#i get why y'all like acrylic paints now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

timextoxhajima · 3 years

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Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [3]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, smut *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: i genuinely don't fucking know i think it's at least 4k WHY THE FUCK IS IT GETTING LONG ERJSJSJSJDNAKD

taglist: @from-xero @taeyongandfree @ten-gift @louvyves @sweetutopia @yyyereum @jung-breadshop @sunwoowuvbot @mashedpotittiess

protip: links of BGM are linked~

{this is a work of fiction}

eric swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and drags his index finger over the tip of his nose, tongue still sucking on his teeth as if it hadn't already been a day.

he was sitting on the other side of the tutorial room and you just so happened sat in a spot where he was the first person in your view when you looked up.

stupid hexagonal tables.

the moisture in your mouth suddenly evaporates, leaving your tongue dry like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

the lustful blanket over his eyes threaten to rip your mentality apart, and even without him touching you, the heat in your abdomen starts to clench and throb.

the thought crosses your mind, just so you can convince yourself: if eric can associate himself with sex within your primal instincts then the brain that got you here can associate him with a big, fucking, red flag.

you suck in a deep breath and hold it for awhile, eyes plastered to the ipad under your palms. crossing your legs tightly, your jeans hug your hips and waist all too perfectly.

yujeong had smacked one of her baseball friends earlier that day for staring at your legs.

after the likes of wooseok's party and the incident yesterday, you made it an effort not to show up in dresses or skirts anymore. call it ptsd, call it trauma, call it not wanting to get into trouble.

whatever it was, you didn't want eric anywhere near you.

well, despite how good he mad-

"can you stop eye-fucking him from across the room?" yujeong harshly whispers at you, glaring at you from the corner of her eyes.

"what?" throwing your tied-up hair to your other shoulder, you tilt your face to her.

"what do you mean 'what'?" yujeong hisses, nodding to the boy across the room. "y'all are fucking in your heads!"

"yes, broadcast it to the entire class, would you, please?" the sarcasm drips off your tongue with a frown.

"I'm just saying if you want him so bad then just go get a room. fucks' sake, go find a practice room or something."

"i think I'll go with 'or something'."

and in that second, your iPad lights up with a notification from the school email account.

yujeong parts her lips with a retort, but you quickly shush her by pressing a finger to your lips when the professor seemed to glance over at the two of you.

she inhales a deep breath, spotting the notification pop up on her laptop screen too.

to: all students

from: the college union

title: dance union winter getaway

dear students,

every year, more than 200 students apply for the dance union but only 20 are accepted. thus, it is of high regard that the members of the dance union utilise the annual winter getaway to bond.

this year's event will be held at lake white. all students in the dance union with leadership positions are expected to be present and those with valid reasons of absence are required to fill up the form attached to this email.

if you're interested in joining the dance union, please apply in the first week of the new academic year. applications open first week of the semester.

regards,

the student union

staring wide-eyed at the email with your apple pencil trembling in your fingers, you gulp.

fuck.

yujeong's lowly snicker sounds from next to you, and you look to her, only to watch a bright smile stretch across her face.

"what?" she snorts, tears in her eyes. "don't look at me. look at your captain."

your neck snaps to the boy across the room, who's got his phone lifted with the screen displaying the email page. he waves it around a little, raising a brow with a menacing shimmer flashing across his eyes.

your blood begins to boil without reason.

why were you suddenly stuck to him? it's like the planets and stars aligned just so he glue himself to you; so he could ruin your title and rip you apart, inch by inch.

your fists clench around the apple pencil, and you're only snapped out of your inner rage when the professor calls on you.

yujeong leans into the lockers with her books against her chest, mindlessly scrolling through her phone as you go on incessantly about the student union's decision to make it mandatory.

you swing the locker door so hard that it bounces off its limit and nearly comes back down onto your hands, but you stop it before it does.

"how does the fucking winter getaway improve our bonds?" you hurl a textbook into the locker. "it's not like we're gonna sit in a circle and sing hallelujah, right?"

"you went for that getaway last year-"

"yeah, and we did nothing besides getting shitfaced! fuck this stupid winter getaway."

"sis, say that any louder and your 'innocent heartbreaker' image is gonna change into something more like 'brutal heartbreaker'."

"don't fucking call me that," you hurl another book into your locker. "and why does everybody talk like that nowadays? 'say that any louder'? where was that from? a movie? a tiktok?"

"why are you so on edge?" yujeong pushes herself off the metal doors and frowns. "you've been on edge ever since wooseok's party."

"i am always on edge."

"what?" yujeong pulls her lips up into a slight wince as her eyes half into squints. "bullshit. what happened to your little 'innocent heartbr-"

"don't," you lift a finger, shutting your eyes and stopping her. "say another word."

yujeong raises both her brows, smirk plastered to her face as she readjusts her bag. "don't worry."

you look up at her, placing the last item in your locker.

"i don't have to."

"what?"

"so," then that godforsaken voice rings from behind you, and all your physical senses start to shut down one by one.

yujeong sees right past it, smirk turning into something less devious as she puffs her cheeks.

"about the winter getaway."

"i'll leave the two of you at it."

"what? no-"

"bye!"

"yujeong-"

she turns and strides off, short hair lathered around her neck. she waves with a bright grin, leaving you to back face the vicious heartbreaker.

you remain rooted to the ground, locker door wide open and bag slung around your right shoulder. eric waits until yujeong disappears down the hall, leaving a few other students within the vicinity to turn and stare at the two infamous dance captains.

eric walks to your side, reaching out and resting his palm on the outer edge of your locker.

"we're in open space," he smiles, gradually pushing the locker door inwards and closing it for you. then he rests his palm against the metal door, sandwiching you again. "there's not much i can do to you."

a few students turn to stare.

"unless you want me to."

"stop it."

"stop what?" he smirks and buckles his arms, forcing you to lay your back flat against the metal surface. "I'm not doing anything."

"then what are you doing now?" you frown and look up at him, knuckles whitening around your bag straps.

"having a conversation."

someone fishes a phone out, and the flashlight flickers.

eric whirls around, keeping his arm anchored to the locker.

"stand down, kid."

"sorry," he fumbles with the phone, and now you'll never know if he actually took a picture.

"anyway-"

"look, i don't know what kind of game you're playing but this isn't healthy for us if we are supposed to work together. especially with the winter getaway coming up."

eric licks his lips and lowers his head, smiling at the sudden cast of professionalism.

"it flatters me that you don't care too much about having fucked outside of wooseok's garage-"

"eric-"

"nor getting fucked out in the practice room-"

"eric-"

"or even the fact that you tied up your hair today-"

"i tie up my hair whenever i fucking want to."

"ooh," eric winces at the snap, his pearly whites glimmering under the lighting. "the 'innocent heartbreaker' is angry!"

"will you shut the fuck up?"

"aw," he coos, leaning into you and breathing down your philtrum. "make me."

your fists finally clench, jaws locked and temples tightened.

