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foreveralbon · 4 months

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“my model, my inspiration, my muse, my everything” - ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader

in which lando becomes a stranger’s muse and more

word count: 3.5k

content warnings: swearing, i am not an art girlie so very limited (and crappy) descriptions of artworks enjoy!! <3

masterlist

lando doesn’t want to be there. sure, he’s never going to turn down an invitation to go to the club with oscar and the rest of the team, but is he always going to want to be there? not really.

because between what felt like a shit sprint, an even shittier race and the shittiest weekend he’s ever had with the car in qatar, he’d rather be at home, wallowing in his own self pity, half asleep while watching friends reruns. but things don’t always go his way, so being dragged out of the hotel by oscar and the others to a club he doesn’t want to be at against his will seems quite on brand for lando norris.

he’s decided to make the shadows his hiding spot, sitting at the corner of the bar where he can drown himself in enough shots and self-pity that it could rival charles’ mood after a dnf with ferrari. he makes it through five shots, seven songs, and manages one pathetic rundown of the race in his head before two bodies slide up to the bar beside him. he’s known max too long to not be able to tell when his best friend is to the left beside him, so he instantly assumes pietra’s to his right.

“p,” he says, not turning to look at the girl. “do you reckon we can-”

there’s a small pause before an uncertain, “me?” is said in his direction. the unfamiliar voice has him raising his head to see a girl who is definitely not max’s girlfriend staring back at him. it takes him an extra second to register that it’s a very pretty girl staring back at him.

it probably must be the alcohol giving him a boost of unexpected confidence because it takes just the smallest of glances at her before he’s blurting out, “can i buy you a drink?”

he can hear max sputter behind him because where the hell did that come from, lando? yeah, definitely the alcohol.

but her eyes can barely hide her amusement and she can barely contain her giggles, a bubbly laugh that’s music to lando’s ears. “i’m sorry, but i don’t even know your name.”

with his cheeks tinged pink, the man holds his hand out. “i’m lando.”

her grip is strong in his, the rings on her fingers cool against his warm skin. “y/n. you don’t look like you’re having too much fun, lando.” she jerks her head toward the exit, turning back to him with a smirk that has lando’s insides melting. “how do you feel about ditching?��

her hand never leaves lando’s as he tells max he’ll call him when he gets the chance and then she’s leading him out the bar and onto the main street. he finds himself questioning whether he should trust some random girl he just met to take him around in a foreign country but the voice of reason in his head shuts up when she looks up at him with a smile that instantly has his knees weak and his dimples on full display.

maybe this weekend might not end so bad after all.

—

they converse over sodas and shawarma because nothing else is really open at that time of night in qatar, and with every passing minute of their “date”, lando finds himself more intrigued by her than he ever thought could be possible.

maybe it’s the way her hair falls over her shoulder when she leans forward to listen to him and give him her utmost attention. or it could be the way her eyes soften whenever she makes him laugh. maybe it’s the way her lips curve up into the most beautifully cheeky smile whenever he says something so out of pocket that it makes her head drop down as her shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“so, what do you do?”

her question comes as a surprise to lando. not that he expected her to really know, but qatar is a small country and he wouldn’t think much would happen at the same time as the doha grand peix.

“i’m a formula one driver,” he says.

“that is so cool,” she gasps. “i wish i could have a cool job like that. i’m an artist, and i guess there’s not much to say about that. i’m in a bit of a slump though, that’s why i came to qatar, for inspiration.”

“and have you found any? inspiration, i mean.”

“not yet. but if you want, maybe you can be my muse.”

he just laughs and moves the conversation along, but his mind doesn’t stop racing, keeps screaming, yeah, maybe i can.

—

lando decides it quickly: he’s had y/n for two weeks and he would go to the ends of the world and back for her.

after their late night date in qatar, they exchanged numbers after finding out they both live in london, under the promise they would see each other again when they were both back home.

since then, they’d spent hours messaging each other. lando talks about his driver friends, his childhood in karting and his favourite places to visit. she talks about her art, university and her favourite foods to eat. she makes him promise her that he’ll take her all around the world, and he makes her promise him that she’ll never make him eat any foods with fish.

he tells himself it’s not normal to feel like this, to tone it down a little bit. when, really, all he wants to do is just giggle and swing his legs like a little schoolgirl with a crush.

“guys, i’m in love,” he announces two weeks later, falling onto the couch of oscar’s driver room in the austin gp.

“are you now?” oscar muses, pushing lando’s legs from off the couch so he can sit down beside him. lando throws him a snarky look but continues talking when he realises the aussie’s on his phone and paying him no attention.

“no, seriously. her name’s y/n, she’s from england too. she’s funny, kind, smart, talented, artistic. she’s a painter and all that.”

“a painter?” oscar looks up. “where’d you go that you met an artist?”

lando quickly fills oscar in on the last two weeks, from leaving the celebrations early to their nightly conversations. he even mentions her creative slump, how he’s trying to help find ways to inspire her.

he doesn’t register the look of affection oscar’s giving him, but when he does, he stutters to a stop. “oi, why are you giving me that look?”

“i’m glad you’ve found someone, mate.” he stands up and heads toward the door before stopping slightly. “just don’t fuck it up, yeah?”

the door swings shut behind oscar and lando slumps back onto the couch, a smitten look on his face. “me too, mate. me too.”

and when his phone lights up with a photo of her smiling face taken the night they met, he’s never felt more lovestruck.

—

lando asks her to be his girlfriend over the phone in oscar’s driver room in texas. he could’ve sworn his heart doubled in size hearing her laugh out the sweetest chorus of “yes” he’d ever heard in his life.

he spends the next four weeks leading to the winter break on the phone with his girlfriend - his girlfriend! - and his first day off on a plane to see her. she greets him at the airport, practically jumping into his arms when she sees him.

from the moment he gets her in his arms, he knows he’s never going to let her go. and he quite literally doesn’t the first few days. his hand is glued to her thigh in the car, his arms wrapped around her shoulders or waist whenever he can get behind her, or he’s got a hand in her pocket as they walk around. it’s only until she has to go to art studio that she manages to peel him off her.

“listen, lan, baby,” she says between the kisses he presses onto her lips, “i need to go now, but i’ll be back to pick you up later.”

“but i don’t want you to go,” he whines. she presses her palm to his cheek lovingly before walking out the front door of his london home and leaving him alone.

but true to her word, she’s back a couple hours later, urging him into the car, and when he asks where she’s taking him, she simply says somewhere.

it doesn’t take long for them to pull up in front of a small building, and he doesn’t question it when she tells him to close his eyes before she takes his hand and leads him inside.

“promise me you’re not looking, lan.” her own hands now cover his eyes as she guides him through the building.

“promise, love,” he says.

it’s not until he feels her hands moving away and the creak of a door swinging open that he opens his eyes and is meant with a paint-splattered room full of used and empty canvases. but then she turns his attention to a certain corner of the room, a display of canvases stood on easels staring back at him - it takes a moment for him to notice that it’s his face staring back at him. multiple portraits of close up shots, to him on the podium, to even a formula one car going around a corner of the track.

“i have an art exhibition coming up and i didn’t know what to do, but when i saw you, i just knew i had to paint you,” she explains, following him closer to the paintings. she lets him brush his fingers across the fabric, watches him trail every detail along the curve of his painted faces, the glint of his p2 trophy from his podium in brazil, the shape of the car - max’s, he realises. he tears his gaze away just as she continues talking.

“i know it’s not a lot, and it might seem a bit creepy because i did go through pinterest for a bunch of good photos of you, and i took screenshots of you whenever skysports showed you on screen. but you’re just so pretty, and i really, really wanted to paint you and-” she registers the look he’s giving her, arms crossed, head tilted to the side as his face stretches into a smile so big his eyes squint. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you think i’m pretty?”

she scoffs and pushes him back, a laugh bubbling out of lando’s mouth as he grabs her wrist and hold her to him. she loops her arms around his neck before saying, “you know, i almost forgot why i loved this.” she pauses, and he gives a look, prodding her on. “but you’ve reminded me why. it’s like being with you makes the world seem different. brighter. better. happier.”

lando wishes he had his camera, wishes he could be a painter like her just so he could capture the pure joy in her eyes and keep it forever, because even if her face in that moment was the last thing he saw, lando’s sure he would die a happy man.

he doesn’t know what to say, so he just kisses her instead, letting her know all he was trying to say with that one sweet motion. and when he rests his forehead on hers, he grins cheekily and says, “looks like i became your muse after all, huh?”

—

the gallery is bustling with noise as he pushes past the double doors into y/n’s art exhibition four months later. four months of late nights and long days, multiple stress breaks and even more mental breakdowns. though most of the work took place during the winter break, lando wouldn’t have traded it for the world, because no matter how he spent it, there was nothing better than being by his girl’s side.

oscar stands to his right, a woah of appreciation escaping his lips as they take in the gallery.

paintings in shades of orange, pink and yellow hang along one wall - her perception of him watches everyone from its place on the wall opposite. oscar and lando stand tall in their own separate large frame, and it’s hard to miss the signature colours of mclaren, but dimmer, almost warmer, a style lando would recognise anywhere as y/n’s having spent so long around it.

the way everyone marvels over his girl’s artwork is music to his ears and he can’t help but flush when people recognise him as the man in the portraits.

“young lando norris,” someone booms from behind him. he recognises y/n’s art professor emerging from the crowd and greets the older man with a firm handshake.

“sir! good to see you,” lando says politely.

he gestures around him. “your girl’s done well, lando.”

lando nods. “she has. i’m very proud of her, i always knew she could do it.”

“have you seen her yet?”

“no, i haven’t, actually. i came with oscar, so.”

the older man ahhs, giving him a knowing smile. “well, don’t let me hold you up. go get her.”

lando leaves them with a gracious nod, moving through the crowd to his girl, all the while accepting handshakes from supportive friends and small wishes of “congratulations”, “well done” and “tell her we’re proud of her”. he finally spots her, hair pinned to perfection and dress perfectly hugging every curve of her body, making small talk with a well-dressed couple in the corner of the room.

he catches the exact moment she realises he’s there, revels in the grin that splits her face as she excuses herself. it’s barely a minute between that moment to when she’s barreling into his arms, head furrowing in the crook of his neck as she mumbles, “you made it.”

he presses her tighter to his body. “i wouldn’t miss this for the world, love.”

their moment short-lived though when someone kindly taps on her shoulder. y/n pulls away from him and, with one glance at the woman, turns back to him. “i have to go make a speech, but i’ll be back right after.”

he lets her go with a quick kiss to her lips and forehead and never takes his eyes of her as she makes her way through the crowd to the front of the room, his cheeks flushing when she catches sight of him and blows him a quick kiss. he feels oscar come up beside him, handing him a glass before resting his now-free hand on lando’s shoulder, muttering a low, “simp.”

shut up he shoots back, just as y/n taps the microphone in her hand once, twice, getting the guests’ attention.

“hello everyone, i just wanted thank you all for coming out here tonight. it means so much to me.” she pauses for the ‘you’re welcome’s’ before continuing, “i know i’ve already addressed everyone here and said my thank you’s, but i’d like to mention two more people. oscar, who was patient enough to pose for me for one of my paintings. it means the world to me, thank you, osc.

