#art tip: if you don’t know how to colour

[whismann]

I wasn’t joking @jetcat-14

#hilda netflix #hilda the series #johanna hilda #kaisa hilda #kaisa the librarian #sketchbook ship #sketchbook #artwork #digital art #hilda season 3 #art tip: if you don’t know how to colour #don’t #life’s too short for allat #making the source of light themselves is so fun though #jetcat I swear I’m not stalking you #it’s just all I see when I first open tumblr is something you’ve posted/reblogged #blame the system not me💀🙏

[your-averagewriter]

“Hearts for a sweetheart.”

Summary: Bumping into a sweet chocolatier evolves into something even sweeter (Timothée Chalamet!Willy Wonka x fem!reader)

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Kissing, swearing (once I think).

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-

Walking along the street, I’m interrupted by a sea of cheers as a man in an elaborate get-up passes around chocolates and sweets with a strong smile. As he walks through the crowd, people push forward, reaching for the chocolates forcing me forward, almost causing me to fall to the ground.

After nearly tripping over from the force of the crowd, I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to look at the person, steadying myself.

“Are you alright, miss?” The extravagant man asks.

Looking over him I can’t help but smile a little at his top hat and jacket, finding it endearing combined with his gentle nature.

“I’m okay.” I say as he helps me stabilise myself.

“Would you like a chocolate?” He asks with a new kind of smile, a toothy grin as he extends his arm, a tray of chocolates decorating the plate.

“Thank you but I can’t afford your fancy chocolates.” I deny, looking down a little ashamed as the crowds of people still surround us although they’ve quietened down a bit now.

“They’re free. No price for you, or anyone.” He pauses after saying ‘you’, seemingly forgetting the rest of his sentence.

“Really?” He nods and I reach to take one gently. “Thank you, mister…” I pause, not knowing his name.

“Mr Wonka, chocolatier.” He grins as he tips his hat towards me with a smile.

“Thank you Mr Wonka, the chocolatier.” I smile before seeing him disappear back into the crowds.

I only see him a couple more times as he looks back at me with a smile plastered on his face, his top hat sticking out above the crowds making me chuckle before putting the small chocolate into my mouth, resting it delicately on my tongue.

Closing my mouth, I start to chew the chocolate, truly surprised by the delicious treat. It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. I try to savour it but it’s gone too soon, making me wish it would last forever.

Mr Wonka, a name I would not soon forget, in fact I couldn’t stop thinking about the man: his chocolates, his fashion and most of all his endearing, sweet nature. Walking through the streets, making my way home I ponder whether I would see him again or how. He must have a shop or a stall or something similar, maybe with the other chocolate stores? It doesn’t seem like he’d fit in with those pretentious sellers who seem to have no love for the art of food, let alone chocolate.

After a couple of weeks I had saved up some coins, not enough to get me more than one chocolate I doubt, but it'd be worth it both for the delicious chocolate and to see him again. With my coins in my pocket, I wander through the town centre, keeping my eyes out for the chocolatier but I don’t spot him.

Making it to the palace of chocolate stores I begin to feel the cold nipping at my skin, regretting not bringing my jacket. I walk through the doors, feeling very fancy as I do so, looking at the patterned floors and incredible glass dome roof.

Feeling a slight shiver I hurry along, looking to the stores and suddenly seeing a new store: Wonka. Upon seeing the name I make my way towards the store, taking in the beautiful design and calligraphy.

Walking in I’m instantly taken aback by the extraordinary interior, colourful candy delights disguised as nature causing me to gasp. Frozen, I stand in the door probably looking quite shocked as after a few seconds I feel a tap on my shoulder causing me to turn around, eyes going a little wide at the slight shock.

“Hello miss.” I turn around to see Mr Wonka smiling. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again.”

“You remember me?” I ask, tilting my head slightly confused.

“Of course I do, I only regret that I didn’t ask your name last time we met.”

“(y/n), Mr Wonka.”

“Ah, call me Willy, last names are too formal for me.” He chuckles and I nod before looking around.

“Your store is incredible.” I say, looking around awe-struck.

“Why thank you, would you like a tour?” 

“You’ve probably got more important things to do…” I say quietly with a soft smile.

“Nonsense! What could be more important than showing a woman as lovely as yourself around?” He asks with a charming smile. “Now, what kind of chocolate do you like?”

I think about it for a second, realising how long it’s been since I’ve had chocolate, excluding the last time I bumped into Willy. “The normal kind of chocolate?” I say, unsure.

“Normal kind?” He raises an eyebrow playfully. “Milk chocolate?” I nod.

“I think so, the chocolate you gave me last time was delicious, the best I’ve ever tasted.” I smile.

“Thank you, that means more than you realise.” He says softly, a tone of sincerity. “I’ll make you something special.” He grins. “Do you want to look around for a minute? I won’t keep you waiting too long.” He smiles, I nod before he seems to disappear before I even realise.

I walk towards the river watching as the boat goes round and round, the mechanisms seem incredible. Crouching down by the river I reach for a flower, inspecting the treat before taking a tentative bite from the petal. I let out a sigh, the treat tasting even better than I thought it would. Standing back up I take the flower with me, nibbling on the petals as I walk around the store, in awe at all the beautiful decorations.

A few seconds later, Willy pops up from out of nowhere, startling me slightly but with a small box in his hand.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He offers a small smile. He removes the lid from the box revealing a set of three chocolate hearts with delicate piping on top.

“Wow, these are beautiful.” I say, staring at the artwork.

“Hearts for a sweetheart,” He grins, flustering me a little.

“Thank you… How much do these cost?” I ask, trying not to be awkward but failing.

“Nothing, well except that I get to see your reaction, I think you’ll like them. I based them off of the chocolate you had a couple of weeks ago but made them better.”

“Are you sure? I have some coins.” I reach into my pocket, pulling out some coins but fumbling them leading multiple to fall to the ground. “Shit, sorry…” I say quietly before crouching down and reaching for the coins.

Willy does the same helping me pick up the coins as his hand accidentally brushes against mine. We both look up at each other before I look away embarrassed. He holds my hand, turning it over and placing the coins in my hand before folding my hand, covering the coins. He brings my hand up to his face, pressing his lips against my wrist with a small smile.

“Thank you…”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says as we both stand up again, I slide my coins back into my pocket.

He offers me the box and I take one of the three heart chocolates and place it in my mouth. 

“Oh my god, you’re a genius.” I sigh, enjoying the chocolate. “These are incredible.”

“Thank you.” He grins, a proud expression on his face. “Would you like anything else? A buttercup? Cotton candy cloud? Cherries? Gummy bears?” He shoots off options one after the other at a quick speed.

“What would you recommend?” I ask, tentatively.

“Please follow me.” He smiles, leading me around the store to a patch of flowers. Crouching down, he plucks a few flowers, matching them by colour and tying them to make a chocolate bouquet before passing it to me.

“It’s beautiful.” I smile. He pulls out one more flower and tucks it behind my ear.

“Don’t worry, that’s a real flower.” He reassures me with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” I say softly. 

“They’re chocolate, one’s white, dark and the other milk so you can work out what you like.” He says gently arranging the flowers. “Then you can come back and I can make you some more.” He chuckles. “The more information you can give me, the better the chocolate will taste!” 

“Thank you, Willy, but I should get going now, I didn’t realise it had gotten so dark…” I say quietly as I look outside.

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” He shrugs as we walk towards the door and I start to feel the cold breeze against my skin. “Are you cold?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

“A little, I should’ve brought my jacket.” I dismiss with a small smile. “I’ll see you around, Willy.” I say, stepping out of the door and walking away.

About a second later, I hear him speak again. “(y/n) wait!” He says and I turn around as he walks towards me, pulling off his long magenta jacket and sliding over my shoulder.

“Now you’ll get cold.” I chuckle, pulling the coat around me a little tighter.

“I’m okay, I was getting a bit warm anyway.” He smiles before looking behind me into the night. “Can I walk you home?” He asks, sweetly. 

“You want to walk me home? I don’t live very close to your store…”

“Even more reason for me to walk with you.”

“Okay, if you’d like to, I won't stop you.” I smile brightly as he walks next to me.

“You know, you look really beautiful when you smile.” He says which only makes me smile more.

“Stop.” I chuckle. 

“But it’s true.” He smiles. “You’re truly the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” He says in a gentle but more serious tone.

“Thank you.” I whisper looking up to him before resting my head on his shoulder as we walk. “You’re really an incredible guy.”

“Ah, I just make chocolate.” He chuckles.

“Really good chocolate.” I smile. “And you make it look really pretty and your shop is incredible. I’ll have to come by more often.”

“I’d like that.” He pauses “May I hold your hand?” He asks gently after a short pause and I reach my hand out to his

Once we reach my home, I turn around to face him.

“This is me.” I smile. “I’m sorry you had to walk so far.”

“It was worth it.” He brings my hand to his face, pressing his lips against my hand again.

“Here, let me get your coat.” I say, beginning to slide the coat off of my shoulders but he stops me.

“Keep it, it gives you a reason to come back and see me again.” He says with a small smirk.

“Sneaky, very sneaky.” I chuckle, letting the jacket rest on my shoulders. “Get home safe.” I smile, as he begins to walk away. 

It takes me a few seconds to fight my thoughts off before I call for him.

