#acrylic paint smells bad

[pizzazz-party]

i really want to try to get into gouache (or acrylic gouache), i’m just very elementary about mixing paint colors. and then i get anxious about wasting the paint i mix. so it’s better to obtain as many colors as i can, to minimize the range of mixing i’ll have to do, right? but wow are these tubes expensive.

#i just replaced some of my most well-worn clothing so i should hold off on the personal/hobby shopping for now #i was kindly gifted someone else’s acrylic set recently. i don’t recognize the brand but they perform surprisingly well. #but some foolish part of me still longs to give gouache another go. #i wasted my first set by not using them years ago while i was a student. #in case you didn’t know—paints can indeed go bad. the resulting fungus is something you can smell and can be very dangerous to your health

[lovelytsunoda]

common people // mercedes amg (v)

summary: baby merc has a magical brush with love at a college event....too bad she doesn't get his name, contact information or any way to ever see him again

pairing: platonic!mercedes amg x intern!female!reader

author's note: i'm back, bitches! y'all should know i use this series as a coping mechanism for some of the things going on in my life....just putting that out there. that's why it sometimes seems like baby merc is just floundering, but today, it's her world and we're just living in it.

"nobody is going to be at this thing anyways since its so close to exams, so don't even worry that you can't make it." baby merc laughs, turning down her radio as she tries to reverse into a parking spot at her college. "the parking lot is packed though, must be lots of late classes today."

on the other end of the phone line, doriane pin laughs. "i'm sorry still! we've only got a few more days to hang out before i have to go to zandvoort for more academy testing."

"listen, if a mercedes sponsored driver can win anything at this point, i will be happy about it because or car is shit with a capital 's'." she paused for a moment. "please don't let toto know i said that."

doriane laughed gleefully. since the addition of the f1 academy driver to mercedes’ army of teenagers and young adults, each one mentored by toto and Susie themselves, y/n and doriane had become close friends. closer than friends, almost. it was nice to go to work and be around another girl her own age for once.

she stepped out of the aging, secondhand mercedes she drove, locking the car door and tucking her keys into her pocket as she crossed the lot to the student centre. there were dozens of college students milling about, despite all the on-site food options having closed half an hour ago.

the student center smelled like fresh paint when she opened the door, a serene expression in her face as she wandered into the common room, delighted to see the electric fireplace going, the room filed with round tables full of canvases and acrylic.

the college paint nights had always been her happy place. no expectations, a relaxed environment. an instructor who didn’t care if you followed her instructions to the ‘t’ (or at all). it was a welcome break from all of the other crap going on in her life.

she took her usual spot near the front, donning the dollar store apron hung over the back of the chair and settling in front of the canvas, a chill britpop playlist humming from the in-ceiling speaker set.

the group had been painting happily for ages when he wandered in. with the blended background almost done, she looked up from her conversation with the blonde girl next to her to catch him tentatively standing in the doorway.

his hair was messy, flopping around his face. he had airpods in, and she could faintly hear the riff of a rolling stones song. his sweater read ‘elevating devices.’ he was a trades boy.

“do you have room for one more?” he asked, looking over at olive, the program leader.

“of course!” olive grinned, caught in the middle of doing a blending demonstration on her forearm. “come on in, I can get you caught up.”

she felt her heart skip a beat when she realized that the only empty spot in the room was behind her. the boy smiled at her as he sat down, clumsily slipping into the gingham apron. it looked out of place with his hoodie and sweatpants, and the visual made her smile.

could this be it? the day something in her love life finally went right?

all throughout the paint night, since she was two steps ahead of everyone else (you go to every one of these things, you begin to pick up the tips and tricks of the trade), she found that she kept looking back at the newcomer, and admiring the look of concentration etched onto his face.

whatever happens, happens.

whatever happens, happens.

you did not come here to meet boys, you came here for you.

but goddamn it, he was so cute! and he painted! he was perfect! hell, he listened to the goddamn rolling stones!

it was the end of the night, 'pulp' playing on the speakers as the last few painters began to pack up.

"excuse me?" she felt a hand tap her shoulder, and she turned around from where she was repacking her primark purse to face the boy in the lifting devices sweater.

she hoped he couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest.

"what are we supposed to do with these?" he asked, holding up one of olive's easels.

"they fold up." she said quietly, almost shyly as she took the metal stand from his hands. "like this. i come here all the time, helping olive pack up is the least i can do."

"nice." he said sheepishly, reaching for his own painting. "this was my first time."

"that's pretty good for your first try." she complimented, picking up her own canvas, as well as her car keys.

"can i walk you out?' the boy asked, gesturing towards the door.

"sure." she smiled, blush rising on her cheeks. she turned, flagging olive down and hoping the boy wouldn't notice. due to her frequent attendance at the paint parties, olive an dher had become fast friends, and she didn't miss the way the painter flashed her a thumbs up and suggestive wink as the pair left the student center.

"so, you a fan of the stones? i could hear them playing from your headphones when you walked in." she asked, trying to start a conversation, and hoping that he somehow found her interesting.

"a fairly recent one." he laughed, free hand in the pocket of his sweatpants.

sweatpants. we can work on that. three months dating me, she thought, and i can get you into a snazzy pair of jeans.

"i took a history course on the british invasion as an elective. it's all about the stones, the beatles, the who. any british band with 'the' in the name, really. the kinks are my favourite."

"awesome. my dad is a big jagger fan. i grew up singing 'you can't always get what you want' when other kids my age were singing 'apple bottom jeans'."

god, she loved the guy already.

"what are you studying?"

"law. i have my last final exam tomorrow, and i'm actually doing some part-time, minimum wage office work for a formula one team. legally, i can't tell you what exactly i'm doing." she grinned. "well. i could. but then i'd have to kill you."

she'd been waiting her whole life to say that.

"that's awesome." worlds were burned for a smile like the one this guy had. it was dangerous just how strongly she felt after barely talking to him. "i doubt my chosen career path will land me anywhere near as exciting as an f1 team. but who knows, i might be paid the big bucks to fix a service elevator in their building."

"well, this is me." she frowned, pointing in the direction of her parking lot. why did she feel so strongly about leaving a guy she didn't even know? "it was nice painting with you. you should come to another one in september."

"yeah, maybe i will. are you going to the one at the other campus tomorrow? i might try and make it, since my classes are over at that campus anyways."

"i can't, it's right in the middle of my exam." but god did she wish she could. if she wasn't so scared of failing, she'd skip the exam just for him.

"right, right." he nodded, gesturing towards the residency building behind him. "this is me. it was nice talking to you."

"you too." she smiled sheepishly, turning around and beginning the walk to her car.

she resisted the urge to look back, worried that it would be followed by something potentially foolish, like an 'aren't you going to kiss me', or an invitation to get coffee (that he could then very well turn down).

it wasn't until she was back in her car, heat turned on and classic rock playing, that she realized that he might have very well been into her, and she didn't even get his name.

"shit!"

__________________

"i'm telling you, doriane, this was my rom-com moment waiting to happen and i blew it!" she groaned, face in hands as she sat around the round table in the break room, recounting her woes to not just her closest colleagues, but those she considered to be her friends as well.

she had always loved the break room. it was light and airy, painted in white with bamboo furniture and a wall of windows. sometimes, she brought her work laptop in there and worked at one of the green couches in the corner.

"you were so close!" doriane commiserated with her, placing one hand over hers. "babes, you got this. you'll be ready for the next stud who comes along."

across the table, frederik vesti hid his grin behind his cup of coffee. "hey, maybe you dodged a bullet. he could have been a serial killer. or worse, a premier league fan."

doriane snorted, and ungraceful sound, yet one that was full of love. "yeah right."

she had been over the situation millions of times since the she'd gotten back in her car, and she just could not figure out why it had never occurred to her to get the boy's name, or to offer up her own.

"eh, you'll get the next one." george shrugged, placing a hand on her shoulder as he moved to stand behind the young intern. "just look at me and carmen. it took me a very long time to find someone like her. she'd one of a kind, that woman. i'm gonna marry her someday."

"better get cracking on that one, george old boy." frederik laughed. "i want your seat, if the kid doesn't beat me there."

"they're not putting kimi in an f1 seat." doriane argued. "its way too soon."

"i dunno, bearman did a really good job with that ferrari. if he's the blueprint, toto will just follow what his mates are doing so it looks like he's keeping with the times."

the seat conversation was beginning to make her nervous, and she could feel the hives rising on her arms as she tried to remind herself that lewis leaving mercedes had nothing to do with her.

it was the timing of his decision, announcing he was leaving so soon after she felt like she had truly made a home at brackley. but it made sense. a man like lewis needed to go somewhere that could give him the car he needed to take home that eighth championship, and currently, it wasn't looking like that was going to happen here.

that didn't change the fact that it stung. that in a way, it felt like lewis was leaving her.

"y/n, do you know who toto's been talking to about the second seat?" geroge asked, raising an eyebrow as he blew on his tea, steam rising onto his pale face. pair that with the cardigan he was wearing, and he was starting to look like someone's geriatric grandfather (and she said that with all the love in her heart that she had to give)

y/n did know. legal had been very busy organizing and prepping meetings, as well as drawing up draft contracts and disclosure agreements.

but a non-disclosure agreement worked both ways. and, since she liked fucking with george, he wasn't getting a proper answer.

she grinned, sipping the last of her hot chocolate "no can do. signed an nda. expressly forbids me from selling the gossip to the press, or from telling nosy british boys."

"that's not fair! you're british as well!" george whined. "come on, it affects me as well."

y/n laughed, appreciating the light air that george brought to the conversation, instead of making it a somber affair about lewis' departure. "oh, would you look at the time. my break is over, and i now need to go track down some engineers and get them to swear affidavits."

fred looked at her with a confused glace, his head cocked to the side like a golden retriever puppy. "why? who's taking us to court?"

"nobody is suing us. it's time to make our cost cap submissions to the fia, and the engineers need to swear that they're telling the truth."

"so you can tell us about that, but not about contract talks?" george tried one last time to get an answer from her as she packed up her tote, bag, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her knuckles.

"nice try. good luck on the sim this afternoon, vesti over here says its not pretty."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @httpiastri @clemswrld @thatsdemko @userlando @diorleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @arshiyuh

#family are the friends we meet along the way series #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #mercedes amg f1 x reader #toto wolff x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #frederik vesti x reader #mick schumacher x reader #f1 imagine #doriane pin x reader #Spotify

[hh0320]

☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 ＜꒱

— 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

pairing: art school! hyunjin x fem! reader (+felix)

genre: light enemies to lovers, love at first sight, angst, smut, barista (y/n).

warnings: profanity, jealousy, mature themes, chainsmoker hyunjin, unprotected sex, mentions of death (very brief).

word count: 4.6k

🏷 : @ughbehavior ty sm for your help! 🤍

i. 08:43am

Hyunjin was contemplating murder.

“You’re holding up the line, hotshot,” he deadpanned, burning holes in the dude’s back.

Awful pick up line cut in half, the man of the hour turned around, eyeing Hyunjin’s stoic face.

Well, not so much eyeing, all things considered. More like looking up, intimidation failing to quite…reach. Hyunjin wasn’t the tallest of men, standing at 5’ 10’’, but this guy was a fucking joke.

You couldn’t seriously be entertaining him.

Hyunjin grinned down at him, honeycomb hair falling in his eyes. “Scutter along, playboy.”

The man was too stunned to speak, grabbing his drink and fucking off to wherever he’d come from. Fucking finally.

You weren’t amused, to say the least, but then again, you never were when it came to him. Instead, you glared. Hard.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he smiled warmly at you, hands resting against the counter, arms flexing.

Your gaze dropped to the veins popping through his skin. You blinked, once, twice—ah, there it was, Hyunjin thought.

That rosy blush that painted your cheeks every time he did that—it made him weak inside. He wanted to see you blush for him, but in a different setting entirely.

Specifically, under him—

“What can I get you, Hyunjin? Surely you don’t come just to scare away my customers,” you snarled, wiping the espresso machine.

He ignored your little comment. “And, surely, you, my angel, know my order by now.”

He noticed the way your breath caught at the pet name, enjoying watching you make his coffee, flustered, avoiding his stare.

It had started as harmless teasing; freshman Hyunjin had walked into this small coffee shop, craving an iced americano, sketchbook in hand, excited about starting art school.

And then you’d turned around, and— well. Well. Hyunjin had never been in love, but he was pretty sure that was fucking it. You’d ruined him for any other person.

Too bad you hated his fucking existence. He’d tried his best everyday, to be soft, to tone down that damn sarcasm that always got him in trouble. He left you generous tips, came to hang out after or in between classes, sketching away as he stole glances at you.

You had called him a stalker, and he’d laughed in your face.

“A psychopath, then,” you’d claimed.

“Only for you, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Fuck off.”

He’d smirked at you, arms crossing over his chest. “I’ll take my time breaking you, angel.”

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

So he did. And, fuck, has it been fun, because he could see, underneath the tough exterior, and adorable mean faces, you secretly loved it. The attention he gave you, his overprotective ness of you, how jealous he’d get when boys would try to flirt with you.

