#((have this half assed drawing I did on ms paint))
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shoot-me-with-a-crayon · 2 months ago
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Mom finally saw it, a hellish vision, my brother. O God, O God, she said.
My Brother at 3 A.M. by Natalie Diaz
JaxTober Day 2 - Beginnings
i have feelings about Jaxston and that poem man. anyways yo!! kinda vague ass interpretation of the prompt yippee!!!!!!!!
tbh i added this prompt in so i could do this one teehee :3c
ok explainin time!!!
HERE is the first doodle i did when i wanted to make Jaxston. i was inspired by someone's fnaf fanart and really liked the spiraling words and limited palette and went "Y'know I've really been wanting to make a Bill's vessel oc..."
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Made on ms paint ! i think its fun bc he is no longer Bill's vessel at all and never is at this point in me creating his lore and stuff (idk yet im always so indecisive about fandom oc lore lmao) lol !
so i took the prompt as "Beginnings of the idea of the character" teehee
then when i was drawing it i was not in the mood to do any fullbodies bc i had JUST finished day 1, which took longer than i wanted so i just. kept it simple! aka i sketched the full body, hated it and then deleted the entire lower half of the body lmao
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i didnt do any sketch past this lol, i really liked how it felt and just kinda kept it. i tried lineart, but i couldnt get it to fit the vibe the og sketch had so i decided not to ^_^
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also i spent 3-4 hours writing the poem over and over and ove again for the spiral lmao
anyways i like yapping about my art.
this one is my lockscreen now on my phone, and it and day 1 are my monitor backgrounds (i have 2, my laptop (day 1) and my art tablet (day 2))
very proud of this one especially <3
now what the FRICK am i doing for day 3 what-
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gollldrush · 9 months ago
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@exquisitexagony | for arthur. feat. eric barlow.
“Are you crazy? The red ones are clearly superior.” Leo’s elbows are propped on the counter as she sorts a bag of skittles into groups. Red with red, green with green, etc. “That’s why there’s less of them in a bag. Too much of a good thing spoils it.” They’d had this debate going for a while; which candy was the best. She had her opinions and it was difficult to sway her from them. If you asked her, she would tell you the blue m&ms tasted the best. And that somehow Twizzlers were better when you snapped them in half. It didn’t make sense – there was no science behind it. But God help anyone that tried to tell her otherwise. Of course, Arthur let her have her opinions, as strange as they were.
“When I was little, my dad wo-“ The rumbling engine of a car outside makes her stop her train of thought entirely. She bristles, pushing herself up to stand and listen. She knew that sound; it haunted her. Tormented her for years and-
The world spins to a halt on its axis. Suddenly, it feels as if the air has gone stale; like the joy has been sucked from the world. A muted-green BMW m3 pulls into the parking lot outside. Her hearing suddenly becomes attuned to every sound – the leaking faucet behind them, the squeaking turn of the hot dog warmer beside them.
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A moment comes and goes where the store turns into a blinding blur. She bolts for the back of it, hands scratching and yanking on the bathroom handle as she throws herself inside and slams the door shut. The lights flicker on and she half punches the lock and wobbles backwards.
When he exits the car he stretches, eyes squinting against the harsh sun. This place was a shithole town with ugly ass rednecks. He couldn’t imagine her hiding here of all places. Not when she worshipped the idea of community and belonging.
A tip-off from her mother had led him here. At least Diane didn’t know the truth – that was a start. And even if Leo had opened her mouth it was easy enough for him to explain away. She was an anxiety ridden nuisance. Who could blame him?
The door to the gas station dings open and he doesn’t so much as look at the clerk. He stalks the inside as if he’s looking for something. In the back he helps himself to a six pack, popping the tab on one of the cans before he even gets to the register. His eyes flicker back to the closed bathroom door with the lights on, noting the shadow of feet in the cracks.
Leo’s eyes are closed and she tries her best not to breathe with her hand glued over her mouth. This was impossible; how did he find her? She had been so careful, so cunning. Everything was paid for in cash – everything was handled under the table. There was no official contract with her landlord. Nothing. He shouldn’t have been able to trace her.
At the counter, Eric slams the case of beer down and leans. His tongue passes along his upper teeth as he stares at the curly-haired kid in front of him. Briefly, his eyes flicker to the painting on the wall. Bingo.
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“You know a girl named Leonora?” His eyes are dark – threatening. “Short, brunette. Likes to talk.” He’s gauging the situation to see just how much she talked. Eric takes a long gulp of his beer until the contents are empty. “You Arthur?” He motions with one finger to the drawing on the wall as the can crushes in his grasp.
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catscoollike · 1 year ago
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Catti and Monster kid walk sprites ^_^ + snowy
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Hey look at these!!! I decided to throw my metaphorical hat into the metaphorical ring and try to give some of these dorks walk sprites. They're kinda rough around the edges but I think they turned out pretty good for only being around an afternoon's amount of work. I gotta say though each of these feels like they have their own story of how they were all uniquely a pain in the ass to make.
SNOWY
Starting with everyone's favorite deltarune character, Snowy! Holy hell! How I hope to never make a sprite for this dork ever again! In a game full of relatively simple character designs this dude just stands out as a beacon of complexity. He's just so weird man.
Now actually I completely forgot that he already had a sprite for him facing to the left in the game. (It's only used twice in the whole game). And I really didn't expect him to be that uh, flat?
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Yeah, I don't know I guess he got hit in the face with a frying pan or something.
MONSTER KID
This little charmer was easier to sprite by several orders of magnitude. One of the reasons why is that 30% of their directional movement sprites were already done. And the reason I say only 30% of its done is because the one used in game is uh...
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... Just the sprite that's used when they're sitting at their desk in class. Seriously! Thats their walking sprite! When MK and Snowy run away from Susie at the bunker, they just slide out of there!
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Now to be fair they're gone in like half a second so it's pretty hard to notice if you aren't looking for it and its also probably why the spriters didn't feel the need to give them walking animations yet. but whenever I see this scene used in a theory video about the bunker I always chuckle.
But still, it was very helpful to have a sort of jumping off point for making their sprites. Since I wasn't just going to reinvent the wheel and draw them a whole new face. But I did need to give them a new body though, since I doubt monster kids body is a perfect cone from every angle.
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CATTI
Now the thing is that there many very talented pixel artists that work on deltarune... Toby fox is not one of them.
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Now I only mention this because with the fucking 2 sprites, that catti has in the game there is a pretty clear difference in artistic ability between them.
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One sprite of her in her work uniform with shading. And one sprite of her sitting at her desk that uses flat default MS paint colors. Thats all I have to work with.
So, assuming that god is good and that the sprite that doesn't look like pixel barf is the one that more accurately represents her design. I used that to reference the color of her earrings and eyes. Along with her head sprite, since again, don't need to reinvent the wheel. Especially since I don't imagine her face shape completely changing once she changes her clothes. But I did add some shading since I though it looked nice.
After I had the head done, I decided to sprite... well, the rest of her. I sorta skimped out on the front facing body. And just made it a heavily altered version of Catty's. I only did that because every other member of the family pretty much just has the same body. And since shes related to them I thought it made sense to not make her some weird outlier to the rest of her family. Contrary to what Catti may tell you in game.
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Making the directional sprites felt like pulling teeth. Once I had the down sprite done the up sprite was a piece of cake but oh man. The horizontal sprites. yeah uh, that's... probably not what that sprite is going to look like in deltarune.
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Her head shape was tough, I didn't know if she had a prominent snout, or if her head is just completely round like it is when looking at it from the front. But after messing around with it while listening to the entirety of RV pine's fanmade chapter 3 soundtrack. I finally got something passable.
But that's about it, I guess. I know I just got done complaining about how these were super-duper hard to make and stuff. But it was pretty fun to make these.
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ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa · 10 months ago
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will you post drawing tips?
um. I think you sent that to a wrong person, anon. This isn't even the blog on which I reblog art, but I don't draw, sometimes (can't even say that once a year) I doodle something, but I'm a casual.
My tips are: be cringe, have fun and be unapologetic about it
To give an example:
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this is my self-insert (from early 2020, which is why it's still in long hair edition), wearing a cream-colored turtleneck sweater, I added patterns in a slightly darker color to give it texture, but it's barely visible, having a darker background would help with contrast and be easier on the eyes, but then I'd have to color skin and I didn't want to put in that much effort.
They're "holding hands" with Kokichi and Shuichi, but said hands are merely shadows, generally, in my pieces shapes are a suggestion, they don't have to be an explanation, you can figure out what is meant to be there, therefore I expressed enough, no need to go overboard. I always start with general shapes, make blobs until they feel about right, then correct a little bit. Flat colors directly on the canvas because there are no layers in MS Paint. Also, I clearly used shape tool to add Kokichi's buttons and squares on his scarf, something something tools are meant to be used.
I am proud of how Shuichi's neck and off-shoulder sweater showing a binder strap (it could be a tank top. but I know what I intended) turned out, patting myself on the back for that shadow on the neck. And as you can see, you can have individuality on very simple faces
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and here are some quick doodles on a sticky note, you can see how hair turns out different even when drawn in quick succession, with a bit of repetition you can work towards the look you want, with a lot of repetition you might get consistency, but consistency is for people with established status as a big artist and being a daily 4 panel poster isn't for everyone, you know?
I think paper is better for experimenting and/or practicing, because it's unforgiving and you have to start over while seeing the attempt that didn't turn out how you wanted next to it, instead of erasing over and over, or giving up you have Something down, and maybe it's not as bad as you think. It's possible to get stuck in a loop of perfectionism on paper too, if you have a good & trustworthy eraser. But I would never trust a regular eraser. + Draw with a pen, if you have the urge. As a beginner or a casual, it's just better practice to repeat, rather than getting stuck on trying to get the first version to look right. Even better, let things you make suck, if you want to have fun drawing, don't take it seriously, do make the most half-assed doodles ever.
Last, but not least, get obsessed with something, like I did with drawing flowers in my last year of high school.
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ravenouscultleader780 · 2 years ago
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COTL(ROTOF edition) The Cult Diaries No.2(Relics of The Old Faith)
Hello Everyone! so its been a while since i last posted bcuz my windows 10 laptop is out of order(cuz i did something i regret so much) and hopefully in 2 days it will be Fixed or will be replaced with a New W10 Laptop(if everything works out, thankfully my mother understands and promises to get new one) Anyways I have promised a few Weeks ago that i would bring this back from this blog's early start which is a series a pics of my in-game cotl save file(The Nightosphere) with The Cult Diaries aka my Journal Entries type thing. and well i didn't keep my promise since i was drawing more mlp base edits on my w10 laptop with ms paint and decided to continue doing it.
but now today is a very special, 1. i got a certain blue starfish to give me half my gold back in a cool way & 2. i reunited with Aym and Baal on my Crusade Runs.
Here are the Photos i has just transferred from my switchtransfertool app from my phone to my chromebook(thank god for chrome backup connections!) Hope you guys enjoy this
5-23-23(The Day of Midas's Revenge and Kicked Blue Ass!)
"The Day started pretty well by me doing some Early Morning Duties before going on a crusade. but to my surprise i witnessed a rematch of the bishop statues of Shamura in Silk Cradle(by fightning even stronger enemies this time round and beating it pretty successfully but still surprised how long the enemies kept summoning 4 times) soon enough i finally move upward into the door of which rooms i chose to fought enemies in this silk cradle crusade. until a walk into a room and meetup with this Mugger Starfish Midas..
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As you can see by my Face, Lambert may be smiling but in my mind he's probs thinking "Oh Hell no, this Fucker again what amount of gold is gonna take now.. ugh"
As you tell by Midas he is still as smugly sacastically Greedy for my gold, that he can smell it despite starfishes not having noses?''
The Result Afterwards was Awful : As a Result of a Second Blow from Midas Mugging my 14k of my gold.. leaving me with 49.00 gold as a result.. man i f#cking hate him and i bet yall do too.
Anyways after seeing Midas again, i continue my crusade through slik cradle until i meetup with my beloved twin cat bois(aka my fostered sons) and their happiness after being reuniting Aym & Baal with their mother Forneus(or Forni for short)
The Result is a Sweet Feeling of a Thank You from Baal.. such a sweetie pie love both of them so much and miss them in my cult..
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Love you boys, glad ur back with your Mother.
Anyways Ended the Silk Cradle and Continued to search down Midas to give him the Butt Kicking he Freaking Deserves to gain my gold back or at least half of my 14k.. and I went into Anchordeep. Now I usually hate going in Anchordeep due to always dying afterwards/losing.. but this time my demons and ladyluck was on my side! and the result was a Full on SWEET VICTORY FOR THY LAMB!
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Cherished Customer my ASS! Your going down! I will end you and gain my gold back..
Well Here's the Aftermath and The Picture just says it all!
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all i will put here is a quote from one of my fav flims ever..
"YOU GOT KNOCKED THE F OUT, BITCH!-Friday After Next(2002)
And Man am i happy! @liteonlamb hope you see this or we chat on Discord VC abt this! cuz dude im a happy Lamb!
and Thus Ended this Diary and a Long Awaited One at that, hope you all liked it see you soon.
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mypersonmyg · 3 years ago
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don’t sweat it | myg
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pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst ig??, established relationship
rating: pg15
wc: 1.2k
warnings: some suggestive language, unedited :p
summary: your friends don’t think you spend enough time with them OR yoongi thinks you’re a distraction
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a/n: yesterday you got misery chick and today it’s reliably listeless!! i kinds wrote this a while back but never posted it for some reason, so yeah. again,,,you don’t have to read the full fic to get it, but just know it’s in that universe
[drabble masterlist]
[reliably listless]
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The fresh breeze gently glides the skin of your exposed arm, the scent of flowers in bloom wafting against your nostrils with imaginings of the petals colorful and swaying in the wind. You inhale with pleasure, nearly gagging when you’re brought from the reverie of the gym door half agape, reminded that you’re not in fact enjoying the beautiful weather of early summer but instead sitting inside watching your boyfriend play a game of pickup. The scent that greeted your inhale was not fresh flowers but the stench clinging to practice jerseys gone too long without a wash. 
You remind yourself to steal Yoongi’s from his bag while he’s showering, well aware that the stinging smell of weeks of buildup doesn’t bother him as much as it assails you and your sensitive senses. 
You draw back to the motion of the court, hands tapping at the caps of your knees not altogether following the score you were meant to be keeping but distracted by the sheen of sweat sticking Yoongi’s overgrown hair to the nape of his neck and the plains of his forehead. Your wrist itches with the neon hair tie that grips the skin, Yoongi’s nimble fingers snatching it from your hands when he caught wind of your intent to sprout his strands before he stepped onto the court. 
“You let me do it last night!” Was your baseless argument, the poke of your lips useless to sway him save for the short peck bestowed as a precursor to words that curled your toes. 
“You were the one that insisted you needed something to hold onto.” 
The words have been playing on your mind since he jogged away, immediately taken with the court, your way only graced with glances often enough to keep you on edge. You barely noticed the placement of a body to one side of you and your ears had graciously tuned out the senseless gossip falling from Seulgi’s lips from the moment her body hit the bleachers. 
“—and Hobi said he agrees you don’t spend enough time with us anymore.” This catches your attention, the smirk aimed in your direction cluing you on the knowledge that your overt ogling would not go unnoticed by the only other person not banking (or bricking) shots. 
“I spend plenty of time with you guys, Hoseok!”  
“Hobi did not say that!” His attention is drawn from where he stands at half-court, jogging his way to your seat with little to no attention being paid to the game at hand. “Seulgi said that she feels like she hasn’t seen you in years and she might throw Yoongi into a ditch soon if he doesn’t back off.” 
“Okay, well first I think you should both relax.” You mutter, eyes falling on your two friends, glaring childishly, Hoseok’s lips pulled into half sneer at being dragged in by no accord of his own. “Second, I’m sorry if I’ve been a little preoccupied but—”
“Hobi!” Jeongguk’s voice draws Hoseok’s attention with enough time for him, and you, to flinch when the ball appears to be hurtling toward the bleachers and too far over any of your heads for a hope to clutch the round menace before is bounces fiercely on the row of bleachers just a few steps higher. 