“Willy?” He turns around to face me, standing about eight steps away.

I walk quickly towards him, pressing my lips against his briefly before pulling away. “I’ll see you in a few days.” I whisper with a soft smile.

“You’re not gonna see me for a few days after pulling that stunt?” He asks with a playful expression causing me to chuckle and nod. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again.” He smiles brightly.

“I won’t keep you waiting too long.” I smile before going inside my house, shutting the door after he walks out of sight. I let out a breath as I have to fight a smile, excited to see the chocolatier again.

-

AN: I love this movie with my whole heart!

Hope you enjoyed reading!

#timothée chalamet!willy wonka x reader #wonka 2023 #wonka #wonka movie #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka x y/n #willy wonka x yn #willy wonka x you #wonka x reader #wonka x you #wonka x y/n #wonka x yn #fanfiction #fanfic #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #charlie and the chocolate factory #fluff #timothée chalamet!willy wonka x fem!reader #willy wonka fanfiction #willy wonka fanfic #timothée chalamet

[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

[hansoeii]

Hellooo :D!! I just wanted to ask if you have any tips for coming up with ideas for full pieces. It could totally just be “oh this seems cool/cute” and then just testing compositions/colours/etc on the spot (and I’d be happy with tips about that too), but I was curious if there’s any brainstorming you do when/if ideas don’t just pop up in your head (or you do have a very loose idea, but need a bit more planning before actually starting the piece)

Also I obviously need to mention that I ADORE your art!! Your most recent piece with angel Crowley had me in AWE (I’m pretty sure my jaw actually dropped).

Thank you!!!

It's a mix of both "oh my god I have this great idea I gotta draw it NOW" and "let's scroll through pinterest for 2 hours and hope that something inspires me".

For example this piece under the rain was an idea I had while taking a nap. I didn't have any proper references for it and just put a bunch of puzzle pieces together and hoped for the best, haha.

I usually have this one specific idea that I wanna turn into an illustration and then I spend hours searching for references that make the process a little easier. This was my reference sheet for it:

Most of the time I just go through my Pinterest poses board and see if there's something I'd like to draw, though. I save a lot of poses I like constantly that I can go back to later on. This was the case with the angels illustration I did!

I didn't have anything super specific planned for it when I started working on it. I actually planned for it to just be some small and quick little drawing. It somehow turned into the best thing I've ever made djhdhd

Here's my reference sheet for this one:

With most of my work I don't really do a lot of planning. I do that enough in my school assignment already, so I tend to just draw loosely when it comes to personal work, haha.

So the tip I'd give you is to get as many references as you possibly can! It makes your life so much easier. Also look for color palettes you enjoy, see how other artists use colors! And be willing to just experiment. Most of my art is just one experiment after another in hopes that one day I know what I'm doing.

Hope this helps a little bit! Thank you for supporting me and my work! :D

#Ask #art resources #good omens

[naughtystiel]

It wasn’t raining.

For some reason whenever Dean thought of this day, he imagined the sky to be covered with heavy dark clouds. Clearly this wasn’t the case. Instead, everything seemed so lively. Spring brought chirping birds, vividly coloured flowers began to bloom and the sun shone brightly high in the sky. The few people gathered around wore light jackets so it really had to be a beautiful day. He wished he could feel the warmth on his skin too.

A priest stood on the opposite end of the deep hole and Dean grimaced. He had never been a religious man and he wasn’t going to listen to anything that was coming out of the priest’s mouth now either. Meandering between people, he walked further away. Yeah, Lord have mercy and rest in peace o’wayward son.

So, where did he go from here?

“Hello.” Somebody said next to him, but Dean didn’t even bother to look. They weren’t talking to him anyway. They couldn’t be. With arms loosely crossed over his chest, he looked skywards. It was a beautiful day.

“Dean?”

Dean looked to the side, an eyebrow raised. A man in his thirties observed him, hands tucked in his dress pants. “How do you know my name? Do I know you?”

The man nodded his chin towards the priest, “Heard him mention a Dean, so I’m guessing that must be you. Nice suit.” He smiled and Dean looked down at his outfit. Suits weren’t exactly his thing, but he didn’t really think to make a will and they shoved him in this. Did they even bury people in plaids? Probably.

“That would be me, indeed.” Dean tilted his head to the side and scanned the graveyard. Interesting. “Are you dead too? I guess you gotta be.”

The man hummed, “Mmm, you could say so.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. Was that a yes or a no? “So, is it just you and me or is anybody else here with us?”

“Nah, they moved on.”

“And you?"

“In the process.”

“I see.”

They both stood in silence, watching the ceremony. A few roses got dropped into the hole. A nice gesture, but it was a waste of money. They could at least put it on top once the casket was actually covered with dirt.

Low rumble disrupted the quiet. “How are you feeling?”

Dean splayed his arms and shrugged. “I mean, I’m dead. I don’t really know.”

The man turned his head towards Dean. “Okay, lemme ask you this - what’s on your mind? Anything particular?”

Now that was a good question. Nothing. A lot. First thing that came to mind was that he wouldn’t be able to see that new Indiana Jones movie he was so looking forward to. But that was just stupid, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he be thinking of his regrets? Unfinished business? “I wish I could feel the sun on my cheeks.”

“Ah, that I can agree with. The sunset kind. Not too sharp, soft like a gentle veil that droops over your face.” The man gave him a small smile and Dean nodded.

“You see that tall guy there? The tallest of them all. My brother. Last time I saw him we argued.” Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I guess it kinda bothers me that this is how he’s gonna remember me now.”

“Probably not. Usually when a person dies you remember the good things. Unless of course the bad outweighed the good which I don’t think is the case here.” The man scuffed the tip of his polished shoe in the dirt. “Grieving is complicated, it messes with your head. I bet you heard about how it usually progresses but personally I think it’s more like jumping back and forth between the steps. It does pass though.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?”

The man shrugged, his dark lock tousled by gentle breeze. He kept his gaze down, chewing on his bottom lip. “Only stating the facts. Anything else bothering you?”

just a snippet of "the art of moving on" which i might work on more in the future. and if i do, it wont be very long but i think itd be worth exploring :)

#spn #destiel #drabble.txt #vin.txt

[itgetsdark-x]

If You Want It, You Can Have It

Summary: After a long day of work, your loving boyfriend, Pedro surprises you with baked goods and takeout (and some super intimate, high sex).

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v (established relationship), oral (m & f receiving), marijuana use / being high, just fluffy smut tbh, vaguely mentioned age gap.

Pairing: Pedro x f!reader

Word Count: 4K

A/N: I’ve never written for Pedro himself before and it felt kinda weird ngl buuuut I spoke about this with @jksprincess10 and I couldn’t resist writing it. I just know Pedro would be so clingy and cuddly when high, he would be full of bad jokes and holding you as close as possible (not to mention I just know this man eats pussy like his life depends on it, even more so when he’s high).

You sighed deeply as you entered your home, the one you lived in with your boyfriend, Pedro. It had been a stupidly long day at work, filled with meetings and arguments and setbacks at every corner, it felt like. Pedro had told you a million times that you could quit your job and focus on your art, he would support you through it but you weren’t wired that way, your money barely covered bills in the house but it made you feel like you could at least contribute in your own way. He admired that about you, most people would have quit their job at the first mention of it but not you. 

“Pedro? Honey?” You called out into the hallway of your home, you were sure Pedro had said he didn’t have anything on today and you were half expecting him to be curled up on the sofa asleep.

“In here, hermosa!” Pedro called out from the kitchen and you couldn’t help but smile at the pet name. 

You and Pedro had been together for a year or so now. You had been visiting New York for a work trip, your friends at work convinced you to not just sit in your hotel room all night and managed to drag you out to a couple bars; and my god, were you thankful for that now. It had all happened so quickly; you bumped into Pedro, physically bumped into him and split your drink down his, no doubt, expensive shirt and as they say, the rest was history. You spent the rest of the evening talking in a secluded corner of the bar, of course you knew who he was, you didn’t live under a rock but this man, he was so down to earth and caring from the get-go. You couldn’t quite believe he had shown such an interest in you, someone so normal, so plain, you thought but since that day Pedro had always looked at you as if you were the most exquisite piece of art. 

You wandered into the kitchen and dumped your work bag on the floor and your keys on the counter. Pedro was baking something, it smelled sweet and you couldn’t help but smile at the male. He was wearing baggy shorts, a black t-shirt which had flour stains on the front and as always, he was wearing those striped, coloured socks, the ones that he always wore, even with shorts, no matter how much you protested and told him they didn’t go or look right. 

He turned away from the oven and looked over at you, immediately he rushed to your side and brushed a strand of hair away from your face with a frown. Of course he knew when you had a long or bad day, he knew everything about you and anytime anything was wrong, he was there to fix it for you. He gently held your face with both of his hands and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before his plush lips placed a gentle peck to your own. 

“What’s happened, my love? You look exhausted. Beautiful… but exhausted. Bad day at work?” He asked with a frown, your hand came up to take one of Pedro’s and you gave him a soft smile, you still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him. 

“I am exhausted; yeah, long day at work, let’s just say that. I don’t wanna bore you with all the details.” You sighed, kissing the palm of his hand you were holding. “What are you cooking anyway? Still surprises me to see you in here, especially when everything tends to come out burnt.” You jested, nipping your teeth at the tip of his fingers. 

