#I’m like the Van Gogh of my time

[that0nebird]

Hey guys today I made some fanart of Tamarack D. Baumann as a galagoogoo from the hit RARE Original farming game Viva Piñata for the Xbox 360.

[ishedadordaddy]

You know. Of things to be obsessed with when manic.

I feel like Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man is one of the better things to do it for.

[moonstruckme]

It's me once again! Bothering you twice in a day, I'm annoying like that, ha just kidding. But yes James is soooo wholesome, it's crazy how he became my favorite boy. So Mae, I suppose you are super busy because being such amazing writer is no easy job when you have requests coming all the time but, if you have the time, whenever that is, could you write something about James? Like James being so wholesome, the best boyfriend, the fluffiest thing you can think of, maybe something with words or affirmation and kisses and hugs and just very lovely things, feel like I need that. If you can of course.

Hope you are having a very cool weekend and my username is basically my favorite colors and it has something to do with Van Gogh and my favorite singer but this kid knows something, haha it's so funny, kind of serendipitous if you ask me :) love that. Well, I'm going to set you free, read you soon.

P.S. Sorry this was so loonng

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!! Sorry this took so long lol, I had to wait until I had an idea that wasn't already in my requests but I appreciate your patience! This is perhaps more hurt/comfort than straight fluff lol, but he is the most wholesome ever <3

cw: concussion

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 603 words

James’ hand is especially gentle as he strokes over your hair. Your nose dents into his thigh, and his jeans are coarse and scratchy but the slight pressure is nice. 

“Still dizzy?” he asks, carefully quiet. 

“A little.” Your own voice is thin, fraught. “Not as bad.” 

He sighs, and you feel too weird to decipher whether it’s in relief or dismay. “I’m sorry, angel.” He lifts one of your hands to his mouth, kissing the side. “Is it hurting in any one place?” 

“It’s my whole face. But most in my forehead.” 

James’ touch is featherlight, ghosting over the spot where you’d smacked your head on the stairs. “Here?” 

“Mhm.” 

He makes a worried humming sound in response. You sit in silence for some time, and it’s not uncomfortable, but nothing is comfortable for you right now. You feel terrible, unlike yourself and unsettled because of that and also weepy but not as much as you are embarrassed. And dwelling upon any of this for too long makes your head spin worse. You don’t think you’re dying though it feels like you might be. 

The warm bead rolling down your nose brings you to the realization that you’re crying. James’ coo follows a moment later, and his hand splays protectively atop your head. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Do you feel alright to sit up?” 

“Okay,” you mumble. 

He does the work for you, though it’s hard to keep track of the movements. One second your head is on his lap and the next you’re propped against his chest, one muscled arm supporting your back while James rests his lips against your forehead. 

“You’re okay,” he promises. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” 

“I don’t really feel like going to dinner anymore,” you admit, tasting salt as a tear finds its way into your mouth. 

“Oh,” James lifts his lips to look you in the eyes, “honey, I didn’t expect you to. I’m going to call Remus and cancel in a minute, okay?” He brushes a lock of hair away from your face with his pinkie finger, stroking a sweet line down your cheek. “If you go anywhere, it should probably be to the doctor.” 

“No.” You close your eyes, too upset to care about the low whine that escapes you. “What’re they gonna do?” 

“I don’t know, baby.” James traces the same line again. “They might want to do an MRI or something. I’ve had a concussion before, they’re serious business.” 

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. The material of his jumper is soft beneath your cheek. “I can’t think about it right now.” 

There’s a brief pause. 

“Okay. Okay, we can talk about it tomorrow, if it’s still bad then.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry.” James’ arm wraps around your middle, squeezing lightly in a gentle sort of hug. You think that he’s being very careful with you, which you appreciate. You don’t imagine you could handle much more sensation at the moment. “I know it sucks, angel, and you’re handling it so well. We’re gonna do our best to get you feeling better. I love you so much, you know?” 

You feel like you might cry again. You don’t think you have the energy to stop yourself. “I know,” you tell him. “I love you so much, too.” 

“Heaps and heaps.” He gives you another little squeeze, his ability to repress his affection tenuous at best. “Probably the most anyone has ever loved anyone, if we’re being honest.” 

“James.” 

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do that kind of math right now. I love you a lot, okay?” 

“Okay. Same here.”

[art]

Creator Spotlight: GDBee Art (@prinnay)

Geneva Bowers is inspired by the wonders of the natural world around us, and enjoys manipulating colors to create art full of mood and feelings.

Check out our interview with Geneva below!

How did you get started with art? Did you originally have a background in art?

I’m going to say yes because that’s all I’ve known how to do. It started because I wanted to draw better horses than my sister, and it just spiraled from there. People started asking me to draw things because they saw me drawing horses. I was like, well, I can draw things that aren’t horses, and then it was just kind of all I did. 

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

I have one right now! Honestly, with time, and I also collect art books; I think I have a couple hundred. If I really want to draw something, then I just flip through those and try to steal some ideas.

Which three famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I mean, of course Van Gogh…I’m really inspired by Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, so I would invite Van Gogh, Monet, and Julie Dillon to a dinner party.

Have you ever wanted to dive into another medium before?

Yeah, actually, I currently am! I’m trying to do more traditional painting. I used to do a lot of acrylics, but I haven’t done it in years, and now I’m kind of bad at it. I’m trying to get into actual impressionistic art with oils and oil pastels. I’m like failing, but you know, you get there. Just fail until it looks presentable. 

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I guess it’s more of a feeling. I create art because I’m inspired by things around me, like certain video games. For example, I have been inspired by a Japanese RPG called Chrono Cross on PlayStation 1. They make me feel a certain type of inspiration to create something, so that’s kind of like what I’m hoping to leave behind. 

Have any of your projects surprised you with their outcome?

Yeah! I did this Weapon Faerie series where I took three prompts: a weapon, a winged insect, and an herb, which I combined to make different characters. So, a faerie with a spiked club or a butterfly faerie with a katana. I made 13 of those, and they kind of took off! I wasn’t expecting that at all.

What is the hardest part of your process?

My whole art style is coloring, like the way it’s colored… but I hate the coloring process, haha. I like doing the color combos, but I don’t like the blending and shading. That takes like one-trillion years. It’s the part where I’m most likely to give up. You know how art kind of looks ugly before it looks good? I’m trying to trust that process. 

What do you wish you knew when you started creating art that you know now?

I guess one big thing would be knowing how to use lights and darks. When I do color, it is definitely colorful, but when you switch it to black and white, you see that everything’s the same tone of gray. I’ve learned that if you just use some brighter colors and some darker shades, you create a bigger impact in the end. So, now, when I paint something digital, I make it black and white for a moment to see where all the hues are, and if something is weirdly dark or not dark enough, I can change it.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

Oh, @feefal definitely inspires me. She does a lot of spooky art.

[redwing4life]

Prettier Than a Van Gogh

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

WARNINGS: Bucky struggling with self image, a frankly illegal amount of fluff

SUMMARY: You suggest painting Bucky’s back to help him see the beauty he fails to see in the mirror

WORD COUNT: 1333

MASTERLIST

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your voice rings out from the entryway of the apartment, your tone light as you use the phrase you’ve come to love. Bucky said it once when you first moved in together, unaware of its old fashioned nature; you teased him for it in the following weeks, and yet you’ve come to find it endearing - now using it each time you walk through the front door.

“Bucky?” You call out, met with silence once more. While you’re used to coming home to a quiet apartment, the lack of a usual reception of hugs and kisses is worrying.

Concern tugs at your brows as you kick off your shoes. You consider for a moment that he’s been called away on a mission - something that happens every now and then - but his boots still sit on the shoe rack and there’s no sticky note on the wall from him.

“Bucky, darling? You home?”

