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itsamejin · 4 years ago

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this love || yoongi angst

Summary: A story through the years detailing your relationship with Yoongi and all the ups and downs that came with dating an idol.

Warning: cursing, sexually suggestive content

Genre: angst, fluff, idol!yoongi, artist!yn

Pairing: Yoongi x female!reader

Premise: Based on the song ‘This Love’ by Taylor Swift. Reader is an artist.

Commission Request: @minyoongail

Word Count: 7,681 words

—

You met Yoongi when he was just a trainee, ready to take on the world and bursting with energy to get on stage. He had visions of grandeur- him living in a beautiful mansion, wearing name-brand jewelry, cruising in rare sports vehicles. When times were simpler, he’d promise that you’d be there with him, indulging in the glitz and glamour that came with his fame. He’d be an idol and you’d be his muse. Yet under all those pretenses, under all those empty promises, he was just Yoongi.

He was a guy who walked in and out of your life as easily as ocean tides come and go on the shore. He taught you how to fall in love, fall out of it, and rekindle it all the same. It was a sort of beautiful asphyxiation, being wrapped up in his lifestyle and learning to accept the consequences that came with dating a celebrity.

You wonder even now as you search his name on the internet, if you had any regrets. After all, you lost too much to be with him.

—

April 2013

A first meeting meant everything to you, especially when it came to your clients. You didn’t accept jobs from weirdos who didn’t respect your craft and you definitely hated impatient ones who badgered you to finish your pieces as quick as possible.

Big Hit was a happy medium and had hired you as a contract employee after reviewing your portfolio. Although the style of work they wanted from you was not at all what you specialized in, you were happy that they treated you like an actual employee and not some sort of machine. Plus, the pay was good.

You were asked to work on some cute animal characters for an upcoming boy group that you weren’t terribly familiar with, maybe stumbled on a vlog of theirs that you forgot about. You were intrigued by the slew of trainees that sat in front of you, their palms clenched out of anxiousness.

“I’m [Y/N], one of the digital artists that will be working with you guys from now on,” you introduce yourself politely to the seven bright-eyed boys in front of you.

You were in a room with other staff members, discussing the concept of the “Hip Hop Monsters” your graphics team was working on. This was a planned project lasting over a span of years and would eventually result in collectors edition items. It made you giddy just thinking of the royalties you’d earn from it all.

“I’d like it if the animals took after us,” one of the boys suggested shyly, slightly intimidated by the large number of corporate employees there were in the room for something that seemed so trivial. “I think our fans would like the characters more if they kind of resembled our personalities and stuff...”

You nod along to his suggestions, staring at his jersey to notice that the member who spoke up was Rap Monster. It was cute how they all wore clothes with their names on them. That’s one way to attract attention, you suppose.

“Any other suggestions you guys have for us?” you ask, jotting down notes and making rough sketches as they talk amongst themselves.

“I’d like it if,” a somewhat husky voice starts and you can’t help but stare into the guy’s eyes as he speaks, “my character was a turtle.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter along with the other staff members. He had said it with such a straight face and with so little enthusiasm, yet you could tell from his slight blush that he was serious. He was cute in the way that he wasn’t trying to be.

“You resemble one,” you grin at him, drawing out a small turtle with a cute beanie on your iPad, like the one he wore in front of you. You show it to him. “Something like this?”

“Exactly that!”

He breaks out into a gummy smile, one so bright that it hurt your heart to stare at him for too long. Now you were the one left flustered. He realizes how enthusiastic he was and got embarrassed once again, scratching the back of his head to avoid eye-contact.

“S-sorry, for shouting. It looks good.”

You bite your lip from forming too big of a grin. You still had to remain professional after all.

“You’re welcome,” you smirk slightly as he goes back to trying to look cool. You can’t help but doodle his name on your iPad even as the other members shared ideas for their own animals.

Suga, Suga, Suga.

You smile to yourself. It does have a ring to it.

—

June 2013

Yoongi sees you in the hallways sometimes and wants to say hi, but he can’t because other people are watching. Though, that isn’t the only reason.

He tells himself every day that he’ll muster up the courage to go talk to you, but every time he sees your face his legs turn to jelly. Yoongi was busy with debut stages recently, but he found some free time in his schedule to approach you.

Yoongi was never the shy type, more reserved if anything else, but you had something that enamored him- intrigued him. He wanted to know who you were other than the cute girl he was stuck in meetings with from time to time.

As you sat there on your desk, Yoongi lingered in an area nearby. He would give you his number today and if things didn’t work out then that would be that. There was no need to be all shy about this; it’s not like this is his first time asking someone out.

He strides over to you with feigned confidence and you look up after a minute, not noticing how his shadow loomed over you. He sees that you’re working on realistic portraits of the members and not the cutesy characters he usually sees you drawing.

“Hi,” he says curtly, trying to seem disinterested though he was the one that approached you first.

“Hello,” you smile up at him.

Suga.

“You draw really cool stuff,” he says to break the awkward tension. “You should show it to the CEO. I’m sure we’d have cooler concepts for our albums with your work.”

You look up at him, a happy glint in your eyes. He was complimenting you, although avoiding eye contact to seem a little less nervous than he really was.

“Well, I’m just a contract worker so I don’t think I really have the authority to start up new projects out of nowhere,” you say with a smile on your face at how flustered he looks. “I feel like you’re here to ask me for something. Am I right?”

He looks away for a split second, coughing to alleviate his nerves. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake, why was this so difficult?

“I was actually wondering if you could come give me some opinions about some art that I drew,” he lies through his teeth, just trying to find a way to get you in a more private area than the corporate floor teaming with watchful gazes. “I’ve been trying to start a new hobby.”

You chuckle slightly, seeing right through his words. You stand up to amuse him.

“I’d be happy to.”

He leads you to a studio filled with whacky knick-knacks and dim lighting, not necessarily the best place to draw. You know by now that he just said those things as an excuse to be alone with you.

“So where’s this masterpiece?” you tease slightly at his nervous expression. How did a guy who looked so deadpan have such a giddy personality?

“Well actually,” he starts off, palms already sweaty. “I-It’s not here right now, but I think I left it at the dorms. Maybe if we exchange phone numbers I can text it to you.”

He tried to appear nonchalant, but his hands moved as if he was doing a public speaking presentation. Yoongi thought he was doing great, though growing a little more nervous at how you were giggling.

“You know, Suga,” you start teasingly, “My number is in the company directory. Feel free to text me anytime.”

Yoongi slightly cringes hearing his stage name. He loves it, don’t get him wrong, but he didn't like hearing it come from you. He didn’t like the unfamiliar aspect that came with using his stage name- like you two only went by professional terms.

“Call me Yoongi,” he says with genuine confidence this time. “I like it better when my friends call me Yoongi.”

You nod, relieved that you could finally know this cute guy’s name. Truth be told, you were snooping around his conversations with other people to figure it out.

“So we’re friends?”

Yoongi nods, sitting down in his rolling chair.

“I’d like to be,” he grins, patting the sofa, hoping you’d take a seat with him.

And you do.

—

Present

It’s hard to work efficiently when you’re no longer in a corporate space. There’s no boss to check up on your progress nor is there a nosy coworker trying to see what you’re doing from the corner of their eye. You missed the hustle and bustle of an office floor, but it was nice exploring your creativity through freelance work.

You tap your digital pen onto the table repeatedly, looking at the reference image over and over again. It was a sick joke played by the universe to have been commissioned to draw your ex-boyfriend’s idol group, but you couldn’t refuse the hundreds of dollars the ecstatic fangirl was willing to give you. Truth be told, she might have offered too much pay, but you took up her offer anyway. Money is money.

Yet a face you’ve touched so often, a person you’d been with for years felt so unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t like you were drawing him realistically either. The client wanted anime-style figures that resembled them, looked enough like the boys to display it as her Twitter header. In the end, it’s still too difficult to draw. The rest of the members were lined up and sketched perfectly, but there was a blank area where Yoongi’s face should’ve been.

Your wrists hurt from the constant drawing and erasing so you set it down to massage your hand from cramping. In moments like these, you hated your job.

Ting.

A message notification popped up on your phone that laid beside your iPad. You usually left it silent when you were working, but you opened yourself up to distractions when drawing this particular piece. Whoever thought it was a good idea to specialize in celebrity artwork? You pick up your phone and smiled softly at the text.

hey, can I come over?

—

March 2014

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Yoongi, happy birthday to you~~”

You cheer on with the rest of the boys in their cramped dorm. Somehow you had gotten close enough with them to be at this level of comfort, sitting crisscrossed and shoulders touching with Jungkook and Seokjin. Yoongi blows out the candles and claps his hands, a little sad that another year passed by so quickly. He kept glancing at you who was focused on cutting the cake like the perfectionist you were.

He couldn’t help but feel like time was running out, like if he didn’t confess to you now then it would never happen. Yoongi took off the beanie he wore and ruffled his hair. He was feeling anxious all of a sudden.

“Dude don’t do that your dandruff is gonna get everywhere,” Hoseok whines. “The cake is gonna be decorated with your dead skin cells.”

“Go wash your hands,” Jin commands and Yoongi could only roll his eyes.

“Relax, I don’t even think we’re gonna have cake anytime soon when this slow-poke is taking forever to cut.”

He flicks your forehead as you glare up at him.

“I could so easily throw this in your face, but I choose not to,” you stick your tongue out at him and he scoffs.

“I’d like to see you try.”

All the members groan out of annoyance.

“Oh my god they’re having a lovers quarrel again,” Jimin yawned. “Aren’t you guys sick of arguing?”

Yoongi freezes at his words. Lover’s quarrel. That was a nice way to put it.

“They’ll stop arguing when Yoongi finally-”

Taehyung was cut off as Yoongi swipes three fingers worth of frosting from the cake and lathers it all over Taehyung’s face.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi shakes his head and soon chaos descended. Cake flew in places it shouldn’t have and ended when Namjoon knocked over a glass of water, managing to break it on the floor tiles. In the end, no one got cake.

Yoongi and you were laughing amongst yourselves at the kitchen sink, washing off some of the bits that got onto your shirts.

“I’m so sorry about your cake,” you say through your chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you some time.”

Yoongi only smiles.

“Yeah, you can treat me on a date,” he replies a little too boldly. You look at him in shock, not quite processing his words.

“A date?”

He nods.

“We should go out sometime.”

You purse your lips to prevent the huge grin about to be displayed on your face.

“We should.”

—

Present

It was subtle, the way it all started. You trace over the features you drew so far, only getting to his eyes. Yoongi and you were innocent lovers for a while, keeping your trysts a secret from everyone in the company except his managers and the members. A few of your friends knew, but none of them knew BTS well enough to be all that surprised. It wasn’t all that rare to go out with a celebrity in your line of work.

You almost miss those days when he was unrecognizable. After your friends realized who he was after he hit it big globally, you felt like a secret of yours was displayed to them. Your love was supposed to be private, but his fame left very little room for privacy. You missed when you were the only one that knew of him and maybe it’s selfish to think that way, but you were past the point of being selfish.

You text back.

yeah, can't wait to see you

—

Jan. 2015

Yoongi lays you down on the couch gently. His hands caressing your sides underneath the thin material of your shirt as he pulls you in closer to his kisses. This felt different from other nights, different in that there was nothing around to stop what would come next.

He pulls away from you slightly, panting from the lack of oxygen.

“Are you sure?” he asks, drawing circles on your hip with his thumb. He was only supposed to come over to help you unpack some stuff for your new apartment and here you were, pinned on the couch and sweating from the close contact.

You nod back in response, not finding the right words to get him to continue. He pulls your shirt over your head, peppering kisses on your neck and atop your breasts. He fixates on your neck languidly, biting as he sees fits.

There was a pause as you felt him press up against you and you knew then that there was no making it to the bed. You would have your first time with him on this newly moved-in couch.

The clothes dropped to the ground as his touches get more impatient, more desperate. It all passes by like a blur and you could only remember the pleasure that came with his long fingers, the satisfaction you felt when he was inside you. The climax of it all made you realize that you loved him, truly and without regret. He holds you in his arms when you come undone, flashing a satiated smile as you look up at him. It’s like the stars were in his eyes.

“How do you feel?” you ask him, worried he was already drowsy. You didn’t want to have to sleep on the couch naked.

“Satisfied,” he says with a smile on his face.

You can’t help but swoon, his eyes fixated on you. At least for now, he was yours He wasn’t Suga, a rapper. He was Yoongi, your boyfriend.

It didn't matter to you that he was struggling to make a name for himself in this cut-throat idol industry or that he would spend countless nights cursing as one of his numerous tracks get rejected. None of that was in your mind. Only he swam through your thoughts. Only him.

“I love you,” he sighs out. He was the first to say it.

“I love you too,” you reply back and he holds you tight against him.

He’s nuzzling himself in your hair, his chest pressed up against you so his heartbeat can synch with yours. He loves this, can’t get enough of it. He catches your lips and once again you are whisked in the pleasure of it all. This is it. This is what love is.

—

Present

The piece is finally finished and you send it off to your client, hoping she doesn’t ask for revisions because you can’t handle another second of drawing his stupid face. His soft skin, his tiny moles, his gummy smile...

It's not like you hate him. It’s just... a certain contempt lingers after a breakup from a long-term relationship. It’s the type of resentment that can’t really be explained. You don’t want to see him, but you catch yourself watching his videos on Youtube. You don’t want to think about him, but you hope he thinks about you. You don’t see yourself ever getting back together with him, but you don’t have his phone number blocked.

It’s a sort of paradox you catch yourself in and you wonder if you could ever get out of it. Will Yoongi ever escape your mind?

can't wait to see u too babe

—

Aug. 2016

Yoongi hugs you from behind, his face scrunched at the nape of your neck where several marks were made from last night’s events. Your eyes stayed focus on the TV in front of you, still impressed by your own ability to afford one in your bedroom at your salary.

“BTS' SUGA drops new music video for his song and mixtape Agust D...”

The news anchor drones on and you could barely hear her through the sounds of Yoongi’s soft snores. His hold on you grew tighter as he hears his stage name from an unfamiliar voice and it makes you giggle slightly at how different the edgy music video being displayed was from the same person wrapping you in his arms so tightly.

“Babe, wake up. I have work to do,” you whisper into his hair and he only shakes his head back in response.

“No,” he mutters, pulling you into him closer. You roll your eyes, managing to pry off one of his hands as you sit up on the bed.

“Don’t you have studio stuff to do today?” you ask him, searching for a shirt to wear.

He shakes his head as his eyes start to flutter open. You both reeked of alcohol since you opened a bottle of wine last night to celebrate the release of his first solo work. He was proud of it and you were proud of him.

“Can you turn that off, I’m getting a migraine,” he whines, covering his head with a pillow. You opted to wear Yoongi’s shirt instead of your own since you couldn’t be bothered to walk to the other side of the bed to find it. You smiled at his laying figure, cooped in a fetal-like position. He was still naked, but you were with him long enough to no longer be phased by that sort of thing.

“From one bottle of wine?” you tease slightly. “I think you’re losing your touch, Agust D.”

You chuckle as he throws the pillow on top of his head towards you.

“Don’t call me that,” he pouts, “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

You stand up from where you were, stretching out your back as you make your way to the door.

“That’s because I am,” you smirk, “You know you’re saved on my phone as Sugar?”

He gives you a glare.

“It’s Suga,” he says, attempting to add some intimidation to his voice. It doesn’t work because all you do is stick your tongue out at him.

“Whatever sugar.”

He chuckles lightly and watches the silhouette of your figure exit his view. Yoongi can’t help but mindlessly follow after you.

As you exit towards the kitchen, you can’t help but hear the television from the bedroom.

“Suga has recently been caught up in a dating scandal with Suran, the solo artist, who sang with him in a song...”

Your head snaps up from those words, your skin crawling with goosebumps. You make it into the kitchen but with a heavy heart and no appetite.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, passing by you to pour himself some water.

“Nothing,” you say, though you sounded bitter. He caught on quite quickly. You were jealous again.

Yoongi heaves out a deep sigh and sets the glass of water down. He comes over to your angry figure and gives you a soft hug, laying his head on top of yours as if to comfort you. You try to pull away but he keeps you close.

“I’ll tell them to drop the rumors, okay?,” he says, genuinely enough to make you believe him. “I don’t want us to fight so early in the morning.”

“You promise?”

He pulls away.

“I promise,” he says, brushing a hair away from your face. “Let’s not think about those rumors right now. You and me both know they’re not true.”

You were never one to forget so easily.

—

It was around 2016 when you had stopped working at Big Hit. They halted the Hip Hop Monster brand and your contract was expiring with them anyway. You went from living a kush office life to struggling freelance worker in a matter of a second. It also meant that Yoongi and you would be spending less time together. His busy schedules couldn’t permit him to stay with you longer than a few hours and his presence slowly started to disappear from his side of the bed.

It was like a sinking ship, what you had with him. The pain starts off slow, unnoticeable. You’ll still laugh and keep up appearances as time passes, but you could tell there was an ominous atmosphere that wasn’t initially there in the relationship. Your screams start to grow silent as more problems start to stack on top of each other. It’s then when you hit the iceberg. It’s then when it all starts to fall apart.

He was still good for you, you convinced yourself, even as the currents swept you out under your feet.

—

Dec. 2016

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming?” you yell through your phone. You were sitting on the floor of your living room, holiday decorations strewn around the apartment. He promised he’d come spend a day off of his winter promotions to be with you.

“You know how hectic the end of the year gets with promotions,” he says in quiet hushes. “I can’t do anything about it. This is my job.”

You suck in your cheeks to prevent yourself from yelling. From the sound of it, he was in public.

“Yoongi, I called out of talking to a really high-paying client,” you say through gritted teeth. “And I still came home. Why am I the only one making sacrifices?”

He sighed at the other end. He didn’t have the patience to deal with you today.

“Look, can you stop being so fucking needy. I don’t need this right now.”

He couldn’t tell from the phone call, but your heart broke at the word. Needy. He thought that you were needy.

“I’m already stressed out as it is,” he continues through the phone. “I don’t need you up my ass all the time.”

“I’m not gonna wait for you,” you reply, tears threatening to spill over. “I’m going to sleep and you’re gonna get rid of all the shit you have in my apartment. I’m sick of you, Yoongi.”

He scoffs.

“I’m sick of you too.”

Yoongi hangs up, about ready to hit the wall when Jimin comes to calm him down. Small things that were never meant to be taken seriously built up until it was ready to crash down.

When Yoongi comes at night to visit you, he sees that you’re asleep on the couch. He sits next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry baby,” he whispers quietly. “I’ll do better.”

You nuzzled closer to him, comforted by words you forget the next day. Even when you woke up with a bad neck and Yoongi snoring onto your skin, you couldn’t find a way to stay mad at him. You knew, deep down, that some way or the other you’re gonna find yourself arguing about the same thing next week.

—

Present

Junghoon comes to pick you up. Junghoon, your boyfriend.

He’s a little uptight and too stern for his own good, but has a good heart and a knack of giving great gifts. You met him from working in the same industry, a 3D graphics designer for several video game companies. He was a new addition to your life, your relationship only about three months old.

You were warming up to him slowly, thankful for finally having a consistent presence in your life. He always made time for you, never used work as an excuse, and didn’t act cold just for the sake of acting cold. Junghoon was sweet in the way that Yoongi used to be when he wasn’t such a massive celebrity.

It was a relief to have someone like Junghoon in your life that didn’t walk in and out of your door without much of a thought to even say goodbye. Your life with him has been a tad bit dull, but you don’t mind all that much. Junghoon’s made you feel secure in ways that Yoongi couldn’t.

—

May 2017

“Your boyfriend is winning a whole ass award across the world and you’re having ramen with me?” Chaerin sighs. It’s typical for a best friend to judge the actions of the other.

“Yeah and?” you reply snarkily, swirling your chopstick around to find the perfect clump of noodles. “I’m not the top social artist according to Billboard, what’s it have to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know, you could at least watch him win the award?” she suggests. “The live stream is literally happening right now. Your boyfriend is making history and you don’t even care!”

