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xoxoavenger · 3 years

Text

I Still Love You

pairing: Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Fem!Reader

summary: Peter and Y/N get into a massive fight, one that takes a toll on Y/N.

word count: 7429

warnings: mentions of sex

masterlist

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, apparently just fucking, which is all you ever want to do anyway!"

The young couple's voices could be heard throughout the whole compound, and Tony wished he had sprung for soundproof walls. The Avengers were half temped to go to the training basement or leave the compound entirely, and a couple already had.

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy that shit too! It's really a shame you're too busy with your dumb patrolling to pay any attention to me!"

"Do you think this will be the last one?" Bruce asked, making Tony shake his head.

"This is the worst one, but it probably won't be their last." Natasha sighed, laying across the couch.

"I'm sorry my job of protecting people is a little more important than fucking you!"

It was quiet, and then a groan was heard.

"Did she just,"

"What the fuck, Y/N?" Peter's yell made Wanda go silent.

"Oh God, I hope she bitch slapped the shit outta him." Sam said, laughing. Bucky chuckled, but otherwise everyone else was silent. The yelling had gotten quieter, and the Avengers almost wanted to go to the room to see what was going on.

"I am not just a 'thing' that you fuck. I am a human being. I am a goddamn superhero." Y/N's voice was low and shaky, and Peter could tell that he hurt her, even if she had slapped him with a warming hand.

"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N. You know that." Peter said quietly.

"Maybe not, but you had a choice. You have a choice every single fucking day. Me or Spider-Man. And day after goddamn day, you chose Spider-Man. Every hour actually, when you could come back just a little bit earlier and be with me, your girlfriend. But you don't. If you couldn't handle a personal and hero life, why'd you ask me to be your girlfriend?"

'Y/N, you can't-"

"You do it everyday!"

"And they're back." Steve sighed, drawing on his sketchbook in the corner. The Avengers without superhearing hadn't heard the small talk they had been having for a few peaceful seconds, but now it was back to yelling.

"I have a job to do, Y/N! I have people to protect! I'm sorry that you're too much of a bitch to-" Peter's groan cut himself off.

"Oo, another one. His face is gonna be hurting for a hot second." Tony chuckled, swiping through the magazine he was looking at.

"I am not a bitch." Y/N said quietly, getting close to him as she pointed a finger into his chest hard. The fabric around it started to burn. "And I'm not asking you to put other people's lives above mine. I understand that you're a hero, and I understand that you won't always be here. But you could at least try to be around some of the time!" She yelled, pushing him.

"You're putting words in my mouth!"

"Pepper and I had an argument about this a couple years ago." Tony remarked, and the rest of the Avengers shook their heads. Bucky, Bruce, and Wanda actually got up and left, not able to listen to the young couple argue any longer.

"And look where that got you." Natasha said, not looking up from her book.

"Exactly, we're fine now." Tony flipped to the next page.

"How am I putting words in your mouth? You called me a 'bitch!' It was loud and fucking clear!" Y/N screamed, tears now rolling down her face. She began to swing clumsily at Peter, to upset to think of technique.

"I know that - I KNOW THAT!" Peter grabbed her hands, the two breathing hard as they stared into each other. "I'm sorry." Peter whispered. For a second, he thought they were going to kiss and make up, that they were going to roll into bed and everything would be fine.

"You're not sorry." Y/N shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Yes, baby, I am, I swear-"

"You're never sorry! You don't care and you never will!" Y/N pulled herself from his grasp. It was just as well, since Peter's hands were starting to burn.

"Are you kidding me? I care so much it physically hurts!"

"You are such a liar!" Y/N screamed turning and throwing the first thing she had at him. Peter caught the vase before it hit him, making her even more angry. She kicked the coffee table over, screaming in a fit of range.

"Okay, time to intervene." Natasha jumped up when she heard the crash.

"This is bad." Steve mumbled, going to aid her. They walked down the hallway quickly, where more yelling and fighting was heard.

"Don't you fucking leave again!"

"You're not the boss of me!"

Crash!

"Shit." Natasha mumbled, the two jogging the rest of the way to the room.

"Alright-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Y/N reached out to hit Peter, hand glowing red with the heat her powers were giving off.

"Nope," Steve grabbed Y/N's upper arm to avoid getting burned, as well as to keep Peter from getting a hole punched through him.

"Oh my God, this is between us two! Get off of me, you whore!" Y/N screamed, turning to punch with her other hand, which was less burning but still hot as she began to warm it up.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, hot hands." Natasha grabbed her other arm, struggling as they tried to keep her from lashing out again. "Peter, you better leave right now before I let her burn a hole through your diaphragm."

Peter scoffed before leaving. Just a couple seconds later, Steve was forced to let go of her arm, his skin starting to scorch.

"Please tell me you guys didn't hear all that." Y/N sighed, trying to cool her hands down as Natasha let go as well. She turned to them, eyes wide as more tears rolled down her cheeks. She clearly realized the fight was over.

"You aren't exactly quiet." Natasha muttered, crossing her arms. As much as she loved the younger Avenger like a sister, she wasn't good with emotions.

"I didn't want to break up with him. I just wanted to talk about how he's never with me anymore. But then he put words in my mouth and he was getting so mad which made me mad because none of this is my fault!" More tears rolled down Y/N's cheeks, and now it was getting hard talk as her throat held in the sobs. "Just, please, go. Please." She cried, turning to the bed. She hadn't even laid on it for a second before she turned back around, a loud sob ripping her throat. Steve and Natasha looked at each other, at a loss for what to do, nor did they even know she was crying. "It's Peter's room!"

"Alright, let's get you to your room." Steve shared another look with Nat before walking over to the bed that Y/N was still strewn out on. When she didn't move, Steve pulled her to her feet, and she angrily pushed him away with sizzling hands, stomping to her own room. Steve tried to follow her, but Natasha held her arm out.

"I may not have been a normal teenager, but I know we need to let her have space." Steve sighed crossing his arms.

"Lady Y/N! I am b-why are you upset?" Thor's booming voice was heard down the hall. Just as Natasha and Steve made their way outside Peter's room to save Thor from the burns he was bound to suffer from the girl, Thor was being pulled inside of Y/N's room.

"Since when are they best friends?" Steve asked, feeling hurt that the girl didn't open up to him. Everyone opened up to him.

"Calm it, Cap. Not everyone has to open up to you."

"He's only in love with his job, Thor! He doesn't care about me. He doesn't even care that we broke up." Y/N cried, sitting on her couch. Thor plopped down on the other side, lifting her own side slightly.

"You do not know that. He is just as upset as you. Probably." Thor comforted her. Y/N shook her head.

"He just left. He didn't even try to fight for me! Even when Tony took his suit, he fought for it. He hasn't even tried." Y/N put her head in her hands, and it was quiet for a moment. Thor put a hand on her shoulder.

"He still loves you. You know he does." Thor told her. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, rolling her eyes.

"Are you kidding? He definitely doesn't love me anymore. At least, not as much as he loves being Spider-Man." Y/N cried. Thor moved closer.

"Jane and I had a fight similar to this, once." Thor told her, putting his arm all the way around her now. It was silent as Y/N wiped some of her tears, fresh ones falling in their now dry tracks.

"Didn't you and Jane break up?" Y/N asked, turning to look at him. He looked nervous.

"Um, that's part of the reason why we broke up." Thor still didn't have a good filter, but he knew he shouldn't have said this to a mourning teenager.

"Oh God!" Y/N cried, standing up and falling on her bed. She began sobbing into her pillow. "I don't want Peter to leave me."

"It'll all be okay, Lady Y/N." Thor sat on the end of her bed with a creak.

"No it won't! Get out of my room! I want to be alone!" She screamed.

"Y/N, don't-"

"Get out!" Y/N screeched as she sat up. She was breathing fast, and heat was radiating off her hands. She looked at them, overcome with rage and fear. She looked up at Thor, who was also looking at her in fear. Her chest tightened weirdly.

"Your hands," Thor started to say, standing up.

"I-I can't control it! I don't-I don't know what to do!" Y/N yelled, holding her hands away from her body. They were burning white, heating the room up.

"What do you normally do when this happens?"

"It normally doesn't happen!"

"Just, just calm down. Don't think about Peter - I mean,"

"Oh no, Peter!" Y/N cried, and the heat in the room intensified.

"Go to the bathroom! Lady-In-The-Air, call for help!" Thor yelled as Y/N ran to the bathroom.

"I have sent for help." FRIDAY replied to Thor. Just as he went to check on her, Y/N screamed and a blinding white light came from the bathroom, accompanied by a loud noise.

"Y/N? What's going on?" Steve burst the door open, but Thor was already running toward the bathroom.

"What did you do?" Thor asked, looking in the bathroom with wide eyes. By this time, half the Avengers were in the room.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" Steve asked, running into the room. The girl was collapsed on the floor, but that wasn't even the worst part. The wall directly across the bathroom was decimated, almost as if an atom bomb had gone off only on that wall. Luckily, her room was in the corner of the tower, because now fresh air was blowing into the room instead of a hole a mile long throughout the tower. The room was now dark, as the lights had gone out and it was now dark outside.

"Shit!" Steve hissed as he tried to pick her up. Her body was burning, and even the super solider couldn't endure it. "How did this happen?"

"She got really upset, and her hands were glowing, and she said she couldn't control it." Thor informed the captain.

"But, that's never happened before. She's always been able to control it." Tony said as everyone's eyes were on the girl. The tile beneath her body was glowing slightly with the head radiating off her body.

"What do we do? We can't just leave her on the sweltering tile." Bruce said.

"We can't move her, she's still radiating heat." Thor crouched next to her, hand hovering over her forehead. She had begun to cool down, but they still couldn't pick her up.

"Sorry, but Peter was fighting to get in here. I told him that whatever was going on, she needed space, because quote frankly he was be-"

"It's fine, Wanda. We don't really need anyone in here for now. Thank you for coming." Bruce said, as everyone else was in the bathroom.

"Where is she gonna stay now? I mean, I'm good, but this can't be fixed in one day. No one is that good." Tony stared at the decimated wall.

"We have to have an extra guest room. This is a huge place." Steve said. Tony was about to answer when Y/N stirred on the floor. Thor reached out, noticing she was getting cooler as she woke up. She was back in control.

"Y/N?" Thor asked as Steve, Bruce and Tony came closer. Everyone else had left.

"Oh, God," Y/N groaned, flipping fully on her back to lay flat against the tile. The remaining Avengers crowded her.

"Y/N? Can you hear us?" Steve asked, putting a hand to her face again. It was still hot, but not enough to make him withdraw his hand immediately.

"What happened, Y/N? How did you burn a whole through the wall?"

"A very large hole." Tony almost cut Thor off with his mumblings. Steve shot them both a sharp look as Y/N took a shuddering breath.

"I-I don't know. I was just so upset, about everything, ya know? And - I don't know what happened! It was too much, I couldn't take it. And I could feel my body heating up, but I couldn't stop it like a normally do. It just kept heating and my hands were glowing. And my chest was tightening, I couldn't breathe. The more I thought about how upset and scared I was, it kept getting worse until I couldn't take it. I don't know what happened! I don't know what happened!" She repeated the phrase over and over and over, and the male Avengers blinked for a minute, not able to comprehend how to help the girl having a mental breakdown in the bathroom with a hole in the wall.

"Hey, it'll all be okay. You're fine now, everything is fine." Steve told her, and she shook her head, and stood, making the other Avengers stand pack, Thor tripping and almost falling out the hole in the wall.

"Everything isn't fine though!" Y/N yelled. A burst of heat radiated off her, and the Avengers gasped as they sucked in the cold air that was filtering through. "Everything isn't fine because Peter hates me and so I lost the love of my life! It would hurt worse if you stabbed me!" At the last part, another heat wave was sent out of her, and the Avengers began gasping again at the heat filling the air.

"Let's just go to sleep, alright? It's getting late." Steve said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Great idea. Let's go. Y/N, you can sleep in here tonight. We'll move you to a temporary room when the people come to fix," Tony lead off for a moment, blinking at the hole in the wall for a few moments. "That."

Everyone walked out of the bathroom as Thor and Steve helped Y/N up and to her bed. They tucked her in as older brothers do, making Y/N feel less alone. She was asleep with exhaustion before the boys had even left the room.

"Boss, there is a fire in Miss L/N's room." Tony chuckled, his sleep deprived brain not working on anything except the project in his hands.

"There's always a fire in Y/N's room." Tony turned to yell at Dummy as he knocked the coffee over on the bench, but he never got the chance.

"Her bedding and mattress is on fire. It is spreading to her nightstand."

"Oh, shit!" Tony was dropping his project and running out of the room as soon as FRIDAY had finished speaking. He came first to Steve's door, which he barely slowed down to bang on.

"Y/N's setting shit on fire!" He didn't wait to hear if the captain had woke up, hoping he would spring to action. His thoughts were answered when the door was swung open and it didn't shut. Steve quickly passed Tony, but both were stopped when another door in front of them opened.