Spinning round the corner that leads to the open plan kitchen and living room, your frown deepens upon seeing no sign of your boyfriend; the bathroom door is open and he’s not there either. Your eyes lock on the bedroom door that sits slightly ajar before your feet carry you forward.

You knock gently on the wood and peek inside, “Love?”

Oh how your heart drops at the sight before you. The reflection of the mirror Bucky is stood in front of shows you the shame etched across his features. He’s wearing the dark blue and green plaid pyjama bottoms you got him for Christmas with no shirt on.

You’ve found him like this before, him staring with disgust at the scars littered across his torso, but mainly his shoulder. It’s like a knife to the stomach every time you see him with that look in his eyes; if only he saw himself the way you do.

Feet pattering against the hardwood floor, you approach Bucky with eyes trained on his - though he’s yet to glance at you.

“I thought we agreed you didn’t have to do this to yourself anymore, sweetheart” You say, voice quiet and dripping with love. Coming to a halt behind him, you drag your fingers up and down his toned back a couple times before stretching them around his waist.

Bucky’s skin tingles at the warmth of your hands, now flat against his stomach. “I don’t know how to stop” His lips twist into a grimace.

“Then we’ll learn how to.” You reply, slowly stroking the skin beneath his belly button. “Cause you deserve to see yourself the way I do”

You almost gasp when Bucky finally meets your eyes through the mirror, wondering if you’ll ever get used to his beauty.

“Do I?” He asks with a frown.

“Oh, honey,” You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, “you deserve that and so much more.”

His lips turn up slightly and you revel in the way his body responds to you. Your right hand reaches out to grab his vibranium one, raising them up with your palms flat against each other. Still stood behind him, your fingers intertwine while your eyes never leave each others.

You continue, “You may not see that yet, but i’ll spend every minute of our lives teaching you to see it too”

He spins in your arms while still holding your hand and rests his flesh one on your hip. Naturally, you start swaying from side to side, dancing to the hustle and bustle of the street outside. You find yourself thinking of ways to help him while your head rests on his chest.

“Hey, Buck?” You mumble against his chest.

“Yes, doll?”

“I have an idea”

Bucky was skeptical of your plan at first, but your big smile and excited bouncing on the spot won him over. Not that it takes much persuasion when it comes to you.

So now he finds himself lying on his stomach on your bed while you straddle his back, slowly sketching out a drawing on his back.

“Can I at least get a vague idea as to what you’re gonna paint on my back, sweets?”

You giggle to yourself quietly, “Nope.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but can’t hold back a grin. You’re being very secretive as to what you’re planning; you said you want him to just enjoy relaxing for now.

“Okay, you ready?” You ask, dipping a brush into the paint on your palette.

“Yes, ma’am”

When the brush makes contact with the small of Bucky’s back, his back tenses at the unusual sensation. “Fuck, doll, it’s cold” His voice is muffled with the pillow beneath his chin.

You mutter an apology, gently running your hand up and down his side comfortingly, trying to counter the cool brush with your warm hands. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” He replies quickly, “keep going”

So you do. You spend nearly an hour swirling paint over your boyfriend’s back, incorporating his scars into your design. Blues and yellows blend together to form a version of Van Gogh’s starry night, curving round his vibranium shoulder and down to the middle of his back.

Bucky stopped fighting the fatigue that was tugging at him, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He’s slept peacefully for the last twenty minutes to the bizarrely satisfying feeling of being painted; a content smile has graced your lips ever since he fell asleep, happy to see him so comfortable in your presence.

You never take for granted how Bucky lets his guard down around you. You may not be able to control his feelings toward himself, but you can certainly give him every reason to trust you.

The painting is nearly finished as the super soldier stirs beneath you, a sigh falling from his lips.

“How’s it going, doll?” He asks, trying to turn and look at your work only to have his eyes covered.

“No looking! I’m nearly done” You squeak, desperate to keep it as a surprise. “Just a couple minutes and you can see it”

Bucky hums in response, returning his attention to the movie playing on the tv.

Finally finishing up with some detailed strokes, you drop the brush in the water jar and tidy up. When everything is cleared, you help Bucky to stand up without smudging your work, leading him back to the mirror you found him in front of only a few hours ago. Your hands rest on his hips, drawing circles on his skin without even realising you’re doing it.

“Okay, if you don’t like it we can wash-“

“I already love it, y/n. You could’ve painted a rotten apple and i’d wear it for a week if I could” He interrupts you. You can’t help but admire him right now, a soft expression on his face.

“Okay, you can look”

Silence falls upon the room as Bucky turns to face you and plants a quick kiss on your forehead before looking over his shoulder.

“My god, sweets”

“Is that a good ‘My god’ or a bad ‘My god’?”

He can’t tear his eyes away from his body for the first time since the 40s. “It’s beautiful, y/n. I-“ Words fail him and you swear you see a tear in his eye.

“That’s how I see you, Buck.” You say. “You take my breath away every time I see you. Your scars are part of you, so I love them too”

He turns back to you and holds your face in his hands, “I love you so much, doll. You’re so damn talented, and to have you use it for me- it makes me wonder what I did to deserve you”

You raise your hands to cover his. “You deserve the world, my love. More than I could ever give you”

“Well,” Bucky grins and rests his forehead on yours, “lucky for you, you’re all I want”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: eeee my first fic, please like and reblog if you enjoyed - maybe give me a follow toooo ;)

[taesanrot]

[van gogh] sungchan x f!reader | 2.7k words sneaky links/relationship, office romance ish, kind of just a slice of life if that makes sense, smut! (making out, oral f. receiving, tongue fucking .... they get freaky) syn. during the daytime, jung sungchan is nothing but another colleague at your job. to everyone's knowledge, the two of you are pretty much strangers. but in the late hours of the weekends, it's sungchan who meets you at the end of nights filled with parties and clubs. note. im back !!! after 30 million years 💗 uni has been rough sorry guys. anyways here’s another song fic hehe. this was supposed to be my first one actually but i forgot about it for like ever.

now playing: van gogh by aminé

"tell me where to go when the party 'gon close, after party shawty she don't wanna go home"

sungchan waved his drunken friends off as they clambered into the first cab they could hail. anton looked at sungchan once again, asking if he should stay with his eyes. sungchan smiled and shook his head at the younger male, checking the time on his silver plated watch.

it was almost 2 am, you were probably in the same position as him, sending your friends off back to their own apartments. sungchan had just enough luck to catch a glimpse of you in the club you were both at.

he was mesmerized by your shimmery dress, shivering as he remembered how he nearly fainted when he caught the outline of your collarbone under the flickering lights of the nightclub.

the tall male was lighting a cigarette when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

[1:59 a.m.] y/n: wya

[2:00 a.m.] sungchan: 9th and valentina

[2:00 a.m.] y/n: omw

sungchan leaned back against the brick wall behind him, taking a long drag from the cigarette. he knew you'd nag him when you saw the cig, complaining that the smell bothered you. sungchan smiled softly thinking of your protests. he knew you nagged him about it because you cared about him, whether or not you'd admit it.

the clicking of your silver heels caught sungchan's attention, and he whipped his head in your direction. tossing his dart on the ground, the boy gave you and half smile and walked in your direction.

now standing face to face with sungchan, you didn't miss the way he shamelessly eyed you up and down.

"pretty dress." compliments rolled off his tongue whenever he was around you; sometimes sungchan swore you cast a spell on him

he smiled down at you. you rolled your eyes, bringing your hand up to link your arm with his.

"it's new." you replied teasingly, waving an arm in the air the hail a cab. as quick as you linked your arm with his, sungchan retracted his arm from yours, sliding it around your waist so you were flush against his side. you felt his breath fan on your neck as he pressed a light kiss behind your ear.