“Who was going to catch that?!” 
“You, if you were paying attention instead of talking to your girlfriends,” Jeongguk mutters, eyes rolling and hands thrown into the air with palpable annoyance. 
“Girlfriend.” Yoongi mumbles the correction, jogging over to the bleachers, ignoring the gape of betrayal Hoseok aims his way. You hop from your seat and scale the few benches to grab hold of the ball just seconds before Yoongi grabs hold of you, his chin resting against your shoulder. “I’m gonna have to stop inviting you to watch me play.” 
“Wha—I did nothing wrong!” 
“You’re distracting our players…” He hums, hands traveling the length of your arms so soft under his touch, the scent of your body somehow fighting through the stench of the humid gym. “—distracting me.”
“I’m just watching you play.” You hug the ball to your chest, aware of the heat radiating from Yoongi onto you, the sweat that coats his neck now pressed against your own. You would be lying if you said the thick moisture and panted breaths didn’t awaken you just the slightest bit, but you’re determined to prove your point. 
“Watching me play, right. So what’s the score then?” 
He’s got you and you both know it. Rather than submit to the corner pressing to your back and give Yoongi the satisfaction that seems to come naturally, you pull yourself from his hold and push the ball into his chest. 
“Ya know, I think that we—” You step past him, your attention falling on Seulgi who had taken to rummaging through your bag for the snacks that are always meticulously placed in the many pockets throughout. “—are going to go.”
“We are?” Seulgi seems less enthusiastic about spending time with you than she had just moments ago, her mouth filled with the pack of m&ms she scrounged. You wonder how she managed to acquire them still intact, the vivid memory of too long standing in the sun followed by the less than graceful squash of your bag under Jeongguk’s ass earlier in the day concerning to say the least. “But I just found a snack.”
“Well, we can go get a snack if you just…hey! Are you even listening to me?!” You don’t need her to respond when your neck cranes to encapsulate the landscape that has her attention tied and mouth hanging open, half chewed candy all but forgotten between her lips. 
Her sudden eagerness to participate in the remainder of whatever game is left to play is clear in the painting of perfection, shirts flying overhead to combat the sweat soaking tan skin. An ad too picture perfect for any moving picture and too annoying for your wandering eyes to properly enjoy, though the flattening of Yoongi’s half smirk is not forgotten in your periphery.
You snort, the irony of the situation not lost on you as you sling your bag over your shoulder. 
“Come on, I’m kidding.” Yoongi tosses the ball to Jeongguk, tugging you into him once more, his lips pressing to your cheeks despite the impatient mutterings from the court. “I love it when you distract me.” 
“Oh no,” You whirl on him, his lips spread in a goofy grin, unbothered yet entertained by your sudden attitude. “You do not get to do that!” 
“Do what?” 
“Be all cute boyfriend and expect me to just...forgive you.” 
“But I am sorry, what am I supposed to do without my number one cheerleader?” He pouts, eyes reflecting in pale fluorescents. 
“Lucky you, Namjoon is still here so you don’t have to worry about it. Come on!” Your arm hooks the crook of Seulgi’s, tongue shooting in Yoongi’s direction where he stands with his hands perched on his hips.
“Where exactly are you going?” 
“I was thinking that I’d go distract someone else!” The words are spoken loud enough for Yoongi to hear, but your eyes are too zeroed on the exit to note the disappointed look that befalls his features before he rushes back to the court. 
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moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago
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Road Trip (Part 1)
Scott Lang x reader
warnings:
a/n: this ended up being really long so i gotta write another part
prompt: scott is back in town!...and out again
part 2
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Alright, let’s start at the beginning: you were Hank Pym’s “nurse” for some time, only you weren’t a nurse. You were an agent of some sort, using his old tech to do some favors at ant-size. And you loved it.
But Hank’s daughter, Hope, had some bad news about her boss, which is how you and Scott Lang came to cross paths. You needed another tiny partner for this one, one who specializes in B&E.
“Cool beans.” Scott said after you had finally kissed him, it nearly made you regret doing it in the first place. But this day meant so much to you, because it marked the beginning of your relationship, he was more important to you than anything else. Scott and you were an unstoppable team, there was no doubt about it.
“Daddy!” Cassie shouted as she ran into his arms, you had shown up to his ex-wife’s house for a lovely family dinner, but it didn’t faze you at all. “Is this y/n? You’re awesome!”
“Thanks, Cassie. You’re ‘awesomer!’” You replied with a bright smile, then Jim and Maggie walked over to see the two of you. Truth be told, they were so warm and loving, you felt like you were apart of the family. Within three years of being close to the Paxton-Lang’s, you’d participated in countless game nights, several birthdays, family bowling, and more.
Scott’s house arrest was admittedly rough, but you two managed. You had been living together at the time, and you never failed to remind him that Germany was a bad idea! Well, not bad. Just a little stupid.
“I know, I know, I put everyone in danger and now it’s my turn to make dinner.” Scott leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead before lazily shuffling off to the kitchen. “Pause the show! I don’t wanna miss anything!”
“Fineee.” You reached for the remote to pause The Office and headed to the kitchen yourself to keep Scott some company. “I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything, I just want you to know that we’re really lucky I was able to convince the feds that I wasn’t affiliated with Hank’s work.” You dragged your finger along the counter, drawing shapes as you frowned at some of your misfortunes.
“I still can’t believe you were able to talk your way out of it. But I’m glad you did, y/n. I’m so glad you did.” Scott discarded the dinner supplies for a moment to give you a hug, remind himself of all that he had gained in these past few years.
Then you two hopped back into trouble with Hank and Hope yourselves, but most of this part isn’t too important to the story, so we’re just going to skip it. What really matters was that the Pym family was doing quantum realm testing on Scott without telling you. You were busy fixing the goddamn fence Scott kicked through when half of the world disappeared just like...that.
“What the hell..?” You dropped the paintbrush on the ground, splattering a bit of paint on your pant legs. What was going on? You pulled out your phone and dialed Scott ASAP—no answer. Hank? Nothing. Hope? Nope. “This isn’t good, this is not good.” You mumbled before dialing Maggie.
“Y/N? Oh, thank god you’re okay!” She placed her hand over her chest and took a deep breath, you could tell she was already a nervous wreck. “Is Scott there?”
“I can’t get ahold of him, do you know what’s happening?” You were starting to panic, too.
“Not a clue. I’m terrified.” Her voice was shaking sufficiently, you were about to cry just hearing it.
“Where’s Cassie and Jim?” You began to clean up your mess just a little half-assed.
“They’re here, we’re all okay.” Maggie nodded and began to pace around her house while you simultaneously ran into yours and tripped over your pants trying to change. “Can you come over here soon? Like now-soon? I just want to, you know, account for everyone I can.” She asked timidly, you really had become family to her.
“Yeah, I’m on my way right now...” You pulled on on a new pair of pants, shuffling them up with one hand. “Don’t leave your house, okay? I keep hearing crashing. Love ya.”
“Be careful out there. Love you, too.” She warned before hanging up the phone and throwing it on the counter. Maggie quickly burst into full-on tears at this puzzling and nightmare-inducing situation. What if Scott was one of the victims of...whatever the hell was going on? What would she tell Cassie.
You decided to call him again and again and again on your way to the Paxton residence.
Hey, this is Scott. Scott Lang. Leave a message...ka-chow.
“Hey, babe, it’s me again. Listen, we’re all a little bit worried right now because of, you know, people suddenly disappearing and shit. So, uh, gimme a call back. Please. I love you.” You rambled on before hanging up and then called him four more times before arriving. Maggie, Jim, and Cassie were all waiting on the porch as you pulled up, they ran up to you as soon as you parked.
“Y/N, you’re okay!” Cassie latched onto your hips and hugged you as tightly as she could. Maggie and Jim were next, hugging you from either side. But tighter than usual.
“Come inside with us. We need to figure out what’s going on.” Maggie led you in by the arm and all four of you squeezed onto the couch to watch the news update you whenever they could. After hours and hours of viewing the TV, the only information you got was that an intergalactic being had just wiped out half of the world’s population. That you knew of.
“Oh, no.” You covered your face with your hand and tears started to flow down your fingers. Cassie crawled into your lap for comfort, but she needed the comfort, too. As far as anyone was concerned, her father was one of the poor souls that disappeared.
“Y/N?” Jim’s deep voice broke the mourning silence of the room. He had been crying, too, I don’t think any of you would stop tonight. You looked over at him with your wet face and wrapped your arm around Cassie as she leaned on your shoulder. “Would you stay the night here? I think we could all use each other’s company.” Maggie nodded in agreement and Cassie looked up at you, begging with those big brown eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” You nodded and looked back at the bright TV lighting up the dark room. No lights had been turned on since you all sat down. No dinner had been made. No one had even gotten up to go to the bathroom. The sun had gone down and the stars were out and despite the dark turn of events, the night still looked so pretty. So for a while, you just stared out the window.
You stayed more than one night. For a few weeks, you slept on the couch. But you stayed for more than a few weeks.
After the snap, you spent exactly one night at your own house before moving in with Maggie and Jim. You felt bad, but they kind of pushed you to do it. You were family, therefore you had to stick together. So you ended up getting your own room and truly being a family. Once things got settled in the world (as much as they could be), you really got into the groove of the roommate life. You took Cassie to school, got groceries, made dinner, took out the trash, signed permission slips, did it all.
“I miss dad.” Cassie mumbled while you drove her to school. You zoned out after you heard her, thinking about the last time you saw him.
You woke up to the smell of waffles, eggs, and oranges. You made your way down the stairs to find your boyfriend making breakfast to OutKast’s Ms. Jackson. Watching him sing and dance with that spatula was adorable to you. Once you caught his eye, he lit up.
“Hey, babe! Look, food!” He pointed at the waffle iron with a grand smile on his face, you walked forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips.
“I see that.” You smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Any plans for today?”
“Eh, just a couple of personal errands. Shouldn’t take me too long. You?” He asked.
“I think today’s the day I fix the fence you broke.”
“I miss him, too...” You mumbled back and felt Cassie’s hand rest over yours on the steering wheel.
“I’m glad that you’re still here, though. It kind of feels like he’s still with us when you’re around.” She told you, which made you both smile and tear up at the same time. “You’re one of the best step-parents I could ask for. I have to say ‘one of the best’ because Jim is also one of the best. But I mean it. You’re awesome, y/n.”
So that’s the first part, huh? Where’s all the road tripping? Well, I guess this is to be continued, right?
...Right?!
taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiantfavs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @ofthedewthesunlight //
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fuzzyporcupine · 4 years ago
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lead me with your hands tied | chapter 4
chapters:
FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4
rating: explicit
word count: 8,104
summary:
In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.
chapter 4:
The sun was high and hot in the sky. The summers in Shinganshina left hardly anyone unaware of their presence each year. The rays beat in boldly from the studio windows as Levi impatiently paced the floor. The prince should have appeared at least an hour ago. Levi had been quite clear with the instructions he passed along to Petra. Arrive no later than midday, he’d said. And like the grand fool he was, Levi actually believed Eren Jaeger might heed his request. Yet there he stood, the afternoon shine beginning to warm his skin.
“To hell with it,” Levi muttered, low under his breath. He refused to spend the entire day waiting around like an eager hound after its master. 
Gathering his brushes from the easel, Levi carefully placed each tool on an expanse of brown leather. He began rolling the material, not unlike a baker kneading dough; pulling the leather tight enough to ensure that no brushes would fall loose and slip out unnoticed. The tasks were methodical, and Levi appreciated the simplicity in the quiet moments he often found himself after the muse had left. 
A piece of twine was wrapped around the bundle and pulled snuggly. Levi’s lip quirked in annoyance when he noticed the number of frays the rope had acquired. It would have to be replaced soon, he mentally noted. Levi was still inspecting the loose ends when the door creaked open loudly behind him.
“Leaving already?” Levi’s fingers slipped around the rough string as it fell from his hands. The prince leaned against the door frame, face full of mirth as he regarded Levi. Unlike their last encounter, this time the man was appropriately clothed. The black velvet of his tailcoat gleamed, highlighting strong shoulders and lithe arms. White breeches traced the curve of the man’s thighs down to the onyx riding boots trailing up beneath the knee. The man even looked as if he’d brushed his hair. Levi was understandably amazed. “We’ve not even started.”
“We should have started an hour ago, Your Highness.” Levi tried to keep the bite out of his tone.
A grin cracked across Eren’s face as he pushed himself off the frame. “Ah, you’re no fun. I see why father hired you.” Levi wanted to tell the cocky little shit that he wasn’t hired to be fun. He was hired to paint. Which he really would like to- “I’ve seen your work before, artist.” Levi’s breath caught in his throat.
“Oh?” he replied simply, watching as Eren moved closer. 
“Yes. On a holiday in Sina.” Levi tried not to cringe. Sina was a dreadful place, full of aristocrats with heads shoved deeply up their own asses. The man who’d commissioned the portrait was no different. Fat and smelly with a horrible disposition. A crook, as well, only paying Levi half of the agreed-upon price after the piece was completed.
“It was a portrait of a nobleman whose name I can’t quite recall. But I remember the painting, though.” Long, dexterous fingers danced up the side of the canvas Levi had set up prior to the arranged meeting time. “I think about how in awe I was, all the bright lines and dark shadows. It was so realistic.” The prince’s hand stilled on the canvas and stiffened around the edge, drawing Levi’s attention to the way the tanned skin tightened ever so delicately around the joints. “Hell, I imagine at the time I would have believed that painting hung in front of me to be more alive than the very man immortalized in it.” 
Levi bowed his head slightly. “I’m honored, Your Highness.” 
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” He tried not to be too off-put by the prince’s rebuttal. It had only been a night’s rest since he witnessed the man prance into the dining room in all his stockinged glory. No matter how self-assured Eren appeared to him now, Levi would always remember the prince as he truly was -  a brat screaming about in his nightclothes.
“Tell me, artist, do you really want to be here?” He looked up at that, brows furrowed in a questioning glance. Did he really want to be there? Levi knew the answer to the query, but he wondered how open to the truth the young prince truly was. Eren set him with a firm look, large green eyes alight with something Levi couldn’t quite place. “Answer me.” 
He clenched an empty fist and schooled his expression into an apathetic frown. “Of course, Your Highness.” The prince’s eye twitched at the way he spoke the words, dead and hollow. It was likely not the answer Eren was expecting. Probably guessed Levi would be falling to his knees in a physical display of unwavering loyalty. However, Levi would kneel for no man, especially not one as selfish and tone-deaf as the Prince of Shinganshina.
“I can’t tell if you are bold or simply stupid.” The prince’s voice held no malice, but Levi still bristled at the accusation. He may be a fool, but he was not stupid. “It’s treasonous to lie to a king.” Levi caught himself from rolling his eyes deep into his skull. He watched the so-called king cock his head to the side as a playful smile broke across his face. Eren was toying with him, and Levi couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit caught in a lethal trap. 
“My head should be safe on its shoulders then, Your Highness.” The prince’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it spread further. 
“You’d make a fine jester shall you decide to abandon this artist’s plight.” Levi was wise enough to know when he was being teased. All the time spent in Kenny’s presence had hardened him to most mockery. However, watching Eren’s taunting smirk goad him from across the room was enough to send a burning wave of frustration beneath his skin. 
“If it pleases you, Your Highness, I would like to retire to my chambers.” Levi bowed the upper half of his body lowly while addressing the prince. He was unable to see the confoundment as it morphed into Eren’s face, but Levi surely heard the stutter in the tone as the prince rushed a reply. 
“N-no!” The sound mimicked a small child squealing after being denied a sweet treat. Eren quickly cleared his throat. “No, artist, it does not please me. Has your existence here not been due to your ability to paint? I would assume mulling about in your chambers was not what my father requested.” 