You look at the clock on the restaurant wall. It was nearing 2 o’clock and your client meeting would be starting soon. You were in high demand as a graphic artist recently and as far as you were concerned, that was the only thing on your mind at the moment. You stare back into your bowl, suddenly losing your appetite.

“The apartment is lonely without him,” you admit sadly.

He bought one for himself and had you move in. ‘It’s easier to not get noticed by the tabloids,’ he convinced you. The modern sleekness of his penthouse was a nice change to your lifestyle, but you missed the comfiness of your small studio apartment. It was often too cold when he wasn’t around.

“You could watch it with me?” Chaerin suggested. “Yoongi’s probably so sad that his own girlfriend doesn’t even want to watch him win such a major award.”

You bite down on your chopstick harshly.

“Well he didn't even want me to come with him so I don’t wanna hear anymore about him from you.”

Chaerin squinted her eyes in your direction.

“Well I mean I get where he’s coming from. He’s still an idol, [Y/N],” she scolds. “It would be a massive risk to take you with him.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, pushing the bowl away from you.

“I’m not an idiot, Chae. It’s not like I was asking to be on the red carpet with him, I just wanted to be there waiting in the hotel room after the show. Two nights ago he suddenly backs out and says I shouldn’t come.”

Chaerin’s jaw dropped out of shock. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

“Did he say why?”

You stare down at your nails, your heart growing heavy as a long pause of silence takes place. It would be better to be honest, right? You shouldn’t have to pretend like everything’s okay when it clearly isn’t.

“He said he wants space,” you say, careful not to get choked up. “So I’m giving it to him.”

You clutch your thigh instinctively, remembering how Yoongi had brought that up with you just nights before. You two weren’t happy and that he needed to figure himself out before the relationship gets any worse. It’s just a break or whatever bullshit he spouted.

She scoffs.

“What is wrong with you two?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “You are not the type of person to take a break in a relationship.”

You stare bitterly into the reflection of your soup.

“I just don’t think I’ve been happy for a while,” you reply, taking a sip of your water that was left untouched for a better half of the night. “I don’t think he is either.”

—

Sept. 2017

The break lasted for months and you wondered if it was really even a break at all. It felt more like a break up if you were honest. He’d text once in a while and video call you when he was free but other than that it felt like he became a stranger, just another celebrity billboard you walked past on your way to a client’s workplace.

You’d draw sketches of him countlessly, in fear you’d forget how his face looked in real life and not through a low-quality screen. You etched every baby hair, every small blemish he’d hide with makeup. It was your method of not forgetting who the real Yoongi was because honestly, you didn’t know anymore. You didn’t know him.

Trrrringggg.

The sound of your doorbell could be heard all throughout your apartment. You stood up from where you sat on the bed, leaving the sketchbook of his face on the comforter. You weren’t expecting any visitors, but surely enough, Yoongi stood in front of you with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey.”

You let him in, not uttering a single word. He looks different now. His hair was black, thank god, but his face was a little softer than you were used to. You remember him being so paranoid about turning bald just a few years ago and here he was, no bald spots to be found. He looked healthy.

“It’s been a while,” you respond, hugging your arms close to your chest, uncomfortable that he was in your presence. It was his apartment technically, but you lived in it more than he did. He opted to stay in the dorm ever since he issued that idiotic break.

“I miss you,” he says in a lowly voice and you almost believe him. Almost.

You scoff.

“It seems like you’ve been having fun without me though,” you say through gritted teeth. “I thought you still wanted space?”

He shakes his head and brings his hand to touch your arm.

“No,” he swallows his saliva. “I miss you.”

You could feel his sincerity, but you can’t help but not trust him. He’s been viciously cold to you, but you find yourself pulling him closer anyway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you threaten. “It’ll really be over then, Yoongi.”

He sighs into your hair. He loves you. He does. But he doesn’t know why it’s so hard to express it.

“I promise [Y/N]. I won’t leave.”

—

Aug. 2018

He buys you flowers, your favorite kind. It’s a small gesture, but it has you jumping into his arms all the same. It shows that he still cares somewhat. It’s been a while since he’s last shown it.

He holds you closely, appreciating the softness of your body and how you curl perfectly into him.

“I want to stay like this,” you say mindlessly, just relishing in his presence.

You’re not mad at him today and he’s not frustrated with you. It’s a high point in your relationship.

“Me too.”

His words are simple but it warms your heart nonetheless. Yoongi looks at you with twinkling eyes and for a moment you think that this could last forever and that it will last forever. You kiss him slowly and he reciprocates.

It reminds you of your first time, slow and careful- like you were the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

His love, although painful at times, was good to you when you needed it to be.

—

July 2019

Yoongi’s gone again. He’s on tour, as usual, and not giving you any updates. You were getting sick of it. The constant waiting, the constant insecurities that ate you up inside. You weren’t built to endure this kind of torture.

Suga. Suga. Suga.

It rolls off the tongue but it feels disgusting coming out of your mouth. His stage name, a persona. He starts to resemble that name more and more as the days go by. You hear it so much now that it no longer registers as an actual word.

You call him.

He doesn’t pick up.

Again.

No answer.

You’re about ready to throw the phone at the wall until a soft ring was heard from the small device. You take the call immediately, smiling as if you passed the hardest difficulty of a video game. The grin would soon be wiped away, though.

“Why’d you call?” he grumbles from the other line, loud music blasting in the background.

“Why weren’t you picking up?” You sound bitter. You don’t care.

“I’m out right now,” he says, exasperation laced in his voice. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Clearly, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Yoongi was at a party or a club or wherever he could possibly be in the streets of Shizuoka at 10 p.m.

You just wanted to chat, check on him as a good girlfriend would. He’s been complaining that you haven’t been in a while. You thought this was what he wanted- for you to care.

“I just wanted to see if you were doing okay,” you sigh. “How’d the concert go?”

“Good,” he says, clearly distracted. “Some of us snuck out of the hotel rooms to let loose for a bit.”

You nod as if he could see you.

“So you’re partying?”

You could hear him laugh at the other end, but it wasn’t from your comment. Someone else was making him laugh. Someone with a light and dainty voice, whiny as she got closer to Yoongi.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he says, clearly distracted. “Listen I’ll call you back, okay?”

You feel a lump stuck in your throat. There are no words left to say. The foreign girl on the other end giggled harder at whatever Yoongi was saying and it felt like you were invading their privacy- as if she was his girlfriend and you were nothing. You hung up, your mouth feeling dry as the tears poured down.

You see a text from Yoongi just a few seconds into your wallowing. You sniffle as you read it.

don’t misunderstand. nothing’s happening rn i'm just having a bit of fun.

This time you really threw your phone at the wall.

You go to your iPad that’s sitting untouched on your desk. You open your drawing app and just let the anger in the stylus take you from there. You draw a rough sketch of a couple on the edge of a beachside cliff. The woman seems to be falling into the water as if she was pushed. The guy’s hand reaches out to her, but you can’t really tell if he was trying to grab her or if he was the one that let her go in the first place.

As the tears spilled onto the cool surface of the iPad, you sob harder. Nothing could be fixed and everything still felt broken. It was meaningless, sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes when he was all the way in Japan snuggling up to girls that were probably much prettier and much more willing to understand his lifestyle.

You look around the penthouse he had bought for the two of you, beautiful wide panel windows and modern furniture. It mostly looks empty, everything nice and tidy as if no one lived here. It had such a stark contrast to that of his old life when he shared rooms with other members and had no place to really put his keyboard except the studio. You smiled at the memory of you all hovering around the small coffee table in the cramped living room eating ramen.

Maybe it was your fault for falling behind, for letting the world around you build up and not follow in Yoongi’s tracks.

—

Present

You guess it was then when the relationship had passed a point of no return. When everything that felt right had started to feel incredibly wrong. You tolerated his presence rather than bask in it. You heard him speak but couldn’t bother to listen. Maybe you were petty, but more than anything you were angry.

You were angry that he could break you that badly and you would still forgive him for it.

You stare over at Junghoon who’s cooking you up something on the stove. This is what you needed.

—

Nov. 2019

Yoongi was back from some big-name award show that you didn’t watch. You heard he won Artist of the Year or whatever, the accolades that he’s collected no longer having meaning as the days pass. Why be happy for him when he himself showed no signs of excitement? This was routine. He expected the awards at this point.

You walked towards him. Yoongi looked angry, though you have no idea why.

“Hey, I made dinner to celebrate,” you tell him. Yoongi’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through the congratulatory messages he received from other industry stars. He looked like he needed to get something off his chest.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters. “Just leave it.”

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs. It was a simple question.

“Not in the mood.”

You give him a pointed look and sit next to him.

“Why are you never in the mood for anything?” you ask him. “It’s just food Yoongi. I just want to eat with you.”

You don’t see it properly but he rolls his eyes.

“Just drop it okay? Today’s a good day, I don’t need you to ruin it.”

You suck in your cheeks.

“Ruin?”

Yoongi sighs heavily.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he starts, facing you. “Why do you have to be so dramatic over everything.”

You grit your teeth.

“Dramatic?” your voice quivers. “I didn’t know feeling hurt was being dramatic.”

His gaze softens and he touches your arm lightly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shake your head, feeling your eyes dampen at his words.

“I hate your apologies, Yoongi,” you say in a hushed tone. “They don’t mean anything anymore.”

He’s shocked, not really sure how to respond. You were never one to confront him, especially when he was angry. Instead, he holds your hand softly. He was terrible at comforting people.

“Yoongi are you really sorry?” you ask abruptly. It was a question you’ve been meaning to ask for years now.

His grip on you tightened and you can’t quite read his expression, but you can tell that it’s not a positive response. He looks conflicted and he shouldn’t have to be if he really was. You force him to let go of you.

“I am,” he says, knowing he answered a little too late for his words to not seem suspicious.

“I don’t think you are,” you reply sadly. “You say sorry more than you-”

say I love you.

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he knows. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“I am,” he says with more sincerity, but he looks at you with an unreadable expression. “I just don’t think it’s enough at this point.”

“What’s not enough?”

You were confused. Is he still talking about whether he's apologetic or not? Or is it something entirely different?

“I do love you,” he says with a certain conviction in his voice, “and I always will, but it feels like nothing’s working out.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you and focuses on the leather of the fancy couch. He doesn’t say anything but you know what this means. He’s about to stand up, but you grab onto his wrist.

“This is your apartment,” you say before he could say anything to break your heart even further. “I’ll leave.”

“[Y/N], no,” he says. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just gonna stay over at the dorm. I just...”

Your eyes get blurry from the tears. Even now it felt like he was looking down at you. Nowhere to go. It was like he pitied you.

“...need to go clear my mind,” he finishes the sentence, standing up to grab his coat.

You shake your head and stand in front of him. He’s usually like this. A coward. A bumbling fool who would rather avoid problems than face them head on.

“I need you to stay, Yoongi,” you cry out. “I need you to actually stay for once and comfort me.”

He looks at you, mouth open but no words come out. He smiles sadly and walks toward you, kissing your cheek.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, [Y/N],” he says and you watch him leave as easily as he walked in.

It’s not like he ever comforted you in the first place.

—

The break up happened silently over a late-night phone call a few days after he disappeared on you. You packed up your things, stayed over at Chaerin’s house, and braced yourself for what was to come. It should’ve happened sooner, you admit, but your heart still sinks when he speaks.

“I just don’t think either of us is willing to try anymore,” he says solemnly. “We’ve been on and off for the past few years and I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us to continue.”

You agree, just wanting the call to end quickly so you wouldn’t have to hear his voice any longer. It hurt to have to listen to him rationalize breaking your heart.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore, [Y/N],” he says, not even a tiny bit choked up. “I think we’ve... outgrown each other.”

You knew what Yoongi really meant. He’s outgrown you.

“I think so too,” you say rigidly. Short and simple. You left nothing to be desired. “Let’s break up.”

Yoongi looks at his phone, slightly disappointed. He wished you would fight back, maybe rekindle something in him that he’s lost over the years. Yet you were silent on the line and he just had to accept it- that there was nothing left to be saved.

“Take care, okay?” he says softly because in the end he still cares- he just doesn’t want to anymore.

“I will,” you reply, ultimately hanging up the phone. You collapse onto a bed unfamiliar to you. Yoongi would no longer sleep beside you, no longer reach over to hug your side and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He was gone and you had to accept that maybe he was never yours in the first place.

His last words replay in your mind.

Take care.

That was the most concern he’s ever shown you in the past few weeks. You almost scoff at the absurdity of it all. You don’t notice how truly broken you were until the tears start streaming down your face. You see the image of him through blurry eyes and you wonder how you could let Yoongi leave such a permanent scar on your heart.

—

Present

“Do you like your eggs runny or no?”

Junghoon asks as you approach his figure. You hug him from behind and smile at his warmth. Safe.

“Just a little runny,” you reply.

He smiles and nods, turning off the heat and grabbing some seasoning from your cupboard. You detach yourself from him when you realized what he was grabbing.

“Babe that’s not salt. That’s-”

Sugar.

You stop yourself from saying it and Junghoon looks at you with concern. He chuckles at your stoic state and ruffles your hair.

“Cat got your tongue or what?” he asks, grabbing the right container this time. “Maybe I should’ve asked if you like your eggs sweet instead, huh?”

“I’ve never tried that combination before,” you say teasingly. “Why don’t you test it out for us.”

He clicks his tongue at you and splashes some salt on your face.

“I’ll pour sugar all over you if that’s what you really want.”

You laugh half-heartedly. A simple word shouldn’t affect you this much but you find yourself get more teary-eyed as it repeats in your head. It wasn’t fair to Junghoon that you were thinking of your ex in his presence. It wasn’t fair to you either.

You feel a vibration from your pocket and you pull it out to serve as a distraction from your wallowing thoughts. It’s a text.

From Sugar.

—

A/N: This was so hard to write because my mind has just been empty these days but I’m so glad it’s done now >_< Thank you to @minyoongail for requesting this story. I’ve been bumping to the Taylor Swift song now because of this commissions T^T I recommend you all to listen to it. I tried to write this in a different style from my other works so I hope this is still readable for you all LOL

I’m closing commissions temporarily to focus on the ones I have now and to also start writing my own stuff. Let me know how you feel about this, I appreciate all types of comments and criticisms <3 Look forward to Part 2!

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agustdiv1ne · 4 years ago

Text

thank you + milestone!!

damn, never thought we'd get here, did we?

in all honesty, it's been a pretty shit year. march 'til now has felt like the same month on repeat with tiny tweaks to make it all so much worse. but i'm not here to complain about the worst parts of this year, i'm here to celebrate the best ones.

this was the year that i finally started writing, that i was finally spurred to open a google doc and just type away until a tiny work of fiction stared back at me. my first one was 1k words, a rant to get all of my emotions off of my chest with an idol as my muse. it felt...great, though it also felt a bit odd writing after being an avid reader for years. i always did prefer essays to creative writing, but this year definitely changed that perspective.

i wrote that first blurb along with another fic in late july, and in early august, i asked my friends if i should post them. om august 3rd, i changed this blog from a fic rec to a fic writing blog just like that. i regret none of it.

it's been nearly five months since i revamped this blog and i couldn't be more grateful for the support i have gotten from all of you, whether it be a kind comment, a like, a reblog, all of it. i never thought anyone would like my content, but i've been proven severely wrong by this community. from my irls that are on here, to my lovely mutuals and followers, to those i've talked to a lil bit on this hellsite, to the writers whose fics i absolutely adore, to those who have left a like or a comment on one of my fics, i want to say thank you from the very bottom of my heart ♡

have a happy and healthy new year! i love and appreciate every single one of you!!

though i'm painfully bad at writing letters and getting all sappy, i wanted to write them anyways hahaha let's goooo

to @hwaddict:

my irl best friend!! my partner in crime!!!! i love you sm carly, and there are not enough words in this world for me to describe the extent of my love. you have been there for me during my lowest moments, you've seen me cry, and i don't cry in front of many ppl. i trust you with my life and i'm so glad that we became friends back in middle school bc you are one reasons that spur me to keep going. i can't wait to see where life takes us and know that while i might not always be able to be there physically (especially with college right around the corner), i will always be there for you in any way i can be. again i love you and i can't wait to conquer next year with you ♡♡

to @hopejanaee:

hope!! hobi!!! one of my irls! though we just became friends earlier this year, it feels like we've been friends for ages. it's crazy how close we grew so quickly but i am so grateful to have you in my life. you never fail to make me laugh whenever we're together and you're so chaotic but in such a good way hahaha. you were the one who got me into writing with your own wonderful fics so thank yoi for that. i'm so happy that we became friends because you're so kind and caring and ahhhhhh i love u sm ♡

to @oikawasmilkbread:

we talked for like 0.2 seconds but you are so kind and hella cool!! it was nice having random conversations with you and i'm so glad you randomly dmed me bc i am shy and i have 0 idea how to start conversations with anyone lmao. i always smile when i see you in my notifs! i hope you have a happy new year!!! ♡

to @luthenia:

i know you're on hiatus but seeing you in my notifs always excites me hahaha. we never talk but you are so supportive of everyone in this community and i just wanted to shout you out for that! your memes are top tier LMAO and i can't wait for when you come back, happy new year ♡

to @starsforten:

we also talked for approximately 1 second but it was so fun talking to you about astrology stuff (virgo sun libra rising gang hahahaha) and those teuta matoshi dresses! you are so nice and easy to talk to and i hope your new year is happy and fruitful! ♡

i recommend every single one of these blogs for their amazing content!! i added some of my favorite fics as i'm a whore for great writing hahaaaa

@kinktae

waterloo — a masterpiece! taehyung is so bitter at the beginning and it's adorable seeing how y/n breaks his tough shell. loved this from beginning to the end ♡

hot rod — the 50s slang, the dynamic between hoseok and y/n...*chef's kiss*

@untaemedqueen

welcome to seoul land — werewolf!namjoon really got me going, 100/10 would recommend

graceful gods — this is one of my all-time favorites, greek god!jungkook has my brain going brrrr

@shadowsremedy + @therealmintedmango

support system — adorable!! this is a hybrid!yoongi fic i really enjoy, and the series isn't over yet! check it out~

@bratkook

tear you apart — demon!taehyung...holy shit. i was speechless

@tatertotthethot

the doms next door — THIS SERIES OMG, i've read each part at least five times already. taekook got me acting UP

scream (posted to @yandere-society) — a really cool take on the movie scream with jungkook, yandere fics don't always appeal to me but this one absolutely did

@ateezmakemeweep

broken — the immense ache i felt in my chest while reading this, but i loved both parts with a burning passion. san is so sweet in this :')

@atinybrew

dirty free for all — the ULTIMATE demon!san fic. the writing is absolutely immaculate and this is the first fic that had me blushing down my mf ARMS

rice milk lattes and bryophytes roads — another san fic admittedly because i'm whipped for san lol. anyways, this was cute and hot at the same time and best friend!yunho made my double biasing ass that much happier

@seacottons

pan — an adorable peter pan!hongjoong fic, it had my heart going achhfhsjfjsjf

sir kiss me — circus au with san holy hell i loved every twist and turn of this

@actuallythatwaspromise

bad romance — one of my favorite yunho fics ever, punk rock!yunho x nerd!reader has my entire heart

aurora garden center and desire ink — florist!mingi had me uwuing for the entire fic, this was adorable and i loved it sm

@yeonjuncore

every single fic on this blog is an absolute masterpiece, i swear

the devil's little angel — THIS IS ONE OF MY ULTIMATE FAVORITES, demon!yeonjun had me screaming and it was just so fun to read and i loved every single second of it so much that i've read it nearly ten times now. so go read it, you won't regret it!

the boy with the horns — another of my ultimate favorites (i told you, their writing is just that amazing), woodland fey!soobin just had me going so soft :(( i literally sobbed at one point, that's how invested i was

bleeding heart — the tension between vampire!yeonjun and vampire slayer!reader had me screeching

curtain call — i have a sad crush vampire!soobin

i love you, always — this felt so..bittersweet? taehyun loves y/n so much, i lowkey cried while reading this

@angelfic

the art of (mis)communication — i am a whore for both reconciliation and yeonjun, 100000/10 pls read this i beg of you

@angelictaehyun

growing pains — ahhh once again a yeonjun fic, my chest hurt a lil bit at some points but it was so sweet!!

