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aspenwritesstuff · 14 days

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Part Three

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warnings: angst, feelings of guilt and isolation, misplaced anger, scars mention, language, mental health struggles, very brief mention of institutionalization

wc: 7553

"You told them about Hyunjin, the beautiful boy you were charged with transferring the remaining shreds of the dream you’d always dreamed to." "You told them how, despite your disdain, teaching Hyunjin forced you to make an effort to be human again. To be alive. To wash clothes and wear them clean after taking a shower. To leave your apartment."

“You told them how, your own trauma aside, Hyunjin wasn’t all that bad.” "You told them how, in a way, it was because of Hyunjin that you’d finally broken your silence today. How wrong it felt to be better for a stranger when the two of them had been waiting for so long."

a/n: hey, hi, hello. I'd like to thank any of you who are still around to read this. From the bottom of my heart. I know I've been very inconsistent, and for that I apologize. I'm trying to pace myself, and slowly return to writing. Updates will be happening with more regularity now that I'm back to it! Comments, reblogs, asks...all of those things really light the fire in me to write, and are very deeply appreciated! So please let me know if you enjoy my work. Enough of my prattling, please enjoy part three!

with love and forehead smooches (if you consent),

-Aspen

taglist: @findingjieunn @hyynee @hyunverse @dreamstarsandskz @linaliann

permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts @notastraykid @abiaswreck

Gray clouds and the distant call of thunder encased Seoul today, despite how nice the weather had been the day prior. It was days like this that were meant for staying in, avoiding getting caught in the inevitable storm, filling your time with something mindful.

Days like this had once been reserved for painting, locked away in the studio as the sky bellowed its approval over each brushstroke. Days like this meant the completion of a work that had been left unfinished, allowing motivation to come from the weeping sky. Days like this, and the work that went into them, had only been allowed interruption by one thing - your friends.

Changbin and Felix, the sole bearers of the right to break your focus whilst poring over a canvas.

Days like these were once reserved for them, too. Movies that none of you really watched, talking over them about anything and everything. Laughter regardless of what was playing. Comfort regardless of the impending downpour.

What were days like this supposed to be now? When the thought of a brush in your hand was enough to bring about the ache in your heart that you couldn’t quite get used to, despite its frequency. The longer the monochrome sky loomed overhead, the longer the obvious answer hammered at your psyche.

They were the only thing left meant for days such as these.

You could call them. You could reach out in hopes that they hadn’t quite given up, despite your prior avoidance. It would be easy, just the tap of a few buttons on a screen. A child could do it, and yet you found yourself struggling to get past the menu.

Guilt has a funny way of complicating things.

Prior to the accident, and the subsequent lack of contact, reaching out to Changbin and Felix had been effortless - simply a part of your day-to-day routine, requiring little to no forethought.

Now, however, you were terrified.

Your phone felt much heavier than it should have in your hands as you stared at the long-neglected group chat on your screen - the accompanying double digit number next to it taunting you with its reminder of just how long you’d been absent. Just how long you’d avoided speaking to the two.

How long was too long to ignore somebody before they’d stop considering you a friend?

Talking to them meant facing the possibility that your actions - or, rather, lack thereof - could have destroyed the only two friendships you’d ever cared to maintain.

Until you actually spoke to them, you could live in ignorance.

Until you actually spoke to them, you could assume they still wanted you around.

Until you actually spoke to them, they were the only thing that hadn’t changed.

That just served to make the notion of finally reaching out absolutely petrifying.

These were the same boys you’d stay up laughing ‘til sunrise with, so deliriously tired that everything had become funnier than it should’ve been. The same boys that, rather than letting you fend for yourself, allowed you to follow them around like a duckling as they showed you the ins and outs of Seoul. The same boys who’d all but drag you from your studio when you’d forget to eat in the midst of a big project, bringing you to the diner for your favorite burger.

These were the same boys who brought new flowers to your bedside every week, even when you wouldn’t so much as look at them when they did.

You tapped the thread, swallowing both the lump in your throat and your pride as you read the messages you’d missed - maintaining your composure up until you got to the most recent two, sent only a day ago.

Felix: Honey, please talk to us? We’re really worried about you. Your mom said you’re home now, so maybe we could come by? I miss you a lot.

Changbin: We could go to the diner if you want? I’ll pay even though it’s your turn. Nothing feels right without our favorite girl, okay? Love you.

Your heart squeezed tightly in your chest as you hiccuped, unsure if it was shame that you’d doubted they’d stick around or relief that you were wrong that finally broke the dam - but broke it did as hot tears blurred your vision.

So many things had been ripped from you - violently, remorselessly, suddenly. Your future, your outlet, your joy, all gone in a terrible symphony of metal against metal. Your dreams snatched away by the malicious hand of fate, dangled above your head - just far enough away to taunt you, to remind you that it still existed, just not for you. Reminding you that everything had changed.

Everything, it seemed, except for Changbin and Felix.

Undeserving didn’t even begin to cover the way you felt. After all of this time, receiving nothing at all but radio silence from you, these two men had been contacting you - at least one of them, at least once a day - since the accident.

You scrolled up, noticing that they’d never once gotten angry. They’d never once blamed you. They’d told you about their days, their lives, what happened at work, changes to the diner’s menu, and - always - how much you were missed. Not once did either of them condemn your behavior. Not once did either of them criticize you.

And you’d ignored them. Treated them as if they, and their unending support in spite of your withdrawal from them, didn’t matter. As if you didn’t need them. As if you were better off alone after suffering loss.

All it took was shame weighing down your shoulders to remind you, though, that you weren’t - and never would be - better off without Felix and Changbin.

How inexcusable it felt to have left them in the dark made your thumbs difficult to move. Two simple letters turned into near-impossible hurdles. The level of anger you’d expected to have to face from them had significantly raised your expectations.

You had been ready to beg, to offer anything to make it up to them when the gloomy skies forced them into your mind. You were prepared to listen to lectures, to agree with them had they called you a bad friend.

You had been ready to face the possibility that they’d lost faith in you completely.

So, how were you supposed to just say, “Hi.”

How could you simply address them casually as if you hadn’t neglected them? Hadn’t deserted them? Hadn’t forsaken them in the name of sorrow, shunned them for your own selfish pity?

How absolutely wrong it felt to simply greet them as if nothing had happened. How slimy it felt not to apologize a million times over, sinful not to grovel at their feet for forgiveness.

How heavy two little letters could become.

Yet, despite the painfully slow rate at which your trembling thumbs tapped against the glass, they were suddenly there. Sitting plainly, four lines and a dot - “Hi” - black against white. It waited, just as the long-neglected curves and lines of another word had - send - white against blue.

You suddenly understood why minimalism paintings were regarded in such a profound way, as everything inside of you screamed at the sight displayed on the screen. No longer did you question how a few strokes of a brush and a signature could justify more than a glance. Gone were your bitter thoughts over the success of such seemingly simple works. Four lines and a dot, black against white. Curves and lines, white against blue.

Hi. Send.

They were not as simple as they appeared on their own. Together, they were complex.

Complex enough to paralyze you.

Hi.You never used to find it this difficult, not once. The luxury most had when facing the unfortunate drifting from friends was not yours to have. You couldn’t simply exhale a plaintive sigh, asking forces unseen what had happened to what once was. It would be ridiculous to even entertain the notion. You knew what had happened and you bore the angry, red reminder of exactly what spurred the change.

The reminder that things would never be the same.

You never used to care for minimalism paintings. How could you have? They were just lines before. Just haphazard shapes pointlessly ruining a perfectly good canvas. Cruel irony, realizing the potential of the style now that your talent had been reduced to nothing more than fond memories that pained you to recall. Harsher still was the realization that the closest attempt you’d ever make at the style was staring at you from a screen dimming from disuse. A strange medium on stranger canvas, the credits for which would certainly raise brows:

Eclipse, Hi, 2023, 6”x3” Thumbs on Glass. Your heart dropped at the use of your old habits from your days of gallery submissions. Despite barely qualifying as a piece of art, you’d gone ahead and planned out the label for the four lines and a dot, black against white. Despite your wounds, you’d forgotten the pain for just a moment - losing yourself in the meaning of curves and lines, white against blue.

Forgetting, for a moment, that everything had changed.

Perhaps it was the surge of adrenaline that accompanied your panicked realization, maybe even a brief stroke of inspiration from your inadvertent first-attempt at a style you’d once hated. Those two little letters were no longer the heaviest thing on your heart - and, in comparison, were suddenly light. Before you could talk yourself out of sending those lines and dots off, you tapped the blue that housed curves and squiggles. Send.

The cartoonish whoosh carrying those two heavy little letters felt starkly out of place amidst the rolling of thunder and the thrumming pulse in your ears. Your legs bounced, anxious feet filling the silence with muffled taps as you waited. All you could do now was stare holes into the screen and hope. Hope that, despite your certainty, you were wrong. That everything hadn’t changed.

That, if nothing else, this could be the same. They could be the same.

It felt like a form of purgatory, staring at a screen filled with tiny bubbles of even tinier lines, dots, and curves. Time seemed to me moving in strange ways - seconds felt like their own small eternities as you stared at your underwhelming message.

You wondered if Felix and Changbin felt this way, too, during their admittedly much longer wait for a reply. Certainly they had. It would be difficult to imagine otherwise. If ten seconds felt this long to you, how long had these months felt for them? Your heart dropped at the thought, but rose quickly along with your pulse at the sight of three little dots moving at the bottom of the screen.

Those three little dots disappeared and reappeared once, twice, and three times before a few sentences appeared on screen. You saw that it was Felix who’d answered first, but couldn’t bring yourself to read it for at least a minute. Although these two had constantly been checking in on you, despite your lack of answers, it was hard to completely let go of the possibility that they would be angry. Hurt.

They had a right to be, after all.

Once your nerves allowed you to skim the message, a melancholy calm washed over you. In typical form, Felix was perfectly understanding - and sweet - with his reply.

Felix: Oh my god, hi! How are you? I miss you so much.What you had done to deserve such an immediate and warm reaction to your return was beyond you, having fully expected at least a bit of resentment sent your way - yet there was none to be found. Perhaps you shouldn’t be surprised though, seeing as neither Felix nor Changbin had ever given you a reason to doubt the depth of their care for you.

Recalling that brought the ache of guilt - having gone hand in hand with the thoughts of the two for months now - back to the surface. The shift back from your cautious optimism nearly knocked the wind out of you in its abruptness.

Guilt, and its funny way of complicating things, resulted in paranoia at Changbin’s lack of response. Maybe you were foolish to feel hopeful at the warm, brief, comfort of Felix’s kind response. The lack of discontent Felix expressed at your return held no guarantee to extend to Changbin. He could very well hold onto an indignation towards you for trying to simply slide back into their lives after so long of icing them out. What if he wouldn’t forgive you? What if, due to this, your closeness with Felix - in spite of his unabashed eagerness - too, would lessen? What if..? Changbin: Never disappear like that EVER again, stupid.You couldn’t even find it within yourself to feel a shred of irritation at the insult, a buoyancy you’d nearly forgotten was possible surrounding your heart as it thudded hard in your chest. You weren’t sure where to go from here. Of course, an apology was in order, but beyond that…you were clueless. It felt shallow to apologize over text, though, for something as grievous as the vanishing act as you’d performed. You stared at the screen for several minutes, thumbs trembling over the keyboard projected against the glass as you held the phone in both hands, before you finally decided.

You: Come over, please?

You’d been spurred into making your appearance, after all, been spurred to finally make an appearance by memories of stormy days spent together. Hoping the nostalgia was hitting the duo, too, was all you could do - eyes glued to the dancing gray circles at the bottom of your screen. Felix: Not gonna lie, I was running to my car the second your name popped up on my screen sweetheart.

Changbin: I’m quite literally already on my way.Felix: Thought you didn’t text and drive? Your principles, or whatever.Changbin: These circumstances allow exception.Changbin: And, for the millionth time, it’s JUTDAE.The ghost of a smile graced your lips as you witnessed their usual banter unfold - something you hadn’t realized you’d missed in your numbness. The shape of your lips felt foreign, though not uncomfortable, on your face. Your lack of reply was largely attributed to knowing Changbin would likely look away from the road to read whatever you would contribute to the conversation - but, it would be a lie to say that was the sole reason. Their imminent arrival gave you an unpleasant reminder that, aside from your sessions with Hyunjin, you hadn’t left the house - and cleanliness wasn’t typically associated with apathy.

From the couch alone, the mess was impossible not to notice. A lump of unwashed laundry could be seen from the cracked doorway of your bathroom, left there despite the hamper being in your bedroom one door down. The coffee table was littered with unwashed dishes, wrappers, and empty plastic bottles, and the blankets that you’d typically kept folded neatly were all strewn about - discarded on the floor or left on whichever piece of furniture you’d decided to brood on that day.

