eye-gallery

Waking Up

waking up w your avenger boo

Bucky: Most of the time you were awoken by Bucky himself shifting around in the bed, and petting the dog who managed to place himself on top of both yours and Bucky’s legs. The Great Dane seemed to think he was a small lap dog, and tended to do whatever was necessary to reach Bucky’s hand that was willing to scratch his ears. The next thing you always took notice of was the creases in your face from having your cheek pressed to his bare shoulder all night. Which also explained how your hair became a tangled mess, and one with Bucky’s long hair. But the overall best thing was Bucky’s sleepy face; hooded eyes, and a smirk that could make your pants fly across the room. Not to mention the raspy, sleepy voice that you adored more than anything. Waking up next to Bucky is the best place to be in the world.

Steve: It seemed like he donned a halo each and every morning that the sun came shining through the window panes of your bedroom. Even on grey mornings, Steve seemed to have an aura about his sleeping body that brought a smile to your face. Every morning you reach out to brush your hands over his cheeks, then place a kiss on his nose before he wakes up only to pull you closer. One thing nobody really knew about him was that his body temperature was so out of whack, so most nights he spent only sleeping in boxers because he was so warm. (Not that you minded one bit) Steve also really enjoyed having the news on in the morning once the both of you were awake, because this way he knew what was going on in the world all while having you in his arms.

Natasha: Since Natasha absolutely despises being sweaty, she “fixed” the thermostat in your room to always be a chilly 65 degrees. So waking up next to her, more like on top of her, is the best part of the day. Both you and Natasha are always bundled up with plush blankets that have been collected from various missions, and presents from over the years. To be honest, your bed could win a competition of the comfiest in the Avengers tower. But waking up next to the Black Widow was incomparable, red hair splayed out on the white pillow case, face scrunched from the dreams she was having. It was rare for you to wake up before her, since Nat’s wake up time was normally about 5 am. But either way, being with Natasha was the greatest time in your life.

Thor: The giant teddy bear you’re lucky enough to call your boyfriend was the best cuddler of all time. No one could ever come close to his soft skin and big arms pulling you to his side. However, Thor always ended up naked in the middle of the night, even if the previous night’s activities weren’t all that crazy. You often climbed on top of him and used his whole body as the bed, because he was honestly the comfiest person ever. He beat the bed’s comfort level by a long shot. If not for his horrible morning breath attacking your nose every damn morning, you would stay sprawled out on him all day. Thor adored seeing your sleepy face every morning, which gained you even more cuddles and kisses.

Bruce: He had developed a habit of scrunching himself into a ball while he slept. Bruce felt secure this way, and small enough to keep his destructive nature contained so he couldn’t hurt anyone. But the truth is, he hated it. He wanted to stay spread out so he could hold you, but his constant inner conflict kept him balled up. You always tried to lay on top him, hoping to keep him in one place for the duration of the night. It never worked, because you always ended up rolling off of him in your sleep. Which then started the chain reaction of him giving in to the reflex and curling up into a ball. It happened every night, without fail. Bruce craved contact with you, though, so he grabbed your hand and held it close to his heart. Waking up every morning without feeling in your hand became regular, because he gripped it in his sleep so unbelievably tight, like he was holding on to you for dear life.

Tony: If Tony is sharing a bed with anyone, there’s a 1000% chance there will be physical contact involved through the entirety of the night. You developed this theory when you had woken up early one morning, with one half of your body almost overheating and the other half cold enough to snap off. Feeling the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest against your back, you looked over and realized that he had you locked in a bear hug. One of his arms were always tucked around your waist, and the other was underneath your torso, hand gently gripping the side of your stomach. Tony’s embrace is so unbelievably warm, in contrast to the below freezing temperature of his room. It feels like a furnace during the winter, so warm and so comforting. Comforting enough to keep your restlessness at bay until Tony woke up.

Peter: Sometimes when he came home from long missions in the city, he totally forgets to take off the spider-man suit. So this lead to you making sure that Tony upgraded his suit to the most comfortable material, not only on the inside for peter but on the outside as well. It was a gamble every morning on who would be where, since he formed a habit of flying out of the bed. You tried your best to prevent him from going anywhere, mostly by smushing your face into his neck and hooking your arms around his muscular frame. This usually guaranteed that he wouldn’t be flying anywhere, but there were slip ups. Sometimes, though, the placement shifted and he ended up nuzzled into your side. It was your favorite way to wake up, with his unusually warm body pressed against yours. So you loved to wake up with a faceful of warmth, and Peter.