“You confusing yourself again, mi amor? We both know I’m the one who cooks and you’re the one… well, who burns.” He laughed softly, shaking his head fondly. “Anyway, I’m baking some brownies… you know, the special kind that helps you relax; I just had a feeling your day was going to be long so thought we could order in some takeout and get high together. If that’s something you want to do.”

You grinned at your boyfriend, his puppy brown eyes were soft and filled with such love as you gazed into them. You leant up to capture his lips in a slow, soft kiss and you smiled against him. 

“You, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, are truly perfect. Where would I be without you?”

Pedro laughed, it was a familiar noise that filled your heart with such love. 

“Probably in a dingy apartment, burning your food.” He teased, kissing your cheek before going over to the oven to pull out the hot brownies. 

“I take it back, you’re an ass.” You huffed. 

“You love it, now go upstairs, shower away the bad day, get into your comfy clothes and I’ll order in some Chinese. Happy with that, cariño?” Pedro spoke softly, placing the tray of steaming brownies onto the cooling rack. 

“Yes sir!” You grinned, saluting him before going upstairs to shower. 

—

After your shower you dressed yourself in some comfy pyjama shorts and one of Pedro’s old t-shirts, your hair was thrown up and you were comfy and content. The smell of the freshly baked brownies and Chinese food wafted through the air, inviting you into the living room; Pedro had spread out blankets and cushions on the floor, the curtains were drawn and candles were lit. It was the epitome of relaxation and home for you. 

“Pedro,” you sighed happily and placed yourself next to him on the floor as he handed you your favourite noodle dish. “You’ve done so much for me this evening… what’s going on? Are you about to tell me you’re leaving for six months to film again. I can’t take that news today, baby. Please tell me tomorrow morning.” 

Pedro waved a hand at you in a somewhat dismissive manner and he shook his head. “No, my love, I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working and I wanted to have a relaxing evening. Smoke a bit of weed, or eat those special brownies, relax and listen to some music and hey, I may even get lucky.” He teased, his fingers tickling into your side. 

You batted his hand away and sighed happily as you got stuck into your food, moaning in appreciation as soon as you had your first bite. 

“Still as good as the first time!” You said, a mouthful of noodles. 

Pedro grinned at you, he was just so pleased to see you eating properly again after the stressful past couple of weeks you had barely even eaten a full meal. He brushed some loose hair away from your face and kissed you before he started eating his own food. 

“So beautiful, even with your mouth full, mi amor.”

You rolled your eyes and let your back lean against the plush sofa cushions as you enjoyed your meal. There was one of your Fleetwood Mac records playing quietly in the background, the melodic music filled the empty space and it only relaxed you further, as if with every strum of the guitar strings more of your stress just melted away. 

—

You laid there, lazily as Pedro rolled you both another spliff to share. You had tried his brownies, of course they were amazing and already, you could feel the weed thrumming through your body. Your limbs were heavy and a dopey smile was plastered over your features. Your belly was full, your mind was relaxed and Pedro’s body was tightly pressed to your side. 

Pedro sparked up the spliff, the orange embers glowing in the darkened room and smoke filled the space between you both; he took a sharp inhale and held it for a few seconds before exhaling the herby smoke. You held your hand out slowly and made a grabby hand to take it, he obliged and handed it to you. You repeated the same motion as your partner before tapping the ash into a small ashtray between you both. 

“I fucking love you, have I told you that recently? I love you so much.” You mumbled, the words tumbling from your lips quicker than your brain could comprehend. 

“You tell me plenty, cariño. But I love you too, you keep me sane and I would be lost without you by my side and burning my food.” He grinned, it was boyish and handsome. 

“Oh my god, I get it, I suck at cooking. We can’t all be perfect, can we, Mr. Pascal.” You whined, slapping his arm lazily and passing him the spliff once again. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfect.” He smirked. “C’mhere.” He mumbled, tilting his head to motion you over. 

You happily obliged and quickly climbed into your boyfriend’s lap, your legs straddled his thighs and your arms loosely looped around his neck, your fingers toying with the soft curls at the nape. Pedro brought the spliff up to his plush lips, he sucked in a long inhale and held it for a few seconds before drawing you closer with this empty hand; you got the idea and parted your lips for him, he slowly exhaled into your open mouth and allowed you to inhale the smoke. It reminded you of being a teenager and trying weed for the first time with your ex-boyfriend and friends. Only now, you felt truly safe and you could entirely enjoy the high without panicking. 

Pedro stubbed out the spliff, discarding it into the ashtray and pushed it aside, his fingers held onto your hips and he let them dip under the hem of his shirt on your body. You smiled as his warm fingers danced over your delicate skin under the fabric of his shirt. You slowly dipped your head down to press a soft and sensual kiss to the male’s lips, Pedro sighed happily into the kiss as you shared the taste of the lingering marijuana between you both. Your tongue traced over his bottom lip before entering his mouth to be greeted by his tongue, you explored him eagerly as your body moved slowly. The kiss lasted, for what felt like, an eternity as your heavy limbs clung to Pedro for support. 

You could feel Pedro’s cock growing in his shorts and it made you whine, your mouth salivated with the thought of sucking his dick as his hands travelled further up into your shirt. His soft hands ghosted over your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake and your nipples hardened as you shivered in his lap. 

“I love hearing you.” Pedro whispered, his lips pressing soft kisses to the expanse of your neck. “Make some more pretty noises for me, please.”

Pedro gently grazed his teeth against your neck just as his hands found your breasts once again, his thumbs rubbed over your sensitive nipples and you moaned in wanton. He couldn’t help but smile against your skin as he elicited more moans from your lazy lips. 

“Pedro,” you gasped softly. “Let me show you how thankful I am for this evening.” You purred seductively, smirking as you shimmied away from his grasp and out of his lap. 

You knelt on the floor, grabbed the waistband of his shorts and gently pulled them down until they were discarded to the side of you both. His cock sprung up as soon as the material constricting him was gone, you licked your lips and gently wrapped your fingers around his hard cock. You gave him a few gentle strokes, your thumb swiped over the tip and you grinned when Pedro gasped loudly, his hips bucking up to meet your hand. You pushed his thighs apart until you were knelt between them and you quickly took the tip of his cock into your mouth, immediately your senses were flooded with Pedro, he’s all you could taste and all you could smell. 

Your tongue swirled around his head before you sunk your mouth down, he was big and you always struggled to take him in but it never stopped you from trying. You breathed deeply through your nose until the tip of Pedro’s cock was hitting the back of your throat, you gagged softly around him and Pedro stroked your hair in encouragement. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so good.” He hummed, his head lulling back until it hit the sofa behind him. 

You held back your smile as you heard the older male cursing above you and it only encouraged you to work his dick harder. You wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and stroked him in time with your bobbing head; in a matter of minutes, Pedro was shaking above you, his tender hand held onto your hair for leverage. 

“Baby, stop. Fuck. Gonna cum if you carry on.” He mumbled, his voice shaky. 

You popped your mouth off his cock with a loud pop and looked up at him with a smug grin.

“Maybe I wanna make you cum, right in my mouth so I can taste you.” You whispered, climbing up his body again so you could kiss him. 

Pedro smiled back at you, his hand held your cheek and he kissed you back. 

“Nope, I wanna make you feel good, hermosa. I wanna hear your pretty little mouth as I cum deep in you. Maybe I should fuck a baby into you right here and now.” He said, his words making you shiver. 

“Fuck.” You cursed. 

“Gotcha.” He winked. “Lay down for me, beautiful. Let me make you feel good.”

“Wanna see you first, take off your shirt, please.” You whispered with your hands splayed out onto his broad chest. 

Even though you had seen Pedro numerous times before, there was something within him that was still insecure about his body, he was never forthcoming at removing his shirt. He always felt embarrassed by his slight tummy, you told him you loved it, you loved him. You had told him so many times how attractive you found him, and even if he wasn’t it wouldn’t change your feelings towards him. He always had the counter argument of you being younger and more beautiful, which in your mind, was absolutely ludicrous. 

He nodded slowly, his arms moved even slower to remove his shirt and suddenly you were greeted with the sight of Pedro’s bare chest; his tanned skin peppered with small freckles and hair. Your hands were on his skin immediately, hungrily exploring every perfect inch. Your dizzy mind found heaven within the expanse of his skin and you couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss at his chest. 

“Uh uh, my love. Don’t get distracted.” Pedro warned with a smirk. “Your turn to remove your clothes for me, my pretty girl.”

You nodded and followed suit, stripping yourself of Pedro’s shirt and your pyjama shorts; since you were at home, you weren’t wearing any underwear. Normally, a small part of you would feel vulnerable like this, naked and on display so willingly for your boyfriend but the fact that you were high helped with it. 

Pedro gently pushed your shoulders until you were laid on the cushions on the floor, he protected the back of your head before he could slide a pillow under you. You couldn’t help but smile at the tender motion and your hands softly traced over the vague muscles in his biceps, you couldn’t get enough of him and your fingers wanted to drink in every inch of his body. 

The older male stroked his fingers gently over your face and trailed them down your body, they briefly brushed over your hard nipples until he was at your vagina. He dipped his fingers through your slick folds which caused your back to arch off the ground, Pedro was laid on his side next to you and he gave you a dopey, high smile. His fingers found your clit almost instantly and he rubbed quick circles around your sensitive bud, it had pleasure erupting throughout your whole body. 

