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thecrystalquill · 2 years

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Request 6:

Long Long Lost

OUaT - Charmings x platonic!Reader

A/N: Hey hey! I’m not dead! Thank you @kpopgirlbtssvt for the request, I’m aware it’s not exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it anyway - and I’m sorry it took so long but thank you for being patient!

Masterlist

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, his newborn daughters held carefully in one arm, and his sword in the other. How he managed to hold them so carefully he couldn’t say; perhaps it was some sort of deep-rooted fathering instinct. It pained him to no end that he couldn’t treasure their birth more. It pained him more that he wouldn’t see them grow. That he wouldn’t even know if they would be alright. But the wardrobe was their only hope.

Bursting through the nursery doors, Charming rushed to the wardrobe, carefully placing the oldest twin down first, and then the second. As they both lay there, new to the world and unaware of what may come, he kissed them on their tiny heads for the first and last time. Tears in his eyes and fear in his heart, but he had hope. “Find us,” he whispered, before willing himself to close the doors and turn the lock. Hope; it was all they had left.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Henry sat in the passenger’s seat of Emma’s car, studying the final illustration of the Book intently. The strangest thing about the Book, the first thing he’d realised, was that it was incomlete – a fairytale without an ending – and it didn’t make sense. It was the first clue that put him on this little mission; all fairytales have an ending, so why didn’t this one? But the answer was obvious: the story wasn’t over. There was no happy ever after… not yet.

The door opened and his birth-mother took her seat, handing a small box over. “I got donuts,” she stated, then sat back and took one. Sugar glazed with chocolate sprinkles, Henry’s favourite. “What did you wanna talk about?”

Henry took a doughnut in one hand and the pages of the Book in t\he other, careful not to get any sweet stickiness on the pages. “The last page of the story.”

“What about it?”

Henry handed the Book over for Emma to see. “I didn’t tell you before, but you weren’t the only one your parents sent here.” He said convincingly, pointing to the illustration with his cleanest finger. “Your sister went too.”

The woman stared at him for a moment. “My sister?” And the boy nodded eagerly in return.

Growing up, Emma had thought about having a sister; it would have made it easier, having one constant person in her life, someone to go through it all with her. But she thought she’d grown out of that, apparently not; her heart fluttered at Henry’s words, as if it were begging to believe it was true. And for a fraction of a second, hope swayed her. But she wouldn’t admit it – it as a silly childhood fantasy.

“Her name’s (Y/N),” Henry went on, “Charming sent you in first, then her. So she’s here too – in our world.”

Henry deflated, picking up another doughnut. “I haven’t figured that out yet…”

Looking back to the picture, Emma admired its beauty. The soft tones of watercolour paint and delicate brushstrokes; and the two blurry faces wrapped in blankets.

“Where do you think she is?” Asked Henry in a quiet voice, unsure of her reaction. If only someone would remember…

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

“Excuse me,” (Y/N) said, fiddling with the sleeves of her cardigan as she approached the barrister behind the counter, “excuse me, I’m here for an interview… about the vacancy…”

The young man nodded and smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Oh yeah, Joyce mentioned that, she’s around the back, I’ll go get her.” He turned to leave, then hesitated and came back to her. “Er… why don’t you go sit down, you want a drink made while you’re here?”

“Yeah, thanks… thank you, um… surprise me.” She replied before he left.

Happily Ever After was by far her favourite place in town, a beautiful book store with a quaint cafe upstairs, and only a half-hour walk from her college. So far, everything seemed to be going perfectly; first she was accepted by her college, her professor was great, the landlord of her apartment building finally fixed the elevator, and now all she had to do was get this job. It was like finally – finally – everything was looking up. The universe was finally favouring her.

After a couple of minutes, a woman wearing a navy suit jacket and yellow shirt took a seat in front of her. “Hi, you must be (Y/N).” This must be Joyce.

She would’ve stood up to greet her, but the woman had already sat. Oh gods was that a bad first impression? “Hi, um… thank you for- I really appreciate you having me here…” No no, now she was nervous.

The bell chimed at the doors downstairs as someone entered, a light twinkling noise, she used the momentary distraction to take a breath.

“So, (Y/N) – it is (Y/N), isn’t it?” Said Joyce, just as the barrister brought them some drinks (after a sip, she realised her surprise drink was a caramel latte), and they both thanked him as he walked away with a tray. “Yes, well, why don’t you tell me about yourself, hmm? Why did you apply for this job?” She seemed like a nice woman, presumably in her fifties (though (Y/N) was never so great with ages), her hair was black and streaked with strands of grey, pulled into a salt and pepper coloured bun. The wrinkles and lines around her eyes said she smiled often, which was somewhat reassuring, and (Y/N) got the impression that she was actually quite a nice person. Hopefully that was true.

All she had to do was give good answers, show good manners, and add a little bit of charm. “Well, I’ve been here a lot before and it’s such a nice place,” good start, “and I, er… I don’t live too far away so, that’s a plus. But I’m starting college next month so I won’t be able to keep my full-time job, and when I saw your ad for part-time work… it seemed kind of perfect.” Okay, okay, that was good. (Y/N) smiled her sweetest smile, her ‘please love me’ smile, and took a sip of her beverage. Sweet, smooth, and warm.

“Oh, a college student are you?” Said Joyce, as if the prospect of further education was an extremely interesting topic. “What for?”

“Writing,” (Y/N) answered as she fiddled with her sleeves again. She had always loved stories – what better place to work during her studies than a book store, a place brimming with inspiration?

Joyce beamed and drank some of her tea. “Ah yes, a good subject – always need more writers in the world. Wouldn’t you agree? I bet your parents are proud.”

Oof…

The girl shrugged as she held her mug between her hands. “No I… er… I’m afraid not.”

“Why ever not?” Frowned the manageress.

“I never met them.” Hopefully this wouldn’t turn their conversation awkward. That’s the thing, whenever she mentioned that situation to others, they always got very awkward and quiet, like they just hit her in the face; the truth was, as sad as it was, it didn’t bother her so much any more. Well, it still bothered her, she was still plagued with questions – who were they? What where their names? Why didn’t they keep her? -- but eventually, she got used to it. She’d gone her whole life without a family, why should she start moping about it now? This was a new chapter, after all. “It’s fine, really.” She said, before the inevitable spew of apologies and such started. “I’m over it.” Change the subject… change the subject… “So, um… why don’t you tell me a little about the position?”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Mary-Margaret – or rather, Snow – had been crying all day. And her husband wasn’t much better. It should have been a happy occasion. The curse was broken – finally – after years and years of torment, they finally won. Everyone was okay. Their memories had returned – but with it came pain.

They should be celebrating the victory, like everyone else, but the floods of tears wouldn’t stop. Worry and dread weighed heavy. Their daughter was nowhere to be seen.

Thirty years had passed and no one had the faintest idea of what happened to (Y/N). No news reports, no records, nothing. For all they knew, she never made it to this world; for all they knew she was dead.

Emma was still processing it all. First she finds out that her parents are here, then that all of this fairytale stuff is true, her son’s adoptive mother was a murderer and sorceress, and now she has a twin sister who may or may not even be alive. It was a hell of a lot to think about.

After a few more hours, Mary-mar-- Snow was able to pull herself together. David had sat there with her, holding her in his embrace as she wept, and sat with a vacant expression on his face, as if he was too tired to hurt any more. All he could think about was the last time he saw them, his beautiful daughters. He wondered about her – refusing to believe there was any chance she didn’t make it – what was she like? Did she have his eyes? Her mother’s hair? Did she have a family? Was she happy? But the questions plagued him, and he felt so useless.

Henry, however, was always the positive one – he didn’t need hope if he had the determination to fix it. Which is what lead him to Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop. The bell chimed as he entered, he always did like the sound it made, and he made his way to the desk. The shop was filled with all sorts of things, some of which he recognised from the Book, and every time he came here he spotted something new.

“Can I help you?” Said the man – Rumpelstiltskin, it was so obvious.

“I want to ask for your help,” said Henry, trying to seem more confident than he was. He wasn’t afraid of him, he’d known Mr. Gold his whole life, after all, but he wasn’t sure how to play this situation.

Mr. Gold nodded and smiled down at the boy (he’d hate to admit he had a soft spot for this one). “I’m assuming your mother doesn’t know you’re here,” he started, leaning on the table.

“No… but this is really important.”

“I’m guessing this is about the other girl,” Replied Rumple, watching Henry closely. The child nodded. “Well, I can’t help you Henry.”

Henry shook his head; he refused to believe that. “Of course you can – you’re Rumpelstiltskin, aren’t you? I-I’ll make a deal with you or something, I know how this works.” He was a brave lad, Gold credited him that.

Gold sighed, the boy was as stubborn as the rest of his family; but he gathered some things anyway. “Do you have anything that belonged to her?”

Henry frowned. “No…”

Of course, this had to be difficult. Gold raised a finger and told Henry to wait, then exited to the back, shuffling a few things about. After a minute or so, the man returned with a small bottle filled with a clear liquid and a rather large map. “Alright, this may work. Since we have nothing that belonged to her, normally I wouldn’t be able to do it – but, we may be able to do it with blood.”

It sounded worse than it was.

“But we… we don’t have her blood,” Henry said, it all sounded a bit sadistic to him.

Rumple nodded. “Perhaps. But we have the blood of her twin, don’t we?”

Henry beamed, there it was again – the hope. All he had to do was somehow get some of Emma’s blood. It was weird, but it would be worth it.

“Alright,” said Mr. Gold, “you go get that, I have some calls to make.”

Nodding obediently, Henry ran to the door, but stopped just before leaving. “Um… what about that, ‘all magic comes with a price’ stuff?”

Again, Gold smiled at the boy, thinking how much he reminded him of years long since passed. “Let’s call it a favour, hm?”

Though, he had no real intention of charging Henry.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Four months of work and almost three of college, and (Y/N) was already exhausted. But it would be so worth it. It was all going fine; Joyce had offered to pay her a little extra too, ever since she found out that (Y/N) was a decent baker, her home-made cupcakes and cookies were far better than the ones they ordered in (those always left an artificial aftertaste in your mouth). And that extra money went towards her savings – granted it was only about five dollars a month, but it was better than nothing.

It was Saturday, and (Y/N) had agreed to take a double shift; her co-worker, Ben, had begged her to take his shift today, she wanted to be selfish and say no, but how could she? After Ben explained his plans for his boyfriend’s birthday, it would be plain cruel to refuse. But Ben was so nervous and excited that she was tempted to not only take his shift, but offer to go down to the jewellers and pick up the ring for him. She didn’t, of course, because she was working, but the sentiment still counts. She wished him all the luck in the world, hugged him tight, and told him to take the whole day.

Setting down her coffee as a customer approached, (Y/N) stood and smiled as always. “Hi, what can I get you?” Today was going to be a long day.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

“What do you mean you found her?”

It was a Saturday morning, and Henry had invited everyone to Granny’s Diner for ‘something important’. After a while, Gold finally told Henry the news; he was able to track the girl as far as Manchester, New Hampshire, about an hour from Boston. After a few calls, he came back with a full profile. It had taken a long time, especially since this town never seemed to be normal for a single day, but they finally had something.

All the Charmings were sat around the booth table, accompanied by Regina and Hook, of course. Henry squeezed himself on the edge with Emma as Gold pulled up a chair. The atmosphere around them was strange – tense and confusing – but Henry brushed it off and took a sip of his lemonade.

“He means” Mr. Gold answered “that, after extensive research and several spells, I’ve managed to locate the whereabouts of your daughter.” He said, in a rather matter-of-fact manner.

There was a heavy silence for a moment. “What?” Muttered Snow, already feeling emotional – if this was some kind of trick, she was going to lose it.

Rumple took out from his suit jacket a thin folder, which he placed at the centre of the table. “(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/S/N).” He quoted as David unfolded the profile, completely stunned as he took out a photo – of his daughter, whom he’d convinced himself he would never see. “First name found on her baby blanket, and other names given by the couple who first raised her. Found at the side of a road in New Hampshire eighteen years ago, placed in the foster system and moved about between nine homes. Good grades, no arrest records, no expulsions, a few detentions here and there but otherwise a good student. I made a few calls, put in some favours, possibly the odd threat, and I’ve found out she lives in Manchester now. Got her own place a few months ago, just started University for a literature course, and working in a cafe part time--”

“--Wait wait wait,” Emma interrupted after being handed the file, “did you say eighteen? She’s eighteen? How is that possible?”

Gold shrugged. “That, I haven’t yet figured out. My best guess is that the wardrobe sent her to another time, perhaps it couldn’t take both of you at once.”

There was another silence, no one knew quite what to say; all of this information at once about a girl they’d wondered about since they first started to remember. The last time she was seen was when she was barely an hour old – and now they were looking at pictures of a young girl becoming a young woman. School photos and chess club photos and basketball photos, photos with friends and foster siblings, photos at home and at the park and in the city. Her whole life in a small collection of pictures, her personality shining through each one.

“Well…” breathed Gillian, inspecting a photograph on the table, “when do we leave?”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

It had been a busy morning, and now as barely a handful of customers roamed the shop and cafe, (Y/N) finally had a chance to catch up on her reading assignment. She sat at the counter with her book in her lap and a mocha beside her, labelling and annotating wherever she needed (in pencil, of course). She truly loved working there; it was always warm and peaceful, the smells of coffee and pastry hung in the air, and she got a ten percent discount on any of the books she wanted – it was like a library, but better.

She kept an eye on the few customers sat at the tables, reading their newly purchased books while enjoying a snack and beverage, checking if anyone needed a refill. The bell above the doors downstairs informed her of someone coming or going, and the swing of the doors a moment later blew a light breeze throughout, it had been raining lightly.

(Y/N) was too engrossed in her chapter of ‘A Long Long way’ by Sebastian Barry to notice the somewhat large group of people slowly making their way over.

“Um… excuse me…” came a soft voice from the other side of the counter.

Looking up quickly, (Y/N) stood and smiled, putting her book back on the shelf by her knee. “Oh sorry,” she said, realising that she had quite a few orders to fill, “what can I get you?”

The woman seemed stunned for a minute, staring at her like she saw a ghost. She was pretty, (Y/N) thought.

Upon noticing her stunned friend, a ravenette woman slid up and made herself known. “Can we have four regular coffees, two black teas, and a cocoa with cinnamon, please.” Then she beckoned her friends quickly to a table on the left, which overlooked the street.

A boy, possibly in his early teens (as mentioned, she wasn’t very good with ages) who she hadn’t seen before tailed behind them and flashed her a grin. “And some cookies, please.”

They all gathered at the far end of the room as (Y/N) began to prepare their order, the sound of the machines filling the room as she made each one. She set out several different mugs and cups, each one completely different depending on who each cup was for.

They watched her cautiously, not that she noticed. Mary-Margaret looked as if she were trying to keep herself together, and David held her hand tightly under the table. She was beautiful, they thought, but that could be parental bias. Emma couldn’t look away either, picking out different things about the girl; similarities in their features, the way she was dressed, the jewellery she decorated herself with, putting her detective skills to work. Regina and Hook were more curious than anything. And Henry, well, the boy was more eager than anything else, excited and happy.

“I can’t believe it’s her…” David whispered, his last words to her stuck on a loop in his head.

Regina tapped her nails on the table, glancing out of the window. “I understand that this is probably emotional for you but have you taken a minute to think about what the hell you’re going to say? And stop staring.”

“You’re right,” Snow groaned, it wasn’t like they could just go up and say ‘hi, we’re your parents! Don’t worry, we’re not as young as we seem, we’ve been under a spell for the last thirty years!’

“Well, you might want to figure it out soon,” said Mr. Gold, “she’s coming over.”

All heads snapped her way as (Y/N) came over with a tray, setting down their drinks and the cookies at the centre of the table. “Here you go,” she smiled, setting down the cocoa for Henry (who was more than pleased to find it topped with cream and marshmallows). “Can I get you anything else?”

There was a beat.

“When do you get off work?” Henry suddenly asked.

(Y/N) blinked in surprise. Was this thirteen year old flirting with her something? “Er--”

“No- um- sorry,” said the woman in the red jacket, looking startled, “I… er… I’m a private investigator, and- well, we’ve come all this way to… talk to you.”

Well… this certainly wasn’t how she thought today would go. Was she in some kind of trouble? Because that would be horribly inconvenient. “Oh… I can uh… I don’t- my shift ends at six but… I can stop for a few minutes?” Oh gods, she’d never been in a situation like this before.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

This was confusing. It was all so confusing.

It was a lot to take in. Her heart was pounding, palms clammy, mouth dry, and her brain was either completely frozen or calculating at lightspeed.

After the strangers invited her to sit with them, they explained first where they were from (which sounded very made up, by the way) and introduced themselves, and went on to tell her that they had been looking for her for a very long time. That they were her family; that Mary-Margaret and David were her parents, and the investigator was her sister, and the boy was her nephew. They explained that they never really wanted to give her up, that they wanted her to have her best chance.

It was a lot to take in. This morning she’d woken up as a solitary person, as she always had, alone in the world and determined to get by on her own just fine. But now, she apparently had more family than she had ever expected. They showed her some proof, of course, as much as they could; but, for some reason, she didn’t feel that she needed the evidence; she picked up on their similarities, how a strange familiarity came over her. She read somewhere once that a child never forgets their mother’s smell (or was it her voice) – she desperately hoped that was true, that that was this strange feeling.

After their explanation, there was a stillness about them. The cafe was empty, given the time, most people were back at work, except for a young man studying at the other side of the room (where he’d been all day). It seemed, none of them knew where to go from there, she figured they probably hadn’t had time to think this meeting through.

“I…” (Y/N) started, playing with the ring on her finger, “I don’t really know what to say…”

“We were hoping,” said Mary-Margaret in a gentle, motherly voice, “that you might want to come home with us… for a few days maybe.”

Oh hell her hands were shaking on her lap. “I…” Does she want to go with them? Could she? At this point they were still perfect strangers – not to mention how it all seemed to be going too fast. “Thank you, I appreciate the offer – really. But um… I have to work… and I have a paper due on Monday.”

The group’s faces fell in poorly hidden disappointment.

“But we can stay in touch… maybe I could visit for winter break?”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

It was the strangest day she’d had, by far. But by the time they took their leave, and (Y/N) got back to work, she had the most unusual feeling in her chest which she couldn’t describe.

“I wish she was coming back with us,” said Henry as they made their way downstairs.

David laid an arm across his shoulders as he took a final look back at his youngest daughter, watching her serve the dark haired boy a fresh drink while he studied, blushing up at her as he thanked her and smiled nervously. “It’s alright, we’ll see her again.” He said, seeing (Y/N) making small talk with the obviously smitten student, “She’s made a life here, I’m glad.”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

The End

#ouat #ouat x reader #charmings x reader #ouat charmings x reader #ouat x charming!reader #emma swan x sister!reader #ouat request #once upon a time #once upon a time x reader #once upon a time fanfic #ouat fanfic #x reader #once upon a time x platonic!reader

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phoenixblack89 · 3 years

Text

Blank Canvas

Travis is definitely one of my favourite characters the gorgeously talented Mr. Reedus has portrayed.

TAGS: @fandomsaremykryponite @autocon23 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgirl @writingdeadangel

WARNING: Just pure filthy smut

The incessant beeping of your alarm clock woke you as you tried in vain to stay under the covers of your bed. Your head throbbed in pain, a lecture about hangovers and the dangers of drinking by your mother echoing in your memory.

It was all Derek's fault.

You would have been quite happy to have the loft to yourself last night while your three roommates went drinking but no. He insisted that you come along to make sure Travis didn't have another 'discussion with gravity' as he liked to call them. Needless to say all of you ended up slightly more than drunk, hell Travis was literally dragged into his room out cold last night.

The only thing making you feel better was the fact he too would be horridly hungover as you at the lecture.

"Y/N? You awake?"

"Just..." You croakily replied, throwing your pillow over your shoulder.

The door creaked loudly as Travis opened it and slowly, holding his head, made his way to you and climbed under the covers.

"Can we skip today?"

"Travis sweetums, you know we can't." You groan, turning and putting your head on his chest lightly. The crush you harbored on the quieter, shyer roommate was nothing secret. Both Jones and Derek knew, Travis seemed oblivious to it however. If he knew he wouldn't do his usual hangover routine which involved him climbing into your bed to snuggle and complain about his head until the afternoon. As it was you weren't complaining. You loved feeling the heat through your body from the innocent act by him.

"Fuck it. Let's skip. We can always catch up. We'll just say we ate dodgy food again. Blame Derek's cooking." You laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist and sighed.

"Shhh my head hurts. Let's go back to sleep" He wrapped his arms around you and closed his eyes.

/*/

The slam of the door jolted you awake. Fucking noisy bastards you thought, glancing at the clock and groaning. Travis rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. Derek kicked the door open and bounced on the bed, crushing you and Travis back into the mattress.

"See you two finally fucked!" He laughed.

You and Travis both turned bright red and you shoved Derek hard to get out from under him. You stood and pointed at the door.

"Get out!"

"Hey I'm joking! Nice shorts by the way." He laughed, leaning on one elbow to look you over lustifully. You huffed and slammed the door as you entered the bathroom.

Derek was such an ass. If he didn't mind you being late on the rent occasionally you would of moved out but you knew you'd never find somewhere as awesome as the loft. Especially when it came to your art supplies. The space for your canvases was your priority. Hours and weeks and months were spent on your art and they needed special storage to ensure they didn't get ruined. Derek, thankfully, had the perfect conditions for this. Oil, acrylic, watercolour, whatever your classical and fine arts class called for you had on hand within reach. The last place you lived meant you had to rent out a storage unit and numerous pieces of art had been lost because of the shit climate and vermin. You shuddered as you showered, remembering Travis helping you clear the storage unit to move in and discovering one of your favourite pieces had been converted into a comfortable two up two down by a collection of rats. That hadn't been a pleasant sight.

Wrapping a towel around you, you exited the bathroom to a thankfully empty bedroom. The laughs of your roommates reached your ears and you smiled lightly, dressing quickly in your usual baggy clothes before throwing up your hair and sitting at your desk. You sent an email to your professor for the weeks assignment and leaned back, your head ending upside down as you looked at the large blank canvas behind you. You'd bought the thing on a complete whim. You didn't know what to do with it now you had it. And honestly, you'd forgotten you'd even bought it in the first place until the delivery men hauled it into your living room. Maybe you should just give it to Travis. He'd know what to do with it.

"Hey you."

"Hello Miss Jones. What can I do for you today?"

You knew what she was going to say as soon as she closed the door. When you gonna tell him how you feel... Blah. Blah. Blah.

"Before you say it. No. Things are good the way they are. I ain't gonna rock the boat."

"Y/N"

"Nope... Not a chance Jonesy. Ain't telling my cute, sweet, sexy as fuck, roommate I share a vast majority of art classes with I like him. Not happening."

"You should. He's a sweetie."

"I know. That's why I can't. I ain't his type anyway. He prefers thin blonds."

"Oh hunny, you have no idea what he likes." Jones smiled and patted your shoulder lightly. "Maybe you should ask for his help on that huge monster of a canvas." She smirked as she left.

Frowning, you bit your lip and considered her suggestion. Jones smirked as she passed Travis and winked back at you.

Shit. Had he heard?

"You... Erm... Need help with the... Assignment?" He stuttered, his head ducked lowly as you blushed.

"Er yea... Later... I... I... I need to look it over some more.."

He nodded and smirked as he tapped against your doorframe before spinning on his heel and leaving. As soon as you were sure he was out of sight and earshot yoh banged your head forward on the desk with a groan.

"Fuck my life."

/:/

"Lift! Careful! Careful" You huffed as you directed Travis and Derek, who were lifting the canvas into Travis's room for the project that you'd come up with. You laughed as Derek bashed his arm against the door.

"Remind me to not let you get another one this big!" Travis huffed, setting the monster down against his wall and flexing his thick fingers.

"Its not that bad! It's gonna look awesome!" You laughed quietly, tying your Y/H/C into a high ponytail and smiling as Derek left grumbling. "Come on Travis. Let's get this baby started."

"What exactly are we doing again?"

You shook your head and tugged the canvas into a more pleasant angle, last thing you wanted or needed was to injure yourself by overstretching yourself. Travis glanced over his shoulder as he picked up his paintbrush, twirling it between his fingers with a cigarette hanging from his sinful mouth. Your eyes gazed over his wide shoulders and down his back. The black vest clung to the muscles in his back and tucked into the overalls he was wearing, the sleeves tied tight around his narrow hips. His boots banged against the wood floor loudly as he tapped his foot expectantly.

"Y/N?"

"Huh?!" You startled out of your thoughts of how he'd feel under your hands as your nails dragged scarlet lines down that delicious looking back. "Oh erm... Well I was thinking maybe... Erm... A sex scene but not straight up porn. Like two lovers in an embrace kinda thing out in nature... Does that make sense?"

"Hmm... So... Summit like this?" He asked, quickly sketching a rough plan of two lovers on a scrap of paper. The lines were sharp with his haste, the angles a bit off but it was perfect. The woman's head thrown back as the man's lips kissed her neck, the hands gripping onto the males broad shoulders, her leg thrown over his hip.

You smiled widely and began sketching it on to the canvas roughly. Travis smiled, flicked his cigarette and joined you. Each of you taking one of the figures to draw. Travis's eyes lingering on your rapidly shifting hands. He loved watching you loose yourself to your creativity. It was as beautiful as the sun rise to him. The look of pure joy and concentration on your face, highlighted your beauty. The dimples in the corner of your mouth as you placed your pencil between your teeth drove him wild. He couldn't help but wonder what they'd look like as you sucked his cock. He ducked his head to the side as he felt his cock getting harder at the mere thought.

/:/

You backed away from the canvas and tilted your head to the side. Something was off with the sketch and it was bugging you no end. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was. Was it the angle? The pose? Was it something small and seemingly insignificant? Was it because you'd taken the male figure where Travis the female?

"Something is off about it... I just can't see what it is though..." Travis agreed, another cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

"Yea... I see it but I don't. Ya know. Maybe we should... Nah... That's stupid." You blushed and ran your hands over your face. Your eyes were a tad itchy and tired from the low light in the room plus the smoke. Travis chewed his lip and walked to you slowly.

"What?"

"Well... Maybe we should try the pose out. See if its because we didn't have a proper reference for it." Your eyes stayed on the floor, running over the numerous splatters of multicoloured paint that had been dipping onto it. Travis felt a lump in his throat as he shifted his weight nervously. He nodded his head upwards and slowly stalked towards you, licking his lip nervously. You shifted closer and with a glance at the canvas lifted your leg to his hip, pushing yourself closer to him. His fingers hesitated for a moment before wrapping around your thigh tightly. His lips slightly red from being chewed dropped to your neck before pulling away sharply.

"Trav?"

"Hold up. Camera. Can't hold pose and look at it at the same time."

He rushed and grabbed his camera, setting it up on a tripod and grabbed the clicker to be able to take the photo. He smiled as he reached for you and you flushed, feeling the heat from his crotch against your core as he lifted your leg back into place across his hip. His mouth once more just brushing your neck as you ran your hand through his short dark tresses. The camera flashed suddenly and you backed away as Travis quickly hooked the memory card into his computer and gave a laugh at the blurry image on the screen.

"Still looks wrong. Maybe we should lose the overalls?" He suggested quietly, swallowing audibly as the image became more focused. You nodded and blushed, slipping the boots off your feet and shrugging the dark paint splattered overalls off your hips to pool on the floor beside his bed. Your throat went dry as his gaze ran along your legs, over your plain black panties and up your stomach to the thin white cotton vest you had on. Your nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, a dusty rose colour and hard from the tingle of arousal running rampant through you.

Travis's eyes darken as he removed his own clothes down to his boxers before returning to your side once more. You shuddered as his fingertips ran up your leg to grip you up around his hip once more. His eyes drilled into yours as he lowered his head to your neck. Your eyes closed, feeling his breath ghosting over your pulse point. You felt his cock harden against your core as your nails lightly scrapped his scalp and sucked in a gasp. His lips brushed against your neck as the camera flashed. His hand tightened in the back of your neck as he trailed kisses up your neck before pulling back to look into your eyes. You bit your lip and nudged your nose against his lightly.

"Travis..."

"You... God... Y/N I like you. I've thought about you and me so much. I wanna..."

"Shut up and kiss me idiot."

You smiled at the smirk gracing his face as he did as he was told, pushing his hips into yours tighter. He grabbed your other leg and pulled you up into his arms, walking forward to his bed before dipping down onto his knees. His lips felt heavenly after so long of a wait. You nipped his lip lightly and pushed your tongue into his mouth as he gasped.