“and to lando, the boy who inspired me to do all this. if you don’t know who he is, just look around, you’ll find him, he looks really similar to the big guy on the wall.” a chorus of laughter rings out. “without you, lan, i couldn’t have done any of this. thank you for sitting there on facetime so that i could sketch you because i was scared i wouldn’t do you justice from memory, thank you for bringing me takeout when i was stuck in the studio late at night, hyper-fixating on the smallest of details and so much more. i love you, so so much.”

and as the crowd erupts into applause, he just raises his glass in the smallest of gestures to her, and whispers, “anything for you, baby.”

—

it’s later that night when they’re both in the comforting darkness of their room, still tipsy off too many glasses of champagne and each other. he runs a hand through her hair, her naked body warm against his. they’re already so close he can’t even tell where he starts and she stops, but he needs to be closer. he tugs her toward him, bringing her leg over his hip and tucking her face in the crook of his neck before wrapping his arms around her torso.

“lando, i can’t breathe,” she laughs, but she still furrows closer to him.

“it’s a great way to go, don’t you think?”

“mmm, the best way.”

“baby?”

“yes.”

he knots his hand through her hair once more, pulling her away from his neck and forcing her to look at him. “you know i live for you, right?”

“do you?” her voice is incredulous, like she can’t tell if he’s being serious or not.

“only you, because of you. no one else.”

she’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of their even breaths filling the room. and then she’s pressing the softest kisses to his face. his eyes - “my model” - cheeks - “my inspiration” - nose - “my muse” - and then his lips: “my everything.”

“i love you, lando.”

“i love you, too, baby.”

“only me?”

her voice is small and muffled and he can’t help but laugh. “yeah, darling, only you.”

—

author’s note: helloo, firstly, thank you soso much to @disneyprincemuke for encouraging me to finish this mwah <3

secondly, i don’t normally write fics, i mainly write other original works and my main genre is normally thriller and suspense so this is very far off what i normally write. feedback is so appreciated so please don’t hesitate to critique :)

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #actually reading it back i kinda like it #liyah writes

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impyssadobsessions · 11 months

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OKAY IDEA Danny is a police officer and works with Dick Grayson in Bludhaven. He's new to the force and often called rookie but turns out to be really good at his job. Him and Dick get along same time think the other is a little cocky until they both get to fight along side each other as like some rogues that nightwing usually fought is doing something while they're on duty. (just the two of them got stuck in a warehouse while outside cops are still trying to bust in (probably some rubble fell blocking away or something)) Danny showing off martial art skills and is like "What. My mom is a black belt." Dick does something just as impressive if not more, grinning, "My dad is too." Just them joking around. They almost have everything under control, when Danny's ghost senses activate. Dick gets hit by an ectoblast that slams him into the wall. His vision blurs as he can hear a voice taunting Danny, and Danny growling. bright lights and then he knocks out. He has a brief moment of being awake as backup comes to his aid. He learns that a new meta broke in and Danny was missing. He passes back out.. He wakes up in the hospital, worried about Danny, cursing himself. He's a vigilante.. how could he- in comes danny with a bag of fast food and balloons. "Figured I get you something you rather eat then some flowers. : D Nice to see you breathing, dick-" Dick asks about what happens but notices Danny being flighty and vague. "Oh yeah, meta kidnapped me and took me to some highrise building. Luckily nightwing came by and took care of it. Really was quite a trip. If it wasn't for the terrifying fight for my life thing, I say I wouldn't mind flying like that again." Dick cracks a smile, though inside his head he has way more questions than answers. But he cant call Danny out on any of it. So he does what bats do best.. he starts to investigate. -bad at explaining but basically dick catches danny in a lie and starts to piece together every odd thing danny ever mentioned about himself. -even better if they're partners LOL

-Also imagine danny has used his powers to keep himself or others from being shot.. plus has one of the best aim in the force, second to/on par with dick.

#dick grayson #danny fenton #police officer au #dpxdc #dp x dc #prompt #fic prompt #nightwing #danny phantom #long post

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sneepseverus · 2 months

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This is a reupload of a one-shot I had on my old account. I’m hoping that by reuploading I’ll finally get the spark and inspiration I need for newer stuff :p I ended up making a lot of edits, though hehehe

Original Request: Snape teaching something to you and there's some sexual tension between you two (decide yourself if you want to turn it into a smut or not, I'm fine with both).

Warnings:

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

Hard dom!Snape x gender-neutral reader

Reader is NOT a student, but they role play

Use of the word “daddy”

Oral (M receiving) (like sucking dick and cock! Like oh my god…)

Word Count: 1.3k

"You know, I always thought you being a professor was so sexy," you commented after what felt like an eternity of silence in his office.

"I have to disagree with you there. It's definitely not a job to be romanticized," he replied, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he continued to glide his quill against the piece of parchment centered on his desk.

You started to think about how he must possess such a great ability to lead and command his classroom. "I bet you're so alluring when you teach."

"My students would strongly disagree," he simply remarked, eyes still fixed on his desk. "Half of those idiots barely pay attention, and then they wonder why they can never receive anything higher than a 'Poor' on their assignments."

"Wait! I have an idea!" you exclaimed with a bit of a mischievous smile.

"And what might that be?" he replied, a little bit annoyed as there were few things more important than what he was currently occupied with.

Although he had been teaching at Hogwarts for about fifteen years already, Snape was still nervous about the next day. It would be his first time teaching as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, a position he had wanted for so long.

"You're planning for tomorrow's lesson anyway, right? Why don't you practice on me?" you suggested.

"Practice?"

“Yeah! Pretend you're in the classroom and...just say everything you were planning. Besides, it's been a while since I took the class, and our professor wasn't exactly the most fun. I'll probably end up learning something from you."

He finally stopped his writing and glanced at you. "Okay, well, I was going to begin teaching nonverbal spells tomorrow—"

"No, don't tell me; just do it," you said, motioning for him to start.

He slowly stood up and cleared his throat awkwardly. How silly it must be to pretend to be a professor when he already has to suffer through that every day, he thought. However, he eventually walked over in front of you and placed his hands behind his back, getting himself into character. "Before we begin, I must remind you that this is a N.E.W.T-level class. I am astonished that you all managed to achieve an O.W.L in this subject, but I would be less so if you found yourselves incapable of keeping up with the coursework," he began as he paced back and forth.

Wow. Of course, you knew how strict he was, but it was one thing to hear it from his colleagues and students and another to actually see it right before your eyes. After being together and knowing how gentle he was deep inside, it was like you were seeing a new side to him.

"The Dark Arts," he continued, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal…"

He went on and on with his introduction (which included something about the Cruciatus Curse and some type of kiss). You found it so difficult to focus with how mesmerizing, how attractive his voice was; no wonder students were never able to pay attention. You couldn't help but giggle at his scowling yet seductive expression.

"Do I make myself clear?" He stared at you with a piercing gaze as he waited for your response.

"Yes, Daddy—I mean, professor," you mumbled.

He crossed his arms in front of him and lifted an eyebrow suspiciously. "Well, it seems to me that something has distracted you, L/N. If you are finding yourself incapable of paying attention, then I will have to ask you to leave."

"I'm sorry," you said as you sat up straight. "I'm paying attention."

"Good. Now, I assume you have had no prior experience with nonverbal spells. Can you tell me what the advantage of a nonverbal spell is?"

Your eyes wandered all over his face, and you found yourself biting your lip.

"No? This is the second time you have distracted yourself. It seems that my warning was not enough to make you focus. I will now have to give you a more severe punishment for your misbehavior. Come over to my desk. Now," he demanded.

He sat down in his chair and turned to face you. "Get on your knees," he instructed. He leaned back and spread his legs. "You must do as I say. Understand?"

You nodded, excited about where this was going.

He pointed to his groin. "First, take them off."

You looked at him and proceeded to unbutton his trousers. You slowly slid them off, leaving his underwear over his hardness. "Seems like I wasn't the only one distracted," you commented smugly.

"I don't remember asking you to speak. You should have already removed my pants, too. Do I need to spell out every single little instruction for you? And wipe that smirk off your face."

"I'm sorry…sir" you muttered as you proceeded to grip the waistband of his underwear. His leaking, throbbing cock sprang out, ready for you to touch him, as you swiftly pulled them down to his ankles, licking your lips at the sight.

"I don't need you making any more of your snide comments, so use your mouth."

"What else would have I done?" you wanted to ask, but you kept your "snide comments" to yourself this time. You wrapped your hand around his firm length, slowly pumping up and down before swirling your tongue all around his tip. You closed your eyes blissfully, letting out a series of moans as you savored the taste of his pre-cum.

"Stop this teasing and shut up," he ordered. "And look at me."

You followed his command and sped up your pace this time, looking for any signs of approval in his deep, glittering eyes.

Once he was satisfied, he gripped his hands on the back of your head before bucking his hips towards you, forcing his cock deeper down your throat. Moans escaped his parted lips with each suck. He knew there was a chance others could hear him from outside his office, but right now, he was more concerned with disciplining you.

You cupped his balls with your free hand, fondling them while maintaining your rhythm. "Yes, just like that. Oh, you're doing so well," he let out between shaky breaths before letting his head fall back. "Don't even fucking think about stopping."

"Yes, professor," you thought. "Anything for you." You could feel your own arousal building up, but you ignored it to focus on pleasuring your professor and hear him praise you between groans. Oh, you so desperately wanted to pull away and tell him how much you loved the feeling of his long cock deep inside your mouth, but you had to maintain this perfect pace if you wanted to keep him content.

With the way his hips were moving, it was as if he was fucking your face. You made sure every inch of him was covered in your saliva, letting him know how "apologetic" you were for not paying attention to his little speech he must had spent time rehearsing. But if acting up meant that you got to have his legs spread widely for you in the middle of the day, of course, you'd do it again.

You could tell his orgasm was approaching with the way his body began squirming involuntarily. Neither of you had any intention of moving away from this current position. He yelled out a booming, "FUCK!" with his fingers digging deeply into your skin as cum shot into your throat.

Once you were certain you had milked every last drop of his seed, you removed yourself from his length, gasping for air. You licked your lips to get a good taste of any remaining droplets and waited patiently for his next instruction.

"I hope you weren't expecting to be done so soon," he stated. When he finally regained all his energy, he stood up and put his bottoms back on. "Go to my room and take your clothes off—all of them. I'll be there momentarily."

#lol @ my old writing #i changed some of the sentences #they seemed too abrupt #i hope you enjoy it!!#snape #snape smut #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape fanfiction #snape fanfic #severus snape #severus snape smut #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfic

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leidensygdom · 1 month

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AI bros from hell

Hello! Do you have a bit of your time for a story on AI bros and clients from hell? I bring a really fun one!

I met this guy at a con I was tabling at over a year ago, before AI was a thing. He said he enjoyed my art, and inquired me about whether I did book illustrations. I said yes- He was specifically interested in my bigger pieces, the fully rendered and detailed ones. He agreed to send me later a DM to discuss specifics.

For two weeks, he kept DMing me on details about his book, what he wanted, etc. He wanted full illustrations for inside the book as well as a cover, all of them fully colored, painted and rendered. He also wanted illustrations in this style to post on social media to promote the book. I had warned him that something like that would be costly, but he insisted that he needed this to be the best of the best.

