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bippiti · 2 months

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505 cl16

where you reminisce on your first love

wc 3k

an done for my 1.2k event! first fic in the series, lmk if you wanna be tagged and as always pls like + rb<3

(starts in 2014, ends in 2024ish)

i'm going back to 505

you rushed down the road, feet peddling as hard as they could as you biked down the street. your eyes glanced down to your watch, squinting before you read the time. great. you were going to be late.

you thought that was you’re biggest problem, and then a new one came crashing onto you, literally.

while you were busy checking the time, you failed too notice someone else running in your direction. you don't know what had them too preoccupied to notice you- but you could technically say the same thing about yourself so-

you were bought back to the moment by the stinging you started to feel on your knees, you hissed looking down and seeing red. ugh

you began to apologize, looking up and stopping mid sentence.

wow. he was pretty. really pretty

you slapped yourself mentally, wincing while standing up. it was definitely going to scar. you reached your hand down to help the mysterious boy up, who sharply inhaled when your hands met. he had scraped his hands up pretty bad when you guys collided.

"i'm so sorry again"

"you're completely fine, i should've been paying more attention" he said while laughing

he has nice laugh

"anyway, i think i should properly introduce myself, i'm charles le clerc" this time he was the one to extend his hand out

"y/n l/n, nice to meet you" you smiled as you shook hands

then you remembered what had gotten you into this mess. you checked your watch again. you were definitely late now.

"i'm so sorry charles but im running late to a painting class, i really need to go" you picked up your bike, kicking the dust off of it.

"wait i am too, are you going to mme. callarios?"

you looked back at him in shock. "how did you know"

he shook his head, "you're going in the wrong direction, since we're heading the same way mind if i show you?"

you didn't see why not, so he climbed in front of you and began to head towards your class

if it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

the bike halted as you reached your destination. building 505. you stared at each other nervously before walking in. the class had started at 1pm, and it was nearing 2 when you arrived. granted, it was a 4 hour class but still.

you cringed internally as you felt all eyes on you when you opened the doors to the class.

"y/n, charles! great to see you. we've split up into partners, so you both will have to work together. decide who will be the painter and who will be the model for the first piece. switch in an hour and a half!" she explained quickly, ushering you both to the only empty table.

you both sat across from each other, and after a small game of rock paper scissors, you were adjusting in your seat getting ready to pose for the next 90 minutes.

when you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect?

you didn't know how you managed to keep a straight face, his stares were piercing into what felt like your soul. you knew that he had to be like this, he was painting you after all. but knowing that didn't help. after silently uttering some words of encouragement to yourself, you maintained a straight face.

after what felt like forever, you heard the timer go off, and with one last stroke of the brush charles was up and you were swapping places. you cracked your knuckles before sitting on the stool. this was gonna have to be the best painting you've ever done.

before you knew it you were hearing to now familiar ring as you finished off the details of his eyes. you stood up, backing away from the piece. not too bad you thought.

after everyone had finished, you went to the room across as they all dried. it was acrylic, so it wouldn't take too long. there were snacks and refreshments scattered throughout the space. grabbing a drink and seat, you started to learn more about charles. he had two brothers, one older and younger. his mom still cut his hair, you thought he might be embarrased but he showed it off proudly.

“all these years and she still hasn't given me a bad haircut”

“if my mom could cut hair like yours, i'd be getting it done by her too”

“you should come by her salon sometime, i think she'd like you”

“really?”

“yeah, she's out of town so next month when she's back”

with those plans made, you collectively went back into the painting room. you both swapped paintings and looked at them for a while.

you gauged his reaction, at first his face was blank and you were scared that you had made him look like a troll or something, but slowly a smile creeped up onto his face, he looked up to you.

“it's really good”

you smiled and looked down to yours, he had gotten your likeliness down to a t. he left clear marks and left the strokes visible.

looking up you saw him searching your eyes for a reaction, just like you had.

“you did so good, i love your painting style”

he seemed relieved when you said that, smiling. as everyone around you began to pack up and leave, you both exchanged numbers before grabbing your paintings and going your separate ways.

not shy of a spark

you had texted back and forth a lot since then, and soon enough you found yourself at the doorstep of his moms salon. after being welcomed in you sat down and showed her photos of the haircut you wanted. she nodded, and began to wet your hair

“charles talks about you a lot, you know”

“does he really” you said with a laugh

“he does, i think he likes you dear”

that shut you up, she smiled warmly

“at this age, love is everywhere, make sure you grab it while you can”

you left the appointment with amazing hair and a lot of questions, you didn't think he could possibly like you back. but now, who knows

the knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

I'm going back to 505

you walk into the painting studio, excited with the a dragonfruit in your hand. today was still life day, normally you found it boring but mme. callarios had let everyone bring their own fruit.

you spotted charles when you got in, and lifted your dragonfruit for him to see. he put his hand up, showing off the orange he had started to peel. he tore off a piece for you, and offered it once you got closer.

your hand was cramping as your eyes continued to squint at the pink fruit in front of you. you regretted picking dragon fruit barely half an hour in, the seeds and the outer skin were proving difficult to paint accurately, you glanced over to charles, his was coming along nicely. you ended up pushing through the ugly phase and were somewhat proud of the piece. it had definitely been your most challenging one so far

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

you were biking to charles' place, over the weeks you had both become closer, and he wanted to cook for you. you were somewhat scared, charles didn't seem like michelin star material, but maybe he'd surprise you.

he did end up surprising you, but not in the way that you thought.

pasta was on the menu for the afternoon, and you sat on the counter as he went around getting all the ingredients ready. basil, pine nuts, garlic, and olive oil were all pushed onto an island before he began on the pasta. getting out the flour and egg, he began to knead the dough together.

he looked nice in moments like this, comfortable. you liked to think that maybe you could see more of him like this, when he's quiet and the silence isn't awkward. existing together in his apartment kitchen. once he was done cutting the dough into pieces, he salted the water and dropped the pasta in. he came over to you and you both began talking.

you ended up getting so immersed in the conversation that the pasta was forgotten- at least until it was too late. you glanced over to the stove, eyes widening as you saw smoke rising from the pan. you both jumped up and yanked it off the gas, bringing it to the sink. what was going to be amazing pasta was now a charred rock. you couldn't help but laugh before getting side eyed by charles.

"i guess we're going to have to order pizza instead"

you ended up binging some random show you found on netflix, and as a souvenir took home the rock of burnt pasta, you named it char, short for charles charcoal

In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side

charles had become a f3 driver now, and hadn't been in monaco for a bit. you watched all his races, and you were the first person he called after his first win in pau-ville. he was excited, and so were you.

you're feelings for him had kept growing, and you couldn't help it, no matter how much you tried. you loved everything about him, his eyes, and how they'd light up when he saw you, his smile, and the dimples that formed when he did. his hair, his voice, just him.

soon enough he was back in monaco and you were excited to see him.

you grabbed coffee and began walking around the streets, stopping at building 505, walking into the currently empty studio. you looked around some of the paintings before sitting on some stools.

you knew him too well now, 3 years of friendship will do that. he was nervous, when he bought his hand up to his face you had saw he had bitten his nails. you didn't bring it up, but before you could say anything he started to speak

"i've been trying to figure out how i should say this for the longest time. i've known for a while now, but it really hit me in pau. i couldn't have don't any of this without you, i don't even think i'd be who i am without you y/n. and now that i'm back i can' t handle not telling you. i like you, i really like you"

you were stunned for a minute, before you kicked back the stool you were sitting in and kissed him. the puzzles had fallen into place, you couldn't believe it.

he deepened the kiss, bringing his hand to your waist as you sat in his lap. your fingers ran through his hair, tugging as you began to roll your hips against his.

you pulled away, panting. smiling at him before you began to kiss him again, his hands roamed down to your shirt, tugging it up as he separated from you again. you raised your arms, and took his off as well. a silent beat skipped between you both and you laughed

"are we really about to do this right now"

"yeah, i think we are"

you pulled him closer to you once again, his tongue slipped int your mouth effortlessly and you almost moaned, god he knew how to make you melt.

soon enough, the rest of your clothes followed suit and you were on the cool tile floor. as his hand started to trace your inner thigh you grabbed his hand. he looked up, somewhat confused but before he could say anything you spoke,

'i've never done this before"

he relaxes almost immediately, and smiles down at you

"neither have i"

you weren't ashamed to admit you were shocked, sopmeone like him.. never? not once?

he could see the gears turning in his head and he spoke up

"there were girls now and then sure, but i always wanted it to be you, it's always been you honestly"

you couldn't see yourself rn, but you were sure you were giving im heart eyes by now.

"it was the same for me too actually" you said sheepishly

"was it really?

"yeah, it was" and with that you bought your hands up to his shoulder, flipping him onto the floor. you kissed him softly, turning his face to kiss along his jaw, his neck, going further down to his chest, then stomach. pausing for permission, after seeing his nod you pulled down, eyes widening as you saw it. well this was gonna be interesting

you left kisses on his tip, working your way down before you took him all in your mouth. he hit the back of your throat and you almost choked, but hearing the moans coming out of his mouth kept you going. you could feel him start to pulse, and before you could do anything else he was bringing you off of him, kissing your lips as he turned you around.

“can’t have you doing all the work can i cher?” he said as he pulled your underwear down, almost moaning when he looked down at you, all of you.

he traced his hands down your sternum, down to your waist and legs. spreading you open he dipped his face down.

you could feel his tongue inside you, pulsing before he started scissoring you open. he was good- too good at this. you don’t know if you could handle it. soon enough, he was back on top of you, kissing you gently as he lined himself up with your entrance.

he cleaned you up afterwards, he was quiet, soft. you could get used to this

but I crumble completely when you cry

it had been months since that night, you and charles had been going strong, but after he joined f2, something changed. his eyes no longer lit up when he saw you, he started buying things for you instead of making them. you’d wake up to your phone being full of messages, but none of them from him.

it hurt. he hurt.

it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he called you, asking where you were.

you answered, mme. callarios’ place. he said he was going to be there soon.

you felt your heart drop, wether it was excitement or fear, you couldn’t tell.

you knew the minute he stepped through the door it was going to be bad. you could read him like a book. you composed yourself as he came closer, pressing quick kisses to the others cheeks, you painted a smile on your face and smiled at him.

his eyes were full of emotion, for the first time in months. it’s almost funny, you knew it was coming but the moment the words left his mouth you broke down

“i’ve been seeing someone else”

“i see”

at first it didn’t register, not really. a heartbeat later you felt the tears pricking at your eyes. you turned around trying to excuse yourself, but before you could take another step a sob escaped your lips. you started to cry. you couldn’t shut up, why couldn’t you just shut up? you could feel yourself gasping for breath, all the air in the world wasn’t enough for your lungs right now. you were getting lightheaded, knees turning shaky before ultimately giving up on you. the impact resonated around the empty room.

he stepped forward, kneeling down. his stupid, warm hands brushed up against your face, trying to wipe away your tears.

you couldn’t even push him off of you. you really were pathetic.

you managed to fight your way up, shaking and all but running out the door.

never again, you were never going to love anyone like that again

i’m going back to 505

you walked into a crowded room. your latest collection had been getting a lot of coverage in the media, and it was the last day it was up for the public. the pieces would be going to the individual buyers first thing tomorrow.

building 505. it no longer made a bitter taste seep into your mouth. it’s crazy to think a decade ago you were standing here painting him, how time flies.

the first few months were the worst. he was the only thing you could think of, you were a broken record. so naturally, you did the one thing that made you feel close to him again, painting. and it saved you

you could get out every thought you were too afraid to say out loud, every emotion you didn’t want to feel with simple strokes on canvas

you didn’t think anything would come of it, honestly. you were meant to go into investment banking, like your parents. the universe had other plans though

one of mme. callarios’ friends was a museum director, and took a liking to your pieces. he asked you to do some works on commission. word got around fast, and now you’ve made a name for yourself as an artist, in some ways all thanks to charles

charles. now he had his dream job, f1. working with the team he used to tell you about, the team he worshipped.

you were happy for him, sometimes you wonder if he was happy for you. you still think of him when you eat pesto, you still keep char in a jar under your bed, you have all of the paintings you made that summer in a closet collecting dust. there were pieces of yourself that you gave to him that will stay his even though you’re done.

none of that matters now though, you turn to someone who’s called your name and start explaining the piece they’ve asked about

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #scudia ferrari #charles leclerc x yn #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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lordymaru · 3 years

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I'm about to refute this entire essay with the simple explanation being:

The only interaction we've seen of these two is when she's a freaking 8 year old. Your self insert shows no boundaries.

And this is probably the last time I'll make a post about the stupidity behind the way the pair is viewed:

Note: I know there's people out there with a brain who ship these two in a more conventional way. In the end you do you, ship whatever you want, no one can prevent you from doing that, just don't be gross about it.

One of the parts being the Significance of their first encounter:

She’s a poor peasant girl who’s suffered immense trauma, suffering, and loneliness. Her initiative to help Sesshomaru came from her generosity

Exactly, she's alone for her family had been killed before her eyes, the villagers treat her like garbage. When she meets Sess he's wounded and simply in a bad state, both mentally and physically. Both of them are, the difference being he's a demon, a powerful one and for him to have ended in such a bad shape only stabbed at his pride- Rin on the other hand is a child, a human tiny child who is vulnerable and to him she poses no threat. Both of them are weak then.

At this point, it’s observable that despite knowing her story, her scars, and her difficulties, humans do not even empathize, let alone sympathize with Rin. It is the feudal era, after all. She’s a young, disabled orphan and the villagers only see her for what she lacks: a voice, a family, and a place of belonging.

Again with your feudal era shit. I can assure you the world is just as ugly today as it was before you and I existed. Next.

When he asks about her bruises, this is the first time anyone had ever afforded her a second glance.

This was a huge step forward for Sess, a huuuuuuge one for he showed interest in another living creature, not just any creature but a human. And for her it was probably like Christmas, for no one had showed her any mercy or interest. Ok you get a point. But oh, boy, how I'm about to spit on the next one:

The audience can see Sesshomaru calculate her body language, recognizing that she is mute. Instead of pressing her further or ignoring her outright, he attempts to comfort her (in his own way), making her feel that it is okay if she chooses not to answer him; that her desire to reply to him should only be a desire, not an obligation. I think, on one hand, that was the first moment of something that would resemble compassion that Sesshomaru had ever administered, trying to put himself in her shoes — if someone had asked him to do something that required, for example, his left arm, he probably would have appreciated them saying “you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to” so to provide him agency for something that he actually cannot do. And the same goes for Rin. He recognizes her disability, maybe even resonates with it and decides to empower her with a choice. Choice is important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic and it’s a word that will come up often.

Ok why are you comparing the loss of his arm to her not being able to talk? Not all disabilities are the same, you moron. Or am I dumb for thinking this way? If so, feel free to call me out on my lack of common sense kr whatever you wanna call it. Sess physically couldn't do shit with his left arm because well- it was gone! That's a physical disability. Rin had "lost" her voice after what she witnessed and so she wouldn't speak anymore. Have you heard of Psychogenic Dysphonia? If not, you can click here and give it a reading or do your own research. The more you know: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0892199703000158

So you say he "empowers her with a choice" that is "important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic" let me get this straight, a choice because why? She's a child? A female? Because you said so yourself, it's the Feudal Era after all and therefore women had no choice in life, no voice, no agency, no nothing. So he was being magnanimous then? You know... This is where you start edging into the gr00ming territory. Can't you see? No? Alright, moving on.

BRUH WHAT THE FUCK?! Are you fucking good? See how you self insert? Bye. Next

The next time Sesshomaru sees Rin, it is suggested that he actively sought her, whether it be by curiosity or concern for well-being

He did... It is not suggested, he actually did asdfhkl. For both curiosity and he probably was worried. He also states he wants to test out his sword, what a perfect chance to do so for Rin is pretty much dead and that's the only way to make his sword work. So she was both being a guinea pig and an itch he wasn't quite sure how to scratch. Next.

Silence Rin.

Rin screams endlessly, annoying Sesshomaru. Firstly, this is the first time we hear him call her by her name. Secondly, Sesshomaru is visibly annoyed by her noises, however, he does not tell her to “shut up” as he normally would with Jaken or even InuYasha. He simply says “enough of that Rin, stop it.” (In Japanese he says, “Silence, Rin. You make too much noise.”) Even analyzing the Japanese dialogue, it is evidently softer than Sesshomaru’s usual ‘kisama’ (貴樣) manner of speech that we see depicted usually. This is the first time he’s had a companion who is not a demon, someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return. His softer tone is a logical deduction to make.

Ok... "someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return." Bruh... As if he would even consider meeting someone's expectations. Are you sure you're talking about Sess? Another thing is, he always speaks in a calm tone, he rarely yells or loses his composure- he had no reason to be rude to her either, you're excusing his regular behavior simply because she ain't Jaken. Anything else?

Rin doesn't change Sesshomaru overnight, it's a gradual and long process

Well duh!!! Just like you don't lose the pounds you gained from eating in one sit 12 donuts a week ago. Stating the obvious and for what? What's exactly your mf point?

The silence part is important, idk how to tell you there is a power imbalance in their relationship from the moment he tells her to be quiet. He didn't say please, he didn't ask her to, he told her to be quiet. Like a parent would, if I could count the times my mom told me to shush.... That's your first indicator he is not her friend, he is not her equal.

Letting you Be Yourself: The Panther Demon Arc

the first frame the audience sees in the anime sets the scene, painting the Sessshomaru entourage in a serene manner, indicating a level of comfort between group members (episode 75). This is vastly different from our last depiction of Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship. In episode 44, he was unable to withstand her (albeit annoying) childish antics. But here, it’s observable that Sesshomaru can accept her and her package of unconventional fun. Not only does he tolerate and even more so, accept Rin, but he accepts her influence on his vassal, Jaken and allows them to be free around him.

Is called developing patience. I can assure you that when you're a parent or an older bro/sis and your kid/younger sibling is noisy af you either learn to tolerate that or get used to it for kids are kids abd you have to let them be kids. Next.

She's a child, she's not stupid.

The Abducted Rin: Calling her Name

The respect that Sesshomaru shows Rin is insurmountable. However, the InuYasha franchise is clever to portray the subtlety of Sesshomaru’s respect for her. KV on Twitter points out how highly he regards his companion and never relegates her to anything less than the value that she as a person embodies (@KVndie via Twitter). He consistently humanizes her.

He only sees how important she is to him after her ass dies a second time. What do you mean? He respects her enough to not coddle her, she is independent and taught her to be self sufficient from the very start. That's respect. He consistently humanizes her because... She ... Is ... Human! OMG WHAT A SHOCKER!

As Naraku remarks on his hostage to Sesshomaru, "Naturally, the girl you're looking for is not here…,” he continues, “the girl is in custody outside of the castle..." Naraku never makes an attempt to give her personhood, leaving her unnamed, disposable, and relegating her to a mere "girl." But Sesshomaru doesn’t take any of this. He is a cold-hearted Daiyokai, yet he still makes an effort and upholds his principle to refer to her as Rin — not a replaceable “girl.”

Naraku is a mf genius. It didn't quite click until now he wanted to see if she was important or not to him and to what extent. For he planned his moves that way, making people turn against one another. While he wouldn't have made Rin turn against Sess he set everything up so he would end up wanting to kill Kohaku and in doing so, Inugang would have engaged against Sess.