“Nor was it to entertain long-winded conversations about my desire to be here, Your Highness,” Levi retorted tartly as he lifted his head. A fierce redness crept up above Eren’s high collar and extended past the man’s jawline. He watched as the muscles there tightened and silently wondered if Eren still thought of him to be so comical. 
His question was soundlessly answered as Levi observed the prince’s nostrils flare angrily. 
He didn’t back down from the glare tossed in his direction, instead challenging it head-on with his own gaze of indifference. Levi was not scared of the prince’s poor attempt at intimidation. He knew that beneath that veil of false confidence was simply a mutt trying to convince a sheep it was a wolf. Until the king’s crown rested upon Eren’s head, Levi knew that he had nothing to fear from the spoilt prince. 
A terse knock broke the strained silence, followed by the studio door creaking alive. 
“Mr. Ackerman, sorry to bother you. I’ve brought tea.” Petra’s voice cut sharply through the air as the sound of jostling porcelain followed her words. As if finally noticing the silent confrontation, the footfalls paused. “Is everything alright, Your Majesty?” 
The anger suddenly flooded from the prince’s face, being replaced with a melancholy discontent. Wordlessly, Eren shuffled past Petra and out into the hall, abandoning Levi with the woman who seemed prepared to ask a thousand questions. 
He took a deep, heavy breath in through his nose, shoulders relaxing on the exhale. “My apologies, Ms. Ral.” Levi turned to face her. “I will bring the tea to my chambers if that is satisfactory.” 
Petra nodded, “Of course, sir.” They stood in uneasy silence for what felt like hours, Levi too awkward to excuse himself and Petra far too polite. He watched as her bottom lip was worried harshly until finally, her thoughts became audible. “Mr. Ackerman, if I may?” Levi offered no opposition, and the woman took the silence for what it was. “The prince is stubborn and willful and outrageously frustrating.” He quirked a brow, wondering where this insult was leading. “But he has suffered more than most. I’ve watched him grow up experiencing things no child should ever have to witness. He…” Petra paused and heaved a deep sigh. “He is not as you have constructed in your mind, sir.”
“And how would you know what image that may be?” Levi sneered, shoulders straightening ever slightly. 
“You hold the same fury in your eyes as the whole of the peasants across Shinganshina.” He stiffened at the accusation. All the bitterness that had risen within him suddenly deflated and Levi was left looking thoroughly conflicted. “I shall bring the tea to your chambers, sir.” He watched her turn, the porcelain chattering to the beat of her footsteps. Before moving through the doorway, she paused, gifting Levi one last glance. “He’s not his father, sir.” 
And then she was gone.
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illshowyourhurricanes · 5 years ago
Text
Brooklyn Lager
This was requested by @thebbtongue with the prompt “Rumor has it, I make you nervous” for our very own Billy Russo. It turned into more of a one-shot than a drabble, and as a companion piece/prequel to The Capsize. Thank you so much for this request, I had a hell of a time writing it, but every minute of it was so much fun! 
Rated: PG (mild language)
Word count: 2143
Tag list: @dylanobrusso @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor@ms-delos @madamrogers @lexxierave @benbarnestongue @yannii04@gollyderek @carlaangel86 @poindexted @maydayfigment @lexxierave
If you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list, just ask! Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading.
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Growing up, you had dreamed of being a lawyer. Your mother had always said she knew you were a spitfire the moment you were born; she’d joke that you were screaming before you were entirely out of the birth canal. As you got older, you’d bat her hand away when it was time to clean your teeth,teeter along on your little legs as fast as you could manage to avoid a bath, and as a teenager, you’d hold a deposition with your father when he grounded you from using the car… and, nine times out of ten,  lessened your month-long punishment to just two weeks. You were destined to practice law. 
One thing you’d never pegged yourself as? A bartender. You hated the smell of cigarette  smoke: it made you nauseous. The bar room looking for help wasn’t exactly what anyone would consider classy, but it wasn’t un-appetizingly seedy either. Your boss was always leering at you. But, he’d also said you were a “young, pretty thing. Flirt with the men and the women, sugar. You’ll make a good living on tips alone.” You hadn’t exactly been to bartending school, but the man only saw dollar signs, cat-eye eyeliner, expensive mascara and plum-painted lips.You dreamed of incarcerating the creep, and you took the job. Now, you just needed to earn those tips. 
And he was right. You made great money for a part-time bartender. But, after a little more than a year and a half of men snapping at you, grabbing your ass, and propositioning you in drunken slurs, you weren’t exactly concerned with the tips anymore. You had absolutely no qualms about putting a man in his place. 
That wasn’t to say you didn’t have regulars. You didn’t bother to get close to them, but you were friendly, flashed them dazzling smiles, leaned over the counter just enough to flaunt a little bit of cleavage. Then, there were those that were toeing the line, the ones who you didn’t have much of a reason to dislike, but steered clear from. And one of those who were balancing all-too-easily on that line? A guy by the name of Billy. 
You never cared enough to get his last name, and he always paid cash, never passing a plastic card your way that would boast a surname. His thick, Brooklyn accent made it obvious that he was a native New Yorker. Walking with a swagger, the man was so self-assured that he leaned precariously just over the line that drew a thick, white, chalky border between confident and cocky. The most annoying part about it all was that it worked for him. Billy was tall, over six feet, with long limbs. He wasn’t what you considered to be skinny-- he had a physique that was obvious through his clothes, muscular pecs, broad shoulders. His face was perfectly symmetrical, features striking, and he had a mega-watt smile that could light the entire city during a blackout. His hair was jet black, and his eyes were just shy of the same shade. You’d made the mistake of catching his eyes once, narrowing your own at the way he looked at you, and it was the first and last time you allowed yourself to become acquainted with Billy’s gaze. 
He always sat at your bar, and he always ordered a Brooklyn lager. Sometimes his beer would be followed by a shot of whiskey or two, amber-colored Maker’s mark thrown back without so much as a grimace. He never deviated from his beer of choice, and he never sat anywhere apart from your bar; he was a creature of habit, downright to the type of women he left with more often than not. From your understanding, he had garnered a bit of a reputation as a womanizer, and that was just one of several reasons you weren’t fond of this Billy fellow. When you saw him walk in, you’d have his drink waiting for him on the bar. There was less interaction that way. He was pretty to look at, but you had tunnel vision: getting your bachelor’s and becoming the best damn lawyer this side of the Hudson.
**.  **.  **
All of your focus was trained on your highlighted, color-coded notes pertaining to Civil Procedure. It had been years since you’d learned how to successfully tune out music and most other potentially distracting surroundings at the bar while you studied. Now, several years into your temporary career as a bartender, you could see the light at the end of the tunnel. 
While you’d found your way around most things being distracting, you’d also picked up tuning your ears into those addressing you. When someone asked for a drink, your senses automatically picked up on it, and the incidents where you had to ask for a customer to repeat themselves were slim to none. 
You were completely absorbed in dizzying, over-complex rules of the filing of a civil lawsuit when you heard a voice directed toward you, but didn’t comprehend the words. Tearing your eyes from the page in front of you, you looked upward to see a slightly familiar face. You tried to place it as you stood upright, your attention fully focused on the man in front of you. Curious eyes roamed over him, first at his three-piece suit, his undoubtedly expensive silk tie, and then at the face, the closely-trimmed beard and slicked back hair. It was his eyes, unsettlingly dark and unnaturally captivating, that clicked the recognition into place, and the face came with a name. 
“Billy,” you spoke in surprise. It had been years since you’d seen the man who favored Brooklyn lager and cheap whiskey, who dressed casually and, with the exception of his pretty face and tall stature, could blend in with any other man with a hankering for a drink. Never had you seen him in a custom three-piece suit, starched collar, and perfectly knotted tie. 
His stature was also different. There was no shadow of a hunch in his shoulders. He stood tall, proud, and commanded attention without speaking a word. His chin was slightly lifted, and as he leaned onto the bar, you found that the cockiness from years prior was still present. You were willing to bet it had grown into full-out arrogance. 
“Billy Russo, founder of Anvil Securities.” 
Your brows arched slightly, projecting just slight interest. “I never even knew your last name, Billy, and here you are giving me your credentials?”
Smirking lazily as he settled onto the bar stool directly across from you, he lifted his chin. “Lieutenant William Russo. Special Forces Marine. Don’t want to skimp on the credentials.”
Usually ready with a number of sarcastic, take-no-bullshit quips, you failed to conjure up a comeback. You hadn’t seen the man in years, and it was because he was likely overseas serving as a fucking Marine. A Marine! You repeated the sentiment to yourself, impressed, surprised, not expecting that to have been the reason behind his prolonged absence. Even still, you hadn’t thought about the man more than twice since his disappearance, never knew a goddamn thing about him besides his liquor preference, and he shows up in a suit that costs more than a college textbooks and wipes your mind clean of snark. 
You turned to reach for a Brooklyn lager- you’d developed an uncanny talent for remembering regulars’ orders- and popped the cap with a pop, setting it on the counter in front of him. He didn’t bother to so much as glance at it, but there was a shadow of a grin at the knowledge that you remembered. “Glenmorangie 18. Neat.”
“A man stumbles upon money and power and his tastes change. Or perhaps it’s just bragging rights and pretension.” You swiped the untouched glass bottle from the counter and opened the scotch, pouring a generous amount into a glass tumbler. “Mr. Russo.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.
Leaning forward onto the bar, he tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. His attention turned to your lips, lingering for a moment before lifting them to scrutinize your full face. His gaze was penetrating, and his unrelenting stare caused you to clear your throat and busy your hands with swiping a wet towel over the smooth wood of the bar. “Rumor has it, I make you nervous.”
Your hand stilled mid-wipe and you fixed your full attention back to him with an irritated visage. Who did Billy Russo think he was? Yes, he sinfully attractive, very likely filthy rich, and he had to have more women dropping their panties for him now than before. He was powerful, but he had no power over you. Absolutely none. You’d faltered twice, but you were convinced it was because you were distracted; distracted by schoolwork and schoolwork along. Not at all by the recent reappearance of Billy Russo, CEO of Anvil and former U.S. Marine. 
Dropping the dish towel to the side, your expression turned softer. You glanced to the side as if hunting for anyone who may overhear, and you leaned forward with the knowledge that your cleavage would draw his attention. 
“Is that what you heard?” you purred. Your eyes fell to his lips- they looked soft, just plump enough to have the desire to kiss them just to curb a curiosity to know how they felt. “Allow me to debunk that rumor for you, Lieutenant.”
Billy’s eyes remained unreadable, steady. His even expression stayed cool and unaffected. His very obvious sense of pride and grandiosity did not falter. Even so, there was an added something about Billy in that moment that made you very aware that he was viewing you as a challenge, and Billy wasn’t accustomed to being challenged. Daring to look into his eyes, you steeled yourself. They were one shade shy of being black, and there was a fire burning deep within them. He looked away first, raising his glass to gulp back the last of his scotch. He licked the last of the liquor from his lips and drank in the sight of you with one swift sweep of his eyes- up and down- then back to your face. 
This asshole just undressed me with his eyes. You simply raised one brow, letting him know you’d witnessed the way he looked at you. Reaching across the bar, you picked up the empty glass tumbler from the counter before him and you refilled it with his expensive scotch of choice. You decided that, as apathetic as you were certain you felt about Billy Russo, you liked him a lot better when he drank Brooklyn lager, not as arrogant, little to no self-importance. 
As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, this new incarnation of Billy knew how to play the game. And that was exactly what he was doing; he was playing Risk and Trouble with an obvious avoidance of Sorry. It was a tug-of-war, a push-and-pull, yet his physical strength couldn’t save him. Who was the cat? Who was the mouse? 
You were keen to leave Billy to his own devices, to his stupidly expensive scotch and inflated sense of self. The bar was fairly slow, just a few stragglers arriving every now and again. With Billy out of your hair, you could get more studying done, but before you could look back to your notes, his voice interrupted your train of thought. Closing your eyes briefly, you turned as he said your name and faced him and the otherwise unoccupied bar. You simply quirked your brow. 
“Go out with me.” 
You blinked in response, a shake of your head following. He was an all-around prick: was he crazy, too? When your initial shock wore off, you couldn’t help but laugh. What had given him any semblance of an idea that you were interested? 
“No chance in hell, Billy.” 
He brought his glass to his lips, that unaffected look never leaving his face. It pissed you off, the level of coolness he projected. The amber liquid left in his glass rocked inside, rippling like a series of waves before stilling. Standing from his previously occupied stool— thank fuck— Billy reached into his back pocket, withdrawing his wallet. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, long fingers transferring far too many bills from his wallet to the counter top. 
“Tuesday night, 10pm.” He nodded his head towards you, giving you no time to speak, and you realized his eyes were biting into yours again. “See you then, Y/N.”
You watched Billy saunter through the bar and out the door, paying no attention to any other patron that may look his way. Your nostrils flared in annoyance and you finally turned back to your textbook, but the words strung together into sentences evaded you. 
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woo-san-shine · 5 years ago
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Our Way
ateez college au
Premise: You and your best friend from high school move away to a university 3 hours away from your small hometown. You find yourself meeting a strange cast of characters along the way that will help you find your way throughout your freshman year.    
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: Slight swearing 
Author’s Note: A work in progress!!! Mostly just for fun.  Kind of a filler chapter, sorry if it’s boring 
prev // next 
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Chapter 7 
A dull buzzing sound awakens me from my deep sleep.  I feel around for my phone in the darkness.  The clock reads 7:30 am.   I wanted to make sure to give myself plenty of time to shower and get ready due to the fact that I was way too tired to do anything last night after we had gotten back from 'the cleanse'.  I see that I have some new messages.
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As we were walking back from the fountain last night Hongjoong had noticed me yawning and insisted on making sure I was awake in time for our first class by giving me his number.
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I pull up a picture of my class schedule and glance through it for probably the hundredth time.
Intro to Drawing- Monday Wednesday Friday 9 am - 10:30 am
Freshman English- Monday Wednesday Friday 12 pm - 1:30 pm
Art History- Tuesday Thursday 10 am - 12 pm
Foundations in 2D and 3D Design-  Tuesday Thursday  12:30 - 2:30
Computer Graphic Applications- Wednesday 6 pm - 9 pm
I was pretty pleased with how my schedule had turned out, except for that one night class on Wednesdays that I was already dreading.  
I quietly climb down from my bed, grab all of my shower supplies, and head to the bathroom.  Sooyoung classes all started after mine did, so I would have to get used to either getting ready in the bathroom or in the total darkness of our room.
After a nice hot shower, I get dressed and apply some light makeup.  I am wearing one of my favorite oversized vintage band t-shirts that I tie in a knot at the hem, another pair of high-waisted shorts, and some worn-out converse.  If I was a character in a video game, this would be the outfit that my character would always be wearing.  I pack everything I need for the day in my backpack, grab my travel mug full of coffee I had just made, and make my way down to the lobby to meet Hongjoong.
When the elevator door opens I see him sitting on one of the couches looking at his phone.  When he sees me coming, he immediately starts waving eagerly.
"How do you already have this much energy?" I ask as I walk over to him.
"Ah, I'm the type of person who doesn't need a lot of sleep to function," he replies, getting up from the couch.
"I brought you this," I say to him, pulling my hand from behind my back to reveal an extra muffin that I had grabbed from my stash in my dorm.
He places a hand to his heart. "Really? For me?"
"Yeah, as a thanks for making sure I was awake," I say.
Hongjoong smiles and takes the muffin as we exit the dorm and start walking towards the College of Arts building. He starts telling me about how he has three other classes today, not including the one we're heading to now.
"Damn, you're going to be busy," I say, impressed at his schedule load.
"I like being busy! Keeps my mind occupied."
There are already a lot of students walking around campus even though it's still pretty early. There's a buzz of excited chatter in the air.
"Are you nervous?" He asks me.
"Honestly, a little bit," I say after a sip of coffee. "I just don't know what to expect, ya know?"