"Y/N's in trouble." Wanda said, hair in braids. Both men screamed, Tony falling to the ground almost as fast as he began scrambling up.

"What the hell are you idiots waiting for?" Natasha asked, her hair in a half French braid. Only half, though, because the bottom half was already falling out. It seemed Natasha and Wanda were braiding each other's hair.

The four of them ran to Y/N's room, Steve being the first to make it to the room. He opened the door, looking around.

"Y/N?" He screamed, but he couldn't see her. All he could see was the fire on the bed that had now spread to the nightstand.

"Stop! No!" Y/N's voice was heard. It seemed to be coming from the fire, so Wanda ran towards it at the protests of the other Avengers.

"Y/N? Come on, we gotta get out of here!" Natasha yelled as she came into view. She was sitting on the bed, fire licking her face, as she held something in her hands. It was melting though, and she was screaming.

"Let the picture go!" Wanda yelled.

"FRIDAY, deploy fire measures!" Tony yelled. Water began to pour from the ceiling.

"Get out of the way!" Thor was bustling into the room now, and he began to point the fire extinguisher and shoot.

"Shit, dude!" Tony yelled as everyone coughed. In a matter of seconds, everyone was drenched. The water went out as the fire began to die down. Y/N's clothes were hanging off of her, burned. She didn't seem to care, though. She was crying, holding something tightly. When Steve made his way to her, she was holding the burned remains of a picture. The frame had melted, but it was because of her hands, not the fire.

"How did this fire start?" Thor asked, dropping the fire extinguisher to the ground with a thud.

"I had a dream." Y/N whispered, tears rushing down her cheeks. The frame began to melt more, and Steve quickly pulled it out of her hands before she accidentally trapped herself with the metal. He looked at the picture, the glass from the frame broken, leaving pieces of it smoldered. It was obviously a picture of Y/N and Peter, but Steve couldn't tell where they were or what was going on in the picture.

"You caused the fire?" Natasha asked, arms crossed as she looked at the burned bed and nightstand.

"I didn't mean to!" Y/N hugged herself as she began to sob, and the Avengers were left blinking. Normally, when something like this would happen, they would call Peter. But they definitely couldn't do this now, as the entire tower may spontaneously combust. Also, Y/N had never set anything on fire in her sleep, so that was new.

"Let's go to one of the guest rooms. I'm sure this was a one-time thing. Don't sweat it." Tony said, and they all made their way to their respective rooms to sleep.

It was not a one-time thing.

Y/N set the guest room on fire the next night. This time, Bruce and Bucky were the ones who had arrived in her room first. She was sitting on the bed, crying. Fire engulfed her, and it seemed like she didn't even know she was doing it.

"She's still asleep." Bruce told Bucky as Steve came running in. Thor and Tony followed quickly, the former already spraying the fire extinguisher as he ran in. It was no use though, because Y/N was still dreaming, still creating the fire. It was decided that Bruce would kindly wake her up, and then they could put out the flames.

However, Y/N swung out and lightly burned three marks across Bruce's cheek.

"Why can't we just call in Peter? He's always been able to calm her down." Bucky asked, crossing his arms. He was over all of this bullshit, not understanding why the two couldn't just kiss and make up. They seemed to like each other enough.

"Peter's the reason these are happening." Tony said, looking at Bucky as if he hadn't understood what 1+1 is.

"Exactly! Let him deal with it." Bucky explained. Steve shook his head.

"She's one of us. We have to take care of her." Steve stared at the fire, not sure what to do now. All his brain could think about was calling for Peter, but that obviously wasn't a good option. The two were avoiding each other like the plague, and when they did happen to see each other, the room would get hotter and Peter's hands would start to stick to everything he touched.

"Hate to say it, but I'm almost with Manchurian Candidate. Calling in the kid would solve all our problems."

"Or make them worse." Bruce said, not seeming to care too much about the marks that adorned his face.

"She burned you, Bruce. Literally. This is bigger than us." Tony defended.

"Or smaller, because that kid is tiny."

"Are we all forgetting there is a fire?" Thor broke up the discussion. The Avengers all turned back to the bed, and now that they were paying attention they noticed that Y/N had started sobbing.

"This is a problem for the spider." Bucky mumbled.

"He's probably stuck to his sheets right now. His power's been acting up too." Tony fired back. They all took a step back as they watched the fire rage on. There really was nothing they could do now.

"Move out of the way." Natasha's voice was heard. The boys turned around to see her standing in her suit, zipped all the way up and hair braided out of the way. She quickly got in and woke Y/N up, and then Thor put out the fire.

"Nothing to see here. Go get your beauty sleep." Natasha waved the boys out of the room before whispering 'amateurs' under her breath. She led Y/N to her room, knowing the girl wouldn't be able to sleep.

The Avengers had gone three days without a fire. Tony had begun to make a fully fireproof room, but it seems he just needed the girl to have a day or two to grieve. She was fine in the new guest room.

Except she wasn't. Every night, she would sneak out of her bed and go to the common room. She made coffee and watched scary movies so that she wouldn't be able to sleep, because thinking about Peter was obviously the problem. While she was awake, she could keep herself from thinking about him. But while she was asleep...

His hands on her body. His kisses on her lips. The words he would whisper to her. Their fingers intertwined. The way he broke her heart, ripped it straight out of her chest and ripped her heart in half in the most brutal way

Her hand burned a mark into the couch cushion. Y/N looked around, shook her hand to cool it off, and then flipped the cushion over.

So maybe she wasn't as good at not thinking about Peter as she thought.

Makeup was a permanent dust under her eyes, and she always had coffee with her no matter where she went. She caught small naps here and there, but made sure to set her alarms for an hour after she fell asleep, not long enough for her to have a dream and set the room on fire.

Training sessions were hard, but they could be worse. She hasn't had to train with Peter yet.

Yet. Today was the day though, and Y/N knew it as soon as she saw Steve's apologetic look in the training room.

"You need to spar with him eventually." Steve mumbled as Y/N put on the protective wraps which kept her from burning things.

"Don't you think there's a reason why I haven't set things on fire in days?" Y/N asked, not looking up.

"Because you aren't sleeping?" Natasha muttered at her other side. Y/N jumped, making Nat smile.

"I am sleeping." Y/N defended, moving to wrap her other hand.

"Not long enough to have dreams, which is why you haven't set anything on fire." Damn. Y/N hated living with spies.

"Well, nothing has been on fire, so," Y/N angrily ripped her tape, throwing it back in the bin.

"I'm getting deja vú." Sam said, and Y/N reached to light fire in her hands. Her tape stopped her from doing so, however, so she angrily glared.

"Alright, get on the mat." Natasha yelled. Peter and Y/N got on the map, neither of them looking at each other. Y/N picked at her tapes as other Avengers acted like they were working out when they were really only there to watch the fight. "No powers, alright? This is hand to hand combat."

"We have our powers in hand to hand combat on a mission." Peter pointed out. Y/N looked up, but not at him.

"Would you like me to unwrap my hands, then? Light a fire?"

"No. Three, two, one, fight!" Tony counted them off, not giving them room to argue. The two put their hands up, getting ready.

"I know you want to punch me." Peter spoke first.

"Don't taunt me. It doesn't take much for me to get hot." Y/N finally looked into his eyes. "I'm sure you already know that, though."

"I'm not trying to taunt you." Peter sounded exhausted.

"I don't want to do this." Y/N complained, dropping her arms. Before she could respond, she was hit across the face. It was silent as she fell back a couple steps, one hand coming up to her cheek, which was definitely bruised.

"Do you wanna do this now?" Peter asked, and Y/N looked up at him.

"I can't believe I ruined my bed sheets for you!" Y/N screamed, lunging at him. Peter dodged it, but she grabbed his leg, bringing him down.

"Is that some kind of innuendo?" Peter asked, but the second he took to say something, Y/N was on top of him, arm pressing against his throat.

"Tap out." She muttered, face close to his. Her body was starting to heat up, which was a rare occurrence. Usually, her hands would get hot and they would be the ones to set things on fire or, as of recently, project her heat to decimate a wall.

"You know I last longer than this." Peter choked out. Before she knew what he was doing, he grabbed her arm that was braced by his head and wrapped his leg around her corresponding leg, making her fall against him. The room seemed to still, but then they were rolled over and Peter was now on top. "Can we talk?" Y/N looked around, seeing all the other Avengers now openly staring.

"About what?" Y/N whispered, trying not to cry. She bucked her hips up, then turned to her side and shrugged herself up and away from Peter. She hooked a thigh around his neck, so that now her body was above him, meaning he couldn't flip them over unless he used his powers.

"You can't run away from me forever." Peter told her. She tightened her leg, and Peter inhaled deeply. Y/N began thinking of Peter, all the things he said to her before. He gave blood to her when it almost killed him, and then decided to put her at second best. Peter began hitting the mat, but Y/N couldn't hear him. She was too stuck in her own brain, in her own thoughts.

"Y/N! Stop!" Steve yelled, but she still wasn't paying attention. A couple Avengers came over and started to pull her away, but she was burning. Sam and Bucky grabbed her wrists where the special tape was, pulling her away from Peter. Only when she was pulled away did she realize that she was out of it.

"You're burning up!" Sam yelled.

"No I'm not!" She fought back. "Only my hands get hot. That's the way it's been for years, and that's the way it'll always be!"

"I know what your burns feel like." Peter said, rubbing at his throat. Y/N's eyes widened in horror as she realized that she had really just burned Peter.

"Why didn't you tap out?" Y/N cried, fear seizing her. This had to be why Peter broke up with her. Of course she was the reason. He had to of noticed she was getting out of control before now.

"I was!" Peter defended, face upset.

"Oh my God." Y/N whispered, not able to look at anyone. This was not only embracing, but upsetting. She had hurt Peter, which, as much as she was upset with him, she never wanted to hurt him. She was a liability.

"No you aren't." Steve said, and oh shit, she said that out loud.

"I think I need to go, um," Y/N couldn't finish her sentence as she stood.

"Wait," Peter started to say, but then an alarm went off before anyone else could speak.

"What is that?" Y/N asked as the alarm stopped.

"It's an alarm Fury made me put in, just incase he needed us quickly. Tasha is probably calling him right now." Tony said, gesturing to Natasha, who was on the phone already in the corner.

"Why have we never heard it?" Peter asked.

"Because you're children." Bucky said, barely loud enough for everyone to hear. It was silent, which made everyone uncomfortable. Normally, Peter and Y/N would begin fighting the older Avengers together, but today it didn't seem like either of them wanted to. Everyone waited in the awkward silence for a moment, until finally Natasha got off the phone and jogged back to the group.

"Fury says this one is big, all hands on deck." Natasha said quickly. Everyone nodded, different 'tough guy' poses around the circle/oval/square/rectangle they had formed.

"So, what? Old Hydra base? What else needs all hands on deck?" Steve asked. Natasha shrugged.

"Tell us on the plane. We gotta go, though. Get suited up. If you can't get in your suit in five minutes, bring it with you or you will be left behind." Tony said, and everyone immediately left.

"Maybe you should talk to Peter." Wanda said. Y/N and Wanda sat together on the quintet, while everyone else finished getting into their suits. They had been briefed a couple minutes ago; they were on their way to a Hydra base. They had all been given their assignments, and Y/N and Peter were in charge of getting the information. Although there had been some argument over this, about whether or not the two would be able to work well together, let alone at all. But Y/N and Peter wanted to impress the Avengers too much to let their personal relations get in the way of their chance to show themselves.

"That's a horrible idea." Y/N said. The thrumming of the jet was enough to make her voice quiet enough so no one else could hear.

"It isn't. He's in love with you, and this will be a hard mission. You need to trust each other." Wanda told her. Y/N glared.

"You're in love with a machine." Y/N mumbled. To her astonishment, Wanda laughed.

"You can't hide things from me, Y/N. I know you love us." Wanda pushed her jokingly, which brought a smile to the younger one's face.

"I didn't mean to break up with her." Peter groaned on the opposite side of the ship.

"It seemed like you did while you were fighting." Sam said, smirk on his face.

"You don't know anything about that." Peter grumbled.

"We heard the whole damn thing." Bucky groaned, head back against the headrest in exhaustion.

"We weren't that loud."

"You were always 'that loud.'" Sam sighed, leg bouncing.

"What did you mean to do?" Bucky asked after a moment.

"What?" Peter and Sam turned to look at him.

"You started a fight with the most hotheaded woman I have ever known of, literally, and your reasoning wasn't even that good. So, if you weren't trying to break up with her, what was your idea?" Bucky explained. Peter blinked as Sam smirked.

"Don't tell me you didn't have an idea, Spidey. I just wouldn't believe it." Sam taunted. Peter elbowed him in the ribs a little harder than necessary.

"I had an idea! I wanted her to understand. This isn't the first time we've had this fight." Peter mumbled the last bit, to which Sam scoffed.

"Yeah, we know."

"I was tired of having the same fight over and over again." Peter continued, acting like he hadn't heard Sam.

"Then maybe you should actually listen to each other. Just a thought." Bucky shrugged.

