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#more to come eventually i already have like 3 more sketches of him based off paris
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Question!
Is Victor in the cryptid college universe? What’s he like, if he is?
Victor IS in CC! In fact, he's already appeared in two pages during the prologue
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He's kinda a silly little guy but I'm going to PREFACE real quick by saying: Victor in CC is probably the MOST canon-divergent in terms of personality you're gonna get in CC, at least depending on your interpretations of the OG book characters, but he's pretty different from how either of us actually view him in the book.
CC Victor isn't an exactly an evil mad scientist trope or anything (being a mad scientist in CC is basically like being a mathletes nerd but a bunch of you keep dropping random children off at other peoples houses) but he's just a bit of a general asshole, SPECIFICALLY because placing him in a modern college where EVERYONE is a monster changes who the character is a Lot. A lot of his base traits come from the book, but amplified as a parody like we do with all the CC characters (so yes he does get tropey on purpose) + some changes based on how being in a monster college changes his and the creature's story.
While not uncommon for mad scientists in this universe, he's pretty self-centered, he believes himself to be the superior scientist of his class and can often be rude and dismissive of other students' work. (Though he IS actually incredibly good at what he does, he's top 3 in the class and would most likely be #1 if Griffin didn't have a grading bias towards experiments that can help him with world domination)
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(going to be using some LOVELY sketches from @internetwerewolf now <3 theyre the person currently drawing episode 1 of CC <3)
Also, before I forget to mention! CC victor is gay and autistic and both he AND both of the creatures have chronic illnesses that leave them with a lot of joint pain. Their illnesses are based off my own so since *I* don't have a medical diagnosis for my joint issues I can't put an exact name to what they have but ???? maybe Fibromyalgia? again, can't put a name to it but their joints are stiff and HURTY. Adam and Victor's symptoms usually manifest in more invisible ways, from time to time they will need a mobility aid of some sort but most days they get by with painkillers and compression-wear. (Mary almost always uses a crutch or a cane and from time to time will use a wheelchair)
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And oh right, the creatures! Let's talk about the creatures, I'd say they're pretty important to Victor's character, wouldn't you? (^another @internetwerewolf doodle of Adam and Mary at Victor's dissertation)
Starting with Adam, Victor made Adam in his first semester of Freshman year at CCU (if you don't know, the school Oracle acts as the head of admissions for the school and is particularly in charge of inviting new mad scientists to the school, which is why characters like Victor or Jekyll were accepted and allowed to know about monsters before having made their experiments themselves, the Oracle knew that they would make them eventually) his reasons for creating and then abandoning the creature are mostly the same as in the book, the death of his mother gave him a fascination with restoring life to the dead but once he actually gave life to the creature he was horrified an ran out on it. Adam was left in Victor's dorm room alone for about 3 weeks before being found by an RA and due to school policy on mad science experiments he was given free room and board for the course of his college degree, he was also taught english directly from classes at the school and found a copy of Paradise Lost among Victor's old things, which gave him the idea for the name Adam.
Adam never actually killed anyone in CC, but he DID ask Victor to make him a family member. He was incredibly lonely from being unable to connect with any of the other students and wanted someone like him, Victor obliged before he and Adam got into an argument which ended with him partially destroying the other creature and leaving Adam to do the rest of the reanimating work himself. (This is why Mary is not quite made right, the stitching on her limbs is very loose and she's missing an eye)
The creatures' and Victor's overall relationship is rocky at BEST, most days they can't STAND each other and squabble any time they pass each other in the halls. Though Victor's family is all still alive AND Adam got his second creature so from time to time they can get along, if a topic in interesting enough for both of them Adam and Victor can hold a conversation for a few hours, and they will sometimes help Victor out if provided a good enough reason to. Mary's less likely to talk to Victor but that's mostly because she just...doesn't like talking to people. They treat him like a shitty dad, and as seen in the prologue they DO like to rough him up a bit from time to time for fun but they wouldn't ever really want to KILL him. (Hyde would. Hyde wants to kill him. Adam has to hold him back from it.)
This was WAY longer than I expected, kinda incoherent, feel free to ask any follow up questions if you'd like! I LOVE talkin about these guys :3
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turquoisesea01 · 6 months
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~ Welcome to TurquoiseSea ~
This is an 18+ Art Account.
Which means this account does not want minors interact with this blog. Any ageless blogs will be blocked immediately. If you’re an adult who hasn’t put their age in their bio yet, I advised you to do that immediately, especially to the people who are new to tumblr. People will think your are just a bot and will block you immediately if they don’t see anything written on your bio.
Anyways, once again, NO MINORS ARE ALLOWED TO INTERACT NOR FOLLOW THIS ACCOUNT. THIS IS AN ADULT SPACE. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE. And no. I do not care if you’re turning 18 this month or 3 days or a week early, you’ll have to wait to interact this blog until you’re actually 18.
Another thing, I don’t want any, pedos, zoophiles, homophobic/transphobic content interact with me, keep that shit away from me.
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Who Am I?
Hello! I am TurquoiseSea! But that’s just my username for art. My actual name is Jocelyne, but I usually go as Yoshi!
Why Yoshi? It’s just a nickname I had since childhood and I prefer that more than my actual name ^v^!
This is my sona Yoshi! ^v^
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I am 21 years old, I am a pansexual cis girl and my pronouns are she/her! I am Salvadoran and Peruvian! However my Spanish isnt my best language to
Im an artist that loves to draw Yan characters, drawing fanart of anime and video game characters I like! I usually draw self inserts and my ocs, especially Virgil Evans!
Just a heads up, in this account I’ll also be venting through text posts and vent arts and will let you know that I’m okay. I just only want to get something off of my chest.
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Who is Vigil?
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Virgil Evans is an oc I had since childhood. At first he was roleplay character I use for, well, roleplay! Until when I stop roleplaying, I ended up making him his own character and eventually grew up with me throughout the years! He played a huge role throughout my life so expect to see much Virgil content in this blog.
HOWEVER!
To those who have gotten to this blog through my VN blog of Yan Virgil, Would You Stay, I’m not posting any Yan Virgil content in this blog. So please do not ask me any Yan Virgil or my VN related questions in my inbox. Those questions goes to my VN blog.
Yan Virgil in WYS is just an alternate version of my Og Virgil if things gone wrong in his world. Think of it as an alternative timeline.
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Which fandom I’m currently in?
Yandere Visual Novels (more like a community than a fandom lol) : Such as See Thru Need A Friend? , Restart Heart, YOU and HIM, MINE VN, You Guardian Angel, My Ange, Camp WillowPeak, Drop In The Ocean, Favor, etc. ^v^ Im practically everywhere lmao (although I try my best to make fanart ;v; )
Degrees Of Lewdity : You can expect artwork of Kylar. I am a Kylar girlie lmao, I love that stinky icky lil skrunkly <3 My disgusting lil meow meow.
Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All/ Obey Me! Nightbringer : Oof currently I’m burning out of the two games but I still lurks around in the fandom and sometimes draw fanart with my Mc :3, however! I have an AU about Lilith, if she were alive! So feel free to check out my side blog if you’re interested! Also I am a Barbatos simp! <3
Genshin Impact : The only time I draw fanart is Wanderer and a sketch of Nahida. And my ocs if they were Genshin playable characters lmao. But either way, RAAAAA I WANT TO PULL FOR NEUVILLETTE BUT I GOTTA WAIT A LITTLE MORE TILL I GET AT LEAST 50 PULLs PLEASE COME HIME NEVU—
Twisted Wonderland : I’m currently hyperfixated on the game for like since the English release came out lmao, I already have like two ocs! And two are basically based on the live action of Alice in Wonderland characters! Fior Rosehearts (based off of the White Queen) and Jasper Woods (based off of the Jabberwocky!) but eeee I’m so excited for the Glorious Masquerade event!
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What Are My Boundaries?
Please don’t sexualize or be weird about my ocs who are minors. Such as Kota, Miski, Irvin, etc. Or even when I drew my adult ocs as their young version, do not be weird about it.
I do not mind playful flirting, virtual smooches, cuddles, hugs are okay with me! I don’t mind nicknames as well! Sexual flirting is ok as well, usually as jokes lol. But please keep in mind that I am also a human behind the screen, I have feelings and thoughts. I will feel uncomfortable if you go out of your way to my inbox to threaten me for sexual purposes, you will be blocked
I absolutely don’t mind if you shipped yourself or ocs with my ocs! As long it’s not problematic! I also don’t mind if my sona is also being shipped lol.
Feel free to ask me any questions! However do keep in mind that I might respond late due to me thinking carefully of what to answer or I get distracted lmao or if the question has gone too personal for me to answer, I’d rather not answer.
Once again if you came from my VN blog, do not ask me questions related about Yan Virgil. That’s for my WYS VN blog.
Please don’t ask me to draw for you unless I am taking art requests. I usually draw for the people I’m close to or my moots!
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Sooo that’s pretty much it! I’ll add more if I remembered something! ^v^ I’ll have to add tags later but that requires me to organize my tags! So it will take awhile!
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alluringjae · 3 years
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au cours de l’été - jjh
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⤑ translation: over the summer
⤑ summary: this is a story of an exhausted painter who needed a breather from the hectic city life. so aside from moving to the countryside, the needed air in your lungs also came in the form of a person. this summer meant for pure relaxation, perhaps your heart may dive into him too.
⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader
⤑ word count: 15.2k (so much for saying that i’ll be writing shorter stories)
⤑ genre: fluff, romance, smut | author!jaehyun, painter!reader, strangers to lovers!au, 50s-60s!au, summer love in france!au
⤑ warnings: me inserting some french phrases because I want to practice (feel free to correct me if I made mistakes, i’ll appreciate them), fictional interpretations of real-life people, explicit language, jaehyun being such a romantic pls im in tears, mentions and scenes of burnout (the worst)
⤑ playlist: everybody loves somebody by dean martin | c’est si bon by eartha kitt | it’s always you by chet baker | les yeux ouverts by emilie-claire barlow | a sunday kind of love by etta james | the most beautiful thing by bruno major | try again by jaehyun and d.ear (duh) | free love (dream edit) by honne | petite fleur by jill barber | plus je t’embrasse by blossom dearie | so this is love by ilene woods and mike douglas
⤑ author’s note: this was an idea that just came to me after pinterest kept recommending me poetic beauty/try again jaehyun, so here we are! i intended to write less than 5k words but sometimes plans don’t go as planned once you really invest in the story yet i’m really happy how this turned out!
the romantic exhilaration in my bones are off the charts because this is jaehyun we’re talking about lol enjoy!
⤑ masterlist
⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!
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3 juin 1957
The city life overstimulated your entire system, losing your brainpower and inspiration. Another exhibition that’ll feature your works with other influential painters was happening at the end of the year, and you had nothing prepared so far. You’ve crashed to the deep end of creative fatigue.
So you needed to get away again; somewhere quieter and surrounded by nature.
That’s why you ended up in the countryside down south, somewhere within Provence. It’s purely just for the summer, but extensions were okay as long you get back at least a month before the show. Filing that leave of absence at the studio you worked at was worth it.
You rented an apartment overlooking the marketplace, where the heart of the village was. After arranging things from your boxes and luggage the entire day, you found out that you lacked in the food department.  
So the succeeding day, the entire morning was spent on grocery shopping downstairs then stocking them inside your refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. Right after changing out of your pajamas into a flowy floral dress and sandals, you decided to bike to the bakery that locals suggested. A must-go place for newcomers, they all raved.
“Café des Étoiles Perdues.” (Café of Lost Stars.)
The clear chimes of the bell resounded through the small, cottage-like lobby as you entered inside. An old woman, whom you assumed was the owner, welcomed you openly.
“Oh la la, vous êtes belle! Vous vous appelez (Y/N), la nouvelle venue, n'est-ce pas?” (Oh la la, you’re beautiful. Your name is (Y/N), the newcomer, right?)
She complimented, making you shyly mutter your answer. Wiping off the flour from her apron, she introduced herself kindly.
“Je m’appelle Camille. Mes spécialités sont les macarons pisctaches et des croissants avec des amandes. Autre chose que tu aimes?” (I’m Camille. My specialties are the pistachio macarons and croissants with almonds. Is there anything else you like?)
“J'aime tout ce que vous suggères, Madame.” (I’d like anything that you suggest, Madame.)
A younger man, who went by Jaemin, was a part-timer barista who asked for your coffee order. As he directed you to the best seat of the café, which was outside overlooking the garden of blooming sunflowers, you pulled out your sketch pad so you could capture this dreamy view. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen in your life.
You’ve decided on a theme already for your exhibit thanks to your conversations with locals yesterday, which was related to freedom. After being chained to cities for so-called better living and financial standards, it’s actually how your inspiration to create squeezed the life out of you like a lemon. Although it was fun at first to see those tourist spots, it eventually got tiring.
Another matchstick to graze intensity through your bones was what you prayed for.
While you’re engaged in a rough sketch of the scenery, the dandy presence of a young man entered the café with his books. White shirt, red trousers with a matching beret, he sported freckles on his pale face. Despite visiting his favorite café numerously, Camille was overjoyed to see him and his serene smiles.
“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”
“Bonjour, Madame! I’m starving for your croissants because I ran out back home.”
“Not to worry! I’ll pack up some so you’re on your way.” She lightened him up like one of her kids, taking one of the bigger paper bags.
“No rush though, Madame. I’ll be reading and working here for a bit here.” Jaehyun affirmed, bringing it out his wallet and called out for Jaemin.
“Un café crème, s’il vous plait.” (One cup of cappuccino, please.)
Jaehyun’s usual chair was by the large window, overseeing the wide garden planted by the citizens of the village way before he was born. It was places like this he missed after moving to the city for his education and work’s sake. 
That’s the thing when you’re coming from a rich family; you don’t have much of say with what your parents order you to do. However, his recent request to stay in his childhood home (or mansion) again was fulfilled because he couldn’t search for what he needed in the cities anymore.
Jaehyun was a sucker for romance; an old romantic others would say. A lot of women mistook his kindness as flirting on many occasions, but ironically he just wasn’t looking for anyone yet. 
Starting as a novelist in the said genre based on real-life stories of people he met in Paris, Barcelona, London, and more, his stories were popular hits especially to young adults who aspire to find love one day.
However, traveling to the known places no longer felt fun as he got older. The stories he gathered were very similar, just in different languages. It took an enthusiastic dinner with his family, specifically his only older sister Krystal retelling fond stories from their younger years to get the idea of moving back for a bit. So consumed with the city life, he wanted to see things from another perspective.
What was the difference between a love story formed in the countryside than in the city?
It’s been a month since he arrived, but he didn’t hurry himself to do his research. He’s been reading books in his family library, revisiting monumental places, exploring around the village, and reconnecting with old friends as if he never left. 
Readjusting to his former life would make writing easier when he’s motivated enough to do it again. Besides, his books were profiting well enough to his taste; good enough for the next 10 years according to his personal accountant, Kim Jungwoo.
Jaehyun resumed reading this book his mother recommended him before he left. Entitled “Réessaye”, which was about a young man who reunites with his childhood sweetheart after his arranged marriage failed. After what she put her through, he’s hesitant whether to try again or let her go.
Jaehyun enjoyed reading books with realistic outlooks on love because he found them more meaningful, enlightening how exactly it makes you feel and do. Even if he enjoyed reading sappy, fairytale-like stories from time to time, he always returned to the real ones as they only displayed the truth.
That love isn’t always rainbows and sunshine, but something that can also break you especially if you go after the wrong person. This kind of mindset was how he toiled on his stories, which gained him a status outside of his unavoidable labels such as “the only striking son of the Jeong family” or “Valentine Boy”.
He diligently browsed through the climax, where the main male character confessed all his constrained emotions to his sweetheart. But it was until Jaemin pressed the bag of croissants in front of his face after placing down his childhood friend’s drink to disturb his peace.
“Reading again?” He taunted, snatching his book away and throwing the bag on Jaehyun’s lap. “When are you writing that book already? Everyone is practically dying for you to release something new again!”
Jaehyun flatly shook his head, drinking his coffee quietly. It’s not the first time anyone asked (or pressured) him about his next release, and it’s the last thing he wanted to think about. “Not in the mood right now, Jaemin. Now off to work before Madame Camille scolds you again.”
“You’re just stalling because you have nothing to write, don’t you?” Jaemin cunningly expressed, raising a brow. He’s known to catch onto the people’s bs easily; the last person you’d want to say your secrets too and Jaehyun realized too late. Though lucky for him, Jaemin shut the topic down right away so he wouldn’t pop a vein.
“Sais-tu de la nouvelle venue dans le village, d'ailleurs?” (Do you know about the newcomer in the village, by the way?)
“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)
Being stuck at his mansion recently, news about village affairs were now late to him. Jaemin’s finger discreetly pointed outside the window, pertaining to a young woman sat outside painting her view in front of her.
That would be you, shading all the flowers in bright colors.
Seeing a new face amazed Jaehyun, especially when she was almost someone right out of a book. In a neat bun with white daisies printed in her dress, she crossed her legs whilst continuing her movements. She bit her lower lip, frustrated over an accidental smudge she made and trying to fix it by blending it with another color. When she accomplished it, she swapped brushes. A thinner one, to outline the shapes of the flower. Her lips curved to a smile after finishing another one perfectly with the rest.
“Jaehyun?”
Jaemin snapped his fingers to his distracted friend, zoning out the window. Still something he hasn’t stop doing, he pondered. With a final snap, Jaehyun broke away from falling hard from his abstract. Jaemin calculated the problem so quickly, analyzing his friend breezily like his medical school requirements.
“Elle est splendide, n'est-ce pas?” (She’s gorgeous, right?)
“Elle ressemble à une personne décente.” (She looks like a decent person.)
Jaehyun pushed it aside, flipping back to the page where he stopped reading. Before Jaemin responded, the door chimed open again to alarm him that a new customer came in. He excused himself to his friend, warning him that this wasn’t the last time he’ll talk about the newcomer too.
Jaehyun nodded along, not taking his friend’s cheeky words so seriously. However, the final result you attempted to create tickled his curiosity, so he slyly peeked from his book to the window.
You’ve freed your hair down, victorious to have started your collection this early in your break. A fantastic start, you let the paint dry first and munch on the croissant that served as your reward. However, you ‘re quick to notice a manly figure glancing through the window. From the side, his brown eyes appeared lively even if his entire face was hidden by the book.
Réessaye by Mark Lee; he must be a romantic. Every person in your studio read it, excluding yourself. Painfully beautiful, they’d summarize it.
Daring to meet more people, you locked eye contact with him. He didn’t expect it, almost flipping from his chair. Bashfully, you waved him a hello to somewhat break the ice. However, it broke his composure, and suddenly, he scurried off with his things from the café.
Now, you got quite worried. You checked your tiny mirror if he saw anything unpleasant with you, but you’d say you look relatively fine. Oh, maybe you could redeem yourself the next time you saw him. After bidding goodbye to Camille and Jaemin, the latter chased after you when you prepared yourself on your bike.
“By any chance, did you say hi to a guy with brown eyes and a red beret?”
“Well, more like I waved at him, then he zoomed out. Did I do something wrong?” You questioned with concern, putting your hands on the handles.
“That’s my friend, who’s quite reserved with strangers. I’m sorry on his behalf.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” You brushed it off politely. “See you again soon, Jaemin!”
Peddling away, letting the cool breeze fan you, your mind reverted its thoughts to that strange man. Maybe you’ll give it some time; you had a lot of it.
“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”
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12 juin 1957
The world must really be on your side with these good decisions because you crossed paths with the strange man again in the café a week later. But instead of running away, he asked nicely if he could sit across your free chair in front of your table outside. It was a Saturday, and the place was packed.
“Joignez-moi, s’il vous plait.” (Join me, please.)
You insisted, giving yourself time to subtly observe his physique a lot more. Freckles dotted under his eyes like a constellation, bushy eyebrows, pink cheeks to match his pale complexion, and wearing a fuzzy knit sweater that meshed well with his green beret. He had some sort of necklace too; there was a heart pendant.
“Vous êtes une artiste.” (You’re an artist.) The small wooden palette of paint beside your small sketch pad was exposed, finding it as a great icebreaker.
“Une peintre, spécifiquement. Franchement, les visuels ici sont trés captivants qu'à Paris.” (A painter, to be specific. Frankly, the visuals here are more captivating than in Paris.)
“Je suis d’accord,” (I agree,) Jaehyun leaned against his chair, taking a better look at you with the remaining light from the descending sun.
“Oh, vous êtes comme moi. J’habite à Paris aussi.” (Oh, you’re like me. I live in Paris too.)
“Bon, je suis née à Londres. Puis, j’ai déménagé où je voulais en Europe depuis j'avais 18 ans. Mais oui, j’habite définitivement à Paris maintenant.” (Well, I was born in London then moved wherever I wanted in Europe for inspiration since I was 18. But yes, I live permanently in Paris now.)
You clarified, beginning to enjoy his comforting company. Initiating conversations with people you’re not acquainted with wasn’t in your range of skills, though he didn’t have an intimidating vibe. He looked too youthful to act like that.
“Je m’appelle (Y/N), d'ailleurs.” (I’m (Y/N), by the way.) You stuck out your hand as a sign of respect, which he enthusiastically obliged.
“Salut, (Y/N). Je m’appelle Jaehyun.” [Hi, (Y/N). I’m Jaehyun.]
He kissed it in a gentleman fashion, applying the manners he’s been taught since he was a child. Should you have been flustered, but no.  It’s been a long time since anyone greeted you like that, specifically back home.
Throughout your talk, you learned more about who he was, his job, and what his life in the countryside is like. He was an author of romance novels, yet you’ve never heard about him prior. Heavily prioritizing your work, you don’t keep up with the new releases or trends at all. Though after mentioning his last name, it piqued your interest.
“Jeong? As in the business, Jeong Tea Inc.?”
“Correct.”
His family was one of the most affluent families in Parisian society. Old money immigrants from South Korea, they brought their tea business to France and it boomed successfully. You’re quite sure you’ve seen his parents in past exhibits, but never did you approach them because you were a rookie then. But he reassured you that it was fine, and to just treat him like you’d treat your friends. Plus, it came to your knowledge that he was the same age as you too.
He opened up how this village was where he lived his childhood, so he asked his parents if he could hand over their mansion for a while for rest. It then shocked both of you at how identical your reasons were for staying in the countryside.
“I’m burnt out from the city, so I’m trying to regain my spirit here hopefully. Besides, I needed a change of scenery after living there for 3 years. My longest stay yet outside of London!”
“I need new ideas for my books. The cities don’t charm me anymore, so I returned here for peace and quiet. Maybe let these ideas come to me rather than me going after them.”
From a bigger lens, people would conclude your interaction as a sight of two artists who passionately talk about their art. But to you, you’d interpret it as two relaxed, young adults in their twenties who simply wanted to run away from the pressures of their art and enjoy the summer as every young adult should.
Not cooped up in the studio or office, but innocently waltzing around with your youth while it’s still there.
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début de juillet 1957
“Dépêche-toi, (Y/N)!” [Hurry up, (Y/N)!]
Jaehyun yelled at your open balcony from downstairs, parking his mini car beside your bike. He planned on taking you somewhere a little farther this time; to absolutely feel like one of the locals.
The countryside urged you to wear more dresses and flat shoes, so you took out a turquoise dress with a white scarf to wrap on top of your head. Like your relaxed fit, your mindset too was calm. Upon meeting him, he wore his round spectacles with a red knit sweater over a white turtleneck long-sleeved top. His fingers were adorned with silver rings, then around his neck was a thin black ribbon. He curled some of his hair again, a style you really liked of his.
You can’t lie, but this man could pull any trend or style and still look extra pretty.
Out of all the locals you’ve befriended in your stay, Jaehyun was always your companion. He took you to varying places that those locals don’t visit nor tourists acknowledge in their reviews for the past few weeks. For someone who hasn’t been in the village for a long time, his memory didn’t disappoint. His childhood was only filled with cheerful moments.
Today, he was taking you to a peaceful district of shops in the farther part of the village. It’s where he’d buy sweets, journals, and accessories with his mother, Krystal, and one of his housemaids every other weekend.
All the stores there were currently bombarded with blooming flowers along their alley, bringing more enticement to those who were roaming around. There was so much life here; the head waiter of one restaurant smiling at every passing customer, one florist handing a free flower to anyone who asks, and a young lady showcasing her jewelry collection to a bunch of women who looked like tourists.
“Cette librairie vendent des livres enveloppés dans du papier. Ma mère m'a offerte l'un d'eux pour mon anniversaire tous les ans comme une surprise.” (This bookstore sells books wrapped in paper. My mother gifted me one of them on my birthday every year as a surprise.)
He trained his attention at a rustic shop with open wooden windows giving a glimpse of their shelves.
“Avez-vous fini les lisant?” (Have you finished reading them?)
“Du début à la fin.” (From cover to cover.)
He took you to this rooftop restaurant overlooking the entire plaza. Since he didn’t arrange a reservation yet didn’t get rejected, he must know the owner. Especially how a lot of the staff gave casual hellos and high fives.
Speaking of the owner, he walked out of his kitchen to introduce himself to you. He went by the name Moon Taeil, another one of Jaehyun’s childhood friends whom he used to play at his house whenever his parents came along.