Pietro: Since you were the closest thing Pietro had to a pillow, you always woke up with his head resting somewhere on your body, his hair tickling your skin. It woke you up every morning, without fail. Sometimes, he had planted his face on your chest, and lazily thrown an arm around your torso. Other times, he had his head on your stomach, absentmindedly rubbing small circles everywhere he could reach, the monotony putting him back to sleep. Most times however, Pietro had his head on top of your boobs, talking about how comfortable boobs are while you were lowkey suffocating. There was even one occurrence when he had completely flipped himself over the opposite end of the bed and had placed his head on your thigh. But it didn’t matter where he had ended up, you always cracked a sleepy smile and ran your fingers through his hair until he woke up.

Scott: This man child always woke up at least an hour before you did, there was never a time when he didn’t. You would have thought that he would just get out of bed and let you sleep. But no, he stayed put on his side of the bed and intently studied your face. Scott admired you like you were a piece in an art gallery. His eyes were drawn to the arch of your nose, then to the soft curvature of your cheekbones. You were in such a peaceful state when you were asleep, it was more than just beautiful. Well, to be fair, Scott thought you were beautiful under any circumstances. Sometimes he would just blurt out how pretty you were when heading home from missions, covered in sweat and blood. But there was just something about when your face was reminiscent of the peace that came with sleep that made you glow. When you finally cracked your eyes open, you immediately met his and uttered a raspy ‘good morning’, causing him to smile like a goof.

Loki: Personal space was very important to Loki. It didn’t matter that you had been sharing a bed with him for as long as either of you could remember. If Loki didn’t want physical contact, then that was that. You still were the only exception, however. Every evening, you would climb onto your respective half of the bed and get cozy, and wait for Loki to do the same. You never pressed him into any type of cuddling or anything, because you knew that you would make your way over to his side of the bed eventually. It always happened, and Loki never complained. He tried to keep the fact that he really enjoyed your cuddles a secret, but that was the one thing he couldn’t hide behind the facade. You discovered his “secret” when you woke up one early morning and buried your face in his hair, and pressed into his back. Instead of gently pushing you back to your half of the bed, he reached behind him, grabbed your arm, and brought it over his torso. Nothing could melt your heart more than that.

Clint: For some odd reason, unbeknownst to the two of you, you were both on the same exact sleeping schedule. The two of you became used to being sleepy at the same times, and opening your eyes at the same time as well. Throughout the night, Clint would wrap his arms around you, and you in turn would knit your legs together with his. The two of you would basically become human pretzels all while sleeping. He wanted to be as close to you as possible, and found that entangling his limbs with yours was the best way, without you two literally fusing together. That’s when waking up at the exact same time was good, because you could spend some time giggling and reclaiming limbs without waking the other. Honestly, you two were so enamored with each other it almost made everyone else sick, but you two were as happy as ever.

Wanda: Wanda’s room is undoubtedly the most cute and comfiest room in the whole building. Starting with the fact that it’s always at a perfect seventy degrees. The pillows are memory foam, the blankets are fleece, and Wanda is the perfect size to cuddle. So it was a given that you would sleep together in her room. In the mornings, the only thing that would wake the two of you was Steve’s incessant pestering about training. He would periodically knock on the door, open it and peek his head in, reminding the two of you that ‘you can sleep after practice’. Wanda just groans and cuddles deeper into your side, while you cover your face with another pillow, effectively tuning him out. Mornings with Wanda felt like a dream, because you never felt more peaceful with anyone else.

The Carnival (Negan x Female)

Summary: The Saviors find a fairgrounds fully intact and Negan asks her to be his date.

Characters: Negan x Female

Word Count: 1,920

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, and Swearing 

Author’s Note: This fic was requested by @prettyepiic who wanted “smut at the Carnival”. I hope I delivered! Fair warning, it’s pretty dirty. ;D

Thank you to @ashzombie13 for being my beta reader!

Please let me know what you think! You can message me anytime! I LOVE feedback!

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Conflict of Interest

Alright, folks, it’s been awhile and I’m rusty, so forgive me this self-indulgent fic drawing on the unnecessary research I’ve done recently for prosecutorial conflicts of interest.

E/R, lawyer AU, Modern AU, established relationship (of sorts).

“Your Honor, can we meet in chambers?”