Now, I was getting bad vibes from the guy. I shit y'all not, his instagram handle was "The next tolkien". I wasn't however gonna refuse a job opportunity. Now, he finally asked for prices: He had reassured me he was willing to pay fairly for this. Since he's a starting author, I gave him my non-commercial quotes, which are much, much, much lower than the standard for book illustrations. I mean "if you search for how much this costs on google, the lower prices are x5 times more expensive than what I offered".

The guy, upon receiving that, just ghosted me. Immediately unfollowed, didn't reply me with a "sorry, I can't afford it" or "sorry, i was expecting to pay $10 for a full rendered full background several-characters-picture". Nothing.

The other day I decided to search what he was up to. He's now released... THREE books for this series. There's a single review in the first one. Not even written, just a stars one. Also, notably, he had a webpage put together promoting the book, and. Yeah.

All the art is AI crap.

Which makes sense. My guy was very on his high horse about how fantastic of a writer he is, but I guess art isn't really to be compensated fairly. When he saw the "art stealing machine you just pay a subscription for", I'm guessing he was very excited.

So, uh, here's some of the marvelous pictures he generated of the characters, which surely tell you about how great the book is. AI is theft, so I don't give a f*** about reposting it.

I have a lot of opinions about creators who write, draw or make music, who are more than happy to use AI for other stuff- Album covers made with AI, writers using AI crap for book illustrations, artists using AI-made music. It feels like you're sh*tting in any other artistic field and showing how little you respect anyone but yourself. Like, I'll be honest, I don't have interest reading a book from someone who considers that other forms of art aren't real or worth any money. It just tells me you're devoid of any interest for art or humanity.

As an ending note, his instagram description is "More closer to god than to human", which does add to the clownery.

#anti ai #clients from hell #long story #long post #ai bros

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sunhoures · 8 months

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And It Was All Yellow

pairing: wonwoo (svt) + reader (fem.)

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, photographer!wonwoo, artist!reader (+ journalist!mingyu)

word count: ~5.7k

synopsis: wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he finds himself falling for you a lot sooner than he thought possible

inspired by: the text post pictured above ^^ & the song “yellow” by coldplay 💛

posted: august 21, 2023

The weather in Seoul was dull—gray clouds and scattered, drizzling rain suspended over the city since dawn had broken. Most people hated such weather, but Jeon Wonwoo was not one of those people. In fact, he found comfort in the gloominess. He enjoyed the idea of having an excuse to stay in. And if he did need to go outside, he liked that there was a lack of the usual crowd of people that would be around if the weather was more ideal. Traffic was less compacted. Lines of any kind were short (or non-existent). The city was quiet, just as he liked it.

On days like today, he preferred to spend his time inside with a book or playing video games. But work had been scarce for him these past few weeks, so when his best friend, Mingyu, had informed him of a job offer he had no choice but to accept it. That’s how he ended up at a local art museum downtown at 9:45 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Despite the doors not opening for another fifteen minutes, a worker had let him in through the front door when he got her attention and pointed to his camera bag. She realized he didn’t have an umbrella with him, and so she quickly let him in. Luckily he had a raincoat over his outfit and a hat to protect his hair, so the most he had to deal with was a little rain on the back of his neck. He thanked the worker, staying close to the door to get any glimpse of Mingyu arriving.

In the meantime, he watched the cars pass by outside, each one splashing water out of the puddle and onto the sidewalk just in front of the entrance to the museum. He noticed it had lightened up a bit outside, the sky turning from a darker gray to a lighter gray with wispy, white clouds. He wondered if anyone would even show up to this exhibit opening in such weather conditions.

About five minutes after he arrived, Mingyu came knocking on the door, covering his head with a magazine. The worker came back and opened the door for him, deciding to leave it unlocked. Wonwoo’s younger friend came in, complaining under his breath about forgetting his umbrella and getting wet. He shook the sopping magazine, droplets of water falling onto the concrete floor. His gray button-up was a darker gray on the shoulders and sleeves from the rain that seeped into it. Wonwoo noticed the worker glaring at his friend for dripping on the floor and tried not to let his amusement show.

“Forgot your umbrella too?” he questioned Mingyu, “Hopefully your notebook didn’t get ruined.”

His friend looked to the bag he had hanging from his shoulder. The bag didn’t have a zipper, but it did have a flap that fell over the opening to keep it “closed” in a sense. He quickly shoved his hand inside, feeling around for his notebook. When he felt the edges of the paper and confirmed they were dry, he smiled, “All good. And why so early? That’s unusual.”

“I’m never late,” Wonwoo defended.

“Yeah, but if I tell you to be somewhere at ten a.m. you usually don’t walk in until nine fifty-eight.”

The older of the two shrugged, “Got an early start today.”

The two men began their work day, Wonwoo fine-tuning the settings on his camera to his liking while Mingyu made some preliminary notes in his notebook. They set up together in the lobby, but once the artist had arrived, Mingyu excused himself to greet her. Wonwoo stayed in the lobby, taking a couple of test pictures to see if anything else needed to be adjusted. Around him several museum workers, journalists, and other photographers were gathering with the artist. Wonwoo wasn’t the biggest fan of interacting with strangers, so he kept to himself. Luckily, he busied himself with his camera which was enough to keep people from disrupting him.

Once Mingyu returned to his friend, the two joined the growing crowd waiting by the entrance to the new exhibit where a ceremonial ribbon cutting was about to take place. Wonwoo found the ribbon to be a bit superfluous. Nonetheless, he stood towards the back of the small crowd, arms crossed and camera slung around his neck by its strap. He was hired to take some pictures of the event and the art pieces for Mingyu’s article, and that was it. It was somewhat easy money for him, but it did take more time and social interaction than he liked. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait for this to be over and go home to edit.

He watched you, the artist, get behind the ribbon and make your speech thanking everyone for showing up. He snapped a couple pictures as you thanked the museum for giving your art a home temporarily. After a few minutes, you ended your speech by giving a small spiel about how art was therapeutic to you and it should be for everyone else. He found himself subconsciously nodding in agreement, because photography was a form of therapy for him as well.

The ribbon was cut after your speech, and the congregation of guests entered the exhibit for the first time. Mingyu and Wonwoo brought up the rear, but they were just as astonished as every single person ahead of them when they saw the art on display. Several paintings of various mediums hung on the walls, varying in size. The large columns in the middle of the room also held paintings on them, each piece of art accompanied by a small plaque with information about it—like the title and date. Mingyu, just like the other journalists, was already jotting down notes in his book, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his pressed lips in concentration. Wonwoo peered around the room, simply taking everything in. His hands held his camera which was still hanging from his neck.

The two friends walked around together, patiently waiting for the other guests to continue on before taking their time in front of a piece to write or take pictures. As they got to the last few paintings, Mingyu made a comment about finding the bathroom, and that he would be back shortly. Wonwoo nodded and continued to snap a few pictures of the paintings before him. He came to a stop in front of a simple painting of sunflowers; the acrylic paint forming a kind of 3D effect on the canvas. He stared at that one for a moment longer than the rest of them, not for any particular reason, he supposed. It didn’t stand out from the others or anything, but he liked it for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Do you like sunflowers?”

Your voice startled him, though he didn’t show it. He merely turned to you, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement as well as a small, polite smile, “They’re fine I guess.”

“This was one of my first pieces I made in art school,” you explained, and it was then he noticed it did indeed have the earliest date posted among all of the canvases in the room.

“It’s nice,” he said, “Congratulations, by the way. You’re very talented.”

Your face broke into a sweet smile despite that being the nth compliment of this morning. Each one felt like a gold star being rewarded to you, and it filled you with happiness. You gestured to his camera, “Do you work for a magazine?”

“Um, sort of,” he shrugged, “My friend does, he just has me shoot pictures for his articles.”

“Oh, I do remember seeing you with someone,” you remembered, “Um, the tall one with the gray shirt, right?”

“Yes.”

“I see. I haven’t gotten to speak with him in depth yet, do you know if he’ll be back soon?”

“He should be returning from the bathroom soon,” he replied. Usually Wonwoo was terrible at making conversation with strangers. He dreaded it. But you gave off such a comforting, welcoming energy. He found himself wanting to talk to you about, well, anything, “This weather isn’t too ideal for this occasion, isn’t it?”

“The rain?” you asked, “Yeah, it’s a bummer, but the turn out was great still. I didn’t think so many people would come.”

“Why’s that?” his brow raised slightly in curiosity.

“I didn’t think my art was special enough to warrant such an exhibit. One of my mentors from art school is friends with the head of the museum, and he asked him for a favor. He’s put a lot of time and faith in me, but I don’t think my art is worth such a grandiose gesture,” you spoke so casually, as if it was fact. Wonwoo found your confession to be a little disheartening. Sure, the art might not have the prestige to qualify for the MoMA or the Louvre, but to someone like him who casually enjoyed art, your work was impressive.

“Well, I’m glad he did. Your work is amazing,” Wonwoo was a man of few words, but he hoped the few he could give would bring you some reassurance. And for the moment it did. You smiled warmly, perking up further when Mingyu returned to the both of you.

“Hello again, would you be able to spare a few minutes with me?” he asked you, already getting his notebook and pen from his bag. You agreed, and the two of you began a conversation while Wonwoo continued to snap some photos of the last paintings. When he was done, he waited patiently for you and Mingyu to finish your conversation. Around ten minutes passed, and the crowd was fluctuating as some people left and some newcomers joined. Wonwoo watched the guests observe the art, getting some inspiration to take photos of them as well. He figured some candid pictures would look nice too. He even got one of you and Mingyu discussing the sunflower piece before he approached the two of you again.

The three of you talked for what felt like hours but in reality was only twenty minutes. At some point the conversation had veered from art to your social lives. Mingyu was a very sociable, outgoing person, so it didn’t take long for him to strike a casual conversation with you. He had learned that the three of you frequented the same coffee shop a few streets away.

“We’ll have to get coffee together some time,” you said, “Should we swap numbers?”

Mingyu happily did so, and the two of you swapped phones to add each others contacts. You made a comment about getting with some other journalists, but you promised to stay in touch before leaving the two men with a “thank you for coming!”.

The rain had cleared up by the time the two friends left the museum. They walked together to the bus stop across the street, waiting for the bus that would be passing shortly. While they waited, they talked about the notes Mingyu got and the shots Wonwoo took.

“She was really sweet,” Mingyu said with a smile, “She told me she didn’t have many friends in the city. We’ll have to take her out with our friends some time soon.”

“Sure,” was all Wonwoo responded absentmindedly, replying to a text from his brother.

“She was pretty, too,” Mingyu added in a suggestive tone.

That made Wonwoo look up from his phone with a pointed look, “What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” his friend shrugged, but his expression was telling before his mouth was, “It’s just been a while since you’ve dated is all. You two seemed to be getting along well.”

The older man rolled his eyes, returning them to his phone as he opened Instagram and proceeded to scroll through his explore page, “I spoke to her for five minutes while you were in the bathroom. I’m not going to fall in love with her in five minutes.”

His friend sighed, “You’ll never fall in love if you’re not open to a potential relationship.”

Wonwoo got quiet then, and the conversation didn’t pick up again until shortly before the bus arrived. On the ride he thought about what Mingyu said. It was true, he hadn’t dated in a very long time, since college actually. Now that he was twenty-seven, it was getting harder and harder for him to find himself in a situation to meet someone. He rarely left his house. He spent his free time doing things alone, and when he did go out with his friends he stuck to them pretty closely. On top of all of that, he wasn’t the most approachable person. He wasn’t a cold person, or at least he didn’t consider himself one. But his looks gave the impression that he was, his sharp eyes and straight-drawn lips making him seem standoffish.