"missed you." he whispered, smirking as he felt you shiver slightly.

a cab arrived before you could respond, and sungchan opened the car door for you, hand never leaving the small of your back until you were fully seated in the vehicle.

over your dress, sungchans fingers traced the lines of your tattoo, the one on your lower back that almost no one knew about. scooting into the car, he watched you lean forward to give the driver directions to your house. 

sungchan wondered if your roommate, giselle, would be home or if the two of you would be alone. he felt you press into his side and lay your head on his chest once you finished talking to the driver, his arm wrapping around your frame like it was second nature for him. no matter what, he always found his hand settling in the dip in your side, like it was being pulled by a magnet.

looking at your eyes that fluttered shut, sungchan chuckled slightly. you tilted your face up at him, feeling his chest rumble against you.

“tired?” he teased, smoothing down part of your hair. you pouted slightly and shook your head in protest.

“no i’m not” sungchan smiled at you again in the way that made your stomach explode with butterflies as he leaned down to leave a peck on your lips. 

“it’s okay baby, i’ll wake you up when we’re there.” he shrugged off his jacket to drop it around your almost bare shoulders. lacing a hand with yours, he let you adjust yourself slightly to rest against his shoulder.

sungchan thought you looked the prettiest in moments like this, when you weren’t thinking about anything. your lashes laid delicately on your cheeks as your chest rose up and down slowly. he reveled in the sight of his jacket wrapped around you.

even if no one in the office knew about your romance, sungchan knew you were his and he was yours. he secretly loved the sneaking around, feeling like it added a little but of excitement to your boring work days. 

the two of you would act sneaky for no reason, leaving at different times to talk to each other near bathroom or take your coffee breaks together. 

even when you went out, you’d go with your respective friend groups, meeting up after they were done migrating from club to club. 

sungchan looked down at your intertwined fingers. at the end of the night, it was him you’d come back to, it was him who’d take you home.

as the taxi came to a stop, sungchan pinched your cheek slightly. you whined at the contact but moved to get out of the car. sungchan paid the driver and the two of you stepped out together, sungchan’s hand falling back to the small of your back as you kept his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. 

the ride up to your floor was short, the two of you were at your front door within a minute of entering your complex. you shoved your keys into the lock and shoved the door open impatiently, wanting to get your dress and makeup off. 

“aeri?” your voice cut through the silence of the apartment. the lack of response and the empty hook where her keys usually hung told you she wasn’t home.

sungchan smiled and pulled you towards your bedroom, kicking off his shoes lazily. you grinned as he pushed open your bedroom door, throwing his jacket onto the bed.

pushing you against your now closed door, he lowered his face to the curve of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses down to your shoulders. his hand played with the thin straps of your dress, watching how the slid off your shoulders easily. before he could tug it off of you completely, you tapped his shoulder, prompting him to look up at you.

“let me wash my face baby, my makeup.” your boyfriend pouted dramatically but stepped away from you so you could walk over to the bathroom.

as you changed and washed off your makeup, sungchan changed in your room, retrieving clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser -- the one that was reserved just for him.

as you were rinsing off the last of your makeup, sungchan opened the door of the bathroom, grabbing both his and your toothbrushes and squeezing paste onto them. you sat on the counter and sungchan stood between your legs as you brushed your teeth. 

you ran your fingers through his fluffy hair, stomach flipping at the way he lazily leaned into your touch. his free hand came up to rub circles on your upper thigh, making you almost choke on your spit. sungchan smirked at the way you tensed, moving his hand up to play with the hem of your shirt.

you rolled your eyes at his antics, sliding off the counter to rinse your mouth. pushing the bathroom door open, you slipped into bed, sitting up against the headboard and scrolling through your phone. you laughed at some drunk texts from your coworkers. you hadn't drank much, and the lingering buzz from earlier was slowly slipping away.

sungchan walked out of the bathroom soon after, closing the door gently and turning your room lights off. your eyes could barely make out his large frame in the dark room, the only light coming from the streetlights outside and your phone screen.

you were still scrolling through some messages and emails when your boyfriend plucked your phone out of your hands, switching it off and placing it on the nightstand next to you.

he pulled you onto his lap, not giving you a moment to react. you giggled, tilting your head at him as his hooded eyes ran up and down your skin, stopping at the curve of your neck.

"what's up baby?" you asked, grinning. you could read sungchan like a book. he hummed in response, in a daze as his hands toyed with the hem of your shirt once again. you looked down at his fingers as they slipped under the fabric, running over your sides. you involuntarily shivered at how cold they were, and you felt your stomach burn with anticipation.

sungchan's other hand held your face gently, tilting your chin so you were looking at him again. he thumbed your bottom lip slightly, watching as your mouth wrapped around the tip of it delicately.

you enjoyed watching him breathe in shakily, knowing the effect you had on him. moving your legs to straddle him, you felt something poke against your center. sungchan moaned at the sudden pressure, pulling your face so he could meet your lips with his.

you gasped into the kiss, relishing the way his tongue slid into your mouth fervently. your hands landed on his neck, fingers tugging at the hair on his nape. his mouth melted into yours as he tilted his face to deepen the kiss even more.

you whimpered, feeling his hands roam under your shirt lazily. one hand pressed against the bottom of your spine, making your back curve into him slightly. the other massaged the skin of your thigh, moving closer and closer to where your clothed bodies met.

you were already sensitive, the feeling of sungchan shifting slightly underneath you making your breathing shallow.

his fingers danced along the waistband of your shorts, while his other hand stroked up and down your thigh. his light touches and the way he bit your lip were already making your head spin.

painstakingly slow, his hand at your waistband slowly slipped into your shorts, brushing against your clothed clit before applying pressure to your center over your panties. you broke away from his lips in favor of pressing your face into his neck, moaning into his soft skin. he ran his fingertips up and down your covered slit a few times before moving past your panties to feel your slick. noting how wet you were already, he chuckled.

“all this for me, baby?” you couldn’t see the smile on his face but you could hear it in his voice as you weakly nodded against his shoulder. you were aching in anticipation, almost screaming when sungchan pulled his hand out of your shorts. you watched impatiently as he licked his fingers, before bringing a hand up to tuck a strand on your hair back.

“wanna taste more.” he groaned into your ear, making you shudder.

“lay down for me?” you happily obliged, lifting yourself off his lap and laying your head on your pillow.

sungchan moved so he was hovering over you, placing a heavy hand on your hip. the sight of you under him was something straight of out sungchan’s dreams, your hair fanning around your face and small marks decorating your neck and chest.

he lowered his face to your neck, pressing wet kisses down the side as you writhed underneath him. his other hand pushed your flimsy tank up so he could see your boobs, latching his mouth around the right one.

"you always look so pretty when we go out. boosting my ego baby."

you moaned as his hot tongue pressed against your harden bud, back arching up to meet his face. he massaged your other boob, tweaking your nipple with his finger and basking in all of the pretty sounds you were making.

"always the prettiest girl in the room. and you're all mine."

he slowly but surely moved lower, kissing and licking your stomach. his hands hooked around the waistband of your shorts, and he pulled them and your panties off of you gently.

sungchan throbbed in his pants at the sight of you, your cami pushed up and your heat all bare for him. your eyes were screwed shut in anticipation, and he had to bite his lip to keep a laugh from escaping at the sight of you all pent up for him.

you were a mess, head thrown back against the pillow. you lost the ability to think straight a while ago, barely being able to control the noises you were making.