Judge Fauchelevent sighed and just managed to avoid pinching the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Enjolras,” she said, drawing out the last syllable as an exaggerated sigh. “We’ve barely begun the arraignment. What is so important that it can’t even wait until the State brings forward charges?”

Enjolras straightened his tie, the red standing out starkly against his crisp white shirt and $2,000 suit, far nicer than the usual public defender could even consider affording. “I’d be happy to discuss it with Your Honor in chambers,” he said carefully.

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Approach the bench,” she ordered, watching as Enjolras stalked up to the bench while he conspicuously avoided glancing at the less well-dressed Assistant Defense Attorney who was taking his time ambling forward. “Mr. Enjolras,” Cosette said, a warning edge to her voice, “I’m sure whatever objection you want to raise on behalf of your client can wait until after the arraignment.”

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Styles & Co. -Part12.

Authors Note: Hey! This is a long chapter, Yay, (Finally answered your requests for longer chapters). I kinda pondered over this chapter for a while and decided to add some spice. ;) 

Warning: I actually added drama. — For Mature audiences.
Enjoy. 

Previous parts found HERE Xx



My eyes gradually wake up to a ray of sunlight inching its way into the eclipsed room, piercing through the small crack of the curtains, reminding me that there is life outside my sleeping state. I smile to myself feeling my legs tangled with his, the covers draped over our bodies, keeping us warm.

I am not quite sure what time we fell asleep; I assume we fell asleep sometime after four— four was the last time I remember glancing over at the time in the midst of pouring another glass of wine, ultimately finishing off the bottle with Harry.

We spent hours talking, laughing, and at one point I was in tears—What specific reason I do not remember, I think the wine was to blame, along with a sentimentally cute comment from Harry.

I feel his arm drape itself around my body, pulling me closer as I feel his soft breathing on my bare shoulder. I don’t move from my position as the little spoon, it is on rare occasions we stay nestled into each other’s bodies for more than ten minutes while leisurely waking up.

I try to discreetly shuffle away from his tender body, but he only pulls me closer, a soft whisper escaping his hoarse voice. “No, it is too early.”

With a slight chuckle I respond, “I don’t think it is still morning.” I enlighten him, feeling him nuzzling into my neck.

“Well, fuck.” He mutters with a groan.

I hum an ’mhm’ as I feel his fingertips begin to travel along my skin, gliding delicately down my arm.

*** ***

My fingers lace with Harrys as I allow him to guide us through the Art Gallery, his eyes seeming overwhelmed by all the exquisite paintings ordered on the walls.

He settles in front of a monochromatic, black and white painting, a composition that catches my attention thoroughly as my eyes set their sights on it. The painting is exuded, elegant, and timeless.

Beautiful, just beautiful.

They say that Mood is an internal and rather subjective emotional state; calmness is what washes over me the longer I stare at the illustration.

There is just something about the texture and depth of the canvas that fascinates my eyes to every detail of the finely shaded rose petals. I tilt my head slightly, cherishing the perfect strokes the artist etched, taking note of how it continues to entice me further and further.

Perhaps it is the impeccable shade and lustrous characteristics it expresses; perhaps a personal reflection is what I perceive within the canvas.

Harry’s voice distracts me from my gaze, “You have stared at this painting longer than what you have ever stared at me before.”

I smile and pull my eyes from the comprehensive representation of a rose, “Well, maybe if you were etched into a ravishing form of art, I would stare longer.” I teasingly respond, watching his eyes roll before he sighs, moving his own gaze back to the art. “I like it, let’s buy it.” He expresses effortlessly, not even thinking twice about his words.

“Harry, you can’t just decide to buy this painting.”

“Yes, I can.” He nods, “Unless, of course, our bank accounts are both at a zero balance.” He grins, being a little cocky, knowing very well and good his balance is far from a fucking zero.

“Where would we put it? We can’t buy it without having a place for it.” I remind him of the other times he has brought a canvas with no idea where he wants to put it.

If I remember right he has at least five of them stashed away somewhere because he could not find a suitable place for them to hang in our house. He forgets that impulse buys do not always blend well with our colour schemes of the house.

“Anywhere, pick a spot.” He shrugs, “And not the bedroom.”

“Why not the bedroom?” I curiously inquire.

He glances at me and bites his lip, “Pick a place without questions, my love.” He insists and I comply, giving him my opinion on where we can place it.

I think the painting would look perfect in our living room, there is a unornamented part on the wall I have been meaning to decorate, somehow. A flawlessly painted, monochromatic painting works excellently, in my opinion.

