#I used the watercolor brush cause it's pretty. never again. not for a Long time. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aquaticstyles · 3 years

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to do list

hi everyone! i know it’s early, but i stayed up all night writing and simply couldn’t wait to post. 4.8k of some bf!harry ahead (including my first attempt at smut... pls feel free to tell me if it sucks). of course, reblogs + feedback make my heart soar 💓💕💖💘💗💞

You think the scene before you cannot be real. Without a doubt, you must be dreaming, sleepwalking, eyes still seeing through a rose-colored, innocent hue that can only belong to your imagination.

Dew drops cling onto freshly cut blades of emerald grass, spray-painting the ground in a silver cast, sparkling, glistening. Birds sing a perfectly pitched hymn, their orchestra being the gentle whistle of the wind that rustles the branches of the trees in your backyard, new with springtime buds the bees generously catered to. There are the roses, sitting pretty in their beds, still slightly drooping from their abandonment of the glowing mass in the atmosphere, pouting in velvet pink. A dragonfly brushes past the French doors in front of you, and you swear you notice it's hesitation, almost tempted by the glass, almost fooled by the facade, almost daring to dart into the comfort of your home, blocked off by the rest of the outside world. Then there's a lone butterfly, fluttering, strikingly contrasting against the green with its pompous red wings outlined intricately in black ink. The sun rises slowly over her horizon, sluggishly being pulled on a string by an invisible hand buried beneath bundles of clouds pocketed throughout the sky turning more blue as each second ticks by. Watercolor, drops of salmon and peach twirling about one another, accidentally on purpose creating an orange hue to the world below, that is now waking again, a fresh start, a new day.

You simply must be dreaming.

Picking apart the clementine you had selected as your sunrise viewing snack, you watch the scene before you unfold, a rubix cube solving itself before your very own eyes. Sweet and sour juices cascade down your throat, and you notice the uncanny resemblance the fruit in your palm mirrors to the morning. You know the picturesque serenity will soon fade away, turning sour as children awake from their slumbers and car engines are started back up again, but you enjoy the sweet while it remains.

Startling you from your daze, you feel a warm body suddenly press up against your backside, arms encircling your waist, cold palms resting against your exposed stomach, creating a valley of goosebumps in their wake. You relax immediately into his touch, snuggling into him and sighing as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Your hands are freezing," you whisper to him, careful not to disturb nature.

Without a word, he smooths his palms up and down the skin of your tummy in a fast pace in hopes of warming them. After doing so for a couple seconds, now satisfied with the new temperature, he sinks his hands cheekily beneath the band of your underwear, fingertips resting on each hip, using your cotton panties as a blanket.

You almost snicker at his antics, but choose instead to offer him the last piece of your fruit, hovering it over where you imagine his mouth to be near your shoulder. He happily accepts your donation, chapped lips wrapping around your two fingers, a tongue darting out momentarily, teasingly. Out of the corner of your eye you see a smirk fall upon his face as he munches on the fruit, the deep crevice of a dimple forming for only a second. You focus your gaze back on the sun, who has already risen significantly higher in the few minutes Harry had stolen your attention.

As if to thank you for orange, Harry presses a kiss to your skin, then decides after five seconds that one was not enough, for you feel his lips drag across the expanse of your bare shoulder, making their way to the base of your neck. A sticky residue of juice is left behind as his tongue licks your skin, sucking, nipping, biting, causing your eyes to flutter shut and an appreciative hum to rise from the back of your throat. Your head tilts back, allowing the man showing you his love more access. His palms move from their previous shelter underneath your panties, a single finger ghosting up your skin, poking your bellybutton, until it moves beneath the thin tank top you're sporting, tracing the valley of your chest. Two palms encase your breasts, massaging slowly, and your nipples pebble beneath the all-too-familiar touch. Humming again, you get lost in the way Harry has encased you in your third dream of the day.

"You're bein' nice. Should give you a piece of my orange more often," you snicker as Harry flicks your nipple once before encircling his arms around your waist again, hugging you, sinking into your quicksand. He gently sways the two of you, molten together like two pieces of chocolate underneath a beachy sun, one silhouette.

"Mmm..." he hums, and you know he's about to say something else as he presses one final peck beneath your ear, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

A few minutes pass by in silence, and you patiently await the first mumblings of your boyfriend, expecting the special, raspy voice that belongs to early Harry. Unlike the rasp that occurs after a show, or the rasp after a bitter fight, this one is your favorite, because you're the only one who gets to hear it. You're the only one that gets his mornings.

"Wanna have sex?"

You blink at the sudden abrupt and blunt statement interrupting your sentimental thinking. Chuckling softly at your two contrasting mindsets, you tease him, "Bored already? It's not even 7 yet."

"Not bored," Harry lifts his head, pretending to be shocked at your accusation as he spins your body around in his arms so he can finally get a good look at you. He notices the smile already plastered on your face as you turn into view, and he thinks that he would do anything to capture you in this moment and keep it locked away in his chest forever. "Jus' wanna have sex with you. Love havin' sex with you."

You run your hands up Harry's bare chest and begin to fiddle with the chain hanging around his neck, thumbing over the plated cross that has ironically swung over you countless times, "Gotta check this off the to do list?"

You're only joking, but the sudden frown that washes over Harry's face makes you think he didn't pick up on that. Suddenly ever-so-serious, creases form between his brow, "Sex with you is never something to just mark off my to do list."

"No?" you raise your eyebrows and fold your hands behind his neck, tugging gently at the curls there, twirling them around your pointer finger.

With a quick and firm shake of his head to confirm his sentiment, he places a loving kiss on your cheek, then the other one, then on the center of your pout, lingering there for a moment before sneakily slipping his tongue into your mouth and massaging it languidly against yours, the tangy bitterness of the orange encircling the two of you, making your toes curl and your hands slide into the curled mess sitting atop your lover's head, knots from a deep slumber, a rats nest begging for a comb, but your fingers will simply have to suffice.

"Love you," he mumbles as he pulls away, speaking his mind yet directly from his heart all at once.

You can't help but grin at him, the sunlight from the view you were ogling over mere seconds ago casting a perfect golden hue onto his tanned skin. You're so close you can see every pore, every beauty mark, every scar. If you closed your eyes you would be able to trace his skin with ease, knowing every landmark on his road map, knowing every bit and piece of Harry that makes him Harry. He's so familiar to you, a body you know sometimes better than your own, a body you're always longing for, regardless of the countless of times you've made love by now. There's something so innocently intimate about this moment, something so casual and domestic.

You wish to capture him right now, in this very instant, with curls that have definitely looked worse but definitely looked better, glistening pink lips that are still slightly chapped from their lack of use through the night, a slight stubble around his jaw and below his nose, eyebrows crisscrossed in a chevron pattern that is entirely unnoticeable unless you're peering directly into his sleepy eyes (paired with faint purple circles underneath), in nothing but a pair of briefs, one leg hiked up significantly higher than the other (most likely due to the starfish position he chose to undertake in sleep last night), and lock it away in a special place in your mind forever.

This is Harry. Your Harry. The version of him reserved just for you.

And how could you say no?

"Okay," you smile as you watch his eyes light up like a school boy sneaking his first kiss against the tree on the playground, a million fireworks exploding in a forest.

In one sudden, swift movement, Harry swings your body over his shoulder with ease, as if you weigh nothing more than a sheet of paper. Now seeing the world upside down, you erupt into a burst of giggles, your hair swinging below you as your boyfriend begins to maneuver around your home. The sunrise slowly defocuses, shifting out of your view as the replacement sunshine carries you towards your bedroom.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking you know," you manage to speak out between laughs, and you imagine there's undoubtedly a bulging vein at the center of your forehead from your current position.

"Hush," is all he says in response, paired with a couple pats on your bum that is so conveniently placed on his shoulder. "Bed or shower?"

"Uhhhh," you begin, now having a perfect view of your living room as Harry now stands in the doorway of your bedroom. Drumming your hands on the backs of his thighs in contemplation, you weigh your options, "Last time we did it in the shower you almost slipped and broke your neck so-"

"Your fault for using so much bloody conditioner-"

"Thought you liked my conditioner, said it smelled like roses-"

And then he's throwing you on top of the mattress, your back colliding with the plush duvet, and head sinking into the array of pillows Harry simply has to have (the first night he spent at your place, you only had two. the next time he came over, a dozen new pillows sat crammed in his backseat, claiming it was good for "neck and back support"). You barely have a second to think before he's crawling over you, palms placed on each side of your head, his knees trapping you against your hips. Fanning out, your hair creates a halo around you, making you look even more of an angel the man hovering above you sees you as. Out of the corner of your eye you see one of his rings twinkle in the singular beam of sunlight peaking through your curtains, and you can't help the smile that warms your face.

"What are yeh smilin' at?" Harry grins, peering down at you below him. He looks ethereal, tattoos contrasting and standing out even in the darkness masking the room, thick biceps flexing as they hold his body up above yours, smiling in that way he does only when he's around his other half. He belongs in a gallery, framed in gold trim, available to be studied and fawned over. Yet here you are, selfishly adoring what the masses wish they could view, an unbothered bliss.

"Nothin," you respond, locking your arms behind his neck, scratching his scalp lightly, it feels like the first ten chews of bubble gum, squishing a marshmallow between your fingertips, a fruity piña colada on a hot summer's day, and he hasn't even touched you yet. "just love you."

And you do. So much it consumes you. So much it hurts. So much you'd dive head first into shark infested waters if it meant feeling his palm against your cheek.

And if you thought that smile of his couldn't possible grow any bigger, you're proven wrong yet again. He catches your lips between his, suckling on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue in your mouth, licking into you as if you're the last bucket of water on earth and he's parched, shriveling at the seams. It's like his one mission in life was to move his tongue against yours, and he's perfected his craft flawlessly. His body presses down against yours, needing contact, gently grinding his bulge that is growing with each rotation of his hips against your clothed core.

"Love you so much," he mumbles in between sloppy kisses, noses bumping every so often, causing a few giggles to interrupt the sweet silence.

After removing your shirt in one swift movement, desperate to reveal the miles upon miles of skin he never tires of studying, his lips soon travel south, leaving a piece of his heart in their tracks from the corner of your mouth, to beneath your ear, to your jaw, to your breasts, to your tummy, to your hip bone.

"Can I have a taste darlin'? Please? M'achin' for it," ringed hands run up and down the sides of your abdomen before they encircle your thighs, spreading them apart so a mess of caramel curls can settle between them, nails creating half-moons onto your skin.

A breathy exhale releases from you as he brushes his nose exactly against where he knows your clit is, ghosting the pad of his thumb against it once teasingly. Hooded green eyes peer into yours from their position between you, and you think you'd like to have this photograph etched into your brain for eternity. Your lover, in between your legs, begging to lick you until your thighs shake.

"Can smell yeh angel, makin' my mouth water. Gonna let me taste yeh fo' a bit?" His accent is huskier, low and raspy, shavings of dark chocolate sprinkled on a bitter raspberry tart.

And again, how on earth could you say no?

"Please H," you grasp onto the cusp of a chestnut curl, gripping onto it as your life depends on it as Harry quite literally dives into you.

Your underwear is thrown and forgotten across the room as his lips attack your folds, tongue licking into you and spreading you apart in a way that only Harry can do. You're a watermelon cracked open on the deck of a yacht, juice dribbling onto to sugar-high-chasing chins. Prickles of his facial hair rub against you in the most agonizingly amazing way, and you yelp when he delivers a harsh suck to your clit right off the bat, moaning and whining underneath his touch.

His tongue doesn't miss a single spot, devouring you and causing your heart to thump harshly against your chest. Suddenly and abruptly, Harry inserts a finger into your entrance, curling it inside you and pumping it in and out a couple times before adding another. His fingers and tongue simultaneously work you, and if your brain hadn't turned to jelly, you'd be delivering a speech consisting of his name and various other praises.

"Gimme a good one, lover," he demands, his lips vibrating against you. When his lips move to suck harshly on your clit yet again as his fingers repeatedly hit that one cushiony spot inside you, you're sent over the edge, curling your toes, moaning relentlessly, and jerking your hips abruptly, causing harry's large palms to trap them back down against the mattress.

He's a professional, an artist, painting you with each lick of his tongue against your nerves, each curl of his fingers inside of you, making a masterpiece out of you as you ride out your wave of pleasure, coasting it until it crashes against the shore. His starry night.

And when you finally chase down your high, and Harry's still licking your folds, you tug his roots away from you, wiggling from overstimulation. A whine leaves Harry's cherry lips as he's tugged back to you. A smirk warms his face, a dimple reappearing, and his thumb brushes the corner of his mouth, catching some of your arousal, before it sinks between his glistening lips. Sucking the remnants of you from his finger, he hums, "tastes like clementines."

His words send you into a frenzy, a vampire flung into a blood drive, and you grasp onto his shoulders and flip him roughly onto his back, straddling him and trapping his lips in a kiss before any objections can leave them. His hands encase your back, scratching here and rubbing there. You can still taste you on his tongue as it swirls against your own, and when you take his lower lip between your teeth, he lets out a throaty groan, lifting his hips to rut against your sensitive core to relieve himself for just a moment.

"Achin' aren't you baby?" You ask, tracing your fingers over the butterfly stamped on his chest, to the ferns above his v-line, to the sparse patch of coarse hair right above his underwear that sits low on his waist. Palming over the fabric, you feel how hard and thick he's gotten, and you can only imagine how frustrated he must be.

"Fuck, yeah. Fuck me angel, please. Always achin' for yeh," Harry whimpers, green eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he watches you teasingly toy with the band of his underwear, tracing the skin right above where he needs you most.

You tap his hip bone twice, and he obliges by lifting his hips, allowing you to drag his underwear to his feet and fling them across the room, undoubtedly joining yours somewhere. He loves when you take charge, loves when you tell him what to do without even verbally saying anything. You could do anything to him, and he'd love it. He's so caught up in your orbit he'd completely miss the asteroid hurtling towards him at a thousand miles per hour.

And when his cock springs up against his stomach, tip red and glistening with precum, your mouth literally waters.

How the fuck can a dick be that pretty?

Crawling back over to him, you gently twist your fingers around his member, giving him a few pumps that causes his head to roll back against the pillow, veins bulging in his neck as a loud groan leaves his open lips. His eyes flutter shut as you stroke him, and you're nearly about to go down on him when he interrupts your thoughts.

"Put me in darlin', won't last if yeh keep doin' that. Wanna feel your pretty cunt wrapped around me, yeah?"

And you don't have to be told twice.

Lining him up with your entrance, you slowly sink down onto him inch by inch, hissing at the faint burn that always comes with him stretching you out like this, especially after his tongue already worked wonderful magic on you mere minutes ago. Harry moans, praising and chanting your name in whispers. His face is pulled in pleasure, eyebrows furrowing, lips open as heavy pants leave them.

As soon as you get to the base of him, you take a moment to adjust before slowly working up a rotation of your hips, circling around him and rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone in the process, sending an overwhelming wave of goosebumps down your spine. Harry's hands move up and down your back, to your ass, to your pebbled nipples, massaging and coasting over every single centimeter of skin he can reach.

Creating a rhythm, you begin to sink up and down on his cock, causing your tits to bounce as you pick up the pace. He's filling you up in the best way imaginable, hitting every spot, encompassing every inch. You can't tell where he stops and you begin, waterfalls inter-joining and cascading down together, intertwined in harmony and mind-numbing pleasure. The sound of your skin slapping together is music to your ears, a sweet symphony of your bodies exuding love.

"Harry god," you moan when his tip reaches that one spot inside you, eyes rolling back, tilting your head in a way that broadcasts the expanse of your neck dotted with purple bruises from Harry's lips, and your chest, breasts glistening with beads of sweat.

"Like that angel? Like when yeh ride me like this?" Harry groans at the sight of you, a masterpiece fucking him so well he nearly forgets his name. You're glowing, a shining mass far too bright for him, and he almost debates jetting off for his sunglasses. "Know yeh do. Fuckin' perfect. Ridin' me so well angel, tha's it."

It's paradise, toes sinking into beds of sand, observing the sun as it sinks into the ocean, leaving an array of creamsicle in its path, a massage from warm palms after a hard week hunched over a computer, finally finishing the book you've started three times, dog-earing the pages with passages that jump out to you, a cold shower when the air-con is out, sweaty bodies lost under the brief escape of the chilling water. It's perfect. It's you and Harry.

He can't take his eyes off you, not wanting to miss a single second of this, barely blinking so he can come back to each frame and rewatch this film over and over and over again. Moving his palms against your sides, he watches as your breasts move up and down, and he can't help the next words that tumble out of his mouth, ""Your tits are fuckin' dynamite have I ever told you that?"

Locking eyes with your lover, you smile widely, pearly whites broadcasted in an ear-to-ear grin at his ability to say something so completely Harry in this intimate moment. You let one giggle escape your lips, briefly shaking your head at the man, causing a lock of your hair to fall out of place and over your eyes.

His knuckles brush the stray away so it doesn't block your view of him beneath you, and then he cups your cheek and grins, an eternal sunshine radiating his heat onto you, "Wha'? It's true. Your tits are fuckin' incredible. Can't believe I get to see 'em."

Feeling nothing but pure adoration, you observe the same look in his eye, his smile sparkling beneath you, eyes twinkling into yours as if a projector is relaying the words "I love you" in a cursive script across his irises. Blinking once, taking a snapshot of his face right now, you lean into his touch and place a kiss to his palm, "Thanks lover."

Clenching your walls around him, Harry loses his train of thought and releases an ear-splitting moan, one that nearly makes you cum in that very instant. His hand moves from your cheek to your side again, both palms squeezing your hips. He bites his lip so hard it almost draws blood, his cock twitching as it buries inside you, skin on skin, absolutely no barriers. "My lover," he mumbles, eyes darting off to where your bodies are connecting, watching your pussy slide up and down his cock.

Your thighs begin to burn, and you feel that all too familiar feeling bubble in your abdomen, foam overflowing a cappuccino. Placing your palms on his chest, you hover over him, grinding your hips repeatedly, "Your lover. The only one."

He wraps his hands around your wrists, bringing them to his lips to kiss the back of your hands, then pecking each one of your fingers, mumbling in between each token of his affection, "Only one that can fuck me like this angel, only one."

Once he releases his hold on your hands, he moves one of his fingers down to your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a way that causes you to cry out, "Fuck, Harry, I'm gonna-,"

"There we are," he smirks, watching you lose it before his very eyes, and he knows when your brow begins to furrow that you're close to unraveling again, "go ahead darlin' come on your cock. It's yours."

Your movements become sloppy, no longer fluid and concentrated like before as you run after your orgasm. Still desperate to prolong this feeling as longer as possible, you pick up the pace even more, riding him faster despite your body's oncoming exhaustion. His finger continues to linger where you need it, playing with you and sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

"Fuck, that's it," Harry's raspy praises causes a flush to rise to your chest and cheeks, "Not far behind yeh lover keep goin'."

He loves the way you look when you come, the way your face twists and your mouth drops in the shape of an O, strawberry lips glistening in ecstasy, begging for a taste. Sweat running down your chest and lingering on your temples, messy hair frizzy from the pillow and his fingertips, golden skin shining in the low-light. But he particularly loves the way you never ever shut your eyes, even though sometimes the waves are so euphorically catastrophic you're tempted to let your eyes rest to absorb the moment fully. Yet here you are right now, candle wax melting above him into a sea of warm rose water, peering directly into his eyes, revealing every word you wish you could say. A whimper, Right there. A moan, I love you.

And once he's viewed the sight beautiful enough to blind him, he's coming as well, his cock twitching as he releases warm spurts of him inside of you. As soon as you feel him soften, you lift up off of him and collapse on top of his sweaty chest, limbs exhausted and body spent from your two orgasms. You rest your head on a swallow, the steady heartbeat of your lover echoing softly into your eardrum, gooey caramel summersaulting over cotton candy skies, a chilling ice cube plummeting and disappearing into a hot tub, steaming, steady, Styles.

Harry presses a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering for a moment, I. two, Love, three, You. One hand rests on your piping back, scratching lightly up and down, while the other strokes your hair away from your face, a touch so soft and delicate as if he'd break you into a million pieces if he's not too fragile. Precious cargo.

"Love you," you mumble, nearly half asleep as his touch sends another wave of soothing calmness through your nerves, unaware that the exact same words were repeating over and over through his brain in this moment.

Harry smiles, a wide, bunny-tooth grin, and even though you can't see it, you know it's there, for his heartbeat quickens ever-so-slightly.

"Love you, angel. So much."

It's laying here, post-sex, in the comforting silence of your home, that you think you quite like these moments more than any others. The ones that are so simple and habitual one would deem them unimportant, a cup of tea gone cold, last Sunday's paper. These moments are what make you feel the closest to Harry, behind closed doors, just you and him, in your own bulletproof bubble, making love, starting and ending each day, together. And you think you quite like the idea of spending forever in that bubble, watching the sunrise, sharing your clementine, and spending the day tangled in sheets with the man that has irreversibly stolen your heart.

Theirs was a brief beauty, autumn leaves before they fall to the ground, trampled on, forgotten. Yours was forever, an easy love, one that didn't have to try, one that flourished, even when the odds were pent against you. An easy love, a flourishing love, a habit you never wish to break. As simple as a well-known recipe, caramel-colored pages wilting from being passed by generations. As complex as learning the avenues and allies, hiding spots and hidden treasures of a new city. He was everything, the light, the dark, the beginning, the end.

And when you wake up the next morning, peering over your shoulder in the doorway of your shared bedroom to see that all too familiar starfish spread out and suctioned to the sheets, you smile, knowing that in only a couple of minutes he'd notice the left side of the bed had gone cold, springing up out of bed in search of his personal radiator, his lover. You trot to the kitchen, and right as you reach to grab a clementine, you notice a note that had not been there the night prior, stuck to the thick peel of the fruit.

"To Do List:

- Go on a run. - Propose to girlfriend. - Have sex with girlfriend fiancé. - Call Mum. - Buy more clementines."

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swoftbambi · 3 years

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*"artistry 🍵🌿

-;pairings: shinra x neutralartist!reader

-;warnings: none just fluff :3

-;word count: 986

-; authors note: this is for bestie @vuljo so i hope you enjoy, essentially your like a big brother/sibling to him and share an apartment together. yada yada i really liked this concept so i wrote it!! btw i never have wrote for shinra before so do not come after me!! love ya mwah!

you were working in your in the corner of your makeshift studio in your shared apartment with your friend shinra.

running the paintbrush down the canvas, the bright watercolors made beautiful swirls and figures. the greens and blues mixing together making a beautiful landscape on your canvas. you didn’t usually get lots of motivation nowadays, it seemed like you’ve painted everything and your brush was getting bored using the same strokes and patterns. zoned into your painting you didn’t even realize your roommate had come back home from work.

“you painting again?”, his voice called. shinra was in his baggy suspender pants and black shirt. he already kicked off his flip flops, placing them right next to the door.

you whipped your head towards him, “oh yea, i got some motivation”, turning back towards the unfinished painting.

shinra plopped down on the couch, laying his hands on the back of it, laying his head up. turning towards him you noticed his eyes were closed before he let out a small sigh turning back towards you.