You rarely went into your room when the boys were around, so you weren’t too concerned about the clothes and items littering the room’s floor and your bed. Your studio was, for obvious reasons, another room you didn't need to worry about...but you didn’t even want to think about the mess in the kitchen. You knew for a fact you hadn’t bothered soaking - let alone washing - any pots or pans you’d used. The murky dishwater in the sink - clouded by the few dishes you had picked up - wasn’t forgotten either. You scrambled to your feet, grabbing empty water bottles from the coffee table in front of you - stumbling in your rush to get them into the recycling bin before returning swiftly to the living room to gather the dishes you’d left behind in your indifference. You set them on the counter, having to use a bit of force to squeeze them into an open space far too small initially, before plunging your hand into the sink with a grimace and pulling the plug - draining the stagnant water from days ago.

With the plug replaced, soap added, and the faucet turned on at a scalding temperature, you hurriedly put the dirty dishes in - grabbing the pots and pans to fill with a bit of water to let them soak in hopes that it appeared as though you weren’t living the way you had been for so long. A whispered curse left your lips as you abandoned the still-filling sink to make your way towards the bathroom - pulling the large pile of clothes into your arms with a soft grunt before trudging into your bedroom and tossing them into the hamper.

You had just gathered the wrappers from the table and thrown them away, on your way to pick up the blankets when you heard a rhythmic knock on the front door - there was no mistaking the one-three-one pattern as Changbin and Felix’s signature, seeing as you’d jointly decided as a group that this was how you’d all make it apparent who was visiting in case of a spontaneous drop-in.

Elation and panic weren’t necessarily an easy pair of emotions to blend together, but that didn’t stop your instant stiffening as your head spun to stare at the rich mahogany - knowing that, for what felt like the first time after an eternity, your friends had arrived.

Kicking blankets towards the corner as you crossed the room hurriedly, you turned the deadbolt and grabbed the knob. Goosebumps covered your arms as you held the cold metal in your hands for a moment - though you’d be remiss to blame it all on the chill - hesitating before turning it and pulling it open. “Hey,” you began before the door was even fully open, your anxiety apparent in the way your voice quavered on such a simple word, “Thanks for coming, I know that–” You were cut off by an abrupt, tightly set pair of arms wrapping around your body as Changbin, standing in front of Felix, crossed the threshold in one long and impatient stride. He didn’t say a word, simply crushing you in what could’ve easily been mistaken as a restraining hold rather than a hug. He was soon joined by Felix, who approached much more slowly and opted to hug you from the side - enveloping you between himself and Changbin with a sniffle that, despite being unable to see his face, made you absolutely certain he was crying.

“Don’t you ever disappear on us like that again,” Changbin muttered against the top of your head as he placed a chaste peck atop your unbrushed tresses, earning a nod felt against your shoulder as Felix silently agreed, likely afraid to speak considering his likelihood to sob the moment he made a sound.

The guilt you’d grown so accustomed to when you’d think about the two of them lurched in your stomach at the way relief had audibly invaded what you were sure Changbin had intended to be a scolding tone.

“I’m sorry…” you choked out, joining Felix in crying as you spoke the only words you could. The only words that felt proper, considering the circumstances. The only words appropriate after snubbing the only people with the potential to understand you during your darkest time.

“Changbin, don’t make them cry!” Felix reprimanded with a sniffle, squeezing you tighter as he shot his best attempt at a glare Changbin’s way.

“I would’ve cried anyway,” it was true, your response. If the guilt on its own wouldn’t have been enough to rouse your emotions, the relief that they came after all this time was.

Felix nodded, but sent Changbin one last playful glare as you were guided inside, making your way to the sofa in tandem, settling in to wait out the storms; raging outside and in your mind.

As the crying ceased on both Felix’s and your end, he and Changbin had questions. You’d been absent from their lives for so long, after all. It was only natural they wanted some answers.

You told them. You told them every unpretty detail.

You told them about your hand, and how despite the effort you made in rehabilitation that it would never be the same.

You told them about the scar, and how sometimes it would hurt as if to taunt you, to remind you as soon as you thought that you were maybe, possibly okay that you would never be again.

You told them about your solitude, surrounded by the company of dirty dishes and overfilled hampers.

You told them about your mother, and the ultimatum she gave you regarding the way you were living.

You told them about Hyunjin, the beautiful boy you were charged with transferring the remaining shreds of the dream you’d always dreamed to.

You told them how, despite your disdain, teaching Hyunjin forced you to make an effort to be human again. To be alive. To wash clothes and wear them clean after taking a shower. To leave your apartment.

You told them how, your own trauma aside, Hyunjin wasn’t all that bad.

You told them how, in a way, it was because of Hyunjin that you’d finally broken your silence today. How wrong it felt to be better for a stranger when the two of them had been waiting for so long.

You told them how deeply, painfully sorry you were.

And, when they told you not to apologize and that they were never going to leave you behind, asking if you’d go shopping with them tomorrow?

You told them nothing would make you happier.

When the two of them left, you felt lighter. As though a great burden had been lifted from your shoulders…or, more accurately, distributed between three sets rather than being carried by you alone.

Changbin and Felix had only been gone for about an hour when the buzz of your phone alerted you to a message from an unfamiliar number.

???: Hey! I hope this isn’t a bad time. Ms. Park gave me your number!

???: This is Hyunjin, by the way.

You knew now who the messages were coming from, though more questions were acquired than answers.

You typed and deleted several responses ranging from, “What do you want?” which you decided seemed a bit too rude, and “Why are you contacting me?” which seemed the same, only stiffer. You finally decided on a tried and true, much more casual:

You: What’s up?

It took only a few seconds for him to respond with a simple question that - from any other mentor - would seem reasonable. Yet your heart, once lightened by the reunion with your friends, seemed to gain several pounds as it plummeted uncomfortably into your stomach.

Hyunjin: Would you be willing to come with me to the art supply store? I’m new to oils and really don’t want to grab the wrong brushes.

Technically speaking, you were perfectly capable and more than qualified to fulfill this task. In fact, at risk of sounding vain, you may be one of the best people to help him out. If he’d have asked you prior to the accident, you’d have jumped on the opportunity to help an aspiring artist purchase their first set of oil-appropriate brushes.

Under different circumstances, you’d have found great joy - fun even - in browsing an art store with someone who wanted to be there. You’d often found yourself wishing for exactly that when you’d notice the bored expressions on Felix and Changbin’s faces on the rare occasions that you’d managed to convince them to tag along.

This, however, was not under those circumstances.

You were not excited. You were not looking forward to it. You would never have wished for this in a million years.

And, despite the fact that Changbin and Felix were; you were not the same.

You debated ghosting him, acting as if you’d perhaps dozed off or set your phone down and lost track of time. You considered telling him to ask the clerk for help instead, despite knowing that they probably knew the bare minimum and were only working there for a paycheck, not passion, and would likely encourage him to buy the most expensive option rather than the most effective. You even considered simply saying, “No.”

You likely would have gone with any of these options had it not been for the way he’d grown on you.

Perhaps it was his apologetic nature during last week’s lesson, when you’d displayed an unexpected level of emotion following his innocent query regarding you painting.

Or perhaps it was the ease with which he offered to drop the subject.

Maybe it could even have a little bit to do with the warmth of his work, and the way it made you feel something other than empty or angry - however briefly, before jealousy took over - for the first time since the accident.

Regardless of why, you did not, in fact, choose any of your reflexive responses. Instead, you agreed, telling him to meet you in about an hour, cleverly choosing a shop other than the one you were once a regular at despite the further distance.

You simply couldn’t handle the barrage of questions Hyunjin would likely have should you be recognized; should it come to light that you had lied to him. That you were, in fact, a painter once.

Once.

The reminder, though self-inflicted, still stung as you gathered your bag and jacket, a pit in your gut still present even as you locked up and made your way to the roadside to hail a taxi. The drive did little to remedy it either, and you found yourself unable to match the smile you were greeted with as Hyunjin spotted you exiting the cab.

“Hey! Thanks again for agreeing even though it was last minute!” he called warmly, jogging up to meet you halfway.

You simply nodded, adjusting the bag over your shoulder and gesturing towards the shop in an attempt to occupy him with something other than expressing his thanks.

There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that if it weren’t for the way the brightness of his smile only seemed to accentuate the shadows of your envy, allowing it to grow and fester despite your intentions to be a good teacher to him.

Luckily, he took the hint without breaking stride, walking a few paces ahead of you as you entered the shop. You watched as he paused, eyes wide and curious, until he smiled once more upon spotting the aisle labeled brushes. You followed along at your same slow pace even as he rushed ahead towards it, finding him with two different sets in each hand as you caught up to him.

Reading the furrow of his brow as an internal debate over which was better, you spoke up from behind him, “Neither of those are what you want.”

He jumped, as if the few second gap between your arrivals in this aisle were enough to startle him. It was endearing, in a way, and you couldn’t help but let out the tiniest laugh in the form of a dry scoff.

Setting both sets down, Hyunjin chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head as he turned to face you, “Which ones then?” he asked, choosing not to acknowledge his brief moment of fright as he gestured with a grand sweeping motion to the display racks.

“Let’s see,” you murmured back to him, letting him off without any teasing, instead taking a few strides forward with your eyes on the rack and skimming each set for a specific logo - a simple white outline of a lily - belonging to the brand you preferred.

Used to prefer.

A pause imperceptible to anyone but yourself made itself in your stride, but you focused on the task at hand. You could handle this. It was just picking out brushes. It wasn’t a taunt from the universe, despite the way it felt. It wasn’t a cruel joke. It was just picking out brushes.

So why was your heart racing like you were about to get thrown into a pit of lions?

Swallowing your own nerves, you reached out to sift through the rack, finally producing the same set of brushes you’d once started with on your own journey, before it had been cut short, and handed it over to Hyunjin.

“These are gonna be your best bet,” you supplied, hoping he’d leave it at that.

Whether it was luck or a bit of intuition on Hyunjin’s part, he did just that.

“Thanks, I would’ve been staring at the rack like a fool for at least twenty minutes if not for you,” he said with a quiet laugh, tucking the set under his arm.

“Think of how many people could have startled you in that time,” you gave an attempt to banter, at which his quiet laughter exploded into a bright, vibrant cackle - out of place both from someone as beautiful as he was, and someplace as quiet as this.

He quickly smacked his hand over his mouth, eyes widening as he continued to snicker, “Since when are you funny?” he asked between subdued snorts.

“There’s more to me than you know.”

What a double-edged answer, considering all that you were actively hiding from him.

“Besides,” you began, keen to distract your mind from the discomfort of dwelling on secrets you kept from Hyunjin, “It wasn’t really that funny.”

A shake of his head prefaced the assurance you hadn’t asked for, “Trust me, I don’t laugh like that often! In fact, believe it or not, I try not to be noisy in quiet, public spaces.”

“Oh, is that so?” you responded with a laugh that felt foreign falling from your lips, shaking your head, “In that case, I will do my utmost to keep my hilarity to a minimum.”

Hyunjin exhaled a small snort from his nose, giving an over-dramatic bow - complete with a flourish - before speaking in an deliberately ostentatious tone, “I am most grateful.”

You shook your head, shoving his arm playfully to spur him back into standing, “Ready to check out?” you asked him, hoping the answer was yes. You wanted - no, needed - to leave.

It wasn’t Hyunjin, by any means. If it were anything but art supplies, you’d actually have quite enjoyed this outing. Hyunjin was good company, once you’d given him a chance. You’d smiled more today than you had in a long while, your cheeks hurting from the lack of use prefacing today.

Hyunjin was warm, bright like the sun, perfectly good company. He was funny without being a tryhard. He was unabashed in his individuality, from the way he bantered to the guffaw you could still hear echoing in your mind.

It definitely wasn’t Hyunjin.

Despite not being your old favorite, being inside of a supply shop still gave you an unwelcome feeling of nostalgia. The scent was the same, regardless of what shop you went to, and you could swear the once-comforting aroma was now a foul stench, something you’d likely shower away when you got home.

“Just about, I need a couple canvases and a few tubes of paint,” he answered absently, blissfully unaware of just how dire of straits you were in.

You nodded, waving him away playfully with your hand in hopes he’d gather what he needed quickly, walking up the aisle to wait near the register for him. You weren’t about to abandon him here, now that the job of finding brushes he’d spontaneously tasked you with was complete. You weren’t that desperate.

It was close, though.

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter. A scoff was earned from the cashier, but you were more than used to ignoring people after your recent experience, allowing you to stay put without so much as an apologetic glance.

You shuffled, growing antsier with every moment you waited for Hyunjin. You weren’t exactly spatially aware, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a clatter following the brushing of your bag against the countertop.

“Sorry,” you muttered, ignoring the way the cashier rolled their eyes at you as you bent down to pick up what had fallen.

It was obvious that it was a set of brushes, considering the shape of the package. As you lifted it, something possessed you; whether it be curiosity or masochism, you turned the set around in your hands to get a good look at it.

The first thing you noticed was a simple white lily.

What were the odds? Of anything you could’ve accidentally bumped, it just had to be something you were intimately familiar with? You shook your head, fighting the urge to roll your eyes before you realized that perhaps you weren’t as familiar with this set as you once thought.

