the dream of two young lovers. Both you and Jimin finished returning to the first position in tandem, as if you were one. The two of you panted for different reasons. You, from the effort and the thrill of the closeness that you’ve both experienced. Him from performing without breathing, as his heart threatened to burst at having you so close to him. The performance gave him a snippet of what it would be like for him to be your real lover. And it was intoxicating.

The satisfied smile that the director gave you told you that you’d done it. You finally let go, and it was all thanks to Jimin. Excitedly, you turned your head to beam at him. The admiration in his eyes caused warmth to pool in your stomach. You finally saw the invisible string that tied you both together during the duet. It was affection.

Coda

A Coda is a classical ballet term that refers to the finale of a group of dancers and more often, the finale of a pas de deux.

No one spoke of what had transpired between you and Jimin that day. Completely ignoring your admittance, as well as his confession, you tried your best to act professionally. Practicing both together and apart made the days blend together. In that time you attempted to ignore the feelings that were threatening your performance (and your sanity). There was no time for any of that. You had a dream and this was your only chance to grasp it.

For weeks on end, all you did was practice, completely missing out on sleep and any social activities that your friends partook in. You avoided any social interaction that stepped over the small ‘Talk’ line. And you most definitely avoided your partner outside of your practice sessions. Whenever you would see him come from the opposite end of the corridor, you would quickly turn around and pretend you were looking for something in your gym bag. Sometimes, if you were lucky enough, you’d quickly veer to go towards the toilets. You made sure that there was no chance for the two of you to speak outside of the performance, afraid that you would blurt something out that you’d have rather kept to yourself.

The only interaction you had, if you could call it that, was with your secret admirer. And by interaction, you meant smiling at the flower he’d tape to your locker. Oddly though, for the past few weeks they would leave little notes taped next to the flower. From encouraging messages such as ‘You can do it’ to longer ones that spoke highly of your performances and your capability as a dancer. They were never consistent in length or content, but were always signed off the same way: ‘Forever yours, your secret admirer’

Weeks had passed, and with each day your confidence grew alongside your feelings for your partner. Even with little verbal interaction between the two of you, you were dancers. You did not need words to convey messages, and you certainly didn’t need words to convey feelings. Each time you would reach the finale of the dance you were breathless and dazed, craving for more.

More had to wait though. This was it, the first day of the show. You were nervous to say the least, but having worked so hard, day and night, and with the knowledge that no matter what Jimin was there to support you, you were as ready as you’d ever be.

Thinking about it, from someone you thought was a narcissist to someone you’d viewed as a rock, Jimin had managed to ground you and lift you up at the same time. You’d fallen so hard and fast for him, that you didn't even know what hit you. However, at the thought that there was still a secret admirer that had silently cheered you on, and the fact that Jimin was still a more professional dancer than you were, he probably made each one of his partners fall for him quickly. That was enough to dampen the fire in your heart. You would carry on with this performance and prove yourself to everyone. Prove that you deserved a spot on that stage as a main dancer. Show everyone that you deserved the spot standing next to Jimin, even if it was only as his dance partner.

“Hey, Y/N” your friends greeted as you were putting on the make up for the performance. “Are you nervous?” One of them asked as they all crowded around you.

Laughing, another one of your friends responded, “why would she? I bet she’s smug, now that she’s been favoured by the top star of our school. She clearly caught his eye from the beginning if she’s been personally requested by him” your friends' words left you confused, so you turned around to face them.

“What do you mean?”

They looked at each other warily. “You mean you haven’t heard?” They asked you and you shook your head, left even more confused. “The other day someone heard the artistic director discussing how they didn’t think that you’d pull through, but you did and that Jimin was correct in requesting you as his partner for the performance. Apparently…” they would have said more if not for the appearance of said man at your door. Quickly they wished you good luck and exited the room leaving the two of you alone. He looked dashing in his white shirt and tights. The shirt was made of a silky material to allow freedom of movement and the top buttons were undone, exposing his defined collarbones and the white of his skin. It was tantalizing enough to make you swallow thickly.