“tough day?”, you asked, stroking your paintbrush lightly.

“Mm it’s always a tough day out there, but it was alright out there”, his ruby eyes staring at you.

he came up beside you and with his hands folded across his chest, “hey that’s pretty good y/n”.

you turned over to him being met with his short black hair and small blush.

“thank you, it’s supposed to be some landscape of tokyo”, you picked out some pink paints and started dotting on small flowers blossom petals on the ground.

shinra hummed, “how come you haven’t painted me yet?”.

he had a small pout on his lips, crimson orbs meeting yours. he looked like a tiny puppy, waiting for your answer.

“maybe it’s cause your ugly”, giving him a little smirk. his mouth fell agape at your reply.

”i am not ugly”, he huffed walking back over to the couch.

you laughed to yourself as he slouched back into the cushions of your couch, turning on the television.

the picture you were painting was actually a memory that came to you when you were little. shinra and you playing in the park your mom used to take you both to. before shinras mother passed, you all would play small games and look onto the lake you dubbed ‘the lake of fire’.

once his mother had passed, your mother took him in. it was like a having your best friend as your sibling. literally. to be honest, you didn’t know why you thought of that memory today, and why you got the sudden urge to paint but here we are.

ours had passed, shinra ordered ramen and fried pork for dinner leaving you some by the small stool beside you.

“you should get something to eat, you’ve been sitting there a long time”, shinra said.

you sighed taking a bite of the noodles still concentrated on the canvas, that was half drying on your easel.

the glass of water your brushes were bathing in was murky and light. the easel spotted with blots of watercolors and water splatters.

turning over you saw shinra, was still on the couch watching his weird shows. he was waiting for you to go to bed like he always does.

when he moved in with you and your mom back in the day, he would wait for you to go to sleep together, not wanting to be alone. he carried the habit to now, but you didn’t really mind it.

“shinra you could go to bed if you want”, you called out.

he turned his head towards you, his midnight hair covering the tops of his eyes, “i’m good”, he turned back towards the tv, “are you almost finished?”.

taking out the slim brush from the glass, tapping it lightly, “almost i just have a couple more things to add, it won’t take long”.

he hummed in his response, returning his attention back towards the screen.

the brush danced lightly as you filled in the sketch of toddler you and shinra, laying on the soft green grass. painting shinras cute little blushes that were more prominent when he was a child made your heart swell with joy.

it seemed like you were done waiting for it to dry. to be honest you didn’t want to show shinra, as it was more like a painting for you, a very intimate one. so, you hid it in a closet for it to dry, keeping it out of his sight.

the next morning you woke up later than you usually do, probably because you were up all night, but you wanted to see the end result of your creation. wanting to spot any detail unpleasing to the eye or a spot that needed more color. you are met with a tilted shinra staring into your closet.

his face was in awe, he looked like he unlocked something almost. a key fitting into its keyhole.

“is that me... y/n?”, shinra pointed at the black haired, rosy cheeked kid on the ground.

you looked over at the painting, inspecting it from afar, “yes”, you sighed, “does it look good?”.

he turned back to you, sort of shocked at your question, “i love it y/n”, he went over to you embracing you in a hug.

shinra was warm, whenever you hugged him it felt like family, it felt like home. squeezing him tighter you felt him rub his head on your shoulder, letting out a small laugh.

“ok you can stop being sappy now, shinra”, patting his shoulder. he pulled away before looking back at the painting again with a little frown.

“what’s wrong, did i mess something up?”, you looked over at his face.

he shook his head, pointing at himself in the painting, “my forehead is not that big!”.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes, “are you joking?”.

“i’m being serious change it!”

#shinra x you #fire force #fire force fluff #fire force drabble #fire force fanfiction #fire force shinra #shinra drabble #shinra kusakabe #shinra kusakabe drabble #shinra x y/n #🤍love.flavoni

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

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Watercolors & Waterfalls || College!Stanley Uris x Reader

Day 4 of Fictober

Fandom: It (2017/2019)

Pairings: College!Stanley Uris x [gn]College!Reader

Requested: Hi! Could I get a college Stan x reader where she’s an art student and always doing silly stuff and like booping his nose with paint and he acts like “ugh quit it” but he’s actually so in love? Thank youuuuu!

A//n: Hiya, honey! Thanks so much for requesting, and such an adorable one too! I could picture it as soon as I read it and I'm glad to finally be getting to it. It's not as long as I wanted since I didn't have all day to work on it and get it published in time, so I hope to come back and expand later. But hopefully this will do for now. Hope you enjoy! **** UGH okay i SWEAR i got this done before midnight, its just the whole editing process took a lot longer than anticipated and my day today was pretty busy.

Fictober Day 4: "that didn't stop you before"

"I seen a rainbow yesterday, But too many storms have come and gone, Leavin' a trace of not one God-given ray,"

Stan looks up from his text book when he realizes he's reread the same paragraph for the fourth time. Stan looks up from his text book when he realizes he's reread the same paragraph for the fourth time.

You sat across from him at your desk preparing the last of your supplies, paint somehow already on your brow before your watercolor canvas as you bounce around in your seat to your radio.

"Is it because my life is ten shades of gray, I pray all ten fade away, Seldom praise Him for the sunny days,"

Stan watches completely perplexed as you spout the lyrics almost perfectly while you make slight adjustments to your work with the pencil behind you pulled from behind your ear. You were completely captivated by the music and the task before you, and completely unaware of his stare.

"And like his promise is true, Only my faith can undo, The many chances I blew to bring my life to anew," you began painting, your hand managing to stay steady as your body continued to bounce with the beat. "Clear blue and unconditional skies, Have dried the tears from my eyes, No more lonely cries,"

Oh, how Stanley wished he had his camcorder.

"My only bleedin hope is for the folk who can't cope, With such an endurin' pain that it keeps them in the pouring rain, Who's to blame for tootin' caine into your own vain? What a shame, you shoot and aim for someone else's brain, You claim the insane and name this day in time for fallin prey to crime I say this system got you victim to your own mind. Dreams are hopeless aspirations in hopes of coming true. Believe in yourself the rest is up to me and-"

"DON'T GO CHASING WATERFALLS!" You pull your head up to look at your boyfriend of four years with a grin before diving back in. "Come on Stan, I know you know it, -THE RIVERS AND THE LAKES THAT YOUR USED TO."

Stan sighs, not bothering to fight the eye roll that brings him back to his text book. Nor the tight-lipped smile that crept up on his face. All the while missing the playful grin you wear as you continue to belt the lyrics.

"I know you're gonna have your way or nothin' at all, But I think you're moving too fast,"

"And I thought we agreed to get some work done, today?" He asks, with a look of hidden playfulness.

You easily return his look with a cocked brow, your eyes pulling away from the small pool of blue water that swirled with your brush.

"I am getting my work done," you answer. "Aren't you?"

His textbook falls back flat on the desk as he looks at you from across the wooden table, perturbance written all over his face. But your smile only widened when you spotted the look in his eyes that never left when you were around. No matter how stressed Stanley got, how angry, his eyes always held a certain softness for you. You set your brush down, now leaning on both your folded arms as you met his gaze. He was much too tall for the dorm chair he sat in now, his skinny frame towered over the desk in a long hunch that all piled onto of the table across from you.

"You said I'd be able to study," he says.

You shrug. "So study,"

Another flat look. "Y/n, I love you but you're kind of making it impossible."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"You know exactly how,"

Your eyes fall away from his, your hands coming to lazily pick up your brush and fingers fiddling with the bristles. You can still feel his eyes drilling into yours, but you merely focus on wet beads of paint that spill onto your fingertips as you wear an exaggerated look of confusion.

"I don't know what your talking about," your innocent tone is laced with sarcasm.

Stan sighs. Don't be fooled, he adores every minute he spends with you which was why he was so eager to come to your dorm when you asked him to sit in for reference. Your current media study was watercolors, and to test your limits a bit, you had asked your loving boyfriend if he would be your reference model. He was your inspiration after all, and he adored your work. Anytime you did anything outside of school - which was a lot, mind you - Stan would make a HUGE deal about it and talk his way into keeping it. His dorm walls were completely filled with your artwork, he was no doubt your biggest fan. But today?

Well, today was another sit in day, probably one of the last ones so to speak. You had already had a few so that you could sketch him - he was NOT allowed to look, which frustrated him greatly - and he had quickly learned to bring something to do keep him busy. Unfortunately for Stanley, pressures had begun to rise in his classes as of late and Stanley was, to put it delicately, a rubber band ready to snap.

So here he was, sitting before you and your mini tabletop easel he wasn't allowed to peek at as you met his stern gaze with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Y/n, I mean it-"

You freeze as you stare at your boyfriend with your jaw hanging open in a smile. While playing with the bristles, several blue droplets of paint had gone airborne and landed all across his face. His eyes were screwed shut, lips pursed uncomfortably as blue streaks fell down his face, painting his skin.

Finally, when he's sure he was clear of paint getting in his eyes, he opened them to find you still frozen with the goofiest look on your face.

"...Whoops." you chuckle.

He just blinks at you, and before he can speak you slowly extent your brush and dot his nose with paint. "...Boop."

He shakes his head in disbelief, lips puckered as he tries fighting a smile; a battle he sorely looses. You match his grin, the undeniable love sick gaze in his eyes behind that playful anger he wore.

"You're gonna pay for that," he says finally.

You scoff. "Seriously? It was accident!"

You laughed again. "And then, yeah, the other was on purpose. But its cool though, cause you look adorable."

Without breaking his gaze, he dips his fingers in your glass jar of paint water, and flicks his hand your face making you recoil. Your playful fury surfaces, and you rise to your feet to tower over him.

"Are you challenging me, Uris?" You asked. "If so, don't expect me to play by the rules, cause I won't. I won't hold back,"

He rises to meet your eye level, eyes squinting, palms on the table and your noses inches apart.

"That didn't stop you before,"

You smirk, left hand going unnoticed as it wrapped around the mason jar of paint water that sat on the desk beside you.

#fictober20 #fictober 2020 #fictober #stanley uris x reader #stan uris x reader #stan uris imagine #stanley uris imagine #stan uris one shot #stanley uris one shot #reader insert #x reader #requested #college au #gender neutral imagine #gender neutral reader

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buckyswinterbaby · 3 years

Text

Always By My Side — Prologue

Synopsis: Young Bucky and Ziarah learn about the story of the fates and soulmates. Whether the tales are true or not is left to be seen.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!OFC Ziarah Heartwell

Warnings (will change with each chapter): none that come to mind for this chapter besides a referencing to God.

Word Count: 1,189

Acknowledgement: I’ve created this AU alongside my best friend Taylor in roleplays, along with many of the plots and scenes that will be featured. I’m posting this with his expressed permission as we both continue to work on the story in our chat. Credit for its creation goes to both of us.

Please like, comment, and reblog (I love that shit). Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!

Note: This is is kind of a teaser/prologue to the series I’ll be posting the first chapter to soon called Always By My Side. It’s an AU my best friend Taylor and I have been building off of an imaginary friend prompt. I’m hoping this snippet will give you a bit of insight into the purpose of the soulmate bond in their world so you have some context going in. Hope you enjoy.

Addition: I said I’d tag you when I posted my WOC OFC story so here’s the first part, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer!

[Brooklyn - Late 1920’s]

Faded hues of yellows and oranges could still be seen through the thin panes of glass of the Barnes residence. The table had just been cleared from supper, the delicious aroma of Winnifred’s cooking still clung to the air.

Bucky and his sibling gathered on the floor in front of their mother, all freshly bathed and dressed for bed. The anticipation was clear in the younger ones’ faces as they prepared for their nightly story, though Bucky decided Rebecca’s shown the brightest. The woman couldn’t help but laugh as she settled into the wooden rocking chair that had soothed all of her children throughout the years.

“What story would you like to hear tonight, dears?” Winnifred’s smooth voice interrupted the youngest pair’s fit of giggles.

Charles, the second oldest after Bucky, was the first to answer. “Tell us the one about the coal miners again!” It was always his answer as he loved the voices his mother would use during her retellings.

Rebecca seemed less than sold on the idea as her freckled nose scrunched in distaste. “That one is silly! I want to hear about soulmates. Will you tell us that one, ma?” The glint in her eyes only seemed to grow as her mother hummed in agreement.

The rhythmic creaking of wood on wood could be heard as she began to rock, summoning the tales of lovers separated by miles being brought together with a bond that only true love could create, or so they said. Her blue eyes fell to Bucky’s, which mirrored her own, as she began to speak.

“They say the bond of soulmates is rare, God’s way of bringing together two people destined to meet and fall in love. The first stories were from long ago, before planes, cars, or even trains existed. When the corners of the earth were undiscovered and untouched by man. A time when mere miles could act as a barrier to keep others from ever meeting. The two individuals would see visions of one another, guiding them closer together over time. A mirrored reflection of their fated love.”

The children listened to her words with great interest as she continued her story, even Bucky’s attention seemed to turn her way. He had heard the stories a million times when he was younger. He’d lean in the doorway as she rocked a babe in her arms, telling them the tale that he had deemed himself too old to care about. Yet, as he found himself at the age where the pretty young dames around were of great interest, he also found himself considering the possibility. That there was someone out there in the world who was destined to love him in the truest way.

Bucky was sure it was a fairytale at its core, meant to spark a light of hope and possibility in the young eyes of youth. Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more akin to fate at play.

[Brooklyn - 2004]

Ziarah leaned over the top railing of the bunk bed she shared with her older brother. The boy on the lower bed rolled her eyes at the continued antics of their nightly routine as this was the third time his sister had been brought to bed that night alone. The four year old grinned goofily as her mother, Hanna, adjusted the silk bonnet on her head.

“Lay back and tuck in, my little bumblebee,” the woman said fondly, climbing the first few rungs of the ladder to pull the blankets up to her daughter’s shoulders. Once she was satisfied, she climbed back down to sit on the stool she kept nearby for bedtime stories. “Which one shall we read tonight?”

Hanna couldn’t help but sigh as Zara popped straight up in her excitement, wiggling out from under her pile of blankets and stuffed animals as she made her way right back down the ladder and onto her mother’s lap. She knew any scoldings she would give would be fruitless so she settled for gathering the girl warmly in her arms.

Zara seemed to consider the question for a moment, emerald green eyes scanning the small bookshelf tucked only a foot or so away. Her gaze settled on a small book on the second shelf. As her mother selected it, Zara’s hands reached out to run over the watercolor themed cover. Shades of blues and pinks blended together to create the scene of a galaxy, two lover constellations drawn into the stars.

“Ahh, yes, the lovers. This was one of my favorites growin’ up as well,” Hanna mused, memories of her own childhood swimming to the surface of her eyes. She shifted her daughter in her arms slightly so she could open the cover more easily, clearing her throat before she began to speak. “Once upon a time there were two fates, old and wise women who spun the tales of all humans. They did not control the stories as much as they were scribes--”

“Momma, what’s a sk-shir-scribe?” Zara looked up at her mother for an answer, her head leaning back against the woman’s shoulder.

“It’s someone who copies things down to keep a record,” she answered, placing a kiss on Zara’s forehead before continuing. “Of life. Occasionally, the threads of time would become twisted and out of line so the women would step in to correct it. That is how the existence of the soulmate bond came to be. Some time ago it was believed to be caused by the distance that separated two people meant to be together, but now they believe it’s changed--”

“To what?” Zara’s eyebrows knitted together in a line as her cheeks puffed out at her impatience.

Hanna couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics. “I don’t know, love. Though, perhaps if you let me read more than one page without interruption, we’d know by now.” While the color was barely visible, the girl’s cheeks heated up as she bared her baby teeth, one of her less subtle ways of defiance. Even so, Zara nodded for her to continue.

“They believe it’s changed to times when one or both halves won’t survive without the other. The fates trigger the bond to preserve life and sanity, to provide support to both halves when they need it the most. The occurrence is more rare than ever now, as it relies on both sides truly needing it,” She went on to finish the rest of the story as Zara’s eyelids seemed to grow heavy. She was ever so careful as she stood to carry the girl back to her bed, tucking her in for what she prayed would be the final time that night.

Zara let out a large yawn as she pulled her stuffed bunny, Frankie, to her chest. “Momma,” she called out through another yawn, blinking over at her lazily. “Do you think that I have a soulmate?”

She was asleep before Hanna could even answer, but even so she gently brushed her thumb over the girl’s soft cheek. “I hope that you never need to find out if you do or not.”

#marvel #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #black ofc #Ziarah Heartwell #always by my side #always by my side series #abms series #ABMS #Bucky Barnes x woc #Bucky Barnes x black!ofc #soulmates #soulmate AU #bucky barnes soulmate au

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dreamiesdotcom · 4 years

Text

sunrise, moonset | h.rj

Summary: You two were like sunset; that brief moment of alignment between two, a connection caused by the nature of the universe itself — that breathlessly beautiful moment where silver meets gold, even within the shortest time.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Happy Halloween <3 don’t be fooled this isn’t horror.

Renjun knows better than to fall in love.

He doesn’t remember why, he just knows it isn’t as fun and he can’t handle so many heartbreaks. It’s all pure deduction, of course, Renjun never really fell in love that hard. He’s had a couple of relationships, sure, a fair share; it’s just that he is all too good at that game.

At least, he was, until he realized that easy just doesn’t exist.

Easy shouldn’t be this difficult. Easy shouldn’t be this painful, easy shouldn’t be this damaging — simple wasn’t supposed to be this hard to understand. From that point forward, he just busies himself ruining pretty much everything.

He tried not thinking of the future — after all, it doesn’t do anything but give you faux certainty, all while doing it’s best to fragilize you. He insists he doesn’t want easy — even through gritted teeth, he insists he doesn’t want easy. Easy just won’t come, and if it takes so much suffering, then he doesn’t want it.

Renjun stopped painting — the world was too cruel to be immortalized. He stopped singing, too, even if he only ever sung to himself back then and nobody ever heard his voice. He stopped writing poetry and studying his troublesome maths and went to do his usual business, pretty much a zombie. He just… kind of stopped.

His world stopped moving, and he was destroying himself, but he was too tired to care. Everything he’s built, everyone he’s treasured, his passions, his feelings — he needed to stop hurting all of them, so he left. Renjun was too tired to care, but he loved just like that; even when he gets exhausted, he couldn’t help but fight for what should be done to not hurt anybody else more.

He loves that way; places himself after everyone and calls it love.

That wasn’t love. That was a terrible example of what selfish people thought love was.

So, Renjun knows better than to fall in love. How could he? He might’ve memorized the exact denotation of that word, but he barely even understands it! He doesn’t know.

He also doesn’t know how he met you — you were just kind of there, popped up out of nowhere, and smiled at him, even though he didn’t return it. He doesn’t push you away, only because he does like your company — he just really isn’t expressive. Kind of complicated, wired like a maze. You were there and you stayed for months, a very long time — Renjun knew better, but he doesn’t really know.

The only thing he is certain of is that he, Huang Renjun, thinks you two are a bit like the sun and moon — him, the lovely shade of gold, and you, the pristine hue of silver. You two were just too different. It’s almost like you were worlds apart, timelines distant and entwined by broken strings of fate.

And still, you were always the one to try to understand him. You were always the one he finds himself walking back to, answering your odd questions just like this one: “How does it feel to feel empty?”

“Honestly, it feels good to be empty… it feels kind of nice, to feel nothing, just like that..” Renjun drawls out, a bit unsure. Curious eyes await what words would come next — Renjun couldn’t continue fast enough, he realizes that he happened to be so good at lying that it became like second nature to him. Is he lying, or is it real? He clears his throat, “I find comfort in knowing that tomorrow, I will feel nothing again, and it would be okay.”

Renjun concludes that from now on, everything that leaves his mouth about himself that doesn’t involve you is a half-truth.

There’s something quite strange and difficult about you, he’s always noticed. It’s like you’re so special, just slightly not quite like him; your eyes look like they held whatever anyone wants to see, your lips dripped of words that was nothing but comfort. You also seem to be able to read his mind.

“What are you running away from, huh?”

What else should I run away from?

Renjun thinks of the day at the lake — he finally picked up his pencil and sketched the landscape, regretted that he didn’t bring his watercolor again after so long. He comes home and sets up his canvas, picks up a brush, and brings a scenery back to life with paint in a way nobody did quite like him. He does his homework after; he feels oddly fueled, even without coffee. He maps out what kind of future he wants for himself, a happy one. He thinks of ways he can make it work. He writes and he sings and he presses the dusty keys of his piano, the sound so familiarly strange. He drops all the shortcuts and accepts the challenge.

Renjun kept on thinking about how silly he was, running away from himself.

“Nothing,” he smiles.

He feels kind of strange, kind of exposed like this, eating his thoughts about half-truths because with that look in your eyes, so trusting and hopeful that he doesn’t lie, how in the world was he meant to be not genuine? He thinks before proceeding, considering the weight of his words, “I have nothing to run from anymore, now that I have you.”

Renjun thinks of how he’s wearing something different right now, simply because he always wore sweaters and stuff — he didn’t like the way his skin was so pale and lifeless. He also wears his glasses today; he used to only wear them when necessary back then so that for most of his days he saw the world in light leaks and blurs of motion around him. He leaves his hair a mess on top of his head. He doesn’t bother with anything aside from running his hands through it after showering, unlike back then when he would always mess with it for more than an hour.

He thinks of how he stopped trying so hard to not be who he was when his world was still spinning, erasing any trace of softness and anything that reminds him of who truly was, his little way of escaping himself. Then he thinks of how he stopped doing just that.

He sees the world clearly and he sees you clearly, though there was always this soft glow around you, much like a crown of soft light that you always wore. It makes him feel a bit warm with everything a little fuzzier, kind of dream-like, as if an illusion — it was like things were less real, maybe even less overwhelming, more heartfelt. Renjun finds a twisted pleasure in the surreal nature of these moments with you.

You smile at him, “Are you happy?”

“The happiest.” He reflects your expression, nodding enthusiastically. He closes his eyes only to open them again, trying to blink away all the happy tears. Renjun beams brighter, “Be here with me forever, yeah?”

He doesn’t get a reply, no promises made, but he does get what felt like a kiss on his forehead, feather-like and gentle, so very heavenly. He finds himself succumbing to sleep, content and warm, void of anything else but happiness. For an unknown reason, a tear rolls down his eyes.

He was just so happy like that, he couldn’t help but do so.

He wakes up the day after as if he was in a dream — a nightmare, maybe, but nightmares weren’t supposed to be so gently painful. Nightmares used to be a constant guest in his sleep — he knows more than anyone what they feel like; he knows the harsh tug at his chest and the terror in his mind, the desperate need to wake up. It was none of that. It’s a dream.

He knows that it was a dream, something beautiful, so lovely that he couldn’t help but cry, if the lingering feeling of dried tears on his cheeks was anything to go by.

His eyes roam around his room, which happens to be, unlike before, neat and organized. He looks at the empty corners, the door tightly shut, the walls painted a pale blue decorated with his paintings that he finally decided to hang. He slept too much again; it’s already noon, he notices when he glances at the window.