Sesshomaru’s insistence on using Rin’s name isn’t only highlighted in this isolated incident though. It pays off. It is an ongoing theme in their dynamic throughout the series.

That's her name ... How you want him to call her? Baby?

I could go on and on but... This is a fucking essay. And then I stumble against more bullcrap:

The second point I want to highlight here is Sesshomaru’s reaction to Rin’s fall and her risky expedition. At this point, it’s unquestionable that Rin has a special place in his heart.

Of course she has a special spot in his heart. I won't deny that. What worries me is how you're trying to justify the way she's important to him since she was a child. As if his way of seeing her had changed.

I'm gonna disagree by agreeing with you in a few pointers. Kagome and Kikyo were rivals, they both romantically love the same guy. Kagome being the only one who could save Kikyo chooses to help her, knowing damn well Inuyasha would have suffered if Kikyo had died- further more, if it was in Kagome's hands to do something about it.

Rin on the other hand, I will applaud to her how she grew past her fear of Kagura after being kidnapped by her, she saw her body in the river and said fuck it and did her best to try to pull her from the water. I loved how stubborn and brave she was, even tho Sess had to pull everyone out of the water- she deserves a gold star. You go baby girl!!!

Rin later makes a cheeky comment, noting Kagura’s romantic interest in Sesshomaru. Jaken brushes this off as childish naivety. But for the spectator, this establishes two things: (1) That Rin does not see Kagura as a rival for Lord Sesshomaru’s attention, let alone affection; and (2) that Rin is still a child. Rin is certainly a child, with a youthful and fresh outlook on life that brings out the best in people. But even as a child, her relationship with Sesshomaru is incredibly healthy, clear, and surprisingly communicative.

Why would she? She's not a spoiled brat

Nah? I thought her double D indicated otherwise. OF COURSE SHE'S A MF CHILD.

Why do you keep mentioning is healthy? Do you need reassurance of it? Communicative in what way? Cuz if you wanna talk about communication let's talk about how he didn't even acknowledge her ass when she gave birth. He didn't even say her name, didn't even look at her. Tell me now how they are communicative and healthy?

I could go on, I really but all I'm getting from this load of bullshit I'm forcing myself to read is how you do in fact need to reassure yourself thr ship is god tier and is... How you said it was? Ah, healthy.

Anyways, thanks for reading and if you see any typo ... My apologies, I tried. Also if you have any input or I was out of line in some way, my apologies once more.

#anti sessrin #antisessrin #anti-sessrin

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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Kinktober - Day Eleven

Prompt: Office Desk

Pairing: Kuroo/Reader (Haikyuu!!)

TW: Non-Consensual Touching, Abuse of Power, Implied Financial Manipulation, Sexual Harassments, Delusional Mindsets, and Dehumanization.

It wasn’t even his desk.

Kuroo didn’t have one, technically. He had a dedicated conference room, three different phone numbers, and business cards he found a reason to hand out so often, you’d learned to put in a request for replacements every other week whether or not he asked, but he didn’t have a desk, he just wasn’t on-site enough for there to be a need. You had one, though. As his personal assistant, you had your own office, something you never would’ve dreamed of when you first signed up for an internship under the Volleyball Association. It’d seemed like a miracle when he first showed off your new territory, and you thanked him so profusely and so wholeheartedly, you were almost scared he’d revoke the privilage just to calm you down. For a few weeks, you’d loved it. For a few weeks, it made you feel like you belonged with your infinitely more qualified coworkers. For a few weeks, it made you feel like you were an actual professional.

Now, it just made you feel like a trophy, one who’d been more than happy to lock itself into a gilded case.

You find yourself wishing you hadn’t put so much effort into decorating, a lot of the time. It might’ve made it easier to let Kuroo bury his face in the crook of his neck if you didn’t find your attention drifting to the painting you’d hung on the closest wall, just over his shoulder, from your current perspective. If you’d never brought in a succulent, short and round with needles that were softer than they were sharp, it might not hurt so much to hear the ceramic pot hit the floor and shatter as he shoved it to the side, your skin stifling soft curses as dirt and shards of clay spilled over the carpeted floor. You might not feel so filthy, if you hadn’t thought to bring in a framed picture of your family, all smiling faces and bright expressions and prying, unblinking eyes that burnt holes in your back as his fingers brushed against your thigh, as his teeth brushed against your shoulder, as he touched you in a way that was anything but appropriate for the workplace you thought you could grow to love. The workplace you really, really wanted to love. The workplace Kuroo had laughed at, crumpled, and ripped to shreds the moment his hand dipped to your lower back and he admitted you’d be doing more than just making spreadsheets and scheduling appointments.

He’d just come back from one of his frequent business trips earlier that afternoon, and it showed. You should’ve made and excuse the moment he called you from the airport, the moment he told you he’d be stopping by the office to finish some post-contract paperwork, and you should’ve screamed when he took you by the wrist and asked you to stay for just a few minutes longer than the rest of the staff, for just long enough for you and him to have the floor to yourselves. You’d just nodded, though, agreed and let him drag you onto your desktop, posed like a perfect, complacent, obedient doll as he took you by the hips and forced his tongue down your throat. You could only consider yourself lucky he’d gotten bored of your mouth quickly, and his lips were on your neck, now, biting and sucking until he knew he would leave marks.

The receptionist would probably ask you about it tomorrow, and you’d laugh and say your date last night had gotten a little intense. It’d be a lie, but at this point, telling the truth sounded more implausible than any amount of fictional one-night stands and nonexistent boyfriends ever could.

You wished he wouldn’t talk, you really wished he wouldn’t talk, but Kuroo had never been very good at keeping quiet. “A week.” He was muttering, mumbling, talking to himself and only barely bothering to process the idea that you might hear him. You couldn’t blame him, honestly. You tried not to talk when Kuroo got like this, and he liked to fill the silence. He didn’t seem to care whether or not you were listening. “Those fuckers kept me away from you for a week. I couldn’t think about a damn thing,” He chuckled, shaking his head. You couldn’t see him, but you felt his grin as it pressed against your shoulder, Kuroo eager to get you as close as possible and trap you there, until he was forced to let go. “Almost fumbled the deal ‘cause I was so desperate to get back. I thought I was losing my mind, for a second there.”

“You could’ve called.” It was a weak attempt to placate him. You were thankful for every hour he was gone, for every minute you could concentrate on your work rather than the needs and urges of your boss, but you might be able to tolerate more exposure to him, if it just meant he was a little less touchy when you saw him in-person. “It’s not like I have anything better to do, when you’re not here.”

He pulled away, at that, just long enough to send you a playful smile and bring up one of his hands, nimble fingers soon toying with the buttons of your shirt, undoing them with all the grace and all the speed of someone who had far too much experience. You didn’t bother trying to stop him. Last time you did, he’d left a ring of bruises around your wrists, and your back had ached for days, afterwards - hell, he’d even threatened to cut your pay for ‘insubordination’. If you resisted, it meant he got to be rough with you. And if he was rough, he wouldn’t stop being rough until he knew you were too beaten-down to make the same mistake twice.

“Missed me that much, huh?” You didn’t deny it or indulge him, but Kuroo was already moving on, tugging on your sleeve and letting crisp, white fabric wrinkle and pool, exposing the top of your chest. Your fists tightened as he kissed over the area above your collarbone, your nails biting into your palms as his teeth sunk into tender flesh, harsh enough to draw specks of blood. There was a moment to let the indents set, a second of searing, burning pain, then Kuroo withdrew, looking over his work with a satisfied huff. “You shouldn’t say things like that, baby. Every time you do, I think about how sweet it’d be to bring you home.”

There it was, the ever-looming threat, the worse alternative - he was going to bring you home. He’d told you about the life he wanted countless times, ranting about how nice it would be to have someone to keep his bed warm, about how he’d always like the idea of a stay-at-home partner, about how cute you’d look in an apron and little else. Spending a third of your day dealing with Kuroo was bad enough. You couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t let him monopolize your personal life, too. “I like having a job,” You managed, hastily, straightening your back and forcing yourself to take him by the shoulders. “I’ve never been very good at cooking and cleaning, I’m a lot better with--”

“You’re a lot better at keeping your dirty mouth shut.” Instantly, you fell silent, and Kuroo hummed contentedly. “I know you can learn, (Y/n). You’re so smart, and resourceful, and beautiful - that’s why I hired you.” You winced at the admission, but he didn’t seem to notice. The only hint that he acknowledged your disappointment came in the form of a fleeting peck to the corner of your jaw, an arm snaking around your waist and pulling you towards him, until your chest was flush with his. “You know how to do what's best for yourself, and I know what’s best for you. My pretty little secretary is never gonna work for anyone else. I’m the only one you whore yourself out to, right now, and I’ll be the only person who gets to see your face everyday, nobody else can.” He paused, but he didn’t hesitate. His tone was arrogant, when he continued, confident. As if there was no doubt in his mind you couldn’t take care of yourself, not on your own. “Nobody else deserves to, besides me.”

You weren’t a secretary, you were an assistant. It was a small distinction, and aside from the name, there was virtually no difference, but it nagged you, eating away at something in the back of your mind until you had to say something. You almost corrected him. You tried to, but as soon as you moved to speak, there was a shove, a push that left you lying on your back and made your desk shake under the force. A jar of pens tipped over, a stapler toppled onto its side, and something made of glass fell over and cracked, loudly. Your picture frame. It had to be your picture frame, you were sure of it.

For some reason, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be replacing it.

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 3 years

Note

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” destiel, for the prompts! <3

The paint’s supposed to go where?” + Destiel, courtesy of @contemplativepancakes. Thank you so much for your patience <3

Rated M(ish). 2.5k

"The paint's supposed to go where?" Dean asks, shooting Cas a look that's half confused, half incredulous, and half horrified, which is one too many halves but Dean's never been good enough at math to care, especially not when his roommate of several years is staring at him like he’s stupid but doesn’t want to say anything out of misplaced politeness (it’s okay, Cas, Dean knows he’s an idiot, no need to sugar coat it).

Cas scrunches up his brows and it’s clear as day he’s confused about Dean’s confusion. "On...your...body?" He asks more than says, speaking slowly and it's a testament to how well Dean knows his best friend that he understands the meaning behind Cas' words. Is this okay? Are you sure you want to do this?

Dean glances back and forth between Cas and the paintbrush in his hand. “I thought you wanted to paint me?” he asks, uncertainty coloring his tone.

“No, I asked if I could paint on you.” Cas clarifies.

Dean doesn’t know jack shit about art, it’s why he’s a STEM major, but now he’s starting to wonder if he shouldn’t do that either, because really, who in their right mind would trust a person who can’t tell the difference between painting someone and painting on someone with an electrical system? Not Dean, that’s for damn sure.

“You want to...paint on me?” Dean repeats back to him, slowly, and as an added bonus even points to himself as if Cas could possibly be referring to anyone else in the empty studio.

Cas blinks. Then, he nods, patience and exasperation fighting for dominance on his features. In the end, understanding tinged with disappointment wins as he says, “if you’re not comfortable with this, I understand...”

“No,” Dean’s mouth blurts out before his brain has time to process Cas’ comment. “I said I’d help you with your project and I will.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asks hopefully, fidgeting with the paintbrush in his hands.

No. “’Course I am.”

Cas’ face lights up in appreciation and the butterflies in Dean’s stomach flutter up a storm cause they clearly have nothing better to do. Still, the look on Cas’ face when Dean accepts his challenge is enough to put the misunderstanding behind them and let go of his uncertainty.

Until it’s time for Cas to paint on Dean.

When Cas originally asked Dean to help him with his assignment, Dean thought he’d pose for a couple hours and Cas would paint him like a 16th century monarch (never mind that Dean wanted Cas to paint him like one of his French girls). And he was cool with that, hell, he even looked forward to it (spending time with Cas, that is, not holding the same position for who knows how long). Dean even did some stretches and practiced holding various positions for several minutes.

Nothing could have prepared him for Cas scooping up some brown (”it’s not brown, Dean, it’s called ‘Burnt Umber’”, whatever the hell that means) paint on his brush, walking into Dean’s personal space like he owned it (he did, good God he did), and painting broad strokes onto Dean’s pale, freckled chest. Dean shivers the second the cold paint touches his skin and Cas barely gives him time to adjust to the temperature and weird sensation of bristles on his skin before he goes to town painting...whatever the hell he’s painting.

Cas furrows his brows and Dean watches him stick his tongue out in concentration and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“So, uh, this paint safe for people?” Dean asks fighting a shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature of the paint and everything to do with the way Cas gently places his hand on Dean’s waist as he paints jagged lines across Dean’s chest.

Cas pauses to look up at Dean. “Of course.” he answers. “I would never ask this of you if I knew it wasn’t safe.”

Dean distractedly nods his understanding, his attention split between the sparkle in Cas’ clear blue eyes and the unfamiliar yet warm feeling ballooning in his chest. He looks away and forces himself to pay attention to his surroundings, afraid he might say something stupid if he continues staring into Cas’ eyes like that.

As far as college level art classes go, this one’s no different than most. It’s got several easels, canvases, paint brushes, and tubes of paint scattered all over the floor, tables, and open drawers. The sunlight streaming from the three floor-to-ceiling windows light up the room more than the dollar store bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The dark grey walls are littered with murals in various stages of completion: sketched out, drawn, half painted and painted. Dean briefly wonders where the artists are and why they never finished before his eyes land on the creepy skeleton in the far right corner. It doesn’t have eyes, but Dean swears Michaelangel-Bones (as the art students named it for reasons Dean will never understand) stares at him.

Having had his fill of the offending decoration in the corner, Dean turns to face Cas only to frown when he doesn’t immediately spot his friend. Motion captures his attention and he looks down to see Cas, on his knees, in front of Dean, getting some green paint before carefully painting small strokes across Dean’s stomach, one hand on his waist.

Dean’s brain stops working and his heart, doing the exact opposite, pounds so fast he’s surprised it doesn’t beat out of his chest like they do in cartoons. But why would it, when it’s too busy pumping blood down south?

Dean tears his eyes away from the incredibly attractive sight of Cas on his knees and faces Michaelangel-Bones as if the skeleton’s gonna help him keep it in his pants. Although, weirdly enough, thinking about the disturbing skeleton whose not-eyes follow him around the studio actually does help Dean squash down his inappropriate thoughts about his roommate. Just to be on the safe side, he conjures a few very unsexy images (the time he accidentally walked in on his parents doing the horizontal tango, him and Charlie pigging out at the local buffet, stuffing their mouths and making gross faces at one another) all in an effort to get Little Dean under control.

Once his thoughts, feelings, heart, and Little Dean are all under control, he risks glancing down at Cas.

Cas who’s carrying on, painting God-knows-what on Dean’s stomach, casual as can be, completely oblivious to Dean’s internal monologue, seemingly unaffected by being practically face-to-face with Little Dean. He’s staring at Dean’s pudgy stomach with the same intensity as earlier when he was painting Dean’s chest.

All of Dean’s hard (heh) work making sure Little Dean behaves himself almost goes out the window when he notices Cas is sticking his tongue out a little in concentration and Dean wishes he was using his tongue for something else.

Dean berates himself for going down that road before thinking unsexy thoughts again, Don’t think about that, think about the time we didn’t realize Miracle was a girl until she had puppies. He better get his thoughts about Cas under control before he runs out of unsexy thoughts and Cas ends up coming face-to-face with Dean’s feelings for him. The last thing Dean wants is to make things awkward between them by being forced to admit he’s been in love with his best friend for years because said friend notices his boner.

"Done with the front," Cas chimes in. Thank God, Dean thinks, the torture is over. Dean's heart rate begins to slow down a bit and his thoughts settle. He relaxes.

That is, until Cas says, "Now it's time for the back," his voice a bit deeper than usual, giving Dean a nervous yet appreciative smile and Dean's heartbeat spikes all over again.

He returns Cas' smile, hoping he doesn't look as nervous as his friend did while trying not to let his mind run wild with possible explanations for Cas' nervousness.

Instead, Dean focuses on Cas and his friend walks around him, deliberately not facing Dean, squeezes out some light blue and some yellow paint onto his clear, paint-covered pallet, cleans his current brush and gets a new one.

Dean clears his throat. "So, uh, whatcha workin' on?" He asks in an effort to distract himself, fidgeting with the hem of his jeans. It's not that he's not interested in what Cas is doing, whatever it is he's doing, it's just that he really needs a distraction from the heat of Cas' hand on his waist.

"I'm painting a tree on your chest and the rest of the garden on your back." Cas responds just as his brush begins to paint long, broad strokes across his tailbone.

Dean shivers from the touch which only makes Cas squeeze his waist and now Dean's shuddering for a completely different reason.

"Dean, I need you to stay still, please." Cas reminds him, stern but not unkindly, pausing his process while Dean gets himself under control.

"Sorry." Dean replies. Once Dean is still, Cas continues painting across his back. It tickles a little as the bristles leave trails of cold, wet, and slightly slimy paint over his muscles.

Dean feels more than sees Cas’ precise brushing motions, feels Cas’ hot breath heat up the goosebumps adorning his skin and his breath hitches.

Cas stops painting.

Dean looks over his shoulder to find Cas already staring at him. He meets Cas’ gaze and swallows. “Everything alright, Cas?” Dean speaks softly into the space between them, which, Dean notices, isn’t much.

“Dean, I...” Cas trails off.

This close, Dean can see his friend’s dilated pupils and he’s certain his are, too. “Yeah, Cas?” Dean asks softly and tentatively, worried that if he speaks too loudly it’ll ruin the moment between them, pop it like a bubble. He swallows again, somewhere in the back of his mind wondering when his mouth got so dry.

Cas responds by leaning into Dean’s space and all his thoughts about his feelings for his roommate ruining their friendship fly out the window as Cas lightly rakes his nails up Dean’s side, over his shoulder blade, and down his arm.

Dean shudders in response, loving the feel of Cas’ hand on his body, although he wishes the guy would put both hands on him.

Cas’ hand slides down his Dean’s arm slowly, as if afraid going any faster might scare Dean off.

Once Dean feels Cas’ hand in his own, he intertwines their fingers and squeezes his hand as if to say I’m not going anywhere.

The soft look in Cas’s eyes becomes so intense, Dean’s surprised his pupils aren’t heart-shaped like in cartoons. Nevertheless, he returns Cas’ heart eyes and he swears he stops breathing and his heart stops beating in his chest as the world around them disappears.

No more sunlight streaming through the windows, no more Michael Angel-bones staring creepily at Dean, no more cold, wet paint drying slowly on his skin; only him and Cas and the small space between them that keeps getting smaller and smaller until their lips brush.

He distantly hears Cas’ paintbrush clatter as it falls on the floor but Cas runs his now empty hand through Dean’s hair and nothing else matters except closing the all but nonexistent space between them.

He’s not sure who moves first, only that one second there is a space between them and the next second Cas’ chapped, pillow-y lips are on his.

The angle is awkward and hurts Dean’s neck but it’s worth it because the kiss is sweet and gentle and everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

They part only when they run out of breath and Dean rests his forehead on Cas’. They keep their eyes closed a little while longer, still a bit dazed from their kiss.