You knew, deep down—you belonged with him. You did ever since he found you, almost two years ago.

Hyunjin carried himself with a sort of elegant arrogance; popularity had come to him easy. His talent was unmatchable—a product of numerous hours of hard work; acrylics, oils, coal, he’d practiced it all, and he can’t not admit that it had been lonely, locked inside a room, thoughts turned into color, painting becoming an undistinguishable extension of him.

Had the brushes and the pencils, and the papers not been there, he wouldn’t have survived. Perhaps, some thought that to be an over exaggeration , but there had been nothing else for him, except this.

The smell of graphite, the hard callouses whispering of softwood—blank, textured paper waiting to be filled. All he’s known.

And then you. His coffee shop girl.

ii. 15:31pm

“Put that out, it’s disgusting,” you commented, picking up after a table that had just left.

Hyunjin sat by the door, smoking, sipping on his coffee. Sun out, and a pleasant wind blowing, his sketchbook lay open on the pavement.

“What do I get if I do?” He dared, turning to you.

You had a beautiful neck, he’d always thought so. Sometimes he thought you did it on purpose; clipping your hair away, exposing it. He wanted to leave open mouthed kisses along the side, just below your ear, traveling down to your collarbone—

Hyunjin looked away, tongue licking against the inside of his cheek, and took a drag of his cigarette.

You mused over his question, tray in hand. “I don’t know, a longer life span, maybe?” You said sarcastically.

He hummed, chuckling. “Tempting as it is, sweetheart, I’ll pass.”

You raised your eyebrows, taking him in. Mid length, soft looking hair, sunglasses hiding, what you know to be dark brown eyes, an oversized t-shirt, and blue jeans, with black vans. Rings adorning long fingers.

Picture perfect boyfriend material.

And yet, he got on your last nerve every time he opened his mouth. You couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly—maybe the relentless flirting, or the smugness of him. But it was a shame, because he—

Well, he was fucking hot.

You shook your head, denying your own thoughts.

“Suit yourself, prince. That’s just what I think,” you went to pass by him, to go inside, but his hand shot out to stop you, grabbing your wrist.

You gasped, trying to balance the tray in your palm again, and looked down at him angrily.

“Are you fucking crazy, Hyunjin? All these glasses could’ve smashed on your head!”

He smiled at that, moving his sunglasses to the top of his head, squinting up at you. His hand was warm against your skin.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it—

“I would, for you,” he said. “Quit. I would do it for you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you went to pull away from his grasp. He let you, that same smile staying on his full lips.

Your heart skipped several beats, bewildered. He confused the hell out of you, with his pet names, and longing looks. But you couldn’t ignore your mind, telling you what a bad idea it was to let such a person in.

He’d ruin you. There was no getting over someone like Hwang Hyunjin, that you were sure of.

Later, when he brought his empty coffee mug inside, he left a piece of paper underneath it.

Pretending to clean, you avoided him, making sure he was well gone before taking a peak at what it was.

A sketch of you—of your profile, more like, pouring a shot of espresso in a to go cup, colored in innocent pastel markers.

There your heart went again, betraying you. You looked around, before shoving the picture in your bag, dusting off your apron, awkwardly.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. He was conceited, and pompous—he thought everything revolved around him. Talented, no question, but you wouldn’t fall for it.

You wouldn’t fall for him, period. You absolutely refused.

iii. 09:02am

Lee Felix would be your new coworker, your manager announced, and went back to his receipts.

“Train him good, yeah?”

You remained in your place behind the counter, broom in hand, staring at his blonde head and constellation freckles.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” He waved at you, beaming, as he grabbed an apron, and awaited instructions.

You knew Lee Felix—he was Hyunjin’s best friend, from what you’d gathered. At times, they’d walk in together, one iced americano, one strawberry smoothie, looking like they’d just jumped out of a magazine cover, and it would be very hard not to gape at them the whole time.

Felix was the extreme opposite of Hyunjin; this boy was made of the purest sunlight, the kindest customer you’ve ever had. He always asked how you were, and made small talk with you, as his friend scowled, and stared at you. Felix didn’t give borderline creepy vibes, unlike some—he was a genuinely sweet person, that always managed to make your day simply by smiling your way.

But—he hated coffee, always complained that the smell of it made him nauseous, so—what was he doing, working here?

You couldn’t help but be suspicious of his motives. You hoped it had nothing to do with a certain ‘I’d quit for you’ boy.

Not that everything had to do with him—

Ugh. Thinking of that interaction had your stomach doing backflips, and you weren’t certain if that was good or bad.

“Hey, star shine,” you gave him a small smile. “Ready to learn?”

He wasn’t horrible. He caught on fast, and tried his best, but the menu was long, and the recipes extensive, so it would take him a while no matter how bright he was. Not to mention working the espresso machine, something that had troubled you greatly—working with you he’d be okay, but if he ever was to open by himself... Suffice to say, you’d have your hands full for a bit.

Around lunch time, you made him his signature smoothie as a reward. Felix perked up at it, putting the straw between his lips, and chugging the entire thing.

“You’re the best,” he said, watching you prepare some pick up orders, back turned to the door.

“Eh… I’ve just worked here for too long,” you replied, simply, looking up when the little bell signaled a new customer.

“I got it! Hello, how—Hyun!”

Fuck. You put the Frappuccino’s in the cooler, filling plastic cups with ice. Anything to distract you.

“My two favorite people working together, huh?”

Felix laughed, leaning across the counter to greet his friend. You couldn’t help it, then, you caved.

Hyunjin was standing tall, and handsome, in his workshop overalls, paint all over them, a white t-shirt underneath, hair away from his face, in a half bun.

You nearly gave in. No person should be allowed to look that effortlessly good, especially when that person was supposed to be the enemy.

But why? Why did he have to be? Sure, he had a big ego, and rattled your nerves incessantly, but—that surely wasn’t reason enough?

You realized then, there was no justifiable cause for your hatred towards him. You just convinced yourself to dislike him, shoving him in a box and keeping him there, just cause of a smart comment he’d made when he first met you.

That was years ago.

Your heart told you it wouldn’t be for long. You can only deny the truth for so long.

Fuck.

iv. 18:10pm

Locking the shop, you threw the keys in your bag, turning to walk to the bus station.

You would’ve done exactly so, if you hadn’t noticed Hyunjin sitting on the stairs outside his school, cigarette in hand, sketching away. Normally, you’d leave him to it—many evenings he sat there, in his own world.

But today, he looked upset.

It’s none of my business—

But what if he needs someone?

Felix had classes, where is he at?

Sighing, you clenched your bag closer to your body, and crossed the street. You closed the distance between you, careful not to scare him, and even then you second guessed yourself.

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt responsible to fix his mood. But Hyunjin was rarely so visibly distressed, in all the time you knew him. He’d fake anger, sure, when he kicked male customers out with his snarky comments, and mean looks, but you’d never seen him this closed up.

You silently sat down next to him, peaking at his sketchbook. He was outlining the wings of a very intricate butterfly, tobacco ashes smudging the page.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, not once lifting his head.

“Hey…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to say. “What are you doing?”

He brought the cigarette to his lips, hair sheltering his face. His pencil continued its way to the main body of the butterfly, slightly shading the edges of the wings.

“Making a gift.”

A gift? You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “It looks pretty.”

He exhaled through his nose, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Then, he finally tilted his head towards you, face supported by his hand.

Your mouth opened, and closed. Hyunjin was sad—the kind that withered flowers, brought clouds, and caused rain.

You did not like seeing him like this, at all. You’d much prefer the cocky boy that was obsessed with bitter coffee, if that meant he got to keep smiling.

Perhaps, you cared about Hwang Hyunjin more than you let on. Perhaps, that terrified you.

“Why are you here, angel? Thought you hated me,” he said, putting the cigarette butt out.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

He stared at you, unblinking, and then moved ever so slightly, ever so slowly—

He kissed you.

And it was many things, but his lips tasted like smoke and mint, his lips were soft and plumb against yours—he kissed you like he didn’t mean to, but couldn’t help himself, guarded and yet entirely at your mercy.

You kissed back. And you understood, then—you’ve always loved him.

Always dreaded him.

It very much felt like hate.

His hands cupped your cheeks, softly caressing the skin with his thumbs, his hair tickling you, his breath mixing with your own. You fall, and fall, fall fall fall, leaning deeper into the kiss, into him, and he lets you, guides you, opens the door greeting you warmly—

This is what I’ve been feeling for you. This is what I feel, and for the longest time I thought you felt nothing.

You pulled back, getting up suddenly. Losing your footing, you almost collapse on top of him, but he holds you up by your arm. You’re panting, denying, denying, denying, scared, fucking shaking, because—

What if you lost him? What if it ended? You’d build your walls up, keeping him out for this exact reason.

No one gets over someone like Hwang Hyunjin.

You had caved in, and you had lost already.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you told him, overwhelmed, panicking.

He looked at you from his place at the stairs, unmoving, quiet.

“You shouldn’t have—you—I,” you took a deep breath, willing your thoughts to make sense, “I hate you, I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

Hyunjin took his time closing his sketchbook, while you stumbled over your words. He took out his lighter, lighting what would be the last cigarette of his pack, taking a long drag of it, meanwhile never taking his eyes off of your embarrassed figure.

You were blushing profusely, looking at anything but him.

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” he finally replied. “Are you?”

You had to leave. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Hyunjin watched you go in a hurry. And even though, you freaked out and ran away from him, the fact that you kissed back made all the difference.

v. 08:35am

The next day, Felix opened with you, so he could begin to learn the routine of the morning shift.

Hyunjin didn’t come in, as he usually did on a Thursday. If Felix knew something, he didn’t say, instead focusing on grinding coffee beans, merrily humming to the song that played low throughout the shop.

After a rush—students getting their caffeine fix before classes started—it was just you and Felix again, wiping surfaces, and cutting cake slices for the display.

You had to ask. You had to ask, because it was killing you. You didn’t sleep a wink, instead running through the events of the stairs. You could still feel Hyunjin on your lips, even after washing your face, even when hours passed, and you lay wide awake on your twin sized bed, praying he would seep through your skin, at last, so you wouldn’t feel the ghost of him remaining.

“I have a question.” You braced for impact, thinking this would definitely get back to Hyunjin.

Felix threw an irresistible smile at you, waiting. “Shoot!”

You chewed on your lip, before breathing deeply. “I saw Hyunjin yesterday, by the stairs… Is—is he okay? He looked sad.”

Felix pursed his lips, and took a sip of his smoothie. “His mom’s one year death anniversary was yesterday.”

What? Oh my God. And you made it all about you, telling him you hated him, and disappearing on him after he took a risk kissing you!

You were a horrible person. If anything, you were the self absorbed one—you’d never asked, never cared—if he was okay, if he was having a good day. Yet, he always did.

In his own way. But he did, nonetheless.

“He never told you?”

You shook your head.

“I’m guessing he didn’t want you to pity him. He really likes you, you know.”

To that, you nodded, shamefully. “I do, too.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, smirking. “About damn time, no?”

“Now how about you tell him that?”

vi. 19:47pm

On Saturday, Hyunjin showed up just as you were about to close.

Dressed in jeans, and a band tee, hair wet falling across his forehead, he waited patiently by the door, while you gathered your stuff, lollipop hanging from his mouth.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, as you moved past him.

Shop closed for the day, you two walked side by side, in comfortable silence. The sky was a thousand colors, and the weather was warm—life didn’t feel real, with him by you, like this.

“What’s with the lollipop?” You asked, trying hard not to look at him directly.

It was unfair to look that good sucking on candy.

“I quit smoking.”

‘I’d do it. For you.’

After everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to act as you did before, around him. It had seemed forever ago that your feelings for him were hostile.

You were incredibly ashamed of how you’d treated him. Everyone’s fighting a silent war, used to be something you’d tell yourself everyday, going through high school, but there you were, not giving the time of day to a guy that, if you were being totally honest, protected you from weirdo’s on the daily.

Challenged you, made your days interesting just by lightly teasing you. He never crossed a line, never insulted you.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked you, changing the subject, looking at the bag you were carrying.

You looked at it, too, remembering it was there. “Oh! Strawberry cake. It came fresh today, and I wanted to try it.”

You both looked up at the same time, eyes locking.

“Angel…” he seemed in a trance, time stopping.

Angel. Before, you’d roll your eyes, call bullshit. Today, where you stood, that word coming from his lips was heavenly.

You wished for nothing more but to hear him say it again.

Hyunjin cursed, arm reaching out to get your hand in his.

“We need to talk. Can I take you to my studio, sweetheart?”

Too caught up in his beauty to form words, you nodded, stupidly.

He smiled at you. A real, genuine smile. All for you.

vii. 20:05pm

His studio was utterly and uniquely him.

One huge room, half of it dedicated to art, filled with half finished canvases, and art supplies, backdrops hanging from the ceiling, projects piling on a desk on the far end of the window wall with the stained glass.

The other half a normal kitchen and living room, the two separated by a table counter. The mess appeared almost purposeful. The apartment wasn’t dirty, it was just—

The mind of an artist. Chaos.