He growled and thrust against you as his hands ripped your vest from your chest and licked at your nipple. You grabbed his hair and tugged him back to your mouth as you pushed his boxers down his hips and felt the heavy, thick weight of his raging hard cock.

His lips left a trial along your neck, sucking and nipping gently as he ground his hips against yours slowly. A thrill of desire flared in your core, making your clit twitch against the cotton covering them. His fingers lightly tapped along the edge of your panties before gripping them tightly and dragging them harshly down your hips. Your hand ran up and down his length as he leaned his forehead against yours, his breaths coming out as soft groans.

"Fuck... I ain't gonna last if ya keep that up!" He moaned, feeling his orgasm rapidly approaching. With a slight growl, he grabbed your hand and pulled it off himself, slamming it down above your head and panted against your neck. "Fuck..."

"Travis... Please..." You moaned, wiggling under his weight. He smirked against your collarbone as he began kissing down your chest. He shifted his hips and aligned himself with your dripping core. In one swift thrust he buried himself inside your aching pussy as you gave a very loud moaning shriek. Your nails raked down his back as he set a hard, fast pace. His fingers digging harshly into your hips, sure to leave bruises for days.

You gave a loud moan as you felt your core tingling and fluttering around his hard cock, your pleasure sky rocketing towards the orgasmic bliss it craved.

Your release crashed over you as his fingers dug crescents into your hips as his thrusts became harder and rougher. His head leaned back as he enjoyed the sensation of your walls spasming around him, your mouth held open in a silent scream as pleasure rushed through your entire nervous system.

You pulled him towards you and crashed your lips against his as his hips began loosing their rhythm, his own release rapidly approaching. He gave a groan and pulled out, gripping himself tightly and splashing your stomach with his cum. He fell down beside you panting then chuckled.

"Fuck..."

"Yea." You replied with a breath laugh, your hand pushing your sweat soaked hair off your face and grimacing slightly at the stickiness coating you. "We should probably clean up.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It was worth it."

"Yea... Definitely. We should of done that ages ago." He said smiling, leaning up onto one elbow to look into your blissed out face, his other hand using his shirt to clean his mess from your skin. You pushed your hand through his hair and drew his lips to yours before pulling away and biting your lip with a smirk.

"Maybe we should get some more inspiration for that canvas huh?" You said flirty, wiggling an eyebrow up and down. He glanced behind him towards the canvas before laughing and diving on top of you again attacking your neck with his teeth. You gave a loud laugh.

The canvas certainly wouldn't be blank for much longer that was for sure.

#normanreedus #PhoenixBWrites #norman reedus fanfiction #Travis Gossip #travis x reader #Gossip smut #smut fanfiction

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maladaptive---daydreamer · 3 years

Text

Black ribbon and silver bows

The fifth of may meant that there were exactly 2 months until Draco turned 17. Draco had gone above and beyond for your birthday, spoiling you with 17 individually wrapped gifts that he sent you on a wild goose chase around the school to find. You wanted to make him equally as special as he made you feel, but what did you get the boy who could get anything he wanted?

You thought about getting him a pet, but you didn’t think his mother would appreciate a cat roaming around the halls of the Malfoy Manor. Then you thought about getting him a broom, but as usual, Draco already had the best of the best. Your mind turned to clothes, but the man only wore black shirts with tailor-made trousers.

“Still thinking about what to get Draco?” Blaise’s voice asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ugh yes, anything I think of, he already has”

“You’re fault for choosing rich, should have dated a Weasley, they’d be over the moon with an unworn robe”

You smacked Blaise’s arm “Don’t be so rude, Blaise. Just because you don’t like them doesn't mean you can be a prick”

“Why don’t you make him something? I’m sure the elves would let you sneak into the kitchen to cook, you could draw something, write him a poem”

If you were a cat, your ears would have pricked at hearing the word ‘draw’, Draco was never a fan of the decorations in his room, maybe you could paint him a painting that he could hang up on his wall.

“You might have just saved Draco’s birthday”

The increase of chatter across the library hinted that your free period was over and it was now time for lunch. You and Blaise collected your things and returned the books to the returns trolley before making your way to the great hall. You bumped into Draco, Pansy and Daphne on your way there. The five of you made your way to the Slytherin table to see Crabbe and Goyle already tucking in.

“Why am I not surprised that you two gluttons are the first on the table?” Blaise asked, throwing his school bag down and taking a seat.

The rest of your group sat down as well, the elves had made different variations of chicken wraps for lunch today. You picked up a grilled chicken wrap and began eating it, famished after your hour of revision during your free period. You had just finished the first one when Draco said your name.

“You’ve got sauce on your mouth, darling”

You stuck your tongue out trying to lick it off but you kept missing.

“Hold still a sec” Draco instructed. He used his thumb to wipe the spot of sauce from your mouth, licking it off his thumb once he was done.

“Ah my saviour!” you fake swooned.

He laughed and continued to eat his lunch. You wolfed another half of a wrap before feeling full.

“Are we still revising for charms after dinner?” Daphne asked, looking up from her homework.

“I’m on it, but the boys have quidditch practise until 7, so they’ll have to join in later” You replied, snapping the lid of your lip balm back on

“Actually, practice is cancelled, so Blaise and I’ll be there” Draco added, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice.

“Y/N, you alright?”

Your head whipped around to see Neville Longbottom standing behind you.

“Are you lo-” Draco began to sneer

You pinched the outside of his thigh making him grit his teeth instead of finishing his sentence. “Neville, hi”

“I just wanted to return your charms notes, they were dead useful, thanks,” He said with a light blush, holding your pile of notes out.

“Oh, thank you. I’m so glad you found them helpful” You took the notes from him with a smile.

“Have a nice rest of the afternoon,”

“You too Neville,”

He returned to his friends and your friends turned onto you.

“Why are you so nice to him?” Blaise demanded.

“Oh merlin, when are you guys going to get over this rivalry, he needed help, so I helped him.”

“He’s also Longbottom”

You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, does anyone want to let me copy the last two questions for the dada homework?”

Daphne slid her roll of parchment over to you and you quickly scribbled the answers. Just as you had screwed on the cap for your ink lid, the bell for your next lesson rang. Nowadays your lessons were less structured, it was two months before exam season which meant the teachers pushed to revise topics rather than introducing new ones. Some teachers preferred to let you get on in groups doing your own thing, others had a strict revision lesson planned. But one thing was for certain exams had definitely taken over your life.

After your charms revision session with your friends, you and Draco found yourselves walking up to the astronomy tower. The sun was beginning to set as you nestled yourself into his lap.

“Don’t you think it’s mad that in a couple of years we won’t be able to do this anymore?” You asked, tightening his arms around you.

“We can watch the sunset from anywhere love”

“Ha ha you know what I mean idiot”

“I’m ready to leave this place”

“Sorry Mr ‘I should have been in Durmstrang’”

“I should have, my father agreed more with their curriculum”

“Maybe cause his old death eater buddy was running it”

“He’s your father's old death eater buddy too”

“My father never thought about sending me to Durmstrang”

“That’s because it’s a boys-only school, love”

“I don’t like you”

“That’s because you love me,”

“Speaking of love, do you remember the first moment you realised you loved me?”

He paused “As a matter of fact I do”

“Do tell, Mr Malfoy”

“We were at that party at the Parkinson’s in our 3rd year. You had a silver dress on. Your mum forced you into these heels and you hated them. You wobbled over to me and clung to my arm the whole night. But as soon as we were shooed away from the adults, you took them off and practically shoved them into my hands and started walking around barefoot. Pansy’s grandmother came out of the parlour and saw you without your shoes on and went berserk, she called you a disgrace, all our mothers came out to see what was going on and I’m pretty sure your mum looked like she was going to kill you”

“I remember that! Then I transfigured her ostrich feather boa into a snake around her neck!”

“She nearly pissed her pants” He laughed, causing you to smile.

“So is that your favourite memory of us?”

“No, my favourite memory takes place in our 4th year at the Yule ball. I didn’t want to dance in front of all those idiots but you pulled me up there anyway. But as soon as you held my hand it was like they all disappeared and it was just me and you. I spun you out and when you spun back into my arms, I dipped you and you looked so beautiful. But that is fighting for the top spot from the time you sucked me off in the restricted section, and the time you floo’ed into my room last summer at 2 am and I absolutely ruined you”

“Okay okay I get the picture your favourite memories are when we have sex”

“Not all of them, just some, what’s yours?”

“5th year, Christmas break, your parents’ Christmas party, you hid my promise ring inside my dessert” you held your hand up letting your ring sparkle in the candlelight, it was simple, a small princess cut emerald on a gold band, but it was oh so precious “You kept staring at me and I was so confused, I wasn’t even looking at what I was eating until you jerked my hand back and told me to look in the spoon and there it was. You cleaned it off and slid it on my finger right in front of everyone. Or maybe it was the time you made me sit on your face when we snuck into a room at the leaky cauldron”

Draco laughed and lifted your hand up and played with the ring. “After we finish Hogwarts, I’m gonna replace this ring with a diamond one”

“You are?”

“Why do you sound so surprised, I told you already I was going to change your last name to mine, even your parents know”

“I know but I didn’t know you wanted to do this so early"

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“You are so whipped”

Draco shoved you off him playfully.

“But it’s okay because I’m equally as whipped” you replied sitting back in his lap.

“You’d better be, otherwise I’d-”

“You’d what? Tell your father?”

“Right, that’s it” His fingers found your sides as he began tickling you. By the time he felt as though he tortured you enough, you were both breathless.

“I love you," He said, smoothing your shirt down.

“I love you more”

“Who’s up here?” Filch’s voice grumbled.

You and Draco grinned at each other as you quickly threw your robes on and lifted the hoods, running straight past Filch and into the Slytherin common room.

You had now learnt what Draco’s favourite memory of you was. All that was left was actually getting around to paint it. If you weren’t in a lesson, you were revising, usually most of the time with Draco. Even on weekends, you found yourself in in the library completing practise exam papers and testing yourself on flashcards. And any time you weren’t working, you and Draco used as an opportunity to spend time with one another without being bogged down with work. You’d already decided that the room of requirement would be the perfect place to start painting, but the issue was figuring out how you’d be able to sneak there and back without arousing suspicion.

After much deliberation, you decided that your best option for sneaking out was on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Every Tuesday after dinner, Draco and Blaise would go out to the quidditch pitch to blow off some steam, by the time he had finished and showered, you were almost always already in bed. On Wednesday, you decided you’d tell Draco a little white lie and say that Flitwick had asked you to tutor a struggling 5th year in Charms, it would give you a few hours to yourself to get ahead with painting.

The upcoming Tuesday your plan was in action, you made Daphne swear she wouldn’t tell Draco where you were and you made your way to the room of requirement. It was honestly a Godsend. You stepped into a room full of different sized canvasses, there were tubes of oil paint and palettes of watercolours and squeezy bottles of acrylic. A table was full of paintbrushes of different sizes and shapes and there were an easel and chair right in the middle of the room.

You picked out a large rectangular canvas and placed it landscape on the easel and got to sketching the outline of your painting. If all went to plan, it would be a loop of Draco’s favourite memory of the two of you at the ball, if it didn’t well, then it would be a still image and if everything went south, you’d have to somehow find a way to get some lingerie to distract him from your lack of presents.

Painting the canvas was going to be the hard part, sketching the outline, however, was proving to be a huge nightmare already, you had drawn and redrawn Draco’s face about a hundred times, not being able to get it exactly right. You were about to kick a hole in your canvas when a small a5 picture caught your eye, stuck under the foot of the easel. You picked it up to see a photograph of the exact moment you were trying to recreate. This was why you loved this room, taking a deep breath, you redrew Draco’s face finally getting it as you liked it. By the time you had finished the full outline, it was almost two am, you knew you were going to struggle to wake up in the morning, but that was something for future you to deal with, present you had to find a way to sneak out of the room and back to your dormitory without detection.

In order to make as little noise as possible, you took your shoes off and ran across the castle in just your socks, you were only a few steps away from the entrance to the common room before Mrs Norris came around the corner. She meowed loudly as you whisper-shouted the password, the corridor revealing itself. You ran down it and straight up the stairs into your dormitory. You tried to get into bed as quietly as possible before falling asleep.

In hindsight, staying up sketching until 2 am was a horrible idea. It was only 1 in the afternoon and you were struggling to stay awake.

“I don’t get why you don’t just pay someone to paint it for you,” Daphne asked, scrunching a piece of paper into a ball and throwing it in the bin beside you.

“Because then there's no sentimental value behind it” You replied, massaging your temples.

“What time did you fall asleep anyway?”

“By the time I drowned out Pansy’s snoring it was 3, I was just lucky I had a free period first so I ended up getting an hours extra sleep”

“Merlin, remind me to never fall in love”

You laughed before rubbing your eyes and returning to your work.

It took you four weeks of staying up till 2 am to finish Draco’s painting. You had spent hours mixing the right shades of paint, at one point you ended up getting rid of the paint on the whole canvas and starting again but exactly three weeks before Draco’s birthday, you had mastered the spell to make your painted figures move and your masterpiece was complete. Your only worry was that Narcissa Malfoy would hate it and would stop her son from hanging it in his bedroom.

In order to get the huge canvas from the room of requirement back to your dormitory, you had to ask Neville to ask Harry if you could borrow his invisibility cloak. If Draco had found out that you got Harry’s help you were 90% sure he’d be the one kicking a hole in your canvas. For now, the canvas was safely tucked under your bed.

The next morning, you stuffed Harry’s cloak in your bag and made your way down to meet him. You had agreed the previous evening that you’d meet outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom before breakfast to make the exchange. As planned, he was stood with Neville right outside the entrance to the toilet. You pulled the cloak out and handed it back to Harry.

“Thank you, I know you and Draco don’t like each other, but it means a lot that you'd go out on a limb to help me.”

“While I question your choice in men, Y/L/N, you’ve helped Neville out on more than one occasion and any friend of Neville’s is a friend of mine.”

You smiled at Harry, “I’m gonna head to breakfast before Draco gets suspicious, see you boys, later”

They waved goodbye as you made your way back to breakfast, stopping in the normal girl's toilet to sort your shirt out which you found you were wearing inside out. Your group of friends were already sat down eating, all but Draco.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“Couple third years said they had to tell him something in private, oh wait, speak of the devil”

You turned and he did not look happy. His jaw was clenched and he was walking oddly fast, he came to you and gripped you firmly by the arm. “Can I speak to you, outside, Y/N”

You looked at him confused but followed him out. As soon as you were out of earshot from the hall he turned around to face you, he looked pissed, he kept walking forward until you were pinned between him and the wall.

“You want to tell me why some friends in 3rd year saw you giving Potter his invisibility cloak back?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, darling, we both know you’re not. ‘it looked like she was holding something but there wasn't anything in her hand’. Why did you have his cloak”

“I was planning on recreating that memory of yours in the restricted section for your birthday, I asked Neville if I could borrow Harry’s cloak to get us there and back but then I remembered you wouldn’t have come if we were using his cloak so I gave it back” You lied smoothly

He swallowed and nodded, not moving back. You pushed him off and scoffed.

“Is this what you’re doing now? Sending third years to follow me?”

“You of all people should know I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Those eyes and ears shouldn't be snooping on your girlfriend”

“They wouldn’t have to if you weren’t lying to me about where you were for the past month.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Helping a 5th year with Charms as per the request of Flitwick? Well not according to the professor himself”

“Dra-”

He laughed, “Can’t even cover up your lies properly. Why don't I give you a few hours to come up with a cover story, I can’t bear the sight of you right now” Draco turned and walked away, ignoring you as you called out for him.

He acted as though you didn’t exist for all of your lessons, he didn't sit next to you, he didn't speak to you, he barely looked at you. You chose to have dinner alone in your room that night. It had occurred to you during your second period that Draco thought you were cheating on him with Harry. It made sense, you were sneaking around and you were seen giving Harry’s cloak back as if to say that you two had been meeting up in secret under it. But it also made absolutely no sense either, you and Draco had been together since the beginning of your 3rd year. Your father was a death eater for Pete’s sake, it didn’t take a genius to realise you’d be disowned if you brought home Harry fucking Potter.

You were partway through your transfiguration homework when Daphne came bounding up into the dormitory.

“Right, what is going on with you and Draco?” She asked, throwing her bag on the floor and collapsing on her bed.

“Nothing,” You lied.

“See that is absolute bullshit because he has been a moody prick all day and you skipped dinner, so come out with it, spill”

You sighed and explained everything.

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth then?”

“Because if I do, it’ll ruin the surprise”

“And if you don’t it’ll end your relationship, my mother is over the moon at the fact that I’ll be a bridesmaid at a Malfoy wedding, you don’t want to crush her dreams do you?”

“You’re right, do you know where he is?”

“He went straight into his dormitory”

You nodded and made your way there. He was joined by his friends.

“Rest of you out, thanks,” You said, walking in and standing in the middle of the room.

Blaise looked at Draco and he nodded, prompting him, Theodore and Goyle to leave. He refused to look at you. You took a seat at the end of his bed and began to explain.

“I’m well aware you think I’m cheating on you with Potter, but that’s really the complete opposite of what’s happening. The truth is, for the past few weeks, I’ve been arranging your birthday present. I finished it last night and I asked for Harry’s cloak so I could bring it back to my dormitory without revealing the surprise. That’s where I’ve been sneaking off to. Not to go snog Potter under his invisibility cloak”

“Oh”

“Bet you feel really fucking stupid now don’t you,” You scoffed

“I’m sorry, darling,”

“Do you not think? Could you imagine my parents’ reaction if I brought home Potter? They’d disown me faster than you came the first time we-”

He grabbed you into a hug before you could finish your sentence.

“I am truly sorry, princess, for jumping to conclusions and for ruining my surprise.”

“Well, you haven’t totally ruined it, you don’t know what it is yet.”

“Can we come back in yet, I need to get out of this fucking uniform” Theodore shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Draco shouted back a yeah and his friends returned.

“See you two’ve kissed and made up, about time too, Draco’s a right git when he's moody”

Draco threw a pair of balled-up socks at Blaise’s head before you got up off the bed.

“I’ll meet you in the common room once I’ve finished my homework,” You told him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He mumbled an okay before kissing you once more and you were on your way.

The next morning, at breakfast, you noticed your father’s owl descend onto the table in front of you. You took the letter expecting him to fly off and return home but he waited expectantly, clearly, he was told to wait until you replied. He hopped up onto your arms as you took him to the owlery to recuperate while you read your letter and replied.

Y/N,

You’re hopefully aware that it is Draco’s birthday in a few weeks, I hope that you have got him an adequate gift. You know how important your 17th birthday is and as I remember, Draco spoilt you with 17 gifts. Since you are a young lady, you're not expected to gift him anything as lavish as some of the presents he gave you, but tradition dictates that you should get him something worthy of a pureblood wizard, in particular jewels. Please reply as soon as possible, only so I know that you won’t embarrass your father and I (and in the case you do, I can send you an alternative). Your brothers and your father send their regards. We miss you.

Mother

You rolled your eyes at her need for keeping up appearances and quickly scribbled her back a reply. You wished you were at home to see her reaction to you gifting him a painting you painted yourself. Once your father’s owl had filled himself up with water and owl feed, you attached the letter to him and sent him on his way.

Later in the evening, your mother’s owl pecked at you through the library window. You went out into the corridor and took a letter and a box off of her. Once you had freed her of her cargo, she hooted and flew off. You opened the second letter and read.

Sweetheart, I know that you are an accomplished young artist, but a painting will simply not do, especially for his 17th birthday. However, since I am your mother and I know you best, I had a feeling I would need to help you in this department. I took the liberty of going into Bourgin and Burke’s on the weekend and purchased a rare black diamond ring for Draco on your behalf. I think he will like it and I think you will too. I hope you are studying well for your exams,

Mother

You tried to rip open the wrapping on the box but it wouldn't move. The fold at the bottom lifted itself up a bit and ran across your finger, giving you a papercut. A thin line of blood collected on its edge and the wrapping dissolved leaving you with a red ring box, she was always partial to a bit of blood magic. You lifted the lid to see a thick silver band, it looked like it was either white gold or platinum, your mother thought sterling silver was too cheap, the oval cut diamond set atop a larger oval of platinum. It wasn't too plain but it also wasn’t overly gaudy, just as Draco liked it. You returned to the library with your second gift, making a note to hide it under your bed with your painting.

The next few weeks went past in a blur of mock exams and constant revision. Your first exam wasn’t until the 10th of June, giving you plenty of time to celebrate Draco’s birthday properly. The night before his birthday, half of Slytherin house was gathered in the common room waiting for it to hit midnight. You asked the elves to bake a cake for him and smuggled it with some snacks to have a small party with your friends.

At 11.59 you pulled a tie out from behind you and held it up.

“Gonna let me tie you up huh?” Draco asked with a smirk.

“Nice try, Malfoy, but this is for you” You replied getting up and tying it around his eyes.

“What are you doing, Y/L/N?”

You pointed your wand at the wall causing birthday banners and streamers to hang. Blaise brought the cake in from the 1st year dormitory. The large grandfather clock donged deeply as it hit midnight, you pulled his blindfold down as the whole common room burst into a rendition of happy birthday. He laughed and put his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. Nott finished the song on a horrible high note as Draco blew his candles out.

“Make a wish, Draco” Pansy shouted.

“I don’t need to, I've got everything I could wish for right next to me.”

You smiled up at him and gave him a kiss before addressing the crowd. “Eat my friends,” You felt like Dumbledore as plates of food dotted themselves around the common room. The attention moved from Draco to the food as everyone got up and attacked.

“Happy birthday, my love,” You said wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, princess, I wasn’t expecting this at all.”

“Only the best for my boyfriend”

You spent the next few hours playing truth or dare with your housemates, it was cut short when Snape barged into the common room, the decorations were ripped off the wall and the music from the radio stopped.

“I am going to give you until the count of 10 to return to your dormitory, anyone I still see standing here will be spending every weekend for the rest of the year cleaning with filch”

He began to count down from 10 as everyone scrambled to run into their dorms and get into bed.

You were so excited to surprise Draco with his presents that you skipped breakfast, instructing Daphne to tell him to meet you in the astronomy tower. You decided you were going to decorate your spot a little bit, you set up a soft blanket and some cupcakes and hung up the leftover banners and streamers from your midnight party in the common room. You had his gifts wrapped up with ribbon and some bows just to be extra, they sat in the centre of your blanket, the canvas taking up a large chunk of it. You had realised Draco would probably struggle to take the canvas back home, but that would be a problem he would have to deal with later.

“Y/N?” His voice called out from the bottom of the stairs.

“Up here, love” You replied, your head popping up over the bannister.

He broke into a smile when he saw you and rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. You sat on the edge of the blanket and waited for him.

“Happy 17th birthday, Draco” You exclaimed as he reached the top.

His smile got even wider as he pulled you up and into a tight hug.

“I am so in love with you, do you know that?” he mumbled into your neck.

“I hope you feel the same after you see your presents,”

“Darling, you know you didn’t have to get me anything, you’re the best gift I could have ever received”

“I didn’t have to but I wanted to, here look”

His eyes fell onto the two wrapped gifts, he sat himself down and opened the top present.

“How did you get your hands on this?” he pulled the ring out and examined it closely.

“RIght so backstory to this, my mum didn’t believe that my original present was traditional enough to be a ‘wizard’s 17th birthday present’ so she went out to Bourgin and Burke and got this, but I wouldn’t have given it to you had I thought you wouldn't like it, so think of this as a gift from your in-laws.”

“My father’ll be jealous, he's been wanting a black diamond in his collection for ages now” He put the ring back in the box and was about to shut it.

“Wait, let me put it on. you put my ring on, so I’ll put yours on, practise for the big day”

He smiled at you as you sat down next to him and pulled the ring back out of the box. He held his left hand out for you and you slid the ring onto his ring finger.

“You know after this, they tend to kiss” He grinned.

“Oh yes, of course, if we’re going to practise we should be thorough” You pulled his head down and his lips met yours for a passionate kiss.

He pulled back after a few moments with a grin.

“We should keep practising, just to be on the safe side”

“Enough flirting, Malfoy you have another gift to open”

He turned and picked up the canvas in his hands.

“Is this the one you were sneaking away for?”

You nodded and he began to tear off the wrapping. He got up and placed it against the wall and stood there looking at it, silently. He was silent for a while as he watched the loop of Draco spinning you out and then dipping you on your return with a kiss. Although he hadn't said anything, you got the feeling that he didn't particularly like this gift. He was probably thinking of a way to let you down easily.

“Do you not like it?” You asked quietly.

“What? No!” he turned around with a genuine smile. “I love it, darling, it's perfect. Honestly, it's beautiful.”

You physically relaxed and went to stand next to him. “You said you didn’t like the painting in your room above the fire so I thought I’d give you something to change it with, I’m just not sure if your mother would like it, since its not one of those classical masterpieces.”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks, as soon as I get home, I’m hanging this right up on my wall. I just never knew you could paint like this”

“My mum made me start painting when I was three, I stopped lessons as soon as I started Hogwarts but I kept it up on the side as a hobby and, well, I thought I’d immortalise your favourite memory of us.”

“You never cease to amaze me” He turned and pulled you into him “Thank you,”

“Don’t be silly it’s your birthday, stupid”

“Not just for this, for everything. For putting up with everything, the jealousy, the anger, the-”

“Hey, I’m not putting up with anything, I love you, Draco, all of you”

“Merlin, I can’t wait to marry you” His lips crashed into yours for a frenzied kiss, overwhelmed with emotion. “This is by far the best birthday I’ve ever had, nothing will be able to top this”

And he wasn’t lying. Whenever he was asked, by his kids, his grandkids even his great-grandkids, what his favourite birthday celebration was, his response was always the same, his 17th birthday.

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagines #hogwarts imagines #hp #hp imagines #draco lucius malfoy #slytherin

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dkniade · 3 years

Text

Perfection/Cowardice: A Look at Perfectionism in Art

Note

A personal comic. Please do not worry about me! I have no intentions of hurting myself whatsoever. This was just experimenting a lot with storytelling in a comic and metaphorical imagery. I guess you can call this a self-conscious canvas?

Warning: blood, caps, metaphorical self-harm

[middle left]

1. are you thinking of using the grid tool again? but would it look better? or just more “ordered”?

[bottom right]

2. In fact, what even is perfection? Oh! haha, did I already ask that question?

[bottom left]

3. and due to such a mentality, you feel guilty, don’t you?

[top left]

4. hmm… one’s own image…

[top middle]

5. while I like this concept, I wonder if it’d be better with straight boxes?

6. are you aware that these strokes were redone so they’re not uniform?

[top left]

7. Are you aware that the once-black lines were changed to this then this?

[bottom left]

8. Do you realize how much more fun it is to converse on the canvas as you draw? This train of thought…

[middle right]

9. oh my. When have you become so critical of yourself?

[bottom middle]

10. Oh but you do hesitate to open Procreate… I wonder why? similar looseness from zoomed out canvas

[middle center]

11. Are you aware that this edge was done with the rectangle tool but then erased at the edge to fake natural imperfection?

[bottom left]

12. you took your time to shade the skin and erase edges to make a watercolour effect… Does it look better?

[middle left]

13. The bed’s inks were all black before…

[bottom right]

14. Doth this canvas bleed from cuts?

[top right]

15. to mimic cuts on hand… Metaphorical

[bottom left]

21. I remember only painting this panel due to not wanting to do finish this comic

—-

[middle right]

16. WHAT’S HAPPENING?! I feel sick… blood…?!

[bottom right]

17. ARE YOU STILL ANGRY AT YOURSELF?

18. IN MY EYES. IN THESE EYES WHICH ONLY SEE MISTAKES AT TIMES

———

[top left]

19. WAIT— NO! NO!! PLEASE!! I… wish I could kill that part of me…

[middle]

20. This is rather cruel of me, isn’t it? … 「But why…?」 … I don’t know…

———

[bottom left]

21. I remember only painting this panel due to not wanting to do finish this comic

———

Artist’s Comments:

Maybe it’s ‘cause I made this myself, but while viewers may look at this with worry, I find it’s just another exploration of a line of thought.

Rather than

“:( are you ok?😢”

It’s maybe more

“ah yeah art is like that”/“this hits”

The scribble notes were what I was thinking when drawing it so the process of how I went around the canvas is also there.

By the time 14. “Doth this canvas bleed from cuts?” came my mind suddenly went to the concept of bleeding/blood and then there was this anger almost, as expected I guess, haha

Aaand then more blood, then screaming, the act of yelling at oneself, then the last thought was “I only painted the eye at first because I didn’t want to finish this comic” but alas, here I am!

