#‘it gets the job done! you’re telling me artists wouldn’t do the same?’

[bunnivez]

Modern! Zoya…

Her first job was as a tattoo artist. Most of her costumers were women, they would specifically ask for her to do their tattoos; both because of her amazing work and the other… to get a close look at her. Whats better? Zoya is aware of the many women she is pulling (๑>؂•̀๑)

Imagine you two meet randomly bumping against each other and turns out you work at the shop right next to the one she works at!

Or you got recomendad by your friend to go to a certain shop to get your tattoo done, telling you to specifically ask for a woman named Zoya since her work is more professional and she is more trusted to give you great results.

She used to live in an apartment until she got a husky… I mean she it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford an average house but damn, she now has to pay more…

Has a love-hate relationship with her dog TRUST. Often complains of their sudden howling and the amount of hair they shed.

“It’s 1:30AM why the fuck are you howling like that!? You sound like you’re dying!” “Oh my f… You know i’m tempted in leaving you bald so I don’t have to deal with having your hair on the couch.”

At the same time however, they are also her best buddy and friend. There are times where she even lets them sleep with her on bed… For at least an hour before Zoya falls asleep and accidentally pushes s them off the bed in the middle of the night.

Yes she is a messy sleeper, god knows how the heck she ends up with on leg on the headboard and the other hanging on the bed. She snores like a dad…

Like even her huskey got scared for a second and kept barking until she woke up.

Listen, when going out she has this whole badass outfit, rings on her fingers, chains, unbuttoned blouse, a whole ass fit that screams “DADDY”

And then there are times where she just pulls up to the grocery store with an “Idgaf” outfit… Yet somehow she still looks hot. Jorts, a black baggy shirt, socks with the damn sandals or crocs combo (ಠ_ಠ)

Has a tongue piercing and you cannot tell me otherwise. If not, it is definitely her nipples.

Dark or alcohol filled chocolates girly. She isn’t a fan of overly sweet stuff.

Once choked on boba balls.

Honestly she can be romantic at times. She takes you to dates often— if not she plans something you two can do at home. Like cook, watch movies, play games or something.

Motorcycle rides with her are very common, more so with the fact that she doesn’t really own a car… Which she did confess that she may or may not be the best at driving.

Who knows how the heck she managed to stay alive with the many incidents she’s had while driving.. I guess she’s immortal.

Has an electric guitar, she posts videos on TikTok playing it and they get pretty high views! Like 406.1k views or something.

Her reposts mainly contain of two things; brain rots, lesbian.

Takes the most silly pictures of you and posts them on her story.

Source ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

HAHAHSGSBSGAVAWHABE, IMAGINE HER LAYING DOWN WHILE YOU SIT ON TOP OF HER TO DO HER MAKEUP.

Holds you like a stuffed animal when sleeping. It’s actually so cute but it’s kinda hard to break free from her hold.

YOU GUYS PLAY ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS, AND WHOEVER LOSES IS IN CHARGE OF COOKING.

Her cooking is actually pretty damn good! I feel like she is especially a specialist when it comes to cooking meat.

If you are too shy to order your food whenever you two are out, or pay, DO NOT WORRY, SHE LITERALLY IS YOUR SAVIOR, NO KIDDING. This woman gives no fucks at all, too shy to order? She’ll do it, hot your order wrong? She’ll go up and tell them.

Have I mentioned she gets up at 5AM just to do pushups?…

The type to randomly smack or grab your ass, she doesn’t care about the size.

I don’t recommend watching romance movies with her… she will cringe at any kissing scenes acting like she wouldn’t or doesn’t do that with you 24/7.

Not the best at dancing… Girl is STIFF.

I have the feeling she is the type to not admit that she is in pain during her period. She will act all tough and all until she can’t anymore.

(We need more comforting the ptn women on their period instead of the other way around, they also need comfort 😔)

Oh yeah did I also mention she was close to breaking your phone once? It all happened when you were scrolling through TikTok and saw a thirst trap (*cough* Rhea Ripley *cough*) and when I tell you grabbed your phone and threw it… IT HAPPENED.

Says she hates kids but has a soft spot for them actually. They remind her of Horo when she was wayyy younger.

Randomly sends you weird TikToks…. Like it’s so random and she says nothing about it.

She isn’t a fan of dresses, but she once tried it for you and it was a sight. It hugged her curves right and she kept flexing her muscles. If you take any pictures she seriously will kill you. (Especially if you send them to her friends).

If you are out she WILL text and call you every 36 minutes if she can’t come with you. And if she is too busy to pick you up she will face time you on your way home.

Has like so many posters of her favorite bands, korn, kiss, Deftones, ect.

Randomly gives you kisses when you least expect it. They are so random, you could be distracted and she will kiss your cheek, or your forehead, or the top of your head.

If she sees anyone eyeing you while in public she will pull you close and give the person a nasty look.

[xstarrgirllx]

just hold my hand

percy hynes white x actress!reader

summary: you’re a new actress and percy helps you with your nerves when going to your first premiere.

warnings: reader has anxiety, hand holding, basically just fluff, cheek kisses

writers note: i didn’t do a lot of research on the cast, so i’m kinda just going based off the top of my head when describing them. also this is my first story, so please let me know if i should make more and what you would like to see if i do make more.

(lowercase is intentional, y/c means your character, m/a means makeup artist)

—-

you were new to all of this. playing as y/c in wednesday was your first big role and you were more than nervous. you have only ever had small roles. even after meeting all of the cast and clicking with them almost instantly, you still didn’t know exactly what to say or do. it was 5:17pm, almost time for the premiere and your anxiety is getting out of control.

there’s only a couple of people who you told about your anxiety, emma and percy. they were who really helped you when you came to set. the others helped too but not as much as them. they were so welcoming and made you feel so comfortable. you felt like you would never have to hide who you really were with them.

ever since you met percy, you had found him attractive. veryy attractive. his green eyes, pretty smile, and long brown hair were so mesmerizing, how could you not? he was also very funny and crazy. he always found a way to make everyone laugh. he was your favorite. as for emma, she was so sweet. she has the purest heart. she’s also real fun and has an amazing personality. same goes for jenna, joy, georgie, hunter, naomi, lucius, moosa, isaac, and the rest of the cast.

you were very happy with where you were in life. but because of how popular wednesday has become, there were so many cameras and articles on you. it was nerve wracking. but now you were getting your hair curled, while also getting your makeup done. the dress you were about to put on was a light gray/blue slim dress with an open back. it was very fancy. and probably very expensive but you weren’t worried about that.

you were worried about having so much attention on you. it was 5:48pm as soon as you were finished getting ready and you wanted to see percy. you needed to and fast. you knew he would help. he was only in the room across the hall, so you knew it wouldn’t be hard to find him. but when you knocked no one answered. you knocked a few more times until his makeup artist opened the door.

m/a: hi sweetie, how can i help you?

y/n: oh hi, is percy there?

m/a: oh no you just missed him. he went to get his tie in hunter’s room.

y/n: okay, thank you.

you then rushed to hunter’s room and knocked repeatedly. he opened the door and he could already tell that you were nervous because of how you were playing with your hands. secretly everyone knew that you had anxiety. even if you try to hide it, you don’t do a very good job. everyone also knew that when you are nervous you are more likely to be with percy or emma.

hunter: oh y/n, percy isn’t here.

y/n: where could he be?

you thought out loud and ran off before hunter could say anymore. you were now running down the hall looking for percy. this was scaring you. what if something bad happened. what if he got hurt. you were too caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize you bumped into someone. percy. you hugged him immediately. and it all had happened so fast, it took him a moment to notice is was you. but when he did, he hugged you back.

percy: you okay, bunny?

y/n: no

you hugged him even tighter and he kissed the top of your head. it was now 5:56pm and everyone was starting to head to the limo.

percy: we gotta go.

y/n: i’m scared.

percy: it’s okay, i’ll be with you the entire time. if you need just hold my hand.

y/n: okay.

since then you hadn’t let go of his hand. not once. you held it through the ride and during the entire premiere. you worried he might of thought of you as annoying or too clingy because of this but in all honesty he didn’t mind. he liked that you always wanted to be with him. the feeling was mutual.

when the premiere ended it was was almost 7:20pm. everyone was finishing up interviews and some were already leaving. you and percy are walking out hand in hand.

percy: see wasn’t so hard, was it?

y/n: it wasn’t so bad… thank you. i don’t think i could’ve ever done that if it weren’t for you.

you kiss his cheek and notice a slight blush appear on his cheek.

percy: anything for you bunny.

now it was your turn to blush. once you got to the hotel, you two split and said goodnight. jenna, joy and emma were sitting on your bed talking. you walked out of the bathroom, in your pjs and sat next to joy. you guys ordered dinner and hung out for a while. it was almost 10pm and you were getting tired.

emma: sooo, how was your nighttt?

y/n: it was good.

emma: ooo, i bet it was.

y/n: what’s that supposed to me?

joy: oh come on, you were holding percy’s hand all night and even kissed his cheek.

jenna: you like him, don’t you?

y/n: what, no! i don’t what you guys are talking about. and i have to go to sleep, so goodnight.

you got under the covers, closed your eyes and fake snored. they laughed and went to sleep themselves.

the end

—-

[jqmalikhsgib]

astrology

one

in most stories being the youngest kid means being the sheltered child. everyone would see the baby of the family being favored more than the eldest or middle child. for you, it wasn’t ever like that.

you grew up in an classic middle class family. your mother was a prosecutor and your father was a detective. your older brother followed in his fathers footsteps. he went to college, worked his ass off, and became an officer.

and your sister became a lawyer just like your mom. she was damn good at it too.

you on the other hand, you had different dreams. you never wanted to be cooped up in a bubble. your dreams were to travel the world, draw the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen, meet new people, discover yourself.

when you graduated high school you saved up enough money over the years to do so. you took different jobs just to pay bills and continue to move along.

your parents never thought it was a great idea. they’d always scold you to go to college. they’d get your siblings along in it but it just never worked. you loved your free spirited life style.

you visited your family every once in a while. but after ten years of being free, ten years of constantly hearing the same things over and over, ten years of nonstop get bugged over when you’re gonna grow up and turn your life around, you were tired.

you stopped going to every christmas, every thanksgiving, every birthday, any holiday. you’d come up with some excuse. telling your family you had a shift at whatever job you had.

truth was, you needed to be away. your family back home may not have understood. besides your best friend, you didn’t really keep in contact with anyone.

spencer was the only one who stood beside you. he knew that you had other dreams and aspirations. he never judged you for drifting off and exploring the world. he was the one to encourage you.

“yn, remember what you told me when i had a hard time deciding to skip a few grades? you said that if i didn’t, id always wonder. you told me im too smart to be in seventh grade and i needed to get off my ass and go show those high school idiots how smart i truly am. you’re an amazing artist, yn! i know you can make a name for yourself.”

that was the only thing you needed to hear before you packed your bags, bought a plane ticket, and began your journey. you never regret your decision.

it’s why you’re so glad to be in virginia. getting to see spencer again made you happy. you haven’t seen your best friends since he made it into the behavioral analysis program. you knew spencer was beyond smart. knowing that he was working with the smartest people, fighting crime, and kicking ass, made you proud.

you smile at the guard up front. “hi, im here to see doctor spencer reid.”

the guard asked for a form of identification before smiling and giving you a visitors badge. spencer made sure to let them know you’d be coming by.

when you finally got to his floor your eyes widened with how big it truly was. you never thought you’d ever be here. standing in front of a team full of people who study human behavior.

“yn!?” spencer runs to his friend.

“woah, slow down there pretty boy.”

you opens your arms wide as spencer lifts you up and spins you around. you giggled before he sets you down.

“hi, genius!”

“god, i miss you.”

“miss you too bud. this place is incredible, spence. how do you guys get any work around here done. i wouldn’t know how to sit still.”

spencer just shrugs as he walks the two of you over to his desk. you spot two individuals.

one of them was a woman. she was beautiful. her dark locks were slowly fading to grey, but she definitely rocked it.

the other was a tall, muscular build man. he had a cocky smirk on his face. he was definitely handsome. you can tell he’s a bit of a player but ultimately a sweetheart.

“well pretty boy, you gonna introduce us?”

spencer smiles. “guys, this is my best friend since diapers, yn! yn thats emily and derek.”

you gently waved.

“hi. it’s nice to finally meet you. spencer talks bout you guys all the time. im glad he has someone else to bug besides me.” you playfully hit his arm.

“you must be someone special. reid doesn’t hug anyone. says—”

“it’s safer to kiss? he’s been saying that since we were children. i think he came up with that when he had a crush on our next door neighbor, dawn.”

“hey! it’s an actual fact!” spencer defends.

you playfully roll your eyes. “when are you off, butthead? i wanna look at places while im here.”

“im off this weekend.”

“you’re moving down here?!”

“yeah. spencer constantly tells me how great this place is. it’s gotta be better than nevada if it’s got spencer’s vote of approval.”

“it is a great state. you’ll love it. if you need help finding something im sure i could be of service.”derek flirts.

“thanks. i should probably let you all get back to work. ill—”

“we have a case!” you get interrupted. you slowly lift your head and your heart skips a beat.

he stares at you with a scowl on his face. you assumed it was a permanent one. he was tall, had a beautiful head of hair, his face was clean shaven, his suit was definitely dry cleaned. he looked like a man you’d see in a fairytale. like how you’d imagine prince eric from the little mermaid to look. he was breathtaking.

“i’ll probably be gone for a few days. will you be okays exploring the city without me?” spencer breaks you out of your trance.

“um—yeah. just be safe. and call me!”

spencer smiles as he squeezes your arm before walking away. you give your heart a second to go back to normal speed.

you think you’re gonna love it here.

so, yes it’s an age gap between them. listen, im not gonna be like some people and say i have a huge problem with age gaps, because i do not!

yes, at times it can be gross. when someone is freshly eighteen and dating someone in their mid to late twenties or older, it’s gross

if someone knew the person when they were a child and begin dating them. even if they’re in their twenties, it’s gross

but as someone who’s 25 and has only dated men older since i was like 22, i don’t see much of a problem as long as they were two consenting adults.

that being said, read it if you want and if you don’t, scroll past it.

reader is 28

aaron is 44

[chosen-hero-inari]

Whumptober Day 11: Loneliness

Packing Up

Akira: Almost ready? 