“Amused by my inability to clean?” He joked, studying you taking in his space.

You scrunched your face, biting your lip. “It’s not that. This…makes sense.”

He chuckled, leading you by the hand to his couch.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He brought spoons, and the two of dug into the cake, the fresh, ripe strawberries melting in your mouth. You moaned, excited to be eating something sweet after a long day at work.

Sharing cake with Hyunjin, at his house of all places. This was something out of your wildest dreams, and yet, it all felt a little too normal.

After all, this is a guy you’ve been seeing almost every single day for the past two years of your life. You’ve served him countless coffees, watched him sketch for hours—he’d even walked you to the bus station one time, worried a creep that had been flirting with you a little too aggressively, would try something.

In the moment, you never really realized, but in retrospect, you and Hyunjin had been together a lot.

Never this close, though. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel different, this time, more personal.

You were sure your feelings were painted on your face, and surprisingly, you didn’t particularly care. You wanted it to happen. You didn’t want to keep hiding behind your finger, anymore.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Don’t say that about yourself, angel. I came on too hard, and freaked you out.”

You turned to face him completely. He looked so calm, so content. How had you never seen it before?

Why had you been so adamant on pushing him away?

“No. I was still wrong. Let me do this—”

“(Y/N), please—”

“Hyunjin!” You sighed, exasperated. “This is why we fight. Because you’re so hardheaded!”

He laughed, then, hands reaching out to grab your face. You froze, astute.

“We don’t fight, angel. We bicker. I love bickering with you.”

His mouth attacked yours, pushing you down on the couch. Your back hitting the pillows, you circled your arms around his neck, hands caressing the nape of it.

It was like a fire lit between you, engulfing you both in its flames. Your whole chest was burning with the need to feel him closer, to touch him.

“Angel,” he whispered against your lips. Your eyelashes fluttered, the desire to kiss him again too strong.

“Tell me. Before I continue, tell me,” he pushed the hair out of of your face, lovingly, eyes gazing deep into yours, “if you feel the same. I’ve been hooked on you, sweetheart. Ever since I met you.”

You were about to tell him the scariest three words you’ve ever said—but he had to know. It was overdue, it was necessary he knew.

You touched his cheek, leaving a kiss on the edge of his mouth. He followed your movements like his life depended on them—on you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

The way his eyes lit up, that rare, addictive warmth of his that you’ve only witnessed a handful of times—you would never get enough of his happiness. It was such a whole experience, so very precious.

“Took you fucking long enough, my sweet girl.” He picked you up, wrapping his arms around you in the most delicious way, bringing you on his lap.

You could feel every inch of him—your hunger grew ferocious.

His eyes scanned your face, silently asking for consent, his hands at the hem of your shirt. You kissed him, instead, guiding his hands underneath.

He wasted no time getting you both naked, unhooking your bra, his tongue trailing down from your mouth to your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples.

“Fuck, angel, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about this...”

His other hand moved down, unzipping your jeans, getting lost in your thighs. When he cupped your cunt, you were soaked.

“Goddamn, (Y/N),” his mouth devoured yours, crazy with want, cock painfully hard.

Pausing to remove your pants, you straddled him once again, running your hands over his firm arms, mouth moving to his neck, sucking on it. He groaned, his fingers finding your wetness, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Hyunjin…”

“Tell me what you need,” he pressed his forehead against yours, your scents becoming one.

You, you, you, everywhere, always—

You moved against his fingers, rubbing yourself on him. The idea of you, doing this with him. It was absurd.

Nothing had felt more right.

All of your senses were wide awake, so entirely consumed by him, and his hands, his breath, his clean scent, the sweat forming, the way his hair fell in his eyes—

His eyes. The way they stared you down, feral, growing darker by the minute. The sounds that escaped your mouth were sinful, and he could absolutely not fucking take it anymore, he’s waited long enough, has wished for this, for you, in any way he could have you, take you, make you his.

His moans were a guttural sound, coming from the back of his throat. You put your hands on his chest, feeling the vibration of them, moving upwards, fingers wrapping around his neck, his head falling back.

He was the angel. He looked unreal, his naked body clenching, his movements never faulting, carrying you through an intense orgasm.

There were no words to describe—all of the buried emotions you refused to accept, they were all bubbling up, spilling out of you, destroying you, and Hyunjin was picking up the pieces.

“I need to be inside you, angel. Please.” Never breaking eye contact, he flipped you, positioning you underneath him, while he stood, one knee between your legs, arm extended over you, holding the back of the couch.

He stayed like that for a moment, just drinking you in, sprawled out, in his house, ready for him. He thanked whatever God granted him such joy, for he had dreamed of this many times.

You, wanting him back. His coffee girl embracing him, trusting him.

The moment he entered you, you both clang to one another, the feeling of his stretching you alone, overwhelming. His mouth against your ear, his heavy breathing scorching. You dug your nails in his back, moving with him.

“Fuck, (Y/N)…” His thrusts were slow, savoring, learning the ways you responded to him.

“Please, Hyunjin, please…”

Hyunjin watched you come apart, your broken moans music to his ears, a melody he’d like to memorize by heart. The way your body synchronized with his, your open mouth, head thrown back, unraveling before him—

“My beautiful girl…never leaving you—never allowed to leave me.”

A symphony. Heaven.

You made love like that, time no longer a concept, exploring each other, until you both came undone, shuddering, breathless, tightly enveloping.

A kiss on your forehead, and a silent question.

Will you stay?

You did; you stayed. You and Hyunjin talked till the early hours of the next morning, hands clasped together, hearts whispering, connected.

I found you.

I’m with you, now.

viii. 05:04am

“I’m sorry about your mom,” you mumbled against his chest, half asleep.

He froze, momentarily, a deep sigh escaping his red lips, fingers drawing circles on your naked back.

“She had to go,” he replied quietly. “That’s what she told me. The cancer was eating her alive.”

Your head rose to meet his eyes, your chest heavy. He looked calm, if not a little tired. He gave you a soft smile, his eyes forming crescent moons, promising you he was okay.

“It was just me and her, but I guess that’s why she introduced me to painting. So I wouldn’t be alone.”

“She liked butterflies.”

You laid back down, burying your face in the crook of his neck, in fear of him noticing the tears in your eyes. He felt them, anyway.

You would never forgive yourself for telling him you hated him. You never did. Hate him.

You hated the way he made you feel.

You would never be able to get over Hwang Hyunjin.

That was fine with you, as long as you got to love him, first.

#ficscafe #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #hyunjin #skz #kpop scenarios #hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfic #mine.

[yellowdevilkitten]

This is for the lovely @a-little-unsteddie hope this was what you were wanting!

“No, no way Chris.” Eddie starts his monologue the same way he’s been starting his monologues lately. Eddie knew Chrissy was a troublemaker that’s what made them best friends in the first place. So he doesn’t really know what he could’ve expected when Chrissy asked him to be her maid of honor(he’s honored really!) but it definitely wasn’t to come get a manipedi with the rest of the bridesmaids. Why does she need a manipedi anyways, her nails are looking great as ever(acrylic with tiny gemstones a light purple-ish color).

“Why not? You paint your nails. What's so wrong with somebody painting yours for you? Plus you get a free massage out of it.” She agrees, clearly done with the conversation they’ve been having for the past thirty minutes.

 Eddie doesn’t hate the idea of of getting a manipedi he just prefers to do his nails himself and honestly he’s offended that chrissy doesn’t think he’s capable of his nails turning out nice and neat(he isn’t he gets too impatient and they typically turn out smudge, chipped, and smushed). The part that he isn’t going to enjoy is all the gossip and don’t get him wrong he loves gossip but he doesn’t enjoy listening to middle aged women gossip about how much they hate their husbands.

 He also knows that the bridesmaids and Chrissy are all going to gossip but he’s heard all that gossip before, plus he knows he’s not going to be able to sit still for X amount of time. So Eddie going to go get a manipedi is a bad idea for many reasons but chrissy doesn’t seem to be budging and he knows it’s her wedding and she knows that he’s going to say yes either way and him denying is all for good fun. 

He lets out a dramatic and long sigh before ending the conversation. “Fine, I’ll go.” He puts his hands up in a surrender after he says that so Chrissy knows he’s serious. Her answering smile is everything Eddie needs to know this is a great idea. 

— The day of the wedding Eddie and the girls are all squished into a car to be pampered(which Chrissy forgot to inform him that they’d also be getting their hair styled, she knows how he feels about his hair, the rat). Which leads them to their last stop, The nail salon which doesn’t look as ominous as he thought. 

He’s squished in the middle between jenna and Molly who is talking enthusiastically over him about some guy name Carl(gag carl was one of the hair stylist doing kelly’s hair he kept making creepy comments about kelly’s hair he honestly doesn't know how jenna and molly can even look at him and see someone worth dating). Eddie doesn’t even realize they have parked too cought up in his thoughts about Carl. 

“Alright you guys ready?” Chrissy asks before opening her car door. 

“Don’t really have a choice.” he mumbles under his breath waiting for the girls to get out of the car so he can. 

—

Once they walk into the salon Eddie’s immediately hit by the smell of nail polish. Before he can register anything other than the overwhelming smell of polish he hears a admittedly handsome voice call out,

“hi, do you have a booking with us?” 

“Uhm-” Eddie starts before Chrissy cuts him off. “Yes we do, it should be under Chrissy Cunningham.” 

The guy, which Eddie realizes has a nametag on that says ‘steve’, walks up to the front desk to type into the computer and he nods his head that Eddie takes to mean he found the name. 

“Okay, it says here everyone is getting a manipedi is that correct?” Hot guy, Steve, double checks. 

“Mhm, expect I’m getting acrylics done too.” Chrissy corrects. 

“Great you ladies and gentleman,” he winks at Eddie, “Can take a seat at those six pedicure chairs after you pick out your colors.” 

He’s off before Eddie can get a word in, Chrissy taps on his arm and he turns toward her. She has a knowing look on her face and he shakes his head no. She shrugs and drags him over to the colors. 

—

Eddie’s amaze at Steve for being able to keep up with all the bitchiness of the girls. Of course Eddie’s not paying that much attention because he’s holding his hand. Nobody told him a hot guy was going to hold his hands for about twenty minutes and he hasn’t even got the polish on yet. If he knew this he would be getting his nails done regularly. 

Even the strong smell of nail polish is bearable with Steve holding his hands. The only disappointing part is that it means nothing, which is a shame really, Eddie can see it now him and Steve could have a life together too bad this is a nail salon and chrissy is about to get married maybe he’d have time to flirt.

 He doesn’t realize he’s squirming in his seat until Steve says, “Relax your hands.” He’s

 pretty sure his face burns red when he says that. 

“It’s okay, it happens all the time.” Steve reassures, which doesn’t really calm Eddie’s nerves but he still tries. 

He looks around the salon to see Kelly talking her nail tech’s ear off and the poor girl is trying her best to keep up. Eddie also realizes that right next to Steve is a girl who isn’t doing any nails but is just chilling there. He also realizes that Steve and the girl are talking together, he worries that maybe the girl is Steve's girlfriend. 

“Robbie, I can’t just ask that I’m at work.” 

“Please, you’ve flirted at work before, dingus.” Robbie(?) responses with a flippant hand. ‘Oh great’ Eddie thinks of course he’s trying to flirt with one of the girls. What else was Eddie supposed to expect? They are all like Carl. It’s pretty disappointing to learn that this guy is just like the rest. 

“Is this the polish you picked out?” oh Steve’s talking to him again, ew is that butterflies in his stomach. He should not be getting butterflies for this straight guy. 

“Yeah.” Eddie says but it comes out as more of a question. 

“Great, it's a lovely color.” Steve replies with a gorgeous smile. Eddie wouldn’t have picked the color if it wasn’t for chrissy it’s a black with hints of purple to match his suit. 

The other bridesmaids are also wearing purple to match Chrissy’s light yellow dress. Chrissy is having a nature theme wedding so her braid is wearing greens and blues. He smiles remembering when he helped chrissy pick out her dress it matches her ring which is a gold butterfly. 

He watches as Steve paints his nails in silence until Steve speaks up. “So what brings you guys into the salon?” 

“Oh, my best friend, Chrissy is getting married and she wanted us all to get manipedis together.” Eddie answers with a small smile. He can’t believe that Chrissy is getting married. It feels just like yesterday since they met. 

“That’s lovely, you got a date to bring with you?” He questions. Eddie’s face burns red for what feels like the tenth time because he does not in fact have a date.

 If he did he’d probably not be blushing everytime he remembers that Steve is holding his hands. Because that’s the most intimate thing ever(how does Chrissy deal with doing this every month?)! Eddie might combust if he thinks about Steve holding his hands one more time. 

“No, no I do not.” Eddie answers with a shake of his head and accidentally moves his hand. “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine you’ve been doing it the whole time.” Steve shrugs. That just serves to make Eddie blush harder, why hadn’t he asked Eddie to stop? Any other person would’ve gotten pissed by now. 

“Annnnd you’re done.” The girl calls from Steve’s shoulder. He sees Steve shoot her a glare. 