"I'll rip off your dick if you touch me again. now, back off."

you press your palms flat into his chest and shove him away, breaking him into light chuckles as he stumbles back.

you pull your bag back onto your shoulder, turning sharply and stomping off.

"hey! we still need to meet up to discuss the plans for lake white!"

the scent of half-painted canvases with acrylic paint washes through your nose when you enter your room.

it's definitely bigger than what a normal room should look like, but it's not your fault that both your parents work under Lee Enterprises, the country's telemarketing company.

the studio corner of your room is in a mess, and you're just halfway done painting the edges of your mirror.

which for specific reasons, you can't really look at it anymore.

the peculiar object you chose to decorate the glass surface hang idly on the corner of the frame, reflecting the afternoon sun spilling into the room.

eric son: so when do we discuss the plans for lake white?

eric son: i don't like to procrastinate

"'discuss the plans for lake white'," mumbling under your breath, you dump your bag into the corner of your room, huffing and resting your hands on your hips. "he's the damn captain, isn't he? he can do it on his own."

notification: acrylic paint to be delivered today

your phone automatically links up with the bluetooth speaker in the room, and you mindlessly tap on the shuffle button before pulling off your shoes.

eric son: okay so I'm thinking groups of four

you pull off your jacket and let the ends of your ponytail brush across your back where the camisole doesn't cover, cool air rushing across the hairs on your skin.

eric son: we can play truth or dare

the bass rumbles through the flooring as you pull off your jeans, throwing on one of those open-holed shorts that no one was ever going to see you in - not even yujeong.

the doorbell rings, yanking you out of your mental rage session over eric son.

acrylic paint.

picking up a cardigan and tying it around your waist, you jog down the stairs and pull open the door without hesitation.

She's just that type of girl

"what. in the world. are you doing here?"

eric tilts his head to the side, his eyes running the length of your body - all the way down to your feet and back up.

"you weren't replying my texts so i thought-" then he raises both hands from his sides, taking a step back and gesturing to your front porch like he owned it. "what better way to have your presence than to go to you?"

"how do you know where i live?" a frown befalls your brows, and your grip tightens on the door handle.

"it's in the school records for student leaders," he offers you a smug shrug, taking a step back to where he was previously standing.

your lips part in an attempt to challenge his explanation, but then he waves it off with a cheeky snicker. "I'm joking. yujeong told me."

"now, why the fuck would she give you my address?"

"hey, captain to captain! plus she knows i won't hurt you."

a scoff runs off your tongue. "you want me to believe that you won't hurt me?"

eric's tongue darts across his lips as he leans on the door frame. "not in your house. oh, i wouldn't dare, princess."

with a huff, you blink away the eye contact first, taking a step back and tugging on the door. "don't fucking call me that."

but his hand flies out and thuds against the wood, keeping the door open. he slowly steps forward, letting himself in.

"then what should i call you?"

"names exist," you step back and grip onto the empty arms of your cardigan around your waist. he closes the door, pulling the chain to lock it.

"then do you prefer y/n or 'innocent heartbreaker'?"

you squint at him, cocking your face at an angle as you back up again.

the answer settles in your head, but you can't say it out loud.

because he's already debunked it.

She's just that type of girl

"fun playlist," eric nods up the stairs, arm stretching out to you and snaking around your waist.

"don't fucking touch me-"

then his other hand circles you as well, his arms around you as he holds you to him, lowering his face into yours. an arching back tries to keep his face off yours, but any more and your spine would've snapped into two.

his nose presses into your cheek as he slots his lips between yours, and the world goes into a muffled silence for a few seconds.

or maybe that was just your playlist moving on.

your nails dig the inside of your clenched palm, fists against his chest as he pulls you up to deepen the kiss, lips moving with yours in some intricate dance of dominance.

on beat with the distant bass coming from your room.

he lets out the first groan, his hands gradually sliding down your back and groping the flesh of your rear that's poking out from under your shorts.

the harsh grip squeezes a whimper out from you, your entire body cringing forward into him and closing the gap between you. with one palm still holding onto your ass, the other comes back up in between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest plastered to his.

eric turns you around, holding you against the wall that leads up to the stairs. your back is flat against the surface, hair stuck to the felt of the wall with your thigh being pulled up over his pelvis.

We should just calm down and fuck some time

then he pulls away and huffs, lips hung wide open and his eyes completely lost in yours. in a low growl, subtly shakes his head as if to disapprove your disobedience against the song lyrics.

"oh, we fucking should."

eric doesn't bother waiting for a response before dipping his nose into your jaw, lips latching onto the tender skin of your neck.

"you coming here-" a jolt of bliss rushes through you when he finds a tender spot, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you close and against the wall. "-was not an invitation-"

the cologne on his clothes starts to intoxicate you like alcohol does to any normal person, the scent of his hair and his clothes wafting and shuffling all around you.

"but you don't hate me being here, do you, princess?" he mumbles into your skin, nipping at the spot behind your lobe. your eyes flutter shut, fists clenching against his shoulder blades.

"come on," he whispers. "we've done it outside and in a practice room, surely you must feel more comfortable in your own bed?"

your eyes widen upon the suggestion, the thought of that cursed object hanging over the corner of your mirror in the room suddenly pulling your soul back into your body.

"no, we can't."

eric pulls away from you, lips reddened from the nipping. they are apart, and his breathing slows as he studies your face.

the panic in your eyes is far too grave for him to miss.

"why not?"

gulp.

"you don't happen to-"

"it's not a vibrator."

eric raises his brows, caging you between his arms as he corners you further, chest on yours and his lips right above your lashes.

"perhaps a-"

"it's not a dildo either."

he pouts in slight disappointment when he can hear the stark honesty in your voice.

his chest rises and lowers under his shirt, listening to your breathing that hitches in your throat every now and then; observing your discipline to keep your eyes away from him.

"you're not gonna tell me what it is?"

glaring at him through the corner of your eye, you shake your head with a resounding 'no'.

he pauses.

then he leans into your ear.

"you being scared is just making me a little more curious, princess."

"curiosity kills the cat."

eric pulls away and slides his arms off the wall. "cats have 9 lives."

the number of sirens that go off in your head spikes, and before you can process his words, he grabs your arm and pulls you onto his shoulder.

"oh my god!" his arm wraps around your lower back, knees against his chest and the world from your eyes upside down as he hoists you up the stairs. "put me down, jesus christ!"

"the more you yell, the more you're gonna regret it, princess," he warns while chuckling to himself. "what could it be, if it's not a dildo or a vibrator?"

then the warmth of his palm reaches up to your shorts, and his fingers dig under the cloth of your underwear.