However, the words of your friends still buzzed in your head, and you didn’t have the time to ask him if it was true. You were both hurried by your ballet master towards the entrance to the stage. It was time.

In the last few minutes before you were supposed to exit and show the world what both of you had worked for, you expected to be nervous, yet you felt strangely calm. Taking advantage of the stillness around you, you stole a glance to your right. Jimin looked tense, more tense than you had seen him before, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of the performance or because he suspected what you were about to ask him.

“Is it true?” You whispered, not holding back. You needed one last piece of information before the puzzle was complete. And you wanted him to freely offer you that piece.

His jaw muscles twitched, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. The silence between you two was even more deafening. It was as if the dancers that pitter-pattered around you, or the people chatting in the audience, did not reach the bubble around the two of you. The string that connected the two of you before, was shortening in length until there were mere inches between you two.

“You made it up to this stage on your own” He whispered, “There is nothing else bringing you up here but yourself. You may think I’m irritating, but in reality, you hate me.” He prevented you from responding by grabbing your hand. His hands were warm, while yours were clammy. “You can’t say hateful things about yourself and claim that you don’t hate me. If you hate yourself, you hate me. If you belittle yourself, you belittle me. So please don’t do that anymore. If you care even a little…” He didn’t continue, he couldn’t. He was on the verge of tears. You could hear it in his voice.

What he implied didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you were more than ready to surrender. But you needed one more thing. “And the flowers?”

Instead of offering you a straight up response he raises his right hand, the one that was hidden from you until now.

You let out a short breath. The puzzle was complete. In his hand stood a lone red gardenia. His secret love.

Well, not so secret anymore.

“Do you trust me?” He asked with a smile.

Smiling back at him with all the love you could muster, you intertwined your fingers together.

“Yes, yes I do.”

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spider6oy · 3 years

Text

Just One Look | JJ Maybank

summary: jj has a serious problem; he can’t seem to stop staring at you. everyone notices, even you, but he doesn’t seem to want to do anything about it - or maybe he just can’t. but at a kegger on the beach, maybe this time his staring won’t go to waste?

warnings: self-loathing, self-depreciation, sickly sweet loved up teens

word count: 2030-ish

masterlist

JJ couldn't help but stare.

He really couldn't - no, like, seriously he couldn't. He had tried everything to practically stop gawking at you like some sort of fish out of water; with his eyes wide and lips parted ever so slightly. He had tried using a rubber band on his wrist, snapping it every time he would catch himself staring. He had tried pinching his arm, squeezing his skin every time he would so much as glance your way. He had even tried slapping himself across the face one time - although it did raise a few eyebrows and brought more questions than JJ cared to answer.

But none of those techniques had worked.

JJ had remembered hearing from someone before, that if you punish yourself enough times whilst doing something you didn't want to do (in this case it was staring at you like you were a pot of gold at the end of a goddamn rainbow), then your mind would soon learn to see that action as undesirable and bad, and eventually you would stop.

Well, JJ thought whoever had said that was definitely talking out of their ass - his money was on Pope.

But in the end it didn't matter what JJ tried to do to stop himself from staring at you, nothing would ever seem to work, and he was completely done with it.

"Dude, you're doing it again." John B commented as he took a swig from the red solo cup in his hand; smirking slightly as he noticed his blonde friend gawping at you from across the beach.

"Doing what?" JJ asked innocently, bringing his own red cup up to his lips and taking a long sip. He continued to watch you dance amongst your friends and the other people who had turned up to the kegger. His eyes traced over your body slowly; completely entranced by the way you moved your hips and swayed your body to the beat of the music.

"Making yourself look like a creep, as per usual JJ." Kiara stated, pulling the colourful sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and staring over the brim of them at the not-so-subtle teen. "I mean, is it so hard to actually go over and talk to her?" she questioned, accepting the cup of beer Pope had just brought back from the keg.