Gobbling up in the appetizing food Taeil prepared beforehand, Jaehyun brought up your painting exhibition again. He loved hearing artists talk about their works, wanting to know more about their driven mindset and what their imagination is like. After all, it does vary for everyone.
“So far,” You poked your fork through the chicken, taking a bite of it. “I’ve produced 3 paintings. The garden of flowers outside Café des Étoiles Perdues, the kids playing hopscotch in the alley, and the peach tree outside your house.”
“Woah, you’re on a roll.” Jaehyun clapped across you, pouring you another glass of water. He recalled the nights you ranted not having any clue what to do for the exhibit. Then after taking you to more places, he’s rewarded to see you be creatively active again. “How many artworks do you left to make?”
“Around 3-4 left. I have ideas already, but I’m still brainstorming.” You internally rejoiced, loving how much progress you’ve made. “How about you, Jaehyun? How’s your progress?”
Unlike you, Jaehyun still felt stuck. Although he did find couples around the village, none of them intrigued him as much as his past stories. But he won’t give up easily; that’s not in his work ethic.
“Still searching, but I’ll get there.”
Recently, you got ahold of some of Jaehyun’s books from him personally since they weren’t sold in the village. You wanted to understand how he became so well known outside the labels people put him under. Reading his first novel entitled “Des Papillons” (Butterflies), it was about a couple separated during World War II without contact or knowledge about their well-being. Yet whenever they saw butterflies on the day they parted, they took it as a sign that the other was alive wherever they were.
You’re always hanging on the cliff when the scenes revert back and forth to the main male lead getting stuck in intense war scenarios, rooting for him to get out alive each time. In the end, it took 7 years before they were reunited and wed.
Jaehyun had a wonderful way with his words and descriptions, managing to enwrap you in as if you’re also a character in the book. Like how you rooted for that male lead, you’re rooting for him to find his spark again.
Following this uplifting conversation, Jaehyun finally took to your greatly anticipated spot. It was the main viewpoint of Gordes, one of the most beautiful hilltop villages in the country. The sunset was about to hit, and the lights from the city across you slowly turned on like a bunch of dominos.
As you marveled at its aesthetics, Jaehyun leaned against the hood of his car. He sensed how in awe you were, more than you ever were in the city he assumed. So used to the city that being surrounded with nature became foreign to you.
He took out his polaroid camera from his trunk and captured a photo of you from behind. The shutter sounds were obvious, turning your back at the commotion. Jaehyun fanned the freshly printed photo to dry, giving a mischievous smile.
“What can I say? While you’re fawning over the view, mine was more enamoring.”
Although Jaehyun felt overwhelmed the first time he locked eyes with you, he can’t resist the power of his developing feelings for you. The more time he took you around, the more his heart found different details about you to admire. After listening to all those love stories in the past, the people he spoke to shared how there will be some distinct moment where your heart decides who they’re longing for.
That exact view of you by the cliff, he already knew.
He’s infatuated by you.
“Tu es très ringard, Jaehyun.” (You’re so cheesy, Jaehyun.) You scoffed sassily, with a hand on your waist.
“Un gentleman ne ment jamais, (Y/N). Allez, il fait nuit maintenant.” [A gentleman never lies, (Y/N). Come on, it’s night already.]
He cleverly responded, grabbing his car keys from his pocket. The trip back to the village was energizing, putting down the roof of his car to relish the chill breeze of the night weather. You even raised your arms in the air, losing your scarf even from the speed Jaehyun went at!
The two of you belted along to the songs on the radio when the fields were the only ones surrounding you, no neighbors to shout at your rambunctiousness.
The late-night hours drew by so quickly almost like dinner with more of Jaehyun’s friends didn’t happen. Arriving at the front doors of your apartment complex, Jaehyun raced over to your side to open your door. Always maintained proper observation of manners, you appreciated that side of him. Rarely anyone in Paris that you’ve encountered treated you that way because you were a foreigner.
“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]
“Bonsoir, Jaehyun. Quand est-ce que je te revois?” (Goodnight, Jaehyun. When can I see you again?)
“Demain et après-demain. Appelle-moi quand tu es libre.” (Tomorrow, and the day after that. Just give me a call when you’re free.)
With a short wave, you entered your building and marched up to the stairs. A good day only meant being tired to the core, ready to crash and fall in your soft bed. Opening your wide windows to let more of the cool breeze in, your eyes easily caught Jaehyun’s classy car still there. As for the owner, he didn’t move an inch from his leaning position.
“Rentre à la maison, Jaehyun! C’est tard!” (Go home, Jaehyun! It’s late!) You shrieked, peeking side to side to make sure none of the neighbors scold you.
Jaehyun laughed wholeheartedly, not budging at all. “La nuit ne fait que commencer, ma chérie.” (The night has just begun, my darling.)
“Comment tu m'as appelé?” (What did you call me?)
Either your ears were fooling you or he addressed you by a divine pet name. The gasp you swallowed, as your entire body tingled with exhilaration. Your mind would simply disregard it like his former teasing words, but your heart begged to differ.
Rather than responding with words, Jaehyun’s voice serenaded you with a wondrous song, C’est Si Bon by Eartha Kitt, that played on the radio earlier. Out of the blue, a random guitar accompaniment followed his baritone vocals.
“En voyant notre mine ravie,”
Against the railing of your wired balcony, your body shifted forward to watch him better.
“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”
Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.
“C'est si bon de guetter dans ses yeux,”
It was like a lullaby, and here you were drowning in its peacefulness. Sensing the passion he gives off in his singing, your heart couldn’t refrain the strings inside from being swayed and tugged.
This was your moment of realization: that you too were smitten.
“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”
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À la mi-juillet de 1957
“Hello, nature!” You greeted brightly as your legs raced the huge garden in his manor. It was the first time he invited you over, too lazy to go out of the city. His social battery needed a recharge for the weekend, so a picnic within his home would do the trick. Additionally, it was an excuse to bring you over after the numerous times you’ve begged him to.
Jaehyun merely shook his head, enjoying the rush of childlike fun in your veins while you squealed and grazed your hands through the flowers.
He carried a wooden basket full of treats his family maids cooked, taking his time to venture through the rows of flowers. They were growing healthily and phenomenally these days, sometimes riding his bike to personally water them since he became busy with writing again. Lately, he found inspiration again, and so he wrote day and night to set them free.
“Voila!” You yanked out a sunflower, sniffing it a little. “Come on, Jaehyun! Pick up a few for our lunch!”
He followed your order, picking out some he found ideal. But just for fun, he put down the basket and carried you from behind out of the blue. You tried kicking him away, but his muscular arms can’t compete with your soft ones.
“What are you doing?”
“You said to pick up a flower, so I did. The prettiest of them all.”
His flirtatious words were never serious, yet you took it as a compliment. That’s how high your confidence is. Only we define our own worth, not others. The two of you chatted more about your lives until the first rain of the season poured down, chilling down from the raging heat. None of you had an umbrella; the weather was too unpredictable.
Deciding to just run for it, he gave you the wooden basket to protect yourself whilst he used the blanket you’ve sat on. Running with laughter to return to his mansion in the muddy dirt, the cool drops shivered your figure yet felt fantastic.
If you were in the city, you’d panic because it’d mess your appearance and your boss would be infuriated by your unprofessionalism. But in the countryside, it didn’t matter at all. The condition of the rain wasn’t budging to improve, getting stronger by the minute. His entire house even lost power, his housemaids having to bring candles to his bedroom and your assigned one once night dawned.
It was hopeless to return home for you, plus it’s dangerous to drive in in the dark, narrow streets too. Jaehyun handed you some of his fresh clothes so you’d be free from flinching from cold dress sticking to your body.
“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”
Nodding, you excused yourself to find the bathroom. You’d assume it’d be easy, but this was your first time in his house; a mansion even. Doors from left to right, long corridors that seemed never-ending, no maids were within the vicinity whom you can ask for guidance.
Resorting to return to Jaehyun’s chamber for help, you were taken aback by what your eyes laid on. In front of his full mirror, he discarded his now-dried shirt. Even with the dim lighting, you could make out that he was fit by the transparent view of his abdomen. Peeping like this was wrong, yet you couldn’t turn away just yet. The heat in your cheeks was inevitable, finding composure in such an unholy sight.
Though a gear in you suddenly twisted; a gear that straightened your nerves. You’re taking a bold move on the chessboard of your feelings. Wholly opening his bedroom door again, you leisurely sauntered inside without warning.
“Oh, (Y/N)! Ne peux pas trouver la salle de bain?” (Oh, (Y/N)! Can’t find the bathroom?)
Unbothered as he stood shirtless, you on the other hand silently dropped his clothes on the floor. Holding intense eye contact, your fingers graciously unzipped the side of your dress. Inch by inch, the tension built up like the strong tiny flames lit on the candles around you two. Joining the pile of clothes, all that remained were your white lace undergarments. Unplanned for the get-go, it’s the ideal set for your earlier outfit at the picnic.
“Je me suis perdue, mais je pense avoir trouvé quelque chose de mieux.” (I got lost, but I think I found something better.)
Your fingers grazed your arm up to your collarbones, faking your naivety. From your lust-filled stare, the glint in Jaehyun’s eyes darkened. He gulped at the revealing sight of you, brushing his hair back to restrain himself.
None of you could utter a single word, only the vivacious rain being the only sounds ringing around you. Thus, you allowed your actions to pursue precisely what you desired to do.
Taking baby steps towards him to test the waters, he met you right in the center and closed the leftover space. His hands cradled your face, whilst yours clung to his chest. His lips tasted like red wine, watching him pour in a glass for himself earlier. He did offer, yet you declined.
Your tongue darted his lower lip, gaining access after. Sensing the edge of his bed, you plopped yourself down the cushion. His knee urged your legs to widen, letting his body slide in. From your face, his fingers lowered to the back of your bra, snapping the clasps open.
“It takes skill to accomplish that in one try, Jaehyun.”
“I lived in Paris too, ma chérie. You out of all people would understand and have the experience.”
His palms massaged your freed breasts, throwing your head back even more to his pillows as his lips ravaged down from your stomach until the fabric of your not-so pure panties.
“Call me that again, please.”
“Ma chérie, seras-tu mienne?” (My darling, will you be mine?) He kissed and licked the tiny ribbon in front repeatedly, where your now-swollen clit laid. It electrified your bones, pulling on to his ruffled hair.
“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)
Sex in the form of one-night stands were all you’ve invested; upcoming artists like you weren’t capable to maintain long-term relationships. Les plans à trois even if you’re extra freaky or drunk from the afterparties of your events. All that these occurrences had in common were not seeing those men ever again after sneaking out of their apartments in the morning.
This time, it’s different.
When they said that doing the deed with someone you’re romantically entangled with was more special, they didn’t bluff. You could plan bits of your life, but it can sometimes change aspects of it when you least expect it. Sometimes for the best or the worst, but right now, it went beyond your expectations.
It’s rewarding that the man you’ve slowly fallen for within your stay returned your affections.
Around late 3 am that night, your brain jolted with artistic ideas that awoken your sonorous rest. There are no hopes of sleeping them off because they tend to bother you for hours until you do something about it. But you’re already so cozy having Jaehyun’s arms around you, skin to skin under the duvet. His lips daunted right above your forehead, recalling his endless kisses there that helped you fall asleep.
Well, these ideas don’t work themselves unless you do. Untangling him tactfully, you stepped out of the blanket and wore one of his long white shirts he gave you earlier before pulling out your sketchpad and palette of oil paints.
Luckily, there was still one available candle to use as the rest have melted indefinitely. You slid the matchstick again to the sand surface, boring a flame from the friction which you placed on top of the wick.
All your ideas that night leaned towards one thing, or person rather: Jaehyun.
You spent a few minutes retracing how he vividly looked at the picnic, leaning back from the chair of his work desk. His outfit of a turquoise turtleneck underneath a white button-top with trousers matching the said turtleneck looked good together, how his ears tingled red after you complimented his newfound inspiration for his book, and the prominent veins in his arms when he rolled his sleeves due to the heat.
The thin brush you held defined the shape of his face, then paying attention to the messy strands of his hair. Stroking in a circular way to outline his eyelids, a hoarse grunt disturbed the peaceful silence.
“Get back in bed, ma chérie.” His eyes drowsily opened, lying on his side. The moment he no longer felt your warmth, he worried something happened. Instead, you’re working late at night after quite a rough yet romantic night.
“Shush,” You shunned him down with your index finger. “Give me a few more minutes.”
“Perhaps, are you painting me?” He hunched from the covers. “Your eyes looking back and forth would never lie to me, would they?”
“Maybe…” You teased, batting your eyes at him without any risky intentions. Or not?
He deeply chuckled, sluggishly removing himself under the covers. In his pure nudity, he advanced himself towards you. You shrieked, covering yourself with your free hand.
“Jaehyun, stay back! I told you I’ll be there soon!”
Not listening, he carried your bridal style, making you drop your precious palette to the fur rug. Laying you carefully, he popped each button open. By the sight of his cock hardening again, you knew you were in for another round with him.
“Wet again, ma chérie? Oh, this will be fun.”
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Fin de juillet 1957
So this kind of summer romance concept that everyone fantasized about… it became your present.
Together you’d stroll in the smaller streets and immerse yourselves in the unique culture of the village. Whenever anyone saw you together, holding hands, biking, or what-not, they’d praise in the name of love for bringing you both together. A romance like yours in the countryside was a lively sight.
Remember how extensions were a possibility if your search for inspiration wasn’t found? Well, it’s not a question that you’d make one, except inspiration found you instead. And he had one arm around you as he slow danced with you in the open grounds of the village, listening to the live band covering song classics.
In particular, Chet Baker. He was Jaehyun’s favorite artist at the moment.
There was an ongoing week-long festival dedicated to summer, giving more plants their bloom and spreading gratitude to the hardworking people. Especially the students, off on their break.
The faint radiance from the post lights as Jaehyun swayed you around, making you laugh as he tried to mumble the lyrics of the song. All those glasses of wine he tried earlier with you from the bartender offering it for free had its effects, and you weren’t off the hook from them either.
Blisters started to form from your ankles, adjusting to the new pair of heels Jaehyun gave (or insisted to buy) you a while ago after staring at them like lasers. You’ve always provided things for yourself that being spoiled by someone else felt weird to you.
“If there’s anything you want me to buy for you, just tell me.”
“How can I buy you if you’re already mine?”
His smooth talk often made you punch his shoulder, but it’s just a mechanism to hide the exhilaration.
Under each other’s spells in your dance, you laid your head on Jaehyun’s chest. Feeling the strong beat of his heart, you were reminded of how much life he’s filled with. And you became a part of it, in the same way he crossed yours.
Jaehyun’s lips sank to the top of your head, pecking it affectionately. The first-ever summer where he wasn’t stuck at his desk working or drinking his life away with his rich friends in their Parisian homes, it couldn’t get better than this.
“Oiii! Flirtez ailleurs!” (Oiii! Flirt somewhere else!) The distinct voice of Jaemin, handing out pastries to passersby, shouted at the both of you, making you flip your middle finger at him.
“Trouve une copine d’abord, d’accord?!” (Find a girlfriend first, alright?!) You shouted back jokingly, almost falling due to the ache of your feet. Your immodest behavior was censored by Jaehyun’s large palms, not wanting the kids around to see it. Whispering closely to your ear,
“Tu es ivre. Laisse-moi te ramener chez toi.” (You’re drunk. Let me take you home.)
You changed back into your sandals as Jaehyun led you through the different alleys. Your vision was too hazy to navigate, so he had one arm wrapped around your shoulders. The weather grew cold too, shivering your bones so he draped you in his blazer.
“Wait,” You stopped, making him do the same. But before he could ask for your reason, your hands yanked him by his suspenders and your legs walked backward to reach the brick wall. Standing in his 5’11 glory, you were overpowered.
Yet your lips captured his effortlessly, raising to your toes to press yourself closer to him. He moved fast, one arm hugging your waist while the other hoisted your leg up. Tangling around his waist, the urge to move your hips against his crotch couldn’t be contained any longer.
Everyone was probably still out at this time or sleeping. The sloppy sounds you’ve produced were beyond suitable for any audience. Not to mention, the nasty words Jaehyun’s pretty mouth spoke in your ears desired you to fall to your knees.
“Not afraid of getting caught, ma chérie? You want me to ruin you right here, right now?”
“God, Jaehyun,” Your hands tugged his belt forward, the friction it gave to your core twitched the naughty side out of you. “Do it, please.”
The idea of public sex thrilled your mind into overdrive, yet you’ve never done it. In Paris, a city where several people started to know your name, you didn’t need a scandal to be plastered in your resume yet.
Jaehyun himself included, and still opted not to give it to you.
“Another time, ma chérie. Your apartment, now.”
The moment you unlocked your apartment door, Jaehyun was far from gentle like in the mansion. Ripping you out of your frilly dress didn’t take long, so was unbuttoning his trousers down to the floor.
On your knees, his hand gave you a makeshift ponytail as your tongue flicked the slit of his cock. Then slowly taking him inch by inch on your mouth, you’d let out a loud pop when you needed to breathe. Your hands fondling his balls, he groaned from the edge of your bed and tightened his hold on you. Tears formulated in your eyes as you got to swallow him whole, uncontrollably bobbing your head.
He felt like putty when he released, your throat taking the salty base. You hastily unhooked your bra in front of him when suddenly, his hand flicked on the fabric of your panties, cueing you to stop your motion.
“Keep them on when you ride me.”
Straddling on his lap, his head laid against the headboard of his bed. His arms roaming around your back to stabilize you, your fingers pushed your panties to the side as you pushed yourself down his protected length. Your moans became shaky. Up and down, you bounced while bracing on his shoulders.
Against his ear, your moans were harmonious. His hips moved against your beat, hitting your g-spot like the sexual ace he is. His thumb rubbing your clit, you shuttered your eyes at the impending high approaching you like a bus.
“I’m close.” You choked out, the overstimulation overwhelming your nerves.
“Fuck, me too.” He grunted, slapping your butt that made you shriek.
Soon enough, everything hit you both all at once. The knot snapped, and so did your body falling on his chest after a single scream. Panting, Jaehyun pecked on your temple as his cock softened up. Once you returned to your senses, you lifted yourself from his length, laying bare beside him.
His eyes started to fall, but before they did, he muttered huskily. “Je t’aime, (Y/N).”
It was the first time he’s said those words in the way they meant, and he’s more than certain that it’s what he felt with you. Sure, it started as mutual infatuation, but now, it can’t leave. Not on his watch.
Love was a concept unfamiliar to you, but Jaehyun slowly taught you what it was and how it felt like. Books and films may give sneak peeks, but to personally give and receive it back was made possible by him.
From this moment on, you could conclude that yes, you reciprocated it.
“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”
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16 octobre 1957
Autumn made its way to the countryside.
The leaves switched into red-brown shades, the weather in the south was warmer, and the wine harvest was highly anticipated. Jaehyun’s camera was a common item in your outings, taking as many photos as he could so the two of you had something to look back on.
Planned and candid, his range was wide. These were moments that proved that your youth was as happy as you wished it to be. You wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
Painting in his mansion was a regular thing, having new canvases prepared at his patio. There were so many items that amused you there like you could base your entire collection on his home. It’s not like Jaehyun could argue; it meant more time with you whenever you came over.
“Jaehyun, if you smudge paint on me, so help me Go-” He refused to listen to your “threats”, smearing black paint on your cheek.
“You were saying?” He cockily pestered, showcasing his paint-filled fingers. You dipped one of your brushes into the new paint and chased after him without hesitation. The entire evening became a paint war, a laugh fit even after seeing your reflections in the mirror. But before you could clean yourself, Jaehyun’s camera was by your face and he pressed the button.
“Still breathtaking.”
But the middle of the season arrived, that’s where your planned extension you’ve reached its end. The exhibit was next month, getting calls from your boss regarding your return and the paintings you’ll present. You informed her that you already had them mailed to your studio way back, so there’s nothing much to worry about.
All your bags were packed in the private car Jaehyun rented. Here, you’re bidding your goodbyes to every friend you’ve made outside the doors of your apartment complex, saving your last words with Jaehyun.
The night before, he stayed over and helped you pack your last items in luggage bags. He even brought extra clothes for you so you wouldn’t work extra. You’ve talked it out the whole evening through what happens next to ease your worries. In your bed, he opened the wide windows and pulled you under the sheets.
“Write to me.”
“Call me when you’re free, or whenever you feel like it.”
Leaning against the railing of the stairs, watched the sorrow in your face over this parting. He sensed how bittersweet everything was, but he wouldn’t change anything about it. He’s positive that your story won’t end here, not right now.
Sauntering to him, you sighed whilst taking your bag he held the whole time from him. His touch was tighter as the two of you hugged tenderly, nuzzling his head on your shoulder. The scent of his citrus cologne that implanted in your brain felt comforting, despite the uncertainty of everything between you.
You hinted a minty taste from the menthol candies from his home as his lips brushed yours, colliding it timely. He waited when everyone left, relishing these last seconds.
Stepping inside the vehicle, you waved your summer love farewell one more time before the driver hit the pedal. Your eyes couldn’t stray away from looking back, the distance between him and your former apartment widening. Only when he was no longer in the frame, you shifted your focus back in front.
Your fingers fiddled with the charm bracelet he gifted you from the market. It was custom-made by a jeweler who was great friends with his mother in his younger years. There were two pendants chained on it: a paintbrush and the sun.
“A paintbrush to remind you of your passion, and the sun to remind you of the summer we first met.”
The man was like one of his romance books, in human form. He knew how to catch your breath effortlessly.
Your stay, for now, may have concluded, but there was always next summer. And the ones after that. The village felt like a second home, one you can’t neglect like the other places you’ve lived. Then having Jaehyun here, the more reasons to return.
Undoubtedly the best vacation you’ve ever been in your adult years, one that didn’t sacrifice for your art so you could compete with other artists. The weight on your chest poofed into thin air, and you felt ready for what the next steps as a painter were.
Appreciating the greenery you passed by, you peeked over the side mirror of the car only to find Jaehyun quickly biking in your direction.
Now, what was he up to?
You instantly requested the driver to slow down his pace, rolling down the window of the car. Not caring about the strong winds, “You fool, what are you doing?!”
Although he trusted your last words, he had the greed to see your face again. It would be a long time until he’ll see you in person again. So he pedaled as fast he could to still reach you. Oh, the things you do when you’re in love.
“Mon cœur bat la chamade pour toi, (Y/N)!” [My heart beats loudly for you, (Y/N)!]
You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.
“Je reviendrai bientôt, Jaehyun!” (I’ll come back soon, Jaehyun!)
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21 octobre 1957
Only your friends at the studio gave you a warm welcome back, receiving comments like “get back to work��� from your first encounter with your boss. Popping a champagne glass open after work hours on the rooftop of your studio, they interrogated you with all the questions they could think of.
“So this village in Provence…. was it beautiful as the tourists said?” Ten, who moved from his home in Thailand to Paris at a young age, expressed his curiosity whilst leaning against the railing overlooking the Eiffel Tower.
“Beautiful is an understatement, Ten. I miss it dearly!” You heaved a sigh, twirling your glass.
“So this inspiration you were looking for…” Amélie, your dear friend since your university days, created some tension as she prolonged her last word. Playfulness twinkled in her eyes, crossing her legs. “Was a person involved by any chance?”
For a moment, your throat almost gagged on the sizzling alcohol going down.
“What do you mean?” You acted clueless, pouring your now empty glass with more booze. But the moment Ten gave you the troublesome look coordinating with Amélie, you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. These two were such gossips in and out of the studio.
Ten took the seat across you on the table and leaked all his pent-up information.
“So you know Seo Youngho, the only son of the Seo family. Rich, socialite, a total hotshot… yeah, all that jazz.” He dived in, seeing you nod over knowing that man. Someone in the past you’ve slept with, but that’s another story. “Well, Amelie and I attended one of his parties at his large penthouse. He had his usual crowd there; Kim Doyoung, Lee Taeyong, Nakamoto Yuta, and Lee Minhyung. But fun fact: there’s another member in that friend group who doesn’t go to these kinds of events.”
“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Amélie excitedly took off like the pipelette (chatterbox) she is. “Youngho, who was talking to us for a bit, asked where you’ve run off. Poor him, he must’ve missed you in his bed but anyway! We told him that you went down south somewhere in Provence for a break. Oddly enough, he mentioned how the mentioned member moved back there for the same reason.”
Ten and Amélie gave each other another frisky look, merely to piss you off. So predictable of them.
“Get to the point please!” You screeched.
“Jeong Jaehyun, ever heard of him?” Amélie imitated your tone of voice. “I mean, you should since you made a whole painting of him.”
“H-How,” Speechless, that’s what you were. Ten went on a fit of giggles, signaling the build-up of his intoxication.
“Youngho visited the studio to find a specific painting for his home, and we helped him in choosing. Then when your deliveries of paintings arrived that day and were unwrapped, the look on his face when he saw Jaehyun’s painting was priceless. Things started to add up, especially when he told us that he called up Jaehyun prior, he said that Jaehyun was seeing a girl during his stay there.”
“A young, burnt-out painter from Paris, to be specific.”
They’ve put you on the edge of the cliff, and it was too close to call it a coincidence. Of all things to be revealed, this had to be the first.