@neovisioned

bed of spiderwebs — spiderman!mark has my heart screeching, i loved every second of it ♡

eddie ate dynamite — johnny suh coming for my throat yet again

cupid victorious — cupid!jaehyun :'))) definitely one of my favorites!!

@domjaehyun

quarantine chronicles — ok if you haven't read this or the part two yet then you're missing out big time!! the tension, the buildup, every single part of this fic was just *chef's kiss* but multiply thay by a million

all these years — every single moment of this felt so nostalgic and the ending was so sweet :')

@caiuscassiuss

muse — i keep going back to this one constantly, the angst in this phenomenal and i love artist!taeyong sm here

@neoct-zen

loverboy — HOT, AMAZING, I SCREAMED. the blurbs that accompany this are also top-tier i recommend reading each and every one!!

@moondustis

pink + white — i'm so soft for mark i stg, this was the cutest thing ever

@loviejaehyun

can't avoid this feeling — hockey player!mark is the best thing ever

all tied up — i just- screamed as i read this bc professor!jaehyun is too hot goodbye

@hopejanaee

incapable — this is one of the best yoongi fics i've ever read ngl, it's not completed quite yet but the parts that have been posted are top tier!!

breathless — THIS. I LOVED THIS. yuta is just so hfjshhfhshfnsn and i love this sm

@hwaddict

melting point — big boy mingiiii, 100/10 would recommend

@okayau

house next to mine — frat boy!yeonjun rly got me going, cute and hot at the same time ahhhhbfnsnnf

youth — ADORABLE, yeonjun's confession is peak i love it here

run away — how many yeonjun fics can i fit in this post? (answer: a lot) definitely one of my favorite harry potter aus!! it was awesome seeing how their relationship changed throughout the years and perhaps i teared up a little at the end :'))

@starrychannies

baby steps — ONE OF ALL-TIME MY FAVORITE FICS ON THIS SITE, every single part is so well-written and ahhhhhfhdhhf chan makes me feel some type of way

my stupid — another yeonjun fic! angsty but v cute at the end :')

@baekhvuns

this youth of craziness — 40k words of pure gold, this fic is absolutely one of my favorite san fics ever!!

replacement — prince!ten makes my brain go brrrr, i love how the y/n just speaks her mind here

@masterninjacow

untitled project — i saw soulmate au with mark and i knew would already love it, and i did! pizza boy!mark at that, amazing and i adored it

more amazing blogs!!: @galaxteez, @poutybinz, @lustjoong, @bloominghigh

these are just a few of the fics and blogs i found this year, find more on my fic rec blog @agustdiv1ne-recs!! (my thumbs are starting to hurt i'm so sorry bfjshfhsh)

wrapping up each month since august since that's when i actually started posting LMAO

☆ august

03: good enough — chan

03: bloodsucker — seonghwa

04: cutie — san

09: veloxrotaphobia — mingi

19: want — changbin

21: numb — yunho

100 follower special — i reached 100 followers towards the end of august, my first ever milestone :') also my first ever time taking requests, 'twas very fun ♡

☆ september

03: on camera — jungkook

☆ october

27: oh, worm? — namjoon

31: demon days — san

☆ november

10: a letter to my love — xiaojun

23: bad for u — jaehyun

27: home sweet home — yeonjun

☆ december

christmas bash 2020 — my brain went hey what if you did this- and i listened so here's 17 holiday fics hahahaa (not all of them are out yet but i'm working on it!!)

things i plan to release in 2021!!

☆ sunflower — jimin

☆ cross — yeonjun

☆ landslide — seonghwa

☆ nice save — san

☆ red — hyunjin

☆ a secret series (that will be revealed once i plan everything) — ateez

☆ 4 unrelated secret fics oOoOoo — will i reveal them? you'll just have to wait and see ;)

there will definitely be more posted! these are the ones that are going to be my priority at first, but my imagination is always churning so expect a lot more :)) check out all of non-secret wips here!

i hit 500 followers a couple days ago! i nearly screamed when i saw that LMAO. thank you so much for liking my content because i work hella hard on it :') sometimes i feel like i don't deserve y'all really, but @hwaddict will yell at me if i say that so ig i take it back hfhshhdhg

a post for celebrating this milestone will come as soon as i finish up the rest of my christmas fics!! sorry that i'm so slow :( (hint: my requests will be open, so look out for it!)

so yeah!! that's it, sorry for the painfully long post (i'm sorry to my thumbs for typing this whole thing out </3). thank you to everyone who read this far!! i hope everyone has a happy and healthy new year, and in the words of txt's cover, fuck 2020. may 2021 be a much better year for all of us!!!

much love,

ashlee ♡

#i'm sorry if i missed anyone :((#j know i love and appreciate u a lot #it's j my thumbs are literally cramping up as i type this :(#2021 celebration!#happy new year y'all #lmk if any of links are wrong bc i will fix them asap

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duskowithapen · 4 years ago

Text

Day One: Tattoo Artist/Flower Shop AU

Writers Month 2020: Day One

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Luka x Marinette

Of Flowers and Tattoo Needles

Miraculous AU where Marinette is the tattoo artist with some very impressive ink and Luka is pining from across the way where he works at his sister’s flower shop. Day One of Writer’s Month 2020 – Tattoo Artist/Flower Shop AU

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction

“You’re drooling.”

Luka straightened quickly, wiping a hand over his chin. “No I’m not.” He turned around to see his sister walking in from the back room, a sprig of lavender tucked behind her ear.

“You might as well have been,” she says, walking closer to lean beside him at the counter. “Not that I’d blame you – Marinette’s cute.”

The Marinette in question was the owner of the tattoo parlour across the way. On quiet days like today, she could be seen sitting outside her shop with a sketchbook. Luka swallowed dryly. The sun was shining off her impressive tattoo – a full sleeve that wound around her wrist and up over her shoulder in a tangle of flowers and vines that he couldn’t see clearly.

“Well?” Juleka’s dry voice snaps his attention back.

“Well what?”

She waved a hand towards the door. “Are you going to get a tattoo?”

Luka splutters. “W-What? Why would I – what makes you think –” How’d she known I’d considered it?!

He’s saved by the bell – literally – as Rose walks in. “Jule’s, what are you doing to your poor brother this time?” She asks, joining them at the counter which was suddenly feeling a little cramped.

Pecking her partner on the cheek, Juleka smiles innocently. “Trying to convince him to get a tattoo.”

“Oh, you totally should!” Rose claps her hands. “You have to go to Marinette – between her and Nathaniel, you’ll get the coolest tattoo! Marinette was the one who designed ours!”

“Really?” Luka glance at Juleka’s uncovered wrist. It was ringed by a flower wreath – red and purple roses (passionate love and love at first site), hot pink dahlias (commitment) and bright red gladiolus’ (strength and integrity). Rose had one exactly the same. It was a beautiful representation of their relationship – one Luka was waiting for them to consummate with a marrige. It was also a nod to their shared brainchild.

The Secret Garden might have only been a few years old, but it had blossomed into one of the most successful flower shops in Paris, often completely selling out around any holiday, and with a reputation for incredible flower arrangements, which Luka was proud to say he had a hand in.

Luka smiled. “I wouldn’t mind a tattoo,” he said after a moment, “Maybe something for you and mum – like her raven tattoos.”

Juleka’s smile was small, but no less terrifying for it. “Then go talk to Marinette now. Doesn’t look like she has any clients.” She was still sitting outside her shop.

As Luka was pushed out the door, Rose shoved a small posy of cherry blossoms into his hand. “Give Marinette these – they’re her favourite!”

How does she know her favourite flowers? Luka thought wildly as the door locked behind him. Slowly crossing the narrow avenue, he could feel their gaze burning into the back of his neck, and his hands became sweaty. They were making him nervous. He didn’t normally get nervous. He normally wasn’t going to ask a very cute girl to give him a tattoo.

Marinette looked up as he approached, and he couldn’t help but notice how adorable the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks were. Luka dug his fingers into his leg. You’re here for a tattoo, he reminded himself, not to check out the artist! But he couldn’t stop himself from taking in the blue sheen to her pigtailed hair, the welcoming smile stretched across her face, the impressive artwork which looked even better close up. Spiralling around her arm on pale green stalks and vines were cherry blossoms, pink orchids, blue morning glories, larkspur, hyacinths and bright yellow daffodils. Renewal, fertility and abundance, affection, cheer and goodwill, sincerity, luck and good fortune… he thought absently. After so long working with flowers – and even longer hearing about them from Rose – the symbolism came to mind automatically.

“Uh… hello?”

Luka blinked. Her eyes are really blue. Then he remembered himself and smiled. “Sorry. Are you Marinette?”

Her grin became wider. “Yup! Are you Juleka’s brother?”

“Yeah. She and Rose said that these were your favourite flowers?” He held out the blossoms. “They asked me if I could give them to you.” Well, technically they did. Even if it was meant to be more from me than them.

“Awww, thank you!” Marinette buried her nose in the pale pink petals and breathed deep. “They’re beautiful!”

“You’re welcome,” Luka said numbly. Her smile was almost blinding. “Uh, there was something else.”

Marinette’s head tilt made her pigtails bounce. It should be illegal for someone to look this adorable. “How can I help?”

“I was wondering about getting a tattoo.”

“Oh, of course!” Marinette leapt to her feet. “What else do you come to a tattoo parlour for? I’m so sorry, come in and we can get started right away!” She babbled. “Or should I say, welcome to Charmed Ink! Do you have any ideas for what you want? I’m partial to flowers as you can see, but I’m good at more tribal stuff too, and lettering, but Nathanial’s the best for portraits and a lot of the animal stuff..”

She continued to talk even as Luka took in Charmed Ink. The art on the inside of the tattoo parlour made it look larger than the comparatively small storefront suggested. The back wall was painted with an incredible mural of cherry blossom trees in full bloom, framing a red bridge arching over a river. The side walls were white and in scattered groups were photos of tattoo art – in one clump was a variety of dragon tattoos, in another was various words in all different fonts. The two tattoo stations were set in the back corners, with a small waiting area directly before the entrance. This was where Marinette led him, stopping quickly at a desk partially hidden by a folding screen.

She noticed his awed look at the back mural and smiled, a little calmer now. “That was a collaboration between Alix and Nathanial – he’s my other tattooist. They were all in my class in collége and lycée – same with Juleka and Rose, actually.”

“They did a great job,” Luka murmured. “And I’ve seen your work before – the tattoo you did for my sister was incredible. I was kinda looking for something similar.”

“Were you wanting a tattoo on your wrist too?” Marinette sat on one of the plush couches, and Luka sat across from her.

“No, I was thinking of something on my shoulder – my left shoulder,” He gestured, “Maybe going down my arm a little? I don’t want to go for a full sleeve now, but looking at your tattoo, I’d definitely consider it for the future.”

Marinette’s blush travelled across her cheeks and up her ears. “That – that’s a good plan. I can definitely work with that.” She made a note before looking at him under he lashes. “Were you wanting flowers?”

At Luka’s confused look, she continued, “You said you wanted something similar to your sisters, but you didn’t want it on your wrist…?”

“Ah, that’s right.” Luka tapped at his knee a little, quick staccato beat. “Yeah, I was thinking blue iris, gladilous and maybe daffodils.”

“Is there a meaning behind those flowers, or…?” Marinette made another note.

Luka nodded. “Yeah. Gladiolus’ are mum and Juleka’s birth flowers, not to mention their symbolism – strength and integrity. Blue Iris’ are my birth flower, meaning faith and hope, and daffodils are good luck and good fortune, but I also like the yellow.”

Marinette hummed. “I take it your favourite colour is blue?” She asked, waving her pencil at his blue hoody and matching Jagged Stone t-shirt. With a wince, he realised he was still wearing the Secret Garden apron over his faded jeans. Whoops.

“How did you guess.” Luka deadpanned, and he grinned at Marinette’s chuckle. “But seriously, yeah, I like blue and yellow. And, if we’re going for something like the start of a sleeve… think you could incorporate a snake or something in there?”

“Snakes are transformation and renewal, aren’t they?” Marinette murmured as she wrote. “There was this one symbol I remember, with a snake biting its tail…”

“The ouroboros,” Luka nodded, “It’s an eternity symbol.”

“Hmmmm…” Marinette started sketching in earnest. “So we’re going for something that can be added to later, definitely going for a circling snake – probably around your arm – but should the head be going up or down – put the flowers in colour clusters, or mix them up… maybe have them growing out of the snake? But if the snake is blue… you’ve got the more teal tips to your hair, so I could go for something more on the green side of the spectrum to help tie it in, but the snake should also stand out…”

All Luka could do was watch as Marinette seemed to get lost in a creative haze. Her pencil moved rapidly over the page as she sketched, occasionally going back over a line with her eraser, muttering about her hand not listening to her brain. Once or twice she looked something up on her phone before continuing – at one point, she leapt out of her seat to go and stare at one of the photos on the wall.

This process went on for about twenty minutes, Luka browsing through social media in between watching Marinette with what Juleka would probably class as a ‘disgustingly lovestruck’ look on his face. He couldn’t help it! She was just so vibrant, pouring all this passion into her work. Not to mention the cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows as she seemed to struggle with something at the bottom of the page.

Marinette slammed her sketchbook down with a bang that made him jump. “So! I have a tentative outline – tell me what you like and don’t like, and we can work from there.”

The sketch – and Luka didn’t know how Marinette could class this as an outline given the level of detail – featured all the aspects he wanted. On the front and back sketch of his arm and shoulder was a winding snake, the head sitting just under his collarbone and the rest of its body circling his arm before ending just above his elbow. But it didn’t just circle his arm. It also twisted around the gnarled and knotted stems that supported intricate bursts of flowers. An iris sat directly below the snakes head before more flowers dotted the stem around his shoulder to a larger, more detailed flower on his shoulder blade. Gladiolus’s tangled with the main body of the snake, interspersed with tiny iris’ and leaves, merging with daffodils close to his elbow. Each flower differed in size, though the iris on his back was the largest, probably about the size of his palm if he got the proportions right. Notes on both sides of the sketch were arms with arrows and a frankly scary amount of question marks. Luka looked away when he saw the words ‘dark coffee brown’ and ‘burgundy vs wine’.

“This… this is incredible Marinette.” He looked up at where she was wringing her hands. When she bit her lip, he had to refrain from reaching up and biting it for her. Concentrate Couffaine!

Marinette giggled, the sound high with nerves. “Thanks Luka. It’s a bit rough, and I’d want to go over the colours with you before we start anything, but I’m glad you like it. Anything you’d want to change?”

“Not really,” He hummed. “How would you continue this, if you were going for a full sleeve?”

When Marinette took a seat at his side, leaning into his shoulder a little, Luka stiffened. He hadn’t noticed before, but she’d split the posy of cherry blossom flowers into two and attached them to her pigtails – their scent wafted over him, and he tried not to breathe too deeply. “Well, if I was going to do a full sleeve with the snake, I’d make the snake the body of the tattoo,” she said, pointing at various parts of the sketch, “Probably make the circuits wider and accentuate the gaps a little more with the flowers. The head would have to be a little bigger, to make it proportionate, but otherwise not much would change.”

Luka nodded slowly. “So, say, if you maybe did that – the thing with the head and the – the circuits? And then have the snake ‘end’ in a clump of flowers above my elbow.” It was his turn to point, dragging a finger along the clump of daffodils and trying very hard to ignore the way Marinette pressed just a little closer to see. “Maybe if you added some of the gladiolus and iris here as well, and then if I add more to the tattoo later, you can have the rest of the body kind of emerge from there.”

“That would work really well actually,” Marinette said as she took the sketchbook back. Luka tried not to pout as her warmth moved away. “I can make a wreath just above your elbow – kinda like what I did for Juleka and Rose – and have the snake’s body ‘disappear’ into that. It would be easy work to make it ‘reappear’ beneath it later.”

Marinette scribbled these notes in as she spoke, before turning back to him. “So, about price… for a piece like this – half sleeve, colour and design… you’re looking at about one and a half grand.”

His eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hairline. “That low?” While he hadn’t seriously thought about getting a tattoo before today, he’d spent time with a lot of people who had. A full sleeve tattoo could cost as much as four grand – a half sleeve would be at least two.

“You’re getting the friends and family discount.” Marinette shrugged. “And I’ve been in a bit of a designing rut lately – all people seem to want are dragons or family names. This is a bit of a godsend, actually.”

Luka smirked. “Friends and family discount, huh?”

With her nose in the air, Marinette sassed, “Of course. Juleka’s my friend, and you’re her family.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Luka leaned in a little. “That’s why, huh? I’m hurt Marinette.”

“Hopefully you aren’t so sensitive when it comes time for me to break out the needles, Luka. I don’t want to listen to you crying for the six hours this is going to take.” The smirk she shot him sent a thrill through his chest. She’s got some fire.

“Oh believe me, Marinette.” Luka steadied himself on the couch back behind her shoulders and gave Marinette his best stage-ready, sweet-talking, come-hither bedroom eyes before growling out, “I don’t think six hours with you will be any hardship.”

#WritersMonth2020 #tattoo artist/florist au #miraculous ladybug #lukanette #tattoo artist marinette #ao3 #fanfiction #I'm a day late #sorry

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

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Me appreciating you for Fanfic Writers’ Appreciation Day, but a day late, because I do everything late. Anyway... yay!

1. PLEASE LOOK DOWN THIS LIST (BELOW THE CUT) UNTIL YOU SPOT AN AUTHOR YOU’RE NOT FAMILIAR WITH

2. GO AND CHECK OUT THEIR STUFF

3. SCREAM AT THEM ABOUT HOW GREAT THEY ARE

4. SIGNAL BOOST THE HELL OUT OF THEIR STUFF

5. REPEAT STEPS ABOVE

Firstly, before we proceed to the list: I will have forgotten people, and for that I am so sorry (not in any way intentional)- I will come back and update if I spot someone I’ve missed. Secondly, for fic authors who weren’t tagged on Fic Writers’ Day, please keep doing what you’re doing! Putting your writing out there takes courage and I’m super proud of you. I’m so pleased we have your unique voice in the fandom, and I appreciate you.

Secondly, if you know an author who perhaps didn’t get as much love as they deserve (and don’t be afraid to self-hype) please send me an ask with a) their/your handle b) which fandom they/you write for (to be relevant to my page pls keep this to SW, Oscar, Pedro, MCU) c) why people should check them/you out and, if you like, which fic to start with, and I’ll do a shout-out.

Finally, if you aren’t a writer yet but you want to be, I believe in you! Please take the plunge! My inbox is always open to any aspiring writers who need encouragement to make that first post or start that first fic. I’ve been in your position, and believe me I’m in your corner. Happy to be your hype girl.

Reccing authors in Star Wars / Oscar / Pedro fandoms:

@okay-hotshot / Celeste is the loveliest human ever. She had me hooked from her first fic, which broke then healed my heart, and I’m so proud of her writing journey so far! Check her page out for Oscar character fics and the most magical, creative, immersive, touching, original Llewyn fic you could dream up: Wait for me.

@mandoplease where do I even start? Becca oozes talent and absolutely floors me every single time. The first fic I read was: The City Lights Can Wait (Santi x reader) and I was just blown away by the writing prowess. Gorgeous prose, mind blowing metaphors and descriptions. A personal fave is the Santi/Frankie threesome fic: Moving Day, but Fight Night also needs a mention. Check her out for Triple Frontier / Narcos / Star Wars characters.

