#colors look washed out in some places but not others because a base layer of underglaze has already been fired on!

[nevesceramics]

WIP peek at the hugging werewolves ♥

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 21 - 1920s mourning attire

Oh boy, are we in for some mourning in season 3. Buckle in; it’s tragedy and glum black dresses en masse.

Violet keeps it with her usual style, wrap top over black lace and high collar with brooch, easy-peasy. Although the tops are falling more loosely now; they used to be a tad more structured in the way of a pigeon chest. I kinda like the sleeves on this one, the way the lace runs down the upper sleeve in a small strip and then the lower sleeves are just lace all around. Also, cute hat in the second picture with that little zigzag trim.

And for an evening look, I’m still not entirely sure that this isn’t one she was already wearing last season, but I’m tentatively placing it as a separate piece because, while the cut is well-established Violet style, the damask strips from the shoulders down her chest get a slightly brown shimmer in this light, and that seems unfamiliar. Other than that, we go with the usual amount of embroidery and rhinestones.

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Isobel, please don’t put up your zealot face when your in-law is dead. This coat seems pretty typical Isobel in the 1920s, shapeless, unstructured shoulders and sleeves, wide and wrapping around the front, and it’s generic enough to get a repeat in season 4. The fabric is creped, giving the surface some interest at least, and there’s a little tone-in-tone embroidery on the collar.

Isobel gets a pretty severe look for this. No decoration to speak of, aside from the buckle (on a natural waistline, no less, dating this somewhat), no tucks, just the slightest hint of additional seams down the length. She still gets some jewelry, a pearl necklace and earrings, but they are metal only, no gems to bring in any color. I think this is some of the most muted we ever see Isobel appear.

She repeats the earrings, the belt buckle, and a very similar albeit slightly longer pearl necklace, and the only reason I notice that she did in fact change clothes is that this shirt has chiffon sleeves and the collar has the tiniest bit of embroidery. Other than that, this has pretty much the same shape, and I think even the base layer shirt is the same.

Not much new to say about this one because the lighting is lousy and I’m bad at taking screenshots. This black blob has short sleeves; whaddayaknow. I like the cute little lace trim on the under layer.

--------------

Speaking of mourning. Cora is a mess. Not fashionably speaking, but am I supposed to enjoy the dress when she’s in a state of perma-despair? No embroidered silk and chiffon sleeves with matching hat will fix this.

The black dresses wash out her pale skin even more; she looks like a ghost for a good part of this season. Other than that, this is a decent evening dress, glittering here and there, giving her pretty lace gloves a place to shine. I’m always a sucker for these little slit sleeves, and the light in the second picture lets the rhinestone embroidery around the trim shine.

The hat with the bow seems to be the same she had further up, the dress is new. Love the sleeve details, and the motif is repeated in two strips down the shirt. I’m not sure if the strings that make this up are leather or textile, tbh? Then again, I’m also not sure if Cora is wearing the same necklace during her entire mourning period.

See, there it is again. Also, despite the slit sleeves, this is some of the most covered up Cora is in any of her evening gowns, the black gloves lining up with the rest and basically wrapping her in a cocoon that only opens at the neck, a look that Mary will take over once she falls into her despair hole in season 4. Now, this is embroidered with some bling on the trims and the under layer; it is passable for an evening look. But it’s possibly the most destroyed we ever see Cora, and the dress isn’t even trying to fool the onlooker.

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Honestly, Mary holds up so much better in her grief for Sybil. This is still all-black in every layer of fabric and element of decoration, but she pulls it off with a certain level of grace that almost puts it into the realm of everyday evening dress. Being sleeveless and with some chiffon on the neckline, this doesn’t cover her up to the last inch, and it manages to glitter some around the entire frame.

This has the same shape, but it goes a bit more into detail on the embroidery and beading. Shame that I cannot really see a darn thing, but, eh… it sparkles? These dresses are poorly-lit because they are evening dresses, and they are of a very deep black, possibly because some of them are velvet (at least the previous is), so there’s not much I can do. She wears this one again in season 4, allowing me a look at the rather glittering skirt, and the second shot makes me think there’s some grape motif at play, but it also reminds me that a phase of grief threw back Mary’s entire characterization into full bitch mode. Yeesh.

Hey, I’ve seen this black straw hat before. I’m still not impressed by it, so let’s look at the dress instead. There’s something to be said for smooth, shiny silk that can stand on its own without any structure and shiny additions, but I also like this neckline. It’s not quite a collar, but it’s a welcome and subtle addition, as is the silver pendant that Mary wears a few times, quite often to black outfits now that I come to think of it.

--------------

This would be such a nice dress / shirt if it were allowed some color. I think the square neckline is rather flattering for Edith, and I like the chiffon sleeves – going fitted to the elbow and then flaring out a little seems to almost be a nod to mid-18th century fashions. Although it’s not set off with ribbons and ruffles, but instead with a few clean, neat pin tucks.

Bad lighting on black clothes will be the death of me. Let’s see what we can do; this appears to be a long-sleeved wrap top, and it has this bit of gathering into the shoulder seams again. The cleavage is enough that it could use a necklace tbh.

They all get their mourning garb made from the same seamstress again, don’t they? Cora had such little lattice elements on her sleeves, Mary had them around her neck, and now Edith has them running over her armscyes. Not a point of criticism; they give the looks some much-needed loosening up. Also, that sash around Edith’s hips? That’s an honest-to-god, actual drop waist. That plus the bead necklace with the knot style? We made it, guys! The 19-teens are well and truly over!

More of this decoration element, although this is more delicate and almost looks more like lace than lacing. And Edith also repeats that sleeve shape that flares out at the elbow. In a lighter color and with a few flowers here and there, this would be a darling summer frock. The hat is okay, I guess? I don’t hate it, I don’t love it. Could use a bow.

Oof, finally a hint of color! Gimme! It’s a bit abstract, but I think this embroidery is supposed to be leaves. On a squiggly silvery line. Also, since this appears somewhat translucent on her shoulder, I’ll bet on at least some chiffon.

[spidey-bie]

spidersona infodump!!!!!

name: ??? alias: peacock spider

age: ???

gen lore: -was bit by radioactive peacock spider -spider expermented on by alchemex; girlie was working for them at the time; someone didnt follow lab procedure; spider got out and bit him -left alchemex for another science place -a plot is ending alchemex as a corp + getting rid of the corrupt higher ups -before getting bit didnt rlly know abt the corruption + bad things going on at alchemex -after being bit, starts investigating the corp and finds out bunch of evil shit -b plot is activism and socia justice -joins protests as both spidey and civilian self -as spidey helps deal w larger problems w/ their society like taking out corrupt ppl and politicians -as civilian helps deliver food, provide transport, get resources for ppl in need, + more subtle political changes that need to happen

specific story: -is dating this universe's deadpool -dp is his "mj" except they dont break up bc they understand the spidey thing

alchemex lore: -alchemex is vv corrupt -owned by this univerese's kingpin -funded by the osborns

changes from bite: -produces web from spinerettes on wrist (wears braelets to conceal/protet them when out as civilian) -sticky bc of small hair everywhere -developed chelicerae in jaw; can open mouth normally OR can open all the way w/ chelicerae -chelicerae attach at chin and come up from cheek, sit in front of mouth -affects normal eating, wears mask in public bc of visibility -produces venom; bites causes fever, visual hallucination, and extreme anxiety/fear -visual hallucination changes colors of world to look like pattern of a peacock spider (like overlay layer effect in photoshop) -colors reflect the ones on his spidey suit -wears off in like 2~ hours, leaves no permanent aftereffects -super strength obvi, can lift like 2 tons or summ (idkk) -rlly spidery in general now ig?? -enhanced senses + spider sense -HATES mint bc it repels spiders (by proxy dreads christmas season) -gets urges to weave things/webs and makes blakets bc of this (donates the blankets) -can't get sick from raw meat anymore get urges to eat it if rlly hungry (still prefers cooked food bc of spices + flavors) -isn't affected by own venom -produces oil to keep from sticking to web (constantly washes hands/uses hand sanitizer bc of this; cant use fingerprint on phone) -uses webs as secondary security in apartment bc senses vibrations -can go weeks w/o food OR eats 4-5 times a day

You have to know that we have to set up that appointment for me to eat your brain kind sir. I'm also definitely stealing some of these. (Especially that venom thing. I was sitting here stumped for days on how my girl's venom affected other people 😭)

My girl and your guy would be like this 🤞🏽. They are both taking down their worlds Alchemax. My girl is just doing it by working from the inside. (And if I'd just sit down and finish writing this post everyone would know her story 🥹)

Love how you have a specific spider too. I just based mine on tarantulas in general because of a hyperfixation I had in my youth (my friend got one and I wanted one so badly but my parents said no 😞)

IM SO GLAD PEOPLE ARE MAKING THEIR OCS LIKE SPIDERS. SPIDERS ARE SO COOL. Especially the weaving bit. That's so cute.

[amieravenson]

If I Could Only Keep 10 Decks

I simultaneously love and hate questions like this. On one hand, it makes you evaluate everything and look at what's really important to you. On the other hand, thinking of letting things go sucks. But when I looked at my decks, I found that the choices were easier than I thought they would be. I decided to choose 5 tarot decks and 5 oracle decks for balance. I'll start with the tarot cards.

Tarot Cards

Sacred Rose Tarot

We're starting at the very beginning. This is the deck that my dad bought me for my birthday when I was 12. I had seen tarot used on TV or a movie, and was completely obsessed with it. All I wanted that year was a tarot deck. So Dad took me to a metaphysical store called The Sphynx in Midtown Atlanta, and bought my first deck. It was really hard to learn on, but it's incredibly precious to me. I couldn't let this deck go if I tried.

Pamela Colman Smith Commemorative Rider Waite Smith

I ordered this deck from the UK before the American version came out. And I'm glad I did, because the colors on the American version are washed out and dull. I also trimmed the white borders off, and edged this deck in black. It looks great and it feels really good to shuffle. It's my ride-or-die deck. I use it to read at DragonCon and any other events because it's just such a good reader. It loves to read for other people, but it doesn't really read for me well at all. I'm OK with that. I think that you need a deck that's primarily for other people. It's my travel deck that goes everywhere in my purse with me!

Thoth Tarot

I bought this as a study deck and forgot about it for a few years. I read somewhere that the 3 of Cups was associated with Persephone, and I was hooked! I started studying it here and there when I got a chance, but never really did a deep dive. Then, in 2022, I used it for my daily draws every day, and I learned a lot. I love this deck and its layers of symbolism. I should use it more, but I love having it near me. I could spend years studying this deck and never get tired.

The Forhaxa Tarot

I love this deck for a few reasons. First, the art is absolute perfection. It's so complex and layered. Second, it's based on Swedish folklore. I don't know most of the references, but it makes me want to study the tales. Third, it was given to me by my awesome husbear. A trifecta of awesome!

The Alleyman's Tarot

What can I say about the Alleyman's Tarot? If you know, you know. It's just so fuckin' COOL. It's a mixed deck of cards from different artists that come together to make a jumbled, crazy mess of fantastic art. And you're encouraged to bend the cards (I could never), write on the cards (I have), and even get rid of the cards you don't like (I just set them neatly aside). The Alleyman has a few other neat tricks up his sleeve, including a dice set (that reads really well), and he's coming out with some oracle decks as a Kickstarter early next year. LOVE!

Oracle Cards

The Faeries Oracle

This is one of my oldest decks. I can't remember exactly when I bought it, but It wasn't that long after it was released in 2000. I just love Brian Froud. And believe it or not, this deck is a good reader. The messages are deep and meaningful. I don't read with it often, but when I do, it always reads true. I love it!

Tea Leaf Fortune Cards

I really don't know much about reading tea leaves, but these cards are just cool. They're small and round, and they come with a huge bag that you can 'shuffle' them in. I should definitely use these more than I do, but if I had to make a choice about my 10 decks, they would definitely make the cut.

The Arcane Bullshit Oracle

This deck is an irreverent collection of weirdness and I love it. Again, the husbear bought it for me, and that gives it a special place in my heart, but I honestly love how this deck thumbs its nose at how serious cartomancers can take themselves. It's a big 'fuck you' to anyone who can't take a joke, and I'm here for it.

Seasons of the Witch Samhain Oracle

This deck is MOODY AF. The art is stunning in shades of black and grey with pops of red, and the messages are creepy and eerie like you would want in a Samhain deck. And the red edges? COME ON. Beautiful. This deck is so much better than the Yule version, which screws everything up with all the thys and thous that are misused. It really begs to be used in the dark half of the year. The Mabon and Beltane editions are really great too, it's a shame the Yule oracle is written so weirdly. I'm sure I'll still collect all the sabbats.

The Herbal Astrology Oracle

This is still a pretty new deck to me, and I admit I haven't delved into it like I would like. But there's just SO MUCH TO LEARN and dive into with this deck. It's deep. And the first time I read with it, it gave a really intense reading that I won't go into details about because it hasn't come to pass yet. I can tell that this deck is accurate and will give good messages, though. I could spend years on this deck and still feel like I have more to learn. And the art is stunning! ******** So that's it! That's my list. How about you? Do you have some favorite decks that you could never part with? Or decks that you keep around because you keep intending to spend more time with them? What are your 10 decks? Let me know in the comments. Blessed be! Read the full article

[madanpadhan123]

Want Brighter, Whiter Teeth?

1/16

Have your pearly whites lost their luster because of dingy gray or yellow stains? Stained teeth can occur as we age, but some common foods, drinks, and even mouthwashes can stain teeth. Do-it-yourself remedies can help whiten teeth, and avoiding substances that stain teeth can stop further discoloration. Use these secrets to whiter teeth to restore your bright smile.

2/16

You may be able to get rid of superficial stains by yourself. A number of at-home tooth-whitening products -- kits, strips, toothpastes, and rinses-- may lighten stains. There are even some old-fashioned remedies you can try. Tooth-whitening products available on drugstore shelves use mild bleach to brighten yellow teeth. Toothpastes use abrasives and chemicals to remove surface stains. For deep stains, you may need a dentist's help.

Tooth-Whitening Kits Click here To Learn More

3/16

A home tooth-whitening kit contains carbamide peroxide, a bleach that can remove both deep and surface stains and actually changes your natural tooth color. If you have coffee-stained teeth, a tooth-bleaching kit can help. With some kits, you apply a peroxide-based gel (with a small brush) to the surface of your teeth. In other kits, the gel is in a tray that molds to the teeth. The tray must be worn daily (for 30 to 45 minutes) for a week or more.

4/16

Tooth-whitening strips will help get rid of tooth stains. These strips are very thin, virtually invisible, and are coated with a peroxide-based whitening gel. You wear them a few minutes daily for a week or more. Results are visible in just a few days, and last at least a year. The results with strips are not as dramatic as with whitening kits, but the strips are easy to use and pretty much foolproof.

5/16

How to get stains off your teeth? Over-the-counter toothpastes, gels, and rinses help remove some surface stains. Many of these products contain mild abrasives, chemicals, or polishing agents. Unlike bleaches, they don't change the natural color of teeth.

6/16

Some people still prefer the age-old home remedy of baking soda and a toothbrush to gently whiten teeth at home. Also, some foods such as celery, apples, pears, and carrots trigger lots of saliva, which helps wash away food debris on your teeth. Chewing sugarless gum is a tooth-cleansing action and also triggers saliva. A bonus from all that saliva: It neutralizes the acid that causes tooth decay. With teeth, more saliva is better all around.

7/16

Approach tooth whitening with caution if you have lots of dental veneers, bonding, fillings, crowns, and bridges. Bleach will not lighten these manufactured teeth -- meaning they will stand out among your newly whitened natural teeth. In order to match your whiter teeth, you may need to investigate new dental work, including veneers or bonding.

8/16

As we age, the outer layer of tooth enamel wears away. The underlying layer, called dentin, is yellower. That's why it's important to try to avoid staining teeth in the first place, especially after whitening. If you take care with foods and drinks that discolor teeth, the results of whitening may last up to one year. Whitening teeth too often could make them look translucent and blue, so you'll want to maintain your new smile.

9/16

Not only is it bad for your health, smoking is one of the worst offenders when it comes to staining teeth. Tobacco causes brown stains that penetrate the grooves and pits of tooth enamel. Tobacco stains can be hard to remove by brushing alone. The longer you smoke, the more entrenched the stains become. Smoking also causes bad breath and gingivitis (gum disease), and increases the risk of most types of cancer.

10/16

There's another reason to watch what you eat. Some common foods can discolor teeth. Here's an easy way to tell if a food might be at fault: Anything that can stain a white cotton T-shirt can stain teeth, say dentists. Coffee stains teeth, for example. Other top offenders are beverages such as tea, dark sodas, and fruit juices. These teeth stains develop slowly and become more noticeable as we age.

11/16

Tooth-Whitening Kits Click here To Learn More

They may be packed with disease-fighting antioxidants, but a glass of red wine, cranberry juice, or grape juice also stains teeth easily. That doesn't mean you should give them up, but remember to rinse your mouth after you drink. These aren't the only teeth-staining foods to be aware of.

12/16

The deep color of these fruits and veggies gives them their nutritional punch. But blueberries, blackberries, and beets leave their color on teeth as well. Eat up for your health, and prevent tooth stains by:

13/16

While all sweetened drinks are bad for teeth, some energy and sports drinks may be worse, according to one study in General Dentistry. Researchers found that these drinks -- as well as bottled lemonade -- may erode tooth enamel after long-term use. The result is thin, translucent, discolored teeth. To prevent tooth erosion:

14/16

The antibiotic tetracycline causes gray teeth in children whose teeth are still developing. Antibacterial mouthwashes that contain chlorhexidine or cetylpyridinium chloride can also stain teeth. Some antihistamines, antipsychotic drugs, and blood pressure medications cause tooth stains, as can iron and excess fluoride. If bleaching doesn't help, ask your dentist about dental bonding, in which a tooth-colored material is applied to teeth.

15/16

One simple strategy can help maintain white teeth: brush. Brush at least twice daily. Even better, brush after every meal and snack. Brushing helps prevent stains and yellow teeth, especially at the gum line. Both electric and sonic toothbrushes may be superior to traditional toothbrushes in removing plaque and surface stains on teeth. Also, don't forget to floss and use an antiseptic mouthwash daily.

16/16 See your dentist for regular checkups and professional cleaning. The abrasion and polishing methods dentists use can remove many teeth stains caused by food and tobacco.

Tooth-Whitening Kits Click here To Learn More

[gyoobies]

Creative Block

Pairing: Jungwoo x Fem Reader (mentions of Doyoung)

Genre: Smut, established poly relationship

Warnings: Minors DNI, Unprotected sex, cum swallowing, oral sex (giving & receiving)  

Summary: You’re having a major creative block, the last thing you need with a deadline so close, lucky for you your boyfriend has a plan.

Takes place after “The Way The Universe Works” 

https://gyoobies.tumblr.com/post/683025340230205440/the-way-the-universe-works

As much as you loved your quaint studio, you couldn't deny you missed all the extra  space you had when you were covering  the old woman's studio. You knew quite some time ago that you'd probably need a bigger space soon, and with the size of this new canvas taking up most of your work space, that need was even more evident now.  Lack of ample work space coupled with a massive creative block were contributing factors to your frustrated current state, add in the deadline for this massive painting that was fast approaching and you were 2 seconds away from losing it. The universe obviously heard your distress because one of your lovely boyfriends showed up to surprise you with lunch.

Entering your studio, food in 1 hand phone in the other, Jungwoo's voice filled your workspace.

"Hello Jagiiiiiii your favorite boyfriend is here!" He said in a sing-song manner as he approached you. Immediately you were reaching for his phone to face the screen towards you.

" Hi Doey, how is your day?"

"WOW! How did you know he was even on my phone?"

"Because the only time you say anything like that is to annoy him."

Jungwoo began to unpack lunch as you chatted briefly with Doyoung about your frustrating situation. He was always a source of comfort and grounding for you, so it was natural that you looked to him to refocus you. After saying your goodbyes to Doyoung you joined Jungwoo on the floor in the corner of your studio.

"Here my sweetie, let me stuff you full of delicious things to get rid of your frustration."

"Well, I guess we could eat after." You said  while laughing at his puzzled face, only laughing harder when the expression of realization washed over him.

"I- that is not what I meant. Well, not this time anyway."

Taking your place beside Jungwoo, you rested your head on his shoulder and watched him prepare one of his 'perfect bites' for you.

"You know, you don't have to put everything in 1 lettuce wrap. My mouth isn't that big."

"I've seen you stretch it pretty wide when necessary." He said as he brought it to your mouth.

"Ouch! Did you just bite me?!"

"That's for being a smart ass." 

"I'll let it slide this time, only because it sounds like you're having a rough day. 

"I am, I have just over a week to finish this commission and all I have is the base drawing, but I’m having trouble with what I want to paint over it."

Jungwoo stared at the large drawing across the room, " What's the concept behind it? All I'm getting is a woman moaning?"

"Yes! That's exactly what it is. It's supposed to be suggestive and provocative. The client has a matchmaking service and he wants to put this in the lobby."

Deep into explaining the vision for the piece, you stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of the giant canvas panel. 

"I wanted to do only the lower half of the face in a solid black outline and I would then paint with different opaque colors and washes, layering them in spots to convey the throws of ecstasy." 

Now standing behind you staring at the painting just as intensely, Jungwoo wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Wow, that sounds amazingly hot, so what's the problem?"

"I'm having trouble figuring out how to really execute that last part." You sighed.

Consumed with frustration and staring so hard at that damn painting, you didn't notice Jungwoo's amused and mischievous smile as he watched you. Slowly you began to feel his soft lips on your neck, making their way up to your ear.

"Do you know how sexy you are when you're so into your work?

 "Hmmmm, no but I'm  sure you'll tell me." You said as you turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"I'll do a lot more than tell you."

A shiver ran through your body as he began to slowly remove your clothes. With your eyes closed you focused on nothing but the feeling of his hands undoing the buttons of your  shirt, then your pants. Once he'd stripped you to your underwear you could hear him undressing himself.

"Not going to watch me undress today?"

"No, I just want to listen, it's relaxing."

Well, it was relaxing until you heard the  sound of the canvas panel hit the floor, making you snap your eyes open in a panic. 

 " omg Jungwoo what are you doing?!"

"Calm down, just trust me. You told Doyoung you were thinking about starting over anyway."

"Thinking and doing are 2 very different things Jungwoo. "

"I know, but maybe that's the problem. Sometimes you should just do and not think so much."

He leaned in to kiss you and as much as you wanted to protest, you couldn't. He had that effect on you sometimes, ok maybe most of the time actually, you'd just give in and let his spontaneous personality take over.

"OK, but if this is a horrible idea you're going to spend every night up late with me until it's done."

" If that's a punishment sign me up!" He said as he reached around to unclasp your bra, next he reached down to remove your panties. Completely naked, you let Jungwoo guide you to the center of the canvas; uncertain of what he was actually intending to do, until you felt the cold of a paint covered brush grace your backside. 

"What better way to portray the emotions of sex, than with actual sex?"

He kind of had a point, honestly even if he didn't you were far too intrigued to stop him now. Jungwoo strategically painted different colors on specific parts of your body. He couldn't resist kissing you as he lightly swirled the paint covered tip of the brush over, and around your nipples as he covered your breast. You watched in much anticipation as he began to trail the different colors across his own body. Once he was satisfied he gently pushed at your shoulder to urge you to lay down. The moment your painted back made contact with the canvas he parted your legs to settle between them. Hands tucked under your ass firmly gripping the flesh as he dove into your pussy with his tongue. You moved your hand to lace your fingers through his hair but you were stopped when he pinned your hand back down onto the canvas.