“Always so wet for me, mi amor. Drives me mad.” Pedro groaned as his fingers pleasured you quickly. 

“Babe, please. I need you, need to feel you in me. Please.” You whined as your head lazily rolled to the side. 

Pedro would normally argue with you, he would pin you down and pleasure you until you were a wet, squirting mess but not tonight. The marijuana was making him feel more intimate and loving, he wanted to be as close to you as possible, just anything to please you and make you happy. He removed his hand from you and positioned himself between your legs, his gaze locked onto yours with no hint of breaking it. 

He gave in, without a second argument, he pressed himself to your slick hole and pushed in slowly, so tortuously slowly and all you could do was lie there and whine. You let out a small hum of appreciation as Pedro bottomed out in you, the older male groaned lowly and smiled down at your face. You drank in his features, he warm eyes and loving smile, his greying beard and his out-of-control curly locks. You felt so much love for the male, so wrapped up in your adoration for him that for a split second you forgot where you were or what you were doing, that was until Pedro slowly withdrew his hips to pull himself out of you. 

Your head tipped back in pleasure and he gently held one of your hips in his hand whilst his other hand came up to cup your cheek tenderly. He brought your head back down so he could stare into your eyes again, he loved to see your face contort as he pleasured you further. Pedro rolled his hips sensually, with every thrust of his cock he edged you closer to your orgasm and he could tell, he knew every single one of your looks and with the soft gasps and moans falling from your lips, he knew you were already close. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs felt impossibly heavy but you held onto your boyfriend, his hand was still cupping your cheek and his thumb stroked over your flushed skin. 

“Look at me, hermosa. I wanna see you when you cum on my cock, look at me.” Pedro cooed softly, his voice like warm honey. 

You obliged to meet his gaze once again, his pupils were blown; from lust or from getting high, you weren’t sure but you knew yours were most likely the same. 

“Good girl. So beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, as he continued to fuck you closer to your ecstasy. Pedro finally removed his hand from your face to drop two fingers to your clit, as soon as his hand made contact with your clit you wanted to shut your eyes and let pleasure fully take over your body but you didn’t, instead you kept your eyes locked on his. It felt like a matter of mere seconds and there you were, cumming all over his cock; Pedro helped you through it, praising you and slowing his thrusts down further. 

He pulled out of you completely, you could see his hard cock glistening with your juices in the flickering lights of the candles as he knelt back. You didn’t even have time to protest before he was leaning down to lick a stripe through your wet folds; your hands immediately found comfort in his soft curls and you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the silent room. 

“God I love you.” He breathed into your core, his tongue lapping at your juices eagerly. 

You smiled, your body feeling as if it was floating in midair as Pedro pleasured you. Your fingers entangled further into his hair and you ground your hips down softly onto his face. Pedro smiled against you as your hips moved, he loved how eager you got to chase your high. 

“You’re so perfect. Taste perfect too, hermosa.” Pedro groaned, his voice breathy and rugged. 

Pedro wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud, his moustache tickled at you but you were soon pulled from that thought as he suckled at your swollen clit. The tip of his tongue flicked on it as he sucked at you, your head was swimming and your eyes closed shut as your hips bucked up to meet Pedro’s mouth further. 

“Pedro, papi… fuck. Gonna cum.” You whimpered as Pedro brought you closer. 

“Cum for me then, mi amor.” He whispered against you, resuming his previous position of his lips. 

One last final flick of his tongue and you were seeing stars, your fingers gripped at his soft hair weakly, holding his head in place as you found you’re high on his face. Your greedy hole fluttered weakly around air as you craved for Pedro to fill you once again. 

“Fill me up,” you breathed as Pedro lapped at your arousal softly. “Please.”

Pedro peered up at you, his soft brown eyes were blown with lust and his own highness. He repositioned himself and lined himself up with your hole, he bottomed out in you quickly with a deep groan. 

“I’m not going to last long, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. So beautiful, my love, you’re everything.” Pedro mumbled, his face was buried into your neck and he peppered soft kisses to your skin there. 

His hips rolled sensually, everything felt all too good and simultaneously not enough, you needed to feel closer to Pedro. Pedro’s hands You’re wrapped your arms around your lover and held him closer, Pedro hummed in appreciation at your embrace as he drove his cock into you deeply. 

“I love you.” You whimpered. “I love you so much.” 

You were shaking as you held onto Pedro, you could tell he was getting closer by the way his hips faltered and he kept his thrusts short and deep. He made soft noises into the skin of your neck, they were soft whimpers and it only made your heartbeat quicken, a sense of pride flushed over you as you were the one to make him feel this way, you were the one to have him falling apart at the seams in your arms. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum in me, please. Want all of you. Feels so good, I need it. Please.” You cooed. 

Pedro bit softly at the skin on your neck as he came, you felt the first hot spurts of his cum deep inside of you and you moaned at the sensation of finally having his release into you. Your arms held him tighter, his face nuzzled into your neck further and he kissed along your jaw as he worked himself through his orgasm. 

“Cariño,” Pedro sighed as he rolled onto his side with a soft wince. “Thank you. You’re amazing.” He kissed your cheek and held your face in his hand as his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip. 

“You’re amazing.” You corrected him before you leant in to press a soft kiss to his lips with a dazed smile spread over your face. “I need to go shower again, I’m all messy and sweaty. Plus I need to come down from my high a little otherwise I’m gonna be a big mess for work tomorrow.” You laughed softly. 

Pedro continued to stroke your face, smiling at you the entire time. 

“Fine but afterwards we should get into bed and watch a movie or something. Something funny! And I want snacks! I think we have those chips you love from the UK in the pantry or those chocolates we both like. Maybe I have some of those Chilean cookies I love!” Pedro listed, his brain working quicker than his mouth could. 

“You’re such an excitable little puppy sometimes, babe.” You laughed and shook your head fondly at your boyfriend. “I heard The Bubble on Netflix is meant to be pretty good, kinda funny or something. All I know is there’s a super hot guy in it. Pedro something.” You teased, winking at the male as you slowly stood up from the floor. 

“I dunno… I heard that movie sucks.” Pedro grinned up at you and took your hand to follow closely behind you. 

The rest of your night was spent making out lazily in the shower followed by lying in bed together and watching a romantic comedy in bed whilst you continued your high-school make out session. The air was filled with ‘I love you’s’ and sweet nothings before you fell into a deep and peaceful slumber. 

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#pedro x reader #pedro pascal #pedro x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fic

[sosuigeneris]

Socialite series: Manufacturing your Personality

So you want to get into high society. I can give you a guideline as to how you can do that. 

I was born in high society, in India. I know how these systems work. Even across cultures, they’re quite similar. I know some German, Asian, American high society people. Certain things are very similar across continents. 

You can permanently secure your position by two ways: marriage, or by becoming somebody. 

In Indian high society, there’s two kinds of people: those who have lineage, and those who are rich. 

Those who have lineage are those (mostly bankrupt) Maharajas, artists, singers, musicians, poets for generations - it’s an art form or royalty handed down to their children. They have ✨culture, a legacy✨ that can only be obtained by birth. They want to mingle with the business rich so that they get access to the opportunities they need for their livelihoods. 

The business rich can be new or old money. It doesn’t matter. Their businesses are family businesses. They have money, but may lack class. Don’t be mistaken that only new money can be “tacky” - I know plenty of influential, old money families who are equally classless and tacky. 

They want to mingle with the lineage crowd because they need that ✨culture✨ to be seen as someone. They want to be associated with them, to improve their reputations. By connecting to the artistic and musical world, it shows that they have class and persona. 

Both groups, as you see, need each other. You may ask - can’t there be families where there’s both?

Yes there can. But that is not common. 

Let’s say you take the route of dating someone who is of high society, and are hoping to convert that into marriage. I’ll be very honest with you - you have to seriously stand out for Asian and Middle Eastern high society families to accept you if you lack both lineage and money. 

You need to have a strong educational background - you need to go to a great college or masters, or whatever - otherwise this is really not going to happen. This is requirement number 1. If you don’t have this, don’t even bother reading the rest. 

And in Asian and ME families, remember one thing. Marriages are between families, NOT individuals. You have to impress the family, the family’s friends, their maids and barbers and god knows who else. 

And here are Cherry’s insider tips, just for you, to fit right in. If you fit in comfortably, it makes your life and everyone else’s life easier. 

Extrovert tendencies 

don’t be intimidated by people, don’t be shy or awkward 

It’s better to mix in being a combination of “social + slightly bored” like “it’s nice to meet you, but I wouldn’t die to be here.” 

Be open without jumping around like a Disney kid. Being “overexcited” or jumpy, smiling and laughing at just about everything comes across as weird in some cultures, IF that’s not how you genuinely are. That might work in the US, but not everywhere else. 

If I had to very simply define an extrovert - approach new people with ease, learn the art of small talk and be a good listener. 

Confident 

have a sense of self: career, hobbies, likes or dislikes, experiences

Be a multi faceted person. Do things that YOU like. If you like reading Japanese literature and collecting quartz, great! That’s your thing! 