“please.” you whined quietly. you didn’t even realize what you said, and you definitely didn’t hear sungchan chuckling at your frenzied state.

placing his hands on your hips, he leaned in to brush your inner thigh with his lips, nibbling at the soft skin lightly. usually, he’d take his time with you, starting at your knee and kissing up your legs. he’d press kisses on the outside of your folds and the edges of your heat, and watch as your grip tightened on the sheets or in his hair. however, sungchan decided that he was feeling a bit more generous tonight.

before you could even ask him to stop teasing you, he pressed a deep kiss to your clit. a moan ripped through you, thighs twitching slightly. your legs already began to close instinctively, and sungchan looked up at you briefly before hooking his arms around your thighs both to keep them apart and pull you closer to his face. he had a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked up at you, basking in all the sounds and twitches coming from your pretty self.

his lips gingerly wrapped around your clit and you grabbed the closest thing to your hand, crumpling the sheets in your fist. sungchan’s arm looped around your knee and his hand found your heat easily. he pulled the skin above your clit slightly so he could hit the sensitive spot underneath, the spot that made profanities spill from your lips.

you bit your lip and screwed your eyes shut as his mouth and kisses travelled lower, his warm tongue swiping through the wetness of your slit. you couldn’t stop your lower half from jerking upwards, and sungchan’s free hand pinned your hips down to the mattress beneath you.

as his tongue breached your wet hole and his thumb rubbed your clit mercilessly, you cried out, back arching upwards. your head was spinning and stars were dancing on the back of your eyelids, and sungchan glanced up at you, watching as your mouth opened and no sound came out. you wanted to tell him keep going, to tell him how good he was making you feel. but your mind was melting at the way his mouth felt against you, and you were lost in him.

sungchan’s tongue flexed in and out of you, just the way you liked. he flicked it upwards every time he thrusted it into you, brushing your walls with the wet muscle.

"fuck- sungchan i'm gonna-" you could barely choke out words, drowning in the overwhelming stimulation.

you felt the knot in your stomach building at a gradual pace as your legs began to tense. sungchan’s pressure on your clit increased, revolutions only speeding up until you cried out his name, vision going white. your orgasm hit you like a truck, your walls fluttering around sungchan’s tongue and thighs shaking uncontrollably. all you could see was white as sungchan fucked you through your high with his tongue.

as you came back to earth, you looked down to see your boyfriend licking his lips sinfully, eyes hungry as he moved up to hover over you. brushing a finger down your cheek, he traced your lips with his fingertips, breath stolen from his body as you slowly opened your eyes.

your hooded gaze drove him insane, his lips being pulled to yours like a magnet. you sighed into his mouth, hands unlatching from the sheets to card through his soft brown hair. sugnchan's large hand fell onto your side, fingers digging into your soft flesh when he felt you bite his lip.

whining softly, you tugged at the end of sungchan's pajama shirt, making him break away from you for a split second to pull over his head. you didn't see where he tossed it, hands immediately moving to run down the soft skin of his firm chest. sitting up slightly, you pushed him backwards so you were leaning over him, smiling as he made a noise in surprise. you softly palmed him through his pajama pants, watching his eyebrows furrow in satisfaction at the way your palm rolled against his bulge.

as your fingers deftly worked at untying the drawstrings, you smiled at your shaking boyfriend.

"my turn, baby"

[ssavaart]

Sometimes You Have to Make 100 BAD Drawings To Get 1 GOOD One

(Earlier this year, a publisher asked me if I'd be interested in writing a book on art. As we discussed it... they asked me to "give it a try" and this is one of two tests I did. I don't consider myself a writer, really, so this is just "in my own voice". I wound up turning down the offer... but would love to know your thoughts on this. Thanks)

Drawing something good. Something you like. It’s… elusive. Especially when you’re just starting out.

But, here’s the thing. You have good art in you. I promise. You just have to get to it and it’s stuck under a bunch of bad art. Really bad art.

When I was younger, I would draw every day. Filling up sketchbooks with doodles and sketches and I hated ALL of them.

Page 01: Crap

Page 02: Crap

Page 03: Crap

Page 04: Worse than Crap

Page 05: What even is that?

Page 06: Ugh

And it was just downhill from there…

But… somewhere around like page 100… I made something that… “wasn’t crap”. I actually didn’t hate it.

And that gave me courage to keep going. That one drawing made it all worth it. I was cured. I was now an expert. All of my art would be great from now on.

Oh… if only.

The next drawing was worse than any other drawing before it.

How??? I just made ART! like 5 minutes before that. I got all the bad drawings out! How did my art just go from Van Gogh to Van NO???

Honestly? I… got lucky. That one good drawing? Total fluke. Dumb luck. Sheer Happenstance.

Doing 100 drawings didn’t suddenly make me an expert. It couldn’t.

Have you ever heard of the saying “If a million monkeys type on a million typewriters for a million years, they’ll eventually write Shakespeare”?

I was those monkeys and that drawing was my Shakespeare.

I just pooped out enough bad art that eventually sheer luck was going to mean I may make something really good.

And I’m TOTALLY okay with that. I was 11. I’m not a prodigy. I don’t have any special gifts. But what I did have was… a taste for how making good art felt.

Seeing that one good drawing made me want more. Like my first time tasting chocolate ice cream. I was hooked.

So, I made 100 more bad drawings. Maybe more. And, guess what? ANOTHER great drawing emerged!

Another Shakespeare from this 11 year old monkey!!!! Huzzah!

From then on… I knew that all I had to do was keep banging away at that typewriter (I’m still on the million monkey thing… bear with me) and I would get rewarded with another masterpiece.

Week after week. Month after month. I would fill up my sketchbooks with the most horrific, amateurish, incomprehensible art… and, sure enough, 1 of every 100 drawings would not suck.

I would show it to my mom and she would say “Oh! That’s wonderful!” and when she tried to turn the pages to see more, I would quickly SNATCH it out of her hands and run back into the shadows like Gollum hiding his “Precious” from prying eyes.

I dare not let her see the monstrosities that came before the work of genius.

And… this went on. For years. Predictably. Rhythmically.

Until, one day… my 75th drawing was really good.

How? It was 25 drawings early! That’s not how it was supposed to work. That wasn’t the plan.

But there it was. A really amazing drawing of a spaceship I came up with out of my head. It had lasers and a cockpit and wings and…It was glorious. And it was totally unexpected.

Maybe NOW I was an expert and I no longer needed to make bad art? Would today be the day I would only make masterpieces?

I quickly turned the page and began to draw what would soon be my second greatest work of art and… NOPE.

Still crap.

Hm. But… something was different. It was still crap. But… it wasn’t as “crappy” as the other crap.

I grabbed my previous sketchbooks and looked at the bad drawings from previous years and… guess what? My older bad drawings were WORSE than my newer bad drawings!

Apparently, the more I drew… the better my BAD drawings got too.   

Okay. So. I drew 75 more “not as crappy” bad drawings and… predictably… I made another great drawing!

I was… IMPROVING.

This went on for years. I went to high school. Then art school. I hated MOST of my art… but as I practiced… the number of BAD art I had to make to get to the GOOD art got lower and lower. Soon it was 50 bad pieces for 1 good one. Then 25. Then 10.

It took decades when I noticed… I liked my art more often than not.

It was a complete surprise. I was in my 40’s when this happened. I was SO conditioned to just accept I was going to hate my art that I hadn’t noticed that I had made 5 paintings that didn’t suck. IN A ROW!!!

Unheard of!

But, there it was. 5 good paintings. One right after the other.

The 6th one was complete trash. Tossed it in the garbage.

But, the 7th one? I liked. And the 8th. And the 9th.

I’m now 54 and I know I still have SO much bad art in me. I can feel it. Always ready to pop up and ruin my day.

But, I “pooped out” so much bad art over the years that I’m not really worried about those pop up bad art surprises. I know it’s just temporary.

I like my art now. And that’s because I got MOST of the bad art out of me and into those old sketchbooks.

I know it may seem daunting doing 100 bad drawings just to get to 1 good one. But… if you love that feeling of making that one GOOD piece of art… you need to be patient and get the bad ones out. They’re blocking the good ones. Keeping them deep inside you.

So, crack open that sketchbook. Poop out those bad pieces of art and never look back.

You’ll thank me in like 40 years or so. I promise.

(Oh. And sorry for all the poop references. I’m still that 11 year old when it comes to humor)

Poop.

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[rebelliousstories]

Did You Know?