And really… because I found the act of making a fully inked comic with tones “too stagnant with all that effort accumulating to what exactly?!”, this act of conversing with myself on the canvas may have been the most fun I’ve had in a while with art, analyzing intrapersonally, possibly cutting at every aspect and decision behind this comic, and writing everything down.

#dusk personal art #comic #personal comic #perfectionism #tw blood #tw caps #tw self harm #blood #caps #self harm

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bbykpoper · 4 years

Photo

𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂💫

Inspired by this post 🌼

Pairing: policeofficer!wooyoung x kindergartenteacher!reader

Warning: sexual content up ahead, read at your own discretion!

Index: Jongho // Hongjoong // Seonghwa // San // Yunho // Mingi // Yeosang

･*:༅

Your eyes were glued to the small piece of paper attached to your car. You’ve been standing there for a good amount of time just looking at it, it worried your co-worker imensly.

“Y/N?” He waved his hand in front of your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s a number.” You said and he looked at you confused. “He left his number on my car again. For Seulgi.”

“Who?” Your co-worker asked.

“The stupid cop that keeps lingering around the block.” You groaned finally moving and ripping the paper off your car.

“Are you sure he left it specifically for Seulgi?”

“Yes Honey, I’m a hundred percent sure he left it for her.” You groaned out, throwing away the piece of paper with the scribbled numbers. “You want a ride home?”

“If it’s not a problem.” He smiled shyly.

Both of you filled into your car and you were about to start it when a soft knock scared you half dead on your widow. You looked up and noticed a uniformed body which was casually leaning down, a smirk coming to your eye level. The eyeroll which followed you opening your window made your co-worker and long time friend, Jooheon, laugh quietly next to you.

“May I help you officer?” You asked, plastering on the fakest smile you could.

“I see you’ve picked up my message.” He still kept smirking at you.

“Yes, and I’ve delivered the previous seven you’ve left to the woman of your interest and would like to ask you to stop leaving them on my car from now on. They’re starting to become annoying.” You smiled and pulled the window up, leaving the parking lot of your work place.

“It’s reasuring that there is a police officer in this neighborhood, the kids feel safe. But I still don’t understand why he’s always here.” Jooheon sighed.

“He likes Seulgi, remember how she brought him sweets and food the other day.” You said, keenly observing the road as you drove him home.

“But that doesn’t have to mean anything. If you ask me, I think he likes you and is desperately trying to get you to notice him.”

“Sure, and the girl that works at the donought shop gives us free drinks because she secretly hooks up with Shownu.” You rolled her eyes, pulling up to his building.

“We may never know that.” He laughed with you as he got out the car. “Say hi to Soyou.”

“You too to the boys.” You smiled and waved at him. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow,”

He waved and ran up the steps of his building. You made the short drive home and sighed, noticing that your roommate was indeed nowhere to be found. Typical of her.

･*:༅

“Miss, Hyunwoo peed himself again.” A child walked up to you, a little girl with her thumb in her mouth, grabbing on to your apron.

“Oh dear, that’s not good.” You patted her head. “Thank you for telling me Yeun.”

Jooheon was bussy being pampered by the girls and looked at you for help. You pointed at the small boy who was crying in the corner, Yeun still clinging to your apron even as you walked. He sighed accepting his fate and trying his best to understand why they were painting his nails with watercolours.

“Hyunwoo, did your mom pack you and extra pair of pants?” You crouched down and smoothed his hair, gently wipping at his tears.

“Yes.” He sniffled.

You took him into your hands and carried him to the bathroom, his backpack shaped like a car hanging off your arm. You were quick to clean him up and calm him down, changing his dirty clothes for clean ones. It wasn’t unusual for Hyunwoo to pee himself, but it always had a reason. Usually he got scared of something and couldn’t control it.

“What happened Hyunwoo? Did you get scared?” You asked him, sneaking him a cookie so he could calm down.

“There was a weird man, by the window.” He said. “He was looking at you.”

“A weird man?” You didn’t notice anybody near the kindergarten, but this really was disturbing. “Are you sure you saw someone by the window.”

“I saw him too.” Yeun said. “He was watching you Miss, but ran away when Hyunwoo started crying.”

“I see.” Two kidds seeing a man? Could it be the stupid cop that kept pestering your poor car? “Did the man wear a police uniform?”

“No.” They both said. “He had a baseball cap on, just like my daddy does when we go to the playground.”

You decided not to show the children your worry and escorted them back to the group. They went off to play with some building blocks and you took this chance to grab Jooheon and drag him out the room.

“Hey Seulgi, can you watch the kids for a while. Me and Honey need to step out for a few minutes.” You asked the black haired woman who simply nodded with a smile, taking on the task at hand. “We have a problem, it could be nothing but it could be something.”

“What do you meant?” Jooheon asked as you stepped outside the building and began walking in the direction of your room’s window.

“Hyunwoo and Yeun said they saw a man staring inside at me.” You said, coming to a stop to look at the parking lot behind the kindergarten. “I’m suspicious of the cop that keeps leaving his number on my car.”

“Well, someone was here.” Jooheon said as he pointed at the footprints in the flower bed. “But I doubt it was the cop. The only crime he has tied to him is liking you. Pretty sure he ain’t your stalker or whatever this is.” Jooheon looked around as well. “Do you have any ex’s who want to scare you?”

“Let’s get one thing straight Honey. I’m not scared.” You said unamused. “And I also didn’t have a boyfriend since like high school. I’m pretty sure that snot nosed asshole has better things to do than stalk me.” You rolled your eyes. “None of my hook-ups know anything about me, Soyou taught me better.” Someting then clicked in your brain. “Soyou didn’t come home last night, and when morning came she begged me not to go to work today.”

“Do you think it has something to do with her?”

“Well... I don’t know. She’s been acting weird the past few days.” You sighed and looked at Seulgi who knocked on the window asking if you guys were okay. “Can this stay between us, I don’t want Seulgi to worry about this.”

“Yeah, but I’m sleeping over at your place tonight.” He said, walking with you. “No taksies-backsies.”

“The kids are rubbing off on you too much.” You laughed and he shrugged his shoulders at you.

･*:༅

Wooyoung sighed loudly as he sat with his friends on his break at Sugarberry’s. Mingi was busy making order as always, but Jongho and Hongjoong managed to allign their breaks with him, surprisingly not spending it with their girlfriends. They were now only waiting for Yeosang.

“What’s wrong? Your plan on leaving your number for that cute girl isn’t blossoming into love?” Jongho mocked him.

“She thinks I’m leaving it for her co-worker.” He whinned. “The other girl hasn’t stopped texting me. She even made me lunch last week.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Hongjoong said. “You at least have another girl interested in you.”

“No. I only want that one girl to be interested in me.” He said.

“Then why don’t you just openly ask her out on a date?” The famous waitress of Sugarberry’s spoke up, placing a steaming cup of tea on the table, most likely for Yeosang who just walked in. “I mean it most likely won’t work, but dude, no girl needs a number of a strange cop on their car, seven days a week.” She laughed as Yeosang rolled his eyes at the information he heard. “Just come clean and maybe she’ll accept your date invitation.”

“Or maybe not because she has a boyfriend.” He mumbled when he saw you walk in with your co-worker who he’s seen you drive to and from work. “Just my fucking luck.”

“Honey, you really don’t need to sleep over.” You whinned, not even noticing the enticing cop who was keenly observing you. “I’m sure Soyou is just acting weird because of the stress on her own job.”

“I don’t care, I’m not having two girls living alone be scared shitless because some guy decided to prey on you.” He said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll even invite the guys.”

You sighed as he started calling up his friends and ordered some drinks and sweets to go. While you waited you took a seat at a table and only then did you notice four guys looking at you, recognizing the police officer at the table. You narrowed your eyes at him and decided to ask him a question, which caught him and his friends, including Honey, off guard.

“Were you at the kindergarten today? The parking area to be percise.”

“No... I’m off duty because of my exams.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“See.” Honey said, finally off his phone. “His only crime is liking you.”

The table went into a soft hum of snickers while Wooyoung embodied the pikachu meme. You blinked and nodded, not believing a word out of your friend’s mouth and happily going up to pay for your order and leave.

A sudden kick got Wooyoung out of his thoughts and he looked up at the waitress who motioned with her eyes towards you, silently telling him to go for it.

“He’s not wrong you know.” Wooyoung spoke up as you walked back. “I do like you.”

“That’s nice, but you don’t even know my name.”

“Well you don’t even know mine.” He countered.

You rolled your eyes and went to leave, Honey giving Wooyoung a small thumbs up and nodding as if to signal that he shouldn’t give up. With determination in his eyes, Wooyoung stepped up and went after you, blocking your way to your car.

“My name is Jung Wooyoung, I work at the Korean Police Department and am currently taking my Detective exams.” He stated. “Please go out with me.”

You were shocked at the straight forwardness he had in himself and blinked a few times to come back to your senses. You were about to say no, but he beat you to it.

“Before you say no, please give me a chance. One date.” You looked at him, right in the eyes, noticing how he wasn’t joking about this.

“Alright.” You nodded. “One date.”

“Awesome.” He smiled and it was only then that you noticed how the blond may have looked attractive. “I’ll pick you up on Friday at 7 p.m. sharp.” And he skipped off inside.

Jooheon was smiling at you and you pushed him off to make him shut up and he laughed. You knew this was going to be a tough night for you seeing as you were going to be the main topic.

･*:༅

The days leading up to Friday were weird. You noticed more weird things happening around you and Soyou, but mostly her. Ever since the guys slept over you two began recieving letters on a daily all of them containing death threats towards you and promises for Soyou. Even at your work place, strange things kept pilling up, from dead birds to your car being scratched and keyed daily.

“Are you scared yet?” Jooheon asked as you two cleaned up your groups room. “That’s like what, the fourth dead bird this week!”

“Calm down Honey. If I show fear it will only get worse.” You sighed folding the blankets.

“But if you don’t you might get hurt!” He threw the toys on the floor into the basket with anger. “Tell it to Wooyoung.”

“What? No.” You said. “I’m not going to tell my date that I’m being stalked by some dude who wants to kill me because he wants to marry my roommate.”

“You have a stalker?” Seulgi joined you two just as you were finishing your sentence. “If you do, you should really go to the police y/n.”

“It’s fine Seulgi, it’s nothing serious.” You waved it off.

“Bitch you got a dead bird delivered to you with it’s little head cut off.” Honey growled out. “It is serious!” He yelled out catching you both off guard. “If you don’t tell Wooyoung, I will.”

“Fine. I’ll tell him, when our date ends.” You bit back. You looked over at Seulgi who smiled at you warmly at the knowledge that you two would be going on a date. “I’m sorry, I know you like him.”

“Oh no. Don’t be.” She waved her hand and smiled. “He told be that he is interested in you and not me. You don’t have to apologise. I’m happy that you finally said yes.”

The whole day proceeded calmly and you drove Jooheon to your house. You were surprised to see Shownu and Kihyun sat on your porch with some snacks in their hands. You looked over at Honey who just shrugged.

“I’ve had enough of you two living alone with this whole dead birds, marriage proposals and death threats hanging over your heads. The boys and I are moving in with you.”

“But where will you guys sleep?” You asked looking at your small, two bedroom home.

“The couch and floors are good eough for us.”

Soyou was inside making dinner and talking with Minhyuk while the rest of the boys loitered around the living room. You had a little bit over two hours before Wooyoung would be picking you up, so you decided to quickly shower and get ready. You two exchanged numbers and were actively texting and you had to admit to yourself, he was fun. He had this plethora of dumb dad jokes as well as topics which you found far too interesting.

“Dang woman!” Changkyun whistled lowly. “You look nice.”

“Changkyun, I’m wearing jeans and crop top.” You deadpanned.

“Nice.” He gave you a thumbs up and you all laughed at him and his antics.

“Have fun on your date.” Soyou smiled at you, the dark circles heavy under her eyes.

“I will. Make sure these guys don’t destroy our house.” You hugged her, sadness coating your expression.

Jooheon yelling for you that your boyfriend is here had you almost body slamming him into the nearest wall but he evaded your strike wiggling his hips and moving away. Wooyoung stood outside, chuckling at you two and smiling when you blushed at the fact he saw this.

“Sorry.” You said glaring at Honey. “He’s dumb.”

“Are you ready to go?” He asked.

“Yup.” You joined him by his side and he escorted you to his car. He even opened the door for you as a true gentleman. “You’re stepping up your game.”

“I have to impress you fully.” He smirked at you. “You finally agreed to this date.”

The drive was nice but whenever you asked him where you guys are going he said it’s a surprise. You joked he was the stalker you supposedly had and his instincts kicked in, telling him this was not a joke. He decided to keep quiet for now and parked his car at this abandoned skelleton of an unfinished building. You laughed when you recognised the place he had taken you.

“Are we going to be star gazing?” You asked.

“How’d you know?” He was surprised you figured it out.

“See this?” You pointed at the grafitti which had a verse from a song and the drawing of the night sky. “Honey and I did this in high school.” You smiled at the memory. “My friends and I hung out so much here.”

“I recently found this place.” He layed out a blanket and a basket. “I like the stars and I thought you’d enjoy it too.” He smiled at you. “I’m glad I was right.”

You guys joked around as you at the food he prepared and were currently laying on the blanket, doing your best to try and count the stars tonight. You were happy and at peace with this, especially when he showed you how constellations work. You almost even forgot about that looming problem you and your roommate had.

“Why did you joke that I was your stalker?” He asked suddenly.

“It’s not my stalker personally.” You said, coming to terms that it was time to speak about it and fulfilling the promise you gave Jooheon. “My roommate Soyou, it’s her stalker, she has big problems at work because of him. And now it’s coming back home and reflecting on me and our friends.” You moved your head so you could look at him. “Soyou works as a hostess in a very fancy restourant and is quite pretty. She always gets some guy to run after her but not on purpose. It’s probably someone she was nice to and is now so infatuated with her that he keeps following me, her roommate, around and loitering around the kindergarten. He keeps sending letters and gifts to her. While I get the death threats and dead birds.” You sighed. “She’s exhausted and it’s really draining her, we keep living in fear and even asked Jooheon and his guy friends to stay over for the week because last night somebody tried to break into our home but were caught by our neighbor.”

“Did you report it to the police?” He asked, now sitting up.

“No.” You sighed. “I don’t exactly trust the police.” You shrugged your shoulders. “No offence.”

“None taken.” He smiled sadly. All the offence was taken.

“There is a reason why I told you this.” You admit, also sitting up. “I don’t trust the police, but you are a different case. I may not know you that well, but as we messaged this week I figured out that you are trustworthy just clumsy a little bit.” You were indicating his straight forward way of leaving his phone number on your car. “Jooheon basically yelled at me to tell you this... I just... Can you help me and my roommate?”

“I know a few people.” He smiled and placed his hand over yours. “I’ll do my best to help you out.”

･*:༅

“Soyou, y/n. This is Detective Nam.” Wooyoung introduced the older male who was standing in your living room. “He’s from the sexual crimes unit and is an expert on cases with stalkers. He’s here to help you.”

You and Wooyoung had slowly developed a relationship which was now going one month strong. He was doing great with his Detective exams, while you and your roommate were still battling this stalker who upped his game by a mile. Now instead of recieving dead birds, you were personally recieving items the kids from your group had lost and it was becoming urgent.

“Nice to meet you girls.” The man bowed. “I’ve been informed of your problem and will be working on your case starting this minute. I hope you don’t mind if we wire your home and set up cameras at any and every entrance point of your home.”

“Have fun.” Is what you told him.

“Perfect. My team will be surveilling your home 24h a day.” He spoke up. “We believe that the man who is after you two is tied to another one of our cases and we would like to catch him.”

The only thing you two could do was nod in silence. The technicians set up the cameras and wires around the home as you and Soyou sat and spoke with Detective Nam a bit more.

“So now he is taking items from the children at the kindergarten you are working at?” The Detective asked.

“Yes. I’m currently on sick leave so as the children are not in danger.” You said.

“That was a smart decision on your side. Have you gotten anything in the mean time?”

You pulled out a letter with a picture of you and Wooyoung outside of your home the night you went on your first date. Your face had a red circle around it and the words ‘stay out of it’ written above it.

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to die in the next few days.” You said nonchalantly.

“I apologise, her defense mechanism to danger is sarcasm.” Soyou grabbed your hand, her own shaking in fear.

“You won’t die. Wooyoung will be staying inside the house with you two.” Detective Nam sighed, understanding the weigh of this case. “Do you have someone who can stay with you Miss Soyou.”

“My boyfriend.” She answered and you furrowed your eyebrows. “I’ll call him over right now.”

“Good.” Detective Nam stood up and looked at Wooyoung. “You have persmission to carry your service weapon with you and to use it if the situation calls for it. Please be careful, we will take care of the rest.”

“Yes sir!” He nodded as the older man left.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you know some people.” You smirked at him. “Does this mean we’ll be sharing a room?”

“My job description says yes.” He smirked. “And I would very much like that.”

You laughed as you guided him to your room at the end of the hall. Wooyoung noticed that your bed had been moved to the far corner, away from the window. The fact that there was a small commode was placed underneath the window, with very sharp pins, some cactuses and if he saw correctly nails covering the top had him wide eyed.

“I’m not dumb you know.” You said, bouncing on the bed. “My baseball bat is located here.” You pulled it out from between your bed and wall. “I usually sleep curled up against the wall. And I ain’t no scared bitch to not swing at him.”

“That’s hot, and scary at the same time.” He laughed and sat next to you. “But seriously, you can rest easy now that I’m here.”

You raised your eyebrow in amusement at his whole manly persona coming out and punched him in the shoulder, pushing him down.

“So manly, falls with one simple punch from a girl.”

You laughed as he pulled you down next to you, you two beginning a wrestling match which ended with you stradling his waist, feeling something poke you in your thigh.

“Is that your service weapon I feel poking me?” You asked, bitting your lip when he pointed at his gun on your bedside table.

“It is a type of service weapon.” He said, sitting up and pulling you even closer by your thighs. “That is, if you are comfortable and want to of course.”

You felt your stomach flutter and your heart beat fast at his words and you moved your hand to his cheek, pulling it so that his face met yours, and you gave him a kiss.

“I don’t have any objections to that, sir.”

You let your thumbs run over the pink of his cheeks and the plush of his full lips, gazing at his dark eyes which seemed as if they held all the galaxies of the universe. You pressed a kiss to his lips. Light, fluttering. He groaned lowly into the kiss as your tongues danced. You slipped your fingers underneath the material of his simple coloured t-shirt, raking them along his soft abs and relishing in the warmth of his skin. He decided to match your pace, dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing it roughly.

He murmured as his lips found their way along your shoulder, fingers tugging the collar of your shirt out of his way.

His big hands slid up your torso and cupped your breasts through the material of your bra briefly before reaching around to unclasp it. He threw it to the ground before reaching for you again, long fingers tweaking your hardening nipples. You grew exponentially wetter when he enclosed his lips around one, his fingers tugging at the other, and then alternating. He did this back and forth until you were a whining mess.

One hand stayed squeezing and kneading your breast while the other slid down to your thigh, gliding around it before finding its way between your legs, bypassing your jeans. He targeted the wet spot on your panties and pressed into it in long slow circles, teasing your lips and your wet opening. You moaned against his neck and his member twitched at the sound. He quickly pushed his way past the messy fabric and thrust two fingers into you. He loved the sound and feel of your slickness. He slid his fingers in and out of you, stroking your walls until you were a grinding mess in his lap, whimpering his name in his ear.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He whispered into your ear, not stopping his assault on your lower region.

“Yes.” You whinned out.

“Yes what?” He tugged on your lower lips, enticing a mewl out of you.

“Yes sir.” You let out a breath when his mouth connected with yours just as his fingers went faster as you let go of yourself completely, spasaming around his fingers furiously. “Sir, please fuck me.” You breathed out. “I need to feel your big cock filling me up over and over again. Please sir.”

He withdrew himself from you, quickly making sure both of you were naked as he layed you on your back so you were completely exposed to him before slowly pushing himself in. His dark orbs were locked with yours, watching your reaction. You were whimpering, needing more. He was going so slow, and teasing you to the point where you couldn’t handle it. You needed him to be a little rough. You wanted to feel it later. You wanted to feel it when you walked. It was as if Wooyoung could understand your silent plea and decided to oblige fully.

“Hands.” He said. You obeyed, holding them both up for him. He took them both, slamming them onto the pillows beside your head. You glanced up at him as he held you down. “Good girl.”

Relentlessly, almost possessive Wooyoung moves his hips, slamming into you to make you feel his strength and dominance. “Be good and cum for me sweetheart. I want your pretty little cunt to squeeze me before I paint your body white.”

Your orgasm hit you hard. The flood gates opened and pleasure jolted through you, making your body quake underneath him. Your fingers curled into his shoulders as you fought the urge to nibble on his neck. Your eyes were shut tight and you were seeing nothing but searing white hot stars. You were panting profusely, trying to catch your breath as you continued to cum. The sheer intensity had you quivering.

It took Wooyoung a few more thurst to pull out and cum on your bare breasts, painting them with the sticky substance. He was quick to move and get a towel to clean you up. You were exhausted beyong measure and sleepily looking up at him.

“So you have a sir fetish?” You giggled when he blushed, bringing your comforter over you and snuggling next to you.

“We all have our likes.” He said. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“It’s hot. Not gonna lie.”

“You’re hot.” He kissed the back of your neck and you moaned loudly. “Is my baby girl ready for round two?”

･*:༅

After four rounds and loud banging from Soyou and her boyfriend whose voice you recognized as Minhyuck, you finally fell asleep in Wooyoung’s arms. It was around 3 a.m. when he woke up to the sound of scratching at your window. He quickly grabbed his service weapon when he noticed a dark figure messing with the window and trying to forcefully open it. When the figure couldn’t open it as it percieved it easy, he grabbed a nearby rock and threw it through the glass, waking you up and allerting the officers stationed around your house.

A man jumped into your room, a knife in hand and eyes bloodshot with need to hurt you. Wooyoung placed his gun on the man’s head and he suddenly froze, not expecting to be faced with a man inside your room.

“Place the knife down and raise your hands in the air.” Wooyoung’s voice was darker than your room. “Slowly.”

Soyou let in the police officers and guided them to your room in the mean time. They arrested the man, pulling his baseball cap off his head and having her identify him as one of the customers that frequented her work place.

“Well done Wooyoung.” Detective Nam said from your broken window. “You’ll be an impresive detective in the future.”

“Thank you sir.” He said with a smile.

“Especially after this plan which you’ve orcastrated.” The older man smiled at him. “You start on Monday Detective.” He went to leave but stopped short to look at you. “Oh and Miss y/n, we’ll send someone to fix your window tomorrow. Thank you for you co-opperation.”

“Thank you for helping us out.” You bowed from your sitting position on the bed.

As everybody left your room you looked at your window sadly and sighed. Wooyoung came over and sat down next to you, brushing his fingers along your exposed neck. You looked over at him and smiled, resting your fore head against his. You both began laughing as you just sat there in silence and comfort, as the stars outside twinkled in the night sky.

･*:༅

“Kids, this is Detective Jung and he’s come this way to teach you about safety and why it’s important to not trust strangers.” You spoke as you clapped your hands to catch the children’s attention.

They all ran up to Wooyoung who was overwhelmed with the attention but smiled when he noticed how happy the kids were and the fondness you kept in your eyes as you observed them. He then felt a tug on his sleeve and looked over at a small girl with her thumb in her mouth, her other hand holding on to a small boy who looked scared.

“Hi.” He greeted them as the girl removed her thumb from her mouth to speak.

“You’re the boy that kept leaving notes on Miss y/n’s car.” Yeun stated and you had to hold back a laugh along with Jooheon and Seulgi. “You kept talking to your imaginary friend and then leaving notes, but coming back and taking them away.”

“Wha-” Wooyoung blushed furiously and looked up at you then back at the kids. “No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!” Hyunwoo said pointing a finger at him. “But you were dressed as a police man and were always sad because Miss y/n ignored you!”

“Okay kids, that’s enough of teasing Detective Jung.” Jooheon said as he guided them away from him. “Miss y/n teased him enough before he finally told her he likes her. I think he doesn’t need you two to add to it.”

“Does that mean they’re like mommy and daddy?” Yeun asked, holding on to Hyunwoo.

“No. They’re more like you and Hyunwoo.” He said snickering at a dumbfounded Wooyoung.

“Oh, so Miss y/n takes care of him like I do of Hyunwoo?”

“Yes, I do.” You said with a smile patting her on the head.

All of the kids then sat down in front of Wooyoung as he somehow managed to begin talking about safety measures and everything he had planned. While you on the other hand got another tug on your apron from Yeun.

“Does that mean you want to be like mommy and daddy with him? Because that’s how I want to be with Hyunwoo.” Wooyoung heard this and his mouth hung open at the boldness of this little girl.

You looked up at his flushed face and confused eyes. You were sure he was going to faint if you answered the little girl, but truth be told you wanted to see his reaction. I mean you guys have been dating for a number of years and it wouldn’t hurt to tell him just to see if you guys were on the same page. And boy were you right when you thought he would almost faint from your answer.

“I guess I do.”

Wooyoung bit his tongue to control the dumb smile on his face but failed. The kids started picking on him and he didn’t really care.

He was just happy that you wanted to be like mommy and daddy with him.

#ateez reactions #ateez imagines #jung wooyoung #ateez #boysenberry #ateez smut

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imaginejamesandsirius · 3 years

Note

Titanic au? I need angst

((A/N: Warning for suicidal ideation in the beginning (in keeping with the movie), and some referenced period-typical homophobia. Also I’ve never seen the movie before so this is based on the synopsis I read and some gifsets. Therefore, scenes are almost certainly out of order. It’s a sort of open ending, so you can imagine it ends like the movie or they both make it out))

Over the course of his admittedly short life, Sirius had come to the conclusion that he was always going to be miserable. His parents didn't like him very much, but that was just the beginning of his issues. Granted, all the other issues stemmed from that, he was sure.

Like this. He was getting on a bloody boat and he hated boats. He didn't even know how to swim-- and sure, no one was going to be getting into this water because it was freezing, but that was beside the point. Or how about the part where he was being forced on this trip to go and meet his fiancé? A fiancé that he'd never met and had zero interest in. Sirius was of the mind that they should've been introduced, at the very least, before getting engaged, but his parents hadn't agreed.

He was on a boat that he didn't want to be on, on his way to an engagement he didn't want to be a part of, and part of a life that he didn't want to live.

They boarded the ship. Time passed. They were having a grand old party. Sirius was standing on the deck in a suit because he was supposed to have attended the party like a good son, but instead of attending, he was looking out on treacherous water. Without really meaning to, he went to the back of the ship and gripped the railing, leaning forward like he was going to pitch over the railing and into the ocean.

If he climbed on the outside of the railing, it would be so easy for him to lose his grip and fall. He'd be lost in the waves and terrified as his will to live suddenly flared, but he didn't know how to swim so it would be a short fight. No one could prove that he'd done it on purpose. He could just... stop existing, here, on this expensive boat where first class tickets had been a small fortune and third class tickets still cost a hefty sum. He'd be able to leave, and no one would be able to stop him. It wasn't like back home, where there would be an investigation and he'd get a big funeral; his body would be as fake in death as he'd been in life. He wouldn't have to marry some random woman that he cared nothing about, and that seemed preferable to him right now.

"Nice view," a deep voice commented.

Sirius jumped in surprise and turned to see who'd snuck up on him. He noticed right away that the man must be on here third class, and he hated himself for it being the first thing he saw.

But it was so obvious.

Not at the party, for one. No suit, for another. His clothes weren't cheap, but they certainly weren't expensive. Economical. Sirius had never owned an economical piece of clothing in his entire life; his parents wouldn't have allowed it.

"Though something tells me that it's not what you were enjoying."

Befuddled, Sirius glanced out at the ocean. "It looks like shite."

The man snorted, then started laughing. "Fair enough. I figured it was a better opening than asking if you were planning to jump, though."

"I wasn't going to jump," Sirius denied automatically.

"Sure you weren't. That's why you chose this part of the ship to stand at, where no one would catch you."

"You caught me,” Sirius couldn’t help but point out. It wasn’t a course of conversation he wanted to follow though, so he said, “Anything else to say now that you've ruined my time alone?"

The man looked at him for a long moment. "Just in case you had been thinking of jumping, I want to tell you that you shouldn't."

"What?"

"If I wake up one day and find out that you've jumped, I'm gonna jump to."

"Are you stupid?" Sirius asked, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could filter them.

"Generally, yes. But people who are suicidal aren't willing to kill other people too, that I've seen. So if you had been thinking about it, I want you to know that it wouldn't be just you that died."