Good communication skills

articulate, small talk abilities, good listener, curious, engaging

be able to tell little stories about yourself without giving everything away 

Well dressed 

do an image consultation for your colours, understand your body shape type and find a style that works for you

Create a capsule wardrobe that is timeless 

Remember - modesty is ALWAYS the best idea for any event. 

Posture - stand up straight, be able to walk in heels, sit without slouching

if you don’t know how to walk in heels, learn to. Practice it. 

Sit up straight, do some yoga or something for good posture 

Maintenance- good skin, hair, fit body, skin, nails, teeth; good hygiene; smell good 

hygiene comes first. Shower regularly, wash your hair as often as needed. 

Put on perfume. 

Find a make up style that works for you. Again, this takes practice. It took me years to figure out what kind of eyeliner works on my eyes and that bronzer doesn’t suit me at all. Crazy make up, unnatural hair colours, visible tattoos or piercings will not sit well in these societies. 

Etiquette 

dining etiquette- learn how to eat properly. This is not just for white culture but for other cultures as well. Understand broadly how popular cultures etiquettes work - Japanese eating etiquettes, European fork and knife etiquette, Korean drinking etiquette, Indian and Middle Eastern etiquette, etc. 

giving appropriate gifts to the host - bottle of wine or flowers 

Learn thank you etiquette- shoot a text message to the host thanking them for the event 

Intelligence

Show that you have some sort of a personality. 

Stay updated with current affairs

know your line of work and the relevant people (top companies, CEOs, etc), trends happening in your industry 

Be open to learning new things  

Put together

have a routine, show some form of discipline. 

This can be done by committing to something long term, such as healthy habits - exercise, reading, waking up early. 

Keep a watch on what you say 

people, especially women, who come across as bratty are seen as a big no no and can come across as exhausting and blood sucking. Zip it. 

Don’t talk about your failures, vulnerabilities, mistakes or mishaps. That’s confidential. 

Don’t complain or be snotty or a potty mouth. 

Do not put other people down in front of people who are not your absolute close friends. 

Poise (this is for your mental health and wellbeing)

Don’t be over eager. Being overly friendly can be seen as submissiveness. 

You’re overly friendly with someone because you want to be accepted by them. Acceptance only happens when you’re familiar with one another. When you become too familiar, it becomes a breeding ground for disrespect. Boundaries get crossed easily. 

Body language

practice practice and practice. 

Video yourself and have a fake conversation with someone. Or maybe FaceTime a friend and record yourself and see how you react to things. 

I used to watch those “try not to laugh/ get angry/ cry” videos to maintain a strong facial expression at all times. Not everyone deserves to see you vulnerable. 

Social media 

Take. Shit. Down. 

Go private if you don’t make money of social media. You’re perceived as more mysterious if you’re a private account. 

Remember, even if you’re private, it doesn’t mean that your pictures aren’t being shared. Someone’s taken a screenshot at some point for SURE or shown your account to someone else. Don’t give anyone anything to talk about. 

Don’t upload every second of every day. 

Don’t upload anything questionable- your break ups, your new boyfriend, girls nights, clubbing, your latest shopping spree etc etc. Keep things halal. Think of it this way - if your boss were to see those photos, how would you feel?

Overexposing yourself on social media comes across as desperate for attention. Limit that.

Cherry 🍒

#girlblogging #i’m just a girl #just girly thoughts #female manipulator #divine feminine #hyper feminine #female hysteria #this is a girlblog #it girl #this is what makes us girls #Hypergamy #leveling up #high value woman #level up journey #that girl #soft life #socialite #How to #Personality

[mykneeshurt]

I love your writings! Can I request the COD boys with a s/o who is covered in tattoos from the top of their neck to their ankles. Preferably where they usually where clothes that cover them fully, then for whatever reason they are wearing something like a tank top and shorts and they see their tattoos for the first time <3 thanks

I don’t see a lot of fics where the person is heavily tattooed, if any tattoos at all

My OC in Don’t fear the Reaper is heavily tattooed 😏 I’m poor so can’t afford any more tattoos at the moment, so im living vicariously through her. If you wanted Rudy and Alejandro let me know and I can add them in! Female reader!

Price

You and Price had been seeing each other secretly for a few months, ever the gentleman he kept the pace slow. Allowing yourselves to get to know each other before any hanky panky.

You usually wore a long sleeved layer with long trousers and your boots around base. Never really showing any skin, which Price didn’t mind, it was essentially a tease. Leaving your body and skin to his imagination.

That was until one night when you were in the gym, you couldn’t sleep so decided to release some endorphins instead. You were on the resistance bike, sweat dripped from your brow onto the floor. Music was blasting from your headphones, you were in your own world.

Price had just finished his paperwork which had kept him up past midnight. As he trudged to his room he walked past the gym and noticed the light on. As he peered around the door he saw you figure on the bike.

He couldn’t quite believe his eyes. There you were, sat in all your sweaty glory. You wore shorts and a sports bra revealing a multitude of tattoos all over your body. From your neck to your ankles. An array of art decorated every part of skin he could see. Black and grey, colour, black out ink, all of it. He wanted to trace his fingers all over your body to feel how the ink felt on your skin, to feel the art beneath his finger tips.

Feeling someone watching you, you spun around to see your Captain staring at you. Your gaze softened and beckoned him to come to you.

Soap 🧼

It was a rare sunny day outside so you decided to swap your usual long sleeved attire to a tank top. The jeeps needed attending to so you decided to take advantage of the hot weather.

You were elbow deep in an engine trying to find out why the engine light kept coming on, when you heard a whistle behind you. Turning round to give one of the troops a piece of your mind your eyes met Johnny stood open mouthed. ‘Yes?’ You asked somewhat confused.

‘Just never seen your tats before, steamin Jesus … they’re incredible.’ He stood and took in your neo traditional tattoos, a mixture of Japanese and Art deco ink littered over your skin. ‘They’re just tattoos Johnny. Christ’ you laughed.

‘Yeah but I ain’t ever seen you this … uncovered. Fuckin incredible.’ You felt a blush creep up on your skin as you rubbed your arms.

Johnny came over and started to map out each of your tattoos, telling you which ones were his favourites. You pointed out which one was your first and which one was your most recent. Which one had a story, which one didn’t, he took in every word as he stroked your skin.

Ghost 💀

You were in the changing rooms after a sparring session and you were getting ready to get in the shower. As you pulled your top of you suddenly felt a set of eyes bore into you. Looking up you saw Ghost, his eyes raked up and down your body. ‘Fuckin hell love, didn’t realise you had tatts.’

You smirked showing off your body, ‘what these?’ You winked at him. Your body was covered in a mixture of realistic and black work geometric tattoos. Looking at his half forearm sleeve you smirked ‘puts yours to shame don’t it.’ He let out a breathy chuckle ‘cheeky minx.’

You spun around so he could have a look at the tattoos on your back, realistic skulls, flowers, portraits all adorned you. He pulled you in close, ‘I suggest you get in the shower, get cleaned up and come to my room. I wanna take a closer look at some of these’ he winked.

Gaz 🇬🇧

You were sat in the canteen with Gaz one morning when a load of new recruits came barging in. As they pushed their way past your table one spilt their drink all over you. ‘Fuck sake!’ You yelled throwing your hands in the air. Gaz grabbed some napkins for you as you removed your top, luckily it hadn’t gone through to your vest.

As Gaz turned to give you the napkins he was met with your tattooed body. He felt his breath hitch in his throat, he didn’t think he could fancy you anymore than he did. ‘Where you been hiding them?!’ He gestured to your body ‘we’ve been seeing each other a month and you kept these beauties to yourself!’

Giggling you took the napkins from him ‘you never asked!’ You were covered in traditional old school tattoos, a death moth covered your chest which was surrounded by roses and hearts. He couldn’t take his eyes off his new found treasure in front of him.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #ghost x you #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #modern warefare 2 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #captain john price x reader #price x you #captain price #tattoos #tattooed reader #request

[xxnghtclls]

Nighty beginner art tips

- never start with full body drawings. Not even half body. Maybe not even face. I’ve been drawing my whole life and I rarely can put together a full body drawing. I started to learn drawing with an eye. Do it step by step, you can’t concentrate on too many things at once. Also! I once heard that if you draw someone the eyes determine if you can recognise the person, so they have to be spot on and that stuck with me ever since.

- don’t start with full body -colour- drawings. Actually don’t start with colour. fck colour. learn that later.

- greyscale is easier to develop a sense for shading and rendering. At least for me. Because you only need to think in black- white and midtones and not hue, saturation and brightness. It’s much more difficult to use colours to create an interesting composition than just black white and midtones imo.

- Develop an eye for what looks right. Just look at people. Look at stuff you want to draw. You don’t know how much time I’ve spent to just literally look at Sukuna and just -study- him and how he works. Do it with faces, fingers, arms, feet. Just -look-. Perspective is an evil btch and I still struggle with it too, but it will get easier! The next step is to learn how to translate it onto your canvas.

- tracing references (photos) is completely fine to get a feeling for anatomy and poses! Next step is to alternate your drawing from the reference. True Form Sukuna works perfectly for that cause you have two extra arms to draw and an unusual cute ass face.

- Tutorials are fine and the internet is full of it but you learn more if you fail a thousand times. Draw and compare. Draw and compare. It also helps with the eye I talked about earlier.