And unlike his friends, he didn’t believe in “love at first sight”. The idea of meeting someone for the first time and instantly being head over heels for them just didn’t connect with him. He didn’t understand how others felt that. When he dated in the past, it took weeks, even months to fall for the person he had a crush on. And he wasn’t necessarily upset with the way he lived; he didn’t mind being alone. Since he was a kid, he always felt more comfortable doing things by himself. But lately he realized his day-to-day did feel a little lonely, especially since most of his friends were settling down with their partners or moving away to pursue careers. Maybe Mingyu was right. Maybe he did need some kind of change.

The first time you hung out with the two men after meeting them at the museum, Mingyu had invited you to join them for lunch. The three of you ate Korean barbecue, learning a bit about each other over a few bottles of soju. Wonwoo didn’t do much talking that time, mostly speaking only when spoken to. You and Mingyu carried the conversations, not that either of you minded. You felt like Wonwoo would need time to open up to you, so you gave him that. Luckily, the two agreed to hang out with you again later in the week. Mingyu had to get some editing done, so he invited you and Wonwoo to keep him company at his apartment.

You were shocked when Wonwoo was the one to engage in conversation with you first, greeting you at the door and welcoming you in. He and Mingyu were preparing a simple dinner, so you sat at the kitchen island watching them cook. You noticed Wonwoo seemed more comfortable talking this time around. Maybe it was because you had hung out already, or maybe it was because he was in a familiar environment. Either way you liked seeing a little crack in the shell that kept his true personality shielded away from you.

Over a couple months the three of you became really close, and you had even met some of their other friends. Mingyu’s office wasn’t far from the art supply store you visited every week, so you made it a habit to visit him every Thursday on your supply runs. The two of you would get lunch or just sit in his office and talk during his break before you returned to your art studio. You really liked the friendship blossoming between you and the two men, but then one day something changed.

Wonwoo texted you out of the blue one Saturday mid-morning asking if you wanted to get some coffee with him. You found it odd that he texted you because he had never done that before. It was usually Mingyu who texted you, or they texted you in a group chat that you had together. Nonetheless, you responded with “of course!” and got dressed.

When you showed up to the café you were confused to see Wonwoo sitting at a two-seater table by himself. You noticed he looked like he put more effort into his appearance today. Normally when you hung out he was in lounging clothes—a simple shirt with sweatpants or maybe loose jeans. The only time you remembered seeing him dressed this nicely was the day you met, and he was working then. But he didn’t mention working today? So what could be the occasion for him to wear off-white pants, a mustard yellow sweater, and what looked like new shoes?

He was reading something on his phone when you approached him, the light from the screen reflecting on his thin-rimmed glasses. When you set your purse down, he looked up at you and gave you a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hi, is Mingyu not joining?” you asked curiously as you sat across from him. You didn’t notice when the corners of his mouth wavered for a second.

“No, he’s working. You’re stuck with just me today,” he joked.

You chuckled softly, “Don’t make it sound so bad. Was there a reason you wanted to hang out today though? I have to say I was a little shocked when you texted me.”

It was Mingyu’s idea, but Wonwoo didn’t want to admit that. His friend had pointed it out that the two of you had never hung out alone. He figured it might help Wonwoo warm up to you more if you spent some time together one-on-one. And even though he didn’t say it out loud, Wonwoo knew Mingyu secretly wanted the two of you to work out romantically—for whatever reason, he wasn’t sure. Wonwoo wasn’t completely closed off to the idea; you were gorgeous and friendly. But he knew it wasn’t going to be an overnight thing. It took weeks for him to feel comfortable with you as a friend, he could only imagine the time it would take to start a romantic relationship.

“I, um, just realized we never got a chance to hang out alone. We don’t really know much about each other outside of our hang outs with Mingyu,” he said. In that moment he also realized how tense he felt. His legs were stiff and knees were drawn in close together under the table. His fingers toyed with the wrapper of his straw from his iced americano. His shoulders were drawn in the slightest bit, and he could feel his posture was kind of terrible. He tried to relax without making it look obvious that he was tense in the first place.

“Yeah, I guess I figured you just didn’t like to socialize as much as Mingyu did.”

“I don’t, but I’m trying to be better about that,” he admitted, and you felt like you might actually be getting somewhere with him, “He teases me a lot about being a hermit.”

You laughed softly, and he smiled with you, “Well, it’s nice to see you coming out of your shell.”

After an appreciative look from him, you excused yourself to order a drink. Wonwoo immediately opened his phone and texted Mingyu.

wonu 🐈‍⬛: ok i’m here, now what do we talk about?

gyu 🐶: well first, don’t be on your phone smh. second, just ask her questions about herself. seem interested. try not to look bored like you always do

Wonwoo sighed in annoyance, ignoring the last part of his message as he turned his phone over on the table. You returned shortly after, also with an iced americano. He decided to give his friend’s advice a try, “Do you always order iced americanos?”

“Only sometimes. My go-to is usually a hot latte, but it’s a bit warm for that today,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. He nodded in understanding, but he was unsure of what else to say. It was so much easier to converse with people you’ve been friends with for several years.

Luckily you had no issue with it, and you broke the awkward silence up for him, “How long have you been doing photography?”

“I’ve done it as a hobby since I was in high school, but after I graduated I started doing freelance work. So, almost ten years.”

“I’d love to see your work some time,” you spoke fondly, remembering the first time you met, “Your shots of my exhibit were amazing, so I can imagine the rest of your work is too.“

“My stuff doesn’t compare to the art you make,” he said it without even thinking. You weren’t sure if you should take it as a self-deprecating remark or flattery.

Your lips quipped into a thoughtful line before you derailed, “Okay, your turn. Ask me a question.”

“Oh, are we playing twenty questions?” Wonwoo joked, sitting back in his chair and sipping on his drink. The sunlight beamed directly across his right eye and onto his cheek. His eye was a deep chocolate brown color as opposed to the dark, cold, almost-black color it usually was. You wondered if his eyes were always that soft.

“Yeah, I’ve just decided. Your turn,” you repeated. You crossed your arms on top of the table, subtly leaning in as a sign of giving him all your attention. He fought the smile wanting to live on his lips, opting to look deep in thought. The two of you went back and forth for nearly half an hour, just asking each other questions. Some answers warranted tangents and story times before you went back to the questions, but you enjoyed it to the fullest. And truthfully, Wonwoo was too. He didn’t think he could get so much enjoyment from a game he used to play with his friends in grade school, yet here he was. On the verge of laughter as you told an embarrassing story from high school in which you were running late to school and didn’t realize until your second class that your underwear was stuck to the back of your shirt.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Wonwoo laughed softly, a crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose, “I would’ve dropped out of school.”

“I thought about it,” you joked, a bashful smile on your lips as you remembered the story like it happened yesterday, “But yeah, if you’re going to get your clothes from the dryer, double check that your under garments aren’t stuck to them first.”

“Noted,” Wonwoo looked over and noticed that a new couple was sitting at the table behind you. That was the second time new people sat right there. He wondered how long you two had been sitting, but he didn’t want to check his phone in case you got the impression that he was in a rush to leave. Which he definitely wasn’t, “Okay, I think it’s your turn again.”

“Okay, um . . . “ your eyes searched the room for a question prompt, but you were grasping for straws- Wait, that’s it. Straws. The cups of plastic-covered straws on the counter were organized by color, one cup for each color they offered—pink, blue, and yellow, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hm, why don’t you guess?” Wonwoo replied.

If he was honest, he didn’t really have a favorite color. He supposed if he considered it more he would settle for blue or purple, but he didn’t care enough either way. A good ninety-five percent of his wardrobe was black and five percent color, but he just liked black as a good neutral color to wear. He figured he would just let you guess until you decided to give up.

You thought about it for a moment, but no specific color came to mind immediately. His clothes were mostly black, but lots of people wore black clothing and had a favorite color that wasn’t black. His shirt was yellow as well as the straw for his americano, but there was no other indication that it would be his favorite color from what you could remember. Still, you figured it might be your best guess, “Yellow!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile at your prideful declaration. You said it as if you knew it for a fact.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, really?” your eyes got wide and the grin on your face grew wide. Did you really guess it correctly in one try?

Even Wonwoo was shocked by his answer. Yellow wasn’t his favorite color. He didn’t have one. But you seemed so excited and hopeful and sure of yourself that he didn’t even think twice about his answer.

“Yeah, good job,” he praised you, and he had to admit to himself you looked really cute when you clapped your hands together in a small celebration for yourself, “What’s yours?”

“Pink,” you seemed visibly brighter when you answered. It made sense to Wonwoo. Pink was such a cute, bright, outgoing color. It signified friendliness and sweetness, and all of that just screamed you. Maybe he liked pink too. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. Everything I had was pink.”

“Pink suits you.”

You felt yourself flushing at the compliment, your smile turning sheepish, “I think yellow suits you, too. I’m picturing a nice pastel yellow for you. Very spring.”

He tried to picture it: him in a pastel yellow shirt. The mental image seemed foreign, since the mustard sweater he was currently wearing was the brightest color he had ever worn besides white. But he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“Alright, your turn.”

A few more questions were exchanged between you two, long after your cups were emptied. The patrons of the café that had been present when you showed up were long gone, and new faces took their places. After a while you felt a little guilty for hogging the table for so long, even though it had only been a little under two hours. Wonwoo made a comment about heading out, so you both got up and threw your trash. He walked with you to the bus station, even though he had driven to the café in his own car. You thanked him for inviting you to hang out and told him that you enjoyed it.

“We’ll have to do this again some time, but maybe not tell Mingyu. He might get jealous,” you teased your non-present friend, making Wonwoo laugh softly. He knew for a fact that Mingyu would have no problem with it; he would probably encourage it, if anything.

“I don’t think he’d mind. He’s not usually the jealous type,” Wonwoo replied, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. He tried to think of something you two could do together, and he recalled that during the twenty—more like fifty plus—questions you had said you liked video games too, “If you want, we could hang out at my apartment, play some video games. And order pizza or something?”

“That sounds like fun!” your eyes lit up at the idea. You had never actually been to his apartment before. Every time you hung out was at Mingyu’s place, your place, or somewhere in the city. You wondered what his apartment looked like. He seemed like the type to keep everything tidy and minimal, “I’ll be pretty busy this week, but maybe we can work something out for next weekend.”

“Cool,” he nodded and kept small talk until the bus arrived to pick you and a handful of other people up. He waved you off politely, and when you were out of sight, he let out a hefty sigh. It felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, but not in a bad way. He liked you, so there was this small, subconscious pressure that he felt to be more outgoing. He wanted you to like him too.

Over the next few weeks, there was a shift in the dynamic between the three of you, and it seemed to be obvious to everyone except Wonwoo. You and him had grown a lot closer as you started to hang out alone outside of your usual outings with Mingyu and their other friends. And it showed when the group was together. You always took the seat closest to Wonwoo. He laughed more at your jokes. You complimented his outfits—which were slowly but progressively becoming more colorful. He offered to walk you to your car or the bus or home whenever he could. Yet, still, when asked if anything was going on between you two, he seemed confused.