"We listen to each other!" Peter shouted. When a couple Avengers turned their heads, Peter slunk in his seat a bit.

"Do you even know why she was upset with you?" Sam asked. Peter scoffed.

"She wanted me to stop being Spider-Man."

"No, she wanted you to pay more attention to her. You probably didn't even know that her body is starting to heat up like her hands." Sam shook his head. Peter turned to him, and the men sat in silence for a couple minutes.

"But she didn't even know that until today. No one did." Peter was sure that this was the first time anyone had noticed her problem was today. Everyone looked so shocked, including herself.

"But if you had been with her, don't you think you may have realized it four days ago when she started accidentally setting things on fire?" Sam asked. Peter's eyes widened.

"She lost control?"

"She made a hole in the wall with her powers. Where have you been?" Bucky informed him. Peter began shaking his head, not able to believe the two men next to him.

"She's never lost control, though. She - something's not right." Peter began to stand, but the jet began its descent at the same time, causing Peter to sit back down.

"We're about to land. As soon as we touch down, it's game on." Tony said.

"Obviously something's not right." Bucky mumbled, referring to their former conversation.

"No, you don't understand, I have to talk to her." Peter was standing as they touched down, making everyone lurch. Peter fell to the ground, quickly getting back up as everyone was leaving.

"We don't have time for that right now. You're Avengers, act like it. No personal business until we're back here." Clint said. But Peter was walking over to Y/N already.

"After, kid. You need to think about the mission." Tony stopped Peter. The boy looked up at his mentor with big eyes and fear adorning his face.

"Mr. Stark, she created a blast and decimated a wall!" Peter cried. When he looked around again, he realized that everyone was already gone. "She's not okay."

"She'll be fine for the mission. She is obviously more than capable of defending herself." Tony told Peter. Peter shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this.

"We get in, plug the device in, and get out." Y/N said, trying to fill the silence as the pair snuck through the building.

"You don't have to fill the silence. We're supposed to be quiet." Peter teased. He regretted it when he saw Y/N's face fall.

"Sorry." Peter immediately regretted saying anything at the sad sound of her voice. He wanted desperately to speak to her, to make up with her, but he couldn't jeopardize the mission. There would be plenty of time to talk after the mission.

It would be easy.

Peter and Y/N walked slowly through the hallways, listening to the others speak through their ear pieces.

"There's someone coming." Peter said as they walked down a long hallway. There were no doors until the fork, but that must have been where Peter was hearing the footsteps.

"What do we do?" Y/N whispered, fear enrapturing her voice. There was no where to hide, and they were too far away to fight the guard without them potentially notifying others.

"Hang on tight and please don't burn me." Peter whispered. Before Y/N could say something, Peter grabbed her around the waist and flung the both of them up onto the ceiling. Y/N shook as she tried to hold onto Peter, so he flipped the two around so that Peter was sticking to the ceiling by his hands and feet, Y/N resting against him. She could now hear the marching of the guard, and she almost held her breath.

clack clack clack

"Are you alright?" Y/N whispered. She felt bad for putting all her weight on Peter, but hopefully his super strength meant he wasn't struggling as much as she was. She was really close to Peter; scratch that, she was almost merged to Peter, their bodies so close that his made her heart race. She felt her cheeks heat up and mentally cursed as she wrapped herself tightly around Peter. The ground was actually much farther down than she had originally thought, and she could only hope the guard wouldn't see them.

"You're heating up." Peter whispered, shifting slightly. The footsteps were getting closer, and Y/N buried her face into Peter's shoulder without thinking. She didn't want to watch the guard pass by them or shoot them off the ceiling.

clack clack clack

"I'm sorry." She muttered, but held on tighter.

"Y/N, you're way too warm right now. You need to calm down." Peter whispered. Y/N shut her eyes tightly.

"I can't." She whispered.

clack clack clack

The guard was getting closer.

"What do you mean?" Peter's voice was low, and Y/N suppressed a shutter.

clack clack clack

"I mean, I can't control it." She whispered, air barely leaving her mouth. Peter could feel her body and breath burning him, but the guard was right under them.

clack

He was right underneath them.

Peter was struggling. Y/N was burning him, and he wished they had thought to make her whole suit fireproof instead of just her gloves. Of course, no one had known before she could do more than just throw fireballs and heat her hands. Occasionally, she could heat her body, but it always went down very quickly. Nothing had ever stayed.

clack

"Please chill." Peter begged quietly. Y/N loosened herself, but she was still pressed against Peter. Her heart was racing, fear and something else making her heat up.

"I'm so sorry." Y/N said, focusing all her energy into cooling down.

clack clack clack

The guard was almost gone, and that was lucky, because Peter couldn't hold on anymore. He put an arm around her smoldering body, and dropped to the ground silently. The two parted and sneaked down the hallway.

"I didn't mean to heat up, Peter. I-I can't control it anymore." Y/N mumbled as they ran the rest of the way. There was finally a window in the room they were getting the data from. Y/N looked down, surprised to see how high up she was.

"What happened?" Peter asked as he plugged the device into one of the computers. She wasn't sure how Peter knew which one to plug in, as there were multiple in the room they were in.

"What?" Y/N turned to face him, and he was looking at her, leaning on a table as he waited for the computer to upload. Y/N wished she could see his face, but he still had his stupid mask on.

"How come you can't control your powers. You've always been able to control them. Well, except when you would get intense emotions. But you're normally great on missions." Peter said. Y/N sighed, looking down.

"Every emotion the past couple days has been monumental." She mumbled. She could feel herself starting to heat up at the thoughts of her and Peter flooding her mind.

"Y/N, I never meant to hurt you."

"Yes you did." Y/N tried not to yell. They were still on stealth.

"You can't say that. You don't know." Peter sounded broken. Y/N shook her head as she felt the fabric of her suit heat up.

"I do know. I remember every word that came out of your moth that day." Y/N's voice was rising.

"I still love you. And I'll love you no matter what." Peter told her. Y/N could feel herself warming up. Could feel the tightness she felt a couple days ago in her bedroom. Before she could say anything, there was shouting from outside the room. The door opened, and guards came in. Her body was bordering painful now as all the heat was trapped.

"Get down and cover your eyes." Y/N said, standing in front of Peter.

"What?"

"I said get down!" She yelled. Suddenly, the air was sucked out of her chest, and her body felt too warm. The heat needed to go somewhere.

So she released it at the guards.

A blinding light and the warmest wind Peter has ever felt rushed through him. When he lifted his head, Y/N was on the ground and a whole half of the tower was missing. A loud sound came from below, and the remaining building Peter and Y/N were in began to shake.

"Y/N, Peter, give me your location. I'm gonna pick you up." Sam said through the coms.

"Y/N's knocked out, she caused the flash." Peter said, rushing to her.

"Oh shit, she did it again." Tony said.

"Again?" Peter practically shrieked. He tried to touch Y/N's body, but her suit was melting off. She seemed to be waking up, though. The building shook again, and Peter cried out as he grabbed Y/N, still burning.

"Peter?" Y/N groaned. Her suit was no longer crumbling off her body, but Peter still couldn't grab onto her. "Peter, you gotta get out here." She sighed, moving around slightly.

"Not without you." Peter cried, and Y/N tried to get up. "I love you." The grimace Y/N had on wasn't making Peter too happy. They had to get out of the building.

"I'm outside the building. You need to come out one at a time." Sam said. Peter looked out to see Sam landing.

"Come on, let's go." Peter tried to haul Y/N up. She was still burning. But Peter endured it. The building shook again, and it was obvious that the building was about to fall at any minute. Peter let out a groan as Y/N's limbs burned into him. The building shook again, and the two fell to the ground. Peter pulled Y/N back up, crying out as she burned him. He wouldn't give up though.

"Peter," Y/N sighed as Peter tried to push Y/N to Sam. She pushed him first, however, toward Sam. "You think you can treat me like garbage, break my heart and then walk right back in and I'd still love you?" tears streamed down her face as she pushed Peter at Sam, far enough away that he couldn't grab at her. The building shook, and she fell to the ground. "You're right."

"Don't do this!" Peter yelled, but then the building was falling and Y/N with it. "Stop! We have to grab her!" Peter screamed at Sam. He was flying away, though, and Y/N was falling with the building.

"She's gone, Peter. I can't grab her, we have to go!" Sam yelled, and now the two were fighting in the air. Sam grabbed onto Peter tightly, but he was still wriggling. "I need back up!"

Peter began to slip and fall, and although Sam tried to grab him, he couldn't catch up. Luckily, out of nowhere, Tony flew by and grab the spider.

"We'll find her, but we can't lose you both." Tony said as Peter crunched up to punch at Iron Man's hand. The older man had a grip on Peter by his foot, and they finally hit the ground. "Don't make me hit you!" Peter ran toward the building. Well, what was left of the building. He hoped she was still there, still breathing. She destroyed a whole floor, a building couldn't take her out. She was too strong for that.

She couldn't die. Not while she didn't know that he still loved her.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker #peter parker angst #spider man x reader angst #spider man imagine #spider man #spider man x reader

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years

Note

omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3

thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!

Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.

At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.

Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.

He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.

His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”

Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.

Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.

“Guess I just really like what I see,” Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”

Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.

“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.

“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.

Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”

It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.

“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.

He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.

“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”

It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.

“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”

Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”

“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”

Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”

“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”

“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”

“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”

“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”

“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”

Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.

“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”

“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”

“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”

“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”

Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”

Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”

“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”

“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”

“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”

Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.

“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”

“When, huh?” Steve grins.

Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”

Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #my writing #my fic #prompt fill

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sankyeom · 3 years

Text

picture perfect | k.m

pairings: kevin moon x reader genre: art student au, strangers to lovers, art!student kevin, actor!reader, another secret admirer situation (yes i know we already did that in my sangyeon fit but it’s cute so idc) summary: in which you find a sketchbook filled with drawings of you, and go on a mission to find the owner word count: 8.5k (these just get longer and longer wow) series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

Your psychology professor always spoke a mile a minute, and it made taking notes unnecessarily difficult. Usually when she lectured, your wrist cramped from writing so fast, and your classmates couldn’t wait to get out of the room. On one particular autumn afternoon, you stared into nothingness as your professor gave a lecture on Milgram’s experiments, running lines in your head instead of taking notes like you usually did.

When you were cast as one of the lead roles (who didn’t even have that many lines to begin with) in your University’s winter play of An Ideal Husband, you were ecstatic to be given a new challenge. You had never been involved in acting or theatre before University, and you always felt like you were behind your peers. Your excitement soon morphed into something less productive: fear.

You were so afraid to mess up and disappoint your peers that you frequently did poorly in rehearsals and were the source of your cast’s frustrations. Perhaps it was your lack of experience, or perhaps it was because you didn’t really have any faith in yourself. Either way, it was all you could think about.

As your classmates started packing up to leave, you realised that the lecture was over and that you had just been in your own head for over an hour without learning anything from your class. Scrambling to pack up, you put away your notebooks and pencils as your phone chimed. Checking the text, you saw a message from your friend Sunwoo asking if you wanted to get lunch with him.

Getting to your feet, you texted Sunwoo that you were down for lunch as you exited the now empty lecture hall. As you left, you felt your shoe come in contact with a solid object in the doorway; a notebook that somebody must have dropped on the way out. Knowing that you would want your notes back if someone found them – especially in this class, where your professor spoke way too fast – you opened the notebook to see who it belonged to.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t a notebook, it was a sketchbook. With a drawing of you on the first page.

At first, you scolded yourself for assuming that the person in the drawing was you. It was presumptuous of you, wasn’t it? But the texture, colour, and length of the person’s hair perfectly matched yours. The person in the picture had your eyes, skin, clothes, and smile.

Perhaps it wasn’t so arrogant of you to presume that you were being depicted in the drawing.

“That’s a lovely drawing,” Professor Shin, who was on her way out, complimented. “You’re an excellent artist.”

You glanced up from the page, feeling a little dizzy. “It’s not mine,” you admitted, head spinning at the idea of somebody drawing you. Plain, simple, me? You couldn’t believe it. “I just found it here on the floor.”

“Looks like somebody admires you,” your Professor mused, smiling before bidding you farewell, leaving you standing in an empty lecture hall, clutching the sketchbook in your hands.

You tried to find a name on the other side of the cover, but there was no number or form of identification anywhere. The only thing that alluded to an identity was the small signature at the bottom right corner of the drawing.

Moon scribbles.

The first time Kevin saw you, he was seated three rows behind you in one of his Cultural Anthropology classes last semester. You were jotting notes as quickly as possible, brows furrowed together in concentration as you gripped your pen hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

Kevin didn’t take any notes that day.

All the could do was watch you, appreciating the way your expressions changed as you understood the content, and the hesitance on your face when you volunteered an answer during class.

He didn’t mean to start drawing you. You had simply inspired him to pick up his pencil and start sketching, the soft strokes of the lead slowly but surely forming shapes that resembled your eyes, nose, lips…

Kevin didn’t think that you’d be all he could draw from that moment onwards. Even during his art classes; if the assignment was to study the scenery surrounding the University and draw a landscape, Kevin couldn’t get the image out of your face out of his head. Whether he used paint, charcoal, ink, or lead, it was your profile that emerged from his efforts.