Next to the logo was a small, ornate ‘7.’ The last you knew, there were only six sets from this brand.

For the briefest moment, excitement coursed through your veins. Your eyes lit up, your lips twitched in anticipation of a smile. This brand always had such great improvements with every set they released, and you weren’t sure they’d ever release a new one. You owned all six prior sets, and wouldn’t part with them for anything in the world.

And then it hit you.

And the smile that had begun forming dropped.

And you felt sick to your stomach.

Because you would not use these brushes. You no longer used the other six sets.

You would never feel the difference in the improved handle shape, how comfortable it would feel in your hand with the carefully formed grooves.

You wouldn’t buy them without a second thought, as you once would’ve. You wouldn’t rush home to lock yourself away until someone came to check on you; because you wouldn’t need checked on, considering you’d never get so sucked into painting that you’d forget the outside world ever again.

“Hey! Sorry I took so long!” Hyunjin chirped from behind you, making you jerk your head up towards him.

“Oh, uh, no problem,” you managed, though you sounded more robotic than you’d intended. You set the brushes down on the counter, quickly enough that you nearly knocked over the rest of the display, “I’m gonna wait outside, okay?”

Confusion furrowed the man’s brow as he tilted his head, inquisitive gaze locked on you as though he could find the answers he sought in your face if he stared long enough, “Uh…sure. You okay?”

Damn him.

Damn his earnest concern and his functional fucking hands.

Damn his too-loud laugh and his ability to get so lost comparing sets of brushes that your return after only a few seconds startled him.

Damn his drive to improve, damn the way he made you smile, and damn the universe for bringing him into your life now; when you’d lost the ability to fully appreciate him.

“I’m fine,” you lied with a forced smile, nodding your head quickly, “Just need some air.”

“Oh…sure,” Hyunjin answered slowly, returning the smile - though the furrowed brows remained, betraying the concern he still felt. “I’ll try to be quick.”

“Take your time,” you called over your shoulder, having already been walking as fast as was socially acceptable indoors the moment you’d heard the first syllable of a positive response.

Your chest felt tight, your heart in a vice as you gritted your teeth, forcing air into your lungs in short little gasps. The doors seemed so far, and your steps felt too slow…but you did eventually make it outside, sitting down on a bench as you ran a hand through your hair and stared up at the sky, focusing on getting your breath under control before Hyunjin was finished.

God forbid you give him yet another reason to worry. It was ironic that, despite becoming his mentor to avoid such a fate, you didn’t doubt he may be wondering if you should be institutionalized considering your proclivity to lose your composure around him.

By the time he returned, you were as composed as you’d get considering the thoughts swirling tumultuously in your mind. A tight lipped smile from your end was returned brightly by Hyunjin, all traces of furrowed brows and concern completely wiped from his now elated face.

“I didn’t take too long, did I?” he asked as you rose from the bench.

“Not at all,” you shook your head as you spoke, silently grateful that he’d taken as long as he had. You didn’t want to imagine how he’d look right now if you’d still been struggling to breathe upon his return.

“That’s a relief,” his voice sounded…excited somehow. Like a child eager for praise - his eyes wide and bright and his lips still upturned happily. You wondered what, exactly, had brought him into this state of mind…though you didn’t need to wait long.

He reached into the white paper bag, his slender fingers grabbing something out and lifting it.

The first thing you saw; a white lily. The second; the number ‘7.’

Your stomach sank. Was this a joke? You already struggled to teach him, considering his ability to do what you no longer could…and now he was going to use the brushes you never would? Internally, you wondered if rage or sadness would be more appropriate - despite the answer being neither, considering he didn’t know any better.

Damn him.

Damn his –

“I noticed you were looking at these when I came up to check out,” he began, cutting off your internal rant, and earning a disconcerted tilt of the head from you.

“And?” you asked, a bit too sharply to be towards someone who was simply making conversation.

It isn’t his fault, don’t be a dick, you reminded yourself, gritting your teeth.

“And,” he drew out the word, treating your venom as though it was nothing more than a continuation of the simple banter you’d shared in the brush aisle, “I wanted to thank you for all of your help so far, but you don’t share much.” He paused, holding the set out towards you.

No.

Oh, please no.

Your heart lurched into your throat as you realized…he didn’t buy them for his own use. He got them for you.

He was giving you the very object that had spurred your hasty retreat from the shop in the first place.

Damn him.

Damn him and the way his eyes bored into yours, waiting for a response besides a dumbfounded drop of your jaw.

Damn him and the way that, despite thinking he had done something good, he was just like a housecat. Bringing you a dead rat, very proud and completely unaware that you did not want to touch it.

Waiting for praise. For gratitude.

He must have noticed your silence, because his bright smile turned into more of a shy, half-upturned grin, his voice softer and filled with significantly less glee.

“It’s just…You looked excited for a second when you picked them up, so I figured they must be important, even though you said you didn’t paint,” he paused to laugh under his breath…but not like he had earlier. This was not joyful, it reeked of self-deprecation and embarrassment.

Damn him and his ability to make you feel guilty for the feelings you cannot control.

“Shit, I’m sorry–” you wondered for a moment why he was apologizing for such a kind gesture, but got your answer in the form of wetness becoming apparent on your cheeks. He reached out with his sleeve, wiping at the tears, looking and sounding so very panicked.

You shook your head, ignoring the comfort his hands brushing away your sadness brought, and wondered if he even knew exactly what he was apologizing for. Surely he knows he did nothing wrong…before the accident, you would’ve likely crushed him in a hug upon being given the exact gift that had you in shambles now.

“It’s stupid, you told me you didn’t paint,” he sighed deeply, looking down at you with that same worried, furrowed brow he’d shown inside. He lowered his hand from your face - his perfectly functional, unscarred hand - and rummaged through the bag with it, “I should’ve asked if you wanted them, I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t do anything other than shake your head, the ability to form words gone as you struggled to even garner a single cohesive thought.

“I’m sure I can bring them back, I kept the receipt–”

“No!”

You surprised yourself with the quickness with which you declined his offer to rid you of this accidental reminder of what you’d lost; quicker still had you reached out and snatched the set from his hands, holding it tightly to your chest.

“No..?” Hyunjin asked, the slightest hint of relief creeping into his voice - so subtle and tentative. So ready to return the brushes and apologize again at the first sign of discontent.

You were just as surprised as he was, unsure of what possessed you to decline the offer that would remove the unwelcome reminder.

Maybe it was the pride with which he’d presented them to you, or a desire to wipe the worry from his expression.

Or, maybe it was simply a dream refusing to die.

“No,” you repeated, shaking your head and looking up at him. Tears no longer fell, and you sniffled quietly as you felt your lips pull up into the smallest of smiles.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, as if prepared at any time to take the brushes back to the cashier. You gave him a nod and tucked the brushes away in your bag.

“Absolutely.”

Hyunjin nodded, and as per usual didn’t press any further. Hyunjin was good about that, aside from your initial meeting. It was easy to assume he’d learned not to delve too deep into your psyche following the abrupt exit you’d made.

The only question he’d asked after your acceptance of the brushes was if you’d like to share a cab, to which you agreed, standing at his side as he hailed the first one to come by.

You watched out the window as the cityscape blurred by, keeping your gaze on the window. It was easy to get lost in your own mind with the drone of the tires on asphalt serving as white noise, easily lulling you into tangential thought.

Perhaps there was more about Hyunjin that you envied, aside from his ability to paint. To dream.

Everything seemed to roll right off of him. The moments you’d seen him concerned were so easily put behind him. He didn’t dwell. He didn’t linger. He moved forward, unstoppable despite the way you were effectively acting as a roadblock.

He kept showing up to lessons following the very first one, in which you could readily admit you did not make the best first impression.

You wished you could do that, move forward without looking back. If it were a skill to be taught, maybe you could ask Hyunjin for lessons in exchange for the ones you gave him.

With that thought in your mind, you finally spoke into the silence of the backseat.

“What would you do if you woke up tomorrow and couldn’t paint?”

You heard Hyunjin rustle across the seat, his breath coming out in an extended sigh as he contemplated how to answer. You didn’t need to tell him what happened to you in order to pick his brain, you’d realized.

“You mean like…if I forgot how to?” he asked, his tone riddled with confusion.

“No,” you murmured, turning your gaze from the window to look at him, “I mean…If something happened to make you lose your ability.”

Hyunjin hummed, looking up at the roof of the cab as he rubbed his chin in thought, his head tilted back against the headrest.

You couldn’t help but wish you had the luxury of considering this situation as rhetorical.

Finally speaking up as the vehicle came to a stop in front of your apartment, Hyunjin let his head loll over without lifting to look at you, “I wouldn’t accept that,” he answered firmly, “I’d keep trying until I could again.”

You didn’t realize you were laughing until the sound came out of your mouth, earning a befuddled look from your companion, his lower lip jutting out slightly.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, looking almost offended, as though there were some inside joke he desperately wanted to understand but wouldn’t get an explanation to.

You simply shook your head, waving a hand and stopping your laughter with a sigh, “Nothing, nothing at all,” you mused, lips still upturned in amusement as you got out of the cab, closing the door and walking up the steps to your apartment, turning around at the door to wave goodbye.

Still appearing painfully puzzled, Hyunjin lifted his hand to wave back. Though, considering the slowness of the action, it could hardly be considered such.

As the cab pulled away, you made your way inside. Locking the door and removing your shoes, you picked up the brushes and set them down on the coffee table, a wistful smile on your lips as one thought echoed over and over in your mind.

If only it were that easy.

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin angst #hyunjin romance #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz angst #skz romance

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yeagerdaydreams · 2 years

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A/N: We're on day 10 and Eren's about to walk in on something special just for him. 😌If you want to be added to the taglist for Kinktober send me an ask or a DM. Age must be in bio or easily found to be added to the taglist.

Character: Eren Yeager (x fem!Reader)

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, 18+ content, voyeurism, degradation, offensive language (swearing), dirty talk, teasing, hair pulling, spanking, minors dni

Word Count: 1.6k

Kinktober Masterlist

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since Eren had been home. And as he walked through the front door he had expected you to be sitting on the couch reading your favorite book like you usually were. As he set down his things he waited for the scolding, knowing that he always set them down harder than he needed to so that you would know that you’re home. When you didn’t make a move to find him he made his way toward the bedroom, assuming you had fallen asleep on him.

But there was a much different surprise waiting for him when he walked through those doors.

Two weeks was too long for you to try to hold out. Being with a man like Eren Yeager has made things that way for you. Going a few nights alone was like torture for the man.

He walked quickly and stopped at the door, hearing small sounds from inside of it. Sounds that he recognized. Sounds that he had heard so many times before. Ones that were absolutely precious to him. Eren placed his hand on the handle and turned slowly, barely opening it at first to see if you would hear him.

You heard absolutely nothing. All you had your focus on was the pleasure that flooded your entire body as your fingers fucked in and out of your core. Eren licked his lips as he saw your head push back into the pillows, and as he focused on you more he heard something that nearly turned him feral at just the sound.

Your back arched off the bed as you felt your walls clenching around your digits, your high about to shatter your entire world. The thoughts in your head were of nothing but him. The way he looked as his body hovered over your own. The way his hair fell from his bun the heavier he went. The way his muscles rippled as they coated with sweat through the small bits of moonlight that filtered through the windows. And the way that your name always sounded so sweet when it fell from his lips. “E-Eren… fuck.” Your vision turned white as you let go, coating your fingers in your slick as your hips moved in tune with your hand.

Eren felt his cock twitch against his jeans as he leaned against the doorframe. Such a precious sound. The way your tongue said his name with such a passion, one that you saved for him and only him. As your body relaxed the sound of a clearing throat filled the bedroom, your eyes flickering to him instantly.

A smirk painted his face as you felt your own grow warm, how long had he been there? When had he come home? He was back early, wasn’t it supposed to be at least another few days? You could barely make out words as you fought back the embarrassment of getting caught on top of the fact that your body was still so weak. “Eren?” You were out of breath as you spoke, making the smirk on his face grow even more. “When did… you get-”

His figure moved toward you, his finger pressing over your lips to stop you. “Shhhh, don’t ask about that. Don’t you dare worry that pretty little head of yours about how long I’ve been here.” Eren took his hand from your lips and grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, ripping it from over his head before grabbing onto your chin roughly, making you look at him. “Right now I think you know as well as I do that I’ve got some pent-up stress to get out. And it looks to me like someone broke one of our rules.”

You swallowed hard, knowing full well that Eren had always made it very clear when he left that he wanted you to be as desperate for him as he would be for you whenever he came back. “But, I-” It was no use, you wouldn’t win against him. He was your kryptonite. You did anything and everything for him.

Eren pressed his lips to yours harshly, pushing your body down to the mattress as he climbed onto the bed with you. The harshness behind his voice as his demeanor changed was intoxicating. A small whine filled his ears as he tightly gripped your thighs, pushing them apart to place himself between them. “Mmmm, and because you just couldn’t wait for me like a good little girl I’m gonna have to take what I want now, aren’t I?”