Laughter bubbles up from his throat a little, then he realizes again that oh, you two — you’re really, really different. You two are still different, so very different from each other. Though, rather than sun and moon both on their highest points at different times, Renjun concludes that you two are like sunset — sunset, moonrise; sunrise — sunrise, moonset — one is going up and the other is going down, that brief moment of alignment between the two, a connection caused by the nature of the universe itself. That breathlessly beautiful moment where silver meets gold, even within the shortest time.

Renjun wakes up to the sight of no one and realizes that he woke up from a dream, back to a nightmare. He feels a tear roll down his cheek again.

Renjun was supposed to know better than to fall in love with a ghost.

#nct dream #renjun #happy halloween #nct dream one shot #nct dream scenarios #nct dream timestamps #nct dream fanfic #renjun imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #renjun drabbles #renjun one shot #renjun timestamps #renjun x reader

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter thirty-two: heart of gold

“i wanna live, i wanna give, i’ve been a miner for a heart of gold. it’s these expressions that i never give: that keep me searching for a heart of gold.” -”heart of gold”, neil young

Oswego was a rather tightly woven little dot upon the southeastern shore of Lake Ontario, at least according to Joey. He also explained that the nuclear power plant on the far side of town was so set apart from everything else that it seemed to come from another world altogether. He made a joke about the river waters being radioactive but it only made Sam wary of everything around there.

“Nah—they haven't had a meltdown up there,” he assured her, “that's just the whole joke about being from here is all. That we all glow in the dark like a buncha of glow sticks or sump'n.” But then he drove them back to his place down in a town known as Camillus, not too far on the outskirts of Syracuse.

“Hang on, I thought you lived closer to New York City,” Sam confessed.

“I mean, it technically is—about a half an hour less of a drive. Oh, you talking about my old place? I had to move back around here in March 'cause that drive was getting treacherous in its own rite and rent was getting to be too much. I would'a told you sooner but—you know. Things happen. I'm making a little bit more money than I was before so I was able to do it.”

“Right, right, right.” Sam flashed back and when she, Frank, and Charlie had to rescue him from the snow.

“Besides, I was startin' to miss this part of upstate, as you'll see here in a couple of minutes.”

Despite the darkness, the orange and yellow trees that lined the landscape made her think of fire or the cotton balls she would find a craft shop. The nondescript edge of town reminded her of California as well as the outskirts of Reno and Carson City. The two lane highway turned into a four lane main street and she spotted the faint line of lights over a ridge on the southern side of town: the brightest yellow light shone out from the top part of the ridge. Sam glanced about the block for anything notable to recall for the next time she visited.

“Not much here,” she remarked.

“Nah, there really isn't,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “'Swaygo is even worse as we'll see tomorrow. But every part of this is home to me. I was born in 'Swaygo and I grew up all around here. Even though I've moved outta 'Swaygo, I still call it home.”

They rolled up to a stoplight and Sam peered across the intersection to the long low brick building nestled next door to a fuel station. She recognized a paint palette over the front window and a line of big bold text right over it.

“Is that an art store?” she asked with a gesture out the windshield.

“It sure is!” he declared. “Given it's night time and we're a buncha hicks 'round here, they're closed for the night. But we can go in there tomorrow if you'd like.”

“Yeah, I kinda need something to make an artistic rendering of you,” she explained, “and even though I have plenty of things back home for that, it's still a four hour drive regardless.”

The light turned green and they lunged forward. They drove past the art store and a mere white light shone in the front window: she knew that tomorrow was going to be quite the eventful for them as Joey hung a right past the shop.

“Right down this way,” he explained as they drove down the dark side street to the very end. He reached the stop sign and he peered both ways about the dark neighborhood. No one coming.

He rolled forward to the low apartment complex right in front of them, such that it took her by surprise.

“Yeah, it surprised my mom when I brought my parents along when I moved in here,” he told her; even in the dim light, she could make out the sight of that lopsided grin upon his face. Even though he had just turned twenty six, he still resembled to a little boy with that smile on his face and that twinkle in his eyes even in the darkness.

They bounded into the driveway and then they posted up at the big cube of silver mailboxes.

“Gotta check it out first,” he told her as he unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of his car. He rounded the front end, and the headlights shone upon his slender body as he made his way over to the mailboxes. Sam watched him fetch for the mail but then she noticed the soft glow of the headlights on the back of his curls. It was right there she wanted to draw him and then to paint him out with oil paints. Not watercolor, not acrylic, but oil paints.

She hadn't worked with oil paints before, but she wanted to do it right there for him.

He returned to the driver's seat with a little pink sheet of paper in hand.

“Gotta care package from my aunt,” he told her.

“Oh, boy!” she declared.

“I can't get it right now, though—tomorrow is gonna be quite full for the both of us.”

He started up the car again and they made their way over to the building on the right. Right before their parking spot stood a little walkway that extended around the building and into the darkness. Joey led Sam around the corner to a low doorstep and a cold blue door: when he unlocked the door, he let her go inside of the dark and cool apartment first. When she was inside, he reached for the light switch on the wall. It was a small place: they stood in the living room right there, which consisted of nothing more than a small thread bare gray couch and a small side table with a black lamp and a low glass coffee table; an eggshell colored vent about the width of the door itself stood on the left side of the room. Right in front of them was the kitchen, a narrow sliver of a room rounded by a low table with three chairs. To her right was a stone stairwell which led up to the loft.

“I assume that's your room upstairs?” she asked him with a point to the stairs.

“Sure is. Bathroom's up there, too, and—I think I have a spare tooth brush in my medicine cabinet. I'll haveta check 'cause I know how sucky the aftertaste of coffee can be, especially this time of day. But in the meantime, make yourself at home here, Sam I am.”

He shut the door behind him and he darted up the stone steps. Sam peered about the small living room: right behind her was a tiny television with rabbit ears over the top; a long low barren bookshelf, barren saved for a small handful of books and a few stacks of vinyl; another lamp up top with a cream colored lampshade, and a small hockey trophy. She stooped down for a look at the bookshelf: nothing she had heard of herself, but it was in fact comforting to see that Joey did have another nuance to him. She eyed the vinyl records, at all the Journey and Led Zeppelin, Foreigner and the Beatles, Deep Purple and Rush, Kansas and Yes. She let her eyes wander over the record player itself, tucked behind the television and with the cable coiled up on top of the protective glass. She wished for her copy of Spreading the Disease to merely appear before her just so she could play it right then and there.

“Yeah, I do have a spare one,” he was saying as he descended the stairs, and he stopped right in his tracks. Sam turned her attention to his standing on the bottom step. Joey showed her another little grin.

“Ah, I see you found my music collection,” he proclaimed; he lay the head of the plain red toothbrush in one hand as if it was a club.

“Of course,” she declared with a beaming smile on her face. She lifted herself into an upright position and brushed herself off even though the floor was clean.

“I learned to sing by singing to songs from the Beatles and Journey, y'know,” he said as he neared her, “I literally would sit in my parents' living room and listen to records on their player and try to sing along to the Fab Four and Steve Perry. I'd also sing to Foreigner and Rush, and that was how my voice came to be so high and light.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” she added.

“Gotta start somewhere, right,” he echoed, and he handed her the toothbrush.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft voice as if he had just given her the best gift ever.

“I also hate to make you sleep on the couch,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just think back to how uncomfortable we both were in the cabin last year for my birthday.”

“No, no, no—it's okay,” she assured him, and she couldn't think of anything else to follow up to that.

“It is pretty comfy,” he continued on. “I've napped on it many times before. One time, I came home at three o'clock in the morning and I pretty much collapsed onto it face down ass up. I actually woke up face down ass up. That's how comfy that couch is—I slept for four hours in that position. Wouldn't use one of those pillows, though—it's hard on the neck.”

“Do you have a spare pillow?” she asked him.

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

“Do you have a blanket?”

“I have many. Sam, this is upstate New York and I've lived out here the twenty six years I've been alive—we gotta have a shitload of blankets and a warm place to sleep at otherwise no one can survive up here. You can use a bit of my toothpaste, too.”

“Good to know,” she confessed as she tapped the head of the toothbrush against the inside of her palm. “'Cause—I gotta get this taste of coffee out of my mouth.”

* * * * *

Sam jerked over onto her side there on the couch cushions. Joey was in fact right about the couch: it was comfortable. Almost too comfortable. She had a difficult time even so much rolling over on her side or onto her back. She had woken up twice throughout the night but she had fallen back asleep. Perhaps it was from laying in a bed different from hers that threw her off a bit.

The spare soft pillow cradled her head: she sighed through her nose and kept her eyes shut against the rich darkness before her. The only sound came from the pipes running in the wall and Joey's slow, gentle breathing upstairs.

She thought about the incident with Alex back at the coffee house and that little raise of his eyebrows. He had softened for her a little bit right there, even with Joey right behind her ready to beat him down yet again. She barely knew the young man and he looked at her like that because of her past with Cliff.

She couldn't stop seeing it over and over again inside of her mind. Not to mention that little sliver of gray hair over his brow kept reappearing in her mind.

She thought about the mysterious man and the stripe in his hair. No way that was him, even though he shared a lot of similar looks to him. The stripe was far too big and Alex had too soft of a face as well. And yet she wondered about him. One thing that baffled her about him was his referring to Joey as her boyfriend. As far as she knew, he only saw them together that one time, unless he saw more of what Joey was doing at the memorial than she did: it made no sense to her.

It was all so much to think about that she wound up falling asleep again.

No sooner had Sam fallen back to sleep when she woke up yet again, that time to the sound of a heavy rain outside of the apartment window right in front of her. Joey yawned upstairs and cleared his throat. She opened her eyes and soft bluish gray light shone through the heavy white blinds.

Joey cleared his throat again.

“Hey, Sam, you awake?” he called out to her.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

“Sam?”

“Yeah—I just woke up. Why? What's up?”

“Kinda hungry right now. You want some breakfast?”' “Please,” she said in a broken voice.

She heard Joey climbing out of bed up there, and then he padded down the stone steps.

After a brew of coffee and a bite of biscuits and gravy courtesy of him, they climbed back into his car and drove down the block to that art store right as it opened for the day.

There were only six aisles before her, but she knew it was all for the best with all the smallness of the town. She couldn't hardly resist that new art supply smell as she picked out a pair of paint brushes and some acrylic paints: she had considered those beautiful oil paints but she wasn't willing to bust down for a can of turpentine, nor was she willing to fill Joey's apartment with that acrid odor. A brand new medium for herself and for Joey as well.

Meanwhile, Joey himself checked out the little wooden blank mannequins on the other side of the room: he picked one of the smaller ones for a closer look. Sam watched him move the arms about for the perfect pose. He set down the mannequin and he posed in its wake, as if he was ready to pose for her when they got the chance that weekend. But she couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of him.

Once she had picked out a canvas and spent the rest of the spare change in her pocket, she and Joey made their way back out to the lake effect rains.

“I got a little something waiting for us back at my place,” he said once they ducked back into the car in unison.

“Like what?” she asked him, but he didn't reply to her. He never did reply to her as they returned to the apartment and she set her things down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Joey ducked into the kitchen for something: Sam took the plain off white canvas out into the open. She ran her hand across the heavy grain of the canvas: like a thick heavy rug right underneath her skin.

“Sam?” he called to her. She raised her gaze to the counter top, and the tall brown glass bottle right before him, right in between his hands. She spotted the label on the front side there and her heart skipped several beats at the sight of it.

“Joey,” she begged as she shook her head at that. “Joey, please don't.”

“Why?” He frowned at her.

“Because it has booze in it.”

“And?”

“Joey, please,” she pleaded as she stood to her feet and scrambled closer to him. “I want you to stay away from the booze for a time.”

He never changed his expression at the sight of her.

“Why? It's just you and me here. And it's a whole weekend, too. You've got time before you gotta mosey on back to school.”

“Joey—you don't want to go there right now.”

“What? It's just one drink, though.”

“Yes, and one drink leads to a second one and a third one. It happened at the restaurant with all of us there before—and it'll happen again.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip and she watched his hand as it rested on the bottle neck. His fingers stayed curled around the smooth glass. It was dead silent in that room: silent save for her own shuddered breath.

“What if I told you,” he began in a low voice, “that I feel better stripping down to bare skin with a drink in me?”

“Just one?” she demanded.

“Just one.”

“I'll stand here while you drink it down, though. I need you to be as clear as possible to boot.”

“Clear but also loose.”

“Exactly,” she said, reluctant. Joey pried off the cap and he tipped the bottle back into his mouth. She set her hands on the edge of the counter and watched him. He drank it down in four large gulps, and he ran his tongue around his lips like that of a snake.

He fluttered his eyelids at her and set the bottle down on the counter in between them. She scanned his face and at his brown eyes in particular. Even in a few seconds time, she could see the effects of it overcoming him. The canvas and the paints awaited her.

“Let your clothes fall to the floor,” she told him in a low voice. He stuck out his tongue at her, and then he cracked a little grin at her.

“Come on—let them fall right off of your body.

He unfastened the button on those tight jeans and he let them fall down his legs towards his feet.

“D'you take your shoes off?” she asked him.

He then stooped down and pried off his shoes.

“I have now,” he said as he kicked off his jeans and left them there on the linoleum. He then peeled off his shirt and lay it across the counter.

“Man, you do not hold your liquor well, do you?” she joked.

“I dunno 'bout that,” he admitted; he stood there in his underwear right before her with a giddy look on his face. Sam frowned at him and she set one hand on her hip.

“What's the matter?” he asked her.

“Take off your underwear.”

“Why?”

“Don't question it. Just do it.”

He sighed through his nose and then he slipped his thumbs inside of that elastic band. He let them fall onto the floor, right next to his jeans. Sam gestured for him to follow her.

“Right over here,” she encouraged him in a gentle tone; and she led him to the middle of the living room, right in front of the coffee table. “Hang on a second—”

She doubled back to the kitchen table for a chair, and she brought it back to him. A perfect fit in between the coffee table and the vent on the wall.

“Have a seat.”

Joey plunked down on the cushion and spread his legs out a little bit for her to see in between his thighs.

“Want me to pose for ya?” he cracked as he raised his arms over his head.

“No. Just sit normal. Let me see you. Let me see you in your entirety.”

Joey set those large hands on either side of his hips, right on the edge of the seat. Sam headed into the kitchen for a wash basin.

“There's an empty pickle jar right there next to the sink,” he told her; indeed, there was, so she picked it out and filled it with clean cool water from the faucet. She returned to him and picked up the paint brush. The sole light came from the kitchen and from the window on the side of the room but it proved to be enough for her. A nice moody painting for the man himself.

Even with the cool lighting in that apartment, there was a bit of a sheen to his skin, especially right around his knees and his ankles. A healthy shine of sorts upon the rich darkness about his skin, and one that she was eager to cover with her paint brush.

She didn't have her pencil in hand, but she could have a good look at his slender nude body before her. He had eaten and drank down a bit of alcohol: he was full enough for her and those soft yellow and brown tones for his skin.

She thought about Alex and the little pearl of gray hair over his forehead. She gazed at the painted head on the paper, at Joey's head of black curls. A fleeting thought crossed through her mind that told her to dip the brush into white paint and make a little pearl over his forehead. And yet she flashed back on their scuffle back at the coffee house: she need not draw attention to that, even if it was art.

Such a small, slender little body. Much like Cliff, he had a little crease in between his waist and his thighs as if he had had a belt there. Maybe it was just part of the male anatomy, to have that little crease there near their thigh region. If there was one thing she needed to polish up on in her future drawing classes, it was all of that. The taste of the fundamentals and perhaps running away with them more and more in her own artistry.

She used that one brush for his whole body and his thick black hair. A touch of blue all over and she had a portrait of Joey, done with nothing more than her and him in the safety and privacy of his own home.

“May I see it?” he asked her.

“Of course! You are the subject after all.”

She picked up the canvas and she showed it off to him, and he brought a hand to his chest.

“I don't have a pencil on hand so I just winged the whole thing,” she confessed, “so it's a bit rougher than I like and what I'm used to, too.”

“No, no, I love it! And it's not just the booze talking with that, either—that really looks like a Native American painting! I wanna share that with everyone now.”

“Well, it has to dry out first,” she told him as she placed it back down on the coffee table.

“Okay. Should I get dressed now?”

“Please,” she encouraged him with a gesture to him.

“I'll get dressed and I'll drive us up to 'Swaygo 'cause the day is still pretty young.”

“As long as you're up to par,” she pointed out. “I'm not riding in the same car with a drunk dude.”

“I ain't drunk, though—just kinda tipsy. I can talk you there, though, if you'd like.”

“Yeah, sure, I'll take that.”

Joey headed back into the kitchen for his clothes and his shoes. He then handed her the car keys and they strode on outside, where the rain had backed off a great deal into a fine drizzle. She climbed behind the wheel of his car: it felt like a million years since she last drove a car with all the rides she had gotten, from Charlie as well as the subways. But she managed to drive them up to Oswego, the city by the lake, by Joey's direction. Even with the one drink in his system, she could tell that he wasn't up to par to drive any distance, but he was lucid enough to tell her about it.

By the middle of the day, and by the time they had cleared a low rolling hill outside of Syracuse, she spotted the vast black sheet off in the distance and she knew that had to be Lake Ontario. The gray of the lake hung over that small city like a protective blanket, and she thought of the towns back in California, all the ones that lined the coastline and beckoned everyone with beaches, but there was something else to it. The gray washed over everything and left it all muted in its wake: the sole black and white light house off in the distance only added to the feeling of it all.

“So this is Oswego,” she declared. “This is where you grew up.”

“Born and raised!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “The lake looks so cold right now,” he added.

“I imagine the snow here getting crazy,” she said.

“Oh—the time you, Charlie, and Frankie had to come get me was only a little part of it. Up here, we really only got two seasons: winter and road work. If they aren't working on the roads, it's probably snowing a shitload. And we often get feet of snow down by the lake shore, too. Speaking of which, I think it might snow in a bit. It feels like snow and looks it, too.”

“Sounds like Carson,” she noted as they rolled up to the first stoplight. “Almost word for word. Except Carson and Reno are both in the desert rather than near a lake.”

“Huh. Wow.” He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, it's—kinda crazy to think about especially when I hear the same thing being said about a place that's still relatively new to me.”

He then turned his head in her direction.

“I think I like you, Sam,” he admitted in a soft voice.

“I have seen you after all,” she added.

“You've seen me in the buff. And—if I'm bein' perfectly honest, I kinda wanna see you do more of it.”

“You want me to do it again,” she stifled a chuckle.

“If ya don't mind,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I'll have a pencil next time. I'll also make sure you're genuinely comfortable, like I want to make you comfortable around me sans the alcohol.”

“You have a heart of gold, Sam,” he declared.

“Nah—you're the one with the heart of gold, Joey,” she said as the light turned green. “It's in there under all those proverbial scars. It just needs to be coaxed out.”

#fanfic #anthrax fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax #joey belladonna #joey belladonna x oc #chapter 32 #deadly nightshade #book two #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #slice of life #artistry #writing #also on ao3 #text

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jae-canikeepyou · 4 years

Text

| cloud nine | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: alternate universe

a/n: agh i really like this request because i’ve seen an edit of him in a pilot’s uniform :< tbh i re-wrote this three times before i was satisfied with it. hope it meets your imagination 💕~j.

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captain jung jaehyun.

once everyone heard that name or saw it on their monthly roasters, whispers of yeses and scoffs of disappointments were normal in the department. some were contented with only being in the same paper as him. and then there were some who were very lucky enough to trail behind him when they made their way to the aircraft.

one time when jaehyun was running late, his existence alone acted as if the entire airport was his own model runway. a little speed walk or even fixing the folds of his sleeve cuffs sent crowds upon crowds trampling over each other about that rumoured hot pilot; taking pictures of him like he was a famous celebrity. people’s comments have spread and hit the articles as well, more frequent and mentioned in any social platform online and it was titled several times.

‘this captain has the visuals to be a celebrity.’

‘captain is a living character out of a manhwa?’

‘a pilot caused a storm at the arrival hall of xxx airport due to his good looks.’

‘mr. viral pilot’s even has a handsome rbf.’

jaehyun gave a forced smile that melted the eyes of his ‘assumed’ fanbase. not again, he thought. it was just a normal gesture to greet them, yet they saw it differently. other than a pool of sakuras and pink hearts, his smile was equivalent to ‘i love you’.

“attaboy jung!” his co-pilot lee seokmin, caught up to him at the departure hall. “do a finger heart next time!”

“don’t reveal my name.” he gestured him to keep quiet. “finger hearts are for idols.”

“i will reveal it because you’re basically a celebrity pilot now. don’t be so stiff, jung” his sunshine smile also caused an uproar after shooting the ladies with many hearts. “it’s simple. just put your thumb and pointer like an x- wait what do you mean for idols? can’t you see how famous you are after that viral picture floating around the country? if you’re not convinced, the world? jaehyun, even the legendary IU agreed you’re attractive-”

seokmin’s words were stopped by jaehyun’s documents in front of his purses lips. he put the blocking papers down with his fingers and still continued with sending finger hearts. “fine. you can reveal my name but not my fanboying side please. and dude i’m having second hand embarrassment right now because of you.” jaehyun gritted his teeth.

“you gotta get used to it.” seokmin said, now doing a heart with his arms.

the crew went through security screening and soon reached the bottom of the flight of stairs connecting to the plane. it was the norm, or maybe not, that the whole crew took a picture before the flight.

jaehyun stood at the middle with seokmin when he noticed a familiar face by his side. based on her side profile, he was sure this was definitely her.

he observed her ever elegant posture; natural make up that wasn’t too heavy, something he always liked. the way her eyelashes flutter due to the wind’s breeze and gosh her gorgeous and gentle smile-

“you’re staring, captain.” you cleared your throat, snapping him out of the trance. a small grin curving by your lips at his aloof response.

“my apologies if i have been rude..” he bent down to whisper, eyes lowering down to see your name slightly on the document paper you were holding. heh, i was right.. “..y/n.”

“if there’s anyone who’s rude..” you trailed off, turning to him face to face now. “..wouldn’t that be you, mr. celebrity?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, referring to the recent articles about the handsome pilot visual. you then twirled still with a small smile as you headed up the flight of stairs.

seokmin nudged the tall male, lips agape at his interaction with you. “wow you just talked with the y/n!” his voice sounding softer than usual. “she’s just new to the airline and everyone has a crush on her. i think i’m falling for her too.”

“you fall for every girl you encounter with, lee.”

as they walked up as well, jaehyun’s eyebrows arched at the compliment seokmin gave you. they took a quick glance at you, now talking with the rest of attendants. it didn’t take long for them to realize that other men were awe-struck by your beauty, just like he did. even the senior attendants seem very smitten whenever you would bring out the enthusiasm from others for the flight. entering the cockpit, the two pilots sat at their seats in preparation for take-off.