“It’s not like that,” he told Mingyu when the two were walking to a job they had booked one afternoon—a restaurant opening, “________ and I have gotten close, but not that close.”

“Hey, I know you wear glasses, but you can’t be this blind,” his friend retorted, “You two like each other.”

Wonwoo faltered a bit as he walked, but tried to play it off, “Did she say she liked me?”

“No, but she doesn’t need to. Neither do you, but as your best friend it would be nice if you told me these things.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, annoyed that Mingyu had made him think you had finally admitted having feelings for him.

“You two act like you’re in your own world all the time. The guys notice it, too, not just me,” Mingyu continued, “And since when do you like yellow so much?”

The question took Wonwoo so off guard that he laughed incredulously, “What?”

“She’s always giving you stuff that’s yellow. And you started wearing yellow clothes,” Mingyu pointed out. And it was true.

The first thing you had gifted him was a simple pen; it was a sunflower yellow color with black lettering etched on the side that said ‘hello, sunshine!’. He was confused when you had handed it to him that second time you hung out together to play video games. You showed up on his doorstep, telling him to close his eyes and put out his hands. When he had opened them again the pen was sat in his palms.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing, I guess. I was at the supply store and noticed it by the check out, and I thought about you. So I got it for you. It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Wonwoo honestly had no reason to use such a pen since his day-to-day work required little writing. And most of his notes were made in his phone, but the sentiment behind your gift made his heart flutter, “It is. Thank you, _______.”

And nearly every time after then you had gifted him things similar. While at the park with him and Mingyu, you bought him a banana flavored popsicle, solely for the fact that it was yellow—and you were relieved to find out he liked the banana flavor. When you went bowling with their friends, you gave him the yellow ball and left yourself with the last one which was brown. When you went to Mingyu’s to see the two of them, you had brought them each a keychain from a new pop-up shop that was near your art studio. You gave Mingyu a red one that had a soccer ball on it while Wonwoo’s was yellow and had a sunflower on it. You had initially got it because of its color, but the flower reminded you of the day you met him, so it held even more sentiment.

And recently, Wonwoo’s favorite water bottle had broken, so while you were out shopping you had found one that was similar to it. The cap was a little different, but it had the same shape and size, and it was a golden yellow hue.

When you gave it to him, the two of you were about to leave his apartment to get some dinner at the fried chicken place down the street. You had mentioned that you had a surprise for him, then you fished the bottle out of your tote bag to show him. His heart skipped a beat and a smile crept onto his lips when he saw it.

“I know you probably won’t love it as much as your other bottle, but hopefully you still like it,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. He took it from your offering grasp and shook his head.

“I do love it,” he said.

“You can leave it here while we go eat,” you turned towards the door, pulling your bag more securely onto your shoulder. But just before you could reach for the doorknob, Wonwoo’s voice called your name, making you turn back to face him, “Hm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized he was a lot closer than you thought, just a foot or so away from you. His tall frame seemed to tower over you, causing you to have to look up at him. You could see a struggle happening behind his eyes, as if he was going back and forth in his mind trying to decide on something. You were about to question him when suddenly he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to your cheek. The skin that he touched felt hot in his wake, the warmth spread across your face and ultimately your whole body felt heated under his gaze.

“Thank you, ________. For everything,” he spoke softly, his anxiety apparent in his tone. He averted his gaze, looking down at his hands. A bracelet that you had bought him last week was wrapped around his wrist—white beads and yellow smiley face charms decorating it. For some reason seeing the jewelry gave him the little boost of confidence he needed to ask, “Would you like to make this a date?”

Your eyes widened even further, but you couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies going wild inside your chest, their fluttering wings tickling your heart. Your crush on Wonwoo had started long before his crush on you had formed, but that didn’t bother you. Because you knew that he liked you now, and you couldn’t pass the opportunity to say, “Yes.”

A charming smile grew wide on his face, prompting you to grin too. Happiness bloomed inside you, and the two of you walked out of the apartment suddenly feeling shy after wordlessly admitting your feelings for each other. Despite his nerves, though, Wonwoo found the courage to take your hand in his as you walked down the sidewalk to the fried chicken place.

Along the way you pointed out some yellow canola flowers planted outside of an office building, and Wonwoo decided in that moment that he would never get tired of the color yellow. The way your face lit up when you saw it or gave him yellow-themed gifts, he would always find it cute. As far as he was concerned, the entire world could be covered in the color yellow, and he would be content just knowing it made you happy. He no longer would appreciate rain; instead, he would look forward to sunny days when the bright, yellow sunlight would remind him of you and your kind heart. Maybe yellow wasn’t his favorite color at first but, over time, it would be.

— please like, reblog, and/or leave a comment! i appreciate your feedback! 🧸

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geminisolstice · 10 months

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pac: your next glow up ★

(one, two, three, from left to right) ☾ this is a general reading - meaning not everything might apply to you, so please only take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

PICTURE ONE ★

there's been a very limited outlook on life recently that you're slowly starting to get over. you need to realize your potential and stop wallowing in self-pity. is what you're doing truly making you happy? it's time to take a step back and reevaluate everything in your life.

there'll be a sudden creative outburst. maybe you're gonna try out a new hobby that's going to help you move forward in life, maybe you're thinking of a new creative way to make money, etc. i think some of you are gonna start using art as a way to express/cope with your feelings?

confidence! whatever you're going to start doing or whatever change you're going to make in your day-to-day routine, it's going to make you way more confident. the way you present yourself will change and more people will give you the recognition you deserve! other people pointing out your achievements will also give you a sense of self worth. sometimes we don't see what's right infront of us until other people point it out.

overall you'll be in touch with your creative side. more patient, confident, empowered and you feeling comfortable with yourself is going to help other people overcome their insecurities too! don't be afraid to talk about your journey with confidence. give some advice to the ones around you (but don't be overbearing), they'll be thankful (sooner or later haha).

some advice: don't let things stress you out anymore. start meditating, journaling or maybe start working out. try out different things to figure out what helps you release stress in a healthy way.

PICTURE TWO ★

expanding your horizont. gaining wisdom. hit pause for a second and look at what you have achieved so far. are you satisfied with everything? what would you want to change? look inside of yourself and realize that you are enough.

you need to realize your self worth and you will! you don't even know the impact you have on other people. i think few of you realize that others do look up to you, maybe you're kind of the leader in your friend group, at home, etc. you like being in control and that's good! but you also need to able to let loose. no one's going to think less of you if you suddenly decided to have a bit more fun than you usually do (and even if they do, you shouldn't care).

yeah, that's definitely what i'm getting here. let yourself have fun. let loose! i know education/career is important, but please understand that it is not everything. never let that define you or be the foundation of your character. there's a life outside of hustling, i promise. you're going to break yourself and work or study yourself into a burn out.

i think what you need is a balanced.. routine. between having fun and studying. don't let work/education take over your life, but i don't see you guys fully immersing into the "fuck work i'm going to have fun 24/7" life style and i don't think it's going to something you'd feel comfortable with anyways. this is what i see for you guys. a balanced lifestyle. peace and quiet when you need it. i think you're going to get more inner peace, too.

PICTURE THREE ★

first things first: i see some of you moving away, whether it's for college, your job, or maybe your entire family is moving. i think what's needed is a change of environment, which will broaden your horizon.

even those of you who are not moving: change is coming your way. it's going to scary for some of you, but this is for the better. think about the outcome. you need to welcome change in your life. stop avoiding conflicts, stop doing this stop doing that stop sabotaging yourself! change can be good. switch up your routine. eat healthy. think about what can help you in the long run.

ground yourself and think about what's really important to you. are your needs met? what's lacking in your life? are/how are you trying to overcompensate for the things you don't have right now? are you maybe suffering from heartbreak, depression or insomnia? it's not hopeless. you're not hopeless. really confront your feelings. that's the only thing i can say, but you need to internalize it. confront your feelings and sit with them. figure them out.

yeah, the glowed up version of you is different, it's welcoming change. positive change. you'll work on yourself, i can see you growing into someone that's confident, hopeful. optimistic, brave even. instead of running away from your problems, you're going to face them. you're going to help other people with what you used to be struggling with. you're going to use all the knowledge you gained to help other people grow!

you're going to look at the person you used to be and realize it was all worth it. change seems scary at first, but remember: it will always work out for you.

#pick a card #pac #pick an image #tarot #pick a pile #pick a card reading #tarot reading #pac tarot #this is my first pac im nervous

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scatteredskittless · 1 month

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Greetings fellow human, I recently found you and I must say, I love your writing and especially the layout of the posts.

I might also suggest an Idea for you with Alastor.

How 'bout a very passionate painter reader getting their nightly inspiration and staying up all night, also listening to loud music. And maybe being a little messy with the paint, like it somehow ending up on the face or different unusual spots.

Would love to see you write it in whatever form you prefer. Hope to read something from you soon.

And keep in mind, you're doing a great job and keep being amazing <3

Alastor x Painter! Reader

A/n: Omg I used to paint a lot and the places said paint would get?? How it ended up like literally all over me I’m not sure 😭😭 Also thank you so much !!

Warnings: None :3

Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌

📻𖤐 Alastor finds you very talented and enjoys getting to see all of your little creations and masterpieces !!

📻𖤐 Bonus points if they’re a bit disturbing or dark, he’d love stuff like that (“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable” — Cesar A. Cruz)

📻𖤐 The only thing he isn’t particularly fond of in regards to your passion, however, is how little sleep you’re getting because of it.

📻𖤐 Your sleep schedule is completely fucked because of how often you get inspiration while trying to go to bed at night, because of course you just have to get up and go paint it every time.

📻𖤐 Oh and how messy you can get whilst you paint… which Alastor doesn’t actually mind as much as he wants you to think he does.

📻𖤐 He can shake his head and tut about it all he wants but he can’t deny the fact that getting to clean you up is something he enjoys doing for you.

📻𖤐 Plus, it’s always entertaining to see all the peculiar places the paint ends up on you each time he does. From your cheeks to your arms to more unusual places like your ears… it genuinely never does get old in his eyes ♡

It was another one of those nights. You were lying in your bed, trying to get some sleep and all of a sudden you got an amazing idea for a painting !! You couldn’t help but get up to go bring your ideas to life on a fresh canvas :-)

You went on with your usual routine, playing some music as you got your stuff all set up. Once everything was ready, off you were into your own little world as you painted away at 2:30 at night

Fortunately and unfortunately for Alastor, your room was right beside his. The walls were quite thin in the hotel.. even so, the loud music blaring wasn’t exactly hard to miss but it was even harder to fully relax with it playing.

You usually stopped your painting at around 7 or 8 in the morning so he figured this was going to be a long night….. he sighed to himself and went back to reading for a while (or at least attempting to for around 10 minutes or so.)

Eventually he did recognize a song you had playing, you’d played it for him before. It was after his time but he did quite like the melody

That’s when he got an idea of his own. his undying grin growing slightly as he bookmarked his book, set it to the side and made his way next door to your room.

He knocked on your door three times, waiting outside of it patiently as he heard you set your painting materials down. His ears twitched slightly.

Once you answered the door he waltzed inside cheerfully, not giving you a chance to speak or ask why he was here.