"Oh a thousand percent. Listen, in JJ's mind, talking to Y/N is the equivalent to going to The Crain House and getting caught by Mrs Crain herself - he would no doubt shit his pants." Pope joked, quickly dodging JJ's fist as he tried to land a punch to his chest.

JJ shook his head as he gave Pope a weak shove (not actually wanting to hurt his friend), rolling his eyes as his friends continued to joke and laugh about his unfortunate situation. He had become used to the banter and quips that came with his major crush on you, but never letting the jokes get to his head because most of the time they were true - to a certain extent.

JJ would like to think he wouldn't shit his pants if he actually went to talk to you. . . well. . . he could only pray he wouldn't.

But, his friends were right in saying that he was scared to talk to you. He was absolutely terrified. Even the thought of sending you a simple 'Hello' made his heartbeat quicken and his palms start to clam up.

About two years ago he had tried to talk to you. His friends had challenged him, tired of the way he would trail after you like some love-sick puppy, to go up to you and just start a conversation. JJ thought for a moment as he looked at you, sitting at a table in The Wreck at the opposite side of the room to him and the Pogues. He thought why not? He wasn't going to get to know you if he didn't make the first move - up until this point he was pretty sure you didn't even know he existed. So, he stood up from his seat (much to the surprise of his friends) and walked towards your table. He set his eyes on you; watching as your smile widened and your eyes crinkled as you laughed at something your friend had said to you – not noticing the waiter that was walking towards him on his right-hand side.

All JJ could remember was ending up on the floor; covered from head to toe in fish-stew and attracting the attention of every single customer in the restaurant. After that he swore that he would never try and speak to you again; knowing that if he did, something bad would inevitably end up happening.

Because when did anything ever go right for JJ, huh?

“JJ, I doubt anything bad would actually happen, just go over there and talk to her!” John B said, slightly flailing his arms around as he grew fed up of his friends’ cowardice.

JJ looked at all three of his friends; Kie and Pope nodding their heads in agreement with what John B had just said – but to JJ, that didn’t matter. He just shook his head, swirling the beer in his cup around as he lightly kicked at the sand under his feet.

“JJ, I bet she doesn’t even remember what happened at the restaurant two years ago, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Kiara added, swatting at Pope’s hand as he tried to steal the sunglasses perched on her nose.

“But you remember!” JJ pointed out, looking up from the sand.

“Yes, but that’s only because I know how much you hate that memory, and I enjoy watching you suffer.” Kiara countered, finally taking her sunglasses off and placing them on Pope’s head, receiving a wide grin from the boy.

“Listen JJ, I know you’re scared to go and talk to Y/N, I get it. It didn’t go to plan last time, and I get that it affected you, but that was still only your first time trying! You don’t even know what could’ve happened if you’d tried again, and you won’t know what will happen if you don’t try now!” Kiara laced her hand with Pope’s, mumbling about wanting to go and grab another beer, before turning back towards JJ. “Just. . . don’t waste your time staring at a girl, when you’re not even going to do anything about it, JJ. It’s really not worth it.”

“Your secret admirer is staring at you, again.” Heather commented, her eyes motioning to the blonde boy that was stood across the beach.

You glanced towards your left; smiling lightly as you noticed JJ looking over in your direction, giggling at the sight of him quickly averting his eyes and awkwardly scratching the back of his neck – trying to act as if he hadn’t just been caught.

You had always sort of been aware of the stares and glances from JJ Maybank. At first, when your friends had pointed out that they had seen JJ staring at you, you were quick to play it off. Always saying how he couldn’t have been staring at you; it must have been someone else, or that he was probably just staring at your friends, because there was no way he could have been staring at you.

Right?

But after a few months, you had started to notice yourself that JJ was staring at you (with this look of just complete and utter adoration and warmth that made you feel instantly weak at the knees and want nothing more than to run into his arms and just never let go).

