#harmonic hues

[sn0wgr4ve]

* i love making au characters, however i am super indecisive with outfits

[bubblesbenson]

I genuinely hope it was worth keeping Rick and Morty over Final Space.

@edges-posts

[wrecked-minded]

[stellarskull]

me when working on something absolutely nobody will pay attention to: This will be so aesthetically pleasing people will cry

[meanbossart]

Process for fem-drow!

A lot of people ask for stuff like this, but the issue is that I change up my coloring a lot depending on necessity since I'm still figuring out what I like :v This one was fairly straightforward though, and so a perfect candidate for that.

Shadows are some de-saturated shade in multiply mode that I usually tweak the hue of until arriving at whatever looks nicer for the final piece. I always put a layer of solid color over the whole thing in either hard-light or overlay mode to "harmonize" everything and add a highlight of a similar shade. For DU drow specifically, his skin's reflective color (usually blue) is done in overlay mode most of the time.

I went straight from rough-sketch to linework in this one but I usually do two sketches.

[t-lostinworlds]

Be(tter) In Reality With Me | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

》 SUMMARY: Bucky needed to remind you how he would never ever betray you, especially when the him in your dreams was showing you otherwise.

》 WARNINGS: bad dreams/nightmares, pregnancy & baby stuff, mentions of: infidelity, miscarriage, anxiety, toxic past relationships; implied smut at the start (nothing graphic), pet names (doll, my love, sweetheart), overprotective!husband!bucky (he’s a hoverer), some hurt, so much comfort, very fluffy moments a.k.a. happy ending obvs.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.5k+

A/N: this is another unplanned one, like i really just started writing this a few days ago. well, i’ve been toying with the idea for a while but i just never got around to writing/thinking of the perfect premise for it. i coud’ve gone the crack route but you get angst instead. but anyway, this is barely proofread, idk how this turned out. and i know ‘husband fever’ isn't a thing but i honestly got it while writing this soooo hope you enjoy it too!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The disappointment was sharp in your chest as you trudged towards the front door of your home, fingers curled around an unopened envelope that felt heavier than any normal piece of paper should.

Your husband was supposed to be there with you.

Bucky was supposed to meet you at the clinic so you could find out your baby's gender together. But he hadn't been answering any of your messages or calls since this morning. Better yet, he'd been avoiding you all week. There had been more voicemails than there were replies. It was worrying because you two had been fine, things were normal the week before and now it felt as though he was avoiding you at all cost.

Yet the disappointment was quickly replaced by dread when you opened the front door.

The heels were what you saw first, a pair that you were sure wasn't yours. Even if there was a slightest chance that they were, they had no business being down here and not in your closet. Being pregnant, you hadn't worn heels in months.

Next were the scattered clothes, both familiar and not, a feminine scent lingering in the air that had your stomach turning in knots. They were the most horrid pieces of bread crumbs, one that you knew was leading you towards something vile and agonizing.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as you ascended the stairs, each thump growing harsher to marry with your step. Your fingers trembled on your baby bump, the fluttering inside growing restless like a blaring alarm. When you reached the landing, that was when you heard it.

An enthusiastic creaking of the bed, salacious moans and grunts sinisterly harmonizing, unashamedly loud as if they weren't doing something so evil. It was deafening that you couldn't even hear your own heart shatter into pieces.

You wanted to turn around and leave, telling yourself that seeing the treacherous act would do more harm than good. But you didn't have control of your own body. You were pulling at your own hand, wanting to drag yourself away but to no avail as you kept walking.

The door was wide open when you reached it, shameless and uncaring of getting caught.

And you stood there, frozen, shattering into pieces as you watched your husband mold his naked body into another woman, his metal fingers tangled in her blonde hair, his hips driving back and forth recklessly, their faces contorted in pleasure while a picture of you and him on your wedding day stood on the nightstand.

It felt like a bullet to the heart when he lifted his head and met your eyes.

Gone were the soothing blues you'd called home, gone was the man you'd given your all, who you'd grown to love, to trust.

There were only dark gray hues laced with no guilt, no remorse, a face resembling the love of your life but was truly the Devil incarnate.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in quick succession, bile and air stuck in your throat, your heart stopping as something warmer, thicker with a metallic scent trickled down your leg.

He grinned.

You gasped.

•••

Bucky noticed how you'd been short with him lately.

Your kisses were less enthusiastic, his touches or any form of affection were being brushed off, your conversations turning brief, other times barely happening at all.

He tried to reason that you simply needed space, that maybe he was overbearing, overstimulating your senses by hovering around you too much. But, really, who could blame him for taking care of you and making sure his pregnant wife was healthy and safe?

But it was at night that his concern turned to suspicion, when you were facing away from him when you slept, muttering and mumbling, restless. It was when you'd flinch in surprise when he'd wake you up, eyes dazed with something else other than drowsiness. He'd ask you what was wrong, and each time you'd shake your head wordlessly and attempt to go back to sleep.

He remained patient though. It was the least he could do, especially in your state.

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't downright worried, especially when he found something uncanny about your behavior.

Bucky expected your irritability and annoyance. You snapping at him for something so mundane was a common thing he'd been facing lately and had certainly no qualms over. Your mind, emotions, and body were going through a lot and in waves, it was the bare minimum for him to understand. So he never took your harsh glares and clipped tones to heart.

But what was uncanny was the look of doubt, followed by a flicker of fear and then the heartbreak that would cross your face. It was in split seconds, when you see him on the phone, when he was out longer than he'd promised after getting you one of your weird cravings, when he came back late at night after a spontaneous outing with the guys when Wanda and Nat all but kicked him out since it was their turn to pamper you.

Bucky had a feeling that something was wrong. He simply couldn't put a finger as to what.

The nagging voice in the back of his head only grew when Sam and Sarah were in town. It was a surprise visit, so they didn't catch you in time.

You were already out with your mother, a rocky relationship that you hoped would start to mend over baby clothes and strollers.

"Bucky! Come on!" Sarah groaned playfully when he refused to tell them the gender of the baby.

He wanted you to disclose it, and he certainly wasn't going to do it without you by his side. You found out together, it was only fair you tell people the news together, too.

The harsh slam of the front door silenced everyone.

Bucky knew it was you right away, rushing to meet you in the hallway when he heard the intensity of your heartbeat and the sharpness of your breaths, footsteps hurried as if you'd been running.

"Hey," he said softly, cupping your face in his hands, his heart clenching at the sight of your stricken features. "What's wrong?"

It took you a minute to respond, eyes flickering between his face and over his shoulder, like you were looking for something. Bucky watched your body slowly relax when Sam and Sarah followed closely behind him.

It only confused him more.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, thumb stroking your warm cheek as he gently placed the other on your stomach.

"Y-Yeah, I thought—" You shook your head, finally meeting his eyes with a sad smile. "Mom canceled last minute."

"Oh I'm sorry, sweetheart," he sighed, pulling you into his arms, kissing the top of your head when you let out a shaky breath, cheek pressed on his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Bucky knew how you were truly looking forward to this day. You'd been carefully dividing your lists into two so you could buy things with your mother and then with him, too.

"We'll just get those on our shopping trip, okay?" he murmured against your crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns on your back. Glancing behind him, he added with a lighter tone, "Or you can give Sam the list and he'll just gift us everything."

"Oh I would gladly do it," The self—not really—proclaimed uncle agreed. "If Buckaroo here will finally tell us whether we're having a niece or a nephew."

Bucky scoffed, "You know you can choose gender-neutral colors, right?"

"Oh no, I'm not talking about colors," Sam said, grinning. "I'm talking about quantity."

"Are you saying the niece gets more?" you asked with a soft laugh as you pulled away. The sound brushed away Bucky's worry, if only briefly, as he felt the tension leave your body. Still, his arm remained on your waist as you turned to your guests, his thumb rubbing soft circles as a means of comfort.

"Obviously," Sam confirmed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Gotta treat her like a princess."

"Can't argue with that." Bucky turned to you with an encouraging nod. "You want to put them out of their misery?"

"Well, you're having…" you trailed off, smile widening, eyes twinkling as a joyful glow kissed your face. The exact reason why Bucky loved letting you tell the news and being there when you did so. "A nephew."

The contrast between the siblings' reactions was amusing. Sarah erupted into a cheer resembling happiness and victory, while Sam all but threw his head back with a groan. Bucky still saw his friend try his best to hide a smile, though.

"I told you!" Sarah playfully smacked his brother on the arm. "A mother's intuition is never wrong."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam rolled his eyes, before turning to you with a proud grin, arms wide open. "Come here you."

You chuckled as you walked into his embrace, mumbling a soft "Thank you" at his congratulations. Sarah hugged you next, all teary yet happy smiles and sweet words as you both wandered to sit in the living room, the mother of two boys already gushing to you about endless advice.

"I'm happy for you man," Sam said as he pulled Bucky into a hug, patting his back before pulling away with narrowed eyes. "You better be taking care of her."

"Of course I am," Bucky scoffed, turning to watch you with a fond smile as you chatted animatedly, excitement evident in your well-being. "Hell, she might even be getting annoyed with my overbearing ass."

"Well, it's better to be overbearing than absent," Sam stated.

Bucky couldn't agree more.

Because fine, maybe he was being too much by always keeping an eye out for you even though you were safe and sound, lounging on the couch as Sam started pestering you about naming the baby after him. But if he wasn't, then he would've missed the way your smile slipped from time to time, shoulders slumping with exhaustion before you'd catch yourself and sit straight up and pretend your energy was still high.

He was thankful that Sam was perceptive enough to catch it too, along with the hints Bucky was throwing his way. So they cut their visit short, understanding that you needed to get some rest even if you hadn't explicitly said so.

Bucky was right on his call when the second the front door shut closed, your body visibility deflated, the day finally catching up with you.

He was probably hovering like a goddamn helicopter, trailing behind you when you did as much as walk from the living room to the bathroom, and then waiting for you outside the door. But if he hadn't, he would've missed your soft sniffles on the other side and the far-away look in your eyes once he'd checked on you twice after taking way too long inside than how you normally took.

If Bucky hadn't been overbearing, he would've missed the signs that something was bothering you, like something was eating away at your conscience.

"Hey, come here," he called for you later that night, sitting on the edge of the bed and beckoning you closer with his hands outstretched. Tangling your fingers together, he pulled you to stand in front of his opened legs, kissing your bump before resting his cheek on it, looking up at you with nothing but concern. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, attempting to smile but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just tired."

That only made his worry grow more.

It was something he'd noticed lately, too, how you'd been having trouble sleeping, much less, staying asleep. Most of the time, once you were comfortable in bed, it only took you a minute or two before you were out like a light.

At first, Bucky thought it was because you were nearing the end of your second trimester. It was to be expected, according to the countless pregnancy books he'd buried his face in and the weekly pregnancy calendar he found on the internet—which showed how big the baby was, what symptoms you were likely to feel and ways to aid you through it, how many weeks there were left, exercises to keep you comfortable and healthy and so on—he used as a guide.

But he didn't think nightmares were supposed to be part of it.

Bucky knew they weren't merely innocent dreams because you were always so shaken when he'd wake you up. There was always a sting settling in his chest when you'd pull away from his touch for a good few moments, eyes avoiding his as you tried to catch your breath. You'd only crawl back into his arms once your heart had settled into a calm rhythm, the haze in your irises never truly gone but faded.

You never told him what your dreams consisted of and Bucky never pushed.

He couldn't. Not with the risk of upsetting you even more. All he could do was remain patient. He knew you would tell him eventually. 

Bucky just wished it didn't have to take your breaking point for that to happen.

•••

The mumbling was what stirred him awake.

Bucky quickly sat up to check on you, his frown growing deeper once he saw your features littered with distress.

Yet before he had the chance to gently take you away from your troubled slumber, you suddenly shot up with a distressed shout,

"No!"

Your sobs immediately hit his ears, your frantic hands pulling the sheets away as if they were suffocating you. Your body trembled, chest heaving as you hastily checked your bump before you trailed your fingers down your inner thighs, bringing them up to your line of sight as if you were expecting to see something horrible coating your skin.

Dread clutched at Bucky's heart when the inkling as to what you expected to see evaded his mind.

"Hey, hey, hey," he rushed, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your face in his hands in an attempt to snap you out of your panic. Tear-filled eyes met his and his heart broke at the utter fear and agony that covered your face.

He pressed his forehead against yours, never looking away as he kept one cold hand on your burning and wet cheek and took yours with the other. He pressed your palm above his heart, hoping that it would help ground you.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he coaxed, inhaling deeply, encouraging you to follow, exhaling once you did. He took your other hand and pressed it against his jaw, letting his warm breath flow over your palm to help aid you in steadying your breathing. "That's it, my love, breathe with me."

Bucky repeated the action as many times he could, marrying it with encouraging words, only stopping when he could hear your heart slow to a steady beat.

"Y-You—" You choked back a whimper, burying your face into his neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "I-I'm okay."

It sounded more like a question than it was a statement to Bucky.

"You're okay," he reassured firmly, kissing your forehead and steadying your shaking hands over your stomach. "You both are."

Silence covered the room aside from your deep breaths, the soft rustling of the sheets following suit as Bucky shifted to sit behind you, guiding you between his legs until your back was pressed against his chest. You rested all your weight on him, his hands covering your own as he coaxed them to move in slow circles over your stomach. He littered your shoulder with soft kisses, trailing up the side of your neck then your cheek, moving back down as he whispered sweet reassurances.

"You wouldn't do that to me, w-would you?" you asked after a moment.

"Do what, my love?"

Your voice came out as a broken whisper, as if you were scared to say it any louder, as if it would come true if you did.

"Cheat on me."

Bucky's answer was immediate.

"No." He gently turned you around in his arms, your legs thrown over his thigh as you sat sideways. Taking your face in his hand, he nudged the tip of your nose with his to get you to look at him, to let you see the truth in his eyes, emotions bared and unhidden. "I would never."

You nodded meekly before dropping your head, his lips touching your crown.

"Sweetheart, hey," he whispered, fingers finding your chin to prevent you from hiding again. His frown deepened when you met his gaze, the pain and conflict coating your dulled irises doing nothing to ease his worries. "Where is this coming from?"

But with one look at your trembling form and troubled eyes, Bucky's heart sank at the realization.

"Doll…" He took a deep breath, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. "Is this what you've been dreaming of lately?"

Bucky never expected for such a small nod to break his heart so much.

"I-I watched you and—"

"No, no, no," he interrupted, shaking his head vehemently, kissing the tip of your nose, and then each of your eyelids. "You don't have to tell me right now. I don't want you to dwell on it for too long."

"I have to get out," you whispered yet your tone was adamant, fingers starting to nervously fiddle with his vibranium ones.

Bucky hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to stress you out more than you already were. But when you squeezed his hand reassuringly, he sighed, offering you a small yet supportive smile. "Okay. But don't force it, please, sweetheart. I don't want you getting upset even more."

You nodded.

Bucky listened.

He listened with bated breath as you recounted your dreams, his heart tearing itself apart, piece by piece with each gruesome detail you managed to stutter out. Heels. Clothes. Stairs. Sounds. Bedroom. Bodies. Picture Frame.

Bucky made sure to remind you to take your time and take deep breaths, it's just a bad dream, wiping away your tears as he held you close in his arms, you're my everything, littering whichever part of you he could reach with soft kisses to remind you were here, present in reality with him, and that you're okay.

Bucky never thought he'd feel inhumane anger over a version of himself that wasn't and would never be part of reality. He'd honestly die first. Yet, even then, he still couldn't picture subjecting you to such awful betrayal and hurt.

If he could jump into your dreams and excruciatingly make that asshole pay, no matter if it was some version of him, he would do it over and over and over again. No questions asked.

"And t-then there was b-blood," you took a sharp breath, a knife into Bucky's chest as fresh tears escaped your eyes, your grip around his hand tightening. "I-I lost our—"

"That's enough," Bucky interrupted, voice soft yet hoarse as a lump lodged itself in his throat, blinking away his unshed tears. With one hand on the back of your head, he pressed his lips against your brow. "It's just a nightmare, sweetheart."

"It f-felt so real," you choked back a sob, shaking your head as if you were hoping it would rid the images away. 

"This is real," Bucky said, placing your palm on his cheek, the other on your baby bump with his own hands covering yours. "You're okay. Our baby boy is okay. We are going to be okay."

You nodded, taking deep, shaky breaths as you brought his palm to your lips. You kissed it a few times, three more before you wrapped his arms around your form, leaning forward to bury your face into his neck.

"I would never do that to you," he murmured against the side of your head, rubbing gentle circles on your back. "You trust me, right?"

"I do!" you said, eyes frantically looking into his with all the reassurance you could muster despite your tiredness, lips trembling as you repeated, "I trust you with everything that I have. I trust you with my life, Buck—"

He nodded. He knew you did. He didn't feel any ounce of uncertainty in your voice, didn't see any assumption that he was capable of being unloyal in your eyes. Maybe that was where your conflict came from, your heart battling with the lies your subconscious was feeding you.

This wasn't about the strength of your trust in him. This was something else entirely.

"Who put this in your head, hmm?"

Bucky knew you well enough, how you sometimes got too into your overthinking mind. Your past relationships definitely contributed to that fact. Toxicity to downright emotional abuse and various infidelities from previous boyfriends, it was no surprise that you came out of those relationships scarred.

You went to therapy when you finally had the resources to, and Bucky was always there to support you, told you it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, he was going to individual sessions himself, much less frequently compared to his earlier years, but the path to healing was never linear. He even suggested couples counseling—once a month at best, twice on the bad ones. Not because something was broken with your relationship, but only as a tool to be able to understand each other more, to keep things healthy between you both.

It helped tremendously.

You'd grown to shine brighter each day, letting yourself be free of the doubtful voices and instead accept and own that you were deserving to be loved, strongly, loyally, and unconditionally.

Now, after being together for eight years—three in a relationship and five years of marriage—you and Bucky were stronger, healthier, happier. And with a baby boy on the way, he knew it would only strengthen your bond, adding more joy and love to your little family.