After a few moments, Dean slowly turns around. He opens his eyes and takes in the sight of Cas' unruly hair, heart eyes, the tiny blush coloring his cheeks, and his spit-slicked lips. Gazing into Cas' eyes, Dean finally understands what that funny yet warm feeling ballooning in his chest is.

Love.

"I love you," Dean blurts out, his mouth moving faster than his brain can keep up. He looks down at Cas' shirt collar, unable to meet his gaze, afraid of what he might see.

"I love you, too," Dean looks up at Cas' wavering tone. Cas' eyes are watery and Dean wipes the single tear streaming down his face.

"You - you do?" Dean whispers in disbelief. Somebody pinch him because he must be dreaming if his hot best friend actually reciprocates. "L-love me? Like, love me, love me?" Dean clarifies. It's stupid and he's well aware it is but he has to know, he has to make sure Cas doesn't mean it in the friend way.

"Yes, Dean," Cas answers in a steadier voice with a chuckle and Dean's heart soars. "I love you, love you."

Dean wraps his arms around Cas' neck and pulls him in for a desperate kiss.

Cas must have been expecting it because he wastes no time wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and giving as good as he’s getting.

They make out for several minutes, only pausing to breathe, letting their lips do all the talking, their kisses saying everything they've never dared speak out loud.

Eventually, Cas breaks the kiss and Dean whimpers at the loss of contact. As they separate, Cas’ shirt peels off of Dean’s chest, which feels really tacky. Dean and Cas wear matching grimaces as they take in the paint on Cas’ shirt. It’s the mirror image of the tree and grass painted on Dean’s chest except the edges are smeared making it look like a blurry photograph.

Dean stares at Cas’ shirt a little longer before the realization that he ruined Cas’ painting hits him. The color drains from his face as he looks at Cas with wide eyes. “Your painting, Cas, man, I am so sorry —”

Cas meets his look and his grimace gives way to a small smile and he lifts one shoulder in a shrug, as if to say what can you do? “Dean,” he interrupts, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I ruined your —” Dean tries.

“Dean, it’s alright.” He reassures. “You didn’t ruin anything.” A pause. “And if I recall correctly —” he smirks as his cheeks fill with a rosy pink color, “— I am equally to blame for ruining my project.”

Dean glances at Cas’ discarded paintbrush on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck at the memory of them making out moments ago. “Still…” Unconvinced and a bit guilty despite Cas’ reassurance, Dean prompts.

“Besides,” Cas grabs his hands. “I have more important things to do.” Cas gives him a very heated and suggestive look. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Dean swallows, hard, and nods a response, speechless at Cas’ words. He’s never really seen this side of his roommate and best friend but he is not complaining and plans on taking full advantage of this newfound discovery.

And in the middle of the day, in the middle of the art classroom, he does just that, Cas’ painting long forgotten in favor of doing another kind of project.

#sapphirecobaltwrites #Destiel fanfic #inbox asks #fanfiction prompts #college au #asks: contemplative pancakes #artist cas #model dean

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years

Text

Draw

REAL LIFE: COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: SEXY AF

I sat on my sofa lounging sexually in my half open shirt holding my face wit my hand.

"Why am I doing this?" I asked turning my eyes enough I could see y/n my next-door neighbour, sat on the chair with her pencils and her drawing pad

"I asked if you where busy, you said no, I said did you wanna make twenty quid, and here we are." she smiled "You're being a very beautiful model Thomas" she smiled

"why thank you" I smiled

"Don't move" she says as he draws

"Sorry" I said doing my best to keep still, "can I see?"

"when I'm done" she giggled "pull your shirt open a little bit more"

"Uhh sure" I nodded opening my shirt a little more but trying not to move to much as to not disturb her drawing, "Have you always likes drawing people?"

"No, I'm just bored in lockdown" she shrugs as she draws,

"Ohh fair enough," I shrug "can't you draw stuff at home?"

"Do you not want twenty Quid?"

"I do want twenty quid"

"Then quiet, and stop moving" she says

"Sorry, not used to having to sit so still so long" I laughed "You know, I kinda like to draw and paint to, if you like maybe when your done drawing me I can do you?"

"Maybe, I have been looking for someone to do me" she smirked

"what do- Ohh! no no I didn't mean it like that"

"sure you didn't Thomas?" she giggled "All done"

"Really? can I see?"

"Well all done with this section, I need to to the next bit now"

"Okay?"

"Take your pants off" she smiled sharpening her pencil

"WHAT!" I yelped

"Take off your pants, so I can do the next section. I was going to get you do when I made you change your shirt but I figured it would take time and I didn't want you to get cold"

"ohh, well that's considerate I guess"

"Yeah, cold doesn't do good for performance of the area I need" she smiled

"Why do you wanna draw me with my pants off?"

"Don't question my art"

"I am not taking my pants off"

"why not? It's your house"

"Yeah but I barely know you. your my neighbour"

"You think I haven't seen you in your underpants?"

"Wait you have seen me half naked?"

"Yeah, lots. you do tend to walk around in your underpants?"

"I wasn't aware you where looking"

"I don't look I just look out my window looking for birds and see you eating cheetos in your underpants" she laughs "To be fair like you haven't seen me walking around in my nightie"

"... Touché" I sighed I had seen her walking around her house in her little nightie, I had seen it a lot. "I'm not letting you draw me in my underwear y/n"

"why? It's great."

"Becuase I don't wanna take my pants off"

"do you not want twenty quid?"

"I do want twenty quid." I sighed "but you think I'm getting half naked for twenty Quid?"

"I don't know Thomas, how much did Netflix pay you for walking around half naked?"

"More then twenty quid."

"Twenty five."

"hundred."

"Thirty."

"Nintey."

"Thirty and I'll buy you a pizza."

"Sixty and a pizza"

"Thirty, A Pizza and ice cream"

"What do you think I am!"

"Ohh honey we've established what you are, now were just negotiating."

"... I see what you did there" I sighed

"Final offer. Thirty five, pizza, ice cream and you can draw me in my underwear?"

"The underwear your currently wearing or can I make you change?"

"depends"

"On?"

"How lazy I feel?"

"Fair enough, it would depend"

"On?"

"Which you have on" I shrug

she smiled pulling her dress down a little flashing her black and purple bra at me

"That'll do"

"I'll throw this out there, thirty quid, you can draw me, I'll buy us takeout for dinner, and as a good will gesture I'll throw in a blow job"

"Rebuttal"

"I'm listening"

"Thirty five, I get to draw you on my bed in your underwear, you order us KFC for dinner, and sex?"

"..... Yeah alright"

"Deal?"

"Deal"

"Good," I smirked undoing my belt for her and kicking my jeans off "Are you gonna draw me like one of your French boys y/n?"

"And you lost the sex."

"what no!" I whined

"That's what you get for making terrible jokes" she says as she began drawing me

"Will I still get a blowjob?"

"Maybe, depends how good of a model you are" she smiled leaning over to have a sip of tea and giving my cheek a kiss "How much did the BBC pay you for getting naked?"

"Hu?"

"Accused. the shower scene" she giggled

"Ooh, I wasn't naked"

"You looked pretty naked to me"

"Tv magic my darling" I winked

"How? I see hip, I see V and hands you where fucking naked."

"I wasn't naked I swear."

"Nearly naked then"

"More then take out and a blow job"

"and thirty quid."

"Yes the all important thirty quid. what take out do you want actually?"

"Don't care. I'll decided that post blowjob never eat before sucking dick. bad for everyone"

"why?"

"I might throw up"

"My dick isn't that big"

"I know."

"Hey!"

"Or for example, if I was to have a super spice chicken item or something and then suck your dick"

"ahhhh! ahh that's a good point"

"Ooohh you want Chinese food?"

"Yeah good with me" I shrug "Can you uhhh do me a favour?"

"Sure"

"Can you uuuhh... Enhance your drawing a little?"

"Are you serious?"

"A little, I don't know I feel like since your drawing me I should you know. be at my best and. it's cold in here"

"so you want me to make it look like your dick is to your knees?"

"... If you wouldn't mind?"

"No Thomas. I strive for realism" she giggled

"so your making my dick small?"

"I'm making your dick the size it appears to be Thomas."

"... you couldn't even let me get hard before you do this?"

"Would you like a break to get hard?"

"No I'm posed now" I sighed

"Would you like me to take my dress off?"

"Id be open to it"

"Would you now?" she giggled leaning over i smirked leaning back a little and giving her a kiss

"You nearly done?"

"I've been done for ages. I just wanted you to sit around in your underwear and see how long it would take for you to get horny."

"You are an evil little thing aren't you?"

"wouldn't you like to know" she winked turning to the next page in her book she haded the book to me and her pencils getting up slipping off her dress in my doorway, "laid on your bed you wanted me wasn't it?" she giggled

"Uhhh... yeah" I smirked getting up taking the stuff over to gently stroke her sexy skin

"Good, I'll get into a nice pose," she smiled

"Go get comfy darling, I'll be up in a minuet" I told her giving her a kiss and she happily ran off upstairs, I smirked getting a nice bottle of wine from my kitchen and following her up

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retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

style | jaehyun

title: style pairing: jaehyun x black!reader genre: fluff request: “I was watching the bts for the photo shoots for neo zone and made think about how fun it would be on set with them. Do you think you could write something more jaehyun centric about being like a new makeup artist on set. It can be a black reader as well if that’s cool with you” word count: 2.8k warnings: none that i can think of except some cursing a/n: oof okay my mind somehow skipped over the “new” part so the reader in this fic is actually pretty experienced w/ being a makeup artist. i could rewrite it but i didn’t want to wait any longer to post this fic since it’s already been a couple weeks since the request. i’m sorry if this is not what you were looking for anon, let me know 🤕

Being a Black makeup artist in a mostly Korean music industry can be weird at times. It’s not the life of roses and perfume that many others at the beginning of your career would’ve had you think it is, but you have managed to carve out your own niche. You have friends and people who support you, and a nice apartment you’re able to pay for with the salary you receive from SM, which is enough for you.

It also doesn’t hurt to be surrounded by pretty men all the time.

You worked for many different groups and solo acts before landing a steady job at SM Entertainment—some were nicer than others, and some were straight-up assholes. You can’t say you miss those days much, especially when you were just starting out and not always certain of where your next paycheck was coming from. Now, your most consistent clients have been NCT, which you are grateful for; they’re always pleasant and fun to work with.

Your latest work with them involves NCT 127’s new album, Neo Zone. You’re coming in today for the first day of the album jacket photoshoot, which you’re excited about; you haven’t seen any of the NCT members since you worked on Coming Home. You don’t mind doing makeup for the other SM acts, but there’s a certain connection you have with this group that you just can’t explain.

With your makeup bag on hand, you enter the studio where the boys are going to be shooting today, already taken aback by the loud orange checkerboard pattern on the floor. There are even garish deer heads and hooves mounted up on the walls; SM has really outdone themselves this time.

“Y/N, it’s you!” Jaehyun looks excited to see you, and his enthusiasm rubs off on you; you shoot him a welcoming smile back.

“Hi Jaehyun,” you say, walking over to where he’s standing. Jaehyun doesn’t hesitate to open his arms to give you a hug, and you appreciate the soothing smell of his cologne before pulling away.

Jungwoo and Mark run up to you too, crushing you between them in a hug, and pretty soon you end up embracing all of the boys as they come over for your attention.

“Wow, that is some hairstyle…” you say as you pull away from Johnny. You reach up to pinch one of his twists between your fingers, examining it with a look halfway between mortification and amusement.

“Do you like it?” he asks, an equally awkward grin on his face.

“Um…I’m sure the fans will love it.” You can only chuckle and pat him on the arm before making your way back over to Jaehyun to start on his look for the shoot. You pull your supplies out of your makeup bag as Jaehyun watches you from the chair; his attention is eventually drawn away when Taeil comes over to show him something on his phone.

When you have everything ready and have pinned his hair out of the way, you start painting his face.

Jaehyun only has one AirPod in his ear; you’re not sure where the other is, but you figure it must be with Taeil or one of the other members. You think he’s just listening to music without paying you any mind, but he says suddenly, “I like when you come around.”

“Oh, really? Why is that?”

“I dunno, your makeup just looks better…” He lowers his voice as if he doesn’t want the other makeup artists to hear, and you laugh inwardly.

“Maybe it’s because I know how to use the right foundation shade.” You both laugh openly at that, and Haechan takes notice, dropping in beside Jaehyun.

“What are you two laughing about? I wanna laugh too,” the younger man says, his eyes round and mischievous.

“Just the fact that it’s no fun to walk around with makeup looking like Casper the Ghost,” you say, and Haechan scoffs.

“Try telling that to….” Haechan’s eyes dart around, and you suspect the makeup artist he wants to throw shade on must be at the shoot with them right now. “...nevermind, that’s a discussion for the group chat!” Instead, he goes over to Taeyong to bother him.

“Group chat? I feel left out now,” you say jokingly, continuing with Jaehyun’s makeup.

“You don’t have one with your stylist friends or something like that?” he asks.

“Yes, but I wanna know what you guys are talking about…” You raise your eyebrows. “That’s just nosy me, though.”

“Nothing interesting,” Jaehyun replies, though you can tell by the look in his eyes that that’s far from the truth.

“Mhmm, sure.” You purse your lips together and shake your head. “Don’t let me find out you’re on some fuckboy shit.”

“If I was, would you punish me?” Jaehyun says this loud enough to draw a few mildly scandalized glances from the stylists and makeup artists standing nearby, and you duck your head, feeling equal parts tickled and embarrassed.

“You’re a mess, Jaehyun. I’m trying to keep this job, okay?” you reprimand him, but there’s no seriousness in it at all.

“Of course, you’re right—I’d never want to see my favorite staff member gone.”

“Shiiit, now I’m just a staff member?” You put a hand over your heart, acting hurt. You both laugh and joke around for a while longer until you’re done with his look for the photoshoot.

Once you finish with Jaehyun’s makeup, you do Mark and then Taeil, chatting casually with them all the while. Taeil is still a bit quiet with you, but he’s incredibly funny when he wants to be, and you can always appreciate a good joke or two. You know Jaehyun “flirts” with you noticeably more than the other members do, but you’ve gotten used to all their subtle differences and you don’t think to chalk it up to more than innocent playfulness—or over-playfulness, maybe.

You’re always somewhere nearby in the background, ready to jump in and retouch someone’s foundation or redo a highlight whenever necessary. You sit back and watch Jaehyun take his solo pictures, admiring your good work on his makeup—or maybe his handsomeness all on its own. He has a good face, you think, and try to convince yourself that you’re only thinking about it in terms of how easy his features are to work with.

Your front row view of the show is interrupted when one of the stylists comes over to ask you a question, and you’re pulled to another area to handle an issue. There’s never not something to do on days like these, though you don’t really mind it; being busy doesn’t bother you as much when the work is fairly fun.

The other boys continue playing around on the set as they wait their turns for solo photos and then group pictures. You eventually end up back in front of Taeil again, fixing a spot on his foundation with a Q-tip as a hairstylist fusses over his strands.

You sit on one of the couches on set for a moment’s break after finishing with Taeil. Johnny comes creeping over to you with the polaroid camera he’s been carrying for the past half-hour, and you can already guess what’s about to happen. You hold your hands up, blocking your face.

“I know you’re the aspiring photographer and all, but can you give me and my visage a break?”

“Just one?” Johnny begs, giving you his best pout. You give him an unimpressed look and cross your arms, but your face eventually cracks when he keeps throwing you exaggerated pouty expressions.

“It’s not happening! I’m not even prepared for pictures today,” you insist. Your complaints are interrupted when Haechan slides onto the couch beside you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Don’t you want to take a picture with me, at least?” He tries to press his cheek against yours and you gently chide him about his makeup, not wanting to create more work for the other girls on set who’ll have to fix it. “I knoww, I knoww. If you take a picture with me, I’ll stop!”

You sigh in mock distress. “Fine, one photo! Can’t keep these paparazzi off my back, can I?” You and Haechan end up striking multiple poses for Johnny while he pretends to be an enthusiastic photog capturing a celebrity couple.

“Hope Jaehyun doesn’t get too jealous,” Johnny says absentmindedly, holding one of the shiny polaroids between his fingers. You cock your head at that.

“Now why would he get jealous?”

“Because that’s how Hyung is,” Haechan replies, quickly getting off the couch and trying to usher Johnny off the scene. He acts as if the older man has just said something he wasn’t supposed to, and Johnny belatedly notices his “mistake” with an awkward shrug. Before he leaves, he hands you one of the polaroids of you and Haechan.

“Put it in a scrapbook or something!”

“Sure, Johnny.” You stare at the small photo in your hands, though Johnny’s words stay floating around in your mind well after the first day’s shoot is over.

The next day is hectic, much like the last, though the set is quite different this time around. You definitely feel a bit better about having more space to move around in without other staff members practically standing on top of each other. Johnny’s hair is back to its normal state, though now Taeil and Haechan have braids; you can’t help but squint your eyes at that, though you say nothing. It’s not worth falling out with the hairstylists again—you learned early on that these companies are gonna do whatever the hell they want.

“You look really good today—all thanks to me, of course,” you tell Jaehyun after he finishes recording his part for the BTS video. “Aren’t I magic?”

“Don’t knock the hairstylists, they wouldn’t like to hear that,” he snickers.

“I’d like to do more than knock them, but we ain’t got time for that.” You wave your hand and change the subject. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s shoot? I dunno about you, but I think it went pretty well. Hopefully today is the same.”

Jaehyun nods his agreement. “It was great.” Then he pauses before casually mentioning, “I heard you and Haechan were getting close yesterday, though.” You notice Doyoung and Yuta out of the corner of your eye, lingering around as if they’re waiting on their turn for photos, but it’s clear that they’re eavesdropping from the looks on their faces.

“Yes, so sue me for hanging out with an NCT member that isn’t you, how could I ever betray you in such a way?” You cover your mouth in faux horror and the other man shakes his head, grabbing your elbow.

“I don’t know if my heart will ever recover,” he says, going along with your act. He pulls on your arm and brings your hand to chest. “Feel it—it’s broken!”

This feels like a bold move even for him, and Doyoung makes a noise in the background that confirms your surprise. You whip your head towards the other two men and they immediately scatter, finding other things to preoccupy themselves with to avoid your scolding.

Jaehyun’s heartbeat is a little faster than it should be under your palm, and at this point you can probably guess why. Johnny’s words and Haechan’s near panic come to the forefront of your memory again. You behave as casually as you can, drawing your hand back to your side and quirking an eyebrow at him. Someone calls your name from the other side of the room, and you go to see what they’re hollering about, but not before calling over your shoulder,

“Your heart rate’s elevated, might wanna see a doctor about that!”

You end up having to retouch Jaehyun’s makeup more than usual throughout the shoot because of his playing around with the other boys, whether it’s riding in a shopping cart or trying to pedal a damn bicycle up the wall, and you almost have to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

“You’re really gonna make me work for this job, huh?” You put your hands on your hips after finishing your quick fixes.

“Maybe.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“So, you admit you think I’m cute?”

“What do you expect me to say? You certainly ain’t ugly...don’t let it go to your head, though.” You pat his shoulder and steer him towards the cameras. “Now go on! Don’t make me have to stay past midnight fixing your makeup all day.”