Sirius stared at, dumbfounded. That was... "I wasn't going to jump," he muttered, pushing past him and heading back inside. Joining the party wasn't on the top of the list for things he wanted to do, but it was better than this.

"My name's James," the man called after him, before he got very far.

Sirius paused and turned to look at him.

"This is the part where you tell me your name."

Sirius started walking again. He wasn't going to see this bloke-- James, apparently-- again. Third class was in a completely different section of the ship from first class; he wouldn't have to see him for the rest of the trip.

"What do you do for a living?" Sirius asked.

"I'm an artist," James said, not bothering to ask about the suddenness of the question. It's not like Sirius had built up to it, after all. He had a habit of blurting out whatever he was thinking, no matter how rude it might be-- his parents hated it.

"Like oil paintings?"

James laughed. "That would make me far richer than I am. No, sketches mostly. Watercolours sometimes, but never on a ship," he said with a smirk. "And only a few, at that."

"If that's what you do, how did you afford a ticket?"

"Lottery," James admitted, with no shame. He was so comfortable with himself.

Sirius wondered what it would feel like to be that way. "What do you draw?"

"People. Flowers." James's smile went soft as he looked at Sirius. "Anything I find beautiful," he said, voice low so that no one would overhear.

Sirius's face flamed. No man had ever complimented him before, and he'd certainly never had the courage to do it to them.

"Not clothes though," he added casually, but he still kept his voice quiet. "Never did get the hang of those."

"I'd imagine that makes quite the portfolio," Sirius managed to reply. He cleared his throat. "Did you bring any with you?"

"I did, though I'm not sure how comfortable you would be with some of them."

"Would you describe them as racy?"

"I wouldn't. Some might, by simple virtue of me being a man."

"Despite what you might think of me, I don't think anything you've drawn would scare me away."

"I think a great many things about you, but it's been too short a time to know which ones are accurate."

"Pretty big gamble telling me what you draw, then." Sirius had never told anybody what he liked, after all. Though sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to find someone else like him. What they'd talk about. If they'd kiss, of if they’d just be friends who shared an interest.

"It wasn't a gamble at all," James said.

"You say that rather confidently. Everything's a gamble."

"When you have nothing to lose, I would argue it makes nothing a gamble. Like when I found you on the railing? You remember that?"

"When you said you'd jump if I did?"

James nodded. "It wasn't a gamble. I knew you wouldn't jump."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

Sirius hadn't known that for sure. James's confidence boosted his own, though. Maybe it truly hadn't been a gamble.

James was... alive. It felt stupid to think-- because of course he was alive, they all were, it's the only reason they'd been able to meet-- but he lived and he was happy about it. He took joy in living, and Sirius wasn't used to that. He said so, and James gave him a strange look. "Like... ever? You've never been happy to just exist?"

"I don't know."

"You've at least been happy before, right?"

Of course he had. He just couldn't think of an example.

"When was the last time you enjoyed yourself?" James asked, since it didn't look like any answer was forthcoming for his other question.

"I guess... when Regulus was around."

"Who's Regulus?"

"My brother. He got sick when I was- oh, maybe fourteen? Fifteen? Went in hospital and never came back out. My parents always liked him better," Sirius added without really meaning to. Then his mouth twisted. "I know. Poor little rich boy with his rich boy problems. Other people have it worse."

"I wasn't going to say that. Although it is true that somebody will always have it worse than you. You could be in the middle of getting tortured, and there would still probably be someone who had it worse than you. But that's not the point," James said, shaking himself.

"What's the point?"

"That being rich doesn't make you exempt from having problems. You lost your brother, and it sounds like your parents hate you. All being rich means is that you're not worried about having a place to live or something to eat on top of that. I have that problem sometimes, but you know, I don't even think of it as my big problem. You want to hear my big problem?" James asked with a grin, nudging him.

Sirius chuckled. He never knew how serious James was when he said things like that, but even if it was just a joke, it made him feel better. That was more than anyone else had done for him in a long time. "Sure. What's your big, bad problem?"

"Sometimes, I draw with the wrong pencil."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, but James kept his face straight. Sirius started laughing. "Really? How do you have a wrong pencil? Aren't they all for drawing?"

"Yeah, but there are different types. Some have hard graphite, some have soft."

"And what does that mean for your poor drawings?"

"Well, if I use the wrong pencil, sometimes it'll smear everywhere. Or it can make the subject appear much harsher than they are."

"Truly tragic."

"Isn't it?" James agreed mildly.

"You want to know my big rich people problem?"

"It's not going to be like losing your brother is it?"

"No, this one is definitely ridiculous."

James grinned. "Alright, tell me."

"There's a horribly expensive necklace that I'm supposed to give my fiance when I meet her."

"How horribly expensive?"

"I feel like it's more than the boat cost to make," Sirius said flatly. It might be an exaggeration, but it didn't feel like much of one.

"Sodding hell. That's..."

"Right?"

James nodded numbly.

"What's with all the automobiles?" James asked, looking out at the rows of them.

Sirius snorted, assuming it was a joke. Then he noticed that James looked confused. "Oh, er- they belong to the passengers. That one's ours," he said, pointing at one with gleaming black paint. "Pretty much everyone in first class is bringing their automobile with them." He knew, because it had been part of the ever-so-titillating conversation they'd had at lunch one day. "Some are just here for the ride so they can be sold once we reach land again. I think the crew might be transporting a few for the government."

"Rich people really are living in a different world than me," James said with a chuckle. He grabbed Sirius's hand and they headed down the stairs. As always, James's touch made his heart race. "If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?"

"My room, since anywhere else would have a high likelihood of housing my parents," Sirius snorted. His parents only went to his room when they were specifically trying to find him.

"No," James said, rolling his eyes. "I meant like, anywhere out in the world."

"We're surrounded by water," he reminded him.

"You're no fun at all. Use your imagination," James said. He let go of Sirius's hand and sat in one of the automobiles at the edge that didn't have doors. He mimed putting a cigar in his mouth and puffed. "Where to, sir?" he asked in a gruff voice meant to imitate a cabbie’s accent.

Sirius laughed and sat in the backseat. He hummed, thinking it over. Imagination... all he'd ever imagined was getting away; he'd never thought about where he would get away to. He leaned forward so his arms were resting on the back bench of the front seats. "To the sky," he said, thinking about the dozens of hours he'd spent looking at clouds and dreaming that he was flying among them, because anything had been better than walking on the dirt.

James glanced at him, grinning. "What's the point when you already have a star?" he asked, dropping the accent.

"Because we'd be there together," Sirius said under his breath.

They were close enough that James heard him. His smile widened tellingly, but he didn't say anything about it.

Sirius's parents were busy and would be for several hours, so Sirius didn't think twice about inviting James to his room so he could finally look at his pictures. Maybe it was silly, but Sirius had spent a lot of time thinking about those drawings and what they would look like. It was pretty much as described: pretty people and pretty things.

The people in his drawings were nude, but it was hardly pornographic. About half of them didn't have a full view of their- ahem, special place because of the way they were posed. Women... and men. There were quite a few of nature and buildings as well, but Sirius couldn't take his eyes off the portraits.

"Who are all of these people?"

"Some were models. Others were just people I met at parties and the like."

"You met people at parties and they volunteered to pose for you?" Sirius asked doubtfully.

"Well," James smirked, "they were French. Very different, that."

"I see," Sirius agreed, also smirking. He flipped through a few more. Was it his imagination, or could he see the love these had been done with? He'd never been a great admirer of art. He'd never understood it; it had never spoken to him. It had all seemed lifeless, but anything James did couldn't be confused as such. A person with that much love and light could never make art that didn't reflect it. Even the buildings he drew were love letters to architecture. "Would you ever draw me?" he asked.

"I don't think it would be the sort of portrait you're wanting."

"What makes you say that?"

"As you can see, and if you recall, I told you that I only do nudes."

"I know."

James looked over at him, hands frozen in place where he'd poised one drawing up to show Sirius.

Sirius met his gaze evenly, even as his cheeks pinked.

James's throat worked. It seemed like he was speechless, and Sirius didn't quite know what to make of that.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he mumbled after several seconds of silence.

"I didn't say that," James said immediately. "But I don't want you to do something you'd be uncomfortable with."

"Do I look uncomfortable?"

"You might once you're naked." He paused. "Have you ever been naked around someone before?"

"Does the doctor count?"

James raised his eyebrows. "Not even for sex?"

"Saying yes now would be lying on two fronts," Sirius said. To help distract himself from the deepening blush across his cheeks, he reached into his pocket. "This is that necklace I told you about."

James reached out and stabilized the jewel in the center. "It's beautiful."

"I was thinking... maybe I wear this. If you draw me. It'd be nice to think about it as something other than a symbol of the decay of my personal life."

James's eyes flitted away from the necklace and back up to Sirius. "You're serious about this."

He nodded.

"Alright," James said.

"Try not to use the wrong pencil on me. I want to look as pretty as all your French blokes."

"You'd look prettier than them no matter what I did," James said softly. "I'll lock the door, and you can... get comfortable."

"There's a party tonight in third class," James said. "You should come with me."

A party in third class. Sirius didn't even know what that would like, but refusing would make him more like the person his parents wanted him to be and less like he wanted to be. But, "I don't know why you'd want me to come with you." It's not like they'd be able to dance together, and that was the point of a party, wasn't it?

"You invited me for that stuffy dinner in first class. We might as well see how the other half lives, while we're at it."

"You're part of that half," Sirius pointed out. "You already know how they live."

"Then maybe it's something I think you should see. I think you'll have fun there; it's nothing like the dinner in first class was, or how you've described the parties you've been to."

Sirius worried at his lip for a moment. Then, "What should I wear?"

"Dress down a bit. More like me," James said. He got to his feet, putting a hand on Sirius's knee and squeezing as he did. The touch was mostly hidden by him moving, and it was fleeting; it still made Sirius's blood run hot. That was silly, wasn't it? James had seen him naked-- had drawn him naked-- and a touch on the knee was getting his blood pumping? They'd held hands; they'd talked as though they had a future together. Comparatively, a touch on he knee was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing, and Sirius couldn’t even try to pretend otherwise.

And now they had a date to go to a party together. He didn't even have to worry about impressing him; all James had wanted was for Sirius to be himself. He still worried a bit for how it would go.

He didn't quite know how it had happened. They'd been laughing, and then Sirius had pulled him out of the main room, still laughing. He was pretty sure that he'd meant to ask if that’s what all parties were like for him, but then they'd been sharing the same breath, and there wasn't a damn thing that could've gotten Sirius to step away.

"We should go somewhere we won't get caught," Sirius managed to say when he got enough space from James's mouth-- not an easy feat.

"Your room?"

Sirius grimaced. "My parents have a key." He wasn't sure he had a key, but they definitely did. "They like to make sure I'm not getting up to trouble. Yours?"

"Third class," James reminded him. "It's not just my room; there's loads of other people there."

"Bugger. Wait, I've got it. C'mon," Sirius said, and started pulling him in the right direction. He was sure that it was obvious what they'd been doing, but most of the people in third class were still at the party, no other passenger would be down in this area, and there was nothing here that the crew would need.

"Where are we going?"

Sirius grinned. "The sky."

He loved the way that James's eyes lit with realisation without him having to say another word. James cared as much about him as he did about James, right? This was proof. It wasn't idle flirtation and animal attraction; it was something more than that.

They hurried down to where all the automobiles were, and not a one of them was locked because they were on the water. Sirius picked one that wasn't near the edge, and they tumbled into the backseat.

"I love you," James whispered against his neck, his hands on Sirius's back under his shirt and hot as a brand. Sirius was his, now. "I love you," he said again, when Sirius got a hand around his prick. His tone was worshipful and awed, like he couldn't believe the universe had let them find each other at the exact right moment.

Sirius could hardly believe it either, and he wasn't about to turn it away. "I love you too."

"Sirius, where are you going?" Orion screamed. He latched a hand around his son's upper arm to try and stop him from getting any further away from the lifeboat.

"I'm not leaving him!"

"He's going to die here!" They were yelling because they were angry, but the sound of everyone else panicking and the water and the boats was enough to make them have to speak louder anyways. "If you go after him, you'll die too. Even if you make it out of here alive, you'd be executed wherever you lived!"

"I'd rather die with him than live another second with you!" Sirius screamed, wrenching his arm out of his father's grip and running towards the lower decks where he knew James was. He didn't know how he was going to get him out of the handcuffs or where they'd try to go after he was free, but he couldn't just leave him there.

If you jump, I jump. James had said that it wasn't gamble back then, but this time it was. Sirius still believed it, though. He wasn't leaving this boat without James, and if that meant not leaving it at all, then he'd be okay with that.

#prongsfoot #marauders #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #filled #fusion #getting together #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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skrltwtch · 3 years

Text

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

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sarcastic-bubble · 4 years

Text

Even Jedi Get Nervous

Paring: Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Request: heya! Could you do an obi wan fic where before the clone wars obi wan meets a painter on the side of the street and falls head over heals, stuttering and blushing - Anon

A/N: This was fun to write! Like just imagine the crap Obi-wan had to put up with while Anakin was still young. (Also I hit triple digits on my follower count and I feel loved so thank you!)

Masterlist

You dipped your brush into the paint and smeared the light blue pigment over the entirety of the blank canvas. You weren’t quite sure what to paint just yet, but you had learned early in your career that sometimes putting down that first stroke was the hardest. You looked around you for some inspiration. You currently sat on a stool surrounded by your various works of art. Some were hung on the walls of the small stall you rented out others were stacked against each other inside various sized boxes. You looked out a little further, despite the clean and peaceful manner you attempted to keep your stall in the rest of your surroundings had the usual characteristics of a rather seedy flea market. Off in the distance, you could see someone being arrested, most likely for stealing. That was a very big problem among these parts after all and sadly not a great inspiration for a painting. You couldn’t wait for the day you managed to save enough to save credits to move out of this hellhole and buy a proper studio in the nicer part of Coruscant. Of course, that was a far-off dream at the moment. It was hard to find clients in a place like this, but it was even harder still to afford the rent anywhere nicer.

You dipped your paintbrush into a small pot of paint having come to the conclusion that you paint the Coruscant skyline; it was lovely after all. But before you could start something caught your attention. You rarely saw new faces. The market had a very loyal set of regulars and others rarely ventured in. The two newcomers had to be Jedi judging by their outfits. It struck you as odd until you remember that one of the local crime lords and been making things very difficult for the Senate. You watched the Jedi for a moment, trying to take in as much of their appearances as you could in the short amount of time you had. Both appeared to be young, far from the wrinkly old master you usually pictured when someone mentioned the order. The younger of the two was a small boy, you imagined he was no more than eleven. He had short blonde hair and a single long braid. He had to be a padawan then. You turned your attention to the older one; he was quite handsome you noted. His features were strong, but his expression was still soft as he spoke to the child next to him. You forgot your original plan of painting the Coruscant Skyline and instead picked up your stylus and began to sketch his features; you worked quickly not knowing how long he’d been within your sight.

You were quite engrossed in your work when the voice a child asked for your attention. You set the brush down on your palette careful not to let it roll off and looked to the boy; it was the Padawan you had been observing earlier. “Can I help you?” you ask with a friendly smile.

He pointed a finger at one of your larger paintings, “What kind of starship is that? I’ve never seen one before.”

You shrugged before gently placing the canvas you were previously working on onto the table. “I don’t really know, actually. I just paint and draw things as I see them. Do you want to see more? Maybe you can tell me about some of the starships in my sketchbook?” You weren’t entirely sure why you offered the kid to come see more of your work. After all, you had paintings to finish and future clients to chase down but you had always had a soft spot for children and the way he grinned at your offer warmed your heart in the most wonderful way.

You pulled up a stool for the young boy and riffled through your bag until you came to one of your paint covered sketchbooks. It looked like it had gone through hell and back. The bindings were coming apart and the leather cover was peeling in far too many places, it had been well used and loved to say the least. You took a seat back on your stool and opened the sketchbook to the first page. It was a watercolour painting of a cruiser half-submerged in a lake; you had come across it during your travels. You looked to the young boy, “I don’t believe I got your name.”

“Anakin.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Anakin. I’m (Y/N)”

-------

You weren’t sure how long you and Anakin talked but it was nice to have some company. You told him about the places you had travelled to before decided to settle down in one spot and he told you all about the ships in your many paintings. You had started working on the painting of his master again. You had assured Anakin that you were really enjoying his company but that the paint was drying so you had to work and listen at the same time.

It didn’t take long for Anakin to become curious about your current project. “Are you painting my master?” he asked tilting his head to the side trying to get a better view.

“I suppose I am,” you replied with a laugh, “but why don’t we keep it to ourselves? I’ve found some people don’t react well when they find out I’ve been painting them without their permission.”

Anakin’s smile turned into a wide grin, “Obi-wan isn’t like that. I bet he’d love it! You should show him!”

You couldn’t help but laugh the kid’s enthusiasm and confidence. “Oh, I really don’t want to disturb him, I’m sure he has important work to do.”

“I don’t think it’s too important. I mean he’s coming over here anyway,” he said gesturing towards his master who was, in fact, approaching your stall. You were quick to tuck the painting away.

When the other Jedi arrived, he wasn’t paying any attention to you and you were just fine with that. His focus was purely on his Padawan. “What have I told you about running off Anakin? I’m sure this lovely lady has lots of work to do and no time to answer all your questions.”

You couldn’t let Anakin take all the blame for this; you had been the one to offer to show him your paintings. “He’s actually been great company, Master…” you trailed off at the end, realizing you didn’t know his last name.

“Kenobi,” he replied quickly giving his young Padawan another scolding look. “I really am sorry though; he tends to get…” His words caught in his throat when his eyes met yours. Maker, but you were gorgeous. He stood quiet for a moment trying to get his body under control. There was no way he could effectively scold Anakin if he was blushing like an idiot. He opened his mouth as if to say something to you but then closed it again. He grabbed Anakin’s hand and looked back at the boy; finding it far easier to speak when he wasn’t looking at you. “Let’s go Anakin.”

Before he could pull the boy away you grabbed the sketchbook you had been showing him and quickly slipped it into his free hand. You held a finger up to lips indicating to him that this was supposed to be a secret. As you watched the boy get pulled away you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He was such a kind kid and well you didn’t know much about his Master, but he was certainly something to look at. You went back to your painting of Master Kenobi, wanting to get as much done while his features were still fresh in your mind.

-------

That evening Anakin found himself sitting in his master’s quarters as he flipped through the book you had given him. He went from page to page telling a rather distracted Obi-wan all the stories you had told him earlier. He was quite excited to share all his new knowledge with his master.

“She visited Tatooine once, you know. It’s too bad we didn’t know each then, it would have been fun if she had visited. I could have shown her all the best places to paint.” Said Anakin as he admired a painting of a desert with a single bantha standing in the distance.

“Who visited Tatooine?” asked Obi-wan. He wasn’t very interested in the answer but if he didn’t show any interest Anakin would get bored with talking and most likely find some trouble to get into.

“(Y/N)”

“Who?”

“(Y/N). The painter in the market,” answered Anakin turning to the next page in the sketchbook.

“Is that where you got that book from?” asked Obi-wan looking over his shoulder at his padawan.

“Yep! She’s really nice! She told me all about the planrts she’s visited but we didn’t have time to look at the whole book, so she gave it to me! We talked a lot about starships too!” replied the young boy. He was obviously very excited about the new friend he’d made that day. “I want to go back and thank her tomorrow.”

“Well I, I suppose that would be appropriate. We’ll go first thing in the morning,” stated Obi-wan, if Anakin didn’t know him any better, he would have missed the slight blush and hint of nervousness in his voice.

“You think she’s pretty; don’t you Master?”

Obi-wan scoffed. Of course, he had thought you were pretty, you were easily one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eye on but his young padawan didn’t need to know that. “Go to bed Anakin.”

“So you do think she’s pretty?”

“Go to bed,” he repeated this time voice firmer.

-------

Obi-wan and Anakin arrived at the market just as it opened the next morning. “Now Anakin,” started Obi-wan, “you’re just here to say thank you. Please don’t take to long. Now go on, I’ll wait here.” He waived his young padawan off and turned his gaze to you. He admired the way you happily turned to greet the young boy. He would have loved to go up and talk to you himself, but he was afraid that if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to get many words out. Admiring from afar was much easier anyway, he didn’t have to worry about embarrassing himself. He watched you give Anakin a gentle hug and then look up at him. When your eyes met, he tried to look anywhere else but you. He didn’t want you to know that he had been staring.

Once he had determined it safe to look again, he found you kneeling by Anakin laughing about something. He couldn’t hear your laugh over the noise of the market, but he could only imagine it being as beautiful as you. He had decided he really was quite content just watching you when Anakin waved him over. Had something happened? He couldn’t just ignore his padawan, so he approached with his eyes focused on the ground ahead of him.

“Master! (Y/N) invited me for tea and we wanted to know if you’d like to come too!” said Anakin with a wide grin.

Obi-wan looked from his padawan to your smiling face. “I.. I would, um…” He tried so hard to answer. Of course, he wanted to go for tea, after listening to Anakin spend the better part of the day before and the evening talking about how wonderful you were he wanted nothing more but his mouth just wouldn’t form the words. Maybe it was the way you smiled at him or the way your gentle eyes reflected the sunlight.

“Is everything all right Master Kenobi,” you ask kindly.

“He’s fine. He’s just nervous cause he thinks you’re pretty,” states Anakin very matter-of-factly.

Obi-wan’s heart stopped and he was ready to drag Anakin away to keep him for embarrassing him anymore. He glared at the young boy while trying to suppress the heat he could feel rising on his cheeks. Your laugh pulled his gaze back to you. He had been right in assuming it would be beautiful. It was absolutely magical if he was being honest with himself, if he could hear that sound again every day for the rest of his life he would count himself a lucky man.

“Well,” you said holding Obi-wan’s gaze with you own, “Tell your Master that I think he’s incredibly handsome and my offer for tea still stands.”

Obi-wan didn’t have any words, he just stood and stared at you as you spoke. There was no doubt in his mind that he was blushing, but you were now too. It was much less embarrassing when he wasn’t the only one. “I’d like that very much,” he replied in an even and gentle tone as he could manage.

Anakin couldn’t help but make a disgusted noise at the way the two adults were looking at each other. At least his master was happy.

Tag List: @psionicsnow @in-the-frap-of-the-gods @glitchnovax

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker

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juyoens · 3 years

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( 2 ) early this year i went to the mall to find pretty stickers and i went EVERYWHERE but couldn't find any so i went to another stationery shop and it was my LAST resort. and it was kinda in the process of getting renovated so some places were more tight than the others ,, do u understand ? lol anyways ,, i finally found the sticker aisle but there was a guy who already was standing there ( he was looking at the books which were placed next to the sticker aisle ) and same thing, there was not much space so i had to wait a lil cus i didn't wanna be rude to interrupt him cus he looked like he was in deep thought. i looked around the store aimlessly pretending like i was looking for something and he kinda noticed and scooted to the other side a bit to give me space to pass through and i did. i walked up to the sticker section and looked at it from bottom to top and THEN i saw a pretty lil sticker set BUT i couldn't reach it so i just stared at it hopelessly hoping maybe just MAYBE i could unlock my telepathy skill but unfortunately ,, :( nothing happened UNTIL an arm reaches for it and holds in front of my face, waiting for me to take it and i did. i looked up at him and thanked him as nicely as i could and he smiled at me and that's when i noticed he looked familiar to me and then it clicked! i remembered him as the same dude from the thrift store *** he was wearing a white tshirt and high waisted brown trousers with a flannel PLEASE GUYS WHO WEAR HIGH WAISTED PANTS ARE SO ATTRACTIVE LIKE GODDAMN UGH. and i pretended to look elsewhere after he went back to looking at books and i was rlly awk so i just waited for him to move so i could leave cus i had to be home at a specific time, and then he glances at me and walks up to me asking me if i could help him pick out a present for his younger sister. i agreed because i couldn't bring myself to say no and HE WAS JUST SO CUTE i bet he hipnotised me 🧎‍♀️ BUT ANYWAYS we made some small talk and i asked him what his sister liked to do and all and he tells me she loves art and enjoys painting and i looked at him and immediately burst into smiles cus i LOVE art and LOVE painting too and i started gushing ab it without even realising it HAJAJAHAHWU. he didn't say anything tho he just listened and smiled. i then understood why he was staring at the books for so long cus they were watercolour books but they were more pricey so i asked for his budget and he tells me he didn't have one and thats when i knew he was rich and THANK GOD i dressed up all cute and shih 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 anyways i helped him and all, we pay for our things and i had to rush out cus my parents were out and didn't know i was out too and they were on their way home too. BUT this man stops me and pulls his mask down to thank me and........... he had dimples...... IM DEVASTATED....... HE HAD DIMPLES D I M P L E S. gawd as if he wasn't good looking enough.... god clearly has his favourites 🙄‼️ but yea i couldn't talk for much longer so i said np and left lol. i lived in front of the mall too so i managed to reach home before my parents by foot 👍🏼yeah that was it >< sorry if it were a bit much :((

— 🐣 anon

NOT THE DIMPLES 😭 i see why now......no i get it now......

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go-go-garraty · 4 years

Text

Art Deco

Summary: Their paintings were neatly organized horders of kids, gazing with open mouths at them but McVries found that looking at Stebbins’s profile was far more interesting for him.

AO3 Link: ❤

McVries didn't know how this had begun, but he wasn't complaining, that's for sure.

McVries didn't know why he and Stebbins had begun to do this, he looked around him, the smell of the fresh oil and drying paint, all around them, dozens of discharged paintings and scribbles sitting around the room.

Looking at the ocean landscape in front of him, he could almost taste the salt of the sea, he had never been at.

He looked behind him, Stebbins was sitting cross-legged on the ground, his fair head next to the easels’s feet, an old rugged down sketchbook, resting on his lap. He looked so focused.

“What are you drawing, this time, Stebbins?”

“A bird” Stebbins didn't part his eyes from the sketchbook.

“Which one?” McVries had gotten used to the short answers, and the lack of explanations, he knew he had more fun bringing it out of Stebbins than he would do otherwise.

“A bird” He smiled, a mischievous glint on it “That I saw on the train”

“A bird in the train, nothing else?” McVries held his godette, passing his brush through it, turning back to his canvas.

“The bird was inside the train” Stebbins left his head fall back, his hair dangling off, sticking to his forehead and his face, his lips were so chapped.

“Why, was there a bird inside the train today?” McVries chuckled.

“A little boy opened up the window even though the train driver said no to.”

“And why do you know that?”

“I saw him do it.”

“And you said nothing?”

“Maybe” He grabbed the pencil again “The bird got in, some women began screaming about it, the train driver came to see what the commotion was all about, the bird stung him in the eye, he cried afterwards but he was still trying to act like he didn't, how stupid.”

“What an epic tale” Stebbins laughed, showing his full teeth just a little. McVries supposed that should look creepy but everything was beginning to look nice to him again, like those painting of stabbed men.

He heard the pencil touch ground, it rolled around and hit his leg, the metal parts were cold, Stebbins did that whenever he was done, then it was up to him to search for the pencils again.

McVries put the brush back down “Are you done?”

Stebbins turned around to him, he grabbed the sketchbook with both hands, white teeth showing through, he raised the sketchbook, a childish, shadowy-looking drawing of a bird in the middle, the graffito was mounded over on the white creamy paper.

“With everything and epic illustrations” McVries finished, he looked down with fondness at the drawing, the whole world could be so beautiful.

There was beauty on smuggled pencil traces, birds, and creepy smiles, McVries had known that his whole life but drawing like this, every now and then in the afternoon, he realized it time again time and time again.

Stebbins laughed, and hid the sketchbook in his lap again.

----------

“Hurry we can't have The President and The Vice President of the club being late always” Garraty said, backpack strap hanging off one of his shoulders, standing next to the classroom door.

“I'm ready. Tell Stebbins” McVries said, looking at Stebbins awkwardly stuffing notebooks, and way too thick books into his worn out backpack.

“Pete is The President of the club, and you are The Vice President, why are you hurrying me?”

“Keep complaining, and we kick you off the club” McVries said.

“Shut it” Stebbins slid the backpack up his shoulders “Let's get going” He said walking out the door.

“Your backpack is open” Said Garraty.

“I know.”

“I'm gonna close it” Garraty said, he walked behind him, and slipped down the zipper.

They walked down the hallways to the club room, McVries slid the white door open. They entered, Stebbins immediately went to the back.

“Why are The Vice President and The President the ones that are always late?” Barkovich said, looking up from his watercolours painting.