Today was no different; Kevin was supposed to be studying the Psychology slides from class that day – which he hadn’t taken notes on because he was too busy sketching you – and yet he only had the urge to add the finishing touches to his drawing instead of facilitating his studying. Dragging his messenger bag over to his desk, Kevin rifled through it in search of his sketchbook. He had filled many, many pages with your face at that point, and it had become a habit for him to bring it everywhere with him in case he had the urge to draw.

Kevin furrowed his brows when he couldn’t find it. His heart pounded suddenly, the idea of him having lost his sketchbook in a place you might find it seeming terrifying and disastrous. After a final sweep of his bag – which included emptying it inside-out to make sure he didn’t miss anything – Kevin could only hope and pray that he’d find it before you did.

“You found what?” Sunwoo asked through a mouthful of noodles, his eyes comically large and rounded in surprise.

“A sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you replied in a monotone voice, knowing fully well that Sunwoo had heard and understood you the first time. This was the fourth time you had explained the situation, and it was starting to get a little old.

Eric narrowed his eyes, judging Sunwoo’s eating habits, before turning to face you. “Are the drawings cute?” he wondered.

“I wouldn’t say they’re cute,” you said absentmindedly, thinking back to the drawings you saw. After succumbing to your own curiosity, you had looked through the notebook to see what other drawings there were. You knew this was an invasion of privacy but you couldn’t help yourself. Surely enough, they were all of you.

“They were beautiful. Drawn in such detail that I couldn’t even believe it when I first saw them… And I look genuinely gorgeous in them,” you paused when Sunwoo scoffed at your words. “I’m not saying that to be vain,” you defended. “Trust me, I look much better in the sketches than in real life. Whoever drew them just… sees me differently than I see myself. I look beautiful in the pictures.”

“Your Professor’s right, it does sound like you’ve got yourself an admirer,” Eric teased you, pleased that somebody other than your close friends was starting to see how great you were. He wasn’t your best friend like Juyeon or Sunwoo, but he knew you well enough. “Did you get a name or anything?” he asked excitedly.

“Nothing,” you sulked. “I can take an educated guess that this person is probably in my Psych class since it’s the only class I have in that room, but who knows? It could be anyone that’s seen me before.”

“Maybe it’s one of your fans from the drama department,” Sunwoo poked fun at your cast members, not liking how they were treating you in rehearsals.

“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes, finally picking at your rice and starting to eat. “I just want to know who’s drawing me in such an amazing way. It’s so detailed that I assume it might be someone will a lot of skill, maybe an art major? But a lot of people draw as a hobby who aren’t art majors as well. Maybe-”

Eric interrupted you. “You’re thinking too much,” he said, trying to clam you down. “Just… slow down a little. Maybe they’ll come looking for it next time you have Psych? There’s no name or information so you can’t do anything to find them, anyways,” he rationalised, something that was usually your role in your friendships.

Your eyes lit up. “Moon scribbles,” you exclaimed.

Sunwoo gave you an unimpressed look. “Bless you.”

You ignored his cheek, taking out your phone and going onto Instagram. “The artist signed all of their drawings with a signature that says Moon scribbles,” you explained.

“You know it’s rude to go onto your phone during mealtimes,” Sunwoo replied.

You laughed. “I’ll be sure to remember that for the next time you do the same, Kim Sunwoo.”

After typing moonscribbles into the search bar, you saw an art page by the same name pop up. You couldn’t tell who it belonged to, as the bio vaguely gave information about the artist going to your University, studying art and being a pisces. Since the account was private, you decided to risk it and request to follow them, no matter how strange that might be if they weren’t the person you were looking for.

“I should have invited Juyeon out for lunch instead,” Sunwoo decided, picking at your rice dish in between bites of his noodles.

“Juyeon would rather hang out with Eric than you anyway,” you teased your friend back, knowing that Juyeon and Eric had a deeper friendship despite Sunwoo and Eric being the same age. Eric grinned, amused that the was the topic of discussion and not chiming in to deny anything. “And excuse me, I paid for lunch, you rascal! Now stop complaining, I’m done anyway.”

“Alright, fine. Did anything come up?” Sunwoo wondered, slapping your wrist when you tried to take some of his noodles. You rolled your eyes. Typical Sunwoo: always taking your food but never willing to share his with you.

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

A few days passed without any response from moonscribbles on Instagram. You checked a few times a day to see if they ever accepted your request to follow them, but nothing ever came back. They didn’t deny your request, nor did they let you follow them either. It was frustrating, but it fell to the back of your mind after a week due to your schedule.

You had started doing full rehearsals with your cast members on stage for the play. At first, you thought that the setting might help you remember your lines and act without feeling awkward, but you were wrong. Most of your cast mates thought you got one of the lead roles for an alternate reason; perhaps you were related to someone on the University’s board and the director put you in because they wanted to keep their job. None of that was true, of course, but it didn’t help you make any friends.

The only friend you made was Younghoon, who played the lead opposite you, and with whom you frequently got together to go over lines and practice. He was one of those actors who was a completely different person from his role; he could keep be totally in character while doing his lines and the second the scene was over, he was back to his smiley self.

It didn’t help your confidence that he was an absolute pro. It only made you seem less competent in comparison, and you scolded yourself for even thinking that. Of course you knew it wasn’t Younghoon’s fault that he was simply much better at acting than you, but it definitely hurt your pride even more.

After another disastrous rehearsal, your cast mates had left to go backstage so you could have a word with the director. Younghoon sent you an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder before he followed your cast mates backstage, going over his lines in a faint whisper.

“Y/n,” your director began gently. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but what’s up with you?” You said nothing, prompting her to keep talking. “Your audition was really great. I knew I wanted you to play a lead role the second you were done auditioning. But you’ve been doing pretty poorly in rehearsals.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Your director sighed. “Look Y/n, I still want you to play your role. I like your chemistry with Younghoon and I think you guys could be really great leads. But if things don’t improve, I’m going to have to replace you with your understudy for the sake of this production.”

Even though you knew it was the obvious thing to do, it still hurt to hear. “I understand,” you whispered, nodding as you glanced at the floor.

“I really hope you can figure this out,” your director said, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let me know if I can help in any way, okay?” You nodded, and your director excused herself, leaving you standing at the edge of the stage by yourself.

You groaned once you were alone, taking a seat at the edge of the stage and letting your legs dangle over the edge. Welcoming the silence in the theatre as most of the cast had left for the day, you allowed yourself to lay back and close your eyes.

Why couldn’t you get this right?

Maybe I should just quit the play, you thought to yourself. It’s probably for the best.

When you heard the gentle patter of footsteps leading onto the stage, you spoke without opening your eyes. “Let me guess, you came to tell me how terrible I am too?” you uttered, not even caring who it was anymore.

The footsteps paused. “Um, actually, I’m just here to paint the sets…” a soft male voice spoke, causing you to open your eyes and sit up.

A familiar face stood a few metres away from you, paintbrushes and paints in hand. He had black hair that slightly covered his eyes, cat-like eyes and small lips that were pursed at the awkward interaction the two of you had just had.

“Sorry,” you apologised, getting to your feet. “It’s been a rough day,” you paused. “You’re Kevin, right?”

He looked surprised that you knew who he was. “Oh. Yes, actually.”

“I’m close with Juyeon,” you explained, realising how strange it might seem that you knew his name and recognised him. “I suppose I should probably have led with that.”

Kevin smiled. “No worries. I know you as well, you’re Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” you replied, bending down to collect your script and other belongings, pushing them into your tote bag as quickly as possible. “I’ll get out of your hair, then,” you smiled at him, implying it as your farewell.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re terrible,” Kevin confessed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and starting to mix paints. You glanced at him. “Are you in your head a little? Maybe. But you’re far from terrible,” he assured you, his brown eyes brimming with kindness.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” you replied. “Thanks. Although, you seem more like an artist than an actor,” you added, teasing him just a little. You couldn’t help yourself, he was pretty cute.

Kevin laughed. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “If you want me to brag about being the lead in Aladdin in middle school, then I will.”

You placed your tote bag on your shoulder, holding your hands up in surrender. “I take it back,” you said immediately. “You have more experience than I do on stage.” The two of you shared grins.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Kevin assured you. “If I can do it then you certainly can.”

He seemed really sincere, and you appreciated it. “Thanks, Kevin,” you said, feeling much lighter and in a far better mood than before Kevin had come on stage. “I’ll see you around,” you bid your farewells before exiting the stage.

You’d have to ask Juyeon more about his friend Kevin.

The next time you and Kevin bumped into each other was after one of your rehearsals a few weeks later.

You had improved in your rehearsal times, with a lot of help from Younghoon – who practiced with you in between classes – and Sunwoo – who you ran lines with anytime the two of you were together. When you were done rehearsing, your director had expressed how happy she was that you were starting to warm up to the stage and really get into the character the way she was hoping you would. Younghoon earned himself two week’s worth of free coffee from you, and your cast finally stopped glaring at you whenever you came to rehearsals.

“Oh, hey,” you greeted Kevin, who started coming onstage to work on the sets with other people who were involved in the production process. “Good to see you again,” you told him.

“You too,” Kevin beamed, his hair falling over his eyes just slightly. You had the urge to brush it out of the way so you could see him better, but you resisted the urge and scolded yourself for being so forward. “You guys are looking pretty good out there,” he complimented, waving at Younghoon as he left the theatre. His older friend gave him a knowing look, making big eyes at him and puckering his lips to tease Kevin about his crush on you.

“Thank you,” you smiled back at him, entirely clueless to Kevin cursing Younghoon with his eyes right in front of you. “The sets are really coming along too,” you commend him, gesturing around you. “It’s certainly adding some more colour to our rehearsals.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kevin replied. “Set painting isn’t exactly my vocation or anything, but it’s a fun way to help out with my skillset.”

“Skillset?” you echoed, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Ah,” Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I’m a fine arts major. So set painting is a little less refined than what I usually do. Not that I’m bragging,” he added quickly.

“Not at all,” you agreed, your eyes widening in realisation. “Fine arts, that’s a really cool major. You must be pretty talented to get into fine arts here, it’s such a competitive major,” your eyes widened in sudden realisation. “I’d love to see something of yours that doesn’t involve painting sets,” you motioned to the stage around you.

Kevin almost blushed. “Really?” he asked, his heart beat hammering in his chest at the idea of you seeing his art.

“Yeah,” you nodded your head eagerly. Partly because you were really curious about his art, but mostly because Kevin was pretty damn cute. “For sure! I mean, if you come to opening night of the play, I’d love to go see your art some time.”

“How’s this Saturday?” Kevin asked, his words almost slurring together at the speed he was talking. “The art department’s putting on an exhibition and a few of my drawings are going to be in it.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed. “Do you think I could bring some friends?”

Kevin nodded, his deep brown eyes brightening at the idea. “For sure! I already invited Juyeon but you can bring Sunwoo along as well.”

“Then I’ll be there,” you promised.

“Oh my god, are you touching the art?” you heard Kevin exclaim semi-loudly. You froze from your place, pointing at the water fountain from which you were filling up a cup of water to drink.

“What?” you asked dumbly, your eyes widening as Kevin smirked, hiding his laughter.

It was the Saturday of Kevin’s exhibition and you were doing your best to blend in with all the artistically-minded people in the room; admiring the paintings, motioning at the sculptures and pondering over the meanings behind the light exhibitions.

“I thought this was just a regular water fountain,” you tried to defend yourself.

“It is, I’m just messing with you,” Kevin shrugged, causing you to exhale in relief and slap Kevin’s arm.

“That was awful of you,” you scolded, unable to hide the large grin making its way onto your face. “You suck.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kevin retorted easily. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied. “So, when am I going to see your pieces?” you asked, motioning around the room. It was filled to the brim and people were bustling around the room to get a good look at every piece.

“Right now if you’re up for it,” Kevin suggested, waving as Juyeon and Sunwoo made their way over to the pair of you. You had excused yourself to get some water when Kevin spotted you and came over. “Hey guys. Sunwoo, good to see you again.”

“You too,” Sunwoo replied courteously, which was unlike him. Sunwoo knew Kevin vaguely through Juyeon, who was the same age as Kevin and had a lot of classes with him, and Eric, who Kevin often hung out with because they both spoke English. “Any of these yours?”

“A few,” Kevin said modestly.

Sunwoo nodded, looking around. “Are they good or are they more… conceptual?” he asked, his own way of asking whether or not Kevin’s art was a piece of crap or not.

You rolled your eyes. “Your eloquence astounds me, Sunwoo,” you said sarcastically.

“Well I might as well get to the point,” Sunwoo chided, glancing back at Kevin. “So?”

Kevin, who was observing you and Sunwoo with the same amused smile that Juyeon was, motioned the three of you over as he led you in the direction of his drawings. “I’m not so sure if they’re good, or conceptual, but I suppose you could judge that for yourself,” he told Sunwoo, coming to a halt in front of a display of drawings.