The rest of the jacket shooting goes smoothly—as smoothly as anything can on a busy set, anyway. Yuta even manages to get you to dance with him to one of the songs blaring over the studio’s speakers, though you scurry off again as soon as you see Johnny coming with his phone in hand. You know his blackmail folder must be huge at this point, and you’re not trying to become a part of the collection.

The boys come over for their hugs again as you pack up your makeup bag. Pretty soon, the only one left without an embrace is Jaehyun.

“Saving the best for last?” you ask as he watches you. He really does do that a lot, you realize.

He shrugs as if he’s unaffected by your compliment, but his dimples peeking out give him away every time.

“You can just say it, you know.” You look around and lower your voice. Though the playlist is still cycling through as loud as ever, you’d rather not have anyone else’s ears in your conversation right now.

“Say what?” he whispers back, still smiling.

“Hello! I think we both know.”

“You want to hear me say it that bad?”

“That’s rich coming from you! I’m not the one who pulled a move literally out of a kdrama earlier.” As you speak, you accidentally knock over a bottle of setting spray on the table, and both of you reach for it at the same time.

Jaehyun’s fingers linger on yours, sending little sparks of excitement up your arm and through your body. You risk a look at him, and although you’re supposed to be keeping it low right now, you feel as if you’re the only two left in the room. He leans closer, and his familiar scent hits your senses again, threatening to wrap you up permanently in its hold.

“You’re right. I like you.”

Jaehyun picks up the fallen bottle and presses it into your hand, and it takes you a few seconds to react and put it back in your bag.

“I knew it,” you lie. You’re not sure why you feel so nervous about this, or why you feel like you’re doing something you shouldn’t. It’s not uncommon for idols to date their stylists; after all, they’re around each other all the time. But that doesn’t mean the company or anyone else will approve.

“Yes, Detective, you’ve figured out the big mystery.” You glare at Jaehyun for that, but he remains unphased. He turns around and leans against the table, giving off a casual air when he’s really checking to make sure no one is heading in your direction. “So...what do you say?”

You decide to draw this out a little longer just because you can. “To what?”

“I know you like me too.”

“Maybe,” you say, mimicking his earlier answer. “What are you gonna do about it if I do?”

“Make you my girlfriend, duh.” He says it with all the confidence in the world, but then backtracks a little when you give him an amused look. “Only if that’s what you want, though; we don’t have to do anything if—”

“You’re overthinking it!” You shake your head as you put the last thing in your makeup bag and zip it up. “I want to. Really. But you’re gonna have to take me out first.”

“Just tell me where you wanna go. I’ll take you anywhere.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and sigh. “Have you always been this good with words? Or is it just because I like you?”

Jaehyun pushes himself off the table and steps closer, crowding into your personal space. “You tell me.”

“Don’t be so obvious.” You step back when you notice one of the managers’ eyes lingering where you two are standing. “Just...text me. You know how to reach me, right?”

“Of course.”

You continue stepping backwards towards the entrance, not wanting to let him out of your sight just yet. You smile and wave with both hands, still playing the role of “makeup artist to a super-famous kpop idol” and not “departing girlfriend” like you want to. “Then we’ll talk next time! Bye, Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun waves back, and you don’t turn around until you’re well into the hallway and one of the other boys has called him to hurry up. Leaving the building, you lean against one of the outside walls to take a breather before you head to your car.

“Holy shit.”

#jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fic #jaehyun fic #ambw fic #ambw kpop #ambw scenarios #ambw imagines #jaehyun #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct fic #yes...two fics for the price of one today

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elvencantation · 3 years

Text

yin yang master liveblog

feat. @thursdayplaid

what

blue

omg the magic is so pretty

also why is it always Chinese dramas will have someone, if they need blood, bite their finger?

also the gold spirit is very cute i like

i love a young countenance but an older soul

i also want them to take off their hats 😂

wait he ain’t dead he’s just sitting there?

or he’s dying i guess

Thursday

This movie is pretty throughout, aesthetic on point

Sharp teeth?

We simp gold spirit

Too true, amazing combo XD

He's dying

Please don't let me disturb your liveblogging. It brings be much joy

blue

oh hot demon boy!

love that he’s fighting with a fan

Thursday

Who will win? Uptight fighting bro vs gentle fan uncle

blue

gentle fan uncle is an amazing title

Thursday

@^_^@

blue

i love how he’s just like ‘bet u wouldnt stab a precious instrument’

Thursday

XD I love how playful he is during the whole fight too

blue

it’s adorable

dude rly loves his transportation talismans

WAIT I THOUGHT DEMON BOY HAD TATTOOS NOT CUTS

Thursday

He does. If it ain't broke, don't fix it I guess. And it's a good way to redirect violence without doing harm

Demon boy has had a Rough Time

blue

i wanna give him a hug

i don’t think he’d appreciate that but still 😂

Thursday

He's just sad and misses his girl friend

blue

why his reincarnated shufu look evil tho

Thursday

Who can say~~~

I love how Boya was just repeatedly defeated by Qingming and is like: you won't fight me because you're scared.

blue

what’s a himbo but not nice 😂

hey! they put my boys hat on crooked. rude.

Thursday

Give that boy a straight hat.

He's just such an Angy Boy

blue

he rly is 😂

ah i love the lady master she’s so pretty

Thursday

She's amazing and I love her.

blue

awww boya defended him

Thursday

He's so angry, but this fan man flirts with him

blue

ofc they all spying on each other 😂

Thursday

Saved by your opponent's gay discovery

blue

omg yes

Thursday

Spying required

blue

aw he looks nice with his hair down!

drink tea with him angy boy!

Thursday

He just wants you to chill out before you deviate. Sit and look at his amazing long hair. It'll be good for you

blue

HAHAHA

honey bug!!!! i love her!!!!!!!

Thursday

Also the ability for the fan man's actor to go from calm to worried to angry to calm again

Honey bug is good and important and I love her

blue

thank u for the recommendation yes

i love them

Thursday

The intrinsic eroticism of a man who's having his racist beliefs totally shaken by a hot guy who's hotter and smarter than him while holding a sword to his throat and looking like he wants to cry while saying cool lines.

They are such a great pair

blue

angy boy is angy like how dare fan man make him have feelings

Thursday

How very dare he make a good point about morals and ethics!

Also with that hair drinking tea in the morning

Angy boy with clenched teeth: I'm Not Yearning. I'm Just Like This When I See A Fan.

Angy boy with clenched fists: Complex Feelings? Disgusting.

blue

HAHAH OMG HES JUST HANGING OUT WITH A BUNCH OF LADIES LIKE HELLO YES ANGY BOY COME HAVE TEA WITH US ITS NOT WHAT U THINK

OMG THIS TIME ITS BOYS

ITS LIKE UR TRYING TO GIVE ANGY BOY AN ANEURISM

Thursday

Clenched fist intensifies

blue

I CANNOT

maybe he just wants to hang out with cute people

i get that

Thursday

He's just a friendly guy

blue

if i could summon pretty spirit friends to hang with me i so would

ok so maybe he’s not evil. but i’m still suspicious

NOW ANGY BOY IS HAIR DOWN WITHOUT HAT OMG YES

Thursday

I do get the vibe off him he's not the sort of guy who would put his spirit friends in sexual situations. But also I get the vibe he's a very lonely guy at his core and he enjoys the feeling of physical and emotional closeness.

blue

mood ™

Thursday

Let's be honest, the hat is a bit cute, but that hair though. Respect for the makeup department

blue

HAHAHAH

Thursday

Angy boy, you're just walking to being teased now. At this point its a hand written invitation with gold leaf.

blue

oh i love this moment with the water

it’s so intense

JUST DO IT ANGY BOY

U KNOW U CARE ABOUT HIM

“you’re too obedient” 😂

Thursday

The priest is in the range of gentle or teasing and hovers there. Seeing an actual intense situation is great

blue

ikr????

ah that is exactly what i love

that situation

Thursday

Me too! It's great when characters hover in a range and then swing over sharply

I really makes both extremes more dynamic

blue

HAVE SOME WINE WITH HIM DO IT

U KNOW U WANNA

Thursday

Go For It Angy Boy! He'll be gentle!

blue

😏

Thursday

XD I mean he will continue to ruffle his feathers, but for fun, not for mean

Also, I really love the depiction of a fox demon that isn't sexed up.

Qingming is a trickster, a tease, a bit of a flirt, and enjoys the pleasures of life, but he isn't the stereotypical half naked sexpot fox demon that seem to pop up everywhere

blue

OH NO HE HAD TO KILL HIS SHUFU???

Thursday

The only person he had in the world but he didn't want him to suffer and be corrupted

blue

also I hate that my two associations with someone being turned into ash is firstly the avengers and secondly that stupid fucking scene in the last harry potter movie

god this movie is so beautiful and lovely

Thursday

That set is outstandingly gorgeous

Everything is so beautiful. I want to live in this world!

Sometimes I just see a kind and lonely character trying to live their best life and just vibe with them. Also the wigs on this movie 😭 So beautiful!

blue

DONT HURT MY GIRL

Thursday

Run girl! Move!

She's so smart and brave!

blue

oh the DRAMA

Thursday

The Drama is right, I love this movie!

blue

HE WILL SAVE U BOYA

Thursday

HE'S COMING FOR YOU FRIEND

blue

omg the drama of his hand slackening

Thursday

That slackening hand though...

blue

why it didn’t work until then tho???

Thursday

For the drama mostly XD

blue

HUGGGG

is she giving birth to the serpent? 🤢

Thursday

She is giving birth to the serpent

blue

hey it’s better to be possessed by the literal incarnation of evil in snake form than be dead am I right?

Thursday

I mean is we're making a choice...

blue

OMG IS IT FINALLY SPIRIT TIME?

thursday

It is ~spirit time~!

blue

HOT DEMON BOY IS BACK UPGRADED

SO PROUD

Thursday

He is back and he is Fancy!

They're looking good they're doing poses

blue

omg the painters face painting is so pretty

Thursday

I love the painter ;-; so noble

blue

the music when he summons spirits just makes me think of like pro wrestling intro music for some reason 😂

Thursday

And now from the WWE, some hot chinese spirits

blue

oh no ice boy!

Thursday

Poor ice boy, he's just getting beat up

blue

don’t u dare touch my other demon boy

Thursday

He just signed up for this adventure and now a snake is beating him up

blue

OMG HE NOW HAS SOMEONE HE WOULD PROTECT WITH HIS LIFE DOESNT HE

Thursday

He Do!

blue

WAIT WHAT NO BOYA

Thursday

Boya is just having a rough time right now, he's a good good boy

blue

and now the painter???

Thursday

I almost cried about the painter and he was only there for like five minutes

blue

PLS DONT HURT MY DEMON BOY

Thursday

Demon Boy goes yeet

blue

oh my god the drama of the dripping blood i can’t

Thursday

This movie has so much drama It did

blue

not my demon boy 😭

FINALLY IT WORKED

wait shit spirit boya is super hot

THE BLACK WINGS?!????

the tattoos??? the hair?!?!!! the messy goth skirt??!

Thursday

Spirit Boya is Choice, I'm looking respectfully 👀

Goth spirit aesthetic is on point

blue

where the other guardians tho?

yes this is a very touching little last reunion but where my boya at

omg yes give him a glowing sword

the avenging angel look is 💯 on him

Thursday

The sword on fire look is Really Working For Him

blue

tell me boya’s spirit form has no influence on his actual body. no he said he trusted qingming to protect his body it’s ok

OMG YES I KNEW THE PROTECTION SPELL MOMENT WOULD BE BACK

Thursday

It's back and it's shiny!

blue

ok but u still have a hole in ur torso my dude

oh ok apparently that’s not a thing anymore but i can’t be mad cause boya’s outfit 😍

Thursday

I guess he used his cultivation or his demon powers or something IDK, It would have been nice to have two extra minutes of Boya being worried about him

Boya wears some excellent clothes

blue

love a good romantic flute moment 😭🥰

Thursday

I have to say Boya's like let me play you this song about promising to fall in love in the next life for fun and me time

blue

omg i thought he was gonna kiss the arrow

Thursday

I mean emotionally did he not kiss the arrow?

blue

omg i cant

Thursday

I know right? How many censors did they have to pay off

blue

WAIT IS MY GIRL OK????

Thursday

I Chose To Believe She's fine and is now living happily on a farm or something

yeah i do love being worried for each other

but i guess they didnt have enouhg time and they already had that moment at the beginning of the movie 😂

Thursday

Two people? Respecting, worrying, and caring about each other? 👍 There's never enough caring for each other!

blue

exactly

Thursday

Also, this is one of the best examples of be careful how you word your spells that I've ever seen.

The old master was like care and protect her forever and his spirit guardian was just like: 👍👌💯

blue

heheh

yeahhh

AND U MADE ME EMOTIONAL AGAIN

#yin yang master #the yin yang master #dream of eternity #onmyoji #blue watches #yin yang master liveblog #this was fun!!!#thank you for the rec!#i liveblog at those who recommend me media #content #qing ya ji

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farfromharry · 3 years

Text

always (part five) | harry holland series

summary: harry, sam and tom help to set up your nursery for your little girl

word count - 2.2k

warnings - language

a/n - i’m posting this earlier than i would’ve because part 7 has a christmas aspect to it and i don’t want to post it after christmas <3

The knock on your front door startled you, pulling your attention from the tv show you were watching. You turned the tv off, jumping up from your couch and opening it to find your best friend standing there in what he called, his ‘best painting clothes.’

“What do you think?” He motioned to his overalls and plain hoodie he was wearing, posing like he was being photographed in a photo shoot.

“You’re so weird.” He scoffed, closing your door behind him and stepping into your flat.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He said.

“What question?” You asked.

“Do you like my outfit?” You rolled your eyes when he started posing obnoxiously again. You looked at his outfit up and down and gave him a tight lipped smile.

“It looks great.” He squinted his eyes at you, unsure if you were joking or if you actually hated it.

“Also, shoes off, looks like you’ve been stood in mud for hours.” With a huff he began unlacing his shoes, leaving them by the front door.

“What if i just like jumping in mud?” He asked sassily. “Are you really going to judge me for my interests?”

“Okay, peppa pig, i’m just saying, no mud on my floors.” You pointed your finger at him, watching him laugh as he pieced together your tv reference.

“That was a good one.” He commented.

“Thank you, I’m honoured.” You led him down the hall, opening the door to your cluttered nursery with a sigh.

“Here we are, voila.” You motioned your arms towards the very disappointing room, seeing Harry’s face drop.

“Very anticlimactic.” You rolled your eyes, punching his shoulder.

“Shut up.” You handed him a clean paint brush, taking another one out for yourself while Harry opened the lid of the paint bucket.

“What are you doing?” He asked, pointing to the paintbrush in your hand.

“Currently, nothing.”

“You aren’t painting, you’re going to sit down on your cute butt and watch.” He demanded. You stared at him in amazement.

“I’m not dying Harry, I can still do things.” He shook his head.

It had eventually taken a lot of convincing on your part to persuade Harry to let you assist him in painting the nursery. You were going on almost half an hour now.

“I can do bits, come on, i’ll take a break if i really need to.” He sighed. You’d been bugging him about it since he started almost an hour ago, the males patience wearing thin.

“Promise?” He asked, holding his pinky in your direction. Your eyes lit up, wrapping your much smaller pinky around his.

“Promise.” You confirmed, a small smirk on your face.

“Grab a paintbrush.” You squealed, Harry certain you almost burst his ear drums.

“I’ve never seen someone so excited to paint.” You pushed his shoulder, gathering some of the light coloured paint on your brush and beginning to paint the same wall as Harry, just at the opposite side. You were working well together, music from one of his many playlists playing out of his phone, creating a calm atmosphere in the room.

You had helped paint at least one wall by the time your feet started to ache, finding it painful to stay on your feet much longer. Harry heard your uncomfortable grumbles and stared you down until you turned to look at him.

“Do you need a break?” He asked. You nodded your head, giving in, cupping your large belly and sitting down on the floor, although that was a tiring task in itself. You watched Harry work for a little while, asking him to help you up after your feet felt better. He grabbed both of your hands in his, pulling you up towards him until you were on your feet.

“Thank you.” Before resuming your painting, you waddled to your kitchen to get you both some drinks, coming back and making Harry take just a quick break.

“Think this will be done today?” He stood back and observed the progress you’d made already, one full wall down, only 2 and a half more to go.

“Possibly, if you stop slacking.” Your jaw dropped, Harry laughing as you stood there shocked.

“Well two can play at that game, Holland.” You dipped your hand into the paint bucket, moving over to Harry and placing your hand right on his cheek.

“Y/n!” He yelled, watching as you doubled over in laughter. His mind wandered from his painted cheek and he started to see the funny side of it, deciding on getting his own back.

It ended up being a full blown paint war between you two, both of you ending up covered in paint, giggling to yourselves like children.

“You can clean this up.” You told him.

“Why me, you started it!” You grinned.

“I’m the pregnant one, and i’m gonna go shower.” You placed a teasing kiss on the one spot on his cheek that wasn’t splattered with paint. “Enjoy.”

Harry shook his head, chuckling to himself as you waddled away.

“Crafty lady.” He muttered under his breath.

———

“Oh wow, you clean up nice.” You teased, throwing him a wink.

After your shower, you felt completely refreshed, especially not being covered in cakes of paint anymore. You slipped into comfy clothes and stalked your way back to the nursery, where you were currently looking at a spotless room, yet a still painted Harry. It looked almost as if there wasn’t a paint fight here only hours before.

“I know, you’d never know some rebellious girl trashed the place.” You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “Unless you looked at me, that is.” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“I can’t wait to see it done.” Harry looked around and silently agreed with you.

“It’s going to be so cute.” You finally noticed that Harry had almost completely finished painting.

“Might need another coat but, should be done soon.”

“Thank you, for helping me, again.” You laughed. He smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

“I think i’d be a pretty shitty best friend if i didn’t.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He scoffed at your teasing, playfully flipping you off.

“Harold, there’s children around.” You scolded, hands cupping your belly like you were covering a child’s eyes. He laughed at you.

“Good luck getting Tom to stop, even when she’s here he’s going to be a nightmare.” You groaned.

“I didn’t even think about your foul mouthed siblings.” Harry snorted as your comment caught him off guard, the two of you falling into a state of continuous laughter to the point your stomachs ached.

“Okay, we need to get it together.” He demanded playfully. “Let’s finish painting, then we can fuck around all we want.”

You slapped his arm at his choice of vocabulary, receiving a teasing wink from your best friend.

“Just as bad as the rest of them.” You mumbled, earning an offended scoff from him.

“How dare you.” He accused, holding his hand over his heart and feigning pain.

“Just being honest, my dear.”

———

A few days later, after the room was so ‘gracefully’ painted by you and Harry, two of the other Holland boys had come over to help put the baby's furniture together. They’d had to move the toys and clothes out before they started to put the furniture boxes in, meaning it was like a maze of baby stuff just to get to the room. Something that was definitely not very convenient for you and your large belly.

Harry and Sam had started working on the crib first, while Tom worked on the rocking chair that you would feed your girl in.

“What can i help with?” You asked entering the room, ready to do anything they needed you to.

“Nope.” Tom demanded, practically shoving you out of the nursery.