"Yeah, I just wonder what that class will be like."
The Arts building is very distinguishable amongst other others due to it being the only building on campus that had a full mural painted on the front. We walk in and after consulting some signs, we walk in the direction of the classroom. There is artwork everywhere; paintings on the wall, statues, displays, visual screens, anything that you could think of. Even the students looked like works of art.
Once we arrive at the designated room, Hongjoong pokes his head in through the doorway and then motions for me to follow him inside. The room itself has a very sleek, industrial look to it with high ceilings and exposed brick. There are long tables with four chairs at each scattered around the room. At one of the tables towards the middle of the room sits Yeosang.
"Mind if we join you?" Hongjoong teases as he makes his way over to Yeosang.
"Hey Joong, Jaemin," he nods to both of us.
We join him at the table, Hongjoong next to him and me next to Hongjoong. The room starts to fill up with more and more students, some looking nervous, others looking downright terrified.
"You would think everyone just walked into the gallows or something," I say to the pair as I glance around the room.
"Apparently this professor is pretty tough," Yeosang says to me.
"Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?" A voice says from behind me.
I turn to see a small girl with short hair and glasses nervously standing next to the open seat next to me.
"No, please, have a seat," I say nodding to the chair.
She looks grateful and she sets her bag down and takes a seat.
"I'm Jaemin, and this is Hongjoong and Yeosang," I say to the girl while I point to each of the boys. Hongjoong excitedly waves and Yeosang nods.
She smiles. "Chaewon, nice to meet you."
"What are you studying?" I ask her, trying to make polite conversation.
"Fine Arts, for now. I'm hoping to find my specialty soon and then focus on that."
Before we can talk further, a tall woman wearing long, billowing clothes enters the room and strides toward the front of the class. Her jet black hair is pulled up into a tight bun and she is wearing a lot of ornate jewelry. She stops at the front of the class and surveys the room.
"Class, my name is Ms. Lee, and I will be your Intro to Drawing professor this semester." She says all this with a very low, stern tone. "I only have a few rules in this classroom. One, you must arrive for class on time and bring all of your supplies every day. Two, no loud voices. And three,” she pauses, survey the room. “No food or drink on the drawing tables."
It's a few seconds before I realize that Ms. Lee is staring directly at our table. I glance at Hongjoong's half-eaten muffin that I had given him sitting in front of him and then at my coffee mug in front of me.
"Oh I'm so sorry," Hongjoong says hurriedly as he grabs the muffin off the table.
I quickly grab my mug and try and stuff it into the side pocket of my bookbag. At a surprising speed, Ms. Lee grabs the trash can that was sitting next to her desk, walks over to our table, and hold it in front of Hongjoong. He tosses the half-eaten muffin inside. Then she holds it in front of me.
I stare up her, a little dumbstruck. I start to unscrew the lid of my mug to dump out my coffee into the trash can.
"Nope, the whole thing," she says, nodding toward my mug. She pushes the trash can closer to me.
"What?" I can hear Hongjoong whisper.
I can feel the entire classroom looking at me. Hongjoong looks like he's going to start yelling and Chaewon looks like she could start crying. I sadly drop my mug into the trash can and stare down at the table. She turns away and heads back up to the front of the room, setting the trash can next to her desk.
"For your first assignment, you will be drawing portraits of the person sitting next to you. Realistic, pencil only, to be turned in on Wednesday." With this, she takes a seat at her desk, pulls out a book, and starts reading.
The class stares around aimlessly for a few minutes. Ms. Lee looks up from her book.
"Well, you better get working," she says with her eyebrows raised.
The class immediately starts pulling out sketchbooks and pencils.
"What the hell just happened?" Hongjoong whispers to the table.
"I'm kinda scared," Chaewon said nervously.
"We can talk after class," Yeosang whispered to us. "We should probably get working." He swivels in his seat to intently stare at Hongjoong and begins sketching.
"Are you okay, Jaemin?" Hongjoong asks me.
I was silently fiddling with my pencils. "Yeah, I'm fine." I turn to Chaewon. "Do you mind if I draw you?"
"Oh, of course not!" she says eagerly.
We spend the remainder of the class doing rough sketches of each other's faces. The second the clock strikes 10:30, Ms. Lee gets up from her desk. She glances around the classroom one more time, pausing at our table. Leaning over she grabs the trash bag containing my mug and Hongjoon's half-eaten muffing and strides out of the room.
“Well, there goes my mug,” I say while staring at the doorway Ms. Lee had just walked out of.
"I guess that means the class is over," Chaewon says looking around the room.
"Class, right." Hongjoong huffs. "She didn't even teach anything! No guidelines on how she wants these portraits done? She sat up there on her ass the whole time reading that goddamn book. And then that whole stunt with your mug, Jae! What was that about?"
"I did some research on some of the professor here," Yeosang says, interrupting Hongjoong's ranting. "Apparently she pulls stuff like this every year to try and intimidate students. No one knows why."
"I guess I just happened to be the unlucky target this year," I say.
"I didn't even get to finish my muffin!" Hongjoong is basically yelling at this point.
"If you're so hungry, let's go get some lunch," Yeosang says, pulling Hongjoong towards the door.
"Do you want to come with us?" I ask Chaewon.
"Really?" she says.
"Yeah," Hongjoong adds. "We're table friends now."
She giggles, and the four of us leave the classroom and head towards the nearest dining hall.
...
After lunch, I bid Hongjoong, Chaewon, and Yeosang goodbye and walk in the direction of my next class. I secretly pray that it goes better than the trainwreck that was this morning.
Campus is much busier now that it is almost noon. Students are everywhere, and I fall into the natural flow of traffic as we all make our way to our various destinations. My English class is located in one of the oldest buildings on campus. The inside looks like something straight out of a classic 80s college movie. It was a drastic change from the modern feeling the Arts building had. I walk into the classroom and am pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face.
"Fancy seeing you here," I say to Mingi, who immediately looks up from his phone as I approach his desk.
"Jaemin?! What are you doing here?" He looks happy to see me.
"I'm in this class," I say a little jokingly
"Oh, yeah I guess that would make sense," He says while running his hand through his hair. "Here, take a seat," he says while patting the desk next to him.
"What are the odds that would actually have a class together?" I ask him as a set down my bag and take a seat.
"Honestly, way too large to calculate right now. My brain is already fried from my class this morning," he says, rubbing his temples.
"Oh, how was it?"
"It was alright, I'm already just a little overwhelmed."
"Tell me about it, at least one of your professors isn't out to get you."
"Seriously?"
I tell him the whole story about Ms. Lee and the coffee mug.
"You're kidding," he says after I finish.
"Nope. RIP to one of my favorite mugs."
"That really sucks though, like she was way out of line as a professor."
"I guess.." I pause. "Did you have a class with Sooyoung already? She was still asleep when I left this morning."
"Oh yeah," Mingi says, fidgeting in his seat a little. I could tell even just the mention of Sooyoung's name made him blush. It was really cute. "This is the only class I actually don't have with her."
"Well, I guess you have to settle for me then," I joke.
He laughs a little. "Oh psssh I like you too, Jae."
This class did go much smoother than Intro to Drawing had. The professor seemed nice and normal, the workload seemed manageable, and I had Mingi there to keep me entertained me the whole time. Even though I had basically spent the last two days with him, I hadn't really talked to him personally since he was preoccupied with Sooyoung most of the time. He's actually a really goofy guy.  He kept imitating the professor in different accents under his breath while I had to stifle my laughter multiple times.
As Mingi and I exit the building and walk towards our dorm, I can't help but be thankful that he was there to cheer me up.  
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straykidmagines · 6 years ago
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hatstall ; han jisung
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❝ for the nth time, my patronus is a squirrel!! ❞
➱ synopsis: you have rather got stuck with jisung, the one and only guy who boiled your blood, in making parchment scrolls, a.k.a essays, and who knows, he might not be a bad guy at all. ➱ pairings: gryffindor!hanjisung ❥ slytherin!reader ➱ genre: fluff, harrypotter!au, slight enemiestolovers!au ➱ word count: 5k ➱ warnings: profanities
han jisung is a quite known gryffindor himself in hogwarts, of course, because of his loud, proud, boisterous and friendly self; everyone likes him
he's like the actual representation of a lion; a quite brave and strong of a man himself, and he although knew that
and that side of him made the sorting hat decided that if he would be the best if he could be put in the gryffindor house
not to mention it took the hat about 4 minutes of debating where to put him clearly making him almost a hatstall
jisung is a proud, cunning and an ambitious man and the hat could see it very clearly, which could fit him in the slytherin
honestly it doesn't bother jisung the slightest where he was going to be storted at, he was just too happy that he is studying at hogworts now
besides of his friendly attitude that everyone likes about him, he is also a troublemaker if you wouldn't mind (which adds up a little but of a slytherin trait)
he would pull up pranks here and there, to students he known or not known of — not the teachers of course, he's too scared to be expelled or get detention either
but the students didn't bother a bit for his pranks we're totally harmless and it is humorous
did i mention that everyone really likes him?? that everytime he passes through the hallways or the great hall like everyone greets him?? and most certainly girls swoon over him
well, except you
you didn't loathe the guy that much, nor like the guy neither — it just that you don't prefer his guts, but it distraught jisung
bloody hell what has the boy even done to you?
well, perhaps he did something, numerous times that you cannot count it anymore
you were also one of his victims for his pranks, quite certainly, his favorite
yeah, everyone wasn't bothered by the pranks that jisung has set up to them, aren't they? but you, oh no, you were beyond pissed since there is not a day he won't boil your blood
it's just that their pranks differ from you, yours are, to put it this way, horrible. by mean horrible it is really horrible
not to mention, one time he made you eat slugs and it totally made your whole system gag to the sensation of those disgusting creatures making its way out of your mouth
scratch that — you really despise him
it wasn't really intentional or anything, he was just goofing around and forgot that he's holding his wand
"HAHAHAHAHA try eating slugs y/n!"
poof, you vomited one, after another, after another and so on. bad idea
since that day, there wouldn't also be a chance that you won't throw him your deadliest glare every time you cross paths
ok but jisung regreted he did that, and the other pranks he's done to you, like really he couldn't stand someone hating him because duh?? he's used to people liking him and smiling at him, not staring at him angrily
especially it was you, and he found you very cute and was totally not whipped for you— oopz toTaLLy nOt
you we're a slytherin, and you we're baffed as of why you were put there like "oh wow i'm slytherin?? thAnKs sorting hat i might as well slide there in to the slytherin table— you get me? hAh nO  bYe"
"i change my mind, you're not in slytherin"
ok but maybe because of your stubbornness, or something within you that you can't draw but the hat could see through it brought you to slytherin or whatever that is — you didn't mind anyways, slytherin is cool yeah you like snakes hiss hiss
you were just like jisung actually, the sorting hat were confused which house to put you as well, mind that you were this close to be a hatstall, closer than jisung; slytherin or gryffindor
you we're brave and all yet there were strong sparks of dexterousness glistening into your eyes so oof— slytherin it is
like wow?? you soulmates or what
any who, you and your disinterested slytherin ass are in defense against the dark arts class alongside jisung and his enthusiastic gryffindor ass — yeah, the sorting had did a great job
you boredly doodle onto your notes in which you would likely to regret later for not actually taking notes as jisung would keep on pestering you to pay attention to what madam kim is babbling about — probably nonsense for you
you didn't really want to sit with him, honestly. he was late for a few minutes and there wasn't any vacant seat left besides you and there's nothing you could do about it, even if you would protest — probably you would end up scolded by madame kim so, nope
but probably sitting besides him was the most worse canvas you could ever paint of, like his gryffindor ass won't stop bothering you until you pay attention to class
"ppPpSSstT snake pay attention to the class!!"
"shut it you uncultured chipmunk"
"for your information my patronus is a squirrel not a chipmunk!!"
"is there anything you would like to share to our class, mr. han and ms. l/n?" uh oh, your bickering went to an end as your teacher abruptly slammed your book on your desk making a loud thud
"oh of course not ms. kim, we were just—" you paused, unable to think of one, however jisung manage to continue your statement "very enlightened with the lesson, yes,"
madame kim didn't bought it, probably smelling fishes fresh from the lake but shrugged it off anyways. you let out a sigh of relief, but oh boy you thought that would be just it but nope
"so as i heard, my class is very interesting," she paused to look at the two of you who gulped at the sudden attention "well then, i want you all to write three parchment scrolls about inferius and dementors,"
then there were groans and complaints reverberating in the room from the crowd of students, much more to jisung hence he complained the most, muttering curses — he loathes writing essays
"the due is in the next two weeks, and the good thing is that you and your seatmate will partner up to finish that so i expect no one slacking off, class dismissed,"
wow pretty great!! you could get to have a partner to work it with, oh goodie, less work to do — ding dong you are wrong, especially jisung, your seatmate, is your partner for this essay and you knew you were doomed
"man, i should have sat with seungmin, that would be less shit work, with his ravenclaw ass, that could've done it"
"now won't you just go back in time using a timeturner and say to your past self to sit besides seungmin"
"good idea, han, but where could i possibly get one?"
"i don't know, lee know, aren't they all broken?"
"broken who? my bones? yeah that was a tough quidditch match we got there last year" minho, a friend of jisung's and someone from your house that you are quite fond of, says as he punches his arm slightly before strutting away
anyways, as minho mentioned, yes jisung is also a quidditch player — honestly him and his other 8 friends were
despite of them 9 being sorted into different houses, they were still good friends, yeah. but when quidditch comes, oh boy, friendship who? idk that bitc
and jisung's position beater, a very tough one perhaps
he's very good at aiming oh wow, like one time when they were battling against with the slytherin — the bludger went straight at minho even he was on the other side of the field
that wasn't intentional, honestly!!
not that minho minded about it, he was cool about it, actually he was used about it, especially he tend to do it as well to his other opponents (even though he's a chaser)
ok so let's go back, as i was saying you went to your other class which is transfiguration
but before that, you told jisung that you should finish your shit ton paper work already as soon as possible cause duh 6th year is the most tiring year
and he was like "oh ok" and left you for his next class
which made you really pissed cause?? does he expect you to do all of the work? you think dumbledore not
ok so you are double pissed at him now as of this day and quadrillion times more if you add up the other times he made you
ok so days are fast aproaching and you barely even wrote a letter on your phat blank parchment and you literally do not want to fail because you do not want to go back to 6th year again
so when you saw your partner goofing around the hallways as usual, you grabbed his collar in first instincts
ok totally a bad idea because his friends, acquaintances, or basically who is fond of jisung (but he barely knew about them) stared at your disappearing figure in awe like — they thot u hate the guy?? like they basically knew you do!!
but you didn't mind them because grades are more important to you than your pride
"whoa i thought you don't like me—"
"shut it, chipmunk,"
"for the nth time, my patronus is a squirrel!!"
so you dragged him towards the library where you stayed before trying to at least start a thing but, you sucked at writing?? so oh no
"wow are we friends now or what? you know you could've just told me that you wanted to talk — i mean i aways free, for you!"
did he just lowkey flirted with you??
you roll your eyes at him "listen, assthwat, i'm only dragging you here at the library because we need to finish that essay and we only have a few days left and i totally don't want to get low grades at dada especially ms. kim is very generous of low grades,"
right, so you both started to work at it but oof it didn't do well because half of the time he was making up puns or jokes while you hissed at him to stop
but thankfully you finished one scroll already but the contents of it could not make your grades exeed like, half of it is probably rewinding words, rewinding ideas cause bruh you've run out. so you gave up
then you both packed your things up, since time has already passed and wow it's almost dinner time!! and you just spent three hours with him in the library like ok
and you decided to go to the great hall together cause bruh you two are going there anyways
so when you arrived, you totally shivered from the stares that you got
lmao but ok, you didn't gave a single shit and went to your slytherin table and jisung to his gryffindor
"ok spill the tea, so does that mean that you didn't hate him now, you friends already?" minho nudged you form your side, an irritating smug smrik plastered on his cherry lips
you roll your eyes at him and gave him a look, "first and foremost, no i still despised him — he didn't even apologize and for your information we just made our essay cause ms. kim was being a bitch ok shut it and eat,"
you heard minho scoffed and didn't continue to tease you more and now is immersed in eating the food on the table
on the next few days, you both agreed to work on that shitty essay faster so you both could do your individual assignments and projects already. you spent time more on the free times
then one time he finally had his gryffindor courage to ask you as of why you hate him
"so uhm, y/n, i was just wondering..." he hesitated for a bit, biting his lower lip due to nervousness
and you totally did not found that cute :)) tOtally not!!