What struck you the most from the action was simply confusion; confusion as to why he would choose to stare at you? Out of everyone in The Outer Banks; out of all the Kook’s, and the Touron’s, and the Pogue’s (especially the Pogues, considering you had always thought that JJ and Kiara had something going on); he chose you.

You.

Plain and simple you.

Nothing special. Nothing exciting. Nothing out-of-this-world amazing.

Just. . . you – Y/F/N Y/L/N.

And somehow that had been one of the hardest things you had ever had to come to terms with; the fact that someone liked you, the fact that someone found you attractive, the fact that someone would go out of their way just to look at you, and only you.

You had never been the most confident of people; quite often struggling to find the positives in yourself when all you could see was the flaws. Your friends would tell you countless times that you were stunning and hot and gorgeous; but those comments didn’t even make a scratch on the hatred and disgust that surrounded you like a shield of armour – attacking you instead of protecting you.

But when you caught JJ gazing at you with that look - it felt like something inside of you had finally broken free from your prison of self-deprecation; some sort of self-worth, or self-love, or whatever you wanted to call it. It really didn’t matter. Because for the first time in your life, you could finally look at yourself and see the beauty that everyone else could see.

The beauty that JJ could see.

“Why don’t you go over and talk to him?”

“What?” You questioned, completely caught off guard by Heathers proposal.

Heather rolled her eyes lightly, still swaying to the beat of the music playing from some speaker situated on the beach. “Y/N, that boy has been staring at you for the last. . . I don’t even know how many years – a lot, probably, and during this entire time he has not once come up to speak to you – which is pretty stupid in my opinion, but I’m not gonna get into that,” Heather rambles, making you laugh and shake your head at her words.

“The point is Y/N, is that I can tell JJ is nervous and just doesn’t have the confidence to come up and talk to you himself. . . which is quite surprising because he’s always come off as pretty cocky and confident to me – but anyways, so-“.

“Heather, what’s the point?” You ask; trying to stop Heather from falling down a rabbit hole of her own thoughts.

“I’m getting to that. . . the point is Y/N; is that you have to go up and talk to him. He just. . . can’t come to you.” Heather stated, shrugging her shoulders lightly as she looked over in JJ’s direction. “I don’t know why really. Maybe something happened to him before? Maybe something has just put him off from coming to speak to you?” Heather turned back towards you; grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards JJ, slightly pushing you forward. “But we will never know unless you go and talk to him! So, go!”. Heather gave you one final push; sending you out of the crowd of dancers and towards the drinking bystanders.

You quickly turn back around, hoping to find Heather to try and talk her out of this crazy idea, but she was gone – already swallowed by the large crowd of dancing teenagers. You sigh lightly, feeling your heartbeat start to pick up as you slowly turned back around.

You eyes instantly spot JJ; standing next to his friend (who you think is called John B), drinking from a red solo cup, and talking about god-knows-what.

You take one step across the sand, feeling your hands start to shake as adrenaline seeps into your bloodstream. You take another, feeling your breaths start to quicken as anticipation begins to build in your chest. You take another, feeling a slight sweat begin to settle on your forehead as the anxiety starts to set in.

You take another, and another, and another; until you’re practically almost beside him.

You go to take another, and you suddenly stop.

Your eyes widen slightly. Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart feels as though it’s stopped beating.

Because he’s looking at you and you’re looking at him.

Because he’s caught your eye and you’ve caught his.

Because you’re both looking at each-other now.

This wasn’t some stolen glance, or a sneaky look anymore.

This was a real and true two-way-connection; one that made your heart burst with excitement and your mind spin with wonder – you never wanted that feeling to end.

You took another step forward now, no longer feeling dread and anxiety swell inside of you but instead it was a feeling of anticipation and fascination. The feeling only continued to grow as you neared JJ – nothing could stop you now or slow your pace.