The drawings were lively and bright; colours in the form of pastels and charcoal bringing richness and warmth to the image. Most of his drawings depicted a faceless person. There were multiple drawings where the person was being portrayed from the back, and ones that were head-on didn’t have any facial features.

“These are amazing,” you breathed out, enchanted by the creativity of the drawings, as well as the immense detail that went into them.

“I like them,” Sunwoo decided, causing Juyeon to nod in agreement.

“They’re really good,” Juyeon complimented his friend, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m really glad you decided to put something on display this year.” Juyeon knew all about the artistic slump Kevin was in last year, so he didn’t have any art on display.

Kevin thanked Juyeon quietly, still studying your expression. “Can I ask why they’re faceless?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied the drawings further.

“Ah, that,” Kevin began, an uncharacteristic shyness appearing in his tone. “Well, I’ve been inspired by somebody for a few months now,” he explained. “I suppose I made my drawings faceless because I don’t want people to know who my muse is. I’m not ready to face how I feel when I draw them yet, and I think it’s too personal to put in an exhibition.”

You nodded your head, understanding where he was coming from. “That’s really great. I hope that one day I’ll get to see their face,” you said kindly, genuinely enjoying his art. Your eyes widened as you realised something. “Hey, do you know the other students in your major well?” you asked him.

Kevin raised an eyebrow at your sudden change of topic. “Yeah, I think so. We’re a small major and I have all of my 300-level classes with all the same people. Why do you ask?”

“Would you be able to recognise one of your peer’s work?” you inquired, the sketchbook in your dorm room burning a hole in your mind. He might be able to solve my curiosity.

“Maybe,” Kevin drawled slowly. “Why?” he found your sudden change of pace surprising. “What’s up?”

“Well, I found someone’s sketchbook in one of my classes and I was wondering who it belonged to,” you began, hesitating before bringing up the sketchbook you found in your Psychology class. “But they didn’t put their name on it so I can’t return it to the owner. It was really detailed and skilled work, so I thought they might be a fine arts major.”

Kevin’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

His worst nightmare had come true: you had found his sketchbook. His sketchbook that was filled with his heart-felt drawings of you. And here you were, asking him if he knew who it belonged to. Somehow, it was equal parts thrilling and mortifying.

Sunwoo, having heard about your secret admirer decided to check out a different part of the exhibition, but Juyeon – who was hearing this for the first time – stayed out of curiosity. “You found someone’s sketchbook?” he repeated. “What was in it?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Well, here’s the thing… There’s some drawings of me in it,” you admitted, feeling shy about divulging everything about the sketchbook to Kevin. “I just… I guess I want to meet the person that made me feel so vibrant and beautiful when looking at the drawings.”

“You have an admirer,” Juyeon realised, beaming at you; eyes squinting into little crescents. “That’s adorable. Does it say anything inside?”

“Yeah it does, actually,” you told him, giving him a smile before meeting Kevin’s eyes again. “All of the drawings are signed with the handle Moon scribbles,” you recalled. “No name or phone number, though.”

Juyeon’s brows furrowed together. “Kev, isn’t Moon scribbles-“

“A really interesting name?” Kevin cut Juyeon off, sending him the clear message that he wasn’t ready to tell you about the fact that you were his muse and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Getting the message, Juyeon eagerly agreed, thanking Kevin for finishing his train of thought. “Um, I don’t think I’ve heard of it before. But if you show me the drawings, maybe I could recognise the style?” Kevin suggested, coming up with a solution for you to find the owner of the sketchbook.

“That would be really great, actually,” you acknowledged. “I could bring it by the next time we hang out,” you suggested, excited to figure out who you should thank for their hard work.

“Next time?” Kevin echoed, excitement filling his stomach. “Are you really so eager to solve your mystery?” he teased you.

“Well, you’re not such a bad addition,” you added with a wink.

Kevin’s heart soared.

You met up with Kevin in the library a few days later to show him your sketchbook. It was good timing because you definitely needed to study for your Psychology class after zoning out in your last few lectures, so the library was the perfect setting to meet.

“Hey,” you greeted Kevin, taking the seat next to him on one of the sofas in the more secluded area of the library.

“Hi,” Kevin mumbled in return, his voice sounding quieter and more hoarse than usual. At first, you thought it might be the fact that he had to whisper that made him sound more quiet. Then, you spotted the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was wearing glasses, which he didn’t normally do.

“You okay?” you asked him, seeing him stretch out and yawn in his seat.

“Me?” Kevin murmured, meeting your gaze with tired, glazed-over eyes. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Not to sound like an asshole who’s telling you that you look terrible, which I’m not, but you look really tired,” you had to tell Kevin. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You look like you could use some sleep.”

“Sleep,” Kevin said the word like it’s funny. “Sleep and I… we aren’t friends.”

You smiled sympathetically at your new friend. “Up all night studying?” you wondered.

“Insomnia,” Kevin corrected you.

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. “So sleep is… a distant acquaintance?” you played off his previous joke.

“Something like that,” he allowed, moving his glasses up onto his forehead to rub his eyes. “I’m good, though. I look like this most days, don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so,” you trail off, your concern still not being calmed by Kevin’s explanation. “We can do this anther time if it helps, though. I wouldn’t want you to be unwell because of me.”

Kevin grinned, adjusting the beanie on his head. “But I couldn’t possibly be unwell if I’m around you,” he said, pointing his finger in the air as if he had made an excellent realisation. “Now, show me the sketchbook.”

You pulled the sketchbook out of your tote bag and handed it over to him.

Seeing it right in front of him, Kevin could confirm that it was definitely his sketch book that you had found. Although the chances of another person on campus being entirely smitten by you to the point where you became their artistic muse was slim, it wasn’t zero.

“Can I,” he motioned to the sketchbook, asking for permission to open it. It was incredibly ironic, but Kevin was too embarrassed to come clean about the sketchbook being his.

“Go ahead,” you nodded, telling him to flip through the pages.

Kevin did so, pretending he was seeing all the drawings for the first time. He paused on every page, looking over the details in the sketches and the way they realistically depicted your features. Even though he was the one who drew them, Kevin could admit that the drawings were really great. They were great because he appreciated the subject and was inspired by you. That much was clear to anybody.

“Wow,” Kevin said when he was done looking at all the drawings, holding the sketchbook on his lap. “That’s… you,” he observed, as if he didn’t already know.

“So I’m not crazy?” you asked immediately, biting your lip. “That’s me?” you glanced down at the open page in front of Kevin, seeing the resemblance between you and the person in the drawing.

“Oh it’s definitely you,” Kevin confirmed. “Unless you have an identical twin somewhere out there, there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s you.”

You let out a relieved sigh, leaning back onto the sofa. “Okay, good. I thought I was being really shallow and presumptuous at first but it’s good that you agree,” you told him, feeling a weight being lifted off your chest. “So, does it look familiar?”

“I’m not sure,” Kevin replied vaguely, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one. “Do you think I could keep this? Maybe look over it a few more times when I’m not about to pass out,” he added.

“Sure,” you allowed. You trusted Kevin enough that he wouldn’t lose the sketchbook, since all of your mutual friends spoke very highly of him. Besides, you were becoming more impressed by him every time the two of you met. “I hope something comes up. I looked moonscribbles up on Instagram but their account is private and they haven’t responded to my follow request yet.”

Kevin had completely forgotten about his private art Instagram account. Before he was inspired by you to draw, he was in a serious slump and had been spiralling downwards. In this time, he made his Instagram account private in an effort to not think about it too much. Kevin scolded himself for not realising that you would look him up on social media to find him.

“That’s too bad,” he said sympathetically. “Maybe they’ll respond soon?”

“I hope so,” you mumbled, sighing. “I just… I want to meet them.”

“Just out of curiosity, why do you want to meet them so badly?” Kevin wondered. “Because they drew pretty pictures of you?”

“Kind of?” you replied unsurely. “That’s definitely part of it. I guess I wanted to meet somebody who thought I was vibrant and colourful and beautiful,” you shrugged, glancing down at your lap. “Because I don’t think that about myself at all. It’s why I suck at acting, and it’s why my cast mates hate me. I just thought that if somebody out there really thought I was special, maybe I would have a reason to believe it, too.”

Kevin felt butterflies rising in his stomach again, but not in a fluttery, nervous way. He was anxious about what was going to happen. “I’ll do my best to help out,” he said gently. “And Y/n?” you looked back up at Kevin. “I think you’re special,” he admitted. “A lot of people do. Juyeon, Sunwoo, Eric, Younghoon… You don’t need Moon scribbles to be special, you’re already special to us.”

A grateful, shy smile spread across your lips at his words. “Thanks, Kev. For your help, and for saying that. I really appreciate it,” you acknowledged afterwards, realising that Kevin was going out of his way to figure out your mystery while he was dead tired.

Noticing the shift in atmosphere, you cleared your throat and changed the subject, heart hammering. “I’m going to stay here and study for my Psychology class, so you don’t have to stay if you’d rather get some sleep.”

“Psychology?” Kevin echoed. “Are you taking it with Professor Shin?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “She talks so fast that my hand feels like it’s going to fall off after her lectures,” you complained.

Kevin laughed. “I can relate,” he commented. “I didn’t think you were in my class. I’m in section fifteen, what about you?”

“Section twenty-two,” you said, shrugging. “Although I’m glad to hear that it’s not just my class that she’s driving crazy.”

“Ditto,” Kevin agreed. “I actually have to get some studying done for that class too. You mind if I stay?”

“Not at all,” you promised. “It always helps to study with a friend,” you added, pulling out your notes and laptop from your tote bag.

After setting up all of your work, you quickly got to studying, cross-referencing terms from your notes to the textbook to make sure you didn’t write down anything wrong in your hurry. Kevin was silent and still beside you, which you took no notice of because you were so focused. In your distraction, he soon drifted off to sleep with his pencil still in hand, head lulling back to rest on the sofa as his eyes shut by their own accord.

Forty minutes later, you had finished both of the units on Social Psychology and furrowed your brows at an unfamiliar name. “Hey Kev, did you guys talk about-“ you paused after turning to face your new friend, seeing that he was peacefully sleeping, his head now leaning to the side to face you.

The sight of him sleeping peacefully warmed your heart, especially after he had talked about his insomnia earlier. Smiling, you pulled your headphones out of your tote bag so you could listen to the recorded lectures in favour of waking up Kevin to ask him for help. As carefully as you could, you slid the pencil out of his palm and placed it to the side so he could get some rest.

You spent the next half an hour studying in silence, until you noticed Eric, Sunwoo and Jacob walking up to you and Kevin. “Hey,” Sunwoo greeted you, earning a wave from you.

“Hi guys,” you whispered back. “What’s up?”

“Are you and Kevin dating?” Eric interrupted whatever Sunwoo was about to say, an excited glint in his eyes. “You guys are in the make-out section of the library!”

You made a face. “That’s why nobody’s here?” you realised, looking around and frowning. “No, Eric. We’re just studying together.”

Jacob grinned. “Looks like Kevin’s making really great progress on that front,” he teased. “I’m Jacob, by the way,” he added, since the two of you hadn’t properly been introduced yet.

“I’m Y/n,” you replied. “Nice to finally meet you! These rascals have told me all about you,” you motioned to Sunwoo and Eric, who beamed proudly.

“I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” Jacob replied. “And I’ve come to collect Kevin. If he doesn’t wake up soon, he’s going to miss his Ceramics class,” he explained.

“Aw,” you pouted, glancing over at Kevin. “He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, though. And he said he was struggling to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. “I hate waking him. Believe me, I’m his roommate so I see it all first-hand. But attendance is graded in this class, so…” he trailed off with a small shrug before leaning over and waking Kevin up.

Kevin awoke, eyes blinking drowsily as he took in the image of four people staring at him. “What did I do?” he asked, wondering what prompted all the attention.

You grinned, finding the sight rather cute. “Your wake-up service is here to tell you it’s ceramics time,” you explained.

“I fell asleep,” Kevin realised. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, feeling bad that you were studying in silence when you were supposed to be helping each other out.

“Don’t be, I’m glad you got some shut-eye,” you assured him. “Go get ready for your class.”

Kevin gathered all of his things into his bag and waved his goodbyes, trudging out of the library with Jacob. “So,” Jacob began, a wide grin gracing his features. “That’s Y/n?” he teased.

“Yes, that’s Y/n,” Kevin replied quietly.

“The famous Y/n?”

“Oh my god please tell me you didn’t say anything to Y/n.”

“What should I have said? Oh so you’re the Y/n that Kevin has been in love with all semester! The famous muse! Nice to meet you, I’m the guy that has to listen to him gush about you.”

“Don’t make me hide your guitar.”

moonscribbles accepted your follow request!

You sat up from where you were lying down on your bed, startled at the notification you had just received. Racing to open your Instagram app, you looked at moonscribbles’s account. None of the drawings on their account were of you, so you couldn’t decide if they were the right person. But they simply had to be. They went to your school, they studied art…

Braving it, you decided to send them a private message.

