#if anyone steals that tattoo design and gets it from another artist that’s not me I will strangle you actually
Note
I have come to request something.
Remember when we talked about Tattoo Artist! Nat. I want that. Daddy kink, breeding, and just have fun. Add whatever you want to it. Obviously, Dom!Nat.
DESIGNS
PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Wanda Maximoff x reader
WORD COUNT: 628
WARNINGS: smut, strap on usage, threesome, making out, hint of manipulation, innocent!R, virginity loss, Mommy (N), breeding, shy!Wanda, think that’s all :)
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!
“How- how is this supposed to help exactly?” The tip of her cock teased your hole, a smirk planted on her face as she guided you to grind against her length. Her partner, Wanda, was sitting shyly next to the two of you, the ink gun in her hand. She looked down, trying to avoid all possible eye contact with either of you. Nat had always been derogatory, but this was a new level. Not once had she ever led someone to rest on her pulsing erection, and Wanda assumed someone would never agree to the request. Nat was attractive, sure, but she didn’t expect anyone to be as naive as you.
“It’s just going to distract you from the pain, sweetheart. We don’t want to hurt you, right, Wanda?” She nodded, giving you a hesitantly warm smile as you gulped nervously.
“Uhm, I’ve never-“ You cut yourself off, fears rising as you nearly admitted your pureness.
“Oh, baby, will I be your first?” You shook your head, yes, sniffling as your hips jutted lower, causing her cock to ease into your hole slowly. The tip was embraced with your warmth, and she moaned lowly at the contact.
“Well, I’m so honored. Why don’t you place your hands on my shoulders and let Wanda work, okay?” You did as told, your gaze falling to her breasts that were hidden by a sports bra and a loose tank top. She smiled, grasping your chin and leading you in for a long, passionate kiss. Wanda placed the pen against your lower back, following the sketch as you hissed in pain. But it wasn’t from the buzzing object, it was from the painful ache in your core as Nat stretched you out.
“Don’t worry, the pain will go away soon, little one.” She squeezed your lower cheeks, teasing her thumb near your tightest hole and causing you to bite your lip.
“No bitting, Mommy wants to kiss those sweet lips.” She groaned as her mouth collided with yours once again, her tongue making an appearance against yours.
“Mm, why don’t you give my partner here a little peck, hm? I bet she’s just dying to touch you.” The pen came to a stop for a quick moment, her hooded glances now being returned by you. You let her lean close, chuckling at the nervous glances she sent towards Nat.
“It’s okay, it’s just a little kiss.” The two of you whimpered as you came in contact, and her free hand grasped your thigh suddenly. She massaged the skin and caused you to rock your hips further, bringing Nat’s length to your g-spot that cried for attention.
“Mommy!” You screamed against Wanda’s lips, and she couldn’t help the fingers that trailed to your aching clit. Your hands groped your breasts until Nat guided them away, leading you to lower her top and suck on her hardened nipples. Wanda now lacked your lips, and she could’ve cried out because of it.
“Nat, you aren’t being fair.”
“Shh, get back to work and let me play with this one, I’m having too much fun with them.”
You weren’t given a warning when the buzzing stopped, nor were you informed when her drops of cum filled your cunt. You gasped in shock, placing your hand on your stomach and feeling the area. Your womb was now painted with her liquid, and your release coated her cock deliciously. She smirked, patting your back and letting you stand, which you failed to do easily. Wanda gave you one last glance before returning to the back.
“So, if you ever need another tattoo, call me.” She handed you a note with her number scribbled on it. “I’ll even give you a discount for being such a good customer.”
#natasha romanoff mcu#natasha romanoff imagine#mcu natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader angst#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x female reader#natasha romanoff x reader fluff#natasha romanoff x reader smut#natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader#natasha romanoff x female#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff#black widow x y/n#black widow fluff#black widow angst#black widow x you#black widow smut#black widow x reader#black widow#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x reader smut#wanda maximoff imagines#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff x female reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
15 questions
@loulovehome and @oksfranta tagged me, thank you <3 let's over share a little bit
are you named after anyone? no, my mom randomly came up with the name
when was the last time you cried? uhm it was this week oh probably the last of us ep3 or I was just having a university related crisis
do you have kids? god no (stealing the answer from @oksfranta )
do you use sarcasm a lot? definitely yes
what’s the first thing you notice about people? I think the way they move around and their clothes not as in "I'm judging you bc you're wearing that" but as in I believe clothes tell a lot about a person like if they care about something more than another or if they have a small detail like handmade stuff or general preferences you can express through clothing and things like these
what’s your eye colour? greenish
scary movies or happy endings? scary movies are a big no so I'll go with happy endings but not all movies need to have a happy ending
any special talents? I'm good with my hands I think like I can watch and learn and do practical stuff easily
where were you born? in this little clinic that closed a while ago in the town next mine (yeah I know this probably wasn't the right answer but still)
what are your hobbies? drawing, painting, artsy projects, watching lots of shows and movies, complaining on tumblrdotcom, getting stuck scrolling pinterest
do you have any pets? sadly no
what sports do you play/have you played? I played volleyball for almost two years when I was around 13 and I loved it so much but I had to stop for some time and I never went back :( I'm way too shy to start again now
how tall are you? 165ish cm, I haven't measured myself in a while
favourite subject at school: art in middle school bc my teacher made us create a piece for every art movement and it was all about learning by creating, philosophy in high school of course
dream job: I have literally no idea pls don't make me go through another crisis with this question I'm trying not to think about this until after graduation. something art related for sure, illustrator or graphic designer. tattoo artist would be great too or working in movie production or animation
I'm not tagging anyone but if you want to do this just say I tagged you <3
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Omg I saw ppl on here talk about tattoos for the twins and I wanted to share my rough ideas/the comic that was inspired by it!! Sorry it’s all scribbly, most of my free time is used for drawing tattoos for real ppl and I know I’ll never finish this so here just have it ;’(
#scribbles#submas#comic#pokemon#ingo#emmet#subway twins#long post#subway bosses#if anyone steals that tattoo design and gets it from another artist that’s not me I will strangle you actually
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
industrial (m.)
― ❝there are lines you shouldn’t cross, things you shouldn’t touch and skin you shouldn’t mark when your hands are missing your gloves.❞
• genre: fluff, smut
• tags: piercer!reader, client!jungkook, smitten!jungkook, mentions of needles, inappropriate things you shouldn’t do with your piercer LMAO, koko is subby AND needy AND a sweetheart, also a bit of a brat, teasing, sexual tension, praise kink, dirty talk, messy handjob, grinding, aftercare
• pairing: jungkook/female reader
• wordcount: 8.1k words
PIERCER AU.
It’s human nature. Not having a care in the world for picture sceneries in favour of the mundane you’ve grown to adore—fixating on a sight, a scent, a story so much that is unnatural to go a day without it. Missing a sensation to the point it buries so deep behind your chest you can’t reach through your ribs anymore to prod at it. No, no, no. You have to be indulgent. Bad human nature. You have to relieve it.
Guilt about indulgence doesn’t pack the same punch when it comes to you. It’s easy to sink when you get to relieve it every day—ripping the seal to get your hands on the metal, taking your time presenting the needles, inhaling more of the isopropyl that lingers in the air when you pop open the disinfectant. Even from down low, the vapors float in tendril motions, enter deep only to sting right after. They are consistent—they move the same when you’re close to someone and you get to inhale again before piercing.
It’s pleasant, it makes you focus. It also should say something about you—whatever it might, you don’t blame yourself too much. Rubber feels good on your hand. It’s human nature.
People like things they shouldn’t. People like things that hurt.
The act itself reaches in a place that’s personal, and so does the background. It’s perfect, and it’s silent, and yet it keeps going. There’s music you don’t mind when the place fills out too much—you get restless when there’s a heavy break between people, like it is now. You love calming them down since the act mirrors the effect on you. It has been so long you assume it would create a crack in your persona if you voiced the restlessness out, if your tone reached any frequency other than that of relaxed. The tattoo place, along with your platinum piercer on the other side would eat you dare you break your composure—Yoongi would give the process the same attention he gives to his skin in ink. His tattoos speak for him more than the metal on his tongue dares, touching up to his neck and disappearing under his sleeves, and so does the dove under his ear.
You’re less marked, so people find fascination in other parts of you. Jungkook thinks he doesn’t have to dig deep, he sees their surface as soon as he walks into the parlour. He notices how each element of the hall is in harmony with another, the designs on the walls modern enough to light up innovation, the wood they’re framed by sculpted so they pay tribute to old school. The details hit him all at once, and a beat too late he realises he would have got lost in them, delayed his appointment in favour of marvelling, weren’t it for you waiting at the reception.
You’re leaning against the wall fit between two pictures in asymmetry, watching Yoongi who sits near the said desk with a girl. The piercer gestures towards the jewelry displayed, and Jungkook can make out a few bits of their conversation before his eyes drift towards you again. Soft classics play on the speakers, supported by the tap of your fingers on your thigh. A passive action, and then another.
The bell tingling doesn’t steal your attention from the focal point, instead walking up to join the pair at the desk, but Jungkook catches the black-haired man behind the counter turning in his direction and offering a warm smile.
“This yours?” you tilt your head towards the tattooed man.
Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes off the jewelry, just makes a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat.
“What’s she getting?”
“Two flats, opals.”
“Mm. Pretty stones for pretty girls,” you acknowledge with a smile the girl mirrors. “He has a lot of opinions, but don’t listen to him. If he’s one hair away from the place you suggest, tell me after and I’ll file a complaint, ok?”
The tension in her body eases, and you don’t miss the hints of the grin Yoongi suppresses as he shakes his head. “You need to stop before all my clients leave.”
“Rich from the guy who keeps telling them he’s a master of stabbing with pointy objects,” the same guy who noticed Jungkook tuts as he fixes Yoongi with an eyebrow.
“Jimin has a point. No one else at this hour for him to scare?”
“None for him. None for you either until one hour before closing–you have three then.” He fidgets a bit before the calm smile he’s been sporting turns devious. “Well, none except for him.”
Your eyes settle on him at last, and funny fact it is, how the brain gives so many commands to the muscles faster than the hundredth part of a millisecond, yet Jungkook’s body cannot form a single reaction.
“So you’re mine then, aren’t you?” You nod in appraisal before Jungkook can even stutter, bottom lip jutting out. He’s rendered speechless at the exchange since words weigh heavier on Jungkook’s tongue, and the process takes longer to finish. With strangers he’s careful, he pauses and drags out the sound long enough to avoid mistakes, similar to what you’re doing now when you are analysing him. He’s confident enough to guess how for you they seem easier–you speak as each sound floats on water, weightless before it drifts away.
The heaviness lies buried in how you watch, the same way an audience would as a play begins, attentive and searching for meaning in the deeper crevices of him. He regains access to his breath the moment you step away, hands working behind your back and words neutering some of the acid burning his loins.
“Unless you’re here for a tattoo. None of our artists can talk to you at the moment, they’re all caught up with appointments.”
You’re the only one to come closer to him, and that triggers Jungkook’s sense of self to search for an answer. He fights with it at the tip of his tongue, and he sees the way you’re waiting, staring. He pictures you hanging onto the silence, waiting for his words to continue the thread.
“Uh, no, I–I’m here for you. For the piercing.”
And his words, supposed to be picked with care, crumble under power that’s passive, getting Jungkook tangled in their meaning.
You’re dressed casually, the clothes loose enough for the fit not to disturb you. He focuses on the smooth curve of your shoulder that has yet to be marked, the smallest trace of a collarbone hidden in the depths of your dark turtleneck. He’s gliding up without meaning to, so lost in details he doesn’t know where to look anymore.
“Alright. And you know what you want?” You don’t react until he nods and satisfaction seeps through the corners of the smile you’ve been fighting, his gaze the same level as the lifted corners that lead his gaze to your ears.
Maybe to the three hoops decorating your lobes, complemented by the little heart on the inside of your ear, or higher, where he sees the object of his desire in your right ear, a long silver bar that sits high on your ear, length pressed diagonally and ends adorned with metal spikes.
“Industrial,” he breathes out.
It’s hard to say what defines the pause taken.
“Great. Please take your time and complete the form, okay?” Your hair is pulled up, revealing more hoops stacked on top of the other ear he gets to look better at as you turn around. “I’ll wait for you inside.”
Jungkook finds said form on Jimin’s desk. Less flustered, he listens to Jimin filling in the blanks. “We have a machine for sterilising jewelry. Takes around fifteen minutes, long enough for you to read through this and ask questions.”
Now that he has nothing to dote on, despite the sight Jimin is, Jungkook feels weirdly self-conscious as he waits, the reminder that you would have started by now if he made a move when he should have a constant in his mind. He fidgets, thighs squeezing together to distract his mind before the thought spills out, “Did I keep you guys for too long?”
“The appointment’s yours.” Jimin shrugs as he passes the papers. “First time at a studio?”
Jungkook thinks in retrospect at the lobes he did by himself when he was younger and still wearing his emo bangs–half rebellion, half need to appear cooler to his peers. He nods with his lips pursed tightly enough so they contain his embarrassment.
“There are lots to come by nowadays. You shouldn’t be worried, she’s very lithe and quick. Patient too.”
His heartbeat finds its steady rhythm and doesn’t suffocate him like it did before. It calms before it takes the leap into his stomach, when Jimin, whose gestures lack the innocence his face suggests, forgets to add:
“Talks like that to cute little things.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
Good, he swallows. You’re patient. He’ll keep that in mind.
A boy true to his word, a boy that keeps to his promises, Jungkook’s mind wraps up on the idea after signing the ink into the paper and as soon as he is near you.
“All done?” you ask with no hurry, and Jungkook hums as he sits on the piercing table, careful so he does not move the sheets of paper. “Good. Let me look at you?”
The coil in his stomach tightens so easily, he’s so easy to rile up and you’re not even doing anything. You’re not trying to. And that drives him a little crazy. Fantasies Jungkook has never dared to imagine with anyone he kept a professional relationship with stretch his mind open, and he’s open to them when more enter through the cracks he created.
“I need to see your ear, see if the fold’s right.”
He swallows as you come close, hands already gloved. Without missing a beat, he tilts his head to give you better access and doesn’t quite realise how long his hair got until you brush it away from his ear, fingers holding the strands in place. His lungs are still from the proximity, inhaling as much as they can take after you voice your approval. And the more he tries to detach from the situation, the more he dives headfirst into the fantasy. Jungkook feels you twist the ends and pin his hair aside.
The mind is a strange place.
“Don’t want you to get scared, alright?” you coo and this careful treading around him makes him dizzy, stirs in his loins, and the feeling presses deeper there, deeper and hotter than it should from the heat brought by Jimin’s words. “I’ll explain everything to you as we work, hmm?”
“Yeah, sure,” he speaks and is reminded this is his first attempt at conversation in a while. “I’d like that.”
It dawns upon him how to you he sounds willing, much too willing, and he blames it on eagerness. Besides willing, he’s much too aware of everything surrounding him, of every little sound in the quiet room. The tick of the clock is a nice diffused background noise as you check the form to the last detail. “Who did those then, Jungkook?”
Your prying is gentle, a puzzle piece taken from a waiting game that coaxes him out until his answer rises naturally. Of course you’d feel better if he talked. That much is obvious, and he is a fool, but that obvious matters less to him when he sees how pleased you are with your question. A look which he aspires to cause, which pulls his want deeper–a look he needs to see again.
“Uh, another studio. But I didn’t like it.” The explanation that follows comes out of his mouth at once.
“I had a friend, Namjoon,” he begins and takes note how your eyebrows raise and your gaze turns playful at his word choice. “I mean, have. He had his tongue pierced here, and I bugged him about it until he told me.”
The first truth.
“Was it recent?” you ask as you change the pair of gloves, tossing the used pair away.
“He got it done after his girlfriend, but he refused to tell me. I asked for a while.” His shame drifts away in tone with his ramble and he is bold enough to let his gaze fall down the curve of your waist.
“Namjoon, you said? Doesn’t ring a bell. Wish it did by your reaction though.” You turn back to him and his gaze snaps back up.
“Ah, he’s kinda hard to miss though.” His lips remain sealed, but the corners of his mouth rise as high as they can go. Jungkook doesn’t know how or why he’s still talking, but he can distinguish a tender amusement. “Tall, huge dimples and smiles like this.” He keeps the same smile until you acknowledge it, cheeks puffed up and lash lines surrounded by endearing creases.
You shake your head in endearment. “Stubborn, are you?”
“Texted him about it for weeks. Pestered him to tell me. Threatened to do them myself.” Half a truth. Sure, he did that too, but for the most part he whined about it, rattled him to Seokjin and sent messages with questionable emojis. Seeing his friends take the leap for an interest Jungkook spent days looking up, it flickered light back into Jungkook–a passion for something he thought he buried long ago. “I even unmuted the groupchat.”
He sees the effect of those texts in real time. All those ‘joonie hyungg 😊😊~’s were worth it because he earns a laugh from you.
“Glad you let me do my job. I will mark you now, okay?” There’s so much comfort in your conversation he almost forgets what he came here for. As the realisation comes, a sigh threatens to leave his lips. He’s not as worried about the pain as he is worried he’ll embarrass himself somehow. Jungkook is strong now, can handle pain better than the bunch of his hyungs combined, but it doesn’t make him any less self-conscious.
“You have to lie down for it.” You guide him through it, Jungkook lowering his body slowly after the lead of your palm. Maybe he did it wrong?