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ten hours into the flight, you double checked the passengers, wherein you gave assistance, especially those with children.

at the corners of your eyes, you spotted a couple with three kids. and based on other passengers who seemed to not get any sleep or have broad understanding, were bothered with the continuous cries. the parents seemed new and they were ultimately blessed with triplets. two were already a handful for them and the other baby was left slight unattended, so you politely asked to step in to help.

you could feel that mobile phones were directly pointed at you, filming the moment as they planned to maybe make the gesture viral. you pat the baby’s back and managed to make her sleep.

since shifting airlines just four months ago, you were aware of the attention you’ve been getting from other staffs, passengers and even locals. as much as you didn’t want the spotlight onto you, your occupation somehow paved the way.

the parents thanked your service and as you bowed, the chief flight attendant called you to rest. you finally sat at the post where you were assigned at. out of heavy exhaustion, you massaged your neck to sooth the pain away. deciding to freshen up a bit, you used the service cart to block aisle and went to the lavatory before heading to the plane’s upper rest compartment.

the way you twirled around got stuck in jaehyun’s mind. he couldn’t seem to take you out of it. he would close his eyes for awhile and your smile would appear. it got him feeling so giddy to the point he felt his ears heat up.

“is she marked in your heart?” seokmin placed his legs up as the plane was on auto-pilot.

“no not really.” jaehyun said, removing the headphones.

seokmin noticed the fidgety movements jaehyun had been acting since the take-off. it was as if he was itching to leave. “jae, you’ll get your turn to rest, just let me finish my food.” he munched on his sandwich before gesturing his friend to leave.

now that he finally would get his rest, he exited the cockpit with a hammering heart. he wasn’t the type to reveal himself during the flight, but urgently needed to go for a break. other crew reminded him that he should sleep too, given the prominent dark circles around his eyes. as he waited for his turn to use the lavatory, the door slid open revealing you, whom maybe he, or might have growing heart eyes toward you.

your hands held the door as the grip on it tightened at the sight of the captain. you looked to where his hands were and he held the door’s outside handle. his dimples deepened the more he flattened his lips, and he too seemed shocked at your appearance.

even after hours into the flight, he thought you still looked the same like you did at the photo taking. “hi.” he chuckled, obviously feeling a mix of awkwardness and embarrassment in meeting you.

“hello. may i pass through?” you asked, almost taking jaehyun aback at your straight-forward question. the rest of the crew witnessing interaction made them giggle.

“oh, i’m sorry.” he turned his body 90 degree and you shyly nodded for the gesture.

idiot, jaehyun. you’re an idiot. he told himself.

jaehyun went back to the cockpit and retrieved his coat and he soon got down the steep ladder steps, where he spotted you reading a book you were so immersed in. the sleepiness in his eyes were long gone and this time he wanted to have a proper conversation with you. unlike in the previous two short ones where you seemed to brush him off.

you noticed his presence and closed the book, giving them the attention he sought for earlier. he stood opposite to you, leaning against the ladder. “do you have something to tell me?” you asked, placing the book in your bag. “i’m a pretty good listener.”

a smile from you had jaehyun head in the clouds. “oh, well captain lee said you’re new here.” he fixed to loosen his tie and unbuttoned the first bud. “so how long have you been in the airline?”

“i transferred four months ago.” you replied, putting a strand back with a bobby pin.

“i see. no wonder. i was probably busy at the time. lots of schedules and flights here and there. our paths never seemed to cross if you’ve been here that long.” he crossed his arms.

he was hesitant to ask because it would make him look full of himself. screw it anyway. “you’re not one of those who moved airlines just to see me, right?”

his question made you silent. “ i just thought maybe this airline is more suitable for me.” you lied. in fact you moved because you weren’t convinced enough from your co-workers, that this ‘jaehyun’, apparently your ex, could swoon the ladies.

oh heavens, it has been five years. and this man certainly did swoon you and definitely sent your chest aching again, in a good way.

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the city the airline was designated at filled with bustling people and chirping of the birds. the sun shone as its rays peeked through the little gaps between leaves. traditional music played publicly at the common and main street, some tourists lined up for the city’s landmark. it really seemed like a perfect picture.

you sat down at an outdoor café, legs crossed and memorised the scenery in front. glad that you were blessed with photographic memory and began a quick sketch on the blank paper. as much as you didn’t want to touch your new pocket-sized watercolor painting set, you had to dab the first droplet of water on the tabs.

the faint ash lines soon faded completely at the droplets and as you began to paint the first layer, the paper met a shadow figure that blocked the sun. you looked up to see jung jaehyun; with two coffees in hand, a sunshine smile, perfect dimples and in casual clothes. you didn’t want to make him wait long and invited him to sit with you.

“great day today huh?” he asked, leaning closer to look at what you were doing then shifting his eyes towards you. “it’s.. pretty.”

“thanks, but it’s only the first layer. you’ll see the details after i’m done with the fountain.” you brought up your sketchbook to let him see.

“have you been to the city before?” taking a sip from his cup. you shook your in response, still concentrated on the painting. “c’mon, i’ll tour you around.”

he grabbed your hand and you had no choice but to follow. street stalls filled with souvenirs and its people encouraged their ranges, and jaehyun spotted something that might suit you. it was a necklace. he gestured the man so he could pay for it. taking glances of you and stall, the man waved at him. “sir, this comes in pairs.”

“hm?” his eyes looked at the item. “oh then i’ll get a pair.” he gave the cash and as the man took it, he grinned at jaehyun for his hearty eyes; already catching the purpose of the quick decision.

“it is for the lady, am i right?” he asked.

jaehyun scratched his neck, mentally cursing to himself for being too obvious and transparent. “oh. she’s just- uh, we used to date.” jaehyun chuckled, taking the resin designed necklace in his hands.

“you both look good together.” the man winked like he was about to give the pilot a piece of advice. “she must be that special to be making you feel things.”

“well she still makes me feel i’m in the clouds.” jaehyun looked at you choose an souvenir with furrowed brows. “it’s kinda sad that we didn’t make it like most couples.”

the man’s loud laugh startled jaehyun. “you’re in the city of love. anything can change and anything is possible.”

jaehyun smiled at his remark and left with a contented, little hopeful heart. he went up to you who was still indecisive with the souvenir.

you felt his presence on your right. rising up to see what he was up to, you were shocked at the item he had dangling in his fingers. this certain gesture reminded of your first date; he waved a keychain he won through a carnival stall. you stared into his eyes like you saw the universe in them; the beauty continuously expanding, the stars shining and sparkling when it boasted its twinkles.

the smile on your face faded, but it was quite obvious to jaehyun. he brought down the item and bit his inner gums. “i got this for you.” he chuckled softly, eyes averting from you with reddened ears.

this was strange, awkward, how you both used to be a thing in the past and now meeting each other through work. it just didn’t seem right, to you at least.

“what happened to us?” your sudden question caused jaehyun bent even lower towards your face, sending you to step backwards at his action.

jaehyun knew what you referred to. in fact he asked himself the same question every day since losing contact with you after high school. a small grin curving by his lips disappeared, then mirroring the same expression as you did. “we were both young, carefree. we didn’t know what to prioritise and used each other to make people think differently of us.” he trailed. “we were pretty immature. we just stopped talking after our graduation and distance widened before we had the time to talk it out.” he cracked up slightly, beginning to walk slowly to continue touring you around.

you kinda bursted out in giggles, agreeing to every reason he had just said. the way you saw how much he changed physically and mentally, something in him seemed to draw you closer to him; like you wanted to go back to square one. because all you feel towards him at this very moment was the same as back then.

“couldn’t agree more. we were like those try hard couple goal wannabes that we annoy the heck out of our friends.” you put your hair strands behind your ear. “anyway, i feel the same-” you paused, realizing what you just said.

“uh-huh.” he now looked at you from the map.

“i shouldn’t have said-” you laughed and feeling panicky. the heat creeping from your forehead downwards.

“you mean ‘feel the same like before’ or ‘feel the same as me’?” he asked with a challenging grin. such a tease.

you rolled your eyes at his childish behaviour, not wanting to be caught in his web. “what do you mean by ‘feel the same as me’, hm?” your voice almost breaking to a laugh.

jaehyun inhaled and exhaled sharply because he did not know what else to say. his fingers waving everywhere to look for answers, but to no success, he could only smile awkwardly. you both stared at each other for a while before he spotted some people who recognised him from afar. he grabbed you and went for a run, pulling you with him and led you away from the main circle of the city.

how you wished you wore proper footwear. running with ballet flats on uneven ground brought more discomfort than it did with jaehyun’s company. but as you watched the way how his hair slowed with the wind and his smiling side profile turning towards you, all memories from back then came flooding in like waves. though you didn’t want them to, there wasn’t anything you could do because you knew that somewhere inside the deepest parts in your heart, there was still room for a second chance with him; there was still space for him to fill that missing gap that was left empty before.

now your body was pulled aside at one street, just by the edge of an outdoor neighbourhood home. jaehyun gestured you to keep quiet and he turned slightly to check on them. as you both hid, it was something similar when flynn rider and rapunzel hid from the patrolling royal guards. “remember how we were just like this when we hid from our homeroom teachers?” he asked, crossing his arms in reminisce and a grin from ear to ear.

“of course, it was your idea and we had to mop the whole gymnasium as punishment.” you tiptoed to take a peek behind him. “it’s clear now, let’s go-”

“let me do this for a while.” jaehyun pulled you to him for a hug. “i kind-”

“kinda missed this?” you finished his sentence.

his chuckle tickled your ears as his palms tightened around you. “you took the words right out of my mouth.”

“i know you too well, jae.” you pinched his cheek and he let go of you.

“too well that you figured i’m starting to fall for you again?” he licked his dry lips as he waited for you answer.

you exhaled a breathy air from your nostrils, turning around to walk around the city and giggled internally for leaving him unanswered.

jaehyun scoffed with reddened ears. “should i take that as a yes?”

“whatever you wanna think of, jae.”

he recalled what the salesman said. maybe something will change in this city of love and your words just now created a ray of hope in the sky. this inexplainable anticipation he felt in his chest got him realizing that, yeah, he actually, still is in love with you.

—

you bowed to the last batch passengers exiting the plane with jaehyun and seokmin on your side, along with other crew. finally on the way to arrival hall, all you wanted was to feel the soft sheets of your bed. grabbing your luggage, you slowed down your pace knowing that jaehyun was behind.

jaehyun’s hand laid on your shoulders, catching his breath slightly. “i’ll meet you at the carpark.” he bent down to a whisper.

“and what makes you think i’ll agree with your request?” you hummed, legs dragging your exhausted self to the walkalator.

“i’m gonna make my signature marinated spicy fried pork. i know you miss that.” he winked.

“mhm.” you singsonged, “more than i miss you.”

he groaned like a child and you could tell he purposely whined in a persuasive tone. “join me for dinner at least.” he nudged that you were lightly shoved to side, creating imbalance on your feet.

“fine i will.” you rolled your eyes as he cheered in soft ‘yeses’. “in one condition though.”

jaehyun lifted a brow at your habit and he should’ve seen it coming. “what is it?”

“live cooking. i’ll sit by your breakfast table, observing how you cut and hold the onions wrongly. i don’t want you to make me wait elsewhere of your apartment.”

“i didn’t invite you just so i could be bickered by you.” he held your head, sending vibrations for a second before you poked his armpits. “ow! okay you’ll get the live cooking in one condition, alright?”

you continued to walk towards the arrival hall, already noticing banners of jaehyun’s name and long lenses of cameras pointed at your direction. “that’s my word, but fine. what’s your condition, captain?”

a large hand find its way to interlock yours, then bringing it up to be visible to the public. “a pilot and a flight attendant dating.” his wink caused you to fluster in all sorts and now you were aware of the cameras. “it’d be a good topic, wouldn’t it?”

his lips seemed to inch closer towards you but it wasn’t a kiss since he refrained himself from doing so. your heart stopped for a moment before a certain camera flash blinked in front of the both of you, later hearing a voice of the photographer asking his mates to name the newsletter;

“captain jung is on cloud nine with y/f/n.”

#nct 127 #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct #nct jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fanfics #jaehyun au #jaehyun oneshot

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terminally-karkalicious · 3 years

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allow me to rant about the only thing that has been in my brain for the past two months and that is doll customizing babeyyyyy

i know there’s a 90% chance that you wont give a Shit about any of this but here we go anyways

SO first you gotta choose a doll. preferably one with a high range of motion to avoid creating new joints or having annoying limitations like not having elbow joints for some fucking reason. what the fuck mattel. give monster high dolls back their ball jointed shoulders and elbow joints. smh

the most common dolls ive seen used as bases are monster high and ever after high. most customs ive seen are highly stylized so the stylized face molds work well for those types of dolls but dolls like barbies are good for when you want a more realistic face-ups.

once you’ve got your base picked out you gotta wipe that bitch’s face off with like. acetone or nail polish remover or something strong like that. you can also use acetone to shrink doll heads which is cool as hell imo. n e way once the face is wiped you gotta chop off the hair and remove the hair plugs from the inside. ive seen this done several ways but the easiest and most common way ive seen is to dunk the head into boiling water for ~30 seconds until it gets squishy and malleable. once you’ve got the head back, you can use pliers (i think tweezers would work in a pinch) to pull out the hair plugs which are kinda icky because theyre covered in glue and other gross shit. ew

now you must decapitate the doll. dunk em back in the boiling water to soften them back up then just tug the head off. the neck pegs look funky and are usually a different color than the body so thats cool ig

once the head’s off, you can start the face-up which is basically just giving the doll a new face using stuff like watercolor pencils, acrylic paint, gouache, and a whole lot of other stuff. hell ive seen people use person makeup on these dolls.

next,,,,, hair. there’s about twenty million ways to do hair from gluing yarn wefts to sewing to rerooting with purchased nylon doll hair or yarn wefts but i’m gonna talk about the most common one ive seen which is rerooting and gluing.

before you can reroot, you need doll hair. which, as i mentioned, can be bought at stores like the doll planet or made at home with yarn in literally any color. have fun with it! make rainbow hair or something idk

to make homemade wefts, you take some acrylic yarn, cut it twice as long as you want the hair to be (keep in mind you can cut and style the hair once it’s been rerooted), fold them in half, and tie it to something sturdy like a wire coat hanger for the next step.

once you’ve got your yarn tied to your hanger, use a pet brush and brush the yarn until it’s wispy and looks like hair. then take a straightening iron and iron the weft flat. then remove from the hanger and boom. hair wefts. ta-da

to reroot the wefts onto the head, use a rerooting tool (which can be as simple as a needle with the eye cut at angle) (just google it please i’m shit at descriptions)) to poke small sections of the hair into the head. you can use the pre-existing rooting holes for your own reroot as they’re usually pretty reliable. to reroot, take a small length of you doll hair (about 10-15 strands), loop it in half, and put the middle of the loop into the reroot tool. poke the end of the tool with the hair on it into the pre-existing hole and remove the tool. the hair *should* stay in and fill up that plug!! also remember to plug thickly at the hairline and part of the hair where it's most noticeable. it doesnt matter as much in the center of the head as that’s not usually visible on the doll. once you’ve rerooted, squeeze in strong glue through the neck hole and squish around the head to make sure it covers all the plugs and secures them in place. then pour hot water onto the head to make the hair lay flat for styling later.

also, you can reroot yarn directly into the head to make thicker, more textured hairstyles. and since the yarn is thicker, you dont need to glue the inside of the head for the hair to stay in place!!

if youre not doing body modifications (which are also cool as hell) then it’s time for clothes but clothes are boring and i like body mods more so i’m gonna rant about them instead

the material ive seen most doll artists use is apoxie sculpt, which is like play doh on steroids. it comes in two parts which you gotta mix together for some reason. why dont they sell it pre-mixed. what was the reason. also once it’s dry it’s super super strong and you can sand it, drill into it, paint it, and all kinds of stuff. very nice and i want some for myself.

you can use hand saws and drills and shit to whack off doll limbs to make stuff like digitigrade legs or new joints. also dont be afraid to use other mismatching doll parts when customizing like heads and bodies and forearms and hands and shit. it literally does not matter if youre gonna recolor the doll anyways so have fun with it. make frankenstein’s doll if youre feeling spicy

accessories my beloved. stuff like tiny beads and clay baubles and shit will literally transform the entire doll plus they’re adorable and multi-purpose

i suppose i must talk about clothes now. ah well. you can find great clothing patterns if youre new to customizing on other customizer’s etsy shops and probably google although those will probably be lower quality than paid pattern pieces. and keep in mind that if it exists as clothing irl, you can likely make it doll-sized. there are literally no limits to your clothing options as long as you can execute your idea.

the once all your components have been made, you can assemble the doll again!! and finally see what all the parts look like together!! very cool 10/10 stars.

ight that wraps up my doll rant. i could really go into more detail on certain parts but thats a whole other rant for a whole other day smh. sorry for fucking flooding your inbox ender ahaha……………. you asked for this

little did you know that dolls have been one of my favorite things since like ever. if i can read a 25 chapter long fanfic i can read this B)

mattel definitely fucked up by completely ruining MH doll designs and just stopping EAH, alot of their profits most likely came from people who collect and customize dolls and by changing MH doll designs/Stopping EAH dolls they 1. most likely lost a small (or big if we're not jus talking people who customize dolls) part of their profit and 2. made it harder for doll customizers to make dolls/get commissions out rather quickly because they probably have to waste more time making joints or learning how to make joints.

EAH/MH dolls (specifically MH dolls) had AMAZING MODELS because there was so much variety with height, face shapes, etc (my favorite molds had to be the short/tall dolls and the cat molds because of the tails) and doll customizers really went all out with enhancing a molds unique features. The only "downside" abt MH dolls is that they (or atleast most)(from what i remember)) had slimmer faces but wider eyes while EAH dolls have wider faces with slimmer smaller which left a canvas for the face and not the eyes (and vice versa for MH dolls)

I've never seen any videos where a barbie is customized (maybe because i absolutely despised barbies at the time) so I'll definitely have to check those out but they seem to be good for realistic makeovers. I've seen like like semi realistic makeovers for EAH/MH dolls that were pretty good too tho (pretty sure mostly EAH dolls since yk MH dolls were used for creature makeovers while most EAH dolls weren't)

yeah i was always amazed by the head shrinking with acetone. honestly i still am?? idunno i have no idea how that chemical bullshit works. Ive seen a few of uh makeovers that just pain over the face (in multiple layers ofcourse) but that's usually when they're painting the entire body a different colour (again usually when they're turning a doll into a funky little baby man). I've also seen a few that just chop the hair off and take out the hair plugs yk without uuh like softening the head or just go straight for the hair plugs after taking off the head (i used to do that it was funny to me??). i always really liked when they used watercolour pencils or just colour pencils in general to draw/sketch on the face cause like wow ur drawing on ur doll without ruining it?? kinda epic maybe even poggers and pogchamp?? oh god my brain is failing wjshsmsj.

Watching them putting the hair back on the doll was, other than the face stuff, was the BEST part for me. Favorite type of hair was iuuuuuh was either thick yarn or brushed out yarn. Literally worship the people that would reroot the hair, theyre the most patience people on this earth!! it's literally insane but i guess that's what happens when you've been doing that for years? you guess kinda get used to it. when they put glue into the head does it just become stiff?? like it's just a clump of dried glue or does it like..hollow out again??

dude you literally cannot convince me most of the supplies used for doll makeovers. APOXIE CLAY LOOKS SO FECKING GOOD. its edible and i will die on that hill. The body mods are literally so amazing!!!!! it's so impressive how theyre able to imagine certain features THEN LIKE ACTUALLY MAKE IT LOOK ACCURATE TO WHAT THEY WANTED TO LOOK LIKE AFTER LIKE ON TRY (or many yk trial and error is very necessary for..everything). Absolutely loved when doll customizers would saw off a dolls legs and use different ones or just completely get rid of the torso to use a different one. it's like uuh that one big guy that's mismatched and sewn together. very cool. The accessories are so fun!! just small little details you seen really need but can add because it's your feckin doll!! I used to be absolutely obsessed over the doll clothes i would find on etsy, so much so that i started sewing shitty shirts and dresses for my uh "customized" dolls (they were absolute HORRORS idk WHY my mom let me feck up my dolls like that).

Thank you for this!! i haven't been able to talk about any of my interests for a while and this just really made me happy!!

Question fer u my fellow MH/EAH enthusiast: what was your favorite MH/EAH movie/episode and doll series. Mine was The fusion dolls (MH obvi) and that MH movie "Haunted" cause we got to know more about Spectra :D

#YOOOO LONG POST?!#long post #:) hehehe #this was very fun to read cant wait for ur next fanfic length ask #asks :D #theoreticallyjasper

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shibereshu · 4 years

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hi! could you do 6 and 7 from the christmas prompts with byeongkwan from ace? thanks so much!

i’m so sorry this took so long!! both of us admins are in uni and just recently started our christmas break but still have a lot of work to do but i’m happy i could finally finish this !! i really hope you like this! also (and this applies for anyone who may read this!) our requests are still open so feel free to request again! the groups we write for are in our bio and here are some prompt lists that can help you come up with a request! thank you so much for requesting !!6.: “It’s snowing!”7.: “You look even more beautiful covered in snow.”

The words from the people walking past you as you made your way to the place where you were supposed to meet Byeongkwan were muffled by the thoughts inside your head. You were going to do some last-minute gift shopping with him for the little secret santa game you had organised in your group of friends. The idea for the game had been his, and after telling you that you would be Sehyoon’s secret santa and you couldn’t come up with many ideas for his gift, he offered to meet with you so that he could help you shop for a present for him and you could help him with his.

When you got to the spot you had agreed to meet up, a fountain decorating the central square of a big shopping centre, you looked around to see if he was there already, but took out your phone to text him when you couldn’t find him in the crowd of friends and couples hanging out in that spot at first glance.

Just as you were going to type in the password to unlock your phone, a notification popped up with a new text from none other than the guy in question. You smiled as his name popped up followed by the message that read “Turn around”. You did as he said and in that exact moment, the fountain that was programmed to alternate between pumping water up and stopping for a few seconds on loop ceased raising the water just in time for you to see Byeongkwan just standing behind it, his phone in his hand that was waving at you and mirroring your soft smile as he looked at you.

He walked towards you and brought you in for a hug once he was in front of you. His embrace was warm in contrast to the cold air surrounding you, and it took you all your effort not to stop him from pulling away. As he did, he moved his hands down your arms and grasped your hands in his, as if he also didn’t want to pull away completely and get away from the warmth of your touch. At that moment where it was only you and him and the seconds of hugging and holding hands felt like they lasted a mere instant, you truly felt the realisation hit you about how this would be the first time you and Byeongkwan would hang out together by yourselves ever since you had realised your feelings for him.

You didn’t let the nervousness overcome you and thanked the cold weather for making the blush on your cheeks go unnoticed as if it was just the effect of the low temperatures, and somehow your hands didn’t shake in the slightest not even as he let go of one of them but still kept holding the other one as he began walking towards the shops.

—”It’s the first time we hang out and you arrive so early.” —Byeongkwan teased, and you quickly defended yourself.