Easels and double tables, the smell of coffee and open windows, the rest of the boys were starting to look up, pencils and brushes still on their hands.

It was The Art Club.

McVries greeted it with a smile.

“First of all Barkovich is not me who’s late is this two” McVries said pointing with his head to Garraty and Stebbins “And second: Activities of the day, I need all of you to finish your work this evening so we can hang them up and show them at the club's entrance tomorrow, as The Director instructed us.”

Parker groaned, his painting was a mix of reds and oranges, Abraham patted his back.

“Yeah. Sure, dude” Pearson said.

McVries nodded, he finished what he had to say on the front of the classroom, and walked to the back of the room with Garraty. They sat besides Stebbins.

Garraty brought out his bloc, opened it on the middle paged, Garraty always did that, didn't like following the linear and never went to the very back, he took off his rucksack, he was right about to finish.

“You guys aren't going to finish yours?” Abraham asked McVries and Stebbins who were simply observing Garraty make his.

“We already did” McVries answered for the both of them.

“No fair! You guys do everything in your house” Olson said, looking up from the painting he had deemed abstract.

“The Unfairness of Working out of Hour an essay by Doctor Hank Olson” McVries said putting on a news reporter voice.

“You really do all club activities together, though” Baker said without looking up from his canvas, already adding the last touches to his painting.

“We work better as a team” McVries said. Stebbins looked to the side, covering his mouth with his hand “Aww you are smiling, you agree.”

“Shut it, Pete.”

“You are smiling” McVries repeated, swinging one finger in front of Stebbins’s face.

“Pete...” Stebbins avoided his eyes.

“I don't even remember when you guys began doing that” Garraty said, calling back their attention.

“I do” McVries said.

“Are we having a movie flashback now?” Stebbins forced the smile out of his face, and took off his hand.

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

“I can't believe, I left you to convince me of doing this” Stebbins said, as Garaty tugged at his sweater's sleeve.

“I can't believe you left me convince you either” Garraty answered, he slid open the white door of the clubroom “Hey everybody! Stebbins. He will be joining us in the art club from now on.”

The rest of the guys looked up from their canvas and sketchbooks, Stebbins felt the burning gazes in him.

“I just want you to know, I hate you Ray” He whispered to Garraty.

“Sorry” Garraty whispered back, he tugged at his sleeve again, dragging him to the back of the room to a double table, behind them hanging from the ceiling and resting on the floor were beautifully finished oil landscapes, flowers, rotting fruits, and blown up buildings.

“Want to sit here?” Garraty said.

“Yeah” Stebbins sat on the left, his feet up on the bars of the chair, Garraty got on the right.

Garraty reached a hand into his backpack, pulling out a sketchbook and a rucksack, he skimmed it over to the last page and pulled it out “Here, we can share this time.”

“This time?”

“This. Time.” He opened up his rucksack and pulled out a pencil, Stebbins stared at the pencil for a second too long as if he could vaporize it with his mind if he tried long enough, the pencil was still there so he had to take it.

“What do I do now?”

“Just do whatever comes to mind, if it sucks, we can call it abstract.”

“Aren’t clubs supposed to have designated activities, Ray?”

Garraty looked awkwardly to the side “Well, yeah but as you can see, we don't really have Our Club President to give out activities right now so...”

“So you brought me to a presidentless club to do nothing.”

“You are harsh.”

Stebbins rolled his eyes into his skull “Where is your president? I thought you two were attached by the hip.”

“Me and Pete don't actually spend, every single of second of our lives together, you know?”

“No, actually with the way you spend every single second of your lives together, it is hard to distinguish” Stebbins sighed, playing with the bright red gum of the pencil “Why didn't you ask him to come?”

“You think I haven't?” Garraty swung the pencil in the air, Stebbins stared harder at him.

“As he usually does everything you ask for, immediately? Yes, it is easy to assume.”

“That's not true”

“Ray, one time he drove you all the way to his prior state, by himself, in one day, because you said that you wanted to see his old movie stand, but didn't have anybody to go with.”

Garraty stared at him with wide-open eyes “Okay. Fine. He does a lot of stuff for me, but not everything” Garraty moved his head back and forth, as if the words he was trying to say were too confusing “I have- I have asked but…. he's not really himself right now.”

Stebbins tilted his head “What do you mean?”

“He’s… sad, right now" Garratry said softly, whispering "He's just not up to it, I asked him a lot but, I don't think it’s right to push him to do anything right now” Garraty looked down at the white paper, he looked defeated all of a sudden.

Stebbins placed his hand on Garraty’s back, feeling the muscle through the layers of clothing, he looked to the side “I see.”

Garraty looked at him, Stebbins could feel his eyes on the side of his face, Gararty shook his head rapidly, as if trying to shake the bad thoughts off, he straightened his back a little, Stebbins hand slipping down.

“Stebbins, can you please stay, and makeup like we are doing something, so The Director doesn't close The Club down, on us?”

Stebbins looked down at the paper, then back up at Garraty’s eyes.

“Fine.”

Garraty smiled. Garraty smiled with his whole face, with his cheeks up to his eyes “Thank you, Stebbins.”

“Though I don't understand why you need me here, you already have more than a quarter of the classroom in here.”

“Because...”

“Stop getting in the way of my painting!” Stebbins raised his head to Barkovitch’s strident screaming, coming from the middle of the room.

“Oh? Am I getting in the way? Barkovitch?” Olson replied, holding a big brush dripping with red colour, way too close to Barkovitch’s painting of a white butterfly with a broken wing.

“Hank. Stop” Baker said, from the other corner of the room, staring off the window, his pencil held a few centimeters up from the paper.

“But-”

“Stop.”

“Fine.”

Garraty turned to look back at him after the scene was over.

“We need a little calm to level out” Garraty said.

“And without club president you need as many as you can get to justify keeping the club open” Stebbins said, Garraty shrugged.

After that Stebbins centered on his blank page, on the white drilling blank page, he held the pencil up to it, staring at the classroom, somehow nothing felt worth the effort, the clock ticking down on the background, and the rest of the kids’s brushes and pencils skimming against the paper.

It had become evening at some point, he was getting a headache.

He bit onto the pencils gum.

“Don't eat that” Garraty said, Stebbins turned to look at him, he felt more dead than the usual amount “Are you okay?”

“Your club is draining, Ray.”

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

Stebbins doodled something on his striped notebook, looking out the window, his left hand supporting his face. The teacher's voice feeling like white noise.

“You will be visiting The Portland Museum of Art, you will have to pick an artist presented there and explain why, with everything that includes, such as….”

Stebbins blocked everything else out, and didn't pay any mind to it until the last day.

He was sitting on the bus, looking off the window, headphones resting on his shoulders, he had Garraty on the phone.

“You should have told me, I would have taken you with the rest” He and Garraty didn’t share all classes, but they still got the same projects.

“I forgot.”

“You never forget anything” Stebbins smirked at that, it was true.

“I didn't care.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like you.”

Garraty and he spoke for a little more.

“Oh” Stebbins heard Garraty take the phone away from his mouth “Sorry, I think something is burning in the kitchen.”

“Who are you teaching how to cook this week?”

“Olson.”

“Again?”

“Again. How did you know that?”

“You never burn anything.”

Garraty laughed, it was a clear light sound “See you tomorrow, Stebbins” He could feel the smile on Garraty’s face through the phone.

“See you” He hanged up the phone. There were two women with bags talking way too loudly on the front seats, he put his headphones back on. He had his eyes closed the rest of the ride.

He entered the gates of the museum, ignoring the people just standing around taking photographies of themselves standing before the brick walls.

“Would you like a guided visit, Sir?” Stebbins was approached by a woman waving a bunch of fliers in his face.

He thought back of his homework “No.”

The woman blinked twice “Alright, Sir.”

Stebbins walked further into the museum, he looked around stopping each time, not bothering to read the plaques underneath it. The deeper you went in the emptier the place was, it was depressing to see, the sun coming through the picture windows in the ceiling made his eyes hurt.

He lost himself between hallways, coming across a white and black pattern, so grand on the overtaking white walls of the museum.

The matching golden plate read.

"Corpse and Mirror Jasper John's 1976"

"McVries?" Stebbins heard his voice echo on the empty room. McVries had been standing there eyes lost, as if he were staring directly at the sun.

McVries touched his face, he slowly turned to him "Stebbins?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing here?"

"Homework" Stebbins stared at the painting, or whatever it was "What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing, what a museum is supposedly for, appreciating art."

"How do you appreciate art?"

McVries looked at him with a grimace in his face "Do you want a spoken tour?"

Stebbins thought about it "If you can give it."

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

They walked down the halls, museums felt haunted sometimes, Stebbins could hear the sound of the place screeching on top of them.

They passed a painting of a wave, and wood, Stebbins stopped in front of it, it was the second most attention-calling thing he had seen so far.

“That's by Winslow Homer, The Weatherbeaten ” McVries said.

“I see.”

“Shouldn't you be writing this?” Stebbins tilted his head “It’s the same homework Ray had, isn't it?”

“Yes, and no. I don't forget” He kept staring at it.

“Whatever you say.”

They kept looking and looking, until Stebbins began feeling that the salt and water of the painting could get to him.

They walked, outside trough one of the many doors made of windows the place had, Stebbins didn't understand how anybody was meant to get out of there, in case of a fire, maybe they weren't, if the paintings went down so did you.

“And here's The Portland Outdoor Sculpture Garden” Said McVries, as a bunch of black-turning-green statues came into view.

Stebbins looked at each one carefully, they were starting to collect dusk, leaves falling on top of them.

He approached a statue of a horse of bones, it looked made of branches put together by a forest ghost.

“And to think that this and Michelangelo's David and the Antinous Mondragone and everything else in the world are all equals” Said McVries “Did you know that, when they first unpacked it the Antiguos Mondragone came with lipstick on its cheek, some lady on the old days, did her makeup especially that day to kiss it, and who could blame her, right?”

Stebbins thought about it, about kissing a statue, leaving your mark on something forever, he was sure they were still visible, wherever the statue behind its fortified glass was in, the sun reflecting on the red pigment, until even the sun itself burned out.

“Is it really all equal?”

“All art is equal, never doubt it, or at least that's what everybody says, take it with a grain of salt”

Stebbins gave one last look at the horse statue, then rolled his eyes.

“I already have what I need for the homework. I'm leaving, I’m getting a migraine.”

“Too much art appreciation for you, Stebbins Deary?”

Stebbins sighed, his headache was getting worse, the sunlight was so intense "If you appreciate art so much why aren't you assisting to the club, your art club, specifically?" Stebbins said.

"How do you know that?"

"It must be really bad if The President of The Club is not on the know of who is assisting his club" Stebbins turned back to him "Why is that?"

"I'm not feeling very creative right now, I'm not really channeling my inner muse at the moment" Stebbins titled his head, McVries sunk his hands into his hoodie, his scar was itching, just like when he was getting the stitches, he wondered if he would feel like this forever, like something was scratching inside of his skin.

"I can't paint right now."

"You paint?"

"You didn't know? The paintings on the back of the room Garraty drags you to every Monday after school are made by me."

"They are?"

"Yeah. What? Did you think that they were out of Collie Parker's sensible hands?"

"No I-" Stebbins looked to the side, he felt somehow embarrassed now "I thought they were from a gallery or something of the sort."

McVries stopped on his tracks for a second too long, he could feel his heart beating off his chest.

He didn't know how to react to this, he had heard thousands of compliments before, from his parents, Katrina, Katrina's friends, his friends, Ray, the teachers, and The Director but none of them felt like this. It was different to receive such a genuine compliment, Stebbins didn't even mean for it to be a compliment, he was sure, hearing anything out of Stebbins's mouth was a different experience by itself each time.

He pushed his hands inside his pockets, trying to regain composure.

"I don't think that's how that works" He said with a smile but Stebbins didn't change his blank poker face at all, he never did, McVries didn't know why he has expected him to this time.

"How do you do that?"

"How do I do what? Paint? Well Stebbins, as you know you have two hands left and right, right is the one you write with, unless you are a witch."

"Shut up. I mean how do you draw things like that?"

McVries thought back of all the club's classes, practice, his whole life really, he didn't have an answer on why or how or what when it came to himself, he never did, he did stuff that felt right to do and when it stopped feeling right he didn't know what to do anymore.

"I don't know" His hand shot up, scratching the scar, he knew he shouldn't do that, it was going to whiter and worsen if he did, he scratched it harder "I told you I can't anymore."

"How can you not be able to anymore? How can you lose yourself like that?"

"I don't know if I knew I wouldn't be here" McVries said with a smile, he didn't know why his first reaction was to smile whenever he was in pain.

Stebbins looked to the ground, he looked troubled now, gripping on his sleeve.

"Can you show them to me?"

McVries choked on air a little, that had felt as a blow for some reason, he didn't know why but it burned and stung a little, he didn't know most of anything nowadays. He stopped scratching the scar.

“Are you willing to introduce yourself to my parents?”

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

They had gotten to McVries’s car, Stebbins memorized the path to McVries’s house, the evening was completely set in.

“Forewarnings Announcement!: My parents are, how to put it? Touchy-feely people, so be ready” McVries said.

Stebbins sighed audibly, rolling his eyes to the back of his skull “I will try.”

“Hope you survive being hugged by a housewife, a man who reeks of cigarettes, and the cutest little girl you will ever meet.”

Stebbing turned to him “You have a sister?”

“Yeah, her name is Katrina she's really little and she's adorable, so you scare her and I beat you up.”

“I get it” Stebbins said, letting his head fall on to the window, feeling the bumps on his temples “I wouldn't mess with anybody's sister. I'm not a bully.”

“You better” McVries stopped the car in front of a medium-sized house.

It had a small garden, a clean driveway, the painting didn't look too old, and it wasn't graffitied on the sides, it looked like the sort of house who in a children's book would have a pie resting by its windows. Stebbins stared openly at it.

“We have arrived to your location” McVries said “C'mon blondie move it.”

Stebbins opened his door, they walked up to McVries’s opening, his house’s path to the entrance was tilted upwards, Stebbins’s noticed.

McVries’s got his keys out but he rang the doorbell regardless, he opened the door and took a step to the left, bowing slightly.

“Ladies first.”

“I would actually walk first, but if I do, who do I use as a human shield when your parents bombard me.”

“Always three steps ahead, uh my blondie?” McVries gave him a smile, the sort of smile actors gave each other in movies, Stebbins stepped in, he felt dazed again for some reason.

“Petie? Is that you?” Stebbins’s heard a high pitched voice followed by the sound of running, he figured that must be Katrina, he straightened his back readying himself for whatever was to come next.

“Yeah, Beautiful” Stebbins took notice of the nickname.

McVries stepped in, Stebbins walked slowly behind him, feeling smaller behind his back.

“Mom. Dad. A school friend” McVries said.

“Oh. Hi there!” A woman wearing a pair of red washing gloves greeted him with a pearly white smile. Stebbins figured she was McVries’s Mom.

“Greetings” Stebbins shyly offered her his hand, he didn't know if that was the right thing to do, he looked at the ground as he introduced himself, he couldn't stand looking at people's eyes most times “My name is Stebbins, Madame.”

“Nice to meet you Stebbins!” The woman rapidly took off one glove and shook his hand, her skin felt bleached.

“Nice to meet another friend of our son, not like Ray isn't a fine boy but…” A man wearing a tie said, McVries’s Dad, Stebbins assumed.

“Yeah Dad. We get it” McVries interrupted him.

“Don't hide Katrina” McVries’s Mom said, as Katrina clutched to her legs, looking up at Stebbins, with wide curious eyes “You have to say hi too.”

“Introduce yourself Katrina. Don't be rude” McVries’s Dad said.

Katrina gasped and ran to Stebbins “My name is Katrina! Nice to meet you!” She held up her hand high at him, Stebbins grabbed it, Katrina shook it with all the might a primary school child probably had.

“No need to be so intense, Katrina” McVries’s Mom said.

“Yeah. Poor guy you are gonna leave him without hand” McVries said.

“Sorry...” Katrina left go of his hand slowly.

“It’s okay” Stebbins had the distinct feeling that that was the wrong thing to say-

“If we are all done with introductions. I will be taking him to the back room, not that backroom Mom, the paintings room.”

She smiled, clapping her hands, producing a wet sound, Stebbin wondered why that made her so happy “I hope you enjoy the art, boys!”

“We will, Mom” McVries said, then he began walking to the left hallways, Stebbins followed him, looking at everything in McVries's house with the same intensity he had looked at the museum's halls.

They passed some other locker doors, Stebbins wondered what that many rooms were for.

“How many backrooms do you have?” Stebbins said.

“You must be level Ray of Friendship to unlock that secret” McVries said. They arrived to a door with old paintings stains all over “Now. Here goes your personal gallery experience.”

McVries opened up the door, revealing his dozens of paintings. They all uncovered, there was a blank sheet on the ground collecting dusk, McVries had told himself he didn't want them anymore, didn't need them anymore, would cover them up with blank sheet someday, and never think about them again, but never today.

An enormous oil landscape stood in the middle, it was the painting of a night sky.

“Wow” Stebbins said his eyes trying to take everything they possibly could one look, he walked closer to the painting, holding up his hands as if he wanted to touch it.

“You don't have to act impressed” McVries said “Though then again like you would bother yourself acting for anybody.”

“If you already know I wouldn't bother, why do you ask?”

“Because, why would you be impressed? They are just paintings, there's nothing special about them.”

“They are beautiful” Stebbins said without hesitation, he wasn’t soft about it, it wasn't supposed to be a compliment it was just a statement of a fact, that made it even more bittersweet to McVries somehow.

He smiled, cynical, one-sided, he wasn't happy, he knew he wasn't allowed to feel happy “Can you see something in them?”

“There's something in everything.”

“Is there something in you?” McVries asked, he felt like he could burst out crying right now, he felt submerged in the sea.

Stebbins turned to him for the first time since they had stepped into the room, his eyes slightly wide, looking at him, though him, trying to find malice in his words, but there was none, McVries just wanted to know, he just needed to know.

“What do you think there's in me, McVries?” Stebbins tilted his head “Do you think there's something in you, McVries?”

“Ha” He let air through his teeth, a pitiful attempt at a laugh ”Do you think there's something in me, Stebbins?”

Stebbins looked back at the painting, he walked down the room, staring carefully at each of the paintings, trying to suck all meaning life and colour of them, he stopped in front of the painting of a white roses bouquet with hiel dripping off it.

“How do you make this?” Stebbins said.

“Anybody can.”

“That's not true.”

“It is. You could do it too, if you wanted to.”

“I doubt it.”

Stebbins arrived to the back of the room, the biggest painting stood on the middle, half-finished, McVries has started it before That and then had never found on himself to finish it, after That he hadn't found much of anything of himself.

“Why is this one like this?”

“Never finished it.”

“It looks like an orphan” Stebbins turned back, they were standing in opposite directions now, McVries hadn’t moved an inch since Stebbins had entered, he hadn't realized that “If everybody can do it, why don't you finish it?”

McVries grimaced “Why don't you draw me something?”

“I can't”

“If you can't then I can't neither.”

Stebbins turned back at the unfinished painting resting in the darkness and dusk, being illuminated in blues, and so empty it was haunting.

“If I do, will you finish it?”

McVries felt moved somehow, he walked to the table, grabbed an old sketchbook more than half the pages, already ripped out, and a pencil with the gum completely chewed out, he offered them to Stebbins.

“You first.”

Stebbins looked down at it, carefully, McVries could almost phantom the danger a person like Stebbins saw in everything.

Stebbins received it.

“You first” Stebbins told him.

“Alright” Stebbins’s light up a little, McVries convinced himself he saw nothing in it “And take a seat, because this is going to take a long time.”

Stebbins lowered himself on the floor, he looked up to McVries, he could feel the intensity of his stare.

McVries grabbed the godette from the table, it was made of nogal wood, his parents had been so proud, so happy with themselves when they gave it to him, it still had old, dried off pools of pigment on it, he grabbed the paints and replied it, shining anew.

“Look up, Vang Gogh they call me” It was supposed to be a joke but it seemed too bleak to his own ears, Stebbins stared at him as he finished his painting, he could hear the rough scratching of the pencil against the paper, they didn't speak much during it, there was no need.

He felt Stebbins’s eyes on him the entire time.

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

They heard two knocks on the door, then Katrina entered “Petie, Mom and Dad wanna know if your friend is going to have dinner with us?”

McVries's eyes shot open, he had been completely spaced up while doing this “Are you, blondie?”

Stebbins clutched the sketchbook “No. Thank you.”

“Are you sure? My parents really love having extra kids to feed.”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“Knock yourself out then” He left the godette and brush back down the table, there were blue specks all over his hands now “C'mon Katrina, let's say goodbye to this hermit with Mom and Dad” Katrina nodded, they walked out.

Stebbins got himself to the door, through murmurs and insistencies from McVries's parents, McVries looked to the side, he seemed embarrassed but even more used to it, Stebbins held himself tighter onto the sketchbook.

“Are you sure you don't want to stay?” McVries’s Mom said “We have more than enough food prepared.”

“I don't wish to bother Madame” Stebbins avoided her eyes.

“What a polite boy” McVries Dad said “Why aren't you more like this, Peter?”

“Dad!?”

Stebbins put his hand on his mouth, he wasn't going to laugh, he refused to laugh right now.

“Please Sir, I have to arrive to help My Mother” Stebbins wasn't quiet lying, he would probably have to help his mom out with something back home, he just didn't know what yet.

“What a shame” McVries's Mom said “But if you have to go help your mom, what can we do?”

Stebbins nodded.

“Hope to see you again boy” McVries's Dad said.

“Yes, Sir.”

“You say goodbye too, Katrina” McVries’s Mom said. Katrina nodded, she ran up and hugged Stebbins’s legs, he flinched, immediately tensing.

“Goodbye Petie’s friend.”

He gulped down, lightly patted her head, with his open palm “Goodbye to you too...”

“Has everybody said goodbye?” McVries asked around “And Katrina let go of the poor man's legs, you are giving him a heart attack.”

“Sorry...” Katrina stepped off.

“It's okay.”

“Okay blondie, let me take you to your house” McVries opened the door, Stebbins waved one last goodbye to the rest of The McVries family before answering him.

“You have to regardless.”

“Let me be romantic.”

“About what? I would take the bus, but they apparently don't exist here.”

“At least I don't live in the middle of nowhere like Ray does.”

“Point taken" He looked at the car "But you still have to take me, you should be a more polite young man, Petie."

"That's the worst thing I had ever heard coming out of your lips."

"Oh really? Petie?"

"Shut up, and get up" McVries said, they walked up to the opened door, and got in.

He put one hand on the wheel "So where do you live again?"

Stebbins gave him instructions to his address, staring off the window the whole time, it was almost night when they got back.

“I told you not to scare my sister, but apparently, she scared you way more than you could ever scare her.”

“Shut up.” Stebbins looked out the window “Stop here” Stebbins said as an old broken down apartment conjunct came into view, the walls were cracked down the painting becoming gray and falling off, McVries did his best to not stare at it, he hadn't expected Stebbin to live in a place like this, he wasn't wealthy none of his friends were but he was grateful for his well-kept house for sure

“Do you want me to get down, and introduce myself to your mother as well?” McVries tried to joke.

“No” Stebbins said, opened up the door, and walked out without saying goodbye.

“Well, okay” McVries spoke to the shotgun sit where Stebbins had been, he started the car again and went back.

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

He already had his keys out when he arrived, but Katrina opened up the door first, she was always waiting for him, she hugged him like he had been gone to war, he petted her head, and she backed up a little, she opened her mouth in a big O shape.

"What is it, Beautiful?"

"Petie and your notebook?"

McVries thought back, Stebbins had been holding onto it the whole ride.

"Ugh."

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

McVries walked up to his locker by himself Garraty hadn’t arrived yet, he was always late.

He opened it, a ball of paper fell out of it, McVries shook his head, he had almost forgotten that the entire world was going to be like middle school, he sighed and picked it up, maybe it was dumb but he honestly didn't care anymore, might as well read it, might as well scratch his scar until the ghost of the stitches he could still feel on his skin fell off.

He undid the ball, inside was an amateurish drawing done with pencil, a little dirty and stained all over, it was a drawing of him, childish as childish got but he could recognize himself on it.

“Uh?” He said it out loud, he didn't know what to do with it, or who could have sent it, he could see the marks of some scriptwriting transparenting from the back to the white spots of the paper, he turned it around.

Come to the club

You are the president

And nothing else.

McVries flatten out the paper, the marks felt crispy to the touch, he grabbed one his books from the inside of the locker, not a textbook just another old book he enjoyed reading, he opened it on the last page he had left, and carefully placed the paper there as a bookmarker, he knew the pencil would probably stain the pages, but that didn't seem to matter right now.

He went to class, did his notes, as usual, didn't listen to a word, as usual, he felt somewhat decided now, he had to get his sketchbook back someday, after all.

�� -------------------

He walked slowly to the club room by himself, Garraty had stopped coming to his classroom to try to drag him off weeks ago, he felt ashamed of himself, had left his best friend with more responsibilities, taking care of something that had been his idea, hadn't even told him why, hadn't told anybody why.

He slid open the door, he could see the lights coming out of the window, could already hear the laughter and the banter.

“Hey guys” He stepped in.

“Pete!” Garraty stood up immediately, he ran to him, like he wanted to hug him but retracted at the last second, McVries didn’t approach him either, they high fived instead.

“I told you he would” Stebbins said from the back of the room, looking down at the sketchbook, a pencil held on his hand.

“What did you do Stebbins?” Garraty said, turning his head to the back, the rest of the guys did the same.

“Secret” Stebbins said without raising his eyes from the paper.

“Are you ever going to tell me what he told you, Pete?”

McVries looked at Stebbins, he thought back of the paper, he gritted his teeth into a smile, it wasn't a real one, but he owned at least this much to Garraty and to Stebbins, and to everybody else, he had to at the very least try.

“Secret” McVries said.

“Disappointing” Pearson said, his hands still gripping the french pasta owl statue he was making.

“Agreed” Baker said, vice as soft as always.

“Are we your personal telenovela?” McVries said to them.

Parker opened up his mouth, a big grin in his face.

“Don't” Said Garraty “I know what you are going to say, don't” Stebbins tilted his head at that “Don't worry about it Stebbins, and you don't say anything either Pete.”

“I didn't even open my mouth.”

“But you were thinking about it.”

“I-”

“You were.”

“Sit down somewhere already! and Shut up!” Barkovitch said.

“Oh, how I had missed the sound of your soprano voice on those clear after school afternoons” Said McVries, as he and Garraty walked to the back of the room.

“What does that even mean!?”

“That you sound like a girl, you idiot” Answered Pearson.

“I! Don't! Sound! Like! A! Girl!”

“His voice is breaking my eardrums” Stebbins left go of his pencil, massaging his temples.

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

The clubroom was almost empty, only McVries, Garraty, and Stebbins had stayed back.

They heard the clock go off, the sun was getting ready to set.

Garraty closed his sketchbook, getting inside his backpack “Have to go now, I'm gonna lose the bus.”

“And people think it’s hyperbole when I say you are always late for everything” McVries said.

“I'm not late for everything ” He stuffed the rucksack inside “Am I?”

“You were ------- to class today?”

Garraty looked down, finishing the sentence “...Late”

McVries held his eyebrow up in an I told you so manner “Don't worry, I can give you a ride.”

Garraty light up “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Why do you always get surprised? I do it almost daily.”

“You haven't done it in a few weeks... and I thought you may want to stay behind, to finish some of your other stuff.”

McVries felt his chest tightening, he had lost forgotten “I can finish later in my house, I take you now.”

“Okay” Garraty said, getting his backpack up.

“You are leaving already?” Stebbins finally looked up from the sketchbook, he sounded oddly catechized, as if he had just realized he was going to be left alone in the room.

“Is getting kinda late, isn't it?” Said Garraty “Are you planning on staying much longer?”

“It has to be finished right?” Stebbins said, he had his usual cold voice, but he seemed nervous.

“Not today, you know. You already made me a big favour by actually coming and staying, Stebbins.”

“I can give you a ride too” McVries interrupted putting a hand on the back of his neck “And you can finish in my house, it is my sketchbook after all.”

“Wait. Your sketchbook?” Garraty said, giving the both of them a look.

“Long story” Said Mcvries “Do you want to? Stebbins.”

Stebbins chewed on the pencil, before awkwardly taking it out and answering “Yes.”

“Okay. Get your stuff” Said McVries.

Stebbins nodded grabbing his backpack, he carefully placed the pencil and the sketchbook inside, he put it on and stood up “Let's get going.”

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

They approached McVries's car, Stebbins and Garraty reached out for the shotgun door at the same time.