You had to get to JJ.

Out of the corner of your eyes you noticed John B leave JJ’s side, a knowing smirk plastered on his lips as he tried to hide it with a swig of his plastic cup.

You finally do stop, arms-length away from the blonde boy stood in front of you; equally as awestruck and dumbfounded as you currently felt.

You both hold the look.

You both stared at each other.

You both smiled.

“I’m Y/N.” You said, holding out your hand for him to shake.

“I’m JJ.” He retorted, slipping his hand into yours.

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks #outer banks fic #jj x reader

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Note

Please write the second-to-last prompt!

*cough* I’ll put this one under a ‘read more’ because it’s a tad too long. And involves nakedness- and we all know how tumblr feels about that. M rated with no actual naughty business.

“it’s because i’m so attractive isn’t it?” “i say this. and i cannot stress this enough. i find you completely repulsive.”

---

Sesshoumaru arched a brow, torn between amusement, befuddlement, indignation, flattery and satisfaction.

It was a confusing mix.

Kagome stared up at him, cheeks stained crimson and hands planted on her hips. It was not the appropriate expression for one asking another for a favour.

Thin lips parted, before his mouth clicked shut. He blinked once, tipping his head to the side.

“You wish to…”

“Draw you,” she confirmed stiffly.

“Naked.”

“It’s called ‘Life Drawing’ and I need it for my college class. You’d...really be helping me out, okay?”

Sesshoumaru hummed, gaze sweeping over her critically. He’d never seen one of her pictures, and wondered if her skills could do him justice. “And you chose this one to be your subject?” he arched a brow, confidence radiating off him in waves. “It is because I am so attractive, is it not?”

Kagome made a noise, bursting into a laugh and waving this off. “I say this, and I cannot stress this enough; I find you completely repulsive.”

The teasing dance of her eyes told him she was joking. He huffed, finding the mere idea ludicious. None could find him repulsive.

“Look the reason I’m asking you is because it would be awkward with anyone else. I’m not dating anyone- and Inuyasha is out on account of him being my ex. Miroku is married. You’re the only available person who is kinda, sorta my friend. My last resort is asking a random villager if they’ll strip for me,” she sighed. “I’ve sat in on classes, I’ve tried using books for reference poses- but nothing works! My teacher always says they come off as stiff looking and the uh...the…”

Sesshoumaru watched her steadily turn redder, unblinking.

Kagome glanced around the empty hillside with paranoia, whispering the next part; “the penis…” she blushed, seeming to die inside, “always looks...uh...inaccurate, apparently.”

Mirth coloured his blank, guarded expression. He glanced at her waiting bag beside the tree. “Show me.”

“What?! No! No one will ever see those sketches! Ever! I’m gonna burn them!”

The Daiyoukai glanced away, arranging his features into something haughty and disinterested. “Then you will not sketch my body.”

Kagome gaped, groaning and burying her crimson face in her hands. “Urgh!”

To be fair to her skills; the men in her sketches held fairly accurate physiques. Nice bone structure; and a softness about their faces and dark shading that portrayed a moody tone, longing for something he couldn’t name. She’d even captured hands and feet remarkably well, something he knew most artists struggled with.

But then, inevitably, golden eyes strayed downward from their torsos.

“A-are they bad?” Kagome peered over his shoulder as Sesshoumaru sat, perusing her sketchbook.

He closed the book with a sharp noise of finality. “This is grave indeed.”

“I knew it,” she whined, wallowing in sadness.

Sesshoumaru’s nose twitched as he stood, passing the sketchbook back to her. “...You may capture my likeness.”

Her breath hitched, and relief immediately swamped her features. “I- thank you,” Kagome breathed, easing closer to him. “Thank you so much!”

“Hn,” inwardly preening and thinking that all beings should thank him for the generous sight of his naked form, Sesshoumaru set the date for their ‘meeting,’ inviting her to the Western Stronghold in two days' time.