But recently, your pregnancy hadn't been easy on your mental state. With your body preparing itself to welcome new life into this world, to your hormones fluctuating, it only heightened your emotions, and that included the bad ones.

So it wasn't far-fetched for your anxious thoughts to grow like weeds in your head, unrelenting and parasitic with no means of stopping unless you pluck it out from the root. But for the first sprout to emerge, someone had to have planted that seed first.

"Remember when I went on that 'girl's night in' get-together?"

Bucky sighed. That was two weeks ago. He should've known that your quietness when you got home was something to be worried about. Even more when it was roughly the same time you started having trouble sleeping. To think that you had to deal with your dreams alone for that long—

He pulled you closer, rubbing your arms with a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, I remember."

"Do you remember Karla?"

Bucky remembered her too. He only met her once when you brought him as your plus one to her engagement party. Now, he wasn't the type of person who was quick to pass judgment on people, especially at the first meeting. But first impressions? She hadn't exactly been the best, too forward and sometimes, rude for Bucky's liking. But she was your friend, so he let it slide.

"She arrived late. She was already very drunk and distraught," you continued once Bucky confirmed with a nod. "We immediately tried to console her, get her to calm down, but she just wouldn't let go of the bottle of whisky, started grabbing the wine the girls were having and chugging it down too. Turns out, she walked in on her fiancé with her best friend in their living room."

Bucky pressed his lips against your crown with a sigh, rubbing circles on your back as he let you pick at the metal plates of his arm. It was a nervous habit. Yet you also said it was comforting, grounding, getting to feel the coldness of the prosthetic.

"Then she looked at me and saw my bump—God that dress didn't really hide much, huh?" you chuckled, voice void of humor.

Bucky loved that dress on you, and he showed you just how much before driving you to that get-together. It was a shame that the memory was now tainted.

"B-But, I don't know, it was probably because I was the only married one in our group, o-or she was just that drunk but she started targeting me," you paused with a deep breath, eyes meeting his with a shake of your head as fresh tears gathered on your waterline.

"She started yelling at me and telling me that I was rubbing it in her face, what she could've had. And then she started screaming how you would do the same any day now, if you weren't already doing it because it was obvious you won't like it that my body is changing and getting bigger a-and that you'd find some slimmer model and she told me to leave you before it's too late and I just—"

Bucky felt hot white rage grip him.

He couldn’t care less what other people's opinions of him were. With what his past life was, he learned not to let it get to him. He should feel insulted, to hear the disrespect against his morals to downright questioning his loyalty to his wife, especially from someone he couldn't give a shit about.

But he wasn't mad about that. Oh no.

He was furious about what you had to endure.

The audacity of someone to make you upset and stressed, especially in your current condition, had him outraged. No one, absolutely no one had the right to raise their voice, much less, fucking yell at you. He didn't care if it was the president of some country, a powerful alien or a close family friend—

Nobody disrespects his wife.

"You know none of that is true," he said as calmly as he could despite wanting to give that 'friend' of yours a piece of his mind. Cupping your face with both hands, he brushed his thumbs against the corner of your lips. "Hell, I showed you how much I love your changing body earlier that day in the kitchen, didn't I?"

That managed to coax a giggle from you, faint and teary but he still took it as a win.

"Look, what happened to your friend was awful. I wouldn't ever wish that on anyone," he said, jaw clenching. "But for her to bring you down with her while you're pregnant? That's just cruel."

"I'm sorry," you whispered sadly, pressing his palm on your lips. "I shouldn’t have let her words get to me."

"Sweetheart, no, you did nothing wrong," Bucky insisted. "Your emotions are all over the place as is, your hormones even more. And I know how impressionable you get when your anxiety is high and, fuck, you must've been so stressed when she basically berated you in front of everyone I just—" He took a deep breath, pressing his forehead against yours. "I wish you could've told me sooner."

"I was worried you'd take it the wrong way," you admitted shakily. "Because I do trust you, but things got loud in my head and I just—"

"I know," he hummed, smiling reassuringly. "I know, doll. You don't have to explain it to me."

You sighed, nodding, your body slowly relaxing with a hint of a grateful smile touching your lips. And with the weight slowly falling off your shoulders, your drowsiness followed suit—the fluttering of your eyelids, the calmness of your breaths as you all but rested on him.

Bucky fluffed your pregnancy pillow before gently guiding you to a comfortable position, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose before pressing his lips gently onto yours. He hummed at your satisfied sigh, hands caressing your body, pouring as much of his love into every simple touch as he could muster.

"You're my whole world, my everything," he whispered to you and you only, the person who matters to him the most. "I would never put myself in a position where I'd even risk losing the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Bucky's brows furrowed when he felt a flutter against his palm where he'd rested it on your bump.

"I think someone's a little jealous," you teased softly, fingers pushing his hair away from his forehead.

"Now, we can't have that," he chuckled, shifting his body until he was face-to-face with your belly. He pulled at your shirt, revealing your skin before littering each part and stretch marks with loving kisses. Smiling, he corrected himself, "One of the best things that's ever happened to me."

His grin grew wider as you started carding your fingers through his hair. He could honestly fall asleep like this, resting on your bump with your loving touches.

"Say, you're going to kick my ass if I hurt Mama, wouldn't you, squirt?" he murmured against your tummy, his heart lurching when he felt a faint kick. Bucky gaped at you, chuckling at your giggles before pressing his lips back on your skin. "Gonna be a mama's boy I can already tell."

"I love you," you said, eyes glistening but with the smile that graced your face, Bucky knew they were happy tears this time.

"And I love you," he hummed, resting his cheek on your bump to meet your gaze, his fingers tracing hearts on your skin. "Both of you."

•••

"Doll, you don't have to do this."

"They're going to be here in an hour."

"I know but you shouldn't be on your feet too much."

"Exercise is good for pregnant women," you said, tilting your head at your husband with a knowing grin. "You told me that, according to the books you've read."

"I know what I said," Bucky groaned, hands finding your hips as he tried to gently steer you to sit on the chair, again. "But in moderation, you've been standing for—"

"Five minutes since you last made me sit down," you giggled, continuing to set up the dinner table with the snacks and appetizers you had set up. The main meal was kept warm in the oven.

It was your turn to host the get-together your friend group had once a month. And being in your third trimester, you were unable to stay up too late. So you opted on having a small brunch instead of the usual nightly gathering.

"Then, let me take care of the rest, please?" he begged, wrapping his arms around your form to stop your movements, lips pressed on the thin strap of your sundress. And if he wasn't overly cautious about your well-being, he probably would've already carried you to bed to let you rest. "Just sit and order me around."

Now, who could deny that offer?

Bucky was a great husband.

You knew this and he had done nothing but actively prove that to you time and time again.

You knew you shouldn't have let yourself get to a point of spiraling deep into your anxious thoughts that they started to affect your dreams somehow. But it honestly got overwhelming so quickly that you didn't get the chance to snap out of it. Worse yet, it made you dig the hole deeper and deeper by keeping it to yourself.

It was a lapse in judgment and, as Bucky had said, your emotions were all over the place. Not to mention, the situation wasn't at all pleasing, getting yelled at in front of an audience was awful already, a recipe for anxious disaster. What more if your hormones were making everything ten times worse?

Your friend simply caught you at the wrong moment.

The same friend that was going to be coming over in a few minutes.

You didn't tell Bucky yet because you knew he would never let her into the house. But you were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was drunk and hurting that night, emotions probably driving her rash decisions. Granted you hadn't spoken to her since, but she probably didn't mean what she had said.

Or so you thought.

After shooting you an admonishing look when he recognized who walked into the door last, Bucky was back in Pilot Mode.

It's what you named his hovering because he did go into certain modes when taking care of you, even if he argued otherwise. And despite having agreed that he was going to give you and the girls space—and he had been sulking in his office as he watched whatever game there was on—it rapidly changed when the party moved to your backyard.

The sun was at its peak in the clear blue sky, warmth evident in the air despite sitting under the shade of the large patio umbrella Bucky installed himself.

First, it was pulling you aside for some sunscreen, lathering your skin up as he lectured you about taking sips of water every now and then to stay hydrated and to go back inside if it got too hot. Then, it was standing in the kitchen, right by the open window where he had a clear view of you, discreetly observing even though his large stature was making him so obvious. Your friends had giggled about it since most did find it endearing. That last one was him bursting out of the backdoor with a cold glass of water and a clean towel in hand, wiping away any sweat that littered your skin and urging you to drink, parting away with a chaste yet loving kiss.

It was what made Karla snap.

"God, I can't believe you still fall for that shit," she scoffed once your husband had gone back inside. "Like, seriously, have you ever heard of love bombing?"

Everyone went silent at that.

"He's overprotective," you countered, though you could already start to feel your heart rate start to increase.

"More like he's overcompensating for something," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "He was a trained assassin back in the day, wasn't he? Surely he'd learned a thing or two about hiding secrets."

"Karla, drop it," Grace, a friend truly close to you, hissed with a sharp glare.

"I'm trying to save her from yet another heartbreak," she argued, before turning to you. "Like we all know how gullible and naïve you can get, a few romantic gestures and you're already blinded. I mean, considering your track record of cheaters, you should already know the signs. I know I see them with how your husband's been doting on you. It's the same thing the asshole did to me."

Your hands shook as you held the glass of water tighter, tears threatening to spill as you gritted, "Bucky is not the same—"

"Jesus, you need to open your eyes!" Karla interrupted. "I never expected you to still be this stupid—"

"That's enough."

Bucky's voice boomed through the air, his looming presence immediately behind you with a protective arm around your waist. Emotions at a high, you didn't even realize you stood up from your seat. You tried catching his gaze, but he was glaring at Karla who had now quieted down, shrinking in her place.

"I don't care about your assumptions about my morals and character because your opinion doesn't matter to me. So say whatever you want to say about me. But the second you disrespect my wife—" Bucky screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, reeling back his anger when he felt your hand on his arm.

Opening his eyes, he turned to look at you. You shook your head, not wanting to make this any bigger. He sighed, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles and then your ring before turning to Karla.

"I love making my wife happy, and she'd been looking forward to this get-together to catch up with friends. But she isn't supposed to be around any kind of stressors during her pregnancy," he said, glare dead set on your so-called friend, voice dropping as he gritted, "So get out of my fucking house."

"Buck—"

"Doctor's orders, my love. I can call her right now if you want." He gave you a sweet, knowing smile. You nodded because you knew there was no point arguing with him. Bucky turned to your friend when she refused to move. "Well? Do you want me to drag you out?"

Karla gaped at everyone, waiting for someone to protest, huffing and puffing when she found no support. It didn't take long for her to gather her things and for the front door to slam shut.

The silence hung in the air for a good minute.

"Good fucking riddance," Grace scoffed, the tension breaking as a chorus of agreement came out from everyone. "I honestly don't get why you still invited her."

"Too kind for her own good," Bucky said, raising his brow at you. You shook your head at him with a soft laugh, squeezing his hand gratefully.

"You're in your guard dog mode again," you teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn't bother denying it. That only made you grin wider.

"Well, this is supposed to be a girls' thing so I'll leave you ladies to your own devices." He nodded at everyone, giving you a sweet peck on the lips before making his way back into the house, even though you knew he was only going back to his station in the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, everyone started gushing at you.

"You're so lucky but God you deserve it!"

"Girl, you need to set me up with a friend of his, like surely they're going to be roughly the same, right?"

"Honestly, I'm glad you're getting your happy ever after."

"Does he use that deep voice on you in bed?"

"Oh my god!" you squeaked at the last one, covering your warm face with your palms. When you peeked between your fingers, the girls were all looking at you with expectant grins, brows wriggling. You sighed, "Maybe."

They all erupted into delighted laughs at that, the conversation turning into a slightly salacious turn as they started trading in stories—both good and horrendous—and asking you for some advice on how to keep a guy satisfied or even just to spill the beans on what you and your husband get up to in bed.

Obviously, you didn't kiss and tell—well, not in too much detail. You still couldn't help but sing Bucky's praises. Of course you had to give credit where credit is due.

It was a few moments in when you caught Bucky's gaze in the open window. His wink and that handsome yet smug—his ego inflated that's for sure—smile was enough to tell you that he was listening in like the goddamn nosy super soldier that he was.

You rolled your eyes, yet your joyous smile wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Because to be in reality with James Buchanan Barnes, your husband, the love of your life, was way better than any dream you could ever have.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated!

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[greenroze2]

your rendering is so good how do you do it

Thanks, I love your rendering too!! Gonna try and make a tutorial ^^

To start off, I'm on Clip Studio Paint and these are the brushes I use! First two for rendering characters (round brushes) and the other two for mostly backgrounds (square brushes)

I used to do lineart, but it takes too long >:( now I just make a sketch and sorta clean it up!

Next I fill it in with a gray color. For simpler pieces I just put in the flat colors, but for more paint-y pieces I do grayscale -> color! I'll be doing that here :)

Also, I make 3 clipped layers on top of the gray - two are multiply, and the top one is screen. On the first multiply, I do a soft gradient using an airbrush

On the next multiply layer, I fill everything in with either a cool-ish or warm-ish gray, depending on the mood ^^

I also determine a light source, and use the lasso tool on the screen layer to block out where (I think) the light hits! Tbh I just do wherever feels right lmao, but I recommend having a reference! I like doing it in triangle patterns

Then adjust the opacity of each layer to whatever feels right, and merge everything (I don't merge the sketch/lineart yet, I do it before adding colors in!)

Now... rendering. Some tips I have are color pick (greys) off of the canvas and use them to paint! Clean up the sketch more, erase edges, but I save details (like Galaxia's red gem, his eyes, etc.) for the end, or during coloring.

After I'm sorta happy with it, I merge the sketch layer, then duplicate it, and add a gradient map! I did this sunset-y one but changed the hue to yellow-ish, then lowered the layer's opacity ^^

Play around with the hue-saturation-luminosity setting!

Now go crazy with blending modes! Multiply, overlay, color, glow/color dodge, etc. Feel free to layer them up on top of each other too, and this is to add the character/piece's actual colors in. For example, I used a white-blueish overlay layer for his mask and glove, blue for his cape, blah blah

Now I clean the sketch up/refine it more. Also, to "harmonize" the color palette, you can add a colored gradient on top. Then set it to multiply, and add overlay/glow dodge layers with any colors you see fit! I like using teal and light/warm orange! Here is an example of a colored gradient:

Another tip is to add saturated colors on the edges of both lighting and darker shadows, before blending it:

Also I usually add in a light blue/grey in shadowy areas, and lower the opacity for reflective light:

Also! You can lasso + use an airbush with a light blue to block out parts of the background (his cape here, for example). It helps with more depth!

Finally, I like adding sparkles on low opacity :3 And gaussian blur to certain areas! I'm using radial blur on this piece though ^^

For the background, I like doing blocky shapes!! I use my square brush on 90% ish opacity, to color pick different hues from the piece. For lighting I use a glow dodge layer, here's a mini timelapse as well as the finished art!

At the very end, play around with the hue/saturation and contrast tools to change the colors :)

[calicoheartz]

Could you write something about Caitlin based off so high school by Taylor swift?

Soooo Highschool ; Caitlin Clark ﹒ᐢᗜᐢ

summary : just a little fic based on the song so highschool by Taylor swift !

wc ; 593

warnings : just romance and fluff

disclaimer : i don’t typically listen to Taylor swift , so i tried my best to interpret her lyrics

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : highschool Caitlin x reader core ?!?!? 👀 all jokes aside this was soooo fun to write tysm for requesting ! enjoy ◡̈

The sound of sneakers squeaking against the shiny basketball court filled the gymnasium as Caitlin dribbled the ball, with her eyes locked on the hoop. The crowd cheered, but her focus was solely on the game. She swiftly dribbled against the defenders with ease, her move was almost as smooth as silk.

You carefully observed from the bleachers, your heart pounding with both anxiety and anticipation. Your girlfriend was definitely a force to be reckoned with, and you couldn’t help but feel a wash of pride wash over you knowing she was yours.

As the final buzzer rung through your ears, signaling the end of the game, Cait’s team emerged victorious. The crowd began to cheer, as her teammates quickly surrounded her, congratulating her on a well played game.

You made your way done for the bleachers and onto the court, eager to congratulate your girlfriend. As you approached her, she turned to face you, with her gaze softening as she gave you a sweet but loving look.

“Hey, you played amazing out there,” you said, pulling her into a warm but gentle embrace.

“Thanks,” she replied, a small pink hue tinting her cheeks, returning the hug. “I couldn’t have done it without having you here by my side, supporting me.”

After this sweet exchange, you and Caitlin walked hand-in-hand to the locker room. As you waited for her to change, you couldn’t help but feel a huge sense of nostalgia wash over you. This was just like highschool, always sneaking into the locker room to congratulate her after an important win, then wandering off elsewhere to have a simple but passionate makeout session.

As Cait emerged from the locker room, you noticed a mischievous glint in her eye. “What are you up to?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shh” she said, swiftly putting a finger to your lips. Before you could protest you heard a simple “Follow me,” from the brunette. Grabbing your hand and interlocking your fingers with hers as she led you out of the gymnasium .

She soon led you to a secluded area behind the bleachers, before pulling you into a passionate kiss, her lips tasting like strawberry, and your lips moved together, harmonizing. “Ive been wanting to do that all game,” she said, a playful smile spread across her face.

You laughed, the feeling of her lips against yours making you nervous, and sending a shiver down your spine. “Youre sooo highschool” you chirped at her, teasing slightly.

Caitlin grinned down at you, “Ill take that as a compliment,” she said confidently, pulling you into yet another passionate kiss.

As you stood there, her arms wrapped around your waist, you couldnt help but feel grateful for the memories you were recreating from highschool, as she was more than just your girlfriend. She was your best friend, your confidante, your entire world. And you wouldnt want to have it any other way.

As the night drew to a close, you and Cait cuddled up against eachother on the bleachers, simply enjoying each other’s company through the deafening silence. “This feels like a scene out a cheesy movie,” you said, resting your head on the point guards shoulder.