“Salutations my dear!! Up to the usual, I assume?” Alastor would ask, taking a curious look at the canvas you had been working on before glancing back over at you.

You gave him a smile and nodded “Yeah.. got a little inspiration and wanted to paint it before I forgot it.”

“Hm. Well, would it be too much to ask to pull you away from your work for a while?” He raised a brow as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, offering you his hand; offering a dance. And honestly you weren’t too surprised.

With a giggle and the grow of your smile, you happily took his hand and let him pull you closer to him as you two began to dance to the song playing in the background, your little masterpiece-in-progress long forgotten as you swayed with your favourite Radio Demon.

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/headcanons/writing without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

#asks open #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #fluff

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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wrt the AI thing, the doom is in what is just good enough to no longer pay people for it. Machine translation isn't good! The sentences are nice and often grammatically correct, but the information hasn't been accurately transferred a lot of the time (genre doesn't matter, but DeepL is pretty good for news articles, less good for other stuff). AI text is sentences that are made of words likely to go together it doesn't understand any of it. Especially if you want to write something a bit experimental, if you want to use specific words to evoke specific things etc etc... true art will not die, no matter how much some people try.

I mean, yeah, but that’s also just a progression of what’s already been happening for years. Publishing houses and companies have been outsourcing to the cheapest bidder for decades now due to lack of labor regulation and the death of unions. That’s what the major Harper Collins strike was about. Even while publishing houses are making record profits, they’re not paying their editors a living wage.

When I worked for a medium sized mainstream publisher back in the late 2000’s to 2010s, they used to remind us daily that if we didn’t hit our editing quota there were people on Freelancer and Fiver who would do it for a lot cheaper— and I was already earning below minimum hourly wage, that you could “make up” by taking on extra work.

(The salaried editors were the only ones with guaranteed income, the rest of us were told we were just lucky to be there.)

And multiple times a month they’d eliminate someone to ‘cut costs’ and the work would land on your desk and you’d be told to get it done because they knew we had no other options. It was this or unemployment at the start of what would be the second global recession of my life.

Eventually we did all get laid off and they opted for the cheaper, subpar labor. And while it sucked to be unemployed at that time, the relief I felt was real. I was no longer self-medicating with caffeine and alcohol to cope with the work environment. I was no longer churning out 100-200k a week in edits and rewrites to keep a job that treated me like shit. I missed it, because I loved working with my authors and editing and writing was something I loved. But I did not miss the rat race they had us locked into for the sake of profit over quality.

The fact that Harper Collins staff, one of the biggest publishers in the world who contribute to the monopoly that creates that environment, were also not making enough to live, tells me things have only gotten worse inside the industry. Unless, of course, you’re near the top of the corporate ladder. In which case you probably can’t understand why all the peasants are so unhappy.

The machines will not fully replace us—at least probably not in my lifetime. But that doesn’t mean what’s already happening isn’t bad.

AI is just the next wrung on this sordid descent into exploitation and elimination. We need better labor laws. We need better protections. We need fucking respect.

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magicalink · 6 months

Text

Catboyfriends and Penetration

Sex headcanons for the catboyfriends of Catboys in the House! These headcanons revolve around if they like either giving, receiving penetration, or both! Long live the bisexual catboyfriends! 💚💚💛❤💙

Venti:

Venti loves penetration! If you ask him, it's one of his favorite sexual activities! Oh, you're asking if he prefers to give it or to receive it? Oh, well the truth is that he has no preference in general, it depends on what he craves that particular day. He loves putting his smooth slim cock inside your warm pussy and make you moan all night long💚 But some other days he just NEEDS to gets his pretty butt stuffed and that's the time to provoke and tease Xiao over his limit and get exactly what he wants! Which is getting drilled into the mattress from behind, delighting in pleasure as Xiao's broken moans and grunts sound like music to his ears. 💚

Xiao:

Xiao only likes to give penetration. He gave receiving it a chance once with Venti and didn't like it at all, it hurt like hell, so he doesn't wanna do it ever again. He sticks to giving it. That he loves. Poor young man still can't turn completely into a human due to the malnutrition he suffered during childhood so he can't help but to get in heat every few months. And when that time comes he NEEDS to have his dick squeezed between warm walls all day long until the rut ends. He doesn't care if it's pussy or butt, he only cares if it's yours, or Venti's, you're the loves of his life. But when those heated times come and you're both sore and overstimulated and he still needs more, a certain white haired catboy takes advantage of Xiao's desperation…

Albedo:

He's always been an introvert and a man of science, always focused on his job and didn't give much time to sex or personal relationships. So he doesn't have much sexual experience and he doesn't care. He just does what he feels. He felt he loved you and wanted to do it with you. Putting it inside of you is pure bliss to him. He's never done it with a man nor you have fingered him or pegged him (yet?), so he doesn't know if he likes receiving penetration, but he isn't really curious about it. He just goes with the flow, engaging in loving and sexy activities when someone catches his attention over his very interesting research.

Kazuha:

Loves drilling your pussy but getting his ass stuffed is his very favorite. He's very free love and peace, you're surprised he isn't a walking STD already. After the agreement of using protection if he fucks anyone outside the house, he is well behaved and only rides cocks with rubber on when he wanders the city looking for adventure. He loves seducing all kinds of men, and Scara and Xiao have been by far his hottest conquests. For him, there's nothing more satisfying than getting cock from a man who never thought would enjoy bussy…until they came across him.

Kuni:

Receiving penetration?? You must be crazy, that's painful as hell! Why would he spend time and effort trying to adjust to that when getting his cock milked by your divine pussy is already the bestest thing on earth?? You're the best thing that's ever happened to him and he won't waste a second of being feasting on your love and attention to invest a whole tube of lube trying to make work something that's just not gonna happen.

Yeah, it's true, Kazuha seduced him. He fucked his warm and inviting ass. And he kinda liked it. But it was just a one time thing! He might have developed some feelings for him but it's all over now! And most importantly, they don't nearly come close to his devotion for you and your pussy and breasts that make him feel like he was born just to be cradled in your embrace. But he won't admit that either, would he?

Special Bonus!: Foxboy Guest!

(Art downloaded from bilibili)

Childe

You already know that Childe is Snezhnaya's greatest love machine and that if Zhongli, his poor boyfriend and your boss, doesn't pull from his leash every once in a while he flirts and sleeps with anyone who would take him no, not in a fight. Tries to woo both men and women in equal measure wherever he goes and pulls from the leash as much as Zhongli lets him. I mean, one can have a sexually open relationship, but Childe is a hazard to society.

His lastest conquests have been your little tsundereish bowlcut catboy and of course, you. But we didn't come here today to talk about the matters of the heart. We are here today to talk about penetration. And lemme tell you Childe has no real preference when it comes to giving or receiving, he tends to adapt to whatever his partner wants, especially if it's one of his latests conquests he is trying to woo. He is the biggest switch you've ever met. He loves when a big sturdy man like Zhongli drills him to the matress but he also likes taking the matters into his own hands and ride him like there's no tomorrow. He is also more than happy to give him his dick whenever he asks for it. And pretty much like Kazuha, he enjoys helping other previously clueless men discover that they can enjoy all he has to offer.

Won't say no if you want to peg him, but he'd rather have you stick some fingers in his butt while he fucks into you like the hornfox he is🧡

Thank you for reading up to here! I've been posting just short headcanons lately due to how busy I am with uni and other stuff :( I hate being busy :( I just wanna play genshin and lay in bed writing my fanfics and making Scaramouche chatbots :( Am I the only one who gets inspo when I don't have time to write but then when I have free time not a single word comes out? :( Idk what or when next post is gonna be cuz I passed midterms but that only means now I have to deal with finals 🥲 Probably more headcanons or something short. Maybe one of the requests Im trying to finish, if I'm lucky maybe one of the stories from here. Also I have tons of unresponded asks. Sorry, I get too excited when I get one and I rewrite my response lots of times trying to convey my feelings, specially if it's a request 😅 I'm planning to answer all my unsanswered asks before the end of the year (except for unfinished requests) and set a specific date of the month to answer new ones so I don't let them sit in my box for too long anymore. Assembled Love and CITH main chapters will have to keep waiting in the meantime :( See you on the next post!

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luvfy0dor · 5 months

Text

“Made Your Mark on Me, a Golden Tattoo ♡ ” Chuuya Nakahara x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; perchance ooc, profanity once

Description; Coloring in Chuuyas tattoos!

A/n; My friend and I were talking about cute romance scenarios today and she brought this up, so I wanted to write about it with Chuuyas because I think he would have tattoos. If someone has done this please tell me, I know I've seen a handful of fics with scenarios like this, but I can't remember any were in the BSD fandom or not.

ೃ⁀➷

Chuuya has a handful of tattoos, they're all really intricate and professionally done, but none of them are colored. That gives you the perfect opportunity to add your own creative twist on the art pieces. After rummaging through yours and Chuuya's shared home, not a single non-permanent marker could be found. You sighed, but ventured out to retrieve some.

After a long and treacherous journey to the store and back, you tossed the box of markers onto the counter. You couldn't help but feel giddy waiting for your husband to come back home so you could pitch the idea to him. A part of you thought he might say no, but you suppressed that with all your might and looked forward to his return with hope. You waited on the couch, scrolling through your phone. He shouldn't take too long, but every minute felt like ten to you in this moment.

Before you knew it, you heard the rustle of keys and the clicks of the locks. You jumped up from your spot on the couch, staring at Chuuya as he shuffles into the house and out of the relatively chilly and rainy weather. He lets out a sigh of relief before turning to you with a small smile. "Hey honey, how was your day?" He takes off his shoes, hat, and jacket, putting them in their designated spot as he waits for your reply. "It was pretty good, how was yours?" You ask. Upon being situated, he makes his way towards you, grabbing your hands and placing a soft pec on your lips. "The usual, kind of annoying, it feels like no one ever knows what they're doin', you know?" He says, seemingly happy to be home. You nod and understanding and rub his shoulder.

"Yeah, that sucks." You say. He nods, peeks into the kitchen for a second, and sits down on the couch, slouching back and patting the seat next to him. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, slightly revealing one of his tattoos. You take the hint and sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Your fingers push his sleeve up a little more, tracing the outlines of the imagery. "These are pretty colorless, huh?" You say, glancing at him. He grins a little and nods. "Is this what those markers on the counter are for?" He asks, making you smile. "Yeah, do you care if I color them? I'm relatively good at keeping things inside the lines." You say, sitting up completely.

"I don't see why not. I should probably take this off, huh?" He says, starting to undo the buttons on his vest and then shirt in order to give you better access to his tattoos. You skittered into the kitchen, grabbing the markers and coming back to your husbands side. You gently opened the cardboard packaging before assessing your canvas. The first tattoo you wanted to color in was one of a very intricate flower, so you decided red would be a pretty option. Chuuya watches as you uncap the marker out of the corner of his eye. Your tongue pokes from the corner of your lip in concentration as you drag the marker along his skin, filling in the outlines.

You eventually fill a majority of the flower petals, moving onto the stem. You choose the green marker, holding the underside of Chuuyas arm while you color it. "You're doing a great job there, doll." He says, observing your near perfect coloring skills. "You should get them filled in like this." You joke, picking out another color for a different section. The hums quietly before nodding. "Maybe I will." You look up at him, a bit of surprise on your face. "What's with the look of shock, darlin'? Do you think I won't?" He asks, his head tilted to the side. You shake your head.