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Light Fluff, Allusions to Pregnancy

Word Count: 1,083

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part Two: I Know Now// Part Three: Somebody Knows// Part Four: What We Know

Summary: Spencer is sent to prison and is waiting on his team to get him out. Meanwhile, his partner is there for morale support.

“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much preforms much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.” Vincent Van Gogh

Never in a million years did she think she would be in this position. Getting a call from Emily in the middle of the night was not what she expected. But to be told that her husband is currently in federal custody and awaiting trial, that was another. But she took it as it came. There was nothing she could do for her husband except just to be there for him. She would never be able to get the image of him in handcuffs in the BAU out of her head, but she was glad she was able to hug him.

“Spence. Oh my Spence.” She hugged him over the handcuffs that were hidden with the jacket. His fingertips were just barely able to grasp on to her shirt to pull her as close as physically possible.

“Hey honey. I’m sorry you have to see me like this. How’s my mom?” He whispered into her ear. Spencer was thankful that everyone decided to keep a healthy distance as the husband and wife reunited.

“She’s good. Wondering when you’re coming home, but I am helping Cassie take care of her. I don’t care about seeing you handcuffed, sweetheart. I’m just glad I can see you and hold you.” Her reply made Spencer want to cry. He knew it was not fair to her to have to deal with this whole situation. Stepping back, she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and tried to convey all of the lover she felt into that kiss. Pulling away completely, she watched as he accepted embraces from his teammates.

If only they knew at the time, how much of a roller coaster this was going to be. She sat on the prison bus waiting to be taken to the facility. Being able to see her husband was wonderful, except for the fact that she would be sitting across from him in a cubicle, with a sheet of glass separating them. The bus ride was bumpy, but thankfully it was over quick. Stepping off, her hair was swept away in the windy weather outside.

Walking inside the correctional facility, her eyes kept scanning the room, looking for any threats. A side effect from working for the FBI all those years ago. Now, it only served as a reminder of where she had once been, and of how her husband became that title. She walked up to the reception desk and placed her id down.

“Inmate name?” The officer asked. Her voice was devoid of any emotion.

“Spencer Reid. I’m his wife.” She supplied her name, and waited as the officer scanned a list and then her ID again.

“You’re not on the list. Next!” The officer yelled, pushing the woman off to the side. She stood there dumbfounded as she was handed back her ID, but knew better than to fight with the officer. Her body, especially her heart felt numb as she walked outside and waited for the bus to take her back to the car lot. Why was she denied access to see her husband? JJ was able to see him; so why was she not?

After the numbness wore off, rage fueled her. It kept her going all the way to the FBI headquarters where she signed in for a visitor’s pass silently. Marching her way into the BAU’s office on the sixth floor, she noticed how everyone was still there thankfully. She made her way over to JJ, who was surrounded by Tara, Matt, and Stephen.

“Hey,” JJ greeted, ”how are you doing?”

“Don’t give me that.” She snapped, leaving the agents in a state of shock. Never had she ever snapped, not even raised her voice.

“Whoa, what is going on?” The blonde woman asked, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Did you know?” Mrs. Reid growled, with her patience wearing thin.

“Did I know what? You’re not making any sense.” JJ tried to reason and de escalate the situation, but Emily and David were already out of their offices and looking out at the bullpen.

“Did you know when you went to visit Spence that he had put me on the ‘no visit’ list?” There it was. The million dollar question. JJ remained silent for a minute, but her face did the talking before her words caught up.

“Listen, you have to understand his reasons.” She tried to reach for the woman, but she slipped out of the way.

“You knew? And you didn’t tell me? I just got back from there, hoping to see my husband and check in on him. Only to be turned away at the gate. And you never told me?” Now, she was yelling. It was scary to see the former profiler turned professor yell. She spoke sternly sometimes sure, but she never raised her voice in anger.

“He wants to protect you from the inside. Spence asked us not to tell.” A slip of the tongue and now her fury was leveled to everyone.

“You all knew?” Prentiss and Rossi made their way down the stairs by this point.

“Yes, we did.” The dark haired agent said, walking along with her right hand man.

“Spencer doesn’t want you to see him like that so he asked if we would not tell you that he had put you on that list.” Emily placed her hand on the woman, and it was like her strings were cut. Rage left and was followed by intense depression. Sobs wracked her body as she crumpled to the floor. Emily tried to grab her, but Luke was the one that actually got his arms around her.

There was nothing left for her now. Everything came crashing down around her; her world was shattered. She thought about every interaction that she had ever had with Spencer. There were probably some that she was missing, but she was not blessed with his memory skills. But every major moment came to her at that time. The first time they met, their first date, when he introduced her to his mom, their proposal and wedding. Rubbing her stomach, she wondered when she would wake from this nightmare and be safe in her husband’s arms once again.

Zsa Zsa Gabor said, “To be loved is a strength. To love is a weakness.”

[ravenromanova]

Come back to me pt.2

Pairings: 838 Wanda x Female reader. 616 Wanda x Vision

Warnings: Nothing really for this one. But in the next parts there will be smut. i’m just getting the scene right now. this one might be a little short sorry :/

Masterlist - Send me requests!!!

Taglist ~ @wandanatlov3r @sparklymoonenemy @tigerlillyruiz @weeeeeeeeee3 @dark-hunter16 @alexawynters @leenasayeed

~

Part 1

”I’m bringing you home Malysh” She said as she closed the portal and walked over to where you were laying. For a moment you thought you were still dreaming. That was until you felt Wandas hand on your cheek ensuring you she’s real.

“Where’s home?” You asked after finally coming to terms with the fact that she’s really there. She smiled softly before she reached her hand out for you to take. You rubbed your eyes and then slowly grabbed her hand before you got out of your bed.

“You’ll see soon malysh” Wanda said softly before she flicked her wrist and opened up another portal. You were still very confused and not 100% sure you weren’t dreaming as you walked through the portal.

When the both of you walked through the portal you were met with vivid colors and a more beautiful universe. The universe had much brighter colors than yours did, the sky was a different shade of blue and everything just seemed better. Wanda led you from where she had made the portal to the little house she had bought in a woodsy town in upstate new york.

Once you walked into the house you immediately took a few moments to look at the decorations. The house was small but cozy with a soft furniture that complimented Wandas style. The walls were painted a light green, there were beautiful paintings varying from van gogh to flowers. You smiled as you took in all of the decor and for some reason you felt at home right away. Wanda smiled as she watched you wonder around and take everything in.

“This is home malysh” Wanda said once you took a moment to take everything in.

“It’s beautiful Wanda” You mused with a smile still holding her hand.

“I bought this house right after you passed…You had mentioned to me how much you loved this house one day as we drove past it. So i bought it to honor you after the accident.” She said softly leading you to the sofa and sitting down. You sat on the soft dark green sofa as you listened. The story made your heart break and your eyes well up with tears as she spoke.

“I’m sorry” Your words caught her off guard. “I know it isn’t my fault for ya know dying but im sorry that we never got time together and you had to come to a different universe for me. I honestly dont think im worth all that” Wanda squeezed your hand softly for reassurance and shook her head. Her eyes were soft as she looked at you and shook her head before speaking.

“Darling i would cross any timeline and go to any universe to find you again. I know im not your Wanda but i still love you the same. And if its any consolation i know your Wanda feels the same but is just too scared” She said with a certain sadness in her voice that made your heart break a little more.

“I know this is all a little weird but if you want i would love it if you stayed here…with me” Wandas voice wavered as she spoke almost as if she thought you’d say no. You smiled and grabbed her hands and rubbed your thumb against her knuckles.

“I’d love that…There’s nothing for me in my universe. I have no family, Wanda chose Vision as you already know, I dont really have any friends on the team besides nat so yea i’ll stay” She smiled brightly at your words and moved in closer before she brought you in for a passionate kiss. You knew that you probably shouldn’t stay that there would more than likely be repercussions of your actions. But right now in this moment you couldn’t care less because you felt so loved by her.