One dot, two dots. The time to obsess over it passes. On his left, the paper crumples under his fist and he hates the way it sounds, yet he grips the sheet like it is a lever holding him to reality.
“Everything okay?”
“Mhm,” he says, breathing out his bravery and focus. You mention something about titanium and how good it is for piercings in passing, or maybe you linger on it more. He retains nothing, just breathes in the alcohol. Your hands are delicate, and no matter how light your grip is, it seems assured.
Rubber feels good, so does your touch.
“Breathe in for me.” Eyes glossy and mind hazy, he tries his best to listen– “One, two, three, and out. You’re doing well.”
The sting is a lot more than he expected, and he feels the blood rushing to his ear, warm and muted. Everything is more. Its pain lingers, but so does the ghost of your touch, balancing the pleasure. Your voice is breathier, and it sounds closer than comfortable, so close that the warmth of your breath spreads across his skin and a tremor follows it along his spine. When his ear reddens, he hopes you assume it’s because of the piercing.
“There we go,” you whisper. “Halfway done. How’s that?”
“It’s good.” The lump in his throat doesn’t budge. If you notice how his voice trembles, you don’t mention it, and neither do you give him space to think. Your thumb and index massage circles over hard tissue, and he braces for what’s coming next. The fact that your movements do not change pushes against his wish to stay composed, and Jungkook barely suppresses the soft sighs tickling the roof of his mouth.
“Tell me when you’re ready.”
Jungkook sinks into it and nods in rhythm complimentary to your touch. “Read–oh.”
The sound he lets out you take in with a sharp inhale. Despite it, your next steps are smooth, bar settling in cozy in the tight space, but there’s a pause that extends past a few heartbeats where he grows more aware, more sensitive to the tips of your fingers. He feels them tremble as they screw in the ball–feels it tingle on his skin and past his gut.
“Don’t get up so fast,” Jungkook tries to listen, but he’s also impatient. It never dawns on him how close you might be until he’s half-up, propped on his elbows and overwhelmed by the clarity of your features. He is hung on the line that defines your cupid’s bow, and how foul his cravings are. He could run his finger across it–has a feeling you wouldn’t stop him. Driven by his boldness, he’s thinking of dropping his gaze lower. When he does, his heart pummels and a surge of anxiety has his eyes dart back to yours. The effect is cathartic, bits of his rationality falling down in chains.
His mouth drops open at what he finds, the pair of pupils dark and blown out. Less professional. More like you want to cross a line.
The reaction for when you break away is much slower, and your intention misses the mark as Jungkook teeth lightly scrape his lip. “Have you thought about more places?” you blurt out.
Jungkook’s mind goes to the place you’re staring. “My mouth.”
And he swears by anything he has you leave a shard of your composure right there and cut him open with it, reach into his flesh and tug. It’s bad, he shouldn’t let you, but he is good at observing. He has the experience, sees his own behaviours as patterns he’s picked from others. He is right about this. He is sure.
Yet he never expects you to confirm it, reaching out to drag your thumb across his bottom lip, moving in circles to trace the top as well before you come down again and press.
“It’s soft. Gentle.” you breathe out. “I like it.”
It’s gentle and it’s pliant cause his mouth opens more under the weight, and you’re reaching a tint deeper, nail getting dangerously close to his tongue.
“Makes–makes a good fit.”
Rubber feels good there too. He doesn’t mind the taste either.
“But your piercing–” you stutter and his eyebrows shoot up at how you get up all of a sudden only to return with a mirror, grip tight around its rim. Less relaxed. “Here. You should see it.”
You end up passing him the mirror and he gasps at the image, at the bar that’s sitting on his ear. Even with your previous position, excitement is impossible to contain. “I love it.”
“Please tell your groupchat too,” you tease, part of the tension eased from your shoulders, obvious in the delight that surges through you at his words. He’s still peeking in the mirror, yet the reflection that steals his attention is the one of satisfaction in your smile. His satisfaction.
“I will. It’s amazing, really. I like it a lot,” he adds as if he hasn’t said enough.
“I’m glad. Can’t wait till Yoongi hears about this.” You’re busy with a Q-Tip he braces for a second too late, yet does nothing but obey when you ask him to stay still, then clean the piercing for the last time. The story continues. “He missed the angle last time. He’s gonna be so threatened.”
“Why did he miss?” Jungkook says, curiosity making him lean closer. His height was not something you cared for when he walked in, you note, but he’s hard to ignore now that he’s standing up. You give up trying to organise the items scattered on your table and wipe a hand across your forehead.
“Ah, well. He’s a bit... unorthodox, but gets the job done.”
“And what about you?”
You purse your lips as you muster the answer, unsure of the letters pouring out. “I... I like to play it safe.”
And safe you played, a bitter part of Jungkook would retort. But now that he’s opened the can, the curiosity about you reigns beyond his pettiness. His mind, an ocean on the road to regaining tranquility, has its waters disrupted when he poses questions about parts of you that interested him.
“Is it like that with the tattoos?”
“I do keep them safe.” By the speed of your reply, this is a frequent topic of conversation. Your words, however, match two puzzle pieces that share the same colour, but they don’t fit near the other. They’re jumbled together, corners forced and unnatural. His stomach burns regardless. So they’re hidden from display, bordering on personal.
Like him, you’re responding to questions reserved for people you have some sort of a relation with. The one with Jungkook is supposed to be inexistent. He’s a client, you’re a piercer, he remembers, as he fears to call you his piercer yet. Places where you might have ink pop up in his mind and replace the guidance of his conscience: neck, chest, stomach, thighs.
“Didn’t do the same for this one.” You point to the ear with the bar matching his. “Toughest to heal. Got it when I barely knew anything.”
The angle is not perfect like his, he can now see after the first glance.
“You like it a lot though.” He pouts, and it’s a statement he tests under his confusion.
“It’s one of my weaknesses. A fun memory.”
“So you didn’t do that always?”
Jungkook is a boy true to himself, but much too proud to admit things often. He has a goal, has found more means to the end he chases. Out of the possibilities, there are fairer choices, but all of those lead towards a path with chances and time he doesn’t have. Guilt eats at him about pressing, but his heart speaks over his brain.
“Didn’t do what?”
Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do things in halves–does his best and sweats hard for his aspiration. Thus, he’ll find time later to appeal to his conscience. The distance between you clears the fog out of his mind, his need clear. He cannot leave it like that, not with knowing you never attempted to shut him out.
“Play it safe?”
“No. But you… you shouldn’t.” You’re frowning, deep in thought, every second spent waiting pressing layers into both his hope and uncertainty–fighting a battle that your hesitation wins over whatever desire he thought you may have.“Here’s my number. Call me if you’re experiencing any troubles during the healing process and we’ll see what we can do.”
Distracted, you pass him a card he puts in his pocket. You continue on about the cleaning process and offer him options for where to buy them from as the part of him full of hope deflates, hates the reversion to nothing, hates it more than is considered normal. Whatever this was, he doesn’t want to lose it, but he respects you, sits and accepts. “Of course. Will I have to answer as many questions?”
“Ah–no, not really. I wanted you to be comfortable. I just saw...” There’s breath caught in your throat, lodged between the cracks in your calamity and assurance. You pant to let it out. “You’ve been looking at me.”
Hope is fragile yet devious. A parasitic entity that leads and bites off however much it likes from whoever it pleases. Even as he meant to give up, its last particle was left to grow.
“Yeah?” Jungkook is scared yet bold, the step he takes placing his boot on the line you’ve never dared to cross before. His eyes are big and there’s a glint that’s pleading to be noticed. “And if I call… you’ll take care of it?” He fears your answer, he fears how rushed he is, how much it means.
“I will. We’ll look at it once you come back to downsize the bar.” You try to soothe him, reaching to squeeze his shoulder. His shirt gets pulled a tint, and what you meant to do renders forgotten. The tips of your fingers are lured towards warm skin. Weak and indulgent, they dip under the cotton.
A brief contact and the intent changes. Your touch borders everywhere–a slow drag up the nape of his neck and down his front, fingers splaying out to cover more surface.
“Anything else?” he gulps, lost in the sight of your mouth.
“Don’t touch it. Don’t sleep on it.” Your hand rests over his throat, thumb brushing up and down his pulse point. “Promise you’ll listen?”
“Yeah, I’ll listen.” The admission is quiet, not risking to tear apart at the tension. With close he is to you, the words are breathy with his whisper. “I’ll listen to you.”
The mind is a very strange place. Curls around the impossible and tortures until you do something about it. It’s human nature.
Jungkook’s voice breaks with the last bit of bravery he has.
“I’ll do how you ask.”
“Fuck, Jungkook–” You leave your sentence unfinished because you’re way too busy with your lips on his, you’re kissing him, tongue licking into his mouth before you turn aggressive. There’s no second to wait, no moment to take for breath, his senses are overwhelmed from you gripping his jaw to bring him to your level. Jungkook can’t think, he just touches, makes it clear how much he likes it, nails digging into your sides. He brings you closer, tattooed hand fitting how you like it over your waist, needy and hurting your ribs from how tight you’re pressed against him, while the other slots over the nape of your neck, big enough to cover it whole.
He clutches you as if you’re a silver lining in an open space, and there’s so much Jungkook all at once and everywhere around you. There’s electricity buzzing under your skin at the way he moans into the kiss when you bite his lip, pulling you back with him as leans against the drawer, thighs spreading for you to fit until you’re pressed flush against him. Your skin is so hot and you’re so drunk on need you’d peel the layers off and fit yourself into a piece of him, feel his moan reverberate through your being. You would, and you do.
When you break away, you don’t care, that’s what Jungkook registers. You’re nosing his neck, lips closing around a sweet spot under his ear. He winces from the sting, though it is short-lived. Another wave of arousal hits you exhale over the raw skin like the breath has been fucked out of you. He’s so sensitive there, and you don’t care to be gentle, don’t care to soothe the ache—you’re taking for yourself. It’s you being selfish.
His head spins so hard around the idea he has to hold onto you to stay on his feet.
Jungkook wants that, wants you to take. To ask. It thrills him how dangerous that notion is, what he would do.
There’s a soft sound you make right after you bite, a sigh that drips into his blood and travels straight to his dick. Faint cries of his name echo in an empty head, shake him to a blurry reality, paired with kisses under his jaw, on the mole that’s so close to his lip. “Jungkook, we can’t.”
With his inner voice gone, his head is empty and a beat too late he registers you’re speaking to him. He nods into your hair, chest rising and falling shallowly, again and again until he’s able to speak. He swears. Swears he understands but no part of him can do so, if you tell him to stop and yet coax him into giving in.
His neck is wet with traces of your lip balm. “Okay, okay, just—give me a second,”
“No, no—” Frantic, you cup his cheek and without thinking he leans into it, expression softening. Your thumb rubs circles onto the bone, caress it until you pry his eyes open, until he can look at you. “Not here.”
Before he can act, you lace his fingers with yours and lead him towards your bathroom, pull hard on the handle, and in your rush, you use the same force to press him into the door as it closes. Jungkook whines, shameless, hips bucking into you. In his high pitch you can capture the exact moment his last thread of sanity bids its goodbye, leaving him with putrid needs that shudder out of him like they do whenever he is close.
“God, look at you,” you whisper in wonder, latching to his mouth.
Cold runs up his arm and to his sides when you pin his wrist away, knuckles brushing against the tiles. The room’s dense, its width a fraction of the main hall. Its monochrome walls are closing in on the both of you, two specks of colour squeezed together in the tight space.
All at once, he’s hit with how good you smell, tinges of his cologne having rubbed off on you. A different aroma, one that’s sweet and masculine, pierces his senses with the same strength of an alcohol, but instead of focusing, it makes him hazy—hazy and restless. Even in his current state, he can more or less see the same effect on you.
Jungkook looks at you through strands of hair and dropped eyelids, head thrown against the door. “You like it?”
You grin, fingers hooking in the belt loops on his sides and use them to move his hips so his cock drags right into the space between your thighs. “Should I show you or let you guess?”
His hips work with more vigour, coil in his belly pulled too tight while you take your time reciprocating. The softest friction you give back is enough to have him gasping, dick hardening against you.
“You’re the one who seems to like this quite a lot,” You reach under his shirt to stress your point, molding your palms in the deep lines that define his abdomen. They explore, trailing higher until they brush against a nipple, the image of how a bar would fit there a dangerous addition in your head.
“Yeah,” He bites his lip, no point in not being honest now that you have him like this. “I do.”
Once you hear him, you grow more determined, hand closing high around his side and on his ribs. Next thing he knows you're back to his nipple, rolling your thumb over it, the stimulation too much too soon. Jungkook seeks to take your focus from it, but you don't relent.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he pouts before biting back a moan, “I wouldn't want to keep you.”
The moment you hear him, you laugh, fond and delirious—and press harder when you touch. “Yes, Jungkook, I do.”
If he had any walls left, he's sure you would have them crumble when you ask with your other hand hovering on the elastic of his boxers, “Do you?”
He nods, speaks from under his breath, “You have no idea.”
Mischief and anticipation dance in your irises, and when you smile, you do it with full teeth, every bit the bad wolf who's waiting to eat him up. You've chosen to prolong the said wait because instead of gripping, your finger branches out to trace the underside of his dick.
“You can’t do that to me,” he whines, soft voice murmuring pleas.
Jungkook’s torso, yet to be marked, is a pleasant path, one you’d cross again and again, warm and smooth and addicting—it takes most of your willpower to stop, staring him right in the eye with an eyebrow raised. “Can’t do what?”
“You shouldn’t touch me,” Meek and sincere, he lifts your chin and you freeze with your chest pressed against his. “Not if you want to tease.”
It’s a silent beg, because even if he missed being teased, he needs you. He’s so wound up he doesn’t think he can stand it, but he's still proud. Somewhat.
Your expression remains unreadable, but your actions speak loudest when you touch him skin on skin, hand sneaking under his boxers, and—oh.
He restrained himself the best he could when he had close to nothing, but now, with his head fallen back, he moans for you like he’s singing. The more you tighten your grip, the more his octave jumps over the classics you’d been so fond of.
“Careful, baby,” you tut as you spread the precum over his tip and use your body weight to still his shaking thighs. “You could hurt yourself.”
“S-sorry, ah—” he stutters, hand caught between the both of you, squeezing yours over the cotton of his sweatpants. “Feels good.”
He's not used to it, being the centre of attention, people putting lights too bright on him. Can't decide if he likes it or not, though it has him weak. His mind is on you, your time, your pleasure. On how he craves for you to feel him, needs you to feel good. On how he is going to make use of the semblance of control he hasn't given up yet to show you what you're doing to him.
So he does. He walks you back until your hips knock against the sink, pins you the side that is closest to him. Eagerness overcomes him at the impact, pulling at the hem of your shirt, and you cater to his wishes, letting him remove your top. With the layer peeled off, the scene is rougher and more intimate, secrets shared by the two of you tangled in this background, he sees them, lets them drive him crazy.
“How about this?”
It's such a delicate thing, how your bare shoulder connects with its reflection in the mirror. His gaze explores your body, landing on the upper parts covered in ink. Beginning at your sternum, a young lotus connects to a larger piece spread on the top of your torso, adorned with leaves and petals that bloom from its center. The thread between the flower and the full piece is so thin, his tongue would cover it whole.
It's the swell of your breasts that has him distracted and split between choices. But there’s something so primal about the object of his desire in front of him, and his made-up mind can't wait for encouragement, cupping them in wonder under your bra. Your gasp when he brushes against a nipple is so delicious he's the one who can't help himself, dipping his head to get a taste. He sucks like he's expecting praise, grinds more into you and he can't decide if the action is for you or himself.
“Jungkook, ah—” you groan, and the reaction stirs him up further. That mind of his which has been empty is quick to fill out with more than he can handle.
He'd drop down to his knees and crawl as long as you moaned and waited for him like that. He'd kiss and lick up the thigh that's pushing against his dick, hold it as he spread you open with his tongue. By nature, he's a pleaser, and thoughts like these are natural—as natural as those that keep coming, those about himself. They retell how easy it was for him to lose himself, far to the point of no return. A sweetheart in the face of sin.
It's almost laughable how gone he is and what it might say about him, about how down below he really belongs. Well, it's comfortable. He likes it down there.
Lower places are for those who lose, and Jungkook wouldn't mind losing to you, as long as he has a place down and a fighting chance.
He drops to his knees slowly, tongue dragging through the middle of your tattoo and down, kissing his way to the button of your jeans. In a snap, he pops them open, considers letting go, all doe eyes and messy waves that cover folded cartilage and stop right before a lobe marked by matching silver hoops, and now an industrial. Without thought, he catches the flimsy zipper in his mouth then drags it down where he said he belonged, holding onto the metal until the end. His arms flex under your thighs, gripping you tighter as he drops the zipper but not the eye contact. He has to be sure your eyes are on him when that playful glint takes over and his tongue flattens against the front of your jeans.
He's not bad for wanting it, is he?
Your fingers in his hair yank his head back, and oh, this one's different from the sting before—it spreads tingles across his scalp. “But I liked you this way…” He sulks, soft hair putty in your hand.
And he did, still does. Thighs on either side of his head, your face, breathless and grinning above, there's nothing wrong with this angle. “And here I was trying to take it slow.”
On his knees for you, it seems that now he finds the time to be a brat. “Your hands down my pants is slow now?”
You arch an eyebrow. “Lots of things you want to do, hm?”
Equal parts eager and shy, Jungkook nods, moving to lean on your thigh. You're fast to react, hand in his hair coming in between to protect his piercing. He nods with his head in your palm, noses along the inseam of your jeans.