"No baby, the paint is for the canvas not my hair." He said just before sucking harshly on your clit and burying his face completely in your heat, It didn’t take long for him to effectively send you into a dizzying spiral of an orgasm.  

"That's it, come for me." He cooed against your pussy. It was the cool paint tipped brush that helped you out of your bliss filled haze. Your eyes slowly focused in on Jungwoo as he added more paint to your body, specifically your knees, calves, balls of your feet, and toes. Once he was done adding more paint to the desired areas of your body he did the same to his, specifically his feet. You soon learned why when he stood up and pulled you to your knees making sure to move to a new space on the canvas. 

Tilting your chin so he could look into your eyes, as he rubbed the tip of his dick across your lips. You gave a small squeeze to his thigh to let him know you were getting impatient. Taking the hint he pushed gently against your lips, and you eagerly welcomed him into your mouth.  Jungwoo let you have your fun in the beginning, letting you slowly bob your head up and down his length, teasing his tip with your tongue. 

"I could look at you like this all day." He said while looking deep into your eyes. "But if I let you go on like this, we'll never finish the painting.”

 You opened your mouth wider to allow him to thrust himself deep into your throat. The room was filled with the sounds of his moans mixed with the wet sounds of him fucking your face. 

 "I love how you can just take me down your throat like this." He panted. "Mmmm Shit! I'm gonna cum, you ready for me?" 

You gave his thigh another squeeze to let him know you were ready. With just a few more thrusts he came in your mouth. You tilted your head back slightly with your mouth open so he could see your cum covered tongue before you swallowed. He moaned at the sight before him, and pulled you to your feet so he could kiss you.

Lost in kissing him you almost didn't notice the cool paint hit your skin again, but this time it was his paint covered hands. You practically melted at how gentle his touch was as he took your hand and placed it into the paint as a silent request for you to paint him as well. You trailed your fingers across his shoulder blades letting the paint drip from your fingertips down his back. In this moment time seemed to stop, and you could only think of how badly you wanted, no, how badly you needed him. You pulled him into the most desperate kiss you'd probably ever given anyone in your life, and he kissed you back with just as much desperation as you both sunk to the canvas covered floor once again. 

Face down, ass up, as Jungwoo thrusted into you with so much force  you were sure anyone walking through the hall could hear the impact of your ass against his pelvis. The sound of skin on skin, his near animalistic growls, your moans, whimpers, heavy breathing, the slick and sticky feeling of the paint on your bodies, the imprints of your ass, hands, feet, all within the swirling colors painted across the canvas as you changed from one position to another.  On your back with Jungwoo above you, one leg over his shoulder as he buried himself deep inside your pussy. Eyes shut tight, you were practically gasping for air with every thrust when your body started to tingle from head to toe. You laced your fingers in his hair, changing the color of his icy blonde locks to the fiery red on your hands.  

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?" He said with shaky breaths, "pretty baby, can you answer me?" He said as he kissed you to get you to respond.

Giving him a lazy smile, you peeked open your eyes to look at him and answer. "I'm  cuming" is all you managed as you came, nails digging into his back as your pussy fluttered around him. The feeling of you tightening around him as you came pushed Jungwoo over the edge and he came inside you, letting you finish out your orgasm milking him into overstimulation.

Completely exhausted, breathing heavy, and sticky, you let out a giggle that caused Jungwoo to shoot you a questioning look.

"What's so funny?"

"We're covered in paint almost from head to toe, there is paint splatter on my floor and we have to actually go out in public like this. So messy."

"Good sex is always messy" He said as he kissed your cheek.

WOW! THIS IS AMAZING! far beyond anything I had expected. The partial face of a woman in the heat of passion, the hectic swirls of colors, and the well placed silhouettes of body parts, it really makes your imagination run wild thinking about what the position was that left that imprint." 

You hummed in agreement; you didn't need to imagine though. The forearms on each side of a woman's ass were from when Jungwoo devoured your pussy, the imprints of a woman’s knees and toes in front of a man's feet were from when Jungwoo face fucked you, the smudged silhouettes of the 2 of you strewn about from the constant changing of positions, the scene replayed vividly in your mind.

You were startled out of your memory when the owner of the matchmaking service asked you a question that you obviously missed. 

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I asked how you did the silhouettes?"

"Oh! I have a few models I use sometimes; I explained to them what I wanted to accomplish and we worked together to bring my vision to fruition."

"Well done! Expect lots more work from me in the future."

"Wonderful! I look forward to seeing her next masterpiece for you" came Jungwoo's voice from the lobby entrance as he shot you a wink.

After a brief introduction, the 2 of you politely said goodbye and headed to your place. The entire car ride was mostly Jungwoo explaining how it was so hot knowing there was a giant abstract painting of the 2 of you having sex, hanging in the lobby of a building for everyone to see.

[luffles424]

Sunrise

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

☼ Genre: angst, fluff, smut, angst with a happy end, post breakup au, actor!seokjin, fashion designer!reader, exes to lovers

☼ Count: 9.5K

☼ Warnings: 18+, accusations of cheating, poor communication, some arguments (the relationship at the end can be seen as turning toxic as communication breaks down, so be aware if you think that may now work for you or just need to be prepared), heartbreak, non-explicit description of panic attack, moments of emotional shut down

Smut warnings: teasing, soft sex, nipple play, body worship, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (stay safe pls!), dirty talk, exhibitionism, bratty reader, rough sex, manhandling, bruising

☼ Summary: It’s been well over 10 years since you and Seokjin broke up. You’ve been doing fine. Until one night a dream rocks you to the core and you find yourself in a place from the past. Have you really moved on?

Has he?

☼  Newly added epilogue: Moonlight

☼ a/n: This is told both in the present and past, the flashbacks are in italics! The flashbacks also aren’t in order, but I believe they’re pretty easy to follow when they would fall chronologically.

Inspired by the 2000s emo playlist I listened to as work (especially Jamie All Over by Mayday Parade) Sorry if the tags seem a little scary, I’d rather overtag than have someone get blindsided while reading. But I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

The cool breeze washes over you, bathing you in the salty ocean air. It seems you found the perfect time to come out here. The light jacket you wore more than enough to keep you warm on such an unexpected trip. The sky is slowly being painted in pinks and purples and oranges as the sun slowly starts to sink into the horizon, small wisps of fluffy, white clouds occasionally obscuring the sunlight. You’ve always loved seeing the sunset out here. The colors reflecting off the ocean and leaving everchanging patterns before you. You’ve based plenty of designs on sunsets. 

The dress you wore to your first fashion week is still your favorite. The penultimate meeting of sunset and night sky. The outside was ombre layers of soft chiffon, shades of oranges and pinks and small bands of light purples. It pooled around your feet, you liked to think it made it seem like you had risen from the waters of a sunset reflection. The halter bodice wrapped around your neck in a shimmery, golden band. Hanging from the choker were thin golden chains, draped and connected to a golden belt at your waist. 

For all appearances, it appeared like just a sunset colored dress. But when you walked, or pulled the fabric apart at the slit in the front, it revealed a glittering deep purple fabric, speckled like a swirling galaxy. It had been the ultimate combination of the theme of yours and Hoseok’s collection, sun and moon. The dress still hangs in your closet, one of the few extravagant pieces you’ve held on too. You want to wear it again, you just have to find an occasion to do so. The dress deserves it. 

The scene before you specifically was what inspired it. Maybe not this spot specifically. There were a lot of memories tied to this spot that you tried not to think about typically. But you’ve always loved visiting the beach. Or lakes. Anywhere you could go and watch the sun sink into the water. Watch an uninterrupted sky blend colorfully with the water.

You can’t believe you’re back here though. It’s been easily more than 10 years since the last time you were at this beach, which is a drastic change from back then from when you came here all the time. Taking a seat on the bench beside you, you smile, a little sadly, as your fingers trace over the heart carved into the wood, weathered from years in the elements and use. But the letters are still clear enough and you skip over your initials, letting your fingertips trace the ‘ksj’ as you think on when they were put there. 

 The smile on his face is bright, as bright as the glint of sunlight off the small pocket knife in his hand. 

Your combined giggles fill the fresh spring air, the beach fairly deserted since you skipped your last two periods of school to come here. You hadn’t put up much of a fight when he made the suggestion during lunch. Your grades are good enough and it’s the last weeks of high school, you can miss a few class periods to have some fun, to spend some time together before university. Just in case you don’t get into the same one.

The scratch of the blade against the wood is softer than you expect, a gentle scratch, scratch, scratch as he meticulously and carefully carves your names into the wood. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and you fight the urge to coo at how cute he is. Doubling down on keeping quiet when you know doing so would also result in him being overly macho to prove he wasn’t cute. Not because he doesn’t believe he’s cute or anything, but he knows how much the faux display makes you laugh. You don’t want to interrupt his work when this seems so important to him.  

Finally he looks up from his work, proudly gesturing to the carving on the bench. 

“That’s so cheesy.”

With an exaggerated pout, he gives you the saddest eyes he can muster. “I worked so hard on this for you. As a testament to our love!”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his jutted lower lip. “Well, I didn’t know it was so serious. My apologies.”

 A few more kisses and he’d promptly forgiven you and the two of you had spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach, taking blurry pictures on your flip phones. You’re positive that a printed version of one of those photos still lives in a box somewhere, where you didn’t have the heart to throw it away and so it’s stayed in a box of memories that moves with you but you never really look through. 

 You’re so tired when you finally get home. It doesn’t even feel like home anymore. You’ve spent more time either in the studio or with Jimin or Hoseok or at work than you have here. And you know from the times that you are here that Seokjin is gone just as often as you. It doesn’t even feel like you’re in a relationship anymore. It hurts to think about that. 

So you’d thought summer would be the perfect time for the two of you to rekindle your relationship. Fix whatever problems you were having, free from the stress of finals. But with senior year quickly approaching, everything seems to have just gotten worse. You can never seem to catch Seokjin to start the process of fixing anything. 

To your surprise, when you open the door you find Seokjin sitting on the bed, face pinched as he stares at something on his phone. Maybe this will finally be the opportunity to talk and start fixing things. You miss him, body cold and numb the nights you fall asleep here alone, always waiting and waking up disappointed. 

Before you can say anything, his head lifts and the cold glare he sends you stops you in your tracks. What could possibly have happened to make him give you that look? You know the two of you have been having some problems, but nothing that would warrant that look.

“Where the hell were you?” His tone is as icy as his eyes. 

You frown, gesturing vaguely towards the fridge. “Work. I put my schedule up so you knew.” He didn’t have the same courtesy. You never knew when he was working. Or what else he was doing when he was out. You had put yours up in hopes that he would do the same and maybe you would be able to find time to be together. Though you’re not sure he even bothered to go near the fridge. The few times you’ve made dinner for him and left the leftovers in the fridge with a note went untouched. 

He sneers and holds his phone out towards you. You have to step closer to get a good look at the image he has pulled up. It’s from just a few hours ago. You and Jimin sat at one of the cafe tables and laughing. It had been your break and Jimin came in to keep you company. Had Seokjin come by the cafe? Why hadn’t he come in? If he’d been there when this was taken, you were on break, you could’ve spent it together. 

“Then what’s this? Certainly doesn’t look like work to me.”

Your mind blanks. Is he seriously accusing you of lying right now? Indignation rises, acid burning in your throat. “What are you saying? If you were there why didn’t you come in? I would have loved to see you.”

“I wasn’t there. A friend sent this. And I’m saying that you’re never around. And I keep getting people telling me they see you out with him all the time. I haven’t seen you in weeks. But it seems like he sees you every day.”

He can’t seriously be accusing you of cheating right now. This seriously can’t be happening right now. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the accusation. It hurts that he’d honestly think you’d do that. Then the ugly thoughts come. What’s that saying, those who are most guilty are the quickest to throw blame at others?

“First of all,” you grit out, trying your best to keep your tone even. You can feel the rage churning in your belly. “I was on break when that was taken. Jimin came to visit because he knew someone wasn’t going to.” Seokjin’s mouth opens to speak but you continue, voice raising. He is not going to get to cut you off now. “It’s awfully fucking rich for you to accuse me when you have no evidence. You’re never even around. You know what they say, it’s never the one being blamed but the one doing the blaming.”

He scoffs and stands. In his anger, he seems to tower over you. But you’re too angry and indignant yourself for it to feel intimidating. You stare him down. 

“You’re really going to accuse me now?”

“It’s the same thing you’re doing! I was hoping to fucking talk when I saw you were home. I was so happy to see you here. We haven’t been home together in so long. I-”

“We haven’t been home together because you’re always out with Jimin.” 

“No I haven’t been fucking home because you’re never home and it fucking hurts to be in this shitty apartment without the person who’s supposed to be here with me. Do you know how fucking lonely it is waiting around here for a person who never shows up?”

Turning away from you, he takes a few deep breaths. 

You deflate slightly. You could still fix this. “Seokjin-”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to hear any more excuses.”

He moves towards the door and you panic. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You wanted to fix things. To make them better. Everything has spiraled and you can’t let him slip through your fingers. You reach for his wrist.

“Seokjin, wait-”

He wretches his hand free and glances at you over his shoulder with so much contempt that you feel your heart in your throat. “No. I’m done.”

This can’t be it. This really can’t be it. He sees you about to speak again and turns and leaves before you can get a word out and it feels like the rug has been ripped out from beneath you. The silence deafening in his absence. 

You don’t know how long you stand there for. You feel completely numb. Like this is just a bad dream and you’ll wake up soon and Seokjin will be next to you and you’ll tell him about this and he’ll laugh and comfort you and tell you that would never happen. You expect tears, but they never come. Everything feels so surreal. 

The man you had planned to spend the rest of your life with just walked out on you after accusing you of cheating. 5 years and he really thought that was something you would do. Do you wait around? Hope he comes back for you both to talk with calmer minds. 

You settle for a text.

You: Can we talk once we’ve both calmed down?

It’s less than a second later and the response makes your heart sink. Blocked. 

He really blocked you already. He’s not even going to try? You sink onto the bed. What are you supposed to do now?

At some point, mechanically, you text Jimin, asking if he could come over and bring some boxes. Looking around, you’re at least grateful that your place was small because it means you don’t have that much to try to move. Jimin arrives, faster than you expected. Or maybe you’ve just become that disconnected from the passage of time. 

He drops the boxes and comes up to you, hands fretting over you like there’s some physical injury he can attend to. Unless he knows how to mend a broken heart, his fretting is useless. Instead you move on autopilot, taking the boxes Jimin brought and packing your meager possessions into them. Jimin stands by the kitchen, looking sad and lost, unable to help because you have yet to say a word. He knows what happened though. It’s not hard to figure out. You’re thankful that he doesn’t try to get you to talk. Just lets you move and do what you need. Waits for you to ask should you need help. 

You’re almost finished packing when you pull the shoebox from under the bed and you suddenly feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Flipping the lid open reveals hundreds of photos. Of friends. Of family. Of trips. Of Seokjin. The top pictures pull your attention. Two copies of the same photo. A blurry snapshot of you two grinning on the beach. You both look so young and happy. You wish you could go back to that. Everything was so simple back then. 

He must have put his copy in with yours. Because why would they need to be kept in different places when the two of you would never be apart. You almost want to laugh. You mostly want to cry. You stand with the box, debate for all of two seconds before you set his copy down on the bed. He can decide what to do with his own copy. That’s not for you to decide. Not anymore. 

Tucking the shoebox into the last of the moving boxes, you cast one last look around the apartment. The holes where your things were hurt to see. The physical evidence that this part of your life is over. Carefully extracted from a life that had been so delicately intertwined. You wonder if the gaps will even bother Seokjin. If he’ll even bother staying here, if he’ll move onto something bigger and better. Without you. Swallowing, you turn to Jimin before those thoughts can spiral. Not here. Not yet. Once you’re somewhere else and alone. Then it can all come out.

“Ready?”

You give a small nod and Jimin helps take your things downstairs. He does most of the work while you wait on the sidewalk. He calls a taxi, loads your things into, gives the driver his address. 

As it pulls away from the curb, you can’t help but to watch the apartment shrink into the distance. Feeling like you left your heart behind. You wonder if you’ll ever get it back.

 Your phone dings with a notification, dragging you out of the sad memories. You give yourself a small shake. You hadn’t thought about that day in years, pushing it to the back of your mind. You had learned later on that some girls had told Seokjin lies about you to get the two of you to break up in a bid for his attention. It had backfired spectacularly because you found out through Hoseok after he overheard Seokjin yelling at the girl who asked him out less than a week after the break up. He never came to talk to you after the truth came out though. You never let yourself think too hard about why that might be. You’d already spent too many nights feeling numb and broken. You poured yourself into your work. Your friends. You had been content for your senior year. It didn’t go how you were expecting, but it was still good.

You smile at the device in your hand. It’s far more advanced than your old flip phones had been, even your college phone had been fairly low tech, the downsides of living on a budget. High school you would have killed for a camera this good back then. That blurry picture of you and Seokjin would’ve been much more clear if you’d had something like this back then. You swipe the notification away, just an email from your assistant about your schedule for tomorrow and what had been shifted around from today. But all that can wait until later, probably when you’re back home. The notification draws your attention to a text from Hoseok that you hadn’t seen though. He must have messaged while you were walking so you didn’t feel your phone go off. 

Hobihobi: Are you ok?

You smile at his concern. And honestly the fact that he even noticed you dipped out of the studio early. You had thought that he had been too busy on his own upcoming project to notice. It’s a pretty big deal for your label and he’s been working so hard to get this project. You’re just glad you have the perk of being boss to be able to dip when you need to. Although technically, you and Hoseok own your label, Daydream Designs, together. 

Texting him a quick reassurance, you pocket the device again, content to just enjoy the sunset out here alone. There’s a few people scattered around the beach. A few families beginning to pack up for the evening, a person running with their dog, a couple walking along the shoreline. 

You have such fond memories of this beach. For all the bad memories you have of the relationship, mostly from the end of it, at least the beach remains untainted.

 Nervously clutching the letter in your hand, your leg bounces as you wait for Seokjin to arrive. He’d texted you earlier that he’d gotten a letter from SNU. You’d rushed home to see you had a letter waiting as well. You were thankful that they had come on the same day. You can’t imagine how much more anxiety you’d have if you’d had to wait longer for one of your letters to arrive. 

You glance at the white envelope, the edges are beginning to wrinkle from your grip, but you can’t get your fingers to relax. Checking your phone again, you wonder where Seokjin is. He should be here soon. The beach is crowded today. The weather finally nice enough and the water clear and warm. It was a miracle that you’d managed to get your bench when you’d arrived. But someone had just been leaving when you’d gotten here and you’d quickly jogged over to take it before someone else could snatch it. It seemed like the perfect place to see what your future held.  

Seokjin appears suddenly, panting like he ran the whole way here. Which, given the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead, is a good possibility. He still looks handsome, more so when he sends you a brilliant grin.

“You got our bench!”

Returning his smile, you send him a wink. “I had to fight an old lady for it.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips as he sits down, brandishing his letter. “How do you want to do this?”

Chewing your lip, you think it over. “I don’t think I can open it.”

His eyes soften and he takes your hand. He can read you so well. “No matter what happens, we’ll always have each other.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “How about we open each other’s?”

Reluctantly, you nod. Would it really be better to see that he got in while still not knowing if you got in too? Swapping letters, you stare down at his name spelled out in ink. You know he got in. There’s no way he didn’t. Seokjin nudges you and you look up.

“Count of three?” You nod. “Okay… 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

Seokjin is a little faster in tearing open the envelope than you are but you keep your gaze firmly downcast, watching as your fingers tear open the paper with meticulous care. You skim his letter quickly. 

Congratulations.

He got in. Joy swells in you and you look up with a grin, momentarily forgetting your own letter. Your smile quickly falters though when you see the flat look on Seokjin’s face as he stares down at your letter and your heart sinks.

Tugging his hand to get his attention, you give him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s okay. You said-”

“You got in.”

You blink. His words swirling around your head but not fully registering. “What?”

He envelops you in a massive hug, laughing with joy. “You got in! Baby, you did it!”

You still feel a little dumbfounded, but you’re quickly filling with excitement. “You too! Jinnie, you got in too!”

He pulls back and presses a long kiss to your lips. His eyes look suspiciously wet, but you decide not to comment. You’re positive that your’s are probably a little wet too. “The next four years are going to be amazing.”

 He had been so optimistic back then. You could use some of that optimism now. 

You hadn’t originally planned on cutting out of work early, especially not to come here of all places. There were some designs that you needed to work on, a few ideas that you had that you wanted to get sketched up to show to Hoseok. But when you’d been walking through the common area during lunch, you’d overheard a couple of people gathered around a computer gushing about the Kim Seokjin wearing one of Hoseok’s designs. 

It’s definitely not the first time. Hoseok knew Seokjin in university when you knew him too, although you were always closer to him since you shared a lot of classes, and obviously a shared love of fashion. But the two were friendly and remained so afterward, but on a more acquaintanceship basis. The break up clearly divided some friendships, though you hated that it happened. You didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to stop being friends with either of you just because you two were no longer dating. 

You know it’s not the first time Hoseok has designed something for Seokjin. And normally, him wearing one of Hoseok’s designs wouldn’t bother you too much. Both because it’s good for Hoseok because Hoseok is a genius and deserves it, but because it’s also really good for your label in general in terms of good press. Though you know Hoseok sometimes slips your designs into things that get sent to him. You saw one of your jackets ended up at an award show. 

Idle chatter about Seokjin around the office isn’t that new. You suppose that’s one of the downsides to being in an industry that is very closely tied to idols and actors and actresses. It’s not an uncommon occurrence to hear them gossip about him, he’s one of the most popular drama actors currently and everyone loves to gush about how handsome and funny he is. They find it odd that you’ll talk about anyone with them except him. They leave it be much easier now, but in the beginning they still tried to include you. 

You’ve even dealt easily with the dating rumors. All the pretty actresses he’s supposedly dating. And why wouldn’t he? He’s gorgeous and talented and so, so kind. Any woman would be lucky to have him. You’ve been on the receiving end of his love. You know how easy it is to fall.

If your coworkers knew that you’d dated him in the past, they would think you were crazy to let him go. And maybe be a little jealous and probably pepper you with questions about him. You definitely are thankful they don’t know because the way some of them gossip about their own sex lives, they’d beg for details about a celebrity’s from first hand experience. 

 Excitement fills you as you sit in the airport. It’s finally summer. Your first year of college is behind you and you now get to spend two whole weeks with Seokjin in Jeju. Well Seokjin and his family. But they were kind enough to let the two of you have your own little place on the island. Well it was more of just the guest house to the main house they, along with Seokjin’s brother, would be staying at. 

This will likely be the only big summer trip you both take during college. Seokjin had originally planned to not go. More content to work all summer and save up money so the two of you could get an apartment off campus. His parents had offered to pay for a place, but Seokjin was adamant that the two of you wanted to do this for yourselves. 

You’d try to hide your disappointment about not going, but he knows you far too well and caved quickly to saying one trip wouldn’t hurt his independence. So now here you were, ready to fly out to Jeju. You haven’t been since you were little and you were excited that you got to go back and this time with Seokjin. 

The flight is quick and uneventful and Seokjin gets a taxi to take you to the beach house, his parents having arrived a few days prior. 

The main house is beautiful, but you’re more excited to see where you’ll be staying. The outside of the guest house looks like a miniature version of the main one. Inside, it’s spacious, all one room with an attached bathroom. The bed is separated from the living area by an ornate partition painted with a starry nightscape. The moon is painted in such gorgeous detail that you’re tempted to tell Seokjin you want to steal the partition when you leave. 

The living area is simple, a plush sofa and matching chair set facing a wall mounted TV. A small, well-stocked minibar is pressed against one wall. Around the partition and into the sleeping area is a large bed facing a set of french doors that open out onto a small deck that leads right down to the beach in two steps. 