Yusuke was done packing an hour ago. He didn’t have much to bring to the dorm, and he doesn’t have much to take when he leaves it.

Yusuke: A couple more minutes

Akira: U sure u don’t need help?

Yusuke: Yes, I just need a moment.

A large duffle bag and a few boxes are all he needs before heading to the train station to his new dorms at Osaka University. 

The others are going to drive him down to the train station and see him off, and childishly, Yusuke wants to hide in the closet so he doesn’t have to say goodbye. That’s what he did when Nakonahara left.

But he’s the one leaving now, after spending his senior year with half his friends outside of Tokyo.

Osaka University gave him a good scholarship. Room, board, a meal plan, and a stipend for the school store. It’s the most generous offer he’s received of any of the school’s he’s applied to, and his friends were so happy for him.

Now instead of seeing half his friends occasionally he’ll be all alone on the other side of the country.

Maybe he doesn’t have to go, maybe he can stay in Tokyo, work part-time jobs and make his art on the side. Get his own apartment and visit with his friends and not have to face truly living alone for the first time.

But, that wouldn’t make him happy, would it? He wants to make a name for himself, to finally overcome Madarame’s name being attached to him, and to prove his former Sensei hasn’t ruined the careers of everyone in his care.

And it’d be nice, wouldn’t it? To go back to Tokyo a successful artist, purchase and renovate the atelier, and turn it back into a place filled with pupils, but one that actually cared about its students. That stood behind them and advocated for them, everything Yusuke wanted but never got.

He can’t get there working part-time and living in a small apartment.

A BFA means connections, more people seeing his work, more resources to help those future pupils, and learning how to teach from people who aren’t frauds.

All it means is leaving his friends behind, at least for a little bit. Being truly alone.

“Hey, there you are!” Ryuji wraps his arm around Yuskue’s shoulder and pulls him into a side hug. “You’re gonna miss your train!”

“Yusuke?” Ann says. “You’re crying.”

Yusuke turns to see Akira, Morgana, Ann, and Ryuji facing him. 

“What’s wrong?” Morgana asks. “You’re not gonna miss this place, are you.”

“I’m going to miss you all,” Yusuke says, wiping his sleeve.

“Awwww, come on, it’s not like we’ll never see each other,” Ryuji says. “We’ll have vacations.”

“Plus we’ll probably text every day,” Akira says. “If Ann can keep a conversation going from Italy, she can certainly keep one going from here.”

“Not that you’ll need it!” Ann says quickly. “Becuase you’ll make a bunch of art friends in Osaka and talk about stuff like Pluralism or whatever?”

“Pluralism isn’t an art movement,” Yusuke says. “And I’ve never made friends before.”

“Hey, what are we?” Morgana asks. 

“You barged into my house and tried to badger me for information on Madarame while he was in the house, and then I threatened to call the cops on you so you would leave,” Yusuke points out. “That’s not the same as making friends by simply meeting people.” And before them, he was completely alone.

“Ok well, definitely don’t call the cops on them,” Ann says. “And don’t ask them to model nude.”

“There’s probably a nude drawing class I can attend.”

“There, and after that class you go up to someone and ask if they want to get lunch!” Ryuji says. “Food’s like the fastest way to make friends.”

“Or tell someone their art sucks,” Ann says. “That’s what Shiho did.”

Yusuke frowns. “I would never do that, I want to encourage people’s art.”

“Of course,” Akira says. “You’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. And if you’re really lonely you can head to Kyoto and bother Zenkichi all day.”

That makes Yusuke crack a smile. “I suppose.”

Morgana hops off Akira’s shoulder and onto Yusuke’s. “You’ll be finneeee,” he says. “You’re gonna kick ass and in four years you’ll probably have your own art show in Tokyo that Ryuji can’t afford to attend.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll reserve tickets for you,” Yusuke says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuji says. “But come on, let’s get you on that train first.”

[allthingsfangirl101]

Someone Before Me–Joe Keery

Joe and I moved to LA shortly after graduation. He came to become an actor while I came to become a famous artist. He was fulfilling his dream. He loved his job and loved where he was.

I wish I could say the same. I wasn't famous. I wasn't fulfilling my dream. And I didn't love where I was.

I was working on my feet all day as a hostess at the nearby Olive Garden. I do get to take home an entire salad and a dozen breadsticks at the end of the night.

I walked into my apartment, every muscle in my body aching. I kicked off my shoes, tossed my keys into the bowl, and hung up my jacket and purse. I sat down on the couch, trying to sigh my day off.

I groaned, turning into a whimper as my phone started ringing. Unfortunately, it was still in my purse. I forced myself to stand up and answer my phone.

"Hello?"

"You sound tired," Joe laughed.

"Because I've been on my feet for six hours," I sighed as I walked back to my couch and collapsed onto it.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "Are you too tired for movie night?"

"Never," I instantly perked up. "I can order pizza. Are you done with filming?"

"I will be by the time the pizza gets to your place."

"Are you okay?" I asked when I noticed the tone of his voice change.

"I'm fine."

"Joe," I cut him off, "what's going on? You sound weird. Is everything okay at work?"

"It's fine," he tried to convince me again.

"Joe?"

"Fine," he sighed, giving in. "For some reason, I seem to be struggling this season. Not with my acting. Just with. . . everything else."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," he sighed, his frustration coming through the phone. "I'm tired a lot more. And sometimes. . . I struggle to get out of bed."

"Do you think you could be depressed?" I asked cautiously. "I don't want to be overstepping my bounds, but you're my best friend and I worry about you, Joe. I know how it feels."

"What do you mean?" He asked my earlier question but with a little more panic.

"When we first moved here, art school got really overwhelming," I sighed. "I got scared. I was on my own and you were busy so I didn't want to bother you."

"You should've," he said so softly I almost missed it.

"I was about to, but then you got that call from your manager."

"What call?"

"The one where he told you that you had landed the role of Steve Harrington," I explained.

"Oh," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't tell me you were struggling."

"You didn't," I said quickly. "I could've still told you, but I didn't want to ruin your excitement."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty," I sighed. "I wanted to make sure you knew that I understand what you're going through. I want to help you."

"I appreciate that," Joe said, his voice finally lightening up. "I'll be over in about twenty minutes, okay? Want me to pick anything up on my way?"

"I'll handle the pizza," I smiled. "You grab some treats."

                                * * * * *

Joe and I spent the rest of the night binge-watching our favorite TV show. The entire time he was over, he was acting a little strange. He kept glancing at me, chewing his bottom lip. He only ever did that when he had something on his mind. I paused our show and turned toward him.

"What?" He laughed.

"You tell me," I said simply. "You haven't been yourself since you came over. I know that you've been struggling with work, but I feel like something else is bothering you. Something heavier."

"I guess you're not wrong," he mumbled looking at his hands instead of me.

"What's going on?" I asked gently. I reached over and grabbed his hand.

"Sometimes," he started to explain as he looked up at me, "I look at you and I can't understand how someone before me didn't see what I see. Sometimes I look at you, and I can't understand how someone before me didn't notice how beautiful you are. Sometimes I look at you and I feel lucky that someone before me didn't notice because if they had seen what I've always seen within you, then I wouldn't have been able to have a chance to love you the way I do."

"Wait," I stuttered, my voice getting caught in my throat. "I don't. . . I don't understand, Joe. You're. . . What?"

"I'm in love with you, Y/N," Joe smiled. "That's what. I've been in love with you since middle school."

"Middle school?"

"Since Ryan Anderson asked me if he could ask you out and I punched him in the middle of PE."

"Wait," I smiled, "is that why you got suspended for three days a week into eighth grade?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, his face slightly turning pink.

"I think that's adorable," I whispered.

"That I got into a fight?"

"That you got into a fight over your protectiveness for me," I said like it should've been obvious.

"Over my love for you," he corrected. That's when I realized we both have been leaning closer.

"Oh, right," I smirked. "That."

I don't know who initiated it. All I knew was his lips were pressed to mine. Joe reached up and cupped my cheek in one hand while his other gently rested on my knee. He deepened the kiss, proving his confession. I leaned fully into the kiss, neither one of us holding back.

I giggled when he pulled me over so I was straddling his hips. I broke the kiss to see him still smiling at me.

"I don't understand what has gotten into you," I whispered as I looked up at him, "but I'm not going to question it."

"It's simple," he shrugged. "I've been in love with you for so long. I can't believe I finally get to call you mine."

I bit my lip to stop the moan that almost slipped. "Call me," I whispered.

"What?"

"Call me yours."

He smirked as he closed the gap between us, pushing his hands on my back to press my body against his. He slightly rubbed our noses together as different parts of his body rubbed against mine.

"You are all mine, gorgeous," he whispered sending a chill down my spine.

I moaned as I grabbed his face and pulled his lips down to mine. We got lost in the kiss as we showed each other how much we loved each other. I broke the kiss long enough to get a few final words in before we officially crossed the line between friendship and something more.

"I don't want to be anyone else's."

[hauntedshells]

like a normal person I listen to one single mlp fan music artist an ungodly amount and get ideas to make tmnt edits that have a meaning completely separate to the meaning the song was intended to have. because I’m normal.

in the same way 2012 leonardo reminds me of myself ‘12 splinter reminds me a lot of my parents. he got thrown into a lot of unexpected shit and ended up having to raise the turtles and the circumstances were maybe not perfect but he tried! which. actually makes it worse. kind of. because no matter how hard he tried he fucked up and he fucked up big on some things. things that are going to permanently affect his kids, but you can’t really hate him for that because it’s not like he didn’t genuinely love them. you have to respect all the care and sacrifice that came with raising them and yes he’s flawed but he’s a kind man trying his hardest and what else can you ask for? so you can’t hate him. you can’t hate your dad for loving you. but in the little ways you see the world is fractured from the ways he slipped up. part of you wants to be so mad because if he had just done things a little differently maybe you wouldn’t feel so broken. maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone. maybe you wouldn’t feel like you have to do half the work raising your brothers and maybe you’d feel more comfortable FEELING. and in bad moments your brain swarms and everything is horrible and honestly you DO hate him for that. you hate how broken you are and you can’t help but blame him for all his fuck ups. you know how much he loves you and how hard he tried but maybe he didn’t try hard enough? maybe it was never fair how much he expected of you? maybe he didn’t love you enough? maybe you never actually were his first priority? what if he doesn’t actually deserve your respect? because when did he ever even actually care? and maybe those are all irrational thoughts but you still feel it. you still feel like he didn’t actually care about you. you still feel like maybe you do a better job taking care of your brothers than he does. but you’re just a kid. you don’t want to think that way. you don’t want to have to look after them like that. maybe he’s just a human(rat) who makes mistakes in the effort to do good but why did he have to make those mistakes? you want to tear shit apart you want to lash out but you can’t because no matter what he never abused you. maybe he wasn’t always there when you needed him but you can’t even say that to him because you know! you know he loves you more than anything! and so the anger is short lived and all you can do is feel hollow and sad about it. because you’re trapped. trapped dealing with all of his mistakes

anyway, I adore vylet pony, you’re not a real musician has had me in a chokehold for like 3 weeks in a row now it’s horrible the way it’s infested my mind. if you couldn’t tell I’ve been thinking about it that long by this post.

[josiebelladonna]

I’ve been thinking about this for some time now, about two years exactly. I’m not one of those people who is going to wax nonsense about how grateful they are for everything and everyone because goddammit, sometimes you just need to cut to the chase.

I’m quitting art. I quit.

Go ahead, rejoice. Celebrate. Bring out the Jesus Jones and Chardonnay, it’s a new holiday. You’re not going to hurt my feelings anymore because my feelings have been hurt so much that it’s pointless.

I’m tired of spinning my wheels and not getting anywhere with anything I make. I have no goals for my art because I have no desire to have a goal for it. I’ll admit it, the reason why I’m not going anywhere with this is because I have no calls to action or anything like that—and no joke, the times I have made them, I got nothing other than humiliation. I’m done eating the same shit sandwich that I have for most of my life (can’t even get some ketchup on this, either, good god).

I love doing art and I can’t imagine life without it to the point I’m wiping away tears while I’m writing this, but I can’t do it anymore because I have never found anything to do it with. I have changed my style so much over the years but it’s gotten me nowhere. I have given works in progress, process videos, tutorials, all of it, literally to no avail. I can’t help but blame myself, either, because I know there’s something missing from it all. I admit it, I have no charisma and I could be myself all I want, it has gotten me nowhere. The real me is at the root of all of my art so you can (hopefully) understand how I came to this conclusion.

I’m going to great pains to not be all “poor me” because I don’t ever want that reputation, but the real me has been so reviled for so long that I can’t imagine anyone ever truly loving it, in my art or not. There’s no love to be found. None whatsoever.

And I honestly can’t bring myself to love my art, either, like there’s a reason why I play the style so much, besides from just my inherently being an explorer. It literally began life as a mistake: I tried drawing manga and I couldn’t do it right. I just… I don’t love it. I wouldn’t say I hate it, but I can’t say I love it. If I don’t love it, I can’t imagine anyone else doing so, either. 16 years, I’ve been making my cartoons and I can’t do it anymore.

I have some works in process at the moment: I’m just going to finish those and be done with it. I can’t do this anymore. I’m giving myself to July 31st.

And most of all? The other big reason for why I’m quitting? There’s no respect for art or artists. I never had the best reputation on Tumblr, and Instagram doesn’t know what to do with me, but deny it all you want: there is ZERO respect for artists.

Admit it. You, too, want me to quit and “get a real job” because you’re brainwashed, too, and you’re insecure because “you can’t do art” when I have long believed that all humans are capable of creating something, especially art, so you not only discourage yourself from it but you think artists are disposable. I’m not making waves from my own doing, plus it’s because the world wants me to quit. Admit it, you will rejoice once you read this. Point fingers all you want at big corporations: the increasing lack of anything bright and colorful and human in the world is from the fact that no one in the general public truly cares about art. 

It’s all a two-way street, you fucking spoiled children.