@mylifeliterally Ok, Emma is an absolute gem of a human. Funny, welcoming and so supportive of other writers. Oh, and can be counted on for thots. I often rec the positively artful Triple Frontier gangbang fic (and now series) Team Building Exercise, but don’t overlook her other fics- I especially love: Just for Tonight, a two-part Santi fic. The Triple Frontier Queen, she is slowly dragging everyone into a pit of yearning along with her for every single one of those boys and we’re not even mad. Her writing is flawless and I cannot get enough. P.s. she has a refridgerator husband.

@tintinwrites I’ve already gushed at Caitlin today so I’ll keep it brief. Queen of Poe, and also branching out and excelling with everything she touches in Pedro fandoms too. I think I’ve read near everything on her masterlist and there are no wrong choices, but to pick out only a couple, which is a hard task, imma rec Forbidden Fruit and Fifty Ways to Kiss someone for Po, and Nothing Could be Finer for reader x Frankie x Santi.

@woakiees again, gushed at Hadley already so I’ll try and keep it chill here. Queen of angst and darkness, and of First Order Poe. Also love that she’s writing for Santi and Din now too. Caitlin says it best when she describes Hadley’s writing as like something from 1843 with a modern twist. Such a unique voice. Imma recommend Sanctified and So ruthless, Darling for Poe.

@iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall Abby! The range! You know I remind you on a bi-monthly basis how much Lonely Nights (Poe x reader) broke my heart and here we go again. You can do it all- fluffy, slow burn series (Call it what you want), heartbreaking angst and smut- your Blue Jones mob boss AU, Darkest Little Paradise? Wowzers. Plus, you’re a sweetie and I love when we scream at each other.

@darksideofclarke Clarke does so much for us all and just keeps giving. From the Sinful Sunday events to the incredible Follower Celebration, to setting up a whole side blog to extend the character takeovers?! Blessed with content! And Clarke’s fics?! Exquisite, and such a choice of characters from the Oscar fandom. I particularly love Now and Forevermore (Orestes); Bulletproof (Santi); Humbled (Blue); and ‘Til Death Do They Part (Mikael) but I could easily go on. Clarke you’re so talented. And you are a lovely human to boot!

@bluebellhairpin Nemo, you are a joy, and I won’t gush at you too much bc I already did that today, but I love what you’re putting out. You write for so many fandoms, which is so impressive, and you’re a fellow Poe hoe. I adore your series Fight or Flight, Rider, but you have so many cute one-shots and blurbs too e.g. Poe Dameron is an Idiot! Your audios give me life as well.

@spider-starry Carrie is so much fun and has been branching out a lot in her writing recently, which is great to see! I love Carrie’s 100 letter project in particular, for various Oscar characters, as well as this smutty Nathan NSFW Alphabet, which had me all in a tizz.

@aellynera (tag me in your stuff pls?) I love your drunk text series for Santi and Nathan and your Itsy Bitsy Spider headcanons made me howl! I’m so excited to see what you put out next! And I love that you also love Nathan :D

@anetteaneta already gushed at you today so I’ll keep it brief, but I’m so happy you’re sharing your writing! I loved your Sherlock series for Santi so much! And OMG wait, I didn’t see you’d written for Nathan until just now. Must catch-up. (Please tag me in any Oscar stuff you put out?)

@veuliee2 I need to catch-up on a lot of your fics to be fair (please tag me in stuff?) but you write Orestes so wonderfully and with so much heart that it blows me away (New Constellations). So few fics on him on this site and yours are a pleasure. Plus, you’re an all round lovely person! :o)

@thirsty-flygirl I don’t think you believe how good you are which makes me very sad to be honest. Because you’re amazing. You write Poe so spot on, so warm and goofy and a lovable sexy dumbass. Perfect. Your writing and dialogue makes me smile / laugh and you can somehow make it hot and soft all at once. I love your series Idiots in particular. (Please tag me in more of your stuff though as I worry I miss things you put out?). You’re great and I love having you here.

@twomoonstwosuns I really need to catch-up on your Poe series, Back to You but I really enjoyed the chapters I’ve read! (Please tag me in future Poe stuff?) You’re a star!

@absurdthirst I’m newish in the Pedro fandoms so still getting to grips with it, but have loved what I’ve seen so far and look forward to delving deeper (and there’s plenty to get stuck into!)!Most recently read the Ezra fic Healing which was beautifully and sensitively written (cw: for prior assault).

@damerondjarin Taylor is multi-talented and blesses us, tbh, with GIFs and writing. She’s currently in tumblr jail, but I strongly advise you check out all her stuff. I came for Santi fics and they did not disappoint (I can’t link to it but the latest Santi fic killed me and was a wonderul take on the “there’s only one bed” trope.

@damndamer0n you have a gift, Ty. I’m in awe and I don’t know how you do what you do. Your way with words is really something special. I bow. Gonna recommend Just Friends for Poe because this is such a warm and immersive (and hot) fic and so in character. But honestly all your stuff is perfect. I’ve read things for characters I’ve never heard of before because of you and have loved each and every one. (Like, really, what are your secrets, tell us?). Also gonna shout-out to your Ezra fic, Sunlight, beacuse the world-building and mood-building was lovely. Really memorable!

@mssr-cellophane I found your work recently through FinnPoe week and your glorious take on the The Jacket prompt (links to A03). Looking forward to reading more of your stuff (please feel free to tag me!) and surprised by how much I vibe with all your posts haha. Happy to follow you! :)

@yougottakeeponkeepinon AMANDA? Where do I begin and how do I stop? You’re such an important part of this site for me. I think you’re wonderful as a person and I love your writing too. Miscommunication (First Order! Poe) is off the scale brilliant, and then you blew me away with your latest Santi fic, Eavesdropping, but honestly, I’ve never read anything of yours I didn’t love, from goofy Poe to soft soft Llewyn (I love Away from the Sun). I WANNA YELL AT YOU YOU’RE JUST THE BEST.

@poesflygirl Nat is a ball of energy and that comes across in her writing. Nat, you write with such verve and energy and defo have a unique voice. You write the angstiest angst and fluffiest fluff and you also write action and dialogue so well. Your fics have a ton of unexpected turns and are unpredictable, and you have loads of unique ideas which are really fresh and different to read. You don’t seem to believe how good you are, which makes me sad tbqh. I love when I see a tag pop up and get to read something new from you! In particular love your Poe series, You and Paging a Heart, and these Poe one-shots: Just another Benduday Night and Truth or Dare.

@starryeyedstories NOVA. You are pure sunshine. You spread so much positivity and you’re the loveliest human. Your are the Queen of softness and fluff and for comforting and beautifully written fics. Your series, Across the Hall,has taken us all on such a wonderful journey and I don’t want it to ever end. It’s like my happy place! Each chapter is practically a hug with words. Your Din one-shot All of Me is so romantic as well!

@softpedropascal I’m newish in Pedro fandoms but softpedropascal writes wonderfully for Frankie. The dedication to the character is evident, and characterisation wonderful- I can’t wait to read more: Masterlist

@rzrcrst okay, you may know rzrcrst for Pedro fics (which are wonderful) but she also recently started writing for Tony Stark and I’m so happy! 😀🧡 (Fun fact- her url is also the reason I couldn’t spell Razor Crest properly when I finally started writing for Din). She’s currently taking a well-earned tumblr break but fics are still up on Ao3- linked in profile.

@writefasttalkevenfaster Please tag me in any of your Star Wars stuff as I swear I keep missing things and I don’t mean to! Masterlist

@galaxy-of-stories Maddie, I keep missing things you post but you’re lovely and your writing is awesome. I love your Poe series Over and Over and I think I’ve just spotted a new chapter to catch-up on so lucky me! :D

@who-talks-first Billie, my lovely friend! You’re wonderful to have around on this hellsite. Your dedication to supporting writers in these fandoms is unparelled and you’re an absolute sweatheart, as well as super fun to chat to and thirst with. You have certainly made my experience on this site so much better! And also, your writing? Excuse me? So good. Your Poe fic, The Torture of Small Talk With Someone You Used to Love? Sublime! And the Poe, Naked, Dripping, Locked? So funny! You definitely have a unique style and your writing can be simultaneously edgy, poetic, and moving. ILY!

@xxidontwikeitxx Hope you don’t mind being included, as you haven’t posted your work, but you ARE a writer, and I’m so happy you’ve recently started creating! Again, hope you don’t mind me saying, but I had the pleasure of reading your Marcus Pike blurb, and it’s was so soft and lovely. I really hope - when/if you’re comfortable- you decide share your work, and if not, I hope you keep enjoying the process! Would leave to read more from you in the future!

@shakespeareanwannabe is writing such a heartfelt Santi x OC story (find it here) with sublime characterisation of both Santi and Frankie, AS WELL AS seriously well-rounded and compelling OCs / supporting cast. This series is a key contributor for me falling down a Frankie rabbit role, and my First Dates fic likely wouldn’t exist without it! So excited for more!

Also shoutout to @ollypopp @milleniumvalcon @justrunamok @yourbucky084 who are delightful beings and whose writing I need to catch-up on!I look forward to it!

#this took me shockingly long to compile i need a nap #the talent on this hellsite #writer appreciation #star wars fics #oscar isaac fics #pedro pascal fics #poe dameron x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #llewyn davis x reader #din djarin reader #fic rec #fic recs #frankie morales x reader #nathan bateman x reader #the loveliest humans

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themarvellouswriter · 5 years ago

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MOB! SEBASTIAN x TALL! READER

PART III OF THE MASTERPIECE SERIES

Warnings: Slight blood reference, mentions of torture but not really

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: A weird hybrid mix of feelings, some angst and fluff.

Notes: Enjoy! And do share your thoughts! All feedback is welcome!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon reaching your house, you slowly opened the door. “Sofia? You there?” Stepping into the foyer, you called out for your friend. Sebastian right behind you. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said looking around. You hummed in response as you headed towards your bedroom. He made a move to follow but you held up a hand to stop him. “Stay here. I’m not running or calling for help.” You raised your hands and waggled your fingers. “Some idiot must have taken my phone last night when they bonked me.” Sebastian had the decency to look embarrassed. He muttered an apology and ran a hand through his hair. “Cute,” you said making eye contact. His eyes showed a flicker of surprise, mildly taken aback. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing as you went inside your bedroom. Seeing Sofia’s sleeping form you relaxed knowing that she hadn’t worried about your sudden disappearance in the middle of the night. You looked at your alarm clock. 11:17.

“Sofia! Wake up! You have a meeting with your advisor at 12!” You shook her awake. She sat up with a jolt. “My thesis,” she cried. “Y/N! Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” “You slept through your alarm! And I was,” your gaze went to Sebastian who was looking extremely interested in the picture frames and trinkets that littered your mantel place. Yes, you were one of those people who liked the idea of fireplaces in your house. “I was out.” You brought your eyes back to Sofia’s, hoping that she hadn’t noticed Sebastian but it was too late. She looked in his direction. “Ooh. Someone was having fun this morning. Is that why your hair look like that?” Your hands immediately flew to your hair. “Like what?” “You have a case of what I call sex-hair. Its really bad. Especially given how he’s dressed and you are wearing that.” You looked at her offended, “These are my favourite Captain America pyjamas. Besides. That is NOT what we were doing. I was out for breakfast and then ran into him. He gave me a ride home.” “And you invited him in?” You inwardly facepalmed. ‘You complete idiot Y/N. You walked right into that one. Deflect and deflect hard.’ “So nosy. Not a good look for a bride to be. And you’re late. Get up and get ready,” you said pulling her up to her feet and pushing her into the bathroom. Sofia laughed, closing the door behind herself. You let out a breath and started to gather some of your stuff. Sebastian entered your bedroom holding up a picture. “Cute baby,” he teased. “I know. I was adorable. I mean have you seen these cheeks?” You turned to face him and squished your face. He let out a genuine laugh. “You’re really something Y/N. I just can’t figure out what exactly, but I seem to like it.”

He moved closer. You looked deep into his eyes trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. “I like it a lot.” He took another step leaving only a few inches of space between the two of you. He leaned closer. ‘Oh my god, he’s serious. He’s gonna -’ Before you had time to finish your thought, you felt a warm pair of lips on your own. Your eyes widened in surprise before you snapped out of it and kissed him back. The kiss was soft and comforting. Like feeling the sun on your face in winter. A hand found its way to rest on your hip and your hands instinctively gripped his suit jacket, pulling him closer. You had shut your eyes sometime within the first three seconds of being kissed and all sorts of alarms were going off in your brain. ‘You’re kissing the guy who kidnapped you. Why? Why in the world are you kissing him and why are you liking it? Stop it. Stop it. Be sane woman, you do not kiss people who’ve murdered other people.’ Forcing yourself to stop, you took a dazed step back. “Sebastian, I don’t know why I did that.” “Are you telling me you don’t want to do it again?” “If we’d met under different circumstances and you hadn’t, you know, killed my neighbour. Are you seeing where I’m coming from?” You chewed on your lip as you hesitated. He took a step back and fixed his jacket. “Its fine, Y/N. I get it,” he answered smoothly, pushing back his stray hair. “I don’t think you do. I am not opposed to your lifestyle. I just want to know more about you before moving further. I don’t know anything about you! I don’t even know why you got her killed?” You swallowed harshly. “I don’t like not knowing and I get the feeling that you don’t either.”

He took your hands in his own, dropping the picture frame on your bed. “Hey, you don’t understand. Even though there is this whole murdered neighbour thing, I would never let anything happen to you and I would never hurt you. I know that we’ve not even known each other for a full day but I can’t get you out of my mind.” You gave him a weak smile as he went on. “I’ve never felt this way before and I don’t know how to act.” “Me neither. I know I should hate you and think of ways to get rid of you, but I can’t. I can’t even think about leaving you cause I know I’ll be hurt.” He brought your hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. The sound of Sofia clearing her throat startled both of them, making them jump apart. The former was now fully dressed and ready to go. “Hi, I’m Sofia, as you must have heard Y/N screaming my name.” She held out a hand. Sebastian shook it. “Sebastian. Y/N’s latest,” his eyes met yours and you could’ve sworn they twinkled with mischief. “Conquest.” “You should be honoured. She doesn’t go for men that easy.” “Sofia,” you exclaimed throwing a cushion at her. Sebastian laughed. “I am.” He shot you a discrete wink as Sofia checked her phone. “I will be late tonight so don’t wait up. Also, dress rehearsal on Friday. Do NOT be late. And Sebastian, why don’t you come too? I’m sure we can squeeze you in next to her.” You internally screamed. ‘What on Earth does she think she’s doing? I may be extremely, extremely attracted to him but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him anywhere near my best friend’s wedding.’ “I would love to. Thank you,” came his gracious reply.

Sofia waved good bye and left. You automatically collapsed on your bed. Sebastian looked at you thoughtfully. “Did you mean that? What you said?” “I rarely say things I don’t mean,” you replied sitting up. Pushing your hair from your face, you met his gaze. “I don’t really trust you yet, but I could. With time.” He nodded, “Fair enough. Come on. Let’s start packing.”

Within an hour you had finished. You put your belongings in his car began the drive back to his place. You were skimming through your thesis when you caught him staring at you from the corner of your eye. “What?” “You’re cute when you’re focused.” You snorted. “A person of my size doesn’t really fall in the category of cute after a certain age.” “You are. I think so.” You let his words hang in the air. Nobody, out of all the women and men you’d dated, had complimented you so freely, so often. It didn’t feel like much of a deal but there was always some hidden part of you deep, deep down that made you think, I am being too much? Are they keeping quiet cause they secretly don’t like that I’m bigger than them? Should I dial back a bit and stop? You weren’t a fan of dependency so you kept your relationships to a minimum.

As you reached the place that would be your new home till Sebastian was ready to let you go, you rubbed your forehead in tiredly. With all the partying, the murdering, the getting bonked on the head and running around behind your best friend’s back. You just wanted to change your clothes and fall asleep. “Come along, sleeping beauty.” He helped you with your stuff and led you to your new room. This one was exactly opposite to his on the first floor. Unlike the room you’d found yourself in, on the second and topmost floor. His place although big was minimally furnished. It had all essentials but nothing that gave it a home-y feel.

You made yourself comfortable in your new living area and then took a shower. You changed into a fresh pair of clothes and then went to see what Sebastian was up to. You knocked on his bedroom door but got no response. ‘He must be downstairs then.’ You headed down. This time you noticed a room at the far end of the foyer. It was easy to miss since it had a curtain half way pulled over it. You pushed the door slightly open and came face to face with a man covered in blood. “Y/N,” came Sebastian’s disapproving voice from behind you. “Sebastian.” “What are you doing, love? You don’t want to see this.” “I kinda do. Why is he here?” “He got caught trying to blow up one of my shipments.” “Shipments of what?” “Shipments of fake art.” You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a first. Usually one expects to hear drugs. Or escorts.” “I’m not a part of the usually. It’s actually easier to fake paintings and get them shipped instead of drugs. Make more money too.” “So, are you torturing him?” “I just want to find out who sent him and how did he know where to find my stuff. He refused to cooperate so I got a little creative.” He shrugged, snapping his fingers. A hulking man appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Gerard. Take Miss Winchester here to her room, please.” “I don’t want to go.” “Sweetheart, what’s going to happen next, is not going to be pretty. Are you sure you want to be here for that?” “Yes,” you answered firmly. He looked at you. “Fine. But you’re staying outside the room.” You nodded, “Okay.” Sebastian and Gerard disappeared inside the room. A few minutes later, you heard pained screams. Followed by dark laughter and angry Chinese. You went over the Chinese once, twice then thrice in your head. Sebastian came out, wiping his hands on a handkerchief which he handed to Gerard behind him. Taking in your shocked expression, he looked at you, face pinched with concern. “I knew you should’ve gone upstairs again, love.” “No, you answered shakily. “If I had, I wouldn’t have heard that man confess to what’s about to happen.” “Well, translate his Chinese for me love, I don’t speak it.” “He said that he was sent as a decoy. I am their real target. They want me dead. And I have no clue why.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #seb stan x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x y/n #seb stan x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian deserves all the love in the world #masterpiece #themarvellouswriter #part 3 #please tell me what you think!#masterpiece series #please pay attention to this fic

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fly-flower-fanfics · 5 years ago

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Drunken Kisses

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, alcohol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And what the fuck are you doing with those, RJ?"

Tony's voice rung out, calling out the nickname he had given me. It stood for Reused Junk, since I always was found stealing leftover junk from Tony's workshop. I turned to face him, holding up my hands filled with metal scraps. Tony always let me use the scraps of metals he didn't need, but he never seemed to know what I used them for. Hell, half the time I didn't even know what to sue them for. I just created art with them, abstract art or whatever.

"Art stuff," I answered.

"Art stuff?" Tony folded his arms over his chest, a small smirk making its way onto his lips. "Really?"

"Uh, yeah! Look, Tony, babe, I need nothing more than my wicked mad skills, my rugged good looks, and maybe like, half a million dollars." I carefully gathered the pieces into a box so I didn't get cut. I then picked the box up and held it underneath my arm.

Tony laughed, stepping to the side to he could let me pass. "I'll think about the last one."

I winked at him as I passed by. "You'll give into me one of these days, Stark!"

Tony and my friendship was probably one of my favorite things about being here. I wasn't the biggest, baddest, or coolest Avenger, but no one ever seemed to make me feel inferior to them. Tony, after learning about my intense creativity, would ask me what I would think of a design or ask for my help with one. We quickly became friends, and the rest was pretty much history. We teased each other as much as we could, but were there when anything went wrong.

Another one of my favorite things about being here was Spider-Man himself — little Peter Parker: the brown-haired boy was the one I fell in love with. Tony seemed to pick up on it right away, and I blamed it on him being bisexual that he was able to immediately sniff out my crush.

Peter was always soft and almost the opposite of Tony in every single way. My heart fell for the spider boy almost as soon as I laid eyes on him. I couldn't get enough of him, but I almost swore he didn't feel the same way.