Flopping onto the bed with a giddy giggle, you watch as Seokjin sets his bag down and gives you a fond smile. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

You squirm back slightly, coy smile stretching your lips. “I don’t know. The bed seems kind of empty.”

He chuckles, sitting on the bed and tugging you into his lap. “Better?”

Humming, you press a kiss to his lips. “Much.”

When you go to pull away, he follows, capturing your lips in another, deeper kiss. “We don’t… have… a lot of time…” he murmurs between kisses. 

You give a vague affirmative, only half listening to his words in favor of pressing him back into the mattress. His parents can wait, you have some important business first.

 The night air is cool, the french doors left open, gauzy curtains shifting in the gentle breeze. Shifting onto his side, Seokjin presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, soft and unhurried. It’s only been a couple of days since you’ve been here. But it’s been utter bliss, especially after the exhaustion from finals. 

You nudge the sheet lower down your bodies and press closer to him. Tonight seems like the perfect time for something soft and unhurried. A perfect time to really connect again. No hurrying because of classes, or roommates, or meetings. No papers to worry about. 

Just you and Seokjin. In a plush bed with a cool, ocean breeze enveloping you. If you peek through the curtains, you can just make out the shape of the moon, the illumination making Seokjin glow before you. 

He’s already bared to you. Both of you showering off the ocean water from an evening dip and simply crawling into bed together afterwards. The TV is off, the only sounds filling the room is the rustle of the sheets as you move and the lapping of the waves on the shore. You dare not speak and break the peaceful atmosphere and Seokjin seems to be on the same wavelength. 

Neither of you need to speak to know how to move around each other here. He cups your face, such a gentle caress, like you’re the most fragile and beautiful thing he’s ever held. It makes you feel cherished. He leans closer and time seems to slow down with the press of his plush lips to yours. He takes his time kissing you, so slowly like you have the rest of eternity for just this moment. 

Pushing you onto your back, Seokjin cages you in, enveloping you in the safe blanket of his embrace. His scent is overwhelming like this, you could drown in it. His hips press into yours, cock not fully hard yet, but that doesn’t matter. This is about taking your time with each other. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands sliding from his neck up into his hair.

The strands are a little dried out, a combination of the salty ocean water and the fresh bleaching it got. His parents hated it at first, but he defended it as just college experimentation. It’s supposed to be a time of discovery and why not try different hair colors. He’s unfairly attractive with the bleach blonde, just as handsome as his natural brunette. You know he plans to dye it another color. But he’s yet to tell you what it’ll be. 

You give his hair a light tug, relishing the sigh he releases against your lips. 

“Tell me what you want.”

“Just you.”

“You always have me.”

Seokjin nudges your thighs apart as he kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Trailing across your collarbones, he leaves a line nips down to your sternum. His hands slide up your sides till they meet your breasts, fingers cupping the soft flesh as he peppers kisses across the expanse of your chest. He traces one nipple with his tongue, teasing the bud to stiffness with each swipe. He moves on to the other one, changing it up and using his teeth this time. The air fills with your soft moans, blending with the waves outside. 

Moving lower, Seokjin kisses your belly, taking his time to touch every little mark across your skin. Pleasure simmers in your belly, every nerve burns like a live wire. Over all that, you feel loved. Absolutely worshiped as Seokjin presses a kiss to your mound with such reverence that you think he might convert right here and now. 

Seokjin eats you out just as slowly and thoroughly as he kissed you. He savors you with each swipe of his tongue, every suck, every twist of his fingers. Seokjin plays your pleasure like a fine-tuned instrument, drawing you ever so slowly to the edge. Your fingers thread through his hair once more, not to be demanding, but for the sake of feeling grounded. His tongue laps at you like you’re a ten course meal and he wants to savor every single morsel. When you chance a glance down at him, his eyes are closed, handsome face, what you can see of it at least, smoothed out in utter bliss. 

When you finally cum, it feels like sinking into pure euphoria. Seokjin drags it out for so long and so gently that you cum a second time. Though you’re so lost in sensation that maybe it’s still the first orgasm.

Pushing himself to his knees, his face glistens with your slick and you feel bereft with the distance suddenly between you. You reach out for him and he falls right into you, lips crashing against yours as his cock presses against your pussy. But you need more than that and you squirm, drawing a chuckle from deep in his chest. 

“Impatient…” he murmurs.

But despite his teasing, he shifts until the tip of his cock catches your hole and he slides in with languid push. You sigh his name and he answers with a nod, lips brushing your neck as he pulls back and starts a slow, almost lazy, rhythm. You cling to him, nearly delirious with pleasure. 

Nudging Seokjin, you pull him in for a kiss of your own. “I love you.”

He groans into your mouth. “Fuck… I love you too. So much.”

You lose track of time, your pace unhurried. Seokjin cums at some point and the two of you lay facing each other and exchanging soft kisses until you drift off to sleep. 

 You whine as Seokjin slips his cock into you. He’s been teasing you all day on the beach. At one point while you were in the water with him, his fingers slipped beneath your suit to tease along your pussy. You’d nearly screamed at the sudden sensation, but Seokjin had merely laughed and floated out of your reach, sending you a wink as he licked his finger. The second you returned to your room from dinner he was on you. This is so different from the other night. Somewhere in between the rushed couplings in the dorms and the slow, soft sex from then. It feels just as good, a little rough, fun, light. Perfect.

Seokjin grins cockily above you. “I barely did anything and you’re so wet for me, baby.”

Huffing, you try to kick at him, but he easily pins your leg down. He tuts and delivers a thrust that jostles you up the bed and draws a gasp from you. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. 

Before you can formulate any other sort of retaliation, the sound of voices catches your attention. Glancing to the side shows that neither of you shut the french doors. The voices don’t sound close, but they are near enough for you to hear. It’s not too strange, the beach is there for anyone. But it’s the first night that anyone has been out there, at least close enough for you to be able to hear from your bed. Music soon follows the voices. A party. 

Unbidden, the thought of someone breaking away from the party, coming down the beach this way and passing by the open doors has you clenching around Seokjin. He gasps at the sudden tightness, blinking down at where you’re connected. Licking his lips, he follows your gaze and a moment later, you see realization cross his features. 

His resulting grin is downright dangerous. “What’s got you going, baby? Hm?”

Swallowing, you turn back to him, blocking out the voices. You will not give him the satisfaction. “Nothing.”

Fingers digging into your hips, Seokjin glances towards the doors again. He gives a harsh thrust that pulls a startle moan from you. “Nothing, huh? I don’t think that’s true.” He turns back to you and there’s a dark look in his eyes. “I think that you want someone to walk by and see us. That the idea of being caught is exciting.”

You scoff, deliberately turning your face away from the doors. “I’m actually bored and thinking about what we’re doing tomorrow.”

Seokjin blinks at you for a moment before chuckling darkly. “Is that right?” You nod. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

It sounds like a threat and a challenge. And you’re never one to back down from a challenge. “Well in the morning, we’re meeting your parents for brunch…” 

Seokjin’s tongue presses against his cheek as he slams his cock into you. It would force you up the bed if not for his bruising grip on your hips keeping you firmly pinned in place, forced to take the full brunt of his cock spliting you open. 

But you’re just as stubborn as him. “Then we’re going… to the spa… oh my g-god… you… you made… p-plans for lunch…” 

Every few words you stutter out are punctuated by another harsh thrust. Your legs are pushed towards your chest and his next thrust has his cock rubbing along your g-spot and for a second, your mind blanks on what’s happening, pleasure so sudden and searing that you forget everything but the full feel of Seokjin’s cock inside you. He starts to grin then, victoriously, and that pulls you out of it just enough to continue, gritting your teeth as he continues to fuck you.

“Said you had… a surprise… then we were going to… oh, fuck… gonna go to t-town… buy some… gifts… Seokjin, please…”

He grins. “Gonna admit what you were thinking about?”

One hand leaves your legs, thumb brushing your clit and your resolve crumbles with your rising desire to cum. 

“Fuck… yes! I want someone to walk by. See you fucking me, making me cum, making me feel good… Seokjin, please…” you whine out.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

His rough thrusts pick up again. This time accompanied by the rhythmic movements on his fingers on your clit. Your orgasm builds quickly and leaves you breathless as Seokjin forces you over the edge. You cry out, heedless of the volume of your voice. If anything, the thought of someone hearing how Seokjin makes you feel makes you shudder with pleasure.

Seokjin groans, hands dropping to the bed as he chases his own orgasm, smothering his moan of your name against your shoulder. 

When he’s caught his breath, he raises his head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “So… exhibitionism, huh?”

 The stories you had are probably worth a lot. Which is why you keep them to yourself. No one but you and Seokjin need to know those details. Especially not some of the more nosy people you work with. Hoseok thankfully played along with only knowing him on a professional level and not that you all went to university together. 

It’s typically pretty easy to just ignore the chatter when it comes up about him. But a couple days ago, you had a dream about him. One that after you woke up, you couldn’t recall almost anything about it. Except his face and the heavy feeling in your heart. His smile was burned into your mind and has left you feeling off since then. The mention of him today combined with the weird feeling brought back a whole slew of memories and things you had thought you’d long since moved past. To the point that you made the decision to leave work to work early because you were so confused. Why you were suddenly feeling like this about someone who you thought you’ve been over for more than 10 years. 

You never thought you’d be here back in university. Together with Seokjin. You both had thought you’d be together forever, whispered together about getting married, about the future. The things you’d do and the places you’d go to. 

 The arm around your bare waist tightens, a firm chest pressing into your back. 

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” Seokjin murmurs into the skin of your shoulder.

You chew your lip nervously before shifting in his grip so that you’re now facing each other. You’ve been thinking about a lot of things as freshman year draws to a close. All of them lead back to Seokjin.

The afternoon sunlight peeks in through the curtains, casting golden light across him and the dormroom. It’s an odd time to be in bed together, but it’s one of the only moments that you both have free and there’s no dormmates around to bother or have to kick out. Though you know Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate and faux reluctant friend, would give you both the space if you asked. You don’t want to be the person that kicks him out constantly, so for now, you both are content to steal some free moments during the day when Yoongi has classes. Maybe next year you can think about getting a little place off campus together. A place both for you guys and maybe for your friends to visit and hang out at. 

You think Seokjin looks the most beautiful under the afternoon light regardless. Seokjin pecks your nose, drawing your attention back to him and his question that remains unanswered. You feel a little nervous bringing up what you were thinking about. But the two of you have been together for almost 3 years. You should be able to bring it up to him.

Swallowing your slight nerves, you finally speak. “Was just… thinking about the future…”

His answering smile is warm and gentle and you feel like the world could crumble around you and you would be safe here in his arms. “I hope I’m there.” 

Giggling, you press a kiss to his lips. “Of course. I can’t imagine a future without such a handsome man on my arm while I attend extravagant parties and get all the jealous stares to be dating someone so much younger than me.”

Gasping with as much drama as you expect from him, Seokjin falls onto his back, hands clutched over his chest. “I can’t believe this! The truth has finally come out! You’re only with me for my youthful looks!”

Fond smile growing, you settle your hand over his as he continues a dramatic monologue about the ultimate betrayal. You wish he would listen to you about changing his major. You know he’d love being an acting major much more than he currently is in his business major classes. A major he’s in only to appease his family. 

Finally tired of his dramatics, you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, effectively silencing him. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips. 

 You wonder when he changed his degree. Or if he ever did. You know plenty of people who go into acting without the degree and Seokjin certainly had the inherent talent to do it. It would be easy to verify if you just looked him up. Someone who’s so in the spotlight now would certainly have his degree information online. But you don’t want to do that. You wonder how invasive that must be. Although you and Hoseok are beginning to get that popular too, you wonder if those sorts of things will begin to happen to you. You can’t imagine you’d be very interesting to follow around. 

Truthfully, you don’t know what would be worse in regards to the fate of Seokjin’s degree. If he had done what you had told him all along and changed his major after you two broke up, or if he had decided to follow his dreams even if he didn’t have the degree for it. It’s undeniable that it hurts either way. The first time you’d seen him in a trailer had sent you spiraling in a way that you hadn’t since the breakup. 

 There’s a pounding at the door, but you can’t find it in yourself to get off the couch. The TV is still on the channel it had been on last night and you’re still sat in the same place as then. Honestly, you only know that it’s at least morning because there’s light streaming in through the windows and when you had seen the trailer it had definitely been evening. 

You had been watching some show, whatever you landed on first that seemed at least mildly entertaining, while eating dinner. A quick break from the sketches that are scattered across your coffee table. Sketches that could lead to your first big contract.  

But your peaceful and exciting night of work had been interrupted when you’d seen a preview for a new drama. A new drama with Kim Seokjin. It had been crushing to see. You had been telling him to do that for so long. To the point that it became one of the contributing factors in your seemingly inevitable breakup. 

It seems then that the problem was never with whether or not he would follow his dreams after graduation. It was just if you would be there with him. You cried when you saw it, a vice of bitterness around your heart that while you don’t get to celebrate with him, you’re so happy that he’s doing what he loves. You’re fairly certain you stopped sometime around midnight, though the night was a little hazy as your thoughts circled around one thing. How he hadn’t wanted you there with him.

The banging at your door stops at some point, though you don’t know how long they kept it up for. And then your door is suddenly being shoved open, banging against the wall and there’s two sets of footsteps moving quickly into the apartment. You hear a muffled ‘fuck’ and then you’re being enveloped in a hug. 

It takes only a moment for you to realize who it is, the orange-y scent of Jimin’s favorite cologne washing over you. Your breath stutters then, it hurts to breathe so you bury your face in his chest and his arms tighten around you. He murmurs comforting words and someone else sits behind you, hand gently rubbing your back. 

Eventually, you calm down and you pull away to give Jimin a weak smile, one that you direct to Hoseok as well when you see him behind you. Jimin returns with a pained smile of his own. 

“You saw, huh?” You nod and Jimin sighs. “I had hoped that you wouldn’t see it last night. It’s what I was planning to tell you at dinner tonight. So you could be prepared for it. I’m so sorry I waited to tell you.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, you have nothing to apologize for.” You rub your neck. “I… I didn’t think I would react quite like this… It’s been 3 years. You worked so hard to help me out of that dark place-”

Jimin puts a hand over your mouth, cutting you off. “No, you worked hard to get yourself out of that dark place. I was just there to hold your hand. It was a tough breakup. It’s understandable if there’s occasionally things that bring that heartache back up.”

You nod slowly, not fully believing his assertion that he just held your hand post break up. You probably would’ve dropped out of university after the breakup if you hadn’t met Jimin. You look between him and Jimin. “H-how did you know to come?”

Hoseok gives a sheepish grin. “You didn’t show up to work and I got worried. I texted Jimin on my way here and he seemed to know exactly what had happened.”

“Now that we’re here. How about I go get all of us some junk food and you two find something trashy for us to binge?”

 After that, it got much easier to see him on your screen. Or on screens in the train stations. Or plastered on ads and billboards. 

It helped you actually, to finally, truly move on from him. A sort of immersion therapy to numb you to his face. You didn’t need him to be happy. You loved your budding design business with Hoseok, clubbing with Jimin, dating both casually and more seriously. It all got easier with time and you’re grateful for the friends that you have. Your friends have always been there for you, even back then. 

 Your first birthday after the breakup was rough. Seokjin always planned something elaborate and thoughtful. There would be none of that this year. You went to work in the morning, gave your coworkers a fake smile as they wished you a happy birthday with a cupcake in the breakroom before you opened the cafe. It was sweet of them to do, but the breakup was still far too recent for you to truly enjoy anything like this. 

Jimin had night classes so you would have the evening alone. You at least had your own room now instead of sleeping on Jimin’s couch in his old apartment. You had protested his plan to move to a two bedroom apartment for you both to share so you could have your own space. You knew on your meager wages you’d never be able to help with rent at such a large place. You and Seokjin had barely been able to afford your studio together.

But Jimin insisted. He had more than enough to cover rent and you could just save your money. Or buy groceries and cook. He hated cooking, could do it just fine but was too impatient for it. It seemed like incredibly inadequate compensation for him giving you a place to live, but he just smiled and said that’s what friends do for each other. You had cried and he teased you afterward and then made you buy him ice cream. But you agreed to moving and letting him help. 

And it was nice to have your own room. It was great to live with Jimin. He was the sweetest and seemed to always know exactly what you needed. Hoseok visited often too, though you don’t know if he was coming to see you or Jimin more some days, and the three of you worked hard to get through your last year of university. Together. 

But with Jimin in classes tonight, the apartment would be empty. You didn’t really feel like cooking either. So you’d probably just have some ramen. If you could even be bothered to eat to begin with. You freeze when you get to your floor, brows knit in confusion when you see a beautiful bouquet of red and yellow lilies, interspersed with sheep sorrels. The vase is a glossy deep blue, splashes of purples and pinks and speckles of white paint of soft starry night. 

You wonder who they’re for. They must have been left at the wrong door. You carefully look through the petals for a card, finding the glossy little square quickly. Tears gather in your eyes when you see the little cartoon cat head sketched into the blank area of the card. It’s a little cruder than you’re used to seeing, the ear slightly misshapen, the cheeks a little too chunky, the lines a little unsure. 

But it’s unmistakably Yoongi’s cat doodle. Meaning he must have dropped these off for you, even though you and Seokjin have broken up. And you’re not even sure if he knew where your new place was. You’d have to thank him soon for them. It makes the day a little less rough to have something so pretty. To know someone was thinking of you.

 You never did get the chance to thank him properly for the gift. At least directly. You’d taken him a coffee, a few days later, as thanks. He’d looked a little confused but never questioned or made you say anything out loud. Which you’re grateful for. Just because you and Seokjin split up, didn’t mean you and Yoongi couldn’t still be on friendly terms. Though you haven’t properly talked to him in quite a while. Maybe you should ask him to meet up soon. See how he’s been doing. 

But even with all the progress you’ve made and all that your friends have done for you, you still have the occasional bad day. Looking back on it, it had been years since you had one that affected you enough that you had to take off work specifically in regards to Seokjin. You’re really not sure what made it seem like the beach, this beach was the best place to go. But there was just something that called you here. 

For as painful as the breakup was, Seokjin was your first love. He was amazing while you were together. Always loving and supportive. Even when things started to fall apart.

 With a groan, you push the apartment door open, giving a harder shove when it gets jammed. Like it always does and your landlord refuses to do a thing about it. The lights are off when you finally get the door shut and your heart sinks. Seokjin was supposed to be home. You haven’t seen him for more than a few minutes in the last week. This was going to finally be the night you spent together. Throwing your bag down, you flick the lights on, seeing the cramped studio apartment is indeed empty. You pull your phone out, seeing if maybe he just ran out for something or if he was running late, but there’s nothing. 

You try not to let your disappointment consume you and instead grab your sketchbook from the shelf and decide to get some sketches done while you wait, hoping, probably vainly, that Seokjin will be back soon. 

You jerk awake to the sound of the door slamming and when you blink blearily at the clock, it’s nearly midnight. You turn to watch as Seokjin kicks his shoes off, weariness written in his posture. 

“Hey,” you croak and Seokjin gives no indication that he heard you. “Where were you?”

Seokjin straightens and sighs before turning to you. There’s a dead look in his eye that you’ve never seen before, let alone had directed at you. “Out.”

For all that you had been sad or worried, anger and confusion surges through you at his complete disregard. “Out? You could’ve texted. We were supposed to have a night in together.”

His jaw tightens and he drops his bag beside yours before moving towards the bathroom, the only place in this shithole with a door. “I had to study.”

And before you can say anything else, the bathroom door is slammed shut behind him. You stare at it incredulously. He can’t be serious. You’re just as stressed as he is. Finals are creeping in and along with that is planning for senior year. At the rate you’re going, summer is going to be unbearable. 

 You sigh, shaking the memories away. You don’t want to dwell on the bad anymore. Even if the breakup was crushing, the good times were amazing. With the sun finally below the horizon, the moon takes its place, casting cool white light across the beach. And with it, comes the peace of being alone. You let the sound of the waves lull your thoughts to silence.

But the sound of footsteps pulls your attention, confused because the beach is basically deserted at this time, the chill brought in with the moon driving most people inside. Your breath catches in your throat when you see Seokjin standing not far from you. The wind blows his hair from his face and he looks tired. A little older, but still just as handsome as he was in university.

There’s no way that this is happening. You must be dreaming. That’s right. This is just another dream. A weird continuation of the one from a couple of days ago. Seokjin isn’t really here. Not at the same time as you. Not when there’s no one around. Not when your heart feels vulnerable and you can admit that you maybe really, really miss him. Sometimes.

But the chill from the wind feels real. The wood biting into your palms where your grip has tightened on the bench feels real. He looks real and handsome and devastating. Every bit like the man who stole your heart in high school and broke it in college. Who loved to make sure his loved ones were always laughing. Who had such a flair for dramatics that it was never a surprise that he’s such a popular and talented actor. 

The jacket wrapped around his shoulders is unmistakably yours. A silly, casual design that you had done but never put into a collection cause there was never one it fit. You had sewn it on a whim, the idea eating away at you until you made it, settled the itch in your fingers. There’s only one way that Seokjin could’ve gotten that.

Hoseok. 

Have they been talking more than Hoseok let on?

Seokjin hasn’t noticed you yet and you’re wondering if you’d be able to slip away without having him notice you when he turns and freezes. He seems just as surprised and blindsided to see you as you are to see him. You stare at each other and it feels like an eternity and a million conversations pass between you both. He swallows and closes the short distance between you both and tentatively takes a seat beside you. 

He looks nervous when he turns towards you. Clearing his throat after a moment, he sticks his hand out, tentative smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Kim Seokjin.”

You almost laugh. It’s such a him thing to do. As if you would ever forget him. Seokjin left a scar on your heart, you’d carry a little piece of him for the rest of your life.

But the introduction feels like more than a way to break the tension. There’s a question hiding in his innocuous words. Is this okay? Can I be here? Can we be in each other’s lives again? 

Most importantly, it feels like a fresh start. A new chapter. You and Seokjin are different people now. You’re both successful. You’ve grown, matured, learned. You’re no longer the starry-eyed, hopeful kids in college. Full of dreams and hopes, but with so little experience. 

Who knows, maybe there won’t even be romantic feelings between you anymore. Maybe you’ll just end up friends. 

But maybe this new start is what you both need. The sun may have set on your relationship in the past, but maybe it was just what you both needed to let the sun rise now. Something new, and exciting, but still a little bit familiar. 

You take his hand with a smile. “Hi, Kim Seokjin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[antarax]

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

It's late at night when Damian makes a stop by your house with the intention to confess his feelings for you.

Damian Wayne x Black!Reader, gender neutral.

Words: 2,105

AN: Happy Valentine’s to all the beautiful black people in the fandom!! I dedicate this one to all of us, who rarely get any works that include us or are actually vague enough to. Hope you enjoy it 💞

It was a quiet, cold night in Gotham. Neon city lights blurred into your room as the muffled sounds of the videogame on the old TV kept you company, the blue hue of the fluorescent lights washing over your bedroom even through half-pulled curtains. 

The day had been a slow and uneventful one. For you, at least, after the hope of receiving someone's valentine had been completely blown off, the same energy manifesting itself in you as the night also dragged itself along. 

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of your window opening, having had no expectations of anything more for the day –that, and the fact that it was well into the night already. You saw Damian standing outside with his hand on the window sill, a bag in the other, Robin uniform dirty and tattered as his cape fluttered violently with the breeze. 

He seemed stuck in his place, as if he had been the one surprised, frowning like he hadn't expected you in your own room. 

The slight semblance of a smile grew on your face, "Well, come in," you said, pausing the game. 