I can’t post any art without hearing the voices of my family telling me, “stop it, Hannah, get a job” in the back of my mind. I threw out the idea for a patreon or a tip jar a few years back and got no response. Kickstarter came up in conversation a while ago and I just sat there shaking my head: I don’t think for one second that anyone would drop a penny on any project I would ever, ever, ever, ever, ever want to do. I closed my Redbubble account because no one was coming to it anymore (they also locked me out for no reason and recently fucked over their userbase, but really, actually. No one was going to it). I told people I wanted to do an art book a couple of years ago, and got nothing. I joined a fucking art site, Cara, and response on there has been so fucking abysmal that I think I’m just going to close it. I’m lucky to break the 5 note mark on tumblr, the 2 like mark on facebook, and the 3 like mark on instagram. 

People on Instagram don’t share my art. 

Forget it with Facebook, too, I can’t even remember the last time someone shared something from me on there (it’s all tasteless memes and boring stuff on there, anyways). 

Tumblr has gotten so royally, irritatingly, and bafflingly stupid with this: if you’re a serial liker on tumblr, I literally want to kick your ass because you’re destroying that site and you’re destroying art. You’re probably also one of those people who think Archive of Our Own (ao3) has an algorithm because there’s a ton of overlap between the two. You are trash.

No one asks me questions, aside from the usual “how long does it take you to make this?” and “what do you want to do?” and “do you take commissions?” bullshit that literally every artist on earth gets—gonna tell you the answer to each of those right now and that’s, “depends on what it is”, “everything”, and big flat “NO”. It took me this long to get to this point to make art at the rate I do, there’s literally too much that interests me, and last commission I got was 2 years ago so I just decided hell with it, I’m not even going to bother with it. 

Who cares, anyway. I’m convinced people are bored with me. I’m boring you, aren’t I. I’m boring you right now, I can feel it. You want me to fail, so here I am, failing. Happy?

I am completely convinced that no one cares, but more importantly, no one cares enough. They don’t care enough to help me or support me or get to know me or do anything useful. And i’m sorry, but telling me that I’m not alone in this isn’t going to help me, either. I’ve been told I’m not alone so many times, from feeling anxious to feeling broken in my sexuality, that I’ve literally grown numb to it. 

I see people whining about wanting variety all the time… where the fuck are you when I need you? I’m truly convinced that people say these things to make their brains rattle and seem important, not because they truly want something else. If they did, they would stop complaining and actually explore. But I guess that’s too damn much to ask of people in 2023.

No one wants prints, illustrations, books, goodies, personalized stuff, or anything from me, so why should I bother?

Why should I do something that while it is actually very fulfilling for me, I continuously get nothing in return and I boil it down to, “what is even the point to this?”

You want to know how I know no one cares? I have a very distinct memory this, too: the one time I posted a commission sheet, back in 2015 (you’re a fool if you think that was a simpler time), I got three comments. The first telling me “(my) art is awesome” (thanks but no thanks). The second was an emoji. The third from a supposed good friend telling me how much they would love to get something from me but they don’t have the money—most expensive thing was 80 dollars. Keyword there is “supposed”: not even an hour later, they see some other artist and they slobber over this person, such that they shell out the 300 bucks for it. So, not only more expensive but they lied right to my face. I can only assume that the issue is me.

I try to find my own value but I always end up back at square one in hating myself. I’m stuck. Best thing I can do is put myself out of my misery and rid of the thing that is actually bringing me more misery than happiness. It’s fulfilling but I would be lying to all of you if I didn’t say it doesn’t bring me home the fruit of my labor in the long run. The orchard is all flowers but no apples, and I want apple pie and sparkling cider, goddamn it.

So, consider me done this summer. As for my writing, I’ll finish seasons grey and the new one, Neptune’s Spear (when that will come, I don’t know), and then that’ll be it. You won’t have to see me or put with me anymore after that. 

I’ll leave Instagram and ao3 up because I put too much work into them: 4 fucking years on both. Yeah, 4 years on instagram and 1000+ posts deep, and I have yet to break 300 followers, even after Joey, Krista, Carla, Charlie, Alex, Eric, Jeff, Nathan, Ron, and a bunch of others and ESPECIALLY Chris. Horse shit. Just 100% horse shit. But it’d be ridiculous only to rid of them. But I’ll be amazed if at least one person will miss me. I’ve been roundly rejected my entire life: I can’t see this being any different.

[lovelyrecs]

PART THREE MOTHERFUCKERS

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend. 

wow it is really full of his details. i've never watched it but i've seen enough reels to know the wrong answer; who's his favorite gilmore girl boyfriend?

NO AUNT.  BITCH. He bites back a grin.

huge fan of her dedication and also doubt. she will NOT just take steve rogers' word (as she should), she will hunt down his full fuckin file and read every word of it

THE MEMES THE MEMES ARE SO FUCKING FUNNY. and this one. i cant stop thinking about this fucker:

because melon sorbet is correct and i hate it so much

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

i'm gonna use this. he is so very rightfully indignant and this is so

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis. 

WE HAVE TELEKINESIS THATS SO SICK

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

she's so right

okay this meme. what the hell is carly shay looking at who is that also the handle!! avengeridontevenknowher LMAOO

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head. 

i would pay so much money for that footage

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out. “That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles. “Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

i love her SO MUCH she's so annoying i love her so much

Bucky is a man of dignity. Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

oh my gosh i really i thought he'd walk around and halfheartedly look up and say hello cryptid and then walk away. like his whispered hello that other morning

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout. “It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.” 

that shane ryan dynamic is really coming through here. top part for me because i can imagine it so clearly. i wish i could draw

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

MET NAT ALONG THE WAY AND BEFRIENDED HER??? holy mother do you know how cool you have to be to do that. i want to know how so badly. was it one of her odd jobs?? tell me she didn't meet her on a mission but one day when she was like a lion tamer for a day or something

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.   “There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?” The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall. 

oh my god did he just see the thing

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

okay i am so deeply impressed this is the second time she's done this on this stupid trip. how does she move so FAST and silently

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour. 

WHY IS HE INDIGNANT??? HE DID NOTHING AT ALL AND SHE SEARCHED FOR TWICE AS LONG AS HE DID i cannot believe the GALL

From: co-host (TGS) can you pick up  From: co-host (TGS) i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

she's so (not bitchless) i bet bucky barnes took this statement to heart. he imagined it spat out from her mouth and he made a face and thought of steve and sam and (reluctantly) clint. bitches

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.  

very relatable i listen to myself talk and my eye twitch comes back

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.” Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.” “No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.” “Right.” “I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

OH MY GOSH HE ACTUALLY CAUGHT THAT SHIT ON CAMERA THIS IS AMAZING

loved this chapter ari i love the forced proximity and them literally wandering away LMAO what an incredible trope

unsolved (iii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, cryptids, graveyards

A/N: good evening. i am fighting demons (tummy ache). comments and feedback are always appreciated thank u for the love on the series so far i adore u guys sm <;33

Previous part || Series masterlist

A few days after the first video goes up, Bucky returns from his run to a SHIELD file taped to his door.  

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend. 

He flips the page to the section on his known connections, only for a sheet of paper to fall out. Sharpie sprawled haphazardly across it, in big red letters. 

NO AUNT. 

BITCH.

He bites back a grin.

The video does reasonably well. Not record breaking numbers or anything, but for once there aren’t TikToks of people counting how many times he blinks to make sure he’s an actual human. 

Always a man of his word, though he has regretted it every single time, he agrees to a second video. It follows after a disgraceful bout of bitching and even pleading, but a few hours later, he resigns himself to his fate silently. 

That is until the schedule for the next video shoot is posted to the server, and he sees it’s at night. 

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

Before he can even type out his rejection, his door receives four sharp knocks. He doesn’t even need to open it to know who it was.  

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis. 

In your hands is a large cardboard box and on your face is a stupidly big grin. 

“Good evening,” you greet. 

“Tell me the show’s getting cancelled,” he says. 

“Nope. We–” you announce, reaching into the box and shoving something onto his chest, “--are going on a trip. Demon hunting.”

“Demon hunting?” 

“To Westley Cemetery,” you add, letting the box tumble onto the floor as you grip its contents. “To catch the Westley Cemetery Cryptid.”

“What the hell is the Westley Cemetery Cryptid?” Bucky demands.

“Creature that lives in the cemetery, watches people from the trees and runs after you if you’re there too long. No known kills, but a couple of scratches and spooks,” you list off. 

His face twists. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Uh, yes it is.” You rest a hand on your hip. “My sources told me so.”

“Who are your sources?”

“Twitter.”

Bucky stares at you without a word.

“It’s totally real. It’s got a Wikia page and everything,” you argue against his complete silence. “I believe in it.”

“That means nothing.”

“Rude.” You glare pointedly. “Anyway, point is, we’re going out tonight to the cemetery and we’re gonna catch this thing on tape.”

Bucky tracks your gaze to finally look down at what you’ve shoved into his hands. It’s a headband, with two cameras attached to it, one facing your face and the other outward. Night vision, he guesses. 

He sighs. “How long? An hour?” 

“Was Hamlet written in an hour? Was Sharknado filmed in an hour?” you exclaim. “Great art takes time. We’re staying out there as long as we need to. So help me, we will emerge victorious.”

Bucky stares at you. “Two hours.”

“Seven.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

“Deal.”

“Great.” You stick your hand out, and he grabs on firmly. “See you at 1am.”

“1am?!”

It is 1am, it is cold and Bucky is miserable. 

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head. 

You offer him whiskey to warm him up, and he agrees. 

You then tell him you don’t actually have any because you didn’t think he’d accept.

He hates it here.

The wind whistles around the both of you. The eerie silence is only compounded by the fact that he can’t see anything beyond a certain point. The night is especially dark and there is no moonlight.

He trudges through the patchy grass, dry leaves crunching under his boots.

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out.

“That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles.

“Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“He definitely does, and you know what? I bet your shit vibes are gonna attract him. Moth to flame and all that. Karmic justice.” 

Bucky stares straight ahead, swerving to avoid running into cracked tombstones. 

You go back to singing, but worse this time. 

“What if we don’t get anything?” he interrupts, to protect his sanity. “No one wants to watch a bunch of people just walk around the dark for 20 minutes.”

There’s no response. 

It takes a second for Bucky to realise the singing’s stopped too.

He stops in his tracks, head swivelling to look for you.

“The fuck…” he mutters. 

In the cemetery, he is truly alone for a moment. Silent, other than wrought iron gates creaking in the far distance. 

The leaves of the tree above him rustle.

Bucky looks up, squinting against the darkness. 

Against the stillness of the night, he sees it. A figure stands tall on the branches of the tree, silhouette obscured by the leaves. 

It leers down at him, unmoving.

Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“Very funny,” he says. “Hilarious.”

“We’ll fake it,” the figure calls from above. “If we don’t get any footage, I’ll just get on up there and fuck around and you record.”

“Get down,” he demands. “We’re not faking footage.”

If this show had to die this way, so be it.

“Bore,” you boo, lowering yourself to the ground with ease. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you don’t want to be a part of this series.”

“I don’t.”

“Anyway,” you say obnoxiously, “we won’t have to. There is definitely a cryptid here. I can feel it in my bones.”

“We’re halfway through the graveyard and there’s nothing here,” he shoots back. “We should call it quits.”

“You’re right,” you say, to his surprise. “We need to cover more ground. Let’s split up.”

That is most definitely not what he was saying.

But you start singing again and so Bucky agrees faster than you finish the same stupid third line for the hundredth time that hour.

Bucky is a man of dignity.

Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

He takes a seat against the trunk of a tall tree, in a relatively open clearing. 

He figures if he just takes a nap then the two hours would pass by quicker. 

Bucky has no idea where you’ve gone. The lack of light doesn’t help, even with his advanced vision. 

He crosses his arms behind his head and settles back, eyes closing. 

Not even a second later, he wants to rip his hair out when the stupid song you were singing reintroduces itself in his head.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans. 

The tree he’s leaning against shifts ever so slightly.

His eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move an inch.

Instinctually, his breathing slows and his ears tune in to pick up even the faintest sounds.

The draft whispers, and he knows for a fact that something is above him.

A branch cracks. 

“Go away,” Bucky says loudly. 

A second passes. 

And then another. 

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout.

“It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.” 

“You didn’t even look up.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“He could have been above you.”

“But he wasn’t.” Bucky’s eyes close again. 

“You’re terrible.” It comes back muffled, and branches shift. “I’m headin’ that way. One of us has to put some effort into this.”

“Joy. Knock yourself out.”

The trunk moves under his muscles again and Bucky lets out a small exhale, settling back into the position he was in.

Until he hears you singing in the distance. Same three lines, same off-key tune.

Bucky drags his palm across his face. 

An hour passes. 

Unlike his original plan, he does not sleep.

He instead recounts every element he remembers from the periodic table. 

Replays every Dodgers game from his childhood, and then gets mad at their shift. 

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

He just doesn’t get how you’re so goddamn chirpy all the time, given that he’d been through something similar and come out the way he had. 

It had taken him a month to say anything to anyone other than Steve. You went out for brunch with Sam the same weekend you showed up at the compound.

He doesn’t get you.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t actually seen you in a while. 

He checks the time on his watch. Nearly 3am.

He had a fucking workout in the morning and no lizard-man was going to be the cause for Steve outrunning him.

He pushes himself off the ground with a groan, and stretches out his sore limbs. Definitely too old for lying around a cemetery beyond midnight.

He calls out your name loudly, and then again, before waiting. 

He hears bells ringing in the distance. 

Bucky looks up.

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.  

“There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?”

The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall. 

“Already told you I’m not faking footage, get down from there,” he repeats. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you at the gate.”

The leaves shuffle around before he hears branches break. 

Something you say gets obscured by your movement, but you disappear again. He thinks that maybe you were cursing him out, and deservedly so. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He rolls his eyes, but starts making his way to the entrance of the graveyard.

The walk back is faster, and he holds back a yawn as the gates start creeping up on the horizon. 

There’s no sign of you. He half thinks you ditched him here and went back to the compound. Or fell off the tree and were just laying there. 

But he decides to wait, leaning against the exposed concrete wall. 

Eyes closed, he rubs his temples and decides that if you’re not here in the next thirty seconds, he’ll just–

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

“Where the hell did you go?” he demands. 

You blink at him, before holding up a wrapper. 