Caitlin chuckled. “I guess we’re just like two highschoolers in love. Just like how it used to be,” she said, wrapping an arm around you.

You smiled softly, feeling an unwavering sense of contentment and happiness. As long as you had Caitlin by your side, you knew that your life would always be a reminder of all the adventures that awaited you.

[fionarara]

+ cherry bomb .

+ GOJŌ SATORU x READER .

+ T W ⇾ 18+ only . smut . sugar daddy!gojo . dilf!gojo . f!reader . implied ddlg dynamics . adult age gap (the amount is your interpretation) . aquaphilia aka underwater sex . praise . a bit of a baby bimbo reader so um dacryphilia, no rly, like i’m talking actual tears, yeah . gojou has a dumb joke (or two) . mention of divorce (not yours) and of gojo’s child (also not yours) . slight size kink if you squint . i feel like both flaunted capitalism and vapid self-indulgence needs a tag here ?? we be explorin dark kink of all kinds on this here blog, right? (｡>ω<｡) . reader has a few nicknames . no beta . and lastly, probably goes without saying but daddy kink, i repeat, daddy kink . oyasumi ✌︎ .

+ A N ⇾ um, istg i totally did not mean to post this dilf!gojo on actual father’s day, h-whoa? but the universe just always has my back i swear, an amazing coincidence as i only realized right before posting, and somehow it feels *symbolic* ?? - this is for the sugar daddy collab by @sleepysnk, ty for letting me join last minute summer ♡ 

+ W C ⇾ circa 5,500

Zz Zz Zz.

Within your skirt a vibration kicks off. 

The ringing of a phone tucked into the waistband against your tummy chimes out its soft little tune where you withdraw it to peek at the screen. Flashing vibrantly across its surface reads ‘DD Gojo’, and the smile unveiling on your face shines as brightly as the reflected device in your palm.

From where you stand on the sidewalk in elegant heels, all dolled up for the occasion, the twilight of dusk is visible on the horizon. The vision of picturesque dark multi-colored hues harmonize nicely with the wafting scent of warm pastries and tea in the air nearby, out from the cafe of the luxury shopping center you’ve been waiting in front of: Gojo’s favorite meeting spot. Whereby inevitably, has become yours as well. 

A place you have both frequented together before, where he has showered you with many gifts, many times over, treasured in both of your memories. Cherished adventures built here upon wining and dining at the finest restaurants, playing dress up at the shops amongst extravagance, the cavalcade of glittering jewels and lavish garments–all the things you deserve as far as he’s concerned. He is of the belief that whatever you receive should be nothing but the best the world could ever offer, or at least his wallet, he figures. 

And since life has been really tough on him lately–divorce is a bitch, the entire ongoing legal process has been one drawn out migraine–you and your overall companionship are so highly prized, not only in his day-to-day, but because of the new glow you’ve supplied his life. Especially during the last several months of regularly seeing one another after the separation from his marriage. 

Unabashed in his absolute fondness for you, he has deemed you his little crème de la crème angel.

You pick up the jingling phone in your hand.

Gojo Satoru seems to be in an especially exuberant and silly mood when his voice forces a notable husky tone, answering your greeting with a fun-loving tease, a low murmur on the other end of the call.

“Ring-ding-dong—is baby ready for my dong, sweets?” He finds himself hilarious, goofy, a laugh ripping out of his throat with audacity, clearly and thoroughly enjoying his own terrible joke.

Wow. There’s that classic on-a-whim, lively, larger-than-life bluntness that comes along with Gojo’s Sagittarius energy you have come to know well: he’s innately playful and comedic, fun, loud, has got a charmingly sharp tongue with no filter—it can sometimes come back to bite him in the ass if he’s not careful—and all of that is blanketed by a sort of fiery sense of passion for the things he loves.

The fact remains that his way of being has always been able to find a kind of carefree humor within you, something so inexplicable. He brings out in you a sense of total ease or lightness you weren’t even sure you were capable of. A kind of untapped, unfettered joy no one has ever been able to touch in you before…

So you’re halfway snickering at him now, amused, but with full-blown sarcasm you reply, “Ha–ha, Satoru, you’re so classy…” then you’re truly giggling, “...just shuddup and get over here already.” You try to restrain the crack of a too-wide smile from spreading across your cheeks, but fail, gloriously.

So you give in to it. Deciding to oblige him, you press the mic of the phone closer to your lips with a hand cupped over your mouth, shielding your next spoken words while you avert your head downward in a play of secrecy. It’s almost a whisper when you respond. 

“But…yes, I think that…just maybe, I am ready for it. Got it?”

He’s unable to actually see the minxy raise of your brow shown on your face, but the gesture is not lost on him from the tone in your voice. He hears it loud and clear.

“Jeesus, baby, I’m comin’, I’m comin’...”, the subtle rise of anticipation within him giddy and excitable. "Listen, I’m almost there. My GPS says I’m two minutes away.”

Late afternoon air has you rubbing away chilly goosebumps alive on your skin, particularly your upper arms, to bring you warmth. “Ok, good. Please hurry, it’s getting nippy out.” 

“Oh?” Here it comes… “Mm, ya better have nipples out…see you soon.” The sound of a bold chuckle is distorted by the phone speaker before it’s cut off by a prompt click. He disconnected the call in that way.

Already, it is your second humored eye-roll of the evening from his cheeky Gojo-behavior and you haven’t even seen him yet.

Your chest is lighter because of it.

The shopping bags in your grasp shift from two hands into one, your free hand thumbing to find the golden credit card Gojo lent you in the pocket of your jacket. Assuring yourself that it’s still there is important. 

Over a month ago, he had broken the news of how meetups between the two of you would soon become more of a challenge, due to court and custody hearings surrounding the finalization of his divorce. You’d be spending a considerable amount of time apart, he’d said. It would be longer than usual, by a whole month, and offered to grant you some form of consolation in return. So the very next day, an express-shipped credit card appeared at your doorstep in the fine afternoon with a letter enclosed. In it, he expressed that you were to use it and shop to your little heart’s content. The only deal was that you would hand it back upon the arrival of this date.

The car that pulls up to double park along the curbside beside you is, without a doubt, the most expensive car you will have ever ridden. It’s new. Gojo had mentioned it last week, making the purchase to lift his spirits and also as celebration for the court case he’d won against his ex. They’d granted him equal joint custody of their child. Actually, his final stop prior to fetching you this evening had been dropping off his baby daughter.

The door swings open on its own, remotely controlled by electronics. In view and resting on the front seat is a tatty teddy bear belonging to his child that was forgotten.

“Oops, lemme move that for you.” Somehow the sight of this tiny plush toy in his large hand brings about the sweetest rush in you for him. The stuffed animal is laid to rest onto the back seat where you also note a hollow purple baby bottle leaking a dribble of spilt milk from its nipple and onto the cushion. 

Nineties grunge-rock plays soft on the radio when you climb in. The air is filled with a sweet and peppery, woodsy scent, one you recognize immediately–it’s him, his comforting cologne so greatly missed, only making you that much more aware of just how profound the ache has truly been for this moment to be by his side. 

Crawling towards him, you pelt your eager arms around his neck, a way that communicates it has felt like an eternity apart. Both of you have a greater sense of it now, from being in the other’s presence. You can hardly keep your exhilaration in check, not with the soft squeals you let loose on his shoulder. For a moment, together you melt, breathing into each other.

It hangs in the air of the moment as you embrace. 

The weight of the wait. 

He then cradles you deeper, pulling you into an assertive kiss so welcoming, so sloppy with intention, it’s as if he’s blissfully unconcerned with how messy it is because, finally, you’re here. Letting you know it’s been far too long for him when he’s matting your cheeks with numerous pecks and taking in the scent of your hair.

Withdrawing to observe you, his eyes alight with radiance at the full sight of you, your energy. “God, I almost forgot just how stunning you are. Look at you! Just…incredible.”

The praise washes over you and after exchanging a few more greeting words, of how you’ve longed to see each other, he shifts the car gear into drive. 

Buildings whip across the dark sunset and late dusk settles in. The spectacle of nightfall on this ride, of the city through the windshield, excites him enough to ignite a sudden curious stir in his pants. Maybe it’s the prospect of what night can bring with you along after so much distance that has his dick twitch at the thought alone.  

And with that, his hand is creeping over to your lap. It should be almost comical when you believe for the quickest moment that his approaching hand would be innocent. One only of affection, to caress you, a gentle expression only in missing you…

But consequently, their energy becomes different—turn into those fingers, the kind you know well that are wanting, possessive. And being able to even think another thought is lost on you before he is squeezing at the thickest part of your inner thigh then slipping under your skirt.

“Satoruuu…wait…” you swat his arm with a light tap, dissuading him from getting too distracted. It’s happened once or twice before he’s lost control of the wheel when attempting something as naughty as this, but it is half-hearted when you breathily urge, “…pay…pay attention to the road…” 

Not a moment later, out from the speakers the bass booms more loudly, the volume amplifying higher by the second where the music thumps heavy throughout your body. You locate the outlandish crystal-eyed culprit and his thumb pressing the ‘+ volume up’ button on the steering wheel.

Not only does he have the music blasted, but has the gall to flash a cutesy grin of mischief at you, a most sinful and impish face. That expression is followed up with a playful mocking yell, where the holler of his voice competes and cuts through the music. 

“HUH, baby?-! WHAT? I can't hear you!” he teases, then carries on anyway with the slide of his fingers between your pressed thighs. It’s difficult for you not to part them a smidge while the electric feel of his three fingers reaches for your clothed cunt. They press flat against your mound at the first touch, then begin to fondle lightly at the grooves of your pussy, tracing the outer shape of it with his fingertips. 

Having some restraint here had been your aim, but tonight you seem to be failing plenty at not completely succumbing to his whimsical charm–it's just been so long since you’ve been near him–you’d almost forgotten how magnetic his presence truly is. 

Attempting to keep your desire hidden, you try stifling the puff of air that escapes your throat, turning your head away towards the window, but it is futile. On full display to him now is how unable you are to withstand his spellbinding touch, and he’d spotted it. That little starved expression tells Gojo how badly you’re fiending, it has him lowering the radio, the amplitude of the loud song descending and funneling out of the small space, volume all the way down so he can very clearly hear what his defiance has wrought on you. 

Listening to your tiny constrained moans sends heat straight through his abdomen. You do not want to be condoning any of this while he’s driving, but unfortunately for your willpower, you act on instinct when you begin pawing desperately at the muscular forearm connected to strong fingers massaging over the wet spot of your panties.

“Yeahh…you like this, huh? Knew it.” 

But, in a moment too soon, he is cut off by an abrupt swerve of the car and you gasp.

“Shit–” he grips steadfast onto the wheel, gaining composure of the vehicle.

“...Alright, alright, you were right. Let’s save this.” Punctuating the final word with one reassuring pat down onto your pussy, it's honestly more like a gentle spank.

You’re pouting, but of course you nod, agree, and settle into the electrically warmed seat produced by the suave leather chair, feeling loosened up.

Safety first.

. + .

The door to Gojo’s opulent estate, only a fraction of what sits on a 22-acre property, welcomes you by the greeting of a polished and suited butler. Warm lighting casts down from the expansive ceiling and it’s the first time this evening you’re able to catch a true glimpse of Gojo’s eyes. They look a bit tired, a tad worn from his recent circumstances, but it is truly a wonder how he can make even a light touch of under-eye bags look sexy.

Walking past the foyer toward the candle-lit living room, you extend him your comfort. Wrapping your arm around the bulk of his bicep, the other palm reaches for the hard pec on his chest to rub soothing circles of understanding. 

Here you are at long last, approaching the grand sofa, both of you plopping yourselves atop the plush expanse and seamlessly locking on to one another. He relishes in the beautiful body flush against his. 

Encircling his waist with your arms, you find it rather cute in taking note that he is marginally plumper around his middle than before, having developed a more modest weight around his butt and love handles. Though abs of steel still ripple his shirt, the overworked dad you hold in your arms seems to have relaxed a little from the recent stress and you are filled with a sudden pride for him. 

A light-hearted joke flickers in your mind of his natural ability to take up space from his energy alone anyway–how you admire it, a part of you secretly wishing you could embody more of that in yourself–but mostly in how you appreciate this bigger physical development in him, because it now means there's a little more of him in the world.

“Shall we toast?” he suggests, so he whips you up a nice pink drink while he sips hard gin on the rocks, leaning back, thighs spread open like an empowered slut. 

Curiosity then strikes him when the haul of shopping bags sitting on the floor from your spree earlier this evening catches his eye. “Ooo, lemme me take a peek at what you got.” he sits up and nods, face gleaming. 

One by one each item is showcased and he is enthralled by every piece, because of course he is—it’s part of why he adores you, chose you, your keen eye and clear level of taste has always been impeccable, distinct and unique, highly attractive. 

Then his heart is increasing in size as you confirm, right here, right now, that those aren’t amongst your only positive qualities when you’re showing him you’d also picked up something for him and had been thoughtful enough to do so. An ornate watch is pulled out of a fresh bag by your delicate hands, that then with a snap is on his wrist, handsome as it glints and refracts in the candlelight of the room.

Your body reaches over the littered items on the elaborate rug, clasping the final shopping bag which houses the bikini you had bought for this reunion by his request. 

He whistles at it. “Superb. Model it for me, will you, babe?”

You do. Twirl, shimmy, joke with an exaggerated runway catwalk, giggle, then there’s something visible written on his face and you’re able to anticipate what his next move might be.

Gojo had developed a pension for bestowing you with a few cutesy nicknames in the time spent getting to know you. Amongst his favorites and most frequently used is that of ‘cherrybomb’. Must be a fan of The Runaways, you figured, but it truly came about when, almost exclusively, you began wearing rouge-shade lipsticks in his presence. Perhaps you could make yourself seem a little older, you’d hoped, give yourself a closer touch of sophistication in his world by presenting yourself in such a way. 

But mostly he’d donned you with the specific moniker because a smattering of the red tends to end up around the lower half of his dick after he's had his way with you, a faint painted crimson over his pelvis near where it meets the shaft. 

You’re halfway through striking a faked model pose when he lifts himself off the couch and approaches. With an index finger so sensual, he presses up into the cushion of your ruby lips, holding tight to your gaze, coaxing you with a query, “So, gonna help daddy feel better now, cherrybomb?"

Then, far into the depths of crystalline aqua you swim, deep into the mesmerizing eyes that lock onto yours and you say nothing; nothing except for an exhale of hot moist vapor releasing onto the firm finger that baits you. The slow lick you give it afterward, dragging your tongue up along the column of his digit, landing at the tip, answers any and all of his questions. He can already feel the swell of blood trickling in to fill up his cock.

The time has come for his hand to guide you through another hallway toward the recently completed construction of a large-scale naturesque onsen the size of a massive pool, installed in the outdoor area beyond the sliding doors. Intending to experience it tonight for the first time was on his agenda, professing his desire to christen the new space with you, right before he glides a magnificent lustered glass door to one side, letting you through.

You step into the open atmosphere: water bedazzled by moonlight, submerged light fixtures softly illuminating a mint-aqua azure-blue glow, steam rising thick as fog. A plethora of tall bamboo trees enclose the surrounding space, a waterfall cascades off a giant boulder just around the bend and beneath your feet and everywhere is an assortment of gorgeous stones varying in shapes, sizes and sorts.

Gojo leans into you from behind when you approach the onsen’s outer edge, planting kisses along your neck. A clean tug at the string of your bikini top by his hand has it flopping off your breasts, exposing them to the crisp night air, amongst the sprinkle of stars hanging in the heavens. Bikini bottoms hit your ankles next and he strips completely, down to his boxers, then to nothing at all. Already he’s rock hard, a cock so upright, it seems it could nearly touch his abs.

A large hand links to yours, leading you down into the inviting water.

"God, you’re tiny next to me." He tells you, loving how much his big build towers your frame, admiring your body from behind as you descend into the blue, bare feet hitting each lowered pebbled step.

Submerging into warmth, it cradles you as you dip in. Vapor floats off the lapping surface where your joined bodies bob together in water, all of your limbs wrapped around him. He wastes not another second longer, gripping you impossibly closer, making out with you, ardently; proving himself to be ever the great multitasker with one hand gripped on your asscheek and another kneading at your breast.

Now the sizzling of your skin isn’t from the heated water alone, for beneath the very surface you simmer for him, a robust flame of aching arousal so unbearable it has you trembling. Shaky and flustered by lust, from how strong hands grope every inch of your body, how his tongue intoxicates you as it rolls fluidly against yours, he senses it all—how overcome you are by need—making him groan with a fire in his belly, as do you, too. 

Desire has your spine arching. Legs still grasped to his waist, your ass pops backward as far as it will reach, creating easy access for him where he can trace fingertips along the crack of your ass as a guide, down to the ‘X’ which marks the spot of your slick hole.

Two thick fingers dip up, curl inside you, and plumes of oxygen off your light moans release between whimpers. Like your third eye opening, the instant clarity you receive in understanding how these fingers are able to create such powerful sorcery is made evident now, by his digits making literal magic in you as they fuck you filthy beneath the water. 

“Missed you like hell.” He murmurs, then you grip tighter, moaning, sucking a quick bruise on his neck. 

Yet all too soon, he notes the angle of his wrist is not ideal, nor the slight pushback from the water. All of it provides much resistance for him to thrust into you at the necessary speed that he knows would truly have you unraveling for him.

A light bulb flicks on in his head.

“Turn for me.” He commands, gentle and true.

In favor of getting you back to the onsen steps without letting you lose arousal, he whips your body around, directing your arms to wind behind his neck, your ankles to wrap around his. With your back meeting his chest, exposed nipples sting wet in the cold bite of the air, wading you through the water. His goal to keep that hot coil of desire burning within you also means his own cravings run high right now, to have you squirming on his fingers from this position, knowing where that button can be pressed upon. 