It wasn't uncommon for Damian to stop by your building after a busy night, the moon shining beautifully in the sky and the clouds a beautiful swirl of the light as he came through your window expertly quiet. But, even then with the known comfortability and trust you two had managed to reach in your relationship, it also wasn't uncommon to feel like remnants of the younger, more insecure Damian still clung to him slightly. 

Slightly as in  heavily. 

You watched him as he moved into the small space and set down the bag on the floor, taking off his gloves and mask with the rough delicacy you associated with him. 

He stood as if he was tightly wound up, like perhaps he could breathe wrong, or whatever new, unspoken rule he'd created for himself plagued his mind now. 

It was a little funny. 

"I'm not going to eat you, you know?" 

Damian rolled his eyes, "I'm aware." 

"Doesn't look like it," You muttered, glancing down at the controller in your hands, "What's in the bag anyways?" 

"I— Things." 

You raised a brow. 

"Food, sweets. Drinks." 

"Really?" 

"Yes," Damian replied, sitting down and sagging against the wall underneath the windowsill, chest rising and falling slowly as he exhaled deeply. Damian grabbed the bag again, putting it down next to you, "They're yours." 

You set aside the controller and rummaged through the bag, the thoughts racing in your head. Damian knew you well and you him, your friendship spanning over a few years now. There had been a lot you'd trusted him with. Secrets, worries, embarrassing shit you'd done that still haunted you and Damian had been no different. He let you in on his bigger secret, how he carried the mantle of Robin every night. Some of his deepest remorses were ones that you had knowledge of; although never diving too deep in the murky waters of Damian’s life, you still valued the clear trust he had in you. 

And along all these moments, every opportunity you've had to know each other, slowly and softly peeling aside the layers covering the people you were, a warm intimacy rooted itself in your growing friendship. A comfortable sort of intimacy. 

Every once in a while you stopped by the manor on the quiet days where it was only Alfred and the animals. You helped Alfred in the kitchen whenever he was practicing for a new recipe or baking a dessert for the family later in the day. You spent hours with Damian in his room, where his cat Alfred would always curl up next to you on his bed as he worked on his art, walking around the manor or playing around with Titus and Batcow in the manor's backyard –which, really, was just an enormous open field that they were too humble to call so– and sometimes you'd even earn an invitation to dinner. 

As for you, Damian tended to visit at night more so than day, but there were moments where he would show up on a sunny afternoon when everyone else wasn't home, slumping down on your couch for an hour or two before going back to his own things. Sometimes he'd drop by books he'd seen at the library, a small trinket he'd bought at the store and various other paraphernalia that, somehow, you always ended up loving. 

Damian knew your taste well, and there was no doubt he'd spend countless amounts of time pondering over each of his gifts before they ever reached your hands. All things that while anyone else might have brushed over you appreciated immensely. 

"You know," you began as you leaned back into the foot of your bed, ripping off pieces from a napkin you'd taken out of the bag, buying time. Hesitating, "I actually— sort of, was hoping for a valentine this year." 

You gazed at Damian's eyes, your interest boring into them, digging as deep as you were allowed. They looked nervous, hilariously so. Almost like he'd been caught. But caught... doing what, exactly? 

Perhaps caught in the middle of staring back at you as he'd tend to do; how he'd tend to do and assumed you didn't notice. 

Or maybe caught when he would discreetly drop off something in your room or your locker after having seen it at the store or the cafeteria and knowing immediately you'd like it, always behind the guise of simple complacency. Caught, in his true intentions, what truly made him do all these otherwise insignificant things that were much too small even for somebody as detail-driven as Damian. 

Olive-colored eyes still shifted uncomfortably in front of you as the sole giveaway of the true nervousness Damian was drowning in, refusing to show anything more of himself, even when it mattered. 

Especially when it mattered. It was frustrating. 

"You were?" 

"Yeah," You shifted in your spot, "I was." 

No one could ever, ever know something about Damian that he didn't share. It's just not something you could do. Not when it came to him. Anybody who knew anything at all about who Damian Wayne is, at his core in existence, knows it only because he's allowed them to. 

And he'd allowed you to know this too, and yet now he was hesitating. 

"You wished to have... a valentine. Anyone?" 

"Anyone." 

"You could have, easily, if you wanted it," Damian rolled his eyes. 

"I could?" You smiled, and the twinkle in your eyes was nothing short of mischievous. 

"Yes." 

"Reeeally. How?" 

Damian slouched against the wall, "Well, you'd simply have to ask," he said it as if it had been an obvious fact, "I'm sure anyone at the academy would've said yes." 

Your smile widened as you raised your brows, "Oh?" 

Damian frowned, "You are making fun of me." 

"What do you mean? How." 

Damian crossed his arms as you laughed. 

"You think I'm making fun of you," you protested, "I'm not." 

"TT." 

"There's something you want to say, isn't there? Just spit it out, Damian." 

Damian's eyes lingered all over the room. His hands had started to sweat a while ago and by then, his heart had sped up so much he was sure it was making some attempt at breaking through and out of his chest. 

Originally, his plan had been to drop by and bring you a gift, but then he'd gotten nervous and internally malfunctioned, because he'd bought a double of everything so that you wouldn't assume it had been a gift and instead just him coming by to hang out like he always did. 

He had planned to come by, tell you he'd... harbored a few unwanted feelings towards you and hoped you would have been tired enough that you wouldn't have realized it, but clearly, his plan had flipped over backwards and blown up in his face. 

Damian took as deep a breath as possible with his collar putting him in a choke hold, as if trying to push out his words while simultaneously wanting to keep them buried the deepest he could. 

"I— hm," He stared intently at the floor, for the first time in a while feeling like the small child who would trip over his own emotions again, but he was resolved to tell you, "I like you. I suppose." 

It hadn't been surprising to Damian. More that it was hard to accept. He'd mulled over it for a long, long time. In fact, the reason he'd visited you tonight, made up his mind to tell you so, had been his ridiculously embarrassing performance. 

Being surprised by petty thieves and thrown out of the loop by measly codes, none of which happen, ever, not to him at least. Damian was far above such childish mistakes, at least so he thought until he started taking a closer look at his own thoughts and realized your eyes had gone from brown to 'beautiful pools of honey', your skin a beautiful, shining shade of brown. 

He was an artist, after all. He'd spent afternoons studying his environment, the shapes and colors, how everything fit in together; you were no stranger to his thoughts. 

Which of course, you wouldn't know. If you had, you would have taken the jump much earlier. You would have never acted based off of assumption alone, but having the confirmation, well. 

By now you had to contain your smile because surely, surely, your cheeks would be sore afterwards. 

"Wow," you raised your brows in obvious mocking, "Really?" 

Damian scrunched up his face in disgust, like he'd witnessed the most foul thing yet, crossing his arms tighter but refusing to meet your gaze as he turned to the wall. 

"You know, Damian." 

"Yes?" 

"The valentine I was hoping for this year… was yours. You could've easily made a card and thrown some glitter over it and that would be the end of that." 

"A card, with glitter?" Damian snapped his head at you, seeming almost bored as he spoke in a deadpan voice, "Is that how lowly you think of me?" 

At this you did laugh, almost too loudly for one in the morning, that you had to push both your hands against your mouth. 

Damian frowned, "Please do know that if I were to ever make something so miserable, it must be because I've been replaced. Which would not happen. Ever." 

You stood, shuffling over to Damian and sitting down next to him. 

He looked pretty underneath the moonlight coming through the window, the curls over his forehead looking soft and shiny. 

Damian looked right into your eyes, for the first time that night not looking away, he was trapped now. Not truly, he could leave, but did he want to? Not at all. 

Softly, Damian touched your hand, something perhaps akin to fear in his eyes as if he still expected rejection. 

"Damian?" 

"Hm?" 

"I'm going to kiss you." 

"Oh." 

"Unless you don’t want me to." 

"Please do. I mean—" 

It was a shy and quick kiss, but so, so exciting as Damian's grip tightened around your hand and you leaned into him. 

When you leaned away, it was with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

"Please do—" 

Damian frowned again, clearly not amused. After a few seconds though, your laugh died out. Truth is, your stomach was churning. Because, while you were very much happy and excited, you were also incredibly nervous. 

Both of you were stitching your thoughts back together, seconds of silence passing by. You were still holding Damian's hand. 

He closed his eyes, frown deepening considerably and quickly before he spoke, vile spilling out of his mouth, "A card? With some glitter thrown over it?" 

He looked downright furious, disgusted even. 

"Seriously?" 

"It's not that big of a deal," You chuckled, "Get over it." 

"Hm." 

Damian looked out the window, and you followed, the moon standing beautifully in the middle of the sky. 

Damian sighed, "I have to go." 

"Oh... okay." 

He didn't move. Neither of you did. 

Damian gave you a quick kiss again, looking absolutely scandalized when he pulled back. You stared at each other in complete disbelief before he stood up and started putting his gloves on again. 

He pressed his hands onto the windowsill and took a deep breath.

Damian looked at you, tenderly, "Goodnight, Y/N." 

"Goodnight, Damian." You smiled. 

Damian gave you a small smile, "Hm." 

You watched as he jumped off, grappling to the nearest building and laughed when you saw him standing still before disappearing into the night. 

[undeadgirlboy]

battle jacket guide for baby punks

battle jackets or vests are really big in the punk scene. they also look cool as fuck. one of my favorite things about them is that each person's is different and represents their own style and interests. there are a few different steps u can follow to make one

step one. acquire the jacket

when making a battle jacket it's best to get one without any stretch to the denim bc the elastic threads in stretchy denkm break down faster than regular denim and when you're sewing things on it you might get a weird puckering effect. thrift stores like goodwill or salvation army are good places to look if you have time, but in my experience they don't have a lot of jean jackets. you can probably find one at walmart in the mens section, or target. if you'd like something with a more modern edge or higher quality denim you can check outlet stores like ross and marshalls. that's where i found mine for around 20 dollars. of course if you have the money you can get a Levi's trucker jacket or somewhere else more expensive. the color of the jacket is up to you. now that you have a base layer you can move on to customization

step two. washing the jacket

one important thing to remember about battle jackets is that they're handwash/no wash so it's best to wash your jacket before you begin. you have no idea who has worn or touched it before now. just throw it in the washing machine on cold and go blast laura jane grace for a little bit. personally i run mine through the dryer but if you'd prefer to air dry make sure you lay it flat because if not it will get stretched out shoulders.

step three. dyeing or painting

this is the part where you can possibly dye or paint your jacket. i have never dyed my jacket, but you can find fabric dye at Walmart and just follow the instructions on the bottle. i decided to spray paint mine because i had some cheap black spray paint and i wanted to know what would happen. if you're going to spray paint your jacket, make sure you do it outside and let it dry thoroughly before bringing it in. i left mine for about 18 hours so that the smell was completely gone. after that you want to turn it inside out and run it through the dryer with a couple bath towels for about 30 minutes to heat set it. spray painting your jacket will make it a bit more stiff. walmart and some craft stores sell spray paint that is made for fabric, but i didn't feel like paying for those so i used what i had on hand. i know those are pretty expensive and the bottles don't have a lot in them. if you only plan to handwash your jacket or don't plan to wash it at all, regular spray paint should work fine for you.

step four. back patch

most battle jackets that i have seen have a larger central patch in the back, with smaller ones on the front and around it. it's not essential to have a back patch but i think it helps to tie the whole jacket together. you can either make a back patch yourself or buy one. the site angryyoungandpoor.com has some back patches for popular bands. some bands also have back patches on their merch stores, or you can make one yourself. i made mine out of an old against me t-shirt. i measured around the design, cut it out, and then sewed it on the back of my jacket. if you want to make your own back patch you can do so in one of several ways that i will cover in just a second

step five. embroidering patches

there are a lot of patches out there that you can buy, but most of the time it's cheaper just to make them yourself. embroidery thread is pretty cheap at walmart, and all you need is sturdy scrap fabric to make something really cool. when you're embroidery a patch it's a good idea to get an embroidery hoop to keep your fabric taut. if you don't like the color of your scrap denim you can layer a different fabric over it. i had some stretchy cotton left over from cropping a t shirt that i layered over denim to help keep it in shape. this also makes it easier when you're sewing your patch onto your jacket. i don't recommend embroidering directly onto your jacket because it's harder to manage and if you decide you don't like how it looks and you rip it out you're left with weird holes that don't look good. it's all up to you but i wouldn't recommend it.

step six. painting patches

if you'd rather just paint your patches, you can always use fabric paint or fabric pens. it's best to avoid using acrylic paint because it wears off and cracks, but i have heard you can prevent that by mixing fabric medium into it. i have painted a few patches with acrylic paint but i used a layer of mod podge over the top to protect it. acrylic painted patches CANNOT go through the washing machine.

if you'd like to copy a particular logo or image with paint and you're not good with freehand you can make a stencil for it. the way i make stencils is by printing out my design and then covering the paper front and back with masking tape. once I've done that, i use an exacto knife to cut out the lines of my design and then i'm ready to go. you can use spray paint with a stencil or you can sponge fabric paint onto the design. if you choose to use spray paint make sure you have fabric paint in that color so you can fix up any problems with the design when you're done.

step seven. attaching your patches.

sewing is one of the most tedious parts of making a battle jacket. if you don't know how to sew you can google it. a lot of people use white embroidery floss or dental floss and whip stitch around their patch. if you're attaching an iron on patch that you bought, you should stitch around it too to secure it. make sure you're using a thimble if you're going over seams of the jacket, or sewing on an iron-on patch. at first it might seem fine, if a little time consuming, but days of finger pain isn't worth it. i prefer to pin my patches before sewing them, but you do you. for larger patches i first attach it with a thread that matches the fabric before using a contrasting whip stitch. that just makes things easier for me but it's not mandatory.

step eight. adding metal

spikes, studs and safety pins are a staple of punk clothing. safety pins are easy because you can get them anywhere and just put them anywhere. i got a bunch of varying sizes from walmart and i put them on everything. just play around and see what you like. you can find studs at your local craft store, probably in the leather working section. you just have to poke two holes in the fabric, push the prongs on your stud through, and then bend them back to secure it. you can also get studs online if you need to. i bought a couple packs of screw back spikes a little while ago, and i have since been adding those to a lot of my clothing. spikes are simple to add too. you poke a hole in the fabric, push the screw through, and then screw on the spike. some people recommend adding a dot of super glue in between the spike and screw to secure it, but personally I haven't needed to do that.

another way to add metal to your jacket is with chains. you can sew them on all the day down, or leave them hanging. it just depends on what you want to do. you can get short chains from walmart, or big rolls of chain from craft stores.

step nine. finish up

that's honestly about it. any of the information here can be applied to vests too. if your jacket is really crusty and you don't want it on your skin you can always wear a hoodie underneath, especially when it's cold. battle jackets can be worn with basically anything. mine has always been my go-to jacket for any occasion. make sure it actually represents your political beliefs and bands you listen to. get ready for people to look at you weird in the grocery store. if anyone has anything to add feel free to reblog, and if you have questions my ask box is open. you can always submit a photo of your jacket to my blog because i love seeing other people's diy stuff. wear a mask, stay safe, and fuck the pigs <3

[bunsblr]

Tu... torial? Pt. 5.

Final part of my tutorial! This is a little all over the place, because that’s how I am in this stage of editing. Also I didn’t proofread this...

Open this in dashboard for best view of the screenshots.

Disclaimer: I have no formal training for any kind of graphics stuff, I work in an office as a receptionist - I serve coffee for a living. I am absolutely self taught and while I consider myself pretty comfortable with photoshop, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t about a gazillion of other things that can be done that I have no idea about. There are people far superior than me in the Sims community. This is just how I do it, with techniques I have picked up through the years. Some things I go over in these will be pretty basic, some things a little more unorthodox. Disclaimer 2: My edits take time. This is what I do to relax, one edit takes several hours for me. Sometimes days :))) Disclaimer 3: My photoshop is in Swedish, which is my first language. I tried my best to find the English translations for every step that I do.

Tools used: The Sims 4, Adobe Photoshop 2020, One by Wacom Pen Tablet (very basic and unfancy).

It´s hair time baby! I very much enjoy drawing hair on sims. I make a new empty layer on top of my base Sim layer.

This is where having a drawing tablet makes a huge difference. We need the brush to be sensitive to pressure to get the effect of hair strands. I chose a hard brush, small small size (how small depends on the picture size of course, but I usually land somewhere 6-9 px)

I pick up a color from the hair, I usually starts with a medium light color.

I start by drawing strands around any tips of the hair so they don't look quite so solid. I do this part with both short and long hairs. Hot lazy tip: straight unlayered hairs is the absolute easiest. This is a layered hair so I start with the bottom and work my way up. I pick up different colors from the hair as I go along, to add dept.

Continuing up in the hair and add strands to the pointy bits.

When I feel like the pointy bits have been softened I select one of my hair brushes. I use these ones by Para Vine.

I start painting "around" the hair with one of the lighter colors picked up from the hair, changing the direction of the brush every once in a while for a more natural result.

After this the hair is looking a little fuzzy, so I'm going to go back with my small harder brush to fill these parts out.

I don't add a lot of them, just small bits here and there for filling.

This is a little overkill but... now we have some of that "squary" thing going on in the hair as well that are still showing through our painted layer. Now we could paint over these, but painting can actually be overdone and I wan't to keep the hair recognizeable because the creator put a lot of work into it! So I go into liquify and smooth over any wonky lines still showing, just slightly.

A comparison of before and after hair. Still recognizeable, but softer.

This is our result so far. We've come a long way, but we're not done.

At this point (or actually sometimes sooner) I add an adjustment Curves layer, this will not end up in the finished image, this is just to give me an idea of what the image might look like with more contrast (which we will add later). I keep this at the very top of the layer panel and turn this on and off as I go. Very important to have it turned off if we are going to eyedrop a color and use that to paint, since it would pick up the wrong hue if we have it turned on.

Now I still want the front of my sim to be a little darker to fit my lighting, but I don't want to go over with any more shadow. So I duplicate my Sim layer, and go to Layer -> Adjustments -> Curves. This will only change the active layer, as opposed to creating an adjustment layer down in the Layer panel that will change all layers below it. I drag the curve down a bit to make my new Sim layer darker.

I add a layer mask to my new Sim layer, and bucket fill it with black color so the new layer gets hidden.

I chose an absolutely HUGE soft brush, with medium opacity, and starts painting white on the areas where I want the new darker layer to be showing. And blend by going back with black where the line is to harsh.

Time to add some highlights. I create a new empty layer between my two Sim layers, and add a clipping mask by holding Alt and hovering on the line between the new layer and my bottom sim layer, until the little square with the arrow symbol comes up and then click. This will make whatever I do on my new highlight layer, only show up on the areas where the layer underneath is filled.

 Time to paint. I disable the curve adjustment layer for this. I choose a bright color, in this case a light pink because I didn't want a contrasting color for this picture. I go with a big soft brush around the edges where I want my highlight to hit. In this case, the arm, the hand, the arch of the back and the calf. I didn't add anything to the face in this picture because I didn't like the way it looked, but usually a little highlight to one of the cheeks is just *chef's kiss*

And somewhere around here I got really stuck and really struggled to follow with this tutorial. I felt the picture was lacking something and I tried several different things. I added light rays, tried creating different light sources, there was a moon at some point. But I ended up with just a simple additional gradient shadow down in the right corner (on a new layer down in the Background layer group). Life changing…

And then I didn't like the pink highlight on the skin (sigh, this is how I work, but it’s not recommended to be this indecisive) so I removed that and added a more beige-yellowee highlight instead. And forgot to take a picture after the highlight was added....

And now I go into nitpicking mode. I add a new empty layer on top of my Sim layer, I add it under the highlight layer so it automatically takes on the clipping mask of the Sim layer, I name it Clean-up Crew and go in to refine anything slightly wonky. Picking up colors with the eyedrop tool and going over flaws with a tiny brush.

When I fixed this little light area on the back of her head I left the Clean-up Crew layer and went to my Hair layer instead, because I still have that separate and it's above all the other layers.

I thought my sim was a little too far down in the picture so I moved her up by selecting my whole Sim layer group and the layer on which I have her ground shadow, chosing the move tool and pushing them up. This will move all the layers in the Sim layer group as well as the ground shadow layer equally.

I'm telling y'all, nitpicking mode could go on forever. Added more strands to the bangs.

Noticed a little pointy part on the calf, so I wen't into Liquify on the base Sim layer and smoothed that out. Since the highlight layer has a Clipping Mask corresponding to the Sim layer, the highlight stayed in place.

I duplicate my Sim layer group once more, and merge the layers within this group. So now the Hair, Highlight and Clean-up Crew is all merged onto the Sim layer. I hide the previous Sim groups.

With my new Sim layer selected, I go to Image -> Adjustments -> Hue/Saturation. I want to make my Sim a little less bright so it will match the background a bit better.

I drag down the Saturation and Brightness slider a bit until I like what I see. After this I save my whole image as a PNG-file because from now on I want to edit the whole picture but still want to keep this psd-file as it is for anxiety purposes. Important: I disable my curves layer before saving this as a picture, I don’t want that brought with me into the next steps because I will be adding new curves there.

I open my new saved PNG-file. I go to Filter -> Convert for Smart filters. This will allow us to go back and change any filters we add to this layer. I go to Filter -> Camera Raw Filter and for some reason this window opens up humongus. I start by dragging down the temperature. How much depends on the picture, usually more if it's nighttime.

I pull up the Whites a bit for a cleaner look.

Now I add a Curve Adjustment Layer. Now you can add Contrast in the Camera Raw Filter as well, but I prefer the curve layer because I like to control the different levels. This way I can make my darkest parts a little brighter, giving just a little washed out flair to it all.

I select my background layer again and go to Filter -> Noise -> Add Noise and choose a level that I think looks good. This just brings the picture together a bit more. Also vintage vibes :)))

I add my frame (because it´s my aestethic and I think it looks cool on tumblr) by resizing my workspace and adding a filled white layer underneath the background layer.

I resize my picture (Image -> Image Size) because we don't need it to be huge.

And they I just fine tune the Filters and Curves until the end of time :’)))

And that is that my friends! That’s the end of the tutorial! I hope you could follow somewheat and that someone found it useful. Thank you for reading and never be afraid of contacting me if you have any questions :) I’m very friendly.

[governmentintelligence]

happy birthday motherfucker <3

Here is a birthday fic!!