- If you draw traditionally use different pencils for a single drawing (HB, 2B, 6B etc) If you draw digitally, use different brushes.

- If you think you’re stuck and you don’t develop: use. different. pencils/brushes.

- Almost the most important thing: have INTENTION and THOUGHT behind your art. You can’t ppl expect to be amazed by your art, if you didn’t put intention and thought behind it. It IS visible if you did or didn’t.

- Take.Your.Time.

- Please don’t ask people for advise, who clearly don’t have the artstyle you are pursuing. They probably don’t know how to help you. At least I don’t. (don’t ask me about anime style please.)

#nighty talks #art tips #beginner art #artist #artist support #artists on tumblr #nighty advice

[chilewithcarnage]

I, a very white and somewhat privileged person, am absolutely terrified to draw colored people. Because I don’t know if I’d cross the thin line of tasteful and authentic or racist and stereotypical…

Lol for starters don't refer to us as coloured people. This ain't 1955. Secondly my best advice to you is to use references of actual people of color. I would highly recommend staying away from those white men art station youtuber type artists for tutorials because they get a majority of their techniques and style from main stream video games and comic books, which to put it nicely don't have the best reputation for representing women and poc. tangent over, so yeah references. real life photographs of brown and black people.

pinterest is a site that a lot of current, especially younger artists like to use, but in all honesty it's not a very good source for someone trying to learn the fundamentals. it'll mainly show you 20 something year old ig and twitter models which is okay if you wanna just draw pretty people; but not the best if you wanna like I said learn fundamentals + have a portfolio that's varied. also it's rife with ai shit and stolen art, so yeah would only recommend that as an initial starting point/using it to make your own personal board for your saved images.

stock photo sites are my go to for refs. getty images, istock, alamy, etc. a simple right click save image or screenshot will work to get the images you want for free. of course there will be the watermarks, but they're honestly a very small issue to bypass. as long as they're not opaque and nearly covering the entire subject; you're good. a nice thing about stock photo sites is they usually give you the option to filter the image search results. say for instance you want to draw an elderly asian woman cooking or a young black man painting a picture or an indigenous child playing with dolls. you can look up certain terms you want in the search bar & specify gender, age and ethnicity to narrow down your search to what you want.

another awesome place for references i discovered during college is posespace.com

like with getty images, it gives you the option to filter your searches. they also have their models in clothed or nude shoots in the event that you want to practice some bare bones anatomy.

also also, get your info from artists of color. there's a decent amount of tutorials ive found over the years on here and youtube on coloring skintones, drawing certain hair types, how to avoid caricatures and stereotyping, different facial features, cultural hairstyles. the list goes on. don't be afraid to depict people outside of your race. literally just go about drawing us the same way you would a white person. don't be scared, as long as you remain respectful and make an honest effort to learn; you'll do fine.

resource links by and from artists of color:

'how i draw south + southeast asian people'

an example of what to avoid when stylizing east asian characters

'drawing asian people, source: i'm asian'

'lessons from drawing I: what is asian anyways?'

'how to draw indians'

'how to draw arabs'

'How I draw skin Part 2: DON”T DRAW NATIVE PEOPLE WITH RED SKIN!!!! A tutorial' (the link to the first part of this tutorial is broken sorry)

How to Draw Native People: a Tutorial/Reference Guide

How to Draw Black People by peachdeluxe

tips for drawing black people by rosheruu

drawing east asian faces by chuwenjie

how to draw black people series by Artistik Freedom (youtube)

✏️How I draw black hairstyles (simple) 🌱 by Likelihood Art (youtube)

there's also a bunch of black and brown artists on twitter and tiktok, so checking those sites for tutorials would be a good additional resource

good luck on your illustrating melanin endeavors 👍🏾

#anonymous ask hour #sorry for the late reply it took a while to compile all these links #art resources #long post

[bullet-prooflove]

Lake Tahoe Series - Part One: Black Bear Lodge - Manny x Reader

Part of @storiesofsvu Holiday Bingo! The square was Sledding!

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @theesirenteller @darqchilddaydreamz @wnbweasley @bonni-98 @skyesthebomb @yezzyyae @delightfulbelieverwerewolf @redpool @trublu2u @fleureeee

Set a few years after End of the Line which ties in to a Hank Loza storyline

It’s at Black Bear Lodge in Lake Tahoe that you meet Manny. He’s sitting at the bar in a white sweater, his thumb chasing over the etchings in the crystal tumbler that he holds in his hand as he studies the amber liquid.

You’ve been sitting here for a couple of hours now, finishing up an article you were writing up on Reed Mather, a tattooist that works out of Lake Monster whose use of bold colouring was proving revolutionary in the field.

It’s the reason you’re up here at this time of year, four days after Christmas. The truth is you have nowhere else to be. You have no family; your friends are all settled, and you can’t stand the idea of another seasonal blind date. The people in your life, they’re well-meaning but they don’t understand that being alone, isn’t the same as being lonely. You enjoy your own company; you’re not looking for a relationship. You enjoy the freedom you have to travel, to explore.

You’ve got another three days booked in the Lodge, you’d splashed out on one of suites with a jetted tub and planned to spend a couple of hours soaking. It’s when you close your laptop that a drink appears in front of you, you pick it up surveying the amber liquid before raising it to your lips and taking a sip.

It’s smoky and warm on your tongue, the heat flowing through your chest as you meet Manny’s gaze across the bar. He smiles before tipping his glass towards you and you smile back.

That’s how it starts this thing between the two of you.

A glass of top shelf whiskey on a Chesterfield couch, laughing so hard that your ribs hurt.

“So, what brings you here?” You ask him, drawing your legs up underneath you. Your arm comes to rest on the back of the couch, the sleeve of your jumper riding up towards your elbow. Manny’s fingertips trail across your bare skin, sending a rush of anticipation chasing through your synapses.

“My daughter.” He says softly, the edges of his mouth turning up into a small smile. “She’s always wanted to go sledding and we don’t get much snow up in Yuma. We went to that place further up, Heavenly Lake.”

“I bet she loved it. I’ve been up there a few times; it turns out I’m terrible at winter sports.” You tell him and he laughs, it’s such a rich, genuine sound, that you feel all the way down to your bones.

“Yea I discovered the same thing.” He confides. “My daughter took to it like she was born to do it. We had a lot of fun together on the sleds but everything else…”

He shakes his head.

“I’m not made for the cold weather. Her mother, my ex, picked her up this afternoon and I’m kinda at a loose end tonight.”

You turn your hand over and his thumb smooths over your underarm, tracing over the tattoo of a laurel wreath on your wrist. The one you you’d gotten after you’d won an award for your photography collection ‘The Ancient Art’ – documenting different tattoo methods throughout the world.

“I know this work.” He says, before his eyes flicker up and meet yours. “Hank Loza out of Santo Padre.”

“He’s done all my tattoos.” You tell him and you see Manny’s interest pique, his gaze straying to the contours of your navy-blue sweater. You imagine his hands straying underneath it, ghosting over the tattoos that decorate your body. He wants to see them, you can tell.

“The Tattoo Journalist.” He recalls, teasing over the leaves etched into your skin. “The two of you used to be a thing.”

“A couple of years ago.” You tell him, watching as his fingertips trail across your palm. “He’s settled now, has two kids with a lovely woman called Maggie.”

His fingers caress yours before they settle within the grooves, entwining. The silver stacker ringers you wear upon your fingers clack against his own.

“No lingering feelings?” He questions and you shake your head with a wry smile.

“He needed someone more present and that just wasn’t me.” You tell him honestly, cradling your glass of whiskey to your chest.

“Ah.” He says, nodding his head in understanding. “That’s the reason my marriage fell apart, I wasn’t very present. I’m a good father, a decent President but a shitty husband. We co-parent and she’ll always be the mother of my child but…”

“Sometimes two people just aren’t right for each other, no matter how much you try to make it work.” You say and he smiles that handsome smile of his before he brings your hand to his mouth.

His gaze is heated when he looks at you, you can see his desire simmering in his eyes as his lips brush over the hollow of your wrist.

“You wanna get out of here?” He murmurs against your skin. “Continue this someplace else.”

“Yea.” You say, setting your glass of whiskey down on the table. “I think I do.”

Love Manny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023 #mayans #mayans mc #mayans imagine #mayans fx #mayans fanfic #manny x reader #manny #manny x you #manny montana

[shiroirotasu]

I'm really REALLY obsessed with how you colours!! Do you have spesific steps or you just wing it? What would be a good tip you'd recommend if one want to replicate the colouring style you're doing?

Sorry if I asked too much, I just admire how you colours but I had no idea how you do it, it's so cool!!

Honestly if we talking about how I shade/ render then I have no idea. I do what god tells me to

But to pick my colors I can tell a few!