“Well, I was waiting for another time to tell you guys about him though.”
Their gasps of joy could give you guys a noise complaint by the neighbors, telling all about your escapades of him and you. During it, the more you missed seeing him daily either on his bike or his car. It was stuck in your routine, but now it’s reverted to your old one.
Could the next summer come any faster?
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14 février 1958
Perhaps your newest collection at the Louvre was your most successful one yet.
Entitled “Inspirez, Expirez” (Breathe In, Breathe Out), your sceneries during your stay in the village varied. An old couple slow dancing under the night sky, and the quiet district of shops Jaehyun took you, those were some of your last additions.
A multitude of positive reviews on the newspapers and art magazines came in, commending on taking on a fresher, brighter outlook for a change whilst finding your spark again. As fulfilling it was, what you longed the most was the one responsible for it.
Lately, it’s been tough to contact him. His maids always answered the calls, informing you that he was busy with work or family matters. It’s so rare for him to act like this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t grand or serious hopefully.
Back to your collection, tonight was the last night of it. Just in time for Valentine’s day, where numerous socialite lovers embarked on this event, but you’re more fixated that it was also Jaehyun’s birthday. A boy full of love born on the day dedicated for it, things made more sense. In case, you’ve sent your birthday wishes to him through letter and passing the message to one of his maids. Even on his special day, he hasn’t reached out to you.
But to momentarily forget about that, there was a closing ceremony held for this exhibit with the other artists involved, and it was your turn to give your final remarks. More esteemed socialites and journalists were present, which didn’t halt your nerves the slightest. You were a professional after all, holding pride in your craft as you stood in front of the microphone wearing your new favorite custom-made gown.
There are perks when you have close friends in the fashion industry, specifically Kim “Key” Kibum from the House of Key. After defending him from a disrespectful client when you were picking up a dress for your boss during your internship years, not only did you earn his respect, but an invite to his shows and first claiming of new items from his collections. Dining in expensive restaurants in the metro was a plus, catching up on your lives. Sometimes calling each other out for your sexcapades too.
Speaking of him, he was in the crowd that night, ordering every photographer to take photos of your gorgeous self in one of his dresses. Or in your opinion, bribing some by how he stuffed a few thick stacks of Euro bills down their pockets.
Only one of it ever made. A dark green satin v-neck off-the-shoulder gown, where diamonds adorned your neck and ears and white stilettos kept your perfect balance. Also courtesy of Key.
Because it’s the winter season, he gifted you a limited edition white fur coat every socialite tried getting their hands on. Your hair was styled in a bun, emphasizing your dark tinted lips from this new lipstick Amelie insisted you buy.
Most people would get the first impression that you were one of the socialites, a child from one of the affluent families even. But you were a lot more remarkable than that, having inborn talent in the arts that you specialized over your youth and rising to the top without any parental help.
“Thank you to everyone for their endless support towards the magnificent collections of each artist present. As for mine, I am grateful to rechannel my creative side by taking a break. Rather than romanticizing overworking our bones to the core, there’s nothing wrong with taking a step back from the pressure. Being alive is a blessing, realizing further how our youth won’t stay with us forever. Being away from the boisterous cities, I found relaxation in the countryside of Provence.”
Your lips quirked into a grin as every single memory during that time reeled in your head like a movie. “The beauty of Provence cannot be simply put in words. The muses I’ve encountered were more than lovely, especially the man behind the Poetic Rose. With that, I sincerely thank everyone from my bottom of my heart and I hope to continue to support me in the years to come.”
The applause roared once you stepped down the platform, shaking hands with every esteemed guest with more gratitude as they praised you. These days, socializing with them was a lot easier. You’ve even taken more initiative to greet people first before they do, conversing with them easily about anything.
Key definitely noticed that as you toured him around your section, holding his nth glass of wine for the night.
“You, Madame (Y/N), transformed into a social butterfly.” He nudged your shoulder, smirking once he got a better view of his favorite painting from you. “I guess that’s the thing when you’re in love.”
“I beg your pardon?”
With this free hand, he motioned it up and down at the painting in front of you. “The Poetic Rose is none other than the youngest son of the Jeong family, whom I’ve met through his older sister, Krystal.”
“Am I really the only one who doesn’t know him?!” You stressed, jokingly. Key was elated to capture you in his trap, the changes of your personality too evident in his eyes. Figuring it out that it was love took a while, but being acquainted with Krystal, she’s the one who told him that her younger brother was in love with a painter in Provence. Do the math.
“I’ve met him through his older sister, one of my highly favored clients. He’s not much of a socialite like her, so I don’t really blame you for that.”
Searching for a waiter to refill your wine glasses, a surprise emerged the both of you.
“Madame Krystal, you’re absolutely stunning.”  Key complimented her, giving the engaged heiress of Jeong Tea Inc. kisses on the cheek as respect. Her recent engagement to Kim Donghyun, her childhood sweetheart and also the heir of Kim Couture, was the talk of the town.
They arrived at the event together, drawing the attention of everyone in the room earlier. Now, he was speaking to a few influential socialites he made a deal with this week about the art collections present.
“Key, you never fail to look fantastic,” She remarked positively, poking his necktie before placing her undivided attention on you. “So you must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’re beyond bewildering in that gown.”
“Flattered to hear that, Madame Krystal. Such a pleasure to meet you.”
The three of you chatted as if you were the only people there. From art, passion, and love, pride filled in your chest when you toured your collection. It was like walking down memory lane for her, adding out how she used to climb the peach tree with her younger brother during their childhood. Once her eyes laid on Poetic Rose, she took her time admiring it.
“My younger brother grew up well. That’s all I could ever hope for as his only older sister.” She paused, noticing how silent you became when you stared at the painting along with her. She observed the passion lit in your eyes, yet there was longing behind it by the way your lips pouted briefly. “You must really love him, do you?”
“I do, truly. After meeting him, not only was I boosted with so much ideas, but my heart embraced him for what and who he is in this universe.” You professed confidently, earning an approving smile from Krystal.
“If that’s how you feel, why not tell him that yourself?”
Her fingers gestured you to turn around. Stood in a grey suit with his brown hair slicked back, it was like seeing a completely new person. A handsome one though. His fashion in the countryside heavily differed from his fashion in the cities. So sophisticated and refined, he looked like a prince straight out of a fairytale.
Your fairytale.
“Jaehyun.”
It’s like everything stopped once he sprinted towards you, pulling you off your feet for a snug hug. Your arms threw themselves on his neck by instinct, not wasting a single second in his grasp. Your nose inhaled the woody scent of his cologne, something more formal than his usual fruity scent.
The smell of aftershave in his jaw couldn’t go ignored either, assuming that he must have had plans to go out tonight. Nonetheless, you squealed as if you were back in Provence, giggling at his boldness. Once he put you down, neither of you could get your hands off each other.
“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you’d be in Paris!” Clutching your waist, you gazed at him with doe-like eyes, instilling confusion.
“J’ai voulu te surprendre, my chérie.” (I wanted to surprise you, my darling.)
He chuckled, pushing some straying strands of your hair behind your ear. His eyes evoked so much endearment towards this elegant look you prepared, making his heart race as if he were in the gardens of his manor again.
Hearing his petname for you again attacked your heart every time no matter how much time passed, he lifted your chin high. Jaehyun urged himself to kiss you senseless right there, leaning lower. And yes, you anticipated it by how your eyes instantly closed.
Only if it weren’t for Krystal to clear her throat, obviously ruining the mood. Flinching away from your sensual lover, you rubbed the nape of your neck. Towards an heiress like her, it must’ve been unprofessional.
“Couldn’t you at least wait until I left, younger brother?” Her fingers flicked Jaehyun’s forehead, a teasing trick they used to do as kids. Even if she was a lot shorter now, it didn’t mean the impact was weak. He cursed under his breath, covering his forehead.
Stifling your laughter was a failure, crinkling your eyes to unleash your emotions. So this is what their sibling dynamic was like?
“Now excuse me, older sister. You didn’t tell me you were visiting the exhibit after my birthday dinner with our parents?” He crossed his arms, exchanging a judgmental look. For his sake, he wanted to maintain his pride. “All you said after dinner was that you were going straight home with your fiancé after all the alcohol mother gave you because it made you lightheaded.”
“Well, you know Key and his persuasiveness. He insisted I attend this event last minute because all the collections were amazing.” She explained, shedding a subtle glance at you. “Plus, it’s an excuse to finally meet this lovely girl you raved so much through your letters.”
Jaehyun kept his family life private, so this piece of information was new to you. The unpredicted way the fluttering feeling drew in your stomach, all you could do was smile from the flattery.
“He spoke about me to you?”
“More than speak, my dear. He practically professed his love for you, asking me advice on how to court a girl, make them smile, etcetera. You’re the first girl he’s been this affectionate with, and I completely understand now.” She patted your shoulder, hopeful. She had such a strong older sister vibe, reminding you of your older siblings back home. “You’re a clever, talented woman. I look forward to seeing you more often.”
As you nodded in approval, she turned towards her brother with her recurring teasing look. “Yah, Jaehyun. You better take care of her. If she ever sheds a tear because of you, I’m hunting you down in the gardens.”
“Harsh of you, Krystal.” He planted his hand on his chest, feigning pain. “But no worries. Having you and mother around me kept me well-mannered towards women growing up.”
Playfulness aside, Krystal felt honored towards her younger brother. Men these days maintained their sexist beliefs and rudeness, especially those who doubted her high position in the family business once her father stepped down. Nowadays, it’s men like Jaehyun who could really challenge the patriarchy and make women pursue a lot more than being limited as a housewife.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now please excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”
Krystal waltzed her way out without tripping from her slight intoxication, which Jaehyun worried about earlier. But anyway, that left him alone with you. Filled with so many questions, you didn’t know where to start.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Paris? Why didn’t you acknowledge my birthday wishes to you? Why aren’t you answering my calls and letters?” You blurted without wasting a breath, weren’t trying to come off as needy, but it became peculiar when he was contacting you like usual.
You pushed off thinking of the worst scenarios, not wanting it to ruin your drive and your emotions either. Yet you trusted Jaehyun enough to know he wasn’t the type of person either.
“Okay slow down, ma chérie.” His hands maneuvered for you to stop for a bit. “Ask me one by one and I’ll give you a solid answer for each while we roam around.”
He arrived in Paris last week, which was initially for work. Then his birthday clashing was a coincidence. It would be too lonely to go home and celebrate his special day alone, so he extended. But again, it’s his work that caused his abrupt contact.
When you were too busy delving into the success of recovering your inspiration, he also found his spur to write again too. Day and night, his mind kept him tedious with an endless trail of thoughts and words. Overall, he finalized it then brought the end product to the same publishing house where his books in the past went through.
In fact, he decided to publish them specifically today on his birthday. The only day in his itinerary he planned, where after publishing, he’d hang out with his friends, have dinner with his family then run off to reunite with you.
“I didn’t intend to make you feel like a second choice, so please forgive me for that, ma chérie.”
“All is forgiven, Jaehyun.” You held both his hands, kissing them tenderly out of habit. “I’m overjoyed that you rekindled your creative side again.”
You were so understanding and empathetic, and Jaehyun aimed to act that way too. He learned so much from you as his friend before being his lover. Quickly enough, you’re both back to his portrait in the center. Like a critic, he narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose. Tapping his chin with his finger,
“This man in Poetic Rose, he’s quite dashing.” He commented with conceit, walking closer to it to view it better. “His freckles are on point, his dimples and dazzling eyes too. Why exactly is he described as a Poetic Rose?”
“Well sir,” You stood beside him, imitating his actions. “This man here always spoke so eloquently, like he had a very poetic approach on life. He reminded me also of a rose by his rosy tinted cheeks and his beauty. He was alluring inside and out.”
“Is he your favorite muse?”
“I never quoted him as a muse because he’s more than that. Muses can be replaced once they no longer serve purpose towards the artist. Though with him, he’s the never-ending flame that I want to keep for the rest of time."
You held on to his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. The apparent reddening of his ears proved that he was flustered, yet you spoke no lies.
“Joyeux anniversaire, ma flamme.” (Happy birthday, my flame.)
“Merci beaucoup, ma chérie.” (Thank you, my darling.)
Something about his new release piqued your attention so you brought it up again.
“So tell me about your new book.”
“Let me show you instead.” Inside the blazer, there was an inner pocket that sealed a small hardbound book. Taking it out, he handed it over to you. “This is your copy.”
The cover of the book had an illustration of two young adults running down the fields under the bright sun, with the title written in cursive and placed in the center.
“L’Été de 1957.” (The Summer of 1957.)
Like a child who received a new gift in the mail, you flipped the book open. Seeing the table of contents and credits to other important people involved in the process, there was a detailed dedication right before the starting chapter. It’s an unexpected page, noticing that he never put anything like this in his last works.
“Pour ma chérie, qui a peint les couleurs manquantes de ma vie.” (For my darling, who painted the missing colors of my life.)
Although Jaehyun planned to write about the couples he met in the countryside, he chose to change his perspective. Instead, he based this new book on your summer romance, installing more original characters who made your romance blossom more.
“I was once so engaged in listening to people’s love stories, hung up on what they felt.” He expounded, pacing around the floor whilst you skimmed through the pages. There were black and white photos from your adventures too to wrap the reader further in the story.
“While I was struggling to find the next story, I realized late that my story with you was a perfect choice. When I fell in love with you, it’s like I didn’t have to fret anymore about anything. Everything slowly yet surely aligned into place for me. Like how we found inspiration in each other.”
A poetic speaker meant having a poetic, wise mind. You kept an open mind whenever Jaehyun shared his thoughts on life with you, an intimate time that didn’t require using your bodies. Whether you were stargazing or drinking wine by his patio, his soulful personality never changed.
“So I recapped every single memory we had and compiled them,” He resumed, taking a closer step towards yours. His warm hands grasped your waist again, catching a glimpse of your astonished face. Mostly, towards your lips that he missed feeling against his.
“This book expressed my own take on love this time, the one I want to grow in.”
You’d care less if you dropped the book and your coat right there, your major desire to kiss him again was driving your senses to the edge of a cliff. Nothing could’ve braced yourself the second you fervently collided your lips with his. It didn’t feel like you were in this exhibit, but somewhere back in his mansion engulfed in each other’s presence.
Your legs almost melted by your daring move, if it weren’t for Jaehyun’s arm moving upwards to your back to stabilize you more. Your body tingled with goosebumps due to his relaxing fingers all over your body. His tongue caved in your lips, and you couldn’t ban its access.
Such an explicit sight, it felt forbidden as you were inches away from the public crowd. Yet it was the least of your worries if they made a big fuss over it. Jaehyun was here again with you, and that was more valuable to you. He savored every trace of your touches, taking his delicate time with you. No past birthday could defeat this, especially when it’s the first one to celebrate with you. The first of many.
As much you wanted to keep this up for hours, your lungs started feeling constricted of air so your lips timidly let go. Though your hands couldn’t, your overwhelmed eyes couldn’t shift away from the heart-stopping view of your lover. Wherein even after such a fearless session, his eyes fused with love and need with his plumper lips.
“Everything about Provence, especially you, that’s the life I want.” You confessed this concealed secret that’s revolved your head for a while now. Yet its certainty was true.
“Are you sure, ma chérie? What about work?” As an artist, he believed you should stay where everything is accessible. Yet as his woman, he wanted you to follow your heart. Jaehyun didn’t want you to choose or struggle.
“I’ve grown out from the idea that the city life was the only life meant of an artist like me.” You replied, confident enough to discuss it after deep thought. “Cities like Paris hold exciting, vigorous flames that will have you clinging on to them. But then, they’ll eventually die the longer you stay. You get burned in the process too. However, I stand by what I said earlier. I found an endless flame when I met and began loving you, Jaehyun. It doesn’t sting at all; it illuminates strongly every living day.”
Urging him to lower his stance with your fingers, you stated one last phrase. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”
“If that’s the case,” Jaehyun acknowledged, sticking his arm out for you. “Let’s get out of here.”
Astounded expressions crowded the socialites in the event as they watched the both of you exit together. If the news of Krystal and Donghyun weren’t crazy enough, some journalists figured the mysterious man behind The Poetic Rose and spread it like wildfire.
How was the youngest son of the Jeong family turned renowned romance novel author connected to the impressive, up-and-coming painter from London?
What really went down in Provence?
“How can you miss out on the signs? Did you not see them share a kiss earlier?” Key protested to those who weren’t approving whatever relationship you guys had. He loved his tea but hated those who simply were money hungry. Wanting a chance to be a part of the rich family, only to fish them out of their riches sooner or later.
Meanwhile, the winter season didn’t stop any of you from roaming the streets of Paris. Moments like these were a preview of the future you’ve envisioned with Jaehyun. Youthful, free, and fiery, a love between two artists created more magic not just in their crafts but to those around them.
Promenading a street overlooking the Seine River, Jaehyun took out a smaller instant camera from his pocket and took a candid shot of you. Stunned, you slapped his chest with your bag.
“Hey! Just how many more things are hidden in your blazer?”
“Just my wallet and a few condoms. Why’d you ask?” He raised a suggestive brow, feigning good intentions.
You hummed, faking your deep thought mindset. “At this rate, I don’t think we’ll make it back to my apartment alive.”
Jaehyun tugged you by your coat, his lips hovering your ear to whisper. “If we call a cab right now, I can finger you in the backseat.”
You chuckled at his vulgar idea, but it seemed ideal. You loved the thrill of getting caught or having someone overhearing you two, just like him. Besides, his fingers don’t match up to yours when you touch yourself alone in your apartment. You bat your eyelashes, giving in.
“Deal.”
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6 ans plus tard (1964)
Summer returned, the sun strongly smiling down to the plentiful flowers at your family garden. By the patio of your home, your canvas was already laid by the easel stand. Shades of yellow were applied first to symbolize the brightness of the day, following the outline of your desired scenery for this piece.
Dipping the brush in water to change colors, you took another glance at the breezy sky. Light blue with clouds resembling soft pillows, you inhaled gently as your brush faintly stroked the canvas again.
Your hair was tied in a bun, meaning that you’re in for a busy session. But a more soothing one as the jazz music flowed from the vinyl player inside. Stress was the last thing you needed right now.
“What’s madame artiste up to right now?” Your husband piped in from behind, placing down a tray of tea and crackers. With some top buttons of his white top left unattended, you glimpsed on his toned chest when he leaned down. But you mustn’t pry whilst working, even when temptation was calling your name repeatedly.
“The summer sunshine healed me of my discomfort, so I think it’s about time I painted again.” You chewed on the snack, looking back and forth to the view. As enchanting as all the flowers you and him planted over the years grew, you’re more amused by a little boy strolling around it with his magnifying glass and tiny wooden basket with his furry puppy by his side.
His tiny legs often troubled the two of you because he enjoyed spending time with nature. Only God knows what he found in the garden this time.
“Adrien est explorer encore. Devrais-je lui dire qu’il change de place, ma chérie?” (Adrien is exploring again. Should I tell him to change places, my darling?) Jaehyun cautiously asked, not wanting his 3 year old son to impair your perspective.
“Non,” (No,) You held on to his hand, kissing it sweetly. Although you peeved any unnecessary details found in your scenery in the past, Adrien was an exception. As his mother, it’s hard to say no to him unless necessary.
“Il est un garçon curieux, alors il devrait explorer et flâner où il veut.” (He’s a curious boy, so he should explore and wander wherever he wants.)
Life ever since you returned to the countryside shifted into something more precious than you imagined. From moving places constantly, you found a home to settle in for good. A home with overflowing love and inspiration. A home within Jeong Jaehyun.
Recently, you halted your work-related activities in Paris and came home because you were heavily homesick. It even affected your health as a whole. So you made adjustments with your schedules, postponing appearances to events to next year.
On the plus side, you could be more active as a mother to Adrien. It felt like you burdened Jaehyun to take care of Adrien most of the time because he mainly worked from home, wherein important people who wanted to meet him would have to fly out to the countryside.
Back and forth to Paris, your presence towards Adrien often lacked. Here came your biggest fear, which was Adrien forgetting you. But Jaehyun told you over and over again that it wasn’t the case. As he listened to every wrenching thought you had, but he’d combat it with heartfelt words of reassurance so you wouldn’t overanalyze things.
He vowed to love and take care of you when times get hard, and he will continue doing so.
Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?
It no longer did after getting married.
It gave more room to grow and breathe more life into it. When Adrien was born, he was the prime reflection of your and Jaehyun’s love. He mirrored his father’s physical traits but with a daring personality like yours. A perfect mixture, the world worked amazingly to bring a boy like him into your life.
“Maman! Papa!” Adrien bolted to where you and Jaehyun stood. From the clothes he wore, it’s very much clear that his father was in charge of it whilst you slept in the entire morning. Suspenders, capri shorts, a white shirt, and a red beret, he deserved his title as Jaehyun’s mini-me.
Jaehyun swelled with pride and love for his only son, peeking over what he brought to show and tell you both. “Oh Adrien, what do you have for us today?”
In his basket, there were 3 sunflowers stuck out from the edge. It’s been a while since you’ve seen some in full bloom, lowering your stance to get a more vivid view. He took them out to hand them to you and your husband.
One flower for Jaehyun and two for you. You let out a gasp, scrunching your brows to the center. He always gave one of each item to you and Jaehyun, never more or less.
“Ooh, deux fleurs pour Maman. Pourquoi, Rien?” (Ooh, two flowers for Mama. Why, Rien?) Jaehyun let his nickname out for his lips while you grasped his small hand.
“Well, I heard from Olivier next door that on his birthday, he gave extra flowers to his mother so he could have another sibling. And it worked!” He spoke so innocently, yet it hitched a choke from Jaehyun’s chest. Your eyes widened from disbelief. The information he collected due to his curiosity, no boundaries truly.
“Le mois prochain, c’est mon anniversaire. Je me demandais si je peux avoir un frère ou sœur comme Olivier? Tu es toujours occupée, comme Papa. Je ne veux plus être seul, alors je veux une amie aussi.” (It’s my birthday next month, and I was wondering if I can have a sibling like Olivier? You are always busy, like Papa. I don’t want to be alone anymore, so I want a friend too.)
You exchanged looks with Jaehyun, not knowing how exactly to respond. Although you and Jaehyun did agree that you wanted more than one child when you were younger, neither of you brought it up again since your careers were always loaded with plans.
Adrien was a surprise child actually, conceived on the night where you and Jaehyun celebrated after L’Été de 1957 was announced to be the best-selling romance novel of the decade in the country.
In Paris at his family home, where his parents brought out all their prized liquor, the two of you drank the entire night away to the point Krystal and Donghyun had to push you away from each other from your public affections because their children were present.
But it didn’t stop you two once you reached his bedroom, far away from everything and everyone. And you’ll never change it.
“Oh, Rien,” You eased in, consoling him. “Je suis désolé. Mais c’est franchement une grande demande, n'est-ce pas?” (I am sorry. But that’s quite a big request, right?)
“Mom and I will think about it first, okay? Another kid is a big responsibility, and you’ll be their older brother. That’s another important job, can you do it well?”
“Yes, I can, Papa!” He beamed with glee, his covered head patted by his father after. As you placed the sunflowers beside your palette, Adrien then proceeded to ask you if he could paint with you like old times.
Never you refuse especially with his sparkling round eyes and chubby face that makes you want to squish every time.
As you lifted his light body to sit on your lap, you placed your brush between his stubby fingers and carefully aimed in whatever angle seemed fit so the painting process would run smoothly and perfectly. He let out sounds of amazement when the strokes get bigger, jumping slightly too because the picture became more vivid. You’d smile and coo at him, commending whenever he followed instructions well. As his mother, you only encouraged your child in whatever they want to excel in.
Adrien was the child of two artists, so it was only natural that he had an artistic side in his veins.
Too caught up in your fun, hearing the automatic shutter of the camera from your side was delayed. The source was none other than Jaehyun hiding behind his camera. Jaehyun’s heart soared at the heavenly view of the most important people in his life, wanting to treasure the moment as a lovely memory.
“Hey!” You shouted, placing down the messy brush by the palette. “Je suis très laid!” (I am very ugly!)
“Shh! Tu est rayonnant, ma chérie. Papa est juste, Rien?” (Shh! You are glowing, my darling. Papa is right, Rien?)
Jaehyun politely quizzed the peppy boy, nodding excitedly. His dimples deeply showed up, the main trait he claimed from his father.
“Oui, papa! Maman est toujours belle!” (Yes, papa! Mama is always beautiful!)
He exclaimed, pecking your cheek numerously. You squealed, attacking him with tickles and kisses back. His shouts of delight, then he was suddenly carried by your tall husband in the air like he was flying in the sky. Adrien enjoyed that motion highly, ending up on Jaehyun’s shoulders shortly after to play by the garden again.
“Go paint. I’ll take care of him now.” Jaehyun persuaded, roaming through the long rows of flowers in full bloom. Though seconds after adding some strokes to your piece, you let down your hair, put a hat and sandals on, and ran to the cute duo to join them.
And that’s how your family spent the entire afternoon. By the garden, running around and taking photos and short videos from Jaehyun’s camera. Freezing these valuable memories, this was truly the life you loved so much.