"fuck, eric-"

all too easily, he pushes a finger into you, your entire body cringing from the sudden intrusion. your eyes blur out just as he makes it to the second floor, and he doesn't need to ask which door he should be heading to.

not when your door has a framed portrait of yourself from last year's concert.

the door creaks open when he pushes the two of you into your room, greeting the sunlight drawn across the floor and his finger still buried inside you.

you heave a sigh when he pulls his finger out and shoves it into his mouth, leaning over your bed to rest you into the cushion.

automatically, his eyes are on high alert, scanning your room. but by the time you've regained your senses and the blood's returned to the rest of your body from your head, he finds it.

resting on the back of your forearms, your breath turns shakey and your eyes twitching from the sight of it dangling off his fingers.

eric turns to look at the mirror, turning the item in his fingers to match the painting of it on the edges.

"so," he returns to you, raising a cocky brow and smirking. "you get high off painting handcuffs on your mirror?"

you tightly shut your eyes as the frown cements into your forehead.

"fuck."

eric scoffs, tongue dragging across his upper lip as he walks towards you and lifts a knee to your bed, the other following.

"this really makes me question how you even got your reputation," eric jingles it from his fingers, his free hand reaching down to draw circles on your right ankle.

"it's just acrylic paint. i paint something new every month-"

"and so your choice for november was... handcuffs?" he wraps his hot fingers around your ankle and yanks you downwards, your crotch nearly meeting his knees.

"it's not my fault you decided to play this game the month i decided to get something remotely inappropriate."

"'remotely inappropriate'," eric repeats, smiling as he lowers himself. the handcuff still within his right hand, his left draws trails up your right leg, playing with the rim of your shorts where they were already riled up enough to expose a bit of your underwear. "so, tell me princess. why did you choose this-"

he holds it up and jingles it over your nose. "to paint?"

"surely it's not because it's pretty."

"or maybe you think it'll look pretty around your wrists?"

eric reaches for your hands and you struggle upon instinct, he pins your dominant hand down first and clips the first cuff around your wrist.

"eric-"

he finds your free hand and connects both your wrists, clipping the other cuff despite your struggling.

eric sucks a deep breath, then parts his lips to exhale. pushing himself off you, he pulls your shorts off first, eyes trailing across every inch of your body with your wrists cuffed together.

the thoughts wash through you involuntarily.

the wooden planks. the dress. the torn underwear.

the mirror. the fogging. the skirt.

the tears collect in the corners of your eyes even before he can completely get it off your ankles.

then he pulls your legs apart for him to lock them in place with his own thighs, crouching over your body like a lion devouring his prey.

he pushes your arms up and above your head, making it difficult for you to bring them back down with your wrists bound together.

his breath is hot on your chest where he first dips his nose into, tongue swiping across the skin of your heaving ribs. hands coming up your waist and pushing them up your torso, it exposes your ribcage and bra.

inch by inch, he breaths down the length of your torso, from your chest and over to your stomach with your camisole rolled up messily over your bra.

upon reaching the rim of your underwear (and heaving stomach as you pant and huff in a bid to calm your nerves), he stops and looks up at you.

"thank god you rejected wooseok."

then both his hands come down to your chest to rip apart your camisole, pulling it out from under you before he unbuckles your bra.

you swallow the first whimper already on the tip of your tongue, but your stomach plunges and your back arches violently when he takes the tip of your breast between his lips.

left hand coming round to grip your other, his right travels down to play with your sensitivity, forcing your body into subtle jolts with the overwhelming sensation.

he tugs on your tip, grazing it between his teeth before releasing it and latching his lips onto the tender flesh in a bid to make his mark.

your brows finally furrow into a frown of bliss, jaw hung agape though struggling to contain the lewd noises prancing about in the back of your throat.

he rolls the other tip between his index finger and thumb, sucking and kissing the reddening flesh of your chest.

and down below, he's pushed your underwear aside, thumb abusing your sensitivity and buckling your hips upwards.

he provides you one sharp bite on your tip, earning a strained hiss from between your teeth. it feeds his pride, for he removes himself off you completely and stares down at you, admiring the painting he's made on your chest.

hickeys.

grip marks.

and the wet patch on your underwear between your legs.

he turns and shifts off the bed, leaving you to catch your breath and cross your legs over one another.

the clacking about in your studio corner drives the tears into your eyes, listening to the lid of the box where you keep your paint come off.

you shut your eyes, resigning to fate.

for your body is in burning need and the discipline to go against his word has betrayed you.

you hear his belt come undone, the weight of his clothes hitting the carpeted ground before the mattress around your legs sink again.

"oh... princess~" he sings, coaxing you out of your mental begging that this was just a nightmare.

a corner drags across your stomach, and your eyes fly open to see his fingers wrapped around a bottle of acrylic paint, completely oblivious to him pulling your underwear off your legs.

black.

the only color that was still relatively abundant.

then the sight of his nudity drives you up a wall inside your head; better yet, driving your resignation up against your own skull.

the lines of his pelvic bone leading down to his manhood all for your eyes to feast on, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn't.

fuck.

"listen to me very carefully, princess..." he shakes the bottle, then proceeds to unscrew the cap. "I'm sure you don't want any of these on your bed, right?"

chills run through your body when he tilts the bottle over, squeezing the paint onto his palms.

"so," he blinks back to you, eyes wide and cautious. "my advice?"

and with that, he carefully caps the bottle, effortlessly tossing it over his shoulder and back into the box.

he presses his palms together, spreading the paint across his skin.

"don't move too much."

with a wide grin, he smudges the paint into your thighs and up your stomach, sliding the paint all the way to your breasts where he offers a harsh grip.

he doesn't give you a chance to respond to that before he slides himself into you, your neediness allowing him entrance far too easily.

by now, your body was somewhat conditioned to recognise his size, but the idea of him buried deep inside you and his groaning coating the room makes you a little more feral; a little more insane.

the whimper that runs off your tongue is mercilessly lapped up by him when he leans over to kiss you, tongue shoved into your mouth in a bid to shut you up.

he rolls his hips back and forth, unwilling to stop and definitely unwilling to give you any kind of mercy when it comes to making you lose your grip on reality.

he pulls away and resumes an upright position, abs flexed and his palms still gripping onto your chest like his life depended on it.

but eric seems to be a little on edge himself, for this was his first time seeing all of you under him, instead of your humility covered by a dress or a skirt and worrying about being caught in school.

no.

now, he can feast his eyes on you like the predator he is.

not only does he decide to leave his own marks, but marks that you gave him access to.

his handprints are black on your skin and the entire bed is jerking along with every thrust he's offering you.

you finally let out a strained cry, tears collecting in your eyes with the bliss rushing through you over and over again like a broken record. eric's breath turns shaky, and his grip on you begins to loosen when his thighs start to convulse.

by some miracle, the last thrust hits your climax and he pulls out almost immediately after to coat the paint on your stomach with himself.

cream on black.

eric huffs arrogantly, taking deep breaths to retain his breathing as he releases you, stepping back to take in the sight of you in your own bed, ruined by him.

"you definitely look pretty in cuffs."

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #eric smut #the boyz smut #tbz smut #eric sohn smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz x reader #this was too filthy

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alyss01 · 4 years

Text

|[Painted hands]|

[Corpse Husband x Artist! GN! Reader]

Headcanons + drabble

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Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.5K

Requested: no

To request: Corpse requests are open! Comfy cartel requests are open! Dream SMP requests are open!