“Well technically you aren’t done, you still have to dry.” Steve points where the rest of the girls minus chrissy are talking with their hands under a table. He nods before standing up(he tries to be mindful of his nails). 

—

Once everyone’s nails are done it’s time to check out. Eddie mentally prepares himself for the price of the treatment. Molly and Danielle are both looking at their nails and gossiping about some boy named David at work. Chrissy is talking to her nail tech, which he believes his name is Win, short for Winston. Jenna and Kelly are talking to the girl next to Steve, who he believes goes by Robbie. Eddie’s just standing by the desk waiting for one of them to check them out. 

“Alright, are you guys ready?” Eddie startles when he hears Steve’s voice from behind him. 

“Uh- yes.” He says, sounding unsure. 

“How are you paying?” Steve questions with an encouraging smile. 

“Split payment, hey Chris it’s split payment six way even, right?” Eddie shouts hoping to catch her attention. 

“Yes, yes.” She waves him off with a cheeky smirk. 

“You heard the lady.” He smirks at Steve. 

“I put it all on separate payments. If you want to start, you can put your card in the reader.” Steve grins. 

Eddie pays for his then Jenna, Kelly, Danielle, Molly, and then Chrissy. Before they walk out Steve hands him a piece of folded paper that has the nail salon and the number to call. 

—

Before he walks into the venue for Chrissy to get married off he unfolds the paper and realizes it reads, ‘I enjoyed holding your hands hoping I can hold your hands for a different reason  -Steve’ with his number to call him. 

Eddie smiles to himself and folds the paper and puts it in his breast pocket before walking into the venue because first he needs to watch his best friend get married. 

#Steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #stranger things #I hope this reads right it’s like 3 where I am and I’m tried Lmaoo #I felt like I needed to post this #Not that proud of it but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! #I wanted to do a Steve pov but it was not working at all 😭 #Going to hopefully try and fall asleep now 🤞 #Might make a Steve pov in the future

[mvltisstuff]

hello again, i’ve requested a few times (the feels and sweet nothing) and i was hoping i could request again? (i think i might add an emoji at the end bc i love your writing and will keep requesting as much as you allow ❤️❤️) anyway, i hope you’re doing well and things are going good.

i was wondering if i could request a buck fic where is partner is an artist and he finds a sketchbook of sketches of him and when he asks about it they talk about how pretty he is and how deserves to be appreciated and just making him feel super loved with it. thank you if you get to it and ofc no troubles if you don’t. take care 🥰

also is 🚒 good for a way to recognize me??

wasteland, baby! - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: omg you always have such creative ideas! i love receiving requests so always feel free :)) 🚒 = ❤️‍🔥 i also won’t be posting as frequently for the next few weeks due to finals, but after that i’ll be posting a ton!!

buck had come over to y/n’s apartment after his shift for dinner, and the scent of thick acrylic paint and primer had stung at his nostrils. he began to love the smell, as he knew that it meant she was around. he had let himself in with his key, taking in all of the perfectly placed plants and artwork on the walls.

she had a canvas that was almost complete, with just a few finishing touches. buck had walked over to it to examine. her talent was extraordinary. he knew it was out of this world, and the way she was so proud of her pieces his made his heart swell up with love.

“hi, buck!” y/n says, beginning to walk out of the hallway from her room to her art. she was wearing a pair of dark green pants and a white t-shirt which somehow complimented her beautifully. her face had small specks of blue and red on her cheeks and black and grey streaks on her shirt. “sorry it’s such a mess in here, but doesn’t this look great?”

“no, don’t worry about the mess, but how long did that take? it’s amazing!” buck stutters a big, not being able to comprehend how art like that could come out of her hands.

“thank you, love,” she replies, taking his belongings and placing them down for him. “how was work today? anything good?”

“just a normal old day, but you know it’s the 118.”

“it is never normal at the 118,” y/n smiles and gives him a cheek kiss before going to wipe her face off. buck goes to sit down in her living room on the couch, and she follows behind him with a quick change of shirt. she placed a small pizza in the oven to cook for them, and cuddled up next to him while they told each other stories about their day.

“it was wild, y/n,” buck starts. “i mean this woman literally rose from the dead after like 15 minutes, after being under a street. oh! you’re going to love this- and we saved some puppies in a sewer.”

“oh my god, are they ok?”

“they’re all fine, but i’m not sure if we are right now.”

“what do you mean?” she asks, slowly and carefully.

“you don’t smell something burning?”

she takes a deep inhale and looks over to her smokey kitchen. it wasn’t too bad, but definitely enough to make it inedible. “shit! fuck, i forgot about it!” she says, bouncing the pan up and down while trying not to burn herself.

y/n was busy discarding of the pizza when buck looked over at her with joy. he had a cheeky smile on his face and was laughing at the forgetfulness of both of them. he looked back down in front of him and the coffee table, and he saw a book that y/n always has on her. she brings it to work, to her family, anywhere she goes, she has it. it was her beloved sketchbook, filled with hundreds of small doodles and big pieces. buck has seen a lot of things in it, admiring each one before he comes across a bookmarked section.

when he flips the pages of the book, he notices that the person that is sketched and shaded looks particularly familiar. he makes note of the sharp nose and soft, but hard jaw. he sees the famous birthmark on the side of his face. he’s never looking right on, though. he’s always focused on something or has a light grin on his face. buck knows these are of him, but he doesn’t think he had any importance to be the top drawing in her book.

y/n walks back in to greet her boyfriend, “i think we might just have to ord-“ she looks at the sketches that she had put on that paper. a heat rose up into her face, reddening her cheeks and making her feel a sense of embarrassment.

“a-are these me?” buck asks, quietly. y/n nods, slowly, praying that she didn’t make him uncomfortable and that she will see him again tomorrow. “i-um..”

“you don’t have to say anything, buck. i never meant for you to see those and if you don’t like them, i’ll never do it again i swear. you just, you’re so beautiful, buck. and i love to draw beautiful things.”

“i just don’t know what to say, these are so good. i feel like you know me more than i know myself,” he says, chuckling a bit.

“you like ‘em?”

“i love them,” buck says.

“good, i just couldnt stop myself. you are always so pretty, no matter what and i want you to know that, so i tried to convey it through this. i was going to show you eventually, but i wanted to do more.”

“why me, though? you could draw anyone,” buck asks.

“no one else is you! you might have a pretty face and all but there is really nothing more beautiful than your soul. you are filled with so much love and sweetness and i’ve been dying to find a way to show you, because you are loved, evan. i love you and i wanted to put my two favorite things together. not a day goes by where i have anything but love for you.”

suddenly, the feeling in bucks chest is rising stronger, feeling like it’s going to burst. when it does, he has strong riptides of tears in his eyes. with a pure smile on his face, he passionately leaves a kiss on her lips, and he feels loved for the first time.

growing up, his parents never showed him love. he always begged for it from everyone he knew, and now he feels like it isn’t deserved. but someone, y/n made him feel like he will forever be worthy of love. and he will never forget how she fixed him for the best.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #evan buck buckley x reader #evan buckley x reader #athena grant #henrietta wilson #howie han #maddie buckley

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could you do the follower bishops with someone who is wheelchair bound and loves to draw

Narinder

All he sees is a loyal follower who serves his vessel and praises his name, so he's indifferent to you being wheelchair-bound.

But out of curiosity, he examined how Lamb accommodated you through the Red Crown's eye.

They built ramps and wooden floorboards so grass/flowers didn't get stuck in your wheels, left an open space for you at the feasting table, and punish whoever discriminated against you or tried pushing your wheelchair without permission.

He's like "yes good,,,,inclusiveness will attract more to the cult >:3"

When Narinder himself winds up in the cult, he's moping around and avoiding everybody.

The other followers said you should prank him by rolling over his tail on "accident", but you aren't a fan of bullying.

Instead you roll up to one of his hiding spots like "hey, I have a small welcoming gift to cheer you up!"

He thinks it's "fertilizer" wrapped in a box, so he makes you open it.

It turns out to be a...portrait of himself?

You explain how you loved drawing your fellow followers, some even paying you and willing to sit still while you sketched their features in great detail.

"I hope it's alright that I took some creative liberties. I tried my best given how Leader described you in their sermons and........a-are you crying??"

"....what part of me made you assume I'm worthy to receive this? I almost killed you all!"

"Well..I like you better than our most recent dissenter who refused to listen to the Lamb unless they "cured" me."

"...ah, I see. So..what became of them?"

"Their body's still in the morgue pit. It's pretty messy...wanna see it?"

"Sure."

Leshy

Tbh he had no idea you were even in a wheelchair to begin with.

So when he first begins his farming duties within the cult, he hears wheels squeaking and thinks somebody's stealing the wheelbarrow from him.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going with that?! I need the wheelbarrow to-!!"

"Actually it's my wheelchair, Leshy. But you were close." You chuckle, assuring him you're not offended when he starts apologizing profusely.

It's a rather awkward first meeting between you two, though you both get along well afterwards.

Given that he's blind, it's hard for him to get around the base, too, so he sympathizes with you on that matter.

It took him a while just to focus on one person's scent at a time with so many followers surrounding him.

But he recognizes you by the smell of wood (different from the one he smells by the lumberyard) mixed in with your scent. So he always knows if you're approaching him.

And when he should stop so he doesn't accidentally bump into your wheelchair.

You've actually helped guide him around by letting him "push" your chair (he just holds onto the handles while you take him to different places so he can get a feel for the base's layout).

Leshy learns you love to draw, being disappointed he can't see the masterpieces you've created.

But you always describe them in great details for him, eventually deciding to invest in painting (specifically with acrylics) so he could feel the textures instead.

Heket

Caravans and carts have a difficult time traversing the swampy, mucky, and uneven terrain of Anura, so she's never seen a wheelchair user before.

When she meets you as a newly-indoctrinated follower, she just stares at your aid curiously, unsure of how to approach you and ask about it.

But since she has a constant resting bitch face, you think she's giving you a dirty look--and you give her one in kind.

"If you have something you wanna say, Heket, then-"

"..sorry.....didn't....mean...to...stare.."

Suddenly you remembered that she can barely talk, and you feel kinda bad for insulting her own disability.

So you cooked her a meal as an apology, to which she forgives you right away and warms up to you quicker than expected (though only bc you made great food).

She learns you love drawing and kinda wants to learn it herself. It could be a good way for her to better communicate her feelings.

Albeit her skills are.....novice at best.

She can draw runes, sigils, and demonic circles to perfection but drawing a simple frog is....tricky.

You give her some advice, and when she gets better through practice, you decide to draw portraits of each other.

Eventually she's comfortable enough to ask about your wheelchair, admitting she likes how you designed it.

Kallamar

He's likely no stranger to having followers with disabilities during his ruling of Anchordeep.

He may have been a ruthless paranoid bishop, but he's not cruel and has crafted mobility aids for whoever asked for one. Canes, wheelchairs, prosthetics--you name it. He even commissioned Kudaai for ones with weapon augments.

So he doesn't treat you any differently when he's indoctrinated into the cult, introducing himself like he would anybody else.

As narcissistic as he is sometimes, he's actually cool to be around.

But you feel like he only acts polite bc of Lamb.

While Kallamar knows you like to be independent, he's willing to help you out if asked.

Whether it's pushing your chair if your arms get tired, or to position it during a ritual you're attending, he's on the case.

The only con to this friendship is that he's deaf af and may have to lean down to hear you better.

But you don't mind it.

When he learns that you love to draw, he wonders if you've ever considered drawing him (he's far too shy to ask though).

However you must have a sixth sense...because you made him a portrait as a gift for a special occasion (aka the day the Blue Crown chose him as its bearer) and put it in a beautiful frame lined with crystal specs, leaving it wrapped up by his shelter.

After he sees it, he hugs it and rushes over to Lamb like "look at what Y/N made for me!!"

"That's nice, Kallamar-"

Do I have your permission to marry them?"

".....huh..?"

Shamura

They become an avid observer of everybody in the cult. Just to get a read on their personalities and what they do on a daily basis.

You're no exception, and they're impressed at how you get yourself around in a wheelchair.

Despite their damaged mind, it's still forever hungry for knowledge.

So they respectfully ask you how long you've had your aid and why, how Lamb has accommodated you, etc.

They're forgetful, but they hope to remember at least this for once and not have to ask you again.

You don't mind it at all, appreciating their politeness.

Whenever you're done with tasks and spend your free time drawing, Shamura often comes over to ask what inspired you today.

But one evening, they have a bad migraine attack while talking to you, forgetting who you are mid-conversation as they hissed, before skittering off....much to your bewilderment.

They couldn't sleep that night, wrought with guilt for acting that way in front of you, and the next morning they still can't remember your name despite it being on the very tip of their tongue.

They think it's wise to avoid you, but you track them down with a gift to assure them you weren't mad:

A simple portrait of themselves, signed with your name in the corner so they'd always have a reminder of you.

Least to say, Shamura hasn't forgotten your name since and is forever grateful.

