tended by doe ੭ she / her, cst, chinese - american. 20 + writer and original characters. activity fluctuates with irl scheduling. dni : minors, smut specific, dead dove featuring ( zero exceptions ! )
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JBB: An Artblog!
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@roamance
tended by doe ੭ she / her, cst, chinese - american. 20 + writer and original characters. activity fluctuates with irl scheduling. dni : minors, smut specific, dead dove featuring ( zero exceptions ! )
THIS IS FOR World Tour | New York City D1
❛ i dont know, maybe you thought i was pretty and couldn't think of a way to approach me… ❜ closes dusty academic books with a quiet sigh, conceding that no real studying would be getting done with him around. only then does she glance up at him through wispy lashes from her seat at round café table, finally giving him her full attention. ❛ do you think i'm pretty? ❜ was as if they were playing entirely different games — his centered on provoking her at every opportunity, while hers seemed more dedicated to leaving him flustered whenever she could manage. ❛ if i was a stalker would i be leaving right now? ❜ she rises from wooden chair, clutching stack of textbooks tightly against bosom. ❛ i have studying to do, so if you'll excuse me, stalker. ❜
andrew recognizes bait when it's sitting right in front of him, glossy lips and dusty textbooks included — bad habit, as he takes it anyway. pride makes the stupid choice feel earned, for some peculiar reason. ‘ do you ask every stranger that? or am i getting special treatment? ’ chair shifts beneath him as he leans back, giving her enough room to leave without making it easy to pretend the conversation is over. eyes dip once to the books gathered at her chest, then back to her undeniably remarkable features. ‘ and for the record, i never said you weren't pretty. i said i wasn't following you. wildly different accusations. ’ grin pulls across his face lazily, words said with the same stupid charm that has earned him thousands of girls in his dm's. ‘ yeah. fine. you're pretty — even for a stalker, i guess. ’
♡ this post for a small starter
୭ৎ addressed to : @springrides
song finds her during the second chorus of the fourth song, half by accident and half because he has been looking for the same face since the lights went down. crowd becomes one bright, breathing thing beneath the stage, lightsticks moving in waves, phones lifted high enough to turn every glance into evidence. knows better than to let his eyes stay anywhere too long. he's seen how fast a fan account can slow a clip, circle one direction of his gaze, match it to the girl with hundreds of thousands of followers standing near the side barricade — he's been analyzed for far less.
by the time encore ends, sweat has cooled at his temples and his manager has already said her name twice in the same dreadful tone people use for problems they expect him to solve. says nothing in return, lets staff pull the towel from his shoulders, someone unclips the mic pack from the back of his waistband and in seconds he's slipping out of the dressing room before anyone can block the door. finds her near the service hallway, pass tucked beneath her jacket and phone in her hand. ‘ you came. ’ reaches for her not even a second after his own words meet with the air, still damp from the heat and smelling faintly of sweat mixed with cologne. pulls her into him with both arms, face turning toward her hair as the noise becomes an afterthought behind his back. it's stupid and reckless, probably — careless, definitely but he's been holding back all night. ‘ it's hard not to stare at you when i'm up there. ’
a quiet grin settles on lips and stubbornly remains there. businesslike cadence of her speech, paired with her polished demeanor she carried so effortlessly, strikes him as almost peculiar. could only imagine how many years she’d spent being trained into perfection, sculpted carefully into the ideal image expected of her. idea only deepening the relentless urge stirring within him to uncover who she truly was beneath all of it. ebonies follow the direction of hers, landing on the fresh bag of pistachios that seem to have captured her attention entirely. ❛ have some. ❜ rummages through duffel for a moment before tugging chartreuse bag free from beneath scattered equipment, extending it toward her without hesitation once he finds it. ❛ who know's how long we'll be stuck here — really cant afford having the world's princess collapsing under my watch. ❜