I wouldn't say that I was perfect at picking out other people's sexuality, but Peter didn't radiate anything about being into guys in any sort of way. Though it hurt, I would rather stay his friend than to potentially ruin our friendship over my feelings.

I ended up back in my room, plopping the box of scraps onto the desk I owned. I reached out and grabbed the rolling chair I'd stolen from the lab before sitting on it and wheeling myself towards the massive sculpture that sat in the corner of my room.

It was a large spider web with little mementos stuck inside of it. I always added to the web whenever there was spare metal that I was able to fold with my hands. I kept everything in the web like a special sort of shelf that fit my style and aesthetic.

Pictures were the main thing that littered my sculpture. It was pictures of times that I didn't want to forget. There were pictures of Steve and I dancing when he was teaching me the little he knew. Pictures of Tony and I making silly faces with one another. Pictures of Bucky and I out on the roof. Peter and I watching movies. Loki and I pretending to fight one another. Pictures of all of us doing whatever. I could even begin to describe all the ones I had taped up onto the metal web. There were scraps of things I had taped up there as well. Movie ticket stubs, ice cream cone wrappings, leaves, papers, drawings, anything and everything.

Everything on my web was a reminder to me of the family that I had, the family that I had made.

"Woah..." I spun around in the chair to see Peter standing in my doorway, his eyes glued onto my sculpture. "Did you make that?"

I felt myself become flustered as I turned my head to look as well. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"That's awesome!" He walked up to it and looked over the pictures and items I had on there. "I don't even remember you taking some of these pictures." He pointed to an amusement park wristband I had put up there. "I took you there; I remember that."

"Yeah. It was fun. I'm shocked you remember that." I got up from the chair and went to stand beside him. "Shocked I remember that," I admitted with a laugh.

My powers had fucked with my memory a bit. I had the power of hypnosis and mind reading, but it required an immense amount of mental control and focus. It made me forget things sometimes, and I didn't like that. So I made my sculpture so I would be unable to forget.

"Does this help?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," I said, "it does. I don't remember everything in great detail, but it's helped. At least I haven't lost everything, ya know?"

I cleared my throat and went over to my bed, trying to fix it up a little. I felt a bit self conscious about Peter being in my room, but it didn't really seem to bother him. I sat down on my bed and watched the boy.

Part of me desperately wanted to read his mind and have a walk around to figure out if he liked me back the way I liked him. No, no, what the fuck? That was wrong. Absolutely wrong. I frowned at myself and shook my head, standing back up.

"I'm gonna head out to grab something from the kitchen. You're welcome to stay, just-just don't tell anyone else about the sculpture. It's a little embarrassing for me." That wasn't a lie; I was embarrassed that I needed help remembering things. It was just I didn't want everyone to know that I valued them so dearly. I wasn't sure how they'd react, and I didn't want to seem like a pushover.

I grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator. What would Peter think of it? I closed my eyes as I opened the drink. He wouldn't care so much, would he? He looked interested, but would he think it's weird?

"Hey! RJ! So glad you're here!" Tony called out to me, startling me.

I opened my eyes and looked at him, eyeing him suspiciously. "What've you got planned...?"

Tony merely winked and grabbed my hand, yanking me along behind him. "Nothing!”

I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it was clear that the hero was rather tipsy. "Fucking liar!" I shouted back as he pulled me into the living room.

Thor, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Peter were sitting on the floor. Various glasses littered the ground around them, showing that everyone had some sort of alcohol in their system. Well, everyone but Peter and I. We made nervous eye contact, and it was obvious that we were being drug into some kind of game.

Tony plunked me down on the floor next to Steve, and I found myself laughing. "What the bloody fuck are we doing?" I asked Tony.

He thrust a half-filled bottle of wine at me. "Oh, sweet boy, we're playin' a game. But you and Spidey over there gotta finish this so we can play."

I'd been friends with Tony far too long, so I had a higher alcohol tolerance. Peter looked scared out of his mind, so I drank most of the bottle before handing it to him to swallow the rest.

"The point of that was?" I asked Tony as he went out, grabbing a couple bottle of alcohol and two more shot glasses.

"So the two of you could be a bit tipsy with the rest of us," he answered as he handed both Peter and I a shot glass. Only then did I notice that the others were holding shot glasses in their hands.

I looked around the circle suspiciously, but I couldn't figure out what we were doing or what Tony was planning.

"Never Have I Ever," Tony said, basically reading my thoughts.

"Oh my god, Tony, this is a college game," I said, laughing.

"Yet it shares secrets," he replied, filling up the shot glasses.

We went around the circle, playing the stupid game. It was more fun than I had originally thought that it would be. Peter and I were relatively pure, though, based on some of the things that were being asked. I was comfortably buzzed when Tony decided to be the asshole best friend and ask the question:

"Never have I ever had a crush on another person in the room."

Thankfully, Natasha, Clint, Bucky, and Steve took shots as well as I did. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Peter downing his shot.

"Oooh! Steve?" Tony pressured, slurring his 's' a little bit.

Steve's cheeks turned pink as he glanced over towards Bucky. Bucky only took the chance to take Steve's face in his hands and kiss him. I couldn't help but cheer along with the rest of the team. It was about time those two had admitted it to the rest of us.

"Clint drank," I teased, pointing over to him.

He rolled his eyes at me with a laugh and gestured to Natasha. "I'd sure hope I like my girlfriend or this would get real awkward real fast."

"Peter, I'm surprised you drank to that," Natasha said.

I turned towards Peter, and his whole face was flushed red, probably because he had been spotted.

"Who is it?" Tony asked. Peter bit his lip, refusing to answer aloud. His eyes eventually met mine silently before he looked back down at his lap. "RJ? Ooh, damn, RJ! You lucky bastard. Woulda sucked if he didn't like you back."

I rolled my eyes at Tony's drunkenness. At least he kept the secret for long enough. Peter's eyes came back up to meet mine and I shrugged. I wasn't ever really all that shy, but the alcohol helped boost my confidence.

I got up, walked over to him, straddled his hips, and pressed my lips up against his. He kissed me back hesitantly as the others whistled behind us.

Once I pulled away, I smiled down at him. "I kept the wristband because that's when I fell in love with you."

Peter looked over my face and his eyes settled on my lips again. "I fell in love with you when we went to the movies the week before," he muttered before pulling me back in for another kiss.

The alcohol made him bolder, and I would be lying if I said that that didn't turn me on at least a little. I ran my fingers through his hair, gripping it and giving it a light tug. Peter left off a soft gasp, a blush darkening his cheeks.

I smirked as I pulled away, scrambling to my feet and pulling Peter up with me. "Sorry, Tony. I gotta play your little game later. Maybe next time some things'll have changed," I said with a wink, taking Peter to my bedroom.

#marvel #marvel x reader #x male reader #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #lgbt #gay peter parker

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bitchassboinky · 5 years ago

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contagious chemistry [prologue]

series summary: when you were called into work on your day off, you didn’t expect to have a questionable proposition at your hands. that was how you found yourself roaming hellish hallways, eyes prying from every corner. you never intended to bump in to the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on. you never intended to fall in love with him. yet, you couldn’t have him - not when he didn’t know the truth.

chapter summary: you’re called into work on your day off. what could possibly go wrong?

pairing: teacher!sebastian stan X journalist!reader

word count: 1901

series warnings: angst, slow burn (i guess?), possible smut, swearing, age gap, mentions/descriptions of anxiety and insecurities, i’m probably missing stuff but man, i have no idea...

chapter warnings: none! minus the lack of sebastian, i suppose. sorry loves!

author’s note: welcome to the start of my first ever series! i haven’t written anything of this nature at this standard ever, so i’m really hoping that you’ll enjoy this little series! for reference, i’ve attached a photo of what sebastian looks like when he first enters the series. taglist is open. happy reading!

series masterlist - main masterlist

i DO NOT consent to the distribution (reposted, translated, published) of my works to any third party site or app. if you see my work posted on any platform that is not my tumblr (bitchassboinky) or my wattpad (bitchassboinky), it has been stolen and reposted without my permission.

Growing up, you never envisioned that you would lose yourself to the world of journalism. In fact, you had never been too keen on research and literature, despite the ability to analyse the likes of Herman Melville’s ‘Moby Dick’ and James Joyce’s ‘Finnegan’s Wake’ as a preteen. You had revolved your world around visual art and creativity, thinking you could live as an artist, selling your works and travelling globally. Sure, your artwork had found its way into exhibitions and had been sold online as a past-time, but now as an adult, you indulged in it less and less. Instead, there you were in your third year of working for an upcoming magazine line.

In your opinion, NOIR Publications treated you better than any other job or man ever could - you undoubtedly loved everything about working for them. Unlike most jobs, you genuinely enjoyed interacting with your co-workers, from those with the darkest of hearts to the admirable ones perceived as though they had put the stars in the night sky. You were at your peak when working on assignments, particularly those that catered to the prevalent adolescent issues. You found a love for discovering what weird hacks people made up to benefit their lives, even if such hacks made absolutely no sense. What you loved the most about your job was knowing that you help others. A sea of emails and letters - yes, physical, hard-copy letters - would arrive at the office day by day, and you never gave a second thought to reading through them.

Nevertheless, today was supposed to be your day off. Being called in to work on your day off wouldn’t have meant much to others, but it was a big deal for you. The reason? Today would have been your first full day off in three years. Today would have been your first full day off while working for NOIR. Confused glances that snuck your way didn’t go unnoticed. Everyone knew that you were supposed to have your day off. The week leading up to the date had been full of your excitement. You even asked around to see what others would do on their day off before you eventually settled on spending the day to yourself. Perhaps the stares summoned from the fact you were at work, or perhaps it was the bleach stains on your black skivvy. Either way, you didn’t let yourself linger on what opinions people had of you that morning. Clouds of turmoil and slight annoyance stormed within your mind, and the resting bitch face painted on your face did little to assist your demeanour.

With a shaky breath, you knocked on the door. Three times. Perfectly intervallic. Crisp to the ear.

‘”Ms [L/N]. Please, come in,” his voice called from behind the closed door.

Gingerly, you pushed the dark oak to reveal his disorganised office. Atop his desk sat stacks of files, some piled on scattered white papers while others remained open, most featuring scribbles, highlights, and/or blabbered nonsense. A giant window revealed the city’s skyline, the seven o’clock sunlight streaming through and hitting cracked stormy walls. The furniture had been shifted around peculiarly, mismatched and all screaming for attention. As he stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows and beady black eyes on the dispersed sheets, his broad shoulders tensed. It was obvious that the pressure of his workload was getting to him, the faint tan-line of where his wedding ring should have been adding to his worries. Perfectly quaffed salt-and-better hair bounced like a spring as he peered up at you, relaxing expression coupled with a toothy grin.

“Good morning, Mr Wakefield,” you murmured, careful not to express your anxiety. Tugging at the sleeves of your long-sleeve, you slung your tattered handbag to the distressed carpet. The handbag had been that of emergency use, filled with work necessities in the instance that you found yourself in your current position. You sunk into the comfortable, groovy orange seat while you awaited a response. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the navy, grey room, but you refused to let him know. Saying that your boss’s office was chaotic would be an understatement; although, you were growing accustomed to the disarray.

“And good morning to you, too. I apologise for calling you in at such late notice. My excitement got the best of me. I hope I have your forgiveness. On the topic of such, I have a proposition for you,” William spoke quickly, lips glued upwards and crow’s feet ever-present. His brows furrowed and he closed an open file, sliding the yellow folder across his desk before taking a seat. He clasped his hands together atop the remaining papers, gaze concentrated on you.

Your silence urged him to continue.

“I’ve noticed that, as of late, our line isn’t getting as much publicity as I would have hoped for, despite how undeniably amazing your work is...” he trailed off. It felt like your heart was about to leap out of your throat.

Is he going to... fire me?

“We haven’t been increasingly appealing to our audience as we have in the past. In fact, we found an incline the first year you arrived here, which has since remained constant. I love the enthusiasm and dedication you put into your work, and before I say any more... no, I am not firing you Your work here is much appreciated and assists our line greatly. However, I feel as though NOIR needs more of an edgy kick. So, I’ve compromised this position for you. Amongst CEOs of various magazine lines, this concept may be spoken of for years if proven successful.

“You’re one of our younger, more fresh-faced journalists, and I mean that in a good way. I started thinking: What if we pulled a stunt that would shock the nation? What if you returned to high school as an undercover journalist? Provided, you’re sent to one of the better schools in Manhattan. I always want the best for my favourite journalist... Wait, forget I mentioned that!”

Your speechlessness must have had a negative effect on Mr Wakefield. As soon as you unwillingly expressed your uncertainty, his normally chipper, excited exterior seemed like it had been kicked to the ground. It was as if someone had just killed his puppy.

God, I hate seeing the elderly so upset.

“Of course, you don’t have to agree to take this assignment. I’m sure that Florence or Lena could-”

“I’ll do it.”

The words slipped from your lips before you could even think, ultimately silencing the man before you.

“I apologise for interrupting you, sir, but I don’t deem Florence or Lena fit for this assignment...” you trailed off, trying your hardest not to speak ill of your co-workers.

Florence and Lena were like two peas in a pod, and you loved them to death, truly. While you thoroughly enjoyed their company in the office, they weren’t very good at getting work done, which would have been the understatement of the century if you didn’t want to be so polite. They did little to assist the expansion of the line when it came to articles and content and instead chose to create a carefree environment for the workers. Each morning, the blonde pair would come in with boxes of the newest, trendiest foods they could get their hands on, not caring if they showed up late or not in order to wait in line. It was as if they transformed into European grandmothers, ensuring that everyone ate. On occasion, they would dress as such, just as long as their outfits match. Conversations flowed effortlessly with Florence and Lena. They had this special ability where they could think of ten things to discuss in the blink of an eye. If you didn’t focus so much on getting your work done, you would be able to talk to them for hours. Every month, they would lighten the scenery of NOIR Publications by redecorating the office - especially in the holidays, where they knew that they could go all-out with excuses to add new, trendy features and replace the merely broken. Christmas was always the most stressful time of the year, and they would add to that by planning office parties and whatever else that could come to mind, not caring if they were tearing others from their important work. By their routine, anyone could be fooled to think that they could sit and write an entry. Unfortunately, reality was adverse. They had little to no work ethic and would do anything else to get out of sitting and writing. William knew of their behaviour, but he couldn’t bring himself to fire them due to their presence in the workplace.

Thus, when William Wakefield mentioned that he would place either of your beloved yet irritating co-workers on the difficult assignment, you couldn’t resist taking the offer. Knowingly, Florence and Lena would become teenage girls all over again, forcefully acting on their already beauty-influenced lifestyles.

A smile had come out on his face like the sun out of a dark passing storm. “I’m thrilled, [Y/N]. You begin school on September 5th,” he giggled - yes, he giggled. While he formulated the idea of placing an undercover journalist in high school, he found it amusing that you, a 23-year-old grown woman with the maturity of a grandmother, would return to high school for not only a month, but an entire school year.

How William was your boss was an unsolved mystery, for his seemingly childlike behaviour peaked through large cracks in his professional, stressed exterior. Although you rolled your eyes at his laughter, a meagre grin found your face. He, apparently, found it utterly hilarious that he would call you a senior again.

At the ripe, tender age of twenty-three, you hadn’t left school that long ago. The memories continued to haunt your unfortunate soul, but the school you would attend had a supposedly outstanding reputation. You hoped that the memories you created when you returned as an adult would mask the dreadful memories of your true high schooling days.

“Oh, goodness. I am incredibly sorry,” your boss gleamed, wiping away an escaped tear before he returned to his serious, professional manner. “Now, I’ve informed the principle of the assignment at hand and he is one hundred per cent on board. I think he agreed just to express how amazing his school is, or so he says is so amazing. That, or he wants to prove something to someone, like myself...

“We still have a month before you begin school so this gives you plenty of time to prepare. I’ve rostered you off this month’s issue, as well as that for the next year until you’ve completed this assignment, and handed it to Linda, so you’re in safe hands. I hope it relieves some pressure.”

William grinned, his face round and red, expressing his usual cheeriness. If you squinted, he resembled the Fat Controller.

“Well, you can go home now. Again, I apologise for calling you in so early in the morning. Here’s your file. Enjoy the rest of the day off.”

You took the outstretched ivory and shared a smile. “Thank you, sir,” you feigned happiness, shaking his hand. With quick movements, you picked up your bag and left the office, a sigh escaping your lips.

What mess have I gotten myself into?

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #teacher au #teacher!sebastian x journalist!reader #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #avengers #marvel #fluff #angst

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ivyveil · 6 years ago

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Don’t Leave, Stay

the one where Y/N fears that Harry only wears Gucci, Harry can actually cook, and Nick is growing more creative in his match-making

A/N: This is a continuation of my series Saint Nick (found here) and it isn’t necessarily to read them all but it helps!

“Hello, love,” he welcomed her in, one arm outstretched for a hug as the other rested on the door. He looked cozy, socked feet resting against his hardwood floor as the edges of his striped pants grazed over them, making only his toes visible.

As Y/N stepped inside his flat, she immediately picked up on the smells of a home-cooked meal, the type that took her back to days of her childhood – that sense of spice, warmth, and the sounds of sizzling foods. She was invited to a ‘dinner party’, to put it formally, between Harry and Nick; although she had not quite met Harry yet, they had all been placed in a group message by Nick and had sort of met by those means. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had been included in the plans but didn’t particularly mind, Nick was a close friend and Harry seemed nice.

Even though she and Harry had texted a fair bit, Y/N still felt like a walking bundle of nerves, plus some. She hadn’t known what to wear to Harry’s, interpreting from the memes Nick flooded the group text with that Harry had an eclectic, and expensive, taste in fashion. An hour before, she had tried phoning Nick to figure out his approach, to try and model her own after his.

Nick hadn’t picked up, though, and it had eventually neared the time that Y/N had scheduled to have a car come by to drive her to Harry’s. So, in a fit of panic and using what outfits she already mentally knew worked, Y/N opted for a pair of black jeans, buckled belt, and a cream sweater, figuring it was enough like the rest of her newfound London squad to be acceptable for a house dinner.

On her way out, dashing quickly to lock her door and stuff her key in her purse, Y/N had one quick taste of the bitter winds before realizing that – nope, a jacket was necessary. Praying her Uber wouldn’t be upset by a few seconds of tardiness, Y/N stumbled inside and grabbed an oversized gray coat, bundling herself up on the walk to the car.

Harry had removed this jacket from her shoulders as she took in his foyer, as small as it was considering he was in a flat and not his own property. She didn’t know the specifics as to why he wasn’t in his publicly-known home, but figured it had to do with privacy, needing time away, or some other celebrity-related reason.

Y/N thanked him, Harry nodding back before hanging it up in his coat closet. Y/N took the opportunity to look at the photos lined on the shelves nearing the living room. There were wooden shelves, barely varnished, with black curls extending from the edges of the bottom to the wall, securely fastened in with black nails. Various frames littered the surface, some photos lay naked without a hard border, while others were stacked in the corner. Handwriting was visible on the bottom of a few pictures.

“My family,” Harry pointed out a white frame showing a row of people with similar laugh lines, enjoying a brunch on someone’s grassy patio. Next to it was a stream of Polaroids, some with dates hastily written along the bottom, others with random words scrawled along the sides. Some of the locations Y/N recognized, such as the Eiffel Tower at night, or the local bar that was down the street from her flat (in that one, Nick had stuffed a large burger in his mouth and giving the camera two thumbs-ups.)

“Random mo’ents, the simple ones,” Harry explained, running his fingers through his hair and gently pulling at the roots. His hands rested on his hips as he sternly looked over the photos with Y/N, as if criticizing their placement. She continued to survey the photos, nodding at Harry to sign that she had heard.

It seemed quaint, in a sense of the word, how none of the pictures were related to his wild successes or rich endeavors. Granted, the traveling was a sign of doing fairly well, but nothing screamed ‘I’m a millionaire.’ A few were random nature shots, predictable for an amateur photographer (at least, she figured that was what Harry was trying to accomplish), while others were of other celebrities – but in natural places, natural poses, without any facade distinguishing them as someone apart from society. There were as he saw them: people.