“Thaaat’s it, baby, keep it up for me…” He entices, approvingly, an eager hand reaching from around your hip to the front, massaging over your clit in winding motions of expertise. His game is won when your hips begin to stutter, rocking and chasing for more of his touch and he can sense the steady rhythm of your thighs tensing against his.

Soon, your feet hit the stony steps. Placed on a higher level than him, it gives him reason to bend you over as planned, to hike your ass up above the waterline where it collects just around your thighs. It’s there you are instructed to hold steadfast on the edge of the onsen.

“Good, baby. Just like that.”

He reckons it’s his turn to make you pliant and easy access for himself. From where he stands below, waist deep in water, his face is lined with the entirety of your raw nether-region, anxiously awaiting to eat you out from behind.

But first, the sight of you like this is truly something to behold.

Here is a quick moment of pause for Gojo, caught in admiring the beauty of pearlescent vapors casting heat off of every bit of your skin, dancing upward through the shine of moonbeams contrasted against the darkness.

“Mmm.” There’s a tone of carnal wonder—and just a touch of light playfulness—in his humbled voice. “Your pussy is steaming hot, baby. Literally.”

You whine from the unfavorable lack of contact as he purrs his sweet words. Air is blown over your bare steamy cunt by his lips, cooling it down, watching it clench, eyeing heat vapors disperse around it. Then he gingerly pries the petals of your pussy open, lingers in admiration for another moment longer before finally tugging your thighs backward to strike his face onto the wet folds. He impresses a deep open-mouthed kiss onto it, sucking your pussy slow and deep into his mouth, and you snap—out comes your ungodly cry in ecstasy. He makes it sloppy, purposefully a bit disheveled, all wicked slurps and licks of passion, and a huff from his nose hits your asshole in a stimulating sensation. 

The taste of the mineral water mixed with the sweet drip of your cunt thoroughly quenches his thirst for this christening.

Light daddy scruff from his lower face can be felt against you as another slow upward lick nearly grazes your anus. He wants to create a plateau of his tongue stretching across the whole of your pussy, so he’s scooping under to search for your clit and press there, toying with the nub for several long languid beats. 

That is until he makes a quicker decision to swap it in favor of shoving his fingers inside you and pump them with force from behind. When you thrust back to help his fingers reach deeper, he already misses his face being trapped and pressed to your cunt, so he moves back to slurping your clit too. 

Your head falls forward as you crescendo from tiny whimpers into staccato groans, then sensing him pause for the smallest of moments only to catch a breath where you can feel his rapid draw of air.

He is attuned to when your hips begin gyrating harder onto his sucks, it’s a signal you’re close to your finish. So he doubles down, grabbing hold of your sides in a bruising grip, fingertips digging deep into the flesh of your hips where he forces you tighter onto his face. All that’s left to give is a tiny sting of pain to send you reeling and crying out his name, so his large hand cracks down on an asscheek, several filthy slaps, with the swirl of his tongue still on you.

He alternates, working and circling open your tender hole to motioning down onto pulsating clit-sucks in such perfect rhythm, it’s like the epic beat of a hit song—and in an instant, it must be your favorite tune, because now you’re singing out along with it, belting out with a searing vibrant orgasm that courses through you.

Your elbows and knees wobble, near to collapse, but he’s caught you just in time with a slide of his arm underneath your tummy, holding you up with another hand by your outer thigh. 

And you feel entirely supported by him, in many more ways than one.

You’re weakened and topple sweetly into the water, flopping backward into his broad chest. He draws in your back from behind, whispering warmth in your ear. “Daddy’s turn.”

The way your cheeks beam in post-glow daze has him tender-hearted. “Aw, my little cherrybomb…” he brushes away clumped strands of hair plastered to your face, “...like how only I can make you feel?”

Being older than you means he’s more experienced. No one other than Gojo has even remotely had you cumming as hard, so you can't deny his accuracy. You’d never dream of denying it anyway.

“Without question, daddy,” a little raspy voice so sincere, your body twirling in the clear blue liquid to face him outright, telling him point blank, “you’re the only one that has the power to make me feel this good.” Nearly sung like a lullaby off your tongue, you stare up at him with the most earnest eyes.

The sweet innocence of your praise is so astounding it raises his eyelids to widen so greatly until the appearance of the moon’s reflection fully shines in his eyes ; a genuine response to your unwavering devotion. Then it’s gone in a flash, because his eyelids shut when he’s peppering a line of kisses over your forehead and his dick is forcibly throbbing against you.

“Mhm yeah, you feel that?” He sucks on your earlobe, it’s still between lips as his whisper vibrates on the sensitive skin. “Want you bad. Help your daddy out now."

It’s nearly impossible to contain yourself when the all consuming thought and need in this moment is his grown cock in your hand, to supply him with anything and everything that would satisfy him, service him with the utmost amount of pleasure possible it’s as though he would never again know of pain.

Plunging forward and splashing further into the water, you hurl yourself onto him, a hand wrapped around his cock, an arm thrown around his nape. You pull him into another session of sucking one another’s faces, feverish mouths echoing moans into each other while you fist him below the water.

Gradually, the motion pushes him further and further backward until his spine hits an eventual rocky wall, arms-length away from the flow of the waterfall.

Gojo hauls you up by your thighs to wrap over his hips, simply wanting you to feel how hard he is from the outside, skin against skin, tenderly outlining the full protruding length of himself over your folds. Teasing between velvety lips, he’s grinning at how much of your slick can be felt through the water as he rhythmically runs his hard cock to bump up against your clit. Pleasure erupts through you with uncontrollable shuddering, from the remembrance of how unbelievable it could be just to have Gojo rubbing over you, the rush of the hazy memory all comes flooding back to you now.

Your head cannot withstand its own weight any longer, dropping dead into his fragrant shoulder, the scent of his neck driving you to delirium, inducing an almost intolerable desire for him.

 “Enjoying yourself?” He chimes, but you are barely able to muffle out an agreement with your mouth muted against his skin. The best you can give is a tiny nod and it feels you’ve mildly blacked-out behind closed lids. “Tell me how much you need it.” He commands.

“I-I…” you start, but it dies in your throat, “...I...I–”

“Come on, baby,” he coos, a little smug, a bit more pride in his request, “I wanna hear it.”

You're at a loss, struggling to form coherent sentences, already helplessly weak from his cock and it's not even inside of you yet.

“...so...s-so bad, please…I–”

A wordless understanding soon emanates between you both, suspended in the air surrounding you. It’s a palpable exchange of etheric empathy. He understands–identifies, since you have never spent this much time apart before and seeping into the gravity of that is also beginning to make him feel dizzied. “That's it…that’s it…you can do it, sweets, you can tell me...” He rocks his taunting hips, hypnotizing your needy hole from the outside with the prodding head of his cock as you try once more to formulate a sensical sentence.

“D-don't think…I've ever…wanted anything–so badly–I-I–” 

The more you babble, the harder he throbs.

“Daddy, I just–!” You feel actual tears starting to well up in your eyes, “–missed you so much-!”

An unexpected pang in your chest induces a flood of tears from your lower lash line. It’s only obvious to you now that you’ve been harboring this specific avoided emotion for a while, possibly even weeks. Trying to keep “strong”, convincing yourself you’ve been fine, or shoving down anything that would surface from within you about making the distance a bigger deal than you thought it ought to be.

Feeling so foolish, naive, to be crying with a mix of anguished pleasure for him, you lightly choke on your resistance to all of it, but without any ability to stop it.

He slows, then halts to observe your face, detecting the moisture below your eyes. It catches him by surprise. Concerned for you, he speaks with care. 

“Aww, angelll…” 

A tear streams down your cheek where he stops it with his lips, kissing it away, and Gojo feels his cock swell harder.

Undeniably horny by your undeniable ache for him.

A hand swipes over your face, shushing you to calm. “Shh…that's alright, okay baby, shh, you did good–so good speaking up for me–letting me know how much you want me…” soothing tingles by gentle scratches of his hands along your back quell you, “...re-laaa-x…shh��that was good enough for me now.”

Your cheeks are burning, born out of the pit of stupidity you feel as it pools in your stomach. Yet still, you continue to tear up, subtle quivering comes in waves over your body and has him offering you more words of comfort.

“...Nnnm…I missed you too, hey, hey–” he cups your face, making sure you’re truly hearing him. “–I did too, I really did…I know, baby, I know…” since you’re already crying, he might as well give you a better reason to, in the only way he knows to make it better, “...missed you somethin fierce…here–lemme show you how much. Come’ere–”

Lining up with your drenched hole, he guides you down onto the smooth stretch of his thick cock and your breath constricts. It has your face contorting from the dizzying nature of it all, denting your nails into his broad back. Gojo’s glimmering eyes connect with yours, reflecting back a shared intensity. Your gazes mirror one another as two pairs of eyelids are drooping together in unison, carefully examining each other’s faces as you adjust to him and he finally bottoms out inside you. But he grants you mere moments before the overwhelming thirst for you is far too irresistible to bear any longer. 

He surrenders to the will of his body as if possessed, chasing more of the sweet suck of your cunt in every thrust and now you’re crying from something else entirely. Strong, effortless, determined pumps of his length drive into your core, the way he knows you’ll always end up begging for, although now, no longer does he want to ask that of you. 

In this instance, his sole purpose becomes your unspoken bliss, to anticipate your desires without you needing to word them, yearning to spare you any further trace of strain or exertion. He intends to allow you the full sensation of simply craving his strong presence, pistoning into you, to let you relinquish control, entrusting him to tend to every remaining detail of your pleasure.

“Does this make you happier, baby? Hm?” Still carrying you, he turns a 180, switching spots to push your back against the flat rocky surface and ram you up against the wall. “Does it? H-huh? Ngh. Does it make you ha-happy?” 

The splishing of the waterfall and his fierce rhythmic grunts are the only sounds filling your ears. You nearly match the waterfall as more tears spill and that’s when you’re sure he doesn’t require a verbal reply. The confirmation of your entire body responding to him renders sufficient, like how your fingers instinctively entwine with his hair, gentle tugs at snowy locks for extra support, you then give a few wobbled nods.

But now he needs a little more support and leverage, gearing up for that one ideal angle in you. 

Hanging low and tilted just overhead, rests a bamboo tree. Reaching that one sweet gummy spot inside of you will mean reaching one of his arms up to grab hold of it. Gojo steadily raises both of your connected bodies so both waists together are just a hair above the waterline. He is up on his toes, tight grip on the bamboo culm, when he pounds you to perfection, deep and generous, positively wrecking you ‘till you’re wailing from your finish in blinding satisfaction. 

And daddy fucks you raw into the night, again and again, through to the edge of dawn; then later on, when the birds begin to chirp and you are fully spent in his bed – so fucking cute when you’re fast asleep – Gojo realizes he won’t ever grow tired of the faint traces of cherry smeared across his pillows.

. + .

+ link2masterlist .

[lev1hei1chou]

A Future With You

Nanami x reader Genre: Fluff. Full of love. Words: 1.7k Synopsis: Nanami builds a future Part 1 Masterlist

It had been a whirlwind of emotions ever since the Shibuya incident. The decision to leave it all behind in Japan and move to Malaysia was definitely not an easy one, but navigating through it all was much better with Nanami. Him and you found comfort in each other's company, growing closer and with every single day that passed by. The past of Tokyo were behind you, and the two of you decided to start anew in the peaceful beauty of Malaysia.

The vibrant landscapes provided the perfect backdrop for your budding romance. After a year and a few months of healing and building a life together slowly, the day finally arrived when Nanami suggested a special trip to a secluded beach.

Little did you know that it would turn into a day you would remember forever.

As the golden sun dipped below the horizon, casting pretty hues of orange across the sky, Nanami took your hand gently and led you to a quiet spot on the beach. The melodious sound of waves and the warm breeze worked together to create a magical atmosphere.

"Love, this place is beautiful," you remarked, gazing at the picturesque scenery.

He smiled warmly, his eyes brimming with affection for you. "Just like you."

Your cheeks flushed as he pulled you into an embrace. The warm sand beneath your feet and the air complimented what Nanami had planned. With a soft expression, he knelt down, taking out a small velvet box from his pocket.

"Y/N, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?" Nanami asked, his voice filled with sincerity.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, unable to find words. Nanami took your hand in his and gently slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing your love.

A few weeks later, the two of you decided to make it official. In a quaint Malaysian village, surrounded by greenery, you exchanged vows in an intimate ceremony. With only your neighbours and the friends you made in Malaysia as the audience, it was a celebration of love and a promise to a future together.

As you walked hand in hand through a cute little park after the ceremony, Nanami couldn't help but steal glances at you. The love in his eyes spoke volumes, and you couldn't be happier.

"I'm glad we chose Malaysia," Nanami whispered, his voice full of gratitude.

"Me too," you replied, leaning onto his broad shoulders. "Our love has reached a whole new level here."

And that was the onset of a whole new chapter in your lives, which you were ready to cherish.

*************

Your husband had always been a pillar of strength, someone you can always rely on no matter what. After the Shibuya incident, you were able to teach him that even if he was strong, he always had you to rely on.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, it casted a warm glow over the blues of the Andaman Sea. You found yourselves on a secluded beach again, and this reminded you of the day he asked you to be his. The rhythmic sound of the waves evoked beautiful memories as you held Nanami's hand.

"Love," you said, your voice carrying a mixture of excitement and nervousness. This would be the perfect time to break the news. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

He turned to face you, his eyes as calm and steady as always. "What is it?"

You took a deep breath, a smile playing on your lips. "I went to the doctor today morning, and, well, it turns out we're going to be having a little one joining our lives soon."

Nanami's expression softened immediately, and a warmth flooded his eyes. For a moment, he simply looked at you in silence, processing the news. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace.

"That's great," he whispered, tearing up. His voice was filled with a rare tenderness. "We're going to be parents."

The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms. The sound of the waves harmonized with the beating of your hearts. The whole atmosphere was laced with joy.

As the moon began to rise, casting a glow over the landscape, Nanami gently cupped your face and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Our journey is taking a new turn," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody. "And I genuinely wouldn't want to navigate it with anyone else but you."

Together, you were ready to face the next chapter of your lives. It would certainly not be easy but you didn't mind.

In the weeks that followed, Nanami became even more attentive, his protective instincts kicking in. He made sure you were comfortable and took care of every detail, from prenatal vitamins to midnight cravings. Your anticipation grew day by day.

And as the days turned into months, Nanami's stoic exterior melted away more and more, revealing the depth of his affection for both you and the precious life growing inside you.

*************

the gentle breeze rustled the palm leaves as you and Nanami strolled through a local market in Kuala Lumpur. The vibrant colors of exotic fruits and the fragrant aroma of the spices in the area surrounded you. As you walked hand in hand, Nanami's gaze shifted to you, his eyes softening with a mixture of adoration and protectiveness.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You nodded, smiling up at him. "Just a bit tired, but I'm okay."

Nanami's calm expression cracked into a small grin. "You should rest more. We can take a break and try some local snacks."

You agreed, finding a shaded spot to sit. Nanami carefully inspected the snacks before offering you a few choices. As you enjoyed the delicious flavors, his eyes never strayed far from you, his hand resting protectively on your growing bump.

Days turned into weeks, and as your pregnancy progressed, Nanami only became even more attentive. He made a habit of cooking nutritious meals for you, meticulously researching the best ingredients for the baby's development. The scent of all the ingredients mingled with the warmth of his love in the kitchen.

Late one evening, as the sun painted pretty shades of orange and pink, you found Nanami reading a baby care book. His brow furrowed in concentration, he looked up as you entered the room.

"Did you know the baby can hear us now?" he mused, placing a hand on your belly. "We should talk to them."

And so, the two of you spent quiet evenings, sharing your thoughts and dreams with the little one. Nanami's deep voice became a lullaby, soothing both you and the baby you were carrying.

As the days turned warmer, you decided to spend a weekend at Langkawi, an idyllic island off the coast of Malaysia. As you strolled on yet another beach, he held a shell to your ear, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Listen, it's like the heartbeat of the ocean," he said, his gaze softening as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

The journey of parenthood was a rollercoaster that you loved. IT brought about countless little moments – the first fluttering kicks that Nanami could feel, the late-night cravings for unique and questionable dishes, and the shared excitement of picking out baby clothes at the stores.

In the quiet moments, when the world felt still, Nanami would place his hand on your belly, feeling the movements of the baby. His eyes would meet yours, filled with an undeniable warmth and love, as if every beat of their tiny heart strengthened the bond that held the three of you together in this journey of a lifetime.

*************

After a really long break from the bustling lanes of Tokyo, you and Nanami, now a happy family with your little bundle of joy, decided to return to Japan. The decision to bring your baby back to where Nanami had confronted numerous challenges was met with a mix of excitement and nostalgia.

As you walked through Shibuya with the baby nestled in Nanami's arms, the familiar sights and sounds triggered memories of the Shibuya incident. Nanami's grip on the baby tightened protectively.

"I never thought I'd bring a little one back here," he admitted, his eyes looking around at the bustling city that surrounded you. "But it feels right with both of you by my side."

The news of your return spread pretty quickly among your friends and colleagues, creating a buzz of anticipation. Yuji, Megumi, and Gojo couldn't believe their eyes when they saw Nanami walking into the Jujutsu High School with a baby in his arms.

Yuji's eyes widened, and he practically sprinted towards you. "Nanamin, is that… a baby?"

Nanami nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Meet our little one."

Megumi, who had been maintaining his usual calm demeanor, couldn't hide the surprise. "You have a family now, Nanami sensei?"

Gojo, always one for the dramatics, grinned. "Well well well, Nanami, didn't think you had it in you to be a family man."

Nanami's gaze met Shoko's, who had been observing from a distance. She approached with a gentle smile. "Congratulations, you two. I never thought I'd see the day Nanami would be carrying a baby around."

As the news settled in, the initial shock turned into a chorus of cooing and adoration for the little one. Gojo, despite his playful teasing, couldn't resist making silly faces to entertain the baby, while Yuji and Megumi took turns holding the little bundle.

Amidst the laughter and warmth, Nanami stood with a sense of contentment, watching his friends interact with the newest addition to your family. The baby, in turn, seemed to sense the affection around them and responded with tiny giggles and curious looks.