but the moment conversation shifts toward him, he can’t help the sharp inhale that follows. career had become a mess of its own, tangled in ways he’s certain exist far outside her world. pair moving through entirely different stratospheres, separated by lives that hardly seemed capable of overlapping at all. ❛ the office of my teams general manager is on the twelfth floor. ❜ begins slowly, attention dropping to his hands, fingers absentmindedly picking at forming callouses in a quiet attempt to steady and distract himself all at once. ❛ there's been talks about trading me to another team and i… i really dont see myself on any other team except the one i'm on right now — i mean, those guys are my family. so i'm gonna have a talk with him. ❜ hadn’t told anyone, not even own teammates, about the whispers surrounding his possible trade. yet here he was, every buried sentiment spilling from him like water through a broken dam, offered so easily to someone he’d only just met. ❛ have you ever been to a hockey game? ❜ tilts head then, smirk finding corner of mouth. ❛ i know it's definitely not your scene but… you should come tomorrow night. think i'd play a whole lot better if you were there. ❜
brain stalls for a moment before she accepts the offered bag, reaching for it with the very tips of her nails. for the first time offers him a smile, not the one she uses at fan signs, or send offs — a real yura smile, apples of her cheeks rounding beneath it, mouth tipping higher on one side. opens the packaging with care, selecting one pistachio after a brief inspection. ‘ careful, cassius. i might have to change my opinion about you. ’
his hands offer a safer place to land than his face, rough and restless in his lap while he gives her an answer far more honest than she expected. yura knows contracts, knows company rooms with glass walls and men who speak about artists like rearranging a schedule is the same thing as moving furniture. once, years ago, another trainee had been placed in the center during practice just to see how the formation looked without her there — yura went home that night unable to sleep, picturing another girl beneath her lights, wearing her styling, pretty enough to make everyone reconsider. perhaps his world is louder, rougher, built from ice and bruises instead of cameras and powder, but she understands the insult of being discussed as if absence is only a business decision. ‘ cutthroat industry, then. i suppose that makes two of us. ’ vulnerability laces her words, busying herself with the plastic bag in her hands. ‘ i hope they remember what they have before another team does. ’ she's attended baseball games from private boxes and sat courtside at many basketball games, usually placed there by a stylist, or sponsor, or someone from the company who believes proximity to athletes counts as useful publicity. ‘ no, never. ’ nose wrinkles before she can help it. ‘ people yelling, terrible lighting, men throwing themselves into walls on purpose — it sounds barbaric. ’ small space between them feels far less inconvenient than it had ten minutes ago, ‘ if i hate it, you have to make up for it. ’
𐔌 . ⋮ ⌗ the gentle dip of the mattress at the sudden increase in weight by him is what beckons her attention, propped up on her elbows to get a better look at him, the curve of his back, the sharpness of his shoulders (and while the want she feels while looking at him is far from unfamiliar, it's the other feeling that's intertwined with it, more dangerous, that she doesn't wish to confront ). she's at least grateful that he's turned away from her before he can see the dip between her brows, that other feeling a stone in her stomach at the slightest mention of another ( never mind that she has another waiting for her at home ); leaning forward with what she hopes sounds like a nonchalant hum, stella chooses her next words carefully, her head now level with his lap. “s'a free country.” she offers a non-response, peering up at him through her lashes. “— do i know her ?”
room temperature water bottle lifts to lips, lukewarm plastic giving him something to focus on besides brunette sprawled across his sheets. finds it difficult not to notice what details she latches herself onto, not tomorrow, not the cancellation, not the fact that he has plans at all — instead who he has them with. mouth stays pressed to the rim, thumb scraping over the loose label while all of his attention focuses towards the beige wall.