After your break, you could convince the company you worked at that you’d prefer fewer trips to Paris and stay in the countryside longer. How badly you’ve wanted to hold your exhibits here instead. Plus like Jaehyun, let influential people visit you. You’ve already made a big name for yourself now, so that should be valid enough.
Dinner time passed by quickly too, eventually putting Adrien to a smooth slumber as you massaged the roots of his soft hair while Jaehyun sang him a lullaby. This was your joint parenting technique with him since he was a newborn, and it worked quickly as lightning.
You redressed into your silk nightgown after bringing your canvas to the master bedroom, opening the balcony doors to invite the cool breeze in. You tweaked some bits of your painting, including a silhouette of your small family. Regarding where to place it, probably by the living room as it matched the theme.
“What a spectacular day, don’t you think, ma chérie?” Jaehyun conversed, admiring the calm movements of your brush. He noticed a quirky smile grace your lips.
“It’s been a long time since we had quality time like that with Rien. He’s a feisty ball of energy these days.” You replied with a nostalgic daze. “It’s so crazy how one day, he was still crawling to us. Now, he could outrun the both of us.”
“Comme le temps passe vite, hmm?” (How time flies fast, hmm?) Nodding, nothing braced for what your husband had in mind. You almost dropped your brush mid-way. Jaehyun’s lips impatiently devoured your neck, his huge hands fondling your breasts. Violently throwing your head back against his chest, a needy moan parted your lips.
“Jae-” His touches reaching south to where you desired him highly, dampening hastily as your legs naturally spread apart. Rushed exhales, “À quoi tu penses maintenant?” (What are you thinking about right now?)
“Rien se sent seul,” (Rien feels alone,) His hot breath whispered against your ear, his fingers dangerously trailing your thin panties up and down. With your hands tightly clutching on his bicep,
“Alors, donnons-lui une amie.” (We should give him a friend.)
Ever since Adrien mentioned such a daring topic, it hasn’t left Jaehyun’s mind the whole day. After seeing you in utter bliss with your son earlier, he found you so majestic and radiant. It’s a different kind of happiness, especially for parents.
Now you went on hiatus, he thought that it was the right time to have another. He enjoyed his younger years with Krystal, and he wanted Adrien to experience it too. 3 years was quite a wait, and it seemed ideal to try again.
From his nude chest, you flipped around to intensely clash his lips with yours. Draping your arms behind his neck, Jaehyun lifted your entire figure from the chair. His hands gripping on your butt, he delicately lowered you down your bed.
Drowning into his sensual kisses with his hands all over you, this could prolong for hours. Reddening love marks started to resurface whilst your fingers tugged on the drawstring of his pajama pants. Jaehyun’s fingers dove under the fabric of your panties, his index finger rubbing figure 8s the sensitive bundle of nerves.
You struggled to swallow your moans, not wanting Rien to hear it. You wouldn’t want to repeat history, covering it as Jaehyun massaging you after a hard day.
“I know you want one too, ma chérie.” His fingers began to drape down the straps of your gown, presenting your breasts in its full, perky view. But before his lips could suck on your erect nipples, you parted momentarily from him and got up on your feet. Pulling up your straps again, Jaehyun simply laid down but he wasn’t pleased from how you left him hanging.
“Où vas-tu, ma chérie?” (Where are you going, sweetheart?)
He was growing impatient. You were never to interrupt such a sexy atmosphere ever.
From one of your drawers in your vanity table, an important, half-opened envelope was hidden. You were supposed to give it tomorrow but now seemed like a perfect time. Reading it as soon one of the maids handed it to you gave you the jitters, but in a positive way. Sitting back down on the edge of your bed, you exhilaratingly passed it to your husband.
“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” (What is this?)
“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)
Jaehyun slowly opened the edges and once he took out the contents. Reading it thoroughly, he couldn’t believe it as his jaw dropped, pacing from the letter and you back and forth.
“Vraiment, ma chérie?” (Really, my darling?)
It was from a doctor you visited in Paris a few days before you left, who confirmed just exactly what caused your health to go feeble suddenly. You already had one certain suspicion, which you addressed in your leave of absence letter. Amelié, who finally got the position as the head, couldn’t believe her ears and insisted you take all the time off you needed.
“On dirait que Adrien a reçu son cadeau d'anniversaire en avance.” (It looks like Adrien received his birthday gift early.)
Overall, it turned out the headaches and repeated vomiting you mistook as motion sickness from traveling was a surprise hello to your second child.
A girl specifically, thanks to the blood test she recommended.
“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”
“Montre moi combien tu m’aimes, Jaehyun.” (Show me how much you love me, Jaehyun.)
The whole night through, the two of you vigorously celebrated with the moonlight from the windows and a few scented candles set in the room. Wet kisses left on your collarbone, words of devotion exchanged, holding his hand as he groaned from heartily thrusting in you, the number of moans from your lips overlapped with the vinyl playing in the room. The intimacy between you two increased, almost as if you made love for the first time again all those years ago.
Excluding being drenched from the rain.
Once the two of you grew tired, Jaehyun lied down beside you. Wrapping one arm around, one hand trailed down your naked skin again. His wedding band flashed your eyes, reminding you of the commitment you promised each other. For better, and for worse.
Jaehyun promised to love you endlessly as a woman and his wife, and it didn’t cease when you became the mother of his children. He respected how strong you are, physically and mentally. He helped you in any way he could as you endured the struggling process.
At the end of the day, his family was his biggest priority. More than ever now, you needed him as you go through the pregnancy phases again. Specifically, his index finger lingered on your stomach. There was no bump or other signs of showing, except for that glow he complimented you earlier on.
“We met and fell in love over the summer, got married in summer, had Adrien mid-summer, and now found out about our daughter at the start of summer.” He smiled, blessed at all the good he’s received during this time.
“The summer gods must adore us.” Your vacant hand with your wedding band topped his. To love and to cherish. “Ils m'ont amené à toi.” (They brought me to you.)
His power on you was simply addicting, as if your early twenties revisited you. You straddled himself once again, your fingers caressing his face sweetly. When it reached his lips, he placed longing kisses there and pulled you closer again for another kiss on your lips. In between, you mumbled in a silvery tone,
“Then they led us to say I do. Pour toujours et à jamais.”
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copyright © 2021 by alluringjae.
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harfanfare · 3 years
Note
I saw this post and I was wondering if you write Malleus' too, is okay for you to make that?
How to win a heart of Malleus Draconia?
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a/n: I started posting my writings here because I want to improve my English — so I technically wouldn't make this request. But! Someone on Wattpad (where I take requests) asked for the same thing, so I rolled up my sleeves and wrote this guide today in both languages. Enjoy~
1. Don't be afraid of him.
It is said that the first impression is the most important.
So when you first saw this guy walking through the corridor of Diasomnia, it was hard for you to get rid of that view from your head.
Illuminated both by the green magic flames set in the lobby, as well as by the moon, which eventually managed to break through the dark clouds and with a bright glow appear in the windows of the dormitory, he seemed... lonely and beautiful.
You shuddered as you took a step down the hallway and the dark-haired man turned to you. He measured you with his emerald eyes. And then you recognized him; all the conversations about the mysterious and fearsome Malleus Draconia flew through your head.
Everything told you to rush towards the hallway and run as far as possible, but a piece of you found it inappropriate. Or rather, no one would want to chase everyone away from themself... right?
When you realized you were looking at him for a while, you took a deep breath and nod slightly.
"Good evening, Draconia-san," you said quickly. After a while you added, "The moon is beautiful today, don't you think?”
 2. Smile a lot.
Today was a really wonderful day: the test was postponed, your favorite dish was given in the canteen, and for some reason, the last two lessons were canceled – your class had to make just a quick note about a topic and it took less than fifteen minutes.
"Something happened?" Malleus asked, seeing how almost in the jumps you walk past him. When you looked at him, he added, "You smile a lot.”
"I can stop smiling if you want," you made a sad face, but after a while, the corners of your mouth began to tremble uncontrollably and twisted up again. "Oops, I can’t. Today... it was such a good day... that I think I'm slowly using my life's happiness.”
"I didn't say that smiling is bad," he said. "You look so much better when you smile.”
"Oh," you sighed with apparent surprise. "Is it a compliment?"
"It’s rather a fact..?"
 3. From time to time visit him during club activities.
"Is this a class of the ‘Gargoyle research society club’?” with a deaf knock you opened the door. Malleus turned to you, making a break from browsing through the materials gathered in the library about the history of each of the gargoyles on the school grounds. And there were a lot of them.
"Yes," he replied briefly, getting up. "Do you need something, [Name]?"
"Not at all, my club don’t have a meeting today," you said, closing the door behind you.
You looked around: the room was as clean as ever, except for one desk, where were laid several huge volumes about statues in NRC.
“Are you here alone?” You said before you thought. You lowered your eyes to see Malleus nodding unconcerned slightly. You blinked several times trying to think of what else you could say. "This room... could be a secret base," that was the first thing that came to your mind. Malleus turned his head to one side, uncertain of your response.
“A secret base..? Why?”
"I have no idea," you admitted quickly. "But the very existence of a mysterious point is interesting, isn't it? Doing normal things, such as watching movies or just talking, seems more interesting in places like this,” After a moment of silence, you sighed. "You know what, this idea with the base is stupid”
"We can try," he replied with serious tone. You raised your eyes to see how he looked around the room. "But you'll just have to explain this idea to me in more detail. We can also tell Lilia, Silver and Sebek about it...” he smiled as if seeing your five together in his thoughts was a pleasure. "It will be surely... fun.”
 4. Get yourself a Tamagotchi.
"Look!" you spin a new key chain on your finger. You finally stopped and showed it to Malleus. "Now they are matching!”
A small electronic toy, in a dark green screen that, when it flashed, showed a virtual, pixelated animal. You were impressed with how good quality it was made, especially since you only gave the Shroud brothers a sketch of a toy that Malleus owned.
Your keychain was exactly the same, just a different color and with another pet.
Malleus pulled out his own device and put it on the table. He pressed one of the buttons and a small pet appeared on the keychain – a dragon.
"They can now be friends," you brought your toy closer to so-called Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.
"Do you think so?" He asked in a very surprised tone, but it sounded as if in a moment he were about to burst out with an inexplicably joyful and surprised laugh.
"Of course. Everyone needs a decent friend, no?”
 5. Gain the trust of Lilia, Silver and Sebek.
Lilia, one of Malleus' closest people. It is much more likely that you will meet him before Malleus. He will be very proud when he learns that Malleus has found a friend. If you become a taster of Lilia, in terms of his pastries, he will 100% like you, and at 20% you will leave the kitchen alive and well.
Silver, who has mastered the art of sleeping in any conditions. It's easy to get him into your plans, although with the craziest ones he will hesitate. Rather well-disposed towards everyone, he can cover for you when you are not in class— but he usually inadvertently falls asleep and both of you often have penal assignments after school.
Sebek, faithful to Malleus, if he doesn't like you, you won't have too many opportunities to stay by Malleus's side without a thunderous glances at you. He will recognize you if you will listen carefully to his monologues about his master and as a sign of your friendship, he will teach you by heart of all the titles and achievements of Malleus so far.
With this trio by your side, you can get a lot further than you might have imagined...
 6. Be a master in hide and seek.
You’d give your right arm that your breath was too loud.
You pressed your hands to your mouth as you crouched in the corner of the room.
From whose voices you already heard, you knew that Lilia had already found Sebek. This meant that you or Silver would still be helping cook dinner since Malleus didn’t come at the start of the game.
This may seem silly, but the ability to play classic games was one of the elements of the art of survival in Diasomnia.
It was thanks to games like ‘stone-paper-scissors’, hide and seek or tag that household chores fell on the shoulders of the losers. Lilia loved the idea, and there was always a proud smile on his lips when he saw his beloved children play together.
You heard the steps behind you and shivered.
Very slowly you turned around and looked up to see Malleus standing over you and wondering what you were doing, crouching in the darkest corner of the room.
Puns were also included in the survival pack.
Fearing that Lilia would hear your whisper, you put your finger on your mouth, asking him not to say a word. You put a begging eye into it – all but not cooking with Lilia. Not again.
Malleus nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation, although he smiled.
Really, no one would want Malleus to be an enemy.
Or at least in such a situation.
 7. Do not hesitate to ask him for help with learning.
"In theory, you should focus on the space around you," Malleus pulled a wand in front of him. It flashed, and almost at the same time, a thin but incredibly strong protective barrier was created around him. “Weaker spells can be reflected. In turn, the stronger ones are better to block”
You nodded understandingly.
Defensive magic was not something easy to understand. Most depended on the person against whom the counter spell was being prepared. And there are countless people who walk on this Earth and want to start fights.
"Unique spells block or avoid physically," he continued. You nodded at every subsequent sentence, slowly feeling like all the lessons are eventually gaining transparency. “Using unique magic against unique magic, the stronger will win, both will lead to explosions or completely reduce.
He looked at you when you wrote down the last sentence in your notebook.
"I sincerely hope that you will only need this information in class," he said with a sigh. "If you need help, call me. I will come. I promise.”
 8. Sometimes be persuaded to wear extravagant clothes.
"Do you really think it suits me?" you turned around, looking at yourself from every possible angle in the mirror.
You were going to the theater in a few classes to see some era-related play that you've been discussing now in history lessons. Everyone, respecting the reputation, actions and achievements of theatre, dressed in their best clothes.
Malleus stood next to you.
He was already wearing a black and white outfit with green accessories. They all worked so well together and fitted him like a glove that you were sure that the whole outfit was made especially for him.
"Yes," he replied. "Everything you put on today suited you very well.”
Once again, with critical eyesight, you looked at the outfit, face and hair, before you quickly turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind you.
Then you smiled at Malleus.
"We can go now," you said. You made your way through the portal to the main NRC building. "And... thank you for your help.
"My pleasure," he said. Under no circumstances was it just a polite formula. He really loved looking at you.
 9. Invite him to your birthday/party.
"Another break from school soon, huh?" — you muttered, leaning against the railing.
You took a deep breath and let the fresh, pleasant air refresh you.
"Are you going to home, [Name]?" Malleus asked. Green lights were still flying around him, so you guessed he’d just appeared here.
"I haven't decided yet," you sighed. "It would be nice to go home, but the break won't be very long... Ah, that's right!” you straightened up and turned to him. "How about spending another break together? As soon as I can, I will contact my family... although I cannot promise anything.”
Though he did not show it, Malleus' heart beat a little faster.
Spend free time? With someone? With someone he likes?
"Of course," he sounded less calm than he thought. He wasn’t often invited anywhere, even for the things he should have been on, so there was a lot of excitement growing in his body. "I don't see anything against it.”
 10. From "The Great Malleus Draconia-sama" to "Love".
"Ah, The Great Malleus-sama!" you sighed theatrically, taking from him a box of chocolates with a joyful smile. You could promise that because of this dark-haired boy here, you slowly become pampered. "Thank you for your generosity!”
Malleus frowned.
"The Great Malleus-sama"..?” he pondered, putting his fingers to his chin. "Did Sebek told you again to call me with this title?"
"No," you laughed softly at his reaction. "I did it out of curiosity. Maybe I could call you some cute nickname, hmm?" you smiled mischievously.
"For example?"
"By adding ‘-chan’ to your name?” you turned on your phone and typed something related to the nicknames. You started reading suggestions and struggled to hold back from laughing. ” ’Sunshine’, ‘star’, ‘flower’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’...
"I like the last one," he said, and the invisible force stung you to the ground.
"Would you like me to call you like that? Out of curiosity or out of love?" You laughed, but your cheeks were all red with blushes.
He smiled sincerely at your reaction.
"Hmm, I wonder..?"
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ohmydamgods · 2 years
Text
|| Leobeth
I hate the fact that Leo and Annabeth didn’t have a lot of, if any, canon moments together when they should’ve been best friends. So I fixed it <3
They weren’t always friends. Leo and Annabeth used to be very wary of each other. Annabeth had trained for years at camp and always looked angry, if she wanted to hurt Leo she could, so his guard was always up. Annabeth saw right through his charm and jokes and knew he was hiding something. She might’ve known that whatever he wasn’t sharing with Camp wasn’t any of her business but that didn’t mean she would put much faith in the guy.
But then they were tasked with building the Argo ii together. Slowly but surely they warmed up to each other. Late nights turned into long conversations and they became decent friends
Eventually their friendship kind of fell off once their quest actually started. Annabeth was all over Percy who wasn’t a huge fan of Leo and Leo had to work on the ship
They’re friendship rekindled though after they were both working the night shift together. The way their thinking works is so similar and they get along great. Since that night their relationship definitely picked back up
They worked on a bunch of little models of stuff together. And by models I mean anything from legos to a genuine prototype of a weapon or machine. Even though they have a similar thought process, the way they work is very different.
When it comes to random models for fun, Leo goes straight at it. An idea pops into his head and he tries to recreate it straight away, and it’s not that he doesn’t have a plan, it’s just that he can’t explain his plan the way he wants to so he just prefers to show people when he’s done.
Annabeth gets an idea, researches information to make sure it’s possible, then asks someone who is the same league as her or has better footing in that area if they think her idea can work. Then she tries to create her model or prototype and if anyone asks her about it, she can explain it but not in a way that most people get
When they first started working together, this annoyed tf out of them. But after talking about it, they realized their differences helped projects move along faster. Leo starts a project based off a sketch or idea they made, Annabeth adds input based on what she looked up, they make adjustments together, and if anyone asks about what they’re working on Annabeth can explain it and Leo can simplify what she said. A lot of stuff gets done.
They have horrible sleep schedules. It’s so bad, Leo literally never sleeps unless he passes out from exhaustion and Annabeth gets so wrapped up in projects that she forgets about her basic needs. They end up bumping into each other in the middle of the night on ship and both of them always just stare at each other because wtf?? are?? you ?? doing?? up??
They know a lot more about each other than other people realize. Everyone was so focused on the mission and their own little groups that nobody but Leo and Annabeth knew how close they were. Like one time Piper slips up and says something about Leo’s mom and when she tells Annabeth to not say anything she just waves her off and says Leo already talked to her about it
Leo is always making her little stuff or fixing things for her and it’s both endearing and annoying because Leo has enough stuff to do and she does not need another gift or help, but Leo does it anyway because that’s his love language. Plus he’s always tinkering or in the forge anyways. Annabeth’s door is squeaking? Fixed. Annabeth needs a new dagger and sheath? Done. Annabeth mentions wanting to buy a case to keep her blueprints? A new one is on her bed. She keeps telling him to stop but either way she finds it really cute and makes sure he knows how thankful she is
They love each other but they get on their last nerve. Annabeth will just casually mention something embarrassing Leo did at breakfast and he has to resist the urge to jump across the table and throttle her. And Leo definitely writes little notes on the back of her blueprints and sketches, she cried a little once.
She’s definitely pretty protective of him. Leo is never taken seriously to begin with, but it seems to get worse whenever he works with her. He has more physical manifestations of ADHD than she does and the fact that he doesn’t make an effort to become close friends with most people at camp only makes it worse. Sometimes she specifically mentions that they worked on a project together and explains which parts Leo worked on and she’ll still get every question directed to her, even after saying she can’t explain that part of the project as well as Leo can since that’s his area of expertise and not hers. And people always seem to find a way to compare him to her and knock on his intellect
It gets her so angry. She usually keeps her real opinions to her self because it’s up to Leo to confront someone or not but if they want to be sly and sneak in some insults so can she. She’ll make it very clear that Leo is an equal and not below her. Leo prefers confront issues like that on his own but it’s touching to see someone really care about him
The projects that they chose to include each other in on are so funny too. Leo almost always shows Annabeth the stuff he’s working on for fun and keeps serious projects under wraps until they’re pretty much done (compared to Annabeth who bounces serious ideas off of Leo but won’t show him the stupid shit she made until it’s completed). So Leo will wake her up randomly to show her the stupidest machine and Annabeth will just pull one out of thin air to match his
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therenlover · 3 years
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The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)
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(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee​! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)
Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.
Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love
Rating: T
Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot
Word Count: 7000~
This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!
------
                                    The University of Novi Grad
                                                 Fall 1996
Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.
Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.
From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.
There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.
You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.
That being said there was something else too…
Someone else to be specific.
The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.
He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.
All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.
You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.
If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?
Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.
Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.
Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.
So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.
As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.
Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.
Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.  
When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.
The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.
He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.
He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.
You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.
“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”
Shit.
“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.
Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”
“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.
Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.
“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”
“It is not an accusation if it is true,”
“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”
“But you were. This happens every week,”
You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”
Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”
“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”
The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.
Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.
“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”
Fuck.
Friday was only two days away.
You were so screwed.
The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.
Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.
In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.
Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.
“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”
“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”
He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”
“Who isn’t?”
Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”
Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”
“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”
Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.
A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.
“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.
Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...
There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.
Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.
You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.
Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.
If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…
The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.
Your eyes scanned the wall.  
Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…
Gilgamesh!
On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…
You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.
“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”
Of course they had stools.
If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.
In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”
You stopped short.
Oh.
Oh no.
You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.
There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.
He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.
“Would you like my help?”
“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.
“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”
“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”
In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.
“Thanks for that,”
“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”
You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”
“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.
You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.
“Your hair is really nice!”
“My hair?”
“Yeah… your hair,”
Smooth move, dumbass.
Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”
Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.
If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?
“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.
“It was definitely a compliment,”
Oh.
Your heart skipped a beat.
That was a new revelation.
You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.
“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”
He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”
“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”
With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.
“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.
“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”
The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.
“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”
Shit.
Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?
In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.
“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.
“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”
“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”
His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”
Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”
Once again, you were rendered speechless.
“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”
“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.
Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.
You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.
“Who said anything about letting you pay?”
True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.
The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.
Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.
“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.
Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”
“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”
“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”  
You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”
“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”
“Absolutely,”
The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.
If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.
“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”
He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”
“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”
“Absolutely,”
“Then I can’t wait to try one,”
The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.
Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.
Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.
“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”
Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”
You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”
The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”
“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.
“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”
“Alright,”
There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.
You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”
“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.
He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”
It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”
Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.
“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”
Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”
“I think I would,”
“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”
Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.
“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”
Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”
Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”
The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”
“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”
“Then it’s a deal,”
“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”
“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”
With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.
Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.
He had invited you over to his apartment.
He liked you.
Easel boy really, honestly liked you.
No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.
Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.
You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.
Hel.
It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.
Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.
------
a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee​ because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!
TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ 
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huenjin · 3 years
Text
083. “stay there. i'm coming to get you.”
♡ pairing: hyunjin x reader ♡ genre: angst, fluff, suggestive ♡ word count: 1,980 words ♡ note: based off this fic in my archive that'll never see the light ever again. also, this is a thank you note for the 3k <3 thank you so much.
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you sit in your bedroom, looking out through the window. you hear the gentle tapping of raindrops against your bedroom window. seeing the drops trickle down your window brings a sense of calmness within yourself.
there is a laziness about the rain drops, as if they can barely be bothered to conform to the will of gravity. your eyes are transfixed on them till they snap back on to your phone, that had been placed on the table beside sheets filled with your designs for clothes.
hyunjin is calling and your face lights up as if this was normal. your feelings for this man are in your head as you pick up the call.
“y/n,” his voice echoes in the background of sounds of rain drops hitting the ground.
“hyunjin,” your voice fails to hide your joy.
“can you come over? i'm in your neighborhood park.” his voice is distraught and he sounds hopeless. your heart aches a bit and your eyes widen as you realise, your hand clutching your chest in shock.
“it's raining heavily, hyunjin. what are you doing outside?”
“please,” he begs. you are worried and you find your worry set in quicker than ever before. you push your chair back and stand up, tying your hair up in a messy bun and putting on a washed out hoodie over your yoga pants.
"stay there. i'm coming to get you."
you pull the black hood over your saturated form as you saunter in the heavy rain towards the park, hard pellets of water spitting on your hands as the remainder of the drops quench the scattered puddles, filling it in completely very quickly, decorating the asphalt.
it is the silence and emptiness of the park and the sound of raindrops hitting the ground that makes you observe keenly and when you do this, you notice hyunjin sitting on the bench.
hyunjin has his head in his hand as water drips from his head to the ground. he seems like he is in pain, like he just needs a person to comfort him. hyunjin looks terrified. you rush to his side and place your hand on his shoulder.
hyunjin’s eyes look empty, like he is missing a major fragment of his soul, momentarily.
rain and tears mingle on his face, salty tracks blending into the fresh sky-fallen trickles. only the pink of his eyes and the loss of happy stars beneath them give any clue to his sadness and in this city who will look closely enough to tell.
“hyunjin?”
he crashes into your body, his arms wrapping themselves around your tiny frame. your hood falls off your head and the raindrops hit your head instantly. you are not given time to react because his face digs into your collar bone and he stays still in the warmth your body emits in this cold surroundings.
“hyunjin,” you mumble against his wet hair and you hear only a sob in response.
you have heard hyunjin break down into tears before, but never have you seen it. the sight before you is a broken greek artwork, so raw and so pure. you hold hyunjin close to you, rubbing his back soothingly till he calms down.