Words: 4910

MASTERPOST OF THE OTHER BIRTHDAY STUFF

KNOX INSPIRED ART <3 <3 <3 <3 GO LOOK AT KNOX ART

~~~~~~~~ no fun sexy linebreak sorry <//3 ~~~~~

It’s a slow mid-afternoon at Pigsy’s Noodles, home of the longest noodles.

Spirit is wiping down the outside tables, humming to themselves as they do. MK is basically laying on one of the tables, legs bent over the side as he scrolls idly through the restaurant’s email. Yes, email—the main network that nearly every business uses has gone down, citing a massive server outage.

“Ugh, no one even uses email anymore, and especially not for food orders,” MK groans.

“That’s not true!” Pigsy and MK had been going back and forth on this for about the past hour, since walk-in orders slowed. It had been almost thirty minutes before someone came in, and while this was an alarmingly slow state, it was unusual for MK to be waiting for orders to deliver rather than the other way around. “People use email for catering events! And if anyone really wants some good noodles, they know they can call in!”

Mei, leaning with her back on the counter, and Tang, sitting at his usual counter spot, share a look. These two had been ping-ponging their argument on and off since the server shut off earlier in the day. It had been demon related in one way or another, another one of Yin and Jin’s hairbrained schemes that MK interrupted before much irreversible damage was done. They’d been hoping to gain control over the city’s main set of servers, used by most mobile apps.

While they’d been swiftly defeated, it still left a remarkable amount of damage on the servers themselves, leaving most of the city’s biggest commercial apps down, including the delivery app.

“Okay, and how many call-ins have we gotten?” MK looks up, only to be met with a glare.

Tang shrugs at MK’s assertion. The argument’s been going in circles thus far; it feels only fair to try and interrupt it. “He’s not wrong. A lot of delivery’s based out of the apps. This is really why having a delivery app trust is helping to wear down independently owned businesses.”

None of us came here for a lesson in market monopolization and trusts, though, readers included. Mei groans, and MK’s arms flop over the sides of the table.

“I’m too bored for a lesson in macroeconomics,” Mei grumbles.

MK, from where his head is leaning over the table’s edge, makes a sound of agreement. Pigsy and Tang share a look, Spirit can see them through the window, before Tang leans back towards MK’s prone body.

“Hey, never too bored to become even more bored!” Tang sounded too chipper when he said it.

That got MK to look up from where he was tangling over the table, giving Tang a glare that mirrored the one Mei was sending him. Even Pigsy stopped stirring his noodle broth, turning to stare at Tang with his eyes squinted.

The silence is moreso what gets Spirit to look up, and once they see everyone staring at Tang, they stare, too. Mostly out of curiosity and partly out of confusion.

They can sense the tension, however light, from a mile away. It makes them hesitant to come back inside, but they have the dirty rags to throw into the laundry bin from cleaning the table. Then, they have to throw the laundry into the machine and change out the cycles, maybe fold the other load of dishrags and washcloths.

Having Spirit’s three extra eyes on him does get a nervous chuckle out of Tang, though. Pigsy spares him the plight of having to redirect the conversation. “I’m still goin’, til closing. It’s slow for deliveries but we’ve been getting some walk-ins and some call-ins. What if a catering order comes in, you know?”

“Aren’t catering orders supposed to come in, like, days before they want you there?” Mei hops over to the counter now, leaning over the side.

That revelation has MK leaping off of the table, landing light on his feet on its surface. Having his various Monkie Kid abilities has helped with some of the acrobatics he does, including his balance. “HANG ON, YEAH!”

He spins around, pointing at the clock on his phone while he flashed it towards Tang, Mei, and Pigsy. “Indoor seating closes soon! And Spirit just finished wiping down tables!”

Mei picks up what MK is suggesting first, throwing her arms up in excitement right back. “CAN WE GO TO THE ARCADE EARLY?”

Her voice is much too close to a shout for Spirit’s liking as they come back in and toss the towel they’re holding. It echoes around the restaurant, likely too sharp of a sound for anyone else here to hear. Mei means well, though, and Spirit knows the conversation doesn’t involve them.

Until MK says, “YES! Hey—Spirit!”

Hearing their name shouted, however friendly, gets their shoulders to hike. They turn around, expression just a tinge wary, and face MK’s excited grin head-on. “Would you want to come with us?”

Leave the restaurant? Well...it was slow. And Spirit wasn’t a cook, they were a waiter and a busser. If people were eating in the restaurant, it would make sense to have an extra hand on deck, just in case.

But right now, the only person eating in-house was Tang, and he’d gotten to the point where he was washing his own dishes when no one else was around. If Pisgy was okay with them going out….but they wouldn’t want to go to the arcade. It was loud and crowded. Many lights and many people and many machines making loud victory sounds. If they could avoid it, they would want to.

They pull at the sleeves of their shirt. It’s a plain white one, the kind that they prefer wearing to work so they don’t get any of their recognizable clothing dirtied. They only have so many sets in purple, after all, and they don’t want to get any dirty here. Plus the black and the white kind of helps to blend in.

“I don’t know. I, um….” They press their fingers together in thought, holding their hands together in front of themselves as they think.

A grunt from behind the counter drew everyone’s attention once more. Pigsy was still stirring the broth with one hand, watching the conversation over his own shoulder. “Maybe not the arcade with Spirit, you know how packed it gets at this time. All the kids getting out of school.”

There was something tender about Pigsy’s concern. Spirit smiles a little, lips pursed tight in the growing tension, and shrugs.

Mei wasn’t about to take a hard “no,” though. She nods to Pigsy’s suggestion that the arcade wasn’t the right place and then adds on, “How about the thrift mall?”

The thrift mall was a new installation of the city. A collection of thrift stores, auction houses, and antique stores all shoulder to shoulder in a multi-story shopping complex. It had just opened about a month ago and reviews were all positive. Plus, the idea of thrifting was returning to popular culture as something akin to recycling, so it would solve some of the fast designer fashion problems.

On a more personal note, too, Mei had been hankering to get a look at the place. She liked adding her own flourishes to the jacket she’d gotten MK years back, so much so that it was a thing she did to her own (to match with her best friend, duh?!) and to almost anything else she could get her hands on. Vintage patches, from the mid 2800’s, even some from as early as the 2500’s, could be found in the backs of antique stories. If she could get her hands on something from even the 2700’s, Mei would lose her marbles.

She’d been dying to go, of course, but every time she and MK were on their way, something would happen. Usually a demon would attack in some way, shape, or form, something small. Once, they made plans, and MK had completely forgotten he was on shift for delivery that day.

Things just kept misaligning, and MK very much knew how desperate Mei was to go to the thrift mall. Sure, there was the repeated asking, and now there were the current puppy dog eyes.

MK, also very much desiring to go, immediately follows suit. “Can you come to the mall with us?” he asks Spirit, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly.

And now they were faced with two young adults giving them the saddest looks they’ve ever seen.

The thrift mall was new, yes. It was nearby the demon market, actually, and there were even some stores in the mall that were fronts to people whose names were in their book. It would likely be much quieter, no loud blaring music, no smoke machines or flashing lights.

More...agreeable, in a way.

They’re also pretty hesitant to say no to these kids looking at them like that. Not to say that that’s the only reason they’re going! They haven’t gotten a fresh new outfit, rather than clothes they wear to the noodle place or the variants of their own outfit, literally since Macaque took them to the tailor’s way back when. Clothes were just a societal necessity, not something that they cared much about anymore. Though, if they’re going to a store, it could be nice.

But, at the end of the day, how can Spirit say no to the expressions MK and Mei are giving them.

“If you would want,” Spirit answers.

They have no idea how they get themselves into it, honestly. MK and Mei both hiss a soft “YES,” slap palms, and from there, things go quite fast. They’re still in their human disguise, wary of any other humans seeing them in their monkey form, but they find that that’s for the best. Maybe when looking at clothes, though, they’ll change back. They wouldn’t consider themselves vain, but they’d like to see what looks good on both ends…?

Arriving at the thrift mall is interesting, because it isn’t the world’s most distinguishable location. Spirit lets themselves be pulled in behind the two chattering adults, Mei almost bouncing off the walls in excitement as she recognizes some of the stores.

Very immediately, too, she pulls them into a warehouse-looking location right inside the building. It’s lined with racks and racks of pants, and apparently the upper layer is meant for tops. There are many colors, many styles of clothing that Spirit hasn’t seen in fashion for years. They’re not caught up on pop culture in the slightest, but they catch sight of a band shirt that was definitely from the early 2900’s.

Another surprise is that the store is relatively empty. For a newly opened mall, you would expect crowds of people to be trying to pack into the stores, but this one’s labyrinthic nature seems to be separating the groups of people out a lot better than a regular store’s open flooring would be. Less people to run into when there is simply less road and so much more clothing to look at.

Spirit does their best to follow behind Mei and MK as they go up the stairs, into the similarly packed tops section. They weren’t really planning on buying anything, moreso just look and wistfully desire. But then Mei whips around with a purple varsity jacket, a dusty pink-purple in the middle, and whistles.

“Hey, Spirit, it’s a you jacket!” she laughs.

It does fit uncannily well with Spirit’s own color scheme. They look it over and nod slowly. “It is,” they say.

The peer pressure is on now, though, as MK leans over Mei’s shoulder. “Try it on! Let’s see if it fits!” he says.

Well, now….Spirit puts on the jacket carefully, knowing that it’s at least many decades old. It’s surprisingly sturdy and comfortable, likely from being worn by someone ages ago. It’s a little short but, in terms of width, it fits perfectly. They find that they can zip it up with room to move.

“It’s kind of soft,” they say. “I like it. I don’t know where I’d wear it, though.”

“Hey, you never know where you’d wear something until you’re going there,” Mei responds with a wave of her hand. “I don’t think through my outfits every day.”

“You don’t?” Mei looks pretty put together consistently, so that comes at a surprise.

Spirit remembers Macaque telling them that they need a serious outfit to be taken seriously, that their appearance is their first impression. They try to put a lot of thought into the things they wear whenever it’s not

Mei, however, just shrugs. “Nope! I usually just throw on a shirt and then my jacket over it.”

Interesting. And she still managed to look very cool.

Spirit follows Mei and MK through the aisles, watches as MK climbs on top of Mei’s shoulders to grab another shirt, this one with only one strap on the shoulder and a cute tie off. It looked like a very summery shirt. But it was purple, which Spirit didn’t consider MK or Mei’s colors, really.

Until he, still on Mei’s shoulders, leans towards them. “Hold up that one!” he says as he shoves the shirt into their arms.

They catch it and look over the fabric, soft and sturdy. They hold it up for MK and Mei to inspect, both humming in approval.

That was how the mall visit turned into a Spirit-centric fashion show, hosted by MK and Mei. Spirit was just along for the ride honestly, catching the articles of clothing that were just being dropped into their arms. MK and Mei were like a whirlwind, ripping out anything that looked remotely purple and showing it to the other for opinions. They murmured and schemed together, Spirit catching bits of “too rough” and “too loud” to describe some of the discarded articles.

It takes some time, but after about an hour, they’re walking around with a modest pile of clothes. Spirit thinks there’s a dress in there, even which is going to be a very interesting try. They haven’t worn many dresses.

MK and Mei were being intensely serious about this, too. They were inspecting each article before pushing it into Spirit’s hands, showing them to each other for confirmation. Most were actually hung back up, unfitting in some way or other that they weren’t privy to.

That was fine, though, because they don’t think they could have tried on everything that was purple in this warehouse. It was hour two, halfway through the bottoms section, before the tiredness began to kick in. Socializing was kind of hard, after all.

At least they weren’t having to talk for a lot of it. Mei stopped a few times to ask if they were doing okay, MK asked if they were hungry or if they all wanted to take a break, but Spirit wasn’t tired enough to want to leave just yet. And if these two were having a good time, then who were they to stop them mid-shopping.

At least the tops section went a little faster. Most pants weren’t built to handle fur, squeezing a little too tight, with the added limiting factor that MK and Mei were mostly looking for bottoms to match the tops they found.

The accessories section wasn’t as big as the tops or bottoms sections, of course, but there were still a series of wonders. The socks were in here, surprisingly. After one look at Spirit’s bare feet, though, MK and Mei only decided on one pair. They didn’t even glance the shoes section before grabbing what looked like a straw-woven fedora and pulling Spirit towards the changing rooms.

“It’s time to try on all the clothes!” MK proclaims, and Spirit kind of saw this coming, but they’re still confused.

“Why were you handing me the clothes?” they ask.

MK and Mei stop, both turning to Spirit with blank expressions. It must just now be registering that they never actually asked them if they wanted to wear the clothes, because they share a small glance before Mei goes, “Um….for a fashion show?”

Now, that’s interesting. Spirit’s not going to say no, of course not, but…. “Why?”

“Because you would look so cute in these,” Mei says. “I mean, vintage leather is all the rage now, everyone’s got one.”

She points out the purple leather jacket at the top of the pile and points to the fitting rooms. “It might be cool to have multiple sets of clothes that’re kinda, you know. Styling.”

“You’d be a fashionista,” MK adds on, pretending to swoon.

“What an icon,” Mei catches MK as he pretends to fall. “Stellar.”

They both hold pose, too, as they watch Spirit watch them.

And, come on. How can they say no to that.

Spirit gulps, then nods, almost worried. They don’t know what they’ll look good in. According to Macaque, it’s hard to find clothes that look at least acceptable, so they don’t enter the changing room with high hopes.

The outfits are all fairly modern, and Spirit wants to get the socks over and done with first. They pull on the socks, a deep purple with lilac dots, and notice that it’s a stretchy kind of fuzzy. They’re thick enough but hole-y enough to let their feet breathe in. Then, they pull on the cargo shorts, button up the purple shirt, and head on out for Mei and MK’s look.

They’re both sitting on a bench chatting outside of the fitting room, something about something on Mei’s phone. Probably another funny cat video, if we’re being honest. When Spirit walks out, though, Mei shuts off her phone at record speed.

They both “ooo” at the outfit. “Do a turn!” MK says, and Spirit obliges.

It feels comfortable. Almost summer-y in how the outfit was loose, yet contained itself in enough of a way for them to be mobile. The pants are a lot less tight than they seemed, and the whole outfit makes Spirit kind of want to climb something. Maybe a tree.

“You look so CUTE!” the exclamation catches their attention again as they notice MK clapping excitedly, Mei shaking her fists up and down, both unable to contain their excitement.

It was strange to see them so excited over Spirit’s outfit. They weren’t really expecting that kind of compliment over their appearance, especially after how quickly Macaque reminded them that they were hard to dress for.

“Really?” they ask.

MK and Mei nod their heads so fast it’s a wonder they don’t fly off.

“Hell yeah!” Mei jumps up, hopping to Spirit’s side. “I love the button down on you! The white one you wear at the noodle shop is pretty, too, but the color is,” she does a chef’s kiss motion as she hurries around Spirit for another 180 look.

“No one else is around, you could transform! We should see how it looks with all the fur,” MK suggests.

And he’s not wrong, per se. There aren’t any cameras in the changing rooms and there isn’t anyone else back here, not yet. Plus them being a monkey isn’t too big of an issue when they’re out of the restaurant. Some customers can get rude over the potential of fur in their soup and if they don’t have to change, they don’t always want to.

Spirit changes back, fur poofing out, and it surprisingly slots nicely into the spaces between the threads of sock. Their tail swishes right above their pants and their hands shake, almost in excitement, before they quell the movement.

“And it still looks awesome,” MK does a fist pump.

“Did you really have any doubt?” Mei says with a laugh, and MK shrugs.

The confidence almost washes off onto Spirit. Maybe it does, a bit, as they turn back to the changing room they’d exited.

The next outfit is one of the dresses. They’re feeling spicy, what can they say. It has a cute pink collar, a whole second layer of fuschia beneath a dress with semi-shimmering fireworks.

“You look gorgeous! Oh my god!” Mei says when she sees Spirit.

The next outfit is the one with the hat, along with a pair of jeans and the shirt with the tied off shoulder.

“I love that! The shirt looks so good on you!” is MK’s appraisal to that one.

An outfit with the purple leather biker jacket over a pair of black jeans and a pink shirt.

“You’re such a badass, so stunning!”

A dusty purple dress with white scalloped trims.

“That’s adorable, oh my—that neckline, though!”

Spiked cuffs, a choker, and a collared shirt with a smiley face design.

“You look so cool as a punk!”

Spirit was buzzing by the end of it. They hadn’t tried on this many outfits in this quick succession in a while, but every time they changed clothes, they would exit the room and do a spin for MK and Mei.

And every time, without fail, MK and Mei would applaud and compliment, which was the most surreal part. They weren’t used to that, not in the slightest, not when they were so hard to shop for. The last time, with Macaque, that must be….what, centuries by now? Absolute ages.

They’d assumed shopping would be hard, after that. But with MK and Mei’s cheering, they found it hard to be worried.

That didn’t mean they weren’t tired. They excited the changing rooms and began putting the outfits onto the rack to be taken back, when Mei hopped off the bench.

“Aw, did you not like them?” she asks.

Spirit blinks, surprised. “Um, no! They were really nice. I just, um. Don’t know where I would wear them.”

Mei blinks, as if she doesn’t really understand that sentiment. Spirit scratches the back of their neck, watching her and waiting for a response. It must be weird for her to think of that. She and MK hang out every night, once the noodle shop is closed. Mei must not understand that Spirit simply doesn’t have a place to wear them.

“Oh,” Mei hums.

It’s a fight that she doesn’t pick, it seems, and Spirit’s fine with that. MK sighs along with Mei. “Fair enough, if you don’t want them. I think Pigsy’d be okay with you wearing something flashy around, though!”

“That’s good to know,” they say, and they leave it at that.

Neither of the other two butt in, either, which is nice. Truth be told, Spirit’s not sure where they would wear the clothes, other than to the noodle shop. Plus, they don’t really know where they’d store it. Probably at Pigsy’s place. But would they want to take up even more space than they usually do? They wouldn’t want to just have stacks of it sitting by their hammock. That feels unnecessary.

They still leave the thrift mall with an air of relief and contentment. All of those outfits were really pretty. Very different, sure, but very pretty! Spirit could see themselves in them. Gosh, if Red were here, he would have been ecstatic over it. He has an eye for designs, they know.

While they’re happy to move on to the next store not having gotten anything, both MK and Mei keep glancing at them, as if worried. And they don’t really know what else to say, other than what they already have. The looks make them a little nervous, though.

At the very, very least, they spent a good four hours in that one giant store. It seems to be one of the mall’s super stores. Mei and MK bring Spirit around for a small walk at the others, coo’ing in interest at a vintage electronics store they found—Mei finds a perfect duplicate of the phone Spirit used to have, which they chuckle about. They enjoy being able to see the many emojis that everyone uses! Red’s fire emojis pack more of a punch now, as do Mei’s green hearts. They aren’t shocked at all to find that their phone’s dupe is labeled as “ultra rare,” and that it’s priced in the upper hundred thousands.

There’s also a vintage patch and accessory shop that Mei basically drags MK and Spirit into, though that’s not to say they need much convincing. She does buy a few there, too. Spirit just looks at some of the cuter ones, finding a blue skull that looks almost purple. Periwinkle, the store’s representative calls it. They think it’s cute, though they put that back, too. What need do they have for these things?

Sure, they’re pretty, and Spirit thinks it would be nice to own them. But….well. Where are they going to put it? Where are they going to wear it all? Would they have to do laundry more often? They just don’t really know, you know, and it’s not something they want to commit to.

On the ride back to the noodle shop, MK and Mei make jokes about how they should give Spirit’s old phone away to that antique store. The owner would probably lose it to see another one still functioning. Spirit just laughs along, social battery drained after many hours of working at the store and the four hours they spent at the mall. It feels nice, though. They don’t often go out for so long in such an agreeable space.

It’s a nice moment they think back on, and in their sleep, right before it overtakes them, they think of the varsity jacket. It looked a little like Mei and MK’s.

And that’s the last Spirit thinks of it.

Until a few weeks later.

It’s by closing of the shop that Mei approaches Spirit, holding something behind her back excitedly. She hadn’t been in earlier, since noon, and while MK hadn’t said anything about it, Spirit suspected something was happening. Pigsy had asked a few times, surprised to see Mei out doing something else during a time they’d’ve expected her to be taking up the seat next to Tang, and he’d been almost cagey over it. Spirit had just hoped that nothing was wrong.

But then, when Mei got to the shop, she bounded in with a whirlwind of energy right before stopping in front of Spirit. MK, too, hopped off of the chair he’d been sitting in as he listened to one of Tang’s tales.

Spirit, to their credit, was just washing dishes. And now they were, again, being bombarded with puppydog eyes from the duo.

They didn’t even say anything! They just stared at Spirit, who looked to the side at Pigsy, then at Tang, then back at the duo.

“Um, yes?” they were almost nervous now, despite the expressions, so they dried off their hands and stepped around the corner.

A package is shoved into their arms. They jump, taken aback by the sudden movement, but then look at the package. It’s just wrapped in clear plastic, so they can see exactly what it is. It’s the exact varsity jacket from the thrift shop, the purple one. But it has a special patch on the front, the blue skull they’d seen at the store.

Carefully, Spirit unwraps it. As the sleeves unfurl, Spirit notes that there are elongated white cuffs and a white trim along the bottom. Likely to make up for the space it lacks to fit Spirit’s body. Maybe other alterations were done, too, because it does seem generally bigger.

They flip it around and emblazoned on the back is a giant patch sewn on and hand-embroidered of Spirit’s face. There are two circles beneath their hair, too, in the same blue as the skull. They realize it might represent earrings, to the others. To Spirit, it represents something much different.

Spirit isn’t used to. Receiving things. They just stare at the jacket for a second, as if their brain can’t compute that this is a thing for them, with nothing attached. It was like Mei giving them an upgraded phone. But this doesn’t even have any value. This is just something that they saw that Spirit enjoyed, and then got.

“We know you didn’t know anywhere to wear the clothes, and we were throwing like, full outfits at you. But we did want to get you something, you know? No strings attached, I just wanted to get you something to fit with ours, and this one was just too perfect to leave! I loved making it,” Mei explains, hands pressing together as she watches Spirit’s face with her own wide grin.

“So, like, if you don’t want to wear it around, you don’t have to. There’s no pressure, at all! But we thought it’d be cool if you, uh. If you had the option to match,” MK jumps around, showing his own jacket. “Like you’re part of the team now!”

Part of the team.

Spirit couldn’t remember being a part of anything, not for the longest of whiles. Yet MK, the Monkey King’s whole successor, who they really shouldn’t even be talking to if you think about it, is proclaiming to be on the same team as them?

They don’t know what words there are to describe the feeling, but Spirit’s hands ball on the jacket, holding it tight against their chest. They don’t know when they started smiling but now they notice it only because it’s beginning to hurt their cheeks.

“I love it,” their voice is a whisper, almost afraid to raise it. “Thank you.”

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (3)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.9k warnings: flirty heart eyes, excessive emphasis on fluff, love is in the AIR, the knowledge that these happy times won’t last forever....... 👀 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“You did what now?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, explicitly ignoring Sam’s full-bellied laugh as he struggled not to spill the open lidded coffee cup on the impossibly small table between them. There were near tears in his eyes and patrons of the Brooklyn based café were all staring in their direction. Bucky tugged the bridge of his baseball cap lower over his eyes.

“Leave him alone, Sam. It was a good idea,” Steve warned, voice low, as he turned to Bucky to clap a hand on his shoulder. He gripped at the muscle, massaging the tender scar tissue, before dropping his grip. “It gave him an in with Y/n. He needs to work on building that foundation of trust before he can start figuring out what she knows about Hydra. Ain’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky nodded, his lips pressing to a thin line, though it felt forced, jarring against his features. 

“Yeah.”

He could still picture the shock in your eyes; the surprise and the realization as he placed the book in your hands. He had thought for a minute that you were going to laugh at him and discard the old, worn down copy he’d stolen from his high school library as a sophomore because it in no way compared to the first edition novels worth thousands of dollars sitting upon your shelves, but the smile that lifted your lips had made his heart feel like it was going to burst out of his chest.

Sure, maybe there was a part of him that knew that your library and your clear love of fiction would be an easy target to begin building a connection, a layer of trust, before he could start getting the information from you he needed, but it wasn’t why he’d spent two hours tearing apart his childhood bedroom in search of the book.

He wanted to see you smile again.

He wanted to see your eyes light up and the way you bite on the corner of your lip. There was just something about it that made his stomach twist in knots, that made his own mouth start to curve at the edges, and his heart beat just a little quicker. It was so rare to see it from you, especially in the days your husband lingered around, but suddenly, it was all he could think about.

He could have asked for the funds from the Bureau to buy you the first edition, writing it off as a necessary expense for his cover, but somehow, he knew you’d appreciate the hand-me-down copy more. It had character and a history. It was messy, and a little broken; a glimpse into his life, his real life, something he was never supposed to cross the boundaries of, but it served its purpose.