stella has someone waiting for her at home, some on - and - off boyfriend who never seems to leave for good and still she asks like his date is any of her business. it's amusing, really. enough that he takes another drink to make her wait for the answer, cap twisting back into place as slowly as possible. moving closer has made this worse in ways anthony isn't ready to touch; fewer excuses, shorter drives, the space between his apartment and her life shrinking until leaving seems to require more effort than staying. not like he's going to put a stop to it, though. finally returns the water to the nightstand, meeting the wood with an empty sound before he turns enough to glance at her over his shoulder. ‘ it's possible. ’ breathes out the answer with perfect negligence, anthony's face remaining composed — except for the smile that eventually cracks through giving away the pleasure he takes in this. ‘ why? worried i'm going to go off and fall in love? ‘
guys idk what's wrong with me but i can't go two days without changing my entire aes !! back 2 replies :3
𐔌 . ⋮ ⌗ he isn't expecting company so soon — the congressman had promised an empty house closer to eleven, but he had wanted to show up early in case the other decided on a stupid move like bailing on him. and he had been content in his loneliness, too; a brief glance at his watch here and there, going through paperwork left open on the congressman's desk, toying around with the swiss army in his pocket he brings out, mostly to only scare others. when the door opens at half past ten, he's expecting the same old, graying figure to glance around, wary, before calling his name — another stupid move, as far as he's concerned. instead, however, the frame that comes through the door, backlit by chandelier lights, is much smaller; more unfamiliar than most of the politicians he's come to know by name and otherwise, yet from what he can gather from her features he can tell a relation to the party he's meant to help contend. belmont says nothing at first, watches her with intention before stepping over, feet gentle against the marble. “it's rude not to knock first.” he remarks, voice low though not necessarily threatening as he swipes the flute from its place on the mantel and replaces it with the knife in his hand. he takes a swig, lets the alcohol burn at the back of his throat. “no one knows what's behind closed doors.” humming, he leans up against the fireplace, ghost of a smile in his eyes. “for all you know, you could be in terrible danger.”
her mother avoids galas whenever she can, leaving grace to parade for her father — a daughter made useful by pale satin, pretty manners and the kind of smile donors expect from a senator’s child. by the third evening this week, grace knows the shape of it by heart; names she will not remember, jokes she cannot laugh at but must endure, champagne offered in place of genuine conversation. noise follows her, slipping beneath the door with the clink of glasses and laughter, every conversation melting into the next until she can no longer tell them apart.
he looks strangely out of place amongst the silk ties and expensive jewels. she watches closely as he takes the champagne glass in his fingers and leaves a knife in its place, message made clear before he even needs to say it. the smarter choice would be the door, but grace does not feel particularly inclined to be frightened on command. ‘ am i? ’ the weapon earns a brief glance from her peripheral before her attention returns to him. against better judgement — and every stiff lecture ever delivered by a man with an earpiece — heels click on the floor as she moves further into the shadowed room. ‘ in terrible danger, i mean. ’
people tend to become more agreeable once they learn who her father is. voices lower, tempers cool, men with their mouths full of threats turning polite the second her surname reaches them. only someone incredibly stupid would dare hurt her here — her own bodyguard somewhere in the crowd outside. she extends one hand at last, manicured fingers pausing in the space while she waits for his grip in return. ‘ i don't believe we've met. ’ corner of her mouth pulls upward where she left it. ‘ grace. ’
❝ let her be. you don't know what she's been through to be like that. ❞ despite initial teasing, defense was quick to jump through, shielding lover from any judgement. brows frown lightly, features cold like early winter mornings -- isabela really knew the spots to hit to get a reaction out of raven. ❝ i do more for her than you'd ever know -- it's not like you'd ever appreciate my efforts, though. ❞
isabela lingers upon the new girlfriends profile for a second longer, before a sharp flick of her thumb swipes out of the app. device thuds softly against the fabric beside her thigh, while brows lift and brown eyes widen. ‘ wow. ’ apparently marisol's relationship has progressed past the stage of spotify playlists and into fierce devotion. ‘ should i be jealous? can't remember the last time you defended me that passionately. ’ to be fair, she'd heard some variation of this speech before. different girl, different year, same outcome. ‘ kind of cute, i didn't realize you were taking this one seriously. ’
❛ really? ❜ mouth gapes open, faux astonishment on glossed lips. ❛ this is my first time seeing you today. ❜ was the furthest thing from truth, but would much rather lie than have him believing this asinine theory any longer. ❛ have you considered maybe you're the one following me around? if you like me you just can ask for my number. ❜
sound he makes is a scoff, captivated by the sheer audacity of her words. ‘ aaaand… what reason would i have to be following you? ’ same question could be turned right back on him. ‘ look i'm flattered, really, ’ he says, playing the antagonist solely to ruffle her feathers even more. ‘ but i don't exchange numbers with my stalkers. ’
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅ hi, @roamance … is 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗷𝗮𝗲 on the line ?