Disclaimer: this isn’t a tutorial, it’s just a v bad explanation of how I do my stuff, please don’t attack me with professional color theories bc I don’t know what I’m doing

1) obvs I don’t use default eye straining colors for the whole drawings. Colors that I want to use I always bring ‘em down a few shades darker, so it’s more pleasing to look at

2) don’t use pure black & white (Well maybe you can I don’t make the rules)!! If you’re gonna use duller colors like I do then it’s definitely gonna look weird. With black simply just use darker tones of any hues, personal favorites are green & brown

3) go crazy with it, desaturated colors are nice but it’s not as striking if I don’t add sth that grasp the attention of others eyes. When I color I always keep balanced colors. If you want smaller details to be noticeable then slap brightness to it. If your drawing is alr very saturated you can just replace darker shades to places you don’t want people to pay attention to 🤷 same stuff goes with warm and cool colors

4) complementary, triadic, tetradic, etc are the goats. Basically they’re hues that sit opposite or near to each other in a color wheel, you can search more of that on Google. Some colors may look shit together but when you find the right values/ brightness they’ll be the one for each other

So in conclusion im not sure what you’re asking for in my coloring style. Normally in doodles I just eyeball it until it looks good, but in serious drawings I pick colors like that, you can still apply that to how you shade your art so I don’t think I need to explain that since I shade the majority with black beforehand 💀

Hope this helps! Somehow………..

[ryuichirou]

How do you draw Idia’s hair so good?? I struggle with the basic shapes so much!

Sorry for the late reply! Your ask got us excited because Idia’s hair is such a pain to draw, but also such a fun detail, and I’m very happy that you like the way I draw it <3

Katsu suggested to me to record a speedpaint, and uhh, here it is. Please, don’t mind the wonky anatomy and me horsing around with zooming in and out randomly. As you can see, I struggle with Idia’s hair myself and constantly redraw it until I’m satisfied or at least tired enough to say “eh, that’ll do”. In case you’re wondering, it took me ~25-30 minutes to do the hair, and the original video was 59 min long lol I always spend a lot of time moving, reshaping and redrawing details when I draw Idia…

I’ll also list some tips and thoughts about it based on the way I draw it…

The shape of Idia’s hair is not at all consistent. Even in Toboso’s art it looks slightly different sometimes, which makes sense, because Idia has magical fire hair and technically you could do whatever you want with it.

But some rules tend to apply each time. For example, even though Idia’s hair is long and seems naturally “heavy” because of it, the individual strands tend to be turned upwards, like fire would. Not every single one, but the shorter ones and the ones closer to Idia’s head tend to do so. 

It’s wavy, but not too wavy. If the hair starts looking too “soft”, add sharp edges, random strands sticking out, rough shapes, etc.

Oh, and it’s important to remember that it floats. This means, it doesn’t just go straight down, it does this weird “S” shape. It’s also hella long, I always forget just how long Idia’s hair is. If the magic fire logic didn’t apply to it, it would reach the ground easily. The volume of his hair is much bigger than I tend to remember too: it's quite thick and luscious lol So please give him lots of hair!

Tiny little flames + “holes” in the main ehh body of hair (wow there must be a way to phrase it better) make everything look good and more believable. Have fun with it. You might’ve noticed, I draw and redraw and move them around a lot in my speedpaint.

Obviously, I am no expert, and every artist I know draws Idia’s hair a little bit differently. The speedpaint doesn’t show it, but I always have some of Toboso’s artworks of Idia open when I draw him, just to make sure his design is not too off. I would definitely recommend looking at refs while drawing Idia (or anyone), and maybe even trying to redraw the hair from Toboso’s artworks once or twice as a study, it’ll probably make it easier to understand how Idia’s hair works.

You haven’t asked about the colouring, but I love colouring Idia’s hair, so I’ll talk about it a little. Colouring Idia’s hair is simultaneously the most fun and the most tedious part of drawing him lol 15 minutes of my hour long video is just me filling Idia’s hair with the base blue colour with a lasso (I refuse to use a bucket tool…)

But once you’re done with the base, this is where the fun begins. Because at this stage you can be pretty rough, just add in darker and deeper blues near the middle/core(?) of the hair mass. It doesn’t have to be very even or pretty, add some smaller dark spots; we personally really love it when Idia has this round little blob on his bangs. In the video you can see that I added it later on because I forgot about it lol

After the dark part is done, erase the ends of it a little bit with a soft brush. Not too much, we should still be able to see the shapes.

Then, on a separate layer set on overlay mode, with the same soft brush add some additional brighter spots, to make the hair look glowy. I used the same light blue as the base colour, and the overlay gives it a pretty hue.

And finally, add some white highlights at the ends of the strands. This is the stage when everything stops looking wrong and weird and starts looking like Idia, at least to me.

Phew, I think this is everything I wanted to say… I hope it was at least somewhat helpful.

Sorry for the long post, I just love talking about the drawing process. And about Idia too!

Once again, thank you for your kind words; I’m very happy that you like my art.

Have a good day!

#replies #idia shroud #twisted wonderland #ryuichirouart #about drawing

[teezyfbby]

Crocheting this skirt took me months fr. think about 40 hours in total. I don’t think I’m the fastest crocheter but I’m okay with that. Im trying to no longer feel the need to be quick when I do everything even though its pressured onto to me because of societes need for constant productivity. BUT ANYWAYSSS.

you can buy it here :) https://www.etsy.com/listing/1450984712/lace-crochet-maxi-skirt-in-natural-white

I lfooking love it mi. She’s super pretty. I used 100% pima cotton yarn in the colour natural white. I can’t remember the thickness of the yarn but I used a 2,5mm hook. Been tryna push this on my website I made imma post the process of me making that on here at some point I worked really hard on it. I fuck with the vision im tryna create with my crochet shit it gets me really excited. Im at Parsons right now and I feel like the more I get sucked into school the more I forget about what gets me really excites which is why it took me so long to make this skirt. I wanna start selling my shit and getting my name and brand out there in the creative world cause there’s.so much shit I wanna do like I got so many ideas fr. I wanna be a furniture designer eventually. For now. But yh. Any tips on how to start selling ya shit. I find pushing it on social media like instagram and tiktok really annoying cause I feel like the atmosphere is really competitive almost like a operate workspace but on a digital setting. Trine pasta algorithms n shit. I just wanna find real people who fuck with what I do and value things that I value you know. But yh I put it up on Etsy and thinking bout putting it up on depop. On the website I created a bidding system cause I thought that would be a really great way to establish the interest on a piece, considering id only be selling one of kind items and not creating anything more than once. I just really see it as a form of art you know and not some mini fast fashion business where I just make as many things as quickly as possible and try sell em all. But yurrrrrrrrr

Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1450984712/

My website: https://tonithebrand.framer.website

#crochet #etsy #furniture #interior design #knitting #etsy seller #selling #knit vs crochet #knit and crochet #knitters of tumblr #crocheting #crochet yarn #spinning yarn #outfit inspiration #handmade #lace maxi skirt #lace #skirt #maxi skirt #summer #spring #outfit #designer #artist #rising artist #fashion

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Ebony Wings of Hydra - CH 2

Pairings: Wanda x R

Word count: 2.2K

Summary: you have a nightmare and Wanda and nat help you.

TW: panic attack, flashback, death (mentioned), nightmares, touch deprivation, touch therapy

A/n a very fluffy (and kinda short) chapter for y’all :)

They had given you a room. Not a cell. A whole room to yourself. When Wanda had shown it to you, she watched with an amused grin as you paced and inspected every small part of it.

After your shopping spree you had a set of coloured pencils, paints, markers and a whole host of mechanical pencils, rubbers and even a premium sketchbook. Wanda had insisted after she caught you drawing in the communal lounge.

*flashback*

“Hey y/n have you seen my-“ Wanda said walking into the room pausing by your shoulder. You were sat drawing on a piece of scrap paper. So involved in it you hadn’t noticed her presence. “Wow.” Wanda said unintentionally. You flinched, not having heard her get closer.

“Sorry.” Wanda said with a small smile cross grimace. “That’s really amazing y/n” she said pointing. You grinned sheepishly and cover it with spread fingers the tips of your ears turning pink. Wanda reached over your shoulder and pried your fingers away with little resistance. The drawing was Wanda in the kitchen cooking pancakes from earlier that morning. “You really have a skill y/n.” Wanda said smiling softly. “Im defiantly talking to Steve about getting you some more art supplies. You cant keep using this” she gestured to the 50c mechanical pencil you were holding. You frowned “why not?” You said and Wanda laughed.

“Its not very artist-y i honestly don’t even know where you found that. Tony hates cheap stationary.” She grinned.

“I think pepper keeps replacing Tony’s fancy pens with them. I caught her swapping them and she explained his pet peeve and how hers is him not turning up to meetings so this is her payback.” You grinned. Wanda looked slightly shocked.

“You met pepper?”

“Yeah after breakfast i was looking for tony to thank him. She gave me one of them” you grinned.

*end flashback*

It had now been almost 24 hours since you first arrived. The team was adjusting to your presence but most weren’t at the compound. Clint was with his kids. Nat was on a mission but was supposed to be getting home soon. Bruce was in his lab. Bucky and Sam had to go on a mission with Steve. Wanda and you had been spending time together. And tony seemed to be getting mad about something and had locked himself in his lab where pepper had been bringing him food between her meetings claiming he can’t live off coffee. Peter was busy with school and Kate and Yelena were who knows where.

The last 24 hours had been frustrating for tony, he was desperate to know how you were enhanced. But Friday didn’t know either just saying you had modified genetics and since tony had freaked you out in the med bay, aside from thanking him, Wanda and Natasha had barred him from seeing you until you were better.