"yeh?"
"why do you hate me?"
you stared at him, about to throw another insult or whatnot but he looks like a sad squirrel like he's so cute!! and he was pouting and all!! him pouting is cute!! and you cannot resist it like sisjhusjvss ok calm down
"i-i well, i don't really hate you, i was just uhm... i don't know, maybe a little but annoyed and pissed because you keep on pulling up pranks on me and didn't bother to apologize one bit,"
oH OH OOHH
"IWVWIWGEUEV NGHHHH Y/N I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING AN ASSHOLE!! I'M SO SORRY I EXCHANGED YOUR PUMPKIN JUICE TO A NASTY SLIME DRINK!! I'M SORRY I MADE YOU EAT SLUGS!! I'M SO SORRY!! AND SORRY FOR THE OTHER PRANKS I DID TO YOU, PLEASE FORGIVE ME!"
ok but he was about to cry really loud (ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᴬ ˢᴼᶠᵀᴵᴱ ᵁᵂᵁ) but the librarian and the other smart-ass ravenclaws sushed him
you can't really just cannot forgive the guy since he looked very sincere (even he shouted his appology) so oof you went uwu
"lower it down jisung! and ok fine, i forgive you,"
"i'm s-sorry i know you can't forgive me at all i really did a horrible thing to you — wait what?"
ok but he was just the happiest person now because yay no one hates him now!!
"really?! so we friends now?" you nod
much as you hate to admit to minho, you and jisung are in a good terms now
then he flashed a grin and went to your side and hugged you, the little contact made you blush cause you were not used to it! you let him anyways but as you noticed he won't let you go, you cleared your throat and he was back to his senses
he pulled away, chuckling nervously as he scratched his back "yeah, sorry 'bout that"
you really expected minho to tease you about it but what you didn't expect is that he started saying "ya'kno, lee know, you two could make a good couple" "you two look cute together, honestly"
ok you literally just lost your shit likE wHat?? you just made friends with jisung but he had this idea of you both dating? — pfft bloody hell no
"minho shut it,"
and minho (and their other friends) teased jisung about it as well because bruh he is whipped for you even before the day you made up
he was cool about the teasing and all, actually he won't stop shoving to his friends' faces that you two are friends already and well they had enough of that sheit m8
but the thing that he didn't like at all is that they would literally push him towards you if you are around or near them
"bLoOdY heLL gUYs sTaPh" and they wont stop lol as if
"han jisung man up, i thought you are brave, not some wimpy chicken; what a disgrace to the gryffindor,"
"shUt iT sEuNgmiN aLsO yoU'rE a rAveNcLaw wDym??"
yeah jisung has a teeny tiny phat ass crush on you, ok??
so he was really determined to be, at least, your friend and he was really sad that you hated him
honestly he did those pranks to you because he thought that that would get your attention and would probably make you smack him (w̶h̶a̶t̶ a̶ m̶a̶s̶o̶c̶h̶i̶s̶t̶)
and he didn't expect you to avoid him and throw death glares everytime you cross paths, which made him very sorrowful
any who, he was ok now since you two are good yeah and that's what matter to him — at least you don't hate him now!!
ok so for you it felt really weird when jisung's friends would try to push him to you — of course you ain't oblivious, you knew something is up and suspected jisung that he has a crush on you??? but you don't know or were sure about that lolol
maybe it was just because you don't hate him anymore, yeah maybe. but it's just weird that they'll only tease him about you when there are other whom they could tease him with?? uh you don't know really
so you decided to confront minho cause he's like the president of y/nsung fan club
"ok minho you snake, spill, why do you guys always push jisung towards me??"
"excuse moi, you're also a snake and a magician never tells its secrets" he shot a wink at you
you weren't fazed by his answer a bit and smacked his head which made him wince "you dumbass, you're a wizard, minho"
"i'M a WaHt?? :o??" another smack oof —
probably not a good idea since he won't really tell you, wow you could really trust him your secrets
so now, you are currently sitting at the garden practicing your transfiguration spells, preferably alone because your friends are doing some shit (probably supporting your team, they're practicing for the quidditch since it was fast aproaching) or in their own classes; you didnt mind anyways
and han jisung was there, walking around plotting some good ol' prank to do since he is bored then saw you there
he scanned the area, trying to find his friends in sight. he is going to approach you, but he is too embarrassed if one of his friend sees it cause maybe they'll tease him and that would lower his charms
he sighed in relief seeing some students he didn't knew and then marched towards you
as he went to you, he whispered things to himself like "uh what should i say— should i say hi or should i say that she is pretty or—"
"oh jisung hi"
he leaped, a little bit of startled
"o-oh hi y/n" that came out like a squeak and you cant help but giggle because that's just cute??? and he can't help but blush because your giggle is cute too???
he sat besides you, examining the apple resting ontop of your transfiguration book, "what'cha doin?" he asked
"oh, just practicing some spells" you say, focusing back to whatever shit you're doing
"oooh i see"
so basically jisung just sat besides you as you kept on practicing very well, and the atmosphere were really really awkward kka kka kka
then minho walked on the corridors, then spotted the both of you
he had this look on his face ready to tease the bloody hell outta jisung but he saw the cute squirrel scratching his head and opening his mouth as if he was about to say something, a multiple times
he didn't continue his plan, he doesn't want to cockblock incase jisung's gryffindor ass would give him courage wink wonk
"uh— y/n—"
"yes! finally i did it! i'm sorry you were saying jisung?"
he froze in his spot, his mouth unable to mutter out any words because?? this boy?? is nervous?? kagaisvdj
anyways, he gulped the large lump on his throat, sighing 'it's now or never jisung!!'
"uh i j-just want to say tha—"
"y/N THERE YOU ARE C'MON I GOTTA SHOW YOU SOMETHING"
jisung almost flipped the fuck out of him for your bff/n has cockblocked him and dragged you off to somewhere
"sorry jisung, maybe next tiimmmeeeee—"
he had this big ass pouty face as he watched your figure disappearing :< like he's really disappointed
"aww little sungie's y/n has been stolen from him, ouch" minho dramatically said, hands in his heart for more effects as he plopped down besides the boy who got startled as his friend's sudden apearance
"khkwtjwykjdnzkbe i was tHIS NEAR MINHO, THIS NEAR BUT FOR NEVILLE'S SAKE BBF/N JUST HAD TO—"
"is there anything that concerns you mr. han?"
how do we even say khkwtjwykjdnzkbe irl??
"oH— ABSOLUTELY NONE PROFESSOR LONGBOTTOM!"
then night time came, and you are in your dormitory, basically throwing your shit everywhere because you just lost your wand
"bloody hell where is that damned wand!" you hissed, throwing your hoodie on your bed aggressively
"y/n, maybe you left it in the great hall? i heard f1/n saw an abandoned one on the table," your roommate, f2/n, said as she entered your dorms
(i'm too lazy to name them what even)
"thanks!" you nodded at her before scurrying out to the slytherin common room
"where do ya think you're going, y/n?" your house prefect asked and blocked you from going to the entrance
“doyoung, i forgot my wand please please let me just get it!" you pleaded
the boy sighed, "just be careful not to get caught by the teachers, it's almost curfew,"
"thanks doyoung!!"
so you ran out of the slytherin common room but you didn't expect only having some faint light which only supported your eyes to see anything on the hallways, which creeped you
you walked slowly, as you came to the part of the hallways where it's very very dark where you cannot see a single thing
"lumos!" you say instinctively beacuse you thought you have your wand in your hands but nope??
“oh right, how stupid of me,"
you began to be scared cause what if you just bump into one of the teachers?? and they would give you detention?? out into the dark forest??
you gulped, shrugging those nasty thoughts, you really need to find your wand, you can't have that missing or else you'll fail your transfiguration test which you had been mastering for a while now
i mean just walking slowly towards the great hall is pretty easy right? without anything at your sight? and with a high chances of encountering a teacher? right?
"oh sh—"
"ow!"
suddenly you bumped onto something, rather someone
you were dropped on the floor, butt aching from the impact from the fall
your heart then stopped, mind began to cloud your thoughts once again from the probability that you have bumped to a teacher
you were about to stand up and run but it beats you when the person's lumos lightened on their wand
"y/n?"
"j-jisung?" thank dumbledore
"what are you doing here?" you both asked in sync and jisung laughed at this
he stood up, dusting his cute squirrel patterned pjs as he offered a hand to you
you accepted it, your stomach churned slightly from the contact
not to mention jisung literally screamed internally because!! that was his first hold-hands with you!! although it wasn't really a holding hands or whatnot
"why are you here, y/n? isn't it past curfews?" jisung asked again in a whisper tone, his voice soft
"i lost my wand in the great hall, how about you?" you chuckled in embarrassment, light pink tinted your rosy cheek which made the boy uwu because he really finds you cute in any ways
"i usually sleepwalk,,, hehe and let me help you find it" he inquired, with a shy smile
your eyes glistened with hope, probably relived that you aren't going to roam around the hallways alone, light-less
"really?! tha—"
the both of you heard faint footstep noises which made jisung's lumos disappear and he grabbed you to the nearest room to hide
thoughts haunted you once again. what if you get caught?? what if that is a teacher??
you were just lucky that you encountered jisung, not some barbaric teacher that would definitely give you detention no questions asked
your heart raced loudly as if it was about to burst out of your ribcage, and you felt the same thing at you back, which is probably from jisung's
you are basically trapped at jisung's grip, his hands on your mouth preventing your heavy pants from being heard and the other was securely holding on your waist and jisung was leaning against the door
you could literally feel his breath hitch your neck for you two are so close
this adds up the abnormal beating of your heart, which is not good
you could be lying if you didn't find the gryffindor boy to be attractive, hell he was hella(v̶a̶t̶o̶r̶) damn fine
well you could, you would've liked him — if he wasn't just an ass that decided to mess up with you
but now he apologized and you are cool about it now
to be honest, spending time with him during the writing of your essay made you uh let's see, want his company more?
like even though he's annoying as hell for not really focusing at times, he could made you crack a smile on your lips when you are hella stressed on what paragraph to write next or basically stressing out for o.w.ls
and that's pretty great cause you're not that kind of person who is easily pleased
plus the numerous times he flustered you — not to mention he offered you a lot of chocolate frogs (which is your absolute favorite) when he figured you messed up your potions class based on your burnt eyebrows
now, that you kind of took the hint that he likes you based from his friends' weird antics, you still didn't believe it though, you just don't want your hopes up high
cause for you bruh your pride is more important than looking like an idiot from believing he liked you
which is true because who are you to not to like? ;(( ok?? shut up
also, it was not very ok for jisung's heart that you were this close at him,, like seriously?? he would've just straight out hugged you in place but he was afraid that you would hate him again and you are not friends anymore which is more painful than you not liking him back
"i-i think it's gone?" he whispered softly into your ear, removing his hand from your mouth "sorry,"
you nodded, blush creeping onto your cheeks, kind of missing his warm touch "i-it's okay,"
so the both of you just stood there in awkward silence kka kka kka
but jisung broke it by deciding to check if the area is clear, so he opened the door, making a light creaking noises
"lumos" he casted, light illuminating the tip of his wand
he sighed in relief, seeing nothing peculiar then he turned to you mouthing a "let's go"
you followed him eagerly, feets tiptoed in a rhythmic way and before you knew it you are now outside the great hall
you were about to open the door yet noticed it was locked, then you borrowed his wand since he didn't knew the spell how to unlock doors and it's a good thing you knew cause bruh this ain't the first time you sneaking out of the dorms past curfew so unlocking doors are quite handy
"whoa your wand is quite similar to mines," you say in amusement as you handled his wand back
"maybe it's because we're soulmates"
did he just flirted with you?? again??
"b-bullshit, mr. han" oops you stuttered
"HAHAHAHA just kidding, anyways where did you left it"
you shrugged, making your way towards the slytherin table and to the spot where you ate at dinner "just here?" you point
he nodded, crouching down to check the floor beneath the table in hopes that the wand fell off
through out the searching, you both we're just silent, probably immersed from finding your wand — not to mention jisung was really determined to find it aww
it didn't took you 5 minutes before you found it and you nearly cried when jisung handled it to you
"kagsisgshgs thank you so much jisung isvjisvjd i don't know what to do if it wasn't for you!!" and oof you hugged him — scratch that, you squeezed him really tight like he wasn't able to breathe anymore but he didn't care cause it was you?? who hugged him?? it was totally not fine for his heart
"i- i cah-an' br eat Hh eez"
"oops sorry hehe,"
"soooo.."
"let's just head back to our dorms before someone catches us," you suggested, grabbing his arm and made your way out of the great hall
he halted abruptly, which made you stop your tracks as well for you are holding his wrist - which didnt made him fluster, totally not!!
you raised a brow at him, even though he could not see it from the dark and only your lumos illuminating the huge hall
"uhm y/n, uh before we go back i just want to say that..." he trailed off as his eyes wondered elsewhere besides your soft gaze at him, not sure if he should continue his words
you chuckled, "we don't have all night, sung, what is it?"
so he took a mount of air and breathed in "UHIREALLYLIKEYOUY/NI'MTOTALYNOTBLUSHINGRIGHTNOWOHMYGOSHWHATAMISAYIN—"
you shushed him by cupping his face, placing your thumbs on his rambling soft lips and pecked the back of your thumbs swiftly — which made him redder than your mom's lipsticks
how bold of you y/n and your slytherin ass, how bold of you
you giggled at his reaction, eyes wider than a saucer and cheeks resembled freshly grown red tomatoes
this was so uncalled for, poor heart of jisung's
"this is real right? am i dreaming? tell me i'm not — oh merlin's beard please slap me,"
you rolled your eyes, "oh c'mon you uncultured piece of acorn, get your ass back to the gryffindor comon rooms already or else i'll obliviate you,"
so the next day rolled on, you were just casually making your way to potions class yeah casually then he came and bitch he did not
"heya babe" he slung his arm on your shoulders and pecked your cheek which is now currently tainted in beet red
not to mention everyone in the hallways saw it, like everyone has this wtf someone pls explain ??? look on their faces
and you could totally see minho's eyes wriggled teasingly at you
"what the fuck jisung" you pried him off of you, and he giggled at thiss
"that's for interrupting my confession,"
then he pecked your lips like really quick "and this is for not really kissing me, like seriously y/n why your thumbs— uh oh"
and he ran for his life
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venomdoves · 5 years ago
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Always By Your Side (Jamian)
Alternate title: Mac? Putting up content? It’s more likely than you think
Tws for abuse, alcoholism, and eating disorder stuff (not too graphic but it’s definitely there)
Please reblog if you liked!!
Damian is eleven when Janis comes over for their first sleepover.
She took some convincing to sleep out of her own home, but Damian bribed her with popcorn and photos of his grey tabby, Leonardo diCatrio. So Janis comes over at five o'clock, clutching an overnight bag and stumbling slightly from nerves as she taps on the door. Damian immediately throws it open, grinning. "You're here!"
"Hi..." Janis mumbles nervously, her eyes flickering around slightly as she scans his house. "Is your cat here...?"
"He's around here somewhere," Damian says with a shrug, pulling her inside. "He might not come up to you right away, he can be a little shy-"
Damian's interrupted as a flash of grey fur scampers across the floor, darting between his feet and climbing demandingly on Janis's leg, mewling for her attentions. Janis cracks a tiny smile as she scoops up Leo, showing her teeth a bit more as the cat settles purring into her arms. "I think he likes me...?"