Synopsis: Corpse with an artist s/o, just cute headcanons and a drabble at the end! Just cute stuff.

Warnings: none

A/n: I really wanted to try out a different format. I still wanted to keep the one shot idea so I didn't want to just write headcanons, which is why I decided on a combination. Please let me know if y'all like this or if i should return to just a one shot format!

Masterlist

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Headcanons:

Corpse loves the fact that you're an artist.

He cannot understand how you can think of something and just make it. Just like that.

He's so fascinated by it and loves to watch as you work on something with a focused expression on your face.

Has attempted to draw himself but it didn't turn out well so he was kind of disappointed.

It makes him only prouder of you for being able to make it look so effortlessly.

When you offered him to join you after seeing him observe you each time you'd grab a pencil, he joined without a second thought.

You had to patiently explain him what the process was and where to start.

He likes this result a lot more than when he tried it himself.

Will have small art dates, just ordering a few canvasses and paint and the two of you can spent the entire day watching Bob Ross video's and attempting it yourself.

He may love how you look as you carefully handle the brush in your hand with paint on it, but the opposite is the same.

The way he carefully tries not to pick up too much paint and frowns when something isn't going how he wanted is actually very cute.

The first few times a few lighthearted chuckles left your mouth, making him look up with a confused expression.

The art dates slowly start to become more frequent and start to cover a lot different sort of mediums.

Pencil, marker, acrylic, watercolour, oil, he wants to try it all, and eventually also tries other things such as pottery with you.

This makes that you also try a lot more mediums and so it becomes a struggled attempt from the both of you.

These dates are filled with laughter and occasional cheek and forehead kisses as your hands are covered in paint.

Whenever he enters your room when you're working on something will wrap his arms around you from behind and watch you work for a bit over your shoulder before burying his face in your hair.

He loves your hands.

The way they're usually stained with some sort of ink or paint that you missed when washing your hands.

The way they move over the pages of your sketchbook as you work.

Even how you grip your brushes or pencils with varying pressure on whatever you're working on.

Please use these same hands to cup his cheek or bury them in his hair.

Whenever he sees an blanc notebook or any type of sketchbook on the few times he goes outside or when scrolling through the internet he thinks of you.

After the art dates he became quite knowledgeable about paper weights and types of paper so knows what type of paper you like.

When he sees the empty pages from your sketchbook slowly get filled he will make sure there is another one ready to take it's place whenever you need it.

Honestly he's such a sweetheart about it all.

He's fully supportive of what you make and will be your personal fan even of works you don't like how they turned out.

When in an art block where you look at the daunting empty pages before you he will be by your side.

He doesn't pressure you, just brushing his hand through your hair as he plants a kiss on top of your head saying that you shouldn't force yourself.

If you need inspiration he's your man, lately he's become better and better at improvising and will put that skill to use without a second thought.

Drabble:

You sat back as you squinted your eyes at the canvas in front of you, trying to figure out what was off about it. There was something, but somehow you couldn't quite figure out what.

Corpse looked up from the other side of the table, his hands as stained as yours with the paint that now sat on your pallette unused as you looked at the painting.

This was one of the few times where he didn't wear the multiple rings that usually always surround his fingers, afraid the paint would stain them and he wouldn't get it off properly.

He stood up as he walked over to your side of the table, his arms leaning on your shoulders as his painted hands rested in the air, not wanting to get paint all over you.

His head rested stop of yours as you watched the landscape on front of you, the Bob Ross video paused in the background. It was one of the final stages of the painting yet you couldn't help but feel like you missed something.

Corpse didn't need to ask what was wrong for him to know, his brows furrowing as he looked at your painting.

As always, in his eyes it looked magnificent, but your voice broke him out of his thoughts, you pointed to one of the empty field off to the side of your canvas, "it's too empty here." You thought aloud as Corpse looked at the area you pointed at.

Indeed, now that you said it, he could see what you meant, the scent of your hair mixed with the smell of acrylic paint that hung in your apartment flooded his nose.

"you could put a tree there?" He offered and a small smile formed on your face, "a happy little tree?" A chuckle escaped Corpse's throat as he placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

He watched as you twisted your head upwards, looking up at him as he placed another kiss on your nose, "yes, a happy little tree."

He returned to his side of the table, continuing his own painting now that part of it had slightly dried. The two of you talked throughout the painting about all sorts of things, joking as you relaxed.

In the end you presented your drawing to one another, and Corpse could see you had taken him up on his suggestion about adding a tree to the painting.

"the happy little tree needed a happy little friend." You spoke as Corpse looked at the significantly smaller tree beside the other, slightly off to the side.

Indeed it had solved your problem, the vast amount of empty space now filled by two trees as a small smile rested on your face.

You looked at Corpse's painting, and although you could definitely see that the two of you had followed the same video, it looked vastly different.

It had similar lakes and mountains but the colours more muted and dark opposed to your brighter and lighter colours.

Corpse looked proud as you complimented his painting, and after the two of you had cleaned the paint of your hands his arms naturally wrapped around your waist.

One of your hands found themselves in his neck, a small complaint falling of his lips as your hands were cold from the tap water.

Your other hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing away the small blob of paint that had landed on his face, a small chuckle falling of your lips.

Corpse responded with a small smile as he pulled you closer.

#corpse imagines #corpse fanfic #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse fic #x gn reader #corpse husband x reader #x reader #gender neutral mc #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral character #fluff #romance #painting #artistic

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tteokggukk · 4 years

Text

welcome to my youtube channel → kth

✳ pairing: idol!taehyung x youtuber!reader

✳ genre: fluff, taehyung scenario, stranger to lovers, reader is an artist who posts art videos on youtube

✳ warnings: none!

✳ words: 2.9k

✳ a/n: hello, this is my second bts oneshot/scenario. i just like to write for fun but if you’d like to let me know if there’s anything i can improve on please do so! i’d love to know how to improve. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

"Hey guys, welcome to my YouTube Channel."

You spoke in front of the camera. Sets of acrylic paint were spread out across the table next to a stand that held an 18x24 inch canvas. You were in the middle of making your seventeenth video, a highly requested one at that, and deep down you were ecstatic to start working on the painting.

Never in your life did you think you would ever start a YouTube account. You always considered yourself a very shy and private person, not one to go out of their way and broadcast themselves all over the internet. Your best friends, however, were two very well-known YouTubers and always found a way to include you in their videos and live streams. Somehow people liked seeing more of you, and so you were convinced by your best friends and the audience to start your own YouTube channel.

But you weren't very accustomed to bringing a camera everywhere with you to document and share whatever was happening in your daily life, you found it too awkward and you were still camera-shy, so you decided to create content in a way that would still keep you comfortable while doing something you loved.

An art channel.