—”I’m always on time! The only times I’ve ever been late were because I had to wait for Chan.” —Byeongkwan chuckled, still not giving up and this time leaving you with nothing to say for longer than you’d have wanted to.

—”I’m not saying you’re usually late, but we were going to meet at 6.30 and it’s not even 6.15 yet.” —

You didn’t even look at him, but from the corner of your eyes you saw he was looking at you, which ruined slightly the composure you had been keeping. What were you supposed to say? You couldn’t just admit you had been thinking so much about seeing him that you got ready early enough to have to wait almost an hour before leaving your house to meet him, and still arrived earlier than you planned. At the lack of an excuse for yourself, you quickly threw the question back at him.

—”What about you? You’re early too.” —Finally, you made eye contact with him again and he chuckled before looking away and to the front.

—”I just really wanted to see you.” —He said naturally. And perhaps because you were suddenly so focused on the red color adorning your cheeks, for a second you wonder if the reddish hue on his was also caused the same kind of feelings making your heart beat faster.

Since when was Byeongkwan so confident? You asked yourself as he changed the topic and you two got into a new conversation without bringing up the previous one again. It was true that you had never seen how he acted around people he liked so you didn’t want to ponder over the possibility of him liking you back. He was someone very affectionate with his friends and you also weren’t new to this kind of flirty comments since one of your friends, Jun, liked to throw them at you once in a while jokingly and sometimes you’d even talk back. But it was different because it was Byeongkwan. It was different because he was the person you liked. It was so different that, after thinking that it could just be something completely platonic, you started scolding yourself in your head for overreacting even if no one other than you had noticed.

You two had walked into an art shop after deciding to look for a present for Sehyoon there. He liked making art and trying new things with it, so Byeongkwan suggested the idea of buying him an art supply that he still didn’t have.

—”What about watercolors?” —You asked him as you stood together in front of an aisle filled with said art supply. All the different colors were organised so perfectly that you wanted to stand there forever. Until you noticed that someone had switched one of the tubes of green watercolor with a blue one -hopefully not on purpose- and you let go of Byeongkwan’s hand to put both tubes back in their place and as if you had just finished a hard task, you smiled proudly and put your hands on your hips.— “Now it’s perfect.” —

Byeongkwan let out a short laugh and reached towards one of the pink tubes, exchanging it for an orange one, and you gasped before reaching to put both things in their spot. After you were done, he did it again, and at one point it almost became a childish fight between the two of you that stopped when Byeongkwan stopped you from grabbing one of the supplies he had moved by reaching for your hands again and holding it tight, making it clear that he wouldn’t let go. As he laced his fingers with yours, you accepted defeat and let your hand fall back to your side, still holding Byeongkwan’s.

—”Let’s buy one of the full palettes over there and some brushes.” —Byeongkwan said, and you nodded and walked away from that aisle with him. You wanted to laugh at yourself for thinking that sure, seeing all the colors organised was perfect, but the feeling of your hand intertwined wth Byeongkwan’s was even more perfect.

You did as he had suggested and after paying, he carried the small bag and walked out of the shop with you, both of you reaching for each other’s hand again almost instinctively after you had to let go to take out your wallet and pay. Once you were out, you glanced at the bag he was holding with your gift for Sehyoon and then at him.

—”I almost feel kind of bad. Because I couldn’t come up with something for Sehyoon myself.” —

Byeongkwan looked at you with curiosity filling his eyes, clearly showing that he didn’t understand why you would feel bad about it. For you, the reason was pretty obvious. Wouldn’t it feel like a gift from Byeongkwan instead of yours? The only thing you had provided with was the money for it. When you told him that, his view on it didn’t seem to change.

—”So? It is a gift that you bought for him and that you want to give to him. You wanted to give him something and I just helped by giving you an idea. The gift is yours and you’re the one who got it for him.” —He paused for a second, and then continued.— “Besides, I live with him and he’s my best friend. That’s why the idea came so easy to me.” —

You nodded, your thoughts drifting away from the topic again after his words. Sehyoon was his bestfriend, and he was Sehyoon’s. Even though your group of friends was already very close, they were so close you were almost jealous of it and wished to have a friendship as strong and true as theirs. Without even realising, you wondered out loud.

—”What about me?” —You asked, and stopped dead in your tracks after the words came of your mouth and realised what you had said. The question was so ambiguous that Byeongkwan’s gaze was filled with confusion again at your words, but somehow you felt that he probably knew exactly what you meant but just wanted to make sure as he threw another question at you.

—”You?” —

Deciding that it would be even more awkward to fix your mistake with a stupid excuse or ignoring it, you decided to be honest.

—”Am I your best friend too?” —In your mind, once again you scolded yourself, this time feeling selfish for wishing that he wouldn’t say yes. Because you were already close friends, and you didn’t want just that anymore. You didn’t want to be the only person whose heart was suddenly overwhelmed and drowning in those uncontrollable feelings.

—”Of course.” —He said, and you stayed silent, your gaze still locked with his.

Slowly, the accelerated heartbeat went back to its usual pace and you let out the breath you were holding in through your nose.

Time seemed to have stopped until small snowflakes started slowly falling from the sky. Slowly like how you let go of his hand but kept that hand up with the palm facing up to see one of those snowflakes fall on it and just as slowly, disappear.

—”It’s… It’s snowing!” —You exclaimed. The first snow of the year came rather late, and you had mixed feelings after it didn’t meet the expectations you had for how it would feel to experience the first snow with the person you loved.

The snow started falling more rapidly and not really melting anymore when it landed, and as Byeongkwan grabbed your hand again just as a bigger snowflake was about to fall on it, your heart started beating slightly more rapidly too.

—”You look even more beautiful covered in snow.” —His words were spoken softly, to the point where they were kind of muffled by the louder ones coming from kids around you two who were overjoyed by the snow. Still, you heard them.

And although it still wasn’t enough to make sure that he said it in a way that wasn’t completely platonic, you couldn’t help but smile and giggle shily before mustering up the courage to compliment him back.

—”I could say the same about you.” —You responded, and he let out a happy chuckle too. He took a step closer towards you as his hand that wasn’t holding yours went up to cup your cheek. As if he had read your mind before, he spoke again.

—”You’re my best friend, too. But just that isn’t enough anymore.” —

Feeling too shy to keep the eye contact, you looked down, but his hand on your cheek moved to your chin and lifted your head again, forcing you to look at him and making the blush on your cheeks intensify as you saw his face even closer to yours.

Not like he had just read your mind, but more like he held in his heart the same feelings as you did, the two of you spoke up again.

—”I like you.” —

#a.c.e #a.c.e scenarios #a.c.e imagines #kim byeongkwan #a.c.e byeongkwan #jason #a.c.e jason #a.c.e fluff #kpop #kpop scenarios #Admin Berry

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enchantedamusedslightlyconfused · 4 years

Text

73 questions.

I was tagged by @wescoasts @machine-gun-casie (BABES)

Almost all my friends have been tagged and I don't wanna be that asshole so ill try not to be. I tag @awkwardrocker @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @trixiehoe @she-who-is-timey-wimey

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

Well it’s finals week so about -864. After that I have two weeks of legitimate nothing where I will bake my heart out so we’ll see

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

#yikes #ughshesinherfeelsagain

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

Milo Ventimiglia, Kells, Rook.....being a music video love interest is only my life’s pipe dream

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

And that’s on daddy issues and no supervision...

What’s one thing people don’t know about you?

I used to model like went to modeling school and got paid for it type shit

What’s your wakeup ritual?

get woken up by my dog tired of hearing my alarm, walk said opinionated quadruped, feed quadruped, get dressed, COFFEE, then take life as it comes

What’s your go to bed ritual?

melatonin gummies (gotta make anxiety fun), skincare when executive dysfunction will allow, brush teeth, fight dog for my spot in bed (moving a 90lb animal is no joke), turn on my sleep playlist or use my ambient noise app, stare at ceiling

What’s your favorite time of day?

witching hour followed by golden hour

Your go to for having a good laugh?

lately tiktok and Kellyvisions, previously vine compilations or Netflix specials

Dream country to visit?

Ireland. I NEED to go to the motherland. My families castle is still standing and I get in for free. its on my bucket list FOR SURE.

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

getting into nursing school and chiropractic school. I’m a loser and I’ve never had a surprise party. I’d melt in puddle of love tbh

Heels or flats/sneakers?

Flats 98% of the time. Heels are reserved for business casual necessity, Halloween, or if I’m feeling myself

Vintage or new?

both, depends on the item

Who do you want to write your obituary?

Amy-Sherman Palladino

Style icon?

lmao a what? on the real though catch me fucking with those eco-friendly kitchen witch vibes. All the dainty jewelry, linens and converse/docks fam

What are three things you can’t live without?

my dog, my family (found and blood), healing people however I can (medicine ruined me for any other career and its sucks you guys)

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

tbh salt, I question a recipes validity if salt isn't involved

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

Kells and the band (I'd be too nervous for a one on one), a dinner party with my MGK fam, Elvis

What’s your biggest fear in life?

Failure, not accomplishing anything

Window or aisle seat?

window all day everyday, on the wing preferably cause I like to feel the landing gear #pilotsgranddaughter

What’s your current TV obsession?

Roadies forever, pry that series from my cold dead hands (also Gilmore Girls and Criminal Minds)

Favorite app?

tie between Tumblr and Pinterest (im an aesthetic slut)

Secret talent?

I am bomb at disney princess songs, the girls I babysit for treat me like a jukebox at bedtime, cutest thing ever

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

delivered a baby has hands down been the coolest thing I’ve ever done

How would you define yourself in three words?

I fucking hate this question. always have. empathetic, resilient, intuitive

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

overall: my senior prom dress. its emerald green, backless, with a slit to upper thigh chefs kiss

everyday wear: Colorado sweatshirt

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

I second Jude: over sized hoodies

Superpower you would want?

nonspecific healing powers so they aren't limited to physical ailments

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

Colson

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

HA. probably that the body remembers more about trauma than the mind and your seemingly irrational physical reactions to things are your brain’s attempt to protect you

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

his mistake does not define your worth. I went for a variant of these boys aint shit don't judge me cause she needs to hear it

A book that everyone should read?

Harry Potter series (yes the whole thing), Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson, The Giver by Lois Lowry

What would you like to be remembered for?

empathy, the way I made people feel

How do you define beauty?

FOR THE LAST TIME ITS SUBJECTIVE, things that give you peace, it could be a song, a person, a sunset, a scone, a leaf. If it makes you stop a second and exhale then its beautiful to you

What do you love most about your body?

holy trigger question Batman...my eyes, my hair color, texture, and its ability to grow

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

drive with the windows down and blast music while singing at the top of my lungs

Favorite place to view art?

unexpected places, like street corners, carnivals, just somewhere it takes you off guard and makes you stop and pay attention

If your life were a song, what would the title be?

it’d be one of those crazy long 2000s fall out boy titles for sure, subject matter yet to be determined

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

violin hands down, it hits me different

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

I have a bunch planned, plane on my right shoulder, Kells related between 3rd and 4th ribs (maybe lower in case I ever need a chest tube), watercolor portrait of my dog at some point location TBD

Dolphins or koalas?

dolphins are stoners and they're super smart, but koalas cause they’re grumpy af and honestly same

What’s your spirit animal?

again Jude and I are vibin: I've been identifying with a phoenix as of late. according to pottermore im a greyhound though (yes a patrons is a wizarding spirit animal. fight me)

Best gift you’ve ever received?

seven year old me was stoked to get a functional microscope and metal detector, I was in my egyptology/archeology phase, I still have them lmao

Best gift you’ve ever given?

oh hell idk...I made my cousin cry once cause I made cupcakes for her birthday party, they were cherry limeade flavored and had little straws and everything. that was pretty cool, granted she was seven. I also made my teacher cry cause I made sea salt caramel chocolate cupcakes for her going away party. I guess my baking brings people to tears

What’s your favourite board game?

candy land, battleship, cards against humanity even though there isn't a board

What’s your favourite colour?

forest green atm

Least favourite colour?

bright yellow/orange, its offensive to my general The Dirt Mick Mars disposition

Diamonds or pearls?

pearls (actually opals though)

Drugstore makeup or designer?

not picky provided they are evironmentally friendly. I really like Besame Cosmetics though

Blow-dry or air-dry?

air-dry, I don't have the patience for blow drying

Pilates or yoga?

yoga

Coffee or tea?

COFFEE, im still learning to like tea

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

holy shit how much time do we have, my favorite weird word to say is fistula or omphalocele (they're medical conditions, don't goole it unless you have a strong stomach)

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

dark chocolate

Stairs or elevator?

stairs

Summer or winter?

neither FALL BITCHES winter if I had to pick cause I love Christmas

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

burgers

A desert you don’t like?

red velvet cake....just why is it a thing that exists

A skill you’re working on mastering?

baking scones or shit that’s flaky in general

Best thing to happen to you today?

being tagged to do this twice, I felt special for a hot second (thanks babes)

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

that I would make a good doctor (I handled a scary pt situation like a champ, they didn't know I threw up after I made sure my pt didn't die. puking in a foreign country on the download is a skill in and of itself)

Favorite smell?

bergamot, baking bread, baking spice cakes at Christmas

Hugs or kisses?

HUGS CAN SAVE THE WORLD

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

gifted kid fall off

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

In These Walls - Machine Gun Kelly

Casual Sabotage - Yungblud

genius assholes...

Lipstick or lip gloss?

lipstick for special occasions but actually tinted chapstick or lip stains

Sweet or savoury?

savory to eat sweet to make for someone else

Girl crush?

Brittney Furlan Lee, Alexis Bledel, Lauren Graham

How you know you’re in love?

you look at them and just say yep. them. usually while they're doing something stupid

Song you can listen to on repeat?

imma out myself but Swing Life Away - Machine Gun Kelly

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

the grass is not greener ya’ll. id rather go back and relive days

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

hopefully passing my first trimester of chiropractic school. fingers crossed pls

#quarantine games #don't come for me people #if you identify with this stuff hit me up #I can always use more quarantine buddies #love and good vibes to you all

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mysticsparklewings · 5 years

Photo

Terrarium Nova

Would you guys believe this started out as me trying to practice trees & use up some leftover paints sitting in/on my palettes from other projects? The tree practicing is for a different project I'll be doing later, and I'll share the specifics of then But yeah, I have a good amount of leftover watercolor dried onto a couple of cheap palettes, as well as some acrylics paints in a palette meant to keep them fresh (but unless you monitor it and spritz them with water every couple of days, they will still eventually dry up) and I really hate to waste any of it if I can help it, especially when it's my slightly nicer stuff. (Some of it was, some of it wasn't) So I figured I'd try to kill two birds with one stone, and the end result ended up looking pretty cool, although I do still have some more paint that didn't get used here, so this may not be the last random-ish painting you see from me. Oh, and I was also recycling a little bit since I used the back of a giant piece of watercolor paper I had previously used as a protective mat for my desk. I started with the tree shapes, mostly inspired by Bonsai trunks, and that actually did use up pretty much all of the dark brownish paint I was using, so I was off to a strong start. Then I went in with some metallic watercolor that was leftover from my Butterfly Babe piece, which dried with more of the black and silver I had mixed into it on top for reason unbeknownst to me, so the first little hill/mound I made naturally came out darker and more silvery than the additional hills I added later than came out decidedly more gold. I think after that I added in the orange sun/planet (in my head it's the sun but a lot of the details here are very ambiguous in what they could potentially be) and an accompanying orange horizon line. Originally, I thought I was going to be making a very sunset-ish background with possibly a very red sky and mixing the yellows in more, but that obviously didn't end up happening. I was kinda just going with what I felt like and where the paint wanted to take me. So I ended up going in with the yellows (and later red and magenta) leftover from my $50 vs $4 Watercolors piece (these ones being the $50 ones, the $4 ones were put on a separate palette while I was using them so I wouldn't get the two mixed up) and ended up making many yellow hills to fill out the background some more, though admittedly the ones on the left kinda got away from me a little. And I'll pause here to say that I was using water brushes throughout this entire piece as opposed to actual paintbrushes, and every time I use those (at least when I'm getting proper water flow) I find that I tend to have a somewhat easier time getting certain watercolor effects, mostly when it comes to blending out hard edges. It's funny to me, as a lot of artists would say water brushes have a higher learning curve than regular brushes, and I'm sure some have a harder time with them. I think the main reason I have an easier time might be because back at the beginning of the year when I started re-discovering watercolor, the first set of paints that got (the Viviva watercolor sheets, for anyone who's curious) came with a water brush, and at the time I had never used one and was really excited to try it, as well as I just didn't have a ton of brushes at my disposal. Likewise, I spent a lot of my time learning watercolors on a water brush, whereas, naturally, most artists learn primarily on regular brushes. To be fair, I would like to one day invest in a slightly nicer set than the cheaper set of different size water brushes that I currently have, as these don't always flow correctly and at least one has a very slow leak where the top screws on, which hasn't caused any painting problems but is just kind of annoying because it very slowly gets my hand wet while I'm using it. Anyway. I then decided I hadn't used enough of that metallic paint and went in and added some dots of various sizes in the sky, since I didn't really feel like trying to make proper stars of any kind, but I wanted more up there and that seemed like a good place for more metallic paint. After that, the plan was to start on my red sky, but I started putting the red down and realized I hadn't cleaned my brush very good, so I got this interesting shimmery darker red color, and since I had already messed up, I liked the color enough I decided to make a moon out of it, which is why that red pot is hanging out over on the left side there. Why this "moon" and the "sun" are out at the same time, I couldn't tell you. Sometimes things just happen in art. That led me to the decision that instead of covering the whole sky in a color, I would just add some clouds, and I decided to got with the expensive magenta on my palette. Things were going fine until I grabbed more paint than water (as I was hoping for kind of pale/blended out soft clouds) and I ended up with some pretty nasty unblended lines one of the clouds and it was notably darker at the top than the others. And so I introduced the technique of "this one cloud got messed up so the rest of you have to suffer!" And I also kind of had to be okay with none of the blending and layering on them turning out super smooth or nice for consistency's sake. And you know, it's not fine art or anything, but it doesn't look as terrible as I thought it was going to. (Though that could really be said for this entire piece. ) I also ended up adding in the purple-y mountains in the foreground after feeling bad that I'd neglected some of the paints I'd originally been intended to use the most, and I think in the end it adds a nice contrast and kind of ties the magenta clouds into the piece as a whole more. I knew I still wanted to do leaves on my trees, which were still just bare trunks and branches by this point, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to do for them yet, so I did this kind of dome thing for the sky, after acknowledge I did not want to have to try and get a smooth, consistent blue wash around everything else I'd already painted in. (Yes, I once again forgot the principal rule of painting--put the background in first) While that dried, I took a break to ponder my next move. I hadn't used any of the acrylic paints that I had leftover (more than I originally would've had too, as I ended up making a sign for my mom that I haven't decided yet if I want to post or not) and one of the colors was green, which is a very basic choice for leaves, but I already had so many other strange colors going on that the basic blue sky and some simple green leaves didn't seem like asking too much. So then I just had to decide what the leaves were going to look like. In the end, I went with using the back end of a paintbrush to dot on some of the green and some of this pale, yellowy color, and a little of a mixture I made using those two colors together (originally for the sign, not this), and I tried to place the dots in mostly realistic places for leaves. And admittedly I could've done a lot more leaves and really filled out the trees, but I felt like it looked better with more of the trunk and branches showing. I also went with the dot thing partially to carry over the dots in the sky. I'm not really sure what kind of theme that is, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And then last but not least, I signed it with a purple gelly roll, trying to balance in both color and placement just a wee bit. Funnily enough, the most tedious part of this process was actually what came after it was finished. Because I was working on a giant piece of watercolor paper that was previously a mat for my desk, and I wasn't really sure how this was going to turn out, naturally I wasn't really thinking about what size I was painting at while I was working. And wouldn't you know it, my poor painting here ended up being too long to fit in my scanner all at once. So I had to cut it out of the giant piece of paper and then scan it twice; once to get one end, and then a second time to get the other end. Then, of course, the two pieces had to be stitched together in Photoshop, which wasn't too bad. I then spent more minutes than I care to admit trying to figure out how/to what extent the best way was to single out the little oval-ish shape of the painting, as I thought that would be much nicer than leaving the ugly bits an pieces of white scanner background. I tried to keep the actual edges smooth, though I nixed the idea of having it be a perfect oval shape right from the get-go, mostly because of how much of the edges would get cut off in one area or another. So the shape itself is very imperfect. Still, I think in the end everything turned out pretty nice. And admittedly after how the later part of last week went for me, it felt really nice to just kind of go in and not really worry about the details or if everything was turning out exactly right or whatever. Sometimes you need to do something that's just loose and has very few rules to it like this. Personally, I think I really needed this at this time in particular, and for as unplanned and simple as it is, I'm really happy with how it turned out. The title is a little random; the shape and what I did with the sky kinda reminded me of a terrarium, and much like a nova is the birth of a star, this was a pretty spontaneous birth of a...planet, I guess. I almost called it "Terra Nova" (roughly "earth star birth") but upon Googling that because it sounded familiar, I decided I did not want to name it after a movie that came out in 2011 that I know nothing about and have no affiliation with. Anyway, things might be a little slower on the art front this week, as I have a bit of a tall order to-do list, but for the foreseeable future things are going to be somewhat interesting here; I finally ordered a gouache set I've had my eye on, and it should be here by the end of the week, as well as the tree thing I mentioned at the top of the description, and another project I've done some preliminary work for...Jeez, I have an awful lot to try to squeeze in before Inktober starts, don't I? Perhaps I'd best go and get started on all that. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

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thedeviljudges · 6 years

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Daddy Billy? Serious daddy Billy? Serious daddy Billy turning into a fluffy bear for his princess, Steve?

uhmm, so like i’m so sorry this took ages to get to, but!!! it’s finished, and this is a bit long. although, i really don’t think this is what you had in mind?? just know that i love this; i love this kinda stuff, and i should probably redo this prompt bc this wasn’t exactly what i was going for; it just kinda happened??/f jasldkf idk, but here ya go, babe.

The window to his studio overlooks the whole of New York, and Steve doesn’t miss the way the wind curls into the room like smoke, thick and heavy from air polluted by busy streets and the life of people.

There’s sirens in the distance and the honking of late cars – they’re always there in a place like this, too loud when he’d moved in, but a comfort that lets him know the world still spins. Steve might even hear the distant rattle of voices on a warm, breezy day if the flat wasn’t several stories above floor level.

Deeply, he breathes, inhales air and fresh paint. His fingers are stained blue and green, crust under his fingernails from the hours he’s spent in his studio trying to transfer the images from his head onto a canvas. Soft strums of music fill the room, too, mostly drowned out by city life, but the distinct violin and flute are pitch perfect alongside the orchestra he loves to listen it for concentration.

As Steve picks up a brush, he hums, dips it into the paint and smears it across the canvas in gentle strokes. Sometimes- and only sometimes, does he know what he’s painting. He likes his landscapes well enough, people, too, but often, he likes freehand, knows that it’s child’s play when he does it, as if he’d dipped his fingers into the paint and willed tacky into existence.