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #follower bishops #follower leshy #follower narinder #follower kallamar #follower shamura #follower heket #leshy x reader #heket x reader #kallamar x reader #shamura x reader #narinder x reader #disabled reader #platonic #headcanons #tw ableism #just a small mention of it but putting this tag just in case!

[solstice-snakes]

for all the severe aches and pains your doctor doesnt give you enough drugs for so you fix it with bad smelling ointment that kind of sometimes works? anyways my shoulder is sore from getting a surgical knife in it.

8x10 in. 2023. acrylic on canvas.

[ID: An acrylic painting of a tube of icy hot brand pain reliever cream in a cartoonish style with a black outline on a teal background. there are black dash marks on both sides of the tube. end ID]

#art #my art #disabled artist #trans artist #painting #cripplepunk #disability #arthritis #heds #chronic pain

[imaginatorcreates]

Commission for Toast aka @sketchy-tour!

Toast here asked me to make a tune for their Welcome Home OC, Dandy Leon, and the lovable Wally Darling. A sort of love song, if you will. Add on top of that an idea for a written scene between the two and you have this!

(Also I'm eating up your comments in Discord, please know that /pos)

This is my 29th creation. This is for Dandy Leon and Wally Darling. A song of spring, being in bloom, and many references to Dandy's Delights (for this is a tune with Dandy in it!). The goobers are waltzing in the garden and having fun little stumbles, but they're enjoying themselves because the world is in bloom.

Painted Flowers

25 March 2024 — 26 March 2024

Summary: Wally wants to paint someone to day. But who should he paint? Barnaby suggests to him, "Why not Dandy?"

Word Count: ~2.8k words

TW: None

Author’s Note: Enjoy! Also on AO3 as a gift.

One day, Wally Darling woke up and decided that he was going to paint today.

If someone were to ask him why, like his best friend did when the large blue pooch stopped by the painter’s sentient house, he couldn’t explain it. “I just want to paint today, Barnaby,” Wally said in his signature monotonous voice. He pocketed some of his paintbrushes and tubes of acrylic paint in the pockets of his blue cardigan as he added, “I have a problem, though.”

“Eh? What’s botherin’ my lil’ apple today?” Barnaby B. Beagle asked as he leaned against Home’s outer walls. The dark blue ear closest to the front door perked up as he joked, “Ain’t it too early to feel gray? I thought that was Frank’s job!” The dog howled in laughter, then in mock pain as Home lightly smacked him with his door. “Alright, alright! I get it Home!”

Wally laughed a quiet little “Ha ha ha,” even though he didn’t quite get what was funny about the joke. The few times he had asked Barnaby to explain a joke to him, his best friend had groaned and placed a paw over his snout.

“A joke ain’t funny if I hafta explain it,” he had said, “but for you, lil’ buddy, fine. I will.” Barnaby had patted his shoulder to show that he meant no ill will with his tone, but that night and for the next few ones, Wally had tried and failed to squash the thought that he might’ve ruined his best friend’s jokes forever.

“Home, I get it. No makin’ fun of the sourpuss– Home!” Barnaby let out a few more laughs, then thumped at his chest twice as he cleared his throat. “Lil’ buddy, ya said ya had a problem?”

“Oh, yes. I have a problem.” Wally wordlessly gave Barnaby a blank canvas, then his folded wooden easel. The former was off white and lightly textured, while the latter was light brown with splatters of miscellaneous colors. The hinges were squeaky with use and no longer smelled of wood but instead, it smelled faintly of chemicals from the paints he used.

It was bad for him, according to Frank and Poppy, but he found it comforting. Could something that was bad also be comforting? He would have to ask someone about it.

But, that was for later. Another problem for later.

“I don’t know what to paint,” Wally said as he grabbed his palette, stepped outside, and closed the door. He craned his neck up, took a few steps away from his taller friend, then craned his neck a little less. “I don’t feel like painting red apples. But I like painting red apples. I don’t feel like painting you, but I like painting you too.” He fiddled with one of his paintbrushes, running the clean bristles over his fingers as he asked, “What should I do, Barnaby?”

“Well, gee Walls.” Barnaby furrowed his brow as he exhaled through his nose. “How’s about ya paint one of your neighbors?”

“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Wally paused stroking his fingertips with the paintbrush bristles, then resumed as another problem made itself apparent. “But who? Who should I paint today Barnaby?”

“Well, you can’t paint me! You said you didn’t wanna.”

“I still love you Barnaby.”

“Yeah, love ya too.” Barnaby started to thump his foot on the ground, quietly letting out a low growl as he thought. “Who have ya painted?”

“I’ve painted you, Barnaby. I’ve painted Julie, and I’ve painted Frank. I’ve painted Sally, and I’ve painted Poppy. I’ve painted Eddie, and I’ve painted Howdy.” Wally counted off each neighbor on each of his fingers, and he was left with one finger left standing. “I’ve tried to paint Home, but Home is very large and requires a lot of time. I will finish Home’s portrait soon.”

Home creaked an apology.

“It’s okay Home.”

“Huh. How about ya paint one of our other neighbors?” Barnaby asked. “How’s about that one with the sunflowers in their yard? Dandy?”

“Dandy?” Wally stopped brushing his fingertips as the name bounced around his head, trying to attach itself to a face. Sunflowers in their yard…green…brown hat…flowers. But not Julie’s type of flowers. Julie’s flowers were loud and vibrant, brave and running towards what she loved. Flowers attached to Dandy’s name were bright, yes, but they were gentle. They curled away from harsh words and they bloomed in the quiet moments.

The painter gasped. “Oh! Yes! I should paint Dandy!” Almost at once, the floodgates in his brain opened. Ideas flooded his mind, breaking through darkness with shades of green and yellow and red. He almost wished that he was as big as Barnaby so he could walk further with each step. His plans of painting couldn’t wait!

Barnaby let out a howl of laughter and gestured to the main road with a jerk of his head. “C’mon lil’ apple. Let go get your sunflower’s portrait painted.”

“My sunflower?” Wally asked as the pair started on the journey to the gardener’s house. “Barnaby, the sunflowers belong to Dandy. And I will be painting Dandy, not their sunflowers.”

The blue dog snickered. “Alright lil’ buddy.”

Wally didn’t understand that joke either.

The sun shone down on the pair of best friends as they approached the earthy-colored house. Even from a distance, the yellow flowers stood tall towards the sun, almost greeting them with how they were turned towards them. Some were lightly tied to wooden stakes, but they still looked healthy.

Standing next to the sunflowers was a puppet with green felt, short and fluffy brown hair, and squarish glasses on their face. The sleeves of their brown cardigan were partially rolled up as they inspected some of the leaves of the sunflowers, their face deep in concentration as their mouth moved slightly with words that were too quiet to hear.

“Heya Dandy!” Barnaby barked out as the distance between the puppets started to close.

Dandy jumped and looked up from their work. Their eyes widened and they scrambled to dust off their clothes, roll down their sleeves, and step out of the thick of their sunflowers. “Wally! Barnaby!” they called back. “What can I do for y’all?”

“Funny, they called your name first Walls,” Barnaby murmured.

“That was supposed to be funny?” Wally asked.

“Eh.” Barnaby shrugged and turned his attention back to Dandy. “Wally here wants to paint ya.”

Wally watched as Dandy’s gaze rapidly turned to him, hovered for a moment too long, then turned back to his best friend. “Me?” the gardener asked as they pointed to themself. Their gaze turned back to Wally as they repeated, “You want to paint me?”

“Yes,” Wally breathed. “I want to paint you, Dandy.”

“I — ” The gardener's hands started to wave dismissively as their eyes dropped to the ground. “I don’t think I’m good enough to be painted! I’m a mess, and I have dirt on my hands. My hair is messy, and I have to send some flowers to Howdy’s — ”

With one swift motion, Barnaby unfolded Wally’s easel and placed it down nearby. He then patted Dandy’s head and chuckled at the yelp of surprise the gardener let out. “Re-lax Dandy. Walls here ain’t gonna eat cha alive!”

Wally’s fingers tightened around his cardigan for a brief moment. His eyes itched.

Not today. Not today.

Barnaby placed the blank canvas down on the empty easel and patted Wally on the shoulder before he bid the two shorter puppets farewell and walked away. “Peace out ‘n have fun! I’ll be at Howdy’s if ya need me!”

Wally waved goodbye to the blue dog, then turned his attention back to Dandy. “I will be painting you soon, neighbor.”

“Wally,” Dandy murmured. They kept looking at the ground, their voice even quieter than when Barnaby was there. Their brows were furrowed slightly and their mouth was pressed together in a thin line. “You don’t have to paint me. I think there are better neighbors to paint than lil’ ol’ me,” they chuckled. At the last half of their sentence, they sounded a bit like Eddie.

“I want to,” Wally countered. “I really do want to paint you.” He started to take out some of the acrylic tubes and laid them on the excess wood of the easel. He untwisted some of the caps to loosen them up, then carefully squeezed a bit of paint onto his palette one at a time. A bit of black and white in the corner for mixing, then green here and yellow there. Blue as well, and brown was very important.

“I woke up today and wanted to paint,” he confessed. “But I didn’t want to paint red apples or Barnaby, even though I love both red apples and Barnaby very much. Oh, thank you Dandy.”

The gardener blushed as they helped screw the caps of the paints back on. “I can getcha a cup of water for your paints. And a stool, if you want one.”

“A stool for the paint water would be nice, thank you.”

As Dandy hurriedly walked inside their house, Wally made it his mission to stare at the blank canvas with a paintbrush in one hand and his palette in the other. He had the subject, and he had the colors. He had the idea, no matter how faint it was. But now that he was here, with his subject nearby and with his colors laid out, the idea was rapidly vanishing.

His grip on the paintbrush tightened. The pose. How should Dandy pose? And any objects? Should they be holding anything in their hands? How much of Dandy should he paint?

He wanted to paint today, that he knew. But why was it so hard to paint?

“ —lly? Wally?”

The pompadoured puppet let in a sharp inhale of air and turned towards the voice.

Dandy gasped in return, backing away slightly. They bumped against the stool where an old cup filled with water sat, and they cried out to catch it as it wobbled precariously. “Golly! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Wally said. He found his voice again — again; he was losing it…what year was it? — and forced himself to take a slow, calm breath. “I still want to paint you, Dandy. But, I’m having trouble imagining how I want to paint you.”

“Paint me however you want Wally, and I’m sure it’ll look nice.” Dandy’s gaze alternated between him and the ground, and their felt still showed hints of a blush. Pinkish, maybe red.

Like apples.

Wally slowly raised his paintbrush and started to circle it in midair, pretending that the ends of the brush were covered in red paint. He brushed an imaginary stroke upwards to make a stem, then two smooth lines to make a leaf. He liked apples. Those were the first things he painted.

What did Dandy like?

“Oh!” he gasped. “Dandy, can I paint you with sunflowers?”

“Sunflowers?” Dandy repeated. “The tall ones or the ones I picked earlier for Howdy’s?”

Wally paused. He looked at the sunflowers that towered above their heads nearby. Instead of looking friendly, they now looked intimidating. “I want to paint you with the sunflowers closer to your face.”

“My face? Oh, you’re going to paint my face?” Dandy’s hands waved, though not as erratically as Julie. “Can’t I hide behind my sunflowers? I’m a mess like I said and the sunflowers are more beautiful than I am and — ”

“Dandy.”

Dandy stopped.

“I think my neighbors look beautiful on my canvas because I paint what I see.” Wally’s smile widened as he added, “And I think the painting I want to do with you and your sunflowers will be beautiful too.”

If Dandy’s face could turn into a pretty red apple, it would. The gardener sputtered something before they stumbled away and stumbled back with a large bouquet of sunflowers in their hands. Dozens of yellow petals shone outwards, almost giving Sally a challenger for the brightest one in the neighborhood. In their centers, hundreds of seeds created a dark contrast.

In the middle of it all, Dandy’s face was buried in it.

Wally didn’t mind so much. He needed to paint the sunflowers first.

So began the long and slow process of mixing colors to create the right shade, then applying them onto the canvas in gentle strokes. The petals were abstract shapes at first, radiating from a circle of darkness in the center. As Wally switched brushes and added details, the sunflowers gained personality. Individual petals started to differentiate, and someone could pluck out the seeds if they wished to.

He dipped the brush in the murky paint water and started on the puppet. He looked around the canvas and saw Dandy’s face still buried in the sunflowers.

That was no good.

He placed the paintbrush on the stool and slowly approached them. “Dandy. Could you lift your face up please? I need to paint it.”

Dandy hesitantly complied, but most of their face was still covered by yellow petals. “The sunflowers are more beautiful,” they faintly insisted. “They’re in bloom.”

“You are in bloom too,” Wally said. Despite his brush hand smelling slightly of paint, he reached out and cupped his hand against Dandy’s cheek. He gently lifted their warm face up and out of the sunflowers and said, “You are in bloom, Dandy. Like the sunflowers, and the apple blossoms.

“I woke up and wanted to paint today. I wanted to paint, and you are in bloom. Why should I not paint a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and the neighbor that grew them?”

A long, palpable pause stretched out between the two. Wally wondered if he made a mistake with this. He knew that Frank didn’t like to be touched very often, so what if Dandy was the same?