Your channel blew up pretty fast. Requests started pouring in here and there. You became known for your very calm demeanor and artistic skills, so you took this as an opportunity to sell your works online as a way to earn some extra money for your future. Occasionally, you'd do lives to talk to your fans and you were happy at the support they showed you, which only encouraged you to keep making videos.

"This was a highly requested video, and I honestly can't wait to get started," you told the camera, mentally telling yourself to insert the comments and messages you got in your DMs to paint this Adonis-like human being. The requests started coming in after you had an Instagram live where you did some quick sketches while playing some of your favorite songs in the back, and people noticed one of the songs you played was by him.

"You guys also asked if I could sell this painting, but because of the "high demand"," you spoke, adding air quotes, "I'd like to keep it up for auction so the proceeds could go to different fundraisers."

You started mixing different colors in your palette and showed everyone the picture for your reference.

"So, without further ado, today I will be painting Kim Taehyung."

"Hey guys, welcome to my YouTube Channel."

Taehyung watched as you spoke in the video, looking behind you to see a bunch of art materials. The title of the video was left ambiguously, only being named most requested video, leaving him no clue on what it was you were going to create this time.

He's been watching your videos for quite some time now, ever since your channel started rising. Art was one of his major interests and he absolutely adored the way you made your videos with the calming, ASMR-like sound of mixing paint and how you skillfully glided the brush across the canvas. On days when he found himself tired and in need of a quick way to relax, he'd subconsciously find himself binge watching videos on your channel— even repeating several videos since you were only starting. He found it fascinating, but also because he found you interesting.

Because of your channel, he even created an anonymous YouTube account just to leave nice comments on your videos along with a private Instagram account to be able to watch your lives.

Needless to say, he didn't miss that one live where you played the song Winter Bear. It made his whole night, making him sleep with a smile on his face.

"This was a highly requested video, and I honestly can't wait to get started."

He watched as a bunch of comments started appearing onscreen popping up one by one as they gradually got faster, eventually covering you. It took a moment before it sunk in that he was the highly requested person they wanted you to paint. He paused the video, wide-eyed, before shouting in excitement. Jimin had to come in and check what the whole commotion was about.

"Y/n's going to paint me!" Taehyung exclaimed, his mouth turning into his famous boxy smile.

"Ah, the YouTuber you really like?" Jimin smiles before sitting down next to Taehyung who continued playing the video, "I wanna see."

"You guys also asked if I could sell this painting, but because of the "high demand", I'd like to keep it up for auction so the proceeds could go to different fundraisers."

"Wow, she seems really kind," Jimin says, while Taehyung only nods, his eyes glued to the screen.

"So, without further ado, today I will be painting Kim Taehyung."

He felt his heart beat fast when you mentioned his name, and without realizing it his ears have gone all red.

On screen, you began sketching, "You guys have also been sending me a lot of questions lately, which is why I decided to tweet about doing a q&a."

"What questions did you ask?" Jimin asked Taehyung.

"I asked her if being an artist is something she'd like to pursue," Taehyung told him.

"Ooooh, trying to get to know her," Jimin teases, "Our little Taehyungie has a celebrity crush."

Taehyung rolls his eyes but breaks out into a grin anyway, "I just respect her artistry."

"Right, okay," Jimin snickers, obviously not buying it.

Taehyung knew he was telling the truth, though. It was impossible to have feelings for someone who you only knew through a screen. He found you attractive for sure, but he of all people would know that almost no one is completely one-hundred percent themselves on screen. Genuine as you may be, there are still things that are best kept to yourself. He couldn’t lie though, if given the chance to get to know you, he’d never pass up on that offer.

"Someone asked why I don't use that much ready-made paint," You spoke on screen, "It's ‘cause I learn a lot from mixing my own colors, and also I just really enjoy it."

The painting was beginning to come together halfway through the video and Taehyung's question finally made its way to you. "Kimyeontan95 asks, ‘is painting a career you want to pursue? I love your work, by the way’."

"That was basically I love you," Jimin holds back a laugh, earning him a light punch in the arm from Taehyung.

"Thank you so much, kimyeontan95, and no, painting is just a hobby of mine and a way to earn some future savings. I actually really want to be a novelist."

Taehyung smiled after hearing you answer his question. Later on, the video was over and his portrait was complete. He hurriedly redirected himself to the link that was provided for the auction.

Something in him wanted to have that painting no matter what, so he set himself as the highest bidder and eventually had it mailed to his home where he put your work up in his room to cherish.

A day after your video was posted, you woke up to a thousand notifications from your phone. Hundreds of people were mentioning you in tweets and you had numerous missed calls from your best friends and some texts telling you to check your online art shop. You groggily scroll through your feed, a bit confused as to what was happening.

I wanted to buy this painting and I had it in my list, but now it's unavailable!

Y'ALL WHAT RICH KID SET THE HIGHEST BID TO A MILLION DOLLARS IM CRYING

@yourtwittername are you planning to sell a new collection?

a million dollar bid wtf swownwowksodiowl

Someone just bought all of @yourtwitterusername's paintings. I'm crying in broke eye—

but like what if taehyung set that bid? @yourtwitterusername

What?

I just woke up and my mentions are pouring. What is going on? You tweeted.

Thousands of replies began coming in leaving you feeling overwhelmed and confused on where to start. Everyone was telling you to check your site, and so you did. You felt your heart almost stop beating when you saw that every single artwork you had up for sale were sold out. Nothing was left behind. You checked your emails, and the confirmations were there.

How could this have happened overnight?

ALL MY WORKS ARE SOLD OUT?!?!?!?? WHO COULDVE DONET THIS??? You tweeted, hands shaking.

You felt your heart race, a wide grin that could go even wider if possible was plastered on your face. You tried to stop yourself from screaming in excitement but couldn't so you ended up jumping up and down and doing happy dances before calming down to assess the situation. Finally, you sat down in front of your laptop to see where all your works were being shipped to.

Replies started coming in.

CONGRATS YOU FIGURED IT OUT

WILL U RESTOCK

AHSKWJOA CONGRATS BB

I'M SO HAPPY FOR U

BUT Y/N WHO BOUGHT THEM ALL

Checking your emails, you discover that your art works were all bought by one person. Anonymous. There was no name and someone requested to have their personal information redacted.

Anonymous? Surely this wasn't a joke?

The person kept their name anonymous. You tweeted and muted the notifications just to allow yourself to focus on finding out who it was that bought everything.

At the bottom of all the removed personal information, there was one username that you were sure you've heard or seen somewhere.

@ Kimyeontan95.

Underneath the username was a short but sincere message.

"Your videos have always helped me wind down after a long, busy day. I can't express how much you inspire me with your talent and how I wish someday you'd teach me to be half as good as you, as I'm not very gifted in the painting department. I admire how you put your gifts into good things, and I very much idolize you in one way or another. This is just a small way of showing my support for you, but also because all your works are amazing and I'd love to have a small room filled with my favorite art works. I look forward to reading works of yours soon, future novelist.”