It’s still a form of release, though. It may not be anything special, but it cuts his anxiety right in two when he needs it the most.

“You’ve been in here all day?”

Steve jumps, watches helplessly as the brush slides across the canvas in an indecent stroke only to fall out of his hand onto the floor. “Fuck,” he says, climbs out of his chair, reaching for the brush. He delicately places it onto the table, the one that holds all his supplies, his brushes, his paints. He’s even got clay and watercolors, colored pencils and markers he’s still testing out because the texture runs different; the liquid is thinner, and Steve’s determined to understand the variety. “You could’ve made a noise, you asshole.”

“Forgive me for walking through my house.”

The tone is sharp, unexpected, and when Steve looks up, Billy’s leaning against the threshold of the door with a pinch in his brow and a curl to his lip. Steve’s not sure what’s caused it, thinks back to this morning when Billy smiled as he’d leaned over the edge of the bed to kiss Steve goodbye. Thinks maybe he could’ve left something out of place, then wonders if maybe something else has crawled up under Billy’s skin and settled there.

“Right,” he answers, not knowing what he could follow that up with. The tension is thick now, heavy and unsure, and Steve knows it’s one of those moods, the kind that isn’t deliberate because Billy’s only holding back his feelings like that’s the right thing to do.

Might have to coax it out of him, then.

Billy’s brow arches, pointed like he’s waiting for Steve to snap, and at that, he rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “You’re going to come sit down,” he starts, sees the way Billy’s eye twitches after being told what to do. “Sit. Down.” Then, he nods at the chair, turns and pulls open a few drawers until he’s sorting out a set of clean paint brushes.

When Steve turns around, he runs into a solid chest, Billy bracing his hips with the palms of his hands. He’s warm even through Steve’s clothes, a weight he’s missed all day. “Princess is getting a little too big for his britches,” Billy says, blue eyes amused as Steve attempts to wiggle free. He knows that Billy’s cornering him for a reason, for a fight, for maybe a good fuck to avoid the problem at hand, but if there’s anything Steve’s learned about Billy, it’s that his instincts to please win out every time.

“Daddy’s getting a little too serious,” he counters, tone like the edge of a knife. He smiles, makes sure Billy knows that he knows and that Steve’s only going to make him work for anything more than a deep kiss.

It takes a moment, but only that, for Billy to sigh, takes a step back, then another, until his hands are no longer on Steve. He almost looks disappointed, but Steve knows Billy’s insides burn brighter than any star, and if he can’t have his way now, he’ll certainly get it later.

Billy sits down, sort of plops into the seat with a huff like he can’t believe Steve’s making him do this. Really, Steve doesn’t have a clue what he’s intended, but he does have paints and stained hands, clean brushes and white canvases that take his mind off of the bullshit his brain conjures. Billy’s never one to join Steve on his quest, complains too much about the paint fumes and that there’s no point to this if I can’t draw jack, Steve.

Billy’s more of a reader anyway, the study a life of its own with the shelves extending from floor to ceiling. It’s how Billy usually relaxes when he needs it, if he’s not busy coaxing an orgasm out of Steve – which he very happily enjoys – but this time, Steve reaches for Billy’s palm, pries his fingers open and sets a single brush in his hand.

“I trust you know what to do with it.” Steve nudges Billy’s fingers, closing the hold around the wooden stem of the brush. Then, he glances at the canvas from underneath his lashes, back and forth until Billy’s frowning.

“You mean you’re not going to give me a lap dance? I sat down for nothing?”

Try as he might, Steve can’t contain his smirk, tilting his head like he’s talking to a child. “You haven’t earned that yet,” he says, cupping the underside of Billy’s jaw in a tender gesture of affection, only pulling away to grab the other chair he keeps in the corner of the room. “Show me what you got, pretty boy.”

“You using my lines on me is not doing you any favors,” Billy says, narrowing his eyes. He’s pretty good at reading Steve – they’re both good at reading each other now, but sometimes Steve still pulls one over his head, likes when Billy’s games slip from his control, right into Steve’s.

“Just paint, Billy.” And then he waits, stares at the other man until Billy’s grumbling under his breath. The brush rotates between his fingers, Steve watching as he attempts to find a comfortable grip before hovering over the paints like he’s scared to touch them, like he’s never seen them before.

“Weren’t you working on something?” he asks, let’s his arm fall down, elbow to his knee. He glances at the paining, half of it covered in paint, the other half white, and the one lone streak that wasn’t intentional. If Steve could give it one ounce of personification, it’d be the way it mocks him as it lies drying.

“Nothing’s as important as you,” he replies, turning his gaze away from the eye sore – though in actuality, the whole canvas is, but that’s neither here nor there – to continue staring at Billy, watches the way the corner of his lips drag into a frown, realizing that there’s no way around Steve’s stubbornness.

Billy blinks, still doesn’t look impressed and says, “You’re being a brat.”

Petulance is a word Steve would use to describe Billy sometimes, so used to snapping his fingers and people crawling on their knees for a moment of his time. His job – though more like his position – gives him that luxury, and Steve hates to admit that maybe he’d fallen for it too until he realized just how much he could bat his eyes and turn Billy into a puddle of putty. “Didn’t start it, babe.”

“I wasn’t-”

“You were,” Steve insists, gives a quick point to the project as if that explains it all. “So, now you’re going to paint me a picture.” It goes quiet then, the music in the background filling the room, the city outside rumbling as if it wasn’t listening to their conversation.

“You know I can’t paint, princess,” Billy attempts on more time, just one moment of reprieve. Steve doesn’t understand why it’s so difficult to follow simple instructions, but then again, he’s dealing with a man in a fortune five-hundred company who’s never rolled over for anyone in his life.

Except Steve, but even then, that’s not something Billy easily admits to. It isn’t out of weakness, per se, and Billy loves showing him off to all his friends. As if Steve found objection in the question the first time Billy offered because he hadn’t, but more to do with the fact that Billy and emotions have never gone hand in hand. Like pulling teeth, Steve’s been on the brink of frustration too many times, knows the reason, knows Billy’s past, but still doesn’t wholly understand.

So, out of playing stubborn, Steve shrugs. “Does that look like a masterpiece to you?” Failure has welcomed him too many times; Steve feels like maybe that’s the root of a much larger problem. The career he’d aspired for left no room for positive affirmations, not until he’d struggled for a few years and finally booked a gig big enough to have offers roll in, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deal with his fair share of personal torment over whether all he’s good with his posing.

Steve likes his looks well enough, uses that to his advantage more often than he’d like to admit, but that alone isn’t fulfilling as the time spent in between painting and creating something much more than an image.

He frowns, holds disdain in his eyes because some of the colors have muddled together in a particularly ugly shade of brown. Not what he was going for, but it’s not like he can’t start again. That’d always been a lessoned learned.

“You know anything you do is good enough.” Billy’s eyes are on him now, intense and blue under the streams of sun that shine through the window.

It makes Steve suck in a breath, reminds him of all the reasons he loves Billy’s attention on him. “Not the point,” he croaks, definitely not disillusioned with the idea that Billy knows how he affects Steve. “But thank you anyway. You’re stalling; now get to it or-”

“Or what?” Billy says, the arch in his brow back.

Steve plucks the brush he’d been using off the table, dips it into a shade of blue – bright like the sky and similar to Billy’s eye color; he’d never admit it, but it’s why he bought it, felt like maybe the deep reds and shades of purple he loved the most could use the contrast even though it never really matched.

He’s sure there’s a metaphor somewhere in there, hates how he’s always slow in understanding what his subconscious already knows, but Steve only dabs the canvas in the corner, knows Billy’s looking at what he’s doing, only to surprise him by lifting the brush to slide it down the side of Billy’s cheek. “That’s my favorite color on you,” he says. “For future reference.”

Billy stills, gone rigid by the gesture. The flick of his tongue is what gives him away, that he’s not mad but agitated with really? Did you really?

“If you get paint on this suit-” he says, voice dropping low.

“You’ll what?” Steve taunts. “Spank me, daddy?” And just as he says it, like a slow motion shot of a film, paint drips off Steve’s brush and lands right on the lapel of Billy’s suit jacket. Bright blue paint on a deep brown suit don’t really go together, but Steve is reminded, if only briefly, why he loves color theory so much. “That was not planned.”

He shrinks away, wide-eyed as Billy dabs the paint off with a finger, slides it across the canvas in front of him because Steve doesn’t have a rag nearby, and there’s no sense in it anyway. There’s a dark spot on the suit, and it’s going to be a bitch to remove.

“Wasn’t it?” Billy rubs his thumb and forefinger together, that maybe if he does it long enough, the rest of the paint will wither away. Instead, it just leaves the tips tacky and stained like Steve’s.

“No,” Steve replies, dumps his brush into the dirty cup of water he keeps only in case he runs out of clean brushes. It hardly happens because Steve has enough sets that he can wash and dry a pair without waiting to use them. “You should’ve taken your clothes off before coming in here.”

Now the tables have turned, his argument weak across the tongue. Billy certainly picks up on that with, “Is that so?”

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I?”

“Billy,” Steve whines, flush gradually fluttering across his cheeks.

“Hmm. See, that’s not my name, baby. Not when you have to beg.”

“Who says I’m begging?” But he’s not confident in that question either, pointed out by Billy’s lazy smirk.

“Well, if you’re not,” he pauses, thumbing the bristles of the brush in his hand, “then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I did this.” Billy then takes the paint brush and runs it straight down Steve’s forehead, between his wide brown eyes and stops just as he reaches the tip of his nose.

“That’s-” Steve falters, feels the cool breeze twice as much as the paint sits wet upon his skin.

“Not fair?” Billy’s brows raise, amusement hidden in the corner of his eyes, significantly lighter than when he’d entered the room. It’s a better look on him, as Steve takes him in, gently touching the tip of his nose, definitely checking that one line had been given to his painting and now another sits between his eyes. Billy must read his thoughts, pushes further by emphasizing his tone lighter and nowhere close to Steve’s. “Didn’t start it, babe.”

He makes a split second decisions - not even that, really - by dipping his fingers directly into the yellow paint, flicking them until little dots dance across Billy’s skin. “Then finish it.”

It happens within seconds. One moment Steve is propped up on the edge of his chair, perfectly pleasant in sharing his space with Billy upright, and the next he’s sprawled across the floor. His brush rolls across it, left to be found later, and his paints - including the canvas and the water - splash around them. It’s in this moment that Steve’s grateful Billy replaced the carpet with tile, but even then he winces until Billy’s got four fingers - all stained with paint - running down the curve of his neck.

“Gladly,” he say as he reaches forward, attaching his lips to the side of Steve’s neck that isn’t covered in paint. He nips, and he sucks until Steve’s wriggling from beneath him. His cock fills quickly, doesn’t take much when he’s around Billy anyway, and he lets him know by rutting against his thigh, soft little presses until Billy reaches for his hip to hold him still. “I’m thinking,” Billy says, slipping two fingers just past the waistband of Steve’s sweatpants. His cock jumps, the anticipation curling in his chest, but Billy moves no further. “That I probably shouldn’t let you cum.”

Steve swallows a noise of disappointment. This isn’t what he’d intended, had really hoped for more of a conversation of intent and resolution than Billy pinning him against the floor on the off-chance that maybe he’d get to come.

But now that he’s here, he’s shameless enough to admit his will power doesn’t proceed him. “Please, daddy,” he emphasizes this time, latching onto Billy’s tie to pull him down into another heated kiss. His tongue is rough against Billy’s, sliding past his teeth, tastes the cigarette smoke and mints, the cleanliness that lingers because Billy knows of nothing else.

Immediately, whatever tension was left lingering in Billy’s body, simply dissipates. Steve feels the extra weight of Billy on top of him as he relaxes, as he pushes Steve’s sweatpants down to expose his cock. Billy takes him in hand, rough at first with the callouses against his palm, but it’s a discomfort that makes him twitch, makes him grind up into the palm of Billy’s hand seeking more, seeking a release he knows will be quick.

Billy thumbs at the head of his cock, breaking away from Steve’s kiss to latch onto the underside of his jaw. Blurts of pre-cum swell at the tip as Billy slowly rubs it down the length of him.

Steve always gets embarrassingly wet, generally likes to use his slick to fuck his fist, and Billy knows this, too, because he’d watched Steve once, made him sit on the couch in broad daylight just so he could stroke himself to orgasm with only the touch of his hand. Billy’s blue, wanton eyes were the only thing he’d seen as he’d fallen over the edge.

So, this isn’t an exception, not when Billy takes him fully, strokes up in one swift movement and too slow - agonizingly slow - to calm the desire in Steve, to make him wet, to make it easier. He whines low in his throat while Billy smiles against the curve of his shoulder. The linger of a kiss remains as he pulls away, stares at Steve and tells him, “Fuck my fist, princess.”

There’s no hesitation from Steve, doesn’t crow over the tile against his back, hard underneath the tarp, and he doesn’t complain about how his pants restrict him from opening his legs wider, can’t use his feet as leverage to give a good thrust.

Instead, Steve’s movement’s are limited, sloppy and uncoordinated. Billy’s seated in desire, curled around Steve’s side as he tightens his fist, releasing it a moment later only to repeat the torture of not giving enough until Steve catches his wrist, holds him there.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, reads Steve’s eyes as they beg, until he releases Billy in the hope he’ll listen. “You’re awfully haughty,” Billy whispers, though the thick of his voice gives away just how little control he has over it, how little he cares that Steve’s pushy when usually it’s the other way around. “Should let you take care of yourself.”

Shaking his head, Steve licks his lips, gives a particularly enthusiastic push of his hips before he tells Billy, “I’m too much of a sight to behold.”

With that, Billy squeezes around Steve’s cock, thumb curving just underneath the head until Steve’s hissing. Billy hums again, has a fond look on his face as he says, “You are, my darling. Watching you makes my day.” And then he’s shoving Steve’s shirt up, releasing his length for only a second to do it, sliding his hand down, down until he’s back stroking, quick sessions of his fist accumulating pre-cum, meeting the sharp thrusts Steve gives.

And then- then Billy’s lips are lower on his skin, as his shirt bunches up against the line of his collar. Billy gives a rough command, says, “Now cum or I won’t fuck you later,” then licks across the bud of Steve’s nipple, swirling his tongue until he gives a particularly hard bite that sends Steve’s head reeling, has his cock blurting thick strips of cum across his tummy, towards his chest.

He’s loud when the moan escapes, as Steve cries underneath Billy’s torture, feels his toes curl, limbs shaking. Billy presses kisses across the middle of his chest, laps at the cum that’s landed that far before taking Steve’s other nipple into his mouth despite the fact that he’s already cum. His hand is gentler now in his strokes across Steve’s cock, eases him through the after affects of release and only steps off when Steve whimpers, squirms away from sensitivity.

“You’re always so unfair,” Steve says after he few breaths, catches how easy it is to fill his lungs after the rise of his heartbeat.

Billy smiles, rests his chin on Steve’s chest lightly. The thick of his lashes make him look bashful, Steve staring down the bridge of his nose for a clear glimpse. He thinks, sometimes, how unfair it is, that all the small, pretty things about Billy always add up into one big picture of beauty, often made him wonder how he ended up here like this with a boyfriend who loved him good, fucked him good, too.

“If anything’s unfair,” Billy retorts, “it’s the fact that you got off, and I’ve yet-”

“Do you want me to-”

Billy’s quick to shake his head, places his cum-covered hand on Steve’s shoulder, which stops him from moving. “Told you I’d fuck you later. I meant that.”

“Like you also meant to snap at me?” Steve asks without a tone of regret. He slides his fingers across the back of Billy’s head, sinking them into his hair, rubbing his scalp with the blunt of his fingernails in light scratches. Steve looks away then, hates to be the bitch that ruins the mood, but he had intended for the issue to be addressed.

Besides, Steve might’ve been cookie-cutter perfect for a good chunk of his life, and that might’ve changed after years away from home, but the one thing that hasn’t left him is wanting to know the truth. No bullshit; no lies, Billy, he remembers telling him. You cheat, and we’re done.

It’s been years since that conversation, and they’ve never held each other to anything less. This is still no exception.

Billy sighs, turns his head so he’s ear is pressed against Steve instead. “Shitty day at work, that’s all,” he says, tired seeping through the vibrato. “Shouldn’t’ve snapped at you.”

There’s no reason to be mad, and Steve’s not, continues to sweep his hand through Billy’s curls, across the top of his head until he’s pulled away the tangles, and Billy’s eyes are fluttering closed.

“You do know I’m always down for a good, hard fuck if you ever need to let your frustrations out, Billy,” Steve eventually says when the silence stretches. “I’ve told you that, and I’d much prefer having my ass pounded than you angry and sniping at me.”

“Fuck, how’d I get so lucky.” Billy’s arm curls tight around Steve’s waist, warm and pliant. Steve can feel the rise and fall of his chest, maybe even feels Billy’s heart hammering away from another slight, like they’re all adding up until Steve finally penalizes him for it. He won’t; Steve will admit he’s stubborn, but he’s not scornful. Especially with Billy.

“You really did,” Steve says in agreement, lets the two of them rest there for what feels like ages, lets the music play and the paint dry and the wind breeze through the window until his back grows sore. “C’mon, babe.” He nudges Billy, almost would’ve guessed he fell asleep if it weren’t for him stirring underneath the shake of Steve’s palm. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Billy sits up, reluctantly, turning to help Steve with his pants, helps him stand. His suit is ruffled, has paint on it in random places. His hair’s a mess from Steve rucking through it, but he looks more than content, looks soft, at least, and much more like the person Steve likes to spend his time with.

Rough around the edges has always been, and will always be, Billy’s forte, but Steve enjoys this, too. Enjoys it when Billy sweeps him into his arms, presses their foreheads together, then kisses him softly. Enjoys it when Billy is sincere, when he tugs on Steve’s hand as he nudges a foot in the direction of their bedroom.

“I’ll buy you new paints,” he says absently as they walk down the hall. Steve regrets not cleaning anything, but the bed looks more than inviting, and more importantly, he knows Billy needs the sleep as he clings to Steve, hugs him from behind. Billy’s lips are delicate against his temple, hands caressing Steve’s hips.

“Good,” Steve says, finally urging Billy to untangle their limbs to sit down. Steve helps him off with his shoes, his socks, lets Billy remove the rest of his clothes until he’s in nothing but his boxers.

With his legs spread wide, Steve slots himself between Billy’s thighs, lays his hand on wide shoulders. “I’ll hold you to it.” And then he’s cupping Billy’s cheek with the palm of his hand, kissing him softly because once is never enough.

Soon, Steve’s balance fails him, the two of them falling into bed in the middle of the afternoon just because they have the time, just because they can, and just because Steve’s missed the way Billy curls around him when they’re together.

#x #harringrove #i hate when i fail so bad at prompts #like the intention was to go in a different direction but then characters take over #so this turned out differently than originally planned so :/

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crimsxnflxwerz · 7 years

Text

Like The Dawn [ch.2]

Rating: Teen+ Summary: Sometimes it takes opening your eyes to find what you’re looking for.[ or Persephone gets reborn as a baby boy named Ryan, and Hades takes the human form Shane in a desperate attempt to find his love once again. ] Pairing: Ryan/Shane Tags: greek mythology, Hades and Persephone, reincarnation, oblivious Hades is oblivious, memory loss Author Note: This is both my own take on the classic Greek myth of Hades and Persephone and how reincarnation in Gods work and such. Original ideas stemming heavily from mythological texts.

ps. i changed Ryan to a transguy when i edited the story for a03, so that’s canon now! hope it doesn’t turn anyone off ;;v;;. also, Sara’s in the fic because she deserves to be in ever fic. happy thanksgiving!

Ryan was drowning.

Maybe drowning wasn’t the best word for it. He’d been walking along the dark shore of a vast, choppy river, bare feet walking delicately on thousands of small, round pebbles. The horizon was a white light that bled up into a black sky like a watercolor painting. There were no stars, no moon, no sounds but the waves lapping at the rocks. He’d been walking for miles, but he wasn’t tired. He’s been watching the water for hours, but the image hadn’t changed. The light stayed the same, the air remained chill, the darkness absolute.

And he had walked into the water like it was the most normal thing he could have been doing. As soon as his foot touched the water, it felt like he’d been bitten. Like a thousand teeth were piercing his skin. The water physically recoiled, moving as a single body, steam hissing upward.

He wasn’t drowning. Drowning would imply accident. This was no accident. He’d stepped into that black water to die, and that had been that. He could remember why he had done what he did, what he was escaping, but the pain in his chest outweighed the fear of the water. There was a voice in his ear.

“Once you do this, you cannot go back,” it said. “Unless he finds you, you may not return to what you once were.”

Ryan heard the words, but held his resolve. Eventually the water engulfed him, and he opened his mouth, letting it in. It felt heavy, and cold, but he couldn’t leave now. He’d made his choice, and that was to die.

The last thing he heard was a name, his name he thought, but it said, “Persephone.”

Ryan jolted awake. He looked around his bedroom, eyes scanning frantically for his clock. His eyes located it on the floor, probably knocked over at some point in the night. It’s neon blue digital numbers read 3:30 am. Sweat was covering his entire body, soaking through his pajama shirt and into his pillow. He threw the covers back away from his legs and sat up on the side of his bed.

Another dream about it. He stood shakily and went to turn his shower on. Another dream about drowning. He peeled his pajamas off and tossed them in his laundry basket as he waited for the water to warm up. What could the dreams mean, he thought, staring at himself in the mirror. He ran his fingertips along the thin surgery scars on his chest. They were pale enough by now to not be very noticeable. Maybe the dreams were from the shots. It didn’t make much sense, but he figured he might as well look it up later.

He hopped into the shower and washed all the sweat off his body, the hot water pouring down on his shoulders, loosening up his muscles. Despite having a general fear of water, he loved showers. He figured since you couldn’t drown in a shower, that it was relatively safe. They look less time, too. If he was feeling particularly timid about water one day, he could just get in and out and still feel clean.

Ryan had held a fear of water and drowning since he was a baby. His mother used to only fill the tub up an inch or else he would start screaming and crying. She had no idea why he would be afraid of the water, they both agreed that nothing had happened to him to justify the fear.

In middle school, Ryan’s friends liked to joke that he had died by drowning in a past life. Although he didn’t believe in that kind of thing, he always found himself feeling forlorn or lonely whenever the subject was brought up. And now, living on his own, the idea continued to haunt him, but this time through vivid nightmares.

Though he had a fear of water, it didn’t hinder his other loves. He loved exploring, writing, and filming. The first thing he did with his new laptop was set up his own Youtube channel. He only had his laptop camera, but he would talk for hours about conspiracy theories and things that he found on his many nature walks. He wasn’t very good at cutting his videos down, since he thought everything was pretty important, but he learned through trial and error. Then he got his first camcorder for his 16th birthday. It was small, but unlike his laptop camera, he could take it with him on his journeys. He documented everything he could, the videos gaining some more viewers now that the video wasn’t just of him.

He wasn’t bad looking, but it could get boring watching just someone’s face for almost an hour.