“do you want to talk about it?” you whisper into him and he shakes his head against the suggestion. you mumble an okay and hold him closer as he sobs into you.
you wonder if hyunjin feels like you when you cry out loud. constricted and suffocated. you lose your breath quickly and you're gasping for air every time you cry. however, what makes you hate crying further is the ache it brings you within. your head turns dizzy and you want to stop feeling asphyxiated yet you can't.
hyunjin’s grip on your hoodie is as strong as iron and you give him time. you give him time to calm himself whilst you only hope that your presence gives him the comfort he needs, as you rub small circles into his back.
and when he calms down and pulls back, you smile at him warmly. you run a hand to move the wet hair strands from the side of your face. hyunjin stares at you for so long that you wonder what he is thinking.
hyunjin’s hand lifts up and reaches out for the edge of your face. his other arm snakes around your waist and pulls you closer, your thighs brushing against his. his fingers trace your jaw before holding them.
“hyunjin,” you gulp dryly and wonder what is even going on in his head. he holds your face so delicately and looks at you with an expression that makes you crave for him more than you already do. he leans forward and your lip part instinctively. the two of you are in your space in a huge bubble in the middle of a world with the skies pouring down upon the two of you.
he kisses the droplets of rain from your lips. you smile against his lips and you find the stars beneath his eyes again, dull but persistent to glow. he sweeps your wet hair aside and kisses you just over the collarbone. he nibbles at your ear, and then sinks himself into your arms. you hang your fingers on his waistband, dragging him closer. you bury your face in his shoulder curve, his hands flexing around your back.
hyunjin gives a reduced groan, “i think i love you,” into your hair. “the happiest moments that i actually remember being in a long while are with you. you make me feel whole again. even in my failures.” there is a chortle as he says failures and you wonder what has truly happened.
his grip on your face is hard and you sigh in content. the rain pours heavier and you feel the heaviness of the cold hitting you eventually.
“we should go back home,” you tell him and he nods. you stand up and extend your arm out for hyunjin to hold. he looks at it, his expression softening as he enlaces his fingers with yours.
“okay,” he stands up, his eyes gazing at the entwined hands with an affection you loved seeing on him. hyunjin is not his usual cheery self yet but you are content that he perhaps does not feel suffocated anymore.
you are, after all, only hoping to be a warm spring breeze in his misery.
the difference in the temperature hits you as soon as you step into the comfort of your home. hyunjin stands next to you and is shivering. he hugs himself to provide some warmth and a small smile plays on your lips.
you take hold of his wrist, dragging him to your room and making him sit on your bed.
“wait here. i'll get you a towel to dry up and dry clothes,” you smile and pause for a second to make sure hyunjin doesn't roam around before you leave your room to grab a towel for him.
when you come back with one of your brother's dry clothes in one arm and a towel in another, you find a shirtless hyunjin hovering over the rough sketches you have designed. you quickly rush to his side and take the sheets away after throwing the towel at him.
“i told you to stay put,” you pout, slightly annoyed.
“well, technically, you didn't,” he cheekily says and shrugs. “moreover you have nothing to be embarrassed about. those designs are beautiful.”
your cheeks stain red and you are unsure whether it's over hyunjin standing before you shirtless as he towers over you thanks to the height difference or if it's because of the sudden compliment over your designs.
you click your tongue and pull hyunjin who is holding the towel towards the bed after placing your sheets on the table again. your hands are on his pectoral muscles and you shove at them lightly, hinting at him to sit down.
you drop the clothes on the bed beside hyunjin and take the soft towel from his hand. you smile at hyunjin and run your fingers through his wet hair, ruffling it to see how much water is there.
“do you want to talk about what the breakdown was about?”
you softly collect strands of his hair right above his nape and gently squeeze the extra water from his hair. he laughs alluringly, his head moving back as you tug at his hair.
“i got rejected by the publishing company again,” he says, his tone defeated and disappointed. “i don't think i should write.”
you grab a section of his dark locks and gently blot and squeeze it with the towel, working from the roots to the tips. you speak as you dry his hair, “doesn't writing make you happy?”
“it does,” he mumbles. “it makes me feel alive.”
“then, you shouldn't give up. that's what i learnt. you know why? because that is you. you found myself in that and that makes you happy.”
hyunjin’s eyes are raised to look at you as you keep blotting and squeezing the water from his hair. his hands are on your waist and his lips curve up.
“you are inspiring,” he says and you laugh.
“If i were, i wouldn't be jobless and broke. at least, i got the failure part before any success story right.”
you sneeze suddenly, laughing it away. however, hyunjin’s expression turns instantly into that of concern. he tugs at your waist and pulls you into him. your hand is firm on the towel gripping at his roots and your eyes widen.
“what do you think you are doing, sire?”
“sit on my lap,” he suggests.
“and,” you poke around further to see what he was plotting. hyunjin wouldn't say a word further though till you sat on his lap. you click your tongue and raise an eyebrow at him.
much to his compliance, you sit on his left thigh, still drying his hair. hyunjin pulls the towel from your hand and you whine.
“your turn,” he chirps and you laugh, your cheeks rising with your lips. he places the towel over your head and dries your hair. you can't hold back your laughter and hyunjin complains, begging you to stop and let him dry your hair.
“you're cute.”
“i'm more than just cute, y/n,” hyunjin teases. “you should probably remove your hoodie.”
your eyebrows furrow together before they are raised and you question hyunjin’s words. he shifts back slightly, offended by your distrust, “you'll catch a cold. you should grab a new pair of clothes. i'm just concerned.”
“really?” your syllables extend.
“i mean, it’s a win-win for you and i,” he laughs and you hit his chest jokingly.
“cheeky.”
“or,” hyunjin says with a huge smirk plastered on his face that you wonder yet again what thought has been planted in his head. “i could just remove it for you.”
he lifts you up with his hand tight on your waist. within a second, you're on your back against your bed and hyunjin hovering over your body. you are giggling and hyunjin is smiling widely.
“why did i know this was going to turn out like this?”
“y/n, baby,” he says. “live by the sun and love by the moon.”
hyunjin eases you and you move to his rhythm and his plans instantly. his mouth lingers over the skin at your neck, licking at it until he decides to nibble at it, leaving delectable kisses down your neck. he lifts his head momentarily only to kiss your lips and wink at you, stating the most literally fluent statement you have heard from hyunjin, exhibiting the writer within.
“i'm going to paint your skin purple tonight and make love to you.”
and all you do in response is blush and whimper under him.
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sparklingpax · 3 years
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Some chibi things!! 😇💖
I wanted to take a break and spend a few days focusing on my life and less just sitting and drawing for every hour of the day…so I did a little comfort art in the form of cutesy, sparkly, simple little chibi pieces! 
descriptions/miscellaneous other things for each one under the cut ^^’’
The first one (upper left) is more for the Hawk x Ginrai ship because I’m shameless and I couldn’t resist the urge to sorry jsdhsdhj qwq 💕💖💝😳 and continuing that hc about Hawk liking chocolate doughnuts, I think he is in general, a chocolate-preferring kinda guy; by contrast, Ginrai is someone who prefers vanilla-flavored things. Then there’s that ice cream in the middle, because they’ve gone on quite a few outings together where they got one ice cream to share rather than one for each of them, so it would only make sense one scoop is vanilla, and one is chocolate! Idk why this is so elaborate?? But it was so late and I was falling asleep when doing the sketches so…sorry not sorry but I like these hcs of mine o.o’’ Also……..the tank top returns!! Idk if I ever posted that one piece where the two of them are in the park, but I gave Ginrai this cool red tank-top that I actually like on him, so there you go jdjsdj I brought it back hehe ^w^  
The second one (upper right) is Heatblades!! because yes I ship that!! owo also, been rewatching Rescue Bots episodes and was just in the mood to try the art style once more after like. a year?? So….there you go lolol :D 
The third one (bottom left) is Exkaiser and Kouta!! Because this is still one of my absolute favorite father-son type dynamics >w
The fourth one (bottom right) is Landmine and Waverider! I live for their dynamic tbhhhh So. idk if I missed some part of canon that might contradict this, but I hc that they knew each other looooooooong before the war, like back in their training days. The most likely met while at a bar on cybertron, flipping out before some exam, started talking, and from there hit it off. After they graduated their training program, they went into the team of Pretenders dispatched to do missions and stuff (eventually ending up on earth) as already really good friends. They had to separate to their sectors of the planet as per a later assignment, but kept in touch and met up when they could. The two were overjoyed to be able to meet up once again with their new assignment at that Autobot base in the year 2020 (that’s when Masterforce takes place, for anyone who didnt know 😳😎). And as symbolized by the cassette tapes/wine glasses, I also hc they have a shared hobby of collecting cassette tapes and old movies, which on a night off, they’ll meet up to watch while drinking some kind of alcohol ✨ So. Long headcanon but that’s what I think about them, anyway >:3 
///
These were fun to do! Might do some more of these, idk. Anyway! Thanks for reading and coming by! Hope y’all like the art!
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violethowler · 3 years
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More Machine Than Man: Using Character Parallels to Predict Echo’s Journey in The Bad Batch
Echo was one of the first fictional character deaths that genuinely moved me when I was a kid. 
Sure, there were a lot of character deaths in my formative Disney movies that made me sad, but no death had ever gotten such an emotional “How dare they!” reaction as Star Wars: The Clone Wars did on Friday, March 4, 2011, when Echo got blown up at the climax of Season 3’s 19th episode. 
So when Dave Filoni revealed concept sketches of what the production team had been planning for future seasons at the time of the show’s cancellation, finding out Echo was going to come back - that he was still alive after all - was a tremendous joy for me. Getting the story reels depicting his rescue was a gift enough, but actually getting to see his return as a fully animated episode in all it’s glory when Season 7 finally released on Disney+ last year was a dream come true. 
While I wasn’t particularly invested enough in the Bad Batch as a group to be excited when their spinoff was announced, the fact that one of my favorite clones (second only to Rex and Fives) was now a co-star of a spinoff show was enough of a thrill to keep me invested.
And yet, despite being highlighted as one of the main characters, Echo has not gotten as much focus as Hunter, Tech, Omega, Crosshair, or Wrecker since the show began.  
A lot of this can of course be put down to the fact that while audiences have already had years to get attached to Echo, the rest of the Bad Batch are still relatively new from an audience perspective. Only four of the eight episodes they were planned to appear in for Clone Wars were ever finished, and they were all presented there as stock action movie archetypes. So in a show where these relatively one-dimensional characters are supposed to be the main protagonists, the writers need to spend a lot of time early on fleshing these characters out, making them more rounded, and giving us a reason to care about them besides looking cool and being connected to Echo. 
But just because they haven’t done anything outwardly obvious with Echo yet doesn’t mean the writers aren’t planting seeds now to lay the groundwork for his evolution later on. 
And after thinking some more about “Aftermath” - plus a comment somewhere on twitter, tumblr, TVTropes, or Jedi Council Forums that I frustratingly cannot track down again - I think I might have a general idea of what the writers have in store for him. 
In the first episode of The Bad Batch, Tech refers to Echo as “more machine than man.” 
Now, I’ve seen a lot of people up in arms claiming that The Bad Batch treats Echo like a droid and other arguments, especially after the whole “sold as a droid” scam they pulled in Episode 04. But aside from that one elusive comment I mentioned, I have not seen anyone taking into account that line’s potential as a flag to mark a parallel that could be used to start predicting the direction of Echo’s character arc.
Because while I can’t speak for the novels or comics, but the only other time I have ever seen that specific phrase, “more machine than man” has been in a conversation about none other than Echo’s former General, Anakin Skywalker. Or as he now goes by in the time frame of The Bad Batch, Darth Vader.
It may not be obvious at first glance, but when you look closely at Echo’s designs from Season 7 and his story arc in The Clone Wars as a whole, you’ll find multiple visual and narrative similarities with the story of Darth Vader. 
Both are extremely pale after a long period of time without sunlight: Echo was kept in a box for over a year, while after becoming Darth Vader, Anakin spends all his time in his suit and only takes it off to soak in a bacta chamber like the one at his castle on Mustafar in Rogue One.
But suffered severe injuries that resulted in parts of their body - including being replaced with cybernetics: Echo in the explosion of the shuttle at The Citadel, Anakin by the burning lava of Mustafar. Both of them even lost their right arm specifically. Both of these transformations are also visually associated with fire, and their primary color schemes following their transformations are black and red, along with some dark grey thrown into the mix.
Both are manipulated into aiding the enemy of their respective groups - The Separatists experiment on Echo in order to rip Republic military tactics directly from his mind against his will, while despite Palpatine’s grooming him to become a Sith Apprentice, Anakin still consciously chooses to turn to the Dark Side.
In both situations, Echo and Anakin return back to their original allegiance thanks to someone they care about. Rex saves Echo from his imprisonment on Skako Minor, after which he returns to Republic service. Meanwhile Luke’s love for Anakin eventually brings him back from the Dark Side in Return of The Jedi.
And in each case, their return coincides with them bringing about the defeat and death of the person who they had previously been “working” under. Echo is instrumental in securing Trench’s defeat at Anaxes, leading to his death at the hands of Anakin. Decades later, Anakin kills Palpatine in order to save his son, thereby resulting in the deterioration and downfall of the Empire.
As I discussed in my earlier Ventress meta, the major thematic core of Episodes I - VI of the Skywalker Saga is Anakins’ fall to the dark side and his eventual redemption. When a character is that central to the narrative, several other characters typically serve as mirrors that show how differently things could have gone under different circumstances.
Echo was first shown in his new armor in the animatics for the unfinished Kashyyyk arc shown at Celebration Anaheim’s “Untold Clone Wars Stories” panel in 2015. The production codes put this episode as having been near the end of Production Season 6 in between the first half of Dark Disciple and Son of Dathomir. Based on the dates listed for the concept art for those arcs in their respective galleries on Star Wars.com, this means that Echo’s new Bad Batch armor was originally designed between September 2012 and January 2013. 
Meaning that these references and allusions to Vader were not something that was conceived recently just for his role in The Bad Batch, but something that has been in the works for years. 
So I, for one, cannot wait to see what unfolds because of how many different possibilities there are for the directions that Echo’s character can be taken in with these parallels in mind. 
There’s too many different possibilities to speculate on a single route for Echo’s character arc just yet, but I have a feeling that the more this new series goes on, the more similarities to Vader we’ll start to see.
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andypantsx3 · 4 years
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conspire | 3 | practice
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pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader
length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters
summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?
tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings
warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut
Fake dating Shouto Todoroki was an absolute whirlwind, but it certainly came with its benefits.
As weeks passed, you found yourself with a compliant test subject and plenty of data for the work you were doing on his support item. You’d confirmed that you could use this work as your submission for your senior project -- developing a support item without any input, direction, or critique from a professor -- and you’d set to the task with enthusiasm after that.
Shouto caved easily enough to the tests you’d put to him on your first “date” and you’d had way too much fun getting him to freeze and heat things for you, strapping him up in all the nodules and wires as you’d promised. Over the course of a few weeks, you’d analyzed the absolute crap out of the cryogenic structure of his ice crystals and tested the limits of his temperature control to your heart’s content, pleased that the amount of time you were spending together also played into your cover story.
It turned out his quirk worked as you’d suspected, which was incredible. Shouto’s power allowed his body to work like a heat pump, directing thermal energy against the current in which it naturally flowed at will. He used the energy from one side of his body to alternately push energy into or draw energy from the other side of his body, in order to create a temperature gradient strong enough to induce ice or flames.
He was basically like a really good looking, high-powered air conditioner.
The discovery was overwhelming and gave you limitless possibilities as to what kind of support item you could build for him.
The problem was, there were maybe too many options.
“You can watch my quirk training, if you need more direction,” Shouto had suggested one night when you were tucked up doing homework together. He’d really taken to the role of doting boyfriend and put in appearances often, taking you out on a series of other mind-bendingly good dates and showing up to your dorm on school nights with homework and small, thoughtful gifts like bottles of tea.
Through his efforts, he’d become something like a close friend.
You’d discovered over the course of your time together that Shouto wasn’t as quiet and serious as you’d initially suspected him to be, and you quite liked the sides of himself that he chose to unveil. He had a tendency to be blunt and was strangely oblivious given how observant he could be, and he had a little bit of a short fuse when the match was properly lit. He was still kind and thoughtful for the most part, but as he grew more comfortable with you it was like a flip sometimes switched and out crawled an inner gremlin, eager to tease and fluster you.
To your eternal mortification, he’d most definitely caught on to the fact that kissing you was the fastest way to fluster you, though in your defense, being kissed by a man who had no romantic interest in you was certainly a mind-boggling concept in and of itself. He’d thankfully only kissed you a few other times--once, weirdly, when you’d been almost sure no one else was around--though he sometimes watched you with a look in his eye like he was scheming up ways to make it happen again.
He was a very convincing fake boyfriend.
You had agreed to follow him to quirk training the following evening, and showed up to take your place on the sidelines of beta field that afternoon in a thick coat with a thermos of warm tea. Deep in your bag, you’d embarrassingly stowed an extra for Shouto, a habit formed by all of your time spent together.
He was there when you got there, clearly having come straight from class, and huge walls of ice already dotted the field, one or two twisted into melting spires. Slick trails of water ran down their sides where he’d blasted them with his fire, pooling into the cracks of the earth at their bases, and singe marks scored the grass around them.
Shouto seemed to brighten when he caught sight of you, and he came padding over to where you were making yourself comfortable on the cold ground.
“Anything in particular you want me to test out?” he asked, but you shook your head, unearthing a notebook and a pen from your bag.
“No, just do your thing,” you said, uncapping your pen. “I’m just looking to observe how you usually move around and channel your quirk. I rewatched all the sports festival footage from the last couple years but your style changes wildly between them, so I want to get a feel for how you currently do things.”
He looked somewhat embarrassed. “You watched those?”
You let a teasing smile flit across your lips, curious to see what kind of mood he was in today. “Oh yeah. Loved the one where you got totally stomped by Bakugou.”
To your amusement, his eyebrow twitched. “I let him win.”
Men and their fragile egos. You suppressed a smirk and stretched leisurely like a cat in the sun, tipping your face back to look up at him. “Sure you did.”
A look of annoyance passed over his handsome features, and he huffed, taking a threatening step closer to you. Something glinted in his eye, and that was all the warning you had before he leaned down and pressed his mouth over yours.
You instantly dropped your pen, fisting a hand in the jacket of his uniform to pull him closer. It briefly crossed your mind that no one was around to observe the two of you, and that this kiss was perhaps wasted effort on his part, but then he did that thing with his tongue you liked and all rational thought fled from your brain.
Shouto kissed all the sass straight out of your mouth before drawing back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
“I’ll thank you to keep quiet,” he said, and you could only stare at him dumbly as he smirked and made his way back onto the field.
Confusion eventually washed over you as he set about practicing with his quirk, and you could only pay half a mind to what he was doing.
What had that been about? You checked your periphery to confirm that no one else was around to have witnessed his assault on your good sense, confusion only mounting when there was no one in sight. You knew he wasn’t actually interested in you, but that kiss had felt like something a real boyfriend would do to shut a mouthy girlfriend up. Was he getting so used to your little charade that he hardly minded? Did it affect him so little that it hardly troubled him at all?
You pushed your thoughts down for examination at a later time, forcing yourself to keep your mind on Shouto’s quirk training.
You took careful note of the graceful way he moved, the raw power with which he released both sides of his quirk. He was faster than almost anything, able to maneuver around the field with deadly precision, unbelievable power called to his fingertips within seconds and wielded with brutal efficiency. He was, much like his quirk, two halves of some contradictory whole, combining incredible strength with unexpected elegance to create a combat style that had quite likely never been seen before.
You sketched out several notes on his movements and jotted down a couple vague ideas for support items that came to mind as you watched him.
After a while, Shouto seemed to come to the conclusion that you’d had enough time to observe him and started messing around instead, creating enormous ice waves to slide down for your amusement, looking like a very strange surfer on some still mass of ocean. You laughed as he shot down a slope faster than he’d clearly expected, throwing up another hill of ice to slow his descent.
He came sliding over to you, huffing a little after hours of exertion. “You’re acting like you’ve seen better.”
You smiled. “You just looked funny.”
That wry twist at the corner of his mouth was back. “You do it, then.”
You stared at him. “What?”
He held out a hand, wiggling his long fingers. “You’ve had your fun judging me from over here. You do it if you’ve got opinions.”
A stab of panic shot through you. “Absolutely not.”
Something like a challenge glinted in his eye and he surged forward, scooping you up into his arms easily. You panicked, instantly trying to twist out of his hold and get him to drop you, but he just walked back onto the training field, one arm barred across yours in a steely hold. You tried to get a foot against his hip but his grip was too tight to allow you movement enough to do it.
“Shouto, you had better drop me or I will straight up murder you,” you grit out, gripping his sleeve in terror as a crackling noise started where his feet met the ground.
“You had better hope I don’t,” he tossed back as a platform of ice formed under his boots, carrying you up to the top of one icy wave. Your rise was horrifyingly quick, and you were torn between being absolutely terrified and impressed that this is how he maneuvered around all the time. You gripped him in horror.
“I will never forgive you if you do this,” you threatened, staring down the steep drop hundreds of feet to the ground. “Nothing you could ever do will make up for a betrayal like this.”
“I have some ideas,” he said. Then he took a step off the top.
You became aware of a piercing scream and realized it was coming from you. You wanted to press your face into Shouto’s chest and close your eyes but you were too terrified to even look away from what was happening as the two of you slid down the ice at hundreds of feet per second, hurtling at the ground like a rocket. You couldn’t believe you had laughed at him if this is what it felt like to do what he did.
You felt Shouto tense underneath you, and the arm under your legs flashed notably colder, before another layer of ice formed, evening out the wave into a less precipitous curve, slowing your slide and carrying you easily to the field. Gravity seemed to catch up to you again and you slid down a little in his arms. Your heartbeat pounded in your chest and your hands clenched in the fabric of his costume, even as you slid to a stop, soft grass rustling underneath his boots as he stepped off the ice.
“You’re a dead man, Shouto Todoroki,” you promised, hands still fisted at his sleeve. And he was, just as soon as you could let go of him.
Another smirk crossed his infuriatingly handsome features and you found yourself a little mesmerized by the sight of him.
He hefted you higher in his arms. “But if I was dead, how would I do this?” he asked, then pressed his mouth to yours again.
Well, he certainly had your number. Your plans for murder were instantly wiped from your brain like notes from a whiteboard, and you moved a hand to his collar to pull him down to you. His mouth was hot and he was excruciatingly gentle, working you over thoroughly, until you could hardly remember your words, never mind a flawless plot for murder.
Shouto shifted carefully and you became aware of grass under your back. Then he was moving over you, pressing you into the field with the solid weight of his body. His mouth left yours to pepper a trail of kisses in a slow line down your neck, and those long fingers tugged down the zipper of your jacket, coming up to pull down the collar of your sweater to allow him better access.
You squirmed mindlessly under him, letting out surprised little gasps whenever he found a spot that you particularly liked. The chill of the evening washed over you and you pressed yourself into him for warmth, sighing when his left side flared hotly. He bit down carefully over your pulse where it beat wildly in your throat.
“Y/N,” he groaned, and a vague thought came to you like this was somehow strange for the two of you to be doing, some reason why you shouldn’t be. You couldn’t remember why. “Tell me if I should stop.”
He pressed his mouth back to yours again, a calloused hand making its way up the side of your sweater and disconnecting your thoughts again. This felt too good to be wrong, why shouldn’t you do this? A thumb brushed under the fabric of your bra, catching a nipple, and you jerked under him, letting out an embarrassing noise. He made a noise low in his throat and did it again, tensing when you shuddered under him again.
He let out a harsh breath, then your sweater was torn upwards and your bra quickly followed, a warm mouth closing over one nipple. You swore, the heat of his mouth so unbelievably good against the cold air, arching into him as he swirled his tongue.
“Oh my god,” you managed, fingers tangling desperately in his hair. You hooked a leg over his hip, anchoring him against you harder. Your own hips raised without any input from your brain, and you swore again when one of his thighs pressed tightly to your core.
He moved to your other breast, laving over the hardened peak, two toned eyes watching your face with undisguised interest.
“Shouto,” you gasped out, drawing him back up to you to kiss him. His chest pressed into yours, the strong line of his body pinning you down everywhere, and the weight of him was unbelievably wonderful over you. Why had you ever thought you shouldn’t do this?
A blinding light suddenly flickered on over you, searing even through your eyelids where they’d fluttered closed. You jerked apart in shock. Blinking blearily, you realized it had grown dark and the field lighting system had just kicked in.
Shouto sighed and crawled off of you, leaning back on his knees to stare down at you. You blushed, the implications of what you’d just done pressing down on you, realizing your entire chest was exposed to him in the harsh light. You yanked your sweater back over you, struggling a little bit to get the band of your bra back down. Shouto placed a hand on your hip.
“Uh,” he said, something like a flush rising to his own cheeks, “That’s what you get for laughing.”
You choked out a shocked laugh, staring up at him. “That’s what I get for laughing?”
He smiled again, climbing to his feet and pulling you up with him. “I imagined my girlfriend would be more supportive.”
You gathered up your bag, hardly daring to look at him. “You picked the wrong one then, I think.”
His smile turned soft, something almost private. “I think I did okay.”
Warmth flashed through you again and you had to push down the well of thoughts that bubbled up inside you like a spring. You tried to ignore the niggling at the back of your brain as bid your goodnights and went separate ways to your dorm buildings. One thought refused to be pushed aside, however, following you as you made your way to your room, lingering as you readied for bed and turned out the light. You couldn't sleep for a long time as you tried to dredge up an answer.
