Summary and content: You could paint all night if you wanted. From getting carried away or just because you wanted to. Shin comes home in the middle of your every-other-night-ly routine of making a mess on your skin, sitting on the floor, and painting whatever on a canvas. Soon, after a short bit of words exchanged and silence, heâll try to get you to bed. Romantic Shin x readerâI didnât know if thatâs what you wanted or not⊠No use of y/n or any variation. No use of pronouns.
Requested - anonymous on tumblr
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Rainbow, streaky skin. Scrape and brush on a canvas. One star in the sky, gone, as millions take its place. Your knees burn and your ankles are sore. You have been sitting on the wooden floor for hours, not bothering to look up as the light from the windows changed.
You change the way you're sitting again, adjusting the canvas in front of you too. That's when you hear the rattle and click of the front door opening. You know who it is. You donât look up or speak as the creaks of aging wood get louder, closer to you. The Russell of fabric also greets your ear. The tussle of a tie being pulled over head, and a suit jacket being tugged off of arms.
âWhy are you still up?â Shin asks. His voice is groaning, tired.
You hum. âI wanted to paint.â
Shin lightly chuckles out, âat such an ungodly hour..?â
You glance back at him, grinning a little. âItâs the best time.â
âSure it is,â He nods as he responds. Shin laughs lightly, sitting down on the couch just a few feet behind you.
You turn your head back to look at the canvas in front of you, reaching for the cup of paint water to duck your paint-covered brush. Shin groans lightly as he gets comfortable, shifting in the cushion he always sits on. He spreads his legs just barely. His eyes have a light sting from the draining day. As his eye lids flutter just slightly, his gaze goes to you. Back facing him, shoulders barely moving from the movement of your arms and hands, a slow nod of your head; either from being tired yourself or from a song you have playing in your head.
Shin lets out a light sigh before asking, âWhat are you painting?â
Your back straightens a little, âSomethingâŠâ you mutter out just loud enough for him to hear.
âSomething..?â Shin echos back, leaning his head against his arm that stretches over the back of the couch.
âMhm,â you hum to confirm.
Then you get to asking him questions. Simple, everyday ones, âHow was work?â
âIt was alright,â Shin grumbles.
You smile to yourself. You and Shin donât get to talk a lot during his all-day work rendezvous with Noi.
âA bit messy, but you know, the usual happened. Nothing special.â
âRight..â You give a short response, leaning in closer to the canvas, making one of the last final strokes. âDid you eat?â
Shin feels too exhausted to actually talk, making a short half hum of a yes.
Grumbling some more, Shin talks slowly, voice almost gravelly, âCome to bed.â
It wasnât a demand. It wasnât a question. It was just a plea. He wants to go to bed, but only after you.
You turn your head to look at him again, glancing at his slouched back. His things were thrown carelessly on the couch on the cushions next to him. Shinâs eyes were barely even open. Gosh, he was tired. He kind of⊠looked nice like this.
It didnât remind you of this, but you couldn't help comparing it to one of those renaissance paintings of men throwing themselves at a practically naked woman.
âShin, I promise Iâm almost done,â you whisper out.
It was quiet in your apartment. That kind of quiet that only felt right to whisper in. A kind of quiet that reminded you what time it was, but certain people didnât care too much about it. A kind of quiet that, it didnât matter how tired you were before, you couldnât help but feel tired now.
Shin rolls his head back against the top of the couch. His legs stretch just a little bit farther. His eyes close just a little bit more.
âThen let me know when youâre finished,â Shin says with a straining yawn.
Still looking at your painting, one stroke closer to finishing, the corners of your mouth turn up just a bit. A small smile on your face as your quiet voice tells Shin, âI will.â You perk up just a bit, âThough,â your hands still moving and your eyes still on the self-appointed task at hand, âYou could go to bed before me? You donât have to wait.â
Shinâs eyes open when you finish your last words, âbut I want to,â he admits, staring at the ceiling.
Thatâs sweet. Endearing, in his own way. He just wants to know how late you stay up. Maybe put pressure on you to go to sleep earlier than you wouldâve if he didnât stay up with you. Itâs still sweet.
âWhatever,â you throw back at him.
One of the final strokes. Maybe you could get away with keeping it like this. It looks finished enough. Maybe your brain will be fooled until the afternoon, tomorrow, thinking it really is finished until a small (unfinished) detail shows itself.
Shin. A stubborn man, but you will love him, even beyond the bounds and spells that death offers. He is practically falling asleep already, sitting up on the couch.
You push yourself away from the canvas, standing up. Your ankles and calves feel stiff, and the tacky, creaky sound from the floor from where you were sitting makes your movements all too well known. Bending over to pick up the still kind of wet painting, you walk over to the coffee table, placing it down oh-so gently.
Before you even turn back to pick up the palette, brushes, paper towels, and your go-to paint cup, Shin is already squatting to get them himself.
âHow domestic of you,â you tease, going down to help him.
Shin huffs out a laugh, teasing you back, âAre you saying I would be a good husband?â
You look up at him, pretending to think. Innocent of any crime. â... Maybe.. Weâll know when the day comes.â You couldnât stop the grin from stretching across your lips.
There is a small pause in the air.
Shin grabs your face, his index finger on your chin and his thumb on your cheek. He swipes his thumb across your cheek before saying in a low tone, âYou have paint on your face.â
You blink, silent for a moment, before laughing. You punch his shoulder, âLetâs just go to bed.â
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