“You just need to...let me.” His hand slithers under the soft flesh and splay on your ass to make his point. For the final dot, he feels for your back pockets, uses them as support to drag down the material until he can see your underwear.
“What about what I want?” you scoff when he's midway through pulling your pants down. “Aren't you being a little selfish?”
He's taken aback by your pout, your always-tender touch. “Uh—”
“You didn't sit to think about it, did you baby?” Wide eyes look up at you, a pang of strange guilt overcoming him. “Whether I want you like this?”
Jungkook wonders about the game you're playing. “I'm sorry—”
Habits force him to be polite, guide you to be patient.
“Poor little heart.” You caress his jaw, his mouth, and this time, his lips close around your finger. “Get up.”
He obeys but not without a fight inside him. Body to body, you soothe the frown off his face with kisses up his neck, paying attention to the noises he makes when you tug at his hair again.
“You looked so good before. Right here,” you whisper when he drops into the touch.
Praise relaxes him, opens up his every pore, pours heat straight to his gut. He knows. Yet part of him has yet to get over how you denied him, occurrence too rare for him to get used to it.
“It's less fun like that.” Jungkook's aware of how he sounds: like a little brat, petulant. As good as he is, it thrills him when he gets to act this way.
“Is it? Baby got a taste and now he can't get enough?” You're mocking but gentle, how he likes to be teased.
He did miss it: missed being teased, missed tearing up a bit.
“I didn't even have to ask to bring you to your knees.” You grip his hair tighter and he moves to the direction your reins are pulling. Ah, missed having his senses tortured. “So willing. So easy.”
“Yes—” he babbles, doesn't care for much when you handle him like that. Neither can he speak much, yet he is aware of everything, is sensitive to everything—shivers as your heel nudges his calf.
“I think it's more fun when you work for it, don't you agree,” You motion at his pants, and he scrambles to drop them to his knees for you stroke his cock, “there's thrill in the chase.”
How true that is. Jungkook aches for a chance to show to you how he is when there's chase involved.
“For you,” he says, tone flat and tired.
“Then it's not the case?”
He shakes his head, now bordering on a dangerous edge. Competition never hurt him. Neither did playing it safe, but he doesn't care to play it safe now that it's about you.
“For you, all for you—” he grabs your wrists and brings them down until you cup him with both hands, rocks his hips into the loose space. “Please let me do something.”
Or make me, is the sentence he leaves buried. More important for him is to hang tight onto your permission, yet hatred over not feeling needed threatens to swallow down his arousal and purge back anger. It's a twisted game he often plays, how long he can deny himself, how much he can hold before he snaps.
He's been close to snapping from the beginning, so out of his mind, he'd do anything you asked. Why weren't you asking? Jungkook would love for you to tell him how to make you a mess, say the word and he would be on his feet, down on his knees. He’s aware it paints a pretty picture when he does it.
Taking pity on him, you bring his hands down to your underwear and remove it together. It flies right past his ego—the immediate reaction is to reach for his own, but you stop him by shaking your head.
You peek down, shudder when you see how hard he is. “Leave them on. It's not safe.”
“Like this then?” Jungkook holds you spread for him as he drags his clothed cock over your clit. He's moving so slow he's shaking. There's so much desire which had to be buried down for him to keep to his word, to respect the promise that he'd listen. “Good?”
“Mm, good.” His chest swells with pride, and he gasps when he feels how wet you are, staining the material. Tentatively, he slides a finger in, then another, scissoring them inside. He goes deeper until he's sure they're coated, gathers the strings of arousal and brings them back to your clit. “That's it—”
The pressure is built with his thumb over your clit, careful and decisive the more you pick the volume. He'd muffle those noises with his mouth or make them louder with his tongue, yet he doesn't have the courage, thus he settles for your neck. It's a welcome distraction, a purpose that's holding him to earth when you're rocking back against him, the sight of you so desperate doing things to him.
“Fuck, you're leaving marks,” you whisper to yourself. It sounds holier, more like a revelation you have bare for him, with your hair messy and neck bit.
“I just. Need something to do, with—with my mouth.” He hurts through the seconds he takes to explain. Exists through his need. “Don't like it empty.”
A call of his name breaks the hold he had.
“If you want to be rough, you can.”
“What?” His head shoots up, confusion written across unfocused eyes. “W-Why?”
“I see you.” You swipe at hair matted over his forehead, mold your print in the drops of sweat laid over the veins in his neck. “And I want you to have it.”
Best case, Jungkook would need a few moments to process this, but you don't give him the pleasure. Every word is a shot fired on his self-control.
“I need you to feel good.” your voice is saccharine, its echo dripping in pleas through his bones. “That's what will make it better.”
“But then...” You're wrapping your thighs around his waist, letting him in. He has no idea what he's protesting.
That urge to suppress, that need, their noise is not yet muted—he hates how he's not done enough. Almost feels useless. But you need him for something else. Proof to his statement is the conviction attached to your request.
“You said you'll listen.” Although you don't mention his behaviour until now, implications hang heavy. “Why aren't you doing that when I tell you to do as you please?”
He's still lost, but now a new desire creeps up, whispering to him how nice it would be to obey. To stomp on his previous effort.
Too many sounds ring in his head, like radio static that shuts off when you press your forehead against his. “Be good, baby. Let go on me.”
Nice and sweet.
Jungkook listens and unravels before you. With rough drags of his cock against your pussy, you can't differentiate whether the mess on his boxers comes from you or him. He's messy yet mindful, angling up his thrusts, making the hit land right onto your clit, deep like he wants to fuck into you.
“Yes, yes—ngh—” This time it comes from him, but you're not far, with how you dig your nails into his muscles. Memories he'll feel for days, along with the strain it takes to keep the both of you upright. He speeds up as soon as you urge him to go faster, a toy on arches, flared up because of your request. Drifting away with the sensation, he almost loses footing when you whisper you're close.
Instead of hazy, the words are electric—he's more awake than he's ever been. Puts in so much work his bones rattle and lids screw shut when you cum, sounds so pretty and long they stretch out to rip his orgasm out of him.
Solemnly, his world quiets.
“You good, baby?” Serene, you massage the nape of his neck and let him cling to you until he can breathe again, “Gave me plenty to clean.”
Jungkook stares at the mess between your bodies before he's puffing out a laugh, “I could be better.”
You sit with him until he parts from you, then put your clothes back on. “Wait here, there's stuff in the cabinet that can help.”
“Hey...” you turn to him in question and he kisses you again. “Thank you.”
You return with the necessary supplies, handing him some wipes as you bend down to disinfect the sink. “It's not much, but it's not like I expected guys throwing themselves at me in my own shop.”
“I did not!” he puffs as he cleans himself up, winces from the sensitivity. “You just... well. Did that!”
“My job?” His eyes are wide and accusing, full of indignation. When you look back, he stares back as if challenged, ready to debate you. “I won't repeat the offense.”
Jungkook steps in front of you, confident and looming. “I'm not leaving until you admit.”
“I'll admit.” You nod, face brightening up as you tease him. “I was too good at my job and made you starstruck.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I'll be here all day.”
“There's security.”
“I'm strong.” His arms wrap around your waist for emphasis. You relax in his hold.
“I saw, big boy.” He's about to say something else but you're quick to cup his face and steal the words off his lips, tap at his pocket. “Hold onto this, okay? And call me if there's any trouble.”
Minutes after exiting, he has the gall to unmute his phone and sees the notifications pop; the top being a text from Namjoon in the groupchat sent over 20 minutes ago.
that guy [4:16 p.m]: jsyk i respect your opinion but i'm putting this shit on mute if you mention anything about the PC version being better again
joonie hyung [4:50 p.m]: Jungkook?
joonie hyung [4:50 p.m]: Well? How did it go?
Jungkook chuckles to himself, sitting on a nearby bench, mindful to the saline solution he bought from the front desk that’s now in his lap. Further contemplates the message as his fingers brush over the bobby pin still in his hair as a distraction from the piercing.
There is a bunch of nonsense that follows in the chat from Taehyung and Hoseok, but that's always easy to ignore–he blames it on the force of habit. The parlour's sign is a clear view diagonal from his position, background he sees fit for him at the moment. Jungkook angles his body so he's facing the opposite direction and snaps a picture of his reddened ear, careless to the rosy marks blooming right under. Your contact details are secure in his pocket, printed over the card you gave him, and despite how light they are, they bear the force to keep him grounded.
Tapping the screen to quote Namjoon's reply, Jungkook keeps to his fashion: he's not the one for many words when it isn't needed.
He breaks into giggles. Thumbs up and peace sign emojis suffice.
a/n: namjoon getting his tongue pierced is actually a reference to emma @.personawife’s fic piercings and piercer!yoongi is available over at @.yuengi in bad boys bring it to you which you should totally check out if u want more pierceverse! major thanks to lo for listening to me ramble about this cutie and helping me with the last bits of his character!
• remember don’t get pierced with a gun OR a hoop and if you enjoyed please consider leaving a comment i’m starving and koko is not showing sleeve
#kwritersworldnet#networkbangtan#bangtanarmynet#btsbookclub#ficswithluv#btswritingcafe#btswriterscollective#btsghostie#btswritersguild#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts fanfic#jungkook fanfic#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#piercer au#bts au#jungkook au#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#jungkook fic#bts fic#bts imagines#jungkook imagines#jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n#sub jungkook#sub bts
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Check In Tag!
Tagged by : @parkandblues (thanks, hun 🦋)
1. Why did you choose your url?
“lokisasylum”... I think i’ve explained this a lot, but “Loki” is a nickname I was given since my school days because I was a hardcore trickster & would get away with anything and everything. I also recall being VERY persuasive when caught until I got off the hook. While “Asylum” comes from an album by Disturbed (one of the bests I own).
2. Any sideblogs? If you have them name them and why you have them?
Yep, @arsenicbutterfly which is like an aesthethic/anime/cyberpunk/steampunk/grunge blog, and I also have @lokirasengan-fc which I originally created with the intention of moving all my fanart/artwork (also promote my Society6 & Redbubble shops) to in order to separate my main blog for BTS news/post and that one for artwork but none of my mutuals really followed me on it so its basically a dead blog >_>
3. How long have you’ve been on tumblr?
I think since 2010 which is the same year the (Disturbed) “Asylum” album came out.
4. Do you have a queue tag?
I don’t know, never really thought about it.
5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?
Hmm... I remember 2009-2010 to be a very chaotic years.
- the Death Note fandom went up in flames due to the MILLIONS of cases of cyber bullying (some ending in s**cide). I remember being part of this RP group within the fandom that I ended up quitting when I got admitted into Graduate School and because 2 of the oldest members ended up being actual PSYCHOS. (Which is why I also quitted roleplaying)
- Deviantart was rumored to either be shutting down or heading into a worse fate since they started censoring Mature Art/Literature/Fanfics (I remember all the artists who had their 20something chaptered fics and comics OBLITERATED off the site without a reason). So many people left DA for other blogs and I remember thinking the same, that I needed to migrate elsewhere. I tried 2 new social medias that eventually disappeared with less than a year of existence and then there was tumblr with had apparently been created for that very purpose (as a refuge for artists & people in general who were disappointed or got screwed over by the system). Which is funny because tumblr ended up the same way...
I still kept both my DA accounts active and I still post ALL of my artwork/photography there.
6. Why did you choose your icon?
I usually changed my icon frequently, but this recent/current icon is special to me, because it was made as a tattoo design for my Jikook Vampire fic (Forever, You Said) of a butterfly trapped between a Full Moon/New Moon. Its a matching tattoo between jikook (Jimin’s is a yellow butterfly inside a new moon, while JK’s is a blue butterfly inside a full moon). Meant to symbolize how both existed in the same timeline separated by two worlds with Jimin being a vampire and Jungkook being human, but their lives got intertwined since their first meeting.
7. Why did you choose your header?
[I legit had to go back and check what my header was ‘cause i forgot]
Because I mean... Its Park Motherfucking Jimin.
8. What’s your post with the most notes?
Like... this month? I think its the post about BTS as Flower Spirits from the HYBE museum.
9. How many mutuals do you have?
Few but I love them (same)
10. How many followers do you have?
635... damn, when did that happened?? WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!
11. How many people do you follow?
Like 14ish? Most of them were fanartists I really admired, but sadly most of them aren’t active or left for Twitter cause people kept coming to tumblr to steal their art and post it on twitter/instagram. So they moved to twitter in order to have some “control” over their works, but now people steal their art from Twitter and come to post it on Tumblr 🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️
And this is why I still post most of my art on Deviantart.
12. Have you ever made a shitpost?
I... I dunno, have I? Oo
13. How often do you use tumblr each day?
24hrs/7 days a week, I never really log out of tumblr. So I just wake up, eat breakfast/lunch (whatever’s available at 11am), do chores around the house, make sure my fam’s healthy, fed and comfy before I jump back into tumblr where I kill off most of the day and night. If I’m not here I’m on deviantart or Ao3.
14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?
I usually avoid going to other blogs to argue per se because most of these blogs that shitpost for the sake of creating conflict are very young and very ignorant. They never see reason/logic even when you slap ‘em across the face with receipts. So I don’t bother.
HOWEVER, ain’t afraid to calling people out through my own posts from time to time without the need to name names. If it fits, it ships and if you offended that’s a YOU problem.
15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?
I avoid them as much as possible. I’m like Taehyung on that note, I’m the type of person that if you try to force me to do something and I see no benefit (for me) in it? I won’t do it.
16. Do you like tag games?
Yes, they’re fun and break the monotony.
17. Do you like ask games?
I do... but no one ever interacts with me for them 🙃
18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?
Eehh.. maybe @utopiajeon , @debrenner , @aikimei
19. Do I have a crush on a mutual?
I mean I love them and think they’re awesome people, but I also think of them as the children I don’t plan on having in the future. LOL
20. Tags?
@utopiajeon @doctorcerberus @i-like-plain-rice @corkytheguar anyone who wants to do it!🌸
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Earl Grey and Cappuccinos: Part One
Guess who’s back with a new story?? It’s me! Before I even get started with the intro, I need to say a massive thank you to @nalgenewhore - and if you like this story, then you should too - because this would not exist without her. She’s responsible for like 75% of the things that happen here, because her ideas are the best and I would be lost without her. Even as I’m typing this, she’s on the doc adding even more wonderful ideas to my outline. She wanted a coffee shop AU, and I wanted them to be rival tattoo artists, and this is what happened.
Summary: It’s a Coffee Shop AU meets Rival Tattoo Artists AU meets Elorcan - do I even need to say anything else?
Warnings: Pretty sure it’s just language for now, friends.
.
Lorcan was scrolling through his appointments on his phone when he heard the barista rattle off someone’s completed order followed by his own. “Cappuccino for Elide and an Earl Grey for Lorcan!”
Busy with checking the mock-ups he had to work on for a client later in the week - a full-bodied silhouette of Hellas, the God of Death - he barely paid attention as he reached for the cup she’d set on the counter. He was several steps away from the counter by the time he’d lifted the cup to his mouth, aiming for a vacant table in the back of the room where he could spread out with his sketchbooks to work.
Taking a sip from his cup, he almost choked on the liquid that coated his tongue - which was definitely not his tea.
Swallowing around the bitter taste of coffee in his mouth, he looked down at the cup in his hands, groaning when he realized he hadn’t actually grabbed his drink at all. The name scrawled on the cup said Elide, and apparently he’d just taken a sip of her cappuccino.
He turned back to the counter in hopes of catching the rightful owner of the drink in his hands, only to find the owner of the only other tattoo shop in town standing right behind him. “Lochan,” he grumbled, nodding once as he realized the coffee in his hands was actually hers. “I think I picked up your coffee by mistake.”
“Yeah, no shit,” she quipped, snatching it from his hands and handing over his tea. “Thankfully I looked at the side of the cup before I let any of your weak leaf-water into my mouth.”
Lorcan just shook his head at her, turning once more for the table in the back. The woman behind him had always been able to get a rise out of him, and he had too much to do over his lunch break to deal with her.
“I know you don’t think you’re going to claim the only empty table after you stole my coffee, Salvaterre.”
“Stole your coffee?” he cried, whirling around to face her just as he’d dropped his bag on the table. “Please, like anyone actually enjoys that nasty shit. And besides, I need this table - I’ve got sketches to do.”
“Yeah?” She raised an eyebrow at him, dropping her own bag on the floor as she spun a chair around and dropped into it, straddling the chair and propping her chin in one hand. “Well, so do I. Guess we’re sharing it then.”
He was half-tempted to argue with her, but he really did need the space. “Fine,” he grumbled, dropping into a chair and pulling his sketchbook out of his bag. “Just don’t go stealing my ideas.”
Elide snorted, her own sketchbook already open to her current project - a wyvern mid-flight, wings spread as it caught a draft. Though he would never admit it, her work was incredible. “As if I’d steal your work - I made it this far on my own, I don’t need anyone’s help now.”
Lorcan lifted his head to glare at her, but she was pulling headphones over her ears, leveling him with a cold stare as she tuned him out and picked up her pencil. Within seconds she was adding to her sketch, the pencil practically flying across the page.
He couldn’t help but watch her work, amazed at the way she was so sure in all of her movements. She barely paused, every line precise and perfect as her hand moved across the paper. It was like the image was already created, and Elide was just its vessel. He knew he was staring, but Lorcan was in awe of her - he rarely sketched anything so quickly or with so much ease.