“You aren’t doing anything, you’re almost 7 months pregnant.” You rolled your eyes, seeing that there was definitely a theme between the Holland siblings. But not wanting to argue about it with him, you moved on begrudgingly.

“Fine, but if you need anything, please ask.” He nodded.

“We will.” He said. “Now leave.”

“Such a gentleman.” You commented teasingly. Tom rolled his eyes, shooing you out of the room.

You were now left to your own devices, deciding on making something to eat in the kitchen.

You weren’t really paying attention to the time, all your focus on making food. So, when Harry came into the room you didn’t think it’d be because they were already done.

“We’re finished.” Harry announced.

“Already?” You asked, your question being ignored as Harry placed his hands over your eyes, blocking your vision from seeing anything.

“Harry, we still have to walk there, and i need to turn the stove off.” You laughed. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes, turning the stove off for you before carefully guiding you away.

“I’m not taking any chances, come on miss.” He helped you up from your chair and guided you through the hall and towards the baby’s room. He made sure you didn’t trip or bump into anything, which you were very grateful for.

You came to a sudden halt, hearing the hushed voices of Sam and Tom in the room with you.

“Okay, are you ready?” Sam asked. You nodded, trying to pry Harry’s hands from off of your eyes.

“Let me see, come on.” You heard them laugh before Tom started counting down.

“3-“ Tom dragged it out for a lot longer than necessary, just to try and build up the anticipation.

“2-“ You huffed, beginning to grow impatient at the lad.

“1, and a half.”

“Oh my god, will you just let me look.” Harry laughed, removing his hands from your eyes. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the bright lights of the room, looking around the nursery with watery eyes. You cursed yourself mentally as your hormones got the best of you, practically forcing you to cry.

“Why are you crying?” Sam asked, rubbing your back with a sympathetic pout.

“Hormones, happy tears, all that good stuff.” You joked. You hugged the twin tightly, well as tight as you could considering your large belly. You then hugged Tom and then Harry, staying leaned into Harry’s side with his arm around your shoulders.

“Now, you just have to sort out all the boxes.” Sam stated.

You frowned, looking at the stacks of baby things in your hallway.

“Well is anyone helping?” Harry let go of you, shifting over to stand by his twin. The brothers looked at each other with a ‘not it’ kind of look. The twins did their weird twin telepathy thing and ended up pushing Tom towards you, making a break for your front door.

“Bye y/n, bye Tom!”

“Dickheads.” Tom mumbled, you nodding in agreement behind him.

“Well, i guess it’s just us.” Tom grabbed a couple boxes and placed them on the floor, allowing you both to sort through them and hang up clothes, or put away toys.

“I’m loving all the spiderman things in here.”

“Tom, this whole box is basically from you.” You laughed. He shrugged, throwing you a smirk.

“No wonder these clothes are of such good taste then.” You picked up a spiderman plushie, aiming it at his head and succeeding in hitting your target. He mumbled an ‘ouch,’ shooting you a glare whilst you smiled innocently.

“How much longer?” Tom whined, laying himself down on the floor and pretending to sob.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, poking his stomach with your foot.

“Come on, get up.” He groaned loudly, pushing himself up.

“I feel like I'm being punished for something.” He sighed. You laughed, handing him some more stuff to put away.

“So dramatic.” You commented.

“I am an actor, darling.” You fake gasped, turning to face him in shock.

“No way!” You stated. “Do you by any chance play this spider guy.” You held up one of the spiderman onesies he had bought a few weeks ago.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, flipping you off.

“Harry told me you wouldn’t stop swearing for the baby.” You told him, pointing to his middle finger. “You just proved him right.”

“Oh, how awful, proving Harry right.” His comment made you giggle, telling him to behave.

You and Tom were unpacking things for a little while longer, taking the time to take a breather when you were done.

After you and Tom were finally done, you were more than ready to just sleep forever and Tom was clearly ready to go home.

“Thank you for your help.” You hugged him tightly before he left.

“Always, see you soon y/n.” He waved, closing the door behind him. You sighed, finally getting a moment to yourself after a chaotic day filled with the three lads.

“And it’s just us again baby girl.” You smiled as she started to gently kick your belly, your heart warming as she knew you were talking to her.

“Yeah, it’s your mummy.” You teared up slightly, cursing your hormones again.

“Why don’t we go take a nap, huh?” You cupped your belly, heading to your room and just hoping your baby could calm down enough to let you sleep.

“Goodnight angel.”

#harry holland x reader #harry holland one shot #harry holland imagine #harry holland

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Text

@kimannhart all you ask is yours! presenting: avengers hide and go seek

It first starts when they’re talking about the games they used to play as children. This involves quite a bit of “guess which game was normal and which one did Clint play in the circus.”

It ends with Sharon and Tony mischievously mentioning that they used to play hide-and-go-seek in the dark all the time.

“It’s the best,” Sharon says. “And part of the reason why I get high marks in my stealth.”

“You have the highest marks of the academy because of hide-and-go seek? In the dark?” Natasha deadpans.

“Yes.”

“Let’s play.”

Natasha volunteers to be the “seeker.”

“Oh come on, we’re all gonna be found in ten minutes,” Clint whines.

“Not if it’s tower-wide,” Steve suggests. “Or at least, floor-wide. Maybe two floors.”

“So then it’s this floor and the floor above-wide,” Natasha says. “And I’ll find all of you. That’s a promise.”

“Is it?” Tony taunts. Natasha pokes her tongue out childishly.

She counts to eighty-five, and the Avengers disperse around the tower. Many think they have an unbeatable spot.

But none have met Tony and Sharon.

Tony and Sharon used to compete against each other during Christmas breaks. Sharon learned that the best spot to hide is in the wide open. You blend in with the furniture, with the surroundings? No one thinks of you for a second.

Tony, on the other hand, loves the unexpected.

(He also purposefully decorates his house with very wide, framed paintings for this exactly purpose. Or at least, close to it.)

Natasha easily finds Bucky first, who didn’t even try as to hide. He hid underneath the kitchen table bench.

“Child’s play,” Natasha hisses with satisfaction.

“That’s the whole point of hide-and-seek,” Bucky says. “Besides, I was just getting to the good part of my show. Thank you for finding me. See you soon.”

“Give me any hints?”

“A good spy doesn’t need hints.”

“A great spy knows to ask anyway,” Natasha counters.

Bucky sighs and jerks a thumb to the lab.

She thinks that she’s finding Tony. After all, the lab is like his paradise. There are tons of nooks and crannies to figure out.

Too bad she only finds Steve halfway behind one of the larger armors, and he’s a dead giveaway with his breathing pattern.

“You analyzed my breathing pattern? Why?” Steve says.

“In case.”

“In case of what?”

“You need a clearance level of twelve to access that particular bit of information. For now, tell me which way Clint went.”

“I don’t know. Bruce headed for the garden.”

Bruce is found lying in the middle of a dense group of flower bushes. Honestly, she nearly missed him.

He’s asleep.

Natasha gently kicks him with her foot. He rolls over, giving her an unimpressed stare.

“I found you.”

“And I’m still lying here. Go find someone else. I bet Clint is in the library or some shit.”

“Hmph. I almost didn’t find you. Who lays down on their stomach to nap? You’re leaving yourself vulnerable.”

“Natasha, be a dear and remember who else you were gently kicking in the ribs.”

“Hi Hulk,” Natasha says. “Sorry.”

Bruce’s eyes flash green for a moment, a glint of amusement in them. That’s enough for now.

Clint and Thor are both in the library, although Clint managed to fit himself into a suit of armor and Thor just decided to hide himself under a rug.

“I’m disappointed in you,” Natasha says. “Now help me find Sharon and Tony.”

It takes them two more hours to find them. Sharon and Tony absolutely do not mess around, and it shows.

Tony was literally in the bar. Sitting where the sink was, posing perfectly to mimic the gigantic portrait of himself behind him.

“Pays to be a recovering alcoholic, losers!” He says, clambering down from his spot.

“I wish that wasn’t so sad, but I also wish you hadn’t used the association psychology trick to make me not look in the bar for you,” Natasha answers. “I hate you.”

“Using my own issues for my benefit? Classic me!” Tony gleefully yells. “And I’m not telling you where Sharon is!”

Natasha narrows her eyes very specifically, in a way that’s made leaders of countries have shakes in their knees and a strong desire to open windows.

Tony is unfazed.

“Cousin code outweighs your creepy stare,” Tony says, pouring himself a glass of apple juice. “But have fun!”

Sharon is fucking impossible to find.

Eventually, Natasha finds her lounging in Tony’s gigantic walk-in closet, chilling in the revolving closet.

“What.”

“I told you!” Sharon snickers. “You would find me last or not at all.”

Natasha stares.

“I checked here. Five times. I’m dating you.”

“And yet here we are,” Sharon says, tapping Nat’s nose with her index finger. “Better luck next time, cutie pie.”

Natasha still pouts that she couldn’t find Sharon and Tony. Says that they had to have moved, or something.

Sharon and Tony just grin.

“Well, we’ll have to be the seekers next time we play,” they agree. “And we’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Why do you think I’ve been having all of you take personality tests for months?” Tony asks, grinning.

“So that wasn’t a way to get to know us better in terms of friendship?” Thor asks.

“Not in terms of friendship. I’ve been compiling data to coordinate where I think your go-to hiding spot is,” Tony says. “Sharon’s been helping with analysis on how well that spot would work out for you. Bruce, you’re going to supremely bad luck.”

“That’s been my life motto for the last forty-three years.”

“Aren’t you forty-two?”

“Yup.”

#avengers as a family #just a silly lil fic but i like it :)#natasha romanoff #of course i had to add in natsharon there #bruce banner being a little shit as usual #tony stark #sharon carter #clint barton #bruce banner #thor #steve rogers #bucky barnes #idk why he's there it's certianly not for the plot #but regardless #lovelyirony writes #:)#joanis feel better soon xoxo #i love you!#and i'm proud of you!

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

boeuf bourguignon

pairing: chef!bucky x plus!reader

warnings: fluff, domesticity, like two minutes of angst

word count: 2470

description: chef!au; you and bucky move in together

just a taste masterlist

“What’s the first thing we should make?” You asked, curled around Bucky on the mattress on the floor. The decision to move in together was easy after spending so much time together and missing each other in passing because one was too tired to go to the other’s apartment. And it’s economical, you both figure. He hummed, the vibrations coming through his chest, fingers tracing patterns on your bare back.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to eat?” He asked, dozy and almost asleep. Your memory flits back to last week when you’d watched Julie & Julia while packing. And with half closed lids you mumble back,

“Boeuf Bourguignon.” He lets out a sound that almost seemed like a laugh, too tired to recognize,

“Okay baby.”

It was a cute little brownstone smack in the middle of his restaurant and Stark Tower, a compromise that had to be reached over many small arguments, too old, too new. Too far. Have you seen the neighborhood? Sam even input on a couple apartment complexes that would be good for the food truck. But it was settled that Bucky didn’t want the restaurant that close to him.

You ate pizza in between fixing small cosmetic cracks in the wall and painting. Chinese while you arranged the furniture the way you wanted. And you enjoyed curry from the Indian place you loved that just so happened to be down the street from where you’d moved while unpacking the dishes and putting clothes away.

“What do you think?” He asks, you’d left the kitchen up to him, the layout and how he wanted it organized. The copper pans were a brilliant contrast for your very white kitchen that had been partially the selling point for you. The gas stove top and double oven was the selling point for him. A knife rack on the wall, hanging pots and pans, and a double door refrigerator. It was the compromise for the cracked walls and the floors you’ll need to get redone soon, with some new varnish and spackle you figure you could get a couple more years out of them.

You smile at him, he looked proud, and leaned against the door frame, “It looks really good.” He met you in the doorway, and placed his hands on the door jam, leaning in to kiss you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve was finally free and coming back to New York so they were moving the opening date for the restaurant to the week that he would be there. Which means it was time to put some vacation days in.

A knock on your office door, Tony Stark himself. A smile on his face, “What is this I hear about you needing a week off?”

“Tony I literally just sent the email five minutes ago.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

“I was already on my way down.” He examines the picture on your desk, a photo taken of you and Bucky. The food truck artfully posed in front of the restaurant, the sign had just been put up, your face was buried in his neck and he was laughing at some dirty joke Sam had just said. “Just wondering when you’re going to be inviting me over for dinner now that you’ve settled into your new place.” You sigh and lean back in your chair, he was giving you a knowing smirk. Natasha.

“Well we are having a little dinner party to celebrate the opening of the restaurant,” You cross your arms as his smirk widens, “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, I never thought you’d ask, I’ll be there at 7? I’ll bring drinks.” And just like that he’d left, seconds later an email in reply approving your time off request.

Bucky wasn’t happy.

“You invited Tony Stark?” Shoulders rolling, kneading dough on the bar top.

“Nat mentioned it to him,” You defended, “How could I tell my boss that he’s not allowed to come?” He gave you a look,

“This guy runs you all hours of the day,” dough slammed and rolled, dusted with flour and kneaded again, “He calls you all hours of the day.” Dough cutter, cutting the bread dough that would soon be dinner rolls, into eighths. “And the one time you actually ask to have time off, he wants to be involved in some way?”

“You love Howard Stark.” You roll your eyes and steal a strawberry out of the small container that he was marinating them in. Soaking in Grand Mariner. “He’s basically the same person.”

“He’s not,” Bucky shakes his head, “Howard Stark was a revolutionary inventor, Tony Stark buys properties and gentrified neighborhoods.”

“He’s putting in rent controlled housing for low income households.” Bucky sighs and leans back.

“Partially,” He says, “I know that Pepper Potts is the one who organizes his charitable giving and covers for him.”

“You’re literally grasping for straws here,” You scoff, “We’re working on a way to get rid of fossil fuels all together and you’re upset that he’s only signing the checks, it’s still his money.” Bucky glares at you, sighing heavily. “He pays me a lot of money to do the job that I do, and just because you think I should be doing something else doesn’t mean what I’m doing right now is bad.”

It was no secret to you that Bucky wanted you to take the leap on trying to get your book published. But this job was what paid your bills currently. You’ve read articles about people getting on the best seller lists having only made 12k on their book, and while you’d hope you would have a best seller, 12k isn’t going to support you.

“I just want you to do something you love.” Which was easy for him to say because he was doing something he loved. He loved cooking, for you and for others. He loved making people happy, those cherish-able moments of making something for someone you love, that tradition. He loved it.

“Okay,” You step behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head on his back, “This week I’ll print a bunch of copies and I’ll mail them off to publishers.”

“I don’t want you to do it because it’s something I want you to do.” He sighs, “I want you to do it because it’s something you want to do.”

“I do want to.” Mumbled into his back, he smelled so good, having just taken a shower before working on the proved dough. “I’ll do it this week.” A flower dusted hand brought one of yours up to his lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve was charming, but shy. Very serious. An american flag pinned to the lapel of his suit jacket that had been quickly discarded when Sam and Bucky gave him shit for wearing a full suit to dinner. The pair of them in a button down and slacks. Wanda and Natasha were also in attendance, with Tony showing up at 7:30 with four bottles of wine and a full bottle of Macallan.

You’d watched Bucky make it. Boeuf Bourguignon. You felt guilt in the fact that it takes five hours to make, but he said, “That’s what you want,” A kiss to your forehead, “That’s what I’m gonna make.”

Thick bacon cut into cubes and browned in a pan, a couple pieces plucked and tasted, just to make sure they were good with only a minor scolding from your boyfriend. Patted dry beef browned in a pan with olive oil and left over bacon grease. Onion and carrot softened in the same pan, fat poured off and the whole thing was thrown into the dutch oven, sprinkled with salt and pepper, and oddly enough a little flour.

It cooked for four minutes, was mixed and cooked for another four minutes. Then it was covered in beef stock and Bordeaux.

“You’re so handsome.” You sigh, watching him place the dish back in the oven after simmering it on the stove. He leans over the kitchen island, dish towel over his shoulder, a kiss to your cheek and then lips.

“You’re very beautiful,” A softer kiss, “But I need you to get out of the kitchen.”

You were in the way, you knew that. But faked upset as you left the room to finally get ready, ass being met with a whip from the dish towel on your way out.

Wine was poured as Bucky served the first course, salad, bruschetta, roasted artichokes, and bacon wrapped dates you’d have to convince him to make you again, very soon.

“I hope you’re treating my girl right, Barnes.” Tony joked, the conversation having steered from Steve’s job, something he couldn’t really talk about, to the new house. You could see Bucky’s jaw clench from across the table, but he sipped the gifted wine and replied,

“My girl gets treated very well at home,” placing the glass on the table, “Can’t say the same about work.”

“Who’s ready for our mains?” You interrupt.

“I think that’s a good idea.” Natasha smiled next to you, placing her fork down. You shot her a small glare, and she sipped her wine with a smug grin. She was never satisfied with things going smooth, always craving a little chaos.

The boeuf bourguignon was incredible. The meat tender and juicy, the mushrooms and sauce robust. With the first bite you were whining and looking across the table at Bucky who was smiling. “This is incredible.”

“It really is.” Sam agrees. A silent table is a sign of good food, conversation not starting until plates almost cleared, Wanda starting with,

“So the restaurant opens Friday night, which gives us all Friday morning to make sure we are fully prepped.” They’d set the hours to only open for dinner, if the restaurant does well they figure they can change the hours to be open for lunch as well, but they were working on the conservative side. “Y/N and I will be helping out at the host stand.”

“I can help in the back if you want.” Steve offered. Sam laughed,

“Doing what? Dishes.” A glare as a laugh sounded at the table.

“I could stir a pot or something.” He laughed.

“How has advertising been?” Tony asked. Bucky and Sam shrug,

“We’ve been handing out flyers at the truck for weeks,” Bucky said, “We have a good following so we are hoping that might gain us some ground.”

“The sign has been up for a while too,” Sam agreed, “We’ve had people stop by to ask us when we are opening.” Tony nods, but you know the look on his face, obviously up to something. He winks at you. An exchange that doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky who then clears his throat, standing from the table you help him clear the dishes, ready for dessert.

“Does anyone want coffee?”

…

“We need to get one of those big, industrial dishwashers.” You moan, heels kicked off as you unload the dishwasher after the first load. Bucky scrubbing at the pots and pans in the sink.

“What was the wink about?” Bucky had been quiet since dinner ended, a tight smile as Tony wished a friendly goodbye. You sipped on Macallan, loading the dishwasher back up with plates while you answered.

“He’s planning something most likely,” You cringe at food smeared onto your hand by a dirty spoon.

“Are you sure?” His shoulders tense, pan dropping into the sink with a clang.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, shutting the dishwasher and pressing start. He looks over at you, exasperated.

“He just seemed a little too friendly.” Bucky tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, you sigh, rubbing your forehead.

“You’re joking.” It was a sore subject. Months ago, before you’d moved in together, Bucky told you about Vivian. Pretty Vivian. A scar from a past relationship where Vivian cheated on him, constantly, and he was dumb enough to go back to her every time.

“She used me for stability,” He shrugged, “Then slept around with everyone else.” He was insecure about it. Which was stunning to you because you couldn’t believe Bucky was insecure about anything. It broke your heart.

“I’m not joking.” Anger laced his voice. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink, “It would make sense, him calling you all the time, late into the night.” Dish towel thrown down next to him, “You staying late at work.”