You knew that he was completely serious, you knew that this was now about him. You had broken the rule, you had gotten that release that you had been craving while he had been suffering. It was his turn to feel that same, but you knew Eren better than anyone. There was no way this man was going to focus on only himself. Eren Yeager was not selfish when it came to the woman that he loved.

You watched the small bits of his hair that had fallen out dangle, the look of pure ecstasy on his features making your hips wiggle a little underneath him. Your hands moved to his hips, digging your nails in as he got his jeans off, pulling him toward your naked body. “P-please, Eren. Fuck, I need you so bad.”

Eren pushed his hips into yours, smacking the side of your ass and gripping your hip. “Can’t wait to get a little bit of me, huh baby? Can’t wait for me to stuff you full with this cock. Just like my needy little slut always is.” He hummed and leaned down to nip at your neck, his cock now throbbing as it slid against your pooling slick.

You whimpered at the friction and moved your hips, desperate for him to give you what you were looking for. “I can’t take it. God, just need you to fuck me. Eren. I can’t-”

Eren pushed his hips into you again, his cock just barely sliding into your core as he laughed devilishly at you. “I love it when you beg me, pretty girl. Keep doing it. Maybe if you keep going I’ll fill that greedy cunt of yours. Make you see stars.”

You nodded and gave him the most lustful tone that you could muster, more pleasure pouring from just the small touch of the tip of his cock against your spongy walls. “Please make me feel good. Only you can Eren, so good for me. The best. God, I need you.”

That laugh, the one that fell from him as he listened to your pleads… it sent a shiver down your spine. His true, devious self came out for just an instance for you before he gave in. His large fist wrapped into your hair as he pulled your head back, his hips rutting into yours with a loud grunt. “That’s what I thought. The god damned best just for my dirty little girl.”

Eren’s pace was rough and fast like it had been longer than just a few weeks since he had been inside you. And for him, that’s exactly what it felt like. His head spun as his cock pistoned in and out of your heat, the feeling of euphoria that began to move through him fueled him more as he growled into your ear. The way you sounded so god damned beautiful as sinful sounds echoed through the bedroom.

Every roll of his hips was perfect as he hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again. Your legs were growing weaker with every thrust, your thighs instinctively tightening around him to get closer to him, more friction. “F-fuck-” You grabbed onto his lower back and held him, just wanting to feel him close to you as you fought every urge to scream.

Eren slowed his hips as he watched you pull your lips together securely. He nipped delicately at your jawline and shook his head. “Don’t you dare hide that shit from me.” The glare that now sat on his face was one that you rarely got to see and one that you loved every single time. That demanding look that said ‘do what I want or you’ll be punished.

You nodded in agreement, desperate for him to give you back the pace that he had just had. You let your mouth fall open, not holding back a single sound just for him. Eren’s pace quickened again as soon as he heard them. “That’s my baby. Just like that. Don’t hold back a single thing. I wanna hear just how angelic you sound when you let yourself go all over my cock, yeah?”

A few more sharp thrusts had him bottoming out inside you as your walls clamped down around him, your slick coating his shaft as he kept up. Your screams echoed through the room as his name fell from your lips over and over. The sound of it sent him into a downward spiral as he gripped your hips brutally, his own stuttering against yours as he rode out his high.

Eren collapsed on top of you, both of you fighting for your breath as he wrapped you into his arms. He rolled over onto his side and pulled you with him, keeping you in his grip to snuggle against you. “My pretty baby is such a good girl for me. Kept herself nice and loud just so I could hear her.” He kissed the side of your head as you snuggled closer to him. “God it’s so good to be home.”

Taglist: @bakubabes-tatakae

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sandwichfordinner · 2 years

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Hi hi! Ok so can we have edgar headcannons with a gn who does digital art and their s/o teaches them on how digital art works? (I hope this isnt breaking your rules and your emil and ada fanfic is hella good :D)

Edgar with a s/o who is a digital artist

Guys I am sorry for not posting.. I am at my writer block era rn..😭

Can we all ignore in the last fic how I wrote that Edgar didn’t like the digital drawing too, thanks.

ALSO TYSM! <33

* Yours wasn’t a regular one. When you draw something quickly in it it becomes live, and slips out of the screen.

* It can be butterflies, birds, anything.

* And that’s the thing that it makes it a lot useful.

* You can even always draw the other survivors items but just once. You’re kinda like lucky guy but more lucky cause you draw those things really fast in it and the screen gives it to you so you can use it.

* All of the survivors excited they always bother you to draw something real quick because they need it, or it’s just because they want to see an animal or toys or other things.

* Example Emil and Ada really wanted to have a pet which is not dog. You guessed they were more of a cat person.

* So you drew a cute little grey baby kitten, and when it came out of the screen you put it in a little box with holes on the top so it can have air and gave it to their 1-2 years anniversary.

* The moment Emil opened the box, and Ada beside him watching , his heart melted when he saw a little kitten in the box.

* Ada gasped and held her hands on the mouth of shock because of how cute it was. Both of them were holding it carefully and petting it carefully.

* Months have passed and the cat has grew, it was a she. She was a really calm and good cat. Both Emil and Ada were really grateful to you.

* Okay to the main part, where Edgar took interest in your digital art.

* Sometimes you watched him in your free time how he draws, Whenever it can be in the waiting room, garden, or even his room if he let you in.

* Every time when you watched him paint , it made him feel special finally. It has been a lot of time since someone took an eye of his art. Sure the others know that he paints, but they have never really took interest in it. How can they be! Art is a very creative , ease hobby. It’s even better than being an acrobat, dancer, batter, postman etc. They don’t understand! Well that’s what he thinks.

* One time when he was painting next to you, you thought maybe you can copy what he paints and draw it on your tablet with different colours.

* So you got out you tablet and pen out of your bag and started drawing. You were glancing his painting from time to time , which made him raise a eyebrow of confusion. He stopped painting and looked at the screen. It was his painting!

* He scoffed, mad how you copied him. You probably will show it to the others and they won’t stop praising you how good you drew it!

,,Why are you copying me.’’ He broke the comfortable silence which made your body to take a screenshot.

,,I… well uhh, I thought you’re painting was really nice and I wanted to try too with different colours… I wont show it to anyone I promise!’’ You looked down at the screen from embarrassment, avoiding eye contact.

,,Tch why are you doing this anyway.’’

,,Because your paintings are nice..’’ you said softly still avoiding eye contact.

* His cheeks reddened from the praise and went back to painting leaving him quiet.

,,I won’t show it to the others I promise!’’ You were waving your hands in front of your face panicking.

,,Okay. I believe you.’’ He said quietly but you heard anyways because there was no one in his room except you and him.

* You calmed down and looked again at your screen. Your drawing was almost like his in the canvas but it was with different colours. Your cheeks were getting hot. ‘Please don’t tell me that I like him..’ you thought still staring at your screen blankly.

* Edgar noticed your staring and asked you.

,,Are you gonna continue or..?’’

* You quickly got up from where you were sitting, face red as tomato.

,,No I am good! I just need to rest-‘’

,,Why is your face red? Let me guess. It’s cause I made you embarrassed right?’‘ He smiled at you.

* Your eyes widened and your face got hotter.

,,I um.. well no?? It’s just i feel uhm hot.. NOT IN THIS TYPE OF HOT ITS JUST THAT MY FACE FEELS HOT AND..FORGET IT I WILL GO REST..’’

* He clearly knew you were lying but he brushed it off.

,,Alright then. Bye.’’

You quickly got out of his room. Hands sweaty and shaky.

* You face palmed.

,,How can I be this weird??’’

,,What’s the matter Y/N??’’

,,Oh uh! Nothing Emma I just feel tired that’s all!’’ You laughed awkwardly.

,,Why is your face-‘’

,,Bye Emma!’’

* You fell in love with the painter 💀.

* From time to time he tried to draw on your tablet. Let’s say he did enjoy it. Actually he did a lot.

* He didn’t need to get dirty and stuff.

* At the beginning you explained to him what to do, effects, blending, details. Although he knew about details.

* He remembered everything you told him and tried to draw in it.

* First tries weren’t bad, but later on he was really good at it.

* So now he was drawing on a paper and digitally.

* Most of the times you needed the tablet for your matches or because someone needed something and you had to draw it. He didn’t mind that.

* Both of you became really close because of art.

* (Thanks to the art🙏)

* You kept falling more for the painter, you thought those feelings would go away..

* So you just had to do it.. confess.

* It took you a day to plan everything. The confession was in his room.

* You were drawing a heart with the name Edgar on it.

,,Hey Edgar?’’

,,Hm?’’

,,Can I tell you something?’’

,,Sure’’

* You shoved the tablet into his arms. He looked at the screen and saw a heart. Before he can think of anything, this heart hit him on the face.

,,OH MY GOSH EDGAR?? ARE TOU OKAY?!’’ You asked him panicked. He lay on the floor, the big plushie heart hugging his face.

* You quickly snatched the heart which was read ‘Edgar’ on it.

* You tried stopping the heart going to hug Edgar again.

* He got up confused and looked at the heart you were holding in front of your hands.

* He narrowed his eyes to read the text.

* ‘Edgar’ was written on the middle of the heart.

* He quickly understood everything and his face reddened.

* You successfully stopped the heart from moving leaving it a normal heart plushie/pillow.

* Both of you were staring each other’s eyes with red faces.

,,Do you.. like me?’’

,,No.. I don’t only like you.. I love you.’’ You tried avoiding eye contact.

* Something made Edgar’s heart flutter from excitement.

* He was holding where his heart was, sweating and really red.

,,I… I love you too.. Y/N.. I love everything about you.. How creative you are.. how you.. made me feel special too.. you are one of the nicest people I have met in my entire life… protecting me during matches… How can’t I fall inlove with a person like you..? You are amazing..’’

* He tried to confess too.

* Both of you were speechless and with red faces.

* You grabbed his hands and kissed him on the lips.

* The kiss was soft. He returned the kiss when he grabbed your face.

* It didn’t last long after both of you pulled for some air.

* Edgar has finally found the meaning of love. True love.

* And with a talented s/o who knows how to draw digitally.

If you all are wondering why my fic is weird written and why are the same sentences copied than one time.. than that means I am violating their community guidelines??? I am literally not writing nsfw here?????? 💀💀

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #idv hcs #identity v oneshots #identity v headcanons #identity v painter #identity v edgar #edgar valden x reader #idv edgar valden x reader #idv edgar #idv edgar valden #identity v x you

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authoresswillowraine · 10 months

Text

Trial by Fire

Earth was gone.

I had spent the last several weeks in quarantine in a private room aboard a spaceship, as far as I could tell. I didn’t know what else to call it. I’d lost count of the amount of blood I’d had drawn. The high-tech scans which I’d had to were unlike anything I’d ever seen. I only caught glimpses of those who saved me before what they called “the great reset." People came and went here with an intense purpose; They never stayed long enough for me to get a good look at them. Though, I’m sure the shock and grief had something to do with my lack of attention to certain details.

I was told in digital communications via a pocketable device that I’d meet others like me soon, but I didn’t know who. I had asked questions but got vague answers at best. I had no idea if any of my loved ones had survived or if I was truly and utterly alone.

I kept hearing those words “great reset”, but I had no idea what it meant beyond Earth being gone. It was on fire both literally and figuratively when I was jerked fiercely from it. As thankful as I was to be saved from the fate of burning alive, I wasn’t sure what lay ahead would be better or worse.

My room was filled with things I enjoy which led me to wonder if they had researched me. It was too personal to be a standard room for guests. Idle thoughts kept me from completely losing my mind, I suppose, so I filled my head with them.

Shelves of books lined the bright walls painted in geometric patterns. The bright blues, greens, yellows, and purples were eye-catching. Each shade ebbed and flowed into the next, some of them appeared almost metallic until you got right up on them. I had a bed, a chaise lounge, a desk, and a chair. There was a mini fridge filled with drinks and snacks that were restocked daily. A bathroom was in my room, which was complete with all the necessities and then some. There was a standing shower and a huge bathtub with jets. I had a sink that defied gravity with a lighted mirror and even a small sauna with infrared light. I wagered a guess at that since I had never used one, but I had read about them. ‘Healing technology’ some had boasted about it in articles back home. If you’d asked me about trying things like this, I would have jumped at the chance. But, excitement falls flat when there are so many uncertainties floating around you.

Why was I spared? Would I ever see any of my family or friends again? Did I wait too long to do what I always put off for another day? Did I miss finding ‘the one,’ having kids, or pets so I could embrace my youth selfishly? Did any of that matter now?

Will they heal and build a new world, or will they strike back and get revenge for all they'd lost?

First 3 episodes are FREE on Kindle Vella!