Most likely feeling his gaze on her, she looked up at him from under her eyelashes, a questioning look in her eyes. She furrowed her brow when she realized he was just staring at her, narrowing her eyes at whatever she saw in his expression.
He felt heat blooming over his face, and the smirk she offered him only made his blush grow. He shook his head once, grabbing his pencil and flipping his sketchbook open to a blank page.
The tip of his pencil had just touched the page when he realized Elide had started humming. When he realized she was listening to Bad Reputation by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts as she worked, the barest hint of a smile crept over his face.
As he started working on his own mock-up, he realized that this lunch might be more enjoyable than he’d thought.
~*^*~
Elide chewed on her pencil, slotting it between her teeth as she stared down at the half-formed image on the page in front of her. She’d finished the mock-up of the wyvern fairly quickly, since it was almost done when she’d sat down. Knowing she had another design to finish up by the end of the week, she’d flipped to a new page and started on that. It was for a girl around her age that wanted a chandelier tattoo that incorporated the cycle of the moon, and when she’d seen Elide’s own chest piece, she’d reached out immediately.
She’d started sketching the rough outline of the image, and she was quite pleased with how it was turning out. The phases of the moon would be under the girl’s breasts, linked and curving along a curling wire to follow the natural lines of the body, with filigree chains and delicate lace patterns linking the moons to the thicker chain that would run down her sternum. Those same chains extended below the moons as well, creating the desired chandelier effect.
She sighed, the breath ruffling a stray piece of hair that had escaped her bun and fallen into her face as she worked, and the world came back into focus. When she worked on a new design, the world tended to fade away until it was just her and the lines on the page in front of her. She always listened to music while she worked, though she supposed it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t since she never heard anything beyond the first song.
Chuckling to herself as she realized that she was listening to Cherry Bomb by The Runaways, and that she was humming despite not even realizing the song was playing, Elide dropped her pencil on the table and looked over to her unexpected lunch partner.
Only to find that he was staring at her with one eyebrow arched and a smirk on his lips.
“Something amusing to you, Salvaterre?”
Lorcan just rolled his eyes as he pushed his chair back from the table. “You hum while you work, did you know that?”
“Music helps me think,” she replied, lifting her head to meet his gaze as he stood. “If you have a problem with it, you can always find another table.” Waving a hand across the very packed coffee shop, she merely smirked when he narrowed his eyes at her. She even thought a small growl echoed from the back of his throat at the look she gave him.
“Why would I want to sit anywhere else when I can sit here and listen to you and your fake punk music?”
Elide gasped and tossed her pencil at him. “I suppose you’d rather listen to the Ramones and only the Ramones for the rest of your life?”
“It would be a start.” He was striding away before she could even think of a biting comment, but that didn’t stop her from flipping him off anyway.
She reached down to grab her pencil from where it had landed after it bounced off Lorcan’s very solid, very defined chest. The white t-shirt he was wearing did little to hide how muscular he was, and even though he irritated the hell out of her, Elide couldn’t help but notice how incredibly attractive the man was.
Though she had every intention of returning to her sketch, she found her eyes drifting to him without even a thought. He was wearing dark wash skinny jeans, and they were doing wonderful things to his frankly spectacular ass. She couldn’t help but admire the lines of ink drifting over his arms, though between his shirt and the distance she couldn’t tell what they were - just that they were incredibly intricate and beautifully done. Having seen plenty of his work over the years, she was more than sure he’d drawn them himself, but whoever had done them was also an amazing tattoo artist. She found her eyes fixating on the ink that clearly drifted up his entire right arm and slid toward his neck, which were only bared to her gaze because he’d pulled his long dark hair into a messy bun.
Elide was so caught up in admiring the man that she didn’t realize he’d walked back over to their table until he set a plate in front of her. She barely even looked at it before turning to give him a confused look. “Erm, did you just get me food?”
Settling back into his chair with his own plate of food, Lorcan just shot her a look. “Obviously.” When she continued to stare at him, he added, “I could literally hear your stomach grumbling from across the table and it was distracting me.”
She felt the blush spread over her cheeks. “Oh. I get pretty distracted by my work sometimes - I didn’t even realize I was hungry.” Glancing down at her food then, she smiled when she realized he’d somehow managed to bring her one of her favorite orders - a bagel with extra cream cheese and a bowl with yogurt topped with so much fruit it was spilling over the side. “Thank you - I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, waving a hand in her direction. “That design you’re working on is quite amazing, by the way.”
Elide blinked in shock for a moment before her lips shifted into a coy smile. “Was that a genuine compliment from Lorcan Salvaterre?”
He chuckled at that, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. She realized that their laughter sounded good together.
“Yes, ma’am. But you have to promise you won’t tell anyone - I have a reputation to uphold. And if you’re going to insult me, I won’t make a habit out of it.”
Elide chucked a grape at him, though they both wound up laughing again when he caught it between his teeth. “I wouldn’t want you to change for me, babes. And besides, your work is amazing too.”
She found herself looking forward to his response, and to the conversation in general, and she realized that this impromptu lunch date might not be so bad after all.
~*^*~
He was surprised to admit it, but Lorcan found himself enjoying lunch with Elide. Though she had always been exceptionally good at getting under his skin, he’d realized that she had this charm about her he’d never noticed before. Their witty back-and-forth was second nature to him, and he found himself smiling with her more easily than he ever had with anyone before.
Even when they were arguing about music, he couldn’t help but smile. “Seriously, how can you be a fan of punk and not like the Ramones?”
She shot him an exasperated look, rolling her eyes dramatically. “When did I say I didn’t like them? I fucking love them - I just appreciate other punk bands, too.”
“Is that so?” Lorcan raised an eyebrow, disbelief seeping into his tone.
“It is!” Elide laughed, the sound pure and happy, and he found himself wanting to hear it again. “In fact, I have their lyrics tattooed on my ribs.”
“No fucking way.”
She nodded, running her hand over the right side of her ribs. “Right here - ‘sitting in my room, humming a sickening tune.’”
“No fucking way,” he said again. When she looked ready to protest, he added, “No, it’s just - I have one too.” He motioned to his left hip. “‘I can’t control my fingers, I can’t control my toes.’”
Elide snorted, pushing out of her chair. “Typical - and very fitting for you.” Rounding the table until she was standing next to him, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to grab another coffee quick.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering for a moment before she was walking away from him.
He opened his mouth to ask what exactly it had been for, but he found himself distracted by the swing of her hips as she walked. Her legs were encased in light skinny jeans so tight that he would have thought they were painted on if he didn’t know any better. Plus the heels on her combat boots helped add to the natural swing.
Shaking his head, his eyes ran over the loose cropped tank she was wearing - and stopped on the portrait that was tattooed on her back. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, and he only broke his stare when she turned and walked back toward him.
He barely noticed that she was carrying two drinks and two bags - that’s how distracted he was by what he was fairly certain was some kind of sign.
“I got you another tea - Earl Grey, right?” He registered her voice talking to him, but he couldn’t put any meaning to the words. When he didn’t reply, she reached out and touched his shoulder. “Lorcan?”
He managed to find his voice. “Can you turn around for a second?”
Lorcan registered the confusion that drifted across her face, but something in his expression must have kept her from asking, since she simply turned around. Reaching out, he traced his fingers over the ink that drifted across her entire back, following the lines until he could trace the woman’s lips.
Anneith - she had a portrait of Anneith on her back.
“You have Anneith on your back?” he questioned, one finger skimming her jaw as she turned around to face him again. “I have Hellas on mine.”
Elide twined her fingers with his, turning her head and nipping lightly at the one that lingered on her jaw before she met his gaze with her deep, gorgeous eyes. “We must be connected then.”
“Why don’t you let me take you out sometime and we’ll see?” The question left his lips with a confidence he didn’t possess, and Lorcan realized he’d never been more nervous.
Elide grinned up at him - a wide, joyous smile - and he felt his heart leap in his chest. “I’d love that.”
Offering her a smile of his own, he leaned down to press his lips to her forehead. “Me too,” he whispered, his lips brushing her skin with every word. “Oh, and thanks for the tea, love.”
.
Tags: @highqueenofelfhame @city-of-fae @musicmaam @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @tacmc @tangledraysofsunshine @lordof-bloodshed @how-to-be-a-bad-ass-be-me @nalgenewhore @bookrebelwordwarrior @sleeping-and-books @froggy-waddles @photofeesh @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @belamoonbeam @mis-lil-red @julemmaes
I used the tags I have for my ToG/ACOTAR list, so if I’ve tagged you in something else and you don’t see yourself here, that’s why! As always, if you want to be added to or removed from my tags, just let me know! And let me know what you thought!
#earl grey and cappuccinos#egac#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#elorcan#throne of glass#tog#my writing
218 notes
·
View notes
Text
Survey #384
“watch your tongue or have it cut from your head”
Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Sometimes. Depends on my mood and the person.
When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Idr.
What’s your favorite television commercial? I don't watch TV enough at all to have one. And who has a favorite commercial, anyway?
Do you trip a lot? I don't really trip a lot, but kinda fumble over my footing and stray a bit. I'm horrible at walking straight, and it's gotten worse as my legs have.
How old is your television? The one in the living room is god knows how old. My parents were still together when they bought it.
When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago for my appointment with my psychiatrist.
Are you currently sleepy? I'm quite convinced I'm permanently tired.
Are you hot or cold natured? I am ALWAYS fucking hot, ugh.
Do you take any advanced classes? I took mostly Honors classes in school.
Do you have weak upper body strength? My body is just weak as a whole.
What is the worst insult someone can call you? Emotionally weak.
Are you good at sketching? If we're talking meerkats, haha. They're the only complex thing that I can freehand no problem without needing a reference, honestly.
Ever play Angry Birds? Nah. I thought the movie was cute, though.
Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah.
Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No.
Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It's not something I actively worry about at all. Like, you don't want my identity, I promise.
Do you have any talents that come naturally? Growing up, adults always told me I was a "gifted" artist and writer. Also that I seem to have an unnaturally strong connection with animals. I've always been that person where a pet's owner is like "omg ____ never lets people do that" and whatnot.
Have you ever had plastic surgery before? I haven't. It's funny though, how opposed to it I used to be... Like goddamn, I was such a fucking stupid and honestly judgmental teenager, regarding many things. I look back on her and cringe. Like damn dude, if you have a safe surgical procedure to help you enjoy the body you're stuck with the rest of your life, you go for it, boo.
Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not really.
What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve gotten? There was this one year where Jason had to go to work on Valentine's Day and I was super bummed, yet he still surprised me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates, roses, and a game I really wanted, Heavy Rain. I thought it was the sweetest.
What is something you lose often? My phone. ;-;
Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I don't enter any.
Do you consider yourself physically active? *chuckles nervously*
Do you have Netflix? Yeah.
Favorite salad dressing? That Olive Garden replica you can buy at the store.
Do you enjoy dancing? Once upon a time I did. My body could never handle it now.
Have you ever considered writing a novel? Many times.
Snow or sand? Snow, by twenty thousand miles. It is VERY hard for me to walk through sand, and I also hate hate hate hate HATE the sensation.
Do you like sour candy? Heeeeeell yeah man.
Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? Nothing notable.
Are you a clumsy person? Like you would not fucking believe.
Last male you talked to in person? I think my primary physician's nurse.
Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No.
Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink lemonade, for sure. But I love both.
Chocolate or strawberry milk? CHOCOLATE. Strawberry milk is disgusting.
Have you ever won a contest on the radio?No.
Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There's quite a few.
Has a book ever made you cry? Yes.
Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time.
Do you know anyone who has a pet bunny? Not that I'm aware.
What store or website would you most like a gift card for? Rebel's Market.
How do you feel about wolves? I adore wolves. Beautiful, majestic creatures with very interesting social dynamics.
Name your top 3 favorite musical instruments. Electric guitar, violin, piano.
What was the last book(s) you bought at a bookstore? At an actual bookstore, I think it was The Fault In Our Stars, which I never actually read.
Do you use Pinterest? Yes.
Do you know any sign language? No.
Do you have a favorite poem? No.
Do you have a dog? No. The one we were pretty much stuck with has a home now.
Have you ever read The Little House on the Prairie series? I haven't.
Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No.
Have you ever performed in front of more than 100 people? Yes, for dance.
When (if ever) was the last time you went to church? Forever ago, I don't even remember the last time.
What's a quote you think is really powerful? There's a whole lot. The first one that came to mind was, "An eye for an eye will leave the world blind," which I do believe has great depth in it.
Have you ever had to do your laundry at a laundromat? Yes.
Are you the oldest person who lives in your household? No. My mom is turning 60 (... I think?) this year.
If you have tattoos, how long have you had them? I got my first the day I turned 18.
Do you and your dad have similar personalities? We're alike in some ways, imo most notably in that we have NO fucking common sense, embarrassing as that is to admit. We're both kinda slow at understanding things, too.
What were the last three things you had to drink? Mountain Lightning, milk, and water.
What did your family usually do for Easter when you were a kid? Us three kids all got Easter baskets full of stuff, and we'd go egg-hunting when we were all awake. My little sister Nicole would always wake our parents up in excitement, haha. My parents hid plenty throughout the house, and there was always this one "special" egg that was actually from Mom's childhood and was extremely intricate and beautiful. You basically "won" the hunt if you found it, and it was extremely well-hidden.
When you have house guests over, where do they sleep? Historically since living here, my two half-sisters and their spouses (the only people who've stayed over) slept in what is *technically* Mom's room, but for whatever reason this woman still insists on sleeping on the couch in the living room, I guess because she's used to it after all the years she didn't have her own room and bed.
Are you emotionally stable? LOLOOLOLOOLLOLOOLOOLOLLOOLOLLLLLLLLLLL
Do you still talk to the very first person you had sex with? No.
Are you an atheist? No. I don't quite know how to define what I am, but since I believe there's SOME higher power, I don't think it's fitting to call me an atheist.
What’s the largest bug you’ve ever found in your house? Hm... I'm unsure. Probably a male mosquito, 'cuz them bitches are big'ins.
Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" If it was a man, I'd be creeped out.
Are you into fashion design? Not really.
What’s the worst thing you’ve gone through in the past year? My leg muscles continuing to degrade, honestly. I have to do something about this shit.
How did you get your last bruise? I fell when stepping over the stupid dog gate.
Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Yikes, no.
Would you rather have some bacon or beef jerky? Bacon.
Do you like your orange juice with lots or no pulp? NONE.
Do you wear skinny jeans? Back when I wore jeans, they were the only kind I wore.
What projects are you doing now for school? I'm outta school.
What’s the most number of comments you have on a Facebook picture? What is the picture of? I have no idea.
Do you like coconut flavored things? No.
Have you ever met a famous author before? No.
Do you know anybody who has been raped before? No, thank god. I know someone who might've almost been, though. I don't know what the fucking pig was going to do to her if my sister and I weren't there.
Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No. Being overweight, I just want smaller ones now, haha.
Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I've gone many days without it.
How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four, if you're counting everyone that had the "boyfriend" title.
Where were you going the last time you were on a plane? Home from Illinois.
Where were you going the last time you were on a train? I've never been on one.
Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Holy fuck, yes. You would never guess now that I was perfectly healthy in high school especially, yet I still thought I was kinda fat. It hurts so much to look back on.
When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? I mean not excessively, but Mom was pretty dedicated to keeping the house in decent condition. With three kids though, of course the house was somewhat messy with toys and all.
When you shop at IKEA, do you always stop to eat a snack/meal in the cafeteria? ... There's a fucking cafeteria in a furniture store? o_o I've never been there before.
How many watches do you own? None, save for one in my "treasure box" from when I was a kid. I was SO SO SO obsessed with Finding Nemo that I kept my broken one. I did the same with my horribly aged sneakers, like the soles were coming off and Mom finally made me stop wearing them, ha.
Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? I do fucking nothing and am useless to society.
Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes, because emergencies happen. I personally think it's best to maybe have your cell phone flipped over on the corner of your desk or something and on vibrate, that way the noise isn't too disruptive and the teacher can see you're not just using it for other purposes.
Do you have any gay relatives? Yes.
Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Sigh, multiple.
Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? If so, what was the reason? Not recently.
How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? None.
Do you know what your vocal range is? No, but it's not very broad.
What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I haven't been in this position before.
Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No.
What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? I wanna say over a month while we were technically homeless.
How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? Oh dear, it was rough. Like there were people who had it worse than me, but ya girl was lookin preeeetty rough lmao.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome To The Pack | Mendes Triplets Series | Part Seven
Summary: You’re a human who has moved in with the Mendes triplets as their newest housemate. You’ll have to learn to navigate life with werewolves, college classes, and your feelings for each guy. [fluff] [tattoos/piercings]
Word Count: 2.2k
|Masterlist In Bio|
Peter walks around the house gathering laundry. You and the boys have a set schedule for who does what chores and makes dinner throughout the week. Wednesday is laundry day for Peter. If he doesn't have enough to preoccupy the washer for the day he will collect everyone else's and do it too.
"Hey, got anything you need washed?" Peter asks from your bedroom doorway, basket propped out on his hip. There's a small tattoo on his inner bicep that you can't recall ever noticing before.
"No, I don't. I tossed all my bath towels and stuff down the chute yesterday." You get up and cross the room to grab one of Shawn's hoodies that is laying on your chair. "I have this, but I don't know if it needs washed. Shawn left it in here the other night."
Peter holds the basket out and you drop it in. "What was he in here for?"
"Watching TV. His remote broke and he needs another one." You shake your head. "I think he stepped on it or something."
"Sounds like Shawn."
"Yeah," you chuckle and touch his arm. "When did you get that?"