“I would never cheat on you Bucky.” A little snip, “I can’t believe you would even think that I would do something like that.” His jaw is tight.

“I didn’t think Vivian--”

“I’m not Vivian! I would never hurt you Bucky, and if you think I would maybe there’s something wrong here.” It seemed baffling to you, like maybe you were the one who was supposed to be afraid of Bucky cheating but it was the other way around. He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry,” He groans, “I know.” He looks at you, upset and emotional, “I know you wouldn’t, I’m sorry, I was just--” You stepped over to him, placing your hands on his crossed arms.

“You have to trust me.” You said, “If you don’t trust me--” He leans forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I know,” He sighs, “I’m sorry.” You lean up and meet his lips.

“I love you.” His hands come to meet your hips, bunching up your skirt. Your tongue pokes out, tracing his bottom lip, his mouth parting for yours, breathing heavily.

“I love you too.” Your ass meets the kitchen bench, his hands palming your bare thighs to lift you onto the counter, pans forgotten. “I’m sorry.” He whispers against your lips, moaning as you palm him through his slacks.

“I forgive you.”

Tony’s planning, his little sneaky wink, was him sending out a mass email to the entire staff that if they show up at Bucky’s restaurant opening weekend that he’d personally reimburse them for their money spent. Something Bucky half resented, but half appreciated. The restaurant opened busy and stayed busy. ‘An overnight success’ one critic said.

Wanda helped you man the host stand, directing the girls where to take people, seasoned servers, people who Sam and Bucky had known from their days working in other restaurants helped them open. And as far as chaotic restaurant openings are, it wasn’t half bad. Especially when, sitting in the office after hours going over the numbers for the day there were six beautiful digits staring back at you.

“So I guess we are opening for lunch.” Bucky mused, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“I guess so.”

taglist // @93generation @technicallykawaiisoul @bookish-shristi @saturnki @jennmurawski13 @geeksareunique @the-soulofdevil @tinmunky @gifsbysimplysonia @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #chef!bucky #plus!reader #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #natasha romanov #tony stark #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier

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spacebeyonce · 3 years

Text

yeah okay wip wednesday time part 1

another 2k snippet from the sorikai prompt I got from @ride-the-bifrost. I have a feeling that this work is gonna be another long one, haha. maybe as long as assemble. anyway, under the cut - riku paying a visit to his mother, and other things.

“How have you been, sweetheart?”

Riku smiled at his mother as she sat next to him on the couch, the warm cocoa she made for him cradled in his hands. Another week had passed, and he decided to use one of his days off to pay a visit to his mother. She had called him earlier in the week, saying she wanted to talk to him, and welcomed his visit with open arms, brown skin creasing with a smile as she greeted him with hugs and kisses before ushering him into his childhood home.

“I’ve been alright.” He traces the rim of his mug with the tip of his finger. “I’ve been busy, mostly. Just working.”

His mother sighed. “Riku, baby, you always work! I don’t want you to wear yourself out, and I’m sure your grandmother doesn’t want that for you, either.”

“I know, mom. It’s – I’m not working all the time, promise! I actually, um. Went out? Last Saturday?”

The news made his mother brighten considerably, eyes widening slightly. “You did?? And you’re just now telling me?? Riku! Do you know how I’ve been worrying over you, hoping that you aren’t working too hard –”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry!”

He brought his mug to his lips, taking a long sip. “It was just – unexpected. That’s all.”

“Have I met them yet?”

“No, no…I only met them recently. Do you remember Synthesize? That place across the street from grandma’s shop –”

“Your shop, Riku. It’s yours now.”

“I – well. I met them while I was at work. They came in at different times for some stuff, and we just kinda…hit off from there.”

Riku ducked his head as his mother leaned in, trying to look into his eyes. “Did you have a good time?” She asked. “With your new friends?”

Riku silently considered his mother’s question. He did have a lot of fun with Sora and Kairi – more than he expected. It shocked him just how easy it was for them to click together, talking and laughing like they had been friends forever. The museum was fun; they took him to an art museum, and they played a little game where they took pictures of each other, trying to match the poses in some of the paintings. Lunch had been good, too, with Riku taking them to a café that he’s frequented since he was a teenager, and the movie they went to afterward was good. It was the first time in a long time Riku could remember coming home smiling.

“…I did.” He decided. “I had a really good time.”

His mother’s concern swiftly melted away into a smile, and she leaned back with a sigh. “Good.” She stressed. “I’m happy to hear that. You deserve to have a little more fun, baby.”

Riku peeked at her through his bangs. “Yeah, well…enough about me – how have you been, mom? You said you wanted to talk, right?”

He always worries about his mother; after his father died, he was extremely reluctant to return to his own place. He just couldn’t bear it – the thought of his mother, alone in the house his father built for her, a reminder of everything they lost. Riku didn’t want his mother to go to bed every night and be reminded that she slept in the same place where his father took his last breaths.

But his mother smiled at him, content – not a hint of the constant shadows of grief that used to hover in her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart – and don’t lie to me, I know you are. I’m doing alright. It’s part of why I wanted to talk to you, actually. I –”

She hesitated suddenly, her smile dimming, and that made Riku’s nerves skyrocket.

“Mom?” He prodded. “It’s – it’s nothing serious, right? You’re okay?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine, I promise – it’s nothing…nothing bad. But I’m still worried that it might…upset you.”

Upset him? Was it really that bad? She said she was fine, she promised, but –

“I won’t get upset.” Riku promises, steeling himself in case it really is bad news. “I promise.”

His mother stared hard at him, and Riku waited, expectant. Eventually she sighed. “Alright. Well – Riku, I’ve…recently, I’ve been…seeing someone.”

…What?

It took a second for her words to sink in, and once they did, Riku was left blinking rapidly at her, watching the little nervous crinkle appear between her brows.

Oh.

He gets why she would be nervous; if she had said this a few years ago, he would’ve absolutely lost it. And he feels terrible at the thought. Riku doesn’t want – his mother shouldn’t have to worry about upsetting him because she – she’s seeing someone. That isn’t fair to her at all.

So…so he smiles. “Is that all?” He teases. “Jeez, mom, you made it sound like I should’ve been expecting some bad news.”

“Ah, you’re…not upset about it?”

Riku pressed his lips together, considering his words before deciding to just – be honest. “If this happened a few years ago, I would have been. But you don’t deserve that, mom. And besides – dad, he…he probably wants that for you. To be happy. So are you happy?”

“I –”

“Are you?”

His mother’s eyes shined with unshed tears, but she nodded slowly. “I…am, yes.”

“And the person you’re seeing – are they nice? Are they good to you?”

This nod was firmer, more confident. “Yes. She is.”

“Then that’s all I need to know. I’m happy for you, mom – I really, really am. And I –”

Riku hesitated, but he needed to say it. “I’m sorry.”

“Riku –”

“No, let me say it. I know I’ve apologized before, but I have to do it again, because – because you shouldn’t have had to worry about my reaction to you seeing someone new. I…I was horrible, after dad died. To you, to grandma – to everyone. And you didn’t deserve that at all. And no matter what I was feeling at the time, I never should’ve taken it out on you.”

Tears were clinging to his mother’s lashes, and Riku set his mug aside so he could reach over and hold her hands. “I’m sorry, mom. I’m gonna be better – I’ll always try to be better.”

“I know.” His mother sniffed. “I know you will, Riku. And I – I forgive you. I know you were hurting, then. But…it’s better now. Isn’t it?”

She squeezes his hands, and Riku rubs his thumbs over her knuckles. “I think a part of me will always hurt, forever.” He finally says, and she squeezes his hands once more. “But…”

He lowers his head. Thinks of his grandmother’s hand, pressed against his cheek, her turquoise eyes bright as she tells him how proud she is of his growth. He thinks of Sora and Kairi, their eagerness to reach out to him and their bright smiles.

Riku picks his head up and gives his mother a grin. “But…it is a little better.”

His mother’s face was wet with tears, but her smile was just as wide. “That’s good.” She says. “I’m glad. I’m so glad. We’re gonna be okay, baby. I promise.”

“Yeah. I know.” His smile gained a hint of mischief. “You have to introduce me to this person you’re seeing, anyway.”

She laughed, loud and unrestrained, and it was the best sound he’s ever heard.

-o-

After a few months of regularly hanging out with Sora and Kairi, Riku could say with some amount of confidence that he has…friends. Which places him much better off than he was a few years ago, in his opinion.

When they asked to spend time with him, a part of Riku was pretty sure it was a fluke – a weird, one off moment, where they realize just how boring he actually is and drop him. But…it never happens. Instead, they visit him at work more often; they don’t even try to act like they need to buy anything sometimes, just standing out of the way and chatting him up at the counter when they have the chance. On their off days, they spend time at each other’s apartments, or hang out somewhere around the islands. It’s…really nice.

In between becoming a more social person, Riku finally meets the person his mother is seeing – Nanami, a woman with platinum blonde hair and a smile as warm as her eyes. Once he met her, watching how she easily brings a smile to his mother’s face, Riku can relax. He’s been worrying for so long about his mother being lonely – despite her many promises and reassurance that she wasn’t. But with proof of his mother’s happiness before him, he felt a knot in his heart loosen. Slowly, so slowly, things were…getting better.

And Riku had no idea what to do with that.

“Hey, Riku?”

He looked up with a quiet hum of acknowledgment to find Sora staring at him, eyes contemplating something.

It was an off day for Sora, and Riku was hanging out with him at his and Kairi’s apartment. Kairi had work that day, a few appointments booked at Synthesize, and Sora had called him whining about not wanting to be by himself. They’ve mostly spent the day together quietly, one of the windows open and enjoying the warm spring breeze that came in while Riku read his book and Sora played a handheld game. But apparently Sora got bored of that when Riku wasn’t looking, because here he was, game entirely forgotten and just – staring at him.

“What is it?” He prodded. “Do I have something on my face, or what?”

“No.” Sora hummed. “I’m just thinking –”

His eyes wandered, and Riku realized that Sora was staring at his ear, at this curve of his neck, exposed by his hair being up in a ponytail. It was considering, that gaze, and it made an embarrassed heat spread across his face. “What?” He asked, self-conscious.

“Have you ever thought of piercing your ears?”

Of all the questions, he wasn’t expecting that one. Riku drew himself up, putting his book aside. “Seriously?”

“Seriously! I think it would look really good!”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you want me to join you and Kairi’s little club.”

Sora grinned at him and tilted his head, the row of piercings he had lined along the shell of his ear glinting in the sunlight. “Would that be so bad? It’s a fun club! And it doesn’t have to be as many piercings as I have! Just one set!”

Riku turned to face Sora on the couch, folding his legs up. “What brought this on, huh?”

Sora shrugged lightly, eyes drifting down as he absently traced the patterns of the tattoo on his arm. He finally got to prove himself, and Riku’s caught a glimpse of most of his tattoos. He told him the meanings for each one, and Riku knew that the one Sora was messing with was his favorite; a quarter sleeve on his forearm of the ocean’s waves swirling together – a tribute to Kairi. He knows Kairi has a special tattoo for Sora, too, but Riku hasn’t seen it yet. The paopu fruit is for her, too – they both have one, marked on their wrists, and it makes Riku ache some, the thought of being tied to someone so intimately.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, that’s all.” Sora admitted, bashful. “I think it would suit you. It’d be very pretty.”

Riku’s heart skipped a little. Is – is Sora trying to say he thought he was pretty? That’s not possible; he’s obviously making something out of a throwaway comment because, one – Sora has a whole, entire girlfriend. And two – well. There is no two. Because even if it did make his heart flutter a little, it didn’t matter, because again – a whole, entire girlfriend.

“I’ve talked about it with Kairi, too, and she agrees with me! Don’t tell her that I told you, but –”

He leaned in a little, a sneaky smile on his face. “I’ve got it on good authority that it would only add to your prettiness, so I’m not bluffing when I say she agrees with me! But don’t tell her I said anything! She’ll get embarrassed.”

Pause. Hold on. Kairi, too?

Riku pressed a hand to his face, feeling the urge to hide. He pushed past it – stared hard at Sora, wondering what he was trying to pull. “You don’t have to make fun,” he started to say, but Sora quickly shook his head, cutting him off. “I’m not! Riku, I’m serious!”

He held out his hands, as thought being open will show just how earnest he was, and his eyes were so bright – Riku couldn’t detect a hint of mischief anywhere. So…he meant it. Okay. That’s…something.

Heat spread across his face, prickly and itchy. Riku pressed his lips together and tried not to look away. He was just asking about ear piercings – why was he so nervous?

Because he thinks you’re pretty. A part of him whispered. Because Kairi thinks you’re pretty – and you like that.

“I’ll –” he started. “Um. Think about it. I guess.”

“For real?? Awesome!!” Sora pumped his fists, victorious. “Hey, when you make a decision, let me know! If you do want the earrings, I’ll pierce your ears for you! Free of charge!”

“Free?! Sora, no, I’ll pay –”

“Rikuuuu.” Sora pouted a little as he drew out his name. There was no logical explanation for a grown man to be as – as cute as Sora is. “Come on – you’re my friend! It’s no big deal.”

His friend. Somehow, that little reminder helped – put things into perspective, and calmed the nervous beat of his heart. Why was he so nervous? He had no reason to be. Sora and Kairi, they were just – being nice. Being friends.

He needed to relax.

#wip wednesday #sorikai

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jetsetlife138 · 4 years

Text

Imaginary - Chapter 4

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: A mysterious device throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Pentagram City’s residents are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Suggestive language, explicit language

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3

Note: Just a reminder to my uninformed and curious folks out there: Asexuals can become aroused. Asexuals can have the desire to become aroused. Asexuals can enjoy being aroused. Asexuals can take steps to becoming aroused. Asexuals can be aroused by someone else. Asexuals can be curious about arousal. Asexuals can alternatively have no interest in arousal. Asexuality doesn’t mean that you are celibate and have no interest in sex. Do yourself a favor and do some research. Talk to your ace friends. Trust me, they’re more than happy to educate you on that subject. Brace yourselves for another fun-filled chapter!

Looking back, acting so aggressively towards the infamous demon was probably not the smartest plan. It may have been a bit premature to assume that he was making any kind of sexual advances towards you. After all, he never really confirmed that was his intention. You may have just dug yourself into an even deeper hole.

Then again… you wouldn’t put it past him considering how he carried himself and also by the way Angel Dust encouraged more illicit behavior. Even with the small amount of time that you had spent with him, it was obvious that the Radio Demon was an opportunist, and also a crafty bastard who got off on manipulating others for his own personal gain. You had wondered if there was a part of him that genuinely wanted to help Charlie with the hotel, or if he had any ulterior motives. Maybe Vaggie had the right idea about him after all.

Whatever the case, you had to be smart about this. You weren’t going to get anywhere by being so negative. However, it was also important to brace yourself for any impending threat, especially considering that you were, after all, in Hell. Cartoon or not, this place was filled with evil creatures, and you had to watch your back.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself to leave the safety of your room, equally curious and terrified of what would await you in this mysterious land. Stepping out into the hall, you took a moment to really look around, admiring the creepy hotel structure as well as the art on the wall. Painting of strange beings lined the halls in old, corroded frames. You weren’t sure if the creatures on the canvas were important historical figures, or if they were just members of Charlie’s family. Either way, they were haunting.

Hearing a commotion downstairs, you decided to go and investigate. Following the noises, you had eventually found yourself in a large room where Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust were gathered together, bickering about something with an odd, furry cat demon who was positioned behind the bar next to them with an annoyed look on his face.

Upon seeing you enter, Charlie cut the conversation short, forcing a nervous grin. “Oh, hey there! How’s it going?”

Keeping your expression neutral, you replied, “I’m hanging in there, thanks. Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all!” she assured you, clearly deflecting. “We were just, uh… discussing tactics to get you home. It would help if we had a little more to go off of. Can you tell us more about you?”

“Just ask Alastor,” Angel suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. “The two a them were gettin’ real familiar upstairs. I’m sure he’d be happy to fill you in.”

“Um. What?” Vaggie snapped, her expression equally enraged and horrified.

Glaring at the spider-demon, he merely blew a kiss at you in return before snickering fiendishly, eager to see how this would play out.

“He came to my room after the two of you left,” you admitted, noting the nervous glances between Charlie and Vaggie. “It wasn’t a big deal. We just talked.”

“Oh, honey,” Angel began. “You was doin’ a lot more than that. These walls talk, babe. And these walls told me they saw you two in bed together.”

Oh, fuck. Not good.

Charlie looked horrified while Vaggie seemed to be on the brink of a conniption. “No, no, no, it wasn’t like that,” you urged, putting them slightly at ease. “He was trying to help me.”

“How is being in bed together helpful to your cause?” Vaggie pressed, clearly not buying it.

“He did something to me… I’m not even sure. He said that he could help me and then he put his hand on my head. Next thing I know, I’m blacking out. I woke up later in the bed, and he just happened to be lying next to me. That’s it.”

Angel Dust rolled his eyes, crossing one set of his arms in disbelief while Vaggie pursed her lips in a disappointed manner. Charlie took a moment to find her words before she asked, “What exactly did he do to you?”

“Apparently, he could see inside my head. By looking through my memories he could see what my world looked like. I’m not sure how that’s beneficial. Maybe he just wanted to see if I was telling the truth. He didn’t say. He’s… weird.”

“That’s an understatement,” Vaggie murmured, earning a chuckle from the cat-demon behind the bar.

“Was that all?” Charlie inquired curiously.

“Yeah, toots. Was that all?” Angel teased, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Ugh, he was going to be the death of you.

“He tried to make a deal with me,” you finally divulged.

“Hijo de puta,” Vaggie seethed, baring her teeth in anger.

Swallowing thickly, Charlie asked, “What kind of deal?”

Shrugging your shoulders awkwardly, you replied, “If he succeeded in somehow returning me to my world, he wanted me to take him with me. I guess he thinks my world would be entertaining for him.”

You glanced at Angel, knowing that he was well aware of the other services that Alastor allegedly offered you. Pleading with your eyes, you hoped that he would take pity on you and keep his mouth shut just this once.

A smirk graced his lips as he considered your silent request. Much to your relief, he kept quiet. You’d probably pay for that later, but it was worth it to avoid more horrified expressions from the others.

Charlie wrung her hands together nervously while Vaggie approached you, worrying her lip. “Please tell me that you didn’t make a deal with him.”

“No!” you confirmed, shaking your head. “Of course not. I barely know him.”

“You gonna give her a history lesson? Looks like I’m not the only one around here who isn’t familiar with the Strawberry Pimp,” Angel drawled, now apparently bored of the topic.

Rolling her eyes, Vaggie sighed with exasperation. “Alright, look. No one knows how he’s accomplished so much since arriving in Hell. Overlords that have ruled Hell for centuries were no match against him. To prove his dominance and establish a reputation, Alastor pretty much massacred anyone who posed as a threat to his power. He broadcasted his carnage all throughout Hell, the mere savagery of his slaughters attesting to his abilities. That’s how he got his name, “The Radio Demon”. How original, right?” she jeered.

Furrowing your brows, you continued to listen intently. “It’s still unclear as to how he attained the power to overthrow our world’s most ancient and devastating evils, but it’s evident that he's a nefarious demon and dangerously unpredictable--capable of unimaginable destruction.”