#writeblr #writing #my writing #author #scifi #science fiction #sci fi #sci-fi #aliens #alien abduction #ufo #Earth #Trial by Fire #Fiction #dystopian fiction

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hzltryingtowrite · 22 days

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The persistence of memory (inconsistency, subsistence)

This line often floats into my head with a sense of profundity. I know it’s the name of a Dali painting- the famous one with the melting clocks. People wrote that it referred to Einsteins theory of special relativity. When asked, Dali said it was inspired by melted Camembert.

I think I’m more in the Camembert camp- i find it easier to access and understand than space and time. That was something I found a bit exhausting about art college- on our first day in the sculpture department we were told that sculpture is about ‘space, place and time’, which was all very hefty. Would it have lent more weight to my work if the plaque on the wall referenced Einstein, rather than being upfront about the fact that I was tripping balls and eating cheese? (This is purely hypothetical).

Speaking of cheese, when we were in France and eating pastries, Molly asked me what the nicest cake I ever had was. I couldn’t just remember the nicest- I could barely remember any of the cakes I’ve eaten. Later, we went into a museum and looked at some paintings. I tried to remember feeling excited about paintings and remembered when I was a teenager and had seen a Dali for the first time. I can’t remember where that was though. And when I thought harder, I wasn’t sure if it was even my memory or the memory of a friend I had at the time. I couldn’t even tell you the name of the painting.

I’ve gone off on tangents before reading about the inconsistency of memory- stories of false witness testimonies and memory experiments. Asides from the practical implications it has in terms of the judicial system, I think there is a certain fascination with the subject that feeds into the cult of the individual- latching onto our memories as an integral part of our identities. I’ll quote Mishima in Kinkaku-Ji second-hand (because I first came across him in a Sylvain Tesson book) - ‘...What gives meaning to our life’s actions is fidelity to a certain moment, and our effort to make that moment last forever...’.

This resonated with me in the sense that I think a lot of the choices I make and the things I care about are silently governed by a sense of nostalgia- things that influenced me in my formative years. The Pinterests I save, the aesthetic choices I make. Some of these choices and interests can be clearly traced back- my most enduring interests have been those I’ve had since I was a child- like anime, art and nature. But this theory is complicated when you consider the fluidity of memory. Some of the ‘moments’ I’m attempting to replicate might not be my own moments at all but something I saw in a film, or something I told myself so many times that it coalesced into something more concrete. With the influence of media and the fact we’re exposed to so much information in a day, it could be considered a tragedy that increasingly, our memories are not our own. Additionally, we outsource our memories- into digital photo albums and archives, and Google means we don’t need to be able to recall specific facts and information. This circumvents the need to process memories, to integrate them into our schema. They become less a part of our inner world and more of a marketable identity- a series of experiences and sensations that can be encapsulated into a pretty photograph. Maybe I’m being cynical here but I’ve felt myself in the last few years, that I am experiencing the world in a more superficial way and I think this comes from the fact that I am bombarded with so much information every day and have less and less time to process it. People advocate for a mindfulness approach in allowing us to be more present, but I think an essential component we’re neglecting is also time to parse this information.

I try to allay any anxieties I have about this state of affairs with embracing the idea of the ‘hive mind’. I’m coming at this from a relatively uninformed angle- I haven’t read a whole lot about collective thought and how it might be integrated into the digital Information Age. Putting aside for a moment the unsavoury inequity inevitably wrought by capitalism, we can see social media and shared memories as a modern iteration of the fact that humans are ultimately social creatures. Social media is and can be a wellspring of creativity and, at the risk of sounding way too grandiose, acts as a placeholder for religion in secular society- that is the sense of connectedness and being part of something bigger. AI provides the potential to generate entirely new material from our collective efforts and creations (again, if you can put aside the economic implications this has for artists). All our individual thoughts and experiences are delineated into a scrollable consumable, which, via our engagement, feeds into algorithms which aid the creation of further content and clickables, a digital Ouroboros (again, with the grandiosity).

But now, away from the Borg and back to my own individual experience (because that’s why I’m keeping this blog?). A few years ago, I worked for a while on a vineyard in New Zealand. Initially I was working on the harvest- it was fairly monotonous, physical labour, but I enjoyed it. I think I once read in a museum some historic piece of anti-Irish propaganda- efforts to Google it yielded nothing, only some funny and kind of pertinent results- I’ll share them here. Anyway, this piece was of course written from a colonialist perspective and painted the Irish as dull-witted and suited to monotonous, laborious tasks. It crossed my mind in my enjoyment of the harvest work, that maybe there was substance to that theory. In general, I was living at the time in a way that might be more similar to agrarian communities from long ago- we went to sleep every night when the sun went down, rose when it came up and because there was no phone reception our access to technology was very limited. It was a social job and the harvest workers spent a lot of time chatting amongst ourselves but equally there were periods of silence while we worked. It was in these silent periods that I became aware of the fact that my thoughts were operating differently and I found myself often accessing my memories as a means of entertainment. I was recalling specific memories and information I’d forgotten I even had- like I suddenly remembered how to count to 10 in Slovene. These memories didn’t just exist as objective facts or stories or pictures in my mind- they brought with them feelings and sensations which coloured and enhanced my present experience of the world. I remember thinking about Wordsworth, and how when he found himself ‘in vacant or in pensive mood’, he remembered his daffodils and I realised what a source of consolation memories could be. I felt, I think for the first time, an appreciation of a sentiment often espoused by older people, that no matter what happens or who comes or goes in your life, you will always have your memories and now I’m kind of afraid that this is increasingly not the case.

#Internetinducedalzheimers #Memories #technology #futurism #ai art

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promotionmoduleedendavidson · 11 months

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Promotion Evaluation Two

Over the last few weeks, I feel like I have gained a great amount of insight, knowledge, and appreciation about all that goes into any show and exhibition never mind a shared graduate show with three different classes that had not really interacted before.

I think the first hurdle faced was the space in which the degree show was to take place in, this was up in the air for what seemed a very long time, especially when you’re trying to envision what type of space we would be working with. When the space was finally chosen the layout seemed to be the next obstacle to tackle. The class went down to the space and started measuring out how much room each of us would have. Alan also helped by drawing out layout ideas and passing them onto the group via Angus. Once a layout design was secured, the team of Angus, Charlotte and Amy began the task of meeting with the Design students to assess and gather each students’ requirements. After several long meetings the group came back with a layout – that largely panned out to the final installation with only a few people swapping to spaces. This was because some of us had to share which resulted in a few conversations on whose work would look good next to someone else, all issues were resolved by simply swapping a few people around, till we ended up with the best solution that was available.

Along with our own personal self-promotion that most of us took up via platforms like Instagram, we also exchanged our Instagram handles with the students from design so we could have a look at each other’s work and support each other. The Instagram take over that was handled by Arianne went very well and I feel like each post had a good reach and feedback. I think the most successful the take over felt was once we had the posters that we could share along with the dates and showtimes. This felt like a successful moment as we finally could share the dates and start inviting people along.

Installation went well for me personally, I did have to switch spaces, so I wasn’t sure where I was going to be placed until I arrived. My space was to be shared with Arianne, which I was really happy with as I felt that our work was easily distinguished but also well balanced and neither persons work was fighting for dominance over the other. As the type and size of space wasn’t confirmed until quite close to the installation date, personally I was not able to picture the space. I had done digital mock sketches with a “gallery wall” style of installation. Once I seen the space, I knew I could stretch out a lot more. After painting the walls, I laid out the paintings and with the helps or Lorna, Charlotte, Sumayyah, Ghita, Karly and Lynn we finally settled on a layout that allowed each painting room to breathe and have their own space. I also placed my six vessels on a small plinth in the corner of my space. I used D-rings on the back of my painting which had a wire to hang the canvases, this was quite easy to install as I simply measured the tension of the wire and adjusted the nail height. Overall, I was really pleased with my space and how installation went, and I think that we all banded together as a cohesive unit which has resulted in an impressive show even though we faced quite a few challenges.

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valleyrunearchives · 2 years

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Binary

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Chapter 10/?

“Binary code is a series of zeroes and ones strung together in a specific sequence. On paper, it’s useless. Annoying. Worthless. But put that same string of zeroes and ones into a computer, and suddenly it’s a language far more complex than the human mind can comprehend. I was the same way. The world decided I wasn’t good enough in the physical plane, so I went digital. That’s why I chose the name Binary. And you should be very,” He smirks at the underground hero on the screen, “Very afraid of the reach I have here. Aizawa Shouta.”

Midoriya Izuku is tired of the world treating him like nothing. So he decides to becoming a hacker to show the world that nothing can be anything.

Featuring Midoriya Izuku as the Genius Hacker Aizawa Shouta as the problem child wrangler Yamada Hizashi as the moral support to his husband Tsukauchi Naomasa as the man who needs a long vacation PLEASE Shinsou Hitoshi as the intentionally adopted one Toga Himiko as the unintentionally adopted one Dabi as the really didn’t want to be adopted one but he guesses this is his life now and Nedzu as the Rat God of UA

Previous | First | Next

Click here to Read on AO3!

“Are you kidding me right now, Izuku-kun?” Iwai sighs out.

Izuku grins at the facetime call he’s sharing with the blonde man. “Sorry…” he says meekly.

“No you’re not,” Iwai sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose harshly to probably stave off a building migraine, “When are you going to stop finding me cases to take for you? Not to mention it’s yet another one with an abused minor! Tsukauchi’s going to be really suspicious of me this time!”

“At least I’m not making you take another box from Binary this time!” he defends. And he’s not! He’s kept on the very down low since his little stint with Eraserhead the other night. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea to send a Binary Info Cache so soon after speaking to the hero through his earpiece. Granted, he might do the earpiece thing again. It was really effective! He’s not telling Iwai about that though! Who knows what the man might say? Or if he might try to dissuade him!

“What’s a Binary?” Himiko asks from her place on the sofa next to him, tilting her head curiously.

“Yeah. I’ve heard of binary code but never a box of binary,” Dabi adds. Izuku is fairly certain he’s worked out the man’s real identity but he hasn’t told him yet. He’ll let Dabi come out to them with it hopefully.

“It’s Izuku’s nighttime job basically,” Hitoshi says from the kitchen where he’s making himself a cup of coffee, “He hacks into the street cameras and finds criminals and villains in the area. He profiles them and makes a plan of action to apprehend them before giving that information to the police. At least, I think that’s what he does as Binary.”

“You are correct, Hitoshi-kun,” CATRA confirms from her current place on the monitor.

Himiko’s face lights up in awe, “Whoa! That’s so cool, Izu-kun! You’re so smart!”

“Thank you!” he smiles at her before turning back to Iwai, “So will you take on Himiko’s case too? I know we’re asking a lot but I just don’t feel comfortable giving this case to someone else who might not take it as seriously as you. Please Iwai-san?”

“Of course I’m going to take it. I was going to take it no matter what. There’s no way I’m just letting a kid, a teenage girl like Toga-chan no less, get lost as just an ‘unruly runaway’ like I’m sure her parents are going to paint her as. Don’t worry, I’ll get it sorted.”

“Thank you!” Izuku says genuinely. Good, that means that there won’t be any chance of Himiko’s parents getting away with what they did. Just like Hitoshi’s foster parents and school won’t get away with what they did either. “Oh right! I almost forgot to tell you! I’ve found us a new place to live! A two bedroom apartment isn’t really going to fit four of us comfortably. Especially not two teenage boys, a teenage girl, and an adult. So I found us a nice little five bedroom place at the edge of our prefecture! I’ll text you the new address.”

“Good. Glad to hear. I was a bit worried about that when you first told me. Will you need help moving? I can bring the snakelings over to help,” Iwai offers.

“No thanks. I’ve hired a moving company. We should be moved in by three weeks. I’m having the rooms painted first with everyone’s preferred color before we move in.”

“I’m getting pink with a red accent wall!” Himiko chirps happily.

Iwai smiles at her fondly. Izuku can tell that phrase pulled at Iwai’s heartstrings as a dad. “That sounds wonderful, Toga-chan. I’ll have to make a visit after you guys get moved in to see it. I’ll bring my daughters and son along too. Maybe you guys could be friends.”

“Yeah! I could braid their hair or paint their nails! Oh! Or we can talk about music and bands we like! Or TV shows! How exciting! I’ve never had any friends to do that stuff with before!”

Izuku’s poor heart pangs at that. He’s been in that situation. He knows what that’s like. But to hear how excited Himiko is just to do friend things because she’s never had a friend before just hurts. He can tell Hitoshi and Dabi feel the same way too. He also knows that they’re feeling the same way as him in regards to the future. Now that they’re family, Himiko will never feel that way ever again. If Izuku has to grow his hair out again just so that Himiko has hair to braid and doesn’t feel lonely, so be it! She’s his sister now. And nothing will ever make her feel the way she felt before if Izuku has anything to say about it.

Iwai’s voice is a little choked up as he says, “I’m sure they’d love that. I’m-I’m going to go get started on getting your case together, okay Toga-chan? It’s going to be a little trickier since we don’t have video evidence of the abuse like we did with Shinsou-kun.”

“Let me know if you need some of my… expertise to assist you, Iwai-san,” Izuku offers with a sly smirk. Dabi blinks at the sight of it with something akin to fear on his face.