*Back in 616*

Wanda wondered the compound hoping to find you but had no luck everywhere she checked. She sighed as she wondered back to your room to see if maybe you were in there.

“Y/n? You in there?” Her soft voiced echoed through your room. After a few seconds of waiting and no response she used her powers to open your door. Wanda sighed when she entered and saw you weren’t in there. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before age went to sit in your bed. She then saw the stuffed unicorn she bought you for your birthday one year and grabbed it. Wanda smiled softly as she held the stuffed animal.

That’s when she decided she was going to try to find you using a location spell. So she closed her eyes and focused on finding you. What she saw made her heart stop. You were sitting on the couch with her only… it wasn’t her it was a Wanda from another universe it looked like.

“What the hell” She whispered to herself as she saw the two of you walk around a small cottage looking house. Wanda’s heart stopped when she saw you leaning in for a kiss. You were giggling at something the other Wanda had said and it was just like when the two of you would hang out together.

Wanda sat there on your bed for what felt like forever watching you and other her interact. Her heart filled with joy at the look on your face. You looked happy with other her. But as Wanda continued to watch she couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. She has always loved you but never had the courage to say anything so when Vision asked her out she didn’t think twice. Everything was great with Vision at first till she noticed how distant and quiet you got around her. As the days went on she tried to find the strength to leave Vision and tell you how she felt but she never did.

Twenty minutes passed before Wanda got up and knew what she needed to do. She left your room and then went to her own to change and collect her thoughts. After she got dressed and calmed her anxious mind down she opened up a portal of her own.

*818*

Once she conjured the portal she walked through and entered a world that looked like her own but yet it was vastly different. She looked around for a moment before she saw a red trail that resembled her powers. Her brows furrowed as she followed the trail for what seemed like forever.

When she got to the small cottage looking house from her vision the red trail ended. Wanda froze as she stood outside the house the house. She didn’t know what to do. Her mind was racing. What if you were mad at her? What if you were happy with this Wanda and didn’t want to come back? Should she just leave to be?

Her heart stopped when she heard your laugh from inside the house. The laugh sounded real and genuine… She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t ruin your happiness for her own selfish reasons even if she wanted to fix things.

*Inside the house*

You and Wanda were sitting down on the couch watching friends giggling at the antics of Joey and Chandler when Wanda felt something off. She tended under your touch as you laid on her chest and when your eyes met hers they were red.

“Wanda? Are you okay?” You asked placing your hand on her cheek growing worried. She didn’t respond as she grabbed the hand that was on her cheek.

“You need to go outside. She’s here” She finally said after her eyes went back her their normal green.

“W-Who’s outside?” Your worry and concern kept growing as you spoke.

“Just go Malysh” She said with a sad smile on her face. You could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t gonna listen to your protests so you nodded and headed words to the door.

Your hands shook a little as you twisted the door knob. And once the door was opened and you saw who it was your heart stopped and tears formed in your eyes.

“Wanda?” Her eyes meet yours and it felt like all time had stopped. “What are you doing here?” You asked walking down the steps.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you how i felt before. I’m so sorry y/n please please come back to me “ She pleaded holding onto your hips once you were in reach. Your hands found home on her reddened cheeks and you gave her a sad smile.

“I-I don’t know if i can” Wanda could hear her heart breaking at your words. It was in that moment that all her fears came true.

~The end of part two~

A/n sorry for the cliffhanger :) well not really but i promise the next however many chapters will be so much better and filled with so much more angst and fluff! I just needed to set the scene you know? ANYWAYS i love y’all

[bullet-prooflove]

Birthday Bingo Celebration: Paris: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

You spend your thirtieth birthday alone in Paris, touring all the places you haven’t had an opportunity to visit during your time with the residential program. You trawl through the vintage shops in Le Marais, selecting some of the less expensive pieces. You wander through the Jardin du Luxembourg and finally you visit the Louvre.

It's there that you meet him, the man that changes your life forever. You’re sitting on a bench admiring the painting ‘Orphan Girl at the Cemetery’ by Eugene Delacroix when he sits down alongside of you.

He’s tall, well dressed with soft, silver hair that falls across his handsome features. He places his palms in the space behind him as he leans back, his head tilted as he surveys the image.

“Do you think she’s questioning God’s will?” He asks you and you pause your sketching for a moment to consider his words.

“Most people assume she’s raising her eyes towards heaven.” You tell him as you place the mechanical pencil down upon your sketchpad and set it aside. “I don’t think it’s as cerebral as that. I think we’re looking at a girl who has just made the realisation that she’s completely alone in the world. The colour scheme Delacroix has chosen and the way the background blurs is meant to instil an aura of solitude.”

Your cheeks colour then as you tilt your head towards him because you always do this, talk too much about art. You think you must sound pretentious.

“Sorry.” You say as you gesture at the paint. “It’s just the work, it excites me.”

He smiles then and it feels like your whole world just lights up.

“Don’t apologise.” He tells you, shaking his head. “I enjoy spending time with someone so passionate, please tell me more.”

So you do. The two of you tour the entire museum together discussing the art on display before you take him to Musée d'Orsay to view the impressionists. It’s there that he discovers it’s your birthday.

“Let me take you to dinner to celebrate.” He requests as you stand in front of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ and you agree because you’re having a wonderful time in his company.

You spend the rest of the evening, sipping champagne in La Bouche while Terry tells you stories of his trips abroad, about how he spends the majority of his time travelling absorbing different cultures.

You can only dream of the places he’s visited. Once you’re residency is up you’ll be returning to LA, to the dumpster fire that was your world before you left.

“It sounds like such a wonderful life.” You tell him earnestly and he smiles as he reaches across the table, his hand clasping yours.

“Tell me.” He says quietly, his thumb chasing over the hollow of your wrist. “How does a woman as extraordinary as you end up alone in Paris on her birthday?”

“I’m a bit of a cliché I’m afraid.” You sigh as your fingers entwine with his. “The very definition of running from your problems.”

“Ok.” He says as he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses the tips of your fingers. “Why don’t you tell me all about them over dessert?”

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[laviefantasie]

Video 4

| series masterlist |

The sun is setting over the jujutsu high compound, casting warm hues across the courtyard. Inside one of the quieter rooms, Y/N is setting up a small easel, your canvas ready for the first stroke. Brushes, tubes of paint, and a small ceramic bowl of water are neatly arranged beside you. Suguru is already there, sleeves rolled up, looking as if he’s about to become the next world renowned artist. His hair is a little more disheveled than usual, but the slight smirk on his face tells you he is comfortable.

“Alright, the camera is on and focused and I’m setting up my canvas for real this time. You sure you want to join me, Suguru? You’re not really the type to sit still for long”

Suguru chuckles softly, picking up a brush and dipping it into a warm shade of blue.

“It’s called expanding my horizons, Y/N. Plus, I thought you could use a little company”

You nod, smiling as you adjust your canvas, although a teasing twink appears in your bright E/C eyes.

“If we’re doing this, though, don’t turn it into a competition” you remind him, “No ‘who can paint better’ nonsense”

Suguru gives you a lazy, amused grim, clearly enjoying the thought of teasing you while painting.

“No promises” he smirks “But I’ll try my best to make something that doesn’t end in chaos”

Both of you dip your brushes into your chosen colors and start painting. But just as the two of you start getting into the flow of it—Suguru’s brush strokes deliberate and calm, yours more spontaneous and bright—a loud crash interrupts the settled peace.

The door flies open and Gojo Satoru enters with an exaggerated flourish, sunglasses on, and a pout plastered on his face.

“Hey, hey! What is this? You two started a painting party without me!” He whines, “I thought we were friends, Y/N!”

Suguru raises an eyebrow as Satoru dramatically collapses on the floor, looking up to the ceiling with a hand over his heart.

“Did you just… fall in through the door for dramatic effect?” Suguru asks.