Holy fuck. You knew he was dangerous, but you had no idea what he was actually capable of. And you had the audacity to berate him.

Struggling to keep from trembling, you asked, “So… if he’s so dangerous, why are you partnering with him?”

Charlie smiled timidly, trying to maintain her optimistic demeanor. “He offered his expertise because he supports what we’re trying to do here!”

“You cannot possibly believe that,” you countered skeptically.

“I don’t,” Vaggie barked back, scowling. “I want nothing to do with him.”

“Vaggie, come on,” Charlie implored. “We’ve been over this. We’ve got to at least give him a chance. Everyone is capable of redemption. He hasn’t done anything to hurt us or the hotel. He could be the best thing to happen to this place. Other than you,” she finished with a smile, earning a flirtatious eye roll from her girlfriend.

“You could always try commanding him to leave,” Angel taunted. “I’d like to see how Hell’s princess pairs up against Hell’s most powerful demon.”

It was then you remembered hearing her mention that she was a princess the day before when she had saved you from the mob. In all of the calamity, it had completely slipped your mind. “Wait, so you’re actually a princess?” you asked. “How does that work?”

“Jesus, you really are from another world, aren’t you?” Angel interjected, reaching for a drink at the bar. “Ever hear of Lucifer? The Big Bad of Hell?”

Nodding your head, Angel then pointed to Charlie. “That’s his kid.”

Your eyes were probably the size of baseballs as you stared at Charlie, completely at a loss for words. “It’s really not a big deal,” she assured you, her face flushed with embarrassment, which only added to her already rosy cheeks.

“Wait, you’ve been here for less than a day. How do you even know about Lucifer?” Vaggie questioned.

“I mean… I don’t know about your Lucifer,” you clarified, trying to find the right way to explain yourself. “In my world, Lucifer isn’t an actual person. He’s more of a myth, or a religious figure, depending on who you ask. There’s stories about him and no one knows if he actually existed. He’s always been portrayed as evil incarnate. He brought sin to the world and God cast him down into Hell. That’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Interesting,” Vaggie commented, pressing a finger to her lips inquisitively. “Your world’s version of him isn’t too far off. Rest assured, he’s real. And he’s not really a fan of our business.”

“Yet,” Charlie corrected her.

“Yet,” Vaggie agreed, grinning slightly.

“Wow,” you huffed, trying to comprehend everything.

“I know that this is probably a lot for you to take in,” Charlie sympathized, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, but we’re going to help you. All of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” the cat-demon commented before taking a swig of his booze.

“Oh! I forgot to introduce you! This is Husk. He’s a friend of Alastor’s--”

“I ain’t his friend!” he barked back, seething. “That stupid son of a bitch dragged me in here outta nowhere! I’m just biding my time until the booze runs out.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, thoroughly enjoying his callousness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I can’t say the same,” he grumbled, reaching for a new bottle of alcohol after pitching the old, empty bottle behind him.

Clapping her hands together, Charlie quickly changed the subject. “Right! Let’s get started! What can you tell us about how you got here?”

It was mostly a blur, but you tried your best to concentrate and remember exactly what had happened. “I was out with my friends and we had passed by this old thrift shop,” you began, trying to recall the details. “It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I was looking around and saw an old television set on display. It looked like it was at least fifty years old, still in prime condition. I love that kind of retro stuff. I remember grabbing the remote for the t.v. to see if it still worked. I pressed the power button, and bam!” You threw your hands up dramatically for affect. “That’s the last thing I remember.”

Charlie hummed in thought, looking to Vaggie for her input. “I’ve never heard of anything like that,” the moth-demon thought aloud. “Could it have been cursed?”

“That kind of stuff doesn’t exist in my world,” you countered. “Magic and curses and stuff… none of that is real. It’s all mythical.”

“If none a that stuff is real, how do you explain this place, sugartits?” Angel chimed in, cackling.

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t sure how to explain your situation. “I… I don’t know,” you stammered. “Maybe magic is real. Or maybe it’s something other than magic. Of course, there’s always the very real possibility that I’m just insane and all of this is in my head.”

“Oh, no, my dear,” an eerily familiar voice resounded ominously throughout the room. “I’ve been in your head, and I can assure you… you’re as sane as I am.”

Everyone was looking around frantically, wondering where Alastor was hiding. Moments later, a shadow appeared on the floor close to your feet, causing you to jump back and yelp as it grew rapidly until the Radio Demon himself materialized next to you, grinning widely. You briefly caught the glares and nervous expressions from the others out of the corner of your eye as he loomed over you. Wincing at his misguided assurance, you replied, “Great. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Ha! I do so enjoy your brazen disposition,” he jeered boisterously.

Your automatic response was to bite back with an aggressive jab, but after hearing what he was capable of, you instead avoided his gaze as you fought back the urge to antagonize him.

Immediately picking up on your hesitance, he carefully gauged your reaction as he stepped closer to you. “Now, now, darling. No need to muzzle yourself.” He then reached forward to place one of his slender fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. It took everything you had to remain still and maintain eye contact rather than smack his hand away.

Baring his teeth in a leering smile, his eyes morphed into intimidating red slits as he purred softly. “We are going to have so much fun.” Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #radio demon #charlie magne #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin angel dust #alastorxreader #alastorxyou #self insert #afab

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koteosa · 4 years

Text

here’s some modern au headcanons for the arcana ... it’s something I think about a lot

Asra

gamer memeing shitlord . he majored in minecraft you cannot convince me otherwise

plays A Lot of minecraft but also just enjoys any similar sort of game, sdv, animal crossing, etc. He’s really good at video games but he’s just fucking around . he likes to play online games and try his best to make everyone hate him in a really harmless sort of way . he heals the enemy spy . changes his display name and avatar to be exactly the same as someone else . tells people to go into the console and type unbindall

he plays games with his friends and he’s usually the top player so he just spends his time spoiling the shit out of his friends giving them good items carrying them through dungeons etc but not Julian, he tells Julian to dig straight down in minecraft . Julian doesn’t ever know what he’s doing in any video game so Asra trains him wrong on purpose, as a joke

anyway enough about video games (for now)

Asra lives in a van that he painted the exterior of himself, it was both a fun project and a very smug way to annoy people with this awful fucking hippie van strolling into town, eat shit

it’s decorated with crystals, furs, fairy lights, mason jars full of food For The Aesthetic, books, etc. It’s very cozy, cottagecore / bohemian and it’s ridiculously obvious that he’s into witchcraft. he just lets Faust explore because this isn’t real and I can pretend that a snake is exactly as well behaved as in a fantasy story

basically homeless by choice

drugs tw but I see him as the type to want to try anything and everything at least once so if he’s ever been offered A Drug (and he crashes parties for fun and for free food, so he’s got opportunities) he’ll try it Just To See, and this has resulted in some bad trips before, but Muriel saw him in the middle of one and then after he sobered up Muriel put his foot down and made Asra agree to only do these things as responsibly as possible, like, with supervision from a friend

still drugs tw but I also see Asra as a stoner but in the cbd edibles sort of way, a lot of this is because I headcanon Asra as having ADD (because I do and I want to project a little bit) so it helps him focus but also he just Likes It. the glove box of his car has like, chocolate/lollipop edibles stuff like that

goes between like super healthy elaborate meals with mushrooms and veggies and fresh meat and shit and then just eating nothing but cheez-its all day

style wise I see him as the type to wear a lot of tank tops, like, the loosest of tank tops so it hangs super low and long and you get some nice cleavage out of it, crystal necklaces, gold jewelry, pride pins/jewelry/etc (trans/nonbinary/bisexual flags), oversized hoodies with loud colorful patterns, joggers and other loose comfy pants, and either boots or slippers

he’s got like... the at home look that’s basically what I just described, and then the away from home look that’s got thirty layers and none of it makes sense and he just shows up in orange crocs With Patterned Socks and everyone who sees him just lets out the heaviest sigh

Asra getting home be like (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a l

He likes to go on long road trips completely at random and saves up money to go on more extensive trips like, out of the continent. It can be really hard to place him at any given time, especially because he’s extremely slow to respond to texts for a whole multitude of reasons. He just fucking vanishes sometimes and he doesn’t get that maybe people want to know where he is. He’s too solitary

He makes money either via street performances (magic, tarot readings, etc) or selling shit on etsy like handmade tarot decks, crystal necklaces, magic charms, etc. He Has Never Worked A Day In His Life and He Will Not Start Now

Responsibility? Don’t know her

People ask him really obnoxious questions sometimes and he makes outlandish lies to tell them for fun . Why do you live in a van? A house killed my parents

In the fall/winter he lives with Muriel or more to the point, he crashes on his couch for a really long time and Muriel’s landlord doesn’t need to know about it for rent purposes

Julian

he’s a highly paid doctor and your mother would love it if you’d marry him if not for the fact that he looks like he never left his teenage emo phase

PIERCINGS

There’s DEFINITELY at least one piercing on his d

he lives with Portia and Mazelinka and tries to handle all their expenses but Mazelinka won’t fucking let him

soundproofed his room but not because he’s a youtuber or anything but because he uh. y’know what I’m gonna let y’all figure this one out on your own

goes to like............. lgbt friendly bdsm clubs every now and then looking for someone to step on him and call him garbage it’s for his mental health you don’t understand

black turtlenecks . silver jewelry . distinguished but Edgy as well, black boots, winklepickers, doc martens, ohmygod this is my SHIT I’m giving him red plaid pants and a reversed cross necklace and a leather jacket that says some radical shit on the back and Lots of Rings . black jeans with tears in the knees and black eyeshadow, demonia boots, leather gloves, hhhhhhOHmy GOD

catch him at home in black leggings and a my chemical romance tshirt with holes in it . he wakes up in the morning with yesterday’s makeup and he just cleans it up a little and that’s good enough

fairly small bedroom because he’s usually never at home, but it’s still pretty clear what he’s into even if it’s not super decorated or elaborate, kind of just Default Room but with his stuff arranged throughout . band posters, black furniture, a bed that looks like a depressed vampire sleeps in it, a bookshelf but most of the books are scattered around his desk, bed, and the floor. there’s a taxidermy skull on display somewhere because it’s just so dramatic you gotta love it

plays a black electric violin

extremely out of tune with pop culture he still listens to 70-00s music and he doesn’t know what a minecraft is or why Asra keeps yelling CREEPER when he comes into the room nor why Portia yells back AW MAN

I googled it and he qualifies as a millennial but I still see him as such a fucking old man who doesn’t know how to use electronics

despite being a doctor he’s so unhealthy . he eats nothing but depression meals (or just, nothing) unless someone forces him to sit down and eat an actual meal . No Julian whiskey does not count for your daily water intake

Malak probably happened because Julian wouldn’t stop feeding every black bird he saw just for the aesthetic and that was like 17 years ago but they still show up at his window expecting almonds or whatever the fuck . he changes houses but they’re too smart . you try to be a cool gothic thespian with a raven that will pose on your arm ONE time when you’re a teenager and they just never stop coming

sad lonely no friends hasn’t been laid in six years because he’s too busy and no longer remembers how to form meaningful relationships. Portia keeps being like so I met this really hot (insert gender here) and like idk I think they’re into goth dudes............... just saying...................... and he’s like am I really so pathetic that I’m going to let my baby sister set up blind dates for me? Yes

would drive something very goth like a hearse or some shit if not for the fact that his family would make sure he ends up in a coffin in the back of it if he drove up in that shit . please . buy a normal fucking car . Julian . oh my god

he starts quoting melodramatic poetry at the slightest inconvenience . he is that “All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread. My cat stole my fucking garlic bread” meme

been arrested multiple times for general rowdiness but also for political activism . at this point Portia/Mazelinka will just sigh and pay his bail and they don’t even ask what he did this time . how does he still have a job? I wish I knew

theater kid

Muriel

lives in a rundown apartment in the shitty part of town because it’s all he can afford, it’s quiet, and no one will try to visit him (except Asra) because no one wants to go to THAT part of town . but no harm will likely ever befall him because he’s 6′10 and like three million pounds of raw muscle with battle scars like you gonna fuck with that? really?

even if he got robbed it wouldn’t matter because A) he doesn’t own anything B) Inanna will chase the thief away

depression man staying in his quiet rundown dark apartment distracting himself with idle hobbies and taking care of his dog to prevent the encroaching ennui from tearing him a new asshole

changes jobs frequently both because he never stands out therefore never gets taken on full time after the part time trial period, AND to protect himself from the horror of being known

works mostly things like construction, auto repair, dog sitting/walking/etc, woodworking, mostly hard labor but if he can convince granny to let a very scary but completely harmless man look after her bichon frise for the weekend then he’s pretty happy about that

in a similar manner, he orders everything online so cashiers/etc won’t start to recognize him. delivery workers leave everything outside his door and he just drags it inside after they leave like an itazura kitty coin bank

goes camping a lot because staying cooped up in his apartment is super bad for his mental health and he doesn’t like to take walks through the city for a multitude of reasons. he takes Inanna on walks through the woods instead

Asra is his only friend and that’s fine (it’s not fine)

convinced therapy doesn’t work and he wants nothing to do with it

doesn’t like using electronics and only keeps a few things around his house so Asra can use them when he’s around . Muriel has a phone (that Asra got for him) so he can text Asra, check the time, check the weather, google questions, and like, nothing else

pretty much only happy when something is about dogs. he wants to go to the pet store and look at the dogs but he needs Asra to go with him so Asra can distract the workers and Muriel can look at the puppies in peace

dresses in blacks, grays, greens, and browns for the most part, jacket with the hood up, tank tops, dark jeans with tears in them, brown boots with mud stains on them . functional, not particularly stylish, and if he’s going to be in public he doesn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see his face. at home it’s mostly no shirt + sweatpants/joggers/etc. doesn’t accessorize or put in any real effort. he doesn’t care what he looks like (because he’s convinced he’s not much to look at anyway)

lives that super eco friendly life like Asra does but it’s more that he just feels comfortable living like he’s always on a camping trip

he doesn’t want to eat junk like Asra does but if Asra shows up with mcdonalds then well he can’t really say no

the type who uses something until he absolutely cannot use it anymore instead of just buying a new one

has never been to a doctor, dentist, etc Ever. the most he can do is take Inanna to the vet because he loves her so much

drives a very old pickup truck with like, chipped paint and mud stains. he’d take better care of it if only anything in life mattered

didn’t go to school

Portia

I like to think that she took on a groundskeeping job at Nadia’s very expensive large house and they fell in love and now Nadia pays for everything and Portia just spends her time gardening, playing with Pepi, and like idk running a vlogging/gaming youtube channel

200 videos of Pepi on her youtube channel with 4 million views each bare minimum . takes random videos of cats where she has to audio edit it to shit so you can’t hear her high pitched squeals of delight

minecraft let’s play part 30 where her, Asra, Nadia, and Julian play together and it’s extremely chaotic because Asra and Portia decide to gang up on Julian who does NOT know what he’s doing, and then Nadia surprises them all by not being the bigger person and instead tricking Julian into some elaborate trap where he steps on a trapdoor and falls 15 blocks into some lava and he looks up and all he sees is Nadia’s smug fucking avatar looking down at him

nightcore. it’s just not FAST enough

wears sweaters with cats on them. generally dresses in warm colors + brown/green, it’s like a very soft cozy look that you could go camping in or just generally be outside and get grass stains and whatnot. cute, functional

likes to make Julian do things for her like drive her places etc because like, he will. he always will

really likes social gatherings with her friends; sleepovers, beach trips, sitting at mcdonalds and pouring all their fries into a pile etc. tries to get Julian to go with her but he’s Just So BUSY. she makes fun of him and makes him drive her to it, then manages to convince him to stay

cottagecore aesthetic . she just thinks it’s so cute to have the little mason jars and decorate everything with leaves and flowers and BEES and whatnot . would love to live in a little cottage with a farm if she could

her room has a big cat tree in it . green wallpaper with yellow flowers. pressed flowers into books, an extremely cozy bed, fairy lights, it’s very farmy but also there’s a lot of electronics. she’s got a lot of 00s games, like, right in that ps2 sweet spot

nicknames all of her pokemon

she spoils the ever loving shit out of Pepi. She’s got a little cat harness and they go on walks through the park together

I don’t have a lot to say about the other two I Am Sorry

#the arcana #julian devorak #asra alnazar #muriel #portia devorak #nix hydra #text #writing #modern au #headcanon #the arcana writing

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firebrands · 5 years

Text

stevetony fic recs

BUCKLE UP MY DUDES THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG ONE

here are my recs for steve/tony fics that i seriously think need a ton more love! (aka, have less than a 1k kudos lol)

starts w angsty recs, then fluff, then pwps

Pyriscence by @nostalgicatsea, 6.9k, MCU

written pre-release of endgame, but damn. so good. i cried.

She also knows this: Tony handed over his heart to Steve—to all of them but most of all to Steve—along with the keys to his house the day he recruited them.

Even if Steve knew that, Natasha isn’t sure he would keep it anyway. She knows he thinks himself undeserving.

She knows it’s because he loves Tony.

A Long, Lonely Time by asktheravens, 58.5k, MCU

holy SHIT, this was a WILD FUCKING RIDE. totally unique.

Author’s summary: Steve returned from the war injured in body and mind- and able to see the dead. At loose ends and desperate to get out of New York City, he accepts a fellowship through the Stark Foundation and retreats to a quiet lake house on the grounds of the Stark Mansion. He's supposed to be there to paint, but he quickly realizes that the house is more than he bargained for. Anthony Stark died here a decade ago, but was it an accident? A suicide? Or a murder? Obadiah Stane still lives in the main house just up the hill, and the past casts a long shadow.

A Cabin in the Woods by nightwalker @onemuseleft, 26.7k, MCU I really don't want to spoil this but this fic has it ALL - fluff, funny dialogue, and ELDRITCH HORRORS

Author’s summary: It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, a chance for them to spend some time as a couple and work out some of the kinks in their relationship. That was before everything got weird.

Steve Rogers is a Tactical Genius by @swankyo0, 2.6k, MCU

I love when Steve is assertive and knows what he’s doing (in terms of romancing Tony)

“What’s up, Cap?” Tony’s voice is light but Steve can tell it’s forced.

“Tony Stark, you and I are going out,” Steve starts, his voice a bit more commanding than he had planned. “We are going to get dinner at a nice place, and I’m going to open doors for you and let you pay because you are a stubborn ass. I’m going to bring you a gift and you are going to accept it because I am a stubborn ass. And at the end of the night I am going to walk you to your door and there will be a kiss good night, because I’m gonna do this right, damn it.”

when i run out of road, you bring me home by @quidhitch, 18.4k, MCU

Tony buys a farm. Steve lives in the farm beside Tony's. (Featuring: Riri Williams!)

“It’s no use trying to keep him out, Tony supposes. He learned a long time ago that he could plaster his whole body with signage declaring ‘WARNING: HAZARDOUS MATERIAL’, and it would only further tempt Steve Rogers’ self-immolating tendencies.”

call me, maybe by ohmyloki @bootycap, 1.8k, MCU

Tony hums, bouncing up to the balls of his feet for a second as he looks around the gallery. “I’ve got an idea.”

Steve narrows his eyes at him. “I’ve only just met you but I get the feeling that phrase tends to get you in trouble.”

Tony laughs, and Steve’s heart does what feels like a little pirouette in his chest.