“Got a sandwich. I was hungry. The diner was real nice too, I spent like half an hour talkin’ to the owner.”

He stares at you. “You just left to get a sandwich?”

“Yeah, and I got you one, too,” you reply, tossing him a paper bag. “You’re welcome. God bless that man, but those things aren’t cheap.”

“You’ve not been here for the last half hour?”  

“I mean, I spent like ten minutes looking.” You shrug, taking another bite. “All I got was a bunch of grass.”

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour. 

“So you just left,” he says dryly.

“Yes,” you reply like it’s not even worth debating. “Besides, if anyone could find a cryptid it’d be you. A fellow cryptid.”

Bucky spins on his heel to leave.

“You’re welcome for dinner,” you call out, and he can hear you laugh.

He flips you the finger, and regrets it a second later when your singing resumes.

The sandwich is good. He appreciates it.

He even manages to keep pace with Steve the next morning. 

What he doesn’t appreciate is coming back to fifteen missed calls and four video calls from you.

From: co-host (TGS)

can you pick up 

From: co-host (TGS)

i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

Bucky switches off his phone for the next three hours. 

Finally, it’s a threat that you will show up at his door again and Bucky finally video calls you back that evening. 

“What,” he states.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, sitting up to adjust the camera. In the middle of the ordeal, Bucky sees your laptop open.

“What do you want?” he repeats.

“The team sent over the videos from last night,” you tell him. “At some point in the video you said ‘we’re not faking footage, get down from there.”

“Yeah.”

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.  

“Who were you talking to?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Heard you in the trees. Figured you climbed up there again.”

“Ah.” You click your tongue. “Interesting.”

“What.”

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“Bye,” he says shortly.

“Dude,” he hears you laugh loudly through the phone. “I fuckin’ told you you’d attract these things, you–”

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Next part

[suckitsurveys]

Have you ever gotten into an accident with you parents’ car?: I mean, technically in my mom’s car, but at that point I was the main one driving it.

Ever thought of just picking up and moving far away?: I mean, sometimes. But never seriously.

What’s the wallpaper on your computer?: On the one I’m on it’s a really cool fan art piece of the “Hollywoo” hills from BoJack, complete with the sign missing the D and BoJack’s house.

What is the last thing/person you took a picture of?: My kitty.

Name a band/artist you like that isn’t that popular.: I don’t know, everyone I’m into right now is pretty popular.

Can you lift your significant other (your best friend if you’re single)?: I can get his feet off the ground but not like, carry him.

What is the first vehicle you recall your parents/guardians owning?: A blue Ford Aerostar minivan. My dad had a “work van” too but I can’t remember what kind of car it was. I think it was a Dodge Ram?

You only have $5 for the whole week; What do you buy with it?: I have no idea what that would even get me. For the whole week? Do I already have food in the house?

What was the worst job you’ve ever had?: Party City.

Have you ever seen counterfeit money?: Maybe.

Have you ever lost a pet you were attached to?: Yes.

You’re at an amusement park; What ride do you want to go on first?: I mean, it would depend on the park.

You can read minds; Whose mind do you snoop around in first?: No thank you.

What was the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done?: I’m not sure.

Do you ever talk to inanimate objects?: Oh yes.

Pick one: Laundry, Dishes, or Vacuuming?: Laundry, because I can do other stuff while it’s happening.

Have you ever moved and had to change schools growing up?: Nope.

You are forced to move out-of-state. Where do you go?: I don’t see that happening, and if I was being forced to move I probably wouldn’t have a choice of where I’d be going either.

Name the most meaningful thing a non-relative has done for you.: My best friend fought to get me into the dress rehearsal for SNL and I will always be eternally grateful to her.

The highway and back roads take you to the same place; Choose your route: It would depend on my mood honestly.

You’re going to be a mom/dad; What do you think/do?: Get an abortion.

Have you ever tried to fold a piece of paper more than 7 times?: I probably have.

Are you more likely to give up or persist when you’re having trouble?: It would entirely depend on the situation.

Do you resemble one parent more than the other?: I look more like my dad for sure.

Your best friend needs a kidney to survive; Do you give them one of yours?: I would consider it.

Your brother breaks into your house; Do you press charges?: I don’t have a brother.

Name a big life event that has taken place for you within the last 2 years.: Getting to see SNL live lol.

Do you end up regretting things you say often?: I end up over-analyzing everything.

Would you rather have a huge cat or a tiny dog?: Huge cat.

Pringles or Lay’s Stax?: Pringles.

Name one difficult lesson you’ve learned.: Grief doesn’t get easier.

Name one thing you look forward to as you get older.: Oh god.

Do you use your hands when you talk to emphasize what you are saying?: Oh yes, I am a big hand-talker. It helps my brain remember shit.

You own a huge business; What is it?: An event planning business is my dream.

Are you afraid to ask for help when you know that you need it?: Usually. I hate inconveniencing anyone ever.

Should adopted kids be allowed to find their birth parents if they want to?: Sure.

Name somebody you think died before their time.: Lots of people.

Name the possession you’ve had the longest.: This little horse figuring I got on Mackinac Island when I was 4.

You’re writing a novel; Is it horror, mystery, romance, etc.?: Just fiction with some rom-com influence.

You have an embarrassing secret; Do you tell anyone?: I mean, it depends?

Will you usually admit it when you’ve made a mistake? Yeah.

[qnewsau]

Get to know Big Gay Day performer TINY

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/get-to-know-big-gay-day-performer-tiny/

Get to know Big Gay Day performer TINY

Each month we ask local entertainers to spill the tea about themselves, their craft and the local scene. This month it’s regular performer on the Brisbane scene, including this year’s Big Gay Day, DJ, producer and singer TINY. 

I first got into music…..

When I was six, I was taught chords on a guitar by a family friend. It wasn’t until I was 10 when I received lessons. In high school I was pretty big on writing poetry and won competitions for that so naturally I moved into writing songs and singing when I was 14. 

My big break was…..

At the age of 17, I completed my first album and entered one of my songs into a national competition held by Universal Music and APRA called the Bali Song Summit. I won and was flown to Bali to write and collaborate with producers and artists from across the globe. This led to me becoming a top-line writer for other artists (helping them write lyrics and melodies). 

I went to LA and did a lot of collaborations, however I left the industry shortly afterwards. I had lost my passion for music and my mindset was brainwashed into “you need to write a hit” rather than, “let’s write from a place of how we can connect to others.”

DJ career

I became a DJ because…

I had a lot of early success and people wanted to know me for what I could give them, but not wanting to know me as a friend.

So after a few months of being depressed, going through a breakup and living a life without music I realised my life didn’t have much meaning without it. 

I decided to become a DJ so I could learn to produce during the week. I didn’t tell anyone about my previous success. I wanted to connect with people in the LGBTQIA community and I wanted people to know me for me. I didn’t expect DJing to take off as well as it did, but I guess that was because I fell in love with the process.

My best skill is….

Discipline and perseverance. There was no luck in my success. That was the result of putting in the work every day and still showing up for the love of music, even after experiencing a lot of heartbreak throughout the industry.

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by TINY (@tny_bass)

Best and worst experiences

The best gig I’ve done is….

Splendour In the Grass was very much a surreal moment. I felt like years of dedication, commitment and hard work that people don’t see behind closed doors had finally paid off.

The best audience I’ve had is…

When I played Snowbombing in Austria. The support and love for music that I felt in Europe is something entirely different to Australia.

Being a female DJ is…

Becoming a version of myself that I wish I had to look up to as a child so future generations can feel like they can do the same.

Being a female definitely drove me to work hard. I put more pressure on myself to learn as much as possible in all areas of music, not just as a DJ but also as a producer and artist so the proof of my actions was in the pudding itself and nobody could question it.

The worst experience I’ve had performing is…

Well, I’ve played a lot of gigs so I couldn’t say there’s just one. I’ve had the music stop on me whilst performing, I’ve had a glass thrown at my head (I dodged it) and I’ve completely cut the music in a club just to kick a man out who was harassing me and wouldn’t leave. Like every job, there are good days and bad days but it still beats working in an office!

The rudest thing you can say to me is…

“Your music is $#it can you change it.”

I’ve kicked people out of clubs for it as it’s not necessary. Because:

It’s another artist’s music 

Most people don’t understand when you play residency gigs you are playing what the venue wants to maintain their brand

Don’t complain unless you’re willing to pay the DJ.

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by TINY (@tny_bass)

The scene

The scene for queer women is…. 

Biggest In Sydney. I’ve travelled the world and have experienced pride in Europe and the US. Newtown was where it was at when I was there. Safe to say I do miss it and everything was different back then before lockouts.

Unfortunately, there isn’t enough community (YET) on the Gold Coast to create a sustainable ongoing venue for the queer community due to tall poppy syndrome. I hope to see performers within the community eventually come together so it can benefit the collective.

The next big artist on the scene in Queensland is….

Siala is definitely coming up. Her flow and sounds as a rapper is something I felt drawn to. What she stands for, how she presents, I think she is someone that younger people within the LGBTQIA community can look up to.

We recently connected and I’m excited to see what the future holds for her. I just played for her at The Zoo with Haiku hands. It was a vibe.

Outside of DJing I….

I am “Into-resting” contrary to popular belief. I need a lot of downtime to recharge. I love making music, spending time with the people who are closest to me, working out and surfing.

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by TINY (@tny_bass)

Self-discovery

Something people may not know about me is…

I recently realised thanks to my girlfriend that I identify as Non-Binary (still as she) that language didn’t exist when I was growing up. I would have called it being androgynous. I always used to get asked if I was a boy or a girl and was mostly mistaken to be a boy.

When I was younger I struggled to come to terms with being a female and wanted to be a boy. As I’ve grown older I’ve embraced and felt the empowerment of what it means to be a woman and I am happy with dressing to how I feel energetically on the day.

Something surprising about DJs people don’t realise is…

It can be extremely isolating if you’re doing it full-time. You’re in a room full of people but you don’t get to have conversations. It takes a lot of balance, knowing your limits and maintaining a healthy lifestyle to have a career with longevity.

Regular DJs don’t make as much money as people think. It’s important to consider making and releasing your own music if your aim is to be in it for the long run.

Most DJs want to do it full-time but generally have a burnout rate of 3-9 months. 

In 2024 I hope…

To head back overseas and release some new music. I haven’t had the chance to travel since before Covid and I’ve got a lot of upcoming musical projects that I have been working on.

You can follow TINY on Instagram @tny_bass

Read next:

Lady Bunny headlining The Wickham’s Big Gay Day

Archie Arsenic calls for more accessible queer spaces

Get to know First Nations queen Chocolate Boxx

Spill the tea with Brisbane drag star Maxi-Bon

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube. 

[danothan]

i desperately need more ppl to be creators bc not only is it good for their soul, but the amount of ppl who just mindlessly consume other’s work kills me. i’m not saying you need to have deep thoughts abt everything you enjoy, it’s just that there is a concerning lack of understanding and compassion and even common sense given to creators, and i can only assume it’s bc those ppl lack creativity themselves

[holylulusworld]

Liability

Summary: You are burning too hot for any alpha to keep up with you.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Square 11 filled for @anyfandomaubingo​​: Sex Hotline 

Square 2 filled for @afgomegaversebingo​​: Artist AU

Square 11 filled for @spnkinkbingo​​: Nude Photography 

Warnings: angst, language, self-confident reader, alphas being assholes, mentions of past rejection, calling a sex hotline, mentions of nudes

AN: Inspired by Lorde’s Liability

Divider @firefly-graphics​

Part 1/2

2022 SPN KINK BINGO masterlist 

AFG Omegaverse Bingo masterlist

AFG AU BINGO masterlist

“Y/N, you’re a little much for me. I’m glad you wanted to take it slow and for us to get to know each other better. This way, I realized you will only ever be a liability,” you would gasp or even break down at his words.

You would if you didn’t hear the same song play over and over again for years.

“You are already regretting asking me for this dance, huh?” the alpha sitting opposite you seems to be surprised by your reaction. “Well then, tell me all the things I didn’t do right. Just you know, when we are done here, you’ll pay for my food, including dessert.”

“Sure…sure,” he stammers as he doesn’t want you to cause a scene at the restaurant. He chose to break things up with you in public. 

Pathetic coward.

The alpha nervously tugs at the tie dangling from his neck as you lean back and open the menu.

You wave at the waiter to order the most expensive dish. If that alpha can't give you love, he’ll at least feel you in his wallet for a few weeks.

“Good,” you sip at your water, feeling your chest tightening. Your omega wants to curl into a ball and weep. But you won’t have it. “Now. Begin.”

“Your job.”

You huff.

“You paint and take pictures of naked men,” he whispers, not wanting to draw attention to your table. “This is…I don’t want a woman seeing other men naked.”

“It’s my job,” you roll your eyes. Alphas are so predictable. “I never lied about my job. A client wanted me to take a few pictures of him for his boyfriend. There is nothing wrong with nudes. This has nothing to do with sex. It’s art. I’m an artist.”

“Taking nudes is not an art.”

“Says a guy who can’t distinguish the Mona Lisa from a playboy bunny,” you retort. “If you had the slightest knowledge about art, you would know that art is full of naked bodies.”

“You are loud and aggressive too. If only someone has a different opinion, you must start a fight,” he argues.

“If their opinion is stupid, misogynic, or sexiest, I will fight you.”

“See, how shall a man feel comfortable around someone like you,” you sneer at his words. “You're a little much for me.”

“You are repeating yourself, darling,” he huffs as you thank the waiter for the food. You won’t let his words get to you. At least not here, at the restaurant, for everyone to see. “I got it. I’m complicated and too headstrong for you.”

He’s not the first, and won’t be the last, alpha pulling back.

At first, they are head-over-heels for you. In the end, they will run for the hills, calling you complicated and too much.

New guy. Same song.

“I have other plans for my life than fighting over every little thing with my omega,” he bites back. “I want to spend the night with my friends, you argue, and so on.”

“You forgot you and your buddies wanted to spend your night at a strip club. You are telling me I can’t take nudes of a client, but you can let naked women be all over you. Talking about double standards.”

“You are an omega, I’m an alpha. There is a difference,” you chuckle at his lame excuse. “You cannot be close to other alphas. An omega should know her place-“ 

“I heard enough,” you drop your fork and get up from your chair to pour your wine into his face. “You are not worth my time.”