"The swallow?" He asks, looking down to the small bird on his arm. "About a year ago."
"I never noticed it. It's nice."
"It's our thing." He smiles. "Shawn's got the one on his hand y'know?"
"Yeah! It is the same huh?"
"Exact same. Raul is getting his this week. He has been trying to decide where to get it forever."
"Oh, that'll be fun. Where did he decide on?"
"Ribcage just under his heart. They're a reminder that we're always going to be each other's home even when we fight and want to wring each other's necks. Because the swallow represents love, family and loyalty."
You smile and nod. "That's sweet. I wish I had something that special."
"You do." Peter runs a hand over his hair. "You're part of this pack."
"While I'm here. One day I'll move out though. Besides, I'm not a wolf, and I'm definitely not blood related."
"You're pack forever. You belong here, with us. We don't just call anyone our packmate. You've left your mark on us as much as we have on you." Peter shift the basket on his hip and pushes his glasses up. "I don't want you to leave."
"I'm not. Not anytime soon." You put your hand on his shoulder. "I promise I won't leave you Peter."
"Good." He grins. "Now follow me, I've got a dryer warm sweatshirt for you if you like."
"A man after my heart."
He shows his fangs, nose scrunching up and lip curling as he lets out a growl. "Definitely. I'm gonna eat it up. Don't you know I'm a wolf?"
"It's all yours." You laugh and he laughs too. It was a joke but...it almost felt like it wasn't. You do truly care for Peter.
_____________________
"What are you doing after class?" Raul asks as he steals your french fries at lunch. He's taken you to the diner down the street from the campus for a quick bite. The boys won't let you go anywhere alone after the nightshade incident. Peter is working on getting cameras for the house to detect any further attacks.
"Homework."
"Do you want to go somewhere with me?"
"I'm somewhere now?" You swat his hand away from your fries so you can actually eat some.
Raul disregards your swatting and grabs a handful quickly. "I mean somewhere else dipshit."
"Dipshit? How kind of you. Makes me definitely want to go somewhere else with you."
Raul pinches the bridge of his nose and growls. "Sorry, sorry. I...I'm nervous?"
You raise your eyebrows. Raul, admitting he has emotions other than indifference? Shocker. "About what?"
"My tattoo. I'm getting-"
"The swallow right? Peter told me."
"Yeah."
"You're nervous about getting a tattoo? But don't you have others?"
Raul nods and lifts his jacket sleeve up, revealing the sleeve tattoo you knew was there from the first time you met him. It's a silhouetted forest with the moon shining through the trees and it wraps around his whole arm, the sky decorated with swirls of stars and hues of blue and purple. It's beautiful. You wish you saw it more often, or you could just take the time to really study it. It’s like a painting on his body. Beautiful.
"Isn't that way more painful than a simple swallow?"
"Yeah...but...I sort of got really wasted while I had this one done. I wasn't going to survive hours on end of needle work on my arm sober." Raul tugs his sleeve back down and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't want to do that again either. I don't like myself when I'm drunk."
"So you want me to go with you?"
"Mmhmm. Peter and Shawn are gonna go too, but I thought I'd invite you along. They say the rib cage is painful to get tattooed but it's the only place I want the swallow.”
"Aren't werewolves supposed to be really tough?"
Raul gives you a look. "I have feelings. Things do hurt me still. I'm not superhuman."
"Maybe if you showed those feelings more often I wouldn't think you're different."
"Maybe if people didn't turn on me I would."
You frown, eyes meeting his. "I don't know who's hurt you or what they did but I swear not everyone is like that. I like you Raul, somehow, I do. But you gotta open up."
He growls, holding his head in his hands. "It's hard. Just...can we stop talking about this? I don't want therapy. Are you coming with me to get the tattoo or not?"
"Yes."
"Good. Thank you."
_____________________
Going to the tattoo and piercings place turns into a fiasco. Of course Raul has his appointment scheduled to do the swallow, but his brothers seem to have other plans while you're all there. Shawn doesn't surprise you when he starts looking at the tattoo wall, oohing and awing over several very complicated designs. But Peter looking at the piercings does surprise you.
Raul gets set up in his chair, opting for one that's in the main room instead of a private area. The show off. You walk around and look at all the different stuff the shop does. Everything from first time ear piercings for little kids to photos of detailed tattoos the artists on staff have done. There is one photo on the wall you find familiar. It's Raul's arm, his sleeve tattoo. It's beautiful even in the photo.
Peter chats with a staff member nearby and you walk over to see what he's up to. He is standing at a glass case with several piercings demonstrated on foam models in it. "So it's just in and out then?"
"Yes, nose piercing is very quick." The staff member says smiling softly. She's a tiny little woman, but her blue mohawk makes her look bigger. "I don't have any appointments right now, if you wanna get one I'd be happy to help."
Peter looks to you sheepishly. "Should I get one?"
"Why not? But also, why?" You laugh, looking down at the selection of studs in the case.
"I don't know. Raul and Shawn have so many tattoos and piercings...maybe I could too?"
You lay your hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to be like your brothers. Don't feel like you have to do it just to fit in."
"I know." Peter closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Maybe just my ears? Or one ear? I want to be different. I'm just Peter y'know?"
"Yes, you're Peter." You chuckle. "And for what it's worth I like you just how you are. But if you want to get a piercing because you actually would like it, then go for it. Don't do it just because your brothers have."
"I'll think about it." Peter looks over to where Raul is pulling his shirt off. "Raul looks like he's about to get started. He'll want you there."
"He will?"
"Yeah. Trust me, he's going to cry and he's going to want someone who isn't his brother to hold his hand."
You raise your eyebrows. "Raul?That Raul?"
"Yep. Go on. I'll talk to Shawn about the piercing thing."
You wander over toward Raul and take a seat on a rolling stool on his right side. The artists gets his tools ready and preps Raul's rib cage. Hopefully this won't take long.
The moment the needle gun hits Raul's skin he's baring his fangs, eyes changing to a deep gold color. He has one arm up around the head of the slightly reclined chair for a better angle for the artist. With his other arm he grips the soft cushion of the armrest and you worry about the artists safety as time ticks by..
"Raul, hey," you lay your hand on his arm after a few minutes and he tears his eyes away from the ceiling to look at you. "Relax, take a deep breath."
"I can't," he groans. "I can't or he'll mess up."
The artist pulls back and gives Raul a moment to breath. "Take your time," he says coolly.
Raul has tears in his eyes as he says, "Alright I'm ready, go again." He's most definitely not ready because he rips the arm of the chair up and the artist has to stop to assess the damage.
"We'll cover the repair cost." You say quickly and you take Raul's hand in yours.
"Keep going," Raul growls, breathing heavily before the artist goes back in.
"Please don't rip my arm off," you say half jokingly and Raul shakes his head.
Ten minutes of agonizing silence passes. You just keep holding Raul’s hand and he grinds his teeth. "Maybe if we talked it'd go faster?"
"Can't talk much though. Breathing is hard."
"Okay, okay." You wiggle your fingers against his hand, his death grip absolutely killing you. "I'll talk?"
"Sure, or you can...fuck...can you put your hand in my hair?" He lets out a groan as the artist takes a break to let him breath. "I like my hair played with, it's calming. Please?"
You tentatively reach for his hair with your free hand, fingers carding gently through it. His hair is so dark, at least a few shades darker than Peter and Shawn's. It's thick and soft, no product in it today for sure.
Raul barely flinches when the artist starts to work again. He has his eyes closed, hand gripped tight in yours. "Don't stop," he mutters when you pull your fingers out of his hair. He opens his eyes and they're pure golden brown, like rich honey, and he stares at you, eyes half lidded.
"I wasn't going to," you mutter, eyes going to his lips. They're so soft looking, a little pink and puffy from him chewing on them due to nerves. Your heart skips, the thought of kissing him is suddenly so tempting.
"Keep talking."
"Okay. Your eyes are very pretty like this." He smiles, full on smiles like a bashfully shy boy talking to his crush. "You're doing really well."
"Mmm."
"I think you're almost done." You look down at the artist and he's working on the tail of the bird.
"Your eyes are pretty too."
"Oh yeah? You never showed me what you painted with the color of them."
"Not done."
"Ohh. I see, it's a big project then?" You flex your fingers in his hair. "I bet it'll be incredible. I know you said you don't like when I tell you how good your art is, but it is so good. I love the roses, I hung it in my room."
"Thank you." He groans as the artist finishes and pulls away.
You wipe his cheek and he relaxes, lowering his arm from over his head. "I'm glad I could help."
"I thought you two were going to start making out at one point." Shawn says from a seat behind you.
You turn and he's got his head to the side, laying against a reclined chair while the girl with the blue mo-hawk from earlier is setting up a tray with implements beside him. "You jealous?" You ask jokingly.
"If I was?" Shawn quips.
"Then I guess you'd have to suffer."
Shawn puts his hand over his heart. "You wound me."
"Oh psh."
Peter walks out of a back area and you see him holding a cloth to his face.
"What'd you do Peter?" Raul asks, standing up and gently putting his sweater on.
"Oh shit he did it." Shawn says with a laugh.
Peter gets closer and pulls the cloth away to reveal a black stud in the lower left part of his lip. "What do you think?"
You cover your mouth and let out a giggle. "Its so-"
"Damn Peter." Raul laughs, hand coming down on his brothers shoulder. "Didn't think you had the balls."
Peter shrugs. "I gotta do something crazy some time right?"
"It's nice." You smile, stepping closer and looking at the tiny stud. "I definitely wouldn't have the guts to do it."
"Maybe someday we could get you to get something though," he smiles.
Shawn reaches out for you, flexing his hand. "Hold my hand?"
You take it and he squeezes it while he gets cartilage pierced. You laugh as he groans, grinning into the pain while the employee works quickly to get a stud in. Shawn is such a weirdo. A simple outing turned into such an event. These boys will be the death of you.
———–
End Part Seven
———-
Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. Next part coming soon! - A
Custom header per part made by the incredible delicateshawn
*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****
#shawn mendes#mendes triplets#the mendes triplets#shawn mendes fic#shawn mendes fanfics#shawn mendes imagine#shawn mendes fics#peter mendes#raul mendes#shawn mendes werewolf au#shawn mendes series#shawn mendes au#shawn mendes oneshot#shawn mendes blurb#shawn mendes writing#shawn peter raul mendes
466 notes
·
View notes
Text
⚘ Karasuno Alumni (Daichi Sawamura)
Genre: Slice of Life, AU, Fluff, Friendship
Word Count: 3,132
Pairing: Reader x Daichi
World: Haikyuu
Prompt(s): A bought the last piece of [item] that B was about to get. / “I have nothing to lose.” / Tattoo Artist AU
Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/19/20) over on @hqbookclub ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t It should be noted that I do not have tattoos and I know nothing about tattooing. I asked a couple different people and watched a couple videos, but it’s hard to understand if you haven’t experienced it yourself so I kinda just wrote what I imagine would take place and how it would feel. So yeah.
━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━
You didn’t get cravings very often, but when you did, they drove you absolutely batty until you got the object that you suddenly desired so badly. This was especially annoying at midnight when all you wanted to do was sleep but your brain wouldn’t stop craving for some strawberry flake pocky which, not so conveniently, was sold only at the quick mart about twenty minutes away from your house.
With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes you could find quickly as you grumbled under your breath about how much you hated your brain and its ability to act like a damn toddler. And nearly thirty minutes later, you found yourself approaching the quick mart, still grumbling under your breath, though, at this point, it was more noises than words.
The glass doors slid open, a burst of cold air hitting the top of your head and causing a shiver to go down your spine. The cashier, a young girl that should probably be in bed and not working at one in the morning, smiled brightly upon your entrance.
“Welcome!”
You nodded at her before heading toward the back of the store where your precious pocky was located. The pocky was lined up at the end of the aisle, appearing in your line of sight as soon as you turned the corner, but the lack of flavors was startling. Normally, the shelf would be packed with the treats, but they had clearly become much more popular than normal. The shelves were nearly empty, offering only a few boxes in varying flavors. Your eyes scanned what was left, praying to whatever deity you could think of that they had the flavor you so desired.
Just as your eyes landed on the strawberry flake pocky, a large hand shot out, fingers curling around the very last box before pulling it from the shelf. Time seemed to move in slow motion as your eyes trained on the box like a hawk, watching as it was placed into the plastic basket being held by the perpetrator.
The man in question was pretty tall, standing probably around five-foot-nine, and his body was well defined with muscles. You could just barely make out the tattoo of a crow in mid-flight peeking out from the collar of his sweater. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was attractive with his messy raven hair and dark brown eyes, but the only thing you could focus on was the fact that he had just taken the last feckin’ box of strawberry flake pocky.
He finally noticed your intense stare, turning his dark eyes to meet yours. “It’s not polite to stare, you know,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching up.
You scowled at him. “It’s also not polite to steal someone’s pocky!”
His brow quirked at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t steal anything. It was on the shelf, free for anyone to take. Maybe you should have been faster.”
In your tired, annoyed state, you didn’t recognize the teasing tone he was using and took it as a challenge. When he tried to step past you, your hand shot up, palm flat against his chest to push him backward. You resolve faltered for just a moment when you felt his toned chest tensing beneath your hand, but you quickly shook the thoughts from your head. “Give me back my pocky, you jerk!”
His eyes darkened, smile turning to a scowl as he grabbed your wrist to remove your hand from his chest. You could feel how strong he was from the amount of restraint he was showing. If he wanted to, he could easily hurt you, but his grip was soft, just enough to hold you back. “Maybe if you asked nicely I would have considered it, but since you’re being so rude, I’m gonna say no. Have a good night.” He released his grip on your wrist and headed for the front of the store.
Your eyes widened a bit at his words and you realized that you were being a complete jerk. Sure, you could use the lack of sleep and your shitty day as an excuse, but it was just that – an excuse. Shaking your head, you bolted toward the front of the store, intent on apologizing to the man, but he was already gone. You could only stand there feeling like a shitty person for being so rude to a man you had never even met before.
━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━
“Y/N!” Tsuko, your childhood best friend, burst into your dorm room without knocking and, since you were in the middle of erasing a failed equation, you ended up jumping and tearing the page.
You groaned, slamming your face onto the desk. Math was bad enough, but now you had to recopy everything because of the torn page and that did not sound like a good time for you. “How many times do I have to tell you to knock, woman?”
“Sorry~” She giggled, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I have the best news!”
You hummed as you tore the page from the notebook, beginning to re-copy the notes on a fresh, clean one. You were not really interested in whatever gossip she had to offer this time because this was a regular occurrence with her and it was mostly about other student’s relationships.
“Okay, so,” she plopped down on the side of your bed. “I met a guy in class today that knows Anne, you know, the exchange student from the states, who is good friends with Ako, that really cute football scholar in his third year, who heard from Carl, the half-Japanese kid that’s weirdly obsessed with tomatoes, who is best friends with Nia, that girl that was featured in Art Monthly in January, who happens to know -”
You slammed your head back on the desk, the notes completely forgotten as her word vomit swirled in your ears. First off, you didn’t know any of those people and you really didn’t care about them or what incredible thing they had passed along to a million different people. It was like one of those chain games you played as a kid – one person says something before passing it on to another and, by the time it got to the end of the line, it was something completely different from what it once was. “Tsuko, please spare me any further pain and just get to the point.”
She rolled her brown eyes, “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Anywho, let’s get tattoos!”
“Heh?”
“Nia knows a guy that does tattoos at a discounted price for Karasuno alumni!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I set us up with an appointment tomorrow afternoon!”
“You -” your eye twitched in annoyance as you looked at her, but your gaze softened when you saw how excited she was. She had always been super into tattoos and had dreamed of getting one since she was thirteen-years-old and her mom married a guy that was covered in them. You were happy she was finally getting one, but why did you have to get one, as well? Sure, you thought tattoos were absolutely gorgeous and you could definitely appreciate an attractive man with them, but you had never actually considered getting one yourself. “I don’t know… What would I even get? Aren’t tattoos supposed to have meaning behind them? It’s not really something you just decide on the fly, you know?”
“That’s true,” she agreed, tapping her chin. “But you really loved your time at Karasuno, right? You said it was the best time of your life! So why not commemorate that with a tattoo?”
You frowned. “Getting the name of a high school tattooed on my body sounds super tacky.”
“Not the name!” She clicked her tongue in annoyance before pulling out her phone. After a few taps, she stood up to thrust the device in your face, showing off various drawings and designs of crows. “You can get the school’s mascot – a crow!”
You hummed as you took her phone, scrolling through the various images she had found on google with a simple search. Some of them did look pretty cool and you had loved your time at Karasuno. Sometimes you even found yourself wishing that you were back in high school when things were so much simpler and easier. The more you thought about the idea, the more you liked it.
“So~, what do you say?” Tsuko clapped her hands together, giving you the best puppy dog eyes she could manage.
“Well,” you answered after a moment’s pause. “I guess I have nothing to lose. Sure, let’s do it.”
“Yes!” She threw her arms around your neck, squeezing you against her chest. “You’re the bestest friend in the world, Y/N!”
You slapped her arms frantically, “Then let me breathe!”
“Oh, oops.” With a giggle, she released you, allowing you to take in a large gulp of air.
━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━
Tsuko parked the car in front of the small tattoo shop nestled between a used bookstore and a fast-food chicken place. This did little to boost your confidence and you grabbed her arm before she could leave the car.
“Are you sure this place is legit? Did you research it? Look up reviews? What’s the -”
“Y/N!” She rolled her eyes. “This place comes highly recommended. Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out at the last moment.”