He’d seen you around the house carrying it under your arm for nearly four days after he’d given it to you. Sometimes he’d spot you sitting in the living room, nose deep in the pages as he walked in the front door behind Rumlow before you’d get up and quickly escape to your library without a word to your husband, though you stopped and caught his eye before you left, holding up the book so he knew you were reading it and giving him that short, stolen smile before you disappeared.

You had run into him on the fifth day and swatted him with the book in a rare moment when he was standing by himself in the kitchen, Rumlow having gone up to the office to gather some paperwork before they were meant to head to the Lernaean.

“What did this poor book ever do to you?” you had teased him, flipping open the pages of his copy of A Farewell to Arms to find stains of Dorito dust in the folds on page 76, mindless doodles done in blue ink pen on the top corner of page 117, and a sticky note taped to the inside back cover of a crude drawing of a lanky, high school version of Steve with big angry eyebrows and a boxing gloves held up by his face.

“Sorry, I guess I should have looked it over before I lent it to you.” Bucky laughed, swiping the book back from your hands and earning a pout in return. “I mean if you don’t want to finish it, I’ll just take it b--”

“I never said I was done with it, you vandal!”

Your laugh was like music to his ears, melodic and captivating, and he hated the moments you cut it off short and closed it away to the darkest parts of yourself; moments like when your husband walked back into the room.

Rumlow had eyed you with a kind of look you must have been familiar with because your smile fell away instantly and Bucky released the book to your grasp. You held it down by your hips, eyes glued to the floor. He had watched as you left the room without another word, book gripped so tightly in your hands, the pages started to crinkle.

He knew what he was feeling was dangerous. It went against every code he swore an oath to. He’d be pulled from the case the second Director Fury got wind of his personal attachment to you – if that’s what he was going to call it. There wasn’t really a way to describe what he was feeling.

Infatuation. Admiration. Longing. Ease. Attraction.

He didn’t know.

All he knew was that he wanted to see you smile more, wanted to knock Rumlow’s teeth in for more reasons than why he was stationed undercover within Hydra in the first place. He wanted to know why you were involved in this world to begin with and how you ended up trapped in a marriage you clearly wanted nothing to do with.

He wanted to protect you from all this; from Hydra, from his investigation.

A few conversations, a couple smiles from across the rooms, and it changed everything.

“Buck? You awake in there?” Sam chuckled, tapping a finger on Bucky’s forehead until he swatted his hand away with a grunt.

“Knock it off, Wilson,” Bucky grumbled, bending down to take a sip of the burning hot coffee resting in his grasp. It stung on his lips but he swallowed it back anyway, the heat of it warming down through his chest.

“It’s been almost two months,” Steve said casually, “how have you been holding up?”

Bucky glanced around at the busy café. It wasn’t unusual for them to meet in public places and talk about the case, as long as they kept details vague and didn’t draw any attention. Hell, Bucky just needed an outlet sometimes outside of the conference rooms and safe houses he usually met the team in. He was thankful Nat typically elected out of their Sunday coffee runs because she was always able to read him like a hawk, and he was certain she’d be able to pick up on his affection towards you in an instant.

“It’s fine,” Bucky shrugged. “Boss is still a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, well, we already knew that,” Sam agreed, pursing his lips with a shake of his head.

“You said there were some guys there who seemed to be blackmailed into their work?” Steve asked, voice a little quieter now.

Bucky nodded. “Seems that way. Not everyone is there by choice. Still working out the details of who but I’ve got a list going for Nat when we meet up next week. I’m supposed to be stationed out on the docks this week so I’ll talk to the guys then.”

“Good, good,” Steve said. He paused for a moment, staring down into his coffee, studying the swirl of the soft chestnut coloring. “You being careful?”

Bucky smiled at that. For a kid who spent his youth getting himself into trouble and leaving Bucky to watch over his back, he sure as hell got protective himself once his body grew into his rebellious and reckless attitude.

“Yeah, pal, you know I always am.”

“Something just feels different about this one,” Steve said, leaning back into his chair. A woman behind the counter was staring at him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly upon noticing her eyes, shrugging the collar of his jacket up to cover the pink blush in his cheeks.

“Well this is the biggest profile case we’ve tackled,” Sam offered casually as he took a sip of his coffee, grinning at the way the girl at the counter shamelessly ogled at Steve.

“I don’t like that he’s in there so deep with no one to watch his six,” Steve shook his head, teeth gritted.

“I’m not alone and you know it,” Bucky responded, reaching across the table to grab a firm hold of Steve’s forearm, squeezing just enough to get him to meet his eye. There was hesitancy there and Steve wasn’t usually one to worry. “I’ve got you guys, remember?”

“You just need to watch yourself, alright?” Steve exhaled, patting at Bucky’s hand until he released his arm. “This is the first time you’ve been put in so close to the target. You spent most of your time in his house, Buck, and with Fury tellin’ you to get close to the wife, I just... I worry there’s too much on your shoulders and somethings going to fall through the cracks.”

Bucky sighed, exchanging a quick look with Sam who’s teasing smile had faded away upon noticing the genuine concern and anxiety in their friend.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to him, Steve,” Sam said, sending a wink at Bucky before he added, “you know he’d never let us hear the end of it.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Damn straight.”

Sam punched at Steve’s shoulder, grinning again, and didn’t let up until Steve finally relaxed and sat up further in his chair, the tension clearly washing from his muscles.

“Now that that’s all settled,” Sam teased, clapping Steve on the shoulder, “how about we focus on getting you the pretty barista’s number?”

***

Sundays used to be your only good days.

You used to find solace in warm teas and coffees from Café Ramos and freshly baked bagels from the Marselli’s; freedom in the wind gusting through the open back streets of Queens. Far away from tourists and amongst the bodegas and apartment buildings, you walked dozens of blocks from where your driver dropped you off; an added precaution to keep Brock from tracking down where you spent your time, and who you met up with.

Peter was sitting on the stoop of the brownstone, cheek resting on his hand and slouching up his face as he stared down at his phone. There was a lovesick look in his eye and you wondered if he ever got around to asking that girl out from school he’d been crushing on.

He was a sweet kid. Kind. Compassionate. Intelligent beyond belief. But his optimism and habit of overlooking flaws to see the best in someone, while admirable, was dangerous. It was why you worked so hard to keep him away from Brock. Your husband had a talent of convincing kids like that with an eagerness to please and a family tight on cash to join his ranks.

Peter was like a brother to you, having grown up with him running around your father’s house at all hours of the day when Aunt May was working, but lately, you kept him at an arm's length. You never let him over at the house, kept details vague about Brock’s employment, and insisted on walking the fourteen blocks to his apartment to pick him up, even when he offered to meet you at the subway stop near where your driver dropped you off.

He was a sweet kid, but he was naïve. Young. He had some learning to do. It was what you liked so much about him. You could use a little unending joy and positivity in your life.

“Hey Aunt May!” you called, waving at her as she walked by the front window folding a shirt from the dryer. She paused, turning towards you with a big smile and made her way to the door.

Peter had nearly fallen over on himself, clutching at his chest, his phone on the ground where it flung from his hands upon your sudden arrival.

“You okay there, kid?” you laughed, bending down to pick up his phone. No cracks. You handed it back to him with a wink.

He chuckled nervously, brushing off the screen with the edge of his shirt. “You scared me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so nose deep in your phone, Z.”

“Yeah, okay, Mil.”

“Z? Mil? You two develop another coded language or am I losing it?” Aunt May folded her arms over her chest as she leaned against the frame of the door.

“Gen Z,” Peter explained, pointing to himself, and then to you, “Millennial.”

You and Peter had some years between one another and, sure, you didn’t always understand the other’s lingo or quirks in their behavior, but it didn’t make much difference to either of you. It was another reason to poke fun at each other. Siblings were like that.

“I still think it’s funny you spend as much time together as you do,” Aunt May smiled.

“Hey, I keep him out of trouble!”

“-- and I keep her young.”

“Okay, watch yourself, kid,” you warned, laughing as you poked him hard in the side, causing him to jump away a few feet to escape another attack.

Aunt May always did like you being around so much after Uncle Ben died. Peter didn’t take it so well, not after losing his parents too, so he spent hours every day at your house when Aunt May was on shift at the hospital. You’d occupy his time and keep his mind from wondering back to finding his uncle in the streets, alone and bleeding. He was so young when it happened, you were surprised that when your father died just a few years later, he had insisted on doing the same for you.

The years between you didn’t matter. Not when it came to a bond like that.

“Will you come say hi already?” Aunt May teased, stomping her foot playfully as she opened her arms to you and you rushed up the stoop to fall into her embrace. She smelled of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and you peaked around the corner to find trays lined up on the kitchen table. Your stomach growled.

“Do I smell--”

“You want some before we go?” Peter asked before shoving his way inside, not quite bothering to wait for an answer as he started grabbing a few cookies from the table, bouncing a particularly hot one between his hands before he shoved it in his mouth.

He grabbed two for you, slipping them into your outstretched hand as you stepped out of Aunt May’s hold. She smiled at you, brushing your hair from your eyes in that motherly way you’d missed since you were a kid. You supposed it was another thing that drew you and Peter together.

“Don’t think I forgot about that science project you have due this week!” Aunt May called as you and Peter started to walk to the sidewalk. He visibly winced. “I want you home before dinner, Peter.”

“Okay, okay!” he groaned, shooing her off with a wave of his hand and sent you a glare as you struggled to contain your laughter.

“Oh, man. I do not miss high school,” you grinned, taking a bite of the cookie and nearly choking on a moan that slipped out. Buttery soft and warm gooiness melting on your tongue. Heaven.

Peter rolled his eyes, nudging you with his elbow playfully. “Don’t rub it in.”

***

Your Sundays were never exceeding exciting. Most of your time spent with Peter was just running errands, taking deposits to the bank for Aunt May, picking up lunch at one of the sandwich shops, getting him a new pair of sneakers he so desperately needed even though he fought you on paying for them for about an hour before he gave in.

They were often mundane and filled with idle chatter, sitting on park benches and watching the people walk by and the tourists taking photos in front of brick walls. He’d sit there and talk for hours because that’s amongst the things Peter did best. He'd tell you everything from his latest science fair project, the progress on his Lego set with Ned, the kid named ‘Flash’ who pranked him again and filled his locker with whipped cream.

It was simple. It was easy and comforting.

It was an escape.

Peter had nearly forgotten he was supposed to pick up a few things from the corner store for Aunt May, so you were on your way to the shop with the black cat who liked to sit perched in the window just to get a good look at her again while he tracked down the milk and bread.

The wind was picking up and you tugged your jacket tighter around your chest. You glanced over at Peter who had his hands shoved into the thin layer of his jacket, cheeks a little pink from the wind and he shivered. 

Your heart ached a little and you decided you’d talk him into a new coat on your next Sunday together. He’d never make it through New York winter with holes in his pockets and no protection from the blistering wind.

While Brock didn’t give you access to enough of your father’s money to make it on your own, you had enough to buy things for Peter, to collect your first editions, and to remain moderately comfortable.

It was a ploy to keep you content, a carrot to dangle for the arguments when you’d threaten to storm out of the house you shared and he’d remind you, you had nothing without him, that he could implicate you in each and every one of his crimes, and you’d stay. Every time. You’d stay.

You had no choice.

And for years, you’d grown accustomed to the prison your home had turned into. Until you met James Karpov.

You’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel the twist of nerves in your stomach, to seek someone out amongst a crowd and to feel the relief deep in your bones upon finding them, upon finding blue eyes and dark brown hair, warm smile and that slight nod. So impossibly subtle and somehow it became the best part of your day.

Maybe you were naïve, and maybe it had simply been too long since anyone within that home had treated you with even an ounce of kindness or respect that you clung onto the first man who so much as smiled in your direction and asked about one of your overpriced books, but it gave you back a sense of yourself you’d been missing.

You started smiling again, starting looking forward to the days Brock held his meetings within the house in hopes that James would be there and you could ask him how far along he’d gotten in Fahrenheit 451. You were careful about your interactions with him, knowing that Brock was an exceptionally jealous man, even if your conversations with James were innocent.

And they were.

They had no greater meaning or underlying feelings.

So you told yourself, anyway.

The wind was picking up again and Peter was finishing up a very long and overly detailed recount of he and Ned’s favorite comic book series, when you realized you’d walked nearly five blocks without realizing it.

“Did you give Michele the necklace yet?” you asked him as you crossed the border into Brooklyn. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, um, not yet! But I’m working on it,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ve got a plan.”

Peter was starting to tell you all of the intricate and perfectly timed details of this ‘plan’ when you spotted someone across the street that caught your eye.

Tall, with long brown hair swept behind his ears and hiding under a baseball cap, hands tucked into the pockets of a familiar bomber, he swatted the arm of a friend on his left while the other scolded him.

You narrowed your eyes, not even realizing you’d pulled to a stop until Peter came rushing back a few paces, complaining he’d kept on walking without you. You apologized quickly, a little out of focus, and asked him for a minute. He nodded with a shrug and pulled out his phone, sinking down to the sidewalk and waited patiently.

“James?” you called over the rush of traffic. He didn’t seem to hear you.

You’d never seen him outside of your husband’s home and it was strange running into him in such a personal environment. He was with friends, off the job, his guard was down. A bright smile, brighter than you’d ever seen it on his face as he laughed loud enough for the sound to carry across the street. It made something in your chest clench.

You called his name again, a little louder this time, but the blare of a horn drowned you out.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you held up a hand to warn oncoming cars that you were crossing the street and quickly wove your way in and out of lanes until you made it to the other side of the road. You glanced in his direction, brushing out the dirt on the thighs of your jeans before you approached him again.

“James!”

You were only standing a few feet from him and he still didn’t respond. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth and feeling a rush of embarrassment.

This was his day off; he didn’t need to be dealing with his boss’s wife.

All this time, while you were caught up in your own head with fantasies of ‘what if’s’ and finding solace in his short, kind smiles, he was probably just appeasing the wife of his boss. He must have known how lonely you were, could sense it a mile away, and he was simply being polite. You just misinterpreted it for interest or kindness or something, but it was clear your stolen moments over classic fiction and subtle glances across the room were exclusive to the walls of your home.

You turned to leave, clenching your hands into fists and puncturing the skin, when you heard your name called from behind you.

“Y/n?”

You spun around to find James staring at you with wide blue eyes. He was clearly surprised, caught off guard in a way few men of his rank within Hydra ever were, and he glanced back at his friends hesitantly before they quickly departed, retreating to a table on the edge of the café they had left from. He walked closer to you, enough so neither of you would have to shout over the rush of traffic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you,” James said, that smile tugging on the corner of his lips as he everted his eyes. He was nervous, swaying in his stance and running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s okay!” you replied quickly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything with your friends.”

He clenched his jaw at that, the smile fading from his face. “Friends? What friends?”

You peered around his towering shoulders to find the two men he was just standing with sitting over at a table at the café, talking to one another and stealing glances in your direction over the tops of newspapers they had just nabbed from the adjacent table. It was endearing, if anything.

“So, the guys siting over at that table pretending not to watch our every move aren’t your friends?” you asked, a slight laugh in your voice as James shook his head.

“No,” he responded shortly, though when you narrowed your eyes on him, grinning, he sighed, “yeah, ok. I know ‘em.”

You pursed your lips, glancing between James and two men sitting over at the table; the dark-skinned man with the toothy grin seemed to be thrilled to watch James fumble his way through half of a conversation, while the tall blonde one punched at his friend’s shoulder, seemingly warning him quietly to knock it off.

You sighed, noticing the way he kept glancing back at his friends, shuffling his feet like he wanted to be just about anywhere else than this conversation. You tried to ignore the free-falling feeling in your stomach.

“Look,” you started, feeling a little uneasy in your stance now, “it’s totally okay you don’t want me to know about them. I get it. You want to keep your personal life separate from work. It makes a lot of sense, especially with, um, with what you do and, um, I’m part of work, right? Different worlds. Don’t need to be bothering yourself with the boss’s wife in your free time...”

His whole body seemed to freeze and his eyes went wide.

“What? No, that’s not it at all!” he quickly explained, but he seemed to relax for a moment, glancing back towards his friends. “They don’t know what I do outside of the cover at the club. I just don’t want them catching wind.”

You nodded, knowing full well how that felt. A wave of relief swept through you; like a rush of water pushing away the aches and twists and breaks in your chest, leaving behind only that pleasant little tug you felt every time he walked in the room.

“You must be the new guy!” a voice chimed from behind you and you nearly flinched from the shock of it.

Speak of the damn devil.

Peter was suddenly at your side, a little out of breath as he looked James over, wide eyed and grinning. “Holy cow. He really is all muscle, huh?”

You shoved Peter hard in the side, cheeks flushing with heat as James laughed a little under his breath.

“I thought you were gonna stay on the other side of the street until I was done?”

“Got bored,” he shrugged, pushing you aside and turning to James. “So! What’s the likelihood you’ll let me sneak into the Lernaean? I’ve got an in with the owner and Y/n never lets me get anywhere near that place. Tell me you’re cooler than my cousin, man, I’m beggin’ you.”

You must have stopped breathing because your lungs felt like they were on fire. Peter had never been so brazen as to bypass your carefully constructed boundaries like that, but then again, he’d never met anyone from Hydra before. It was your mistake to confide in him about the strange new ‘bouncer’ with the blue eyes and the unexpected appreciation of fiction. Peter was curious by nature and he just liked seeing you happy.

James must have sensed your distress because he raised a brow at you, but your jaw was wired shut. Peter couldn’t know about this world. You had to keep him out of it. You tried to convey that to James with a simple glance, but he didn’t owe you anything. What would he care if this lanky kid knew about Hydra and the world you lived in? He was still Hydra himself and you had to constantly remind yourself of that.

“Please, man,” Peter begged. “It’ll make Flash so jealous and I need a win over that jerk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, kid,” James replied. Peter let out a very dramatic groan and it got James laughing. “It’s not a good place for a minor to be hanging out, anyway. Listen to your cousin.”

The fear didn’t escape you, even as Peter seemed to let the topic go. You liked James, that much you were able to admit to yourself, but did you trust him enough to protect Peter from Brock’s world... you weren’t sure.

Trust wasn’t so much a step as it was a cascading waterfall into an abyss. It didn’t come easy to you.

“Fine. But I’m not giving up that easily,” Peter huffed, folding his arms over his chest. He caught sight of the watch on his wrist and pouted. He turned to you. “I should head home anyway.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll walk yo--”

“No, you won’t,” Peter argued with a massive smile. “I know you still have stuff to do before you head home. I’m fine on my own, you know that.”

You did. Didn’t mean you liked it.

“Besides,” Peter continued, that cheeky grin tugging on his face, “I’m sure Mr. Karpov here wouldn’t mind escorting you the rest of the way.”

Your throat ran dry. “T-That’s entirely unnecessary... Peter.”

You sent him a glare but it only made him laugh harder as he started to back away down the sidewalk. He winked and quickly turned his shoulder and jogged down the remainder of the block just to deprive you of the chance to argue back. The little shit.

Spinning back around to James with an anxious grimace on your face, you quickly held your hands up to apologize but he was laughing to himself, causing you to lose your train of thought.

“I really don’t mind, you know,” he said, and of course he didn’t, because he simply couldn’t make it easy to disregard that nervous feeling in your stomach when he looked at you.

“It’s super boring,” you warned and he shook his head with a smile, some stray pieces of hair falling into his face. Damn that smile of his.

“What are we doing?” he asked, like it wasn’t even a second thought.

“There’s a café a few blocks from here,” you started, carefully watching his face for signs that he was surely making fun of you or appeasing you to be polite, but came up empty. “They sell paintings by local artists and I’ve been wanting to replace this godawful modern abstract Brock’s interior designer hung in one of the spare rooms. He wouldn’t notice anyway, don’t you think?”

James shrugged, a nodding slightly as he chuckled. “I don’t suppose he would.”

You chewed on the edge of your lip, gesturing for him to follow you down the street and he did so without hesitation.

There were only a few minutes of silence, of walking side by side with hands tucked carefully into jacket pockets and side stepping pedestrians with their noses stuck in their phones, before you worked up the courage to say something.

“Peter doesn’t know about our world,” you said suddenly, keeping your eyes trained ahead of you, scared that if you even looked at him, you’d lose your nerve. “I work really hard to keep it that way, so if you could-- if you could avoid mentioning to Brock that I was with him today, I would – I would really appreciate that. You know how Brock can be; always trying to recruit kids on the street to push his product and I don’t-- I don’t want Peter anywhere near--”

“You have my word,” James said simply, genuinely, and you let out a heavy exhale that released like flood gates. “No reason to tell the boss what I do on my days off and who I run into, right?”

You nodded, a little lost for words. “Right.”

You paused at a stop light, stealing glances at him as he mumbled a soft apology to the elderly woman who was attempting to push past him to get to the front of the sidewalk. She was uneasy on her feet and using her walking cane as weapon as she clicked it against his ankles and he quickly stepped out of her way. He winced, rubbing at his right ankle with the back of his left shoe.

As the light turned green and the old lady pushed past, shoving a few other pedestrians out of her way, you turned back to James, grinning so wide it hurt in your cheeks. He was chewing on his lip.

“This could really damage my rep, huh?”

“Just a little,” you laughed and you were certain if your hands weren’t shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket to hide from the cold, you may have offered your hand to him. Just instinctively. His hands were so big, they seemed warm, safe.

“I finished 451, by the way,” he said as the two of you rushed to cross the street before the light turned again.

“What’d you think?”

“Never as good as the first time,” he shrugged but there was still a semblance of that smile on his lips. “Still pretty great though. Didn’t even spill coffee on it or anything.”

“I suppose I should be impressed, considering the way you treated Hemingway,” you laughed, shoving at his arm with your elbow, and though a hit like that would have had Peter stumbling a few paces, James barely even flinched, but he did start to laugh.

“Come on now, you know I was in high school when I last touched that thing and you can’t trust a teenage boy with shit,” he teased and you found yourself grabbing onto his arm for support from that laughs making your unsteady on your feet. He didn’t seem to mind at all, not even as you suddenly realized what you were doing and quickly released him with a quick nervous brush of your hair from your eyes.

You cleared your throat, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. “I finished it last week, actually. I can return it to you tomorrow if you--”

“It was a gift,” James said simply. “Keep it. If you want, I mean. I know it doesn’t exactly fit in amongst all the first editions and fancy copies so you can get rid of it if you--”

“No! It’s, uh, it’s perfect. Thank you,” you said and he pressed his lips together to keep himself from rambling.

He was right. It certainly did stand out amongst the novels on your shelves with the cracked and broken binding, the doodles in the pages, and the stains on the cover, but it was so entirely human. It was a relief to have something of imperfection amongst masterpieces.

***

Bucky wasn’t quite sure what to make of you.

It was the most relaxed he’d ever felt on an assignment as he walked alongside you down the busy streets of Brooklyn. You tried to lead him down less crowded alleys and avoid the cross-section of tourists taking photos in the street because you noticed the way he tugged at the bridge of his cap to pull over his eyes but it was near impossible. You must have mistaken his attempts at concealing his identity in a part of the city that knew him well for anxiety around the bustle of people.

It was sweet, he thought, that you were observant enough for things like that and tried to make it easier on him without saying a word. You’d give him silly excuses to travel down abandoned streets and act like it was you that wanted the space away from the crowd, but he knew you were doing it for him.

You told him about the café you liked to visit with the family you’d grown to know well over the years and the bagel joint a few blocks away that Bucky spent many years grabbing breakfast at as a teenager. You talked like you knew the owners, spent time with them and caught up on their weeks when you waited for your orders, and somehow that didn’t surprise Bucky at all.

He felt an ease by your side he’d never felt in all his years in undercover work. He was used to be on edge, to watching his every move and purposefully concealing parts of himself to create firm boundaries between his cover and himself.

But not with you.

The rare moments he spent alone with you were the only times he felt like Bucky Barnes, even under the guise of James Karpov.

But he still had a job to do.

You were smiling, telling him about a pain-in-your-ass student from your time teaching at Columbia and he could tell how much you missed it. There was a brightness in your eye, a flicker of nostalgia, of loss, and he hunched his shoulders against the cold with a steady breath.