"I suppose it's not just us who missed Japan," Nanami whispered to you, his hand finding yours as he surveyed the scene.

Returning to Japan had become a heartwarming reunion for Nanami, not just with his friends but also with the place that had built and shaped him.

More A/N: You can decide the gender of your baby! And I've mentioned that they returned implying that Nanami had healed from the past with the help of his family and new changes.

@connorsui, your reblog inspired me to write this, so thank you!

[sn0wgr4ve]

* i have devolved /pos

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.9

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 2943

Summary: Minho and you spend a day at the art gallery, Chan takes you out for dinner by the river. Both of them try their best to make room for you and reconnect. You haven't been so happy in a while.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, dinner date, museum date, soft!min, soft!chan

A/N: Thought I'd surprise you with another chapter today that I wrote after posting chapter 8. I think we could use the fluff🤭🖤

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

You exchange a soft smile with your husband, tilting your head at him. “You’re okay?” you ask gently. For a moment, all you can hear is the low hum of the city life outside the window. 

“Let’s go out today?” he asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the calm. “Just you and me.”

You study Minho’s face, swallowing at the hope in his eyes. It’s been three weeks since you clashed and you’ve been working on easing out the many strains those past months have taken on your life. Sometimes, Minho seemed a little hesitant, not knowing if you’d let him in enough. “Where would we go?” you ask, allowing a small smile to cover your lips.

“You mentioned that art exhibit at the new gallery downtown a few days ago. I thought you might want to see?” he suggests gently.

You feel warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of him still remembering that. “That sounds wonderful,” you say excitedly. “I would love to.”

“Yeah?” He smiles so sweetly that you reach out for him. He leans into your touch as you caress his cheek and searches your eyes carefully.

“Yes, darling,” you mirror his smile.

The two of you get ready in comfortable silence, side by side, occasionally sharing glances that hold soft smiles and unspoken words. As you step outside, hand in hand, the city greets you with the vibrant colors of an early evening. The sun, low in the sky, paints everything in hues of orange and gold.

The gallery is a modern space with stark white walls filled with vibrant art. You wander through the exhibits, Minho’s presence a steady warmth at your side. You’re busy looking at the different pieces, but his eyes can’t stop finding you. Once more, he notices how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, and how safe you always make him feel. A small smile settles on his lips as he watches you, following you around the rooms willingly. 

At one painting, a chaotic blend of dark and light, you pause longer than at the others. Minho beside you observes the play of emotions across your face. “What do you see?” he asks quietly, not asking about the painting but the meaning you give it.

Your eyes linger on the canvas, chewing your lip a little. “Struggle,” you say, your voice soft in the almost empty room. “But there’s beauty in it too. The colors clash, and still they harmonize…it’s almost like…,” you pause, not quite sure if you should continue.

“It’s like us,” Minho finishes for you, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns to look at you, his gaze filled with understanding. “Finding our beauty in the struggle. Finding some light in the darkness.”

You meet his gaze, your heart aching at the truth of his words. You reach for his hand, fingers intertwining naturally as if they were made to fit together. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

Minho’s thumb strokes your hand gently, and his eyes soften. “I’d go anywhere with you,” he replies.

You continue your walk through the gallery, and once you step outside, the sky has turned into a velvety blue, and and stars begin to peek out. You decide to take a little detour on your way back home, walking through the park. The city sounds soften in the background, replaced by the rustle of leaves and distant laughter.

The park is lit by scattered lamps, casting their golden lights on the winding path. You walk slowly, comfortable in the peace you feel with him. At a bench by the duck pond, you sit down with him, gazing at the water that glitters beneath the moonlight.

The air is cool by now, a gentle breeze teasing your skin, making you shiver. Minho notices almost immediately, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm hug. You lean against him, head resting against his shoulder, and sigh happily. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Minho confesses, voice laced with a warmth that reminds you he’s your home. “I missed just being with you without having to try and function. Just..us.”

You turn to look at him, eyes finding his in the dim light. “We don’t always have to be strong, do we? We can just be us, flaws and all.”

“No, we don’t always have to be strong,” Minho agrees, his hand gently cupping your face. As long as we’re together…that’s enough. That’s more than I could’ve ever asked for,” he whispers. Your lips meet in a gentle kiss before he squeezes your shoulder. “Let’s get back home, hm?”

The walk back is quiet but comfortable. As you reach the doorstep, Minho stops, turning to you with a serious expression on his face. “Let’s make a promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “No matter what happens, we keep fighting together, we keep finding beauty in the chaos.”

You nod, face softening at the desperation in his eyes. “I promise.”

Minho leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss to seal your promise. It’s soft and sweet and holds the promise and gentle words of today. “Come on, honey. Let’s see if Channie’s home yet,” he says, and you nod happily.

Inside, the house is quiet, making the atmosphere feel almost too serene. As you shed your coats and shoes, Minho calls out gently, not wanting to startle Chan, who might be home. There's no response, and he leads you through to the kitchen, where a note on the counter catches your eye.

"Out with Felix and Binnie. Don't wait up. - Chan" reads the neatly penned message, Minho's lips turning up in a small, knowing smile. "Guess it's just us tonight," he comments.

You nod, missing Chan but also relishing the quiet intimacy that the evening promises with just the two of you. "What do you feel like for dinner?" you ask, turning towards the fridge.

Minho shrugs, watching you with an affectionate gaze. "Anything's fine, as long as I'm with you," he replies, his tone soft. 

Deciding on something light and easy, you opt to make a salad with all the fresh ingredients you have, adding grilled chicken for some warmth and substance. Minho sets the table, his movements relaxed, a playlist of soft music filling the background.

As you both sit down to eat, the conversation flows more freely than it has in weeks. Gradually, the dialogue drifts towards more personal topics, about how you've both been feeling and the little things you've missed about each other.

"It's been tough, hasn't it?" Minho says at one point, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. "But nights like this... they remind me why it's worth it. Why we're worth it."

You reach across the table, your hand covering his. "It has been tough. But I wouldn't want to face it with anyone but you," you admit, your voice thick with emotion.

After dinner, you clear the dishes together, a routine that feels comforting in its normalcy. Minho washes, you dry, and there's a gentle efficiency to your movements, a dance you've performed countless times before, each step familiar and reassuring.

With the kitchen tidied up, Minho suggests a walk outside. The night air is still warm enough to be inviting. "Let's just walk around the block, a little night stroll," he proposes, and you agree readily.

Outside, the neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are dimmed for the evening, and their inhabitants are likely winding down much like yourselves. You walk hand in hand, your steps unhurried, the silence between you comfortable and easy.

At one point, Minho stops, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don't say it enough, but I do. So very much."

"I love you too," you respond, leaning back to look into his eyes. “And you're right. Nights like tonight remind me of us, of what we have and what we're fighting for."

Returning home, you settle onto the sofa, Minho pulling a blanket over you both. You lean into him, your head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Let's not wait so long to do this again," you suggest, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"Yeah," Minho says, his arm tightening around you. 

As you nod in agreement, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, you realize that the struggles and the chaos of the past weeks have not been in vain. They've brought you to this moment, safe in Minho’s arms.

-

Chan finds himself back earlier than he planned. After his evening out, he feels the pull of home - of you and Minho - stronger than the laughter and light of the city streets. As he approaches the house, his heart is a mix of nerves and hope. He unlocks the door quietly, half-expecting to find the house still echoing with the tension of previous weeks.

Instead, he steps into a soft-lit silence, low music playing in the living room where he finds you and Minho asleep on the sofa, intertwined under a shared blanket. The sight makes him stop in the doorway, a gentle smile spreading across his face as relief washes over him. Here, in this scene of peaceful slumber, he sees the healing that has begun between you. It almost feels as if you’ve never struggled.

Chan sets down his keys quietly and walks over, his movements gentle to avoid waking you. The intimacy of the moment - the way Minho's arm encircles your waist, how your head rests against his chest - is so sweet. It reminds him of the depth of love and commitment that binds you together, a stark contrast to the coldness that had crept into your interactions lately.

Chan reaches down, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is feather-light, a silent vow to himself to mend the threads of your relationship that he's held too loosely. The small action makes you stir, and your eyes flutter open, meeting his in a sleepy state.

"Channie," you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. "You're back early."

He nods, his hand moving from your hair to gently squeeze your shoulder. "Couldn't stay away too long," he admits, his voice low and warm. "I missed home."

Minho stirs next to you, his eyes opening to Chan's familiar presence. "Hey," he greets, his voice rough with sleep "We were just waiting up for you," Minho teases lightly, though the crinkles by his eyes show his sincerity. He sits up, adjusting the blanket over you, ensuring you're still covered and warm.

Chan chuckles softly, the sound soothing the lingering edges of his earlier anxiety. "It looks like you did more sleeping than waiting," he observes gently.

"Join us," you say, patting the space beside you. 

As Chan settles beside you, the weight of the past weeks—the misunderstandings, fears, and pain—seems to lift slightly. Together, you sit in the soft glow of the room, the silence comfortable, filled only with the soft sounds of your synchronized breathing.

As the evening deepens into night, you all decide it's time to move from the sofa to the bed. Hand in hand, you help each other tidy up the living space before heading to the bedroom.

You all get comfortable in bed, Chan, in the middle this time, turns to face each of you, his eyes holding a soft light. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "For this. For us."

Minho reaches to squeeze his hand. “We love you, Channie.”

“I love you too,” he smiles happily.

-

Chan had suggested it: a quiet evening out, just the two of you. You agreed to the promise of a few hours solely with him, which sounded too good to pass. Chan suggested a small restaurant by the river, one that promised a breathtaking view.

Now that the evening is here, you feel nervous, a soft flutter in your stomach. It reminds you of the early days, the first few dates, and the awkward dance of not wanting to choose between Minho and him. You spend quite some time picking your outfit, wanting to feel beautiful and hoping to see the spark in Chan’s eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Chan is not one bit less nervous than you are, choosing a simple but elegant shirt he knows you like. When he sees you, ready and waiting, his breath catches in his throat. “You look so beautiful,” he manages, his voice rough with emotion. The sincerity in his gaze and the slow smile covering his lips make your heart beat faster, and your eyes water a little.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

“Thanks,” he smiles shyly, blushing a little.

The drive to the restaurant is quiet, with music playing in the background. Chan parks near the river just as the sun is slowly dipping below the horizon, painting the water with a golden glow.

Hand in hand, you walk to the cozy restaurant, which has soft lighting and a gentle, nonintrusive conversation. You choose a table near a window with a view of the river, now shimmering under the first touches of twilight.

You two fall into easy conversation as you eat, yet beneath the lightness of their conversation, deeper topics linger at the edges, waiting.  "Y/n," he begins, his voice serious but gentle. “I know things have been tough. I know I've been... distant. Not because I want to be, but because I've been scared - scared of doing the wrong thing, of saying the wrong thing."

"Chan, I understand. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, too, scared of pushing you away or making things harder for you,” you admit gently.

“I never meant to feel like you couldn’t come to me…or that Min is more important to me,” he tells you guiltily. 

“I know,” you reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “But we're here now, and that’s what matters. We can find our way back together.”

Chan’s smile returns, his eyes lighting up as if a weight has been lifted. “I’d like that. A lot.”

As dinner comes to an end, Chan suggests a walk along the river. The cool breeze from the water is refreshing, and the rhythmic sound of the waves against the shore is soothing. 

“Look at the moon,” Chan points up, and you both stop to gaze at the full moon, casting a silver glow over the river. It’s beautiful and peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like everything is right in the world.

“It’s gorgeous,” you comment, leaning into him.

Chan wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Not as gorgeous as you,” he says, which makes you both chuckle.

The moment feels right, and you stop walking and turn to face him. “Chan, thank you for tonight. It means a lot to me. I’ve missed just being with you like this.”

He cups your face gently, his touch tender. “I’ve missed it, too—more than I realized. Let’s not let it go again, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and he leans in to kiss you softly and sweetly under the moonlight by the river.

On the drive home, the car is filled with comfortable silence. A song that you both love comes on the radio, and Chan reaches over to turn it up. You smile and start to sing along quietly. He joins in, and soon, you’re both laughing and singing at the top of your lungs.

Chan parks the car in front of your house and turns to you with a giddy smile. You smile softly, leaning over to cup his face. “My beautiful Channie angel,” you whisper, and he blushes a little. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he smiles shyly. “My sweet baby girl.”

Minho greets you with a gentle smile as you step inside. “Had fun, you two?” he asks gently, giggling surprised as you give him a long, soft kiss. “Hey, darling,” he whispers adoringly.

“Come cuddle with us?” you plead softly, making him laugh.

“Please?” Chan asks sweetly, kissing his cheek.

“Fine, fine,” he laughs. “Go get ready for bed, I’ll be there in a bit,” he promises.

Not much later you’re all comfortable in bed. You’re in the middle, feeling safe between them. To your left, Minho’s warmth is a comforting pressure against your side, his arm thrown loosely over your waist. His fingers draw mindless patterns on the fabric of your nightshirt. Chan’s body is curved around yours protectively, his breath softly tickling your neck. Minho shifts a little, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes meet Chan’s in a silent agreement of how much they love you. 

“Comfortable?” Minho asks softly, barely above a whisper, as if he’s scared of speaking too loudly.

“Very,” you nod, agreeing. You turn your head slightly to smile at him, reaching to touch his cheek. Chan responds by tightening his embrace around you, his hand splaying across your stomach, grounding you.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sounds are the soft rustling of the sheets and the steady, rhythmic breathing of three hearts in sync. You find yourself tracing the lines of Chan’s hand after a while, feeling the strength and warmth of his fingers intertwined with yours. Minho, feeling a surge of affection, leans over to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, then Chan’s jaw. Chan smiles at the gesture, a small, happy sound escaping his lips. It feels perfect.

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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[soulessjourney]

Let The World Burn - Chapter 1

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: You're one in a million, Azriel had never encountered someone so different from himself, someone more powerful, even rivaling Rhysand in ability. When you appeared in the Night Court one evening, covered in dirt and dried blood, something about you seemed distinctly unique. It wasn't just the fire that scorched the ground beneath you or the red hue of your eyes burning into his skin. No, it was the shadows that swarmed around you, harmonizing with his own, drawing them closer to you.

Warnings: Violence, Language, Near character death, Talk of killing, Angst, Hurt and comfort, hurt no comfort, reader is an angry strong female reader, lots of miscommuication, fluff, More to be added

A/N: Buckle up, children. This fic is the epitome of enemies-to-lovers, lovers-to-enemies, and back again. The angst is intense, and the betrayals are oh so real.

All you could smell was your burning flesh and the smoke from the area around you. Above you, the dark sky seemed to smile down in a way that almost felt mocking. Drawing in a deep breath, your chest tightened, drowning out your senses. Uncertain of how you got here or even who you were, the last thing you remembered was falling backward, yet never hitting the ground, instead, you kept falling until eventually landing on the charred grass where you now lay.

A cool sensation ran over your arms, diverting your attention from the sky. Wincing, you lifted your arm, watching as wisps of smoke-like tendrils wrapped around you, gently caressing your burnt skin. They moved around your waist and through your hair, softly singing and speaking in hushed tones that your ringing ears couldn't discern.

Enchanted by their appearance, you marveled at their gentleness as they glided over the burns on your arms and face, seemingly attempting to kiss your wounds better. You noticed how they froze over your skin before shooting out as if to defend you. Turning your head, you let out a groan, catching a flash of red and blue. Rolling onto your knees, another groan escaped as you instinctively reached to hold your injured arm, your hair falling over your face as you glimpsed three figures through the strands, standing a few feet away, their eyes widening in shock at your appearance.

The wisps continued to wrap around you, darting out at them, a protective measure for your injured form. Your eyes darted between them before settling on a male figure without siphons, his violet eyes prominent in the darkness. Unable to discern their words over the ringing in your ears, you studied each figure. You moved towards another, taller and bulkier, his shoulder-length hair tied in a half ponytail. Despite his intimidating appearance, his eyes exuded a gentle kindness you had never witnessed before.

Finally, your gaze locked with hazel eyes, observing the third male figure. He stood before you, arms crossed, his face devoid of emotion, yet his shadows danced in synchronization with your own, almost as if communicating. The wisps whispered to you, though your mind remained blank as you studied him. Something within you stirred in recognition, yet fear caused your body to curl in on itself. Your vision obscured as the male with violet eyes knelt before you, extending his hand. Your gaze shifted upward, finally able to hear his voice.

"I'm not sure what happened to you, and usually, we wouldn't welcome trespassers like this, but your wounds are too serious to take you where we normally would," he said gently, causing your eyes to harden. Holding up his hands, he offered a reassuring smile. "What's your name?" he asked, watching you quietly.

You opened your mouth to respond, only for your mind to draw a blank. "I'm not sure," you replied, wincing at the raspiness of your voice, hating how weak it sounded. Yet, it didn't deter him from extending his hand once more. You stared at it, and he chuckled softly.

"If it eases your nerves, I'm Rhysand, and behind me are Cassian and Azriel. Now that we aren't strangers, why don't you come back with us? We can provide treatment and aid until you regain your memory or at least understand how you got here," he suggested gently. Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, meeting the hazel eyes again before Rhysand spoke up once more. "Please? My wife would kill me if she found out I left an injured female in the middle of the woods." You scrutinized him, attempting to catch him in a lie, but found none. Nodding gently, you placed your hand in his, feeling the cool tendrils wrap around you as the environment blurred and darkened.

---Azriel---

Azriel stood outside the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the floor. As the door opened and Cassian and Rhysand stepped out, he pushed away from the wall, raising a brow. "Mind explaining why you decided to make friends with some random person who tried burning down the forest?" he asked.

Rhysand sighed, glancing back at the closed door. "I tried probing her mind, Az. It's locked tight, and no amount of training could penetrate it, not with all the power it exerted to resist me. You saw those shadows that clung to her. Azriel, she's another shadow singer, and as far as I know, you're the only one alive with that ability," he explained in a hushed tone.