Before you leave, you ask the waiter to pack up your dinner, and dessert. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Says the guy breaking up with me after he fucked a stripper three days ago,” you coo in his ear. “Did you think what you did with her wouldn’t get back to me? I took pictures of most of the girls at the club for their website.”

He gapes at you. “Why would you go out for dinner with me then?”

“A free meal is a free meal, sweetheart,” you pat his cheek. “Aw, don’t look at me like this. I was hungry and you looked ready to pay any price to get rid of me.”

You turn your attention toward the waiter, giving him twenty bucks as he hands you your food. 

“What a waste of time and energy,” you look at your phone. “I should’ve known better than agreeing to go on a blind date with that asshole.” You block his number and delete the few pictures you took of him.

Liability. Complicated. Unlovable. The words swirl in your mind as you scroll through the numbers on your phone. 

You need something to take the edge off. Anything.

“Voulez-vous,” you whisper as your eyes land on the number you haven’t called for a long time. “Maybe tonight I want to…”

You press dial and hold your breath. The seconds tick by until you finally hear a voice on the other end of the line.

“Welcome to voulez-vous. Our alphas will be right there for you,” a cheery voice coos in your ear. “Do you already have a favorite?”

“I want 67 only, please,” you close your eyes and pray that your favorite alpha is available tonight. You need his voice and calming words. 

“He will be right there for you. Please hold the line,” she talks about the payment and wants your credit card details next. You don’t care. All you want is to hear his voice.

“Hello sweetheart,” your heart jumps in your chest as his voice fills your senses. You fall back on your couch and forget about the douche you wasted two months on. “What can I do for you?”

“Another bad date,” he hums as you start talking about your day. You know it’s unusual to call a sex hotline to only talk. But 67 doesn’t seem to mind. He whispers soothing words and encourages you to never change. “He said I’m a liability and a little too much.”

“He’s an idiot, sweetheart. Never let an alpha tell you that you are not perfect the way you are.”

“I have missed you.”

You bite your tongue. He must’ve heard to oddest things leave his clients’ lips.

“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart. You’re the one making my day better.”

“I’m just another needy omega wanting something from you,” you whisper. “But it makes me feel better when I can talk to you. Less lonely.”

He’s silent for a moment. “If you need to hear my voice, you can always call me.”

For money. You think, but don’t say the words. He’s your shelter and helps you cope when everything gets too much. “I know,” you say instead. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he purrs, and you gasp. He never did this before. Not once. “I mean it, sweetheart. If you need me, I’ll be here.”

“I’ll call again if I need you.”

He hums as try to find the strength to end the call. “I can give you my number.”

“What?” you splutter.

“My private number, sweetheart. This way, you don’t have to pay to talk to a friend. If you are lonely, or just need to talk about your day. Give me a call.”

“I don’t want another blind date, Lisa,” you huff as your friend wants to set you up with someone you don’t know. “I give up on dating for a while.”

“He’s nice,” she hastily says. “He’s your age, maybe two years elder. A little cocky, tall and handsome. You will like him.”

“Maybe. But I’m fairly sure he won’t like me,” she gasps at your words. “It’s true, Lis. None of the alphas I met understood me, or even tried. It’s always my job, or believing, or scent…I don’t know.”

Another week later you get ready for your new client. You prefer painting the little things that inspire you. But inspiration and love don’t pay bills. 

For a moment, you take your time to look at the empty canvas. You sigh as you’ll spend the better of the day painting some rich guy’s face, or ass. Whatever your new client prefers.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” walking toward the alpha hiring you and put on your sweetest smile. “I’m Y/N, you called.”

“Yeah, uh-“ he nervously chuckles. “I called, but I need a picture of me and my brother. My mother wants a painting of her sons for years. It’s a birthday gift.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” it’s kind of sweet that the tall alpha offering his hand to you wants to fulfill his mother’s wish. “Will your brother be here soon?”

“He should be here in a few,” the alpha says. “I’m Sam. Sam Winchester.” He offers a soft smile. “I admired one of your paintings at the local gallery and just knew you must paint us.”

“Sammy, man. That parking lot looks suspicious,” you gasp as a familiar voice catches your attention. “I hope no one touches my Baby.”

“Your baby,” the alpha grins as you look at him, eyes widening in shock. “Sir, if you got a baby, you should bring it here.”

“He means his car, miss,” Sam softly says. “My brother loves his car dearly. Maybe that’s the reason for him being single.”

“Hi, the name’s Dean,” he holds out his hand. You whimper as you know, this is the man you were talking to on the phone for months. “Did Sammy tell you about his idea?”

“Yeah, uh-kinda.”

You try to not stumble over your words. He can never know that you recognized his voice. You cannot embarrass him in front of his brother. Maybe Sam doesn’t know about his brother’s profession.

“That’s great, sweetheart,” you involuntary shudder. Dean dips his head as he watches your reaction to his voice. “Do you paint cars too?”

“Cars,” he suddenly stands a little closer to you. “Why?”

“He loves his car and tries to find out if you are willing to paint it for him,” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dean, can you just not.”

“Maybe you can paint me and my car,” Dean grins. “Me naked on top of my beloved Baby.”

“No problem,” you retort as you step closer to Dean. “I paint nudes all the time. I’m a photographer too. If you are interested in pictures of you and your car.”

“A cocky one, Sammy,” the alpha snickers. “I’ll go for a painting of me and my Baby. Can we make an appointment today?”

“I need to check my schedule first.”

“You can give me a call too, sweetheart. Anytime,” his eyes sparkle as you purse your lips. “I’ll never leave you hanging.”

That bastard knows…

Sam left some minutes ago to meet up with his fiancé, leaving you alone with his elder brother. Now the cocky alpha tries to talk to you.

“So, you’re an artist drawing nudes of dudes,” Dean chuckles as you cover the painting of the brothers. “Does painting nudes pay well?

“And you work for an omega sex hotline,” you shoot back.

“Fair enough,” he laughs. 

“Why?”

“It was meant to be a way to pay a few bills. After I started my own business, I did it for fun. You know, I like dirty talk, and phone sex,” he whispers lowly. “Why did you call?”

“Your voice calmed me.”

“Sweetheart,” he steps closer to whisper in your, “if you want to, I’ll calm you any time of the day…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

I read the edgy!karl, I’ve just finished reading the alt!dream, WHEN IS GEORGE GONNA BE NEXT 😩😩

*cracks knuckles* the hcs that everyone has provided me with has hella prepped me and I'm ready. this is dedicated to 🍭 anon, whose fanart always steals my entire heart. i love u babe

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ᶤ 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤!𝐠𝐧𝐟

± pairings: punk!Georgenotfound x fm!reader

± word count: ~3300

± warnings: smut (18+), language, tattoo work, sadism, pain kink (if you squint), domination, mentions of needles, asphyxiation

song recommendation: Cent Fois by Alice et Moi

George’s mind wandered to his curiosity of the shop across from his tattoo parlor; bright neon signs advertising the local psychic. It was a stark contrast to the dark, wet city housing the businesses. Each night he locked up, he found himself standing on the other edge of the street, staring at the signs and draperies peeking from behind the glass windows and considering shedding his skeptical nature just for one night.

While your business was alluring in and of itself, his true draw to the place came after he had spotted you moving into the apartments above. Your clean appearance completely juxtaposed the business you ran. In his opinion, all natural healers and psychics were born scam artists only focused on the quickest way to pinch a penny.

Yet day after day, he found himself having to tear his eyes from your business just to get home or he would actually venture inside. He was rather subtle about his fascination when it came to his co-workers and regular customers, but each day he prayed you would wander in, requesting some kind of tattoo in a place hidden from outside eyes.

A place he’d like to see again in a less professional setting.

You flipped the textbook page after finishing your paragraph, highlighting a date you were looking for before leaning towards your notebook and scribbling down the fact. You gnawed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly, positive you still didn’t know what your professor had been rattling off about in class a few hours prior. Your sights drifted up to the incense burning across the store from you, the stick on its last few centimeters of wood as the smoke went stale.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, debating if you should light another or wait until morning. You capped your marker and stretched your back, the bell over the door letting out a telling chime as a man peeked in.

You leaned over the counter, closing your books. “Good evening! Welcome to After Life. Can I help you find anything?” You rambled, your mind flashing to the sheet of paper tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror so you didn’t forget the basics of customer service.

The man stepped further into your view, stuffing his fists in his jean pockets as he walked closer in a cautious motion. His dark t-shirt advertised a band you had vaguely heard of, but couldn’t think of a song even if your life depended on it. What really drew your attention were his tattooed arms; branches from a grand tree twisting every which direction to peek out from beneath his sleeves; bright floral designs and litters of birds decorating the dark wood limbs. You bit back a smile at the small mushroom tattoo near his wrist that seemed to be out of place.

The laces of his Chuck Taylors grazed the floor before he was standing in the middle of your store, looking around briefly. “I actually co-own the parlor across the street. I realized I never welcomed you officially,” he stated, hints of nervousness reflecting in his tone. His accent was calming and husky from the season change.

At the mention of the tattooist across the street, your memory flashed to the various walks of life that found themselves in your store after getting work done. You also thought of the fact that you had seen the man before you break up fights in the street stretching between your properties. The tall muscular people seemed to have no effect on him as he’d pull them apart like school children on the playground.

You pushed your books further to the side. “Oh yeah, that’s right! I should have come over and introduced myself, so don’t worry about it,” you eased, swatting the air of his comment.

He chuckled softly before reality seemed to snap into his head, making him step forward and extend a hand to you. “I’m George, by the way,” he introduced. You took his hand, muttering your own name and hoping your attention span would hold for long enough that he would be entered into your long-term memory.

His hand was calloused in yours, something that you wondered came with the job or if he was some kind of carpenter in a past life of his. You gently pulled his hand closer to you, slipping your hold out of his to look at his palm. He tittered nervously, peering at the flesh with you. Your finger traced along the mounts in his hand, finding Jupiter to be the most prominent. “That checks out,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding softly.

His eyebrows perked up. “What? Am… Am I gonna meet a tall dark stranger and take a trip across the sea?” He joked, making you smile as you looked at his Sun line.

“I didn’t peg you as an Outlander fan,” you chided.

His brows flattened for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip and playing with his snake bite piercings. You found it hard to look away from him. “Honestly, I wasn’t. A girl I was fooling around with really liked it. I don’t know…” he trailed off, making you giggle.

Your nail grazed along his heart line. “You guys were just fooling around?” You quirked, eyes meeting his. His expression narrowed smugly as if urging you to continue. “Your heart line begins below your index finger. You’re not the fooling around type.” He let out a snort. “You fall in love easily too.”

He sighed with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was amazed or mocking you again. “Well, yeah. That’s…” He paused with a swallow, biting back a grin as if he was uncomfortable, but didn’t retract his hand from you. “... That’s why we’re not anymore,” he admitted. He leaned his elbows on the counter as you sat in your chair. “What else does it say?”

Your lips curled into a soft smirk, his curious eyes trailing over your face as if to watch your brain work. “You have a fire element hand which indicates that you’re confident and passionate. Maybe a bit cocky sometimes,” you teased, making him chuckle with you. You could feel his eyes on you, sending heat to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on the mount of Venus under your touch.

You wanted to ask him about his sexual indulgences, mainly because of the prevalence of Venus in his palm. “You have a mount in Jupiter, which means you’re a natural leader, and rather dominant.” You looked up at him again, watching as he bit back a smirk, seemingly understanding the subtle innuendos behind your statements.

George seemed to have some kind of effect on you, your thoughts clouding with the idea of what his snake bites would feel like against your lips. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but there was no discoloration to his skin to suggest he was the one smoking. He watched you through the hair threatening to dangle over his eyes, his gaze hinting at an attraction he had for you below his collected form. “Go on,” he murmured, voice soft and wispy as the space between the two of you seemed to warm.

You made a conscious effort to keep your sultry thoughts at bay as your thumb brushed over the area you had been avoiding telling him about. “You’re driven by desire,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… very in touch with your sexuality and you thrive on your indulgences.”

You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, the dark irises swimming with some kind of cocky smugness at what you had just told him. He pulled away from you, gently standing up. Part of you wished the counter between the two of you would vanish just so you could be pressed up against George at the mercy of his driven mind. “I feel it's only fair I tattoo you now,” he quipped, making your eyebrows raise. Your confidence shriveled yet you swore you wouldn’t let him know that fact.

You chewed on your lip, looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. “Oh, I’ve never been tattooed,” you avowed, voice carrying the slightest bit of your coaxing nature.

He smirked. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he cajoled, teeth playing at his piercings again as you were sure he was already undressing you with his eyes. “You read me, I’d like to do the same.”

And how could you refuse such an appealing offer?

You leaned back on your elbows, your skin sticking to the leather chair beneath you as you watched him pull back his hair, elastic band dangling from his white teeth. Despite securing back his locks, bits of his bangs still hung over his forehead. You liked the interior of his parlor, maybe because it was only the two of you.

George began to fill small caps of dark ink. “I think you should get some crystals in here,” you teased, making him smirk. “I could hook you up.”

“What, like a salt lamp?” He joked, pulling on a pair of dark plastic gloves.

You snorted, lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “It might be good. Lighten the place up a bit.” George swiveled his chair closer to you muttering some kind of line about only getting them from you, but his words fell silent on your ears as his hand pushed up your shirt. You were silently thanking whatever divine force above for swaying you towards slinkier lingerie earlier that morning.

You knew he could see the lacy edges of your bra by the way his eyes nonchalantly flashed up to you before laying out his template on your ribs. You could feel hints of his warm breath against your skin as he studied it. “You can look at it if you want,” he stated.

You shook your head, wanting him close to you as long as he could be. “I trust you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his again. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he struggled not to smile at your statement. He had promised to cover a small scar for you and by the way he explained it, you were ready to be in his hands. You wet your lips as he adjusted the speed on his tattoo gun. “Will this hurt?” You asked, tucking one of your arms behind your head.