“I’m not, I just…”
“Come on, we’re gonna be late for our appointment!”
With a sigh, you climbed out of her car and followed her to the door, glancing up at the bell above the door when it chimed loudly. On either side of the door were metal chairs lined against the class walls. Directly across from the door was an L-shaped desk with a computer on the right and various drawings scattered across its surface. A wall hid the tattooing area, offering a small opening on the left to pass through.
Tsuko stepped up to the counter while you hung back a bit, staying near the door. A moment passed before a tall man with a shaved head appeared in the doorway, covered in head to toe in various tattoo styles, piercings in both ears and on the left side of his bottom lip. He honestly looked terrifying.
His small eyes fell on Tsuko and his face brightened, a streak of red crawling across his face as he practically skipped over to the counter. “Hey, babe! You lookin’ to get a tattoo?”
“We are!” Tsuko chirped, clearly interested in this man even though she had only just met him. “We have an appointment, actually.”
“I gotchu,” he winked, stepping behind the counter to check the computer. “Ah, you two the Karasuno alumni?”
“Yep!”
“Perfect! Come on back and we’ll get to work!”
Tsuko didn’t hesitate to follow him and you sighed, trailing behind as you chewed on your bottom lip. Honestly, you were feeling kind of scared, but you didn’t want your best friend to think bad of you for chickening out, as she called it. How bad could it be, really? You weren’t afraid of needles and your pain tolerance was pretty high, so you were confident that you could make it through. Plus, you’d have a pretty bomb tattoo to show for it.
‘Hopefully,’ you thought as your eyes scanned the framed drawings lining the backroom. ‘These drawings look amazing, but there’s no way to prove that they did these.’
The man led the two of you to one of the plush chairs, motioning with his arms as his eyes stayed trained on your friend. “Have a seat, princess, and I’ll be right with you!”
She giggled in response, falling into the chair with a flushed face.
“As for you,” his eyes fell on you and you swallowed at how darker they got. “Follow me!”
You glanced at your friend, but her eyes were trained on the man’s back, offering you no support as you followed him a few chairs down on the opposite side of the room.
“Have a seat,” he grinned at you before turning toward the back of the room where a lone door sat, cupping his mouth. “Yo, Daichi! You got a customer!”
“Coming!”
You pulled out the folded piece of paper in your pocket that had several printed illustrations of crows in various poses. You had printed it out last night to try and help out the tattooer rather just saying, ‘I want a crow.’
“Hello, my name is Daichi and I’ll be -”
Your eyes met dark ones that widened in time with your own. Standing before you in a tight, black muscle shirt was the man that had taken your pocky the other night. Without any sleeves, you could see the dragon tattoo curling around his left arm, a light pink lotus flower clutched between its claws. On his right bicep was a crow sitting atop a volleyball and, of course, the crow in mid-flight could be seen more clearly on his neck.
Daichi cleared his throat, putting on an obviously forced smile. “I’ll be your tattooist today. What are you looking to get?”
“O-Oh, umm…” You handed him the paper with a shaking hand, unable to look him in the eye. Your face was burning with embarrassment and you were torn on whether or not you should mention what happened that night. You really wanted to apologize, but you weren’t entirely sure how, especially when one wrong word could land you in a world of hurt.
He took the paper, careful not to touch your hand with his as he glanced over the printed designs. “You want a crow?”
“Y-Yeah,” you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “I really enjoyed my time at Karasuno, so…”
He smiled down at the paper, settling himself on the rolling stool as he grabbed a sketchbook from beneath the counter. “Is there a specific design you want?”
“Not really. Umm… whatever you think would look nice.” You rubbed the back of your neck, glancing at your friend, but neither her nor the other man were paying either of you any mind.
“How about this?” He held up the sketchbook, showing off a small crow in mid-hop, its eyes trained on a butterfly flying above its head. Small feathers were spread out around it. It was such a simple design, but you fell in love the moment you saw it.
“Yes, that looks amazing!”
“Cool. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, tearing the drawing from the book before returning to the room at the back. When he returned, he was carrying a thin piece of paper that he held gently between his fingers. “Where do you want to get it?”
You glanced at the paper, taking note of its small size. “My upper arm?” You lifted the sleeve of the t-shirt on your left arm, looking up at him for approval.
“Can you take your shirt off, please?”
“W-What?” Your cheeks burned at the sudden request.
“The sleeve might get in the way of the tattoo and ruin it. It’s better if it’s not in the way.” Daichi explained, setting the paper on the table beside the chair before setting up the tools.
Swallowing your nerves, you glanced at him before pulling the shirt over your head, holding it across your chest. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rolled over to your side, slipping his hands into black gloves before cleaning the area where the tattoo would be placed. The stencil was cold as he carefully smoothed it out across your skin, pressing hard to ensure that the ink transferred. When he was satisfied, he slowly peeled it away, the ink stuck to your skin.
Daichi’s dark eyes met yours as he picked up the ink gun. “Are you ready?” You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Remember to breathe and try not to tense up, it’ll make it hurt worse. If it gets too much or you start to feel lightheaded, let me know and we’ll take a break. I’m going to start now.”
“Okay.” Your eyes followed his movements as he clicked on the gun, lowering the needle to your skin. You sucked in a breath at the strange stinging feeling upon your skin, as if you were getting a shot multiple times. You found yourself focusing on the pain and it was making you feel light-headed – you had to distract yourself. “Hey, I uhh… I’m sorry.”
“Hm?” He didn’t glance away from his work, carefully tracing the lines with the needle. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… the other night in the quick mart…” You chewed on your bottom lip as you searched your brain for the proper words, meeting his dark eyes when he paused his ministrations to glance at you. “I want to apologize. I was such a jerk to you even though I didn’t know you and… I’m sorry.”
Daichi hummed, the corners of his lips twitching up as he returned to the tattoo, his tone teasing. “Are you just apologizing so I won’t mess up your tattoo?”
“What? N-No, that’s not -” You paused when he started laughing, bringing the gun away from your skin so he wouldn’t mess up the tattoo. “You’re teasing me.”
“Yup,” his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Don’t worry, I’m not so petty that I’d mark up someone’s skin over something like that. To be honest, I had forgotten all about it until I saw you.”
Seeing him so close to you made your heart pick up speed because he was a really gorgeous man and you adored his laugh. You wanted to get to know him more, so you threw caution to the wind, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I… make it up to you? Maybe I can buy you some lunch or something.”
“That sounds nice,” he smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up.
“Way to go, Daichi!” The other man waggled his eyebrows as he looked at the two of you, a smirk upon his lips. “And you always yell at me for trying to date the clients!”
Daichi scowled over his shoulder, a light shade of pink coming to his cheeks. “Shut it, Tanaka! Focus on your client.”
“Oh trust me, I am~” Tanaka wiggled his brows again, this time at Tsuko who giggled in response.
“We should go on a double date!” She suggested happily, to which Tanaka nodded enthusiastically.
Daichi sighed, giving you a sheepish look. “You up for a double date?”
You glanced at your best friend and her new love interest before giving him a smile. “Something tells me we don’t have a choice.”
“Definitely not,” he laughed.
━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━
📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜
#hqbookclub#daichi sawamura#sawamura daichi#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#hq#anime#writing#creative writing#writeblr#scenario#scenarios#anime scenarios#anime scenario#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfics#anime fanfic#anime fanfics#reader insert#reader-insert#reader#one shot#slice of life#au#alternate universe#fluff#friendship#tattoo artist au
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Suptober Day 25 - Tattoos
“I want a tattoo,” Cas said one morning, completely out of the blue and while Dean was still dangerously in his first sips of his first coffee.
“You’ve got tattoos.” Dean bit back grumpily, though Cas knew better than to take his ire seriously before ten am.
“Yes. I want another one.”
“Okay...” Dean drew out the word like he was waiting for Cas’ point.
“Can I?”
Dean snorted and placed his mug down on the table, “I’m not your mother, Cas. You’re a grown ass practically immortal being. If you want a tattoo you don’t need my permission.”
“I know, but… would you help me? I don’t want to end up disappointed and I don’t know how to tell if a parlour is a good one or not.”
Dean squinted at him through the steam from his coffee, considering.
“Sure,” he said. Go grab my laptop, we can have a look around.”
Xxx
Dean was almost done with his mug and a lot more cheerful when Cas returned a few minutes later, he took the laptop and flipped it open, searching for nearby tattoo parlours and going onto their various websites.
“I don’t suppose sanitation really matters to you,” Dean said, flipping through some pictures of a studio before dismissing it. “Seeing as you can’t get infected and all, but it says a lot about how much a place cares about the art it makes. If you can stumble in there at three am and demand Bob Ross’ face on your ass then you’re not in the right place.”
“Why would anyone-?”
“People.” Dean answered with a shrug. “Those are the kind of places we went to get these,” he gestured at his chest, “but these are practical, they just had to be copied from a drawing we supplied, if you want an actual design, you need to find an actual artist, not just someone with a tattoo gun who can draw hearts and fancy swirls and a passable wolf.”
Cas wrinkled his nose at the thought. He did want a proper design, something beautiful, something meaningful, something his. But the task seemed monumental for him let alone a stranger.
“Here are the ones that look decent.” Dean said a few minutes later, showing Cas a set of six tabs. “What do you want to get anyway?”
“I don’t know.” Cas said, feeling touched that Dean was walking him through this but overwhelmed as he clicked on the first tab and a slew on images popped up. “How am I supposed to choose?”
Surprisingly, instead of mocking him, Dean smiled and shuffled his chair closer so he could see the screen too.
“Look through the artist portfolios,” he directed, pointing to the option at the top of the screen. “Most will have links to their own websites with more of their work. You’re not looking for the perfect design, just the perfect style. Some are better at portraits, others at more geometric stuff, some do different things with colour. You can narrow it down by crossing out the ones you don’t like.”
Cas nodded solemnly and turned his attention back to the screen. The first artist had lots of strong black lines and straight edges. The second a lot of portraits, neither of which really appealed to him.
He seemed to search for hours. Dean was refilling his coffee when Cas found what he was looking for.
“This one.” Cas said, looking up to see Dean jump at his voice. “I want her.” He tried to keep his tone neutral but from the slight crinkle at the edge of Dean’s eyes he hadn’t been able to hide the excitement in his voice.
“Alright, let’s take a look.” Dean said, leaving his mug at the machine and coming over to look at the screen over Cas’ shoulder. “Nice,” he agreed.
Castiel felt a warm buzzing in his stomach, he was glad that Dean liked it too. The image on the screen was a rose, not what Cas was looking for really, delicately done, with a fine outline, but it was the colours that were magical; midnight blue and deep, rich purples blended in the petals, with a shimmer that looked almost metallic, smudging across the lines slightly, not enough to ruin the image but just enough to be imperfect, to feel right.
Castiel booked a consultation for the following week.
Xxx
Cas sat in the waiting room of the tattoo parlour, tapping his foot nervously while Dean sat next to him. Dean had insisted on coming with him and Castiel hadn’t thought to object, the last time he’d gotten a tattoo he’d been alone, and although the pain was minimal compared to some of the torments he’d endured as an angel, experiencing it as human pain was different and he had wished for company, even if Dean only would have mocked him and compared him to an infant.
“What if it turns out bad?” He asked quietly, “I still have no idea what I want, what if I can’t think of anything? What if she doesn’t have the right colours, or-”
“Cas,” Dean interrupted patiently, “it’s just a consultation, no needle is getting near your skin without your say so. If she draws you something and you don’t like it, she’ll change it for you. If she doesn’t have the colours she’ll order them in and we can go back when she’s got ’em. If you don’t have any ideas we can talk it out. It’s gonna be fine”
Cas was grateful for the reassurance, but he was still nervous nonetheless. He just didn’t want to be disappointed. This felt important and he didn’t want to mess it up by choosing the wrong thing. The artist, Giva Chaudhary, was exceptionally talented, but none of the images in her portfolio had really spoken to him. He was worried that they would get there and she would be unable to produce the thing he wanted on his skin forever and he would either have to go home with nothing, or settle for something that was less than perfect.
“Mr Novak?”
Miss Chaudhary was a small woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, her black hair was bound in a long plait and she had a smile that seemed almost too large for her face.
“Yes.” Castiel said, standing to shake her hand. “Miss Chaudhary, you work is beautiful.”
“Well thank you, but don’t bother with the ‘miss’, Giva is fine.”
“Cas,” Cas offered, and then, because Dean was leaning to shake her hand too. “This is Dean, a friend.”
“Moral support?” Giva asked, her dark eyes twinkling, “Understandable, a first tattoo can be a scary business.”
“It’s not his first,” Dean said immediately, “but this one’s important, he wants it to be right.”
Giva nodded and gestured them to sit, she did as well, laying a sketchbook and some pencils on the table in between them.
“So, Cas, do you know what you’d like?”
Cas felt himself flushing and stammered out an apology which Giva waved away, “Not a problem, that’s what these talks are for, yes? If we don’t figure it out today you can always come back another time. So what drew you to my work in particular?”
So Cas told her, he answered her questions and looked through her books. She made some further sketches as he talked, of nothing in particular, nothing important, and so her sketches, while lovely, were nothing like what he was looking for. Dean was quiet throughout, Cas kept glancing at him to gauge his reaction to each piece but he remained stubbornly neutral. This only added to his confusion, how was he supposed to decide if he didn’t know if Dean would like it or not?
“I wonder if I might ask your friend to go and get us some sandwiches from across the street.” Giva said after thirty minutes of light conversation and not much progress.
Dean was reluctant, but agreed when Cas nodded to him and left with a significant ‘call me if you need me’ look.
The second the door closed, Giva let out a long sigh. “Perhaps you can speak more easily now,” she said. “I notice you very much want his approval.”
“I trust his judgement,” Cas said, carefully.
“I don’t doubt his judgement, only that in this case, his opinion matters less than yours. He will approve the most if you’re happy.” Giva said with a kind smile, as though she saw this kind of thing all the time.
“You care for him deeply,” she said
“I-” there was no sense in denying it. “Yes. Dean and I… we’ve been through a lot.”
“Tell me,” Giva said, sitting back in her chair, sketchbook at the ready.
Cas cleared his throat.
“Err… Well… I suppose you could say I come from a very strict background,” he began, picking his words carefully. “When I first met Dean, more than a decade ago now, I pulled him from a dark place; it was a duty for me at the time, to keep an eye on him, look out for him and his brother, to try and keep them on the righteous path. Dean… Dean disliked being led.” He felt a small smile tugging at his lips. “I found myself admiring that, helping him more that I was supposed to and as I grew closer to Dean, I began to see my family for what they truly were. They tried to get me back, keep be under their control but I fought for my freedom because Dean showed me how.”
“Freedom is an important thing.” Giva said encouragingly as she sketched, “Worth fighting for. But it can be difficult if family disagrees with your choices.”
“I made many mistakes that I can never redeem.” Cas said, “A lot of bad decisions that got people hurt. Dean forgave me even when he had every right not to, while my family betrayed me, cast me out, hunted me.”
“A fall from grace, sounds like.” Giva muttered, Cas looked up sharply but the petite woman wasn’t even looking at him, she was focused on her sketch.
“That would be… incredibly accurate.”
“So why the tattoo now?” Giva asked, her pencil stilling for a moment, “This is your first important one, but you waited ten years?”
Cas tilted his head, formulating his answer before speaking, looking down at his own hands, “For years after I met Dean, my body didn’t feel like my own. Like it was someone else’s and I was just stealing his life. It has taken me a long time to… settle into my own skin, as it were. These clothes are his but they fit me now and so have become mine. My other tattoos are copies, but this will be the first thing about my body that isn’t inherited.”
Giva nodded again and asked nothing more, continuing to sketch in silence, she tore three separate pages from her notebook when she was done and laid them out one by one.
Cas didn’t even look at the third sketch, the second one was perfect.
Xxx
“So I drive all this way and I have to drive all the way back again in four days but you’re not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”
“I don’t want you to see it before it’s done.” Cas said, holding Giva’s sketch tightly to his chest. Before Dean had come back in with sandwiches, they had discussed minor tweaks and colours and Giva had given him the sketch to look over in case he wanted to change anything else before his appointment, she assured him that even the day of, if there was anything that he wasn’t certain of it could be changed to his liking as long as he told her before she got her needles out. In fact, all Dean knew about the piece was that it was going to be large and on his back, and that they would probably need more than one appointment to get it all done.
“If it’s Bob Ross’ face, I’m disowning you.” Dean griped.
“You don’t own me,” Cas pointed out. “So disowning me would be pointless.” And then, “and it’s nobody’s face.”
Xxx
It was worth the wait. That was all Dean could think a few weeks later when Cas dropped his shirt so that Dean could see the healed and completed piece. No wonder Giva had looked so pleased with herself after Cas’ last session, no wonder Cas had been beaming through red eyes.
Wings.
If Cas had asked his opinion he’d have said perhaps a little on the nose but he would have been eating those words.
They covered almost the entirety of Cas’ back with anatomically correct (he was assuming) detail but they were by no means static, the top half was full and thick with shimmering feathers, so dark they were almost black, but whatever ink Giva used caught the light, sending beautiful tones of blue, green, purple and magenta skittering across them. They swept down the curve of Cas’ spine where the feathers began to thin, hints of red and orange entered the mix, not enough to take away from the beauty of the above, just a subtle transition where some of the feathers were burning and curling into ash, then further down still those burnt and falling feathers twisted in the air, transforming into butterflies the same colour as the healthy feathers that weaved around the now bare bones of the wings.