Azriel nodded, images of you flashing in his mind. He remembered the severity of your burns and the intensity of your gaze fixed on him, your eyes seeming to burn with actual fire. He had forgotten about the shadows that reached out to them, mirroring his own. "What do we do with her once she's better?" he inquired, turning his gaze toward the closed door. "We can't just let her go, especially now that she's seen the city."

Rhysand hummed in thought, but before he could respond, Cassian cleared his throat. "We can't release her back into the woods like some stray. She has no memory of who she is. But we're not imprisoning her either. We need to help her remember how she got here, and why there's no record of another shadow singer. I can keep an eye on her and make her feel welcome. If she feels like a prisoner, she won't cooperate," Cassian suggested, turning to Azriel. "You should do the same. Get to know her. Her reaction to seeing you indicates her body remembers you, so that could be crucial."

Azriel groaned before reluctantly agreeing with his brother. "Fine, I'll give it a shot. I have my own questions, especially about those shadows. But if she tries anything, don't expect me to be friendly. Her entrance wasn't exactly subtle, burning down half the forest," he remarked, casting a warning glance at Rhysand.

Rhysand nodded, knowing better than to argue with Azriel in situations like this. He couldn't help but notice Azriel's sudden interest in you, though. Clapping a hand on Cassian's shoulder, he nodded to Azriel before walking away.

Azriel watched them depart down the hall before turning back to the door. Opening it, his eyes widened as a pillow was flung at him, narrowly missing him and hitting the wall. Giving you a glare, he noted how you met his stare with equal intensity.

---Y/N---

You stare back at Azriel as he takes another step towards you, your hand instinctively reaching back to grab the pillow next to you. Your eyes follow every movement he makes, searching for any sign that his intentions aren’t friendly.

"Throwing a pillow at me won’t do much," he says, raising a brow at you.

Scoffing, you turn your head away from him. "No, but it would distract you long enough to give me a head start," you mumble. The shadows that wrap themselves around you slide away, halting just before Azriel. Your eyes watch them as they wait for his own to greet them.

"It’s funny, you would think they know each other. In the forest, it was like they were communicating with each other," you say softly.

Azriel hums in response as he settles into the chair next to your bed. "What do you know about your shadows? You must know something; the way they interact with you is a telling sign that you’ve had them your entire life," he says, leaning back into the chair. He watches your body language, waiting for a telling sign that you're lying, but there is nothing. Instead, he receives a shrug from you.

"I’m not sure. When I woke up, in agonizing pain, might I add, they were there. They were all over me, and it was as if they were trying to cool the burns. Other than that, they’re a complete mystery to me. They don’t even really say much besides that I’m safe," you explain, leaning back against the headboard. "Why are you guys helping me? I know it’s not because I was half dead in the middle of the woods," you mumble, playing with the blanket on your lap.

Azriel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he narrows his eyes at you. "Rhysand says he wants to find out how you’re a shadow singer; from what we knew, I was the only one. Cassian refuses to just release you into the wild again, and he wants to help you, which is typical given that’s just how he is. Meanwhile, me? I don’t trust you. You may not remember what about me you know, but your body does, and every time I’m near you, you have the natural reaction to pull away from me," he says. To prove his point, he shifts to sit on the bed, and your body tenses as you instinctively move away. "I’ll find out what you know about me. Rhysand may not be able to tell, but I know how to get the information I need, and you’re no exception," he grumbles.

You open your mouth to retort, but he stands and walks towards the door before freezing. "If you’re pretending, drop the act; it’ll make killing you in the future that much easier," he says, his eyes piercing into you. With that, he leaves the room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

[ruija]

Coloring Tutorial Part 2

Part 1

As promised, here's the 2nd part of my color ramblings. This time I'll go a bit into how I pick colors for cohesive and atmospheric looks in my illustrations. Usually, when working on a piece, I'll think about what kind of mood I'm going for and then choose one color as a base. Let's use this pic as an example:

I wanted something warm and cozy, and the feel of an old house. For the base color, I chose brown. The funny thing about colors is, that they can look veeeery different depending on which shades you put next to each other. For example, you can make a shade that's not actually red, look like it's red by putting greenish tones around it. Let's look at the shades I picked for this piece. When you look at the color spectrum, you can see that all the colors can be found somewhere within the range of red and yellow. Don and Leo look like their normal shades of green, even though there's not any real green in this picture.

For comparison, I colored this picture as if it was in a neutral light and all the objects showed up in their true colors.

Looks rather jarring, doesn't it? The colors are picked from all around the spectrum and there's no consideration of whether they match or complement each other. When you pick colors from a more condensed 'area' within the hue spectrum, it's easier to harmonize them. Also, in general, it's wise to stick to a limited palette. It doesn't have to be in the same hue range either. You could pick something like blue and orange as your base colors and then use shades that are close to those two.

Another trick is to repeat your chosen colors in different areas, instead of picking a new tone for everything. This will make the overall look more cohesive. And if you want something to stand out, pick a more unique color for it. (This same rule can apply to character design too.)

A demonstration of how almost all the colors appear in several spots within the picture. Note, how most of the BG is non-obtrusive browns and reds, while Don and Leo become a focal point with their greens and the blue duvet.

So, how do I actually pick out these colors? I'll show you. Here's Raph in neutral light aka in his true colors. And two different versions where I've used indigo and orange as the base colors.

Now, I'm not sure how comprehensible this is, but I tried to explain my method with this visual guide.

Basically, I'll try to remain close to the base color in the hue range and then fiddle around with how the different shades look together. It does take some practice and using various color adjustments or blending layers is very helpful if picking the colors manually is too hard!

I hope someone got something useful out of this, thanks for reading and sending the ask!

[fragileheartbeats]

Can we get more about Jaenyx?

# 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐗 ☆

To serve is to bleed, to love is to kill. Such is the fate of those who kneel before queen.

Jaenyx possessed a breathtakingly beautiful countenance that captivated all who beheld him. His features were meticulously sculpted, each element harmonizing flawlessly to create an aura of ethereal allure.

With silvery-golden wavy hair cascading in soft waves around his chiseled face, Jaenyx exuded an otherworldly radiance. His locks shimmered like spun silk under the sun's gentle caress, framing his visage with an enchanting glow.

His eyes, a mesmerizing blend of amethyst and sapphire, held depths of mystery and intensity that drew observers into their spellbinding gaze. Sparkling with an inner light, they reflected the shifting hues of the sky, adding an enigmatic allure to his already captivating presence.

A refined nose, straight and elegant, accentuated his symmetrical features, while full, plush lips, adorned with a delicate mole lent a touch of sensuality to his angelic face.

Jaenyx's complexion was like alabaster, smooth and flawless, radiating a porcelain-like luminosity that seemed untouched by the passage of time. His skin, unblemished and pristine, bore the mark of ethereal perfection, drawing admiration from all who beheld him.

Tall and statuesque, Jaenyx possessed a slender yet muscular physique that moved with a grace and fluidity reminiscent of a dancer. His narrow waist and sculpted form exuded an aura of strength and elegance, commanding attention wherever he went.

In every aspect, Jaenyx was a vision of unparalleled beauty, a living embodiment of grace and allure that left an indelible impression on all who had the privilege of beholding him.

Jaenyx's obsession with Daenerys was all-consuming, a fervent devotion that bordered on worship. Freed from the shackles of slavery by Daenerys's benevolent act, Jaenyx latched onto her with unwavering loyalty and adoration, viewing her not only as his savior but as a deity incarnate.

Every word uttered by Daenerys was gospel to Jaenyx, every action she took revered as divine decree. He hung on her every whim, his sole purpose in life becoming the fulfillment of her desires. Her kindness towards him ignited a fervent devotion within him, one that knew no bounds and brooked no dissent.

Driven by an insatiable desire to please his queen, Jaenyx went to great lengths to prove his loyalty, often resorting to extreme measures to demonstrate his devotion. His actions, though fueled by love and adoration, often bordered on obsession, blurring the lines between devotion and possession.

Jaenyx's obsession with Daenerys manifested in possessive and jealous tendencies, as he fiercely guarded her honor and perceived threats to her safety with unbridled ferocity. He saw himself as her unwavering protector, willing to go to any lengths to shield her from harm, even if it meant resorting to violence or bloodshed.

For him, there was no greater purpose than to serve his queen, to bask in the light of her grace and favor for all eternity.

Excuse me, my lady, but may I steal a moment of your time to admire your grace and beauty?

Indeed, Jaenyx possessed a charming wit and flirtatious demeanor that added an extra layer of intrigue to his character. With a silver-tongued eloquence and a mischievous twinkle in his captivating eyes, he effortlessly charmed those around him, weaving a web of allure and enchantment wherever he went.

His wit was sharp as a dagger, his words dripping with playful banter and clever repartee that never failed to elicit laughter and admiration from those in his presence. Jaenyx had a knack for turning even the most mundane conversations into delightful exchanges filled with humor and charm, leaving his companions dazzled by his quick wit and infectious charisma.

But it was his flirtatious nature that truly set Jaenyx apart, his effortless charm and magnetic presence drawing admirers like moths to a flame. Whether exchanging playful banter with courtiers or engaging in intimate tête-à-têtes with his queen, Jaenyx exuded an irresistible allure that left hearts aflutter and pulses racing.

His flirtatious antics were as charming as they were irresistible, his playful teasing and coy smiles leaving a trail of smitten admirers in his wake. Jaenyx knew just how to play the game of love, his smooth words and seductive gestures leaving those around him enraptured by his magnetic charm.

Yet, beneath his playful facade lay a heart fiercely devoted to his queen, his flirtatious banter merely a mask to conceal the depth of his affection. For Jaenyx, every flirtatious quip and coy smile was but a testament to his unwavering devotion to the one woman who held his heart captive – Daenerys, his queen, his goddess, his everything.

Blood stains my hands, but it is the color of devotion.

For Daenerys, Jaenyx would willingly plunge into the depths of darkness, committing unspeakable acts in her name. He would silence dissenters with ruthless efficiency, eliminating anyone who dared to oppose her rule or question her authority. His methods were brutal and merciless, but in his eyes, they were necessary sacrifices to ensure her safety and supremacy.

Jaenyx's bloodthirsty nature was unleashed in defense of Daenerys, as he prowled the shadows like a silent predator, ready to strike down any who dared to harm her. His ferocity knew no bounds when it came to protecting his queen, his loyalty driving him to acts of savagery that would make even the bravest warriors tremble in fear.

S-sorry, I-I didn't mean to stare... it's just, um, you're very... um, beautiful.

Despite his fierce exterior and acts of cruelty in her name, Jaenyx's demeanor transformed into one of timidness and vulnerability in the presence of Daenerys, revealing a deeply ingrained sense of reverence and adoration for his queen.

In Daenerys's presence, Jaenyx's stoic facade crumbled, leaving behind a shy and bashful demeanor that betrayed the depth of his affection for her. His cheeks would flush a rosy hue, his heart racing like a wild stallion, as he found himself unable to meet her gaze without feeling a surge of overwhelming emotion.

The mere touch of Daenerys's hand upon his own would send shivers down Jaenyx's spine, leaving him trembling with nervous anticipation. His words would falter and stumble, his tongue tied in knots, as he struggled to articulate his thoughts in her divine presence.

If Daenerys were to ever ignore or overlook him, Jaenyx would be overcome with a profound sense of desolation and despair, his heart breaking at the thought of being cast aside by the object of his unwavering devotion. Tears would well up in his eyes, his soul laid bare before her, as he yearned for nothing more than her acknowledgment and affection.

Despite his fearsome reputation and acts of cruelty, Jaenyx was but a vulnerable soul, hopelessly ensnared by the enchanting allure of his queen. In her presence, he was but a lost puppy, eager for her love and approval, willing to endure any hardship or humiliation if only to bask in the radiant warmth of her affection.

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

[dinodontwait]

Epistles of Love - Part One

Summary: In a charming and new suburb, y/n stumbles upon cryptic letters from Woozi, unveiling a tale of love and heartbreak. As the past unfolds through Woozi's words, will y/n risk her heart to uncover the secrets hidden within each carefully penned letter?

Genre: Romance, Mystery, Suspense, and Contemporary Fiction.

Trope: Slow-Burn, Strangers-to-lovers?

Main Characters: afab!y/n , Woozi, Amour( real names will be revealed later)

Supporting Characters: Svt members

Word Count: 8.7k

<Teaser | Part Two>

The sun dipped below the horizon, its final golden rays painting the sky with hues of pink and orange as y/n's car glided into the heart of the town. The last remnants of daylight cast a warm and welcoming glow over the cobblestone streets, creating an enchanting atmosphere that seemed to embrace her arrival. As y/n maneuvered through the quiet streets lined with charming boutiques and cozy cafes, her heart pulsed with anticipation. The town's architecture told tales of a bygone era, each building standing as a testament to the rich history woven into the fabric of the community. It was a place where time seemed to move a bit slower, allowing moments to linger and stories to unfold at their own unhurried pace.

She couldn't help but marvel at the unique charm that had drawn her here. The decision to embark on this journey, to leave behind the familiar and embrace the unknown, had been fueled by a cascade of positive changes in her life. It was a decision made not out of necessity but out of the desire for a fresh start, a chance to breathe new life into her days and redefine the narrative of her story.The beauty of the town unfolded around her like the pages of a storybook, promising a fresh beginning filled with endless possibilities. The streets whispered tales of community, of shared laughter echoing through the air during town festivals, and of the bonds formed over cups of coffee in the local cafes.

With every passing moment, y/n found herself captivated by the allure of this place, where the past and present danced together in harmony. It was a town that cradled dreams and whispered promises of a future yet to unfold, a canvas waiting for her to paint it with the colors of her own experiences.

As the car rolled to a gentle stop, y/n took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers that adorned the nearby gardens. The decision to start anew in this picturesque haven held the weight of hope and the excitement of the unknown.

As she parked in front of her new house nestled in the heart of the small town, y/n took a moment to immerse herself in the serene atmosphere that enveloped the charming neighborhood. The air, crisp and tinged with the fragrance of blooming flowers, carried promises of a welcoming community that seemed to echo through the gentle rustle of leaves in the nearby trees. The house, an abode with a charming facade and a small garden adorned with vibrant blooms, exuded a timeless appeal. Its welcoming aura resonated with the spirit of the close-knit town, where each residence seemed to share secrets with the other, and every garden whispered tales of seasons gone by.

As y/n stepped out of her car, the gravel beneath her shoes crunched softly, harmonizing with the rhythmic chirping of distant crickets. The exterior of her new home stood as a canvas awaiting her personal touch, and the small garden invited her to explore its hidden corners, where sunlight dappled through the leaves, creating patterns on the ground. The sense of serenity was palpable, a gentle undercurrent in the air that whispered tales of community bonds and shared stories. The anticipation of creating a life in this charming haven mingled with a touch of nervous excitement, like the fluttering of butterflies in the stomach. Each step toward the entrance carried her closer to the heart of her new beginnings, the unique blend of emotions creating a symphony of anticipation, nerves, and the promise of an inviting community.

As y/n entered the charming garden of her new house, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees. She noticed a lean figure standing amidst the blossoms, a bit of long hair framing his angelic features. The sunlight played through the foliage, creating a soft halo around him. Captivated by the scene, y/n approached the young man. As he turned with a warm smile, extending a hand, she couldn't help but be surprised by his youthful charm. "Hello there," he greeted. "You must be the new resident. I'm Jeonghan."

Y/n, momentarily taken aback, shook his hand, feeling a warmth that seemed to transcend the physical touch. "I'm y/n. Nice to meet you," she replied, her gaze momentarily lingering on his captivating features. Jeonghan, with an amused glint in his eye, guided her attention to the garden. "I thought I'd give the flowers a bit of company today," he chuckled. "Welcome to your new home. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to reach out."

As they chatted amidst the vibrant blooms of the garden, Jeonghan shared stories about the town's history and the close-knit community that y/n was now a part of. The sunlight dappled through the leaves, creating patterns on the ground, and the gentle hum of bees added a melodic undertone to their conversation.

Y/n, engrossed in Jeonghan's animated storytelling, couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie building between them. The beauty of the town seemed to unfold not just in the physical surroundings but in the genuine connections that were being forged.

Amidst the exchange of anecdotes, however, y/n's thoughts momentarily drifted. She had expected a more seasoned figure as her landlord, someone with a stern demeanor and perhaps a few more years etched on their face. Instead, Jeonghan appeared more like a friendly neighbor, his youthful charm challenging the conventional image she had envisioned.

Caught in a moment of introspection, y/n realized her preconceived notions were swiftly changing. "I must admit, Jeonghan, I had a different mental image of my landlord," she confessed with a playful smile, her eyes betraying a hint of surprise.

Jeonghan, with a chuckle, responded, "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Y/n laughed lightly, "Maybe someone a bit more… seasoned? No offense, of course!"

Jeonghan, with a good-natured grin, waved off her concern. "None taken. I get it. People usually expect a grizzled old landlord with a set of keys that they have seen for a few decades. I'm here to break the stereotype, I guess!"

The two shared a friendly laugh, the atmosphere lightening with the ease of their banter. "Well, you've certainly succeeded," y/n admitted, her initial surprise giving way to genuine appreciation for the unexpected charm of her landlord.

Jeonghan, with a twinkle in his eye, replied, "Glad I could keep you on your toes. It's always good to defy expectations, don't you think?"

Noticing her brief pause, Jeonghan waved towards the next block, his residence. "By the way, I live just over there. If you ever need anything, feel free to knock. We're practically neighbors!"

Y/n, realizing her oversight, blushed and chuckled nervously. "Oh, I see. Thank you, Jeonghan. I appreciate the warm welcome."

Jeonghan, with a pleasant smile, said, "No problem at all. Enjoy settling in, and if there's anything you need, just give a shout. See you around the neighborhood!"

As Jeonghan strolled back to his own house, y/n couldn't help but smile at the unexpected charm of her new landlord. The encounter marked the beginning of a unique connection, not just as resident and landlord, but as neighbors sharing the beauty of the small town.