Iwai just rolls his eyes at it, “Yes, yes you gremlin child, I’ll let you know. You four take care alright? Dabi, if you need some adult advice, feel free to reach out to me. I know you haven’t known me long but I’ve been a parent for quite some time. I’ll be happy to assist you.”

“I… okay. Sure. Thanks,” Dabi mumbles shyly.

Izuku gives him a small smile. He’s his socially awkward big brother now, for sure. Izuku turns a serious look back to Iwai, “While you start on that, I’m going to work on the medical side of things.”

“Medical side?” Iwai asks. Even Himiko, Dabi, and Hitoshi - who finally came out of the kitchen with his cup of coffee - look confused at that.

“Yes,” Izuku nods, “With Himiko having a blood quirk, she’ll need a steady supply of blood on hand to just drink. Side effect of her quirk type. I’ll need to arrange with the local blood bank to coordinate this, as well as set up a system to make sure it stays cool enough to be viable for her to drink. I also want to talk with a few of my medical professional contacts to see if there’s anything we can do about Dabi’s burns situation. Better skin grafts hopefully and something to help the healthy skin stay healthy. Might also speak with one or two of the support item creators to see if they have something to keep his temperature regular when utilizing his quirk to keep the self-immolation side-effect down.”

“You… you would do that for me?” Dabi’s voice is shaky and full of surprise.

Izuku doesn’t hesitate, “Of course I would! You’re family now! And I take care of my family!”

Dabi looks so touched by that. Himiko makes a pleased noise and throws her arms around him in a tight hug which he returns with a happy laugh. Hitoshi leans down onto the back of the couch and sips his coffee quietly, a small smile on his face. Iwai also smiles at the scene before giving them a quick goodbye to get started on the case like he said he would. That’s fine with Izuku. He’ll get started on his side of things as well… as soon as Himiko lets him out of what seems to be an everlasting hug.

Oh well… It’s nice to have some familial affection for once since he started living on his own.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #izuku midoryia #bnha shinso hitoshi #himiko toga #bnha dabi #CATRA (MHA OC)#Iwai Fumio (MHA OC)#hacker!izuku midoriya

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wallflowerglitter · 2 years

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I wish I could find the bracelet I made in Girl Scouts. And remember the exact colors of the beaded bracelets I bought my mom when I was a kid that broke all over my aunt’s couch. I wish I could be 100% positive of the color of the cotton candy I had in my moms car on the way back from the fair. I wish I had kept my fuzzy butterfly throw pillow. I wish my aunt hadn’t painted the playhouse my Grampa built for me gray and then got married in front of it to the guy that tried to groom me. I wish my goose berry bushes were still there. I wish my favorite tree didn’t fall down in a thunderstorm. I wish when I go to visit my grandparents it was at their house I grew up in and not at the cemetery. I wish I never had to say goodbye to them. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew how to breathe. I wish I knew how to fix everything. I wish I knew the color of the yellow nail polish my mom bought me that Halloween I dressed up as Belle. I wish I could swing and swing and it would take me back in time. I wish I remembered the shades of my gramma’s ugly watermelon lipsticks. I wish I had thought to color match her like I did my mom. I wish I had that iridescent sea foam fabric paint I used to make a macaroni picture for my dad. I wish climbing to the top of my monkey bars made me feel safe the way it used to. I wish I knew what happened to my lucky rock with the golden shamrock. I wish they made ballet slippers exactly like the ones they always used to buy me for adults. I wish I didn’t have the mug I gave my Gramma a few months ago for Mother’s Day on my vanity barely used. I wish I still took naps in my grandparent’s bed before dinner. I wish I still had my childhood jewelry box and not just the ballerina inside it. I wish my purple toy chest with the sliding doors in my childhood closet that I like to crawl in and block out the world and just think and sometimes fall asleep in didn’t fall off the back of my Grampa’s truck when we moved before the second grade. I wish I could remember the green sandals I begged my dad to get me with the plastic dangly gems on them better. I wish I could climb trees and spy on people the way I used to because I was an overwhelmed mentally I’ll child that wanted to be a part of things but from a distance. I wish I could still put on my leggings and daisy tank top and silver/purple butterfly heels whenever I went over to the neighbor’s reunion parties. I wish my bedsheets still had conversation hearts and my curtains still had angels on them. I wish I could wander the woods of my childhood without worrying about ticks. I wish I could go back to the days when Skylar and I would make snow angels in the plastic house at preschool and just lay there and stare for ages. I wish I could go on field trips every time there was a play at the school my mom was going to and she would come and sit with me. I wish I remembered the games they had at the school library computer room. I wish we had assembly every morning before school and sang songs like we did before I moved and everything changed. I wish I was nicer to the boy that invited me to play with him on the first day of kindergarten and became my boyfriend for the next two years and wrote me letters after I moved and ghosted him. I wish I wasn’t so callous and careless with his heart. I wish I remembered my best friend Britney’s last name and the last four digits of Bethany’s house number. I wish Caylee and I still hung out and talked the way we used to instead of feeling miles away. I miss fighting with Garret and jumping on Alex and Jack’s trampoline and beating everyone at super smash with Kirby. I miss long walks talking with Nick and skating at the winter sports park. I miss trying not to get stung by bees picking raspberries by my Grandma’s garage and pretending the pink rose petals in the garden had magic powers with Marlee like the princess and the goblin. I miss the gum ball machine necklace Casey gave me that I wore until it broke. I miss the bead kits I used to be able to get at the dollar store. I miss my Barbie nightgown and my yellow coat.

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

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quindolyn · 3 years

Note

Hiiii i heard a headcannon that james potter would love shower sex and i was wondering wether you could write something like that? No specific’s do whatever you want with it just sex in the shower ;)

You in Here? || James Potter

Word Count: 2268

A/N: I hate this perhaps more than anything I’ve ever written but I need to write if only to remind myself that I still can because sidofhdfwqifbr. I feel like I haven’t been productive in weeks and posting is gonna hopefully help me with that. I’ve hated other things I’ve posted as well and y’all seemed to react positively to those so who the hell knows.

Warnings: Degradation, daddy kink, kinda proof read, little bit of exhibitionism

Masterlist

“Jamie,” You called out, your voice echoing as it bounced back off the tiled walls of the Quidditch showers.

You hadn’t been able to grab James after the Quidditch game, where he’d led him and his team to victory, before he had headed off towards the locker room, being stopped by Dobson who was subbing in as keeper for the game. The team’s usual keeper in the hospital wing with a bad case of blood poisoning he’d contracted from an unfortunate Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

You’d never really given much thought to the boy as he was a year below you and you didn’t much run in the same circles but neither of those facts seemed to discourage him as he pulled you aside after the game.

His desperate and frankly pathetic attempts to flirt with you, the team captain’s girlfriend, had stalled you too long apparently as by the time you’d managed to break free of his bad pickup lines and clumsy winks James was nowhere in sight and Sirius had to direct you towards the showers where he’d seen him disappear into.

And now stumbling around the locker room looking for your boyfriend you followed the sound of running water to the back corner of the showers.

“There you are,” You murmured as his dripping form came into view. Blocked by a sheet of warped glass all you could make out of his figure was the outline of his strong physique as he twisted and turned to let the water wash over his ridiculously toned body.

“James?” Your voice lilted up in a question as you wrapped your knuckles against the glass of the door.

“(Y/N/N)? What are you doing in here?” He asked, his voice rough which you assumed was from screaming over the roaring wind to communicate with his teammates.

What you hadn’t noticed before escaping James’ subordinate was the aforementioned boy lurking a few feet away, jaw clenched, the vein in his forehead pulsing as he glared down the boy who seemed to have abandoned all of his inhibitions.

Though you had missed him, James most certainly hadn’t missed you and heading off to the showers he’d hoped that a hot shower would soothe the possessiveness bubbling up in his stomach but it had not had the desired effect.

“Came looking for you Jamesie,” You explained, “Wanted to congratulate you,” A sly smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, painted a brilliant red as you began shedding the numerous layers of clothing you’d been bundled up in to shield yourself from the biting wind.

“Why don’t you congratulate that Dobson kid?” The edge to James’ voice was impossible to miss.

You frowned as you reached around your now nearly bare torso, having made quick work of your top layers, to unclasp your bra, shrugging it off of your shoulders to let it fall to the ground. Left in only your panties you spared a glance over your shoulder before abandoning those as well and opening the door to the shower.

Even after all this time you still had to stop your jaw from dropping whenever you saw James’ body, the defined muscles of his abs, the way they shifted in his back as he reached for things and just went about with his daily business.

His legs. Those fucking legs.

And don’t even get you started on his arms because you could go on and on for hours about them, about every part of him quite frankly.

You stood dumbstruck outside the shower cubicle before James pulled you in by your arm before someone walked in and saw you naked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The boy growled, towering over you as he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you tucked into his strong chest. You could feel his half hard cock pressing against your stomach as one hand drifted to your ass, squeezing it to the point of pain before releasing and smacking the afflicted area with the palm of his hand. The burning hot water didn’t help either with the pain as it washed over your backside, amplifying the sting from your boyfriend’s harsh touch.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked incredulously, having no clue what he was talking about. “That hurt.”

“Good,” He responded curtly, returning his tight hold on the supple flesh of your bottom, squeezing even more harshly than before, no doubt leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers.

“S’ what you deserve after teasing me like that with that fucking prat, and then right now, standing naked in the middle of the locker room, anyone could’ve walked in at any point and seen your arse.”

“No one was gonna just-”

You were cut off by his fingers meeting the side of your face more harshly than you anticipated.

“Ow,” You squeaked, “Was that necessary?”

Growing more and more frustrated James pushed his index and middle finger past your slightly parted lips, shoving his long fingers further and further until the tips of his rough, calloused digits bumped the back of your throat and had you struggling to breathe as he triggered your gag reflex.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” He grumbled, catching your wrist with his hand before you were able to grab at the wrist of the hand gagging you, “First flirting with that little prick and now talking back to me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Your response was garbled as you tried to speak around his fingers, but no matter what you were trying to say it was muffled even more as he pushed his fingers even further down your throat.

A sick smile grazed his face as you gagged violently, tears slipping from your tear ducts and rolling down your face in twin rivers, collecting in pools at the curve of your jaw.

“Oh don’t cry baby,” He cooed mockingly, pulling his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to take deep gulps of air as he moved his hands to cup your jaw, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

One hand trailed from your face, down your torso, pausing at your tit to take the nipple between his fingers, pinching harshly and pulling a strangled gasp from your lips as the action sent pleasure mixed with a healthy amount of pain zipping up your spine.

Eventually finding his way to your pussy James ran his index finger through your sopping folds, smiling cavalierly at the pool of slick he found there.

“Fucking pathetic,” He muttered, staring at his finger as it teased your cunt, “You got off on that?” He asked, lifting his visage to meet yours, “You got off on Daddy fucking choking you with his fingers?”

After a beat of held eye contact, you realized that it wasn’t a rhetorical question and that the man in front of you expected an answer.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Satisfied with your response James’ gaze dropped back to your pussy where he was now lifting up your clitoral hood, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to his touch.

“What was that you said about congratulating me slut?” He asked, harshly pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as you whimpered and brought your hand up to clasp his bicep, supporting yourself as you felt your knees weakening.

The pleasure he could bring you from just his fingers was enough to have you in a puddle by his feet, clawing at his ankles and begging for more.

“Think as a reward I’d like to mark you up, show everyone how much of a desperate whore my baby is. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes Daddy, wanna be your slut.”

“My whore,” He corrected.

“Your whore.”

At your agreement James latched his lips onto the side of your neck, sucking vicious hues of purple and blue into the delicate skin that resided there.

“Fuck,” You swore, tipping your head back so that he could have even better access to your skin.

A pathetic whine slipped from your trembling lips as James pulled away from your neck, instead attaching them to yours, delicately brushing his against your own. As you tried to lean forward, wanting to deepen the kiss you felt James’ hand bury itself in your damp hair, gripping tightly at the root, using his hold to keep your head in place as he pulled back.

“No swearing pretty girl,” He murmured as his lips brushed yours ever so lightly against yours, “Pretty babies don’t swear, yeah?”

He peppered kisses across your lips as you nodded your agreement, tickling your skin before finally deepening the kiss as you so desperately wanted. You savored the taste of his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, exploring the warm expanse before mingling his tongue with yours.

You were no match for his aggression as he dominated your tongue pulling a moan from the depths of your belly where you felt a know tightening as the slick between your legs continued to collect in a pool of your own arousal.

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” James promised, crouching to loop his arms underneath your thighs, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and moving to support your bum as he backed you into the wall, using that to help support your weight.

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel when you’re mine.”

“Please Daddy,” You begged, pleading eyes looking up at him as you pushed your bottom lip out in a pathetic display of your submission, “Want your cock please.”

It was funny really, how quickly you went from feisty to his submissive slut. And you didn’t even have his cock yet.