The look of unadulterated lust that he gave you made your toes want to curl. “Probably a bit. It feels good sometimes, though,” he answered. He came closer to you, resting his forearm on your stomach to angle himself in the right position. At the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, you swore your body was on fire. It took everything in your power not to moan. It could have been the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, but his soft breath and the anticipation of the needle made you feel like a junky. “I’ll be gentle, darling,” he leered, his accent muddy and low. He let the needles drag against your skin and you bit your lip, trying not to hiss at the pain. His eyes met yours. “See, not bad.”

You let out a breathy wheeze. “Shut up, you sadist,” you quipped, his chuckle coming out rather roguish as he focused on the work in front of him. Your nerves were more focused on the way George’s hands were barely caressing your body as if teasing and hinting at what he could do to you.

You drew in a sharp breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Shhh shh. It’ll be over soon,” he cooed, his voice sending goosebumps spreading across your body as his lips tugged into a light smirk. By your palm reading, you knew he was enjoying having this much control over you.

Part of you found it almost torture when George would look at you with soft and lusty eyes for merely a second before his gaze jutted back down to his work, murmuring soft praises about how well you were taking the pain. You would go under the needle anytime he asked, just to receive the sultry treatment he gave.

He was so close, you could have driven your fingers into his dark hair if you wanted. “How did you get this scar?” He asked, cleaning off some of the ink before continuing.

“A knife fight,” you answered without missing a beat, making him scoff. “Actually, I fell into my grandma’s glass table one time. My cousin was teaching me the Electric Slide,” you corrected, making him laugh, shaking his head slightly as he filled in a spot.

He let his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s so cute. Did you ever get it figured out?” To this you shook your head, the both of you laughing. You let out a groan as the needle dug into another area on your ribs, the sound making his eyes dart up to you. He leaned off of you, slipping one of his gloves off. “Wanna hold my hand, sweetheart?” He joked, but you took his offer, squeezing his hand in yours when it got painful enough. You held it close to your chest, hoping he would feel your heartbeat quicken each time he looked at you.

As he finished up his work, his thumb brushed against your hand absent-mindedly. You could tell by the way he gripped your hand as well that he enjoyed that the tattoo hurt you. Most of your mind was excited by how easily he was stirred up by you, while the rest was completely unsurprised and even threatened to bite out that he was a cliché.

When he was finally satisfied, he cleaned you up and stuck on a SecondSkin, biting back a grin at his work as he pulled you up by the hand he was holding onto you with. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited you were to see, swinging your legs over the side of his hair and walking towards his mirror. You held your shirt up, chewing on your bottom lip as you grinned at the ink. George rested a hand beside the mirror, watching you beam at his work.

All of his lines were flawless, your scar completely disappearing within his shading. You’d pitched the idea of an ode to the Creation of Adam. While it was cliche, what better to fit in the space below your breast and give George the impression that you were cultured. Yet you told him he could do whatever he wanted to it, resulting in one of the hands resembling a skeleton and the other holding a sucker. As you praised him, he shrugged off your comments, murmuring about it being his pleasure. He reached out his free hand, letting his thumb smooth over one of the edges of this bandage, which brought you closer to him.

Your cheeks warmed at the close proximity to him as his eyes grazed over your body before meeting your own. His hand moved from the bandage to your back. You leaned on your toes, pressing your lips to his. The tension between the two of you dissipated as he hungrily reacted, pulling you against him and savoring your moans as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

George’s hands moved down your body, swiftly hooking around your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring you back to his chair. Your hands moved into his hair, letting it loose and wrapping the band around your wrist. The leather was cold as your back pressed to it. George leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing more of the tree painting the expanses of his skin.

If you weren’t so eager to be touched by him, you’d be studying the work of art.

As his lips met yours again, you ground your hips against his, eliciting a moan to vibrate through his chest. You raked your nails down his back, trying to further draw out reactions from him as his hands attentively played with the lace of your bra, fingers ghosting over the skin pressing against the cups.

His lips left yours only to travel the length of your jaw and inch his way toward your waistband. Your pants were discarded with a swift tug from him before he pulled your thighs flush against his, grinding his hips against yours, hands gripping onto your sides to keep you in place. You tilted your head back, relishing in the friction as your body screamed to finally feel him take advantage of you.

You reached between the two of you, tugging at his zipper as your hunger for him escalated. His tongue flattened against your collarbone before his teeth pressed into your skin. You could feel his arousal through his jeans at the sound of your whimpering.

He pumped himself in his hand before pressing into you, the feeling of him inside of you making your head spin as if you were on some kind of ecstasy. Your moan came out needy and desperate as he thrust into you, gripping the edge of the leather seat as his breath hummed against your skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, raking your nails down his neck as he groaned in your ear at the feeling.

One of his hands grasped your wrists together, pinning them above your head while the other wrapped around your throat. His eyes burned into yours as he leaned back, leaning his weight on your wrists and squeezing your throat, the lack of oxygen making each of your senses more heightened as he pounded into you.

Your moans of George’s name were grated as they slipped through your mouth, his relentless pace and intense hold nearly making you drool from the stimulation. By the practice of his actions, you wondered how long he had been stewing on demolishing you in this way.

He loosened his grip on your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip just to hear you groan from the rough action. You rolled your hips against his, letting him slow his pace to reach deeper within you. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he rubbed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the makeup smudging around your eyes from his antics and the heat between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, wrapping his hand around the edge of the chair again to drive himself into you, the new angle muddling your mind and vision as your body ached to come undone. You sank your nails into his back, earning his low, raspy whispers of your name.

At his praises, you came, tugging on his hair as he bit into your shoulder again, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

The next day, George stretched his shoulders, peering through the front window of his shop. His mind sparked with the feeling of your legs around his waist and the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He could practically hear you whimpering his name in his ears as he went back to touching up a fading tattoo on his friend’s arm.

“OW, George,” Clay rumbled, thigh flinching at the jab from George.

George snorted, his mind still on the high he got from your pure trust in him as you laid out on his chair. “I’ll give you something to bitch about,” George grumbled, releasing just how gentle he was during your tattoo. The way your voice got soft and quiet when he rolled over a spot that was rather tender already would most definitely be a guilty pleasure of his.

Clay barked at him again as George jerked his hand, fulfilling his promise. “I’VE BEEN NICE TO YOU ALL MORNING.”

Tag List: (to be added, follow this link :))

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[violettelueur]

— RYOMEN SUKUNA || LET ME MARK YOU THEN

↳ featuring : ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of sex, mention of hickeys and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 22 january

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.7k

↳ synopsis : (modern!AU) after your lectures, you decided to pay your tattoo artist boyfriend a little visit only to then be persuaded to let him draw a tattoo design on you even though you never actually wanted a real one to be marked with.

↳ barista’s notes : just a little gift to you all before today’s episode and the reset the ‘coffees in progress’ list (wip) when i get enough sleep and after my disgusting online classes, i hope you enjoy the free cup of coffee everyone ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ - also i feel like this is the longest imagine i have ever posted ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ

Having a morning full of tedious lectures was not someone’s ideal day and it was definitely not yours. Although, there was nothing you could do but pursue them through with as much enthusiasm and determination that you could possibly muster while being impatient about the hands on the clock taking forever to move a single inch.

However, at this moment in time, you were able to escape the suffocating lecture hall after many hours for today and was now walking down the busy streets of Tokyo with a white plastic takeaway bag in one hand while the other was occupied with your tote bag that was resting on your shoulder, which surprisingly kept hold of some of your textbooks as well as your laptop giving you some reassurance that the bag that your boyfriend gave you was going to last for quite some time.

Looking around the busy quarter of the capital, you began to notice a few high school students roaming about here and there with some hanging out with their friends - mostly likely going to a cafe or to the nearest karaoke lounge that they could find - while other were either rushing home as they entered the station or to their part-time jobs that they had managed to obtain for a few extra bucks to save up for their next step in life. Noticeably, there were also a few adults out and about with some working as street-food vendors selling delicious treats that you would be craving if you weren’t so full while others were dressed extremely professional with their laptops out on their cafe/restaurant table to what seemed like they were on their lunch break.

‘He should be on his lunch break right now, but if not, I’ll just put his food in the shop’s fridge’

Continue walking to your destination, you finally reached to a quieter area with the city leading you to then stand in front of a glass order with a ‘closed’ sign in front along with another extremely noticeable sign proudly stating ‘Malevolent Shine’ to which if you had said that to any tattoo fanatic within Japan, they would instantly know what you were talking about.

Opening the door, there was a sudden noise of a ring being heard leading you to immediately look up to see the silver bell that you told him to arrange since he always got annoyed about the number of potential clients popping up without his acknowledgement only to tell him that they didn’t book an appointment at all causing him to become more irritated - and as a matter of fact, you couldn’t blame him at all.

Looking around the tattoo shop that you had entered, there wasn’t a single person in sight leading you to come to the conclusion that you were right about his lunch break since his assistant would be at the front desk if they weren’t. Although there was no one to greet you, the dark atmosphere did. It gave an odd sense of comfort with its hints of red that could calm a customer down if they were worried about the tattoo they were committing to having on their body or if it was their first - especially when it came to him.

“Oya~ ain’t you a sexy customer? But I’m afraid we’re closed, but I don’t mind giving you a private session if you want, kitten” someone smoothly stated, leading your eyes to slowly shift to the person who was leaning against the desk with a confident smirk on his face. There he was, the mastermind behind the whole shop itself.

“Well, I’m not coming in for a tattoo but I am here to give a little gift, Sukuna,” you mischievously stated, as you lifted the white bag with the takeaway you had ordered for the man himself, leading him to look at you in surprised before tilting his head indicating you to come to the back with him.

Following his lead, you placed the bag on his table once you reached the backroom before placing your tote on the floor beside the table’s leg so it didn’t fall, letting any of your precious studious contents to be lost as well as avoiding any damage to your laptop.

“I’m surprised you’re using the bag, kitten,” Sukuna suddenly commented, as he sat on his chair while pulling out the white styrofoam box of Thai food that he always ordered along with a bento box that was wrapped in a black cloth.

“Well, how could I not? You did buy it for me,” you quietly mentioned as you took off your black longline coat before placing it behind your chair since there was nowhere else to put it.

“Did you make this?” Sukuna quickly questioned as he lifted the bento box causing you to nod at his question once you saw what he meant leading you to state, “I didn’t know if you were going to stay back tonight, so I prepared some food for you in case,” causing Sukuna to smirk since you were right about your assumption and it did catch him by surprise since he didn’t mention it to you today when he left your shared apartment.

“Thanks,” he quietly muttered before pulling his chair closer towards you so he could place a lingering kiss on your cheek to show his appreciation towards you. “How was class?” he then asked, as he began to unwrap the cloth of the box to your surprise since you bought his favourite item from the Thai restaurant but made no mention of it.

“Annoying, it was suffocating in there but the lecture was interesting so that’s a plus,” you answered, as you began to scan his messy desk that displayed the many drawings that he was working on. Some of the designs that Sukuna was drawing were almost complete, while others were in the same situation but for some odd reason, it was crossed out as if he was unsatisfied with the outcome that it was going to have which lead you to be perplexed since some of the drawings were incredibly detailed and beautiful. However, you didn’t have the eyes of an artist like your boyfriend did, instead, you had the eyes of someone that was able to analyse things exceedingly well hence why you decided to pursue a career as a criminal lawyer.

“How has the shop been while I was away?” you asked, as you carefully picked up one of the designs that the tattoo artist seemed to have scraped leading him to answer with an annoyed huff. “A pain, there’s been so many dumbass people coming in thinking they could just walk in and get a tattoo done immediately without even booking a meeting,” Sukuna answered before taking a bite of the soy-glazed fried chicken you made as he then continued with, “it was a good idea to get the bell since I could see if it was a customer I knew or not,”.

Looking at your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but smile at the man as he continuously munched the context in the box as if he hadn’t eaten in the past week when in reality he had been raiding the fridge back home only just this morning. Slowly, you turn your head back to the paper that you were holding as you continued to admire the work of art right in front of you. 

To be honest, it was quite simple compared to all the other ones that were lying about on his work desk but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. The light sketch depicted a short section of a branch or stem decorated with different types of beautiful flowers and next to it was the same design with the only difference of it being coloured lightly in case the client wanted to have options.

“What happened here?” you asked before tilting the paper to the side, letting Sukuna have a glance at the design he decided to discard.

“Oh, the client cancelled since I wouldn’t have sex with her,” Sukuna casually stated leading you to nod before taking another look at the design with a small smile on your face. Sadly, it was such a waste since the design was beautiful and it was disappointing to not see Sukuna put this beautiful art into life.

Some people might wonder why you were so calm about the statement he had just given you, heck even his younger twin brother Itadori Yuji thought it was weird that it didn’t bother you as much as other girls would have been. The reason was that you were so used to him having female attention as well as male attention and it wasn’t a surprise when people would book an appointment with him just for a fling or hoping for something more than just that - and even though you were calm, there was also a hint of jealousy and fear within your heart that you couldn’t help.

It was like the first time you saw him in your second year of high school.

                                               ꕥ 

Stretching your arms, you had finally finished the last sheet of the budgets for the school clubs leading you to carefully clip the pile of sheets into the folder as you then stood up from your desk before quickly heading out of your homeroom, so you could give the documents to the student council president, who was a third-year within your school.

However, as you were walking past a few classrooms with some people greeting you with a smile, you came to a sudden halt when you saw a whole crowd of female and males students in front of you leading to a blockage of the halls and a blockage of the classroom you need to go through to hand the documents to your senior.

“Did you hear, I heard he was back?!”

“I can’t believe he’s back, I missed him so much!”

“I like Yuji’s kind and goofy personality, but how could you not love a bad boy like him?”

‘Bad boy?’

Carefully, you managed to find a gap between the sea of students and forcibly made yourself fit within the gap before badly struggling to make it through the arc of the classroom door leading you to nearly trip the second you got the chance to push through the gap to ender the class. Quickly looking around, you found your senior sitting next to someone who looked like your friend and basketball club member Itadori Yuji - well more like a mature replicant of the boy you were used to. However, unbothered by the sudden appearance of the new third-year, you speedily made your way to the council president and handed him the booklet that he needed today leading you to receive his gratitude.

Yet, before you could even take a single step away from your senior, you unexpectedly felt someone grab your wrist causing you to quickly turn around to find Itadori’s replica behind you leading to a few gasps coming from the students from the outside as well as in the homeroom.