Feeling the heat creeping up on your cheeks, you smiled to yourself. The letter was definitely heartfelt and you wanted so badly to thank the person who sent it.

Later that afternoon, you decided to go on live to personally thank the anonymous buyer for buying your works and for sending that wonderful note. You fixed yourself up a little bit and pressed live as thousands of your followers began to tune in.

"Hello, everyone," you greeted, smiling. Replies with greetings started coming in and you couldn't help but chuckle at the eager messages your followers were sending. They truly made you happy.

As expected, several questions began pouring in.

"Right, so, I wanted to do this live because of what happened. As you may have noticed, all my works were suddenly sold out which definitely took me by surprise," you started, "Unfortunately the buyer left everything anonymous. They only left what I assume is a username and a short letter, which I will keep to myself for personal reasons."

@follower1WHAT

@follower2 will you keep selling your works?

@follower3 THATS SUCH A SWEET GESTURE THO OMG/

@follower4 am I the only one who thinks a secret admirer bought it

@follower5 check my YouTube channel I made a theory on who bought her works

@follower6 i rlly think it's taehyung

@follower7 I’'m so proud of you :(((

"If the person who bought all of my paintings is watching this, I really want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I appreciate the letter as well, you've honestly made me the happiest person on Earth," you smiled.

@follower8 AWWWWW

@follower9 ANON COME OUT

@follower10 i really wanna know what the letter says

@ Kimyeontan95 I'm glad :)

Your heart stopped at one of the replies. You took your phone immediately from its fixed position with wide eyes and began scrolling up fast because of the immediate replies coming in. Wasn't that the username?

@follower11 what's going on?

@follower12 y/n are you okay?

You could no longer find the reply so you set your phone down, fixing it back in place.

"For a second I thought the person who bought it was watching my live," you sighed and smiled nervously, "So anyways— I'd really love to express my gratitude so if they're watching, please contact me. I can't say thank you en—"

Suddenly the replies were frantic. People were sending keyboard smashes here and there. Only a few of them were actual coherent comments. "What is going on?" You asked as you began scrolling through.

@follower13 Y/N CHECK VLIVE

@follower14 TaEHYUNF IS ON LIVE

@follower15 I kNEW IT THOUGH???

@follower16 Y/N CHECK TAEHYUNGS LIVE

@follower5 Y'ALL I WAS RIGHT I SAID CHECK MY YT

Keeping your live on, you grabbed your laptop as fast as you could to check out the links being sent to your live. When it finally loaded, you could've sworn you'd have a heart attack.

"Oh, I think she's watching me," Taehyung grinned through his live, holding his phone in front of the camera. He quickly shows the viewers his phone screen, which showed your live of you watching him through your laptop. Your eyes widened and you looked back at your phone camera that was broadcasting your live, then back at his live.

Taehyung started giggling, "I guess we're just watching each other, huh?" He smiled. Behind him were packed and unpacked parcels of paintings you recognized were yours. If it was even possible, your eyes grew even wider at this, "Oh my god," you breathed out.

"I should probably introduce myself," Taehyung spoke, "Hello everyone, I'm Kim Taehyung. How are you all doing? Today I’m planning on redecorating my room after our practice. What are the packages behind me? Oh, these are paintings I recently bought."

"Are those my paintings?" You asked out loud, though you knew the answer.

"Are those my paintings?" Your voice echoed from Taehyung's broadcast as your live was streaming from his phone. He grinned sheepishly, "Yes, these are your works, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," You smiled, "You were the buyer?"

You mentally slapped yourself for asking such obvious questions, but you just couldn't believe everything that was happening now.

"Yes," he chuckles, "I really love your paintings." Suddenly the sound of Jimin’s voice echoed from behind and Taehyung quickly stood up to lock the door, knowing he’d get the teasing of a lifetime if Jimin came and saw him talking to you.

"Thank you so much, I—" Your voice began to crack and your eyes welled with tears that you tried to fight back, "I really appreciate it. And the letter, that was really sweet."

"No, thank you. Wait, don't cry—" Taehyung spoke nervously.

"I'm just so happy," You laughed while wiping the tears off.

The replies from both ends were coming in like crazy. On one hand, majority of everyone watching found the whole scenario cute and started pairing you two out of nowhere, though there were a few haters on the other. It didn't really bother you, you were just so happy someone you idolized noticed your work.

"I'm glad," he was watching you with a fond smile through his phone, then the sound of the Jin’s voice began coming from outside Taehyung’s room, "Sorry for this sudden grand reveal. I really can't stay on live for too long but I'd love to keep talking to you." He spoke.

"Oh no, that's okay," You spoke fast.

"Do you mind if I send you a message? Assuming you already know the username," he asks.

"No not at all, I'd love to keep talking as well," your heart was beating erratically now. You didn't have to see your face to know how red it was becoming.

"Alright, great. Um, before I end this vlive I just wanna say you're a great artist and to all my viewers watching this, please support y/n's artworks and her channel! If I see any negative comments, I'll be taking responsibility and I'll unfortunately have my agency involved in taking those out," he spoke in a commercial tone kind of voice, "And to y/n, I'll be keeping in touch.” The door from behind him suddenly bursts open and Jin, Jimin, and Jungkook rush inside.

“You were talking to her!” Jimin shouts excitedly.

“Finally!” Jungkook claps.

“Is that why you kept the door locked?” Jin teases.

“Bye, everyone!" Taehyung quickly waves goodbye to the camera and smiles before turning the broadcast off.

You sat there stunned, almost forgetting you were also on live. You turned to your phone which was still recording you, "That was unexpected."

Suddenly, a notification in your DMs popped up. "I'll go ahead and process everything that just happened now, bye guys! See you in my next video." You ended the live with a wave and smile.

You quickly went into your direct messages and found the same username, Kimyeontan95. You opened it and found a picture of Taehyung holding one of your paintings with a peace sign on his other hand, the other members behind him posing with your other works, making you laugh.

Your heart fluttered at the message below the picture.

I hope this isn't too sudden, but would you like to go out with me sometime?

a/n: hello! if you finished it, thank you so much for reading! i hope you liked it hehe. i think i’m gonna keep posting the stuff i write bc i have so many ideas for the other members as well. also this is fun hehe. if you wanna read my other work, let’s fall in love for the night, ← here’s a link! thanks again for reading and please look forward to my future writing/edits.

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janeyseymour · 3 years

Text

slip 'n sliding

hi! this is ay :D i wrote a silly lil six!broadway fic about bo sliding around the house as a dupe for heelys HAHAH so i hope y'all enjoy it!

Anne’s white Heelys, which she customized with mint and forest green acrylic paint, are her most prized possessions. The online algorithm randomly showed her the shoes one day, and before she knew it, the fun-loving queen had fallen down a rabbit hole of videos, different tricks, and the available styles on the website. But from the first day she got them, Jane had been unwavering on the sentiment that they are never to be worn in the house. Never.