"He's never that nice!" Damian exclaims, staring at his cat in disbelief. "You must be his favorite. Come on, my dad hasn't met you yet, he's excited!"
Janis briefly relaxes at the compliment, but instantly freezes up again at the words "my dad." "Your - your d-dad?" she asks quietly, her voice faltering as Damian pulls her towards the kitchen.
"Yeah, my dad," Damian says nonchalantly, not quite connecting the pieces. "Don't worry, he won't talk to us all night or anything, he just wants to say hi!"
Janis immediately stops dead as they enter the kitchen, staring up at Damian's dad. Both Damian and his father are tall, bulky men, the man standing in the kitchen dwarfing her slender frame. He looms over her like a building, shrinking her and making her feel weak and powerless. She shifts slightly to the side, squeezing the cat in her arms for comfort as she blinks fearfully up at Damian's father, his booming voice shaking the floors underneath her.
Damian stares in shock as Janis lets out a little wail and buries her face in Leo's fluffy grey fur, clinging to the cat like a stuffed animal. She's visibly shaking, her whole body trembling like Damian's flip phone when he gets a call, her face hidden inside Leo's fur. The cat doesn't resist, resting one paw on her hand and allowing her to cry into his fur, leaning against her as she shivers.
"Jan...?" Damian mumbles in confusion, staring at his best friend. "You good...?"
Janis only wails louder, clinging to the cat like a lifeline as she sobs. "I w-want my mom!"
Damian's dad backs off, guessing that her distress is sourced in his presence. "Jan, I can't give you your mom, she's at work, but my mom's downstairs!" Damian yelps, scanning the room for any sign of his mom. "You want my mom? You know my mom, she made you brownies for your birthday, remember?"
Janis nods frantically, still clinging to the cat. Damian prays that she's agreeing to his mom, not just agreeing that she remembers her, and darts down the stairs screaming for her.
Ms. Hubbard takes one look at a shaking Janis and kneels in front of the shivering girl, pulling her and Leo gently into her arms. "Shh, sweetheart...you don't have anything to be afraid of..."
Damian stares helplessly as Janis hiccups pitifully, tears soaking his cat as she cries into his mom's shoulder, frantically gasping something about a wall and a bottle and bruises. He's never felt more powerless in his life, and even when Janis is finally coaxed to let go of Ms. Hubbard and go watch her favorite TV show with him, the feeling persists. As he combs his fingers loosely through Janis's hair, all he can think to do is to make a promise to himself. The next time Janis needs help, whether she's hurt or scared or sick or anything else, she can rely on her best friend to help her.
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Damian is thirteen when Janis comes over to watch TV with him. They marathon American Horror Story until it goes off the air to be replaced by Grey's Anatomy. Pulling faces at the same time when Hot Male Doctor™️ starts sucking face with Hot Female Doctor™️, Damian is instantly ordered to flip the channel, and he's not protesting as he switches to the next show.
A bottle immediately shatters on screen, angry roaring echoing from the room as dark amber liquid drips down the walls, a trickle of blood dripping down a terrified child's face from a stray shard of glass. Before Damian can even reach for the remote to switch the channel, even so much as swear under his breath, Leo flies out of the kitchen and flings himself into Janis's arms, just in time for her to muffle a teary wail in his fluffy gray fur.
Damian turns the TV off, reverting the screen to blackness as he gapes at Janis, her shoulders heaving as she clings to Leo, squeezing him like a stress ball. And Leo, Leo who wouldn't let his dad touch him, who tolerates his mom's affection, who won't let Damian pick him up unless it was his idea, doesn't even protest, laying peacefully in her arms without any resistance at all.
Heart racing at the sudden shift in events, Damian holds his arms out invitingly, leaving Janis free to come to him or keep her own space. Her face red and puffy, shiny tear tracks lining her face, she flings herself into his arms, Leo still lying patiently without even the slightest move towards resistance. In his arms, Janis shivers like a leaf swaying in the wind, hot tears soaking into Damian's blue plaid shirt as she sobs, her fists tugging handfuls of the soft fabric. He pats her back soothingly, wincing as the sharp curves of her shoulder blades push through the thin cotton of her shirt, and remembers that Janis gave him her pizza yesterday, claiming that she wasn't hungry.
Janis hasn't been hungry a lot lately.
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Janis is finally convinced to talk when Damian finds her swaying on her feet outside the girls' bathroom, eyes half-closed as she struggles to find her balance.
"Whoa, Jan," he murmurs, tapping her hip to warn her before placing his hands around her waist to steady her. "You feeling all right...? You look pretty pale..."
"'M fine," Janis promises, falling back on his support all the same. "Feel great..." But she still doesn't move to pull away.
"You sure about that?" Damian asks, snapping his fingers under her nose as her head lolls back. "You look half-starved, did you forget lunch money or something?"
Janis immediately tenses like he's cracked a bullwhip at her, whipping her head around to glare at him. "Mind your own business!"
"Okay, okay, whoa," Damian scolds slightly, stung by her sudden anger. "I didn't do anything to you, and I'm not the bad guy here. You wanna tell me who you're really mad at?"
Silence from Janis at first, tension burning in her shoulders as she weighs back and forth, so, so close to telling him. His heart aching for her, Damian reaches out gently, brushing a strand of hair back into her paint-splattered headband. His delicate touch snaps something inside of her, and she goes limp in his arms like a broken glowstick, slumping back into his embrace. Damian gasps as she stumbles, but scoops her up gently, finally depositing her in the widespread arms formed from the roots of the oak tree behind the school. Janis slowly shifts away as he does, reclaiming her space as she draws her knees up to her chest. Damian settles beside her, close but not touching, always there if he's needed. "Who made you so angry?" he asks softly, his quiet voice seeming to carry away from the tree and across the school grounds, asking the sky and the wind and the trees the same question he's asked a million times, only to be me with brooding, hateful silence.
He doesn't like to imagine Janis as hateful. But she's grown into the word well.
Her long, delicate fingers fiddle with a twig she finds in the grass, eyes studying the slim bit of wood rather than him. "My dad. I'm angry at my dad."
Silence for a moment, angry, contemplating silence. Then Janis continues again, a spiteful edge to her voice that burns like ice and fire to hear from one Damian has always thought of as gentle. "I'm fucking angry at him. He makes me so angry, all the time...I can't get past it. I try to, I try to listen to my mom and my therapist and everyone else, all the voices echoing in my head telling me to fucking get past it, and I can't. I try, I try to sit back and let go and forgive, and then I remember what he did to me, what he did for eleven straight years, to me and my mom and my sister, and I wanna fucking kill him. I want him to come back and show his sorry ass one more time so I can fucking murder him. I don't wanna get past it. I want him dead."
A longer silence now, a gaping maw of a silence threatening to devour them both. Damian stares open-mouthed at Janis, shock pumping through his veins faster than adrenaline, numbing him to the core. Sweet, gentle, artsy Janis shouldn't be talking like this, not about wanting people dead, but she is, and that scares him more than anything else she could have told him.
"But I can't say that, can I? So I go to therapy and pretend I'm doing fine and I think about him, every second of every day. I think about how he'd grab my wrists and throw me against the wall and kick me in the ribs. I think about how he'd push me up against the wall and hold me by my throat till I saw black spots. I think about the shit he called me, dyke and monster and disgrace and fat and disgusting and hippo and whatever other shit he managed to spew out until I hated myself as much as he hated me. I think about how I used to wander around in parking lots looking for change someone dropped because my dad spent all our money on alcohol and then spent the evening beating my mother with the bottle that made him do it. I think about that, and I can't get rid of it, I can't ever get rid of it, because it follows me like my shadow. I can't sleep at night without imagining my door slamming into the wall when he came in drunk, I can't stop thinking about standing in front of my baby sister trying to stop her from getting beaten to death, I can't stop thinking about my mom coming to me after he passed out somewhere and giving me a hug with half her face turned purple from him. He makes me angry, he makes me so, so angry, and now I sit here, and I can't eat without hearing him calling me a hippo, can't dance without hearing him call me a disgrace, can't even think about loving someone without hearing dyke dancing through my ears like a fucking shitberry parade."
Janis snaps the twig in half, two thin pieces falling separate in her hands. She holds them for a moment before tossing them into the grass. "I don't wanna be angry, Damian. But as long as I have to keep thinking about how he treated me, I don't have any other choice."
And then she falls silent once more, and even though Damian is only a foot away, the gap between the two feels a million miles wide.
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"Want a muffin?" Damian calls casually, strolling up to Janis's locker as she fishes in its depths for a textbook. "I got you one on the way here, it's still warm."
Janis eyes him suspiciously for a moment - it's not common for food in Damian's hands to survive long enough to reach its intended destination - but takes it without comment. "Thanks...mm, blueberries. Where'd you get these?"
"The bakery downtown," Damian answers, tapping Janis's shoulder lightly, a code they developed in middle school when he reached to braid her hair and she ducked like he'd swung at her. She nods, pulling her headband away to let her hair hang loose.
"Isn't that like a mile and a half out of your way? You don't have a car, dumbass, that must have taken forever."
"My mom took me on our way here," Damian replies, feigning injury as he combs his fingers through her hair to tug out the tangles. "So suspicious. You'd think someone was trying to slip arsenic in your food."
"I don't trust my best friend handing me an intact blueberry muffin with a glaze this good," Janis counters, stuffing half the muffin into her mouth anyway. "Especially not someone who would live off a diet of pure carbohydrates, given the choice."
"First of all, like you're any better, Miss 'I-Won-A-Statewide-Pasta-Eating-Contest,'" Damian retorts, giving her half-plaited braid a teasing tug. "Second, I may or may not have purchased myself three cinnamon rolls, which kept me occupied until I turned the muffin safely over to your custody. And stop complaining, or I'll eat half next time." Damian is careful to keep his voice light and joking, but anxiety that Janis is uncovering his scheme pokes at the back of his mind like an irritating sibling. He's been bringing her food since they were thirteen, treats and muffins and sandwiches and anything else he can get into her, the memory of how prominent her bones had grown over the final years of middle school persisting still, even as Janis stands in front of him, healthy and filled out and beautiful. The therapy got through to her, she's not so angry, not so tortured, but he can't break the habit of bringing her food, ensuring that she's eating enough, and most important is that Janis doesn't catch a hint of his plan. Her pride would never survive the blow, and Janis holds her dignity as her most valuable possession, ever the more priceless for how much it cost to regain.
Janis rolls her eyes so hard they practically flip backwards, a skill she mastered at the tender age of eight and has been zealous in practicing ever since. "Like you would-" But before Damian can discover exactly what she doubts he would do, an ear-splitting wail tears through the hall, drowning out the rest of Janis's words in a wave of pain and fear.
They make eye contact for a moment before sprinting as one down the hall, knowing all too well that cry for help that led to welling tears and afternoons in the nurse's office, plastering Band-Aids over scrape after scrape. The others may have finally grown tired of playing cats and using them as their mice, but they have found a new victim, and sitting by silently is not an option.
The source of the wailing is easy to find; a group of blue letterman jackets might as well be a screaming signal beacon. Shane Oman stands in the center, a writhing auburn-haired girl that Damian instantly recognizes as the new kid from his homeroom pinned against the unforgiving metal locker behind her. The rest of the football team forms a hemming circle around them, blocking the path of anyone who might consider rushing to her aid. Not that anyone would be stupid enough to do that.
But Damian and Janis are no ordinary humans.
Before he even realizes what's happening, Janis slams her shoulder into the side of a quarterback, sending him stumbling back yelping in pain and giving her an entrance to their circle. Damian rushes to follow her, freezing as he breaks the ranks of the hem of towering athletes.
Janis, visibly trembling from head to toe, stands between the wailing girl and Shane, tears welling in her amber eyes as she folds her arms, refusing to back down from his menacing glare, his towering stance, his worst threats. Janis is terrified by even videos of male violence, startling when Damian so much as comes up behind her without warning. Yet Janis is standing her ground, even as tears start to well in her frightened amber eyes.
Damian shakes himself quickly, breaking the trance Janis's startling courage has cast upon him. Moving quickly, he shifts the clearly terrified girl away from Shane and Janis, pushing her away towards a clear patch in the crowd of fascinated onlookers. His own hands trembling, he takes his place by Janis, standing shoulder to shoulder with her in solidarity. "Just leave them alone, Shane."
Even as the words leave his lips, he knows it's futile.
And as Shane's fists start to descend, the ring of his cronies closing in around them, all Damian can do is shove Janis behind him, taking the worst of the blows himself. Because all he knows is that he can't let anything else happen to Janis. She'd kill him for suggesting she couldn't hold her own in a fight, and that's not what he means at all; Janis could kick his ass and has been leaving her mark on Shane since middle school, but what matters is that she shouldn't have to.
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Janis dabs silently at Damian's scrapes in the nurse's office, her lips pressed so tightly that they're as thin as the filing card they had to fill out to explain why they're here. By now, their folders are some of the thickest in the office.
Damian hisses slightly through his teeth as Janis swipes her alcohol wipe through a particularly painful abrasion. "Sorry," she mutters, pulling away from the reddened flesh for a moment before dabbing at it once more.
"Why'd you do it, Jan?" Damian asks softly, gently touching her shoulder as she studies the scrapes and bruises littering his arms and face. "He wouldn't have hurt her too much, you know that..."
"Do I?" Janis asks stiffly, her knuckles whitening around the wipe in her fist. "He's hurt me plenty, Damian. He's done this and worse to you. And she's smaller than both of us, and she's scared out of her mind, and I'd bet you my savings account she's never been in a fistfight before, coming out from the middle of nowhere like that. He would have done whatever he wanted to her."
"Maybe," Damian concedes, taking a moment to reflect on her words. Janis is right, but that doesn't make her smart. "But why'd you step in? They finally started ignoring us...we're gonna go back to Shane Oman's favorite punching bags. Why'd you do it?"
Janis stays silent for a moment, the corners of her mouth working as she formulates her response, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard. She won't meet his eyes. "Because that was me, Damian. That was me, and it's been me since before I could walk. Pinned, helpless, just waiting to get hit again...that's been me, and as soon as my bastard of a father left off Shane Oman took over. And I'm sick of it, I'm so fucking sick of it, of watching filthy bastards like my father and Shane swaggering around doing whatever they please because they don't care or their daddies can afford to pay their way out of it or whatever the hell makes them think they can do whatever they want. I'm tired of getting stepped on, and I'm tired of other people getting stepped on, goddammit!"
Janis's voice cracks weakly and her shoulders slump, her chest rising and falling heavily as she clenches her fist around the wipe. "I just...I just want it all to stop..."
Damian slowly reaches out, extending his arms to her in a wordless offer. Janis slumps weakly into him, resting her head against his shirt to listen to his steady, soothing heartbeat. The minutes tick by slowly; Damian senses that the best he can do for Janis right now is hold her, and his embrace will always be open, at least for his art freak.
"JanJan," he finally murmurs softly, still holding her close against his chest. "I know you're still not okay sometimes. And that's okay. I'm here to try to help you be okay, because you deserve to feel better, but I love not-okay Janis as much as I love okay-Janis, and I'm not gonna try to rush you. I wish I could do it for you, but when it comes down to it, being okay is something you're gonna have to do on your own, and all I want you to know is that I'm gonna be here for all of it, whether I'm helping or listening or just doing this. I'm always gonna be here for you, and I love you so, so much."
In his arms, he hears Janis sniffle faintly. She can't quite manage a response, the lump in her throat drowning out her voice, but Damian understands the gentle patterns her fingers trace on his back as well as spoken language. He'll always be able to understand Janis.
He holds her in his arms for hours, ignoring bell after bell as it sounds. There will be more bells tomorrow. He'll tell the teachers Janis felt sick and he couldn't leave her alone; they'll let him off with a warning. His friend is more important.