What the hell had that been?
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A Miraculous TikTok Account
Part 15
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Ladybug woke up the next morning to her phone going off like an alarm. She groaned and slowly reached to her bedside table, gently nudging away fabrics in search of her phone. She found it, eventually, and tapped her finger on the screen repeatedly in search of the snooze button, but it didn’t seem to be working.
She grumbled to herself, snatching the phone off the table and looking to turn it off…
Only to realize that it was a good hour before she’d set her alarm to go off for her meeting with Audrey Bourgeois. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as she watched another round of notifications come in.
Ugh. That’s what she gets for turning her ringer on at night in case her friends had nightmares. She silenced her phone and fell back in her bed.
After ten minutes of staring at the ceiling and attempting to trick her brain into thinking she was asleep, she reluctantly pushed herself out of her bed. Phone in hand and blanket around her shoulders, she shuffled downstairs for a cup of coffee.
She waved to Chloe absently when she saw her in the kitchen making a bowl of cereal and got a hum in response. That was their entire conversation, though. Chloe always seemed to know when exactly it was a good time to tease her or not without Ladybug ever saying a word.
Maybe she should have figured out that Chloe was some kind of minor telepath.
Whatever.
She scrolled through her phone as she waited for her pot of coffee to finish.
The Parisians on TikTok were going wild.
There was a group freaking out about Chat’s account (because it was cute, but also because he might actually be a dog person considering that was the first thing he’d uploaded). Carapace’s video was full of comments analyzing their group dynamic or pitying the people who had been on shift at the time. Rena’s account had thousands of people screaming about having actual information on the miraculous holder’s daily lives for once and people attempting to use the footage to figure out where they were living. Chloe’s video had people speculating on what she would be doing or commenting on their day-to-day outfits.
And Ladybug’s…
It was full of people saying things along the lines of “of course Ladybug would have a lifestyle account”.
Part of her was kind of offended. Sure, her persona was definitely different than her and if she knew a person like ‘Ladybug’ in real life she probably wouldn’t be all that close to them, she’d made it that way on purpose… but still. It kind of hurt.
Then again, there was another part of her that was tempted to sing. Her ruse was working! She had accurately guessed what would be in character for her persona! Nice!
She poured herself a cup of her quickly cooling coffee and headed up to get properly dressed for the day.
Ladybug couldn’t help but be a little anxious as she changed from her red and black pajamas into a completely different red and black ensemble. Her mind wandered to all the messages she was getting about how consistent her persona was.
If she didn’t give her persona any kind of depth, how long would people keep falling for it?
She didn’t know. She was out the door in minutes and heading off to the park where Audrey had wanted to meet, the prototype of the dress she’d made for a ball in the United States in her hands. She had to remind herself constantly that, even if the stuff she’d used for the prototype was just there to simulate the real thing and wasn’t all that expensive, she still needed everything to be intact when she gave it to Audrey.
She was a little distracted during the meeting, her mind on what to do about her persona, so it was a good thing that Audrey’s only complaint was that the prototype fabric was a little coarse. That could be fixed.
The persona thing…? Not so much.
Rena was already suspicious, Ladybug could see it in the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly whenever she let little things slip through.
(Thanks for telling her that everyone has personas, Carapace, now she had to be even more careful.)
She forced herself to relax. There wasn’t anything to gain from worrying about people figuring out just how fake she was outside of a possible akumatization.
No. Instead she would concentrate on something she could fix: Hawkmoth. If she figured out his identity they could beat him, and then she would never have to worry about personas ever again.
The moment she got home she walked over to the conspiracy board. She glared at the millions of closeups of every part of Hawkmoth’s body.
~Want to skip some calculations? Here’s your chance! I nerded out a little, sorry~
Hawkmoth was about 230cm tall in costume. That’s what Rena had found out through calculating his height in comparison to some of Nino’s plates in the photo, but Ladybug had (stupidly) offered to do the math to see how tall he would be without the miraculous stuff...
She knew the man’s shoes gave him a little extra height than most normal shoes would; she’d seen them up close, they were practically heels.
She spent literal hours sitting down with her computer at the kitchen table, a cold look on her face.
(Thank the kwamis for Chloe, because every time someone came near she would quickly come up to play interference. Ladybug didn’t know if she was doing this for their sake or hers, but either way it was appreciated.)
She scrolled through page after page of shoes, trying to find a model that looked close to the fashion disaster Hawkmoth was wearing.
Did she have a theory for the type of shoe they were? Yes. Was she going to just go with that? Of course not. She was Ladybug! Ladybug doesn’t GUESS --!
Maybe she’d been pretending to be Ladybug for too long. She made a mental note to go out with friends as a civilian sometime.
Still, it took until midnight to find a model that was similar enough for her to feel comfortable using it as a base. She printed out the picture and put it beside the picture of Hawkmoth’s shoes and nodded to herself. Great. His shoes added about 3 centimeters to his height.
Now onto the next part of height calculations.
Miraculi gave everyone extra height.
She didn’t know for sure if it was a flat rate or proportional, so she went out on the town, looking for some kind of measuring tape -- the type she used for work wasn’t long enough for a person’s actual height. She managed to find a place unfortunate enough to be open past midnight and she and the person checking out her item shared ‘I wish I was dead’ expressions.
It was here that she dragged everyone out of bed to measure their heights as civilians versus as heroes (without shoes, obviously).
They were clearly very annoyed by this, but it was nearing three o’clock at this point and she had spent an entire day looking at shoes. The look on her face was absolutely murderous. They opted to just quietly do what she said so they could go back to sleep as soon as possible.
5 centimeters. Everyone grew by 5 centimeters.
She wasn’t quite sure why this happened, nor did she really care. It was just important for her calculations.
~Calculations over~
So he was anywhere from 215 to 225 centimeters. Unreasonably tall, really. There could only be a few people of that height in Paris.
After doing some searching she figured out that there were probably about 5 people in all of Paris that were that height.
She just had to… find them? Somehow?
Whatever. She should also do some quick things to distinguish Hawkmoth from the others. She grabbed an extra sheet of printer paper and started writing things down.
A semi-muscular build, possibly bald, stupidhead, terrible fashion sense...
She fell back on the couch for a quick breather.
She was getting a headache. What was it from? The caffeine? Dehydration? Was she clenching her teeth? Who knows.
Ladybug pulled her phone out and checked the time…
Four-thirty.
She had time to finish that sketch for Jagged Stone before their eight o’clock appointment. It would be close, though.
She changed while she waited for her coffee to brew (How many pots had she had since yesterday? Four? Five? Whatever, it was probably fine) and then got to work.
She looked up a while later when Chloe walked down for breakfast. It was seven now, then. She would need to leave soon…
“Kwami, Ladybug, you look awful!”
“Thanks,” she said, her eyes falling back to the sketch. It didn’t have enough… yeah, that was the end of the sentence. It was too plain, but she couldn’t seem to --.
She felt hands rest over her cheeks and she looked up to see Chloe standing over her. “You need to sleep.”
“I need to get to an appointment.”
“I WILL use Sticky Situation if I have to.”
Ladybug wasn’t impressed.
“Pollen, buzz on.”
Ladybug blinked at the miraculous holder in front of her and then gasped. Of course! She’d forgotten accessories! No wonder it felt empty!
Kwami, she really was tired, huh?
She put some quick accessories down, careful to make all the items kind of tiny so Jagged wouldn’t be able to tell the ideas weren’t fully fleshed out yet, and then smiled at Chloe as she got up to leave. “Thanks, Queenie. I gotta go, I’ll sleep later.”
“But --!”
She was already gone.
The meeting went well. Yay. She kept her job.
She walked home, happy to just be done with that really long day --.
She randomly chanced a look in the window as she passed and winced when she saw Chloe waiting for her on the couch. She was far too tired to deal with a lecture. She transformed and flew into her room through the window.
… now what? Should she sleep?
Nah. She had patrols that night. Might as well just stay up through it all.
She yawned into her hand and headed down to Rena’s room. She might as well tell her what she’d figured out.
She knocked her head against the wooden door instead of her fist in an attempt to wake herself up a little and smiled when it opened.
“You look…”
“I’ve been told. Anyways, I’ve finished doing math and stuff. Come look.”
Ladybug grabbed Rena’s arm before the other could even say anything and pulled her down to the kitchen where she’d done the calculations.
Rena looked over everything for a few moments before her eyes widened.
“... hey, quick question, why does it say he has a ‘condom-head’?”
That got Ladybug awake. Her eyes found their way to the list of attributes she’d written while sleep-deprived.
Her eyes went wide with horror.
Because there, in handwriting that was definitely hers, were the words ‘stupid-looking condom-head’.
Fuck.
~~~
Taglist
@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write
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itsmeevie01 · 4 years
Text
Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne Day 4 -Habits
I just wanted to put a trigger warning up at the top. It's not very well discribed, because this was edited at 3 am, BUT. Marinette... Disassociates(?) Toward the end of this. I know that it's a little different than what people usually discribe for her, but I kind of based off my experiences I've had and experiences my best friend has had.
The sun started to peak its way through the windows as Dick Grayson made his way into the kitchen at the manor. It wasn’t often that he was able to come back for long stretches of time, but when he was, he enjoyed beating his family down. As he walked in, he blinked in shock. There sitting at the counter, was Marinette. His younger sister (who he was still mad at Bruce for hiding from him) was siting there happily chatting with Alfred as she sipped on a mug of coffee. She was already dressed and seemed too chipper for 5:30 in the morning.
 At the sound of him slinging himself into a chair, Marinette threw him a smile that made Dick squint in return. He huffed in response and latched onto the mug that was passed his way. There was a reason he made sure to be up before the others, after all.
Tim was settled with his laptop when Marinette maneuvered into the sitting room. In one arm, she had her sketchbook, a bag of pencils, and a cup of water. In the other arm, she had her computer, phone, and a tray that was holding four cups of coffee. When she set one down in front of Tim, he hummed in appreciation. She sent a smirk his way and added “a gift to the lord of the room” his responding
“Hey! Get back here Little Bit!” was met with laughter. She threw him a smile and arranged herself onto the opposing couch. He smiled at her and returned to his homework. This was his quiet time, and she knew that. Recently she had been making a point to spend time working in the same space with him when they both were busy. Both times she had come to visit since Thanksgiving, he had found himself working with the girl. Somehow, she always knew when he needed a break, and the thirteen-year-old girl made sure to pull his attention away for an appropriately short amount of time. He had often found over the last few weeks that he was sleeping better because of it too. Now, as he reached over to grab the coffee, she had brought him, he smiled. Maybe he could convince her to make a habit of this.
Every week his sister had been at the manor over the course of her winter break, Dick had been beaten to the kitchen. As he stumbled through the kitchen once again at an ungodly hour of the morning, he realized that he could hear Alfred and his sister talking quietly in the smaller dining room. As he made his way into the room, he could make out the tail end of their conversation, “-do know that they would be more than willing to let you talk about this, Miss Marinette. You do not have to carry this burden on your own.” The sound of a disbelieving snort followed.
“I know you keep saying that, Alfred, but I just…they all have such busy lives and there’s so much going on in Gotham and- “
“and you are still part of the family, Miss Marinette. Master Bruce is starting to worry about you, and Master Dick is starting to notice that you are avoiding the topic. Do not shut them out, when they can help you. This situation may need an outside touch.” When Alfred finished speaking, Dick decided that he had overheard more than he should have.
“Alfred? Are you in here?” When he called out for the older man, Dick watched with a cringe as little Marinette jumped at his voice. “Hey Net! I’m not sure if I should be jealous that5 you keep beating me down in the mornings!” as he teased her, he watched her eyes light up.
“Well, Dick, you try being the child of two bakers- “as the girl started her comeback, a groggy voice cut through the air.
“what the hell are you all doing up?” the three turned to see Tim standing in the recently vacated doorway, clutching his water bottle and looking around with bloodshot eyes. “it’s like, 2 am.” At Tim’s declaration, Marinette giggled.
“Tim? Its almost 6?” the look of shock that flashed over the boy’s face made Dick frown. Tim’s all-nighters were becoming more and more frequent. The way the teen stumbled out of exhaustion was worrying.
“Hey Timmy? Let’s get you to bed.”
In the week prior to Christmas, Bruce made it a point to try and come home earlier so that he could spend more time with both Marinette and Tim, who were both supposed to be enjoying their winter breaks. He knew, of course, that Tim had wheedled his way into doing extra course work over the holiday to cut down on time spent in school. That didn’t mean that he expected the boy to focus solely on the work. Imagine his surprise when he had come home to both of his teens settled in the sitting room working. Marinette was sketching furiously, while Tim was typing away on his laptop with a ferocity that would scare many of the villains that populated Gotham. Bruce blinked in shock before turning to find Alfred standing off to the side smiling.
“They have adjusted their habits so that they can bond even though this season is busy for the both of them, Master Bruce.” He turned back to his children and smiled at the two of them as they continued working, unaware of anything outside of the sitting room.
The next morning, when Dick came down, expecting to see his sister and Alfred, he was instead met with the sight of macaroons cooling on the counters. On the island, there were croissants, and on the stove, there were pans full of freshly baked sugar cookies. He blinked in concern and turned around the room searching. On the other side of the kitchen was his sister, standing over the sink, hands unmoving, as she gazed out at the slowly rising sun. Her eyes were unfocused, and as Dick made his way over, his eyes focused on the slight tremor that was running through her hands. “Net?” When he received no answer, he moved closer, “Marinette? Hey- “the girl moved, and Dick’s hand shot out and caught the bowl that she had been holding and set it down. Gently, he guided his sister out of the kitchen and led her into the sitting room, where they passed Alfred as he made his way down for the morning.
Once Dick had Marinette settled, he sat next to her and held out one of his hands, leaving the offer for comfort open as the girl blinked and started to look around in confusion.
One moment, Marinette had been starting on the dishes, the next, she was sitting on the love seat in the siting room next to her brother. The sharp poke in her side that had brought her out of her mind was one that she could only attribute to Tikki. As she sat there, adjusting to the change in location, Marinette took a deep breath to ground herself. She wasn’t expecting her brother to speak.
“Do you want to talk about it, Net?” The girl studied the Man sitting next to her for a moment. When she decided that she couldn’t find any hint of insincerity, Marinette nodded hesitantly and trained her eyes on her hands. They were twisting in her lap, working as a distraction and an outlet for the nervous energy that had been building up since August.
“I- “Dick waited patiently for the girl to collect her thoughts, “I love Paris, I really do. I mean- it’s the place I grew up! But. Well, recently.” She hesitated again. She looked up at him, with tears in her eyes. “everything is wrong!” The phrase tore out of her, and she clamped her mouth shut afterwards as her mind flew through damage control ideas. “I mean. Well. Everything is do tense. Too perfect. No one can feel anything!” When had she started crying? Marinette could have sworn that she had a better handle on her emotions after spending the last five months held emotionally hostage. As she started to devolve into true sobs, Dick pulled the girl into a hug, and she clung to him. For the first time in almost five months the girl was able to truly process what was going on in her home city.
When Alfred came to check on them 20 minutes later, he found the duo sitting curled on the couch. In the other doorway stood a shocked Bruce. Alfred smiled at the look of shock on the fathers face before the man strode over to join his oldest and his youngest. As Alfred turned to go back into the kitchen and finish making sense of all of Marinette’s baking, the man shook his head. Who knew that the habits that Marinette influenced would be the ones that would bring the Paris situation to light?
so, i plan on picking up in the same place for tomorrow’s prompt (overprotection) so i didnt resolve anything. i think i have the rest of the month plotted out as well! as soon as i have a day where im not stuck at work all day, im going to go through and put all of these in a master post, along with my other fic *ideas*. 
just so that i can also clear up any potential confusion, no. Damian is not yet present in this. yes. he will eventually. at this point, Marinette is 13, Tim is 15, Jason (who is going to be in the background for a bit still) is 19(ish) and Dick is either 24 or 25, i haven’t decided. I do plan on including more of the Batclan as i go...
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quickspinner · 3 years
Text
Guard My Heart - Ch 2 Bright as Ever
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Read on AO3
“It looks so great, Marinette!” Tikki squealed and Marinette sat back on her heels and looked up, smiling as she rubbed a forearm across her forehead. 
“It really does,” Marinette agreed, her voice slightly muffled by the mask she was wearing to filter out some of the paint fumes. She laid her paintbrush carefully aside and looked up. “How’s it going up there?” she asked, and dodged a glob of black paint just in time. “Careful,” she scolded, scrubbing at the spot with a rag even though she had a drop cloth on the floor for just this reason.
“My apologies,” Wayzz said above her, moving so that his paintbrush was hovering over the paint can and not Marinette’s head. “You startled me. I am almost done.” 
“Good,” Marinette smiled, and resisted the urge to tell him to hurry up. Wayzz was careful, which was why she had selected him to help her with this final stage, filling in the last of the narrow curlicues and flowers she had roughed in days ago. His care came at the price of speed, though, and sometimes his slowness made Marinette want to scream.
It was still more efficient to have Wayzz filling in the upper portion than for Marinette to get up on a ladder to do it, and the kwami was so happy to be helping that she didn’t have the heart to rush him, so she throttled down her impatience and walked out to the middle of the room to spin a slow circle and take it all in. She’d had most of the kwamis in here helping at one time or another, because this would be their home as well and she wanted them to feel some ownership and investment in it. The walls that surrounded her were now a soft pink, with her signature flowers in darker pink and black at all the corners and coordinating scrollwork anywhere that seemed too empty. Framed photographs from her portfolio were stacked in a corner and covered with a cloth. She’d hang those tomorrow, once the paint was dry. The back wall that they were finishing up now had her flower design on a much larger scale, framing the little sales counter. Fixtures and clothing racks were all shoved to the center of the room at the moment, but now that the painting was done, she could start getting that arranged. She wasn’t ahead of her plan by any means, but she was on track.
She noticed a shadow against the paper covering the shop’s front door just before there was a rap on the glass. Marinette waited for Wayzz and Tikki to zip out of sight, and then went to answer it. She was pretty sure she recognized the silhouette, and sure enough, Luka’s friendly grin greeted her as she opened the door. 
“Hi,” he said, a little sheepishly. “I’m trying to move a table and I could use a hand. Would you mind coming over when you have a second?” 
Marinette smiled. “I have a second now,” she said, stepping out and checking her pocket for her key before she let the door close behind her.
Luka chuckled and tapped the mask Marinette was still wearing, and she blushed beneath it. “Oh. Right.” She took it off, embarrassed as she rubbed at the lines she was sure it had left on her face. She opened the door again and dropped the mask back inside, knowing that one of the kwamis would retrieve it for her.
“You could just prop the doors open,” Luka suggested as they walked over to his space. 
Marinette huffed. “I don’t like being watched while I work,” she replied, which was only half a lie. It was true she didn’t especially want people looking in on her while she was contorted around, potentially with her ass in the air, trying to find a good position to do what she needed without leaning into wet paint. Mostly, though, she didn’t want the kwamis on display for any passers-by. 
She smiled a little as Luka held the door of his own shop open and motioned her inside. It had a more industrial warehouse feel, with exposed beams in the walls and ceiling, and low voltage lighting strung over the crowded space. Marinette wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out the multicolor slat wood flooring had come from the Liberty (it hadn’t, Luka had laughingly assured her when she asked, but he had picked it because it reminded him of home). Really, the whole place felt like the Liberty, and Marinette loved it, right down to the friendly, grinning cement turtle statue sitting by the door. The thing was knee high to Luka and while one couldn’t exactly call him pretty, his shell twinkled with embedded pieces of mosaic tile in many colors, and there was an air of mischievousness in his grinning face that made Marinette smile back every time she saw him. He looked exactly like the kind of thing Anarka would go wild for, regardless of the fact that he was incredibly, impractically heavy. She couldn’t imagine what shipping him had originally cost, and Luka’s story of actually getting it to its place by the door had left Marinette giggling uncontrollably. She was positive from the look on Luka’s face while he told the tale that it was never moving from that spot unless someone both bought it, and was willing to carry it away. 
The whole shop was full of fun, eclectic things like that, as well as some more valuable antiques. Marinette loved it, and could picture in her mind the type of customer Luka was likely to bring in. She hadn’t told him that she’d already started a few sketches for his branding, based around a stylized boat. It had taken her a few days to get over the fact that he’d named his shop Second Chance Antiques and Curiosities . She had nearly laughed in his face when he told her, and that would have been really hard to explain. She’d managed to hold it in until she was alone, and then she and Sass had had a good laugh over it. 
“Sorry I have to keep asking for your help,” Luka grunted, as they both took an end of the table he needed moved and shifted it. “I thought I had a plan, but there’s just so much stuff, I keep having to rearrange.”
“It’ll be easier when you get some customers in here and get some of this stuff—oof—out of your hair.” Marinette sighed as they set the table down in the area Luka had cleared out for it. “Maybe if you used the bigger pieces as sort of...display cases for some of the smaller stuff?” she suggested, stretching her back slightly as she looked around. 
“Yeah, maybe,” Luka sighed, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.” 
Marinette put her hand on his arm and rubbed it gently. “You will. We’ve both got a lot of lessons to learn, but we’re both adaptable. We’ll make it happen.” 
Luka made an affirmative noise, but sighed again.  
“Luka,” Marinette said gently, and he looked at her with that same not-quite-there smile. 
“I’m okay. Freaking out a little, but I’ll manage. I’ll be fine once the shop opens and things start happening, it’s just...the waiting is getting to me, I guess. It’s not like I don’t have a thousand things left to do to get ready, but...I don’t know, I’m not explaining myself well.” He looked away from her, and ran his fingers through his hair. It was hanging loose today, and the blue looked bright and fresh. He must have done a touch up for opening week, she thought absently, reaching up to tuck a lock behind his ear. His eyes darted to her with something like surprise and she drew her hand back quickly, self-conscious.
“You won’t know what the right choices are until you can get people in and see their reactions,” Marinette suggested, and the smile he gave her was real this time, real and grateful, and she smiled back. “You’re better at reading people in the moment rather than predicting people you don’t know—o-or at least you used to be—so I can see how you’d be frustrated trying to do this without any way to get feedback.”
“You’re not like that,” he muttered, smile falling as he looked back at the shop and sighed. “You’ve probably had a vision and a plan since before you signed the contract.”
Marinette bumped her shoulder against his. “You’re not me, though. It’s okay to do things your way, and not mine. Opening week is important, but it isn’t everything.” 
Luka grinned at her, and Marinette felt her shoulders curl under his knowing look. “It caused you physical pain to say that, didn’t it,” he chuckled.
Marinette scoffed and folded her arms, and then muttered, “Maybe.” 
Luka laughed and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze before letting his arm drop. “Thanks for the pep talk, Marinette.” 
He was smiling now for real, and it didn’t fade, and Marinette felt unreasonably proud about it. She opened her mouth to say something, though she had no idea what, when Luka’s phone beeped a familiar tone. He frowned and pulled it out of his pocket, checking the akuma alert. Marinette leaned over without thinking to look as well, dread curling in her gut even as her heart pumped faster.
“It’s not nearby,” Luka assured her, and Marinette sighed, and then her eyes widened and she jerked back a bit as she suddenly realized how she was crowding him. 
“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, quickly, backing up. “I should—”
“Watch out!” Luka was lunging forward before she even registered her calf hitting something hard, and he grabbed her arms just as she pitched backwards with a yelp. “I got you,” he said breathlessly, as he braced his feet and pulled her upright. “Sorry, that scared me,” he said, letting go of her quickly, his hands moving to tug the tail of his shirt nervously and nodding at the glass-top coffee table she had almost fallen into. “You could have really gotten hurt. Please be careful.” He grinned sheepishly. “At least until I get this place a little more organized.” 
“Luka.” Marinette stepped forward and hugged him, and though his arms wrapped immediately back around her, she felt herself blushing, the feel of a man’s body against her instead of a half-grown boy’s suddenly forcibly reminding her that they weren’t teenagers anymore. “Couffaines don’t do organized,” she teased, keeping her head down so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. “Stop trying to make it look like you think it’s supposed to, and do it your way. It’ll be fine, and you can adjust from there.” She let go quickly and straightened without looking at him. 
“I have to, um, go finish my painting before it all dries out or...something,” she said quickly, making sure she watched where she was going this time as she walked away from him, face burning. Stupid, why had she done that? Sure, they were friendly, and yeah, they’d fallen fairly easily into something like their old friendship. Luka had clearly meant what he said, about the way friendships come and go, and he seemed perfectly ready to let her take back her place in his life, and it was so easy to just go with it... 
Not exactly her old place, she reminded herself firmly. That was hardly to be expected. He’d always been touch-oriented though, and had been touching her shoulder or her arm or her back just as casually as he ever had, so maybe the hug wasn’t a big deal to him. He probably hugged his friends all the time, and it’s not like he knew that she didn’t. Besides, she used to, and she probably would, if she still had friends—real friends. And Luka was a real friend, so there was nothing wrong with hugging him, especially when he was clearly so worried about whether he could pull off this new business venture. She was freaking out over nothing, surely. She could comfort him; he’d do the same for her—he had done the same for her, so it was her turn , after all, especially being the more experienced when it came to business and marketing, so... 