“Why’d you quit?” he asked when you’d finished your story. Your smile fell away quickly and he nearly regretted asking. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean, it sounds like you really loved what you did. With all the books you collect and all, figured you’d quite enjoy an outlet with people who are as obsessed with fiction as you are.”

That got a slight laugh out of you, but it was tense. Your eyes were on the sidewalk, jaw clenched.

“Oh, I… um…” you were struggling to come up with an answer, one to bullshit to him. You weren’t ready to trust him and he should have known better than to ask so soon. “I stepped down when I got married. Brock has more than enough money. I don’t need to work anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to,” Bucky offered because part of him simply just wanted you to know that not every man would isolate you from the things you loved and demand you give your entire life to him. The other part, the one screaming in the back of his head, knew that validating you like this, giving you the support you so clearly craved, would only build on that trust; trust he would need to use you as an accessory to bring Hydra to ash.

He hated that part of him. He never used to.

You nodded, chewing on your lip. “Doesn’t mean I can.”

He changed the subject quickly after that.

He knew well enough that it wasn’t a good sign that he was putting your feelings over his commitment to the job. On any other assignment with any other target, he would have pressed harder, would have asked how you met Rumlow and why you married him at all if this was the life you’d end up in, but he bit his tongue.

You were talking about a local kid’s high school musical you wanted to attend and suddenly you were smiling again. The tension left Bucky’s chest and he felt at ease, pushing aside the nagging voicing in the back of his head, reminding him why he was stationed next to you in the first place.

It seemed to quiet down the longer he walked with you, the more he stole glances at your smile, the more his stomach seemed to twist to pleasant knots whenever you look at him.

***

“What do you think of this one?” you asked, pulling his attention back to the painting hanging above two teenage girls huddled around a single laptop, sharing a pair of headphones as they struggled to contain their laughter.

The painting you were looking at was filled with reds and oranges, yellows and dark blue, soft brush strokes in gentle waves across the frame; it looked like a sunset, warm and comforting. It was in stark contrast to the cold and isolating nature of the house and he supposed it was why you liked it.

“It’s nice,” he said. He wasn’t as attuned to the arts as you were, but he knew it was nicer than the one you were trying to replace. It was one that made you smile. That was enough, he thought.

“Think Brock will be mad if he finds out I’m replacing a $50,000 painting with one done by...” you squinted your eyes, leaning in closer to read the tag, “a lovely young art major named Wanda at NYU?”

“Not if he never notices it.” He winked, nudging your arm.

You smiled, the lines of it wrinkling up by your eyes and Bucky had a hard time tearing his gaze away from you as you politely waved over the owner and pointed to the painting on the wall. 

Bucky leaned against the counter, watching from a distance as you conversed with the owner for a few minutes, and after a while, he gasped, staring at you with wide eyes. You must have told him how much you were willing to pay for the piece.

Steve and Sam were going to rip him a new one at the next meet up, he was sure of it. There was no way they didn’t catch on to how easily he retreated back to Bucky Barnes, highly capable FBI special agent and nervous wreck amongst pretty women, from James Karpov, enforcer to the world’s deadliest mafia.

You turned back to him, raising a thumbs up with the biggest smile on your face he’d ever seen as the owner moved to take down the painting. You were practically giddy with joy and he found himself smiling until his cheeks hurt, even long after you turned away to start writing the check.

He was such a goner.

[fabricdragondesigns]

CW:  Discussion of sizes, clothing fit, and patterns v ready to wear (other than the 1st item not really in any order)

1. first of all, if you are new to sewing you need to memorize this  *Your pattern size has nothing to do with the size you wear 'off the peg' or 'ready-to-wear.*

0nothing

not at all

no, i don't care if they say something that "sounds like" ready to wear sizing.

2.  you need to take your measurements.you do not have any idea HOW to take your measurements if you are not used to buying patterns, because everyone has taught you incorrectly.    

2a. UNLESS patterns say otherwise they are fitted for a 5'6 woman with a 'B' cup size.  You want to  buy  the pattern based on your "high bust" (above your girls)  if you are larger than a B cup, and then make adjustments.  if you do not do that you will buy for the "bust measurement" and it wont fit your shoulders.  many patterns have pre-done adjustments for  C and D cups, but THEIR idea of a C and D cup may not be yours- check the fit.    

2b.  for the love of Gd do all your fittings and measurements in the same bra- or same type of bra- that you will actually be wearing the pattern with.  a strapless bra v a regular bra will change your fit.

3. worth its own bullet point:  all patterns are designed with ease (extra space for it so you can move) and/or  'design ease (how it fits, like a 'loosely fitted' top is not as tight as a 'slim fit')   

3a. If you are sewing a skirt with a snug waist, but full swishy gathers... it will fit over a wider range of hip sizes than the pattern says.      

3b. you buy your pattern based on the part of the body that is a critical fit.  if it drapes off my bust and then  is "A" line  (flares out) it doesnt matter much  if my waist is a bit larger than the pattern.    

NOTE:  if you have an *extreme* difference of size between your waist bust and hips, you may need to worry about this, but if its just a little off the measure in a loose fitting place?  dont worry about it.

4. did i mention your pattern sizes are not your RTW sizes?  i did? cool... have i mentioned that your RTW sizing is an arbitrary number that varies widely between brands anyway?you knew that? good.

4a.  fit of a pattern can also vary between vastly different brands.CHECK THE PATTERN AGAINST YOUR MEASUREMENTS because while the 'big three' you see in the fabric stores may all be similar,    EVEN those have specialty lines that use different sizing... and if you get into ANY of the other designers?  Totally different sizes.

5. you need to make a 'muslin' or test fit (pin fit) the pattern at the very least.   

5a. no, seriously you do... at least until  you have made enough similar patterns that you can check the fit against your existing work.    

5b. if you cannot bring yourself to "waste" the sewing on  a muslin?  at least either buy a 'fun fabric' to make a trial run in, or buy double of your fashion fabric.    

5c. ok, but don't swear at me when you find out you need to replace that 'perfect' fabric because the pattern doesnt fit, and now you cant find anymore.

6. If you expect to launder the clothes? you need to wash the fabric before you cut and sew it.    

6a. this is also where you keep a close eye on red, purple, blue and other super saturated colors for any sign that they are 'bleeding' and likely to end up making all your white blouses a weird pinkish color in the next wash.   

6b. some fabrics (cough linen and linen blends) fray and can generate a lot of lint- especially on the first wash. this is why many people serge or zig zag stitch the cut ends of the fabric before washing.

7. look at the pattern and choose fabrics wisely.  That  pleated swishy skirt may look really cool in a crisp  stiff fabric, but it wont be a SWISHY skirt... it will stand out away from your body...  this may be what you want, but it may not.Likewise that crisp jacket detail will look sad and wilted in a soft  drape fabric.

8. pattern photos (the models) often show the patterns in fabrics that do not help you understand the pattern at all- look at the black and white line drawing that shows you the seam lines.    

8a. also, yes, they choose really weird  fabrics for some of the photo shoots- no we don't know why.

9. seriously please get  any shame or obsession with "sizes" out of your mind (in general but in sewing especially).    

9a. no one will see your size number: it doesn't appear on the back of your dress, but if it makes you feel better put a label in everything you sew  with whatever size you like.    

9b seriously? sizes are not even consistent in RTW, and they are not the same across different pattern lines.  the whole point of sewing is to make the clothes fit you.    

9c. honestly you can get professionally made clothes labels and put whatever size you want on them. a friend who made clothing actually named her sizes after the fit models she used,  so Roseamund and other names were *sizes*... its cool.  your clothes should be YOU sized.

10. pattern making and alteration sounds scary, but even if you dont want to do it at all? some things are really easy.    

10a. some patterns  come with interchangeable parts, so once you make one outfit that fits, you can wip up a dozen with different necklines, sleeves, amounts of swish in the skirts, length in the pants, pockets...    

10b. certain changed are easy- peasy.  change the fabric  (remember the crisp versus draped fabrics?), make it dressy or casual,  changing pleats into gathers (or vice versa) add trim, pockets, embroidery, lengthen or shorten it.    

10c. some changes are a bit more skilled, BUT STILL WITHIN BEGINNER capabilities, just  take your time!add an over-layer of lace (in whole or in part), add width to a sleeve and make it a dolman or a flutter sleeve, add width to the skirt, changing it from a straight skirt to a full skirt, add a colored insert, or 'slot seams' (not as hard as it sounds, trust me)

you can LITERALLY make hundreds of outfits out of a good basic pattern set by making minor adjustments!

[spinchip]

Recognition

Words: 1900 Warnings: ask to tag? s11 consequences lol Summary: Zane recognizes the Skull sorcerer the first time he lays eyes on him in Shintaros palace throne room.

Beneath the marble walls and vaulted ceilings of Shintaro's largest and most ornate structure, Zane feels completely at home and horribly out of place all at once. It’s an itching ice-burn across the back of his tongue that he must swallow down, one that threatens to choke him in blood-tinted memories while simultaneously offering a simplicity he craved- but complicated feelings aside, The halls of the palace are just as breathtaking as the shining city he’d first laid eyes on. Along the base of each mable panel there’s fancy gold trim and intricate blue carved patterns in long elegant and intertwining curves, obviously painstakingly etched. Along the far wall windows line the corridor to fill their trek with clean sunlight, not even a single dust mote caught in its rays. it’s cleaned with scrupulous care and maintained with the utmost discipline, the kingdom unwilling to allow it’s mythic perfection to be sullied under the fresh eyes of outsiders. Guards pass by in loose formation on some sort of patrol, their armor glittering in the light- they are too lax, their weapons held too loose to be any real threat, their eyes stray and wander too easily. Weakness.

Zane is in his element. Not literally, of course- though a layer of ice along the walls would have been an improvement in his opinion- but he knows the game of courts and kingdoms more confidently than he knows his shaky position on this team. The others claim there is no question to his place within their ranks, but he is no fool, and he understands intimately how his loyalty has been called into question when he tried to strike down their leader- His leader- Lloyd. He clenches his hands, blunt nails digging into the soft of his gloves with enough force to tear if he were careless. He has been the ice emperor for decades longer than he’s been Zane, there are still remnants. Detachments he cannot bridge yet, not with the screams still imprinted into his code. Not while he still misses his scepter.

They are led into a room bigger than the rest, a cavernous space swallowed up by its own pretentious need to be the best, and in the middle of the room is a raised dais, gold and marble white and blue, with a throne reaching up into the sky only curbed by the ceiling boxing it in. There are more windows and guards with wings, flying in and out as they work. It is not quite as grand as his own throne had been, too small and non-threatening and pure. The man atop it doesn’t straighten up as they walk in because he is already sitting as proud as he can, shoulders squared and jaw clenched, but he does smile broadly and welcome them to his kingdom with a leap to his feet.

His friends move to bow at the lead of their master and he is only half a second behind, beating back the way his lip threatens to curl at the action- only months before, an entire realm was bowing to him. They stand tall once again and King Vangelis looks to each of them with a warm, kind smile-

And cold eyes.

The Ice Emperor shifts beneath his skin, he is like us.

Lloyd preens beneath the eyes of the king, the others following suit with quiet confidence. Dark eyes stutter when they catch glowing blue. For a long moment, Vangelis won’t break eye contact with Zane, holding it until he is forced to move on to the others to be polite- and he must be polite, or they will see through his act. He must be the picture of a perfect king so they will look no deeper, but what is hiding past that mask of a kind smile? He recognizes it, almost feels kinship with the malice sitting in his chest. A black hearted ruler, dark intentions and violence sewn into his hands. He knows.

And Vangelis knows that he knows.

Even as he introduces his daughter, his eyes flicker to Zane, searching. He sees us too, the Ice Emperor spreads across his body in numbing cold, He knows what we are, and he is looking for an ally in us.

or an enemy.

This is dangerous. The king's interest is now a knife blade Zane must balance on, and he must not slip or the king will assume him a threat and do what he must. False crimes are all too easy to fabricate, evils invented to condemn a man (an entire people even- formlings falling under his hands-) childs play to a puppeteer who has decided on the beginning of his dark path that the end will justify any means. Of course, the Ice Emperor will not fall to a coward like Vangelis who hides behind clean robes and pristine hands, but to stand against the kingdom of Shintaro when it believes their king to be just- to kill with no concrete proof? His friends will believe he has frozen again, no matter what he will say.

A part of him cringes and cries to think so carelessly of raising his hand, but he has lived long enough now to know that the best way to defeat an enemy may be to make them your friend- but the second best way is with a knife. Protect those who cannot protect themselves, even if it ends in blood.

Vex would tell him to strike now, before the king could gather his bearings and think- box him in, rush him, corner him and make him scared and panicked. Make him afraid. Make him make a mistake, stop the threat before it becomes too powerful and then break it so badly no one will try again- but this is too delicate a game to rush, and too brutal a strategy to deal. He is no longer a great and feared ruler- the Ice Emperor shifts in unrest- He must play his hand carefully. He cannot strike down a villain who has firmly set himself as a friend. How would he justify it? How could he explain that he knew, without deepening the fissure between himself  and his friends?

Vex is not here, but we were not helpless without him. We can think. Have we forgotten that our scepter also had a blade? Cold blankets his chest and it burns, Wait, be patient and play innocent, the moment to bleed will come.

He considers telling the others anyway, of handing them the truth with soft edges, a more palatable version of the truth. Tell them something about visions or senses, something nebulous and hard to pin down that they must trust anyway, because they still trust him. Because he does not lie.

...No. He cannot break that trust.

We are still soft.

Wait and be patient.

____________________________

Hanging in the jaws of a Vengestone cage, stuck high above the molten floor and burning heat in a hopeless situation, the Skull sorcerer taunts and heckles them. It’s cheap and weak, fear founded on threats and big reveals, undermined almost immediately by his friends' easy taunts and jokes. He is too inexperienced to be truly frightening, he is too wet behind the ears to make them scared. Without fear he has already lost. he has no control.

“Enjoy your final moments of levity!”

“They will be your last!” The skull grinds out, the voice of a man long since dead catching and scraping through the veil to reach them.

Lloyd plays the ace up their sleeve in Cole and Vangelis only to have it thrown back in his face as the Skull Sorcerer reveals himself, squashing half their hope of a rescue in one blow. He takes off his mask and Zane can barely pretend to be surprised.

We know you, there is barely a rush of cold with the vengestone around them but Zane can feel his presence all the same, With or without a mask, we see each other.

He knew the moment he laid eyes on the sorcerer for the first time, back in those white marble walls and vaulted ceilings, when the man wore a different mask. He knew the moment they first locked eyes and he saw himself in his reflection. His ledger was stained red with his sins, the blood of the Krags and the formlings and the innocents who he did not freeze will not wash from his hands. the Geckles and the Munce sully Vangelis.

And misery loves company.

He explains his plot to break the Geckles and Munce with a civil war, grinning behind his mask, “Now you know. May the knowledge bring you some peace in your final moments.” He hisses, turning to go and then- no, he doesn’t leave, does he? Hovering with his back turned for several heartbeats. The skull makes a displeased noise, agitated at his sudden inaction, green smoke curling and thick in the air.

Vangelis faces them slowly, and despite how his eyes are cast into black darkness, he knows his gaze is trained on him.

“Listen well,” He says sternly, “This is an offer I will only give you once.”

He moves closer with the barest beat of his wings, reaching out to grip the vengestone of the cage with a hand that shimmers with toxic magic and they all crowd away from the color warily. Behind the mask his eyes burn, “Join me.”

“What?” Kai sputters, shoulder bunching and eyes blown wide, “Us? Are you serious-”

“Not you!” Vangelis doesn’t allow him to finish, shooting him a dark glare before flickering his eyes back on Zane.

It would be in his favor to keep his eyes on us, The Ice Emperor comments darkly, a snake willing to strike.

He inclines his head ever so slightly in respect, “Emperor.”

Despite the vengestone, burning cold crawls rapidly up Zanes spine at the acknowledgement, ice crowding behind his eyes and making his circuits skip and jump. The tension in the cage grows tenfold, crushing in on his shoulders and trapping like a vice around his chest. Never had Zane thought he would be so bold to actually reach out to him when he had so firmly planted himself on the opposite side of this fight. The Ice Emperor jolts and rushes under his metal skin, his coolant like slush in his inner wiring as his chilling presence forces its way closer to the surface.

He does not attempt to get any closer, sitting just under Zanes eyes. His friends are silent and wide eyed, as if they want to say something but instead they are all holding their breath- what will Zane choose? It’s a test. They are frightened that they aren’t certain of the outcome.

“Yes, I know of your trip to the Never Realm, and what you did while you were there. You and I... we know each other, don’t we? You see me.” He cocks his head, the intense darkness where his eyes smoulder from eat at Zanes resolve, “Shintaro’s perfection is paid for by vengestone. I’ve done this to ensure my people will live out their days in bliss and joy. My magnificent city is built upon this labor- with you below and me above, we will secure Shintaro's place as the greatest city Ninjago has ever seen.”

We know our answer, the Ice emperor tells him silently.

Yes, and he could end it all. Yes, and he could slide the knife in the sorcerer's back where it belongs. Yes, and he could put him down the moment the vengestone vanished. Cole is still out there. This is not Zanes fight.

No.

“You have found no ally in me. I’d rather die.” He tells him honestly, grim refusal on his lips. His friends are still and silent and relieved.

His mask goes carefully blank as he pulls away, “Rest assured,” He says strongly, voice unwavering despite his disappointment, “You will.”

____________________________

In the aftermath, when the former king screams and writhes on the ground in an unhinged mess, he wails, “I just wanted what was best!” He cries, “I did it for the good of my people!”

You were wrong. He’s not like us. Zane thinks as they drag the man away to stand trial. 

How so?

He had good intentions.

The Ice Emperors laugh spreads frost through his mouth, it’s an itching ice-burn across the back of his tongue he must swallow down-

Or he’ll choke.

[frostsinth]

Lost Time - Pt. 1

- MasterList -

Dear Gods; Its been a long time without having an active and open orc story. SIX WHOLE DAYS LORDS! So I decided to rectify that immediately. .. With a new orc story. Sincerely... Me.

I have... 3 open stories now, not including the Reptile Monster One-Shot and  the OctoMer One-Shot I was thinking to continue... But I missed my orcs. I need an orc story at all times. So enjoy!!

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The pounding in my head wouldn’t reside, despite how long I kept my eyes closed. I squeezed them tighter, finding my hand in the swirling, spinning pain that was my brain, and willing it to come up to palm my forehead. The smell of dirt filled my nostrils as I did, and I managed a groan. What the hell happened?

Last thing I remembered was… well, that was a blur. A foggy shadow clouding my thoughts. At least, what thoughts I could distinguish amid the blinding pain and dizziness.

I laid my head back against… something, and waited. Nothing else to do for it. Hopefully I wasn’t in any immediate peril, or someone was watching over me. My head hurt too much for me to even consider trying to differentiate between the different sounds assaulting my ears. 

The minutes ticked by like hours until slowly the throbbing and swirling subsided. There was still a dull ache behind my eyes, and a stabbing pain at the back of my head. But I found the courage to crack open one lid. Blinding light hit me square, but a few timid blinks had it clearing into a smooth wash of emerald green.

Trees, I realized. Or, more specifically, a canopy of leaves with sunlight splashing through them. As my brain took in that realization, it connected the sounds of rustling leaves it had previously dismissed. The smell of dirt now washed with the smell of greenery and bark. Pine, I thought, though I was sure there were others that were less distinct. The general expected rumblings and trappings of the forest filtered through as well; bird song, a squirrel chittering. And someplace distant, branches snapping.

I managed to sit up a minute or two later, but cradled my head in my lap as a fresh wave of dizziness struck me. I breathed in carefully, in through my nose, then out in a rush through my mouth. Felt the pain subside once more like a cool compress to the back of my head to allow me to look around.

As I might have guessed by the trees and birdsong, I appeared to be in a forest. Though I had absolutely no recollection how I got there. I tried to blink and fight my way through the fog in my brain, but the more I did, the less I could recall. And the more the back of my head throbbed.

I reached with tentative fingers, and found a damp patch in my hair near the base of my skull. I jerked at the touch, pulling my hand back to see the tips coated in drying blood. Well, that explained the pain then. Perhaps the memory loss too, if my limited understanding of such things was to be believed. I realized then that my hands were coated in dirt too. Looking down at myself, I found the rest of me equally disheveled. Had I fallen? I glanced around, but I seemed to be in a flat area. No hills. No rocks. I supposed it was possible I had fallen out of a tree, but didn’t seem particularly close enough to any to surmise that. And why would I be climbing a tree?

Had I been struck then? I gingerly touched the wound again, to see if it would yield any more clues. I winced, but managed to trace its edge. It ran about the length of my hand right at the back of my skull. It wasn’t deep, nor particularly wide. And as I certainly was no expert on wounds, or weapons for that matter, I found no reasonable response.

I dropped my hand, defeated, looking around again. Did I know this place? I asked myself. There was no strong answer if I had at some point been familiar with this wood, then again, there was no strong answer that I had never been here before either. Regardless, I found I was happy just to know the words “tree” and “forest”. I honestly otherwise couldn’t say much else about my time in the world. Nor, a few moments of quiet contemplation later told me, did I know where I was supposed to be.

I was surprised how calm I found myself. Looking around, turning things over in my still throbbing head. Trying to piece together the puzzle that was literally everything about me. It was… oddly comforting. The fact that I knew nothing about myself. I knew words, I knew my approximate age, I knew I had blue eyes and blonde hair without checking. And that was all I needed to know for the moment. I wondered if I had been missing patches and holes rather than the blanket of memory that was gone if I would have been more panicked. Because I would have enough reason to be.

Instead, I found my feet, brushing the forest floor off my pants, and looked around again. The sun overhead was bright. So probably about midday, I would hazard to guess. I didn’t seem to have any supplies with me, therefore I reasoned I couldn’t have come from far away. Right? I mean, hopefully I wasn’t the kind of stupid idiot who tended to go wandering deep into the woods without any overnight gear, food, water, or even a coat. But what direction to go? Picking the wrong way could send me further away from help. And there seemed to be no strong indication that one direction would be better than another.

The loud snap of a branch pulled me out of my contemplations and sent a shiver down my spine. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that it wasn’t just birds, squirrels, and myself that existed in the world. There were other, much larger, much more dangerous things as well…

I turned towards the sound, and found the hairs prickling on my arms. Warning me. A memory? No, it didn’t feel familiar. More like instinct. A response to the realization that something large was moving through the underbrush.

Another snap, this time from my left. I spun again, my heart now racing in my chest. I hoped it was just a deer. But not knowing for certain one way or the other put me on edge. I made up my mind quickly. I would head away from whatever was hiding amid the trees. It seemed a pretty safe bet overall.

I turned, practically running as fast as I dared between the trees in the opposite direction of the last snap. Making an effort to make as little sound as possible as I fled. I kept glancing over my shoulder, as if I would be able to tell if whatever had been snapping branches was following me. Which perhaps was not the productive way to move through a dense forest.

This point was accentuated as my foot caught an errant root, sending me blundering through a particularly large bush. And smacking straight into something quite large. I fell back from the impact, landing on my backside with a soft “oof!” My eyes shot to the warm body that I had crashed into.

He was much larger than anything I would have ever expected to see moving amid the loosely packed trunks of the forest. His torso was at least as thick as the largest of the trees, and I wasn’t entirely certain the dark hair piled on the top of his head and spilling down his back was not scrapping the canopy above. I craned my neck back to look up at him, my mouth inadvertently falling open. He had broad shoulders, armored with layered, plated leather whose thick straps ran across his muscled chest. His skin was a deep green, so dark I wouldn’t have been able to identify the color save for the sparks of emerald that flashed as the sunlight brushed over him. He turned to consider me, eyes narrowing beneath a thick, hooded brow. One side of his face was distorted by lighter scar tissue. It was knotted and torn, twisting his lip and eyebrow as it passed from his hairline, over his pronounced brow and temple, all the way down to his chin and thick neck. My eyes widened even more as they moved from his scars to his mouth, where four prominent tusks protruded from between thick lips.

I didn’t need my memory to decide that this was not a creature I wanted to mess with. I scrambled backwards, away from his great, lumbering form as he took one long stride towards me. He lifted a broadsword as big as I was tall as easily as a child might a stick, resting it on one muscular shoulder as he scowled down at me. He towered over me, looking me up and down with a look on his face that made my stomach lurch in fear.