Satoru grins widely, “I’m just adding some flair, Suguru. How else do you think I should enter? Also, where’s my invite? I thought we were the three musketeers”

You stifled a laugh, trying to focus on your work, but the camera didn’t forget to capture the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Sorry not sorry, Satoru” you say, “Didn’t think you were the type to sit still and paint. I figured you’d be too busy doing something… important, like annoying people or emptying another dessert shop”

Satoru sats up immediately, and dramatically, throwing his arms out as if wounded.

“Ouch! Is that how you see me? That hurts. I’m offended! I’m a man of taste and class, I’d totally be amazing at painting”

Suguru shakes his head with an amused smile, muttering knowingly to himself as he mixes some paint.

“You wouldn’t last five minutes without making a mess”

Satoru ignores him, “You know, I’m actually artistic. I’m like… a modern-day Picasso. Or Van Gogh—except I have my ears intact”

You turn to glance a him, skepticism on your face.

“Sure. And you’ve definitely read all kinds of art history books, right?”

Satoru winks at her playfully, “Well, I don’t read, but I’m sure I could paint circles around both of you”

Suguru rolls his eyes but, apparently done with Satoru’s antics, offers him a brush.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, you can join us” he relents, “But I’m warning you, we’re professionals here”

The three of them get to work, and immediately, Satoru begins to disrupt everything. You are trying to focus on a landscape with some subtle blending, while Suguru’s painting a more intricate figure. Meanwhile, Satoru is working on his own ‘masterpiece’, which mostly involves scribbling random, chaotic shapes with his brush, his colors clashing wildly with everyone else’s.

Satoru holds up his canvas proudly, “Look, I’m totally channeling my inner abstract genius! It’s a representation of freedom, of rebellion! What do you think?”

You stares at the chaotic mess in front of you, the blue and red clashing violently. You snort, holding back a laugh.

“You’re an actual disaster. It looks like a toddler dipped a paintbrush in a jar of chaos and went wild”

“It’s art” he states, grinning widely.

Suguru chuckles, setting his brush down for a second as he glances over.

“It’s definitely something. Not sure if it’s art, though”

Satoru sticks his tongue out at him before turning back to you, his expression suddenly shifting to something more playful. He walks over to your easel, leaning casually over your shoulder, his face close enough that you can feel the heat of his body.

“But, you know, you’re missing one thing in your painting, Y/N”

You raise an eyebrow, not sure whether you should be annoyed or entertained.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Satoru leans in just a little closer, his voice lowering to a teasing tone.

“A little bit of me. A masterpiece can’t be complete without a dash of perfection”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks turn a light pink against your better judgement. You can never tell if he’s being serious or just trying to get under your skin.

You grab a paintbrush, quickly flicking a spot of green paint onto Satoru’s shirt.

“There. Now it’s perfect” you smirk.

Satoru stares at the green stain, his mouth falling open in mock horror.

“You’ve ruined me. Ruined my shirt. My image. I’m a tragic artist now”

Suguru laughs from his corner of the room, shaking his head at the two of you.

“You both are insufferable. Seriously, how do you guys even manage to get anything done together?” Suguru asks.

You let out a laugh, “It’s called balance, Suguru. I paint, and Satoru provides chaos”

Satoru dramatically flops onto the floor again, spreading his arms out as if he’s defeated.

“You know, this could’ve been a perfect group activity if it weren’t for you two conspiring against my genius”

Suguru raises a brow, amused, “You are a genius—just not in the way you think you are”

After a few more hours of chaotic painting, in which a lot of paint ended up in both Satoru’s and your clothes, the three of you step back and admire each of your works.

Satoru’s piece now has a mix of random scribbles and strange shapes, while Suguru’s work is meticulously detailed, with deep serene colored forming a landscape. Yours is a bright piece, a playful interpretation of the sky, with clouds hues of purple and pink—vibrant and dreamy.

You stare at the painting for a few minutes before turning to look at yourself… covered in paint. You frown.

“Well… this was a disaster” a smile tugs at your lips, “Although, I kinda fun one”

Satoru grins, throwing a playful wink your way.

“What can I say? I bring the fun wherever I go” he brags.

Suguru shakes his head but smiles quiestly, glancing at both of them with something akin to fondness in his eyes.

“Somehow we made it out. It was fun, though I kinda wished Shoko had been here” he sighs, “Would’ve helped me deal with you two”

You send him an offended look while Satoru simply grins widely. Suddenly, Satoru pulls out his phone, snapping a picture of the three pieces.

“Perfect!” He smiles, “This is going straight into my ‘masterpieces’ collection”

“It’s not masterpieces if it’s just an album of your selfies” you remind him, amused.

“Masterpieces, Y/N, masterpieces”

Holding back a laugh, you move to grab the videocamera recording the whole process, closing it so the screen goes black.

The recording ending.

taglist: @gumiiiiezzzz @reagan707

[supinternets]

11 days! Here’s the eleventh Doctor and his companion Amy Pond. When I first heard that there was to be an episode of this show about Vincent Van Gogh it caught my interest. So I started at series 1 of the revival and worked my way through till series 5 premiered. So this Doctor holds a special place in my heart. Not to mention the anomaly that is Matt Smith’s face. I became absolutely obsessed w trying to capture his likeness. It got me back into drawing all the time and for that I’m eternally grateful.

[traveler-at-heart]

Painting

Request by @deadlynightshade418 - hope you like it!! 

Summary: Convincing Natasha to paint with you

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!Reader

Blue, green, yellow.

How lovely yellow is. It stands for the sun.

And that, as Van Gogh said so accurately, was what you were painting in what would soon be the baby’s room.

“Here comes the sun, it’s alright” you were humming softly, as you dipped the brush in the paint.

It was a warm summer day, and you were wearing denim shorts and a tank top, still adjusting to the life growing inside of you.

Soft steps informed you of your wife’s arrival.

Natasha hadn’t been to a mission since you found out you were expecting. As a matter of fact, you had to stop her from delivering her immediate resignation.

The redhead was always by your side and insisted on calling the doctor if you so much as sighed a bit too loudly.

“Detka?”

“In here” you called for her to join you in the baby’s room.

“Would you like some pasta for dinner?”

“Would love to” you leaned forward to kiss her but she was frowning. “What?”

“Isn’t the paint dangerous for the baby?”

“Good thing I’m not eating it, then” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious”

“So am I. I promise you it’s fine. Plus, I’m just painting some clouds. Not the whole wall. See?”

“I guess” she looked confused when you offered her a paintbrush.

“If you do the flowers while I do the clouds and the sun, we’ll finish faster”

“I’ll just mess it up” she protested but took the brush the same.

“I’ll guide you”

You painted the outlines of the flowers and gently instructed her on what colors to mix.

“Here” you smeared some purple on her arm.

“Hey!”

“If you don’t get dirty, you ain’t doing it right, baby” you winked at her.

“Yeah, that’s how we made this one right there” she tilted her head towards your belly and you gasped.

“Rude”

You felt some paint on your upper arm and heard Natasha giggling.

“What happened to paint being dangerous for me and the baby?”

“Figured it’s my child, she’s a tough one”

“That she is”

You continued your work, stealing glances and smiling at each other. Pretty soon, you were both covered in paint.

The light filtered through the window and landed on Natasha’s features. You wished you could paint her with that soft glow.

Perhaps another time, you decided when your stomach growled.

“Are you hungry? Tired? Sit down, you’ve been on your feet for too long”

“I’m alright, love”

“I’ll start dinner”

“Not until you paint something on my back”

“What?”

“Just do it, please? Here” you drew a heart on her cheek and pecked her lips. “And we’ll have dinner as living paintings”

“Fine” she conceded, going around you and lifting the brush. It tingled your skin. “No peaking” she warned.

“Better not be something dirty”

“I’m drawing your boobs by memory”

“Nat!”