Of course, she’d tried to fight her (in Anne’s opinion, sometimes overly) cautious friend on this new “rule.”

“You’ll hurt yourself, Bo!” Jane exclaimed, fidgeting with a random hair tie that was on her wrist.

Anne smiled in response, “No, I won’t. I’ve got perfect control over my fine motor skills like any adult would.”

“Yeah, but your abilities change when you’re on wheels!”

“Which is exactly why I should be able to practice, Jane. It’s the only way to get better,” she replied cheekily.

“Yes, I know and I agree. Just not in the house.”

“Why?”

Jane shook her head in disbelief, “I literally just said because you’d hurt yourself.”

“To which I replied I wouldn’t.”

“Fine. But you’re clumsy and might break something, Bo, and I do not want to have to deal with repairs.”

“Alright, alright,” Anne laughed, “I got it.”

Therefore, for a couple of weeks now, Anne has been walking around the house like an absolute plebeian. How boring, just taking one step after another! Not to mention how slow walking felt after having tasted the thrill of Heelys. Why anyone would opt to do that instead of (kind of) gracefully gliding around will forever be beyond Anne’s comprehension.

One day, while walking back to her bedroom after a day out with her cousin, Anne slipped slightly on the hardwood floor. Okay, maybe it seems obvious, but it suddenly clicked with Anne how smooth hardwood floors can be. The smoother a surface is, the less friction is produced when another surface rubs against it. Ding! Anne had an epiphany.

She quickly deposited all the belongings she’d brought out with her onto her bedroom floor and rushed back down the stairs, keeping only her phone and AirPods on her. To make sure the coast was clear, Anne checked the living room, the kitchen, any weird nooks, everywhere. When she was content in her checks, it was show time.

From her back jean pockets, the mischievous queen pulled out her phone and AirPods, pressing shuffle on her playlist of songs aptly titled “songs that make me feel like a professional dancer…oh wait, duh, i do dance professionally!” Once the music started playing, Anne mouthed along to the lyrics, losing herself in the rhythms. To get herself comfortable with the wood floors, Anne did a couple of test slides down the hallway downstairs.

“I got this!” she declared with a whisper. The music was turned up a little louder, and Anne tossed her phone onto the couch. Now it’s time, time to go to town surfing the hardwood floors and performing her own dance routines. There were a handful of times where she lost her balance and slipped, but it was never anything she couldn’t smoothly recover from with an extra twirl or bounce in her step.

However, after a little too long getting lost in her music, Anne got a little too cocky. For no rational reason, she decided to get a long running start and see how long she could surf the floor in a straight line. So, with Levitating by Dua Lipa flowing through her headphones, she sprinted for a couple of paces before placing her right foot in front of her left and cruising…until she stopped abruptly with a thud.

“What was that?” someone yelled. Anne continued to rub the part of her head that made contact with the wall whilst turning around to see her housemates rush down the stairs.

“Don’t tell me you walked into the wall, Bo,” giggled Kitty, covering her mouth with her hand to try and hide her amusement.

Cleves plopped down onto the couch, “How can someone walk into a wall so hard that it shakes the whole house.”

“Nuh uh,” Aragon chimed in, “that doesn’t seem possible for someone of Anne’s stature.” Both Cleves and Anne responded with a slightly offended, “Hey!” to which the other four laughed at playfully.

“I didn’t walk into a wall, alright! I’m not daft,” Anne sat down as well.

“Then, why are you rubbing your head like you hurt yourself?” Parr asked.

Jane scoffed in disbelief, “Were you wearing Heelys in the house?”

“Um, look at my feet. No, I wasn’t,” everyone glanced down at Anne’s feet just to make sure.

“Girl, don’t tell me you skated into the wall with socks on!” Cleves exclaimed. When Anne’s cheeks started to color, her friends bursted into laughter again. Except Jane.

“I cannot believe you, Bo. I try an prevent injury in this house, and you just have to find away around it,” chastised Jane, though Anne could tell by the smile on her friend’s face that Jane wasn’t actually as mad as she let on.

“You can’t ban socks from the house too, Jane!”

“Oh baby, just try me. I don’t want to see you covered in bruises,” her blonde friend called out as she walked into the kitchen. She returned an icepack for the queen who’d gotten herself injured, and held it against Anne’s forehead.

“I got it,” Anne placed her hand on the icepack, signaling for Jane to remove hers, “I’ll be more careful, I swear.”

Kitty picked up Anne’s phone from the couch cushion, “I don’t blame you for getting carried away, Bo. Levitating is laced with crack!”

“Could one get arrested for Heely-ing while being intoxicated?” Anne teased.

Jane immediately shot back, “Don’t you dare try!”

“Fine, but only because I love you too much to borrow bail money from you.”

Their house mom rubbed her temples, feigning a headache, “You’re lucky I love you too, Bo.”