𐔌 . ⋮ ⌗ “aht —" with a click of her tongue that practically radiates disappointment, the slap delivered to youngjae's shoulder is instantaneous, and though it gains several alarmed looks from other onlooking stylists cilly feels justified in it nonetheless. "what did i say about moving in your seat while i'm putting freckles on you ?" she demands from him, annoyance clear across her features. huffing, she sets the freckle pen down on the vanity, leaning her weight down against the table and folding her arms across her chest. “you are literally being difficult on purpose. keep this up and i'm going to make sure you get the fugliest hairstyle at the next music show, an, do not test me."
clutches his shoulder in fake pain, nursing it as if the slap even registered against his skin. ‘ okay, and what did i say about how much i hate these freckles? ’ fed by her annoyance, youngjae keeps his smile lopsided and bright, happy to have reeled her in. whole brand was centered on being the most exhausting presence available — loud, unruly and impossible to neutralize, which earns passionate fans and harsh critics alike. ‘ the fans say they would love me even if i was bald. ’ tosses his head back, running a hand through his strands until the styled look is properly ruined, grinning through the mess. ‘ are you actually mad at me? ’
❛ that's not exactly what i want to hear. ❜ though saccharine sentiment nonetheless pleasant to hear. mirrors her position, only lacking quiet grin reserved for her features alone. ❛ attention from the pageant committee not enough for you anymore you had to come back here and bother me? ❜
playful curve leaves her mouth, posture remaining firm with no regrets for chasing the future she earned. ‘ i was expecting a warmer welcome from you. ’ applause was everything she ever wanted, dreamed of, but it never smothered his absence. ‘ okay fine, daeon, i will leave since that's so clearly what you want. ’
had been bizarre to him, how someone so angelic could have never once been in possession of a love — had witnessed it before, way necks fracture just to get a glimpse of her passing through apartment corridors, his own included. had been in love once, something he ultimately had relinquished in favor for career. but now, had been well into perfecting craft — possessed a large clientele that spanned multiple music scenes, including very one she works in. maybe now songwriter would be more willing in opening limbs wide in acceptance of something good. ❛ no, just you. ❜ singular green grape pops into mouth, crisp crunch sounding in the bone chilling quiet settled between them, air thick with longing. ❛ do you want me to ask every girl these kind of questions? ❜ a soft, almost inaudible hum of words. every inquiry passing lips growing bolder, and bolder — yet she displays no unwillingness to his probing, instead is unmoving, his quiet green light to continue.
pads of feet strike wood flooring, line of sight falling from her high perch atop counter to standing height, just a mere few inches below him — she could be a runway model if she ever pleased. ebonies track her from head to toe, very plainly so, neither of them having anything to hide any longer. shoves frame off island he leans on, standing upright to move closer until theres little space left between pair, her perfume permeating nares sweet as spun sugar. ❛ have you been kissed before? ❜ uncertain if it was his boldest inquiry of the night — but it sure did feel like it.
soft ‘ no ’ breaks the seal of pomegranate colored lips, words gnaw at her secretly, creating knots that toki cannot untangle for herself or describe to another soul. presumes this must be jealousy, some strange and unwelcome presence she wishes to shake. the petty grudge dissolves, gap shrinking between bodies before her brain can protest. more than aware that professional ruin awaits if she crosses this line, but the brunette cannot remember the last time she felt alive with anticipation.
cranes her neck to look at him, fingers at her sides restlessly pinching her shirt fabric, unsure of what else to do with them. his good looks are hardly news to her, nor is the clear magnetism shining in his eyes. a quiet breath escapes her to break the quiet, ‘ not by anyone important. ’ recalls the only two instances it ever happened — once under studio lights for work and again with the meaningless guy she brought home who never mattered, both memories insignificant in comparison to the warmth building between their bodies. worries the pounding in her chest gives her away, heavy knocking vibrates so loudly against her eardrums it makes her head throb. blinks up at him, hoping he closes the remaining distance, eager for him to take the lead.
four more hours of bedrot and then i will be on to do replies i think
hai friends ily all i will try 2 get to replies as soon as i can i was at the hospital from like 4pm - like just now ( which is 6 pm so … oof ) and i am not feeling super hot atm so if there is a delay i apologize
‘ keep my name out of your mouth. ’