Your begging spurring James on, he didn’t bother restraining himself any longer and instead pushed his cock into your warm, pulsing pussy.

A cry tore its way through your throat as he didn’t even bother to ease his way in, not wanting to wait another second, just wanting to be inside of you.

“Shh,” He hissed, clasping a strong hand over your mouth, hanging wide open as you barely had control over yourself to keep your eyes open, much less make the conscious effort to keep your mouth closed in order to keep in the moans and whimpers that shamelessly tumbled from your agape mouth.

James’ pace was relentless as he thrusted in and out of you, watching as his cock appeared then disappeared as he moved in and out of your cunt, your pussy squeezing him to an almost painful degree.

“So fucking pretty,” He swore, palming your tits with his strong hands, leaving your nipples hard as he pinched them again, just as he did earlier, watching the look on your face as he twisted them to the point of pain.

You snapped your mouth shut so that you wouldn’t let out a curse, not wanting to disobey Jamie.

“Mine, all mine,” Jamie grumbled as he let go of your boobs, preferring to watch them bounce as he sped up his thrusts, the spongy tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot, pulling a strangled sigh from you as you lost more and more of yourself in pleasure.

“All yours Daddy,” You agreed, leaning your head up against the cold tile of the shower wall as you focused on the pleasure James was bringing you with every deep thrust.

“That’s right slut,” James said, remembering his earlier frustration, “If s’all mine, all f’me then what the hell are you doing talking to that little dick?”

His hard gaze met yours and though they were swimming with lust it did nothing to dilute the seriousness they held, making it clear to you that he expected an answer.

“Didn’t mean to Daddy, didn’t mean to be naughty,” You explained, hoping that he would realize that you really had had no mal intent in speaking with the boy, you just hadn’t wanted to be rude.

Seemingly paying your response no mind James attached his lips to your collar bone, laving his tongue over it before retracing his steps and sucking marks that matched the ones he’d previously left on your neck.

As he worked to paint your skin in rich hues he lifted your hips so that he could reach even further depths inside of you, sheathing himself completely inside of you before pulling back out, all while moving his fingers to your clit, where they had once previously resided.

The combined stimulation of him so deep inside of you and his strong fingers on your clit had the knot in your belly tightening as the stimulation on your clit sent tendrils of pleasure shooting up your back.

It was all too much, the overwhelming stimulation from his cock combined with his fingers pinching and rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between the pads of his fingers, and the steady streams of scalding water warming your skin almost had you forgetting to ask to cum as you felt the pleasure boiling up in the depths of your tummy.

“D-Daddy may I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the locker room door slamming open quickly followed by the rumbling of voices.

“Potter!” One of them called out, “You in here?”

Recognizing the voice as that belonging to none other than the very boy who had landed you in your small predicament you studied James’ face, with wide piteous eyes as the sound of footsteps slapping against the tile floor approached your little enclave.

James smiled deviously at you before responding, “Yeah, we’re back here.”

tagging:@randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @st0nesnglitter @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb r @miraclesoflove @velmasteas @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders

#harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter imagine #james potter #james potter x reader #marauders fanfic #James potter smut #James potter x reader #James potter x you #james potter x y/n #James potter imagine #James potter imagines

1K notes · View notes

luckyasfuck · 3 years

Text

could’ve been with me instead of what’s her fucking name

pairing // dilf!katsuki x fem!reader, dilf!katsuki x his wife

warnings/themes // NSFW, dilf!katsuki, soft dom!katsuki, he’s still very mean tho :(, sub!reader, babysitter!reader, READER IS SMALLER THAN KATSUKI IN THIS FIC (by height), infidelity, size kink, praise, fingering (f!recieving), nipple play, bulging, slight mentions of infantilization, hints of hard dom!katsuki at the end

word count // 1.6k

requested by // anon

a/n // anon never said katsuki can’t be mean as fuck

sequel

it was dark. and pro-hero dynamight’s tongue was shoved down your throat. how you ended up in this position, you don’t know. the remaining thoughts you had became hazy as katsuki’s hand slithered up your shirt to cup your boob. he was supposed to be on a mission today and you convinced him you’ll take care of his twins for him since his wife had a late-night shift in the hospital.

it’s been about 2 years since you became the pro-heroes sidekick. sometimes he’d stare at you with half-lidded vermillion eyes filled with lust, and you’d do the same. but none of you bothered to bring it up: the way you two eyed each other. katsuki fucked his hand one too many times every time he saw you wearing a skirt, and he’s pretty sure you’ve bent down one too many times as well to give him a peak of your lace panties.

so it wasn’t shocking when instantly takes off his gauntlets when his wife walked out the door and got in her car. the couch you sat on was soft, the television’s volume was low, but you could still hear it. a pair of hands are suddenly placed on either side of you and you flinched slightly, head turning around by reflex. katsuki’s sculpted body and muscles towered over you, his face centimeters away from your with a proud smirk etched onto his handsome features.

next thing you knew, he was between your legs, his body keeping them apart. he fans his hot breath over your face before diving in to give your tongue another taste of his mouth. he grinds his hard-on against your panties, the skirt you wore practically ripped off with your consent. the rough material of his hero costume rubs against your clit and you whimper, gripping his messy ash blonde hair. two of his meaty fingers grip your panties, pulling them aside and flicking them through your wet folds as you sucked on his tongue sloppily.

in a second, you wrap your arms around him and he lifts you up, trying his best not to break the heated kiss. guilt swarmed in your stomach, or was it really guilt? maybe butterflies? there’s no time to figure it out, katsuki opens the master bedroom door and lays you down on the bed, pulling away to take your shirt and panties off. your bra is lifted up and unclipped, your nipples being toyed with by the pro-heroes mouth. his gaze on you is intense as he sucked on your right tit while playing the other one in between his fingers.

an unoccupied hand goes to rub your clit, his pointer and ring finger spreading your pussy lips apart to push his middle finger in. throwing your head back, your hole flutter around his digit. his kisses go from your boob to your jaw, leaving a hot trail behind them. lips encaging yours again, katsuki moves his fingers at a fast pace making you throb. slowly, he adds another finger, scissoring them inside you as he tries to stretch your hole out so it can fit him.

“you’re so tiny, taking my fingers so well. let’s hope you can take my cock just as good, hm?” katsuki hummed almost affectionately against your lips, picking up the pace of his fingers. “s-sir,” you choked out. “gonna cu-”

“call me katsuki.” his thumb rubs quick and sloppy circles on your clit and you come undone beneath him, cumming all over his fingers. a sigh leaves his lips and he pulls his digits out, licking them clean. “mhm, tastier than my wife.” a dark chuckle erupts from his throat as he went to kiss you, “you probably wouldn’t know, but i can assure you you’re much tastier.” the praise makes you whimper, your clit throbbing hard as he took off his hero costume before you.

the sight of his toned muscles makes you drool, but the large tent in his boxers makes you gulp. with a swift movement, his underwear is off and his cock springs free, slapping his stomach. “that... that’s not gonna fit.” the size and girth intimidated you. nonetheless, your legs stayed spread out for him, practically begging him to shove his cock inside you without warning. “we’ll never know if we don’t try.” katsuki comments, getting back on top of you and using his pink tip leaking with pre-cum to tease your clit and poke your entrance. “do you want it, honey?”

calloused fingers run lovingly down your cheek as he stared at you, waiting patiently for your answer. with a small nod from you, he pushes his tip inside. you grip his shoulders and he cradles you in his arms, slowly pushing his cock further. the stretched burned and you throw your head back, letting out a small whimper of pain. the cock inside you stop moving for a moment, katsuki trailing kisses up and down your neck. “just a little more, baby.” he said, rubbing your waist in an attempt to calm your tense body down. breathing quickening, he pushes the last inch inside you, gazing at you to find any hints of discomfort.

your head was lolled back, mouth open and saliva drooling down the side in pleasure. instinctively, you grind your hips against him, silently asking him to move. and so he does, slowly rocking his hips with yours, cock reaching the deepest depths of your pussy. a hand is placed at the bottom of your stomach and you look over, seeing katsuki admiring the bulge that was forming around that spot. “this pretty pussy, just look at her. swallowing my cock down like a good girl even though she can barely fit it, hm?”

“faster.” you panted out, and this sparks something in katsuki, hips grinding against you gradually going faster until he was pounding into you. the grip you have on his shoulders tighten as you clench around his sporadically, savoring in his grunts and occasional moans. a particularly loud moan erupts from your throat when he changes angles, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. “shh now, honey. the twins might wake up and complain, they wouldn’t want to see their daddy cheating on mommy with the pretty and young babysitter, now would they?” katsuki spat out, grabbing your jaw and pulling you in for a kiss, swallowing in every whine and moan that escapes your lips.

his heavy balls slap against your ass, his unshaved stubble grinding against your clit oh-so-nicely. a hand is placed on your boob to feel it jiggle up and down harshly due to his hard and fast thrusts, the skin slapping and muffled moans prominently bouncing off the walls. in a second, you cum without warning. it just felt so good. it wasn’t right but it felt so. fucking. good.

katsuki’s thrusts grow a little faster but more sloppier as he was near to cumming. he hides his face in your neck, moans uncontrollable. with one last hard thrust up your cunt, he paints your walls white with his cum. the room goes silent, soft panting filling it instead. the ash blonde buries his face in between your boobs, giving either of them a kiss before taking his cock out and lying beside you.

“i’ll stay here until you fall asleep,” katsuki promises, placing you on the guest room bed after he showered with you and got you a change of clothes from the bag you brought with you. he tucks you in as if you were his child, giving you a kiss on the forehead before sending you to sleep.

[ timeskip ]

you couldn’t walk. it was the first thing you tried when you woke up, and you miserably failed. laughter boomed in the kitchen, but you didn’t bother. mrs. bakugou has gone back from her shift and is probably making breakfast. once you learned how to walk correctly again, you texted katsuki a good morning and the news about you not being able to walk. “come down for breakfast, hurry.” was all he replied.

with slightly wobbly legs, you walks downstairs and into the kitchen. the sight of mrs. bakugou perched up on the counter, nightdress hoisted up slightly with katsuki’s hand in between her thighs as they laughed together fumed you. “stop, she’s gonna see.” mrs. bakugou giggled, trying to push her husband away. “i don’t care.” he smirked.

oh so now he doesn’t care? okay then.

“excuse me? uh, sorry.” a nervous and awkward chuckle escapes your lips, waving to the married couple. mrs. bakugou is quick to push the blonde away from her, shoving his hand that was in between her legs away. “i’m so sorry, honey.” the older woman apologized to you, “um, would you like to stay for breakfast? oh wait, i’ll just get your pay.” she offered before quickly rushing upstairs to the bedroom. same bedroom her husband railed you in, and she doesn’t even know.

ignoring katsuki’s hard gaze on you, you sat down on the same couch you sat on last night, fixing your things. “eh? not giving me any attention now?” he approached you, showing up beside you unexpectedly. “what we did was a mistake mr. bakugou, i’m ju-”

“i told you to call me katsuki. you’re jealous, aren’t you?” the blonde smirked, lips growing closer to yours with every word until it fanned his hot breath on yours. you turn your head, “that’s absurd.” you let out a disappointed sigh that turns into a loud gasp when a harsh grip on your jaw forces you to look at him.

“if you want me to fucking destroy your little pussy in front of her, then you better start fucking begging before she comes back.”

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qyllenhaal · 3 years

Text

Muse

Pairing: Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve’s an artist, and you’re secretly his muse. 3rd POV. WC: 3.5k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, MDNI), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. Fluff. Friends to lover.

Steve knew it was a risk to quit his job and focus full-time on being an artist. His boss laughed in his face when he turned in his letter of resignation and asked Steve how much he thought his "little paintings" were going to make him. Steve didn't just face this scrutiny from his boss, but his friends too albeit not as harsh. Many of the people in his life didn't understand his passion for something that might leave him struggling, but Y/n was always there encouraging him.

"You may struggle for a little bit, but I think it's great Steve! Only one day into your new life as an artist and you already seem happier!"

Steve has known Y/n for almost a decade. They met under odd circumstances that some would consider a meet cute. She's still so sweet and bubbly just like she was the day he met her. It wasn't hard for him to fall head-over-heels for her. She always has a kind word and an open ear even during times of distress.

Sometimes he blushes when she gives him a compliment. She claims to not know anything about art, but every time he shows her something new she always has something stark to say that sticks with him. Maybe it's because it's coming from her.

His time spent alone in his studio is sacred. He converted a room in his apartment into a makeshift studio and he finds so much solace in those four walls. He has wanted to dabble in painting live subjects, maybe even a nude model or too, but he found himself getting real shy about it. He'd love to have someone to pose and to capture the way the light perfectly hits their face. That someone he imagined was often Y/n.

He was shocked when she allowed him to make her his subject. It started with him asking to paint a few photos of her she had lying around for "practice." Y/n was more than happy to help her friend Steve, only under the condition that he show her the final product. Steve found no problem in showing off the pastoral setting paintings he created, but it was much more harder to show off paintings of the person he thinks is the most beautiful person in the world.