Hi! I think I found your sketchbook in Professor Shin’s lecture hall. How do you want me to return it to you?

You waited for a response, which came within a minute.

You can keep it.

You were pouting over your cereal in the dining hall when Juyeon joined you, his plate stacked high with all kinds of delicious breakfast foods. “Hey pouty,” he teased you, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge when he took the seat next to yours. His smile never failed to cheer you up, which is why your frown caused concern to grow in your best friend. “Why the long face?”

“I’m never going to meet moonscribbles,” you told him, your eyes uncharacteristically sad and shiny when they met Juyeon’s.

He startled at how upset you were. “What? Why would you say that?”

“They accepted my follow request on Instagram,” you explained. “And they told me I could keep the sketchbook. Then they went offline,” you recalled. “I guess I was wrong about them.”

“I’m sorry. Whoever they are, they clearly have no idea what they’re missing.” Juyeon frowned, sympathetic of your situation and confused about what Kevin thought he was doing.

“What who’s missing?” Jacob and Eric took the seats opposite you and Juyeon, their plates equally filled with breakfast foods.

“Moon scribbles,” you said vaguely, not wanting to get into it with anyone other than Juyeon and Sunwoo. While you were starting to get to know Jacob better, you didn’t feel comfortable enough around them to discuss the matter with them. And of course you loved Eric, and he knew your situation, but you hadn’t anticipated feeling so upset about Moon scribbles’s response.

“Kevin?” Jacob asked innocently, picking up his fork and elbowing Eric so he wouldn’t steal his food. “What did he do?”

Your eyes snapped over to Jacob. “What did you just say?” you asked. Juyeon’s eyes widened, mouth slightly open as Jacob revealed Kevin’s secret to you without even realising it.

“I was asking what Kevin did,” Jacob repeated. “You said Moon scribbles, didn’t you? Kevin’s artist handle?”

“That’s clever,” Eric chimed in, innocently eating his food. “Since his last name is Moon, and all.” Then his eyes widened and he realised the situation, his gaze snapping over at you to see how you were handling the reveal.

In that moment, you’d never felt like more of an idiot.

“Kevin is Moon scribbles,” you echoed, dropping your fork onto your tray.

“Oh,” Jacob paused, reading the room as he saw the way Juyeon was staring at him. “Did you… not know that?”

“No,” you told him, having lost your already minimal appetite. “He didn’t say a thing.”

“Oh boy,” Jacob said awkwardly. “I feel like I definitely just messed up.”

“No, no,” you denied, waving your hand in Jacob’s direction. “Not at all. I’m just glad that I know who it is,” you tried to convince him, as well as yourself. “Did you know?” you asked Juyeon. “That day at the exhibition… You were trying to tell me that you knew it was Kevin, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I knew,” Juyeon replied slowly, confirming your suspicions.

For a moment, a dull pain ached in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, hurt that your best friend had lied to you.

“Because I figured Kevin wanted to tell you in his own time,” he explained. “I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you, I just thought he’d do the right thing and explain it to you himself. It felt like it wasn’t my news to tell.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “I understand,” you got to your feet, grabbing your tray after putting your bag on your shoulder.

Juyeon stood up with you. “Are you upset with me?” he asked. “Because I understand if you are.”

You did your best to smile, not caring if it looked real or not. “I’m not upset with you,” you assured him. “I’m upset, but not at you. I have to get to the last dress rehearsal before opening night, so,” you glanced over at Jacob and Eric, who both looked mortified. “Enjoy your breakfast,” you told them before putting your tray away and walking to the theatre as quickly as you could.

“Hey!” your director greeted you when you came in, beaming. “You’re like a half hour early,” she observed.

“Oh, I’ve just come to go over lines and talk to some friends,” you lied, smiling at her before stepping backstage. The set design volunteers were adding last-minute touched to their sets, and you knew that was where you’d find Kevin.

“Hey,” he greeted you when you arrived in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Moon scribbles doesn’t want their sketchbook back,” you told him, as if you didn’t know that he was Moon scribbles. “So you don’t have to keep looking for them,” you added.

“Oh, okay,” Kevin nodded as if he didn’t already know this. “Did you want the sketchbook back?”

“You can keep it,” you declined, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s rightfully yours anyway.”

Kevin paused his painting. “It is?” he asked, voice squeaking just slightly in surprise.

“Yeah, Moon scribbles,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “Besides, it’s the only way you’ll get to see me ever again, anyway,” you added, frowning as you turned around to go. “Bye, Kevin.”

“Wait,” Kevin put his fine paintbrush down to stop you from leaving.

“What?” you asked him, facing him with a raised eyebrow. “You know what, I actually really want to hear this. What exactly is it that you’re going to say to save this situation?” you wondered.

Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for it to go on this long,” he began.

“That’s a joke,” you accused. “You knew how much this meant to me! Just admit that you were never going to tell me that you’re Moon scribbles.”

“How could I tell you?” Kevin exclaimed, startling you with his sudden increase in volume. “How could I just come forward and tell you that it was me? What would you have thought of me?”

“I’d have thought more of you than I do now,” you retorted. “Look, I get it now. I read the situation all wrong. You don’t think I’m special or vibrant or any of those things. You just drew me because I was there, I suppose,” you decided, feeling your heart dropping in your chest at your own words.

“That is not true,” Kevin denied, shaking his head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I suppose you might have though I was pretty if you drew me,” you allowed. “But clearly, I was putting too much onto this whole Moon scribbles thing, and it didn’t mean anything to you at all. Which is fine, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It just sucks that you couldn’t just tell me that to my face,” you confessed wholeheartedly. “But it’s fine. You can just go back to drawing your faceless muse now, I’m over it,” you lied.

“That’s not why I didn’t want to tell you that I’m Moon scribbles,” Kevin insisted. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I drew you just because you’re beautiful.”

“That worked out well,” you muttered.

Kevin sighed. “I don’t care about your looks, as ironic as that sounds. When I first saw you… You exuded an aura. I know that sounds cheesy and not everyone believes in vibes or energy, or whatever, but it’s true. You inspired me to draw and be creative,” he explained. “But I liked you when I met you. When I saw you in class and when I saw you around Sunwoo and Juyeon. You don’t get it. You are my faceless muse. You have been ever since our Cultural Anthropology class last semester.”

That stopped your train of thought. “You were in that class?” you repeated, confused.

“Yes I was. The first time I saw you… I swear, I haven’t drawn anything other than you since that day,” Kevin’s tone was uncharacteristically serious, and you felt inclined to believe him. “No matter how hard I tried. Flowers turned into your eyes, landscapes became your hair; I was a man possessed. I still am.”

“Then why not tell me all of this?” you wondered, frustrated with the situation.

“I thought that if you found out I was Moon scribbles, you’d just think I was shallow,” he paused. “Or worse.”

You rose an eyebrow. “Worse?”

Now it was Kevin’s turn to sound frustrated. “I mean, I’m not so great and special. I figured you’d be disappointed that it’s me.”

Your heart clenched for him. “How could I be disappointed that it’s you?” you asked him. “You’re great. It’s me who’s awful.”

“You aren’t awful,” he denied. “You’re so much greater than you can see. Don’t you get it? You inspired me to create after the most awful year I’ve ever had artistically. I drew you instead of studying, I drew you instead of leaving my dorm, hell, I drew you instead of sleeping. You didn’t misunderstand anything. I do think that you’re special, and vibrant.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Okay,” you spoke quietly, your mind spinning in circles. “I believe you.”

Kevin nodded. “Good.”

You nodded back at him, unsure of how to continue. “So… You have a sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you decided to tease him, just to bring some of the usual lightheartedness you felt around Kevin back.

Kevin visibly reddened at your words. “I mean… I’d be lying if I said it was just one,” he confessed.

You brightened at his words. “You have multiple sketchbooks full of drawings of me?” you exclaimed.

“I made drawings of you for the art exhibition,” he reminded you. “I haven’t been able to draw anything else for seven months. And I draw a lot, so the sketchbooks just started piling up. Plus my iPad,” catching the delighted glint in your eyes, Kevin cut himself off. “You know what, we don’t have to talk about my iPad.”

You smiled, flattered that Kevin had been so inspired by you. “Well, thank you. For filling sketchbooks and iPads and whatever other mediums with drawings of me. You made me feel seen for the first time in a really long time, and I appreciate it,” you acknowledged his efforts. “Is this why everyone acts so weird when we’re together?” you put the pieces together.

“What are you talking about?” Kevin asked, dreading your answer.

“Eric practically skips over to me whenever he sees me now, asking about you and all kinds of other things. Jacob is a lot more subtle, but he looks at me like a proud dad sometimes,” you explained.

Kevin rested his palm against his forehead. “Why are they so obvious?”

“The real question is: Why was Juyeon the least obvious,” you retorted.

“I think he just wanted us both to figure things out in our own time,” Kevin mused, earning a hum and a nod in agreement from you.

“Hey Y/n,” Younghoon poked his head around the corner. “We’re getting ready for rehearsals. Are you going to be done in time to change?” he asked, eyes flitting between you and Kevin.

“Yeah, I’m good to start getting ready. Thanks Younghoon,” you agreed, grateful that your friend wasn’t making a big deal out of what he might have overheard. Younghoon nodded, disappearing with a wink to get himself ready. “Well, that’s my cue,” you trailed off, motioning to the backstage area where you had to get changed for your last dress rehearsal.

Kevin nodded, slightly upset that your conversation didn’t come to a closure yet. “Okay,” he replied. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

You agreed with him, grabbing your bag from where you dropped it on the floor and making your way to the changing rooms. Before you opened the door, you turned back to face Kevin, who had been watching you leave. “I came to your exhibition, so you have to come to opening night,” you reminded him of the agreement the two of you made.

“I’ll be there,” Kevin assured you, taking it as a sign that the two of you could still – at the very least – be friends.

“Good,” you smiled. “And after opening night, we have a few days off so I would definitely be available, say, Wednesday?” you informed him, hoping he’d get the idea.

Kevin brightened up, his posture straightening suddenly. “Oh?” he stammered. “Would you maybe want to get dinner on Wednesday?” he offered. “Like, a date?”

You grinned, your eye dropping into a wink. “What an excellent idea,” you told him. “By the way, don’t bother asking the boys about what I like, they’re completely clueless. My favourite flowers are peonies.”

“Peonies,” Kevin repeated, accompanied by a nod. “Any preferred colour?” he asked, giddy with excitement at the outcome your confrontation had.

You shrugged. “Surprise me.”

note: okay i know you guys waited forever for this so thank you so much for your patience!! i hope you guys enjoyed it xx

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #kevin #kevin imagines #kevin x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #the boyz fanfic #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #kevin moon #2k celebration

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dearkusuo · 3 years

Text

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed.

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along.

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers.

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun.

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future.

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret.

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him.

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again.

The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook.

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face.

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit.

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum.

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision?

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out.

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home.

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes.

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki no psi nan

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weebswrites · 4 years

Note

How would the demon bros react to an artist MC who secretly sketches them and they find MC’s sketchbook~?

The Demon Bros: Finding MC’s Sketchbook

Lucifer

He goes to your room to check on you and sees your sketchbook lying open on your bed

He doesn’t want to invade your privacy, but he can’t help but take a peek at what it is you’re working on

He’s seen you working hard on something for the past few days and has been curious

He steps towards your bed and looks down at the page

It’s him!

His eyes scan the page, taking in how handsomely you’ve portrayed him, sitting at his desk working

He smiles and flips the pages to see what else you’ve drawn

It’s all him ? Reading, cooking, talking, existing. You’ve captured him in every light

You walk back into your room

“Lucifer!” you gasp, rushing over and shutting the sketchbook, in denial that he saw the pages and pages of himself

“What did you see” you ask him, standing on your tiptoes to try to intimidate him

He debates whether or not to lie, but knows how strongly you value honesty and communication

“I saw a few, but, they’re all incredible, MC. You don’t have to hide them from me”

You blush, “I just didn’t know if you’d think it’s weird that I draw you so much”

He leans down and kisses you, gently, whispering “It’s not weird at all, it’s quite flattering actually” against your lips

You spend the next bit of time going through your sketchbook, showing him the sketches and explaining how he made your heart race

Mammon

You two are chilling in your room on your bed, chatting about this and that

He reaches over to your nightstand and grabs the sketchbook, “Hey, human, what’re you always drawing in here anyways” he asks innocently

“Mammon no!” you try to grab the book from his hands but he’s already opened it

He goes silent, flipping through page after page of sketches and drawings of him, some colored, some not

“Mammon…I can explain…” you whisper, face red with embarrassment

He shakes his head no and continues flipping through each page, the silence in the room making you nervous

After he’s done looking he closes the book, “Mah human~” he says lovingly, and leans over and presses a kiss to your lips

“I shoulda known you were drawing The Great Mammon, what else would you draw?” he teased, kissing you again before returning the sketchbook to your nightstand

You giggle, “Exactly, what else would be so worthy of the pages than you?”