“I didn't know Pete had given you a ride before” Said Garraty.

“Jealous?” Said Stebbins.

Garraty sucked a sharp intake of breath “I’m not!” He looked down at the car’s handle “I didn't know you two got along so well.”

“Are you two fighting over me now? I didn't know I was this popular” Said McVries.

“We are not! Who would fight over you?” Said Garraty.

“Then what's the dramatic scene about?”

“About who is getting shotgun” Garraty said.

“My car I choose” Said McVries “Ray gets shotgun, he has seniority priority.”

Stebbins left go of the handle.

“Thanks” Said Garraty opening the door, they all took a seat inside, Stebbins sat uncomfortably near the window, sinking into the corner, he stared at the front mirror.

“I'm going to leave you in your house first, Ray” McVries said.

“Yeah” Garraty nodded.

Stebbins looked to the side. He wondered how many time Garraty and McVries had done this, McVries drove the path like it was going to his own house, they smiled at each other with domesticity, Stebbins thought they really belonged together. He kept his eyes fixated on the window.

“Your palace, My Lord” McVries said, as they stopped in front of a regular suburban home, plants growing all over it, but it didn’t look abandoned in the least.

“Thanks, Pete” Garraty opened his side of the door “See you, Stebbins.”

Stebbins nodded, and Garraty got out, he waved goodbye to them standing in front of his door, McVries smiled at him and started the car again.

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

“And you already knew your way from here” McVries said as they arrived to his driveaway “Hope you can survive my parents two times.”

“They are not so bad” Stebbins grabbed the sides of his sweaters, his fingertips grazing the holes and its insides, he felt cold even to himself “I have seen worst.”

“Is your mother the stepmother from Cinderella? That's why you don't want me to see her?”

“You have an awful amount of interest in my life, McVries. Do you really like me that much?”

“Tragic Backstory uh? Maybe I do. If I say I do, would you tell me?”

“You are disgusting McVries” Stebbins said, he reached out for the backpack he had thrown into the floor.

He shrugged “Had to try.”

Stebbins shook his head, opened his side of the door and walked to the front door, McVries opened it.

“You are back, Petie?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“Petie!” They heard Katrina's voice coming from the living room, she ran towards them “Hi Petie's friend.”

“Hi” Stebbins said, almost whispering.

“Good evening, Stebbins” Said McVries's Mom.

“Good evening, Madame.”

“God. This dialogue is awkward” McVries shook his head “I’m taking him to the back room again, before you get too attached to him and try to replace me” McVries grabbed Stebbins’s hand, and took him back down the halls.

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

Stebbins took the sketchbook off his backpack, sitting cross-legged in the same spot as last time, McVries had his godette in hand, but he wasn't using it, he had been so tempted to grab a little yellow before, he didn't know what for.

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

McVries blinked twice before he processed the question “I'm sorry” He circled the brush on top of the of the wood “You- You don’t look like a real person sometimes.”

“What do I look like?”

“Like 3 o'clock spring afternoons.”

Stebbins looked down. McVries could see the blues of the room’s walls reflected in his face, he could have sworn Stebbins looked flushed.

Stebbins stared at the painting behind him, his fingers pattering the pencil softly.

“Do you want to try?”

“I can't paint.”

“I thought we had already established everybody could” McVries left the pencil rest on top of the godette and extended him a hand, the lighting on Stebbins’s face shifted “Let me help you.”

Stebbins gripped the pencil a little harder, his white knuckles turning pink underneath the strength, then he left it to fall, rolling through the floor until it touched against a corner in the room, he took McVries's hand and stood up.

“Wait” McVries said, he took the canvas off the easel and grabbed a new blank one.

“Isn't the paint going to fall off?” Stebbins said.

“I will paint another, I will paint it again, in reality, I don’t think about preserving too much.”

“But isn't all of this so it can be preserved forever, like in the museums?”

“Between making and preserving, I prefer making” McVries said offering him the brush and godette “Hold it, there's more on the table, if you need it.”

“What do I do?”

“I could give you all the theory on sketching, and colors, and whatever else I know, but I'm not a painting teacher, and that would bore even my grandmother, just do what you want right now, that's what I do.”

“Something like that can’t come off of simply doing what you want.”

“I do what, I want but I been doing it for a long while. Do you really not want to try? If so, you don't have to but I can tell you do.”

“Don't speak like you know me” Stebbins said, but his voice sounded meek to his ears. He passed the brush through the godette, he softly caressed the canvas with it.

They stood in silence together for ages.

“What are you making?”

“A forest.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“You can't say that. you don't know it yet.”

“Then let me speak on future mode. It will be beautiful, and everything that will be already is”

“What cheap poem did you steal that line from?”

“Actually, it’s stolen from a quantum physics book.”

Stebbins smiled a little, a soft sound coming out of him, he was laughing

“Wow...”

“What is it?”

“I didn't know you could laugh.”

“I'm not that heartless” He kept moving the brush.

“No, no you are not.”

McVries stood behind him as he painted, the outside noises becoming stronger.

Stebbins knew there was no way it could all be okay just doing what you wanted, that the mannerism was awkward and structureless, but he felt so comfortable doing it, that room and that time-space was so comfortable to exist in.

“It's getting late” Said McVries “Will your mom be mad if I bring you home past dawn?”

“Oh" Stebbins looked out the window to catch the setting sun "I hadn't realized.”

“I shouldn't have said anything” McVries smiled, showing his pearly white teeth, but he seemed so disappointed as well.

“We have to go” Stebbins said, placing the brush on top of the godette “But I might have to come by tomorrow again, I still have your sketchbook after all.”

“So you weren't planning on giving it back at all.”

“Blame Ray for it, he's the one forcing me to assist to your club.”

“I should thank him instead.”

“Don't you ever feel dirty, lying so much?”

“Who says I'm lying?”

“You must be.”

“Do I really have such a bad reputation?”

“You don't. I do”

“Really? Is that also a part of your tragic backstory?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

“I would but... I can wait” He took one last look at the painting “You should finish this one” McVries said “Later on the year we get to hang our paintings for the new entry students to see, you should hang this one.”

Stebbins looked at his painting, with his lips pursed, he looked like he was making a really hard decision, then he relaxed, he looked at McVries in the eye a small soft smile on his lips.

“Yes I think I will.”

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

McVries stopped his car in front of Stebbins’s house, their paintings already loaded up in the back, they had been finished for months now.

He honked, and a few minutes later a very tired looking Stebbins came outside.

Stebbins groaned as he sat on the shotgun seat, leaving his backpack to fall on the floor.

“It's open” McVries looked at the backpack, it's contents ready to spill out.

“I know” Stebbins slammed the door shut, and turned to look at him, his lips were completely dry, his eye bags were getting purple.

“You look even worse than usual.”

“I know” Stebbins closed his eyes and stretched, his backbone popping as he did.

“Did you just wake up?” McVries said.

“The prospect on getting up early on Sunday, just to go put a show to a bunch of 14 years old who, by mere statistic, won't stay in our school, it's not something that calls to me, Pete.”

“Don't act like that, I know you want to see the exhibition too” McVries turned to him, Stebbins avoided his gaze.

“Why would I want that? I already saw them all, as they were being made.”

“Whatever you say blondie” McVries started up the car, and they left to the school.

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

McVries parked down, the place was almost completely empty, but in a pair of hours it would be full of kids and their parents. They got off the car and opened up the backseat.

“Help me carry them” McVries said.

“You got them here on your own just fine, I don't see why you need my help for it now.”

“Carry your painting yourself, Princess” McVries said, carefully taking his painting and pulling it off the car.

“Why isn’t Ray here? He could carry it.”

“I love how your first thought is to make Ray carry it for you.”

Stebbins rolled the sleeves of his sweater up, and grabbed the painting awkwardly by the sides, losing balance a little under the weight.

“Why is this so heavy?”

“Be careful” Stebbins gave him an exasperated look “Okay, hold on, I help you.”

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

McVries and Stebbins sat the paintings on the desks, next to the other’s works.

The door slipped open in one harsh motion “I’m sorry I’m late!” Garraty arrived, carrying his painting uncomfortably with one hand.

“And there he is” Stebbins said, McVries laughed.

“Finally! Garraty!” Parker said.

“I still can't believe Barkovitch is more in time than The Vice President of The Club” Pearson said.

“Told ya!” Barkovitch said.

“I'm sorry!” Garraty said “Let's just hang this all on already. We are gonna be late.”

“Late, like who?” Said McVries.

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, like always” McVries said, then turned to the paintings “Let’s carry this all to the exhibition place, we are not that lacking in time be careful with them, we can't afford any incidents happening right now. And that goes to you too Ray.”

“What did I do?”

“The painting” Baker said.

“Oh” He quickly took it with both hands, carrying it with more care now “Sorry.”

McVries gave him a smile. He was always so full of fondness when it came down to Garraty.

“Okay everybody, let's get this over with.”

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

“I don't know how you can physically carry that many stuff at once” Said Abraham as Parker passed him by, with a desk, the hooks to hang the paintings with, and a bunch of pamphlets.

“Ah! This ain't even heavy, y’all just weak” Parker answered shimming with pride.

“Then carry this desk for me Parker” Said Olson struggling to move the desk even an inch.

“Carry it yourself Olson!”

“Why are you dragging it, instead of folding it and carrying it like the rest?” Said Baker.

“Wait... It folds up?”

“Olson, why?” Said Pearson.

“Collie. Go help him” Said Baker.

“You can even call it charity work, Parker” Said McVries.

“You help him. Your club.”

“Pete. Help us hang this” Garraty said, holding up the paintings together with Stebbins.

“Sorry. The missus called.”

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

They finished hanging everything up, the halls were starting to fill up, kids coming left and right.

A little boy walked past them with his mom ruffling his hair, he stayed back staring at Pearsons's sculptures. Garraty began speaking to him, passing pamphlets to his mom.

“You don't seem to hate it so much” McVries said, Stebbins was staring at the scenery in front of him, he looked tenured

“I hate having to work for the school.”

“Hey it's our club and” Imitating the voice of The Director “Our Project, and completely not, a free publicity gimmick by the school.”

“You didn't let me finish Pete. I hate having to work for the school but I love the paintings” He turned back to them, staring at McVries’s landscape “They are beautiful.”

McVries looked at him, and looked, and looked until the world seemed to stop spinning around them.

“Yes. Really beautiful.”

#The Long Walk #finn writes #my fanfiction #McVries/Stebbins

4 notes · View notes

tsukiyma · 4 years

Note

hiii, 5, 15 & 50 💕🐝 - @beekugou

hii!! Thanks for asking :’) 🐝

5. A creation you enjoyed making a lot!

I remember when s2 of free! came out in 2014, we all went WILD for the opening sequence. I think I made 5 or 6 separate gifsets of it all on one day (in some kind of editing frenzy lmao).

So, technically all my graphics from 2nd July 2014, but I’ll share this one of Rin bc of his sickass body roll ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

15. Talk about some of your favourite creators: what do you love most about their creations?

i like this question bc a major reason as to why I started making graphics again this year was bc I was inspired by the following 3 creators (and I’m so grateful for it):

I love the magazine/infographic vibe of @mob-psycho‘s graphics. It’s super unique and looks incredible (especially with the vector art look)! Gela’s typography is also imMAculate

@dicennio is hands down my favourite gfx creator! Beautiful composition and use of colours and textures. Experimental, but still manages to achieve a clean look on every graphic. Just all round *chef’s kiss*

the combination of watercolour textures and bright/neon accents in @sukerokus‘s colourings is 10/10, so stunning! Plus, it’s really impressive that they often look like digital paintings more than manga colourings

50. Self-loving time: show us a creation you want your followers to see

another free! gifset, but this time it’s haruka. I think it was the first time I properly achieved this sort of ‘soft look’ to a graphic that I’d wanted to do for a while and it’s an aesthetic that i’m happy has resurfaced in my last 2 graphics

send me a number

#beekugou #ask meme #thanks again!!#anon #answered

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buckylokistark · 4 years

Text

Paintings ~ Part II

Summary: Loki fled his home, too tired of being the cause of his father’s constant disappointment. With help from Heimdall, he escapes to Midgard, the last place his father would look for him. In dire need of a job, he meets Y/N, a struggling artist trying to be recognised for her work. Can they help each other or are they holding one another back?

Masterlist

previously on Paintings: “Depends, are you Y/N?” You opened and closed your mouth a few times. Having recognised his face, you realise you were standing right in front of none other than Tony Stark, former CEO of Stark Industries and billionaire.

__________

“Uhm, huh- yes, yes I am. Pleased to meet you, sir.” You held out your hand for him to shake, trying to stop stumbling over your own words. Seriously, it’s English, what’s so hard about that?!

Tony Stark then took your hand, shaking it with a firm grip before releasing it and sitting back down. Wait, when did he get up?

“So, you’re making the new artwork?”

“Yup, that’s me, I’m the one.” God, you’re still acting like a fool. Get it together!

“So modern art is your niche?” You nodded. "And you’ll do any modern style?"

“Well, I focus on expressionism, although I am not bad when it comes to surrealism, for example Salvador Dali and his melting clocks. Kubism, abstract expressionism, acrylic, watercolour, I can do almost all expressionistic art forms with most materials.” You take on a proud tone, happy to talk art. This is where your comfort zone lies, your escape route, your go-to topic for a safe conversation.

“You’re in luck, I want something expressionistic, never been one for surrealism. You had anything in mind?” He was completely down to let you handle anything, as long as he knew what 'anything' contains.

“Not really, I need to make a painting suitable for a person but also make it suitable for their home and perhaps other occupants of the room. Would you rather we schedule a time for me to come take a look or do you want to email me some photos?” You got out your agenda, having always preffered writing things down instead of typing. It might have something to do with forgetting typed things, only remembering them when on paper.

“I think a visit would be better, right? Makes you get a feel of the room, the space, a more in-depth experience for a better result.” He was just grasping at ideas now, sipping his coffee calmly and leaning back in his chair.

“Hmm, yeah, you’re right, but some people are too busy or aren’t comfortable in letting me in their house so they email me.” It was indeed more difficult, but they weren't comfortable so you just had to work with what you had.

"Not to sound like an absolute douchebag, but my team did a background check and everything, they wouldn't let me just choose someone, they had to check them thoroughly. You're very lucky, by the way. I had to persuade them to let you do your thing. I believe you know what part made them doubt you?" You did know what he was talking about, and shame filled you to the brim.

About twelve years ago, you had an enormous fall-out with your family, resulting in them sabotaging your income by spreading awful rumours about you. Your income did decline drastically, making you nearly bankrupt. In the desperate need of money, you ended up working for Strak Industries, a company solely focused on copying and faking Stark Industrie products. From securitysystems and phones to merchandise, everything was copied. You got a job of replicating the stuffed animals as close as you could get with cheaper materials. The pay wasn't great but it got you back on your feet, ready to continue painting. Stark Industries and Strak Industries got in a huge fight, legal authorities getting involved. Because you had workes your way up to manager of the production of all the stuffed animals, you were put in a bad spot.

"yeah, sorry, I was on the brink of losing everything," you ended up saying, cursing yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. "losing everything?!" You could've said anything and you chose that?

Stark gave you a look, but thankfully didn't comment on the words.

"So, when do you want me to come by? I would prefer as soon as possible, but it's up to you." He opened his phone, looking on his agenda for a possible date. Scratching his goatee lightly, he pursed his lips before sighing and saying, "Would coming thursday work? Two days away?"

"Yes, absolutely. Any time in mind? Perhaps early morning or afternoon?"

Stark tought for a moment, excusing himself to look more thoroughly on his phone to see when he'd have time.

“How about 5 o’clock in the afternoon? would that work for you?" He tilted his head, eyes so intense it seemed as if they were looking right through you.

After finetuning the details, you finished talking and drove back to the shop, cursing yourself for taking so long.

Soon you arrived at your atelier, seeing Loki through the glass window reading a book.

You smiled to yourself. Loki was the kindest soul you've met in your life, gentle and soft like nobody else could ever be. It made you wonder if there was a possibility for something more. something intimate.

a crow, as black as the night, flew past, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your eyes followed the black bird before wandering back to the shop. Finally you moved, slowly walking towards the entrance.

the bell above the door jingled softly, letting Loki know someone entered. He looked up and smiled, slowly closing his book and moving towards you with so much grace it was impossible to look away.

“Hi Loki, I got to go, still need to finish that two window piece for Mrs. Barton and the final sketch for the mural that one woman, what’s-her-name, wanted. The blue, winter, ice-y vibe?” You rushed to the back of your shop, throwing your bags in a corner and running up the stairs to put on your older clothes, the ones that were allowed to get a bit of paint on them.

“The woman’s called Idina Menzel, the one who voices the lead character in that new movie, Frozen?” Loki has listened to you praise the trailers with such emotion, he took it up himself and researched the main characters, discovering that the woman who ordered a mural two weeks ago from your shop. The mural made more sense now, as well.

The words Loki spoke made you halt. Lead character in Frozen? She asked you, a small, unexperienced artist, to paint a mural for her? A smile began to grow on your face. Spinning around, you ran back to Loki.

“Oh my- she- she ‘s famous and bought something from me? This is huge! I will be known by a few circles of famous people now that Tony Stark and Idina Menzel ordered from me! Do you understand what this means? I can finally get recognised for my work, I can finally earn enough to buy my own place!” You barrelled full force into Loki, hugging him close. Loki himself slowly hugged back, unsure of what exactly to do.

Loki smiled. You were happier than you’ve veer been all year, even with the stress of performing good for famous people. Lost in his thoughts, Loki looked out the window. A black raven sat on the little bench across the street, looking right at him. No, he thought with a shock as his eyes grew large, not an ordinary black raven. This little bird was Diaval, loyal assistant to Maleficent, Loki’s distant relative. What is he doing here?

“Loki? Is something wrong?” His eyes flew back to yours when your words registered in his head.

“No, love, nothing’s wrong. I just realised I forgot to do something, could I be excused for a bit so I can go home and finish it?” He glanced outside, seeing Diaval still sitting there, quietly waiting. You let go of him, nodding your head.

“Of course you can, no problem. I got nothing planned for the rest of the day so the shop won’t be empty, you’re free to go.” With that, you hugged him one ast time, saying a quick goodbye before turning around and walking to your current project. One last look and wave, and Loki was out the door.

“Where is she, Diaval?” The raven flew to the right, landing in a small alley and morphing back to human.

“This way, she’s bought a new place down in Queens when she heard you were staying here.” Loki groaned. Ever since they found out about each other, Maleficent started acting as his big sister, watching all his moves like a hawk.

He followed Diaval into the alleyway, preparing for the inevitable Apparition he had to make.

“Alright, name the address, I’ll take us there,” Loki said, making his disdain clear in his voice. Diaval rattled the location, and off they were.

“Where are we?”

“The back of the diner a block away from your house, she put anti-Apparition-wards up, didn’t she?” At the last part, Diaval sheepishly nodded his head.

"Hello Loki."

"Maleficent." As was expected, Maleficent looked as stunning as the gods themselves, flaunting her body with a black. Maybe it was a family thing?

"I have come here to talk to you about important matters." As the words left Maleficent’s mouth, Loki's eyes flicked to hers. Important matters? With her resources it must be life-threatening to come to him for assistance.

"There have been... unusual sightings in Europe. It appears to be a form of magic, more powerful than I have ever seen in my entire life."

"You have any leads on the exact location?"

"It seems to be traveling. I have people running tabs on it. It started in England, then went off the radar for a while before reappearing in France, where it travelled through Belgium, into Holland. They're travelling east, getting closer to Germany as we speak."

What could there be in Germany, the northern part of it, that would be attractive to someone who possesses magic? You got the big cities, Dusseldorf, Berlin, maybe Hamburg? Or perhaps...

"Cologne. They're heading for Cologne." Maleficent looked at him weirdly.

"Why would they go to Cologne?"

"I visited this woman, truly magnificent, who took care of all mutants from Holland, Belgium and Germany. The school of Xavier was too expensive and small for mainland Europeans, so I helped set it up just outside the city," Loki admitted with a sigh. He had hoped to never see her again, one time was more than enough and he doesn’t know how she’ll react to him suddenly appearing out of nowhere after leaving her alone for eighty years.

__________

Taglist: @birdgirl90 @lunawitch19 @bird-with-pencils @shesakillerkween

#loki x reader #michelle's writings #paintings #loki

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sylleboi · 4 years

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𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖈 𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 | 30/03/20

For this week, we have a new workshop to do, tying into the first brief (Pick & Mix), focusing on surrealism and the theories linked with this by psychologist Sigmund Freud.

vimeo

Attached was the following text written by our teacher to introduce this workshop and the tasks that come with it;

“After a successful week with the post it note comic, and some excellent write ups that are really well documented, this week's task revisits some of the work from Term 1 (as we started in our drawing sessions) with some of the ideas stemming from Surrealism, dada and the psychoanalytical theories of Sigmund Freud.

This task is presented by Bristol based artist & animator Will Barras who will be offering commentary on your work at the end of the week. Follow the PDF attached and work through the tasks at your own pace. You have all week so take your time and experiment as much as possible.

We have more challenges to come, so try to put time into these as they will form the main body of your experimental work.

Upload your results and be as creative and imaginative as possible, but most importantly let go and embrace the ride.

Good luck peoples!”

Consider the primary objectives of a Final Project:

Collect information (Research)

Recall knowledge (Use learning)

Apply understanding through application and review (Propose & make exciting work and evaluate it)

I find that the above points refer to a simplified process of working through meet the final goal that is set by the FMP, althought this also applies to workshops and side projects that gets documented on this blog, as well as the productionfile.

Question: Are you doing these things and how can we improve and develop this?

I feel that I already do these, althought I yet have to further improve on evaluating the things I do, asking “Why” more often.

Answer: Experimentation - (The action or process of trying out new or revisiting ideas, method and activities)

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This weeks aims & objectives:

To review basic principles of automatic practice in relation to a specific artist

To experiment with working from abstract starting points

Be generate experimental work that shows progression of learning

To compare your work to the work of others

The surrealist/dada movement was an art movement, as well as a literary movement, that began around 1915 - 1917. Some of the key artists leading this movement was Hannah Höch, André Breton & Max Ernst. The movement aimed to break free from the chains that weighed down everyone during the great depression- The artistic field had now begun to evolve into a playground for ones’ imagination, challenging what used to not be acceptable in common culture.

Accident & chance

Embracing Improvisation (What does improvisation mean to you?)

BEING AUTOMATIC!

Surrealist automatism is a method of art-making in which the artist suppresses conscious control over the making process, allowing the unconscious mind to have great sway

Unlocking the unconscious mind.

In Sigmund Freud's psychoanalytic theory of personality, theunconscious mind is a reservoir of feelings, thoughts, urges, and memories that are outside of our conscious awareness.

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𝕽𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍:

This weeks challenge for experimentation is bought to you by Bristol based urban artist and animator Will Barras. Your task is to analyse his work, considering the effect of the visual language (how he uses line and tone for example). Find out about him and considering the aforementioned surrealist principles write a short statement to suggest how he uses those principles in his own work.

Will Barras

vimeo

Illustrator, artist and animation director, Will Barras, currently lives and works in London, althought he grew up in Birmingham and later moved to Bristol to study graphic design. He quickly became known for being part of a group of young artists, working within Bristol’s street art scene. This then led to him appearing in a book titled “Scrawl”, alongside the artists Steff Plaetx and Duncan Jago, becoming a core and founding member of the Scrawl collective. “Scrawl”, originally published in 1999, was an influencial book made to document a new movement in street art, graphics and illustration.

Barras was selected to be one of the original artists for this collective. He was selected due to being renouned for his methods of portraying fluidity in movement. He also worked closely with creating pieces that were more narrativly driven compositions, incorperating such narratives into his line work. Barras’s unique composition of these three key elements, made his mark as an artist all the more inspiring, pushing new ideas against the grain of classic art. All of this has led his work to become staple pieces in many galleries across the globe. This includes Asia, Europe and the U.S.

He has painted a variety of different murals around the world, within this mix is one that he did with the members of his Bristol group at Tate Modern’s tubine hall, as well as one that he did for Pow!Wow! Festival in Taipei. In the studio Th1ng, located in central London, he worked as the head of animation.

Visual analysis and study:

His artwork has a very recongnizable style and feel to it. It has an urban flare to it, making it feel very fitting within the scene of street art.

“A big barn I painted in Dumfries with Amy Winstanley for the Spring Fling festival and Recoat gallery based in Glasgow.

http://www.amywinstanley.com

http://www.spring-fling.co.uk

http://www.recoatdesign.com”

The painting below has little information about it, as for what I can find, but somehow the piece almost speaks for itself. The play on perspective, composition and values is very eyecathing. It impresses me how he is able to convey motion to such an extend that you can almost just imagine it moving before your eyes, but perhaps that’s just me.

“#divinestyler #defmask #gammaproforma #kallenbachgallery”

I attemped to do some simple continuous warping animation to convey what I mean a little better:

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𝖁𝖎𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖙𝖞:

01: Using a wide brush create a large sheet of accidental/automatic/ unconscious blots & splatters, organics shapes and curvaceous marks using a range of coloured ink/paint. The brighter and more acidic the better!

Because of the fact that I don’t have paper made for paints/ink, I decided to try doing this task digitally- simulating the analogue look of watercolour or watered down ink, or even arcrylics.

I did this by using a variety of different watercolour brushes, made to emulate the look of the analogue mediums. I used them as randomly as I possibly could, trying not to plan where I would put the next brush stroke.

Once I had put down all the paint stokes, I then went over it while the layer was locked with a big soft edged brush, layering up different colours until I was happy with how it looked.

02: Make 3-4 sheets of these and then let them dry.

Digital 01:

Digital 02:

03: Then using fineliner develop these marks into faces/characters/scenes by adding details/features and developing these into detail illustrations that are spontaneous and free flowing.

For the linework, I primarily used one single brush; hard edged and circular. (The one selected in the picture below)

I chose this for the reason being that I have found it to be very responsive to the use of a drawing tablet & pen. It does a good job at making expressive lines with its tilt sensitivity, making it a pleasure to use; It reminds me of how brush pens work and feel.

Here are a few tests on some of the lines I can create with it;

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Digital 01:

Digital 02:

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Digital 02: Process

1. I have always found that beginning these blob doodles are the most diffucult for me. Perhaps because it takes me a little while to really get into the flow of continously seeing images in the randomness.

2. I began from the left, slowly working my way to the right and the top, since I felt that I had more clear lines to go from being around the edge of the paint.

3. Eventually I braved it and went right for the middle of the piece. This was the turning point for me in the process of doing this. It enabled me to truly let get, have fun, and not feel intimidated and nervous to do the next doodle.

4. This is when I began drawing creatures of the sea, slowly building up a story/narrative.

5. I don’t actually remember what I was even thinking at this point anylonger- I was simply just letting the pen guide me around the canvas; letting it all flow together however it felt as to do so.

6. I began to delve into the little details. I felt as if they would add to the general flow of the piece; being busy, yet in a manner that lets your eyes wander with curiosity.

7. I was now moving on to doing the right side of the piece. I had a little more trouble visualising the top right corner, so I did that last.

8. At this point I felt a little stuck as to what to do, hence it being, yet again, dedicated for adding some more little details here and there.

9. Eventually I overcame the frustration I had built up and took to do the right side of the artwork.

10. I tried to convey motion and flow by the way the animals are positioned and posed, trying to make it calm in the middle where the girl is, and then busy/chaotic the further away you get from her.

11. This second to last step was, again, for adding detail. I wanted to fill up any bits that I felt appeared too empty and spaced out, so to no disrupt the feeling of flow in the painting.

12. With the inking done and rendered to my satisfaction, the last step was to play around with colours.

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Digital 01: Colour variations

Digital 02: Colour variations

04: Scan/photograph and upload to Moodle.

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𝕱𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓:

Which of these words would you use when discussing the work of Will Barras and your own art pieces:

I would most definitly use;

Organic/Fluid

Figurative

Automatic

On top of these I would probably add;

Harmonic

Dynamic

Epochal

Visionary

Can you construct a comparative sentence/paragraph using at least 5 of these words. What are the differences and similarities between the works you have created. What conclusions did you make about this experimentation?

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inexpensiveprogress · 4 years

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Paul Nash at Avebury

Avebury is a Neolithic henge monument containing three stone circles. The Village of Avebury in Wiltshire was built around them and now bisect the circle with a High Street. Avebury contains the largest megalithic stone circle in the world. Constructed over several hundred years in the Third Millennium BC, during the Neolithic, or New Stone Age, the monument comprises a large henge (a bank and a ditch) with a large outer stone circle and two separate smaller stone circles situated inside the centre of the monument.