“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Cas, they’re incredible.”
“I can’t manifest my wings,” Cas said quietly, “but I want you to see them as I see them. They are perhaps the thing I miss most about my old life; the symbol of what I was, powerful and grand and sure. But I’m not bound by their rules anymore. And what I am has changed into something more compressed, more human but infinitely more free. That transformation is largely because of you, Dean, and I can’t thank you enough.”
Dean barely realised he had reached forward to touch one of the burning feathers until Cas shivered under his touch, his fingers followed the wings in their progression, along their changes, they followed Cas’ story and he was the one who should be thanking Cas for letting him be a part of it. Without thinking, he dropped his lips to Cas’ shoulder and pressed them there. Cas turned to meet him and their mouths fitted together like they were made to, like they had done this before a thousand times, like, perhaps, they should have.
@winchester-reload
If you liked this, please consider buying me a coffee.
224 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Favorite
Trope: Soulmate marks.
Twist: Lexa doesn’t have one. Clarke does.
2/? - (Part 1)
~
A week passed at the hotel, but while Lexa glanced into the sitting room each time she walked by it, she never saw Clarke again. She went back and forth between the hotel and her apartment, putting her boxes away while the windows remained opened wide and the smell of paint slowly faded. Eventually she checked out of Griffin Hotel, where Jake gave her a cheery look before sending her off with a basket of fresh fruit from the breakfast buffet - a welcome gift, he’d said.
With her first classes to plan and organize, Lexa spent most of her time with her nose in her books and binders. She used the rest of it to familiarize herself with Polis, where she picked up a few habits in a matter of days. There was the grocery store with the peanut-butter pretzels that melted in her mouth, the bicycle path that cut through the park, and the coffee shop owned by Raven Reyes.
Raven ran a tight ship and was as welcoming as she was fascinating. Her two loves were space and food, and evidently she had combined them with great success. Her shop, Coffee on the Moon, was exactly what it sounded like - the best damn coffee Lexa had had in a uniquely decorated setting. The coffee machines were themed like space crafts, which Lexa had noticed were wildly popular with kids (and perhaps even more adults); the walls were painted in swaths of silvers and dark blues; and the art hung up was courtesy of local artists. In the display case, well-garnished sandwiches made with local produce rarely lasted the day, if even the rush of lunch hour.
Raven seemed to know everyone and everything, an unsurprising fact given her infectious energy. One morning, Raven had come into her shop without her prosthetic leg on account of the pain, she had shared casually, but not once in the following hour had Lexa heard her complain. She was an admirable woman, and Lexa was particularly fascinated by how quickly she had charmed Anya.
Anya, who wouldn’t admit to feeling lonely while her daughter was at summer camp, had surprised Lexa with a visit that had turned into a week-long stay. She’d met Raven quickly enough, and immediately Lexa had noticed the change in her demeanor. Usually always on her guard, Anya had seemed to... soften around the edges in a matter of minutes. It was clear to Lexa that Raven had caught Anya’s eye, not only with her wit but also her ability to run such a good business.
Unfortunately for Anya, who didn’t like to be surprised by her own feelings, she dealt with attraction rather poorly. That is, she’d be ready to snap if Lexa so much as implied there was something there. Lexa, however, could understand her need for caution: Anya was a working mother who would soon leave back to her home, hours away. It was hard to envision this relationship having a future.
And, surely, it would have remained that way had Raven not suddenly noticed the tattoo on Anya’s wrist and shown off her own: a depiction of the moon with the logo of her coffee shop covering the words she’d had since birth.
“Got it at twenty-five when my boyfriend of ten years dumped me for some chick he didn’t even know,” she explained.
When Lexa looked toward Anya then, she knew her friend’s interest was piqued for good. It was rare to meet anyone who had willingly tattooed their mark like Anya had.
“A decade gone to dust because some skinny redhead told him what he’d always hoped to hear,” Raven revealed with a snort.
“So you don’t believe in the mark?” Anya asked cautiously.
“Oh, I do.”
As equally confused as her best friend, Lexa invited Raven to sit with them at their table.
“I just don’t think the way we go about it works,” Raven elaborated. “Just because you meet - it doesn’t have to mean you’re right for each other at that exact moment, you know?”
“Or at all,” Lexa muttered.
“Well, I do think there’s truth to it,” Raven admitted. “It’s fucking beautiful, really, if we just see it as it is, but we have a messy approach.”
Lexa shook her head. “It’s just always seemed like... Do you love the person because of who they are, or do you love them because the words on your wrist tell you to?"
Raven smirked, like she had asked herself the same question a hundred times before. To do so aloud, however, was bold. “The way I see it? Just because your souls are bonded, doesn’t mean the relationship doesn’t need work. Sure, most movies show us it's happily ever after once the first words are uttered, but in reality the words are just the beginning. It's not easy to go from perfect stranger to soul-tied, you know?"
Anya rolled her eyes. "Cry me a river."
Raven shrugged. "If it weren't so taboo to admit you're unhappy with your soulmate, maybe some would realize it's because they're taking it for granted. My friend, Bellamy - his soulmate was this broody chick who straight up punched him for sleeping with her friend. Insulted the shit out of him; word for word the string of insults that wrap around his wrist four times. Anyway, she didn't give a shit when he showed her. Took them three years to meet again, and then another three to even like each other. Now they're expecting their first kid. But I think the best thing they did was to grow as people. The mark showed them the possibility for something life-changing was there - but they'd have to work for it first."
Lexa glanced at Anya, who had yet to look away from Raven.
"Look, I know it's fucked how you're treated," Raven continued, "but I don't think the mark itself is to be blamed. I mean, I think it was designed as a way to make life a little easier, that's all. But then… I don't know, most civilizations blew it out of proportion and turned it into something else. Decided that those who have it are better than those who don't - and backed up their points by turning the exceptions into the rule. That people without a mark are going to steal your jewelry or murder your kids one day, just because this one markless dude some thousands of years ago happened to be an ax murderer. Everyone loves to forget that ancient Egypt worshipped the Markless. They believed that they were in control of their own fate - freer. And don't get me started on the Greeks! They had whole temples dedicated to them. There's a reason the statues of their Gods didn't have marks, but nobody likes to bring that up.”
“Moral superiority is one hell of a drug,” Anya shrugged.
Raven chuckled. “I don't think anyone is better than anyone; it's just a bunch of people trying to be happy."
"Well, you're definitely an exception,” Lexa sighed. “I’ve been reminded of my place in the world enough times to know that.”
Raven was about to reply when the door to the shop opened. When Lexa saw that it was Clarke who had just walked in, her heart jumped in her throat.
“You’re back!” Raven exclaimed before getting up to pull Clarke into a hug. “How was it? How’s your mom?”
Clarke grinned in the embrace before pulling back to sign something. Lexa watched with rapt attention, trying hard to follow the movement of Clarke’s hands, but understanding none of her language in the end. She watched as Raven tipped her head back and laughed.
“Classic Abby Griffin.”
Clarke then pulled out a heavy paper bag from her backpack and gifted it to her friend, who immediately looked inside.
“Yes!” Raven turned to Anya and Lexa. “Best goddamn blueberry pierogi in the country!”
Clarke looked toward them as well and gave Lexa a small wave.
“You’ve met?” Raven asked.
Clarke quickly signed something. Raven blinked, then burst out laughing.
“Oh fine, just go, you idiot.”
Clarke bit her lip before dashing toward the coffee shop’s restroom. Anya got up as well.
“I’ll be right back,” she excused herself.
Alone with Raven, who was now counting the pierogi in the bag, Lexa’s curiosity got to her.
“Are you good friends?”
Raven turned to her and nodded. “Clarke and I got each other through everything. There wouldn’t be a Coffee on the Moon without her.”
Lexa found incredible strength in Raven’s ability to be so open. “I wouldn’t be here without Anya,” she admitted in turn.
“How long have you known each other?”
“Since college. Anya... just helped me believe that I was more than the missing part.”
Raven’s face fell. “Shit. I’m really sorry."
Lexa shook her head. “It’s fine. Just made me who I am today.”
“No, it’s not fine. You know - Polis doesn’t tolerate that. We have each other’s backs here, mark or no mark. I think you’ll notice when you start teaching the kids. They really give me hope.”
Lexa smiled. “I look forward to it.”
Clarke and Anya came back from the restroom together, not exactly chatting but... Lexa could tell they’d communicated something to each other by the small smile on Clarke’s face. Anya sat back down at the table while Clarke signed something to Raven.
“Oh okay,” Raven answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Clarke nodded before she glanced once more at Lexa, mouthed ‘bye’, and left the shop.
Raven turned to the table. “Okay, well, I need to put the pierogi in the fridge and make some calls, but let me know if you need anything.”
Lexa sat back in her chair with a sigh. She watched Anya pick up her cup of coffee and then smirk.
“She doesn’t have one.”
Lexa frowned slowly. “What?”
Anya chuckled, then took a sip of her coffee. “You’re so obvious, you know? I figured I’d check when she washed her hands.”
Lexa immediately sat up, hope blossoming dangerously in her chest. “She... doesn’t have-”
“Nope.”
Lexa worried her bottom lip before grabbing her phone. Anya didn’t seem fazed in the least.
“Are you buying a hundred books on sign language?”
Lexa swiped something on her screen. “Yep.”
-
Part three
218 notes
·
View notes
Note
What are your thoughts on Gyokko? We didn't really get a backstory for him aside from the fact his art wasn't appreciated, so.... Do you have any hypothesis on his past?
I’m not sure if you’re asking for hcs or just a thought process but I’m feeling more into the later so if it’s hcs you want, please request again and I’ll get to you first so your wait is not prolonged.
Anyway, here goes my essay so buckle up, we’re getting started!
Edit: This got extremely long, so I’m adding Read More.
Out of all the Upper Moons, two in particular stand out as generally receiving as little attention as possible, those being Gyokko and Hantengu. Strange as it is in Hantengu’s case (since let’s face it, all his personalities aside from Urami are pretty damn hot), Gyokko might feel very understandable. He wasn’t given a human-like design and is about the collection of all weird things one could think of. But you know what, that’s exactly what makes him all the more interesting as a character.
First, let me get a proper look at his exterior. Because boy, oh boy, do I have a lot to say! Gyokko, in his usual form we get to see first and more, is all but normal. He’s a genie that comes from a pot rather than a lamp, eyes and mouths switched on his head and with a set of four tiny arms sprouting directly from the back of his skull, he certainly does look peculiar. His other form that has slightly more of what we appropriate as human but it still has some unsettling details to it. Aside from the whole... being a naga thing. His arms and hands in particular are monstrously large and there are webs between his claw-like fingers. His hair also grows longer and he sprouts what appears to be a beard out of nowhere. Then, of course, there is the fact that he has a snake tail with scales all over it. Right, his arms are also scaly. The particular difference between skin and scales as well as the fact that he’s missing both arms and legs in his usual form brought me to a simple conclusion – Gyokko’s human self must’ve lost his limbs before becoming a demon for one reason or another.
Given what we know about the Upper Moons, their ranks haven’t changed in exactly 113 years. We can assume that Gyutaro and Daki were the last ones to join them so Gyokko must’ve become a demon some time before that. Since KnY takes time somewhere between 1912 and 1926, that would bring us to the years 1799-1813 which is during the Edo period in Japan. By this time, the usual punishment in Japan was already tattooing but just about two centuries before, limb removal was a pretty common practise, even at the first offense. The Edo period started in 1603 and it took quite some time before the tattoo practise actually took off. Another interesting punishment to take a look at is what’s called fuzuke, a death penalty by drowning. That was in practise all the way till 1868. That would also be the period Akaza is from by the way. Either way, japanese law was fairly strict at the time and a lot of things could get you in serious trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if an artist like Gyokko got himself into this sort of mess. Which brings me to my second point...
Gyokko is an artist whose art was not appreciated at the time. An artist who struggled to focus on the traditional way of art as it would seem based on how enraged he becomes just seeing how well Haganezuka can focus, although their respective art forms are very different. Now, here’s the tricky part. Impressionism, which is the style that seems most fitting to Gyokko’s portrayal (at least to me, I don’t really understand that sort of thing though so feel free to correct me), didn’t really spread until the Taisho period, that means 1912-1926. You may notice that this is exactly where we are in the current story in KnY so while that fits the current timeline, it tells us near nothing about Gyokko’s past, human life. And he’s not the only one who suffers from the timeline errors or oversights.
But unlike with Akaza, where his past is bound to a martial arts style that literally didn’t exist at the time, art is a tad more interesting. Since it’s been estabilished fairly early on that demons can shapeshift, it is entirely possible that Gyokko changes his form based on modern art trends. The only thing that seems to remain constant is his pottery since we know Muzan counts on it as a way to make money (bless the person who told me bits and pieces from the fanbook!!), thus it has to be a long-term thing. And then there is the goldfish thing...
Goldfish were first brought to Japan in 1502 and they were considered a very important symbol of wealth and a ward against illness and bad luck. They were originally reserved for important samurai families, later in the Edo period they spread among the aristocracy as well. Much like in China, the Japanese took their talismans very seriously and the goldfish were given the same treatment. If a talisman was proved to be fake, the seller of said talisman could be severly punished, depending on the range of harm done and the importance of the family harmed. But there was more to goldfish than just being amulets. Goldfish cultivation and the animals in general have always been linked tightly to japanese art. And not just paintings but also sculpting and literature. See where I’m going yet?
Gyokko has strong ties to both goldfish and art. The Muromachi or Azuchi-Momoyama time periods would both fit the corporal punishment being cutting off one’s limbs as well as the biggest goldfish craze when they were still being kept away from ordinary people. Goldfish cultivation is an art form that requires tons of patience and many errors before it’s possible to fruit some results. If there is also pressure from customers or if other art forms of a goldfish cultivator bring no money, the possibility of serious struggles is extremely high.
To sum it up, based on all of this, I believe Gyokko to come from the 16th or 17th century and I think he may have originally been a goldfish cultivator. However, not an awfully lucky one. Either he didn’t manage to breed the exact goldfish his customers demanded and was forced to steal to make his way through or, what I consider more likely, he’d sold a goldfish to a feudal lord who died or was met with misfortune soon after. He got blamed for this and was punished by getting his arms cut off. It could also be that his art of goldfish cultivation was considered insulting or heretic since there were very specific requirements for the colour of the goldfish in order for them to be considered good merchendise. If Gyokko chose to be just as striking and original as he is in the current timeline, it’s no surprise that he may have been considered a heretic. And that wasn’t really looked upon kindly as well. Either way, he kept his goldfish even after becoming a demon and even found a way to impliment them into his Blood Art, meaning they were clearly important to him even in his human life. I also believe he may have been sentenced to death by drowning based on the fact that it is literally a technique of his Blood Art.
I hope you’re satisfied with a response like this and I apologize for not citing my sources but at this point, I went through so many websites for this post alone that tracking them all back down would be a very time-consuming process and I’ve already spent a very long time on this. I hope you don’t mind it too much. It’s nothing hard to find if you know how to google though so I’m sure if there are any questions and you don’t feel like asking me, you can find everything out yourself!
Still, doing such a large analysis was tons of fun and I enjoyed it a lot! Gyokko is a very interesting character and it’s a shame we didn’t get to see more of him. If anyone would like me to analyse other characters in the future, feel free to hit me up but you may be on hold for a while!