Today, he would be filming again before he went to work. Since graduating college, he hadn’t gotten any kinda job that really went along with his major. It was hard to find work in film, especially if the thing you wanted to film was myths, ghosts, and local legends. His job was to take calls and transfer information. Basically, a secretary. He wasn’t mad about it though. It wasn’t a hard job, it paid for his new recording gear, and it had good hours.

He got out of the shower and threw on some flannel, jeans, and boots. He wanted to go out in the woods today. He’d been researching fae and other mythical creatures that hung around wooded areas recently. In fact, he’d been kind of into reading mythology, too. It wasn’t that he thought the stories were real, they were too fantastic, too magic. Ryan did believe in some unexplainable things, but there had to be at least a little logic to it.

He was mostly interested in things like fairy rings. His mother had told him once that they were active spiritual zones, and they were caused by tiny spirits sleeping on the Earth. She said that she wasn’t sure if they were good or bad, they just were. He was hoping to find some of those today, maybe study them further.

As he walked from his apartment, he felt deep inside him that something about today was just—off. For lack of a better term. He wasn’t quite sure what was going to be off about it, maybe his gut was just fooling him or something. He held fast to his camera bag as he waited for the bus. He wasn’t in a bad part of town, but the bad feeling was making him a bit paranoid. He didn’t need to be in a bad part of town for something bad to happen, anyways. He sighed in relief when the bus pulled up and he paid with his bus pass.

The bus generally took him to work, so he felt a little out of place being so dressed down. At his job, he didn’t really need to wear a suit, but he did wear a button up and slacks, sometimes a tie. He looked around and saw that other people were wearing nicer things, carrying laptop bags and briefcases. He was glad that his stop wasn’t too far down the road.

Stepping off the bus brought on a sigh of relief. Ryan looked ahead, across the street, to the state park he had chosen to explore today. Along with the bone-deep fear of water, Ryan also had an uncanny relationship with nature. Ever since he was a child, both animals and plants have had connections with him. He could nurse any house plant back to health. Deer would approach him on his walks in the woods. Dogs and cats acted calmer around him, as if he had some kind of aura that spoke their language, like he was telling them that they were safe now. All the better for his journey in learning more about the world around him. He remembered once, when he didn’t have his camera, he had been approached by a fox. It sniffed his hand and trotted along behind him through his walk that day. It had been so magical, if only he’d caught it on camera.

He dug his camera out of the bag and flicked it on as he crossed the street. He figured he’d just take the first trail he saw, and soon spotted one that was marked with stones. As he stepped into the woods, the feeling from earlier came back, but he brushed it off yet again. There was no need to worry, right?

Sara: Do you wanna hang out at your place today?

Shane squinted at the screen of his phone. He looked at the clock, but remembered that he’d actually unplugged it last night, so it wasn’t on. Judging by the light outside, he’d have to guess that it was around noon. He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips and let out a small groan.

Six months. Six months, he’d been a human without going back down, even once. He’d never been in the overworld for this long at once. It was exhausting, really. As a human, in his human body, he needed to do things, like eat, and sleep. In the underworld, he never needed to do these things. Drink nectar for pleasure, bathe to pass time, and lay in his bed covered in furs to see if they still smell like her.

Oh yes, he’d been in the overworld for six months, because he could have sworn he was getting close.

He wasn’t sure why he felt this way. There was no indication besides a tightness in his chest, an anxious feeling in his gut. His very soul reaching out, feeling hers reach back.

Shane: No, you know the rules. Corner café?

Since living in the overworld, Shane had discovered many things about humans. First of all, if you slip up and call yourself something like Hades, people don’t take you seriously. Shane did some searching on babynames.com to find an average kind of name for a male. Shane seemed like a pretty good name, and so that’s what he became. Eventually, it became natural to refer to himself as Shane, but in his slip up period, he hadn’t made any friends.

Well, he had made one friend.

Sara: okay fine… just so you know, your “rules” are dumb.

Sara was like a blessing. Shane had thought it was a good idea when he came up to the overworld to start his search via dating apps. Truthfully, he just didn’t know how or where to start searching, and he already had a curiosity about human dating, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try it out. He’d made a profile for himself, and the only person to actually respond and come through was Sara. They chatted online for hours at a time, and finally met up at a café.

Shane already knew that Sara wasn’t Persephone before they even physically met. He was sure that when he found her again, something in his chest would ignite. When he started messaging Sara, he’d been excited, but nothing seemed to click. They went on two dates before he told her this. Well, he told her that he didn’t think they were gonna work out, but followed it up with a friendship invitation, claiming he needed a friend because he was “new in town”. Sara had taken it really well, she almost seemed relieved when he asked if they could just be friends.

Shane: you know you like them ;) see you there.

Sara was interested in finding out more about him. She figured out quickly enough that he was looking for someone specific, not just anyone. Not someone he hadn’t met yet. Maybe it had been the faraway look in his eyes when his eyes happen to catch a bouquet of flowers. Maybe it was the desperate arch of his shoulders, always looking, head held up in search. Somehow, she knew, and she just wanted to help.

They were meeting today for coffee.

Shane threw on a flannel and sweater with jeans. Feeling comfortable, he grabbed his wallet and laptop bag. He discovered quite quickly that he couldn’t do much in the overworld without some form of currency, and apparently gold coins were a thing of the past, so he had to make due. He found a place that traded jewelry for cash, and happily traded some lesser crafts for enough money to live in the overworld. He left his apartment and walked down the street to the café to meet up with Sara. She lived closer to it, so she’d probably be there before him. He wondered if he should text her what he wanted, or just wait until he got there.

On his way to the café, he kept looking across the street at the state park. There was something about the park that was calling to him today. As he walked, the feeling grew stronger. He looked on curiously at the forest, wondering the world was trying to tell him something. If he did go into the park, what would he find there? The feeling was coming from an ancient part of him, one that has been searching for decades, for millennium, just to find her.

He managed to pull himself away for now, since he was nearly at the café, but it didn’t leave his mind.

The café door jingled when he entered, and he saw a girl life her head. She had short, curly hair was had been dyed a deep purple. She immediately beamed at him, waving him over. Shane came over and saw that she had a number on her table.

“Order something already?” he asked.

“Oh, don’t worry, I got you something,” she grinned. “You like tea, right?”

He blushed at the thoughtfulness. “Y-yeah, I love tea.”

“Oh! I’m glad I remembered, haha,” she said. “I got you tea. I figured, since I was already here…”

“That’s very nice of you,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, how are you?”

Sara shrugged one shoulder and absently picked at a peeling bit of paint on the table. “Eh, I’m okay, better now that I have company!”

Shane moved his chair a little closer to her, draping an arm over her shoulder. “Oh, what happened?”

“Just another date fell through,” she muttered. “It’s so hard to find someone these days.”

“Oh yeah, tell me about it,” he laughed. She smiled up at him. Their conversation was interrupted by a server coming over and asking them if this was their order, and set down a tray. The tray had a steaming cup of tea, a mug of coffee, a bagel, and a bowl of yogurt with oats and fruit. Sara nodded enthusiastically, and the server left them, taking the number on their table.

“Is that all yours?” Shane asked, but then she handed him the bagel and cup of tea.

“Oops, looks like I got more food than I can eat…” she muttered, trying not to grin. Shane blushed.

“You didn’t need to get this…” he said, but smiled about it anyways. After making friends with Sara, Shane had realized how lonely he’d been all by himself for so long. It was good to have a friend. In the underworld, he never had any friends. Well, he didn’t try and make any either, but still.

“Well, I needed to pay you back for all those things you’ve done for me!” she insisted. Her hand ghosted over the necklace she was currently wearing. It was a small diamond moonstone on a silver chain. The moonstone was one of his favorite gemstones, and he basically hoarded them in his palace. They always gave off a calming aura, or at least it seemed like it. It reminded him of the underworld, or at least the good parts of it. Like standing on the white shore of the great river Acheron. Unlike Styx, Acheron was peaceful and pleasant. The yang to Styx’s yin.

He’d given her that necklace the day after they decided to just be friends. He wanted to thank her for sticking around. There weren’t many people who did that for him.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” he smiled, before spreading some cream cheese on his bagel. “But this bagel will do just fine.”

They talked for a bit, sipping their drinks and simply enjoying each other’s company. Eventually, though, the pull from earlier came back. Like a magnet in his gut, being attracted to something in the woods across the street. He gazed out the window, feeling himself zone out. He imagined his beautiful wife, the night before she killed herself. She was wearing a gorgeous crimson sheer dress, roses and sticks of red berries woven into her hair. The last place he saw her was when he had left her lounging on their bed, neck red from kisses, blinking sleepily up at him.

He shouldn’t have left her that night. He hadn’t been that busy, it could’ve waited, whatever it was. That had been so long ago. He’d let so many memories go, but not that one. Her dark eyes, heavy lashes, the curve of her body, the softness in her voice. It was all so clear, and yet, he had overlooked all the signs.

She hadn’t really been happy with him. There was always something calling her away. She was like a caged bird, a chained animal. She sang and smiled and laid down to be touched, but it was all for show. She might have loved him, but he wasn’t enough. He had never been enough, and he never would be. He didn’t own her, because no one could ever own such a spirit.

“Earth to Shane,” he was brought back by a hand waving in front of his face. Sara looked at him quizzically.

“Something on your mind, buddy?” she asked. He felt his chest tighten when he looked away from the window. He brought out his wallet and plucked out a few dollars.

“Hey, I gotta go, here’s some money for the tip,” he said, hurriedly.

“Wait, you’re leaving already?” she asked, looking a bit disappointed. She rolled with it, however, and called after him as he left the café. “Well, text me later, I guess!”

He looked into the woods across the street as he waited for the light to change. The feeling inside of him grew stronger the longer he stared. The feeling told him that she was close. She was there, in the woods.

“I don’t know if you’re really out there,” he whispered to himself. “But I’ll find you, I promise.”

#buzzfeed unsolved #gods au #hades and persephone au #shyan #skeptic believer #my fic #hope you like!!!#happy thanksgiving guys!!!#alreadydone99

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the-mighty-jellybean · 4 years

Text

Black & Blue

Bruise: an injury appearing as an area of discoloured skin on the body, caused by a blow or impact rupturing underlying blood vessels...

Series Summary:

‘They littered her arms like splashes of watercolor paints, Steve couldn't stop staring, she pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan when she caught him. “I fell.” she muttered, pulling the fabric tight over her fragile body. All Steve wanted to do was pick her up, and put her in a box, like you would a broken bird. He wanted to fix this little bird, but he didn't know how.’

Pairing: Doctor!Steve x Reader, Brock x Reader

Series Warning: This story is going to be quite dark and heavy, and will contain heavy themes of domestic abuse. There will be: Violence and possible Noncon, if you are uncomfortable with any of these themes, please don't read, this book won't be for you.

Part One// Part Two// Part Three// Part Four// Part Five// Part Six// Part Seven// Part Eight// Part Nine// Part Ten// Part Eleven// Part Twelve// Part Thirteen// Part Fourteen// Part Fifteen// Part Sixteen// Part Seventeen// Part Eighteen// Part Nineteen// Part Twenty// Part Twenty-One// Part Twenty-Two// Part Twenty-Three Part Twenty-Four//

Part Twenty-Five: Last Man Standing

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language, Violence

Word Count: 5.4k

“I just can’t stop staring at her.” Steve whispered, as he stood over the small basinet that lay next to Y/N’s side of the bed. Steve was sat on the edge of the bed, Y/N had curled around his body, one hand resting on Steve’s thigh, the other was brushing her fingers along the side of Ruby’s face, her skin feeling so smooth and delicate beneath them.

“I know, I’m terrified that she’s going to just stop breathing, if I look away.” Y/N worried, watching the way she scrunched up her face, before settling once again.

“You don’t need to worry about that, sweetheart. She’s perfectly healthy, and you’re doing amazing.” Steve kissed the side of Y/N’s head, brushing some of her hair out of her face.

“You say that, yet these…” Y/N rolled onto her back, and waved her hands around her chest, “…don’t appear to want to work.”

“You just need to be a patient, sweetie. It’ll be okay.” Steve smiles, looking back at the slightly squirming infant; “Speaking of which, I think someone might be getting a little hungry.”

Steve leant forward, scooping Ruby into his arms, admiring the way she pushed her face into the material of his t-shirt, searching for something that she wasn’t going to find, with the male species.

“I can’t do it, Steve.” Y/N sighed, sitting up and taking Ruby from Steve.

“Just try for me, bubba. I’ll help you.” Steve turned so that he was now facing Y/N, helping her to roll up her shirt, Y/N moved forward allowing Steve to unhook her bra, freeing her sore breasts.

“Sit up a bit more, sweetheart.” Steve supports Ruby, whilst Y/N shuffled up, so that she was more upright.

“Okay, now just breathe, you’re putting too much thought and stress into it, just relax.” Steve guided Ruby’s head, so that it could find Y/N’s chest. For a moment, Ruby’s wobbly head, struggled to latch on, but soon she found her way to Y/N’s breast.

“See, you just need to relax.” Steve spoke softly so not to disturb the now quietly suckling baby.

Steve stroked over the light fuzz on the top of Ruby’s head, Y/N gazed into Ruby’s eyes, relieved that they resembled hers, rather than somebody else’s.

“She’s so beautiful.” Steve murmured, Y/N didn’t think that Steve had stopped admiring Ruby since she was born, he just seemed completely entranced by her.

“She truly is.” Y/N mumbled, Ruby’s eyes slowly fluttering shut, the more she drank.

“She looks just like you, from her hair, to her tiny toes.” Steve palmed the soles of Ruby’s exposed feet, her feet flexed as a reaction.

“I think she has tickly feet.” Y/N commented, after Ruby pulled her feet away from Steve’s hands.

“I love you so much.” Steve suddenly said, Y/N looked up at him, to see that Steve was looking directly into her eyes, his face serious.

“I love you too.” Y/N giggled, surprised by his sudden need to express his love.

“I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life…you were just so incredible…you were just…”

“I get it. Stop. Please.” Y/N chuckled; Steve’s cheeks glowed with embarrassment as he dropped his chin to his chest.

“I love you too, but please stop with the compliments; it’s embarrassing.” Steve nodded, sliding back onto the other side of Y/N, wrapping his arm tightly around Y/N’s shoulder.