Then, Dandy slowly smiled. Their smile radiated through the sunflowers, and for a second, Wally thought that the gardener was the most pretty flower he’d seen.

His own smile widened and he withdrew his hand. “This…this is the most! I will paint this now!” He swiftly came back to his canvas and started mixing the right shade of green. The portrait slowly came together. First the general shape, then the details. The highlights came last. A few broad strokes for a blue sky, and…!

“Dandy, it’s done.” Wally placed each used paintbrush into the murky paint water, one by one as he waited for the subject of his painting to shuffle around the easel to look at his work.

On the canvas, were dozens of sunflowers arranged in a strong bouquet intermixed with delicate petals. The sunflowers themselves were made of strokes of yellow and circles of black, highlighted by elegant lines that made each detail pop. In the middle of it all, was a puppet whose smile was the centerpiece of the painting. Eyes slightly squinted shut from how wide they were smiling, a hint of red on their cheeks, and hands that held the entire bouquet together by their stems.

A gasp followed by a squeal of joy. Hand waving and heel bouncing briskly followed, alongside quiet bursts of “It’s so beautiful!” and “The detail on the sunflowers!”

Wally watched Dandy go through several levels of joy and awe, and the semi-permanent smile on his face softened. His partially-lidded eyes took in the small details: brown eyes that sparkled at the work of art on the canvas; the little yellow flower on their hat that never wilted; gentle flowers that reached towards the sun, fingers curling around the drops of light and holding it close.

Quiet.

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I shouldn’t.” The light was escaping from their fingertips.

Did he do that?

“I insist. I would be honored if you took it.” Wally gingerly took the still-drying painting and held it out towards Dandy. “I want you to have it.”

Dandy’s mouth pressed into a thin line as they looked down at the ground for a moment, then thrust the sunflowers in front of them. “Take these. I’d feel bad if you didn't have something in return. I can always get more for Howdy, it’s not a big deal.”

The next minutes were spent juggling an exchange; between trying not to touch any paint on the canvas and not dropping any sunflowers on the ground, the two spent an excessive amount of time trying to give each other the items. In the end, Dandy was left holding their portrait and Wally had a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

Dandy lightly bounced inside their house, and Wally was left outside with a sunny-smelling bundle of flowers counteracting against the chemical scent of his acrylics. He buried his face within the flowers and deeply inhaled. Between strong whiffs of paint, he breathed in drops of sunlight.

“The most,” he exhaled. “These are the most.”

For the next several days, anyone who peeked in the window of Home could catch a glimpse of a vase filled with cut sunflowers. They were perky and alive, and it certainly complimented a fresh red apple that always sat next to the vase for as long as the sunflowers lived.

#Ima Writes #Ima Creates #Ima Tunes #mutuals #writing #my writing #original writing #my music #my audio #music #audio #jummbox #commission #written commission #music commission #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #wally darling #Ima's Commissions

[dark-romantics]

INTJ: empty elevators, old buildings and spirales staircases, puzzles, deep meaningful conversations, museums, alone time, any time between 12am-5am, sarcasm, earphones, science, big libraries, bookstores, the smell of books, rainy days, thunderstorms

INFP: Smiles directed at strangers, cuddles, vivid daydreams, sunlight streaming through windows, an autumn palette, messy buns, glasses that slide down your nose, half-written stories, sea-foam green, a large coffee mug filled with tea, constellations, window seats

ENFP: bulletin boards with inspiring quotes, humming along off-key beneath your breath, bare feet on hot sand, pinterest projects, improvised road trips, paint smeared on your hands and face, butterflies in your stomach, silly nicknames, sugar rush, compliments from strangers, good morning texts

INFJ: deeply meaningful conversations, contemporary art galleries, bookstores and libraries with high ceilings, writing and reading poetry, handwritten love letters, art-house films, psychology, stationery stores, the vastness of the universe, bottled messages, automatically reading others' souls

ESTJ: skyscrapers, railroads, a river that flows through a city, going underwater, iron bridges, old paper, vintage champagne, broken-down fountains, city limits, cathedrals, borderlines, Greek architecture, arches, windows, heavy wooden doors, locks, buildings overgrown with vines

-

ENFJ: the leaves as they change colors, comforting words in the middle of the night, swimming with dolphins, self compassion, dancing around the room with your friends at 3 AM, street photography, the way smiles are contagious, screaming at a concert, puns that are so bad you can't help but laugh, pranks, mirrors, a tight hug

ESFJ: sunflowers, your first kiss, cities during the daytime, standing art a crosswalk, art museums, running through sprinklers, dancing without music, bathing in sunshine, falling in love, streetlights, thick hair, smiling at a mirror, children's laughter, drawing words with sparklers, gold glitter, whispered secrets, flower crowns, flipping on a lightswitch

ISFP: curling up with a book by a fireplace, cozy blankets, charcoal drawings, hot chocolate, poetry, lens flares, cat fur, white sand, the night sky, original grimm fairy tales, ambiguity, acrylic paints, a crescent moon, photography, fingers flying over piano keys, liminal space, doorways, social activism, the line between thoughts and reality

ISTJ: finishing homework right away, instruction manuals, calm before the storm, hugs when you most need them, graphite streaks on your palms, polishing a sword, glass shards, brass knuckles, netting, methodical sketches, geometry, permanent marker, bold letters, metal-rimmed glasses, dark smoke, oxygen masks, cold showers, static, skylights

-

ISFJ: fresh baked cookies, light filtered through leaves, porch swings, disney movies, sketches in the margins of your notes, the sound of waves, oversized hoodies, holding hands, embroidery, down feathers, showing your bare back, seeing veins through pale skin, black and white photographs, a flute melody, touching a butterfly's wing, rocks in a stream

ESTP: bruises on knees, an adventurer through & through, adrenaline rush, a mischievous grin, spontaneous, party animal, likes to be center of attention, nurturing and selfless, fearless, spends 80% of their time online, big on physical touch, gets out of trouble very easily, flirty af

ISTP:

[doiefics]

no regrets

pairing: jihoon x gn!reader

prologue: when you finally open up your heart, jihoon has a logic. perhaps things can be made better at a ghosted book store.

genre: fluff + friends to lovers

wordcount: 897

warnings: slight age difference even though both are adults

"No! That's mine!" You whined at the older male as he teased you by threatening to devour the chocolate bar in his hands.

"Maybe it was." He commented, emphasising on the past tense.

"If you don't give it to me I won't think twice before ruining your white shirt with this weird mix of yellow, blue and green paint. It's acrylic." You warned him with an evil smirk.

"Will you?" He teased you again.

You inched your paintbrush's tip dangerously close to his clothing, and Jihoon's eyebrows started to furrow in response.

"There you go, all right." He gave in right away.

He offered you a bite since your hands were preoccupied with the colours in front of you.

"Don't drop it, they are gonna charge you for the amends." He warned you in a whisper. Perhaps painting at a bookstore was a bad idea.

"Nobody is listening, there's no one here." You spoke casually.

The atmosphere was filled with the smell of old paper and wood emanating from the dozen shelves that were arranged all around you. Jihoon leaned against one of them, using it to support his back while you sat next to him. The owner of the place wouldn't mind you two being there when no one else was here either, you were never the type to draw on books.

You had known Jihoon ever since you were a toddler, he was your neighbour's son. Even though he was four years older than you, you both enjoyed great chemistry.

The differences in preferences, from conversation topics to lifestyle choices, were noticeable in the younger years but given the present time they were more or less similar, you both were now adults, after all. 

Jihoon's attention from his book was diverted at the sight of you struggling to keep your hair in place. 

"Did you shampoo your hair today?" He mocked again but his laughter was quickly brought to an end as you raised the brush again.

"Which book are you reading?" You leaned your head to the side to have a better look as you peered into the pages.

"Something your dumb brain wouldn't understand." He spoke, without lifting his eyes from the words that were tying down all his interest.

"Tskk!" You voiced as your hair flicks slid through and in front of your eyes, again, caused by the motion of the head

Jihoon closed his book, tipped his body in your direction, and reached out to tuck your hair back in place.

His face was close, albeit not too close or too far away, giving you a view of his face. In a snap of a moment, you felt different, even though on the inside you knew you had been suppressing what you felt for him.

Ever since you came of age, Jihoon seemed more than just a friend. 

As he fixed your hair, you poked the heart-shaped mole on his cheek. He made eye contact with you and grinned in response to your action.

Maybe this was the right time.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his soft, pink ones. It was only a peck. The two of you paused for a brief second, not moving. You softly slammed your lips to his again, this time the contact lasted longer, the lips started to move in sync with each other, eyes closed and an odd surge of hormones was coursing through your body.

Jihoon abruptly pulled back as he shook his head. "No!" He breathed, his eyes never meeting yours. "This is not right, Y/N. You’re younger than me." He reasoned. 

"I'm an adult. I know what I am doing." You protested back.

"I'm four years older than you!" His voice held emotions.

You backed off, showing him a subtle yet apologetic smile. "If you think that's right."

Jihoon was buried in thought, so he remained silent for the next few minutes, increasing your tension. Would this act end all of your past dynamics? For some reason, however, your gut held no regrets. 

The hands of the clock moved to indicate the passing of more time. Silence still prevailed, and you joined Jihoon in staring into a blank space.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked.

"About us." He said.

"Huh?" You gained back your focus.

"This is so wrong." He repeated. 

"I'm sorry. let's just forget it happened-"

He cut you off. "I can't convince my heart." He confessed.

"I like you Y/N, but I can't help but think of how wrong it would be."

"Why would it be wrong?" You questioned again, proceeding to give him a reason by yourself. "We are both adults, and what's wrong with loving each other? It's not a crime." You explained.

"The age difference. What if you regret being with me after some years?" Jihoon was very emotional yet serious about this.

"Then I'll have to call you grandpa for the rest of our lives." You said playfully, taking his hand in yours. 

"No regrets." You promised.

"No regrets." He repeated as he opened his arms, and heart for you.

You wasted no time in falling into his embrace, without taking notice of one thing. The paint.

"This was my favourite shirt!" He whined, again. 

"Oops." You pouted.

Jihoon took the brush away from your hand, using it to make a heart shape on your cheek, making you both blush like idiots.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

#jihoon #jihoon fluff #treasure fluff #treasure ff #jihoon ff #treasure soft hours #jihoon soft thoughts #treasure scenarios #jihoon scenarios #treasure drabbles #jihoon drabbles #jihoon x reader #treasure x you #treasure x gn reader #jihoon x gn reader #treasure jihoon #treasure fanfic #jihoon fanfic #treasure jihoon #park jihoon

[theficblog]

NO REGRETS

PARK JIHOON

Prologue: When you finally open up your heart, Jihoon has a logic. Perhaps things can be made better at a ghosted book store.

Genre: Fluff + Friends to Lovers

Wordcount: 888

Warnings: Slight age difference even though both are adults

"No! That's mine!" You whined at the older male as he teased you by threatening to devour the chocolate bar in his hands.

"Maybe it was." He commented.

"If you don't give it to me I won't think twice before ruining your white shirt with this weird mix of yellow, blue and green paint. It's acrylic." You warned him with an evil smirk.

"Will you?" He teased you again.

You inched your paintbrush's tip dangerously close to his clothing, and Jihoon's eyebrows started to furrow in response.

"There you go, all right." He gave in right away.

He offered you a bite since your hands were preoccupied with the colours in front of you.

"Don't drop it, they are gonna charge you for the amends." He warned you in a whisper. Perhaps painting at a bookstore was a bad idea.

"Nobody is listening, there's no one here." You spoke casually.

The atmosphere was filled with the smell of old paper and wood emanating from the dozen shelves that were arranged all around you. Jihoon leaned against one of them, using it to support his back while you sat next to him. The owner of the place wouldn't mind you two being there when no one else was here either, you were never the type to draw on books.

You had known Jihoon ever since you were a toddler, he was your neighbour's son. Even though he was four years older than you, you both enjoyed great chemistry. The differences in preferences, from conversation topics to lifestyle choices, were noticeable in the younger years but given the present time they were more or less similar, you both were now adults, after all. 

Jihoon's attention from his book was diverted at the sight of you struggling to keep your hair in place. 

"Did you shampoo your hair today?" He mocked again but his laughter was quickly brought to an end as you raised the brush again.

"Which book are you reading?" You leaned your head to the side to have a better look as you peered into the pages.

"Something your dumb brain wouldn't understand." He spoke, without lifting his eyes from the words that were tying down all his interest.

"Tskk!" You voiced as your hair flicks slid through and in front of your eyes, again, caused by the motion of the head

Jihoon closed his book, tipped his body in your direction, and reached out to tuck your hair back in place.

His face was close, albeit not too close or too far away, giving you a view of his face. In a snap of a moment, you felt different, even though on the inside you knew you had been suppressing what you felt for him. Ever since you came of age, Jihoon seemed more than just a friend. 

As he fixed your hair, you poked the heart-shaped mole on his cheek. He made eye contact with you and grinned in response to your action.

