Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
━━━━━━━━
❛ arts is 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣 ❜
HIS AGRESSIVE SCRIBBLING is what awoke her from her deep sleep and somehow her brain took several moments to process his absence from the sleeping bag and connect it to the sound that echoed through the warehouse. Valerie rose her head slowly, eyes opening at their own, steady pace. He was sitting at the little table again, hunched over, his hand drifting over the piece of paper in his hands. His hair was tousled and he was still shirtless, his scars noticeable due to the harsh sunlight that came right through the windows near the top of the building. He was focused and her heart ironically skipped a beat. There was something about Jason being in his element, pouring every ounce of his soul into his work that caused her to feel like they were kids again, running across rooftops, causing trouble.
The second the fabric of her tank top brushed against his skin, his head froze and his head turned. Their eyes met and she pressed a gentle, but fragile kiss to his shoulder where a scar ran straight across in a near perfect line. She placed her chin on him and let her eyes flicker to what he had been working on. The sight caused her to let out a snort, the corner of her lips tugging upwards which made her cheeks rise, her whiskers moving with her.
"What the hell are those? Blueprints for a monster made out of scribbles?"
"Get off my dick," he snapped lightheartedly, not even bothering to shove her away, though he did move his arm a little, which barely jolted her. "They're drones."
Valerie allowed her brow to quirk up curiously. "Drones?" She pursed her lip and moved to sit beside him, looking closer at the drawing in front of them. Silence stretched out as she continued to stare and he bristled next to her, head turning to also observe what he had drawn. "Drones. . .got it."