“You have no idea how right you are, Steve.”

There’s a deep sense of satisfaction in the way Tony says his name. He wants to hear it again. Which is partly why he can’t be blamed for what comes out of his mouth next.

let me be the one (who never leaves you all alone) by ohmyloki @bootycap, 11.7k, MCU

It was Tony’s wide, brilliant eyes, the rare full-blown smile when he’d accomplished something he’d struggled with, the way he couldn’t seem to stop himself from talking when he came up with a new idea and wanted to show off. Like an excited little kid, ever at odds with the man who drank too much and thought too little of himself. These thoughts of Tony’s kindness, generosity and brilliant mind ran an undercurrent beneath the fantasy of Tony’s slick, tanned skin, and perfectly shaped upper lip. That was when it struck Steve.

Maybe he could have this. Maybe he could have Tony... if Tony would have him.

Get Down On Your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me by @heartsandmuses, 5.1k, MCU

Author’s summary: When Steve opens the page to this month’s calendar, he freezes as he catches sight of a reminder in the space for next Friday, exactly a week from now. PROPOSAL!

Motherlode by nanasekei @elcorhamletlive, 6.8k, MCU

Author’s summary: After Steve returns, though they've made up, his relationship with Tony remains distant.

“Great,” Steve says, smiling brightly, and Tony can’t, he just can’t handle that smile. It makes him want to float and giggle and dance and do all sorts of crazy things. It makes him want to kiss Steve.

He clutches his hands, giving in to one indulgence over the insane, dangerous other. “Awesome. That’s, that’s awesome.” Then, out of sheer despair, he reaches for another salmon roll, popping it in his mouth.

On the plus side, it gives something to busy his mouth with that isn’t, you know, Steve’s lips. On the down side, he’s now awkwardly chewing with a full mouth in front of Steve.

That seems to remind Steve of the forgotten pig-in-a-blanket on his hand, and he hurriedly eats it, cheeks flushing a little.

So now they’re both chewing. It’s great.

if I time it right, the thunder breaks (when I open my mouth) by nanasekei @elcorhamletlive, 11.9k, MCU

Or: Five Times Steve told Tony he loved him, and one time he didn't need to.

“That is the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever done for me.” He pauses for a moment, winded, and Tony looks at him now, mouth curling to fight back what Steve knows would be a self-satisfied smile. “I love you.”

Tony freezes.

Steve… Steve wonders for a second what the best course of action would be, going through all the options, including running to the garden and asking Thor to drown him in the pool for good. He has no idea why it slips out now, exactly, but at this point he has no idea what tiny thing Tony is going to do that’s going to cause a fluttering feeling in his chest.

Strategic Thinking: Armor Wars Edition by Annie D (scaramouche) @no-gorms, 1.8k, Avengers Academy

Tony tries to pull his hand away, but it’s half-hearted. Tony’s neck is flushed pink, which Steve finds far more charming that he probably should. But that’s all right – it’s Tony, who makes Steve think all sorts of things he’d never before.

Every True Thing by @dirigibleplumbing, 3.9k, MCU

Author’s summary: After escaping captivity, Steve and Tony go to a safe house. Ordinarily, it would just be boring. But they’ve both been dosed with truth serum…

“You like it, then?”

“Of course I like it, it’s you.”

“But, I don’t want you to like it just because it’s me, I want you to like it because I’m good at it. You’re good at it, you—know what you’re doing.” Steve blurts this into Tony’s neck, glad that he doesn’t have to look Tony in the face while he speaks.

Mission: Improbable by @cptxrogers, 5.6k, Avengers Assemble Author's summary: Tony is called on to investigate strange events which have been occurring in the upper echelons of society recently. There's just one small issue - he needs Steve to pose as his date for the evening.

Tony glanced around. “I think they’ve moved on. We can get back to work now.” “Are you sure?” Steve asked, a little too quickly. Perhaps the men might still be around. Perhaps might come back. Perhaps they’d need to hide by kissing some more.

Steve Rogers Does (Not Do) Marriage Counseling by Neverever @captainneverever , 6.4k, MCU

Tony stared incredulously at Steve. “Are you that dense?” “No,” Steve replied miserably. “Basically, you’re telling me that you wouldn’t know what to do if someone made a pass at you.” “I wouldn’t know what a pass is or was. That’s what I’m saying.” “So you wouldn’t call shoving your hand on my ass a pass?”

The Fear of Consequences by @keptein, 4.5k, MCU Author's summary: It really isn't a problem. Then one day, Tony looks at Steve and thinks, shit. It might be mutual.

“Cap,” Tony says helplessly. The tomatoes roll around on the brown tile, barely visible in the tower's automatic night light settings.

Steve looks angry, and Tony's suddenly reminded that shit, this guy fought in World War II. It's not usually something you can see on his face. “Why are you avoiding me?” he asks, without preamble, eyes never leaving Tony's face.

“I.. haven't been?” It comes out a question, which really wasn't what Tony wanted at all. “I mean, I haven't been avoiding you, of course I haven't. I've just been busy, you know, Iron Man maintenance, and just because Pepper's CEO of Stark Industries now doesn't mean I don't have to do shit, unfortunately.“ He bends down to avoid Steve's stare and starts to pick up the tomatoes, until he feels Steve's large, warm hand on his shoulder. It startles him into looking up, still bent down with his hand reaching for a tomato. “Cap,” Tony says, and is absurdly proud when the name doesn't lose its warning tint.

Together, At Dawn by RoseGoldAmpersand, 8.1k, MCU

Lingering in his past and missed opportunities, Steve was overcome with the urge to check in on his teammate. As team captain, it was the right thing to do. Nobody would know he had taken a detour. Nobody would suspect he lingered because he ached to see Tony look at him again with eyes bright with friendship. If he couldn't help his Tony, he was making damn sure this Tony knew that Steve Rogers would always be there for him.

a properly scholarly attitude by goodmorningbeloved, 2.9k, college AU

“You were thinking of something. I knew that look, what was—”

“You,” he answers without hesitation. “I was thinking of you. How good you look with those on, how—” He bites his own lip hard, angling his head away from Tony’s kiss in shame. “I— Tony, you’re tired, and we’re in the library—”

Wash That Man (right out of my hair) by @mizzy2k, 7k, comics - 616, sorta pwp?

Holy shit. Holy shit. He'd assumed when Tony said he had a brand new body that it was a metaphor, a dramatic exaggeration, not a completely new unrecognizable-as-Tony-Stark body.

“Hey, Cap!” Tony beams widely at him, his mustache twitching with the smile. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Haha,” Steve says, “yeah.” Smooth. That’s Steve Rogers for you. Eloquent under pressure.

Nicotine Hit by @festiveferret, 7.5k, MCU, pwp

The idea of Steve smoking in secret wormed its way into Tony’s brain and wouldn’t let go. It was the worst kind of craving, vague and misdirected, because it came in the shape of Steve instead of the nicotine hit he knew he really wanted. He associated Steve with the ritual of smoking and it got so bad he couldn’t look at the man without starting to feel antsy and wound up.

voglio sentirti by lackluster_lexicon @usenecessaryforce , 4.2k, MCU, bdsm

Tony closed the distance between them, unwound his arms to grab hold of the front of Steve’s shirt. Steve hissed in surprise, wrapped his hands around Tony’s wrists, but when Tony put the full force of his body into pulling Steve forward, Steve willingly dropped to his knees. Tony released Steve’s shirt, moved one hand to Steve’s shoulder and grasped Steve’s hair with the other, pulled Steve’s head back and forced him to look up at Tony.

“You’re going to beg,” Tony growled.

Side Effects by @elimymoons , 29.2k, comics - ultimates, bdsm

"You… what?" Steve's breath caught. He felt off-kilter, out of time, like he'd just woken up again and found everything flipped on its axis, but this time it felt good and right, and he just wanted to take Tony in his arms and never let go. "You love me?" he asked, soft, reverent almost. Tony Stark loved him, Steve Rogers, who— who swore too much, whose best friend wore dentures because his teeth all fell out, who talked better with his fists than his words most days. Steve Rogers, a ham-handed, bumbling oaf a man, and sweet, suave, wonderful Tony Stark loved him. "You love me?" he asked again, and Steve could feel his lips pulling back into a wide, beaming grin.

#fic recs #fanfic writer appreciation day #stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony fanfiction #stevetony fanfic #i tried my best to find everyone's tumblrs!#THANK YOU ALL YOU HAVE BROUGHT SUCH JOY TO MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#fic rec list

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lsobelevans · 4 years

Text

Couldn’t stop thinking about my victorian artist’s muse AU so... this is for Alex week day 6 + time.

In which, Michael is convinced that Alex is the missing key to their quest in reforming the arts. He just needs to find someone who will paint him right.

Michael brings Alex to Rosa Ortecho first.

Her apartment is, of course, planted in the sketchiest street of London Alex has ever set foot in. Michael stops in front of one narrow building, squeezed between a blacksmith and a butcher. Everything about the place makes Alex nervous, he wants to turn around and run back to the respectable safety of his household, to run away from the ceaseless noises, the nauseating smells… but Michael goes in, mindlessly stepping over the body of a passed-out drunk man that was blocking the entrance and Alex would rather go with him than stay alone outside for a single second.

He follows Michael up the cramp staircase and they only stop at the end, in front of the top floor apartment. Alex’s apprehension spikes when he realizes some of the noise, aggressive grunts and muffled impacts, are now louder and coming from inside. Michael, still unfazed, knocks on the door and opens it without waiting for an invitation. He rushes in, tailed by Alex, to find Rosa Ortecho in men’s trousers and a loose shirt, hitting a bag of sand hanging from the roof. There’s an alarming brutality in her moves, a crudeness Alex isn’t sure he has ever witnessed before. Michael ignores her, removes a pile of books from a couch and sits there, patting the empty space beside him, inviting Alex to join.

“Could take a while,” he says, spreading his legs on a stool. Then he notices Alex’s wide eyes, that he can’t take away from Rosa, as her blows on the bag become stronger and harsher. He’s known her from reputation, of course, but seeing her in person holds nothing to the muttered gossips that have reached Alex’s ears.

“She needs to get the energy right. She’s conjuring all the life she can.” Michael explains. Now he is staring at her too with a bit of wonder. He matches her rhythmic blows as the words roll of his tongue. “It’s pure.” Punch. “Unhinged.” Hit. “Soul.”

They watch her like that, in silence. She doesn’t acknowledge their presence for a long time, making Alex wonder if she even noticed they’re here. He’s about to bring it up to Michael when she finally decides the bag has learned its lesson and puts an end to her beating.

She greets them while taking off the bandages on her hands and she downs a glass of port before offering them one that Michael takes and Alex declines.

She throws one quick glance at Alex, shrugs and makes him strip off his shirt and take place in front of the window, but not before dropping a fake crown with paper flowers on his head.

Alex expects to be there at least until the sun goes down, something Michael had briefed him about. Turns out after only a few minutes of sitting at the easel while making faces, fidgeting with her tools and chalks and not giving him a single proper instruction, Rosa sighs in defeat before turning around to face Michael.

“What the fuck do you expect me to do with this, Guerin?”

He looks up from the book he had just picked up, looking genuinely startled for the first time since Alex has crossed his path, days ago in the back of his father’s hat shop.

The argument explodes so fast and easily it makes Alex think they do this a lot. Michael gets up from the couch, surges in front of Rosa and then there’s yelling, dramatic hands thrown in the air and verbal digs are exchanged back and forth. It reminds Alex of one of those really bad plays his mom used to take him and his brothers to in Coven Garden.

“I like Alex,” Rosa says, with an apologetic smile in his direction. “He’s pretty. I’m not saying I will never have him sit for me but for this particular work it's just not quite-”

“Pretty?” Michael replies with an outraged, disgusted face. “You're making the biggest mistake of your life, Ortecho. It's excellence, paradise served on a goddamn plate and you're being… picky.”

Heat rises to Alex's cheeks. Michael keeps talking about him like that, like he's something exceptional, and Alex doesn't know what to make of it.

Michael's words are met with a snort from Rosa. “Sure, whatever you say. Listen I just need someone with more- less- Guerin, I need someone who doesn't shies. Who knows what they’re doing. I need a damn whore.”

Michael shakes his head in utter consternation. He even takes a step back.

“Oh coming from you that is rich.” She points an angry finger at him. “We always paint whores, and you know it.”

“And how well has that worked so far?” Michael asks, this time grabbing a fistful of paper from a counter and shoving them in Rosa’s direction. “Aren’t you weary of always coming up with the same uninspired junk?”

This time, Alex sees her lips thinning and her fist tightening to her sides, body tensed with real anger. Remembering the sandbag, he wonders if Michael is braver or dumber than he first assumed, because the man doesn’t back down even a bit.

She yanks the sketches from Michael’s hand. “It’s worked pretty well, actually. And unlike somebody, I actually have commissions and I can pay my models with something else than-”

“He”, Michael points at Alex, his eyes still fixed on Rosa, “Is exceptionally better than any whore. The point is simplicity. The point is everything that is true and heartfelt…”

“Why don't you paint him then?” She turns around and throws herself on a chair, as it seem her anger has shifted to a deeper lassitude.

“Oh I will, but as for now he…” Michael’s face falls for a second and he mumbles. “All right. I cannot pay him properly.”

Rosa gives him another snort. “You need a patron, Michael. And he needs experience. But until then, if you really mean to have him painted… I heard DeLuca has a project. Something fancy, Shakespearean, and she couldn’t quite find the right model. Maybe he will actually earn the money that you promised when you made him quit his job and family to follow you into this doomed madness.”

------------

Maria DeLuca is looking at him so intensely that he is sure her gaze is actually piercing into his soul. He wouldn’t be surprised if she knew all of his darkest secrets now, if she was familiar with all of his deepest fears and desires. When he and Michael called, she immediately grabbed his chin, not hard but firmly, and has been examining his face for what feels like an eternity, without saying a word. Not long ago, this would have unsettled Alex, but he is getting used to Michael and his friend’s strange ways. After all, she is less scary than Rosa, she seems less tormented and she hasn’t even punched anything in the time Alex has made her acquaintance.

There’s something different about her, something closer to what Michael has, that makes Alex want to be her friend, want to please her.

He throws a quick look at Michael who has been waiting in the corner. He smiles back at him with an encouraging nod, so Alex waits.

At last, she lets go of his face and turns to the other man.

“You weren't lying,” she says. “He's perfect. Curious mingle of simplicity and refinement, constantly walking the line like a tightrope walker…” for a moment, she seems lost in her thoughts. She grabs a notebook and scribbles something, eyebrow knitted.

“Sit for me!” She exclaims, closing the notebook. “I'll pay you, which is more than this imbecile can promise. It won't be easy, but you'll get out of it a richer man in your heart, your mind and your wallet.”

“It would be an honor.” Alex agrees, earning himself a soft smile.

“Great,” she says. “We will begin now. Michael, help Max fill the bath and light up some candles, will you?”

To Alex’s surprise, Michael complies. Where Rosa seemed to excite him, Maria seem to have the opposite grounding effect. He wonders how the three of them function as a group, if they undo each other’s excess, if they only find their balance together, where Alex’s place would be in all of this.

Posing for Maria is hard.

She makes him wear a flowy robe and has him lay in a bathtub only warmed with candles for hours on end. Unlike Rosa, she explains what she wants from him, in too many words when all he can do is try to keep himself afloat, but she smiles at him, and so does Max, her protégé, so Alex does his best to be good and stay still. Then Michael watches him with proud eyes, and something lights up in Alex’s abdomen, and for the first time in his life, he feels he is right where he belongs.

When the night has finally fallen and the flame of the candles isn’t enough for Maria to keep drawing, they help him out of the tub and provide him with towels. She invites him and Michael to take a look at her work before leaving, and while discovering his own portrait, immersed in the green waters of a mystical lake, he is stunned.

He can see what Michael sees, the exceptional nature of it, the composition of something new, the beginning of a different era. His features are brought to a different plane of life by Maria’s talented lines, it’s a haunting mirror, so unsettling that he has to look away. And then he can only accept Michael’s whispered words.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

-----------

During the day Michael’s place is all windows and cream drapes, wild plants and sunlight, like a greenhouse garden, a lung in the suffocation of central London. Alex is in awe every time he walks through the glass doors, as he was the first time Michael brought him in. Surrounded by books and sketches and dirty painting tools, Michel fits there, in the untamed wilderness, the carefree, the unexpected.

In low evening light, everything glows orange and the light of the torches dances on their cheeks. The mess looks tidier, all the sounds are muffled and the air is calmer.

“Gonna go find some refreshment,” Michael says, taking off his coat. “to celebrate your first time sitting.”

He disappears somewhere behind a long hanging sheet, leaving Alex free to look around.

Even in the dim light, Alex peeks at the canvas, then at the sketches scattered on all the surfaces. He runs his fingers on paper, feels its grain, picks one up randomly. It’s a woman, with wild flowers in her hair and a soft, melancholic gaze. Another one, a body, fabric and color. In the night, the figures seem almost otherworldly. He is easily taken by them, transported by the smooth lines, so much that he doesn’t hear Michael coming back behind him.

“You like those?” he asks, glancing over Alex’s shoulder.

Alex’s breath catches at Michael’s low tone, at his proximity.

“They’re brilliant.” he replies, barely a murmur.

Michael sighs and takes a step back, leaving Alex cold and almost disappointed.

“No, they’re not. And they never will be,” he says, looking away as something breaks in his voice. “I’m so close Alex. So close to get it right but I’m just. Stuck and I can’t- unless-”

He looks back at Alex with a glint that reminds him of Rosa, with a sort of urgency that matches her hooks, alive, dangerous.

“You have stricken me.” He declares. It is a simple fact, a statement that doesn’t call for any reply, and yet.

“I will.” Is all Alex can say, with a hard determination that he surprises himself with. “I will sit for you.”

He’s known, since the first time he laid eyes on Michael, that he would do anything the man asked of him. That he would let himself be stolen away, and that he would never turn back to his dull, nonsensical life. He’s known he would never be small again, and that his hunger for greatness, now that he’s had a taste of it, is going to be insatiable.

Michael laughs a litte.

“I cannot pay you what you deserve.”

“Teach me then. Help me improve. I want to paint and to write. I have potential, I have things to say. Let me become one of you. Let it be my payment.”

Michael has gotten closer now, so close in Alex’s space that he can see, even in the dark, the details on his face, his lips, the small reflections, sparkles of light in his eyes. He lays a hand on Alex’s cheek, grazing softly with his thumb and Alex shivers.

“You’re burning. Are you sure you didn’t catch something at DeLuca’s? This foolish bathtub...”

It has to be Alex who closes the gap between their lips, but it’s Michael’s hands that are suddenly all over him, and he feels awake, alit, as he is clumsily led toward a bed in a corner of the room, trying not to catch himself on piece of fabric or to knock off an easel or a candlelight.

#alexweek2020 #alex manes #michael x alex #malex #maria and rosa are featured #Hunt!Rosa is the loml #this is the first writing i've ever posted in this fandom i'm pretty sure???#because i can't really write but this wouldn't leave me alone #thanks to sára for reading and encouraging <3 #fanfic #i don't think there's really any warnings except that i'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense #what is english anyway #mine*#myalexweek*

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