“Is there an issue?” you firmly asked, as you looked down at his hand that had a tight grip on your wrist causing you to have a small glance at the two black bands that were tattooed around his wrist - even though it was prohibited to have any in your school, you weren’t the type to scold someone for having them since you weren’t sure on how the teacher’s thought it affected someone’s education.

“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” the salmon-haired third-year curiously asked, as he began to admire your wrist by gently turning it for your veins to come into view before beginning to trace your skin with the tip of his thumb causing a light shiver to go down your spine due to the ticklish feeling as well as his deep voice which was the complete opposite to what you thought it was going to be.

‘So this is the infamous Sukuna everyone was talking about’

“Not really,” you answered as you looked at him causing his eyes to look back at you before you continued with “I don’t think it would suit me at all,”.

“I disagree,” Sukuna counteracted, as he went back to admire the blank canvas of your wrist that he wanted to draw on so badly. No not draw. Mark. “I think you’ll suit something, maybe something on your neck or collarbone at best actually,” Sukuna mentioned leading you to give him a confused expression before he then proceeded with his speech by saying, “I’ll convince you one day and mark you brat”,

‘What...did….he….just….call….me..?’

“Ah...good luck with that idiot,” you stated in an annoyed tone leading to a few of the admiring student to gasp at your wording as well as sudden confident as they were scared on what was going to happen to you now since Sukuna wasn’t the type to tolerate insults in a nice way no matter what gender you were. However, exceeding the audience’s assumptions, Sukuna began to smirk excitedly at your attitude as he suddenly found you more interesting than any other girl he has met at the back of the school.

“Be prepared, little kitten”

                                               ꕥ

‘That nickname….’

Back then Sukuna was known to be a playboy from what you could recall, every week there was news on the new girl he had managed to convince to meet at the back alley of the school while you were just being a model student with the dream of going to law school. However, during the middle of the school year, you began to realise that the common scandalous news that seemed to be popular enough for it to be on the front cover of the newspaper began to gradually fade as Sukuna slowly pushed himself into your life since you were close with his twin brother due to your friend being part of the basketball team as the assistant coach - she even mentioned that ever since Sukuna came into your life he had stopped his acts and change slightly because of you to which, of course, you denied at the time.

It was during the first term of your third-year that you agreed to give Sukuna a chance since he was constantly annoying you by popping up at the school gate after school to ‘walk you home’ ever since his graduation - when in reality it was to take you out somewhere - without fail even when you had to stay in a few hours. However, you had given him three conditions since you were still conscious of the consequences of dating someone with such a disgraceful built reputation - much to his dismay, he shockingly agreed.

If you are going to have a fling with someone behind my back, don’t think about seeing or talking to me again.

I know you are sexually active, but you have to wait until I’m ready.

Don’t tattoo me.

Let’s just say that Sukuna had managed to keep condition number one in check and you didn’t have to worry about it at all, while with condition number two he didn’t have to wait that long for you to give in to your desires which you could tell he certainly enjoyed when you finally gave him the ‘okay’.

Number three though...

“Do you want to try that design out?”

Breaking from your daze, you quickly turned your head to find your boyfriend staring at you - with the bento box practically empty at this point - while tilting his head to the paper that was still within your grasp.

“I think you giving me hickeys are enough in my opinion, babe” you jokingly mentioned leading to both you and Sukuna laughing at each other slightly.

“I mean, do you want me to draw it on you to see how it looks?” he then asked, causing you to look at the floral design one last time before giving him a hesitant nod.

‘Trying it out won’t hurt right?’

“I need a confident answer little kitten, where did that feisty attitude of yours back in high school go?” Sukuna teased, causing you to give him the side glance before giving him the verbal permission that he wanted, leading him to smirk at you since knew his mockery would get you to give him what he wanted since you were also the stubborn type - a side that he always loved to play with.

Grabbing his pen and a black pot full of his thin-tipped coloured skin markers, he wheels his chair even closer to your before pausing, leading you to look at him in confusion since you had already pulled your wrist in front of him, the same area he had grabbed back in high school.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothing today,” Sukuna muttered as he began to fiddle with the collar of your white silk dress shirt causing you to look at him with extreme confusion before mentioning, “well it is getting colder since the Autumn season is coming around,” leading him to hum in an understanding tone as he continued to play with the smooth fabric.

“I want to draw on your collarbone area, I don’t want to draw on the area where the client wanted it to be,” Sukuna stated as he lightly pushed away your wrist leading you to realise why he paused. “You can,” you quickly mentioned leading the tattoo artist to look at you to see if you were lying, only to see nothing but the light of the trust within your eyes.

Slowly, Sukuna began to reach over to the top button to then unhook it from its loop before continuously doing the same with the others until enough skin of your shoulders were exposed with the top half of your shirt resting on the side of your arms to which then he slowly moved away the right-hand side of your bra strap to fully expose the canvas that he wanted to mark so eagerly.

Admiring the skin that was in front of him, Sukuna began to trace the area with his thumb before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the same side of your neck before cradling your face on the other side with his other hand - as if it was a way for him to say ‘thank you’ for letting him do this.

Regrettably pulling away, Sukuna quickly grabbed his black pen as he then leaned in towards your collarbone to start drawing the outline of his design on his now favourite canvas causing you to shiver somehow due to how ticklish and weird the sensation felt when the ballpoint pen continuously gently gilded upon your skin. However, what got you shaking the most was the constant feeling of your boyfriend’s breath being felt on your upper body now that your shirt was basically off - it wasn’t completely off to the same feeling when you were underneath him the first time you allowed him to make his claim on you.

“Baby, it feels ticklish,” you commented, the second you felt a different sensation upon your skin leading Sukuna to glance up to check if you were alright like you were an actual client before placing another kiss on your jawline in a way to comfort you since he had switched to his skin markers to colour in the design he had drawn on you.

“You’re being a good kitten though, you’re not moving a lot then I thought you would,” the tattoo artist whispered leading you to quiver as his deep voice was not helping so much with your beating heart - erratic to the point where you thought he could hear or even feel.

Due to Sukuna concentrating, you couldn’t help but keep silent to help him continue with his work causing you to glance around your room with your eyes before landing upon a wall where there was a multitude of messages written leading you to carefully scan the writings that were visibly presenting themselves.

As expected, there were messages of encouragement - not that the arrogant Sukuna needed it to be honest, but it was nice of the client to do so - and a few drawings from other tattoo artists that Sukuna had famously done. However, not to your surprise, there were a few numbers here and there causing you to sigh since you couldn’t help it - you couldn’t blame your boyfriend for being an extremely handsome man.

Unexpectedly, you felt another kiss being placed upon your cheek causing you to look towards your boyfriend with a smile on your face - it was as if he knew what you were looking at. “I’m finished by the way,” Sukuna announced, causing you to look at him with widened eyes since the drawing session was a little faster than you had anticipated.

Reaching over to a drawer in his desk, Sukuna suddenly pulled out a mirror before passing it to you, leading you to lift up the little instrument to see the result that was drawn on your skin.

“You changed the design,” you quietly stated, as you began to tenderly trace the design with your index finger as you began to admire the piece of art that was masterfully drawn on your collar bone. The tattoo beautifully depicted a single strand of a blooming lavender across your collarbone with each petal in different shades of purple while the buds that weren’t in bloom were in a slight pale pink shade making you smile more since Sukuna drew this straight from his head causing you to have a hint of proudness for him.

“I wasn’t going to give you that previous design, it doesn’t suit you one bit,” the salmon-haired artist mentioned as he continued with, “I’m not going to let that disgusting design touch your skin, especially since this is the first time you let me mark you somewhat,” as he then moved behind you before placing his chin on your shoulder to look at you through the mirror you were holding.

“I might let you mark me permanently then,” you suddenly announced causing your boyfriend to look at you with a surprised look on his face leading you to giggle at his reaction.

“Yeah, let’s break condition three then, you can mark me this one time,” you informed him as you turned to look at him, causing Sukuna to give you his classic smirk before possessively grabbing your chin leading him to lean closer to you.

“Let me mark you then”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[jimblejamblewritings]

little situation | part 31.

Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader, peter parker x black!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The paint on the star had chipped away completely over the years. He had become a nomad, feeling like he didn’t have much to live for. Not when he lost his second chance, a chance he shouldn’t have even gotten and Steve was sure there wouldn’t be a third. If you asked the old Avengers where Steve Wilson-Rogers— he couldn’t bring himself to drop the Wilson in his name— was, they wouldn’t know. They stopped knowing Steve’s location by the middle of the first year. His social media went dead, most of theirs did. They didn’t call him, he called them. Once every two or three months. A single voicemail sent to everyone to know he was alive and doing as well as he could.

He didn’t really go by Steve either. On the off chance one of the Avengers managed to actually pick up Steve’s call before he got it to voicemail, they didn’t address him by anything other than Cap. He wasn’t Captain America anymore, he had left the shield with Tony. But he also wasn’t Steve— that was a name that belonged to his family. So he became Cap, staying in ratty motels around the world and helping people from the shadows but never staying for long and never being seen by many people.

The only time anyone truly knew it was Cap was the tattoo artist in Berlin. The man was starstruck but didn’t say anything, the world— the half that still existed— had learned what he had gone through. So the artist worked on Steve in absolute silence: the outline of a large star on his left bicep and two more around it. There was also a secret, smaller tattoo. Another star in the same shade of pink as your suit behind his right ear. When it was done, Steve paid the man and walked out to never be seen in that part of Berlin again.

Natasha and Rhodey got the most contact with him. After finishing a job he would send them a text of where they could pick up the bad guys he had tied up for them. There was always a hope that they might see Steve when they went to retrieve the people but he never showed. It went like that until the third year when he broke. He couldn’t keep punching through his grief and eventually it all made him numb. So Steve went back to New York, back to his old home in Brooklyn.

Nothing was there, everything still in the apartment at the compound. And nothing was really added the longer Steve stayed. He became a grief counselor. He wasn’t sure if it was because he hoped that helping other people process their grief would eventually help him or if it was because being a counselor was Sam’s old job and it felt like being close to him. He told everyone they had to move on, learn to process but it wasn’t easy for him so how could he expect others to do it.

He finally found himself slowly getting through it by the fifth year. And Steve thought he might be able to stop running now. So he got on his motorcycle after his latest counseling session and started to drive. The compound still looked the same. That was nice, at least one thing was still the same. Steve entered just as Nat was throwing a dry sandwich back onto her plate.

“I’d offer to make you dinner but that would be more depressing,” Steve joked, it didn’t come out as light as he used to.

Nat smiled a little just seeing his face. “You here for free laundry?”

“And to see a friend.”

“Clearly, your friend is fine.”

“You know, I saw a pod of whales coming over the bridge,” Steve said.

“In the Hudson?”

“Fewer ships, cleaner water—”

“If you’re about to tell me to look on the bright side, I’ll throw this sandwich at you.”

Steve laughed before taking a seat at the table. He apologized, the speech was a force of habit from being a counselor. Even he didn’t really believe it. Steve was surprised that Nat was still in the business of being an Avenger. But her will was a little more than his. Although based on the woman in front of him, Steve suspected she would leave soon as well.

They engaged in small talk, Nat being very careful not to say anything that might have remotely related to you. It was awkward and hard but something both of them appreciated. Just being with each other. Old friends, two of the original Avengers. A notification popped up on the hologram and Nat swiped it without really paying attention.

“Hi! Hello? Is anyone home?” a voice called out over the intercom. “This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago at the airport!”

The two of them turned towards the hologram screen. They weren’t actually seeing Ant-man. They couldn’t be seeing Scott, it was impossible. He was someone who they had on the list of Avengers that got snapped. But here he was on the screen, standing on the front door. Natasha quickly pressed the button to let Scott in. He paced back and forth in attempts to collect his thoughts.

“Have you two ever studied quantum physics?” Scott asked.

“Only enough to make conversation,” Nat said.

“That’ll do. Right, five years ago, before… Thanos, I was in a place called the quantum realm. It’s like its own microscopic universe. Hope she was my… she was supposed to pull me out but then Thanos and I got stuck there.”

“I’m sorry,” Nat said. “That must have been a long five years.”

“But that’s the thing. It wasn’t five years, for me it was five hours… Time works differently in the quantum realm, we don’t know how to navigate right now but what if we did? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that. What if there was a way we could enter the quantum realm at a certain point and time and exit at another? Like before Thanos.”

Steve and Nat looked at each other. Steve didn’t want to start giving himself hope again. But Scott seemed so sure, like he knew what he was talking about.

“You’re suggesting a time machine?” Steve asked.

“Um, yeah. A time machine.” Scott scratched the back of his head. “Never mind. It’s crazy.”

“Scott, I get emails from a raccoon. Nothing’s crazy anymore,” Nat said.

“So who do we talk to about this?”

The car slowly rolled to a stop in front of Tony’s fancy cabin. Tony, who was carrying his kid Morgan, watched it stop and Steve step out followed by Nat and Scott. Tony set Morgan down and told her to go inside as the others approached the porch of the house. He looked at the serious faces of the three adults in front of him. Tony came back out with four glasses and started pouring water as Scott talked.

“Now we know what it sounds like. But after everything you’ve seen is anything really impossible?”

“You guys are talking about messing with the Planck scale, triggering Deutsch Proposition. You do this… you’re not coming home.”

“But I did.”

“No, Scott. You accidentally survived. That’s different. Billion-to-one cosmic fluke. I’ve got a good thing going here. If there’s no logical way for me to safely execute said time heist, I’m not doing it.”

Morgan came outside. “Mommy told me to come save you.”

“She did? Thank you sweetheart.”

Tony noticed from the corner of his eye how Nat and Scott turned their faces to look at Steve who seemed to tense up after watching the whole interaction. The glass in his hand dropped and Steve looked down as if he was suddenly aware of where he was.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he bent down to pick up the glass and put it back on the tray.

“Cap, I’m sorry but it—”

“It’s fine, Tony.” Steve looked around and his eyes briefly landed on Morgan. “I’ll be in the car when you guys are, uh, done.”

Steve walked off before Nat could grab him. They all watched him get into the car. Tony walked inside with Morgan, leaving Nat and Scott to stay on the porch.