Finally, as the lunch bell sounds, buzzing mechanically throughout the walls of the school, Janis lifts her head, revealing dry, clear eyes, sparkling the way Damian almost never sees. "I wanna go find that girl."
And in that moment, looking into her clear, shining eyes, bright with determination and joy, Damian would take her to find the moon if that was what she asked.
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devilsknotrp · 5 years ago
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Congratulations, Maria! You have been accepted for the role of Abel Hawker (FC Change: Jeremy Irons). Woah. I may be biased, but I was blown away by your interpretation of Abel. He’s a human being made up of dichotomies and you found such a beautiful way to write him. His gentle yet terrifyingly stern manner of speaking, his war hero past, everything is perfect. We cannot wait to see what kind of Mayor your Abel will turn out to be! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.
OUT OF CHARACTER
Name: Maria Age: 23 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: GMT Activity estimation: Every other day Triggers: REDACTED
IN CHARACTER
Full name: Abel Byron Hawker Age : 05/08/1923 Gender: Male Pronouns: Him/Her Sexuality: Straighter than the Tennessee Line Occupation: Mayor of Devil’s Knot Connection to Victim: Abel Hawker knows pretty much everyone in Devil’s Knot, whether they realise it or not. The same could be said for the Goode’s. Though he never personally interacted much with Brian, Abel certainly positioned himself at the forefront of the search. After all, a Mayor has to take responsibility for the safety of his citizenry. In Abel’s case, he does so by putting pressure on the police on Ms Goode’s behalf. Not that she asked him to, of course. Alibi: According to Abel and members of the Chapter, he attended his regular meeting after church but left early due to a headache and went home. It was, like many evenings, the usual for the Mayor. Faceclaim: Jeremy Irons
WRITING SAMPLE
The Michigan sun poked through the veranda, the soft, not too warm glow basked Mayor Hawker’s face in its orange hue. A curl of smoke cut through the clear blue skies as it wafted from the end of his thickly rolled cigar. He remained like that, leaning on his rocking chair, its long swinging creeks creating a lulling song that he could and had listened to most of his life.
It was his father’s chair, and his father’s father likely sat on something not too dissimilar. Carved from the wood of one of the many red oaks that lined the property, it represented everything the Hawker’s were about. Longevity, home-grown and standing the test of time. He fingers, rough and coarse from the years, ran over the expertly polished arms, just appreciating the craftsmanship as well as the weather.
As he sat, relaxing and looking out, a little song crept into his mind. It drew a slow forming, gentle smile on his lips, his crisp paper-like skin pulling with it. There was no one around, and that was just how he liked it in long afternoons like this. For a moment, he let his eyes closed, heeled shoe clicking against the hardwood of the patio, drumming the beat for an old ditty.
“I loved a girl in Saginaw, Michigan…” His voice was underlined with a faint croak that matched the eek of his chair, the tune rumbling deep in his chest to produce the consummate voice of an older singer.
An image began to form in his mind as he took another deep intake of his cigar. Him and his boys in the brushy fields of Pyongtaek, the beginning to the Korean war stretching out ahead of them. Benny banged his metal mug against the table with all the enthusiasm of Buddy Rich reborn, and Tony clapped completely offbeat as Abel and Ryan started up a song. It wasn’t this one, but that didn’t matter. He could still see them now, their eyes bright and ready to return home as heroes. It wouldn’t take long, after all, it was just some country folks who had caught up with the Russian’s red curtain, that’s what they thought. “The daughter of a wealthy, wealthy man…”
The image of Benny sprawled across the dirt floated up in Abel’s mind as the song continued. His guts had been a pollock-esque splash of reds and browns, glistening in the summer heat. Next to him, Tony was slumped with a bullet hole in the centre of his head.
“But he called me, that son of a Saginaw fisherman…”
And Ryan? Well, Ryan never quite came back right. They found him drowned in the river just two months before the end.
“And not good enough, to claim his daughter’s hand…”
The front gate creaked down the long garden path that led up to the porch, causing Abel to crack an eye open. He pulled the cigar reluctantly from his lips, licking the spot that it had sat on, its warm presence still a ghost against the skin.
“Now I’m up here in Alaska, looking around for gold…”
He continued, a little louder, letting the words drift towards his new guest. The flash of the Sherrif office’s brown uniform was all he needed to see, continuing to idly rock as if he hadn’t noticed anything at all. Only once the visitor was climbing the porch steps did he deign to speak rather than sing away.
“I was startin’ to wonder if you were gonna turn up, my boy.”
The youth was a rookie; it only took one glance to tell. Blonde hair and greener than the fields, the 20-something kid awkwardly grasped his belt and tried to stand straight, but it was evident with the uncertain flicker of his eyes around the large Hawker estate that it was all for show. Abel thought he recognised him, one of those good for nothing kids that got raised on the poorer side of town. Typical that George Adam would give these economic rejects a chance. “Urm…ur…Mayor Hawker, sorry to bother you sir but-”
“Aye, aye, I’m aware boy, you gotta do your due diligence and get the story of what I was doing that night.”
Abel slowly pulled himself off his chair, with all the speed of a seaswept turtle, which was entirely on purpose, as anyone who knew Hawker knows that the Mayor kept himself in good health. He gave the standard ‘ah’ that an old person was expected to give after completing menial physical tasks as if they had climbed the summit of Everest. With a wave, he gestured the kid officer to follow, pushing open his ornately carved front door and shuffling into the Hawker estate.
Estate was a polite word for it. It was a mansion in pretty much every regard, an ancestral home that would immediately put anyone at unease. There was just a vastness to it that put one on the back foot, as they look up at the ceiling that seemed almost as far as the moon, it’s large traditional beamed structure overlaying a pure white paint job. The walls were a half mix of beaming, polished to a shine, wooden panelling and delicate fleur-de-lis sprouting wallpaper that made it feel akin to a royal’s home.
Confronted by a large hallway that could easily fit three people shoulder to shoulder and a long, winding staircase that enticed one to see what the three upper floors held, the rookie police officer did what anyone would have - he froze.
Abel for his part kept walking a little down the way until he glanced over he shoulder, that grin coming out again. It was the full simper that belonged to a man a few decades his junior, but he wore it now just as he had in his youth, the life in it flashing in his eyes like claps of thunder. It that moment, it was as if he filled the space of the whole house, as grand and extensive as it was. “Come on boy, ain’t time for slack jaws, your boss will have your ass if you take too long.”
The cop shook his head free, quickly stepping after his guide. The house on its part kept an eye on the visitor, the walls lined with sprawling quantities of photos, whose subjects stared out to those passing. It went from old sepia constructs that desperately tried to fight the effects of ageing behind their glass windows to much more recent copies, showing the Mayor, his own children and a plethora of grandchildren.
Eventually, they turned into one of the adjourning rooms, revealing a parlour lounge. Abel didn’t waste a moment, his body immediately cut to the side of the room where a tray sat with a collection of alcohol, whiskey duly placed in a decanter. The rookie didn’t even have a chance to speak before the older man was thrusting a delicate crystal tumbler with the perfect amount of ice and bourbon in it.
“Ah..” The officer blinked after what seemed like an age, finally processing what was being offered and responding to it with a gentle shake of his head.
“I’m flattered sir, but I’m duty I can-”
“Hogwash.” Abel cut in. His voice had a sense of power to it, a thick with husky confidence that was at once both honeyed in Michiganian drawl and intense in its strength. It was almost like being hugged and punched at the exact same moment, it winded you, and you found yourself wondering what exactly happened.
“Ain’t your ma told you that it’s rude to refuse what is offered in a man’s home? It’s just one glass, ain’t no one gonna know.” He pressed the glass into the boy’s chest, and let it go, forcing the poor chap to hold it to avoid it following.
Abel turned around to sit on one of his lounge chairs, the movement hiding the sly smirk that drew across his lips. It always was so easy to play people to a fiddle. More often than not, all it took was a level of firmness, confidence that just begged people to question you and say no. Most people fold because humans, by nature, try to escape conflict. It only took fighters like the Hawker patriarch to know how to only bend to your own will.
“Aren’t you having some as well, sir?”
Perched on his old leather chair, Abel gestured at the boy again, his old veiny fingers beckoning him like a lazy puppeteer. He seemed almost like a relaxed king, his chin lifted in what could be confused for an old man trying to adjust his sight but was, in fact, concealed contempt. “Me? Oh no, I’m going on eighty, son, I gotta pick my battles with the booze. So, whatcha gonna ask me?”
Deputy took a sip of the bourbon likely to try to avoid causing offence and cleared his throat awkwardly before drawing closer to the Mayor. “Well sir, I just need to know your whereabouts and actions on the night of Saturday, 5th October.”
“Boy, if I told you about my whole day, we’re gonna be here till morn, how about you just give me some times to work with eh?”
A blush drew across the officer’s cheek, and he took a longer sip of the bourbon, trying to drown out the embarrassment. It was quite the social awkwardness to waste the Mayor’s time after all. “Ah yes well, any time in the afternoon would be helpful, urm, sir.”
“Well, I spend most of my evenings by the church, meetings and such with the local community. Wasn’t any different that way. I was doing an after prayer meeting at the church like I’ve been doing for longer than you’ve probably been alive.” It didn’t seem like a cutting remark, more just a flag clearly planted. It spoke clearly to the situation 'I’ve been doing this for a very long time. Have respect’.
“Yes, of course, sir, I’m sure the group will also confirm that, ah…um…” The poor newbie was struggling on the whole 'interviewing’ process, he juggled between his glass and getting a notepad from his shirt pocket. In what could only be described as an awkward tangle of limbs, the deputy eventually flicked to a page of notes and setting down his glass, he starts to write.
“Did you do anything after that, sir?”
Abel paused. It was just a minutia of movement, a brief hesitation that was entirely missable. He had to think about what he wanted to say for a moment, which was a rarity. “I got a headache, my age you know, soon as you get a whiff of a cold it hits you hard. So I came home early, and just…relaxed.”
“Of course, understandable, sir.” The youngster gave a nervous smile that likely was trying to be charming, though Abel barely gave it the time of day. Took more like cordial social interactions to actual gain his favour. He was at his heart, the sort of man that appreciated action over the frivolity of words.
“What’s your name, boy?”
The deputy blinked, and stared at Abel as if to ask 'me?’. The Mayor just raised a patient brow, a corner of his lips curled in a half-smile to encourage the boy.
“Urm, D-Deputy Roger Turner…sir.”
“Roger, old sorta name that. Did Sherriff Malvo recruit you?” Abel asked his questions with a gracious smile, but his tone was the kind that a police officer may have wielded ironically. It held a profound sense that answering wasn’t optional.
The deputy just nodded, putting his pad away and blinking away like an epiphytic deer in headlights.
“You know, I went to school with the Sherriff. I was older, but I knew him well enough. Still know him.”
Still completely lost on where this is going, the officer just bobbed his head along like a toy being shaken. His eyes were wide-eyed as if the prospect that his boss could know the Mayor well was surprising, even though anyone with even a modicum of a brain would expect it.
“I know, that if he knew one of his deputies, sent here to question me formally in the capacity of his office, decided to stand around and sip my bourbon, he’d fire them quicker than you could say missing kid.” It was said with the clinical cut of a surgeon. A master of the board calling out his checkmate, though Abel had to admit when it came to dimwits like Rogers, it so easy as to be boring.
The penny dropped. No, in fact, it tumbled down with the force of a loosen boulder, and just like that the naive youngster realised the brevity of his mistake. The only thing deputy could offer was a bumbling mess of words. “I well, you, um, I don’t…what?”
“It’s alright, my boy, I ain’t that cruel. I think we can come to an arrangement, make sure you can keep doing your good work. Take a seat.” To say Roger took the seat was being charitable, it was closer to collapse, the heavy browned leather of seat wrapping around him and making him seem like the 'boy’ that Abel had been calling him from the start. He just mutedly nodded, putting himself in the Mayor’s mercy.
The grin came back as Abel sat forward, a cat who had spotted its next meal. His eyes narrowed in conspiratorial slits a that broad smile of a kindly old man could now be seen to be what it actually had been, the deadly visage of a man who was unforgiving in exploiting your weaknesses. A game hunter in sight of prey.
“Now, why don’t you tell me all the hard work ya’ll have been doing. Don’t leave anything out.”
ANYTHING ELSE?
> Abel Hawker is a man of the draft. Not only did he serve in the Second World War upon turning 19 in 1943, but he then went on to make a second draft into the Korean war in his twenties. He’s a man who has killed and be trained to kill, causing violence to be no stranger to him. However, being a soldier has its price. There’s a simmering rage in Abel that’s hidden beneath his advanced age and small-town manners. It takes a lot to unsettle a man whose been in such brutal wars, but if you do, expect to find a hurricane of force that would rival many of Michigan’s infamous tornados.
> The Mayor was a loyal husband while he still had a wife, and can be quite the caring partner back in the days when he bothered with relationships. A sense of loyalty runs deep in him, and it spreads to his family. While he could never truly understand the interracial and liberal relationships that his children took on, he never removed his support (though he did spare a comment or two of opinion on it), because to him, family sticks together, always.
> No one is entirely sure of the source of the Hawker family wealth. It seems to be an accepted part of Devil’s Knot. The sun rises, the snow falls, and the Hawker family are wealthy. Only Abel and his father before him genuinely knows how the fortune was built and continues to be maintained. Make no mistake, the Mayor does not just sit on his inheritance, he grows it, to pass on to his son and his grandchildren. A tree after all, without the right care, only withers.
> The day of Brian Goode’s disappearance, Abel did indeed attend his usual Chapter meeting, he did also leave early. However, the bit he fails to often mention is that he had visitors to his house that evening when his grandson was seemingly long asleep. Man in dark coats and suitcases, who spent quite a few hours speaking to the Mayor about matters not uttered very openly.
> Mayor Hawker is quite the singer. Back in his day, in fact, Abel was part of a travelling band for a few years after the Korean war. It was just a hobby of boys trying to find work (Abel’s father was notoriously frugal), but should someone look hard enough, they may see old photos around Devils Knot of the band’s past shows. Still now, one can often catch him singing an old tune or listening to a recording on his record player. He surprisingly keeps up with more modern music too, but you’d never catch him admitting it. Perhaps in another life, he could have tried at it for real.
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pescado-diabolico · 6 years ago
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hello!  i don’t normally post school project stuff (mainly bc i dont think anyone wants to read a half-assed presentation on hellenistic poetry), but i’m currently working on a project for my archaeology class where i have to reconstruct four roman walls in each of the four pompeian styles.  i just finished the wall i was working on in the first style, and here are the results!  the image on the right is what it currently looks like.  i’m really proud of the results, considering i only did it in google drawings and ms paint with some minor color adjustments in gimp.  this took about three hours to do and i’m p tired, but i’m proud of it, so i wanted to share it here
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josiebelladonna · 2 years ago
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😅 either be as my god am (that was just a vent fic) or any of the writing i did back in 2016–i stumbled on those old files a few weeks back and holy shit. i’m glad i’ve pretty much buried them because you guys think my dark fics are messed up 
🥺 i’m a very sensual person so i like anything soft and sensual (gentle kisses, soft touches, actually fessing up to each other like in fever)
🤡 oh, god, there are so many examples. it’s not uncommon for me to make myself laugh when i’m writing 
😈 cliffhangers, odd or vague plot developments, awkward moments, too!
✍ no beta, we die like titans of creation 
🛒 my fics have a lot of emotion to them (not necessarily angst, but just… emotions). there’s this odd old school feel to them, too (what i get for being an avid reader and growing up watching comedies from the 70s, the 80s, and the 90s as well as cartoons from the 90s and the 2000s). in retrospect, i also add a lot of sex appeal to my writing, especially when i don’t mean to add that—why do you think i have a couple of one shots in my kinktober collection for dead man walking of all fics?
🎢 probably fever, just from the sheer length of it
✨ girl, your writing is hot (joey belladonna even talked about it at one point!). it stands out in the tags. you can tell you write out of a deep love of writing as well as the people you write about, people should talk about you and your writing more!