#I- THIS #YES #THANK YOU I LOVE IT #six the musical #not my fic #submission

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stephbanana · 7 years

Text

Belize, day 3

I actually slept in an hour later today. I'm slowly adjusting to island time. That's an actual phrase - many locals actually refer to it as "island time". The idea that you take things slowly. I got up and joined mom in the living room. We decided to start breakfast to see if that would wake people up. It took a while, but the smell of local bacon got dad up at least. He brewed some coffee and we danced to Sam Cooke's Another Saturday Night. At breakfast we decided that today would be a mellow "down" day. We needed to book our trip out to a Mayan ruin and dad's fishing trip, which we were told by the front desk that there was a man by the name of Marlon at the sister resort who could help us. Dad got a golf cart rented for the day, and we headed over. Marlon, the young man at the excursion desk, was good at his job. We asked about what we wanted to do, and he worked hard to make it work for us. He asked my parents if my sister and I were all they had. "No boys?" he asked. "No, we tried, but we have incompatible blood." Mom replied. "If we had anymore, it would killed either the baby, me, or both." Marlon was astounded. He'd never heard of anything like that before. "I've got two girls of my own." He pulled out two pictures of two little girls - both smiling and happy. "They never cry. I can count on one hand the times they've cried." He showed us a couple more pictures on his phone. The girls were playing in a pool, sitting on a bench together, laughing. He looked at them with pride. "I wanted three boys and then two girls, but I got the girls first!" he laughed. We chatted about weather patterns and where we were from. We talked about how the Gulf of Mexico influences our weather, and how we get lots of snow. I showed him a couple pictures I had taken while out on the trails back home. "Oh, that is so pretty! Why would you come here to Belize when where you're from is beautiful?" he asked. "It's not tropical!" we replied. We finished up at the excursion desk and decided to explore San Pedro more, in search of lunch. The national dish was stew beans and rice, with stewed chicken. I knew I needed to find me some of that. San Pedro isn't a very big town. Getting from one side of the island to the other takes maybe 15 minutes by golf cart. One major street was one way going up the island, another was one way going down the island, and the last one went both ways. We figured out how to get around pretty quickly. Our lunch location was picked at random. We passed a place once and decided to double back and stop there. It seemed nice enough. We were seated in the restaurant across the aisle from another couple. We all admired the bright and colorful art of San Pedro that adorned the walls - all of it done by local artists. There were pictures of boats at sunset in acrylic, oil paintings of the streets, fish on the reef. They spanned many sizes, subjects, mediums. On the menu we lucked out, as they had the Belizean national dish. It was amazing, slightly spicy and sweet, with the chicken falling off the bone. I'm going to have to learn how to make it when I get home. We asked the couple where they were from. "Houston." the woman replied, her Texas accent heavy. "This y'alls first time in Belize?" "Yeah, first time. How about you?" "This is our second time. Last time we stayed in San Pedro, but this time we're staying on the mainland. We're on a tour right now, actually. We just did Shark and Ray Alley." "We just did that yesterday! It's great, isn't it?" dad asked. "Oh, it was wonderful." We chatted about traveling. This couple had been all over the southern US and into Mexico a little, and visited a lot of national parks. They said they were sunset tourists. We asked them if they've ever been up to New England. "No, but it's on our list! We want to do a train tour, go up to Bar Harbor." "Do it, its worth it." I said. "People like to go up to Cadillac Mountain in Acadia to see the sunrise, because it's one of the first places in the US to see the sun. But the sunsets up there are worth seeing too." We wrapped up at the restaurant and shopped around San Pedro a little bit before heading home. The afternoon was lazy, spent napping, reading, and just taking it easy around the suite. We made dinner and played Sushi Go and Love Letter again. 9pm rolled around, and we all decided that since it was a Saturday night, we should go sample some of the nightlife. We hopped into the golf cart and headed back into the center of town. The water taxi to San Pedro drops off right the beach at the center of town, which doubles as a true party district at night. Since it was about 10, we were considered early, before many people had really gotten to any of the bars for dancing. We walked down along the beach until we came upon a bar that had a live band playing some classic rock. It seemed interesting enough, so we walked up the steps from the beach and picked a table in front of the band. I got up and grabbed us a round of drinks: rum and coke for dad, a rum punch for Lyssa, and a Belikin beer for me, which was the beer of Belize. It was a malty lager, and easy to drink. I began to take in my surroundings. The band was made up of four guys, two playing guitar, a bassist, and a drummer. They were an eclectic bunch. None of them looked like they belonged together - the drummer looked like middle aged 80's hair band expat, wearing a black t with the sleeves cut off. He sang occasionally. The other singer/guitarist sported a beach bum expat look, with a strong goatee. The other guitarist was an intense man, with sharp, high cheekbones and long hair. The bassist was young, wearing only a simple t and shorts. They were playing a mix of rock, funk, etc. - everything from the Beatles to the Killers to the Commodores. Lyssa and I noticed, however, they were constantly adding to and modifying the music. The drummer would add in a double bass occasionally, sometimes throwing his sticks, and the bassist in particular was doing some really complicated work without it being obvious. It was clear that this was a jam band that just happened to be playing popular music. They were damn good. The music was a bit lost on the drunk people starting to fill out the small dance floor. Their uncoordinated, stumbling attempts at dancing provided some ample people watching for my parents, sister and me. The band was also watching the small spectacle beginning to unfold before them. Fortunately for them, it was time for their break. Our drinks were done, so I offered to go back up to the bar to get us another round. As I ordered my drinks, the bassist approached the bar and stood next to me. He was a good looking Belizean man, with short black hair lightly parted and a small patch of dark stubble on his chin. "Hey man, you're good." I said. We were watching you play and you're doing some complicated, interesting stuff." His eyes lit up. "Hey thanks, I really like to experiment with the music, to play with it." the words seemed to come pouring out of him. "Do you play?" "No, not really. I sing occasionally and used to be in concert band, but nothing recently." He smiled. "I'm Will. You are?" "Stephanie." We shook hands. "Can I get you something?" "Nah, I'm all set. Thanks though." Will and I continued to talk while I waited for my drinks. He said listened to just about anything, but he loved metal. We talked about how much music can range even in one genre, what can influence those changes, and how complicated playing the bass can actually be. We talked about bands we liked. We had a lot in common. "Excuse me." a voice behind me interrupted us. Coming around my side, a middle aged, well dressed Latin man shook hands with Will. "This guy?" he turned to me and cocked his head towards Will. "This is my boyfriend." Will laughed. "He jokes." The man smiled. "What's your name?" "Stephanie." I replied. He introduced himself, but his name escapes me now. "It's nice to meet you. Forgive me, I just had something I needed to talk about with Will." He turned back to Will and the two exchanged a few words in Spanish. I cursed myself for not having learned at least a little. Then the man turned to me. "Thank you. Where are you from?" "The US." "Ahh, well it's nice to meet you. I'm from Columbia." He touched my shoulder as he passed by me, leaving us so we could go back to our conversation. I turned to Will. "He seems nice." "Yeah," Will said, with a half smile. "He's a good guy." We resumed our conversation. Will talked about vocals and metal, and combining sounds to create new ones. I talked about jazz, syncopated rhythm and swing, and mentioned that I used to play the saxophone. "I've always wanted to play the saxophone!" he exclaimed. "Well I've always wanted to learn bass, wanna trade instruments?" Our drinks arrived. Will had himself a Guinness. Lyssa, to her credit, retrieved her and dad's drinks so I could continue to chat with Will. "Have a seat." he offered. I sat down. Will took a sip of his beer. "So jazz huh? I don't listen to it a lot, but I do like it. I like fusion. I find myself listening to a lot of stuff outside of what I'm used to." "I'm in a similar boat." I replied. "I used to listen only to punk, but I've been branching out and I've been listening to a lot of folk and blues." "Ahhh yeah, blues. I love it." We talked recording and how the industry changed. I told him the story of how Louie Armstrong had to go stand outside the room when they recorded Dippermouth Blues back in the 20's, because he played so loudly. We were just rounding into 60's soul and Motown when the drummer hit his snare. "Ahh man, it was just getting good." he said with a sigh of resignation. "Time for you to go. But hey, it was great talking with you. I'll be watching." I said. "Thanks, it was great talking to you too." Will gave me smile and headed towards the stage. I took my beer back to my table and thanked my sister for letting me keep talking with him. "I could see that you were gonna be there a while." she chided me. The band started up again. More drunk people filtered out onto the dance floor. Most were very drunk white women, and they lived up to white girl dancing stereotypes. A few tried to get my family to join them. We politely declined. Will playfully motioned me to join the throng of embarrassing people on the floor. I laughed and shook my head. Eventually, we moved our table back farther to allow the dancers more space. Will couldn't help but laugh too. Midnight rolled around, and we decided we needed to go. We collected our stuff, threw some money into the band's tip bucket, and began to leave. "Where are you going? It's still early!" Will asked, throwing his hands out. "We gotta go. But maybe we'll be back. Bye Will, it was nice meeting you." I said with a smile. He waved. "Bye Stephanie."

#stephgoestobelize

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