Harry seemed a bit flustered. He stood far enough from Y/N for it to be considered polite, considering their status as almost-strangers, but not quite alienating her from his deemed bubble space.

“Is Nick not here, yet?” Y/N moved on from the photos, shifting her purse down her arm, grasping the strap and placing it down on the side table next to a vase of sunflowers.

Harry shook his head, turning away from the photo wall as well.

“He said he might be late, had somethin’ come up,” he shrugged, gesturing to the open doorway of the kitchen and stepping to the side to allow her to go through first. She took the hint, moving swiftly from the foyer into his cooking space and looking at the mix of vegetables, sauces, and spoons scattered along the countertops. The smell grew stronger, nicer, fuller, and her stomach growled lowly in response. It must have taken a few hours, at least, to have prepared everything and set it up – Y/N felt the slightest twinge of surprise echo in her gut. He seemed to have gone all out for a dinner together. She hoped Nick would show up soon.

While Harry got back to work shifting and shaking some pots and pans, leaning low to check on the oven, Y/N sat down on a rustic barstool by the raised countertops, clasping her fingers together and resting against the marble. He had some music playing, low, through a fancy stereo system that seemed partially ingrained into the flat itself. A candle or two sat on the countertop near Y/N, although neither were lit. The kitchen smelled heavenly already though, so it wasn’t likely they would be needed.

“Didn’t know if yeh were vegetarian or somethin’, so I made a quinoa…type of thing,” he eyed the oven, as if wary a bloody cow would squeeze out of the door.

“Ah, I try to be when I can, but it’s not a permanent diet,” she hummed, leaning forward a bit on her elbows. Harry nodded, still glancing at the oven as he continued cooking some of the veg. A few containers were already out on the table around the bend from the kitchen, one bowl full of bread and another, smaller in size, holding the spread.

His flat was a bit on the chilly side, cold licks along the holes of Y/N’s sweater and the air vibrating with the kick-in of his heater. It was cozy, blankets were strewn along the couch in his living room, but Y/N felt it wasn’t the time to wrap herself up comfortably in a burrito-esque shape.

Silence extended itself, only a smidge unwelcome, along the two people in the flat. Harry continued cooking, seeming in his element – but yet, aware that the conversation had reached a natural, but strained, standstill. He wasn’t sure where Nick was, and debated texting him for the fourth time, making sure his best friend was actually coming. He wouldn’t put it over Nick to have forgotten, to have gone out with other friends and end up in an art gallery that took away his phone so he could properly ‘drink in’ the experience.

“So,” Harry started, feeling the obligation lay mostly on him for being the Host, “-you’re workin’ at a juice company?”

Y/N nodded, reaching back to pat her hair and make sure no strays had gotten tangled. It was a good job, the concepts she worked with interested her a great deal. If there was something LA kids liked, it was their juice. The blends she assisted on manufacturing were pretty alright, too, if she said so herself. Y/N attempted to live healthy when she could afford to, but more often than not she preferred buying a salad, wrap, or other actual food as opposed to a juice. Smoothies, even, would catch her attention more than strained apples. So, her work was pleasant and intriguing but left her wanting in regard to being fulfilled, it had no impact she felt she could feel in her own, individual path of life.

“Yeah, I’m just helping out with a few advertising campaigns. I try to freelance but tend to get roped into larger projects, spend more time at their offices than I planned on.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, before standing up and stepping away from the barstools. She rounded the counter, nearing the kitchen, flashing a wary smile when Harry noticed her coming closer. She held out a hand for the spoon he was stirring a sauce with, and he shook his head, a smile toying at the corners of his lips.

“No, ma’am,” he said quietly, holding the spoon further away from Y/N, “-yeh’re the guest here. I’m the chef,” he nodded for emphasis, the cheeky grin taking over his face. His eyes scrunched a bit when he couldn’t help the smile, Y/N noted, and his nose crinkled slightly.

“I want to help, Harry. You made fun of my macaroni skills last week, I’ve gotta prove myself.”

This was true – when Y/N had suffered a particularly bad day, she had texted a photo of her TV dinner in front of her TV as she was binge-watching Breaking Bad, to which her boys replied:

(Nick Harry Y/N)

Not impressed. Harry can cook much better.

I wouldn’t say MUCH better but I know how to use more than a microwave? x.

See? Got miles on Y/N already.

Ah I bet that’s not true. x.

Wow fuck off both of you, I’m sad and this WASN’T THE SHOW TO WATCH OH MY GOD NICK WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME ABOUT HTIS EPISODE

Uhhhh it got your mind off work didn’t it??? Sheesh, talk about ungrateful.

Harry snorted, shaking his head at the memory, and handed her a spatula without another word. She shifted over to the other side of the stove, checking out the progress Harry had made with the various pans set up along the surface. It would be plausible to assume she missed Harry’s glance over, how it lingered on her face and hesitated a second too long before turning back to the potatoes.

But if her reddened cheeks were anything to go by, she hadn’t.

“I didn’t know what to wear, thought you might’ve opened the door in some bright blue Gucci suit,” she confessed, as a song came on she recognized. Y/N bopped her head to it casually as she cooked, snatching a stray teaspoon and trying the sauce.

She stopped the groan from her lips before it had time to manifest; Harry was a fucking good cook. Harry seemed to notice her holding back, and bit back another laugh.

“Nah, that’s Harry Styles, love. Just Harry, now.”

She imagined some jazz hands when he said his full, ‘stage’ name, feeling the emphasis on the word, like it was a performance of the pieces of himself willing to be put on display. Harry Styles basked in the audience’s cheers, feeding them back the same energy and granting himself the opportunity to take advantage of feeling on top of the world.

“What’s the difference, if you don’t mind me asking?” She turned off the heat on the pan, as Harry also killed the fire for his. He seemed preoccupied fiddling with the oven’s knobs, letting the ‘quinoa thing’ cool inside. It took a while before he answered. Some questions couldn’t be given a voice to right away, especially when it was as massive as identity, which Y/N definitely understood. She had never been forced to respond to the world with who she was, only her parents and a few concerned friends. The pressure of being so well-known was unfathomable to her.

“’M Harry all the time,” he began, a brief silence interrupting his explanation as he crossed the room to fetch some oven mitts to pull the dish out. The heat radiated outwards from the open oven, warming up his cheeks a bit more than they were naturally.

Not wanting to interrupt him, Y/N just hummed appreciatively when she smelled it; Harry was a really fucking good cook.

Her stomach growled again,

“On stage, or at interviews, or whatever, ’m Harry Styles, which is still me,” and he turned from setting the dish down to search in her eyes, for a foundation of understanding, or perhaps the lurking suspicion that he was crazy. Either one he anticipated, the concept still confused him, himself. He pulled off the oven mitts, setting them down on the counter as he thought his next few words carefully.

“’Ve gotta separate the two, but Harry is like…all-encompassing me, yeah?” His fingers drew out an orb in the air, and then he pointed at one spot on the imaginary ball. Y/N’s eyes were glued to the pretend area, pursing her lips and giving a quick nod. “That point, right there, is when I’m on stage. It’s not everything, yeh know? But it’s still me. It’s all me, but I can’t maintain that one spot all the time.

“It is the most gratifying spot, though. It’s like,” his eyes obtained the quality of glimmering at something a bit beyond the edges of the Known, an intangible sense of validation and appreciation that existed only in the space of his stage, “-’M there, and everyone else is there, and we’re all…there.” His eyes darted out, away from their safe space in the universe, to meet Y/N’s, to perhaps see if they held any laughter or mockery in them.

She only stood there, attentively, listening. No judgment in her eyes, only curiosity.

He continued.

“’T’s crazy, that people care ‘bout what I say. Or write, or sing, yeh know?” his eyes briefly closed, and he shook his head, the serious topic brushing down his spine and dissipating at his feet. The moment was over, albeit quickly but Y/N wasn’t sure what else to say – to either bring it back, or transition into another conversation.

She couldn’t grasp onto what he was saying, because experience was the only way, but she altogether understood the concept. It was a special place, for him, to be on stage – and to let him bring his whole, uninhibited self into that space would be to subject it to the validation of an entire crowd. Sometimes, aspects of people had to remain vulnerable, unapproachable, even if for criticism’s sake. His persona was crucial to his sanity, an understandable concept given the immense support he had universally.

Harry broke the quiet, chuckling a bit to himself.

“Do yeh want some wine? Dinner should be ready soon, ‘n I can see where Nick’s at…”

Y/N nodded, mumbling her thanks and mentally wondering why she hadn’t thought to bring any wine. Wasn’t that a grown up thing to do? She had no idea; she had texted Nick asking if they should bring gifts, and he had replied with:

Babe I think your presence is enough of a gift for young Haz.

From which Y/N got the impression that Harry was a lot lonelier than he let on, needing to bring in Nick’s friends for a dinner party. Or perhaps Nick simply recognized how broke Y/N was and assumed it would be kinder to let her escape the insufferable obligation of being a guest. What was proper and socially acceptable had never been drafted out for Y/N, and self-help books only served as nice paperweights.

Shifting his eyes to anywhere but Y/N, Harry went around the corner to, presumably, where his wine cellar was. Y/N was left in the kitchen to her own devices, and she took the opportunity to scurry out and grab her phone from the purse in the hallway. There was one text message from Nick in the group text.

im sooooo durnk… :0:):)

It had been sent five minutes before, an apparent hint that Nick had either forgotten or gotten so wound up in his time spent with others’, he was simply unable to make it to Harry’s. Nick was not the type to be wasted frequently, he usually stayed sober to keep an eye on those around him. He just knew how to have a nice time, drunk or sober, and appreciated the mornings after much more when he had stayed dry. But none of this was relevant, when he wasn’t there.

Y/N inhaled deeply, fingers itching for that promised glass of wine. The night spent with friends sounded nice, relaxing, full of tipsy giggles and shared anecdotes. Having Nick be an intermediate between Harry and herself had been assuring, because despite her interactions with him over text – she didn’t properly know him, right? Not the way he reacts to words, not the way his eyes seem to dig deeper than what she was normally comfortable with showing.

“Uh-” Harry called out from a few rooms away, entering with a bottle of wine tucked in his right hand and resting against his elbow, and his phone in his left hand. He was scrolling, eyebrows furrowed as he read.

“Nick not coming?” Y/N prompted, tucking her phone snug in her back pocket.

Harry shook his head, mild irritation nestling itself in the depths of his face. It wasn’t that he didn’t look forward to hanging out with Y/N, but he had been counting on Nick to help the flow of conversation, as his best friend was known to do. The idea of sitting across from Y/N with only food and wine between them worried him slightly, it was a bit intimidating. Especially after Nick hyped up his ‘other best friend’ so much.

Somehow, though, throughout the course of dinner, things smoothed out. Harry wasn’t looking down at his plate as much as he had feared, it was more about connecting with her eyes and it all felt like a continuation of a friendship Harry hadn’t known started.

The sense of a Beginning was in the past, lurking behind the sparkle in his eyes, Y/N thought, it all rang as though she and Harry were merely catching up, rather than properly introducing themselves.

But, it wasn’t ‘somehow’, it was clearly because Y/N’s laugh only encouraged Harry’s relentless jokes, making him come out of his shell more than he may have without. The way she would cover her mouth when she accidentally snorted (at a particularly bad joke, fart jokes couldn’t be funny when they’re in the 20s, could they) spurred on his own laughter. He sat, reaching for more wine, his mouth crooked in a mix between a smirk, at his own brilliance, and a smile, his stomach feeling the all-too-familiar flutters.

“What’s yeh ideal job?” Harry suddenly questioned Y/N, once the giggles had died a bit. He was sitting across from her, one arm leaning against the empty chair next to him as he casually spread his legs. Harry’s face was calm, his eyes lazily sweeping the table to spot another bread roll for his fingers to crumble apart as they spoke.

Y/N had attempted to sit proper, for as long as she could, but eventually caved into her natural slouch, her elbows resting on the table and her right hand dangling to the side with the glass of wine between her fingers. Her hair was a bit messy, but Harry didn’t bother to mention it, he sort of liked how the curled strands brushed lay against her cheek, her neck, the top bits of her forehead. It made her seem more human, her flaws were endearing.

“I don’t know if it’s an exact place,” Y/N began, toying with her wine glass and wishing she had a better answer. She knew the basics of what she wanted, what her soul craved and how her current employment wasn’t meeting those needs. Travel was fairly high up in her priorities, and LA was a great hub for those opportunities. Start-ups gave her choices in terms of diversity of company, and non-profits were fantastic work experiences. Yet, there was a voice with no origin, saying softly that her current situation was more of an obstacle than an end-goal. Y/N couldn’t help but agree with the voice, but how can one justify altering the course their life is set on, due to some intangible source?

A bit reckless.

“That’s alright,” Harry hummed, his gaze shifting from the bread roll to Y/N. She was biting her lip, perhaps without fully realizing it, the candle glow manipulating the shades of her face.

“I’ll figure it out.” It sounded more like a promise to Harry, than an assertion of Y/N feeling sure of herself.

“’M sure yeh will, love, you’re smart,” Harry replied kindly, grinning at her attempt to roll her eyes. They ended up only looking in one direction before darting back to his face, and she stuck her tongue out at his chuckling. He didn’t feel particularly comfortable pushing the topic, not having weaseled out of Nick Y/N’s backstory yet.

Dinner slowly wrapped up, each young adult equally resistant to calling the night over. Harry was telling all of the stories he could think of, deriving from his school days and when he had gone on his first tour. He strayed away from too many celebrity-based stories, adoring the sense of normalcy that had settled around the pair. He was simply Harry, his Gucci impression had worn off in her eyes, replaced by the sense that the man-child in front of her still kept his teddy bear from when he was 5 in his bedroom, propped up on his pillows.

Y/N, on the other hand, was trying to keep her glass as full as possible. But their plates were empty, and there was nothing left to do but sip at it every so often, to feel as though she wasn’t being annoying by constantly laughing at whatever intense story Harry had begun. His hands would fling out and he would lean in, as if someone were attempting to overhear his brilliant recount of sneaking out of his house to meet up with friends to trade comic books. He reached over a few times to fill her wine back up, perhaps sensing what Y/N’s plan was and complying with it, no words necessary.

Eventually, though, time could only hold back so much.

“If yeh don’t have anywhere to be tonight…” Harry began, and his eyes flickered down a bit lower than normal, not quite hitting proper eye contact. Shyness suited him, in an odd light, it was a revelation of him that went against the grains of the confident and easy-going nature Y/N had assumed from texts.

“I can show yeh the library. Well, no’ a library exactly, but it’s where I read and stuff,” he explained, scratching at his head.

“Yeah, sure, I’d love that. Love books.” was all Y/N could rally up to reply with, happy he had suggested another plan but overall very much feeling the effects of the wine.

The dishes were collected together, stacked near the sink for the inevitable time that chores and cleanliness ruled the night, and Harry led Y/N down one of his halls to a secluded room on the left.

His fingers were rough against the grey-ish cover of the book, his thumbs pressing in to keep the pages from closing together. The book was well worn, the pages’ edges mostly bent or dog-earred, the cover pages a bit splotchy and off color. It was evidently a loved book, a well used book, one that held the types of words people can’t seem to forget, yet always go searching for once more. Finding solace in a novel isn’t an easy task, especially because it’s nearly impossible to do it if it’s a goal as opposed to a circumstance.

The room wasn’t well lit, but the glistening spines of books scattered the light everywhere so most corners of the room had, at the very least, a warmth. It was the epitome of a study; deep cherry wood stain running along the bookshelves and the couches and seat cushions were hardened by leather. It all felt very dense and compact inside, although there was a yellow dream-catcher dangling above Harry’s desk. A spry, free moment within the organized dictatorship of organization. Perhaps he felt it would give his life more order; from what Nick had mentioned to Y/N, there had been more chaos than anything else as of late.

80s music stretched the sides of the walls, coming from Harry’s record player balanced on top of some dictionaries in the corner. It was the only noise, save the rain against his window in the middle of the back wall. Two seats were against the window, on opposing sides, and themselves bordered by full bookshelves. Harry was curled up in one, his striped legs tucking themselves over the edge of the seat and dangling above the floor. His back rested against the wall, a black shirt with rolled sleeves and a small sauce stain on the shoulder. She had told him it wasn’t noticeable, especially since the fabric was so dark anyway, but his nose still wrinkled because it was his favorite black shirt.

He was quietly flipping through his old copy, the elegant words never failing to keep him enthralled. His fingers tugged on his lower lip as he read, absentmindedly twirling against his chin and mouth.

Y/N didn’t mind that he was preoccupied within his literary universe; she had a copy of some other thick, heavily angsty novel from his shelves and was pretty content with her position in the seat next to Harry. It was late, late enough for yawns to continuously pull out of her mouth and force Harry to shuffle in his chair every now and again, to keep from falling asleep.

Eventually, she accepted the reality of the situation. It was late, or perhaps even early at this point, and Harry hadn’t implied anything about her staying the night over. Not that she expected him to, especially not in a romantic way, but she much preferred his cozy flat to her disarrayed one. Not to mention the knowledge that someone was next to her, that she wasn’t completely alone - it all felt comforting. A feeling that had evaded her heart for the longest time, considering she usually worked late hours and was always being thrust into different environments.

Looking over her shoulder and seeing Harry, who had expected nothing of her except what she wanted to provide, was nice. Similarly for Harry, Y/N was one of the loveliest people he had met recently, a woman who wasn’t so wrapped in her own ego she couldn’t see beyond that blurry haze, a woman who got shit done but wasn’t afraid to recognize room for improvement. Plus, she hadn’t asked any questions that would be out the norm, no references to his stardom or One Direction days (he had half-feared she would bring up one of the memes Nick had posted two days ago, which was particularly scandalous and reminded him of mistakes long ago). She let him explain who he was, and took him at that.

“Maybe I should get going…” she mumbled, her throat thick with lack of use in the past few hours, as she shifted up out of the seat. The time had escaped her, checking her phone would be checking into a reality she didn’t want to intrude on her lovely night.

Harry glanced up, half-dazed, before putting his book to the side.

“Oh, yeah, ‘ suppose. What time is’t?” he groaned, rolling to his side to check his phone. Apparently, more time had gone by than either of them thought, because he immediately shook his head.

“Don’t feel comfortable lettin’ yeh go home this hour, love. Cabs full of odd people, don’t like it,” he grumbled, bringing his legs over to the proper side of the chair and standing up slowly. He ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to control the little he had at the moment, as Y/N tried to remember where she had put her purse. They had opened another wine bottle before cracking into the books, their glasses still holding a few droplets on their coasters, but it hadn’t helped the fog that overcame her mind.

“I think we’re still a lil gone, Haz,” Y/N spoke softly, and if his heart didn’t skip at that, “-I don’t think getting behind the wheel is too smart…”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, planned on gettin’ the guest room set up.”

And he took the steps forward to meet Y/N, his hands tucking gently into his pockets. His hair was tousled, half to one side and the loosely shaved sides curling the tiniest bit against each other. He sniffed, swaying back and forth a bit, not moving enough to suggest he was in a rush to the guest room. His eyes were intent on Y/N’s, as she felt another laugh stir up in her, leaving her mouth only as a half-breath with the slightest sway to a giggle.

The slurred nature of a night spent late, especially with the addition of good company and good wine, tended to create a private atmosphere, where both parties are convinced that their actions would never impact another aspect of their life. The night was independent, special, and epic. Nothing could’ve prevented this, really, Y/N figured, recognizing the question floating against Harry’s breath. If only he would ask it…

His eyes slowed in their journey around her face, narrowing to only staring her lips, as if they held the last of the nectar and he was desperate to become a god. She had been biting them again, but once she realized where his attention had gone, her lower lip was released.

Y/N stood, her hands still clutching the book she had started, and if anyone asked her at that moment, she couldn’t even remember the title, the author, her own name.