Paul Nash - Avebury, 1936

When England was converted to Christianity, Avebury was considered a non-Christian monument. At some point in the early 14th century, villagers began to demolish the monument by pulling down the large standing stones and burying them in ready-dug pits at the side. During the toppling of the stones, one of them (which was 3 metres tall and weighed 13 tons), collapsed on top of one of the men pulling it down, fracturing his pelvis and breaking his neck, crushing him to death. Trapped in the hole that had been dug for the falling stone he was found by archaeologists in 1938. They found that he had been carrying a leather pouch, in which was found three silver coins dated to around 1320–25, as well as a pair of iron scissors and a lancet.

In the latter part of the 17th and then the 18th centuries, destruction at Avebury reached its peak. The majority of the standing stones that had been a part of the monument for thousands of years were smashed up to be used as building material for the local area. This was achieved in a method that involved lighting a fire to heat the sarsen, then pouring cold water on it to create weaknesses in the rock, and finally smashing at these weak points with a sledgehammer.

In the 1920s Marconi wanted to build a radio station on the hills above Avebury and the Air Ministry wanted to close Wayland Smithy area with standing stones as a bombing range in the 1930s . †

Paul Nash - Avebury, Personage, 1933

In July 1933 the ailing Nash went on holiday to Marlborough with his friend Ruth Clark. From there they made a day trip to nearby Avebury. ‡

Paul Nash - Avebury Stone (Double Exposure), 1933

The epiphany that Paul Nash had to use he standing stones artistically, seems to have come with an interest in the Neolithic period in publishing with the British Public. It is an era where Paganism has become popular, as many alternative religions did after the First World War. In trying to make sense of the carnage and brutality of the War the public looked for ancient wisdom and this maybe why we have to tolerate people smothering themselves over Stonehenge every solstice.

In these paintings and photographs Nash was also documenting an interest that other artists such as Henry Moore had in the primitive. Moore looked towards early Peruvian pottery and flints for organic shapes and old works made by early man. These monuments are the few examples of art that survive. Even in the medieval period the only arts to survive in Britain of the common man would be the carvings of bench-ends in churches, pottery or other folk art.

Paul Nash - Landscape of the Megaliths, 1934

Margaret Nash said this was Paul’s first painting of the Avebury stones, which he saw in August 1933. Nash himself gave the following description of Avebury in ‘Picture History’ The preoccupation of the stones has always been a separate pursuit and interest aside from that of object personages. My interest began with the discovery of Avebury megaliths when I was staying at Marlborough in the Summer of 1933. The great stones were then in their wild state, so to speak. Some were half covered by the grass, others stood up in the cornfields were entangled and overgrown in the copses, some were buried under the turf. But they were always wonderful and disquieting, and, as I saw them then, I shall always remember them . . . Their colouring and pattern, their patina of golden lichen, all enhanced their strange forms and mystical significance. Thereafter, I hunted stones, by the seashore, on the downs, in the furrows. ♣

Paul Nash - The Nest of Wild Stones, 1937

I found my first nest of wild stones on looking closely into a drawing I had made of some bleached objects on the Swanage Downs. It lay just below the level of my consciousness, slightly out of focus. But there was no mistaking its lineaments a moment later when I moved the dry thoughts to one side. ♠

Below Paul Nash writes of the effect of Avebury on his work. That he wasn’t only painting the stones themselves but placing ordinary stones he found in a picture as if they were large monuments.

In most instances, the pictures coming out of this preoccupation were concerned with stones seen solely as objects in relation to the landscape. But later certain stone personages evolved, such as the stone birds in the ‘Nest of Wild Stones’ and the more ‘abstract’ forms in ‘Encounter in the Afternoon’. ♣

Many of these works may be down to another external influence, Eileen Agar. Nash had met and fallen in love with Agar, who was a surrealist artist and using stones and found objects in her works around the same time.

Paul Nash - Photograph of Stones in his Studio, 1936

Paul Nash - Encounter in the Afternoon, 1936

Paul Nash - Landscape of Bleached Objects, 1934

Paul Nash - Circle Of The Monoliths, 1937-8

In the painting above (Circle of the Monoliths) is the stepped hill what is likely Silbury Hill. The construction of the hill in the Late Neolithic period was originally stepped, then filled in. Silbury Hill is very close to Avebury.

When the artist Paul Nash first visited Avebury in 1933 he was amazed by the scale of Silbury Hill and by the ancient circle of megaliths, the great glacial boulders that had been dragged from the Downs in prehistoric times. ♥

Paul Nash - Silbury Hill, 1938

Paul Nash - Silbury Hill, c1937

All Nash’s other statements about Avebury and stones are much more direct, it is almost as if he contrived to intellectualise his ideas simply to be provocative, but in face the Landscape of the Megaliths Nash does resolve the equation. The picture shows the adventure of stones receding away from the spectator, in the foreground in the convolvulus curls round a snake which rises upwards. ♦

Paul Nash - Avebury Stone, 1933

The stones at Avebury come up again when Nash was asked to illustrate a cover to the magazine Countrygoing. Though I think it was commissioned in 1938 it was published in 1945.

A Paul Nash Cover to Countrygoing, 1945

Paul Nash - Circle Of The Monoliths, 1937-8

Above is the finished painting of Circle Of The Monoliths. Below is the study for the work that was found painted on the back of The Two Serpents c 1937.

Paul Nash - Circle of the Monoliths, 1937-1938

Nash’s abstraction of stones in the 1930s went on with his distortions of landscapes, found stones and the real Neolithic stones. In we see Mên-an-Tol and the stone ring there placed in the top right corner in front of more found stones. To the right is a grid that can only be echoing Encounter in the Afternoon and Circle Of The Monoliths.

Paul Nash - Nocturnal Landscape, 1938

Below we see the same Avebury stone used on the cover to Countrygoing with the wedge shaped cut in the side.

Paul Nash - Druid Landscape, 1938

Initially, using a No.1A pocket Kodak series 2 camera, Nash captured images so that he could refer to them in the creation of his paintings. Increasingly, however, he saw his photographs, not as aids or sketches, but as artworks in their own right.

Here Nash depicts one of the Avebury Sentinels, and his choice of subject matter is characteristic. Nash was always interested in landscapes and aspects of the natural world, not for their historical or aesthetic interest per se, but more because he thought that certain places as he called them (see Biography) had about them a mystical importance, a genius loci; which lent the place, the stone, the tree, an importance which transcended its apparent properties. As he wrote there are places whose relationship of parts creates a mystery, an enchantment. It is this mystery, this enchantment, which Nash tries to capture in his photographs. ◊

Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1933

Some of the quote below may be a repeat of what has been read about Nash, but I featured it for the Convolvulus park that features in Landscape of the Megaliths. In the background of the watercolour and lithograph below are two hills, both likely to be a Neolithic Sidbury Hill and how it looks today.

Last summer I walked in a field near Avebury where two rough monoliths stand up … miraculously patterned with black and orange lichen, remnants of the avenue of stones which led to the Great Circle. In the hedge, at hand, the white trumpet of a convolvulus turns from its spiral stem, following the sun. In my art I would solve such an equation Paul Nash, “Contribution to Unit One”, in Andrew Causey (ed.), Paul Nash: Writings on Art (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 107–110.

Paul Nash - Landscape of the Megaliths - Watercolour, 1937

Some time ago I made a blog post on Paul Nash and the process of colour layers used to make the lithograph below.

Paul Nash - Landscape of the Megaliths - Lithograph, 1937

The photographs below are dated 1942 by the Tate. I don’t know is Nash went back to Avebury or if they are catalogued wrongly. But I thought it was worth including them with the car by the roadside.

Paul Nash - Avebury, 1942

Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1942

Paul Nash - Avebury, Sentinel, 1944

Paul Nash - Avebury, 1944

† Joanne Parker - Written on Stone: The Cultural Reception of British Prehistoric, 2009 ‡ David Boyd Haycock - Paul Nash, p54, 2002 ♠ Andrew Causey - Paul Nash: Writings on Art - Page 142 ♣ Paul Nash - Paintings and Watercolours Exhibition Catalogue, Tate, 1975 ♥ Julius Bryant - The English Grand Tour, p16, 2005 ♦ Paul Nash, Places, South Bank Centre, 1989 ◊ Art Republic

#Paul Nash #neolithic #Avebury

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years

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Chapter 4 - Beer und Pretzels

La Patisserie de la Rose by George deValier

CHAPTER FOUR Beer und Pretzels

After a long, lazy breakfast, a perfect three course lunch, and a simply divine afternoon tea of verbena cupcakes, lemon tea, and lavender crème brûlée, Matthew was beginning to seriously consider a few things. The first was never eating again. The second was joining a gym. The third was leaping over the patisserie counter, grabbing Francis by the collar, and kissing the tempting, gorgeous, positively delicious baker harder than he'd ever been kissed before. Matthew brushed his hair from his heated forehead, a little flushed at the thought. All day he'd been fighting these indecent, blush-inducing mental images - all day he'd been losing. Since that intense, knee-weakening, downright lustful kiss the night before, Matthew hadn't been able to stop thinking of Francis in an even more stimulating manner than usual. That single kiss had promised so much more. This entire, perfect Saturday had promised so much more. The glances, the touches, the very brief kisses across the counter; Francis' voice smooth and teasing, his eyes light and sparkling, his fingers lingering gently on Matthew's lips…

"You had better head home soon, my dear."

Matthew blinked sharply, startled at the intrusion on his increasingly inflaming thoughts. "Huh? Home?"

Francis leant casually on the counter, his lips turned in a tiny smirk. He had a smudge of flour under his eye – Matthew thought it was too adorable to wipe away. "Yes, but only briefly. To change for Gilbert's party. Unless you wish to go as you are, covered in flour and chocolate…" Francis winked. "Either way, darling, you'll be fabulous."

Matthew looked down at the mess covering his shirt – the result of a failed baking attempt that had ended in a minor food fight - and felt his shoulders slump. Of course, the blasted party. He suppressed a groan, trying not to acknowledge his disappointment at the reminder. Matthew did not want to go out and share Francis tonight. He did not want to mingle with people he did not know and who would probably forget his name in five minutes. No, Matthew wanted to stay here in this warm, magical patisserie, wanted to smile and wink and brush hands; wanted to touch Francis and kiss him and press against him and maybe even…

"Mathieu? Mon cher?"

Matthew raised his wandering eyes to Francis' knowingly amused gaze. He immediately cleared his throat and ducked his head. "Um, yes. Of course, that's right."

Francis furrowed his brow, concerned. "You don't exactly sound thrilled."

Matthew gave a small shrug. "To be honest, I'm a little nervous."

Francis' expression turned confused. "What do you possibly have to be nervous about? You've already met half the guests already."

Matthew paused. True, he had already met Francis' closest friends – yet that somehow made him even more anxious. They were nice, sure, but also loud and a little overbearing and Matthew was never very good with people, let alone used to their attention, and… "Well… what if they don't like me?"

Francis' look of confusion turned to one of disbelief. "What utter nonsense, they'll adore you – how could they possibly not? Now stop thinking such ridiculous things, dress in something suitably tight and gorgeous, and just be your adorable, charming, fabulous self."

Matthew couldn't hold back a short burst of self-critical laugher. How had he managed to find the one person in the world who could possibly think of him as charming and fabulous? And why, when Francis said it, did Matthew almost believe him? "All right, darling." Matthew flicked his hair sarcastically. "I'll head home, doll myself up, and await your chariot."

Francis laughed brightly and reached for Matthew's hand, entwining their fingers across the counter. "If only I did have a chariot for mon prince. Will a taxi do?"

Matthew tried to sigh in mock exasperation. But the touch of Francis' hand sent a tingling shiver over his skin, and he was a little worried the sound came out more like a moan. Before he could embarrass himself further, Matthew drew back his hand, stood, and headed for the door. "Well then, I'll await your taxi. And they say romance is dead…"

Francis' bright laughter followed Matthew out the door and into the warm evening air. Oh, if only they could continue this perfect day alone and see where it led… Matthew sighed to himself, and silently cursed Gilbert for having the most terribly timed birthday in history.

Gilbert and Roderich's house was large, open, and spectacular. Matthew looked around, taking it all in, stunned and impressed. Guests filled the central entertaining room: mingling on the vast, polished floor, spread across the dark, elegant furniture, playing on a huge, lamp-lit billiard table. A long wooden bar ran along the wall, covered in a myriad of brightly-coloured bottles and glasses, while some sort of intolerable German heavy metal blasted from invisible speakers. On one side of the room a beautifully intricate staircase led to the upper floor, and on the other, wide glass doors led to a grassed entertaining area outside. The place looked like something from an architectural magazine, but it also had the most eclectic decorating style Matthew had ever seen. A bizarre sculpture of a beer bottle sat beside a gleaming grand piano in the corner; an intricately framed medieval music fragment hung next to a poster of Bert and Ernie.

"Wow," said Matthew softly, pressing close to Francis as other guests mingled around them, all in widely varied styles of dress and stages of intoxication. "What do Gilbert and Roderich do again?"

Francis leant closer to be heard properly over the blasting music. "Gilbert blows things up, and Roderich is a concert pianist."

Matthew glanced at Francis inquisitively. "Blows things up?"

"Demolition. Roderich is a very successful composer, as well as a performer, and he, uh…" Francis gestured around the stunning room. "… keeps Gilbert in the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. A demolition worker and a composer... "So one creates for a living, and one destroys."

"How very poetic, darling!" Francis smiled brightly, sending Matthew's heart soaring. "That describes how they met, actually. Gilbert was in charge of a project to destroy an old heritage concert hall in town; Roderich was in charge of a campaign to save it. I am sure you can imagine, they did not get along very well when first meeting."

Matthew was immediately fascinated. "Gosh! How did they get together then? What happened to the hall? And how…" Matthew was abruptly interrupted as a small group pushed past, knocking him heavily into Francis as they went. Francis reached out to steady him and, almost unthinkingly, Matthew grasped his hand. He suddenly felt completely out of place, and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I'm not very good with crowds."

Francis squeezed Matthew's hand. "You're perfect, darling."

Matthew felt warmth spread at Francis' words and from his touch, flushing up his neck and across his cheeks. He laughed nervously. "Sorry, um… what was I asking? Oh yes… about Gilbert and Roderich…"

Francis waved a hand. "That is a story for another time. Right now, I think we need a drink."

Matthew had to agree – it was getting far too hot in here. Francis led him to the bar and pressed a bottle of some unpronounceable German beer into his hand, which Matthew immediately gulped far too quickly. Francis started to pour a glass of wine, only to be unexpectedly accosted by a white-haired blur. The red wine spilt onto the bar as Francis spun around quickly. "Mon Dieu, Gilbert, tell me you are not drunk already!"

"Drunk?" Gilbert grinned arrogantly. He was clutching a beer bottle, had a red party hat perched on his head, and wore a garish pink shirt that read 'Spank Me, It's My Birthday.' "Don't be stupid, I never get drunk. Matthew! What did you get me?"

Matthew turned red. Having spent the majority of the last two days distracted by food and Francis, he had not even thought about Gilbert's birthday present. And even if he had remembered, where was one supposed to get silk trousers or seventeenth century smoking pipes these days… "I… um…"

Thankfully, Francis drew Gilbert's attention by pulling a small, brightly-wrapped package from his pocket. "Bon anniversaire, mon ami. From the both of us."

Gilbert snatched the gift and began tearing into it. "What is it? You didn't get me socks, did you? Francis, if this is one of those weird leather g-strings like you gave me last year, I've already told you, those things aren't big enough to contain my enormous..."

"…ego," finished Roderich smoothly, a rather resigned smile on his face as he walked up beside Gilbert and squeezed his arm forcefully.

Gilbert paused his unwrapping and glared at Roderich sideways. "I was gonna say…"

"We are all quite aware what you were going to say, Gilbert, there's no need to be vulgar." Roderich smiled graciously. "Good evening Matthew; Francis. I'm sure Gilbert is being a courteous host?"

Francis scoffed loudly and took a sip of wine, but Gilbert just said, "Hell yeah, I'm a kickass party-giving guy." He picked up a bowl from the bar and offered it to Matthew with a grin. "Pretzel?"

Matthew smiled politely and shook his head. "No, thank you. But, happy birthday. And evening, Roderich. Your house is stunning. I love the, um…" Matthew paused. "…Bert and Ernie poster."

Francis snickered softly, but Roderich just sighed and rolled his eyes. "One of Gilbert's more tasteful decorating decisions."

Gilbert shrugged and tossed the pretzel bowl back onto the bar. "Hey, it's better than that silly little watercolour in the hall."

Roderich's expression was equal parts acceptance and disdain. "You mean the Monet."

"Whatever it's called." Gilbert went back to unwrapping his gift, muttering, "I was painting better pictures than that when I was five." Just as he pulled a small, flat box from the colourful paper, Gilbert was interrupted by someone jumping on his back and throwing their arms around his neck.

"Feliz cumpleaños, mi amigo! Haha, you're so ooold! You are so jealous now, I know it, because I am more young and beautiful than you shall ever be! Admit it, amigo! Admit it!"

Gilbert clawed desperately at the arms across his throat. "Can't… breathe…" The laughing Spaniard dropped to the ground and Gilbert gasped for air. "Jesus Christ, Antonio…"

Antonio gasped loudly and pressed his hands against the ears of the bored looking young man beside him. "Do not speak such blasphemy in front of my little Lovi!"

Lovino batted the Spaniard away in irritation. "Will you get off me, bastard? Christ, you're so annoying!" The Italian gave a cursory wave to the assembled group before saying, "Roderich, there's something I need to speak to you about. Antonio, God damn it, stop pawing at me!"

Roderich nodded in relief, took a bottle of wine and two glasses from the bar, and gestured for Lovino to follow him. "It's odd you should mention that, Lovino, for there is something I have been wanting to speak of with you also…"

The moment Roderich and Lovino left, Antonio reached for Francis' arm. "Cousin Francis,I need to speak to you also. Alone. Please, no offence Matthew, this is something incredibly boring…"

Matthew immediately began to panic at the idea of being left alone in this unfamiliar situation. "Oh, okay…" He stared wide-eyed at Francis, who tried unsuccessfully to pull away from Antonio's grip.

"Antonio, darling," Francis spoke in a falsely cheerful tone through a forced, clenched smile. "I really think that this can wait…"

"No, no." Gilbert pushed the unopened gift box into his pocket before grabbing Francis' other arm, taking the wine glass from his hand as he did so. "I'm afraid I must agree. There are certain issues that can not remain undiscussed. Sorry, Matt, won't be long. Have fun, mingle, help yourself to the pretzels. Move it, Francis."

Francis shot Matthew a last desperate look before being dragged from the room. And then, Matthew was entirely alone. His heart fell in his chest, a tiny panic rose in his throat, and he took a very long sip of beer to try and calm himself. He glanced around the crowded room, lost and unsure, and backed up slowly against the wall. There was nothing to worry about, Matthew tried to tell himself. After all, no one ever seemed to notice him in these situations, anyway. But it was odd, really, how strongly it suddenly hit him: how strange and empty he felt in Francis' absence.

The kitchen was empty, almost silent, and smelt delicious. Muted music thumped through the walls and plates of food covered every surface of the enormous room. Francis almost growled in annoyance as Gilbert and Antonio practically threw him against the marbled island counter. "What do you think you are doing?"

Antonio threw open the fridge, grabbed three beers, and handed one to Francis, who snatched it wearily. "Just having a friendly conversation, amigo," he said cheerfully, tossing the second beer to Gilbert.

Gilbert caught the bottle deftly, cracked it open, and took a swig. He then stepped in front of Francis, his eyes narrow and his hand on his hip; the very picture of authority if not for the red party hat and gaudy pink shirt. "Have you fucked him yet?"

Francis' blood boiled at the question, his shoulders straightening indignantly. "I beg your pardon?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes impatiently. "I'll rephrase. Have you engaged in sexual intercourse with him yet?"

Francis felt his eyes widen and his fist clench around his unopened beer bottle. "What?" he almost shouted.

"Matthew," explained Antonio, leaning on a nearby bench and picking at a bowl of pretzels in between sips of beer. "The sexy accountant."

Francis had to stop himself from smacking his own forehead. "I know who he's talking about, Antonio."

"Is he a top or a bottom?" asked Gilbert eagerly.

Francis glared. "What has that got to do with anything?"

Gilbert looked incredulous. "It has everything to do with everything!"

Francis sighed in frustration. "Gilbert, not everyone fits into these little roles you try and place them in."

"I'm guessing virgin." Antonio snickered. "Hey, Francis, hey, what if he's a virgin?"

Francis was actually a little worried about that. He did not want to think about it. "Virgins really aren't as fun as you might think, my dear."

Antonio snorted in agreement. "Oh boy, I hear that."

"What the hell are you talking about, my virgin was hella fun." Gilbert paused when the others stared, then continued quickly. "Anyway, Francis, I have to wonder if you got very far at all with the poor guy, since Feli told me you took him to Casa Vargas." Gilbert shook his head, disappointed. "Bad move, man."

Francis told himself to breathe deeply. Gilbert and Antonio always spoke like this. But this time, when it was about Matthew, Francis felt himself growing irrationally angry. He tried to respond calmly. "Yes, Casa Vargas was an unwise decision, I am well aware. That is why we left early."

Gilbert's eyes lit up. "Let me guess. You felt him up in the men's room."

"Ooh, ooh." Antonio spoke through a mouthful of pretzels. "In the alley behind the restaurant!"

"Blew him in the taxi?"

"Fucked him in the doorway!"

Francis felt a snarl rise in his throat. Now this was really going too far… "This is NONE of your business!"

Gilbert shot Francis a disbelieving look. "Since when is your sex life none of our business?"

"Since Matthew!" The words slipped out before Francis could stop them.

Gilbert and Antonio fell silent, raised their eyebrows, and glanced at each other knowingly. "I told you he liked this one," said Antonio.

"I knew it," agreed Gilbert.

Francis sighed as he realised what his friends were doing. Resigned to his fate, he opened the bottle in his hand and took a long sip. He didn't even like beer. "You could simply have asked, mes amis."

"You would have lied," said Gilbert, grinning triumphantly and leaning back against the sink. "So, how did the night go?"

"Not nearly so sordidly as you are no doubt thinking. No, we simply ate pasta and drank wine by the river." Yet as Francis said it, and as he remembered it, he could not help but smile. Matthew had been so sweet, so clever, so gorgeously challenging. "And then we walked back to the patisserie. And then…"

Antonio and Gilbert both leant forward. "And then?"

Francis tried to hide his smile behind his beer. This was ridiculous. He had regaled his best friends with the darkest, dirtiest tales of his sexual escapades a hundred times, and now he felt like a silly teenager. "And then we kissed."

Antonio actually squealed, effectively upstaging Francis in the 'silly teenager' department. Gilbert tossed a bottle cap at Antonio's head before asking, "Good kisser?"

"Marvellous, darling. But here is the thing." Francis quickly took another gulp of the awful German beer. "I did not ask him inside."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "Why not?"

Francis paused before he answered, glancing between Gilbert's curious face to Antonio's brightly expectant expression. Why hadn't he invited Matthew inside last night? Why had he not done everything in his power to get the gorgeous man into his home, into his bed? Francis wanted Matthew. He wanted him more than he'd ever wanted anyone. So what had held him back? Why had he not slept with the only man he'd ever felt he was falling in love with? Was it because… "Because that is what I do with everyone. And Matthew is not just anyone. He is smart, and funny, and clever, and surprising, and sexy and…" Francis spoke slowly as he realised. "And I want everything I do with him to be as special and unique as he is."

Silence.

"Oh," said Antonio finally, sniffing noisily and placing a hand to his chest proudly. "Oh, Gil, look. Our little boy is growing up."

"Keep it together, man," said Gilbert gruffly. "This sucks. What are we supposed to do if you go monogamous, Francis? Your sex life is our best entertainment now we're married men."

"Married?" Antonio abruptly dropped his hand and blinked away his sappy expression. "Speak for yourself, Mrs. Edelstein."

Gilbert beamed sarcastically. "Matter of time, future Mrs. Vargas. I, for one, can not WAIT to see you in your lovely white dress!"

Antonio giggled and winked. "Just wait 'til you see the pink bridesmaid frocks I've picked for you two."

Francis leant back against the bench, feeling both calm and relieved as his two idiotic friends distracted themselves with their own sarcasm. After only one week, Francis was starting to see a future with Matthew, something he had never seen with anyone before. And it had only taken a relatively short and painless kitchen conversation with two occasionally useful idiots to see it clearly. He slammed his beer on the bench, reached instead for a nearby bottle of merlot, and poured himself a glass. Time to engineer an escape. As grateful as he was, Francis did not want to spend all evening in the kitchen - he had a gorgeous Canadian to get back to. "It is not my problem that you two have to live vicariously through my sex life because you're getting none of your own."

Gilbert raised a finger warningly. "Hey! I have no problems in that department, let me tell you - Roderich is positively gagging for me, baby."

Antonio looked appalled. "Oh my God, you gag him?"

"What? No! Well, sometimes. Look, that's not the point. This is about you, Francis, and the fact that for the first time in your life you like a guy enough to take him to dinner, introduce him to your friends, and wait longer than fourteen minutes to have sex with him."

Luckily Antonio interrupted before the conversation swung back to Francis. "Why would you gag him anyway? It's not like Roderich talks that much."

"How does your brain even…" Gilbert just shook his head. "It's a thing, man. You've seen my brother's porn."

"Porn?" Antonio's eyes widened in dismayed understanding. "Mierda Santa! You don't… you know…" He leant across the bench and hissed. "…tie him up or anything, do you?"

Francis had to wonder at his twenty-seven year-old friend's almost painful innocence. Gilbert, however, seemed delighted. His eyes sparkled as he replied. "Only when he's very naughty."

Antonio's appalled expression turned completely horrified. "You sick bastard."

"Hey, at least I'm not fucking my cousin," Gilbert shot back.

Antonio raised his hands defencively. "Third! For the hundredth time, Lovino is my third cousin! Once removed, no less!"

Gilbert always found it far too amusing to tease Antonio. "Removed? What did you have removed?"

Francis couldn't resist. "Generationally removed. It means he's a cradle snatcher as well."

"No!" cried Antonio, stamping his foot. "It means, Gil, that Lovino and I are no more related than you and any random German you'd pass on the street in Berlin!"

"Whatever, man. It's disgusting the way you Mediterraneans interbreed."

"Me? I'm disgusting?"

"You're MARRYING your COUSIN!"

"At least I don't GAG him!"

"Maybe you should." Francis interrupted, casually inspecting his nails. "I don't know what Lovino is talking about with Roderich at this very moment, but I have the smallest suspicion it may have something to do with a certain lap dance in a certain American city…"

Gilbert and Antonio froze. They stared at Francis, stared at each other, turned, and bolted from the room. Francis let out a long, relieved breath. He had more important things to attend to this evening than his friend's incessant questioning - there would be plenty of time for that later. Francis tossed his hair back, took a steadying sip of the rather excellent merlot, and headed back to Matthew.

Matthew had already nearly finished his second beer. He wasn't really used to drinking, but then he wasn't really used to standing alone and uncomfortable at stranger's parties either. At least the beer gave him something to do with his hands, along with the bowl of pretzels on the bar before him. He'd just placed another one in his mouth, silently begging Francis to hurry back, when an unfamiliar, lightly accented voice spoke behind him.

"Hello, stranger. All alone, are we?"

Matthew spun around, mouth full and beer in hand, to find a young woman gazing at him intently. She was dressed in a dazzling green gown and her brown, wavy hair framed a pretty face with knowing eyes and a tiny smile. Matthew placed a hand to his mouth, swallowed, and stammered. "Uh, hi. No, I'm with someone, he's just…"

The young woman gestured to Matthew with a champagne glass. "You're with Francis, right?"

Matthew nodded uncertainly. "Yes. I'm…"

"Matthew." The girl winked one bright, green eye. "You're even cuter than Roderich said." She extended her hand and Matthew took it in a brief handshake. "I'm known by far too many names, but you can call me Eliza, if you like."

"Too many names?" Matthew couldn't stop his lips twisting in a wry grin. "What, are you an international criminal?"

Eliza leant closer and winked again. "Don't tell anyone." Matthew laughed, and Eliza waved a hand. "No, I'm just a designer with an apparently hard-to-remember Hungarian name and a group of friends resembling the United Nations."

"I've noticed that. I feel like the only Canadian in the room."

"You probably are, I'm afraid." Eliza took a sip of champagne then tilted her head curiously. "So tell me, Matthew. How did you meet Francis?"