He teases you about it from time to time when he sees you sketching, but you know that seeing page upon page of himself in your sketchbook really struck a chord in his heart (sometimes he poses for you but tries to act like it’s just how he’s naturally sitting, but you both know that’s a lie) (and he looks at you with so much love in his eyes when he knows you’re drawing him, it fills your heart with such a warm feeling)

Leviathan

He’s on his fourth hour of playing through a new game

You normally play with him, but it’s not MPG, so you’re just watching him and refilling the snack bowl for the two of you when it gets empty

One trip back you stop by your room and get your sketchbook and favorite pencil

You drop the snacks beside him and sit on his bed, beginning to sketch the back of his head and body looking at the monitor

He doesn’t notice at first, but during a scene change when the screen goes black he sees you sketching, glancing up at him from time to time

“MC, what are you drawing?” he asks

“Uhh…nothing really” you stammer, hoping he didn’t catch on to your obvious lie

He does, of course, and pauses his game to come look

You try to hide your page, but don’t stop him when he sits next to you and lifts it from your arms

“Babe…” he whispers, admiring the work you’d done in such a short time, before flipping a page back and seeing another sketch of him

“I just…you’re my everything, Levi, and sometimes I see you and I just, have to capture the moment” you explain

“These are incredible, why haven’t you shown me sooner?” he asks, flipping through page after page of your work

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, thinking I was always trying to draw you

“I appreciate that,” he says, stopping on a page to admire a drawing from a few weeks ago of him reading a manga, “You have so much talent”

He showers you in compliments and after a brief kiss, goes back to his game, resuming the same position he was in earlier so you could finish your drawing

Satan

You were in the library on the couch, he was rereading a favorite book and you were sketching

You sat on either end of the couch, facing each other with your legs intertwined

You’d been working on sketching your view of this for about an hour, and were proud of how well it was going

Suddenly, Satan closes his book at you and meets your eyes as they were studying his face

“Can I ask what you’re studying my face so intently for?” he asks bluntly, never holding back any punches

And you didn’t either, “I’m…drawing us. And I want to capture your face as accurately as possible” you explain

He holds his hand out for you to hand over the sketchbook, and you do after a quick glance down to look at your work

He studies your drawing before flipping to the beginning and looking through each page, admiring each one

You watched as his eyes took in every inch of every page

“Satan?” you ask, wanting to hear his thoughts

“MC, I had no idea you had so much talent” he whispered, taking minutes on each page, sincerely admiring the time and effort you’d put into each drawing

“I hope it’s okay I draw you a lot, you’re always on my mind and I want to capture every moment we have together”

“It’s perfectly, kitten” he reassures you, a light blush crossing his face as he reached the piece you were working on currently again, scanning it before handing you back your sketchbook

“Show me your work more often, it’s beautiful”

You smile, falling even more in love with him than you thought was humanly (or demonly) possible

“I will”

Asmodeus

You’re a bit tipsy, whoops

“What are you always drawing in that sketchbook of yours, anyways” he teases, poking your shoulder

“Nothinggg” you defend yourself

“Then show me if it’s nothing” he smirks, getting off your bed and walking to your desk, flipping open your sketchbook to a random page

The random page happened to be a page with a drawing of him, sitting at his desk and applying a face cream

“Honey…is this a drawing of me?” he asks, voice soft

“Yeah” you say, getting up and walking over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist

“They’re all of you” you explain, scanning through the pages with your thumb

He takes a bit to flip through the pages slower, appreciating each drawing for a moment before moving to the next

After he’s done he closes the book and turns to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips

“Seeing myself from your eyes…it was amazing” he whispered, pulling away, “Your art is amazing”

“Thanks, Asmo” you say, smiling and kissing him again

He absolutely makes you draw him posing now, he’ll sit in any pose he can think of, in all sorts of cute or seductive outfits, letting you draw him for hours and hours

Sometimes he’ll wear an outfit, and well, the drawing doesn’t last long lol

Beelzebub

He doesn’t want to pry at what you’re doing, but you can tell by the way his eyes linger whenever you’re drawing that he’s curious

After you get a good portion of the way done with your current drawing, you scoot next to him

(You’re in the kitchen, because duh)

“Beel, can I show you what I’ve been working on?”

“Of course, my love”

You turn the sketchbook from your chest to his eyes, handing it to him

He takes it, carefully admiring the most recent few pages

His heart is beating fast, the fact that you saw him and wanted to draw him made him so soft

“MC…” he whispers

“Beel?”

“These are so good, your talent is undeniable” he praises you

“Thank you” you reply, heart warmed by his kind words

“You…always draw me. Why?” he asks

“You always stick out to me, love. You’re handsome and strong and the love of my life. Sometimes I get hit with a wave of appreciation for you and want to capture the moment” you explain

He smiles, blushing more before leaning in and kissing you

After a few kisses you two pull away, resting your foreheads together

“I love you, Beel”

“I love you too, MC”

Belphegor

You keep it Very on the down low when you’re drawing him

You know he doesn’t like attention on him, even when it’s from you, and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable

One day he catches you

The two of you are in his room, he’s reading something on his phone and you’re sketching

You always told him it was for your art class, which was sometimes true, at least

“MC, can I see what you’re working on” he asks

You hesitate for a moment, “Belphie, I’m…I’m drawing you” you confess, lowering your head a bit

He just looks at you, “Oh…”

“If it makes you uncomfortable I’ll stop, it’s just sometimes you look so peaceful I want to capture it forever” you ramble

“Hey, MC, it’s okay. I trust you” he says, holding out his hand for you to give him the sketchbook

You do so, and study his face intently as he flips through the pages

He stops at one, and you glance to see which one it is

It’s one from a few weeks ago, he was mid-nap, hair messy and face perfectly calm

“You’re so talented” he commented, “this one in particular, the level of detail is impressive”

“Thanks” you say, letting out a sigh of relief and laughing a bit

“You should show me more often, I’d love to see more of your work. Even if it’s just drawings of me” he teases lightly

You smile, nodding, “Yeah, I will”

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

A/N: wow I’m not doing too hot on posting every day am I lol, but I’ve gotten some really fun requests (like this one !! thank u anon I loved writing this so much) and they’re keeping me motivated

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcannon #obey me headcannons #obey me reader insert #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader

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teacup-crow · 3 years

Text

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?”

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

#wolf 359 #bad things happen bingo #Daniel Jacobi #isabel lovelace #w359

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okaywitheverything · 4 years

Note

hi! can i request minato fall for naruto kindergarten teacher please? thank you 😁

Ma'am: A Possible New Mom? Minato x KindergartenTeacher!Reader

My actual first request! Hope I did it justice! Thank you honey for the request. I wrote some sort of mixed AU so I hope you don't mind.

A/N: This took a lot of time because I have a lot of tests every month. Also i threw up a week ago and was somewhat sick. Then I lost the two drafts and was so irritated with ms word but somehow I managed to write again. So a lot of blood, sweat and tears went into this. Please shower it with love if you even read this awful Author’s note.

Positive A/N: I did like how it turned out tho, the ending is too cute and you won't know what to expect as I didn't either. I genuinely hope you have fun reading this piece.

Word count: 3K

Your POV

“It must be fun to play with the kids all day."

People who think that are the biggest fools on the planet in the universe.

You were picking up the various toys scattered throughout the main classroom, sorting them category wise while the kids took a nap. Most of them anyways.

A few babies had insane amount of energies that they refused to sleep whatsoever. But it wasn't as big a problem as people think it is. All kids have different strengths, a variety of ways to function and unique physiology. You knew if a kid was not tired, forcing him or her to doze off isn't healthy.

Just let the kids be.

So that explains why Naruto was alongside you helping you to collect the sponge shurikens scattered around while you put away the stuffed ninkens on the high shelf. Usually Kiba and Rock Lee would be awake as well, and this trio would play in the hall until their limbs gave out but today even they slept after tiring poor Akamaru out for weird challenges.

“Ma’am, I almost forgot! I want to show you something! Come with me!” Naruto suddenly grabbed your hand leaving his task in the midst and urging you to leave yours too. You looked at him puzzled but giggled at his enthusiasm nonetheless, sometimes kids were too darn cute. You loved the ways kids’ eyes lit up, so optimistic and happy and hopeful until the world snatched it all away. You wanted to preserve this for as long as could.

He took you to the room where the kids kept their small backpacks filled with their favourite articles that they thought were absolutely necessary to take everywhere.

No Neji, you don’t need to have three combs for the care of your luscious hair every possible instant.

Naruto generally brought a lot of snacks which you had to retain sometimes so that he would eat healthy but it became even harder to do so when all he wanted was for Sasuke to taste the tomatoey flavour ‘these’ chips had and gift Rock Lee the curry flavour. That boy had a heart of gold.

He pulled the zipper of his orange backpack open, and took out a stuffed fox.

“Ma’am meet Kurama! I told him all about you and he wanted to meet you!” He held Kurama up while you were gently petting the plushie’s head, he was so excited to see your happiness to meet his esteemed companion.

These kids and their imaginations! You loved every ounce of it!

“Hello Mr. Kurama!” You didn’t feign excitement, you actually were. You loved kids and their creativity and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“He’s my best friend! Don’t tell anyone else though! Others might get sad.”

You did an action of zipping your lips, “Your secret is safe with me, sweetie.”

“Look! I also drew something!” He hastily handed you Kurama and proceeded to take out his yellow sketchbook. He kept turning pages filled with rainbows of colours morphing into one another that made some sense in his cute, little head and finally reached his desired page. He pulled your dress with his little chubby hands, an action he often did when he wanted you to sit beside him. You kneeled down, his plushie settled in your lap now as you waited for him to go ahead.

He handed you his open sketchbook where there were three figures, two adults and one kid judging by the height, all wearing triangular outfits. One kid and an adult had striking yellow hair and blue eyes while the other adult wore an orange dress with a large circle in their hands. On closer inspection, you saw your own hair colour and eye colour being illustrated to the best of the toddler’s ability, as far as the crayons allowed him to portray it. You had a circle in your hands, almost the size of your drawn head with black spots in between while the child in the photo held an orange squishy ball. To save you from your confusion, Naruto came to the rescue and started explaining.

“That’s me and Dada over here. And I’m playing with Kurama! And that’s you Ma’am! Bringing me and dada cookies for being good boys like you do in class!”

Your heart melted right there and then. For some reason, your face heated up too.

“Oh my God, honey, that’s amazing!” You pecked his cheek as Naruto blushed slightly and rubbed his head, “You liked it?”

“I Loved it! What did Dada say about it?”

“He got so red like Sasuke’s tomatoes haha. But he put it on our fridge like my other drawings and he said it was the best one yet.”

Before you could reply, crying was heard from the nap room and you sighed. Looks like someone woke up.

“Yay, someone is up! We can now play!” Naruto began running but you stopped him.

“Let’s be sure to pack this all up before, Ma’am Anko will see to your friend okay?”

Minato was waiting alongside other parents, it was 10 minutes till the kindergarten was over. His mind wandered afar, thinking about his journey to this town.

Minato was very afraid when he moved to Konoha, about Naruto settling in and making friends. Of course, back in his previous town he had already got Naruto a place in the best Kindergarten there, pulling all the needed strings but his promotion caught him off guard. Being a single parent was hard enough as it is, and with the worry of adjusting to new surroundings for his growing son, he was almost going to decline the offer. Only after much conviction from his friends that he deserved this, he took the offer, albeit hesitantly.

He was happy with his new workspace and colleagues as well, and was over the moon when he one of his erudite associates had a son the same age as his own, and recommended the city’s best kindergarten where his son was set to go. He went blindly on his associate’s word, because he knew him to be a wise dad.

For the first two months, he had to work relentlessly to prove his position as the new leader in the branch, and so he had his assistant pick Naruto up while he prepared lunch at home for his precious boy, barely making it home fifteen minutes before they did. But when the company celebrated their first real accomplishment, only then did Minato feel he could take a step back and indulge with his son more as he used to do.

When he began picking him up himself, he realised what he had been missing on: small quirky tales, new words his toddler learned, new friends’ names, his favourite teacher’s cookies apparently. Minato quickly noticed, being the perceptive man he was, that Naruto could go hours and hours talking about his Ma’am. He would have thought of it as a crush, had Naruto been older.

But when he first saw you, he could relate to his son if Naruto did have a crush. He knew he was being superficial, being attracted to your appearance at first sight but he couldn’t help himself that you were almost ethereal, too gorgeous to be true. It seemed as if you were glowing when you laughed alongside the kids or held one of them on your shoulders while searching for the parents.

However, your personality was even more so captivating when he finally talked to you at the parents-teachers conference. You were such a quality teacher, he deduced when he noticed how apt you were at describing each kid individually and how dedicated to their growth you were. He loved the bond you had with Naruto, the boy couldn’t stop grinning upon meeting you on his day off.

The bell rung, breaking him out of his reverie, and he waited as the kids ran to the parents, waving goodbyes here and there, ready for their weekend. He could hear your faint shouting over the buzz, “Make sure you have taken all your belongings, kiddos! Have a good weekend!”

He knew if you had a special place in his son’s heart, he could let you stay in his heart as well.