"I believe you will, I just think that's sweet." You say, making your new goal to make the colors pretty but unique. He watches the television while you work, making sure that your work contained as much love and effort as possible. After a while, Chuuya started to realize he's feeling the markers on tattoo-less areas. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked towards what you were doodling on his arm. He saw a variety of stars and flowers of your own. They were rather small, and Chuuya thought it was cute that you were making even more additions to his body art.

"You'll have to take pictures of these for me." He says. You hum in acknowledgement and finish up the flower you were doodling before capping the marker and returning it to its rightful spot in the box. You grab Chuuyas phone, opening it and taking a picture of the colors before handing the device back to him. He kisses your cheek in thanks before pulling you back into his side, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Thank you." He turns his head towards you. "What for?"

You look back down at all the colorful doodles. "For letting me borderline vandalize your arm." You playfully say, running your fingertips over his skin. "Don't be silly, it's not vandalizing, it's more of a lawful mural." He reaffirms while looking into your pretty eyes. "And it's cute stuff. It's not like you drew a dick or nothin'." He states, keeping you cuddled closely to him. You smile and give his hand a small squeeze before bringing his knuckles to your lips. "Yeah, you're right." You say with a small laugh. "Still though, thank you." He hums. "Ofcourse, doll, anytime you want."

A/n; I need the evermore ornaments SO badly. I NEEEEEDDDDD them. I'm gonna cry THE CONEY ISLAND ONE IM FJSJAKKAKS oh also thought I'd post a little more Chuuya before I post a ton of Fyodor because I got two asks revolving around him (I'm actually bouncing off the walls im so happy) and I've been talking up some ideas with a mutual : )

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frvnkcastles · 6 months

Text

YOUR HEAD’S ONLY MEDICINE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You and Frank bond over tattoos.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, reader lost a friend to suicide, past self-harm, implied bad relationship with parents, fluff!!!!

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: My god this is SO self-indulgent!! I just really love tattoos and I have one of Frank and I often wonder how he’d react to it so this came to life. Maybe someone else can relate :) Also I know I’ve been very slow at writing your requests but rest assured I have seen them and I am trying my best <33

Only a year ago, a knock on your door near midnight would have sent you to an early grave, but now, with Frank in your life, you had come to expect it. On yet another night when you had already changed into your coziest shorts and fluffiest socks in preparation for bed, the familiar sound alerted you from the kitchen, and with quiet movements, you shuffled to the peephole only to confirm what you already suspected — a bloody Frank Castle awaited on your doorstep.

”Hey, sweetheart.” You were met with his raspy voice once you parted the door just enough for him to slip inside, like a secret in the shadows of the night that you wanted to hold from your neighbors. How scandalous would it be if they found out that New York’s most wanted was your nightly visitor?

”Is it bad?” you asked, well-aware that he wouldn’t be coming to you at this hour if he didn’t need your help. The groan that rose from his throat as he moved to the couch was your answer, and with a struggle, he fought his jacket off of his broad shoulders and revealed the gash on his bicep, his shirt torn where the blood trickled down.

”Could be worse”, he grunted, ”just happened to be nearby and figured you’d do a prettier job than me.” You sensed the deadpan humor in his voice, and it got a grin from you as you trailed to the bathroom where you had hidden your first aid kit. Once you were armed with the supplies, you made your way back to Frank and sat down next to him, curious but concerned eyes inspecting the wound on his arm.

As you lifted your own arm to pull at the loose threads of his shirt and reveal the wound better, Frank’s eyes caught the protective wrap around yours, concealing the new ink on your skin that had turned into an irritated red at the very beginning of its healing journey.

”That a new one?” he acknowledged the tattoo with a curt nod, and for a second, you wondered what he was referring to, but once you found his stare locked on your arm, you nodded.

”Got it a few days ago. Pretty cool, huh?” you smiled while getting back to work, and humming, Frank continued to study the intricate art all over your arm. He forgot all about the pain on his own body as he scanned every piece, the way he had done before, as well. He often got lost in it, and his curiosity about the stories behind them. You had shared a few, but some of them still remained a mystery to them. Sometimes he remembered the thigh tattoo you had mentioned but never shown, and his mouth would go dry at the mere thought.

”Yeah”, he finally replied, ”pretty cool.”

Somehow, it became a habit. Every time he’d visit you, bloodied and bruised, he’d focus on your tattoos, trailing your arms and hands as well as your legs, and on a few special occasions he got a glimpse of the one on your back and just an inch of the one on your thigh. He couldn’t explain the strange attraction he felt to them, but he couldn’t deny that as beautiful as you were without them, they made you… well, you. They completed you, in a way that he hadn’t realized tattoos could do, but seeing you with them was a confusing mixture of adoration and a massive turn-on.

”Another one?” Frank noted the new ink on your shoulder on yet another routine night, and although you knew he was truly intrigued by your tattoos, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the words that sounded almost disapproving.

”Starting to sound like my dad, Frank”, you sang teasingly, and with a grimace, the man mustered a chuckle out, as well.

”Shit, we definitely don’t want that”, he remembered your strained relationship with your parents, before adding, ”I like it. Suits you.”

Smiling, you finished cleaning the gash on his back before offering him his shirt and giving his bare skin a lingering look. ”You ever think about getting tattoos? I think they’d suit you”, you pointed out, unable to resist tracing your fingers down the blank canvas of his body, from his shoulder blades over to his biceps. Frank shivered, and you noticed — although you were both used to you touching him by now, there was a line between medical and intimate that you were currently dancing on.

”Thought about it”, Frank shrugged, licking his lips as he considered whether or not he should continue. ”Thought I’d get one for… uh, y’know. My family. But I dunno, what’s the point?” he elaborated, and looking up from his muscled back, you gave him a sympathetic look.

”I think that’s a sweet idea. It can be very cathartic, you know”, you noted before extending your arm to him and pointing out the small but significant tattoo in the crook of your elbow. ”I got this for my friend after she passed. It helped me process and come to terms with what happened. I managed to let go of a lot of guilt, too”, you explained in a quiet voice. Tenderly, Frank brushed a thumb across the semicolon needled into your skin, and when he met your gaze, he saw the sadness in your eyes despite the smile you flashed him.

”Also… I know you like to punish others but also yourself. And there’s something about the pain, you know? It feels good, in some weird way”, you added before gesturing at the flowers that you had gotten a year ago to cover your self-inflicted scars. ”Helped me stop hurting myself in other ways, at least.”

Nodding in understanding, Frank continued to trace your skin with gentle fingers. ”You did good”, he whispered, before swallowing thickly. ”’M glad you found somethin’ to help you. For what it’s worth, I dunno that you’d be you without all of ’em”, he gestured at you, and with a new, sincere smile, you patted him on the back.

”Well, if you ever decide to get one, I’d happily come and hold your hand through it”, you beamed, and with a chuckle, Frank nodded.

”I’mma keep that in mind.”

After that night, his visits became more scarce. You were friends, sure, but he didn’t owe you anything — so why did him being away for so long hurt so much? It felt sick and twisted, but you missed stitching him up, missed him being a bloody mess on your couch. You found yourself waiting and expecting every night, but eventually, the knocks stopped coming. And soon enough, he didn’t come back at all.

It hurt, and you wondered if he was okay — if he was even alive. You had his number, but you knew it was only for emergencies and you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself. It wasn’t fair of you to assume his world revolved around you, but how had yours started to revolve around him?

A month went by without any sign of him, and then, one day, you came home to a letter on your doorstep. With bated breath, you broke the envelope and unfolded the letter within, and at the sight of Frank’s handwriting and a quickly scribbled ”Hey, sweetheart”, your heart flipped and your lips twitched into an involuntary smile. It was brief but sweet, detailing how he had go into hiding and keep low contact, but with promises to be back as soon as he could. He even told you he missed you, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fill with giddiness at the thought.

And at the very bottom of the page was a haphazardly drawn skull to sign for the letter, and you instantly knew what you had to do.

Two weeks later, there was a knock on your door at midnight, and you leaped in the knowledge it could only be one person. When you did, in fact, find Frank waiting in the hallway, you let your instincts drive you and without hesitation, you threw yourself in a tight hug. You wrapped your inked arms around him and squeezed, fearing he would slip away from you yet again. Frank relaxed into the hug slowly but surely, his arms coming to rest around your waist to hold you against his chest, his lips colliding with the top of your head as you embraced.

”Missed you too.”

Exhaling heavily, you pulled back and gave him a concerned look. ”Sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt—”, you began, but Frank cut you off with a shake of his head.

”Hey, ’m okay. Just wanted to see ya”, he admitted bashfully, his dark eyes glancing at his feet and then back to you, ”woulda brought you flowers if the shop downstairs had still been open.”

Heat crawled up your cheeks, and you dodged his gaze as you stepped aside to let him inside your apartment. Without another word, he stepped across the threshold and began shrugging off his jacket, and in an instant, your heart jumped — he planned on staying, then?

”Can I get you anything?” you asked, unexplainably nervous as you closed the door and left yourself in a private space with Frank, the tension high in the room.

”Nah, ’m good”, Frank grunted before giving you a shy look. ”Did you, uh, get my letter?” he questioned, seeming just as awkward as you, and it made you smile. Surely most people didn’t know the Punisher could be so endearing.

”I got it. It was really sweet”, you reassured before stepping closer to him. ”Actually… I kind of… did a thing”, you added, and with a cocked eyebrow, Frank studied your face but for once, he couldn’t read your expression.

”Somethin’ good?” he wondered, and with a chuckle, you shrugged.

”You tell me”, you stated simply before rolling up your sleeve and revealing your newest tattoo — the skull he had drawn for you, identical from the letter, now forever on your wrist, always there to remind you of him and the things he made you feel.

Stunned and speechless, Frank stared at your wrist before looking up at you in disbelief. Softly, he caressed the healing picture with his thumb, sending a chill down your spine as his rough fingertip drew a pattern across your skin. He took his sweet time, and you couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, driving you crazy.

”It’s permanent?” he spoke up eventually, his dark eyes meeting yours, and with a swallow, you nodded.

”It’s permanent”, you confirmed before letting your courage guide your tongue, ”I hope you’re permanent, too.”

Frank looked at you, quiet and contemplative, but eventually, he inched closer to you and reached for your jaw. His thumb rubbed your chin and he deliberately gave you the chance to pull away — but you didn’t. And so, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours for the very first time, in the softest and most tender kiss imaginable. He was careful, as if worried he’d hurt you, and you wanted him to let go of that idea, so you pressed into him harder and kissed him more feverishly, hoping he’d get the hint.

His hand fell from your jaw to your neck, and he craned his head while deepening the kiss, his tongue grazing your lip as he sealed his body against yours. He kissed you hard and with every pent-up feeling he had been holding out on you, and you met him with equal fervor until your lips were swollen and your breath difficult to catch.

”Love it”, Frank breathed out when he pulled away, his stare falling to your tattoo again. ”Love all of ’em. But this one especially. Shit, I’m… I’m real flattered, y’know?” he struggled to find the right words, and with a smile on your pink lips, you nodded.

”I like to immortalize everything that’s special to me”, you pointed out, and with half a smile, Frank cast a shy look downwards.

