Hi! I really love your art :3 Your art is sososososososo pretty n you're kind of an inspiration to me cus I wanna Start drawing again in the summer n I hope I get as good as you! your art genuinely gets me awe-struck for a while tee hee
thank you for enjoying my works... I hope you create lots of things that you like this summer!!!
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thoughts on pottery date with hanma
it's such a domestic thing to him that he's a little put off by the suggestion at first. you're on the back of his bike, watching him smoke and racking your brain for something cute you could do with this man that wasn't illegal or bound to get you in trouble — and then it hits you!
you've taken a pottery class before, and it'd been fun. so when you remember that the art college nearby is having an open day, you make a decision. “so, shuji...”
when you give him the idea, he laughs at first. “you want me to walk in ‘n spin a lil flower pot with you? a vase? what, is this your way of tellin’ me i should be getting my pretty doll some flowers next time, hm?”
and then he realizes you're serious.
imagine him sitting awkwardly on one of the little stools by the wheel, watching you shape a blob of clay with the tools you'd been handed, content with just watching you bec each group that came in was given just a single wheel.
he's so cute 😭 with his knees to his chest because his legs are so long and he's sitting so low, not knowing what to do with his hands while he waits for your creation to take shape. he's so out of his element </3
everyone's quiet and playing nice at their own corners and shuji has never stepped foot into a college building in his life before, he just doesn't know how to act. he's quiet enough that you check up on him every now and then, wondering if this was really a good idea—
“shuji, baby, you alright?” “shuji, are you having fun?” to which he responds with a simple nod or tells you “dollface i hafta be doing somethin’ before i can say if it's fun or not.”
some of the others milling around the other wheels in the room have so many tattoos, and so many people have dyed hair and wild haircuts that he doesn't look out of place exactly, but his aura still has people glancing over at the two of you. not that he minds.
he watches you patiently, because hey, if you're okay with walking into underground fight clubs with him and watching him fight, and letting him into your house at 1am to patch up his bruises and injuries, he should be a good boyfriend and enjoy whatever you want him to do with you, too. and when you finally finish with your near-perfect bowl and let him try out the wheel and ribs himself, he ends up having more fun than he thought he would<3
hanma has big palms and long, deft fingers and so even though he's never done this before in his life, he gets the hang of it pretty quick. but he's still never done this before.
his brows furrow together with focus as he runs the sponge on the inside of his spinning clay and gently touches the sides of it with the ribs. he gets clay on his chin, on his shirt and it's all over his hands in a muddy mess 😭 ++ the work comes out little better than a wonky blob.
there's time for a clean up and a little tea break while the class waits for their things to dry, and hanma notices the much bigger, more complicated models people have made and feels sheepish as he stares at his blob. he feels better when you tug at his sleeve and giggle about it though, because even if you're making fun of him at least you're having a good time<3
“what's it supposed to be?” you ask, and he runs a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed as he admits in a gruff voice, “a flower vase. for you... don't fuckin’ laugh, baby.”
“for me?” you pout sweetly, and he rolls his eyes, snipping at your nose with two fingers and cracking a grin when you dodge with a yelp. and on the way home, with your bowl and his blob flower vase carefully wrapped in newspaper and stored in your bag, he tells you that he did have fun.
“we could... do more of that if y’like.” he blushes despite himself when you hug him from behind, half of your laughter lost in the wind as he swerves his motorcycle to take a right. he glances into the mirror, heart fluttering just a bit when he sees your smile. he's glad you can't see his face right now. he feels the heat on his cheeks well enough.
“never fuckin’ mind.” he drawls, teasing. “i'm never doin’ that again then. zero outta ten, dollface.”
“no!” you protest, grabbing his shirt and pinching his side a little, and fuck it fucking tickles, he almost crashes you both into a passing tree — and he tells you so.
“might as well die if you're never gonna make an ugly ass flower vase with me again,” you huff, moving your hands onto his shoulders instead. and he smiles, knows you feel his smile when you reach over to pull his cheek.
he really did enjoy it, so much more than he thought he would. and he knew you'd be displaying his ugly ass flower vase on the sill of your living room window anyway.
maybe next time he comes over, he really will get you some flowers — for you to put into it and look at them, and think of him whenever he's not around<3
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