"I ducked into his patisserie on Monday morning to avoid the rain, and…" Matthew shrugged, not sure how to explain the attraction that had kept him returning to Francis' patisserie all week. The fascination, the warmth, the happiness… "I just liked him immediately. He's unlike anyone I've ever met before. And, well… he's certainly not shy."

Eliza laughed, high and bright. "No. Shy he is not."

Matthew smiled back uncertainly and took a sip of beer. He still felt a little nervous, as he always did around people he didn't know, but he also felt relieved to have someone to talk with rather than stand alone. And besides, Eliza seemed nice. "How do you know Francis?"

"Roderich and I dated briefly in college. You know, before we stopped pretending."

Stopped pretending? Matthew fought not to laugh incredulously. Good Lord, were there any straight people in this town? "You mean that you're…"

Eliza smirked. "Of the Sapphic persuasion, yes. Or as Gilbert so charmingly calls me, a muff-diving bulldyke."

Matthew's eyes widened. "Oh, goodness. That's... um. So, you're friends with Gilbert, also?"

Eliza raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you got from that statement?" Matthew shrugged apologetically, but Eliza just laughed. "With Roderich comes Gilbert… unfortunately. Then with Gilbert comes Antonio and your delightful Francis – who is also the cousin of my friend Charlotte, incidentally." Eliza pointed through the crowd, giving a little wave to a tall, stunning blonde in red who stood beside a teenage girl with long, blonde plaits. Both girls waved back cheerfully and immediately headed towards them.

"Friend?" asked Matthew curiously, glancing at Eliza sideways.

Eliza looked apprehensive as the girls approached. "It's complicated."

Matthew nodded in understanding. "Isn't it always?"

"Now, Matthew." Eliza spoke behind her champagne glass. "Please don't be upset by anything Charlotte says. She and her cousin are far too alike to get along very well."

Matthew worried briefly what that meant, but simply said, "All right. And the, um, little one?"

Eliza sighed softly. "Lili. Dear, sweet Lili. Again, complicated - her brother doesn't like me much. Last week he put a bullet through a fridge." Matthew was saved from having to respond to that awkward sentence as Charlotte and Lili joined them. Eliza broke into a charming grin and lowered her glass. "Charlotte, Lili – this is the famous Matthew."

Matthew was almost getting used to these strange introductions. "Pleased to meet you," he said politely. Lili waved shyly and Charlotte smirked slightly, looking Matthew over.

"Hello, Matthew. My, my. You've got to be Francis' cutest boy yet."

"Char!" Eliza spoke warningly through gritted teeth.

Charlotte ignored her and just smiled at Matthew. Her brilliant green eyes danced in the same way as Francis', and she had the same wavy blonde hair, held back by a red band. Even her French-sounding accent was similar. "Don't be offended, darling, it's a compliment. You're gorgeous. Wherever did our François pick you up from?"

Matthew smiled back smoothly, though his stomach felt uneasy. "How do you know I did not pick him up?"

Charlotte raised her eyebrows, seemingly impressed by Matthew's response. "Possible, darling, but…" She looked Matthew up and down, then shrugged slightly. "Unlikely. Let me guess how it really went. You met in the patisserie, where Francis pulled the éclair and meringue test on you."

Matthew blinked in surprise, then swallowed past a worried knot in his throat. "Uh…"

"You chose the éclair," Lili giggled, before murmuring into her beer bottle. "Sorry."

Charlotte looked far too amused as she continued. "And when you did try the éclair, my dear cousin informed you that he absolutely had to see you again, and insisted you return the next day."

Matthew felt a sick, cold ache twisting in his stomach. Did Francis really do that with everyone? He thought it had been something special. Matthew took a shaky breath and tried to hide his disappointment. "Something like that," he mumbled.

Eliza glared disapprovingly at Charlotte before smiling back at Matthew. "So you've been seeing Francis for a whole week, Matthew!"

"Almost. Is that a long time?"

"For Francis it is!" Lili immediately bit her lip and looked down. "Sorry."

"It's okay, I sort of got the impression that he…" Again Matthew felt a little sick. "Dates a bit."

Charlotte laughed airily. "Can you call it dating when the bedroom is as far as you get?"

Now Matthew felt a little annoyed. "Not having seen his bedroom, I wouldn't know."

All three women paused, stared at Matthew, and tilted their heads. Eliza leant closer. "Are you saying you haven't…" She let the sentence trail into silent expectation.

Matthew drew his beer close to his chest. Was it normal to talk about personal matters like this with people you'd just met? "Well… no."

This appeared to be a stunning revelation. Eliza and Charlotte glanced at each other, incredulously wide-eyed, and Lili actually squealed. "You see! I knew Francis really, really liked him and wasn't just using him for…" Lili abruptly broke off and gulped, looking down again and twisting her foot. "Sorry."

"Well now, this is intriguing," said Charlotte, regarding Matthew thoughtfully. "What game he is playing now, I wonder."

Eliza stared at the wine glass in Charlotte's hand. "Char, dear, how many chardonnays have you had?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Don't be presumptuous, ma cherie."

Matthew found himself astonished. It was almost uncanny how alike Charlotte was to Francis in manner and appearance. But where Matthew always seemed to know how to reply to Francis, he did not know what to do, how to act, what to say in front of Francis' beautiful, inscrutable cousin. The silent, tense moment was broken when a loud Australian voice shouted abruptly from further down the bar.

"What the bloody hell is this German crap? You call this beer? Where's the VB?"

Charlotte groaned. "Sounds like Bruce is here." She took a long sip of wine and sighed. "Well, if my brother's slacker boyfriend has arrived, then Lars can't be far behind. If you'll excuse me, I'd better make sure they hide their specialty cookies in the kitchen, away from innocent Italians. Matthew, darling..." Charlotte shot Matthew a pointed look as she walked away. "We'll talk later."

Matthew almost breathed a sigh of relief. Eliza and Lili looked somewhat apologetic, so to change the subject Matthew asked, "Is, uh, Lars a baker also?" He remembered Francis mentioning that his entire family were good cooks.

"Oh, yeah," said Lili brightly. "His cookies are amazing. They'll give you a really intense, long-lasting high, but they've still got nothing on Bruce's special mushrooms." Matthew blinked at the young girl, taken aback. But she looked so innocent! Lili just giggled. "Dinner parties at their place are unbelievable."

Eliza tugged gently on one of Lili's plaits. "Don't scare the boy, sweetie. And Matthew, please don't be bothered by Charlotte. She's… well, actually, she's probably just jealous."

Now that was confusing. "Jealous of who?"

Matthew's question was interrupted when Antonio came dashing suddenly out of the kitchen, bolting across the room and shouting incoherently in a garbled mixture of Spanish and Italian. He was quickly followed by Gilbert, party hat tilted dangerously on his head and a beer bottle clutched in his hand, shrieking, "Don't believe him, Roddy baby, it's all lies!"

Matthew watched them pass, faintly amused, and wondering why none of the guests seemed the slightest bit surprised to see the two men charging wildly through the room. "What the…"

Eliza finished her champagne and spoke matter-of-factly. "Gil and Toni got wasted on schnapps and sangria at some cowboy bar in New York last month. Toni gave Gil a lap dance. They don't realise that Roderich and Lovino already know - the video's been on YouTube for weeks."

"And it has more views than that hacked webcam video of Feli finding Ludwig's porn folder." Matthew spun around at the familiar French accent, Francis' voice a beautiful sound of reprieve and relief.

Eliza and Lili both snorted with laughter. "Can you believe Gil stopped the video right when Ludwig walked through the door," giggled Eliza.

Francis gave a dramatic sigh of disappointment. "It seems that, when it comes to his little brother, the man has some morals…"

"…unfortunately," Eliza and Lili finished.

Matthew felt a warm arm slide around his waist and leant back into Francis. "Oh, thank God," he whispered. Immediately all concerns and worries flew from his mind, too grateful and relieved by Francis' familiar presence. Francis smiled, brilliant and charming and breathtaking.

"Mathieu, I see you have met Miss Érz and the lovely Lili. My delightful Belgian cousin is not around, is she?"

Eliza smirked. "You just missed her, I'm afraid."

Francis looked relieved. "Oh, what a shame." He winked at Matthew and took his arm. "Quickly, we must make our escape before she returns. Let us find a seat, darling."

Gilbert fell heavily onto the couch between Eliza and Lili, full beer in hand and red party hat still sitting on his head. He took Eliza's hand and kissed it with a grin. "Érzebet, mein Schatz. Jealous of the gorgeous birthday boy?"

"Oh yes, Gil." Eliza smiled sarcastically. "I can only hope to have so few wrinkles at your age. Not that I have to worry about that for a very, very long time yet."

"Not quite as long as our little flower here." Gilbert patted Lili's head and spoke in a childish voice. "Are you legally allowed to drink yet, Fräulein?"

Lili froze, her beer halfway to her lips. "Um…"

"Don't worry, I won't tell Brother Dearest. How is the psychotic freak anyway? That bastard owes me a new fridge."

"He wouldn't have actually shot you, Gil, honest," said Lili earnestly.

"Only because he was aiming for me," muttered Eliza.

Matthew hardly spared a thought for the strange conversation. He was slowly becoming used to it. The music still blared into the huge room, packed with a massing crowd, talking and shouting and dancing amid brightly coloured floating balloons that seemed to have come from nowhere. Matthew and Francis shared a single large armchair, one of a low circle of seats and couches centred around a table covered in beer bottles and empty glasses. Matthew was pressed so close to Francis he was almost in the man's lap. Others surrounded them, spread across the seats and the floor, but Matthew could barely pay attention to any of them. He was too aware of Francis' captivating warmth beside him, too distracted by Francis' firm hand tracing dangerously arousing circles on his hip. It felt like there was no one else in the room, like no one else existed, like Matthew and Francis were the only two people in the world… Well, except for Francis' friends and extended family of course, who just kept on coming.

There was Francis' Dutch cousin Lars and his Australian boyfriend Bruce, both of whom seemed far too wasted for so early in the evening. There was Francis' Greek cousin Herakles and his shy little Japanese boyfriend Kiku, who immediately disappeared into the adjoining lounge room to play video games; they were soon joined by Feliciano and his huge, serious boyfriend Ludwig, after an awkward introduction during which Francis whispered, "Le cochon de sexe" and Matthew could not stop snickering.

"Your friends all get along really well," said Matthew, watching with equal amusement and confusion as Gilbert and Antonio attempted to make a tower out of empty beer bottles and pretzels. "They're nice."

Francis laughed as Lovino blew on the makeshift tower, sending it crashing to the table. "Sometimes."

Matthew looked down, suddenly nervous. "I'm starting to wonder if I can fit in all this."

"Darling, you fit with me," said Francis, gently squeezing Matthew's side. "You fit perfectly. I've never met anyone who fits so perfectly." Matthew looked up into Francis' eyes, and it was so easy to believe that he meant it. This felt so comfortable like this, Francis' arm around his waist and Matthew's leg draped over his. It did not seem to matter if they were alone in the quiet patisserie or surrounded by a shouting crowd as a riotous party carried on around them - this always felt the same. Calm, and exciting, and right.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" asked Matthew, part of him already dreading the inevitable moment this night would end and he would have to go home to his apartment alone.

Francis' eyes sparkled brightly. "I am spending my day off with you!"

Matthew smiled, happiness filling his chest. "What will we do?"

"We'll do breakfast, darling, and then…" Francis' expression grew dangerously playful. "Let us go ice skating."

Matthew almost choked on his beer. "Are you serious?"

"But of course!" said Francis gleefully. "I want to see you do what you love, mon cher. I want to see your eyes light up with the joy of it."

Matthew laughed nervously. Skating actually sounded wonderful – but he would likely make a fool of himself. "It's been so long."

Francis tilted his head closer to Matthew, caressing him with his eyes. "You will remember."

Matthew's breath caught in his throat, the base of his spine tingling. "And after skating?"

"Dinner." The twist of Francis' lips was purely lustful. "At my place."

Matthew's eyes widened. He could not help but think of those full, smirking, lustful lips against him. "Oh." His heart threatened to pound through his chest. "And, uh... after that?"

"Why, dessert of course…" Francis pressed even closer to Matthew in the tight space of the chair, the pressure of his thigh burning through Matthew's clothes and into his skin. "… in bed."

Matthew let out a shaky breath. He understood. "That sounds... perfect."

Francis' hair tickled Matthew's cheek, those dancing blue eyes burning into his own. Just before their lips met the pounding music abruptly quieted, the lights dimmed, and an enormous cheer erupted throughout the room. Matthew looked up dazedly to see Roderich rolling a bright silver trolley through the crowd, illuminated by a cluster of flickering candles atop the most enormous cake Matthew had ever seen. The entire room rose to their feet, though Matthew and Francis both had to wait a few moments before they could stand.

Roderich stopped a few feet from their couch circle. The cake was unlike anything Matthew had ever seen. Five tiers high, it was a stunning black and white masterpiece with colourful, edible decorations including ponies, hammers, beer bottles, and a large iron cross. Gilbert's 'party cake,' the sachertorte from the day before, formed only the central tier of Francis' entire creation. It was more a work of art than a piece of food. Matthew shook his head in amazement, intensely impressed by just how incredibly talented Francis actually was. He was also surprised at the little wave of pride he felt of standing by Francis' side, of having Francis' arm around his waist. Roderich gestured towards him in acknowledgment and Francis put a hand to his chest, bowing slightly to the loud applause and gasps of admiration. Matthew spoke softly in his ear. "It's amazing, Francis."

Francis smiled, then kissed him as the entire room watched. Matthew could not keep the silly grin from his face.

Gilbert climbed gleefully onto the coffee table, knocking over the remnants of the beer tower, to shout his speech to the room. "My friends. I am not, as you know, the type of man to praise himself excessively." The statement was met by incredulous laughter and dubious jeers. Gilbert waved his beer in the air. "Shut up. And I know you all expect a short, elegant speech on the occasion of my twenty-eighth birthday."

More sceptical laughter and loud scoffs, along with a boisterous shout of "Show us your pink bits!"

"Shut up, Bruce. AS I was saying, I know you are all expecting a short speech. So here it is: eat cake, drink beer, and if you really want to trip balls I suggest the cookies in the kitchen. Good night!"

The crowd seemed more incredulous than anything. Gilbert jumped off the table amidst laughter and applause, grabbed Roderich by the waist and kissed him enthusiastically, then made his way through the clustering guests to cut the cake. Roderich managed to escape from the pressing crowd, brushing himself off as he rejoined Matthew and Francis' small group. "I must say I'm surprised," he said, his face flushed as he accepted a glass of wine from Lovino. "I was expecting Gilbert to give a fifty minute annotated monologue like last year."

Antonio giggled and nudged Roderich in the shoulder. "Hey, Roddy, hey. I thought he'd go on so long we'd have to tie him down and gag him."

Roderich turned white.

The night was growing late, the beer continued to flow steadily, and Matthew was fairly sure he was slightly drunk. He was also fairly sure this did not matter much, since it simply gave him an excuse to press closer to Francis; to laugh at his every word; to feel, for the first time in his entire life, like he was the centre of someone's world. For all the madness, the deafening music and the insane conversations, Francis had been fixated on Matthew the entire evening. Somehow it was different than the patisserie: here, a hundred people surrounded them, yet Francis still chose to give his entire attention to Matthew. Now, however, an unexpected argument drew both their concentration.

"You would say that, you dense, deluded German!"

"Hey, don't get all snotty when someone points out the truth, little Lovi."

"Don't call me that, bastardo! And it's not the truth, it's your stupid and inherently flawed opinion!"

"My opinion is the truth!"

"You see, that's the only reason you think Rainbow Dash is the best, because you're both so stupidly arrogant!"

"And the only reason you think Twilight is the best is because you're both poncy, antisocial little shits!"

"Don't. You. DARE speak about the divine Miss Sparkle like that!"

Matthew clutched his beer, tilted his head, and felt his forehead furrow in puzzlement. "Let me get this straight," he said softly, leaning closer to Francis on the couch beside him. "They're arguing about... ponies?"

Francis nodded as he took a sip of wine. "This is nothing, darling. Last week Lovino put a golf club through Gilbert's windshield because he said he preferred FlutterJack to FlutterMac."

Matthew didn't think he could decipher that sentence. Instead, he just asked, "Golf club?"

Francis nodded again. "Antonio plays on Tuesdays."

"Ah."

Gilbert and Lovino stood facing off between the circle of couches. Antonio watched avidly, Roderich looked used to it, and Eliza and Lili barely seemed to notice, too caught up in their own whispered conversation. Gilbert's fists clenched and Lovino's eyes narrowed. Matthew started to feel uneasy.

"There's only one way to resolve this," growled Gilbert.

Lovino's lip twisted. "I agree."

Gilbert raised his chin, Lovino squared his shoulders, and then – to Matthew's complete and utter confusion – the two men hugged each other warmly.

"I tolerate and respect your right to a difference of opinion, Gilbert."

"Lovino, let us never forget the power of friendship."

Antonio suddenly bounced over, poked his head between the two, and grinned manically. "I like Pinkie Pie!"

Lovino snarled at him. "Fuck off, poser."

Gilbert shook his head, looking disgusted. "Honestly, Antonio, you embarrass yourself sometimes."

Lovino and Gilbert walked away, muttering to each other, leaving Antonio standing alone with his hands spread wide. "What?"

"Um," said Matthew, utterly bewildered. "Okay. I thought 'My Little Pony' was a show for little girls…"

Francis shot Matthew a strong, warning glance. "Do not ever say that to either of them, darling. Never. I speak from experience."

Gilbert and Lovino did not get far from the group before Ludwig charged through the room, grabbed Gilbert by the collar, and hissed angrily. "Who brought those cookies?"

Gilbert's alarmed expression turned faintly expectant, his eyes lighting up. "Bruce and Lars."

Ludwig's eyes went wide. "Bruce the Australian stoner and Lars the Dutch purveyor of various illicit substances?"

"Actually," said Francis, winking at Matthew as he spoke. "Lars prefers the title 'Specialty Baker.'"

"I don't care what he prefers!" shouted Ludwig, his face turning red. "Feliciano ate three of those things!"

The entire group paused before bursting into riotous laughter. Matthew could only wonder if this was really a laughing matter – not least because Ludwig looked quite terrifying when he was angry.

"What's he doing?" asked Lovino, clutching his stomach.

Ludwig looked furious. "Currently, watching Kiku and Herakles play Mario Kart like it holds the meaning of the universe."

"Holy crap I've gotta see!" Lovino immediately raced off, followed by Gilbert and Antonio, who roughly grabbed Francis from the couch and dragged him with them. Ludwig and Roderich followed concernedly behind and, before he knew it, Matthew was on his own.

Matthew sat still for a few moments, attempting to comprehend what had just happened. He stared at the beer in his hand, shrugged and finished it, then stood and headed after the group. He was unexpectedly interrupted by a voice behind him.

"Bonsoir, darling. Having fun?"

Matthew spun around and felt his stomach sink. He tried to smile. "Charlotte. Hi. Sure, I um…" He looked around quickly. "Seem to have lost Francis, though…"

"Could I have a minute, darling?" Charlotte did not give Matthew a chance to answer: she simply took his arm and led him away from the crushing mass to stand against the wall. There was an almost-empty wine glass in her hand. "Matthew, I'm glad I got to speak to you alone."

"Okay…" Their earlier forgotten conversation flooded unpleasantly into Matthew's memory.

Charlotte looked down at her glass, her green eyes strangely sad. "I might not particularly like Francis - but I understand him. Probably because I'm far more similar to him than I would like to admit."

Matthew wanted to ask why Charlotte was telling him this; wanted to tell her he wasn't interested; wanted to ignore her and walk away. He could not deny, however, that he also wanted to know what she had to say. He stared silently, and waited.

Charlotte sighed deeply before she continued. "Francis likes sex. And he plays games. He won't settle on one person, because he can't. He might want to – he might think he can – but in the end, he'll…" Charlotte's gaze flicked over to where Eliza and Lili sat laughing on the nearby couch. "He'll mess up," Charlotte finished softly. Matthew wondered briefly just who Charlotte was speaking about.

"You heard earlier, I've…" Matthew started to feel dizzy and tried to shake the feeling away. "I've been seeing Francis for a week…"

Charlotte shrugged, her eyes unchanging. "An hour, a day, a week. Once Francis sleeps with a guy, that's it. It's over. That's all he cares about – it's all he wants. He'll go through any elaborate scheme to get someone into bed, and once he has, he loses all interest." Charlotte's words made Matthew feel sick and yet, oddly, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"I appreciate your concern. But I…" But I what? Matthew should have some stinging response to this girl, surely. But the room was starting to spin, and Matthew could not concentrate on finishing his sentence.

Charlotte placed a gentle hand on Matthew's shoulder, the warm scent of her perfume mingling with the smell of alcohol. "Matthew, look. You're sweet, but you're naïve. I might sound like I'm being a bitch, but honestly, I just really don't want to see a nice guy like you get hurt. And if you stay with Francis, you will be."

And then she was gone. Matthew stood unmoving for a few minutes, anxiety rising in his chest as the room spun around him and unfamiliar people pushed past. The metal music was deafening, blasting through his ears and his skin. Matthew headed back into the crowd - past people drinking and laughing, dancing wildly, jumping on the bar - and as he looked down at the empty beer bottle in his hand he tried to remember just how much he had drunk. How strong was this German beer anyway?

Matthew was lost. Lost in a sea of people who did not see him, who were funnier and more interesting and better dressed than him. No one in the entire cold, vast, spinning room seemed to notice him, and once again he felt looked over and ignored. But of course he was ignored; of course Francis abandoned him the moment he could. Charlotte's last words spun through his head, then everything he had heard so far, all those worrying statements from Francis' friends... "So, Matt, tell me. How long did it take mon ami Francis? To get from one of these in your mouth to…"… "Well, I say boyfriends, but everyone knows Francis only uses them for s…"… "Don't forget that I've got far more dirt on you than you'll ever have on me, amigo..."

Matthew tried to think straight, hurrying past a group of men clustered at the bar. He could not help overhearing their conversation.

"Have you seen the boy Francis brought with him tonight?"

Obnoxious laughter. "Fifty bucks he's an escort."

"Nah, man, Francis doesn't have to pay. My bet is he picked the guy up at the gas station on the way here."

Matthew fought a sudden urge to be sick. Was that really all Francis wanted from him? Just sex? Was this all a game Matthew had not even realised he'd been playing? But suddenly it all made sense. Matthew was dull and boring. He had an uninteresting job, an unexciting life: there was nothing remarkable about him whatsoever. What could Francis possibly see in Matthew when he could have anyone?

Everything kept turning, pounding into his head, and Matthew could barely make sense of his feet on the ground. He needed to find Francis. Needed to ask, needed to understand, needed to know. Matthew tried to walk in the general direction he saw Francis head earlier, stumbling into a hallway before hearing familiar voices from a nearby room.

"Honestly, mes amis, this is quite enough. We had this conversation earlier."

"Which you interrupted by your flagrantly vicious insinuations. Little Lovi and Roddy baby weren't even discussing the L-A-P D-A-N-C-E, they were talking about flower arrangements. Ludwig, Bruder, control your boyfriend, man!"

"Don't CALL ME LITTLE LOVI!"

"Gilbert, I've never had a conversation about flower arranging in my life. And I can spell, Dummkopf."

"Feliciano, Mein Gott, get down from the bookshelf! Come watch Kiku play Mario Kart! Verdammt, what was in those cookies…"

"Ve, Ludwig! But I need to find a banana to slow down the turtles! The mushrooms keep chasing me! Why won't the cows move?"

"Hey, Ludwig, hey Roddy, hey, maybe we could tie him down and gag…"

"NOT FUNNY ANYMORE, ANTONIO!"

"Ça suffit! If you are all quite finished…"

"No, man, you haven't even addressed the issue. I can't believe you uploaded that video from New York! I thought you'd taken down all that freaky stuff…"

"Si, amigo, like that classic vid of you with the pool boy, the pizza boy and the handyman…"

"Haha, and that awesomely visionary masterpiece of your orgy with fifteen sailors."

"After all, you don't want Matthew to know you're just a dirty old man who's only interested in one thing…"

"And who'll dump him once you've got into his pants…"

"Probably with the video evidence to prove it! Oh… mierda."

The sudden silence was deafening. Once Matthew reached the door, the entire room looked over and froze. Roderich put his hand to his mouth, Antonio closed his eyes, and Gilbert turned and kicked the wall. "Scheisse!"

Matthew did not know how to react. He was stunned, confused, disgusted – yet all he could manage to say was, "Fifteen?"

Francis seemed struck still. His face was white, his eyes wide and filled with fear. It took a few harrowing, silent moments for him to respond. "Um… that was a really long time ago."

Matthew dropped his gaze and shrunk back. Charlotte was right. They were all right. He felt suddenly small, ridiculed, like this group of Francis' friends and family were mocking him, laughing at him. He felt like he was on the outside of some joke that everyone had known all along but him. Matthew wanted to hide, wanted to vanish, wanted to disappear. He did the next best thing. He turned and ran.

The cool outside air was like a slap in the face after the hot, crushing, deafening madness inside. Matthew fought back tears as he stumbled down the driveway, desperate to get as far away from this horrifying, humiliating situation as possible. How could he have been so stupid? How could he really think that someone as popular and handsome and charming as Francis would actually be interested in him? How had he let himself believe it?

"Matthew, wait!" Matthew stopped, gritted his teeth, and forced himself to turn. Francis' face was a mask of concern, dark and shadowed in the dim outside light. "Please listen…"

"I'm leaving, Francis." Matthew tried to speak calmly, even as he felt like his heart was breaking in his chest. "Excuse me."

"Wait!" Francis' took a step closer and spoke anxiously. "Look, they say these things, they always do. It's how we talk, it is just a joke…"

Matthew laughed disbelievingly and stepped away. The bright lights from the house threw shadows onto the wide, green lawn. "And what about the dates everyone keeps mentioning? The éclair everyone knows about? You're right, Francis. It is a joke. This whole thing is a joke, one I was stupid enough to fall for!"

Francis shook his head frantically. "No…"

"What is this, then?" Matthew almost shouted, suddenly furious. Francis looked stunned by the sudden outburst, and did not respond. "Well?" Matthew continued angrily. "Why did you bring me here? All you've done is make a fool of me!"

"Matthew…"

Matthew refused to let Francis speak. "You know, it's not that you fuck a lot of guys, because apparently…" Matthew threw up his hands and let out a burst of angry laughter. "…that's what people do. And it's not that you've apparently slept with half the population of Canada, because as distasteful as I might find it, that's your own business. It's that for once… for once in my entire life…" Matthew's voice cracked slightly and he forced back his tears. "I thought someone saw me as something special. Me. And now I find out, this is just your usual game. You do this with everyone!"

Francis' expression contorted painfully. "Matthew. That is not true…"

Matthew scoffed and looked away. "Your own friends said it, Francis. Your own cousin!"

Francis breathed out in understanding. "Charlotte."

"Not just Charlotte. Gilbert, Feliciano, Antonio… they've all been saying it since I met you, and I've just been too blind to see the obvious." Matthew laughed at himself, disgusted by his own stupidity. "I didn't want to see the obvious."

Francis took another step forward, until he was so close that Matthew could reach out and touch him. A cold gust of wind whipped his blond hair around his face; the light of the moon shone in his sad blue eyes. Matthew felt such a strong ache of longing in his chest that he nearly fell forward. He wanted to be wrong; he so wanted this to be real. He wanted Francis, so much it took his breath away. Francis took a deep breath and asked, as though he was afraid of the answer. "The obvious? What obvious, darling?"

The familiar endearment sent an aching shudder across Matthew's skin. But he could not ignore what he had heard from Francis' friends. All Matthew's false bravado, his clever replies, his affected confidence melted away, leaving him simply lost and insecure. Matthew drew his arms close against the wind, and whispered his reply. "That you couldn't really fall in love with me."

Francis looked strangely distraught and astonished. His jaw hardened, his eyes softened, and he breathed out a quiet sigh. "Oh, Matthew. That is so untrue."

Matthew only paused for a moment. No, this was just part of Francis' game. Part of this lie, this amusement, this stupid joke. "I'm sorry for thinking of this as more than it was. Thank you for making me feel important – even if it was only for a little while. And even if I was mistaken."

When he finally spoke, Francis' voice sounded desperate. "Matthew, please, just listen to me…"

But Matthew was done listening. He was done feeling foolish; done feeling small and ridiculed. Done feeling important and beautiful, done feeling adored and special. Matthew turned away from Francis and headed into the night. It was time to forget this wonderful week ever happened. Time to go back to his dull, grey existence; back to his dull, grey life.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#la patisserie de la rose chapter 4

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