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
alright friends here we go. @goodlesson tagged me (thank you 💙) so we are doing this. all 73 questions!!
on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? 4, fuck you coronavirus
describe yourself in a hashtag? #yeet
if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? no. can i just get a hug or maybe steal a hoodie from dan smith or tom holland
if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? it’s a disaster but hopefully you’ll love it anyway!
what’s one thing people don’t know about you? one time i won a spelling bee and it was so traumatizing that i swore i’d never do another one ever again
what’s your wake up ritual? wake up, pretend i don’t have to do anything, remember that i do actually have to do stuff, start school. and breakfast happens somewhere in there
what’s your go to bed ritual? snack and tumblr and music
what’s your favorite time of day? i’m a big fan of golden hour because photography. also midnight, i dig it
your go to for having a good laugh? john mulaney
dream country to visit? besides all of them? the czech republic or new zealand!
what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? signing to run in college? i know i did it, but i surprised myself with it honestly
heels or flats/sneakers? yes.
vintage or new? new styles purchased at thrift stores
who do you want to write your obituary? i’ve written my own epitaph six times and i don’t even want a gravestone
style icon? shailene woodley, taylor swift
what are three things you cannot live without? trail running, music, sweet tea
what’s one ingredient you put in everything? parmesan fucking cheese. i said what i said
what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? oh no who from bastille do we kick off the dinner invite
what’s your biggest fear in life? rejection in any form
window or aisle seat? window cause i like my views
what’s your current tv obsession? working my way very slowly through NCIS
favorite app? pandora
secret talent? i can sing the entire Hamilton sound track. any part. from memory.
most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? i ate a mango with cayenne pepper on it in panama. i did this knowing full well that i a) hate mangos, b) hate cayenne pepper, and c) was already sick. aside from that, it was the best trip i’ve ever taken!
how would you define yourself in three words? adventurous, cynical, smart
favorite piece of clothing you own? chacos baby
a must have clothing item that everyone should have? sneakers. with arch support.
a superpower you would want? i’d love to be able to move undetected
what’s inspiring you in life right now? oh god. um. all the people giving us access to livestreams and musicals and arts in general. and not just the artists - the organizers, the computer people who are making it functional, you are all doing amazing jobs and i adore every single one of you.
best piece of advice you’ve received? sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission
best advice you’d give your teenage self? when people invite you places, go. you’ll like it more than you think you will
a book everyone should read? the immortal life of henrietta lacks
what would you like to be remembered for? trying new things and being kind.
how do you define beauty? if it makes you happy, it’s beautiful. no one else gets a say in what makes you happy
what do you love most about your body? i’m really good at running and i wouldn’t be able to do that without my legs or my lungs. so.
best way to take a rest/decompress? music, read a book, cup of tea
favorite place to view art? outside always. if you take me to a sculpture garden i’ll love you forever
if your life was a song, what would the title be? "Is This My Decision Or Am I Just Following Everyone’s Advice”
if you could master one instrument, what would it be? can i say singing? i wish i’d joined choir so much
if you had a tattoo, where would it be? possibly my back?
dolphins or koalas? why would you make me choose
what’s your patronus? penguin
best gift you’ve ever received? my grandma gave me my grad present early and it’s a quilt made of all my old tshirts!
best gift you’ve given? i gave my grandparents prints of some of my photos and they loved them!
what’s your favorite board game? i... honestly don’t love board games that much. i love cards against humanity but that’s cards so
what’s your favorite color? teal
least favorite color? orange
diamond or pearls? diamonds
drugstore makeup or designer? drugstore always
blow-dry or air-dry? air-dry bc i’m lazy
pilates or yoga? yoga
coffee or tea? yes
what’s the weirdest word in the english language? hippomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is both improbable and ironic
dark chocolate or milk chocolate? milk chocolate but i love them both
stairs or elevators? hi, future collegiate cross country runner here, i’m that jerk that literally runs up every flight of stairs
summer or winter? winter
you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? ice cream
a dessert you don’t like? lemon anything ew
a skill you’re working on mastering? i’m trying so hard to practice drawing but i am struggling so much and i’m not getting much better and that doesn’t help motivation. but i’m doing my best!
best thing to happen to you today? running in the rain!
worst thing to happen to you today? ap calc test that i will surely fail
best compliment you’ve ever received? this lady that i absolutely idolize from my church told me that she was amazed by the depth of wisdom i possessed and i definitely cried
favorite smell? cinnamon
hugs or kisses? HUGS ALWAYSSSSSS
if you made a documentary, would it be about? effects of climate change in developing countries and how they are fighting it because no one talks about them enough
last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? legitimately i never cry at anything. but i just got done watching Help Me Chase Those Seconds and since it’s late and i’m already emotionally compromised, i came pretty fucking close.
lipstick or lipgloss? lipstick
sweet or savory? sweet
girl crush? shailene woodley or bea miller
how do you know you’re in love? um
a song you can listen to on repeat? the entire wild world album
if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? des linden
what are you most excited for about this time in your life? moving to college if covid clears up in time
tagging: this is so, so long so definitely don’t do it if you don’t want to. @prismaticheretic @atrophicgalaxy you’re up!
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
little-bullheaded-shit
Someone give me a lore topic to...
Deadlock gang
Oh boy, this is a good one to start off with.
The Deadlock Gang was founded roughly 21-22 years ago by Elizabeth Caledonia “Calamity” Ashe, Jesse McCree, and two other unknown founders.
"But Doc! McCree’s tattoo says Deadlock was founded in 1976! That means McCree is over 100 years old/McCree can’t be a founder!!”
Let me explain you a thing.
The Deadlock Rebels logo with the “Est. 1976″ founding date appears only in 2 places in all of Overwatch. One is McCree’s tattoo, which was on the arm he lost some time in the 5 years between leaving Overwatch and him stopping a Talon attack on a hypertrain headed for Houston, Texas.
The other is in some concept art for Route 66, which can easily be seen in the Art of Overwatch artbook:
Literally everywhere else in the game where that logo appears, the date is absent. On the map (since Beta, I checked old footage, just to be sure):
On Ashe’s jacket:
On the merch you can buy in the Gear store:
I have two thoughts on why this is - one is an in-universe explanation, and one is the most likely explanation from the design standpoint:
Jesse McCree is a small-time criminal who grew up on a farm. He committed petty crimes until newfound friend Elizabeth Ashe decides they need to dream big. So, when they’re branding their new gang, they want to pick something that will inspire fear in their enemies and draw awe and respect from their rivals. They decide to steal/borrow the existing logo of a biker gang from the 1970s, one that had long since been shut down and there wasn’t anyone around to point out that they were cashing in on another gang’s fame. McCree, being the impulsive youth, gets the old gang’s logo tattooed on his arm, founding date and all. Ashe, being the brains of the outfit, takes the establishment date off the logo before plastering it everywhere.
(John Polidora, concept artist, is designing a Blackwatch skin for McCree and is told that he had the Deadlock gang’s logo tattooed on his left arm. Instead of going into the game and looking at the finalized assets, he pulls concept art from the Blizzard archives - the logo that includes the establishment date - and uses that instead.)
So no, McCree isn’t over 100 years old and Deadlock was not founded in 1976. Jesse McCree and John Polidora just like using existing art without thinking about it.
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
The 100 Tag Game
Tagged by @historyandships
1. What station on the Ark would you be from? Mecha, probably. My entire family is made of mechanics, so I'd imagine that's where they'd live.
2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark? Stealing/giving too much medicine
3. Would you take your wristband off when you landed on the ground? No. I am what one might call, a yellow bellied coward, and I don't think Bellamy's slicked back hair is going to change my mind.
4. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/ Raven: a raven duh..) A flower maybe?
5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be? Sinclair. His death hurt me more than any other.
6. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they? Bellamy, Clarke, Murphy, Miller, and Raven
7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to? I looked up a map and based on my location, Rock Line.
8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? Carei
9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious. Finn was actually the reason I almost stopped watching The 100. He seemed like that typical "bad boy" character trying to get the cute blonde and would eventually be successful, because that's television, baby. I'm not a fan of that storyline, and when he called her princess, that drew the line for me. I wasn't going to watch a show with such an overdone trope. But then Clarke said, "They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain", and that interested me, so I decided to just watch a little longer. I'm so glad I did! I liked Finn a little better as his character developed more. Now, I'd categorize my opnion of him as neutral.
10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does? I've got a lot of health problems, so the idea of not being in pain? Hand it over NOW
11. What character do you relate to the most? Raven. When she said she was used to being picked first for everything and now she suddenly can't do anything, I felt that in my bones. Thankfully we've both found ways to adapt with our disabilities and learned to love our new lives!
12. What character do you like the least? Oh boy, here we go. I know some people going to hate me, but Wells. I felt like once he revealed that it was Clarke's mom who got her dad killed, his character felt empty, like there was nothing else to him. So him dying when he did felt right to me, and helped move the story forward.
13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles?) Be creative, yet practical. I loved Raven's bomber jacket because it was colorful yet simple, so I'd pick something similar for my jacket. I own like 15 black t-shirts, so no doubt one of those, and some kind of lace up boots.
14. Favorite type of mutant animal? Those glow in the dark butterflies
15. What would your job be on the Ark? Maybe a doctor? I've always been interetsed in medical stuff.
16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked? Yes
17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive, who would’ve made the best Commander? I really wanted to see Luna become Commander, but to be fair, Aden would've probably been more level headed and patient.
18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts? My body tends to react to drugs it doesn't like with aggression or crying, so probably one of those
19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or a more Bellamy Blake approach? I thought Bellamy was in the right at the time, so my reaction would probably be closer aligned with his.
20. Who should’ve been the Chancellor, if anyone? I feel like Bellamy and Clarke had a good handle on things before the adults came down and ruined everything. So I'd make them co-Chancellors.
21. Would you have been on Pike’s side or Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis? Clarke's side
22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s iPod) Wat is one thing you would snatch while there? SOAP
23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint? I love wearing my hair in braids, so it'd be something ridiculously elaborate like Lexa's. I'd pick Octavia's 4x10 warpaint, and my tattoos would probably delicate lines making some kind of design.
24. Favorite quote?
Diyoza: "Tell me how the world ended."
Clarke: "Which time?"
25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning? Echo. She's skilled with multiple weapons (bow, sword, staff, I'm pretty sure I saw her use a knife), she's sneaky, and she'd do anything to help her district/clan.
26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL, BC, OR BE. Least favorite- Kabby, Favorite canon- Marper, Favorite non canon- Jasptavia
27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo? Can I just say pass on this one? I don't really know any celebrities and really only listen to one artist, and none of his songs really fit. The only one that might fit is Earth (by Sleeping at Last, ofc) in season 4.
28. What would you do if you were stuck in that bunker with Murphy all that time? Let's be honest, there'd probably be a baby Murphy at the end of those three months. What else was there to do?
29. You’re an extra that gets killed off. How do you die? Probably in the culling. I'd rather die softly in space than potentially violently on Earth.
30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of? Let me see child Murphy, darn it.
31. A character you’d bang? Honestly? All of them. Raven, Bellamy, Murphy, Harper, and Clarke would probably be my top 5. Plus Luna and Lexa.
32. Would you stay in the bunker, go to space, or live on your own in Eden? I'd live with my space pals
33. In the bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground? I think I'd follow anyone who I thought was going to keep me alive. I'd pass time by learning new skills from other people. The hydroponic farm really interested me.
34. What crime would you commit in the bunker that lands you in the fighting pits? Not being a cannibal
35. Up in space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with? Raven, but it'd be because I'd be an annoying little sister to her and follow her around everywhere until she taught me how to do the things she's doing. The most difficult would probably be Echo.
36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself? I don't think I'd last longer than a month by myself once I realized I'm not getting in that bunker
37. When the Eligius ship lands, what do you do? Get outta Dodge
38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite? Favorite- Dioyza. Least favorite- Vinson.
39. Would you spacewalk? Absolutely
40. Would you prefer to eat windshield bugs, space algae, or bunker meat? Space algae
41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on Earth? What would your solution be to avoid it? No, because that's monumentally stupid. Ideally, I'd like to assimilate with the Eligius crew and combine our people, but if they weren't down with that, I'd want to divide the land.
42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes? Thumb drives into bullet holes. Parasites give me the heebie jeebies.
43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia? I don't have a sister, but if either of my brothers were pulling a stunt like that, they're going down.
44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper? If I had someone I loved to stay awake with me, I'd want to stay awake. If not, I'd go into cryo.
45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet? Mom and Dad, first off. Then Raven, Murphy, Echo, Diyoza, and Jackson.
Tagging: @katersann, @bellameblake, @nvm-illustration, @nightbleeder, @lovethyblakes
1 note
·
View note
Text
Glitch in the System - New Ink
Some new art happens.
By E.
“Do you have an appointment?”
Sombra looked at Widow as the woman tensed - she didn’t appreciate being questioned, or any implication that her plans might be compromised. The tattoo artist behind the counter didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary in the taller woman’s rigid stance, fingers hovering expectantly over the holographic display of the digital pad before them.
They didn’t have an appointment, though.
“No,” Sombra answered, smiling. “Behold the dreaded walk-in.” She gestured at a sign by the front door that proclaimed WALK-INS WELCOME in thick, chunky text. The shop logo was a smiling bulldog with perked up ears, the words New Tricks Tattoo under his face.
“Oh, yeah, that’s not a problem!” the artist replied, and Sombra felt Widow relax beside her. “Saves me from having to sift through my boss’s terrible bookkeeping.” Flipping the holopad off, they stepped out from behind the counter. “Come on back! I’m Tiger.”
“Sofia,” Sombra replied, “and this is Danielle.” Sombra glanced at Widow and they followed the artist, down some stairs, and over to a long black table. Several lights floated alongside, and Tiger pushed them away to sit down on the stool by a large trunk containing another holopad and an antique-looking box. There were bottles of all sorts of color arranged on a shelf above the chest, and the station was decorated with paintings and sculptures Sombra could only assume were the artists’ own work.
“So,” they said, leaning forward and gesturing for Sombra and Widow to sit in the chairs by the wall. “What were you thinking of getting?”
“Um,” Sombra paused, not sure why she was surprised to have the question asked. Widow looked at her expectantly, and she blushed. It wasn’t often she felt out of place, but sitting here between Tiger and their artistically covered skin and Widowmaker with her macabre French scrawlings across her arms, she felt, for the first time in a while, like a complete and total outsider.
“I was thinking, I don’t know - a take on the tragedy and comedy theater masks, except maybe more...skully?” she stumbled, not sure how to describe the image in her mind. As she spoke, the artist began sketching on their holo pad, nodding for Sombra to continue. “Less silly, more anatomical, I guess,” she summed it up. The artist drew furiously for a minute or two more, pursing their lips and furrowing their brow as their pen raced across the holopad’s surface.
“Like this?” they said eventually, flipping the pad around to show a new take on the theme, with a grimacing skeleton behind a grinning one in the forefront. “It’s just a sketch, but that’s the image I got as you were talking.”
Sombra blinked, impressed. “Yeah that’s pretty much what I had in mind.”
“Perfect,” the artist beamed, setting the pad down. “Let’s get you prepped and we’ll get to work.”
“Aren’t you going to draw the final copy?” Sombra asked, worried. Widowmaker was silent, eyes on the stairs in case anyone came down them that she didn’t like the looks of.
“I certainly can,” the artist nodded, “but it might take me a little bit. Would you like to schedule an appointment for later in the week?”
Sombra looked around at the art hanging on the walls. She’d seen the artist’s work - it was why they’d come here in the first place - and she certainly didn’t feel like waiting.
“No, I mean,” she hesitated, sweating a bit, “you’re the professional. I trust you.”
The artist beamed. “Awesome. Honestly I work best when it’s a sort of collaborative, free form exercise like this. I’ll let you know how it’s going along the way, too, so if you want to add anything, we can.”
“Cool,” Sombra said, less nervous about the quality of the artist’s work and far more about the impending hour of pain she’d signed up for.
Standing up, Tiger began wiping down the table, giving Widowmaker a closer look as they did. “Where’d you get your skin work done?” they asked. Sombra could feel her nerves jumping all over in time to the buzzing of a tattoo needle somewhere else in the shop. It was a high pitched keen that grated against her already rising anxiety, and she hoped it wouldn’t be so bad when it was happening to her directly.
“Quoi?” Widowmaker replied, unprepared for the question, and even Sombra was perplexed as to what they were asking.
“Is it grafts or cybernetics?” they pressed, still making small talk as they applied the sketch of the design to the small scanner on their wrist.
“Grafts,” Sombra said, at the same time Widowmaker said “Cybernetics.”
“Cybernetics,” Sombra corrected, at the same time Widowmaker amended with “Grafts.”
They looked at one another, a thin blush creeping over Widow’s face. That tattoo artist simply shrugged and laughed.
“Trade secret?” they asked knowingly.
“Yes,” Widow replied, pulling out a book and opening it on her lap, patently ignoring Tiger’s stare. Sombra looked at them and shrugged.
“Are you ready to get started?” they asked, pulling out a thin laser device. “I just need to shave your shoulder blade where the tattoo is going to go.”
“I have hair on my shoulder?” Sombra asked skeptically, but leaned over obediently against the soft cushion Tiger had positioned for her comfort.
There was a short beep followed by the brief sensation of pressure. “Not anymore!” they chuckled. “Back in the day we had to use soap and razors for this sort of thing.”
“That feels uncomfortably intimate,” Sombra replied, stretching out on the chair, arms folded under her chin as she wrapped her legs around the single metal pole holding the chair in place.
“Not as intimate as we’re about to become.” Tiger raised the scanner at her wrist over Sombra’s shoulder, and the hacker looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind them as the device slowly imprinted a purple ink version of the sketch onto her freshly-shaven skin. “Look good? Placement ok?” Tiger asked.
“Yeah,” Sombra nodded before turning her head back forward. A moment later, she heard the sound of a tattoo gun whir to life right behind her. She jumped, and chastised herself immediately for doing so, glad it happened before needle meant flesh and not after.
“You ready?”
Stealing a peek back, she noted briefly that despite being surrounded by new technology, the machine itself must have been decades old. It was a rich red mahogany etched with pictures of flowers, clearly something used for its own inherent aesthetic value as well as the tradition that came with it.
“I guess,” she said, turning back around.
Sombra exhaled sharply, wincing against the pain as the weight of Tiger’s hand was followed by the ragged pull of sharpness. It was not the worst pain she’d felt in her life, but in the grand scheme of sensations she enjoyed compared to ones she did not, this was falling a lot more firmly into the latter category.
“Ohhh, fuck,” Sombra hissed between clenched teeth. “It feels like someone’s letting Toulouse have at my scapula. How long is this going to take again?”
“An hour or so. More if you keep squirming.”
“A complete cybernetic overhaul and this is what affects you?” Widow asked, one eyebrow raised in symmetry with the quirk of her mouth. “A needle?”
“It’s not a needle, it’s,” she hesitated, looking back at Tiger.
“Seven needles,” they replied without looking up.
“Seven needles,” Sombra echoed petulantly. “And it hurts.”
“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Widow offered in amusement, eyebrow raised over her book.
“Yes.”
Chuckling softly to herself, she reached out and took Sombra’s hand, squeezing her reassuringly as the machine buzzed on.
*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.
#spiderbyte#sombramaker#widowsombra#sombra x widowmaker#widowmaker x sombra#sombra#Olivia colomar#Widowmaker#amelie lacroix#Amélie Lacroix#Overwatch#overwatch fanfic#overwatch fandom#glitch in the system#glitchfic
36 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