Maybe this was the right time.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his soft, pink ones. It was only a peck. The two of you paused for a brief second, not moving. You softly slammed your lips to his again, this time the contact lasted longer, the lips started to move in sync with each other, eyes closed and an odd surge of hormones was coursing through your body.

Jihoon abruptly pulled back as he shook his head. "No!" He breathed, his eyes never meeting yours. "This is not right, Y/N. You’re younger than me." He reasoned. 

"I'm an adult. I know what I am doing." You protested back.

"I'm four years older than you!" His voice held emotions.

You backed off, showing him a subtle yet apologetic smile. "If you think that's right."

Jihoon was buried in thought, so he remained silent for several minutes, increasing your tension. Would this act end all of your past dynamics? For some reason, however, your gut held no regrets. 

The hands of the clock moved to indicate the passing of more time. Silence still prevailed, and you joined Jihoon in staring into a blank space.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked.

"About us." He said.

"Huh?" You gained back your focus.

"This is so wrong." He repeated. 

"I'm sorry. let's just forget it happened-"

He cut you off. "I can't convince my heart." He confessed.

"I like you Y/N, but I can't help but think of how wrong it would be."

"Why would it be wrong?" You questioned again, proceeding to give him a reason by yourself. "We are both adults, and what's wrong with loving each other? It's not a crime." You explained.

"The age difference. What if you regret being with me after some years?" Jihoon was very emotional yet serious about this.

"Then I'll have to call you grandpa for the rest of our lives." You said playfully, taking his hand in yours. 

"No regrets." You promised.

"No regrets." He repeated as he opened his arms, and heart for you.

You wasted no time in falling into his embrace, without taking notice of one thing. The paint.

"This was my favourite shirt!" He whined, again. 

"Oops." You pouted.

Jihoon took the brush away from your hand, using it to make a heart on your cheek, making you both blush like idiots.

LET ME KNOW YOUR VIEWS + ALSO SEE : MASTERLIST

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM PLAGIARIZING ,TRANSLATING, OR POSTING OUTSIDE THIS PLATFORM.  

#jihoon #treasure ff #jihoon ff #treasure fluff #jihoon fluff #treasure soft hours #treasure soft thoughts #treasure jihoon #treasure drabbles #treasure blurbs #treasure scenarios #treasure imagines #jihoon drabble #jihoon blurbs #jihoon scenarios #jihoon imagines #treasure x reader #treasure x you #jihoon fanfic #treasure fic

[adriennebarnes]

Snuffles

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Hispanic!Reader

Summary: witch reader makes a potion so she can be able to shapeshift into an animal but she forgot to tell anyone she was making this potion.

Warning: italics are going to be the readers inner thoughts

A/N:Yes, this is basically the Marauders turning into animagi BUT different steps, Masterlist pinned on my blog if you want more

It was a Saturday afternoon and Y/N was in the school’s conservatory brewing her potion. She had a vial with a strand of her hair, 5 drops of blood, and a mandrake leaf that is soaked in her saliva from being in her mouth for a week. She went outside the conservatory to find the pot she left in the field to collect the rain water she needed, she adds the rain water into the vial and the mixture turns into a pale red color. The last step was to say an incantation and cast it on the vial.

“Animoza Espinoza” Y/N said and the potion turned into a dark wine red color, signaling is ready drink. Y/N drank the potion while she was outside in the field, she felt a little tingly, and started to get shorter. That’s when Y/N checked her reflection in glass of the conservatory. Y/N has turned into a (your hair color) cocker spaniel (or a cavalier king charles spaniel, your choice. I chose spaniels because their eyes are the first thing you notice). Y/N was loyal to her friends, happy-go-lucky, outgoing, and trustworthy, all traits of a dog. Her favorite classic Disney movie was Lady and the Tramp, so it made sense that she was turned into a spaniel.

“Oh my god, it worked!” Y/N said, but it came out as little barks. Great, I can’t transform back now because my body needs to get used in its animal form before transforming back. So how do I get to my dorm if I am a lap dog? I’ll just go to the art shed, I’m sure Xavier is still painting something. Y/N is now on her merry way to the art shed with her ears flapping in the wind. When she made it to the art shed, she heard Chase Atlantic playing, meaning he was still in there. Y/N scratched at the door first but apparently Xavier couldn’t hear it so then Y/N howled. If he doesn’t open this door for me, I swear I’m going to kill him! Y/N heard Xavier turn the volume down so she bowled again. That’s when Xavier opened the door and Y/N did a little bark.

“Hey little guy…are you lost?” Xavier asked. Y/N barked and began scratching at his leg. Xavier decided to pick her up. “My bad, little lady, you’re lady.” Xavier said, checking Y/N’s anatomy. “You Don’t have a collar on you, do you, lady? Did you escape or something?” Xavier asked, placing her onto his table and looking into Y/N’s eyes, “Your eyes are so familiar to me, you got human like eyes, little lady.” Xavier said. Y/N started sniffing around Xavier’s work place. When she reached the strong smell of acrylic paint, she sneezed 5 times and then rubbed her nose with her paw. God, I hate my allergies. “You a sneezy little lady, huh? I’m gonna name you Snuffles, that okay with you?”

“Yes!” Y/N barked and she licked his nose when he got close to her.

“Aww, Well aren’t you friendly? Come on, let’s go to my dorm, you can meet my friend Ajax, he probably waiting for me to play video games.” Xavier said. He took a hoodie that was on his chair and wrapped Y/N around it, carrying her. “Don’t want you getting cold now do we.” He entered the building and started walking to his dorm and when he opened the door, Ajax was on Xavier’s bed.

“Hey man, how did it go in the art shed? Painted a new portrait of Y/N?” Ajax asked and Y/N immediately lifted her head. Como dices que dijiste, Xavier painting a portrait of me, why? “Aww, you got a puppy! He’s so cute.” Ajax said as soon as he saw Y/N.

“The dog is a she and yeah, I found her outside my art shed. She’s cute, isn’t she?” Xavier said, placing Y/N on his bed and watching her smell it. Damn Xavier, you really need to wash this comforter, o sea no manches, mi pobre nariz está sufriendo.

“She is. Did you name her?” Ajax asked as he went to pet Y/N. Okay, fine, you’re allowed to pet me, but no belly scratches, that is a line we both don’t want you to cross.

“Yeah, she was sneezing in the art shed so I named her Snuffles. Isn’t that right, Snuffles.” Xavier said in the voice you use to speak to babies and cute animals. Y/N’s tail started wagging as she left Ajax to go to Xavier, earning pets from him.

“So what are you going to do about Snuffles? Like does she have her vaccinations, where is she going to do her business, what is she going to eat?” Ajax asked. Y/N was staring at him,. “Don’t look at me like that! Xavier, I swear Y/N looks at me the same way when I say something stupid.” Xavier then takes a closer look at Y/N.

“I guess Snuffles does look like Y/N a bit. The same color eyes, same color hair, but Y/N has cute little beauty marks on her face, her smile is so pretty too.” Xavier said. Y/N was so happy she was a dog because if not, she would be blushing. But her tail is wagging right now.

“When are you going to ask Y/N out? I’m positive she likes you too!” Ajax said. Y/N then nudged her head against Xavier’s hand. “See? Even snuffles wants you to ask her out.”

“I’ll ask her out when I see her, okay. I got a little lady to take care of, don’t I Snuffles?” Xavier asked hypothetically and again, Y/N wagged her tail (whenever I talk to my dog in a baby voice, she wags her tail, but I think that’s normal for all dogs) “You’re going to sleep with me tonight, yes you are. But you need food. I’ll just give you my food.”

“Too much human food means an upset stomach, especially in small dogs.” Ajax stated, Y/N looked at him. How do you know that?

“How do you know that, Ajax?” Xavier asked.

“My sister has a shih tzu okay, I visit her sometimes.” Ajax said. (I believe Ajax would have older sisters and younger sisters, which is why he seems very sensitive)

“Okay fine, I’ll just give her some of my food when I’m eating, can’t be that bad.” Xavier said.

As the day went on, Y/N received pets from Xavier, Ajax, and Enid. Enid even knitted her a cute doggie sweater. Xavier took Y/N for a walk so she can do her businesses, cleaned up after her, it was a very good day.

“Alright Snuffles, it’s time to go to bed, little lady.” Xavier said said as he got into bed and made space for Y/N to so she can crawl under the covers. Omg, he’s so warm. Y/N snuggles against him, the next morning when Xavier woke up, he saw Y/N next to him on bed BUT she had her clothes on from yesterday. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Xavier said as he moved her.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, yesterday I made a potion so I can shapeshift into an animal! But it reflects my personality so I ended up being a small dog which apparently you loved so much. I would have shifted back to human but it’s better to stay in animal form until you control it.” Y/N said.

“So you heard me say everything when you were Snuffles?” Xavier asked.

“Yep! So yes Xavier, I like you a lot too, and I would love to go out with you.” Y/N said.

“Okay, that’s great. I am so calling you Snuffles all the time now though.” Xavier said and Y/N covered her face. “Aww, don’t be embarrassed Snuffles.”

“Stop it!” Y/N warned Xavier. Xavier just laughed and hugged her.

“Come on, let’s go get something to eat.” Xavier said getting up from the bed.

The End

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thrope imagine #percy hynes white

[ventingfanfics]

Take it Slow

You tilted your head with a hum of approval as you analyzed your work. 

“You know, I could get used to this painting shit,” Y/N said. 

Your friend Renee chuckled but also beamed at your canvas. It was merely a sunflower, but you have to understand, the fact that it was an acrylic painting made it look legitimate. Hell, immaculate. You were more of a poet, but if you invested more time into painting, this could take off for you.

“I told you,” Renee reminded. 

She has been trying to tell you, but it took a heartache for you to finally give it a chance. Sure, you painted as a kid, but it didn’t stick. Renee knew you were in a funk and like the good friend she is (post-college friend to be exact), she came around much more often. It was good having her around although sometimes you craved solitude. 

“Can we do more?” You asked hopefully. 

“Of course. Wanna start without me? I need to use the bathroom.”

“You’re gonna be in there a while, huh?”

“Haha, very funny. I’m not gonna blow up your bathroom, Y/N.”

“Please don’t.”

You both laughed as she departed from your room. You admired your painting once more.

“Not bad,” someone that wasn’t you nor Renee spoke. 

Your eyes bulged and you jumped into action. Shuri pulled her lips inward, desperately trying not to laugh. When she came into your room, you have no idea. You weren’t expecting to see her, if you couldn’t tell. 

“Jesus,” you breathed out, holding your chest, feeling your heart pound. “I almost had a heart attack.”

“Aww, the feeling’s mutual,” she pouted, almost mockingly. “When you left me, Y/N.” She looked at you defiantly as she took quick steps towards you. “Now, why would you do that? And cause me grief?” She raised her eyebrows and folded her arms, waiting for an explanation.

All you could do was take in her fineness. She was dressed in another one of her tracksuits that complimented her brown skin beautifully. The curls piled on top of her head begged to be touched as did the shaved sides that you once enjoyed caressing. She smelled a little like incense mixed with vanilla and those soulful brown eyes were practically hogging you.

Deciding, however, that you would not allow her beauty to intimidate and sacrifice your intelligence and common sense, you cleared your throat. “I did what I felt best.” Her brows knitted together and she was about to speak but you continued. “It wasn’t a good fit.”

She looked crestfallen and you almost felt bad. 

“Princess,” she said, knowing how that nickname affected you. But her eyes were serious. “You were new to Wakanda. You just need time to adjust. And I told you I’d be right there to help you do just that.”

“You did say that,” you slowly agreed. “But let’s be honest, you stay in the lab, Shuri. I mean, stay. Linger.”

She glanced down with a titter, filling your stomach with another batch of butterflies. “I’m a busy woman, Y/N, but I will do better at making more time for you.”

“It’s not even on you. I just…” you averted your eyes, now feeling reluctant to finish and reveal one of your flaws.

“She bows out too easily.” This time it was Renee. Shuri turned around to look at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Renee said. “Are you still princess or Queen now?” Before Shuri or you could speak, she shrugged it off. “Anyways, Y/N needs to do a better of job of stepping out of her comfort zone.”

“Well, damn,” you said, making her and Shuri laugh.

“I love you too. And I will give you privacy,” Renee said, smiling at you and leaving you and Shuri alone.

“She’s partially right,” you said to Shuri who was calmly standing there, taking everything in.

“Hmm, well if it’s any consolation,” the Wakandan said, reaching for your waist. “I want you there.”

You lost the battle of resisting a Kool-aid smile. “You want me to return?”

“Absolutely. Hell yes.”

“Okay, I’ll take it slow.”

“Take it slow,” she quickly encouraged and tugged you even closer to where you felt each other’s bodies.

By the force of God and nature, you shut your eyes and leaned in for a kiss. She gladly accepted and carefully kissed you back, taking her time. When she moaned, you almost climaxed right there. From that point, the kiss got deeper as you desperately touched the other. 

“Come back home, princess,” she said against your mouth in her soothing tone. Her lips claimed yours again. 