Absolutely, that makes sense. Let's adjust the details accordingly:

Upon unlocking the door to her new house, the worn key turning smoothly in the lock, a wave of contentment washed over y/n. The creak of the door as it swung open echoed a welcoming invitation, and she stepped into the foyer with a heart full of anticipation. The space, though unfamiliar, seemed to cradle the promise of countless possibilities, like a blank canvas waiting to be adorned with the strokes of her life.

The muted sunlight filtered through lace curtains, casting a warm glow that danced across the polished wooden floors. Y/n's footsteps echoed softly as she wandered from room to room, each one unveiling a unique charm. The living room, with its cozy fireplace and inviting couch, whispered of evenings spent in the comforting embrace of a good book or the laughter of newfound friends.

In the kitchen, the scent of fresh paint mingled with the promise of home-cooked meals yet to be prepared. Y/n ran a hand along the cool countertop, imagining the aroma of spices and the clinking of utensils in a lively dance of culinary creativity.

The bedroom, adorned with sunlight filtering through sheer curtains, beckoned with the promise of restful nights and the dreams that would unfold within its sanctuary. As y/n traced her fingers along the frame of the bed, she envisioned the comfort it would offer after long days exploring the town.

Yet, amidst the freshness of new beginnings, there lingered a subtle hint of the previous tenant—a gentle reminder of the life once lived within these walls. It was not a trace left in neglect, but rather a presence woven into the very fabric of the home. Stickers adorned the fridge, each one telling a story of groceries, meal plans, and the simple joys of daily life. The bookshelf bore the imprints of well-loved volumes, each one a literary companion that had once filled the room with tales and adventures.

As y/n explored each room, she discovered these subtle touches that whispered stories of the person who lived here before. The cozy notes on the kitchen chalkboard hinted at favorite recipes, and the worn-in couch in the living room seemed to carry the imprint of shared moments. The house, though now hers, bore the echoes of another's life in a way that felt more like a warm introduction than a lingering intrusion.

With each discovery, the sense of gratitude deepened, and y/n couldn't help but feel a connection to the stories embedded within the walls. It was a reminder that, in the dance of new beginnings, there was beauty in acknowledging the echoes of the past and embracing the shared history that made this house not just a dwelling but a place to call home. She sighed thinking about all the boxes now she has to move from her car to her new home!

As y/n wrestled with the weight of a particularly hefty box, her arms straining against the load, she felt an unexpected reprieve. The box seemed to defy gravity, becoming lighter in an instant. Intrigued, she looked down, only to discover a pair of stylish shoes stepping in to take the place of her struggling arms.

Confused yet pleasantly surprised, y/n followed the trail of these stylish shoes upward, and her eyes met the gaze of a tall figure. His presence exuded an air of easy confidence, and as he offered a warm, puppy-like smile, y/n couldn't help but feel an immediate sense of relief. "Need a hand?" he offered, his voice carrying the friendliness of a familiarity.

Y/n, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected assistance, couldn't help but smile in return. "Oh, yes, thank you! This box had grand aspirations of being much lighter, but reality hit hard."

The stranger chuckled, the sound resonant and friendly, as he effortlessly took the weight off her hands. As he straightened up, y/n found herself looking at someone not only tall in stature but possessing an undeniable charm. His eyes sparkled with genuine kindness, and the corners of his lips held a perpetual hint of warmth.

"Moving day can be a real workout," he remarked, his tone filled with joy. "I'm Mingyu, by the way. Your neighbor from across the street. Jeonghan did inform us about someone moving across us!"

Y/n accepted the offer of a handshake, noting the strength and assurance in his grip. "I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, Mingyu. And thank you for the rescue. I guess my belongings decided to give me a bit of a challenge today."

Mingyu laughed, a hearty sound that echoed the friendly atmosphere of the neighborhood. "No worries, y/n. We've all been there. Moving is a team effort, and consider me part of your moving crew today."

He proved to be more than just a momentary helper. Mingyu's assistance extended beyond the initial box, as he effortlessly carried the weight of y/n's belongings with a friendly demeanor that made the daunting task of moving seem surprisingly enjoyable. As they navigated through the various boxes and items, he seamlessly transitioned from being just a neighbor to a newfound friend.

In the midst of the heavy lifting, Mingyu shared more about the neighborhood, offering insights and stories that painted a vivid picture of the close-knit community. "We're a friendly bunch around here," he grinned, carefully placing a box marked 'fragile' down. "You'll probably bump into Seokmin and Minghao, my housemates. We share the house across the street. Can't miss it—bright blue door."

As they chatted, Mingyu's tales provided a glimpse into the dynamic life of the neighborhood. "We have this tradition of Sunday brunch potlucks in the backyard," he shared, his eyes lighting up with the enthusiasm of a fond memory. "Everyone brings a dish, and we just enjoy good food and company. You should definitely join us sometime."

The sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the quiet streets. Y/n, grateful for Mingyu's unexpected kindness, couldn't help but marvel at the vibrant hues of orange and pink that painted the sky. The exhaustion from the move weighed heavily on her, and the prospect of preparing dinner in her new kitchen seemed like a mountain to climb.

Mingyu, sensing her weariness, chimed in with a friendly suggestion. "You know, instead of slaving away in the kitchen on your first night, how about you join us for dinner? We're having a small get-together in the backyard. It's a mix of friends and neighbors. Think of it as a welcome party for the newest member of the block."

Y/n hesitated, a mix of fatigue and a slight apprehension about socializing with strangers playing on her mind. Mingyu, however, reassured her with a warm smile. "It's really casual. No pressure at all. Just good food, good company, and a chance to meet some friendly faces."

Feeling a sense of camaraderie and warmth from Mingyu's invitation, y/n couldn't resist the genuine offer of community. "Alright, sounds great," she replied with a tired but appreciative smile. "Let me freshen up a bit, and I'll be there. Thanks, Mingyu."

Mingyu grinned, "Perfect! We'll be right across the street whenever you're ready. Take your time. And don't worry about bringing anything—just yourself. We've got it covered."

As y/n headed indoors to prepare for the evening, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she had not just moved into a new house but stumbled upon a welcoming community that promised more than just neighbors—it offered the possibility of genuine connections and the warmth of a shared life in this delightful town.

Y/n adjusted the strap of her bag nervously as she approached Mingyu's house. The anticipation of meeting new people and navigating the social dynamics of a tight-knit community left a flutter in her stomach. The inviting glow of streetlights bathed the house in a warm aura, making it stand out amidst the evening shadows.

To her surprise, the door swung open before she could even raise her hand to knock. Mingyu stood there, a beam of genuine warmth illuminating his face. His puppy-like smile widened as he greeted her, "Hey, y/n! Right on time. Come on in!"

The entrance to Mingyu's home ushered her into a world of lively sounds—laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic melodies of music. The atmosphere was contagious, filling her with a sense of excitement and belonging even before she stepped inside. The air carried the mingled scents of grilled food, hinting at the delightful feast that awaited in the backyard.

Mingyu, with an inviting gesture, guided her through the house. The interior revealed snippets of his life—a well-loved couch adorned with plush cushions, framed photographs capturing shared memories, and a hint of lingering conversations from another room. The vibrant energy of the gathering intensified as they approached the back, the sounds of laughter now mingling with the sizzle of a barbecue.

The backyard transformed into a warm haven. Strings of lights criss crossed above, casting a soft glow that illuminated the faces of mingling neighbors. Mingyu's friends, a diverse ensemble of personalities, added to the charm of the scene. The smell of grilled food wafted through the air, teasing the taste buds and inviting everyone to partake in the communal feast.

Mingyu, still wearing his welcoming grin, gestured towards the lively group. "This is where the magic happens. Welcome to the backyard gathering!"

The warm ambiance, the inviting glow of string lights, and the tantalizing aroma of barbecue all combined to create an atmosphere that embraced y/n into the fold of a close-knit community. As she took in the lively scene and the faces of her new neighbors, any remnants of nervousness were replaced with a growing sense of excitement and anticipation for the camaraderie that awaited in this charming backyard.

Mingyu, playing the role of the perfect host, introduced y/n to the eclectic group. "Everyone, this is y/n, our newest neighbor. Y/n, meet Seokmin and Myungho," he pointed to the two housemates, who greeted her with welcoming smiles.

The backyard was alive with activity. Soonyoung and Seungkwan were engaged in a playful karaoke battle, their voices resonating through the night air. Myungho, a quiet observer, rolled his eyes at their antics, while Mingyu chuckled. "Don't mind them. Karaoke nights always bring out the competitive spirit."

In a corner, Jeonghan, the friendly landlord, shared a conversation with a few others, and y/n couldn't help but marvel at the diversity of personalities in the group. Mingyu, noticing her observation, whispered, "We're a bit of a motley crew, but it makes for great company."

As the night progressed, the lively energy of the gathering continued. Seungkwan and Soonyoung's bickering escalated into playful banter, while Mingyu showcased his culinary skills at the grill, the aroma of barbecue filling the air.

As the evening wore on, some bid their farewells. Jeonghan, with a friendly nod, excused himself, and a couple of others followed suit. Soonyoung, succumbing to the combination of karaoke and excitement, eventually found his way to a makeshift bed, prompting Mingyu to carry him inside with a good-natured laugh.

Y/n, feeling a mixture of warmth and exhaustion, approached Mingyu to express her gratitude. "Thanks for tonight, Mingyu. It was a wonderful welcome."

Mingyu, still wearing that ever-present golden retriever-like grin, replied, "Anytime, y/n. We're glad to have you here. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

With a final wave to the remaining friends, y/n took her leave, the night filled with laughter and camaraderie echoing in her ears. As she walked back to her own house, she couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging settling in—the kind that comes from the shared moments of a lively community and the promise of friendships yet to deepen.

The days drifted by as y/n gradually settled into the rhythm of her new life in the tranquil town. Engrossed in the process of unpacking and familiarizing herself with the surroundings, she engaged in the ordinary tasks that came with starting afresh. The sun painted the sky in hues of warmth as she navigated through the usual activities, gradually making this unfamiliar place feel a bit more like home.

In the midst of the ordinary, an unexpected spark of curiosity ignited. While sifting through her mailbox, typically filled with mundane bills and advertisements, y/n stumbled upon a peculiar treasure. Nestled among the routine, a special envelope emerged, radiating a charm that set it apart from the usual contents.

This vintage envelope held a distinct aura, as if it had been plucked from another era. Its edges bore the gentle wear of time, adding character to its appearance. Despite the signs of age, there was a certain timeless elegance to it, a stylish nod to the past with a modern twist. It was like a piece of history wrapped in an envelope, belonging to someone who cherished the charm of bygone days but navigated the currents of the present.

As y/n gingerly held the envelope, a subtle blend of nostalgia and modernity emanated from its surface. The paper, though years old, carried a texture that hinted at a recent touch, as if someone from this generation had deliberately chosen to embrace the grace of vintage aesthetics. It was a unique fusion of old-fashioned elegance and contemporary flair, a tangible connection between the past and the present.

As y/n studied the letter, her eyes caught on a name that sounded like a whisper from a different realm – "Amour." An unusual name, one that carried a hint of romance and mystery. Intriguingly, it was addressed to her, even though the connection to this unfamiliar name was nowhere in her recent memory. A momentary dismissal crossed her mind, attributing it to a letter meant for the previous occupant. Perhaps the sender wasn't aware of the change, still reaching out to an Amour who no longer resided at the given address.

The initial reaction was one of practicality, a simple assumption that sought to explain the seemingly misplaced letter. Maybe the sender was oblivious to the fact that the intended recipient had moved on from this place. Yet, as the day unfolded and the town transformed with the onset of evening, the peculiar envelope refused to fade into the background. It persisted in her thoughts, becoming a magnetic point of curiosity that drew her attention back, again and again.

Holding the old-fashioned envelope in her hands, y/n hesitated. The letter inside seemed personal, like a peek into someone's private thoughts. She pondered whether to read it or not, feeling a mix of curiosity and respect for the past occupant's privacy.

The vintage style of the envelope, with its intentional old-timey vibe, hinted at a story waiting to be told. The decision to open it felt like standing on the edge of someone else's feelings and memories. The inked words on the letter, still folded, held the potential to reveal a part of someone's life not meant for casual eyes.

The mystery and curiosity won over her reservations. With a quiet determination, y/n decided to unfold the letter, ready to explore the hidden stories and emotions that the pages might unfold. The choice to step into this unknown space felt like opening a door to someone else's past, and she took that step with a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

Date: 01/05/2019

Dear Amour,

In the silent embrace of this letter, the ink traces the echoes of a day that etched itself into the fabric of my existence.

The day unfolded like a poem, a delicate dance of moments that wove themselves into the very essence of my being. It was as if each passing second became a verse in the story of a land parched for the sweet touch of rain. The air, thick with anticipation, carried me toward a nearby cafe—an enclave of serenity that stood as a refuge from the monotony of the ordinary, a sanctuary where possibilities unfurled like petals in the gentle breeze.

Since the tapestry of my memories began, I've been the silent observer, finding solace in the quiet corners of my home. The contours of my existence were shaped by the solitude I sought, a realm where the whispers of my thoughts resonated in the stillness. Yet, on that fateful day, a gentle pull, like the invisible hands of fate, tugged at the strings of my solitude. It was an urging, a call to step into the unexplored territory of the cafe—a space that held the promise of encounters yet to unfold.

The very decision to step into that cafe marked a departure from the familiar script of my life. The door swung open, not merely to a physical space, but to the uncharted landscapes of possibility. With each step, I traversed the threshold of routine, embracing the unknown with a heart open to the serendipitous wonders that awaited within the walls of that sanctuary.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans greeted me, weaving a sensory tapestry that spoke of warmth and familiarity. It was then that I saw her—the girl who, unbeknownst to her, would redefine the contours of my existence. She stood there, a living canvas painted by the hands of fate, the light wind playing a delicate symphony with the strands of her hair.

Her presence seemed like a stroke of destiny, a chapter written in the celestial script of our intertwined stories. As our eyes met, time suspended itself, and the ordinary boundaries of reality blurred. It was a moment that transcended the mundane, as if the universe conspired to orchestrate a connection, an unspoken agreement unfolding in the silent language of glances and smiles.

Her eyes, pools of warmth and mystery, held secrets and stories yet to be told. They mirrored the reflection of a kindred spirit, resonating with a depth that transcended the superficial. It was in that gaze that I felt the tendrils of an invisible thread weaving itself between our souls, binding us in a silent understanding that surpassed the limitations of spoken words.

In the symphony of that moment, the cafe transformed into a sacred space, a stage where our destinies briefly intersected. The ordinary chatter of patrons faded into background noise, leaving only the echo of our shared gaze. And in that silent exchange, a connection was forged, setting in motion a series of events that would shape the course of our intertwined narratives.

The girl I saw was you, and you had me the moment you looked at me. Your gaze became the catalyst for a myriad of emotions, unraveling a story written in the language of fate and woven into the very fabric of our shared existence.

Each recollection of that encounter is like a cherished melody, a timeless tune that plays on a loop in the quiet chambers of my thoughts. The symphony of that moment, the laughter echoing in the cafe, the delicate clink of coffee cups, all compose a melodic ode to the serendipity that unfolded that day. It's a melody that resonates through the corridors of my mind, an everlasting refrain of a connection that defies the constraints of time.

In these moments of reflection, the word "Amour" echoes through my mind, a gentle whisper that transcends the ordinary definitions of fate. It's more than a term; it's a name, a label that carries the weight of our shared connection. The mere utterance of it conjures images of you—the girl who became the focal point of a destiny written in invisible ink.

So, let this letter be a testament to the serendipity that brought us together—the day the drought of my soul quenches its thirst with the rain of your presence. Every word etched on this paper is a silent acknowledgment of the profound impact you've had on the rhythm of my life.

In the quiet solitude of my room, as I pen down these words, I find myself grappling with the uncertainty that shrouds our future. This letter, crafted with the ink of genuine emotions, might never reach your hands. I am left to wonder if our paths will ever cross again, if the serendipity that united us will weave its magic once more.

Yet, even in the face of this uncertainty, I write with a glimmer of hope—a hope that transcends the boundaries of time and distance. This letter becomes a vessel, carrying not only my sentiments but also the silent yearning to see you again. And even if this letter remains unsent, floating in the sea of unsent letters, it stands as a testament to the sincerity of my emotions and the silent hope that someday, our stories will intersect again.

Yours in reminiscence,

Woozi

The words lingered in the air as y/n absorbed the emotions woven into each sentence. The letter had painted a picture of a connection that transcended time and space. The vintage charm of the envelope seemed to have carried not just a message from the past but a piece of a love story waiting to unfold. As she set the letter aside, the room felt different, as if the walls whispered secrets that begged to be heard. It felt like the quiet town held more stories than she had initially imagined, and within its embrace, she found herself entangled in the enigmatic tale of Woozi and Amour.

She hoped to find more, but the letter just ended, and she keeps thinking about it. The night enveloped the town in its quiet embrace, and y/n found herself entangled in the web of possibilities. The journey into the unknown had just begun, and the quiet town, with its cobblestone streets and whispered rumors, held the key to a myriad of untold narratives. With a heart brimming with curiosity, she hoped to uncover the layers of mystery that clung to the very fabric of her surroundings. But for now, the letter remained a silent witness to the unexplored depths of the town's history. Its words, though poignant and evocative, were a mere prologue to the stories that awaited her. As she drifted into contemplation, the vintage envelope and its contents became a beacon, guiding her into a world where love and suspense danced in tandem, inviting her to be a part of a narrative that defied the boundaries of time.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/n found herself sitting by the window once again, the vintage envelope in her hands. The town, now bathed in the soft hues of twilight, seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for her to unlock the secrets it harbored. With each passing day, the questions in Y/n's mind multiplied like the stars appearing in the evening sky.