Harry was pleased enough to inform her, through a voice weighed down with the drunken lust of a man holding back, “Y/N…”

She stayed quiet, almost frozen into a statue of her former self.

“Can I…could I…kiss yeh?” His hands made the motion as if they were coming out of their pocket restraints but paused, trying to gauge her reaction before acting any further. If Harry was reading the signs wrong, this would have been utterly disastrous.

Y/N’s lips parted, quite in shock that the words had slipped out of his mouth instead of hers, when she felt the same thought cross her mind so intensely. Shaking her head ‘yes’, her heart and her mind collaborated to attempt and figure out what was going on.

And Harry never looked so pleased with himself, his eyes dashing up and down her face, not quite sure where to land when her eyes were sparkling like that, her cheeks were so flush, her lips were already bitten red and her fingers were setting the book on a side table.

Harry reached out, one hand hesitantly laying on her waist and another reaching out to gently glide over her cheek. She was so soft, inside and out, his fingers drifted to the nape of her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her lips came together in the slightest bit, the shade of a raspberry practically and -

The front door thrashed open, the click of a key apparently having gone over the both of them in the haze of excitement and Monumental Things Occurring. A stumbling man came through, visible from their position near the library doorway, as the foyer was cut out as an area between the kitchen and bedrooms/study.

Nick held up two bottles of champagne in one hand, seemingly haven drunken one quite fine by himself, squealing to himself over some joke he had thought of on the way inside.

“Harry! Y/N! My besties,” he sang, wiggling his hips and handing the bottles off to Harry. Y/N and Harry had separated, instinctively, as soon as the door had opened, and now Harry only looked at her in obvious dismay, unsure with how to proceed.

“C’mon, Nick, you had your water?” Y/N took ahold of the situation, walking forward to gently guide Nick by the elbow. It was a comfortable routine, between her and Nick, and she knew from his incoherent grunts that yes, he had his water, although he didn’t like it very much.

She didn’t bother to look at Harry, unsure what words could fill up distance. Nick began jabbering about his night out, the expensive dishes and luxury galore that he had dabbled in, and how he would’ve been thrilled to take her and Haz along, but he knew Haz had been slaving away on the dinner – and he so meant to make it back in time to grab some of Harry’s dinner rolls.

That was when Nick began tittering again, glancing madly at the wallpaper as Y/N and Harry both led him to the guest room, that had previously been Y/N’s in a prior conversation, in what felt like a prior decade.

“Did ya touch Harry’s buns, yeah?” he asked Y/N, eyes alight with mischief.

Harry snorted with laughter, pulling away from Nick to pull back the billowing comforter on the bed and prop up the pillows so they would be nice and fluffed for his dear, drunk friend. Y/N worked on sitting Nick down, grasping his phone out of his hand and putting it safely within the side table drawer, knowing Nick had a tendency of texting the wrong people when he was newly hungover.

“I would like it if yeh still stayed, I’ve still got a half of my bed,” Harry whispered, after they had successfully pulled Nick’s socks off and he was fast asleep under the covers, like a small boy who had crashed from his sugar high. They looked like two parents, each looking fondly at their boy, their fingers like ghosts drifted closer to each other’s, before hesitating, and drawing away.

“Just sleeping,” Y/N confirmed, eyebrows raised to signify that she wasn’t planning on lowering her borders again. The night had closed the possibilities for the time, they were who they were at the dining table. A bit awkward, the silence unrelenting. Two new friends, who both needed to come together for Nick.

Harry blinked slow, a smile growing on his face as he nodded, seeming at bliss with that.

He held the door open for her, as he did when she first entered his flat, and similarly she passed him with a furtive glance that sent him in small, tipsy giggles.

“Yeah, love, just sleeping.”

—————————————————

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #saint nicholas verse #snv

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feiiizhu · 9 months ago

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// Waves on the sleeves didn't work out with colouring and stood out too much. Thoughts on the colour choices thus far.

#:x: random babbling ( ooc )#:x: welcome to creative corner ( my art and stuff )

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brancadoodles · 6 years ago

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Hey you two! Thank you for messaging me! Sorry if I won’t answer you two individually, it’s just that you two bring similar points I’d like to use to say even more stuff bc I can’t shut up, apparently.

Lady with Caribbean family whose dad plays Overwatch: that’s so cool, i tried to show my mom how to play too (she chose Mei, because chubby) but didn’t have a lot of time to try. I hope your dad is happy with Baptiste!! He seems like a very Dad character, being a defender and a healer! DAD MATERIAL Y’ALL!! THE DAD ROSTER IS GROWING!

For starters, I just wanted to make clear to everyone that I’m not a black woman - far from it, in fact - and I’m not Caribbean nor do I have many connections to the region. So any black person, especially black women, and MOST ESPECIALLY Caribbean people/people from Caribbean descent, has a deeper knowledge of what I said in that take and I do not intend to take away any place of speech. I just thought it was convenient to at least introduce my thoughts from the position of someone who clearly remembers the 2010 Haiti earthquake (many of your were too young then) and who knows game development to a higher extent than most of the OW community. Also, before I got crazy with the gamer community acting mega entitled over stuff - more on that later.

That said, I gotta say a few things under the cut:

Fans - especially fans from demographics that have little or bad representation in mainstream games - have the right to want a character that represents their image, culture, and values, and that celebrates them. But no one is entitled to such characters when the game is made and controlled by a private capitalist company. The SJW (a word I’ll use as a shorthand for people who defend diversity and respect in the community bc I personally love the idea of us being warriors) OW community is usually pretty understanding, but there are many corners that seem to demand the addition of x or y type of character in the main cast. And Blizzard is not a pizzeria: they try to cater to general cries of the community, within viable time, but game development is a freaking complicated business with lots of flaws and variables.

For instance: the Overwatch creative team at the beginning was, in its majority, male and American white. Michael Chu is of Asian descent, and I know through stories that Blizzard has many female employees and is quite accepting and chill, but it’s still a major multiplayer US-centric Triple A game, and they wanted to cater to what is perceived to be the biggest public for those: young-ish white males. That ties in with their earnestness to try and make a diverse game with a diverse and respectful cast, but their probable lack of understanding of what exactly the public wanted at the moment - or in the next year, because - and I’ll make it bold to drill this into your minds - it takes from 6 months to one year to develop a new character from scratch until they’re added to the cast. Fucking understand this once and for all - game pipelines are very complicated. Again, this is not a pizza place - they have a lot of testing and planning to do and changing the pipeline to add one character before the other is unhealthy for the production.

Therefore, what sparked the creation of Baptiste was, with almost all certainty, the claims for black Mercy as shown in the Overwatch Artbook released around mid-2018. I can’t affirm what they were thinking when they discarded that concept in favor of barbie angel Mercy (ilu blondie), but my guess is that they thought it tied better with both the Valkyrie and the Guardian Angel concepts they were developing, as well as adding a woman of “conventional European beauty” (uuugh) so girls would be represented without rippling the waters too much - remember, she was a release hero, and they had no idea how well Overwatch would fare then. BUT when the community said they would WELCOME a black man as a nurturing support figure (*cough* dad), they reimagined "Angelo” as Baptiste.

Could they have released black Mercy boy back in 2016? Maybe, but 2016 isn’t 2018, and Mercy was developed way farther back than this. They wanted the game to work first, and they probably thought a lot of what they did was already super diverse (and it was).

Which brings us to a very important and often ignored point: Brands aren’t friends. Blizzard, as much as its team tries to be inclusive, is a privately owned company and Activision-Blizzard just laid off 800 workers this month alone. Corporations, as they are conceptualized and existing in the neoliberal panorama of the 2010′s, are billion-dollar socioeconomic psychopaths. That doesn’t mean that Jeff and the OW team is inherently bad or seeking profit - honestly, game workers don’t make that much money in comparison to the administrative positions, and Jeff is very much just a designer -, but it does mean that they are held by the company straps to generate enough capital to keep the machine running, PLUS profit for the execs.

Add to that the fact that the senior members of the OW team have started working in the 1900′s/2000′s, when gAMeR CuLTuRe was being sedimented, and so a lot of the previous concepts of what should be done in a big budget game to appease to the “main audience” are still at play in their minds: simply put, they aren’t millennials, and our culture changes a lot from one year to another. When they release Baptiste, the community is already claiming for a black woman stranger than ever, but remember that it wasn’t THAT blatant in July last year before Hammond (who was a passion project in the works for 4 years) and Ashe (who was an original character for the short film the team fell in love with and decided to add) - it kinda started picking up after Moira and esp Brigitte.

Does that leave them out of the hook? No, of course not. Keep complaining. They’ve already proved they were listening with Baptiste here. I seriously believe that one of the next 3 releases will be a black woman like we are all asking, because they’re seeing that’s something the audience wants. Black people are historically entitled to fair and plentiful representation all around, especially in mainstream media, but it’ll hardly happen in current capitalist culture unless it’s proven to be profitable. No company serves its community, it serves itself using the community - the value said community draws from it is what us, consumers, consider important, but no brand is required to be loyal to us. It could be that Jeff and Michael are begging to the producers to let them add a black woman from the start, and the producers say their hands are tied because their research say black women don’t play games and players don’t care - we’ll never know. We can only tell Blizzard “Hey, Baptiste is really great, big leap you made here, next time black woman okay? We need a black woman.”

(To be completely fair, they should hire black women to the creative team just as is, and make the team even more diverse (I may be wrong but I don’t see a lot black people, not even a lot of Latino people, when the team is seen). Making diverse people part of the team doesn’t mean we’ll get so-and-so character, but it adds a flavor that American white males in their 30s and 40s don’t have. But that’s another discussion for another day)

Now, to wrap this up, a message for gamers who say “you’re complaining too much there’s no diversity are you blind half the cast is non-white” oh yea and ALL NONWHITE PEOPLE ARE THE SAME RIGHT???? WE ALL THE SAME. I’M BRAZILIAN I NECESSARILY AM FROM RIO AND PLAY FOOTBALL (it’s football) AND SAMBA. BLACK MEN ARE THE SAME AS BLACK WOMEN AND BLACK PEOPLE ARE ALL THE SAME EVERYWHERE. YES. OF COURSE. THAT’S HOW DIVERSITY WORKS THAT’S PRETTY MUCH THA go get a Viper shot up your ass in Capture the Flag it’s not my place to educate you on capital D Diversity, because diversity means there are a lot of takes in play. Diversity isn’t “nonwhite”, like white is a default. IT ISN’T.

So yea now I’m off to draw shippy art of Baptiste with everyone and family art too my God I love him so much you have no idea.

Also, brands aren’t friends, destroy the establishment, be aggressive but respectful, and the best fans are the ones who want the property getting better and make it better through their own creativity. Peace.

#baptiste #overwatch #meta #games #video games #ow #raposabranca #not art #WOW THAT GOT LONG #i'm not saying anything anymore about this #i'm gonna be super evasive from now on #i absolutely understand if u dont read this i wouldnt

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mamfaplier · 7 years ago

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Nerve — Chapter One

Are you a Watcher or Player?

Prompt: Roll Up by Fitz and the Tantrums

1940s Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,811

AN: This is my personal adaptation of the film Nerve (2016) that I’m submitting for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction‘s 3K Creative Content Challenge. I’m so happy to have been allowed to participate in this. So obviously my prompt is that song above but I’ll be using it later in the story so sorry if that throws you off! At first, I thought this was going to be a one shot but I watched the movie again and decided I’m going to make a series out of this!!! Our boy Bucky probably won’t come in right away but don’t worry ;) Also the film is based on seniors in high school (I think) so just imagine all the characters used in this as younger versions of themselves. Like for example, Bucky as young 1940s Bucky instead of a grown adult man who failed more than a few times and is still in high school with a metal arm :P Anyways, congrats on 3K Dragon! <33

Warnings: Mentions of death

(Y/F/N) = your first name (Y/L/N) = your last name (Y/C) = your city

Next Chapter

Welcome to Nerve. A game like Truth or Dare….minus the Truth. Watchers pay to watch. Players play to win cash and glory.

Are you a Watcher or Player?

ARE YOU A WATCHER OR PLAYER?

As you sit down at your desk in your room, you get comfortable and open up your computer. The oh so familiar startup tune softly rings out welcoming you back. (Y/F/N Y/L/N) appears on the screen as well as your favorite selfie from the summer in a small box, swiftly prompting you to enter your password for login. You’ve had to have entered it in a million times by now but still, every once in a while, you still seem to forget.

After the second attempt, your computer finally lets you in bringing you to your desktop. The smiling faces of you, your brother, and your mom together are plastered in a puzzle like collage on the background. As everything slowly loads up, the corner of your mouth smirks up into a small smile like it does every time you remember the moment you took that picture. You press on the Spotify app and begin scroll through your suggestions. To your surprise (or discomfort), a playlist called ‘Only Single Friend Left’ appears with a small, sad kitten as the playlist cover art. With a shrug and a slight roll of your eyes, you click the play button. Can’t Get Enough by Basenji starts playing through your computer's speakers.

You open up your internet browser and almost too quickly open up your email. Among the top of the hundreds of read emails sit two unread emails. One from DAILY CAT PICS and the other from the college of your dreams, subject reading URGENT: Admissions Reminder. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would ACTUALLY get accepted but here you are. Hesitantly, you open up the email.

It reads:

Dear (Y/N),

Congratulations again! This is a reminder that your reply is due tomorrow. This could be the first day of the rest of your life. Click accept and join the class of 20**!

You sigh as you bring your mouse over the bright red CLICK HERE TO ACCEPT button in the email. This has been one of the hardest decisions in your life, but you scroll to the bottom of the email and press reply.

To whom it may concern,

I regret to inform the admissions board that I must decline…

You pause and yet again let out another sigh as you glance over at your brother’s and mom’s faces on your desktop background. You continue.

…because I’m a spineless loser and I’m too scared to tell my mom the truth which is that I want to move out and leave (Y/C) foreverlasjdhflajhsdljfaljdshflhadsjafhlf

In your distraught state, a Facebook notification brings a welcome distraction.

Chris “Thor” Odinson tagged you in a post.

Your heart skips a beat and you quickly click on it and with a soft giggle see that he’s posted the picture you took of him reminding everyone of the pep rally today. As you go to press the like button, your best friend Natasha Romanoff rings you on Skype. You roll your eyes and accept her call.

“Good morning. Whatcha doing? Besides stalking Thor, of course.” She greets you in her common teasing tone.

“I’m reading the news, thank you very much.” You gently respond to her jab as you scroll over to the Huntington Post quick link you have on your browser’s bookmark bar.

“Oh? You’re reading the news? You’re such a good liar!” Natasha jabs back again seeing right through you. She is your best friend of course.

With a chuckle you glance back at her through your computer screen, “Seriously, how do you know I’m stalking Thor?”

“Because I know you very very well.” She tussles around in her beside table placing things on her bed, a big bright N glowing right above it. “Oh wait! Did you tell your mom about your dream school yet?”

“Yea! I told her! She’s super excited for me to move across the country and go to a really expensive school.” Sarcasm very evident in your tone, yet completely goes over Natasha’s head.

“Really?”

You laugh. “No, I just haven’t found the right time to tell her and…”

Natasha abruptly interrupts you. “OH! Nerve is starting. Sorry, this is really important.”

“What’s Nerve?”

“It’s a game. Here, just click on the video.”

You open up your Facebook messenger and click on the link Natasha sent you. After you finish watching the short clip, you click back to Skype. “This looks very sketchy. Is this legal?” You ask and laugh nervously.

“Well, no. Probably not but who cares. Sign up and watch. Times a-tickin'!”

You playful pretend to sign up typing your fingers on your imaginary keyboard in the air. “Ok signing up. Look this is me signing up to watch you.” You say dryly.

“(Y/N/N)!” Natasha exclaims. “You have to sign up and watch me! It’s very important that I have watchers!”

“I gotta go. My mom’s home. I’ll sign up after breakfast!”

“Thank you! I love you. I’ll see you in a little bit!” You both bid each other goodbye with your signature flick of the nose and click off of Skype.

You run downstairs from your room to the kitchen, greeted with the delicious smell of pancakes and bacon as well as your mom’s smiling face. You both begin talking about how Natasha still hasn’t gotten into any schools yet and seems to be carefree. Your mother disagrees and reminds you that Natasha will always have a trust fund to fall back on. A hard jab to your best friend but nonetheless, still the truth. You, on the other hand, do not have a trust fund. You have drive and knowledge and a scholarship to a local college. Definitely not as exciting. But to your mom, it sounds like the perfect plan. You can’t afford to stay on campus but you get to have your mom as your cool college roommate. That’s awesome, right? Wrong. But you can’t tell her that. Instead, you offer to help her fix up your late brother’s room and post in on Airbnb. Maybe it would be a good time to go through his stuff and give some of it to goodwill? Maybe you could give her some space? She would like that, right? Wrong….again.

“I just want you here, (Y/N/N).” You mom responds sadly. To say it’s been hard since you lost your brother Peter is an understatement. You love your mom to bits but you’re getting older and just want to branch out. But now, more than ever, all your mom wants is to stay connected to you and you don’t have the heart to deny her of that.

“Ok, yea. I’m totally down for commuting. I can do my reading on the train.” Disappointed, you look over to your mom who makes her way to the table and press your lips together.

“That’ll work, right?”

“Yea.” You state simply, resting your cheek on your hand as you take a bite of your pancakes.

After breakfast, you run back up to your room. You grab your 2 most important things: your camera and your phone. Tossing on a light jacket that matches with your striped tee and jeans, you lug your backpack over your shoulder. You press shuffle on Spotify, starting Kamikaze by MØ before you hop on your bike and head on your way to school.

As you get to school, you immediately meet up with Steve Rogers, your yearbook partner in crime. Your school’s football team has a game today and it’s your mission to try to get as many pictures for the yearbook as you can. You both walk to the locker room, handing Steve your extra lenses. The team is gathered together, getting a pump up speech by Coach Wilson before the pep rally. You sneak behind some of the players to get some more up close shots of them but you may or may not have taken one too many of the captain of the football team and your crush, Chris Odinson. Everyone calls him Thor because he plays like he’s an almighty god and of course, he has definitely taken to the name. He looks at you as you’re snapping away and gives you the cutest smirk you’ve ever seen, making you want to melt to the floor.

You quickly walk over to Steve to grab a different lens for your camera and he chuckles. “Wouldn’t it feel a little unbalanced if every single yearbook photo is of Thor Odinson?”

“It’s not MY fault he’s on the team.” You snap back nervously. Are you really making it THAT obvious? Steve shrugs his shoulders before briskly grabbing your hand to pull you out of the way of the 30+ football players barreling your way. You gently pull away as you get in between the players running out onto the field to get the best shots you can. Nothing ever stops a good photographer from getting good shots, even if your minutes away from being trampled to the ground. All the while Steve is right behind you, guiding you through the crowd as you run backward taking your shots.

You take a couple more shots before all the players run out onto the field through the cheerleaders. Students fill the bleachers all the way to the top, shouting and cheering for their beloved football team and dressed in your school colors. The band is playing and the cheerleaders are in formation, Natasha the captain of the cheer squad, leading the way.

You and Steve stand off to the side as you see Natasha run over to her friend Sharon in the bleachers. You see Natasha hand her phone to Sharon and much to your surprise, Sharon starts to record her. You can’t hear what Natasha is saying to her phone, but she looks over to you and flicks her nose. Smiling as she runs back onto the field, you flick your nose back and watch in confusion. Sharon stands from her seat to get a better view, still seemingly recording. You look to Sharon and back to Natasha and shake your head, picking up your camera to take shots as the cheer squad goes through their routine. As they finish up, Natasha decides to pull one last stunt. She turns her back to the crowd and lifts her cheer skirt up, revealing her bare ass. The crowd gasps unanimously and Sharon bursts out in laughter, all the while recording the whole thing. You turn to Steve to show him the shot you took and you both laugh at the image of Nat’s ass front and center of the cheer squad.

Next Chapter coming soon!