---

They greeted each other easily enough on the actual day, Kagome being let into his private chambers with many a raised brow from his servants.

Sesshoumaru slid the door shut to conceal their ‘activity’ away from prying eyes, though he had no shame in his bare form. Merely, he sensed the miko’s nervousness and did not wish her concentration to be broken.

After stripping easily enough, shedding the finery of his clothes, Sesshoumaru stopped before her seated position at a respectable distance.

“Where do you want me?”

Kagome made a strangled noise, having looked up from her sketchbook. Blue eyes immediately locked onto the area between his thighs.

“Uh-! I um-” she stammered, attention flitting around the room like she were following a game of ping pong. “Standing is fine!” Kagome squeaked, turning scarlet as she motioned with her hand, “m-maybe just b-backup a little.”

Nodding primly, Sesshoumaru concealed his smirk, stepping away and waiting as her embarrassment slowly abated. Her bright gaze running over lithe, pale muscles couldn’t quite hide her curiosity; her hunger. Kagome pursed full lips and sketched a standing pose, before instructing him to instead sit down upon his bed of furs and busy himself with something. Sesshoumaru decided to read.

Keen, pointed ears caught every glide and sharp drag of lead on paper- every indrawn breath and hiss through clenched teeth.

After a little while, she sighed.

“You keep avoiding it,” Sesshoumaru hazarded a guess.

“I totally do,” Kagome groaned, staring miserably at the sketches, “right now you’re sexless. There’s a blank space where genitals are supposed to go.”

Golden eyes flitted up to her. “You are too tense. Come here.”

“W-what?”

“The bed is comfortable,” he clarified, tone becoming flat and business-like as he minded some silver hair back over one broad shoulder. “I refuse to be drawn inaccurately.”

Nodding, she swallowed and gathered her things, awkwardly padding over. A plume of repressed desire followed her like a cloud of smog. Clearly she was trying to remain professional and judging by the guilt mingling with it; felt ashamed by any natural reaction to his person.

Naked bodies were not inherently sexual things. They were just...bodies. But he felt no annoyance with Kagome for her attraction. Quite the contrary. She’d been acting like this for months with a cycle of repression. This ‘study’ had been a golden opportunity.

Kagome sat before him and took a long breath, forcing herself to look at his lap.

His cock twitched.

Making a thin noise, she blushed and directed her gaze firmly to the paper, scribbling away furiously.

Sesshoumaru’s fangs caressed his bottom lip in a sensual brush, sighing. A spike of his own arousal had more obvious effects on his person. He couldn’t conceal it like her- and Kagome’s intense attention only had him hardening quicker.

“Ah-” Kagome gaped, losing her voice. She cleared her throat, staring. Unbidden, she wet her lips, blue eyes flitting up to meet dark, golden hues steadily dyeing passionate red. “We- we can stop...until it goes back to normal?” she suggested thinly.

“Did you not require extensive research on this particular part of me, miko?” he purred silkily. “Perhaps sketching it in various states would be to your advantage.”

“I-I guess that’s true,” Kagome swallowed, shyly glancing at it and then meeting his gaze again. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“I could…”

Sesshoumaru leaned closer, the cool air feeling too keen on his heated skin. Her breathy voice made goosebumps rise over pale flesh. “Yes?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Kagome looked at him again, silently seeking consent. Barely imagining it was possible he could reciprocate. But she did not know; had not come to learn the patience that wild, predatory beasts possessed. He’d bided his time so long his waiting looked like indifference on the outside.

Taking a short, quick drawn breath, Kagome bridged the distance between them. She learned the full scope of Sesshoumaru’s anatomy intimately well that night- and continued her studies for many nights after.

---

The feedback Kagome gained back from her life drawing was ‘good use of shading and muscle definition, an impressive level of detail. Improvement on discussed anatomy - but a tad too unrealistic in size.’

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome

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