While Harry and I continue to discuss the perfect location for our soon to be new purchase; we proceed to appreciate the other works of creativity hung skillfully on the walls.

I have a feeling we are going to get more than what we bargained for. Something tells me we might not leave here with just a painting.

“What the hell is he doing?” I hear Harry mutter, diverting my attention away from the aesthetic painting in front of me.

My eyes follow Harry’s distinct stare and cast themselves on a figure, a figure that causes Harry’s blood to hum in his veins in a distasteful manner.

Logan Meyer. Damn it.

“Elise,” Logan smiles as he walks closer with a slight grin on his lips, “Harry.” He nods towards Harry.

“Hi.” I politely acknowledge him, inching closer to Harry and resting my head on his shoulder subtly, doing my best to make it known that Harry needs to keep his cool. At the end of the day, I am right here on his arm.

“What the hell are you doing here, Meyer?” Harry does his best to keep his voice low, yet firm, thankfully keeping in mind that we are in public. Surely, they can keep their feud to a minimum.

“The same as you, admiring the view,” Logan smirks, his eyes fixed on me in a purpose to solely piss off Harry.

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I thought I could share one of my pieces from my show “Submerged” 😊  "Snowcorn" was part of my personal collection that i added to the show because of how perfectly she fit into the theme 😁❤ I wanted to express with her the wild natures exist for some people like a second skin. ✨✨  Untamable power and beauty colors the soul of those who live with wild passions. 💪💖 They are the fierce felines who cannot blend in but rather look at the world as their kingdom and those in it as their prey. 🐆✨ This is the first time since I painted her that she’s available for purchase so if you’d like to add her to your home please contact sales@dorothycircusgallery.com ☺💕Hope you like her as much as I do! Biggest hugs to you loves! 😙💖

I wanted to share a crop of my finished painting, “Fishbowl,” tonight for my “Submerged” show at the Dorothy Circus Gallery in Rome March 30th! 🌈🖼 They say eyes are windows to the soul so I like to spend some time painting them, getting them to look just right. 🖌✨ I think her peepers came out pretty well. 👀💕 What do you guys think? 😊

Oh and for anyone interested in her or my other originals, you can contact sales@dorothycircusgallery.com 💖

2

Creator: ‘And as this is the last Quartz post until I can be arsed to open their save, here have YA versions of Clementine, and Mango!

Our heir is Clem, but we’ll be seeing a whole lot of Mango, as they’ll be travel buddies, with Clem working on her photography, and Mango, his martial arts.


Clementine Quartz

Adventurous//Family Oriented//Gatherer//Grumpy//Photographer’s Eye

LTW: World Class Gallery

Mango Quartz

Adventurous//Athletic//Disciplined//Good Sense of Humour//Grumpy

LTW: Martial Arts Master

Louisiana gothic

- you sit on the front porch, watching the eye of the hurricane go over. Little raindrops mist the screen door, your skin, the sasanqua bush. Around the edges of your vision there’s a crescent of clouds and noise, and it’s coming closer.

- you sit at the edge of the dock. There’s an abandoned pirogue there, half-sunk in moss and weeds. A heron perches on a cypress knee an arm’s length away. It turns its head to the side, bill like a spear, and looks you in the eye.

- there’s an art gallery on Royal Street, and you figure you’ll just cut through the alley to get there. You enter by a wrought-iron gate, you leave by a wrought-iron gate on the other side. Where the glazed tile saying “Rue Royale” should be, there’s a crude drawing of a snake. It was morning when you left for the art gallery. It’s evening now.

- Dad was out inspecting some property for his boss and he found the remains of a meth lab in a secluded field, in a trailer tipped on its side by a massive explosion. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Graveyard crickets live in the charred plastic now. They’re black and orange, big as your hand, chewing tobacco.

- a fortune teller in the Quarter looks into her crystal ball and sees the ocean turning black. The men go down to the gulf and pull out nets full of choking fish, three-eyed shrimp.

- there are still a few beads hanging from the power lines along the parade route. In the parking lot of the old Blockbuster, someone dropped a plastic hurricane cup. Flies are buzzing inside it. A few feet away, someone threw up, red beans and boudin.

2
Tomoe Mami ; the sisterly magical girl of Mitakihara.

I feel so light. This is the first time I feel so happy during battle. I’m not afraid of anything any more… Because I’m not alone any more.