The temptation to seek answers intensified. She wondered about the fates of Woozi and Amour—did their love story reach fruition, or did it succumb to the twists and turns of life? Did they break each other's hearts, or did circumstances force them apart? The allure of the unknown weighed heavily on her, and she couldn't help but feel a personal connection to the unfolding saga.

In the quiet moments before sleep claimed her, Y/n found herself staring at the ceiling, the words of Woozi's letter echoing in her mind. She yearned to know the details of their love story, the highs, the lows, and the inevitable mysteries that lay within. The journey into the unknown was becoming a solitary exploration, and Y/n felt a growing urgency to uncover the hidden chapters of Woozi and Amour's past.

As Y/n strolled back from her grocery shopping, the vibrant colors of fresh produce peeking out from her reusable bags added a cheerful contrast to the routine yet comforting task. Her mind, a tapestry of thoughts, weaved through the aisles of the grocery store. Was she humming a tune softly to herself, or perhaps lost in contemplation about the essentials of her new life in the town?

As she approached her car with bags in tow, the weight of her musings shifted to the practicalities of life. Did she remember to pick up the fresh loaf of bread? Did she check off everything on her mental shopping list, or were there still lingering doubts about forgetting a crucial item?

Unloading the groceries, Y/n's eyes inadvertently fell upon the mailbox, standing there like a stoic guardian of potential surprises. Her routine had subtly changed over the past week. Each return home was accompanied by a glance towards the mailbox, a silent hope that another chapter in Woozi's enigmatic tale would await her.

With the groceries safely inside, Y/n found herself standing before the mailbox, a mix of curiosity and a touch of skepticism. The routine checks had become a silent ritual, a dance with anticipation that often ended in a quiet sigh as the mailbox remained undisturbed. However, this time was different.

As she opened the mailbox, the cool metal meeting her fingertips, the surprise was palpable. There it was—the same vintage envelope that had captivated her attention a week ago. A rush of excitement coursed through her veins, and with careful anticipation, Y/n retrieved the letter. The possibilities it held unfolded in her mind, adding a layer of intrigue to the ordinary act of checking the mail. The journey into Woozi's world continued, and Y/n, with a subtle smile, embraced the enigmatic tale that seemed destined to intertwine with her own.

As Y/n stepped into her cozy home, bags of groceries in hand, she felt a familiar excitement bubbling within her. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the scene. It was a moment to savor, a pause in the ordinary where anticipation hung thick in the air.

Taking a deep breath, she settled into a quiet corner, the ambiance humming with the promise of discovery. The groceries found their places, each item finding its spot in the choreography of daily life. A steaming cup of black coffee, a loyal companion, joined her on this journey of anticipation.

With care and curiosity, Y/n cradled the vintage envelope in her hands, the delicate paper whispering stories of days gone by. The room, bathed in the soft glow of the sun, became a sanctuary for this intimate ritual. As the envelope unfolded, a rustling melody filled the space, as if the very room held its breath, eager to be a part of the unfolding tale.

Date: 03/07/2019

Dear Amour,

Two months danced away in the rhythm of passing days, and here I am, sitting down to write to you once more. Time has woven its threads through the fabric of our lives, and I find myself eager to unravel the tapestry of events that have unfolded since my last letter.

As the days turned into nights, a symphony of experiences played out, each note carrying whispers of moments, stories, and emotions that begged to be shared. The pen meets the paper in an attempt to capture the essence of these fleeting days, to chronicle the chapters that have shaped the course of time.

Once more, fate's subtle hand led me to a gathering, a simple congregation of friends where laughter wove the air into a tapestry of shared joy. This was not my usual terrain, a realm unfamiliar, yet ventured into at the nudging of my ever-persuasive brother.

As my eyes scanned the room, a jolt of surprise coursed through me when I spotted you in animated conversation with Joshua. Even from a distance, I could see the genuine warmth in your smile, a smile that Joshua, with his charismatic charm, effortlessly coaxed out. The playful banter and the ease with which he made you laugh left me in a mix of emotions.

There was a twinge of happiness, undoubtedly, to witness you in high spirits. However, a veil of sadness draped over my heart, realizing that the source of your joy wasn't me. Doubt lingered in the shadows, questioning whether I, with my reserved nature, could ever be the one to bring that radiant smile to your face. From my secluded corner, I grappled with conflicting emotions—happiness for you and a silent yearning to be the reason behind your laughter.

As the night went on, Joshua, a friend from both old times and new, made an announcement that caught my attention. He shared the news about a new neighbor joining our community. To my pleasant surprise, when you stepped into the spotlight, there was a sense of familiarity and warmth that stirred within me.

You introduced yourself, and the way your words flowed was like a calm and steady stream. It was as if you effortlessly became a part of our gathering. Watching you in that moment, I couldn't help but appreciate how comfortably you fit into our circle. It was a simple yet meaningful introduction that left me genuinely intrigued and captivated.

In the quiet routine of everyday life, our days found a comforting rhythm, like a familiar tune playing in the background. We began to spend more time together, our lives merging like dancers gracefully navigating a stage. The simplicity of our meetings held a special magic, where ordinary conversations carried the weight of something extraordinary.

Our shared moments became the building blocks of something beautiful. Walking side by side under the evening sky, we exchanged words that held meaning beyond their surface. These moments, no matter how small, turned into precious memories, like notes in a song that told the story of our growing connection.

Every step we took together, every word we shared, contributed to the melody of our journey. It wasn't about grand gestures but the subtle, everyday expressions that deepened the bond between us. Each conversation, each shared sunset, each smile became a treasure, filling the spaces between us with a warmth that spoke of something more than friendship. Your playful declaration, calling me cute, made my cheeks blush with a warmth I hadn't known before. In the simplicity of our talks, I found a comforting solace. The ease with which we exchanged words felt like a familiar dance, and I cherished every shared moment.

As I carefully let the ink dry on this paper, I can't help but hold onto a hopeful feeling. It's a wish, almost like a quiet prayer, that the feelings I've been holding in my heart find a way to you. There's a subtle confession hidden in the unspoken words, a hope that these emotions, much like a gentle breeze, reach you and touch something deep within your being.

While I remain here, my heart silently longing for the next chapter in our story, there's a quiet determination. It's a promise that until our paths cross again, merging into one forever, I'll keep these feelings safe, patiently waiting for the moment destiny brings us together.

Always yours,

Woozi.

As Y/n reached the end of Woozi's second letter, a whirlwind of emotions cascaded through her. The poetic expressions and heartfelt confessions resonated deeply within her, leaving an indelible mark on her thoughts.

A gentle sigh escaped her lips as she set the letter down, her fingers lightly tracing the creases in the aged paper. The room, once filled with the anticipation of unfolding mysteries, now held a serene stillness. The narrative woven by Woozi had transported her to a realm where the ordinary transformed into the extraordinary.

In the quiet aftermath of reading, Y/n found herself caught between the echoes of Woozi's words and the present reality. The warmth of his sentiments lingered, leaving her in a contemplative state. She marveled at the beauty of the connection between Woozi and Amour, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

Yet, as she sat there, enveloped in the soft glow of the evening, a subtle melancholy settled within her. It was a poignant reflection on the yearning for a love as deep and sincere as the one expressed in the letters. Her thoughts meandered into the realm of self-reflection, pondering whether she would ever encounter a love so pure, a connection so profound.

As Y/n reflected on Woozi's letters, her mind involuntarily journeyed into the recesses of her past. A memory, vivid yet distant, emerged—a scene from her teenage years where she sat among friends, the shy observer in a group dominated by the vibrant presence of one particular friend.

In the hazy recollection, laughter echoed around them as they engaged in casual banter.

The most popular friend, with an air of playful teasing, turned her attention to Y/n. "You know," she remarked, her words carrying the lightness of jest, "Y/n here spends all day immersed in books, expecting a prince charming to waltz into her life. It's like she's living in a fairy tale!"

The comment, fueled by good-natured humor, elicited laughter from the group. Y/n, accustomed to being the quiet bookworm, smiled with a hint of self-consciousness. The notion of an enchanting love story felt like a distant dream, a realm where fiction held more sway than reality.

Now, in the present, as Y/n revisited that memory, a gentle smile played on her lips. The words of her friend, once a source of amusement, carried a new perspective. The laughter of the past resonated in her mind, but with it came a quiet certainty that her friend had been mistaken.

Woozi's letters, with their tender prose and sincere expressions, dismantled the notion that love in its purest form was confined to the realms of fiction. The love Woozi described felt real, a tangible force that surpassed the boundaries of imagination. Y/n found herself reassured that, perhaps, the fairy tales she had been teased about were not as far-fetched as they seemed. In Woozi's words, she discovered a genuine, innocent love that defied the skepticism of her past.

Y/n spent hours thinking about what to do. The mysterious letters and the love story behind them kept playing in her mind. Finally, she realized that her friendly landlord might have answers. The decision to talk to Jeonghan became clear in her mind, and she felt determined to uncover the secrets of her new home. With a purpose in her heart, Y/n decided to visit Jeonghan and share her discoveries, hoping he could help her understand the mysteries hidden within the walls.

In the gentle embrace of a quiet afternoon, Y/n stands before Jeonghan's door, her heartbeat echoing the rhythm of anticipation. The sun, casting its golden hues, weaves a comforting tapestry around her, and the rustling leaves add a soothing cadence to the air. With every knock, she sends forth a silent plea for answers, hoping Jeonghan holds the key to the secrets concealed within the vintage envelopes.

As the door swings open, Jeonghan's warm smile welcomes her, an unspoken assurance that she is not alone in her quest for understanding. "Hey, Y/n! What brings you here?" he greets, his eyes reflecting genuine curiosity.

Taking a tentative step inside, Y/n feels a sense of comfort in the familiar surroundings of Jeonghan's home. The invitation to sit encourages her to share her discoveries. "Hi, Jeonghan. I've been finding these vintage letters, and they're addressed to someone named Amour. I was wondering if you knew anything about the person who lived here before me or the history of the house."

Jeonghan ponders for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Amour, huh? That's an interesting name. Let me think… Oh, yes! Sunhee used to live here about five years ago. She was a kind soul."

Y/n leans in, her curiosity piqued. "Was? What happened to her? Did she move away?"

Jeonghan's gaze shifts, memories flickering in his eyes. "Well, I went to visit her one day, and to my surprise, she was gone. Just a letter, saying she left without letting anyone know. It was quite sudden."

As Y/n absorbs this piece of the puzzle, she steers the conversation gently toward the current enigma. "I also found mentions of someone named Woozi in these letters. Do you have any idea who Woozi might be?"

Jeonghan's brows furrow slightly, indicating a mix of uncertainty. "Woozi, huh? Not really sure. Could be a pen name or a nickname. Sunhee interacted with quite a few friends in town, so it's challenging to pinpoint who Woozi might be."

As the conversation with Jeonghan flows seamlessly, Y/n finds herself more immersed in the mysteries surrounding her new home. The cozy atmosphere of Jeonghan's living room becomes a setting for shared stories, and she learns that the neighbors have a weekly gathering. Today, it's Joshua's turn to host the event.

As Jeonghan mentions Joshua hosting the gathering, Y/n's curiosity piques. She can't help but wonder about the dynamics of the neighborhood's weekly gatherings. Jeonghan's question about meeting Joshua brings her back to the reality of the present moment.

Jeonghan, with a friendly smile, encourages, "You should definitely drop by. It's a nice way to get to know everyone in the town. Joshua is not just a great host; he's a fantastic guy. Always has a story to tell or a joke to share."

Y/n, intrigued by the idea, responds, "I'd love to attend. It sounds like a lovely tradition. And who knows, maybe I'll finally get to meet Joshua in person. The letter did mention him, after all."

Jeonghan nods in agreement, "Absolutely! These gatherings are a perfect way to connect with the community. You'll find everyone there—sharing stories, laughter, and maybe some town secrets if you're lucky."

As Y/n contemplates attending the event, she can't shake off the thought that perhaps this gathering might hold more clues about Woozi and Amour. The anticipation builds, adding a layer of excitement to her quest for unraveling the mysteries hidden within the vintage letters.

Y/n walks back home from Jeonghan's place, her mind buzzing with questions. Jeonghan shared a bit about Sunhee, but it only made Y/n more curious about the Woozi and Sunhee mystery.

She thinks about Joshua, the next neighbor hosting the gathering. Maybe Joshua could have more answers? Y/n wonders if attending the event might unlock some secrets about Woozi and Sunhee's relationship. The excitement builds as she imagines the possibilities.

Y/n, with the vintage letters safely tucked in her bag, enters the lively atmosphere of the party. Laughter and chatter weave through the air like a familiar melody. Spotting Mingyu and Seokmin engaged in animated conversation, she decides to navigate through the sea of new faces and join them.

As Y/n approaches, Mingyu flashes a welcoming smile. "Hey, Y/n! Glad you could make it. Meet Seokmin, the unofficial comedian of the neighborhood." Seokmin bows dramatically, earning a playful eye roll from Mingyu. This is the ongoing joke among the friends about the title they give each other while introducing and it helps y/n to understand them better too.

Seokmin, with a mischievous grin, quips, "Unofficial? I'm offended, Mingyu. I'm the undisputed king of neighborhood comedy." Mingyu chuckles, "You heard it here first – the king has spoken."

Amidst the banter, Seokmin turns to Y/n, "So, Y/n, any embarrassing stories Mingyu hasn't shared yet?" Mingyu raises an eyebrow in mock innocence, "Embarrassing stories? I'm an open book, Y/n. Don't believe a word this guy says."

The trio shares a laugh, and soon, Y/n finds herself immersed in the conversation. Mingyu, with his easy going nature, and Seokmin, with his playful humor, create an environment that feels like a gathering of old friends rather than neighbors.

As the atmosphere takes a flirtatious turn with Joshua's entrance!

Joshua, flashing a mischievous grin, approached Y/n with a confident swagger. "Well, hello there. I'm Joshua—your friendly neighborhood heartbreaker. And who might you be, turning this quiet gathering into a spectacle of charm? You must be new around here. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting someone as captivating as you before."

Y/n, slightly taken aback but amused, replied, "Well, you know how to make a girl feel welcome! I'm Y/n, the unsuspecting victim of said spectacle, apparently. Nice to meet you, Joshua."

Joshua, not missing a beat, continued his playful banter, "Nice? Oh, you have no idea how nice it is until you've spent more time with me. Brace yourself; tonight is just the beginning of the enchantment." As Joshua continues to weave his charming spell, Y/n decides to play along. "Joshua, I must say your compliments sound strangely familiar. Have you been practicing your lines?" she teases, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Joshua, with a charming grin, responds, "Ah, you've caught me. I believe in making every interaction memorable." Y/n, feeling a sense of amusement, introduces herself, "Well, Joshua, consider this interaction etched in my memory."

The party unfolds with Joshua's flirtatious banter, and Y/n finds herself playfully engaging in the charming exchange. As Joshua continues his suave introductions, Mingyu, with a grin, interjects, "Well, well, looks like Y/n got introduced to our local flirty guy. Joshua, mind giving others a chance?"

Seokmin joins in with a teasing remark, "Yeah, Joshua, save some charm for the rest of us. We can't let you have all the fun." The group shares a round of laughter, breaking the ice and creating an easy camaraderie.

Y/n, amused by the banter, retorts, "Don't worry, guys. I can handle a bit of charm." Joshua, unfazed, adds, "That's the spirit! I like someone who can appreciate good company." As the atmosphere takes a flirtatious turn with Joshua's entrance, Y/n can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. His charming smile and the playful banter seem oddly familiar, as if she's encountered this scenario before. However, undeterred by the strange sense of repetition.

As Y/n's gaze sweeps across the lively gathering, her eyes land on a figure that stands out from the familiar faces. A guy with slightly tousled, long hair sits alone, his eyes fixed on the merriment surrounding him. Intrigued by the air of mystery surrounding this lone observer, Y/n feels an unspoken connection as their eyes meet.

The atmosphere seems to shift momentarily, and in that fleeting exchange of glances, a spark ignites, subtle yet palpable. It's as if time pauses for a breath, allowing a silent understanding to pass between them. Y/n senses a familiarity that transcends the boundaries of this gathering, leaving her with an inexplicable feeling of connection.

In that moment, amidst the playful banter and flirtatious exchanges, the gaze shared with the guy across the room becomes a focal point. Y/n's curiosity deepens, and she can't shake off the intuition that this encounter carries a significance beyond the surface. As the festivities continue, the mysterious guy remains a puzzle waiting to be unraveled, and Y/n can't help but wonder about the threads that tie their fates together.

In the midst of the lively banter and playful exchanges, Y/n's instincts guide her gaze through the crowd. The room buzzes with energy, but amidst the laughter and animated conversations, her attention is drawn to a lone figure with slightly long hair—pale skin and dark hair that sets him apart.

Seated in quiet contemplation, the mysterious guy seems to be in his own world, disconnected from the surrounding merriment. Soonyoung, the ever-enthusiastic conversationalist, attempts to pull him into the lively atmosphere, but his gaze drifts, exploring the room until it lands on Y/n.

In that moment, as their eyes lock across the crowded room, a surge of recognition rushes through Y/n. It's like catching a fleeting glimpse of something familiar, something that stirs a deep sense of connection. Soonyoung's attempts to engage him become background noise as his focus proves distracting. His attention briefly shifts from Y/n to Soonyoung, and he nods politely, appearing to listen to the conversation. The fleeting eye contact is broken, and the room's festive ambiance takes center stage once again.

Caught in the act, Mingyu playfully nudges Y/n and teases, 'Checking someone out, are we?' A mischievous grin on his face.

Y/n, feeling a bit flustered, tries to brush off the comment. 'No, just curious. I've never seen him before.'

Mingyu, always the gossip-monger, leans in and spills the tea. 'Oh, that's Jihoon. Jeonghan's brother. He's been away for years and just returned to town.'

As the conversation continues, Y/n finds herself inadvertently drawn back to Jihoon. As she softly whispers, 'Jihoon.' Even though she intended it to be just for herself, Jihoon's eyes found hers again. In that silent exchange, an unspoken understanding passes between them, as if the mere utterance of his name has woven a thread of anticipation!