”About, uh, me being permanent…”, he began, and anxiously, you waited for him to continue. Eventually, he did.

”I’d like that, sweetheart.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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sidekick-hero · 4 months

Text

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2.345 | tags: au, rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, onesided enemies to lovers, part of our upcoming fic Pickup Note | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie's living his dream, literally. Ever since his mom danced him around the living room to the sounds of Muddy Waters and Jimmy Hendrix, he has wanted to be a rock star. 20 years later, he made it.

So why is there such a sour taste in his mouth when they stand in front of their cheering audience, bowing and clapping with them? Why does the sight of Harrington throwing his drumsticks into the crowd turn his smile into a frown before he can stop himself?

He knows he's being childish. But knowing something has never helped him much in suppressing those irrational feelings that bubble up inside of him until they spill over and make a mess. Eddie's alignment has always been chaotic, so at least he's trying to make it a chaotic good one.

Lately, though, it feels like he's failed at that, and it's all Harrington's fault.

The guy just had to waltz in and take Gareth's place, with the other guys falling all over themselves with praise and gratitude when Harrington should be grateful. After all, he gets to go on a world tour with the most talked about newcomer metal band right now, when the biggest venues he played before were the local bars and sports halls.

But no, Steve Harrington didn't even have to audition, not really. Not when Gareth's boyfriend had vouched for him being a great drummer and an even greater guy, and Gareth, being the love-struck idiot that he was, had just said "Yes, my love, of course, anything you say" or some equally lovey-dovey shit like that. And now Eddie had to endure the guy's company for three whole months.

"Are you alright, man?" Jeff's hand on his shoulder is grounding and his deep voice pulls Eddie back from his gloomy spiral. He gives his oldest friend a smile that lacks the usual Munson charm, but is still genuine enough for Jeff to return it with one of his own.

"Yeah, 'm fine, just tired," he only half-lies. It's been a long day, hell, a long week. Add to that giving his all on stage, jumping up and down and singing his heart out while letting his sweetheart sing for him and thousands of fans, and he's bound to be exhausted as soon as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Jeff and Grant don't seem to fare any better, coming down from the post-concert high almost as fast as Eddie and crashing as soon as they get to their tour bus. The only one who seems to be full of restless energy is Steve, who can't seem to stop moving, arms and hands and fingers acting like there's still a drum kit to be played. Eddie swears he can feel him vibrating with it and it sets his teeth on edge.

He's a hypocrite, and he knows it. Hell, the Eddie of a year ago would be out partying right now, dancing and drinking and fucking the night away, high on adrenaline and endorphins and maybe something else if the mood struck. But he left that Eddie at the Crossroads, along with his addiction and most of his anxiety disorder.

While Grant just grunts his good night before falling face first into his bunk bed, Jeff goes over to Harrington to check in on him as well. Eddie remembers the one time Jeff tried to play a DnD character that was anything but good. It was painful to watch and Eddie was almost glad when his Demogorgon killed Jeff's character and the rest of the party and they were able to start a new campaign.

If there's anyone on earth who's intrinsically good, it's Jeff Robinson.

Jeff walks over to Steve and pats him on the back. "Great job, man. You were on fire up there. Can't believe you learned that whole setlist in two weeks."

Steve glows from the praise, a bright smile lighting up his whole face before he ducks his head in what looks like genuine bashfulness. Eddie snorts at the thought and Steve's eyes flick over to him, his smile fading.

Harrington looks hurt and Eddie really wonders why. Why should he care what Eddie thinks of him? It's not like they're friends or anything. The way Jeff is glaring at him, Eddie guesses he still needs to apologize to the guy, but just as he opens his mouth to formulate some half-hearted apology at best, Steve turns away from him and squeezes Jeff's arm.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I think I'll head to bed, if you don't mind. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, of course. It's been a long day, get some shut-eye. But you really did a great job, man. I'm glad we found such a kickass stand-in for Gareth on such short notice. You saved our asses."

Eddie bites his tongue so hard he thinks he tastes blood.

It's actually Steve who says what Eddie is thinking. "Are you kidding me, man? I'm the one who's glad you let me come and play with you. I mean, today? Being in front of thousands of people, doing what I love? I've never felt so... fuck, I don't even know. Myself? Happy? Alive?" He laughs, but it sounds tentative, and Eddie can see his cheeks glowing red even in the dim night light of their bus. Steve rubs a hand across his neck in obvious embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

Jeff laughs, amused. "Don't worry, it's the concert jitters. Eddie wouldn't stop talking for hours the first time we played in front of more than maybe five drunks back home."

"Har-har," Eddie laughs sarcastically, but there's still a smile on his face that takes the sting out of it. Those were good times, before things got complicated. Before fame and money and being on the road all the time had made them complicated. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Night, Jeff. Harrington."

They return his goodnight wishes with one of their own and Eddie is glad that he already changed into his sweatpants and hoodie backstage. He slips under the covers and turns on his side, facing the wall, listening to Grant's snoring and the sounds of Steve and Jeff getting ready. Eddie knows that sleep won't come anytime soon. He's been an insomniac for as long as he can remember, sleep as absent from most of his life as his father. He has learned to make do with the bare minimum, catching a few hours here and there whenever he can.

Tonight it's Steve Harrington that keeps him awake. Or rather, it is his thoughts and feelings about the man. It's not the first night this happens, but it's the first time he really wonders if maybe he is the asshole after all. Steve's words run through his mind on a loop and every time he closes his eyes he sees the way his smile died on his face, replaced by that kicked puppy dog look that tugs at Eddie's heart no matter how hard he fights it.

Maybe he should at least try to be nicer to the guy.

Sure, he is everything Eddie hated in school: a preppy ex-jock who got everything he ever wanted with his pretty face and his daddy's money. No one ever called him a fuck-up, Eddie is sure of that. While Eddie had to fight for every single thing, even his life, Steve Harrington just got a place in the band and the hearts of their fans and the respect of his bandmates with a few flutters of his long eyelashes. It's true, he's good, Eddie begrudgingly admits. He has found himself staring at Harrington more than once tonight while the man has been playing, mesmerized by the passionate yet easy way he has mastered every single song on their setlist.

Eddie's so lost in his own thoughts that he misses the bus pulling up, only jolted out of his reverie when he hears someone get out of his bed and walk to the front door of the bus.

It's Harrington, talking to the driver. Eddie checks the clock on his phone and is surprised to see that it's already four in the morning. When did that happen? Maybe he fell asleep without realizing it.

Up front, the driver explains that they're stopping here for a few hours. There was an accident further up the highway and the traffic jam is so bad that the driver decided to take his break here. Steve asks if it's okay if he goes outside for a while and Eddie catches himself smiling at the question.

He wonders if Harrington can't sleep, just like he can't. Maybe he's still thinking about Eddie's reaction earlier...no, that would be ridiculous, right? Still, the thought sits heavy in his stomach and after another five minutes he gives up and rolls out of bed to follow Harrington outside. On the way he grabs two hoodies and pulls one over himself.

The cold night air hits him hard as he stumbles down the stairs, but it feels good after a second or two of adjustment.

"Can't sleep?" A voice to his right asks, and sure enough, it's Harrington, leaning against the side of the bus, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"I was going to ask you the same question." Eddie replies, walking over to Steve. "Here." Steve stares wordlessly at the offered hoodie, making no move to take it. "It won't bite, I promise. I doubt you can play with your hands frozen."

That does the trick and he finally reaches out to take the black garment from Eddie and pulls it over his head. It's a little long on the arms, but otherwise it fits well, maybe a little tight around the shoulders. Of course, the guy has broader shoulders than he does, Eddie thinks, not really able to muster much annoyance.

"Thanks," Steve says in a quiet voice, giving him a strange look. And then, as quickly as if he were ripping off a bandage, "I just can't get to sleep. I tried everything, counted backwards from one hundred, counted sheep, did that weird breathing thing Robin showed me, tried reading... nothing. I'm so fucking exhausted, but I just can't sleep."

Eddie hums, knowing the feeling only too well. Harrington sounds on the verge of tears and maybe it's the lingering guilt, the memory of his own racing thoughts, all circling around the man in front of him. Whatever it is, something compels Eddie to say, "I don't have a solution for you. I don't sleep more than three, maybe four hours a night. But I can show you something that might make it more bearable, if you'd like."

Steve looks at him and for the first time Eddie allows himself to look back. To let their eyes meet and lock.

"I'd like that."

Clapping his hands, Eddie abruptly turns and stalks to the back of the bus. When he doesn't hear footsteps following him, he turns and calls out, "You comin' or what?" and grins as Steve almost trips in his haste to catch up.

When they reach the back of the bus, Eddie pushes on a panel that is somehow hidden under the license plate. A small metal shape protrudes from where he just pushed, and when he pulls on it, it turns out to be a metal ladder.

"What are you -"

"Patience, young Padawan," Eddie admonishes with a grin, secretly pleased with Steve's reaction. He's kind of proud of his little secret hideout.

Placing the ladder against the back of the bus, Eddie begins to climb up the stairs to the deck, and when he's at the top, he turns and reaches down for Steve to follow. "Do you trust me?"

Steve looks up at him, his eyes bright in the light of the stars and the moon shining down on them. "Yes."

"I can show you the world," Eddie begins to sing, once again letting his impulsive thoughts dictate his actions. The song came to him the second he looked down at Steve.

Steve comes up the stairs and grabs Eddie's hand, laughing. "Oh my God, are you singing a Disney song?"

"You're the one who recognizes it. I bet you even know what movie it's from, don't you, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, as if he's secretly charmed by Eddie's antics. "Does that make me the princess?"

"And me the ruggedly handsome thief with a heart of gold," Eddie agrees, pleased that Steve got his reference.

Steve snorts, and it shouldn't sound cute, but oh, does it, his nose crinkling adorably. "Yeah, whatever. As long as this isn’t your flying carpet. I don't trust the structural integrity of this thing to actually fly."

"Big, big words. You sound like Henderson."

"Oh God, don't tell him, I'll never hear the end of it."

Eddie taps his chin thoughtfully. "I'll...think about it," he finally settles on, grinning playfully at Harrington. Silence falls over them, and for the first time since Steve walked into their rehearsal studio, it doesn't feel awkward or hostile. In fact, it's nice to share this space up here with someone.

Eddie sits down at the edge of the bus and Steve joins him, sitting maybe a foot away from him in a slight sprawl, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open as his eyes take in the clear night sky above them. They're far enough out of town to actually see the harmonious arrangement and movement of the stars in the cosmos, forming a celestial symphony that Eddie has often tried and failed to capture in his songs.

Tonight, however, his eyes are caught by another ethereal sight.

"It's so beautiful," Steve whispers, as if sharing a secret with Eddie. "It's so vast and so beautiful, it’s almost frightening, don’t you think?"

"It is," Eddie agrees, never taking his eyes off Steve. So frightening.

They sit there until the sun slowly rises in the east, Steve's eyes on the sky and Eddie's on his own enigma.

This is a sneak peek from @firefly-party and me for our upcoming project Pickup Note to celebrate our dearest friend and collaborator's @thefreakandthehair birthday. Lex, you are our MVP and we are so happy to call you our friend! We love you and we hope you have the best day, week, month and year, because you deserve it 💜💜

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanart #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my writing #steddie fic #rockstar eddie munson #drummer steve harrington #pickup note

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