Having seen more than enough, I managed to jump back to my feet and bolted back through the underbrush. I heard something from behind me, perhaps a growl, though it almost sounded like words. I didn’t pause to try to figure it out. Crashing back through the brush. My shoulder hit a tree painfully as I tried to dodge quickly between them, but I didn’t slow. Nor did I care to try and quiet my progression, favoring speed over grace. After all, I reasoned, he already knew I was there. I hoped my smaller size would allow me to navigate between the trees and brush quicker than he could pursue, and my pounding heart insisted that he would.

Once again, I made the fatal mistake of looking over my shoulder. Perhaps I would have learned my lesson had I not still been nursing a throbbing headache. But that was likely wishful thinking; it seemed to be becoming a character flaw. One which I considered heartily as the ground suddenly dropped out unseen from under my feet.

I gave a shout of alarm, then slid and tumbled down the broken ground. It seemed a storm had uprooted the trees, or perhaps it was an ancient riverbed. Either way, my hasty retreat had me careening off its edge and rolling through the dirt once more. I felt my foot catch on something as I fell, jerking me sharply off course. I smashed heavily into a large tree near the bottom of the incline, jarring my already sore head. I closed my eyes in defense against the sudden barrage of pain, my arms having instinctually curled up to protect myself during the fall.

A minute later, I shook my head, clearing it enough to come back to the present once more. My ankle thrummed now too, and a quick jerk found it painfully stuck between two roots. I wrapped my hands around my calf, trying to tug it free. But merely managing to send another wave of pain coursing through me.

I heard and felt the ground shudder beneath monstrous steps, and yanked harder. Barely stifling my cry of anguish at the sharp searing pain that shot through me again. Panicked eyes looked up, and I nearly swooned at the sight of the huge beast standing at the top of the hillock. For his part, he glared down at me for a moment, before bending to catch the edge of the drop in one big hand and jumping down. In that single movement, he had covered half the distance between us.

I struggled against the roots, trying to loosen their hold, my heart racing in my ears. Another stride and he was upon me. I jerked back, unsure if I should try to roll to the side or raise my arms in defense. A puny defense it would be; the man could likely snap through both of them and my spine with one single blow and still sink his sword into the ground behind me up to its hilt.

I jumped in surprise as he dropped down to one knee, tossing the broadsword to the damp leaves beside us instead of bringing it to bare down on my head. His big meaty hands grabbed either offending root, and with a sharp twist and a loud crack, my foot was freed.

I quickly tugged it backward, dragging myself away from his crouching form which still looked like it might be taller than my standing one. But I found the reaction more wary than fearful. After all, had he wanted to harm me, he certainly didn’t have to free my foot first. Perhaps he liked the challenge of an unbound prey? My heart skipped at the thought.

His eyes watched me, still narrowed and darkened by the shadow from his heavy brow. I could see now they were a brilliant copper, and I swallowed nervously as they appraised me. Again came that strange sound. Deep and guttural. Easily mistakable for a growl. But this time, I was sure they were words. I frowned at him, glancing over my shoulder as if checking he was actually talking to me. When I looked back at him, he seemed to be waiting patiently. Though for what, I couldn’t begin to fathom.

I shook my head, unsure what else to do. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, “I don’t understand.”

His big head cocked to the side, and his scowl deepened. I ascertained he also did not understand. Though the intelligence in those simmering copper eyes was now unmistakable. I suddenly felt incredibly foolish for being so frightened of him before; of thinking him some mindless monster or beast. I couldn’t help but remain wary though. After all, he could still mean me harm, and even if he was harmless, why had he pursued me? Why not just shrug and go on his merry way? Certainly it couldn’t be completely out of the goodness of his heart to follow up on me. Though, I wondered, perhaps he had been headed this way anyway. And it was simply coincidence he had come upon me again.

His eyes studied me for a moment longer, then he let out a loud snort. I jumped again as he put his hands on his knees and pushed off, straightening back up to his full height. I had had the impression that I was tall, at least of what I could remember (which granted, wasn’t much). But compared to him, I might as well have been a mouse.

Less panicked by his sudden appearance than before, I used the moment to appraise him further. His arms were thick and muscular, as was his exposed abdomen and chest. Despite his broad shoulders, he had a somewhat narrow waist, but his legs were as big as a tree trunk each. He had layered fur armor like a kilt around his hips that reached to his knees, and tough looking boots that seemed ready to break with each flex of his huge calves. Other than the armor, he was adorned with a huge belt around his hips, a small pouch on each side. My attention was once more drawn to the scar that took up most of one side of his face all the way down his neck, and I saw him turn slightly. Presenting more of his better side. As if sensing my eyes on it and seeking to hide the unsightly skin. I swallowed nervously again, not entirely soothed by my fresh assessment.

But he gave a grunt, then made a very obvious gesture that I should follow him. He reached down and picked up the broad sword, resting it on his plated shoulder once more as he looked down at me. It didn’t seem a demand; I certainly could just… refuse. I wasn’t sure if he would stop me, as he waited so patiently, and I felt my twisting nerves abate a little more. I hesitated, glancing around. Yet it seemed as good an option as any, even though the idea of going anywhere with him still made my knees knock together. What were my other options? Wander haplessly about the forest? Perhaps this creature at least could lead me to its edge. Bolstered by that thought, I worked to get my feet back beneath me and moved to stand.

I was promptly back on the ground, clutching my ankle in pain, as soon as I tried. It felt hot to the touch, and I could already feel it swelling. I heard him grunt, and then grumble something in his own tongue. He extended one hand, bending down a little. I glanced at it, unsure what to make of it, and after a moment he slowly pulled it back.  I gritted my teeth, gathering my good leg beneath me and carefully standing. Balancing all my weight on one side with my bad foot lifted. One hobbled, hopping step made me realize walking like this was not likely to be an option.

Another hearty growl preceded my soft “eep!” as I suddenly found myself hoisted into the air. My heart alternated between racing and skipping about frantically and my breath caught in my throat as my hands frantically searched for purchase instinctively. They latched to the straps of his shoulder plates, and I felt suddenly hot as I realized how tightly I clung to him. Tense for the fear of being dropped what seemed like quite a long way down and surprised at having been picked up at all. The man’s burly arm cradled me against his chest, as unbothered as if I were less than a feather to him. I didn’t doubt I was, but was unsettled by the proximity of him. He smelled heavily of pine, moist soil, and wood-smoke, as well as his own musky scent, and his skin was warm against me. I felt a flush rising to my face, and my mouth opened and closed useless. But a glance to his face made me realize he wasn’t looking at me anyway.

With surprising speed and grace, he turned and with a single flex of his thick legs scaled up the broken ground. Bringing us back to the top of the crater and reorienting himself to then follow along its edge. Certainly not the direction I had originally been travelling, though I couldn’t be quite sure where that had been. In my flight I had lost all sense of my positioning, and looked around to try and gather my bearings again.

“Where are we going?” I asked him quietly, unable to keep the nervousness from my voice.

I didn’t expect him to answer, and he didn’t, but it made me feel better to ask anyways. He carried me quietly with one arm, his other hand still holding the broadsword tucked against the shoulder opposite me. I wrung my hands nervously over the straps, feeling his skin brush against my knuckles lightly as I did. Perhaps he was bringing me back to civilization. I was certain he would do so quickly if that was an option, as he didn’t seem eager for my company based upon the deep scowl still on his face. It made the knots of his scar seem more prominent, and deepened the lines. Again, he turned as if he felt my eyes on it. The other side of his face suggested that perhaps he was not very old, not yet middle aged from what I could tell. Certainly an adult, though I had no basis for standards of what that would mean in regards to… whatever he was. I wondered if it was my lack of memory that I had no name for such a green skinned behemoth. Or if perhaps I simply had no experience or knowledge of them. The speed of my pulse suggested the latter, and there was certainly no familiarity about him.

A small, amused part of me wondered if we were of the same race. Perhaps I had just forgotten the gender dysmorphia due to the knock on my head. Which would make my actions prior seem quite ridiculous indeed. It almost made me smile to think that he was just a typical male, and I was the one acting the fool. Which led me to wondering if he found me attractive, and what exactly he meant to do with me.... I quickly pushed the notion aside, as it sent blood rushing to my already throbbing head and brought some sinful thoughts to my own consideration of him. Not to mention the improperness of him cradling me against his half bare chest if that were the case. He didn’t seem very interested in me though, other than a mild, annoyed concern for my existence. Perhaps escorting lost people was simply his job; maybe this happened to him all the time, which was why he seemed so familiar with the proximity.

I resolved to try not to worry too much, as I didn’t have much control over it anyways. The light between the trees was beginning to fade, suggesting a fast approaching night. And given the state of my ankle, I wasn’t exactly in a position to be traipsing off by myself again. Even if I did have some sense of where to go. The conscious decision was not enough to slow my heart though, and my breath still came in nervously shallow wisps.

My hopes that he would bring me to civilization (or at least someone who spoke the same language) were dashed after a long quiet walk as we approached what appeared to be a campsite. It was more permanent than that, I realized, based upon the perimeter of spiked sticks and the separate smoking and tanning racks set beside a stone fire pit. There was a cave, formed amid a copse of dense trees and a prominent pile of rocks. It didn’t look particularly deep, but it was tall enough that the man likely wouldn’t have to bow his head much to service it. A  thick fur was pulled back from the entrance like a curtain, and I could make out dark piles of things beyond. A house? I reasoned. Shelter at least, and with night almost upon us, it seemed as good a place as any.

He stomped through the small opening between the makeshift wall, and deposited me unceremoniously next to the fire pit. I opened my mouth to try to communicate with him again as I released the straps of his armor, but he was already off. Gathering logs from a huge pile beside the cave. He set his sword to lean against the rock and brought over an armful of the wood. Dropping it into the pit and crouching down. He drew a flint stone from somewhere beside the fireplace, and with a handful of dried leaves gathered from within reach, he quickly had a smoking flame beneath the pile.

I listened to the sound of the crackling and snapping build as the fire sparked. Watched it lick and bite at the first log hungrily. He bent low to blow some air onto the glow, fueling it’s growth.

“Excuse me,” I braved politely as he leaned back. His copper eyes turned to consider me at the words, even though his frown suggested he still didn’t know them, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but ah… what are we doing here?”

He watched my lips move, and his own thick lips scrunched together around his large tusks. He appeared to chew at the inside of his cheek, then shook his head and grumbled something in that foreign tongue. No luck then. Still not understanding each other. I sighed quietly, reaching down and rolling up my pant leg to take a better look at my ankle. I removed both of my shoes, rubbing my hand carefully over my foot and joint.

It was painfully swollen now, and I winced as I touched it. I didn’t suppose I was in enough pain for anything to be broken, but knew (somehow) that a sprain could be as bad as any break if not treated properly. I started slightly as the big man grunted and rose to his feet. I watched him out of the corner of my eye moving near the cave entrance, and glanced up at him as he came back over to my side. He dropped down to his knee again, and swatted my hands gently away with one of his. Surprised but wary, I leaned back. I jerked as a cold cloth dropped around my ankle, and I drew in a thin breath as his big fingers slowly eased it to wrap around my joint. A particularly rough movement had me instinctively grabbing at his hand in pain to stop him. I froze as his copper eyes jumped to my face and his movement paused. We stayed like that for a moment, until I couldn’t hold his curious gaze and dropped both my eyes and my hand from his. He began wrapping the cool cloth again shortly after. But I noticed he moved more gently, more cautious of the tenderness of it. He leaned back when he finished to admire his own handiwork.

He said something else in the strange, guttural tongue, then glanced at me again from the corner of his good side. I offered him a weak, thankful smile. Hoping the meaning would get across. He gave a grunt, shaking his head and standing once more.

As he went back to the cave, I was glad for the heat from the fire. The night was quickly forming around us; lengthening the shadows of the trees and bleeding the color from the forest. And with it came a chill that threatened to reach my bones. I eased a little closer to the flames, listening to him rustling amid his things in the cave.

He returned not long after, a piece of rolled up paper in his hands. He showed it to me as he crouched down next to me again, then swept one palm across the ground to clear away leaves and debris. Spreading out the parchment, he grunted again, gesturing to me then the page. I leaned over, frowning, until the dark lines and shapes registered to me.

“A map.” I exclaimed, understanding.

Another grunt, and he pointed to me with one big finger. Then to the map. Speaking in his own language. I looked down at the lines and ridges. I saw mountains and forests and rivers neatly marked. I could identify the names of each of these things, as well as the labels for what appeared to be villages and towns. But a pang of disappointment hit me as I realized I didn’t recognize any of it.

I looked up at him, waiting for me patiently, watching my face. He frowned as I shook my head, and I tried to look as apologetic as possible. He pointed to me again, then the map. I shook my head again, and he growled something in his language. I supposed perhaps he was getting frustrated. I sighed, disappointed, shaking my head a final time. Trying to figure how to explain to him that I wasn’t stupid (at least as far as I knew); I just couldn’t remember anything. He seemed to be getting increasingly impatient, and I shifted nervously as he gestured with one hand almost angrily at me.

He seemed to notice my unease as his mannerisms became more intense, and stilled himself. Instead, sitting back on his ankles and rubbing the back of his neck. His movement reminded me, and I reached my own hand back, touching the still throbbing, tender spot at the base of my skull. I winced, but found the dampness again and pulled my blood stained fingers around. I held them up in the firelight to show him, trying to look appropriately apologetic again.

His copper eyes widened slightly and his thick brows raised. He scooched closer and leaned his big bulk over me. His shoulders were so broad, I felt as though a ceiling had been drawn over my head. I drew in a sharp breath as he  reached out and caught my chin in one big palm. His hands were huge, each one bigger than my face, and rough to the touch. But despite the firmness of his grip, he moved gently. Turning my head to the side and down. He spoke as he moved, and the tone was softer. Soothing, almost. I felt the fingers of his opposite hand brush through my hair, and my skin tingled on my neck. I resisted the urge to wince as his thumb brushed the tender flesh around the wound. His nostrils flared and I heard him draw in a huffing breath.

He grumbled, releasing his hold and sitting back on his ankles again. I glanced up at him to see him rubbing at his chin, seeming to be thinking it over. He turned back to the map, and pointed to a forest there. Then gestured to around us, before pointing back at the same spot. I leaned closer, studying the area to see if anything sparked a memory. I couldn’t help feeling a little sad as well as disappointed as I had to shake my head again. I ran my fingertips over the spot, trying to concentrate, my brow furrowing. But my head merely throbbed with the effort, and I reached up with my opposite hand to palm my eye in an attempt to ease it.

I started as his big hand swallowed up my wrist, pulling my hand away from my face. I looked up at him again, swallowing nervously. But despite the heavy set curl of his brow and the deep grooves of the scarred half of his face, I decided he didn’t look too frightening right then. And I realized he never really had been. Every movement and gesture had been slow and careful. Every touch had been gentle... and kind. I had looked at him the first moment I saw him and scared myself, but he had never once given me a reason to justify that fear. He growled something I didn’t have a hope of understanding, then released my wrist to brush his fingers through my hair, pushing it back out of my eyes.

He froze suddenly, his big fingers lingering by my temple. I looked back and forth between his copper eyes, as he seemed to consider something he saw in mine. I saw him shuffle, then clear his throat. He mumbled something else in his language, then turned his head to the side. His long hair fell about his shoulders and I let out my breath as he dropped his hand. He cleared his throat again. Then planted his palm against his chest and gave a hearty grunt.

“Njord’roshan.” He rumbled. I looked at him in surprise. He smacked his breast. “Njord’roshan.” He said again, firmly.

“Neeyord-ro...?” I echoed uncertainly. 

He nodded, cocking his head to the side and chewing his lip. Then smacked his chest again. “Njord.” He offered instead.

 I smiled slightly as I realized his intent. “Oh! That’s your name. Njord.”

He grunted, nodding his big head as he recognized my understanding. Then gestured to me. I winced, and my face must have fallen again, because he titled his head slightly. Looking at me from the corner of his good side. I shook my own head, giving a little shrug of my shoulders.

“I-I don’t know…” I told him, the realization hitting me then as my hand went instinctively to the back of my skull. 

I dropped my eyes to the side, feeling a strange emotion welling in me for the first time since I had woken in the forest. It was… hollow. As if everything about me was wrong. As if I was somehow out of place; a missing piece in time. It made me feel almost suspended from the moment, like the body I was in wasn’t mine. I didn’t even have a name...

Perhaps it was this strange, ethereal concept of myself that kept me from starting as his hand came up again. Brushing thick fingers lightly along the edge of my jaw. His language came from his wide mouth again, and I strained my ears, longing to understand him.

It was a long string of the guttural words, thick and heavy. But softly spoken from between his thick lips, and I watched them move to form each sound. He tucked his knuckles lightly under my chin, and the corners of his lips curled upwards slightly. I found his touch oddly comforting then, and had to fight myself not to reach up and run my fingers over his knuckles. Even as my hands itched to do so. I felt a lump forming in my throat, and tried to swallow it away as my heart skipped a beat.

“Shikobakin.” He told me after a moment’s silence, tapping my chin with his thumb. His lips twitched at the corners again, and he brought his hand to his chest. “Njord’roshan... Njord.” Then reached back out, touching the tip of his large index finger back to my chin. “Shikobakin.”

I returned his smile, though it felt heavy by the time it reached my eyes. “Did you just name me?” I asked, my voice peppered with a hint of amusement.

I thought his returning expression might have been a small smirk, and his copper eyes seemed to glimmer. He patted his chest once more. “Njord.” Then tapped my chin again. “Shikobakin.”

I placed my hand on my own chest. “Shikobakin.” I echoed the strange word, but it felt warmer as I accepted it as my own. I smiled, then reached out and lightly touched his chin with the tips of my fingers, as he had mine. “Njord.”

He stiffened slightly at my touch, and his copper eyes darted down to my hand. He brought his own big hand up, wrapping it around and engulfing my tiny pale one. The big beast gave a pleased sounding grunt, soft and distracted, nodding as he gently pulled my hand from his face. He shifted, angling his head to the side. Turning his scar away again.

After a breath too long, he released my hand, then brought his pinched fingers to his mouth. “Di’chin yiya?” He asked softly, miming eating and patting his stomach.

He didn’t wait for an answer, standing and going over to the smoking rack. He returned a moment later, holding out a large piece of meat to me as he dropped back down next to me. I took it gingerly, offering him a small smile. Our fingers brushed as I took it, and I thought I saw him stiffen. But it must have been my imagination. After all, why would a small little human make such a big creature anxious.

I sniffed at the meat, taking a small bite. I quickly recognized it as fish, and seemed to find I liked it. I smiled up at him as I chewed, pleased I had learned at least two things about myself now. I had a name. And I knew I liked smoked fish. I saw his brows raise slightly as he considered me, and again he turned his head slightly to the side.

We finished the smoked meat in companionable silence, watching the fire bite and lick at the logs. I shivered as the darkness fully settled around us, and hunched up my shoulders against the chill of the night. My ankle and head throbbed in an offset rhythm, and I felt my eyes growing heavier with each passing minute. Especially as the salty fish settled in my stomach. 

He passed me a waterskin, which I drank from thankfully. When I lowered it back down, I noticed him watching me from the corner of his copper eye. I couldn’t read the expression on the untouched side of his face, but felt a strange tickling in the pit of my stomach that had me turning my attention to my bare feet. I shuffled them and shifted, kneading the skin gently between my palms before passing it back to him. He cleared his throat, placing the skin to the side. Then smacked his hands together and moved to a crouching position next to me.

He spoke more of his language, jerking his big head towards the cave. I looked up at him, surprised to find his hands reaching out to me. Waiting. I barely nodded my permission before he quickly scooped me back up in his arms and carried me over to the shallow cave. His chest brushed my shoulder, and I found his skin pleasantly warm after the chill of the night. I couldn’t help leaning into him slightly, even as my heart skipped in my breast.

The cave was too dark for me to see, but he seemed untroubled by it. The air tasted damp, though slightly warmer than the outside air. He moved purposefully, bringing me to what I could make out as the far back wall before crouching down once more. I started slightly as he lowered me into something soft and plush. A moment later, I recognized the furs for what they were, and shuffled amid them. I felt his big hands come around, dragging what appeared to be more furs and blankets, making a pile near the foot of the bed. Gingerly, he took my injured ankle and rested it on the elevated lump. I could barely make out his silhouette in the dark, but saw him reach out. Felt his hand brush my cold shoulder. He muttered something, then pulled more furs to wrap around me.

“Thank you…” I told him softly as his motions quieted.

His face turned towards me in the dark, and I tried to trace its outline. I couldn’t see his features, but imagined he must be peering back down at me. I felt a sudden bolt of electricity shoot down my spine as I wondered where he was going to sleep. My stomach twisted at the thought that perhaps we would share the furs…

After a moment though, he leaned back, giving a pleased grunt.

“Wet’hay tlee, Shikobakin.” He breathed, and I found his deep voice a pleasant comfort in the dark. I watched him stand, then turn and head back towards the cave opening.

“Goodnight, Njord.” I called softly after him. I saw him pause in the entrance, his huge, burly body carved out from the night air by the orange glow of the fire. His head turned, glancing over his shoulder at me. “And.. thank you again…”

I knew he couldn’t understand me, but I hoped he understood at least the meaning. He didn’t give a response, and after lingering a moment longer, walked back over to the fire. I couldn’t quite see him anymore, and relented to burrowing a little deeper into the furs.

The motion kicked up their scent, and I was suddenly washed in the deep odor of pine, wet earth, and wood-smoke. And another scent, one I had smelled on him each time he had carried me, though the musky, masculine smell was stronger here. My heart leapt again as I realized that I was, in fact, in his bed. A pang of guilt shot through me. I hoped he would not think me an imposing guest. I certainly would have been fine with just a mat and a fur in the corner. Though the memory of the chilly night air had me pulling the furs tighter about myself in denial of that silent offer. 

I brushed the soft fur against my nose, drawing in his thick scent. It soothed me, strangely, and my eyes felt heavier. Warm and feeling better than I ever had in what little time I could remember (which surmounted to that one day), I snuggled down. A few minutes later, I was fast asleep.

...

To Be Continued

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Tell Me Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary:  Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :) Warnings: None :) A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.

Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.

Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.

These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.

It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.

She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.

Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.

“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.

“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.

“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.

“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.

“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”

“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.

“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.

“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.

“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.

“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.

“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.

“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own  path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”

She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.

And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”

A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.

=

“Ready?”

“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.

“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.

The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .

“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.

“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.

“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite  perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.

A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.

God .

Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.

“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.

She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.

A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.

There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.

Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.

“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.

She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.

“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”

There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.

With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.

A mental barrier is broken by that  touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.

It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.

“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.

“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?

Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.

It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.

She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.

Tags: @thegetawaywriter​