#Dragon's3C3K #bucky x reader #1940s bucky x reader #marvel #my og work #nerve film #nerve #thor odinson #thor #natasha romanoff #sharon carter #steve rogers

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soundrooms · 7 years ago

Text

Soundrs: Ben Eyes

Welcome to our new Friday feature: #producer #interviews The focus lies on #workflow & #inspiration, in order to provide a way to both gain insight about #music #production and spotlight ambitious #audio #producers. If you want to get featured, send a message here on #tumblr or an email to [email protected]. The questions will remain largely the same. Now let’s get the ball rolling with our first of many Soundrs! Indulge.

Ben Eyes is a sound engineer, composer and live performance artist based in Leeds, UK. He makes electronic music as Quip https://soundcloud.com/quip and is one half of percussion and electronics duo STOCKER/EYES https://stockereyes.wordpress.com/

• What are your inspiration sources?

Sometimes field recordings, sometimes instruments I find new corners of gear I haven't explored. I am a bit of a gear hoarder, but old 80/90s stuff as opposed to new shiny things. I love the Kurzweil K2000 its full of 80s/90s sounds but then you program it and get something contemporary, its Max MSP in hardware. I like to explore timbres and rhythms together so that might be having a drum pattern distorted in a cheap fx pedal or using delay to create new rhythms. I am a sucker for the Roland 707 as my main drum machine but the sound of it gets twisted and messed up. I find the grooves I create with the old drum machines feel more planted and make me want to dance, if that’s what’s needed.

• Tell us something about your workflow.

It is sort of split up into 3 really, I am really lucky in that I have a large room in my little (detached) house, I live in the middle of nowhere so I don't disturb anyone. I have a guitar corner with all my effects and amps setup. Then a keyboard stand with all my drums and synths near to hand - I stand up at this and get grooves and patterns down using hardware. Then a computer and mixer next to each other. I have a bunch of synths on my computer table too. I love tabletop synths so you can just sit and noodle. I tend to get something going on with a couple of synths and a drum machine. Increasingly its a small euro rack modular that i have been building. Everything is synced together and clocked from the 707, but I do some weird things with syncing - I get a 606 to do irregular clock from the tom outputs - this provides sync for the modular and a Korg electribe, which I still use alot and have a load of sample banks for it on SD cards, it makes some messed up horrible sounds and also some very punchy drums. This gets the juices flowing. I will record the jam into Ableton then start chopping or adding stuff. I like to use a mixture of analogue and digital. Posh and poor. So I might use the Pro One with a Casio keyboard but through a decent effects pedal. I think having lots of different sources in a track helps to make the sounds interesting. I started out with nothing, a four track and a delay pedal as a kid. Then a computer a bit later. I ran Rebirth and Cubasis, putting everything together in a sequencer. So having this studio is a complete luxury, a dream really. I managed to get this studio together by working my arse off and getting bits second hand every now and then. I am quite strict about not buying new stuff, there is too much gear in the world so I try and get a bargain now and then. I am a sound engineer by trade so I get offered kit quite a bit. The internet has helped also. My room is pretty full now though so its just a question of me getting time in here to work. I have a couple of different monitor options and a sub which is great. To be honest I keep things really simple. The main thing I guess is I use hardware almost 100% now. Some software compression and EQ but its all sounds from boxes, guitars or my mouth.

• How would creative rituals benefit your workflow?

Well I used to smoke a bit and have a drink to get in the zone, which I have stopped now. I just drink tea. Have a meal with my girlfriend and then get into a flow. I like to loop weird things I might have recorded in my job or just play with a machine until something comes out. Rituals are really important. I cycle a lot and love mountain biking. Also just playing the guitar and using acoustic instruments helps. I have a tonne of guitars and little stringed things. Acoustic instruments are ritualistic, they are the maddest things really. The more I think about a guitar the more it drives me to create something with it.

• How do you get in the zone?

Just relaxing, not thinking too much. I do quite a bit of music to spec, and also study at the moment for PhD in Composition at the University of York. This means I have to switch off really when making "my music". I just use music to relax often. As a way to create something that might be heard somewhere. I gig less now and don't release music much so its more of thing for myself and occasionally others.

• How do you start a track?

Sometimes I setup a load of gear and just go for it. If I have a load of tracks to do for a record I just get three or four boxes going together, maybe drums and two synths then hammer out a load of improvisations. I like to work quite fast so I will stay in this mode for a while. I don't use a pool of samples so every time I start a track I try and record new stuff. Thats probably crazy but it keeps things fresh and I always find out new things. I might have one or two loops from my recorder or phone but usually every things done in the studio.

• Do you have a special DAW template?

No I am not really into that. I have fave effects settings on hardware. Everything runs through a desk in the studio so I just patch in whatever I want and go. It takes 1 second to add a channel and assign an input. I use my whole studio like a template really. So certain FX for certain instruments. Then when I get bored I repatch. I have two patch bays pretty much full so they get used a bit.

• What do you put on the master channel?

Nothing until the end then its an SSL bus compressor or the Fab Filter compressor and a limiter. Maybe a tiny EQ but nothing crazy, I like to hear the dynamics till the very bitter end. Luckily my room is flatish so I can work quite confidently in there.

• How do you arrange and finish a track?

Walk away and come back the next day, then keep snipping. I used to be terrible at editing and getting rid of things but now I am quite ruthless. Its funny how you change over the years. I'll listen to things and think fuck thats terrible it has to go. Come in the next day and get rid. I think thats part of being much more sober now when I make music and more of an idea of what I want. Quite often I have the arrangement in my head so I just snip away. I do automation by mouse and sometimes enter some fx with a MIDI controller. But usually my tracks aren't huge so its quite a simple process.

• How do you deal with unfinished projects?

Every few months I might have a train ride or a hard disk sort. I will go through old stuff and highlight them and try and finish them. I have an album I have just finished that was made like this. Just going back to old stuff until it was finished. I'm really happy with it should be out soon as I am mastering it currently.

• How do you store and organize your projects?

Hard drives - I don't tend to store things on the local disk. Then back up the disks, then back up those. Then the cloud too. Mixes get sent there. I am quite good at backing stuff up at the moment.

• How do you take care of studio ergonomics?

Have separate places in the studio to do stuff, guitar and bass corner then a drum machine/synth section then my computer/desktop synths and mixer. Everything's quite divided up. I love my desk at the moment - it has all the desk top synths and volcas and the mac, so I can just record a groove from synth / drum machine world then sit down and add a nice synth, the TG-33 gets used or an old Novation Nova and edit.

• Tell us something about your daily routine, how is your day structured, how do you make room for creativity?

I work a lot either at the University where I look after the studios and do teching for concerts and I work freelance mixing for bands such as Wrangler, who are quite a heavy live electro band. They tour a bit so I go away a lot. I have been getting into iPads for sketches. I have an albums worth of stuff done on it. Just need to mix it. So yeah I watch and listen to others a lot - recording or mixing live and in a way you get ideas this way for your own stuff. Always learn even when its other peoples work.

• Share a quick producing tip.

High pass filter everything.

Try and make space for everything in the mix by filtering. Don't boost too much.

Don't worry about all the gear. Just get the idea down and it will go from there.

• Share a link to an interesting website (doesn’t have to be music related).

I'm reading this at the moment. I love stories of creative friction, fights between creative people are always interesting because people really feel this stuff. Also I am a member of an institution and I see my own politics and watch the institutional bullshit from a distance. I am lucky enough to have worked at EMS and it's a great place. This is quite eye opening if you are into art politics.

https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=i7W9CwAAQBAJ&pg=PA169&lpg=PA169&dq=music+box+software+ems&source=bl&ots=5FbKkMKKgt&sig=Zr7Y5pJCvWn7N4HtJbjkgPQz8m8&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi6uLj1q5XWAhUMXhoKHaInBQoQ6AEILzAB#v=onepage&q=music%20box%20software%20ems&f=false

• List ten sounds you are hearing right this moment : )

I am recording a band called Roller Trio. Jazz electronics. So I am hearing reverse guitar, bass, sax, acoustic and real drums, the hiss of the mixer, 808 samples and occasional pop of an old sound card ;-)

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maiden-of-gondor · 8 years ago

Text

Hold You In My Arms

Paring- Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N- Hey looks who's back to writing Bucky x reader after months!

Warnings- Fluffy AF

Summary- Based off of Ray LaMontagne - Hold You In My Arms. Here's the link, I highly recommend listening to it before reading this. https://youtu.be/lMcMAsNXfiw

Word count- 2400

Masterlist- https://gondorgirl01.tumblr.com/post/155328076613/masterlist

Tags: @poe-also-bucky @purplekitten30 @sexyashmike @sebstanwassup @mimosaofasgard27 @winterbuttmunch @melanie451 @starkxpotts @alwaysbella @ria132love @midnightinkdreams @a-really-high-mermaid @ficletsforfans @coffeekeyboardsss

/Bucky’s POV/

I jolted up with a gasp. My breath is heavy, fighting for air. My mind is flashing the horrors of my past. It was the family again, with the little girl, all dead, by my hand. My breath is desperate, desperate for air that will not come. I try to count my breaths and think of a calm scenery, like what Wanda had taught me to do in a situation like this. After what seems like hours, my breathing started to even out.

Not wanting to see more of my haunted past in my sleep. I quickly dressed, making sure to grab my gloves. I creeped out of the tower without making a sound. When outside, the chill wind of midnight welcomed me, like an old cruel friend. Having no destination I started to wander on the streets of New York City, my once happy home of my past self, myself that's no more.

I might’ve been wandering minutes or hours, time wasn't on my mind, only guilt and self hatred. I pasted dark and cold shops of the city, where people would greet friends with an unforced smile, something I hadn't done in a long time.

I see ahead of me a light from one of the shops. “Painting Paradise” I read. My curiosity got the better of me, wondering why a shop like this was opened at an hour like this. I walk up to the window and gaze inside. No one was to be seen, there seems to be no signs of a break in. I can hear peaceful background music playing from the art studio, but still no one insight.

I decide to let the matter go and continued on my aimless wandering. I cross the street to a small park with a small pound. As I walk toward the body of water I see a shadow of a figure. Not wanting to be seen, I stay in the shadow and pull my hood of my jacket closer to my face. I was drawn to this mysterious figure. As I cautiously walked toward them, I saw it was a woman, standing by a easel.

‘I wonder if this is the artist of the art studio?’

What I didn’t see was the German Shepherd laying beside their master. The dog made a protective growl and bark, warning their owner of my presents. The person turned quickly towards me in a defensive matter.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you. I was just curious of what you were painting, why you were out this late, and if you're the owner of the Painting Paradise.” I say, cringing how gruff my voice was.

She doesn’t seem to be cautious and weary by my present anymore.

‘Well that's a first’

She’s eying me, not in judgment, like most, but with curiosity. She gave a gentle genuine smile. Even if there wasn't the dem park lamp, I would've still seen that beautiful smile.

‘Wow Barnes, that escalated quickly.’

“Yes, I am the owner of Painting Paradise. And why I'm out painting this late, is because one, I couldn't sleep, my creative gears were turning in my mind, and when they're turnin’ there's no sleepin’. And this pound looks so lovely in the midnight moonlight, I had make sure such a scene is remembered. And what better way in remembering it than a painting it?”

I didn't pay attention to the pound when I approached her. So I turn gaze to the pound.

‘Wow, she was right, it is gorgeous.’

The cold white light shines across the smooth surface, like a sea of crystals that captured the stars of the sky.

“Yeah, it is beautiful” I say to her.

She seemed pleased by my statement.

“I'm (Y/N) by the way, (Y/N) (L/N)” she placed down her paintbrush and held out her hand towards me.

Lucky she used her right so I wouldn't have to shake her hand with my left one. Shaking her hand I said “James Barnes, ma'am”

She smiles and laughs. “Ma’am? well I feel quite the lady with that name. You're not around here are you? The only men who say ma’am knower days are from the South.”

‘No one says ma’ma at all? Chivalry really is dead.’

“No” I shook my head “I was born in Illinois, raised in Brooklyn, and taught by my Ma to always be a gentleman to women, respected them, and call them ma’am.” I airily laugh at the blurred memory of my Ma. “She said that women should be treated like queens now and then.”

(Y/N) laugh “I like the sound of your mother, I love to meet her someday.”

She picked up her brush again and returned to where she left off on her painting.

“She would’ve say the same thing about you.” I say even before I realized what I said.

(Y/N) turned her face towards me then bashful looked down then turned back to her painting.

“So what's your reason to out waking in New York City at this time?” She asks

“My mind woke me up, but not for a pleasant reason.” I grumble

Most people either would give a look of pity or fake sympathy.

“Well I'm glad you're here, and not walking on the streets alone. Being alone doesn't help anyone, so I hope my company comforts you.” She looks at me, her eyes burning into me, into my mind, soul. I felt a sense of ease, warmth, peacefulness I hadn't felt in decades with her eyes staring into mine.

‘Her eyes are so beautiful, I'm already lost in them’

She smiled bashfully and her lashes touching her cheek as she looked down.

‘Oh shit, I said that out loud’

“Sorry, it slipped out, I didn't-”

“James” she cut me off. The way she said my name sent shivers up my spine. “it's fine, and thank you. That's very sweet of you to say.” Her smile never leaving her gentle face.

“You know I'm almost done with my painting, I just need to touch my highlights and sign it and I'm done. Would you like tour of my studio and my gallery?” She asks with hope

“It would be my pleasure, doll.”

‘Doll? Where the hell did that come from? I hadn't said that in ages’

“Did you you time travel from the 1940s or somethin’? With your sweet talking.”

‘Yep, basically’

“Maybe” I mutter under my breath

“This one I painted out in the country of North Texas, where my sister got married. The sunset was unbelievably stunting. I just loved using these colors together, it's one of my favorite color combinations.” (Y/N) enthusiastically says. “And you can see Trigger, he's the German Shepherd, hiding in one of the bushes. My little easter egg of the painting”

I could listen to talk about her passion for hours on end. I love seeing that spark in her eyes, the movement of her hands a she explains her work, and how she lightly bounces on her toes.

Her aura is so relaxing and peaceful. I could feel my fears and negative emotions lessen while in her presents. The flashes of my past are no more. She has bewitched me.

“Now this one has a special place in my heart.” She began as she pointed to painting of a lighthouse on a cliff, surrounded by green. The gray ocean waves had such detail, I am in awe.

“For as long as I can remember, I've had dreams of this place, this particular lighthouse. I hope to make enough profit that I can buy my own lighthouse, just like this one.” She says with a dreamy look.

‘I wonder if there's a lighthouse on sale. I'm sure Stark would know.’

“Now these collection of people are my favorite music artist. I painted both with a different style, a style that I think match their genre of music.”

“So this guy right here, Ray LaMontagne” She pointed to a small painting of a bearded man “he's does folk rock, folk blues, and soul. He's actually my favorite artist. I did, as you can see, soft lines not too detailed, with meadowy colors, like deep blues, greens, pale pinks, scarlet.”

“This lady to Ray’s right is Lana Del Rey. She's, like Ray, is an American songwriter and singer but she does indie rock. So I did both dark and light blue and purples, she actually sings about blue, both the color and type of music, quite a lot in her songs. So I thought it would be fitting.” She finished with a smile.

“I still have a quite a few artist I need to paint, such Damion Suomi, Lukas Graham, oh and lots of oldies” her eyes lit up even more “Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye, Louis Armstrong, and maybe a couple more.”

“Sorry” she makes an ‘ops’ expression “You had to witness my artist rant.”

I shook my head “No, it's fine. It's nice to hear someone talk so passionately about something they love.”

“Have you heard of any of these artist?” She asks as she points to her works.

“No, I'm an oldies person, like you.” I walked to center of the room wear a bench is and sat down, (Y/N) joins me. “I don't listen to new stuff much. But I'll look them up.” I gave her a crack of a smile.

“You really are from the 1940s” she laughs “Do you have the Tardis around the corner or something?” She smiles at me.

“I might say yes, if I knew what that was.”

She placed her hand on her chest and gasped as if I just insulted her. “You've never heard of Dr. Who?! Have you've been living under rock or something? Well now you know to add that your list to look up.”

“I guess I should tell what I'm talking about, since you're obviously from the 40s.” She joked “Dr. Who is a British t.v. about a time traveler who named the Doctor, he time travels by traveling in the Tardis. I won't say a thing else so I don't spoil anything for you, but I highly recommend watching it.”

“Will do, doll” I say

(Y/N) blushes at my nickname, again.

She let out a long yaw. Put a hand over her mouth.

“Sorry about that, I guess my body and mind had an agreement to shut down.” She said then wiping her watery eyes.

I looked at the clock on the wall.

‘Nearly four. That went by quickly.’

“I guess I'll be going then.” I said then stood up.

“Goodnight.--Or should I say good day, James.” She smiled

It was few seconds before I made an actions to leave. Not wanting to leave her calm present yet.

“Have a good day” I smile “doll.”

She giggled and I walked away. As I opened the door she called my name.

“You're always welcome, my arms always open.” She said

“Thank you”

I turned to walk again but (Y/N) said : Wait, sorry I promise this is the last time. Let me write down my phone number so you can call me whenever you come over here.”

She grabs a card from a table picks up a pen to write down her number. “Here's my business card it has both my business number and personal number.”

“Thanks again” I say as I took the card from her hand.

“My pleasure”

-Two Weeks- /Your PoV/

*Buzz* *Buzz* *Buzz*

I wake up with groan, looked at my alarm clock

‘3:00 am, Jesus who's calling me at this hour?’

I pick my phone.

‘It's James’

“Hello” I answer with groggy voice.

“Could you come to park,..by your studio. It's fine...if you don't,.. I completely understand.”

“I'll be in there ten minutes.”

I hang up and throw my blanket. I rush to put some decent clothing, I grab my phone and rush out my door.

I found James sitting on the park bench bent over with his elbows resting on his knees and his forehead rest in his hands.

I walked up to him and squatted in front of him “James?” I say softly

He slowly looks up to me. I can see in the lamp light his eyes are wet and red.

“Oh, Jamie.” I take his face gently into my hands. I pull him in my arms as I sink to my knees, holding him tightly as his body shakes and his tears wet my chest.

He moves his face into the crook of my neck and breathes deeply in and out. After a few minutes his breath is normal and no longer shaking.

“James, what did you dream of this time?”

He faces me, taking my cheek into his hand. I thought he was going say something, but didn't. He did quite the unexpected. He pulls me into a longing kiss.

His hand goes to jaw and deepens the kiss. My hand runs through his hair while the other is on his neck, stroking his jaw with my thumb.

We pull away with his hand still in cheek, stroking it.

“God, I don't deserve you, you’re too good for me.” He whispers

I nod in disagreement “Shh, don't say that, it's not true.” I smile, still stroking his jaw. “I could hold you in my arms, forever.”

“James, I swear if this is some kind of prank I'm going to kill you.”

I chuckle at her ‘threat’.

“I promise you'll love it, doll.” I reassure her

“Yep, you sound like a psychopath killer. You've blindfolded and now you're about to push me into a meat grinder, or something.”

“Only a psycho killer would think that.” I joke

I stop and (Y/N) did the same. I went behind her and whispered in her ear: You made my dreams come true by being my girl, so I want to make your dreams come true too.”

I untie the blindfold and she let a shriek: OH MY LORD JESUS CHRIST MY SAVIOR IN HEAVEN!” She looked in awe at the small lighthouse. “You did not James Buchanan Barnes! What did do to deserve you?! This too much, I-” she turned to me with watery eyes.

She pulled me into a hug. “Thank you, my dear James, you're too good for me.”

“I believe it's the other way around doll.” I smile “I quite like you calling me ‘my dear’. Should I start calling you my dearest or somethin’?”

She giggled “Call me yours. Come on I want a house tour.” She runs towards the front door me soon following.

‘I'd rather call you my wife’

THE END

A/N- I hope I suffocated you with my fluff ;)

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #bucky imagine #marvel imagine

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