#shuri x reader #shuri udaku #princess shuri #shuri black panther #renee downer #shuri fluff #shuri fanfiction #shuri imagine #shuri x y/n #mcu shuri #black panther #wakanda forver spoilers #marvel imagine #black panther fics #wakanda forever #queen shuri #y/n x shuri #shuri udaku x reader

[sharloola]

ODE TO THE SALON (BLUE MAGIC)

Washed, stretched, no oils— all plans cancelled for today. 

You trek to auntie in old trackies and a beanie with your survival kit: 

Earphones and snacks shoved into a bag,

Next to 4 packs of 1b and clear gloss.

The marketplace is only a skeleton of itself when you arrive,

You pass by crates of fresh fruit and fake fendi as the streets pulse to life.

The vendors nod at you as they chat in the frosty morning glow 

and you smile back, praying you don’t run into someone you know.

Auntie’s late (but that goes without saying). 

You’re seated at her altar, neck braced, playlist loaded.

She turns moses, parting 4c with a rat tail comb 

And your open palms face the sky with synthetic hair laced between your fingers.

The small girl next to you marvels at how you stay x-pressionless throughout.

She has not yet learned to swallow pain so yelps and cries, 

Envying her brothers who have turned the shop floor into a wrestling ring.

They roll around on a sea of knotted hair, in dishevelled uniforms and overgrown taper fades.

Their mother tries to scold them for half an hour before giving up, 

Instead focusing on the tv as her red-black hair is layered and smoothed with molten tongs.

Tendrils of smoke are released with each sizzle and clink,

Curling between her and the pixelated faces of nollywood on the screen.

The smell of burning is a comfort to you now,

Child embraced by the warmth of a village who sets itself alight.

Even fire can be a kindness when welcomed, 

She heats hair masks under plastic bags and sears coils straight when asked. 

Someone is playing music from home and it rings out tinny from an old samsung.

Lingala, yoruba, patois— bodies sway to the beats regardless.

Your hips are all polyglot in rhythm, 

And somehow the crying baby drifts off to this and the sound of a blow dryer.

Auntie says you’re tall and quiet, like her daughter back home.

You realise then why her hands are so tender on your head 

And wonder if she always looks for her babies in the scalps of strangers, 

Sees a mirage of them in oil flecked reflections as her bones twist coarse tresses day after day. 

The blue magic your own mother cast when you were small still lingers.

You notice the teenage boy getting cornrows can’t understand the sorcery in this place.

He stares at the floor as his head is pulled and frowns at all the shouting, 

Unburnt ears alien to these sharp incantations of love.

You were the same when first you sat in the chair, 

Milk teeth of a wide tooth comb and nintendo to keep you busy.

You flinched at the raised voices, gazing at girls on pretty n silky boxes,

Secretly hoping pink lotion might make you look like them.

You’d sit patiently by the nail bar as your mum retouched, 

Nose crinkled at the chemicals while she assured you she’d be done soon. 

Sweet fried dumplings and curry goat from next door were your reward and sometimes, 

The man selling watered down perfume would spritz the air just to humour you.

Your mum always announced if something hurt her,

And swatted the acrylic capped fingers from her head like mosquitos.

You used to wonder if your voice would grow in after your big teeth did, 

But you still hold your tongue when pain comes from hands that could love you. 

Now, the cacophony of the salon is a familiar melody and you know the choreography. 

Eyes plié when the husband-landlord walks in heavy and italic, 

Lowering all chatter to a murmur as he demands cash from his wife.

She hands it over with a painted smile and he slams the door on his way out.

The stony interlude is short-lived because we practise alchemy through laughter here:

Auntie makes a quip about his bad breath and tension surrenders to joy.

In this coven, mens anger is snuffed out like flyaways under clouds of mousse,

Rendered lifeless by protection runes hidden in the creases of weathered palms.

The women swap stories over your head in kintsugi english, 

Kissing teeth and gesturing wildly with dollops of shine ‘n jam on the back of their hands. 

You understand now that wisdom is being sewn in as well as tracks,

And tuck their fables behind your ear for times yet to come like seeds in damp ground.

Finally, when the sun has melted to dusk, the water is set to boil. 

You are placed under the dryer and stretch out your stiff fingers.

Auntie swoops your baby hairs after the sweet olive spray,

And warns you that it’s berry cold outside as you hug.

You leave: braids dripping, scalp sore, 

Kink in your neck and pep in step.

At school, your friends would marvel as you showed off the clean parts, 

While the other kids asked to pull and prod.

For the next two weeks, you’ll be vigilant with the scarf at night

And not think about the next style until new growth turns the knotless to a blur.

A few months from now, the man in the hair shop will follow you down aisles

And you’ll call up auntie again to hear her psalm, words a mosaic with veins of gold: 

I’m fine. How’s mummy? 

(I love you)

Which hair you want? 

(I love you)

Send picture. 

(I love you)

You have the hair? 

(I love you)

Ok, come 9. 

s.o.

#original poem #poem #poetry #writing #black poetry #black poets on tumblr #spoken word #afro hair #black girl magic #black culture #4c hair #black women #sharloola

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Karasuno VBC HC’s

The things their partner knows about them that no one else ever will:

Kageyama Tobio: Tobio has aphantasia, he didn’t realize it until you told him about a particularly descriptive dream you had and he realized that he couldn’t visualize things like you can. It’s why he notices things like different flooring in a stadium, because it feels and smells different.

Tsukishima Kei: He puts massive pressure on himself to keep his grades good, not only for his future, but now his teammates all expect him to have excellent grades all the time. Once, he got a slightly bellow average result on a test, you saw it before he could hide it away and didn’t comment. When Hinata and Kageyama demanded to know what he’d gotten, you whited out your own name on you test and swapped it with Tsuki’s. The two idiots didn’t notice, and your boyfriend squeezed you that much tighter in a hug when no one was looking.

Hinata Shouyou: Hinata was not very good at art, however, as you found out when he got in to your little studio corner, he really enjoyed painting, just playing around with colours on a page, particularly water colour. It helped relax him, he’s spent hours playing around with heavy acrylics or water colours. You have a collection of his little projects, one day, they’ll be proudly displayed on the walls of you home.

Yamaguchi Tadashi: He can sing, really freaking well. He starts out only doing it in the shower, then in the car. Eventually you’ll get to turn on the speakers and enjoy long afternoons of your beloved sweetheart singing his way around the house, his face glowing with a smile and absolutely zero shame.

Nishinoya Yuu: he has a diary, a fully cliché diary that he writes in every single day without fail. Aside from descriptions of his day, he writes letters to those he cares about, filled with positive affirmation and of how much he believes in his friends. He’s written you dozens of them by now, and not a one left you with dry eyes.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke: you found this out on a whim, dragging him along to your weekly dance class to make up for the date you’d both had to cancel the week before. Good thing too, because if you hadn’t then you’d never have found out that Ryu’s got rhythm. He’d never danced before that day but he found it incredibly natural. He loved dancing with you and found any excuse to tag along to your classes, his favourite is the tango because he thinks you look badass.

Sawamura Daichi: One word: spiders. He doesn’t like bugs in general, from crickets to ants, they just gave him the creeps, but spiders had a special place in his nightmares. With years of practice, he’s gotten good at holding in a scream at the mere sight of one, but if one ever snuck up on him when he wasn’t expecting it? He’s going to end up in your lap or on top of the fridge, so you’d better practice your spider catching because your big bad boyfriend will dress in drag and do the hula before he goes near the damned thing.

Sugawara Koushi: he’s got such a big sweet tooth that he thought he’d learn to bake his own sweets, so far so good right? Wrong. Sugamama can do many things, but baking is not one of them. You wouldn’t think so, since he’s a decent cook, but apparently sweets are just not his thing. Of course, he did have to go and tell the whole team that he was going to make cookies that weekend and promised to bring them some, so guess who got to call his loving partner at way-too-late on a Sunday night to come over and please bake emergency cookies.

Azamune Asahi: Asahi has a full skincare routine that he religiously sticks to. You don’t know what half of those products in his bathroom are, but the fact is the man’s skin is as smooth as a baby’s bottom. He begs you not to tell his team about it though, he’d never hear the end of it from Suga and Daichi.

#haikyuu hcs #asahixreader #sugawara koushi #daichi x reader #haikyuu tanaka #tanaka x reader #nishinoya x reader #yamaguchixreader #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo fluff #hinataxreader #tsukishima x reader #kageyama x reader #teeth rotting fluff #also on ao3

[vixxiu]

Eddie's blue son

Being a single dad wasn’t easy: money were always thigh and time even more so, therefore what’s better than spend the afternoon together at the thrift store? Dustin was getting taller everyday (and his hair was getting puffier, which Eddie was really proud of) and Eddie really hoped he could find something, anything in the giant bins scattered around the shop before he was forced to steal Wayne’s shirts and use them as dresses for his son.

One of the bins looked particularly promising: it was mostly black and there was a big chance it was mostly suits that belonged to dead people but who knows… so Eddie placed Dustin’s hand on the chain connecting his wallet to his pants and started digging. He implemented the chain system a while ago, after noticing how absurdly fast the kid’s little legs were. He could always feel Dusting tugging at it, and it gave Eddie a sense of security that allowed him to perform whatever task required his attention. 

Right now, it was looking for decent clothes that smelled less than Wayne right after he got home from a 12 hours shift. It wasn’t easy and yet… wait, was that a Slayer shirt? He could swear it was. He almost jumped inside the bin, his whole arms buried in the fabric while he looked for the glimpse of red that caught his eyes.

It took him a good minute and some sweat but he managed to found it. He turned to show Dustin the treasure he just pulled out, just for his blood to run cold as there was no trace of the kid in his proximity.

Fuck. He was the worse. Eddie was the worse parent that has ever existed, and he was never going to see Dustin again. He deserved jail, he deserved…

“I’m sorry sir, but your son just turned blue…”

Eddie turned at the sound of the voice, just in time to see his four years old jump down from the arms of a shop assistant. He didn’t even register what the other just said, as relief washed over him, and he hugged his son.

“Never ever wander away from me like that. I’m too young to die because of a heart attack…” while speaking these last few words, he realized why the guy talked about the color blue: Dustin was covered in paint.

There was paint all over his clothes, in his curls, on his cheeks. This was bad, this was very bad. And it got even worse when he looked at the assistant with a panicked expression just to see that Dustin had spread paint all over the guy as well! This was it. They were going to get banned from the store and go around naked because this was the only nearby place with affordable decent clothes. And the worse thing is that the shopping assistant was Steve! His favorite one!

If he had to be honest, Eddie had developed a small crush on Steve. Actually, it was a big fat crush. He was too hot for Eddie to even think about shooting his shot, but at least up until now, thinking and daydreaming about Steve was one of the fastest ways to improve Eddie’s day.

At least up until now.

Steve was always put together, and it was evident he cared a lot about his appearance, so the young dad could only imagine how pissed the other actually was.

Eddie opened his mouth to start apologizing, but Steve seemed to read his mind because he laughed a little bit, before saying “This little rascal found some acrylic paint, good luck washing it off his hair!”

“I’m so so sooo sorry, I will pay for your clothes and every damage…”

“Dude, this is a thrift shop, I’m not gonna ask you 5 dollars to replace my working clothes which I bought here”

“This won’t prevent me for giving you a 5 dollar tip, at least. And Dustin will be grounded at least until he starts elementary school”

Steve laughed. Eddie had never heard him laughing and it sounded too good, so good that it sent a shiver down his spine, as he wished to hear the sound again and again. Except that this was not going to happened because his kid tried to destroy the shop where the other worked and they were getting banned.

“Seriously, it’s fine. I’m just glad he didn’t get hurt. Now, if you excuse me, I have some clean up to do…”

He replied and turned to walk away. Eddie tried very hard not to stare at his ass, but as every time Steve was in his proximity, he failed miserably. Except that this time it was worse: there were imprints of small blue hands on his ass! Eddie turned to Dustin to watch him with wide eyes as if a toddler could explain him what crossed his mind and made him create this whole mess. Truth to be told, Dustin was generally a very good kid, very well behaved, so much so that Wayne kept repeating he didn’t even seem to be Eddie’s son, so this was awfully out of character.

Eddie summoned the last bit of courage left in his bones to whisper. “I’m sorry my child touched your ass…” Steve turned to stare at Eddie again, a soft smile on his lips “Don’t worry. He just a kid, but you should teach him to respect boundaries.”

“I will definitely do that. He had never done anything like this and I can’t really think about a reason why he acted in such a way…”

“It’s soft” both the young men moved their attention to Dustin, who had just spoken for the first time since the whole fiasco started. “Dad, last time we were here you said that his bum looked soft, and it really is!”

Eddie couldn’t believe this! Betrayed by his own offspring. He started to move very slowly, as if he was trying not to anger a wild animal. He was going to grab Dustin and run far away from this shop and leave this whole town forever. Yes, this was a great plan.

“Ooooh, did he now?” Steve was smirking.

Dustin nodded solemnly.

“Then I want to hear all of his thoughts about it, maybe at dinner?”

Steve was watching Eddie expectantly.

This was going to be interesting.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #fic #steddie fic #my stuff