It was now 11pm, you had stayed up late and started a new drawing. You tossed and turned for a bit, as nice as it was you were unused to a bed and it was too soft to sleep on. After a few minutes you grabbed the blanket and a pillow and moved to the floor. Sighing it felt more familiar. It wasn’t long until the exhaustion caught up and you drifted off.

Nat had just gotten back. She had a drink of water in the kitchen and had showered at the safe house before coming back. Now she just wanted to slip into something comfy and go to sleep. She caught the elevator back to her floor. She shared the level with the other girls, you and Wanda and sometimes Yelena when she stayed at the tower. There was also the spare room which was Kate’s when she was here.

Stepping off the elevator nat chuckled at the flickering lights and muffled sounds from under Wanda’s door. She had obviously fallen asleep watching sitcoms again. Nat carefully opened the door, whispering to Friday to turn it off once she saw Wanda asleep. Friday turned it off and nat turned out the light before leaving. Wandas little red nightlight glowed softly. Since Pietro died she found the dark suffocating and it was always so much worse when she woke in a cold sweat from a nightmare in the dark. Nat was the only one who knew as she suggested and bought it for Wanda after calming her down one night.

Nat’s feet carried her down the hall she pausing at your door listening for movement to see if you were sleeping. She frowned. Small whimpers could be heard past the door. Just as nat placed her hand on the door knob a blood curdling scream came from within the room. Nat was inside in an instance. Almost panicking when she saw the empty bed until her gaze lowered to where you sat shaking on the floor. She slowly came to your side. Tears were streaming down your face. White knuckled hands gripped the blanket as you shuddered with each uneven breath you drew. Your eyes were flitting fast around the room the darkness drowning you.

Nat was by your side carefully she pried your hands from the blanket replacing them with her own hands. She squeezed them to try and draw you back. Nat looked into your eyes, her mouth was moving but you heard no words. Nat’s breathing was exaggerated and subconsciously you began to mimic it.

“Good thats good. Your doing so well y/n.” She said and you nodded tears still streaming down your face. “Fri, lights at 20%” then the lights began to slowly become brighter. You flinched and nat went back to comforting you. Neither of you had noticed Wanda standing in the doorway. After a few moments you threw yourself at nat. She stiffened not expecting it before relaxing and wrapping her arms around you. You sniffled and buried your teary face in her chest.

“Shh shh shhh” nat said rubbing her hand up and down your back softly. Nat looked up for the first time nodding to Wanda. Wanda nodded back mouthing “is she ok?” Nat nodded mouthing back.

“Nightmare.” Wanda nodded again and came and sat beside nat. Wanda began drawing shapes on your thigh. Soon small snores came from Nat’s lap as the two realised you were asleep.

“Should we move her to the bed?” Wanda asked.

“Its more comfortable than the floor. But for some reason she was sleeping on the floor when i came in.” Nat frowned.

“Understandable i did the same when I first came here. Its more like a cell. Shes more used to it than the bed.” Wanda explained. Carefully nat shifted to stand with you in her arms. Sleepily you clung to her. Wanda chuckled.

“Need any help?”

“No. But i think i am going to stay here tonight in case she has another nightmare. Can you watch her while i get changed? Ill only be a minute.” Nat said, carefully placing you on the bed.

“Sure no problem.” Wanda said watching you start wriggling on the bed. Wanda sat down rubbing a hand on your back you sought her out and snuggled into her leg and went still once more aside from the steady rise and fall for your chest.

“Thanks Wanda.” Nat said. She left quickly and changed. Returning to find Wanda asleep with you curled into her side. Nat chuckled quietly slipping out and unplugging Wanda’s night light from her room and plugging it in into your room instead. She pull the sheets over the three of you and went to sleep. You slept the rest of the night. Waking in the cold darkness had been a bit too much like your cell and it had been what triggered the panic attack after the nightmare you had because it was like you were still there.

The next morning you woke to the feeling of arms around you. You stiffened before last night came back to you. You groaned softly and opened your eyes. Nat looked down at you from where she sat against the headboard of the bed reading.

“Morning sleepy head.” She whispered and grinned down at you. It must be Wanda’s arms around your midsection then you thought to yourself.

“Morning.” You said, morning voice quiet gravelly with the absence of moisture.

You noticed the soft red glow from the table by Nat’s side of the bed.

“Um. Nat?” You whispered.

“Yes y/n?” She said looking up again from the book tucked between her knees.

“You didn’t need to bring in a night light.” You blushed unsure how she knew about what you felt last night.

“Oh. Its Wanda’s.” Nat said and you seemed to deflate. “Why? Do you want one?” Nat said softly. You merely swallowed and her gaze softened more. “There’s nothing wrong with it y/n.”

“Its just… last night after i woke i couldn’t see and i felt like… like… I was back there.” You said. Wandas arms seemed to tighten around you.

“Thank you for telling me y/n I’ll be sure to order anther one today. Do you have a colour your prefer?” She asked placing in a bookmark to the spine of her book.

“Um not really. Just not yellow or orange. Red is ok. But the alarm lights in the cell. The ones that came on during attacks or when the siren went on was, were yellow and orange. So, please not those colours if thats ok.”

“That’s perfectly fine thank you for telling me.” Nat said.

“I said the same thing.” Wanda said from behind you and you chuckled slightly. Wanda withdrew her arms seemingly unbothered by the previous contact. You missed it almost. No. You defiantly missed it. Years without friendly contact had left you severely touch starved. So much so that you craved even the most basic touch. Wanda seemed to sense your change in mood.

“Y/n?” She asked slowly.

“Yeah?” You swallowed.

“Did you share a cell in hydra.”

“No? Why?” You said and Wanda frowned.

“Not once?” She asked and nat seemed to catch on but you still hadn’t.

“No.” You shook your head propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Y/n do you know what touch starvation is?” Nat asked placing her book on the bedside.

“Vaguely?” You said.

“Well you should expect a lot more contact from the both of us from now on sweetie. And daily cuddles from whichever one of us you would prefer.” Nat said softly.

“Ok.” You said softly averting you gaze.

“Hey.” Nat said softly using her finger to guide your head up by the underside of your chin until you locked eyes. “Its ok. Your safe now.” She said and after the moment passed Wanda slipped out from behind you. She walked over to the bathroom.

“Hey y/n do you mind if i use your bathroom.”

“Not at all. Go ahead.” You said. And Wanda smiled slipping inside and shutting the door. After a couple of moments the door opened again and Wanda’s head popped out.

“Y/n you don’t have any toiletries?”

“Um yeah? Hydra didn’t really send us many care packages.” You said.

“Friday order everything off my list on Amazon called basic toiletries.”

“Yes Ms Maximoff right away.”

“We will not have you using Tony’s tiny Ironman branded hotel soaps.” She said and grinned before disappearing inside again and shutting the door once more.

“So? Which ones did you get?” Nat said with a grin.

“What do you mean?”

“Tony being tony has made his shampoo and conditioners a collectable set. There are twelve different pictures of tony in his suit. He made some harder to find than others. Don’t tell anyone but I’ve been trying to complete the set since i first came here.” She grinned and you laughed behind you hand.

“I don’t know. Its his suit but its not. Its blue kinda?” You said.

“Omg you have the pepper set.”

“The pepper set?”

“Pepper would only let tony do something so self centred if she was allowed to be on one of them in her suit.” Nat grinned. “I’ll defiantly be taking them because i don’t have that one yet. Tony being petty made it one of the less common ones just to spite pepper.” Nat giggled. Your jaw dropped.

“Pepper has a suit?”

“Yeah but she doesn’t fight or anything. Tony wont let her. Its more a security measure. Just in case she needs to be protected.” Nat nodded. A moment later Wanda emerged from the bathroom.

“Im going to go start on breakfast.” She said.

“Don’t bother.” Nat said “Clint’s been in the kitchen since 5am. He wanted to surprise us with a visit and rub it in Tony’s face that he can cook without burning it.”

Wanda giggled. “Well in that case.” She said slipping back under the sheets. “Its time to start y/n’s daily cuddles.” You blushed deeply as Wanda snuggled up to your side.

“Is this ok y/n?” Wanda asked.

“Y-yes.” You said and Wanda smiled.

“Good.” She draped an arm over your stomach as she buried her face in your side.

“Wandas very cuddly in the mornings.” Nat chuckled. “Normally I’m the one who gets the cuddles.” She said.

“Well feel free to join.” Wanda mumbled and nat smiled placing a hand on your leg.

MASTERLIST

#marvel #the avengers #wanda maximoff #natasha romanov #sicfic #wanda marvel #natasha romaoff #wandanat comfort #comfort #comfort fic #panic attack #flashback #reader #self insert #y/n #wanda x reader #nightmare #avengers #steve rogers #tony stark #Ironman #pepper potts #Bucky Barnes #clint Barton #Bruce banner #traumatised reader #fluff #slight angst #wandanat #whump

[cliopadra]

A question for you from one artist to another, if you don’t mind answering it: how do you do pick your colors for your art? Even when there aren’t a ton of details in your rendered art, it still seems “solid” and realistically lit, and that’s something I really like about your art :)

Thank you!

I honestly don’t really know, I kind of just eyeball colours, hoping for the best.

However, if you want a tip, if you use an art program that has it, using the harmony colour wheel rather than sliders or the colour disk/square makes picking colours and changing hue so much easier.

#cliopadra blabbers on #ask