“I’m kidding! Ok, all done”

“Such a child” you rolled your eyes.

As promised, you had the most delicious dinner. Right before jumping in the shower, you took a look at your back and spotted the Black Widow symbol.

“It’s all I can draw” Natasha said shyly when your eyes met.

“It’s perfect” you smiled.

Even after you both showered, and all the paint was washed away, you felt in your skin all the love and care Natasha had for you and your family.

And as Van Gogh said, what is done in love is done well

[multific]

Date Nights

Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Warning: sexual innuendos

Summary: It wasn't very often that he took you out on dates, it did happen occasionally, and you always enjoyed every second of it.

"You know, when you asked me to come shopping with you, this is not what I expected, but I'm not complaining," you said as you sipped on your champagne as Vincent appeared wearing another three-piece suit.

The shop closed as all of the assistants are with you.

When Vincent asked you to go shopping with him, you assumed you were going to buy dresses for yourself, but when he brought you into the shop he gets his suits made, you were delighted.

First, he had a gorgeous all-grey suit on, then a beautiful black and now, he was standing in front of you, in black pants and a red top. He looked stunning.

"Oh, now that is just perfection." you said as he turned a full circle. "Your ass looks really good in that." you hummed as he looked at you through the mirror.

Now you knew how much he liked when you pointed out certain parts of him which you enjoyed. 

Since it was usually him complimenting you not the other way around.

But you weren't lying, he looked stunning.

He ended up getting everything and soon, you found yourself in a nice little restaurant for lunch.

You really enjoyed dates like these.

Simple shopping and food. There was just something about how comfortable you were around him every time silence fell upon both of you.

After lunch, you two went to the Louvre, Vincent had a fascination for paintings and so did you.

You spent good minutes looking at all the paintings, as if it was the first time you saw them, when in fact it wasn't.

"All this history, all this beauty and yet, you are the most beautiful." he said, not looking at you but rather at The Coronation of Napoleon. "When we first met, I often came here to clear my head, I looked at all the marble all the paintings and yet, all I could think about was you. How beautiful you are and how nothing in here could ever compare." he finally looked at you and you smiled at him. "All I could think about was the imperfections of the paintings or the statues because, in my eyes, you are perfection."

"You hold me to a very high standard, Vincent. I will grow old and imperfect while the paintings and statues will stay as they are."

"You will never be imperfect."

"Thank you, Vincent, but truly, you don't have to say all of this. Your guards will hear you. You cannot let them think that the high and mighty Marquis has feelings!" you giggled as he pulled you to stand in front of him, looking at the Mona Lisa. He towered behind you as you let out a sigh. "I still prefer Van Gogh or Dali. But I won't deny the beauty of this. You are a work of art yourself, Vincent. Especially when you are naked." it was meant as teasing, but you knew he took it seriously which you were also okay with.

"I wish I could paint like this. I could paint you and put it in my office." he said as his hands tightened around you.

"For some reason I find that to be both flattering and unsettling. You should get a Monet instead of me. I'm not some 18th century Queen." you looked up at him as he moved both of you to the next painting.

Liberty Leading the People.

"You are my Queen though." you nearly laughed at his cheezy comment.

"Should I get a painting of me for you birthday? One for you office and then one for home, a nude one?"

"If you stand in front of any other person naked, I will have to kill them after the painting is done. No one else is allowed to see you but me."

"I'm okay with that."

"Then I will leave it up for you." he smiled, not looking at you. "See? She is leading the people, a representation of freedom and power. The power the people took back and yet all I can think about is how powerless she is compared to you."

"You are in love." you said watching her on the canvas.

"That I am."

"And I am in love."

"That you are. We are in love."

You hummed.

"I love date nights."

"Who said this is the end?"

"Oh? What else do you have in mind?"

"Dinner and then we drive home, have sex in the car then barely make it into my apartment, have sex against the front door, scare my poor housekeeper, then have sex in our room."

"Now that's a plan! Can we have Italian for dinner? You know I love pasta."

"Of course, if I can come inside you later, Mon Amour."

"Of course." you finally turned around in his arms as you smiled at him, his eyes watching you as you reached up, one hand behind his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Oh yes, you loved date nights.

More Vincent

Taglist: @fleursirvart​​ @greenarrowhead​​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ @sincerelyfan​​ @theoneanna​​ @aestheticsandmarvel​​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​​ @destynelseclipsa​​ @spilledinkindumpster​​ @capsiclesdoll​​ @puknow​​ @alwayshave-faith​​ @alex12948​​ @lxdyred​​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @praline357​​ @trshngyn​​ @avengers-r-us​​ @violet-19999​​ @top1bbgloak​​   @manduse​​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​​  

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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[suguru-getos]

| unwind with me | itachi x reader |

a/n: i’m a sucker for domestic itachiiii <333 fluff and just, slice of life thingy goin’ on

living together with itachi had its perks. you didn’t have to worry about taking the trash out. you didn’t have to worry about a lot of little things which otherwise irritated you. take today for example: you have had a truly hectic week. meetings, appraisals, work politics, a certain bitch you hate and want to kill. everything was coming together hauntingly. so? saturday you didn’t do anything. being the epitome of a couch potato suits you sometimes. especially when those sometimes include your period.

today your eyes opened to an annoying nuisance. your period cramps again. itachi came to you, a huge mug of iced latte in his painted hands, nudging you tenderly and kissing your forehead. “good morning, you are up early today. yesterday you woke up at 11:45. look, it’s just 10:30” he winked, watching you roll your eyes at him. itachi had a subtle way of teasing you & you fairly understood that.

the coffee tasted immaculate. you had no words to express how tasty it was honestly. just the right amount of coldness, the kind that wakes you up soothingly. the perfect amount of chocolate & caramel. the perfect amount of crushed ice. you looked around the house & decided while sipping your morning drink, today you needed to be productive.

“m’ gonna open my laptop & then play games. after that m’ taking a shower and we’ll go out.” oh— itachi was ‘also’ your boyfriend. makes sense doesn’t it? why else would he treat you like a princess when he could’ve been labelled as king ‘aloof’.

“you will take a shower, work out a bit because it’s been 4 days you haven’t moved your body. i suggest pilates since you are still on your period. then, i will help you cook something for lunch. and further on; we will go out.” you always loved when itachi had his little planner instinct come out for you. there are times when you could really use that.

with that, the day was starting to go by with a slight haze. you had tasks lined up where you’d rather not think. give your mind a little rest by being in the backseat & let your boyfriend handle the itty bitty bits about that all. “speaking of, i need to get my nails done,” you sat on the kitchen counter, watching… or rather, gawking at your man chopping vegetables with such ease. “uh huh?” he looked rather indulged, the bun accentuated his features which would make van gogh bow.

he leaned in, gently placing himself between your legs and kissing your lips softly, hands freshly washed and scared to touch your supple skin. “i love you, angel,” itachi cooed, leaning his forehead against you. “i am so, so glad you depend on me you know that? because you don’t depend on anyone else & that’s what makes me strive so hard to be worthy of it,”

there he was, with his unadulterated words, piercing them deep inside your heart. your pupils shaked in sheer adoration, eyes glossing up. “m’ on my period dya wan’ me to fuckin’ cry?” you whined, leaning your head against his shoulder and hugging him.

he felt so warm, tenderly warm and caregiving that you often forgot that the world doesn’t know, or see this side of him. he’s ruthless to others, often labelled as cold. a twisted part of you likes it. you are exclusive to his love. you’d always be.

“alright now, i want you to eat, then how about,” itachi bit his lower lip, “we do some self care and i prepare us the cosiest haven for watching movies together,” you were introverted & your boyfriend reciprocates the same energy.

“deal!” you grinned, helping him prepare the rest of the ingredients.

little did you know that today was going to be even more special, it’s about time you were just his girlfriend. itachi has something rather too special to share with you tonight. 💍