“Sure, honey. Whatever you want.”

~~~~

“So how long are you going?” Y/N bounced up and down, as she asked Steve the question. Ruby fussing in her arms.

“Thankfully it’s just half a shift, but it can always run over, but I’ll try and get home to you as soon as I can. I’ll call you when I can, to check in on you. If you have any problems then you can just give me a ring, my phone will remain in my pocket this time.” Steve winked, then leaned in to kiss Y/N fleetingly on the lips, before disappearing out the door.

Leaving Y/N with the squawking baby, and a load of housework to do.

“Wow, love you too, darling husband.” Y/N huffed, placing Ruby down in her bouncy chair, “Come on, bubs, we’ve got to work together here.”

Y/N sighed heavily as she bounced the seat up and down, eventually Ruby’s cries began to die down, turning it to soft whimpers, then Y/N grabbed her pacifier and her cries completely disappearing.

“That’s my baby.” Y/N smiled, turning to the pile of ironing in the corner of their laundry room, hands going to her hips. “Right, let the games begin.”

So far Y/N had managed to get through most of the ironing, when a knock on the front door nearly startled Ruby awake.

Y/N spun round, squinting as Ruby thrashed around a little, before resuming her regular sleep positions. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she walked to the front door, only to be greeted by their neighbour, Andy.

“Morning, Y/N.” He smiled, Y/N looked at him sceptically, he had been doing this more and more, since Y/N and Steve had moved in. Turning up after Steve had left for work, wanting to chat, or he would sometimes bring their post from their letter box for them. It was strange and the man seemed harmless, but Y/N couldn’t help but be on edge around the man she didn’t know.

“Morning Andy, how can I help you this morning?” Y/N asked shyly, hiding half her face behind the door, the safety chain still in it’s place.

“Just thought I’d tell you that there are some workmen coming in today, there’s been some problems with the gas.” Y/N eyed the man, not sure what he was saying was true.

“I’ve not had any issues, Steve would have said this morning, when he had a shower. I think it’s fine for us, but thank you, I’ll keep an eye on it.” Y/N went to shut the door, but it was abruptly stopped by Andy’s foot being wedged in the door.

“Please take your foot away, Andy.” Y/N began to panic, her hands gripping the door frame.

“I’m just saying, that there will be some workmen knocking on your door, in a few hours, just thought I’d prewarn you.” Andy seemed slightly unnerved, himself, but his foot stayed.

“Okay…I understand that…Now please remove your foot.” Y/N speaks slowly, Andy removed his foot at a similar pace, and Y/N quickly closed the door on him. Leaning back against it, her hand going to her chest, feeling the way her heart, beat rapidly against her palm.

Exhaling, she pushed herself off the door, walking towards the still sound asleep baby.

“We’re going to be okay, we can do this can’t we, Rubes. It’s just a couple of workmen, we don’t need to call daddy.” Y/N mainly spoke to herself, as her shaky fingers, pulled the blanket tighter over Ruby

“Yeah we can do this, mommy’s just being silly.” Y/N shook her head at herself, going back to the pile of clothes that still needed folding.

A few hours later, another knock came to the door, making Y/N jump, which alarmed Ruby, who was resting in Y/N’s arms, making her squeal and shriek.

“Awl Ruby, please darling.” She rocked the baby, staggering to the door, as she tried to hush the child.

“Who is it?” She called over the wails of the newborn, Ruby’s lips quivering with the amount of force she was using to cry out.

“It’s the gas man, I’ve come to look at your boiler?” A man’s rough voice spoke from the other side. Hesitating, Y/N’s hand rested on the door chain unsure if she wanted to slide that little ball of metal across, removing her one line of defence.

However, Ruby’s cries grew louder and louder, Y/N couldn’t take the crying anymore, and she felt embarrassed that the man had, had to wait so long already.

Y/N slid the chain over, and with her back to the door, turned the lock on the door, allowing it to swing open, freely.

“Sorry, she’s a newborn, the boilers in there, I need to sort her out.” Y/N explained, pointing to the laundry room, where the boiler sat, she didn’t look up from Ruby’s scarlet face, as she wondered into the bedroom bouncing the newborn in her arms, hoping to soften the cries.

“It’s okay, I’ve got a new baby in the house, I understand.” The man said behind her, Y/N barely paid attention, just briefly throwing a look over her shoulder, to see the man dressed in mainly black, with a black hat on. He bent down in the laundry room, and placed his toolbox on the ground, keeping his back to Y/N and the baby.

“Really you got any tips for a new mom, because my god I will take anything.” Y/N breathed, looking down at her screaming baby.

“Not really, we’re pretty new to this ourselves.” The man laughed, reaching into his bag to pull out some sort of equipment.

“Oh really, how old is yours?” Y/N asked, placing her pinky finger into Ruby’s mouth, it worked to calm her cries, and Y/N could now hear the man more clearly.

“It’s a little girl, and she’s only a few weeks old, I think maybe two or three.” Y/N wasn’t so keen on that answer, quirking her eyebrow.

“How do you not know how old your baby is?” Y/N asked, in a jovial voice, not wanting to appear rude.

“Oh, my wife deals with all that, I just get to cuddle her when I get home from work.” The man answered, Y/N recognised the voice, as the man’s accent slipped slightly.

“Where did you say you were from?” Y/N pulled Ruby closer to her out of natural instinct, not liking the man’s behaviour.

“Oh, I move around a lot Miss Y/L/N, but I’m from Maine originally.” Y/N’s heart speeded up, she eyed the man knelt in her laundry room, creeping towards the front door slightly.

“How did you know my name was Miss Y/L/N?” Y/N rushed.

“It was on the list of people’s gas, I needed to check.” The man mumbled, he reached into his duffel bag again, his hand remaining hidden.

“My name is Mrs Rogers, has been for a few months now, I bought this apartment under that name, so the tenancy should say that. What did you say your name was again?” Y/N’s breathing became very shallow, when the man rose from the floor, his hand following the rest of his body, revealing the handgun. The man turned, and Y/N shrieked startling Ruby, as she ran to the front door.

“Aw, princess, are you not happy to see me?” Brock laughed, watching Y/N struggle on the door, that he had previously locked.

Y/N pounded her fists onto the door, as she tugged at the handle, Ruby screaming in her arm.

“Let me out, let me out of here!” Y/N screamed banging on the front door, Ruby pressed close to her chest;

“Stay away from me!” Y/N yelled, when Brock moved from the laundry room, heading towards Y/N and the baby.

Brock approached the flailing woman, a wicked smile stretched across his face, he stopped just short of the two of them, Y/N’s eyes drifted to the kitchen counter, one of the knives Steve had used last night to make dinner, laid abandoned by the kitchen sink.

Brock followed Y/N’s gaze, spotting the knife, and his eyes snapped back to Y/N.

“What are you going to do, princess? You gonna grab that knife? Huh, finish me off properly?” Brock teased; the hand that held the gun shook slightly.

“Do you think, that you could make it to that knife before I blew a hole in your head?” Brock began to pace towards Y/N once again. Y/N shrunk back sliding down the door, holding Ruby as close as she could.

“No, please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt my baby.” Y/N cried, burring her face in Ruby’s blanket.

“Princess, I don’t want to hurt you…well I don’t want to hurt the baby, I can promise that, you…maybe not so much, but the baby, the baby will remain unharmed.” Brock grinned, grabbing Y/N by the scruff of her shirt, and heaving her onto her feet making her scream. She turned to pull on the door again, pounding on the fake wood.

Y/N hoped if she made enough noise that one of the neighbours might hear something, like they had done on that fateful night.

“Princess, the door is locked, it’s not going to open. Why do you keep trying?” Brock shook Y/N by her shirt, Y/N held Ruby close so that the movement wouldn’t make her drop her.

“I know why. It’s because you’re stupid,” Brock spat, “what are you?!” Brock bellowed, making Y/N shake, “Huh, tell me what you are, tell me!”

“I’m stupid.” Y/N squeaked, barely audible over the cries of the baby.

The sound of Y/N’s ring tone broke the air of suspense, Y/N’s head snapped to the device, and she tried to grab it, before Brock could but she couldn’t reach it in time.

Brock threw Y/N to the side, she had to be careful to catch herself, before she fell on Ruby; he moved to the phone, picking it up.

“Awe that’s sweet. Lover boy must be checking up on you.” Brock mocked, clicking the off button on the phone.

“If I don’t answer him, then he’ll come home. He gets worried about me, because he cares-“

“Just be quiet, I’m not going to be here for much longer.” Brock threw Y/N’s phone into the sink.

Brock pulled out one of the chairs, under the table, seating himself down, resting the gun on the top. Y/N slouched onto the floor, a few metres away from his feet, rocking Ruby, hoping to calm her cries.

“So, when was my daughter born then, I had to use your neighbour for months, hoping that he would get me some information about my little girl. Yet he was useless.” Brock flicked his head to Y/N, her hands shook as she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Andy?” Y/N quivered.

“Yes, that boring bastard.” Brock pretend yawned, “Made him check on you every day, yet he still didn’t tell me when the baby was born.” Brock huffed, before he sat up in the chair, spinning in it slightly so he could lean heavily on his elbows, and glared at Y/N.

“Tell me, did it hurt?” Y/N looked up at Brock, unsure of what he meant.

“Did what hurt?” She whispered.

“See what did I say, completely stupid!” Brock yelled, making Y/N flinch, and Ruby’s softening cries erupt into howls once again, “What the fuck did you think I meant. Did it hurt when you pushed that out of your pussy?”

Y/N cringed at Brock’s vulgar language, grateful that Ruby was too young to understand what was happening.

“Well!” Brock pressed.

“Umm…yes, it hurt.” Y/N didn’t know what Brock wanted her to say.

“Like really hurt, did you think you were going to die?” Brock’s face twisted up into a wicked smile.

“What do you think would hurt more, pushing out another one of my kids, or a bullet in your leg?” Brock’s tone had dropped into a sinister pitch, Y/N shuddered at his words.

“I don’t know…I don’t understand the question.” Y/N wobbled, shuffling so her knees were pulled close, shielding Ruby.

“Fucking stupid.” Brock hissed.

“It’s a fairly simple question, which would you rather want; to push one of my kids out, or be shot in the leg?” Brock snapped.

“What do you want Brock, what do you want from me?” Y/N shook.

“I want to know if it’s worth me bringing you with me, when I take that baby, or whether I should just shoot you in the leg, so that you can suffer that pain, as well as, the agony of knowing that I’m raising our baby.” Brock shrugged, as if the statement he had just made, didn’t feel as though he had already shot her.

“She’s my baby, and she’s not going anywhere with you.” Y/N seethed through her teeth, the mother bear instinct kicking into a full swing.

“Well, if I shot you in the head then you couldn’t exactly stop me, could you?” Brock stood from the chair, wondering over to Y/N’s trembling figure, holding the barrel of the gun against her temple.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her lips to Ruby’s head, holding her breath waiting for the sound to come.

“But, I couldn’t do that,” Brock lowered the gun, turning away, “I want you to suffer…like I’ve suffered.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Y/N snivelled, a little breathless, as she realised, she was now engaging with a waltz with Death, that she hadn’t practiced for.

At Y/N’s words, Brock rushed towards her, pulling Y/N back up to her feet, their faces were inches from each other.

“Because you couldn’t just take it, could you?” Flecks of Brock’s silva sprayed Y/N’s face as he spat out his words, it almost burned like venom from a snake, “You couldn’t just be a good little girl, and do as you were told, without the answering back, without the disobedience, without the adultery. Just let me fuck you where and when I want, you couldn’t let me have that could you, you couldn’t let me enjoy myself.”

“You raped me, Brock. My baby, was conceived out of hatred and violence.” Y/N choked, the way Brock lifted her up by her collar had caused the material to tighten around her neck.

“It’s our baby, and you’ve ruined my life, with your little crying rape story.” Brock put on a high-pitched voice as he accused Y/N of lying.

“Because of you, I’ve lost everything. Funny enough companies don’t usually allow suspected rapists to defend them in court. So, do you know what that means? Do you? Answer me!” Brock yelled.

“No, I don’t know what it means-what-what does it mean?” Y/N blubbered, Brock’s tone becoming more and more frightening.

“It means S.H.I.E.L.D let me go, without any clients, I was useless to them. I lost everything because of you. So, I’m going to take back what I’m owed.” Brock’s eyes dropped to the fluff of hair that was peeking out from under the blanket.

“No, no you’re not taking my baby, anywhere.” Y/N pulled against Brock’s hand, that was gripping her tightly.

“She’s mine. I deserve her.”

“As what, a consolation prize, for being a rapist?” Y/N shrieked, managing to break free of the hold Brock had on her, stumbling backwards slightly.

“As a fresh start, a new life.” Brock smiled; his eyes were still fixed on the little baby in Y/N’s arms.

“You will never take this baby from me.” Y/N glared, the need to protect her baby, was far stronger than her fear.

“Why take her away from you. Come with us. I’m sure, after some time has passed, I could learn to forgive you for what you did. I’m sure you could make it up to me, like you used to.” Brock’s eyes darted down to his crotch, and Y/N had to swallow hard to stop herself from vomiting.

“I’d sooner rip your dick off, than let you touch my daughter or me ever again.” Y/N threatened, the anger in her rising.

“You know for someone’s who’s only weapon is a little baby, you really shouldn’t be making threats, against a man, who with just one squeeze of his fingers, could blow your brains across these lovely white walls.” Brock taunted, waving the gun in his hand.

Y/N didn’t flinch, she just narrowed her eyes, wishing she could shoot daggers out of them.

Suddenly in the far distance was the sound of sirens, they appeared to be of a length away, however, they appeared to be getting closer.

“What did you do?” Brock lunges towards Y/N and before she could escape his grasp, his hand grabbed hold of her arm, and was pulling her into their bedroom.

“Nothing, how could I do anything, you’ve held me hostage for the last hour.” Y/N chided, stumbling over her own feet, as Brock tossed her into her room, barricading them both into the room by pushing the items of furniture into the bedroom. “I told you, you should have let me speak to Steve, he’s been on edge since the trial.”

“What are you doing, you do know there is a large window, right here.” Y/N points over her shoulder at the Manhattan skyline, that stand behind her.

“Shut the fuck up.” Brock retorted, pushing Y/N to the side, so that he could get to the large heavy curtains, tugging them around, leaving just a small space for him to peak out of.

“What’s your plan now? Hold us hostage?” Y/N plonked onto the bed, glancing down to look at Ruby, who was looking back at her, her lower lip wobbling a little.

“Be quiet, I’m thinking.” Brock began pacing, Y/N could see through the small gap in the curtains and could hear the sirens that were attached to the battalion of cars, that were flooding the street below.

Brock stopped mid-pace, when he spotted the picture frame on the bedside table. Bucky had gifted it to Y/N and Steve a few weeks ago; it was a framed photograph of Y/N, Steve and Ruby, it had been taken a few minutes after Ruby had been born, the two of them were smiling as they gazed at the fresh little bundle in their arms.

“The perfect family.” Brock spoke lowly, walking to the table, and picking up the frame.

“He’s the best father in the world.” Y/N argued, pulling Ruby into her once again, as Brock looked down at the frame.

“He’s not a father.” Brock raised the frame, “You’re living a lie. He will never satisfy your needs like I can, princess. He can’t look after you the way that I can.”

Brock threw the picture to the floor, the glass shattering onto the floor, he stamped onto it, a few more times, before kicking it away.

“Feel better? Does it make you feel like a man, ruining other people’s lives?” Y/N growled; her eyes fixed on the pile of glass.

“Stop talking, unless you’re going to give me that baby or agree to come with me, I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth.” Brock barked, starting to stalk the room once again.

Both of their heads whipped to the door, hearing banging coming through the wood, echoing from the front door.

“Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me, are you in there?” Sam’s voice broke through the banging, Y/N stood from the bed, opening her mouth to scream.

“One sound, and I’ll shoot you, I don’t care, who I hit.” Brock whispered harshly.

“He’ll know that I’m here. He knows that I don’t leave the house without Steve.” Y/N muttered, just as fierce.

“Brock, if you’re in there, then just come out now, before you make things worse.” Sam tried once again.

“I’m not going anywhere till I get what I came for.” Brock roared back, making Y/N shudder at the harshness of his voice.

Ruby began to fuss in Y/N’s arms, she could pick up on the tension and the anxiousness that she could feel from her mother.

“Shut her up.” Brock was growing angrier and angrier, his fists were shaking, the gun in his hand was beginning to rattle.

“That’s easier said than done.” Y/N peeled Ruby away from her chest, the little newborn starting to weep.

“What’s the time?” Y/N asked Brock, noticing the way Ruby smacked her lips together.

“Why got somewhere to be?” Brock snarled, tapping his foot.

“No, I just think that she needs a feed, and I don’t want to do it in front of you.” Y/N glared, trying to hush Ruby, who was growing hangrier and hangrier.

“Why, I’ve seen it all before.” Brock winked, again Y/N felt sick to her stomach.

“Please, just let me go in the bathroom, it’s not like I can run away from in there.” Y/N sassed.

“Just turn around, I won’t be able to see anything if you have your back to me.” Brock chided.

“I hate you.” Y/N mumbled, shuffling around so her back was to Brock.

Y/N struggled, trying to make Ruby latch on, but she just broke out into shrill cries.

“I told you to shut her up.” Brock snapped, Y/N threw a glare over her shoulder, before struggling to get Ruby to feed.

“You’re scaring her.” Y/N muttered, stroking Ruby’s cheek in an attempt to get her to be quiet.

“Scaring her, how can I scare her? She doesn’t have a fucking clue, what’s going on?” Brock bellowed, making the crying situation worse.

“Well, what is happening here? I mean what are you actually doing, there are police at the door, going by that thudding noise coming from the window, there is some kind of helicopter, just outside the glass. What is your plan now, now that you’ve got nowhere to run.” Y/N covered herself up, giving up on feeding Ruby, and just glaring at Brock, who looked like he hadn’t the faintest idea what to do next.

The awkward suspense was broken by another phone going off; this time it was Brock’s in his pocket. Slowly sliding it out, he suspiciously answered it, not breaking his eye contact with Y/N, as he listened to the voice on the end of the phone.

“Oh, it’s you.” Brock spoke, gruffly, “…what I want is for you lot to move back, I’m going to look through the spy hole in the door, if I see a single one of your men I’m going to shoot, Y/N and the kid. I want all of your men out of the building, and that helicopter, I want it gone…”

Y/N realised that Brock was making his demands, her ears twitched as she listened intently, gently rocking Ruby, who was beginning to calm down.

“I mean it Wilson if I see a single blue flashing light, you’re going to be dealing with a double homicide.” Y/N perked up when she heard Brock use the name Wilson, she couldn’t decide whether she was still scared, or slightly relieved to know that she had friends so close.

It went quiet once more as Sam was clearly responding to Brock’s demands.

“Fine…but make it quick.” The phone was thrusted into Y/N’s face, she flinched back, but with shaky hands, she took the device, holding it to her ear.

“Hello?” She said, cautiously.

“Y/N, is that you?” Sam’s worried voice played through the mobile.

“Yeah, it’s me, Sam.” Y/N’s eyes darted to Brock, who was already staring at her.

“What’s going on, are you and the baby oka-Steve…hey…no…you can-“

“Sweetheart…Sweetheart…can you hear me, are you okay?” Suddenly Sam was pushed off the phone, and Steve breathed heavily done the line.

“I’m okay, so is Ruby, were just a little shaken up.” Y/N watched Brock’s grip pulse on the gun, as he grew more and more nervous, the longer the phone call continued.

“Has he hurt you, I swear to god, if he has-“

“No, Steve. We’re fine.”

“Steve? I didn’t agree to that.” Brock snatched the phone out of Y/N’s hand, “Listen hear Rogers; if you don’t get Wilson to move his men out of the building, I’m shooting your pretty little wife in the head, then I’m killing that baby.” Brock abruptly ended the call, before lifting the gun and pointing it at Y/N.

Y/N turned her back on Brock, attempting to shield Ruby with her body.

“Brock, please, please don��t do this…I’ll do what you want, whatever it is, I’ll do it.” Y/N begged, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You should have thought of that, when you decided to ruin my career.” Brock’s voice dripped like poison, making Y/N’s head hurt.

The soft thud that had been outside the window for quite some time, had now passed, leaving just the usual noises of Manhattan to fill the empty space. Brock lowered the gun and walked to the window, carefully angling the curtains, so that he could peek through the gap, without being spotted.

When he was satisfied with the view, he went back to the door, removing the items of furniture that were obscuring the way out.

“Stay here, don’t fucking move, or you’ll have a hole in your head.” Brock threatened, before walking out of the bedroom, to look out through the spy hole by the front door.

Brock soon returned, grabbing hold of Y/N’s arm, heaving her onto her feet.

“Don’t touch me.” Y/N snarled, ripping her arm out of his grip.

“I’ll do what I fucking want.” Brock spat, grabbing hold of Y/N’s hair, “Now fucking walk.”

Using the fist of hair, he had achieved in grasping, Brock manipulated Y/N’s head, before pushing her through the door. Once again, Y/N had to stop herself from falling on top of Ruby, steadying herself with a nearby couch.

“Wait.” Brock ordered, just as they were walking past the open planned kitchen. Brock moved in front of Y/N, to check the spy hole for the last time. Y/N’s eyes darted to the knife that still lay on the counter, as quickly as she could she grabbed it, hiding it under Ruby’s blanket that was over her chest.

Brock turned around none the wiser.

“Right, move it.” Brock pushed Y/N again back to the door.

Brock unlocked it, and Y/N twisted the handle, then she edged her way out of the apartment, eyes scanning the corridor, but feeling disheartened when there was no sign of a police officer or Steve to be found.

“Move.” The barrel of the gun was pressed in between Y/N’s shoulder blades, forcing her to move forwards, and be guided along the walkway by Brock.

“When we get to the lobby, you better do exactly as I say, or I’ll start shooting, got it?” Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice, her hand sweating around the concealed blade.

Slowly they made their way to the end of the hallway, before taking a short trip down the stairwell, all the while, Y/N’s hand remained firm on the handle of the knife.

Brock grabbed the back of Y/N’s neck, making her stop in her tracks, just before the two of them walked around a corner, which would leave them in the middle of the lobby.

“Wait there.” Brock pushed Y/N behind him, whilst he craned his neck around the wall, observing the fleet of cops that waited by the door.

Y/N watched the space at the back of Brock’s neck, the exosed skin between his t-shirt and hairline.

Her grip tightened on the knife, seeing this as her chance she removed the knife from the blanket, raising it above her head, the tip wobbled slightly, from the vibrations in Y/N’s trembling hands. Holding her breath, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, bringing it down with the force of a thousand men, straight into the gap.

Brock made an odd gurgling sound, followed by some drowned groans. However, Y/N didn’t stay around to find out what was happening, cupping the back of Ruby’s head, she made a run for it, towards the doors; her and Ruby screamed all the way.

“Contact, hands in the air, put your hands in the air.” Eight or nine members of the SWAT team, with their guns held high, began to yell.

Y/N a sobbing mess, didn’t know where to look, she just needed Steve.

“Help me! Help me, please!” Y/N shrieked, Ruby was probably crying her throat raw, as she screeched just as loudly.

“Put your guns down, put your guns down!” A familiar voice broke through the group of men. A man Y/N recognised, alongside a fellow blonde, came into Y/N’s blurry vision.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, I’m here, come to me.” Steve’s voice sounded like a songbird, Y/N broke into another sprint, before running into Steve’s open arms.

“Where is he, where is he?!” Y/N screamed and trembled, her voice cracking as her body broke out into a full tremor, not knowing how far Brock had managed to stagger, after she had severed most of his vital nerves in his neck.

Steve was holding the back of her neck, as he held her head away, so she couldn’t she see the operation that was underway.

“Where he belongs, bubba…” Steve watched as a few members of the police squad walked into the building, it wasn’t long before they returned, carrying a black bag, the size of a man.

“He’s where he belongs…in hell.”

A/N: Aye, not gonna lie, I did debate a darker ending, but I’m too emotional right now to do that, and all I want is a three-way cuddle with Bucky and Steve, and nothing else will console me.

Thank you to everyone, who enjoyed this book, it’s been a journey. There has been tears, laughter and anger, all of the best emotions and reflexes rolled into one, however; our time together has come to an end. I am going to take a little break from writing, just for a moment, because I’ve just had a busy couple few weeks, but I think I will put a Q & A post up on Monday, just to keep up with you guys.

The next book, is in the boardroom at the moment, and I’ll start working on it in a few weeks, but for now I need to chill for a sec.

For those of you who have sent me some prompts I will get round to doing them, I just as I’ve said a lot, need a rest for a bit. But you will be done at some point.

Love you all,

JellyBean xxxxx

Taglist:

@this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru @cutie1365 @saiyanprincesswanie @pasaaloquepasaa @emma-is-a-nerd @traumschiffe @putinovertime @vibraniumdaisies @brownsugur @speechlessxx @winchester-wifey @buckys-forgotten-plum @lou-la-lou @candy-and-writing @lemonadygirl @marvelinsanity @captainamerica-is-bae

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve fic #steve angst #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow #doctor!steve #doctor!steve x reader #dark fic #dark steve fic #dark marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel movies #reader insert

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areallyyellowmango · 6 years

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Hello ! I am a 14-years-old artist and since you're young as well, I would like to know if you have any advice to young artists who are trying to get a little noticed like me ? Also, any digital art tips ? Ty if you answer !!

Hey there anon! Thank you for asking! ♥ That is a subjetc I really like talking about cause it’s something that, honestly, is not very easy and can be very different for different people. Getting your art noticed at first can seem like an impossible mission, especially if, like me, you’re still climbing your way towards “essential” improvement, and by essential I mean the fundamentals of art, like anatomy, composition and other theorical stuff. As an artist that is still in the middle of this process, I feel so honored to know someone wants my advice to get through steps I’ve gone through, that means I’m progressing well, so thank you for that ♥ But anyhow, I’ll try to sum up what I feel like are very very VERY important tips for young artists, based on what I’ve learned/self taught myself throughout the years. c:1) Don’t do it to get noticed; do it for fun. Of course, feels so good to get a fantastic feedback from followers and other dear mutuals, it’s just amazing! But it’s a human being fact: when we turn fun into work, it becomes boring and stressful. When I started the blog, I pushed myself to post every single day. I thought that if I was very active, I’d be noticed more quickly. At first it was okay, I learned a lot of stuff really quickly trying and trying repeatedly. But it soon started feeling like another source of pressure in my life. So I went back to how I did before, drawing for fun, doing it cause I love it, cause it’s my passion, working to improve, and it all got so much better. Being noticed should not be your main fuel, love should. And all the rest comes as a consequence of how much love you put in what you do. Not only in art, but everything in life.2) Practice. Practice a lot. Never stop.Right after having fun, improving myself as much as I can is the second main thing I focus. There’s a quote that I like that goes: “May you be pleased with your work, but never satisfied”. Keep on practicing, constantly. I recommend keeping a sketchbook with you, and trying to make yourself draw some sketches on it every single day. But keep in mind: It doesn’t have to be perfect! It shouldn’t be! Make gesture drawings, scribbles, doodles, sketches. Draw from life or from your mind. If you like drawing faces, draw many different faces, experiment shapes and styles. Challenge yourself to draw something you’re not good at. No need to push yourself to make it perfect on your first tries, keeping on trying is the key for any young and specially self-taught artist. If your art achieves what the viewers looks for in quality, it’ll be noticed sooner or later.3) When it comes to getting your art more noticed, focusing on fanarts might make it easier.Okay that might sound weird, but it’s true. Starting out and gaining some popularity as an OC artist is DAAAAAMN HARD. At first, my blog was gonna be OC focused. I kinda gave up cause 1) I noticed I didn’t really wanna draw OCs anymore for a while :’) and 2) As we know, fanarts are much more likely to get noticed than original characters arts. Luckly for me, I love the AoT fandom so much and it was quite easy for me to feel like an active part in it when I started trying. It’s a really nice fandom overall in my opinion, which accepts all kinds of art pretty well, so it’s a good starting point for you. Of course, if your original art is good and innovating it’ll gain popularity with certain ease as well, but it’s not that common for young and begginer artists like us to expect that from ourselves right off the bat so I guess that’s worth saying.4) Find mutuals/fellow artists/your inspirations!Before creating my blog, I’d never been in touch with other artists that produced the same kind of content I do; I did it all just for the sake of doing without really showing anyone and without any critique, just keeping it all for me. Tumblr really changed it for me. I made fantastic friends here, some of which are EXCELLENT artists that I look up to so so so much. Being in touch with other artists, along with making it much more fun to be a creator of content, helps you learn much more about what you need to improve by constantly noticing how they draw certain thing, what kind of style they use and having someone close to you that likes the same stuff you do and might like your art as well!I could go for hours talking about stuff I think are very important on improving your art and bringing people to notice it more, but I think it’d get too long and something like a “lesson” and I don’t think art is something that can be taught to someone in that way. You can teach the fundamentals I mentioned before, but art is something that should come from each individual in my opinion, and growing with it is a different experience for each different person. :3About digital art, I’m still a begginer in that and my traditional art is much better than my digital art in many aspects (except coloring, cause I don’t practice coloring with pencils much and don’t have watercolors yet ;-; ), but from what I’ve learned these past few months, the three most important things are: 1) Get to know the program you use, whatever it is. As a begginer, I’d definetly recommend using Paint Tool SAI. It has some great tools, just enough to start out and make some good art, and it’s not too hard to use. By getting to know your program and it’s settings and tools, you’ll eventually know by heart just which tool to use everytime and how to make things look more natural and flow better. Also, I believe moving to Photoshop or whatever other program that has more tools after getting used to SAI is much easier than picking it up straight away. There’s also the pen tablet of course which is essential in my opinion (I ain’t got time, patience and skill to draw with a damn mouse :^) ). There are some good ones that are not very expensive and do their job pretty well! 2) Don’t get stressed out if your art is not as clean and well done as it usually is on paper. For me personally, learning how to draw digitally has been almost like learning how to draw all over again. It’s not as easy to transfer the ideas from my mind to the computer screen as it is on my sketchbook. I have a messy drawing style by nature, so things like linework and coloring digitally were very tough for me at first, and it took some practice to get to the point I am, in which I still need A LOT of practice and improvement. But my point is, try and try and try again until you get to a point in which it looks cleaner and it flows better, like it does on paper. Play around with different brushes and textures, perhaps you’ll find one that matches your style better.3) PRACTICE! That sounds cliche, but it’s true. It’s the only way to improve. There’s not much to say about it overall, but what I like to do to practice is take some random reference photos and “trace” over them, not like, literal tracing, but turning the body into blocks so I can understand better how joints work, for example, and how they look when bent like this or like that, so when I draw it by myself I’ll remember that and it’ll look much better. There are also many sites in which you can challenge yourself to draw based on certain reference photos in a strict time that you can choose, I’ll link you two of them: x y So, these are some of my tips for you as a young artist to improve your art and therefore get it noticed sooner or later, I hope this was helpful in some way! If you have any more questions, please feel free to PM me, I’d be glad to give you some more advice that I couldn’t put here so it’d be too long (and my “Keep Reading” thing doesn’t work for some reason :^) ) and give some more in depth tips in digital art! Kisses and hugs and good luck! ♥

#ask #answered #sorry for the huge text #anon #I love writing long texts tho #even though it took long to write this one

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squishy-wizards · 7 years

Text

You Colour Me Blue [Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens.]

Author: @galacticstylinson

Word Count: 6.5k

Ratings/Triggers: Mentions of Anxiety and Panic Attacks.

Summary: A college au in which John is an art student with soft jumpers and pencils in his hair and Alex is a history major with too much to say and a penchant for quiet shy boys, and somehow manages to make John feel like he belongs.