Marinette rushed through the door of her shop and locked it quickly, and then put her hands over her face and shrieked into them. 
“Marinette,” Tikki said sympathetically, flying up from her purse to pat her shoulder. 
“I know,” Marinette mumbled. “Okay, um...I don’t think I can leave in spots just now without being seen so...let’s go out the back and try that alley a couple blocks over.” 
Transformed and with her mind focused on the goal, she followed the general direction of the alert, and then the screaming, to a fancy restaurant on the roof of a high-rise. Chat was already there, crouched in the remains of the outdoor dining, clearly regrouping. 
“What’s up?” she asked, landing next to him.
“This restaurant’s nearly impossible to get a table at,” Chat said grimly, with none of the joking humor he would have used once. “Big snob energy. Guess they snubbed the wrong person today. Best guess is the akuma’s target is the maitre’d or the manager, unless there was some random civilian that was especially rude. Looks like your standard entitled rich lady to me, though, so I’m betting on a beef with the restaurant.” He glanced at her. “You got here pretty quick today.” 
“I’ve made some changes in my personal life,” she said carefully. “I’m hoping it’ll give me a little more freedom and you won’t have to wait for me so often.”
“Not like I have anything better to do, but I’m not complaining,” Chat grunted. “Give me the plan and let’s go.” 
Ladybug sighed to herself. She had always wished he would take this job more seriously, but something had changed in Chat when they took Hawkmoth down, and while he had improved somewhat since then, clearly he’d been having one of the bad days before the akuma struck. Grim and cynical wasn’t an especially good look on him, and it worried her. 
No time to worry about that now though. “Distract and evacuate,” she said. “We need to get the civilians out of there. Hopefully in the process we can figure out which one it’s specifically targeting.” 
“Works for me.” Chat launched himself forward, ready to go as always, and Ladybug moved only an instant later. 
The akuma was obnoxious and destructive, with heeled shoes that could shatter concrete and a banshee-like scream that left Ladybug’s ears ringing even after the cure. Ladybug winced as she looked back at the trail of destruction. Chat just flopped on his back on the  rooftop. 
“Could’ve used some backup for that one,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, there was no opening,” Ladybug panted, putting her hands on her knees. “I was afraid to leave.” 
“Not blaming you,” he said, with a hint of his old humor in the half smile he managed as he turned his head to look at her. “Just saying. We could really use a hand more often.” 
Ladybug made a neutral noise. She didn’t disagree with him, but…
But, but, but. There was always a but. But the rules . But identities . But it was her responsibility.
“Ladybug,” Chat said, the smile falling away as he watched her expression. “I really didn’t mean it that way.” 
“I know,” she said, her voice coming out a tad too high. “It’s fine.” She held out her fist to him and he rolled over on his side to bump his against it. “I gotta get back.”
“I’m just gonna lay here for a while,” he muttered, and Ladybug sighed, reaching down to ruffle his hair affectionately.
“Don’t stay out too long, Kitty.”
“Yeah, yeah, beep beep. I got it.” He waved his ringed hand at her and then flopped back down to the roof. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on getting stuck on top of this building.”
Ladybug huffed a laugh, and tossed her yoyo.
She transformed a couple of streets away, and glancing at the time, she went up to the apartment instead of back into the shop. Several pairs of large eyes in small faces peeped out as soon as they were sure it was her, and came to circle around her.
“I finished the pieces you asked me to,” Wayzz told her
“We cleaned up the paint and sealed the cans that were left,” Pollen piped up. 
“That’s great,” Marinette said with a tired smile, giving them each a cuddle. “Thanks so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 
“It is the leassst we can do,” Sass observed mildly, bringing a damp cloth to her. Marinette took it gratefully. 
“Where?” she asked, and wiped at the spot Sass patted. The cloth came away smeared with flecks of half-dry pink paint. Ugh, did she have that on her face the whole time she was talking to Luka? How embarrassing. She handed the cloth back when Sass nodded that she was clean. 
“I should go finish,” Marinette sighed, but instead she sat down on the couch. 
“You should eat first, Guardian,” Pollen told her, hovering. “And rest. There isn’t much left to be done. You can finish it tomorrow.”
“She’s right, Marinette,” Tikki piped up, perching on Marinette’s shoulder. “You can finish the paint in the morning, and it’s on the other side from the dressing area, so it won’t keep you from getting the curtains up over there or any of the other things you had planned.” 
“It’ll just delay everything by a couple of hours,” Marinette sighed, slumping on the arm of the couch. “I’ll see how I feel after dinner. I’d rather finish it tonight if I can.” 
“Then you’d better go make dinner before you fall asleep on the couch,” Tikki giggled, and Pollen agreed, tugging at Marinette’s fingers. 
“It won’t do for you to be skipping meals!” Pollen scolded. 
“All right, all right,” Marinette giggled, getting up. “I’ll make dinner.” 
The kitchen in her apartment was separated from the living room by a small but usable breakfast bar, so Marinette hadn’t bothered to get a separate table. Instead, she lined up the kwami’s plates on the inside edge and pulled up a stool on the other side of the counter to sit at her own plate. 
She was just finishing up, her thoughts already running on the next things she had to do, when she was distracted by the muffled sound of...a guitar. The kwamis paused in their chatter, and Marinette sat with her fork halfway to her mouth, listening. After a moment she smiled. “It’s Luka,” she murmured. “His apartment probably mirrors ours, so his kitchen and living room must be on the other side of this wall.” Her eyes widened slightly in alarm. “If we can hear him, he can probably hear us if we get too loud. I can pass some noise off as the tv or the radio, but we’ll have to be careful.” The kwamis nodded, but Marinette shot pointed looks at Xuppu, Orikki, and Ziggy in particular. They all made faces at her, but nodded along with the others. 
Everyone was quiet as she finished her meal, smiling as she listened to the wandering guitar. “It’s nice,” she observed to no one in particular. “It’s been a long time since I heard Luka play.” 
It was funny, the effect it had on her. She could feel her shoulders sliding down, and a pleasant calm seeping into her. Had he really made such an impression all those years ago, that she responded so easily to the sound of his guitar even now? She took her dishes to the sink and stood a moment, laying a hand over her heart, and for a moment she heard a different song, 
When she took a breath, though, instead of the scent of metal and river wind, the scent of lemon dish soap filled her nose and brought her back to the present. She smiled at the kwamis, who had busily stacked their little plates next to the sink and were filling it with water and soapsuds. 
Right . All of that was a long time ago, and they were different people now. Still, maybe sometime soon she could come to one of his gigs and hear him play for real, and not through a wall. Though...it was kind of nice, knowing she was the only one who was hearing him right now. She wondered if he knew she could hear him. 
The tune changed, took on a little more purpose, and Marinette smothered a giggle. No, she doubted he realized she could hear, because he probably wouldn’t be caught dead playing Love Me Like You Do with an audience, even if he did give it a bit of a metal makeover. 
She’d have to let him know. Eventually. When she could think of a way to tell him that wouldn’t make him think he had to stop. 
She hummed quietly along as she and the kwami finished washing the dishes.
“Are you going to go back downstairs?” Tikki asked, tilting her head. 
“Mmm...no,” Marinette decided. “There’s still plenty to unpack and put away up here, and you’re right. I can finish the shop in the morning.” 
The next few days were a blur of hard work as opening day got closer and closer. The shop was coming together, and Marinette took comfort in, for once, being able to get everything just right, without anybody telling her it should be different, or complaining that she was too fussy. 
It was exhausting, though, and led to some pretty silly late night giggling with the kwamis as they tried to get her to rest before she made herself totally delirious. 
The day before opening, she walked into Second Chance with a box in her hands, trying not to giggle openly.  
“Hey, Marinette," Luka greeted, looking up from where he was loading up some display shelves near the counter.
“Wow, Luka, it looks great in here,” Marinette said, looking around.
“You were right. When I stopped trying to be strategic and just put things in where they felt like home, it all came together. I’m still not sure it’s the best arrangement, at least it feels comfortable. ” He looked much more relaxed, and his smile was easy and true. 
“I think that will work the best for you in the end,” Marinette smiled. “The right customers will like it, and the ones who don’t, well.” She patted the big cement turtle on the head. “Probably aren’t looking for the kinds of things you’re selling anyway.”
Luka chuckled. “Fair enough. What can I do for you, Marinette?” He slid the case closed and stood, turning to face her. 
Marinette bit her lip, and then held up the small box in her hands. “Well, I...maybe stayed up a little late last night, and I got kind of loopy, and then instead of going to bed like a smart person, I...did something silly. And if you hate it you can say so and I’ll walk right back out and we don’t ever have to speak of this again.”
Luka raised his eyebrows. “That sounds a little dramatic. What, did you make me a lace nightie with matching slippers?”
Marinette burst out laughing. “Okay, you’re right, that would be sillier,” she giggled, setting the box down carefully on a nearby table. “No, it’s not for you actually.” 
“Not for me?” Luka put his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.” 
Marinette giggled again, pulling some things out of the box and turning away from him. “You might not be when you see it.” Impulsively she added, “Turn around.” Luka did, and Marinette hurriedly went to work.
“Okay, you can look now.” She was barely holding back laughter, and when Luka turned around his mouth dropped open.
“You’re kidding me,” he said, covering his mouth with one hand as he approached, trying to smother his laughter. “Marinette. Oh my God.” 
The cement turtle now sported a pair of Eiffel tower sunglasses the exact match to the ones Marinette had made for Jagged years ago. He had a choker of studded leather around his long neck and another cuff around one ankle, and Marinette had hung a guitar made of cardboard and purple glitter on him as well. 
“Tada!” she said, throwing out her hands. “He’s a rock turtle, Luka. Because he’s, you know, rock, I mean I know he’s concrete but it still counts. So now he’s a rock turtle for real.” 
“I think those paint fumes are getting to you,” Luka laughed, and then threw one arm around her neck and kissed her forehead before letting her go. “I love it, thank you. It’s amazing.” 
“He can be your mascot,” Marinette giggled, unreasonably pleased and trying to resist the urge to touch her forehead. He’d done that the way he used to do it to Juleka, after all, and how touch-starved was she, that she kept dwelling on every little gesture of affection he made? It was Luka, after all, and he was just like that. 
But he was smiling, wider than he had in days, and it gave Marinette a sense of accomplishment that more than made up for her tiredness. 
“Ready for the big day?” Luka asked as he crouched to examine the turtle’s new guitar. 
“I think so. Yeah, I am.” Marinette brought her hands up and rubbed her arms. “It feels like I’m going to jinx it, saying that. Like one of those dreams I’m always having where I walk into a class or a client meeting and realize suddenly that I forgot to cover half of what they asked for in my presentation, and I forgot my bra on top of it.” 
Luka laughed, rocking back on his heels to look up at her. “Seriously?”
Marinette rolled her eyes. “All the time. Even my subconscious won’t cut me any slack.” 
Luka shook his head. “Marinette, if that ever happened to you in real life, by the end of it you’d have them convinced that they didn’t need all that stuff anyway and wearing bras would immediately go out of style.” 
“What,” said a dry voice, “the hell did I just walk in to?”
Marinette’s head whipped around to look at the door, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of the tall, slender woman standing there with her arms loosely crossed and an amused smirk on her face. 
“Hey, Jules,” Luka said, getting up and turning towards her with his arms out. “You made it.” 
“Of course I did, idiot,” Juleka mumbled, but Marinette saw her hide her smile in Luka’s shoulder as she hugged him back. Then, to her mild surprise, Juleka peeked over his shoulder. “Hi, Marinette.” 
“It’s really good to see you, Juleka,” Marinette said warmly. “You look fantastic,” she added, as Juleka came to take her hands and exchange a bise.  
“I have good stylists,” Juleka shrugged. Her hair was still long, but the purple was gone and it was pulled back into a shining French braid, leaving both her amber eyes bare to stare at Marinette. Her makeup was perfect and Marinette remembered that Juleka was a cosmetics model now. Of course she always had to look her best in public. “Luka told me you were opening your own place. I can’t make the opening, but maybe...maybe I could make an appointment to come take a look?” There was something in the old Juleka in the way she asked that question, a slight curl of her shoulders and drop of her head, and the way she pinched one thumb and forefinger tightly together at her side. 
Impulsively Marinette said, “Why don’t you just come over now? Everything’s set up and you can get first pick if there’s anything you like. Not that you should feel like you need to buy anything,” Marinette added hurriedly. “Just, if anything catches your eye or—okay I’m shutting up now, you probably don’t even have time, it doesn’t have to be now—just, whenever is good! If you want.” She closed her mouth abruptly before she could trip into another line of babble.
Juleka smiled, her head tilting slightly as if she were still peeking through that curtain of bangs. “I’d love to come over now, if that’s okay.” 
“Really?” Marinette brightened, embarrassment forgotten. “Awesome! I’d love to have your opinion on—well, everything, to be honest.” 
“I can’t wait to see it.” 
“Oh sure,” Luka mocked, and Marinette jumped a little, looking at him. “You said you were coming to see me, but really you just wanted a sneak peek at Marinette’s clothes. I see where I rate.”
“As long as we’re clear,” Juleka huffed, and walked out of the door. Marinette stood gaping like a fish for a moment, and then followed her, shooting Luka an apologetic look over her shoulder.
“I’m sure it won’t take long,” she said, but Luka, smiling, just rolled his eyes and waved her on. 
Juleka didn’t exactly gush; she was too collected for that, but her quiet smile and nod of approval as she looked around was more encouraging than a flood of compliments. “It has good energy,” she murmured. “Very you. Gives a sense of your brand from the beginning. I like it.” 
“Thank you,” Marinette smiled, sincerely grateful.
“It looks like a lot of work.” 
“It was,” Marinette sighed, “But it’s so worth it to see it come together. It’s scary to be doing this all my own, but at least I can make things exactly the way I want them.” She pointed out the curtained dressing rooms, and the pedestal in front of the (very expensive, even second hand) full-length three-way mirror. “I’m planning to do alterations and fittings as well,” Marinette explained, “On anything, not just my clothes. In a limited capacity, of course, so that I still have time to keep the shop stocked. I’m actually hoping to bring in lines from a couple of other independent designers—people I met in school that have an aesthetic that will fit in with mine, just to broaden the range of what I can offer, but...well, I kind of wanted to open with my own things first.” She smiled ruefully and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to drag anybody down with me if I go under in the first month.” 
Juleka laughed, and Marinette smiled at the sound of it. “I’m sure that won’t happen,” Juleka assured her, still smiling. “These pieces are gorgeous,” she added, motioning to the photographs on the wall. 
“It’s nice to see you happy,” Marinette said without thinking, and then bit her lip. 
Juleka seemed to freeze for a long moment, and then she took a long breath that reminded Marinette of Luka. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it,” Juleka said quietly, that slight curl in her shoulders again. “I—I’m...sorry, that we gave you such a hard time back when we were kids. I...understand better now. This is a tough industry and you have to be dedicated and motivated to succeed. I’m sorry that we...well, I don’t think any of us meant to be holding you back, but I understand how it might have felt that way to you.” 
“Oh…” Marinette said lamely, looking away and moving to fiddle with the nearest garment rack. “I didn’t—I mean, I felt bad that I had to bail on you guys so much, but I didn’t feel that way. I just thought, you know, you guys were right and if I wasn’t being the kind of friend you needed...it was okay. You’d have every right to be just as mad at me for choosing my career over you even at such a young age. I was ditching you a lot, and...I could have done things differently. Handled it better.”
“You had a life beyond school and beyond us,” Juleka insisted, folding her arms uncomfortably. “It was wrong of us to try and take that from you. I don’t know, maybe we felt guilty that we weren’t working as hard, or something, but...we could have made it work. We always made exceptions for Adrien because he was working a career outside of school. We should have at least extended the same courtesy to you. Especially when it was obvious even then how talented and driven you were. You’ve got what it takes to really make it, and it was wrong of us to get in the way of that when we should have been cheering you on.”
Marinette’s hands stilled for a moment, and it was her turn to take a slow breath. She felt a twinge of guilt, because Juleka of course didn’t know the whole story. It hadn’t been wholly for the sake of her future career that she’d bailed on her friends so often, and it hadn’t been determination to drive forward at all costs that had caused her to stop trying so hard to meet her friends halfway. Her reasons had neither been selfish nor noble. She just hadn’t had the energy to keep up the front any longer.
But she couldn’t explain it now any more than she could then, so all she could say was a quiet, “Thank you, Juleka.” She took another breath and lifted her head, trying to smile. “You really don’t need to apologize, though. I never held anything against you guys. Besides, we were kids.” Juleka relaxed a little, though she still held herself a bit stiffly. 
Time to change the mood. Marinette rallied her spirits and put the most genuine grin on her face that she could muster as she faced Juleka. “Come on,” she said brightly, moving over to one of the other racks and gesturing enthusiastically for Juleka to follow her. “I have some things that I bet will look great on you.” 
They already had several outfits laid aside for Juleka to purchase when Luka knocked and came in the door, the little bell Marinette had hung over it chiming cheerfully. 
“Hi Luka,” Marinette smiled, looking up from where she was laying another dress across the sales counter. “Sorry, I guess we took up more time than I realized. Did you get bored?”
“Just wondering if my sister is still going to buy me dinner,” Luka grinned. “I’m starving here.” 
“Then hurry up and die so we don’t have to listen to you,” Juleka called from the dressing room. 
“I’m wasting away slowly ,” he called back. “I’ll continue to exist on spite until you feed me.” 
“Do you need any help, Juleka?” Marinette asked, trying to keep her giggles out of her voice.
“No, I think I’ve—there. Oh, I like this one, Marinette!” Juleka pushed the curtain aside and stepped out. 
“Hm, needs a little tailoring, but only a little,” Marinette said, eyes fastened on the garment, as Juleka made a slow turn. “Let me just—” She stepped over with a couple of clips in her hand and took the slack out of the dress in a couple of key places, clipping it in place. “There. And of course I can adjust the hem if you need it, but I think this length is pretty good on you actually. What do you think, Luka?” She turned and blinked at the look on his face as he stared at his sister. He looked...happy, but his face was crinkling up in a weird way that she didn’t understand. 
“You look beautiful, Juleka,” Luka said, and had to clear his throat. 
“Don’t you dare,” Juleka warned, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “Don’t you dare get mushy on me again.”
“Better,” Luka continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’re poised and confident and...I’m just so proud of you. Five years ago that dress would have overpowered you and now look at you.” 
“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” Juleka asked, rolling her eyes.
“I might,” Luka said, and his voice did sound a little thick. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” 
“I swear he’s cried at every single one of the photo shoots I was dumb enough to bring him to,” Juleka grumbled, giving Marinette a look of longsuffering. 
Marinette giggled as she stepped close again and adjusted a clip. “He loves you.” 
“He’s a sap,” Juleka groaned. 
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Luka and Marinette said in unison, and Juleka snorted. 
“You two are made for each other,” she muttered, and then looked back with concern when Marinette somehow got the web of her thumb pinched in the clip and yelped.
“Fine, I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, fixing the clip. “There. Take a look.”
She helped Juleka up onto the pedestal in front of the three-way mirror, and Juleka sighed. “I love it,” she said, glancing at the two dresses and the suit that were already on the counter. “I better not try on anything else though. It’d be a pain dragging Luka’s corpse out of the shop, and I’m going to go broke if you pull out any more perfect outfits. Can you check me out for these, and we can make an appointment for the tailoring later?” 
“Sure! Give me just a second.” Marinette gave her a sheepish smile. “The POS system is new and it might take me a minute to figure it out. Actually you’re doing me an extra favor by letting me try this thing out before I put it through its paces tomorrow.”
“Hey, can I take a look?” Luka asked, moving around the counter at her gesture. “I still haven’t settled on one yet. I’ve got some ancient thing a buddy loaned me, but I’m hoping I can upgrade in a few months.” He leaned on the counter next to her and grinned. “I’m not above profiting from the months of research I’m sure you did before settling on one.”
Marinette giggled, shoving him with her elbow. “Off the counter,” she ordered. “You have no idea how many practice runs I had to do with the resin to get good enough to do a project this size.”
“I can tell,” Luka said, straightening. ”It looks really cool.” 
“You’ve really made the shop yours in such a short time,” Juleka said, looking at the countertop. “Everything about it just screams Marinette.” 
Marinette blushed, and picked up the tablet, tried to focus on walking Luka through the steps of the POS system, explaining the features that had made her go with this system as he leaned close to watch. He smelled different than he used to, she thought absently. Not so much sunscreen and fresh air and teenage boy. He wore cologne now, pleasantly subtle, and only noticeable when he was close like this. It was a more mature scent but it suited him. 
“And then Juleka can put her card in here,” Marinette said, pointing to the slot in a stand on the counter. Juleka did so, and after a moment the machine beeped. “And...there we go.” She showed Luka the screen. 
“Huh. Do you use it for inventory management much?” Luka asked, leaning one hand on the counter next to her as he watched her navigate the menus. She jumped a little when her shoulder brushed his chest, but he didn’t seem to notice. 
Marinette cleared her throat. “W-well like you, I don’t really have standard inventory, everything is unique, so it’s a bit more work to keep the system updated, but—uh—” He was looking at her and not the screen, attentive, and Marinette’s thoughts began to scatter.   
“Shameless,” Juleka sighed, shaking her head, and they both looked up at her. She smirked at Luka, and Marinette felt her face redden though she couldn’t have said why. 
“Me?” Luka said innocently, straightening away from Marinette and putting his hand on his chest. Marinette was surprised to see his ears were red, and it only made her feel more flustered.
Juleka snorted. “I can’t believe you’re taking advantage of Marinette like this, you lazy jerk. I bet you cheated on your tests at school too.”
“I sat next to Dingo ,” Luka reminded her, rolling his eyes. “Believe me, I wasn’t the one cheating.” 
“Whatever,” Juleka rolled her eyes. “So can we go now? I thought you were so—” Her lips curled in a smirk. “Hungry. Or was it thirsty?”
“I’m ready when you are,” Luka said quickly, coming back around the counter. “Thanks, Marinette.” 
Marinette moved quickly to get a garment bag and package up Juleka’s purchases. It was Luka, though who took them from her with a warm smile. “Congrats on your first sale,” he told her with a wink, and Marinette felt that blush again. 
“It’s hardly her first sale,” Juleka pointed out, picking up a small stack of Marinette’s business cards from the holder on the counter and slipping them into her pocket. “She’s been selling since collége.” 
Luka rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “First sale from your first shop—first brick and mortar shop,” he hastily corrected, when Juleka opened her mouth again. “Juleka, you’re such a pain.” 
“I’m just saying, if you’re going to compliment a girl, you need to be accurate,” Juleka smirked, as Luka began shoving her toward the door. “Good luck with your grand opening, Marinette,” she called back. “I’ll pass your info around the next time I’m in the studio!”
“That would be great. Thanks for coming by, Juleka!” Marinette called, waving. 
“Why do you have to make everything weird?” she heard Luka mutter as he pushed the door open for his sister and nearly shoved her out of it.
“It’s not my fault you just are weird,” Juleka retorted, and gave Marinette one more wave before the door closed behind them. “Especially around—” The door cut her off, and Marinette turned and buried her face in her hands, not at all relaxed by the giggling that began in several hidden corners of the shop.
“Traitors,” she mumbled, and took a deep breath. 
“It’s okay, Marinette,” Pollen said kindly, coming to light on her arm. “You should be proud!”
“Yes!” Tikki agreed, popping out of Marinette’s purse and coming to sit next to Pollen.  “That was your first client consult for your brand new shop! And it went amazing! Four outfits!”
“And you impressed Luka,” Mullo pointed out, emerging from one of the garment racks. “He seemed to think you were very knowledgeable. ” The kwami giggled and poked Marinette’s blushing cheek. Marinette swatted at him, pouting, but he just phased through her hand with a toothy grin.
“Luka just needed some information,” Marinette countered, ignoring the snorting giggles that came from all three kwamis. “And Juleka was just being nice. “Though...I suppose she could have been nice without spending quite so much money,” she conceded. “It’ll be great for business if she wears the clothes, too...she works in exactly the kind of circles where word of mouth will be really valuable.” Marinette picked up her tablet and smiled as she punched up her sales history, and looked at the transaction there. “Well...I guess this does make us official, doesn’t it.” She held out her fist and Tikki, Pollen, and Mullo bumped it all in turn. “Come on, let’s get back to work and see how much we can finish up. I want to try and take it easy tonight. I can’t show up at the big opening looking like death.”
Fiction Master Post | LBSC 2021 Exchange Collection
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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years
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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 7 - Memories
Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, was it a memory?, 2.6k
@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
“Don’t look down ‘cuz we’re still rising up right now...and even if we hit the ground...we’ll still fly, keep dreaming like we’ll live forever but live it like it’s now or never…”
Willie bobbed along as the song played from the tinny radio speaker outside the bodega. Sheldon was curled on his lap, purring contentedly as Willie pet him absentmindedly.
“You gonna take any chamoy candy, amigo?” Escobar asked, peeking his head out the door.
Willie shook his head.
“Not tonight.”