💋 i like them but i don’t really… relate to them 😒
🎶 hell yes—sometimes i have bare ears, though. oh, it changes all the time 
🛠 on my laptop: ms word. on my tablet: pages 
⛔ a big four fic called flying equestrians from mid-july 2019: it came during that odd time period where i started digging more into my sexuality, especially since my other wip at the time, painted in a corner, was starting to pick up in the sexuality, and a couple of weeks before whatserface showed up with state of euphoria. i scrapped it in august because it wasn’t going anywhere and a lot of developments felt very half-assed and forced: but not even a day later, i created the first drawing in my sketchbook that lay the groundwork for a little trilogy called now it’s dark and i did not look back once.
🙋‍♀️ my mom because she’s the o.g. fic writer for me (it runs in the family, y’all)
🍦 the one shot “disciples of the watch” from eclipse. it’s kinky as fuck but it’s one of those things i have kept to myself for way too long 
🍷 i don’t drink, so no
🍆 is that even a question? it’s a little weird when you think about it, though, like my smut gets bupkiss whereas i see other people’s smut getting thousands of reads, like what am i doing wrong?
🌞 i’ve really gotten into the habit of writing in the morning. i also like to write at night, too: write at night and then pick it up in the morning right after my walk and my cup of coffee 
💖 i’ve been writing since i was a kid so just… a deep love of self-expression 
💌 love getting comments, but the anonymity surrounding it bothers me, though: just receiving bad messages and rude comments for as long as i have, the sight of a new message in my inbox and i automatically assume the worst (why i like talking to people on instagram: i can actually see the comments right there on the lockscreen)
❌ ____ x reader, or “y/n” as it’s known now. really, see my whole beef with that and a couple of other things in my rules page
💲 i’ve brought up the idea of setting up a tip jar but i don’t know who would pay me to write for them, though 
🧐 always. for example, when i was writing now it’s dark, i often looked at maps of upstate new york, new york city, new orleans, and refreshed my memory with seattle and portland. i’m doing it again with the bay area and my testament writings.
🏆 the amped and wired webcomic, although i don’t really count that one, because it’s a comic and not my written words
🎃 in 2019, i wrote “a chris(t)mas story”, a grunge christmas based on a christmas story. the last fic for eclipse is going to be a halloween story. i’m also planning on a hanukkah story, another christmas story, and a new year’s story come december.
🎯 nope 😜
🎨 i make my own fanart but… ngl, it gets kinda lonely. i’d be so honored if someone did that for one of my many fics
📈 129 (i’ve come across accounts that have 3, 4, 5, 6, etc. times more than that, though)
🦅 i outline them up here *points at temple*
👀 ooh, i’ve got: like blood from a stone, flowers for alexander, dead man walking, eerie inhabitants, love is not enough… i also want to do another crossover à la without a paddle, which was green day and the foo fighters with the kids from a series of unfortunate events (that was fun and i loved it so, so much)
🤗 don’t be shy, the world needs you and your story, babe. it’s scary but i can assure you there is nothing to be afraid of here.
💞 probably chris 
🧠 i’m thoroughly and unshakably certain that alex’s teeth are crooked to hide his fangs 🧛🏼‍♀️
🤩 oh, definitely alex, just because he’s so interesting and predictably unpredictable 
🤲 “It’s a full moon, Alex,” he told me as he wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. “Full moon that also appears to be a bit of an eclipse?”
“Oh, yeah, it is! It’s partial, but I do see the shadow, though.”
He let out a low whistle and propped himself up onto his elbows. Though my stomach was full, I still had my hunger, especially with the sight of his brown skin down there before me in the leaves. I poured myself a second glass of sparkling apple cider as a couple more trick-or-treaters sauntered up to our front step not too far from there. I knew that we would have a great deal of candy left over, especially with the ferocious winds all around us: I knew I wouldn’t want to go out trick-or-treating when it was this windy or cold outside. Indeed, I was amazed that we had very little wind back here at the back of the house to begin with. —from my halloween story coming on monday 🎃
😬 be as my god am—like i said, it was a vent fic, especially after i’ve tried to tell people, “you know… ben is really not all that great of a person. being kind to women you’re only attracted to is not respecting women…”
🎉 if you break 1000 reads, that’s pretty good, dude
✅ my food kink (”porn food” as eric calls it)
📚 that’s something i’ve been on the fence about for pretty much my whole adult life. i do it because it’s fun but i also take it very seriously as if it is my career already 
⌛ a chapter now takes me a couple of hours to write up (i actually timed myself the other day, too: if it’s something i’m really inflamed by, with no interruptions i can write 500 words in about 10-15 minutes)
🤯 romance. everyone seems to have a better grasp of it and i just can’t do it. i don’t think my smut is very smutty (probably why it doesn’t garner a lot of attention, come to think of it). i don’t follow trends, either—the latest thing in the metallica fandom is diaper fetish and also size kink with james. …hey, whatever floats your boat but there’s a lot of content surrounding those two in particular at the moment and i look at eerie inhabitants and like blood from a stone and they both feel so out of place. i like to add a lot of humor to my smutty writings, too, like goofy humor: if you read my kinktober fics, don’t be surprised if you have a chuckle every now and again. it keeps it light, though, it keeps it fun: i dunno what it is with a lot of smut and erotic fics and being really serious, like it’s treated as work. i want it to look like i’m having fun writing something erotic.
💔 six feet under, just because it came hot on the heels of the incident™️ as well as yet another betrayal, but from a family friend. the entirety of the ballad from fever, too.
💥 i welcome it, mainly because it’s just a fact of life. people will criticize you and there’s really nothing you can do about it.
🤭 i just… really like writing “alex skolnick”. that guttural russian name that has this odd coziness to it and will forever conjure the image of a very sweet, very handsome, very sensual, very intelligent jewish man with deep eyes, a gray plume in his black hair, and a fat little belly (plus, the name alex now gives me a really soft feeling in my tummy)
🥰 to the day i die. i’m not gonna be all meme-y “my mutuals uwu” about it, either: i’m gonna want you to be a part of my chosen family if we hit it off
Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask
😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?
🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?
🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?
😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?
✍ Do you have a beta reader?
🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.
🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?
✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉
💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?
🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?
🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?
⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?
🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?
🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?
🍷 Do you drink and write?
🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?
🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?
💖 What made you start writing?
💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?
❌ What's a trope you will never write?
💲 Would you ever open commissions?
🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?
🏆 What's your most popular fic?
🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?
🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?
🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?
📈 How many fics do you have?
🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?
👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!
🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?
💞 Who's your comfort character?
🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.
🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?
🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?
😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?
🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?
✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?
📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?
⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?
🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?
💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?
💥 How do you feel about criticism?
🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?
🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?
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stunudo · 7 years ago
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Allow Me
A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction
Featuring: Aaron Hotchner x (Younger) Female Reader
Requested by: Anonymous
“ Can I request a hotch smut with a much younger (but legal) reader and the reader wants to give him the thing he wants to try most in bed?”
A/N: I wasn’t sure what to make ‘the thing’, but I hope you like what I came up with!  Also I gave the reader a killer backstory, sorry if it is too specific for your tastes. Happy Smuturday! Shout out to Nicole @dontshootmespence for her help. xoxo Stu    
Walking into the bull pen, you felt them staring, the members of Aaron’s team practically gawking at your smooth face and lively gait. You had met them all, numerous times, but something about being in their space and approaching your boyfriend, their boss, gave them pause. Except Reid, because, frankly he hadn’t looked up to see your entrance. Rossi grinned knowingly, nodding to the stairs that led to Aaron’s office.
You smile back, graciously, and leave them with a flustered double handed wave. Going up the stairs, calms your nerves, the noises of the office below fade as your smile creeps up for the furrowed eyebrows waiting for you behind a desk.
“Hey there, Chief, got a minute?” You tease as you slip inside the door.
“Y/N,” Aaron’s whole face changes from the stern agent to the affectionate lover you know and adore. “I think I can free up some time, considering.” He stands as you round the desk, kissing you quickly, but lingering tiny pecks towards your ear.
“What’s the plan? Do you think you will be home this weekend?” You ask, eying the stacks of files and folders on his desk.
“As much as I can say?” Aaron’s gruff voice buzzed through his chested, warming you beside him. “You’ve got me, Ms. Y/L/N, as long as our messy government jobs allow.”
Working for the CIA had been something you were almost born to do, growing up in Europe you quickly became multi-lingual. Your parents belonging to various organizations that held political influence ensured you were trained in self defense from a young age. All of this skyrocketed you through school, graduating from your boarding school at sixteen only to complete a bachelor degree by nineteen. Your strength, stamina and beauty only added to your appeal as you networked through bureaucrats, eventually landing in the one place your family could no longer control your future: America.
The years of training and undercover work matured you quickly, yet all too soon you found yourself in your mid-twenties and painfully alone. That was until a certain FBI agent caught your eye during a case. Aaron Hotchner was remarkably handsome and professional, it took three introductions for him to accept your flirtations. It was another joint task force effort before he even tried to ask you out. The rest was, as they say, history. He had no idea of your true identity, though you assumed he was aware you had a cover.
It was all so thrilling, the jaded FBI agent seduced by the foreign spy, nearly half his age. You didn’t care what his teammates thought, but you knew Aaron did, so you took the time and began building rapport with the esteemed BAU members. The only one who was still out right hostile towards you was, Penelope Garcia, undoubtedly because she could not ransack your past as you existed in cover States-side. It was a technicality that was not going away just because you had been dating their Unit Chief.
After running errands, Aaron finally called you to let you know he was on his way home for the weekend. You smirked, pleased that Jessica had taken Jack out of town, leaving that big house particularly empty.
To put it mildly, dinner was forgotten. The necking started in the living room, like teenagers in a cinema, during a rather boring patch of film. Aaron had always been rather handsy; letting his steady palms caress you helped build the momentum. As much as you liked being mischievous in the bedroom, you respected him enough to not leave marks where his team would spot them. Your mouth nibbled along his collar bone, with only his shirt removed, allowing you to draw this out.
Aaron’s scarred torso was firm with muscle, his hairy arms holding you close, almost painfully so. Your legs were lazily draped over his lap, but the angle was growing uncomfortable. Slowly you slid on to his lap, his hungry mouth finding your neck in turn, his left hand sliding over your thigh to grip the curve of your ass possessively. His growl turns into a groan as your hands thread through his hair, pulling his mouth to yours. His five o’clock shadow bristled against your soft lips, his tongue explored you and you responded in kind.
You managed to carefully hook your feet under his thighs on the couch, facing him straight on. The straddle gently built the tension between you as the layers of clothing added to the friction. Aaron had been hinting at things he had wanted to try with you, being a much more adventurous partner than his previous relationships. Tonight was time to honor his unspoken request; tonight you were going to simultaneously take each other’s pleasure from the palm of your hands to oral reciprocation. (Sixty-nine-ing was such a tacky term, but it painted a clear visual for anyone who heard it.)
Aaron cleared his throat, bringing your thoughts back to the present. “Y/N, should we, uh, take this up stairs?” His voice was hoarse as he whispered unnecessarily. You grinned at him, between kisses, nodding as you looked down your nose at him.
She bit her lip as she nodded back at him, gorgeous as ever. Hotch never in his wildest dreams thought that he would be so awestruck by someone again. Yet here he was closer to 50 than 40 with a twenty something straddling him, he had no idea how even after weeks of dating, but somehow, they worked together. He was humbled by his pride in her and their relationship, knowing how dedicated to the job she was, which eased any inevitable gold-digger presumptions. Sometimes women just wanted someone with experience, and sometimes, Hotch thought to himself, men just wanted someone to have fun with.
She stepped back, her toned legs holding her as she elegantly strode toward the stairway, leaving him alone on the couch, admiring her from behind. He groaned as he pulled himself from the low pillows of the furniture, kicking off his shoes before following the retreating form of his girlfriend. She was almost to the top of the stairs when he started running up them, taking two at a time, thundering towards her. She giggled and hopped out of the way, nearly sending him soaring into the linen closet opposite the railing. He spun on the spot and bowed with gusto, causing her to laugh even harder. Hotch was getting a little to pleased with himself.
Clothes were lost and bedding was shoved aside and before you could focus, Aaron was trailing luxurious kisses down your navel. Now the moment of truth, let your handsome boyfriend please you or begin your plans for broadening his sex life. As his fingers began spreading you open, your mind finally was made, “Wait!” You said suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Aaron’s deep voice asked alarmed. Your hand caressed his cheek and played with his now mussed hair.
“Nothing, it’s just that I have been thinking...”
“Uh-oh, how worried should I be, Y/N?” His eyes darkened, staring back at you, the knowing smirk awakening the butterflies in your stomach.
“How about we try something more?” You asked, sitting up. The pouting expression on Aaron’s face with loss of contact with your labia was comedic, but you whisked it away with a quick kiss. “Lay down, Agent Hotchner.” You must have been intimidating because he quickly settled back on to his pillows. Working the angles out in your head, he would need to be propped up slightly to accommodate your shorter torso, you handed him another pillow.
You nodded to yourself, sealing the plan in place, as his hands started cupping your bare breasts, distracting you once again. His rough thumbs teased your nipples, bringing your pleasure back into focus. You playfully slapped his hand, “Now, are you going to behave? Or am I going to have to save this for another time?”
“Just what are you going to do to me, Y/N?” Aaron’s voice was amused, his lean body sprawled out for you to admire, dark hair accenting his scars and muscles, a casually confident man, waiting to be enlightened.
“Oh, babe, it’s not about what I am going to do to you.” You shook your head and wiggled your eyebrows. “No, this is all about mutual pleasure, you give what you get.” Realization shone in his wise eyes, a deep hunger coated his features. You leaned up to kiss him fiercely before quickly spinning on the spot. You started stroking his cock to attention, letting his eyes close before flexibly slipping your legs around his chest. Your ass on full display, you carefully rested on an elbow as you took his cock deeply in your mouth.
Aaron’s attention remained on himself for a minute, but eventually you felt his strong hands kneading into the soft flesh along your upper thighs. Your lips had coated themselves, waiting for his devoted mouth. Involuntarily, your hips slipped backwards, seeking him. You slowed your rhythm along his shaft, in anticipation, when finally his forceful tongue entered your folds.
Any doubt about angles or worries about being eye level with each others less aesthetic regions were forgotten once he added his fingers to the mix. You moaned against him as he wiggled his fingers inside you. Suddenly he stopped, his voice a taunt, “You give what you get, huh?” You returned to your task, having barely moved in over a minute in response to Aaron’s stellar finger strokes.
You set your jaw and got back down to taking him inch by inch. The angle of his erection was different from above, making your very aware of how you used your tongue and teeth. You found an agreeable pace, but had lost Aaron’s touch. Every so often, a light tickle from his tongue found your clit, you rocked back, needing more. But then, you couldn’t take him, but a couple of inches. This was becoming impossible.
Aaron Hotchner was a patient man, but this situation had become untenable. He took Y/N’s thighs in each hand, practically bench-pressing her bottom half, thrusting her onto the other side of the bed. She giggled, once she recovered from the shock. He sighed and admitted defeat, “That was amazing and impossible at the same time.”
She smirked knowingly, “One of the few things that are great in theory and terrible in execution.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He asked, stroking her legs as he laid his head on her hip.
“Aaron, you are definitely a hands on learner.” She grinned as his left hand began toying with her taunt nipple. He rolled into her, nudging her on to her back, her firm body responding to his every touch. He was mesmerized by the sight of her, needing her more with every shared look. Aaron slid the pillows off the bed, giving him a larger range of motion. He took Y/N by the ankles and drew her towards him.
The desire in his eyes and the power of his thrusts were spiraling with the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He had pinned your knees together and slammed into your core with a vigor unmatched by your previous lovers. Your body barely half on the bed sheet as his strength held you to him at an uncompromising angle. Sometimes, what was known worked best.
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