“What are we going to do now? We need him, we can’t stop,” Scott said.

“We’ll need a bigger brain.”

Tony was on dishwashing duty for the night— he and Pepper liked to switch off chore duty. The water on the nozzle sprayed out. Tony scrambled to turn it off and grabbed a dry dish towel to dry down the area that had gotten sprayed including the shelves. As he dried the shelf he picked up the picture frame that had gotten sprayed. Tony swiped over it with the dish towel once before pausing.

It was the picture of you, him, and Peter playing chess in the lab. He and Pepper had put the picture up when they first moved in. There was also another picture of you and Peter in the house: It was two days before fighting Thanos, Halloween. You and Peter were going to a house party, both of you surprisingly excited for it. Naturally a cheesy couple’s costume was necessary and of course it was going to be Tinkerbell and Peter Pan. You two wore goofy smiles on your face because Tony had something silly right before he took the picture, wanting a more natural smile.

Morgan had asked when she first saw and was old enough to talk causing them to have to explain. Not that the little girl really understood and just thought you guys were on a trip that’s been lasting for five years. Tony set down the picture back in its spot. He told himself he was going to bed but ended up in his home study instead asking FRIDAY to pull up some simulations.

~~

Testing time travel was something Steve never thought he’d be doing. As far as he was concerned, waking up years into the future was time travel enough. He stood next to Bruce as he started up the machine. You used to love hanging out with Tony and Bruce in the lab, that was all Steve could think about. Sometimes he’d find you up way too late on a school night with the two of them working on whatever you were working on. He’d mention the time only for Tony to interrupt saying they had just one more thing. You would beg for five more minutes that would turn into an hour with Bruce promising he would get you upstairs as soon as possible.

This would’ve been something you wanted to watch, you would probably be helping Bruce if you were there. Steve watched as each test run brought back Scott but not normal adult Scott. He was old, and then a baby, and then a teenager, and then old again.

“Bruce! Bring him back,” Nat practically yelled.

“I’m trying.”

Twice more as a baby and finally adult Scott was in front of them. Visibly shaken at ageing so much in such a short amount of time. Steve rolled his eyes and walked outside while Bruce was celebrating what he considered “a minor victory”. It wasn’t working. Well it was, but not in the way they needed. Steve played with his wedding ring.

“I’m sorry guys,” he said to himself.

The alarm on his phone rang and Steve pulled it out to turn it off. His home screen was still the same picture of the four of you. Steve unlocked his phone to turn off the alert that read, Sarah’s Birthday. He shouldn’t do it because it only made grieving worse but every year Steve opened his photos to the video Sam took on your last birthday. This year was no different as he pressed play for the video to start:

The compound was littered in balloons and confetti as you sat on the couch after school in the apartment. You were in pajamas and pretty tired but still had your birthday girl sash on and crown. Bucky and Clint passed behind the couch briefly to hand you, Nat, and Steve large mugs before disappearing from the frame, although their sounds of laughter showed they were still in the room.

“You’re such a pushover, babe,” Sam’s voice came from behind the camera.

“I think Dheaidí looks perfect,” you laughed, taking a sip of your drink.

Your only request for your birthday was that everyone had a self-care day with you. They agreed but only Nat and Steve did every single part of the routine which included hair steaming and acrylics.

“You know she just likes messing with you, punk?” Bucky’s voice was off screen.

“I have years to make up for Uncle Jamie, don’t ruin it.”

“Yeah, Barnes don’t run it,” Nat joked. “When are we ever gonna see Steve like this again?”

“My bad.”

Sam’s voice was loud since he was the one filming. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart… Steve say something to your child.”

“You just want to see the nails.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh I’m saving this memory, we’re not letting this disappear on us.”

Steve sighed and set his drink down and so did you.

Happy Birthday, Sarah. I hope this day was everything for you. I love you, doll. Steve signed as the nails clicked.

You gave him the biggest smile Steve had seen to date. You looked past Steve when Clint called your name.

“Favorite present you’ve gotten?”

“Being back this year. Dheaidí,” you answered with no hesitation.

“Really?”

“No. The bracelet you and Aunty Laura got me.”

You giggled and turned back to Steve. Sam had almost missed this part of the video because he and everyone else was laughing. You were looking at Steve.

You’ll always be the best present since I was twelve. Thank you for always being there for me, Dheaidí. My favorite person in the world… you’re tied with mom.

Well, I don’t think anyone could ever beat your mother.

The video cut off after you gave Steve a hug and he kissed your temple. The video always made Steve smile. There weren’t lots of private, candid moments of you two caught on camera. Especially since the first few years, Steve didn’t really think about it. He sighed and put the phone.

“Happy Birthday, Babydoll,” he said to no one in particular as he looked at the sky.

A car entered the compound and abruptly stopped in front of him. Tony rolled down the window.

“Let me guess, he turned into a baby.”

“Among other things.”

“EPR Paradox,” Tony said as he stepped out of the car. “Instead of pushing Lang through time, you could push time through him. Tricky, dangerous. Someone could’ve warned you against it.”

“Okay, Tony you did. We get it. So you just want us to give up?”

Tony just looked at him.

“What?”

“Here, fully functioning time-space GPS. Should fix the problem.”

“Tony…”

“Wait. So we get the stones, okay. But I have priorities. I have to keep what I have at all costs. We don’t change right now, we just bring them back. And maybe not die trying.”

Steve nodded in understanding like Tony knew he would. If anyone was on the same page as Tony when it came to family, it was obviously Steve. And he wouldn’t ruin Tony’s now. Tony walked to the trunk of his car and pulled out Steve’s shield.

“Had to wrestle Morgan for it, she’s been using it as a sled.”

“More use than I would’ve given it,” Steve gave a dry chuckle as he took the shield back.

(Part 32)...

[jenomark]

hi💞 I want to request nct dream reaction to their s/o pretending that they won’t be able to do anything for the member birthday party or at last minute the s/o says they can’t show up, but at the end the s/o was planning the best surprise ever!

Mark: Something was missing. As soon as he walked into his own birthday party, he clapped his hand over his chest and looked around. Even though he knew you weren't there, he still looked around for your face. "Mark Leeeeeee," Jungwoo said, coming up behind him. "Party time." Mark tried to smile but felt like he was forcing it. He looked around at the effort all of his friends made just for him and replicated a humble face and voice. "Yeah!" Mark said. "Oh, man. This is nice. Thank you." When Jungwoo had disappeared into the throng of well wishers, Mark retreated to his phone to text you:

Mark- Baby, I wish you were here. You- Me too. Mark- Nothing is the same.

When you didn't immediately reply, he tucked his phone away. He sat in a chair and stared off into space, really trying his best to appear grateful. Cold hands fell across his eyes like a blindfold, leaving Mark to utter a long, "Uhhh..." But something in his voice changed when he breathed in. He could smell your perfume, and he began to feel happy. He got up and turned around, not stopping to speak because he was so choked up. Mark hugged you, pulling you into his arms, so happy that his only birthday wish had come true.

Renjun: It felt like an ordinary day, only Renjun knew that it wasn't. It was his birthday and he was another year older, maybe not as wiser. He got off work and came home to an empty apartment, the silence really hammering in the idea that he was growing old. He stalked across the room, checking his phone again for a message from you. When there were zero messages, Renjun let the loneliness creep in. He went into the refrigerator to grab a drink but stopped in his tracks when he heard a noise coming from his bedroom. He moved slowly towards the room, looking around for a way to escape if he had to. "I have a weapon." he called, looking down at his empty hands. Pushing the door open and stepping back to peek around, he saw you sitting on his bed, holding a lone cupcake with a candle in it. "Oh." he said, flicking on the light. At once, Renjun tore across the room and went onto his knees, burying his face in your lap. "I know I'm a little late." you said. "But I couldn't let you end this birthday without you knowing that I'm going to be here for as many years as you'll have me." He wouldn't look up at you from your lap, so you called his name softly. When he did finally look up, his cheeks were stained with tears that he tried desperately to wipe away. "I'm fine," Renjun said, quickly. "I'm okay. Don't look at me." You grabbed his face and kissed him. Renjun got up off his knees and sat beside you. He closed his eyes, made a wish and blew out the candle. "I didn't think you would come." he said. "Life feels empty without you." You hugged him and kissed him again. "I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

Jeno: For the weeks leading up to his birthday, Jeno had been dropping hints about how he wanted a lowkey celebration. He had said, "Nothing too loud. Only me and you, maybe my parents. No friends. No singing happy birthday. Nothing too traditional." You smiled prettily at him, your feet in his lap as he massaged them. He gave you a look that was supposed to translate that he was serious, but you knew Jeno a little too well. Days before his birthday, he pulled you aside. "You're not planning anything, right?" he asked. There was fear in his eyes and something that intrigued you. "No," you said. "You said you didn't want a party." On the day of, Jeno was losing his edge. He walked around the apartment as time ticked by, looking in places for mishidden balloons or decorations. You had even caught him fishing for information with Jisung, whom Jeno knew would break sooner or later. "You told me you didn't want a party." you said, crossing your arms. "Were you lying to me?" Jeno looked at you, blinking his eyes a few times and said, "No." You smiled and walked slowly to the front door, whipping it open and letting Jeno's friends and family pour into the apartment. When you and Jeno were alone for even a second, he wrapped his arms around your waist and whispered a sweet "Thank you." into your ear.

Haechan: "I don't want to go inside." he said. He pressed the hot phone against his ear and looked up and down the street. All of his friends had gone ahead of him into the restaurant, their moods uplifted by Haechan's birthday celebrations. "You have to go insi-." you said over the phone, your voice breaking up. Haechan leaned against the wall. He could feel himself choking up. He was sad when he heard you couldn't make it to his birthday dinner, but he told himself he would be okay. Once June 6th rolled around, he realized what a mess he had become. "I just wish you were here." he whispered. "You're supposed to be here with me." The agony in his voice was hard to conceal. "Donghyuck, baby." you said, your voice sounding the same as his. "Please try and have a nice time. You can call me when you get in and we'll video chat, okay?" Haechan agreed and hung up the phone. Taking a deep breath, he trudged into the restaurant, keeping his head down. When he made it to the back room where his birthday celebration was being held, the air began to feel different. Haechan looked up to see that you were standing right in front of him. "Surprise." you said. "The flight was last minute and I-" Your words were lost as Haechan flung himself into your arms, muffling out the sound of your voice.

Jaemin: You never knew what he was thinking, could never really rouse great emotions from Jaemin. It bothered you a little, so when it came time for his birthday, you made it clear that it was an event you had to miss. Only then, did Jaemin show a sign that he might be holding some feelings in. "My birthday?" he asked. "Why not?" You played with the hem of his t-shirt. "Well," you said. "I have plans that day." You looked at his stoic face, trying to read it. "Okay." he said, smiling brilliantly. "That's okay. We can do something after." A few days before his birthday, you wondered if surprising him would make him happy or not, or if lying to him was really the right move. Of course you would attend his party. You watched him all the time, just waiting for him to ask you to please cancel your plans, but he never did. On the day of his birthday, you got a text in the morning, so out of the blue. Jaemin wrote that he missed you. You replied that you missed him, too. You were dying inside. At night, before the party, you showed up at his dorm to completely ruin the surprise. Before he could speak, you said. "I told you I couldn't go because I wanted to surprise you, but I feel guilty about it and I can't lie to you anymore. " Up until then, you had shut your eyes tight. Jaemin's voice made you open them when he said, "I know. I was waiting for you to give in first." Your shoulders dropped. "You knew the whole time that I was planning on doing this?" you asked. Jaemin grabbed your arms and pulled you to him. "Yeah." he said, kissing you. "I win."

Chenle: "I want five hundred balloons. All metallic." Chenle said. "And a parade where I'm held into the air, but Haechan has to be holding me up. I want everyone to look at me like I'm a king. I want them screaming my name, and I want Stephen Curry... Are you writing this all down?" You looked at your boyfriend with sadness and said, "You're not going to be home on your birthday." For a second, Chenle had forgotten. When he remembered, his face fell. "A shame." he said. Weeks after that talk, you had planned to make it to wherever he was. It didn't matter that he was in another country working. You got on a plane after him and you followed that boy, using all of Dream and their manager to secure the perfect birthday gift. After he had gotten done his schedule, Chenle was taking his mic pack off and weaving his way through the crowd of people on set. Mark put his hand on Chenle's back and guided him in another direction. "You're wanted, man." he said. Fearing he was in trouble, Chenle asked why he was wanted, but Mark didn't answer. He walked with his friend anyway, allowing himself to be pushed through a crowd of people just trying to do their job. When he realized it was just a makeup artist that needed him, Chenle breathed a sigh of relief. He ducked down lower to let her work on his face, his eyes glazing over. "Are you having a nice birthday, Chenle?" the makeup artist asked. Feeling his heart strings tug, he looked into her eyes. It was only then that he realized it was you. Chenle backed up and opened his mouth wide. Jaemin, from beside you, handed you a few metallic balloons. "I know it's not 500 hundred balloons but-" you said before Chenle swept you off of your feet.

Jisung: You were on the phone with Renjun, frustration in your voice mounting. "This is not the way things were supposed to go, Renjun." you said. "I'm freaking out." The traffic was moving too slow, and your heart was hammering in your chest. For Jisung's birthday, you had the most brilliant plan, but it had backfired badly. You were supposed to phone Jisung and tell him your train was running late, and you didn't think you could make it to his party. When the prank was fulfilled, you would come out of hiding and show him that you'd been there the whole time. The only flaw in the plan, was that Jisung took it to heart, and vanished from his party when he first got your call. You were on your way to the train station with the hope that he would be there waiting for you. "I'll call you when I find him." you said, flinging yourself out of the car. You ran into the station, pulling the mask tighter to your face. You walked briskly through, spinning around to look at all of the people traveling. You were almost ready to give up when you saw Jisung standing by himself, looking lost, with his hands folded in front of him. You ran to him, your shoes drawing his attention. You hugged him and said, "I'm so sorry. My train wasn't running late. It was a joke. I didn't think you would come find me." You were nearly hysterical but Jisung was calm. "It's okay." Jisung said, hugging you tighter. "The only thing that matters is that I get to spend my birthday with you."