As Escobar disappeared again, Willie kept nodding to the beat of the song. It wasn’t exactly like being at a concert, but he had been happily surprised to hear the local station playing their songs - they’d been repeating them, in fact. By now he’d been able to assign faces to the voices singing different parts, and hearing Alex’s come through in the harmonies and the occasional solo was comforting.
“We ain’t searching for tomorrow…’cuz we got all we need today…”
The lines were strangely fitting. If Willie could’ve chosen how to spend his last day on Earth, he knew he would’ve spent it just like he had yesterday without question. If only that could make the Alex-sized hole hurt a little less than it had today.
“Can we turn it back to my station now?” Escobar called out. “We’ve heard the same songs, like, four times.”
“It’s Alex’s band, though,” Willie contested. The radio was already playing rancheras. As he stood up, Sheldon leapt off of his lap and went to eat more food.
“Que tiene este muchacho, anyway?” Escobar asked. “You knew him for, like, five seconds and he didn’t leave you a number.”
There was no way to properly express in words the feeling he got about Alex. Their interactions weren’t based on words, even when they had spoken.
“You don’t have to get it, Escobar,” he said, grabbing his board and helmet from leaning against the counter. He hadn't let himself hope it would magically last forever, but the memory was worth it. “I’ll see you later.”
“Adios,” the man said, sweeping up the store and singing along to his music. “Una piedra en el camino...me enseño que mi destino...era rodar y rodar…”
Shaking his head and smiling, Willie kicked off into the late night. He’d spent all morning cleaning hotel rooms, and he tried to remember which number had been the one for Alex and his band, but he never figured it out. The rest of the day, he’d run errands for Caleb and let the one memory he had regained play on loop in his mind. There was nothing that specifically indicated that the man in the truck was his dad, but he simply knew it was. They had the same squint when they smiled.
He hadn’t bothered telling Caleb about it. It would’ve been irrelevant, since he’d apparently been in the foster care system for quite some time. Those were some of the important details he’d gotten from him, but Caleb was rather stingy about the rest - he’d said it was so Willie could live unbiased and make himself into whoever he wanted. It didn’t feel that way, though. Eventually Willie had stopped trying to weasel things out of him and accepted that he might never regain his memories. Of course, it was different now that he knew they could return.
The wind in his hair was nice, but lacked something he couldn’t put a finger on. As he came upon a large home, he skated onto the driveway around the back. He was headed past the pool in the backyard toward his shed and was surprised by a sudden voice from the water.
“William, I’ve asked you so many times not to skate around the pool,” Caleb said, wading over from where he had been doing some laps. Slowing to a stop and picking his board up, Willie gave him an apologetic nod, continuing toward the shed.
“Wait,” he heard from behind. Turning, he saw Caleb climb out of the pool and move toward him.
“You’ve been running around all day, so I’m sure you want some rest. I’ve just been worried about where you go when it’s so late. That’s two nights in a row. Is there anything you need to tell me?”
Put on the spot, everything went blank in his mind. What was there to worry about? Did he know about Sheldon? Even if he did, it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong keeping the cat at the bodega.
“Not anything to tell,” he replied, trying to mask the strange guilt that had arisen. “Just been skating around.”
Caleb looked down at him, and Willie could never tell what was making those gears turn in his head. He knew he was just looking out for him, but sometimes he just wanted not to give some kind of report at the end of the day like he was doing business.
“I just think about what would happen if you were out there and something were to hurt you,” Caleb told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Or someone. Wouldn’t want another accident.”
Willie nodded solemnly. Caleb’s tone was serious, but for the first time he just felt that it was...insincere. His stomach flipped at the thought and he drove it down into the depths of his mind. That was an awful thing to think about the person who literally provided everything for him, especially when he wasn’t blood-related.
“I’m being careful, I promise,” he said, not meeting the man’s eyes.
“I’ll take your word,” Caleb said. He let go of Willie’s shoulder and strolled back toward the pool.
Walking to the shed, Willie shut the door behind him and confusion swept over his whole being. His dad’s face rose to the front of his mind again. If only he knew more about him to compare the two men, then he could understand why he felt so strangely about Caleb. Looking around the shed, he wondered if an answer could be found.
It was big enough for his bed, some shelves and a desk, with a small closet and bathroom. Apparently he had been living in there instead of the house even before his accident. In his first memory of seeing it, it was the bare necessities and nothing else. While Willie still wasn’t much to keep lots of clutter, he had dozens of sketches that he’d put up on the walls to make it feel more at home. It was quiet and thankfully Caleb didn’t bother him too often in there.
Sitting at the desk, he picked up a pencil and opened to a blank page in his sketchbook. Slowly shaping out a face, he tried his best to remember the details as clearly as he could. Willie wanted it to be as close to reality as possible, even though it wasn’t his usual drawing style. That way if his memory slipped, he could have something to keep him steady. So far the best thing about it was the eyes, but it wasn’t hard because all he had to do was check his own face in the mirror every once in a while. The smile was a little more crooked and wrinkly, and it took several attempts, but he was determined to get it right. He knew it was probably a good idea to get some sleep, since he had a full day of work in the morning, but this was more important.
Hours into the drawing, making sure everything was as close as he could get, Willie looked down at the portrait of his dad, steering wheel in hand, happy as could be. It was a really nice image, and if this were the only way he would ever remember him, Willie was glad it was happy. Checking the time, it was a little past three in the morning. He’d probably hate himself later for staying up so late, but it didn’t make him any less proud of his work. Aside from preserving his memory, it had been a great artistic challenge.
Finally climbing into bed, Willie tried to focus on something else. He brought Alex’s eyes to the forefront of his mind and let himself get lost in the soft crashing of the waves again. It had been rhythmic, which was so fitting for Alex. Allowing the rhythm to repeat continuously, he eventually nodded off to sleep.
Sirens blared and red and blue lights surrounded his vision. Willie was lying on the pavement, not moving and fading in and out of lucidity. The pain in his head was overwhelming. For a few moments, he stayed that way, watching the lights flash indefinitely. Slowly, he watched as all the lights and sirens pulled away, and above his face, the front bumper of a car came in view. A man that he couldn’t see clearly appeared, moving backwards, going from the side of the car to kneeling over Willie’s motionless body in a panic.
After a few moments, the man went back to the car in the same backwards fashion, and Willie’s body lifted in the air. His vision tumbled and he made contact with the car a few times, and when his head hit the pain vanished. Strangely, he landed perfectly on his board and it was like watching the city in reverse. Aware this was a dream, he felt so puzzled by the whole thing. This was a part of the city he could’ve sworn he’d never been through before. Willie had his corners that he’d memorized, but Vegas was big enough to confuse him still.
The backwards skating seemed to be endless, until finally he was running back into Caleb’s home. Caleb was yelling, and Willie couldn’t make out what he was saying at all. Then suddenly they were at a social worker’s office, and Willie looked down at a file with his picture on it. He couldn’t make out anything it said, but he simply sat there as Caleb and the social worker blabbed in backwards gibberish.
The scene changed again, and Willie found himself sitting in the shed, crying. He was repeating a name but it made no sense. A deep loneliness filled his entire body and a strange force seemed to try to compress him into as small a space as possible. The tears and the shaking only intensified, ringing loudly in his ears. Everything was miserable, overwhelming, and he just kept crying out into the dark.
Willie opened his eyes and sat up in his bed. Looking around his room, there was too little light to make out any shapes, and after blinking his eyes he found they were wet. Huddling his knees into his chest, he just sat there in his confusion and fear, breathing in and out. Had those been memories? It was so hard to tell, especially since watching everything in reverse had been so trippy. If they had been, he wondered if they were warped in any fashion. Who would have their memories return through a dream in reverse, anway? The frustrating thing about amnesia was that it had very few absolutes and every case was different.
A pit of anger grew in his chest. Willie felt like some higher power was having fun at his expense. The tears that fell were more from quiet fury than pain. Glancing over at his desk, he saw the drawing of his dad smiling back at him again. Unfolding himself and laying down on his side, Willie stared at the picture and let the tears run until either his eyes dried up or he fell asleep again, whichever came first.
Loud banging on his door was what woke him up. Rising groggily from his bed, he opened the door to find Quetzal, one of the girls from the diner.
“You just woke up?” she was saying. “Come on, Willie, Caleb doesn’t know I rushed over here to get you, you better hurry up.”
Sighing wordlessly, Willie pulled on some clothes, followed Quetzal to her car and clambered inside.
“You’ve been off the past couple of days, you okay?”
Willie took in a deep breath and tried to blink himself more awake as they drove to the diner.
“Just in a funk, that’s all,” he breathed. “Thanks for coming to get me, though.”
“Let’s just pray we don’t get caught.”
“We won’t get caught, he’s doing some kind of new deal today. I heard him on the phone a while ago about some record label he was thinking of buying.”
“A record label? How many businesses does the guy own now, like five?”
“I stopped keeping track. Anyway, Dolores is probably managing today.”
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed. “You had me so worried when you didn’t show up on time. I was ready to get fired for leaving during my shift. At least we don’t have to worry about it now.”
Willie didn’t respond. He knew Quetzal was one of those people who would go out on a limb for anyone, but it still surprised him when she did it for him. He never felt deserving. As they parked at the diner and hurried out of the car, he shook his head. It wasn’t always successful but he always hoped it worked like an Etch-A-Sketch, to get rid of the many things cluttering up his brain.
That was it. Enter the kitchen, punch in, grab an apron, and he was in his corner by the dishwasher again. He ignored the eyes of everyone else who clearly wanted to express their upset by his tardiness.  He was there now, right? Heaven forbid. Willie’s mind, of course, only remained cleared from the shaking for a few minutes. As he got into the groove of spraying and moving things into the industrial trays, he tried to remember more details of the dream, but most had been forgotten. All that was left were sirens and lights.
He’d walked back home at the end of his long shift, since he hadn’t taken his board like usual in the morning. That also meant he couldn’t go to the bodega for lunch, and he desperately needed to check on Sheldon. Willie had peeked into the house and called to see if Caleb was home at all. His own voice echoed back followed by silence. Taking that as a confirmation the man was still busy, he gathered his board and helmet and made his way out to the street.
The wind wasn’t its usual soothing sensation against his face. Willie knew he was tired, but was disappointed to feel that the one thing that felt most freeing to him wasn’t doing its job. It should’ve been enough to lose his thoughts to the sound of the low roll from the wheels, only interrupted by the gentle clacks here and there. There was too much noise inside of him. Suddenly, he understood why Alex had chosen to play drums.
Sheldon was already pattering toward him as he came through the doorway. Scooping the cat into his arms, he held him close and stroked his fur in an attempt to find some comfort. When he started purring, Willie made a little sigh of relief.
“Busy day?” Escobar asked as he organized a shelf.
Willie only nodded. Sheldon was rubbing his head against his face, and it did more to soothe him than the wind.
“Sorry I didn’t come for lunch,” he apologized. “I haven’t been doing my part for Sheldon and I owe you.”
“I would like it if you could be around more,’ Escobar said. “But he’s a pretty good cat, so it isn’t too much, amigo.”
Nodding again, Willie finally heard the music playing in the background. Was it…?
“I thought you were tired of their songs,” he commented.
Escobar shrugged.
“Eh, I had an idea you wanted to listen to them. And they’re not all too bad.”
A surprised giggle came from Willie’s throat, and he smiled for probably the first time that day. He went to give Sheldon some food and let his mind replace the red and blue lights with soft green eyes.
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drunken-drengr · 3 years
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Maybe 3, 8, 24, 35, 44, 75, 92 for Karrie and/or Thragnr? 👀
aaaa thanks for all the glorious questions! Sorry it took me so long to get around to this, but here I am! Did all these questions for both of my dwarven children
3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?
Karrie's name wasn't always Karrie. For awhile her parents planned on naming her Caroline Cadash, or Cara Cadash. A few days after her birth her dad kinda said fuck that my daughter's not gonna be named Caroline. And so she was called Karrie. More warrior like than Caroline.
The common latin meaning behind Karrie is 'beloved', but I originally used it with the anglo-saxon/germanic meaning of warrior or leader.
As for nicknames, oh boy, too many to count (mostly from Varric, to her annoyance). Her ‘friends’ in the Carta called her ‘Berserkr’, as it was her middle name. Blackwall calls her the tame, traditional stuff from time to time, like My Lady, Dearest, My Love, etc. Sera has been through a few nicknames, but eventually decided on Teeny, hence her short stature. And Solas went through some as well, though less of nicknames, and more of titles that all but replaced her name. Herald, Inquisitor, Child of the Stone, da’len, and very occasionally, vhenan. Da’len used most often. Bull gave her an interesting one, for sure. Mini Mayhem, after he finally convinced her to let him throw her into a cluster of enemies. Dorian calls her a Barbarian, though in an affectionate way, of course. And as aforementioned, Varric has come up with numerous nicknames, like always. Red Lion, Hothead, Auburn, Wildfire, Hazel, Sketches, Paragon, Malice, Reaver, oh, the list goes on…
Thragnr, his name came to me while I was eating cereal for breakfast. I remember it clearly. I wanted his name to start with a Th, I was dead set on that. And Maker forgive me for it, but I am a sucker for norse shit, so I thought of Ragnar Lodbrok. Th-ragnar-ok? Th-ragnr. Simple, easy, no other deeper meaning behind it really, other than a lot of LOTR dwarf names also being based off of old norse. Thought I should continue the trend. And you already know his nickname, really, it’s easy. Ragnar, somehow simpler than Thragnr.
8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?
Karrie is.... Confused, to say the least. But it doesn’t bother her anymore, she doesn’t let it. Growing up with a family who actively worshipped the Maker, and tried their best to honor the ancestors, she didn’t know what to believe. Would she return to the stone alongside the ancestors, or would she return to the Maker’s side, given that surface dwarves weren’t supposed to return to the stone. And then learning the Avvar’s way of worship over time, seeing their rituals they carried out for the dead, seeing how their gods embraced them. Karrie believed it all, but certainly, all wouldn’t accept her. Over the years, she stopped worrying about it, she had to, it would have eaten her up worrying about what comes after, even if it’s nothingness.
Thragnr is far more simple. He believes devoutly that he will return to the stone, though that faith faltered when he took his first step on the surface, felt the first raindrop hit his skin. But only for a mere moment. Now, he’s more determined than faithful, determined to return to the Stone as what he is now rather than what he was.
24. Do you know their MBTI type?
Karrie is an INTJ-A, though is admittedly more spunky and wild than you would expect from one. And Ragnar is an ISTJ-A. Dwarven minds think alike, aye?
35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?
For Karrie, it could be anything, really. She has a short fuse, and is intolerable to any sort of annoyance. Whether it’s something as trivial as someone smacking their lips, or being endlessly incompetent of doing anything on their own, it annoys the hell out of the dwarf. When it comes to people being incompetent, oh boy, that’s a big one for her. If you’re lucky and she’s in a good mood that day, she’ll brush you aside scornfully and condescendingly tell you to basically fuck off and let her handle it herself. Evidently, she’d get it done a whole lot quicker. You can only imagine the sheer amount of fear that the requisition scouts live in every single day. The panic and adrenaline that rushes through their veins when they see Inquisitor Cadash all hot and irritated and blood-soaked from a fight walk their way, and they unfortunately have news to relay. Scarier than facing an archdemon.
Thragnr doesn’t really get annoyed easily. Or at least it seems so on the outside. He portrays an uncaring, stoic exterior, but on the inside, who knows what’s going on, really. Sometimes he really is completely unbothered by most things that would get even Morrigan upset, and sometimes he’ll be irritated by simple things such as the rain, or bugs. Perhaps it has to do with what he’s been raised with. Bickering, stupid arguments, full fledged threats, and high boast do not phase him at all, whereas the unknown manages to get him on edge. Rain, bugs, sunburns, animals, they all seem to get to him eventually. And eventually, he gets used to it, though that time isn’t now. Ah, and one thing he wasn’t used to- being talked down upon, especially by other races. Don’t know if he’ll ever get used to that, being former Prince of Orzammar and whatnot.
44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars?
Believe me when I say that Karrie has a lot. Her back is striped like a red lion’s with them. Some have been covered up by tattoos, some are too prominent to be concealed with ink. Many of her scars originated from her Carta years, her being reckless and throwing all caution to the wind without a second thought. And though she is still reckless to this day, she’s grown a bit more cautious and intuitive. Still, it isn’t unheard of for her to have new scars adorn her body after dragon fights and encounters with terrible beasts.
Thragnr is a skilled fighter, battle hardened, though he does not have many scars. One can’t really afford much injury when most of your battles are with the Blight. And simple dwarven fighting tournaments aren’t anything he would even consider dangerous, never has the former Prince once sustained a serious injury fighting his kind.
75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?
I think it’s common knowledge within the Inner Circle that Karrie, the stout, hotheaded, bloodthirsty dwarf absolutely loves to draw. It had come as a shock, initially, to most, especially Solas. You could imagine his delight when he realized that underneath the scar-tattered warrior, there was a bright, young, creative and intuitive spirit. And so, naturally, given a piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, she would draw. Doodle endlessly, whatever came to her mind. The Skyhold Garden, a misty mountain range, cute mabaris and nugs, even the people she loved. Drawing is one of the few things that fail to bore her. She only wishes that she had more time. Maybe, given the proper opportunity to flourish and grow, she would have done something else with her life. But if that happened, she wouldn’t be where she is, wouldn’t have met the people she has. And for that, she’s happy that she has what time she has.
As for Thragnr, he is less creative in comparison to the other dwarf. He’s a practical man, and is dwarfy in the sense that he cannot comprehend a world beyond the physical, unlike Karrie. He has ideas, sure, but nothing outlandish or outside of the box, of course unless it relates to battle and strategy. If you gave him a piece of paper and a pencil with nothing else to do, he’d probably write. Write down important things on his mind, things to remember, his feelings for other people (ahhh love letters to Morrigan, could you imagine it? Ragnar, a poetic romantic??) and cool bug facts important surface facts.
92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.
Karrie, rest her soul -
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Thragnr def at the beginning of the game -
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Dobbear! SYAC: The Master Review 6
I am so going to ruin someone’s childhood with that now, but...
guys, it had to be done!
Dashing and daring…
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Courageous and caring!
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Faithful and friendly…
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 With stories to share!
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 Doesn’t at all apply to this one artist…
Lesbian obsessed and  each nerddom’s nightmare!
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Dobby BEAR!
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Whinning here and there and everywhere!
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Making claims that are beyond compare…
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This is our Dobby-Bear!
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Yeah, if you can’t guess, around now is the time I am going to put down the kids gloves and will really dig into why SYAC is garbage. And a huge factor into this, is in part Dobson’s self insert past 2012.
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The existence of the blue bear as Dobson officially calls it (or Dobbear as most people call it) is in my opinion rather baffling already in terms of design choices.
I get e.g. that Dobson wanted to distance himself of his past humanoid self inserts as much as possible. But why of all things a bear?
The fact I am focused on that may sound weird, but hear me out for a bit. For starters, I know that Dobson likes western animation. And seeing how western animation has for the longest time been dominated by anthropomorphic animals, I can understand why he would redesign himself as a funny cartoon animal.
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But there are at least three things that feel weird about it. First, Dobson had made it clear in the past that he hates furries. So him actually redesigning himself as an anthropomorphic animal is kinda weird
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In fact, Dobson himself acknowledges that realization in one of his strips shortly after his fursona took over.
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Second, of all the animals to choose from, why a bear? This question is in so far valid, as that bears are not necessarily one of the first to go animals, furries or western animators tend to go for when designing an anthro. And before any furries or anthro enthusiasts are calling me a hater, let me make one thing clear: I like anthropomorphic cartoon and comic characters too, and am okay with most furries. As long as you don’t have a diaper fetish, are a pedophile  or hurt actual animals, you can do and enjoy whatever you like.
But I am also aware enough of furry culture to know, that bear based anthros are most of the time hyper sexualized and muscular, connecting them to how the term “bear” is used in real life gay culture. Which is okay, I think it is just a funny coincidence that Dobson choose an animal, that most furries associate with a life style that Dobson is deeply afraid of, even if he claims to be an LGBT ally.
And as stated earlier, bears are not necessarily the go to animals for animators.
Don’t get me wrong, we all know some cartoon bears like Winnie the Pooh, Yogi Bear, Poh and the main cast of TaleSpin (btw, Kit Cloudkicker fan for life). But lets be honest here; ducks, mice, rabbits, canines, felines, equines and any other “easily to domesticate” animal in the real world tends to make better for easily recognizable cartoon characters than something that can reach a size of 3 meters tops and weigh over 500 pounds.
Truth be told, the pool of cartoon bears is so small, these are the first two things that came to my mind when thinking what may have inspired the Dobbear
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And wouldn’t you know? According to Dobson, the Carebears were supposedly the main inspiration for his design.
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 Unfortunately, this is also more or less the most I could find of Dobson addressing what went into the creation of the character.
Which kinda brings me also to the third issue as why I think the bear redesign is weird; It is too sudden.
One day Dobson draws himself as a shaved 20 something, the next day he is a fedora wearing Carebear clone, likely created and then rejected by Care Bear villain No Heart, as part of a plot to create a mole when conquering Care-A-Lot.
… and now I need to reevaluate my choices in life, that I was able to make such an elaborate Carebear joke.
It is just a change of design that in my opinion should have been addressed either outside of the comic or in context of it. Which it kinda is, but isn’t.
See, this is the first strip with the blue bear
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And then only 13 strips or so later in something called “Continuity” is Dobson more or less willing to address the change…
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And he does so in a passive aggressive manner, with Persistent Pam as a stand in for those asking him what is going on, while Dobson just dismissively continues working.
On one hand, you can argue that this is just the joke. The change happened, don’t bother with it, just enjoy what is still to come. And you know, I don’t want to make a rope out of everything Dobson ever posted, including that comic.
But then you have also to account for the fact, that Dobson would eventually associate himself with the blue bear so much, he made him his avatar and icon for his comics and online accounts. In fact, that one comic I posted WAY BACK in the first Master post of Dobson reminiscing how he started SYAC?
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For reasons that are a bit confusing to me, he redrew himself (badly I have to add) as the blue bear in one of his earliest strips ever. The one where he belittles the manga fangirl for drawing manga. So I have to ask, what is going on here? Has Dobson increasingly decided to reset his past? Does he want to destroy any traces of his “human” self in his work to create the illusion to any new readers, that he never was as controversial of a person as he was and that there never was a need for him to reimagine and reinvent himself? Is this 1984? And how many of you realize that this paragraph is just me going conspiracy nuts for the sake of entertainment?
But still, it is kinda weird that he went to the bother of redrawing his human self in that one background sketch as a bear. Plus, I honestly think Dobson never even attempting to “explain” the change in the pages of his comics is a wasted opportunity for some decent jokes. Like every time Dobson tries to explain why he is a bear now, something interrupts him or we only get fragments of a story that if we put them together would be as ridiculous as the entirety of “Trapped in the Closet”.
I mean, the dumbest joke idea I have in mind is that Dobson went to build a bear to get a present for a family member. Instead he was build into a bear and later on successfully sued the company, which explains why he can afford to live despite not really working on comics anymore but lecture people badly about the evils of nerd culture.
So yeah, three major things about the design choice that more or less confuse me.
But here is the thing: Confusion is nothing compared to feeling genuine disdain for the design at hand. And compared to Dobson’s earlier human designs, Dobbear is just utterly unlikable.
A lot of that boils down to the following three facts:
1. From a certain point in time on (which I will cover in more detail later on) Dobson uses his bearsona primarily as a soapboxing mouth piece to talk about “politics” in nerd culture. Or at least what Dobson perceives as politics, coming off like a condescending jackass who believes among other things that white people are inherently incapable to identify with black people…
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 … or that comic book shops have radicalized nerd culture, essentially calling them terror cells.
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Which btw are so inherently offensive to me, I promise I will cover these two separately. One even sooner than the other.
2. If Dobbear is not talking about politics, he will tend to be a smug asshole to other people (most of the time strawmen) or their interests in one way or another. Being e.g. used by Dobson to express his disdain for criticism…
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 or to mock legit criticism he had gotten by exaggerating things.
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 All while also tending to make his critics look like inherent assholes.
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These two facts, combined with Dobson’s average erratic behavior online on platforms such as dA, twitter and tumblr over the years, pretty much assured such a close association between the two, that a separation between artist and creation was not possible anymore, condemning them.
And for the record; Dobson was always a bit of a whinner who liked to act as if he was a better nerd than the average comic book fan. Otherwise, we would have not e.g. gotten Danny and Spot out of it.
But as the years went by in the last decade, Dobson turned from someone in his mid 20s, desperate to be seen as a “quirky” and likable internet persona (like certain internet reviewers), into a virtue signaling, lesbian obsessed asshole who likely regrets his life choices.
… Like certain internet reviewers.
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But seriously, Dobson turned into someone who would flip the lid at something as ridiculous as Cheeto flavored chicken fries…
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 While also being just the worst type of condescending nerd….
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All while losing his mind about politics. Especially after Donald Trump became president
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And just as Dobson became a radicalized left winged jackass who saw politics in everything he consumed, so did by default Dobbear, because Dobbear was not a character with his own personality, but a mouth piece.
Something I am about to get into detail in the near future. But till then, I want to cover in the next post the following third and final fact about Dobbear that really makes him unlikable to me: The fact he can’t be happy.
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