Just like he couldn't muster up the confidence to ask anyone else to be his model, Steve could never ask Y/n to model for him in person. He found himself becoming too shy whenever the question was on the tip of his tongue. It would be much better if he were here in person with him, but he opted for photos of her clipped to his easel for reference. He'd finish a painting in one day and send her a photo via text of the finished product.

“I really look like that? It's amazing Steve!”

But eventually he ran out of photos. He tried to reuse some old ways and paint in a different style, or play with the colors, but it was beginning to become stale. Steve needed something new, but he didn't want to let go of Y/n as his subject.

"So you need new pictures?"

"Yeah — it's fine if you don't have any more," he tries to play it off as if he doesn't have 10 canvases in his studio of paintings of her that he hasn't shown her.

"We could take some more. Do you still have that digital camera you got a few Christmas' ago?"

"No. I think it got lost when I moved."

"Oh. Well I think Sam has a camera we can borrow. It's one of those fancy ones, right?"

Steve agreed to ask Sam to borrow his camera, but he honestly wishes that he had just bought his own. The amount of teasing he had to endure when he explained to Sam exactly why he needed the camera made his skin heat up. He couldn't stop his cheeks from becoming rosy when Sam asked when is he finally going to tell Y/n how he feels about her. Steve doesn't want to ruin what they have just in case Y/n rejects him. He'd much rather wallow in his school boy crush than put a strain on their friendship.

"How do you want me to pose?"

Y/n sat on the lone couch in Steve's studio room. It wasn't the best quality but it was still useful.

The curtains were drawn to shield the sun that was nearly set. The lighting in the room was dim save for the soft light coming from a small lamp pointed at her. It casted a warm, yellowish light onto her skin. She wore a white dress and kicked her shoes off at the front door.

"Whatever comes natural to you," his voice is weak as he responds. The atmosphere of the room is slightly romantic and he can't shake his nerves. Everything feels extremely intimate.

Y/n is almost as nervous as Steve. She's never modeled for someone and it feels a little bit awkward. She's always comfortable around Steve, but she can't help but get a little nervous when she sees Steve with the camera in his hands.

"You look perfect like that," he compliments the half-asses pose she's doing before snapping the first photo. He looks at the preview before the camera's screen could go dark.

"Let me see." He shows her and she just nods her head, "let me adjust myself," she whispers.

Y/n unbuttons the first two buttons of her dress, exposing more of her chest that only gives a glimpse of her breast. Steve pretended to not notice it as he took another picture of her. Once again Y/n asked to see the photo and looked a little more satisfied with it this time.

"Do you think that I could — nevermind."

"What is it Y/n?" He asks with a soft laugh that makes her want to melt.

"Do you think I could unbutton my dress all the way?" Her voice faltered as she asked. She watched Steve's reaction intently. She hopes the question doesn't make him uncomfortable. "It's just that I was looking up some ideas online so I could prepare and I saw this really pretty picture of this model and she was semi-nude but it was really pretty so I wanted to ask if we could try it," she explained; or perhaps over-explained.

Steve was completely dumbfounded. If Y/n couldn't see it in his dropped jaw, then she can see it in the way he just freezes.

"It's okay if that's too much."

"No! No, it's okay."

Y/n gave him a half smile before she began to unbutton the front of her dress. Steve tried to look away, but how could he not? The more she revealed herself, the easier it was for him to see the swell of her breast. Her skin looks so soft and he feels compelled to reach out and caress her bare skin. But he keeps his hands to himself.

"Is this too much?" The puffy sleeves of her dress were off of her shoulder and her dress was all the way open until the middle of her stomach. It's a lot for him to handle, but he feels blessed to see such a sight.

"No. It's perfect. You're perfect."

Y/n's skin heats up despite the room being cold. She was starting to get a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't a bad one or an uncomfortable feeling, but it was something she wasn't used to.

Now she's half-naked and posing on his couch. The first few photos he took of her like this were awkward as they both had to adjust to Y/n being half-naked.

Steve couldn't ignore the way the cold air made her nipples hard and breast tender. Steve was supposed to be on his best behavior, but he is seconds away from making a stupid mistake with his best friend.

Y/n arches her back which makes her breast jut out at him. Steve pauses to pray that he doesn't get a hard on. He feels a bit like a scumbag for even having this dilemma. It's just his best friend's half-naked body — that looks so soft and tender.

He forced himself to steel his resolve and hurry up and finish the task at hand. He began to treat her more like a model instead of the best friend he has a crush on.

"Try this," he suggests to her to move her body in a different way, which she does, but it's not quite what he wants. He was hesitant to get his hands on her, but he went for it anyway, "a little more like this."

In the process of moving her body, his hand brushed against her nipple. Y/n involuntarily let out a moan which made both of them pause. They looked at each other before Y/n let out a nervous laugh to try to play it off.

"Sorry," Steve apologizes.

"It's okay."

He glosses over what just happened and goes back to moving her body to her liking. He can't get over how good she feels underneath him. The truth is that he was taking his time to be able to have this experience for much longer. He may never have this kind of closeness with her again and he just can't quite let go.

Y/n watches his face as his hands touch her body. He looks so handsome under this lighting and Y/n wonders if she's always felt this way about Steve. For some reason she feels lust swirling inside of her. She hopes she isn't making a mistake when she leans forward and kisses him. Steve freezes under her kiss, stunned by reality, but he lets it happen. Her lips feel so soft against his, just like he always imagined.

She pulls away and places her forehead against his. Steve still has his eyes closed, lost in the dream that is Y/n's closeness.

"You can open your eyes now," she teases him. He obeys her and laughs along with her.

"I've wanted this for so long," he admits.

The revelation is shocking to her. She had no idea he felt this way about her, but now she wonders how much she's been oblivious to.

"Do you want this, Y/n? The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable."

"No, no — I want this Steve. I wanna feel you touching me," her voice became somewhat whiny as desire fueled her.

With her blessing, Steve did not hold back. He kissed her hard, the way he imagined he would always kiss her. Imagine the way his heart nearly stopped when Y/n kissed him back with the same amount of fervor and want. Her hand came up and rested against the stubble on his cheek. They wish they could say their kiss was delicate, but it was not; it was sloppy and their tongues danced with each other.

When Steve pulls away, he's out of breath, but he's happy. The light touches he gave to her body earlier were not a bit rougher. He wants to explore every inch of her body in seconds, but he wants to be patient; he has all night to discover every inch of her.

"Touch me right here, Steve."

Y/n places his hands on her breast with his thumbs in reach of her nipples. Steve's thumb runs across her taut nipples which makes her sigh. "You like that?" He asks with a bit more confidence. She nods her head and her approval emboldens him. “Good.”

His lips ghost across the skin on her neck before he places a wet kiss against the skin on her throat. He can feel her breath hitch every time he places a tender kiss on her flesh. She smells like lavender and it makes him feel dizzy. He keeps playing with her nipples as he begins to suck on her neck. Y/n wants to just lay there and take in the feeling of him spoiling her, but she also wants to hear him moan. She strokes the bulge in his pants with her knee and she feels him groan against her skin. He lightly grinds himself against her knee to relieve all of the tension that built up inside of him. Neither of them are sure who wants who more, but it doesn’t matter to either of them. Knowing that this is an equal exchange of love and lust is enough for the two of them.

“Oh god Steve,” Y/n coos when he sucks on the most sensitive part of her neck. They’ve only just begun, but he makes her feel so good. A part of her is wishing that she had discovered Steve’s crush on her a long time ago, but she has him now and that’s all that matters.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he says against her skin, “I wanna make you cum.”

Y/n can’t help but moan at his confession. She can already imagine how it would feel to have him between her legs.

“Please Steve!”

Steve sits up just to push her dress up. The cotton panties she wears has a pink bow sewn onto it and he finds it adorable. He glances back up at her and he notices that she’s looking away from him. She’s now feeling bashful knowing that he’s going to see her completely naked even though she wants all of this and more. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” Steve pacifies her by slowly stroking her outer thigh. She finally looks at him, her pupils wide with lust. She almost sighs in content when he starts to slide her panties down. The cool air of the rooms only heats her up once it hits her hot sex.

“My god,” Steve whispers to himself. She looks so pretty, but she’s absolutely messy between her legs. She places her foot on the back of his couch to spread herself wider for him. “Good girl.”

Steve lowers himself between her legs and just stares at her for a moment. He wants to remember this for the rest of his life just in case this is the last time something like this happens between the two of them. He would be crushed if Y/n asked to just continue on as friend’s after this, but he would be eternally grateful that she granted him this opportunity. All he wants to do is make her feel good; his pleasure will follow suit, but it’s all about her.

One of his fingers runs along the edge of her folds. Y/n whimpers at the delicate way he treats her body. She feels so lucky to have someone so kind and sweet like Steve. He touches her with care, and love is in every stroke. “You’re so perfect,” he says before kissing her inner thigh. Every part of her body is sensitive but somehow she is able to withstand it all.

The first lick to her pussy overblows both of their senses. She’s sweet like honey and juicy like a peach. Steve’s first instinct is to groan against her pussy which sends vibration throughout her entire body. She feels like she’s on fire as all of the blood in her body goes straight to her sensitive nub. His tongue focuses on her clit and she’s in heaven. Steve’s tongue moves with so much skill and precision, but most importantly, passion. Steve treats her like he truly wants her, and Y/n can’t help but fall for him at this moment.

“You taste so good,” he coos against her slick.

The way he paws at her body while licking her pussy makes her feel like she’s being worshiped. Tears well in her eyes the harder he sucks at her clit. She hopes his neighbors’ aren’t home because they’d probably be annoyed at the loud sounds of her cries of pleasure. He has her on the edge and it just takes him rolling her nipples with his fingers that finally push her over.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Her cries are so angelic to him. And as much as he wants to keep licking her out, Steve needs to be inside of her so bad. He tames himself and pulls his mouth away from her to pull himself out of his pants. His incredibly hard, the head of his cock an angry red as it leaks pre-cum. “This is what you do to me,” his words are haunting. Y/n whines and wiggles her hips from being so impatient.

Steve lowers himself and presses the head of her cock at her opening. She’s so slippery that he pushes into her with ease. His cock is so big that she inhales sharply as she takes all of him inside of her. Her walls are like silk around him.

“So tight baby — oh god.”

Steve feels like he’s going to explode already. Her pussy is squeezing him and she looks up at him with wide eyes as she takes his cock like a good girl. It is the hardest task he’s ever faced in his life to not cum already. She just feels so good.

“Are you okay?” He asks sweetly before dipping his head to kiss her forehead.

She nods her head, “yes, Steve…feels so good,” she manages to speak coherently.

Her legs were thrown over his legs which allows him to fuck deeper into her. She looks so beautiful underneath him. Steve wants to feel her cum on his cock so bad. She flutters around him when he pulls out of her only to push back in seconds later.

Steve can only control himself for so long before he’s pounding into her. The cry of his name on her lips is so saccharine that it gives him a sweet tooth. He sucks on the skin of her neck to satisfy that need while Y/n places her hand on the back of his head as she moans for him.

“I’m gonna cum Steve! You’re going to make me cum!”

The ridges of his cock feels so good inside of her, but what really does it for her is how the head of his cock is kissing her cervix. The stretch of his cock is such a delicious burn that she wants him inside forever. With his face planted in her neck, lips kissing at her skin, Y/n is completely enamored with the way Steve consumes all of her. She is his just as much as he is her.

He feels her sex squeeze him one more time before she’s cumming all around him. She clings to him as her orgasm ravages through her. Steve fucks her through it before reluctantly pulling out of her. Her jerks himself off until he’s cumming all over her pretty tits, painting her body like she’s one of the world’s most precious masterpieces.

The two are completely spent as their limbs dangle off of his couch. Y/n’s heart is full feeling his cum cooling on her chest. She dips a finger in his spent and sucks it off, savoring his taste since she didn’t get a chance to go down on him. Steve almost passes out at the sight.

“You’re crushing my legs Steve,” she laughs warmly. He rolls off of her and off of the couch entirely.

Steve grabs a towel and starts t0 clean up her chest. He remembers what they were supposed to be accomplishing, but after what just happened between the two of them, Steve is certain he won’t be anxious about asking her to be his model again.

“So, where do we go from here?”

The question catches him off guard. He slowly wipes away his cum with the damp towel from her chest. As much as finding the answer to this question is hard, he is happy that she asked it because it means that she’s giving him a chance.

“I don’t want this to be the last time we do this,” Steve admits. He’s quickly become addicted to the way their foreheads pressed together; it just feels so intimate. “I love you too much for this to be the last time we ever spend like this together.”

As much as tonight has been shocking to her after the revelation of Steve proving to her that he loves her, she’s only overwhelmed with positive emotions.

“Then let’s not let this be the last time,” she whispers against his lips.

A wave of relief washes over Steve as he just lays there against, their bare bodies pressed against each other as if this is always how it should’ve been. His only hope is that they can stay like this forever.

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