It was 8 PM, one hour past the Uzumaki kid’s bedtime, but the blatantly crying kid was nowhere near sleeping. A distressed Minato held him on his hip, as he searched the entire house for his favourite plushie, Kurama, without whom Naruto had never slept.

“We’ll find him, Naru. Do you remember where you last saw it?” Minato asked, pausing and sitting in the comfy sofa, looking at Naruto, hoping he’d have an answer.

Naruto’s wails quietened down, fortunately there were no tears, as he pondered and spoke, “I last showed it to Ma’am!”

Minato sighed, he grasped that Naruto would have left it at the playschool because no inch of his house was unsearched. He settled Naruto down on the couch as he deliberated calling you over a toy. He had your number for emergencies, but was this one? The real objection, the actual reluctance he had for calling was totally different though. He hated to admit it, but talking to Naruto’s daydream of a teacher always left him stuttering like a teenager. He could barely listen and respond when he met her at the kindergarten, but talking to that Goddess one on one was more terrifying and nerve-wracking than moving to a new town.

But he knew there was no way Naruto would sleep without Kurama and it was only Friday, nights to wait if he doesn’t ask you about the plushie today. He couldn’t imagine how disheveled will Naruto be without Kurama by then. He would surely award himself with wine if he managed to finish the call without fainting.

With clammy hands and a vigorously pounding heart, he dialed the number.

You were finishing up the last batch of forms and cleaning up, when you saw something abruptly put in the otherwise shipshape playroom. Before you could further inspect, your phone rang, Mr. Uzumaki flashing on top of the screen. Your heart hammered as you wondered what he could be calling about.

You were not going to lie, Mr. Uzumaki was easy on the eyes, always in class A condition with his well-tailored suits as he came to pick Naruto up. Even the married housewives ogled him not-so-subtly. He was such an excellent father, really devoted in his son’s life while simultaneously conquering the business world. An eye candy, with all the best qualities that existed, an immensely put together God’s creation. He was dream partner to have, yet somehow he was single.

Your phone’s ring broke you out of your musing, as your sweaty palms grabbed the phone and received the cal.

“Good Evening, Mr. Uzumaki.” You managed out, your neck suddenly heating up.

“Good Evening, Miss. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all, I was about to head home. How may I help you?”

“If you are still there at the playschool, could you please…… If you don’t mind….. I’m sorry again I called-”

“I assure you, it’s fine. You don’t need to worry about it. Although you do need to tell me the problem if you want me to help.” You giggled lightly, amused at that man stuttering.

“Thank you. Umm Naruto left his night time plushie there I suppose and he doesn’t sleep without it. Could you please, please check if it’s there?”

“Of course.” You held the phone and as you hummed and went to the Kid’s playroom you found Naruto’s sketchbook with the drawing laying on it, and the Kurama toy beside it. You swore you promised Naruto pack it earlier in the day.

“Looks like he did leave it here.”

“Can you keep the school open a bit late, I’ll come and collect it right aw-”

“Its pretty windy right now outside, and you’ll have to bring Naruto too at this hour. I’ll drop it at your home on my way back, I was planning in leaving in five anyways.” Your mouth spoke before you could process what you said, offering to go to his house? Nice going there, you desperate weirdo.

His choked out “Okay” almost surprised you as you ended the call.

This will be a nice, little detour.

About twenty minutes later, the doorbell to the Uzumaki household rang and Minato sprinted to the door, opening it immediately.

There you stood, with tousled hair from the wind, in your long red pea coat and black heels. Your cheeks lightly tinted, no doubt because of the unruly weather outside. Somehow you still looked absolutely perfect in Minato’s eyes as he traced your form, unable to initiate the conversation.

You, on the other hand, had halted completely when the door opened revealing a ripped Minato, his muscles bulging underneath his black shirt while grey sweatpants hung loosely on his hips. His biceps were so thick, you wondered how he managed to exercise on top of all the responsibilities he had.

You handed it over to Minato whose eyes widened at the piece of paper and stood there awkwardly, processing what to say.

Somehow stopping yourself from all the gawking, you cleared your throat as you dug in your black purse and took out Naruto’s best friend and his masterpiece.

“Guess he left this as well.” He gave a forced laugh, trying to make things less uncomfortable after he stood silent for two minutes.

You chuckled lightly in agreement when suddenly thunder boomed behind you, causing you to shriek and slip, only to be caught by Minato, his hands holding you around your middle tightly in a protective manner. You coughed as you stepped back again and he cleared his throat this time when suddenly it started pouring like hell’s rage on Earth.

“You should stay for a while, at least until the rain lightens.”

You were going to decline, but when you saw how bad it was raining, you knew you would have to accept. “Looks, like I’ll have to. Sorry to impose.”

“It’s no imposition at all. I’m inviting you, don’t fret.”

You stepped inside, shrugging your pea-coat off, revealing your black dress underneath. Minato reddened visibly, taking your pea-coat from you and hanging it. He cursed himself as he thought of conversation starters, wanting to say something, anything to not stand like a fool.

“Would you like wine? I have this blush flavoured bottle reading to drink.”

“I would love that, Thank you. What are you celebrating though, if I may ask?” You agreed, maybe the alcohol would calm your buzzing nerves. Besides you were a sucker for wine.

“Nothing much, a simple personal achievement of sorts.” He said with a grin as he led you inside, hopeful of where the night might lead. Maybe the liquid courage would help him finally ask you out.

Behind the wall, Naruto grinned with a pacifier in his mouth. Mission successful.

So that was that. Until next time, cookies.

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porkchop-ao3 · 3 years

Text

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 65)

“I Miss You”

It’s been so long again, at this point I think it’s expected 😅 Anyway, I’m here and I’m bringing smut! I have my ending all planned out now so hopefully it wont be so long until the next chapter, but I’m not promising! 😬😅😘 Enjoy!

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

Between the pages of his journal I smiled, I pouted, I frowned, I slept, I had a picture for every emotion it seemed. The drawings were sometimes accompanied by little notes about what happened that day, and gave clues about why he drew me in such a way.

We spoke about Isaac today… it seems Dutch still hasn't figured out how to knock on a door... O'Driscolls found our camp, damn near slit her throat… I hope her dreams take her away from this god awful place…

I couldn't bring myself to read much of what he wrote. Just the first few words. I felt like I was invading his privacy a little too much, even if he did write about me. But as I moved through the journal I noticed that his drawings became different. The first few were portraits, mostly, and they pertained to a story from the day, almost like illustrations in the book of his life. But as it went on, the words disappeared and I found pages of studies, drawings of hands and lips and feet, different features and body parts like diagrams in a biology encyclopedia. Sometimes the same thing would be drawn three or four times. A mouth, in varying stages of completion, as if he kept giving up halfway through and starting again until he reached the final drawing, which was more complete.

I thought nothing of it at first. Practice, I guessed. But I noticed a few things that made me realise that I was looking at my own features. I realised it when I noticed the expanse of a neck leading up to a chin, and there was the scar given to me by the O'Driscolls. I saw a pair of hands holding my own Schofield revolver. I saw a pair of crossed ankles wrapped in boots the tips of which had scuffs in exactly the same place as my own boots did. The pages and pages of what I thought was anatomy practice was all of me.

Then my cheeks burned in a streak all the way up to the tips of my ears when I turned one page and was confronted with a drawing of my own body, laying naked atop sheets I recognised from our hotel room in Saint Denis. I was not posed in an artificial manner, I was sprawled, laying on my side with one knee hitched up, my arm laying limply on my waist. I was asleep. My heart pounded because there I was, as naked as the day I was born, and I'd never seen myself like that from such a perspective.

"You didn't say you'd drawn this," I breathed dumbly, then turned the book to show him. His eyes widened a little and his face immediately began to redden.

"I'm sorry, I'll toss it on the fire if I shouldn't have–"

"No, I don't want that at all. It's a surprise, that's all," I smiled.

"That day you said you'd like to be drawn like that so I… when you was sleeping I thought you looked real beautiful, so I drew that. I had every intention of showing you when you woke up but then I–" he paused and exhaled a laugh, "in the light of day, I just felt like a pervert."

I tutted and rolled my eyes playfully, "you're not a pervert, Arthur. You're the love of my life."

Something about it seemed to startle him, he looked at me suddenly, his mouth twitched. Then he smiled.

"You really mean that?"

"Is it only just sinking in how much I love you?" I chuckled.

I put the sketchbook aside then leaned down over him, sunk my chest to his and kissed his lips, framing his head with my arms to hold me up and not put my weight on him while he was still recovering from the wound on his torso. He pulled at my arm and patted my leg, encouraging me to swing a thigh over so my legs settled either side of his hips. His arms encircled my waist as he kissed me back, humming softly against my mouth, his chest subconsciously arching up to press more firmly against mine as if he wanted to feel the way my heart would beat when we kissed. It would always race, no doubt about it.

Our lips parted enough for him to whisper; "so, what do you think of that drawing?"

"I think you made me look good, thank you," I chuckled softly.

"I didn't make you look anything, that's just how you are, princess. I don't think I even fully managed to capture how incredible you looked that night," he whispered, sending warmth to my cheeks and my ears. His hands slid over my waist, rested low on my hips and I welcomed the feeling of his hands on me and closed my eyes, pressing my lips to his again.

I was so very tempted to get carried away, absorbed in the taste of his tongue and the sound of his breaths picking up and the smell of him so close in the confined space of the tent and– I pressed our foreheads together and broke the kiss.

"You should sleep, you got a lot going on," I began and a sound came from Arthur's throat that was almost like a scolded dog.

"I got too much going on to sleep right now," he murmured, his lips brushing against mine before he bared his teeth to give my bottom lip a cheeky nip.

"It'll keep you awake?"

"Mm," he hummed a lazy affirmation, "plus there ain't a part of my body that's ready to sleep now you been sitting on top o' me like this."

"Arthur," I breathed a laugh and kissed him again. His hands came from my hips to my backside, holding me and encouraging me to put more weight on him. I was worried about hurting him but his goal was apparent when he positioned me such that he could show me a part of him that was very much awake. "Are you crazy?" I laughed.

"Most likely, at this point," he muttered, hips shifting below me, as if eager to grind.

"After all that's happened these past few days, with that hole in your side– with the tatters of the gang just outside–"

"I don't care about any of that, princess, I miss you," he cut me off with a breathy whisper, and one hand came up to cup the back of my head, and he hugged me tight to him. My face naturally nestled into the space between his shoulder and his neck and he hummed a quiet sound when my lips kissed him there on their own.

"You miss me?" I questioned, words muffled but audible.

"Being in your embrace. In every sense, not just your arms. My love–" his words came out with just a little bit more emotion than he must've intended, given the sharp cut off he gave them. My heart dripped with a bittersweet warmth that settled in my belly. It wasn't exactly arousal that I felt, it was a sudden ache, an emptiness, a need. One that ought to be filled as quick as it appeared and could only be filled in one way.

I moved without hesitation, gathering my skirts, moving the fabric out of the way, scooping it into a pile and hugging it to my hip as I sat up. Movement pulled at the wounds on my legs but it didn't hurt in the moment. Or maybe I was healing quicker than I thought. But three hands descended upon Arthur's belt, and we worked together to open it up and free the buttons of his trousers. He hadn't anything on underneath his jeans – his last good union suit ruined by the gunshot in his side – so closing my hand around his hard length was an easy task. I thumbed the head and shifted the skin back and forth, earning a hiss of pleasure and a few moments later, a flow of clear stuff that I smeared, knowing the extra lubricant would help.

Then I let him go and brought my fingers to my tongue, coating them generously in spit that I then passed between my folds. This was happening spontaneously enough that I'd appreciate the help, but my own arousal was beginning to slick me enough so that when I lowered down–

"Jesus Christ–" Arthur gasped. He held his cock for me as I took him in, inching slowly down until I was settled, my insides hugging hım entirely. Something akin to the growl of a timber wolf built in Arthur's throat as he adjusted to the heat of my body, and his hands settled on the space between my hips and my thighs with a tight grip that put indentations in my flesh.

I wasn't planning on making this a slow and lengthy affair and I was quick to start moving, rolling my hips back and forth and guiding his cock in and out. The slow pull, rub of the tip passing over the most pleasurable spot inside me took my breath away and urged my movements to become more frantic. It was happening quickly, we were moving fast, Arthur's hands pushed and pulled and helped my motion with just as much vigor as the pace I had set. The tent bounced our breathless sounds back to my ears and somewhere in my mind I hoped that they couldn't be heard on the other side of it.

I wasn't ashamed enough to stop, however, even if they could be.

I pulsed and squeezed around his cock and Arthur released shaky little grunts, strangled sounds that wanted to be louder, I could tell. But he did a good job of keeping the volume down and I was hell bent on doing the same. I bit down on my bottom lip, trapping it between my teeth almost painfully. It tingled and I thought of when Arthur had nipped me there before and a moan threatened to escape.

"Let– let me see you, please, princess," his words were clipped and breathless, coming out in short and jerky bursts as one of his hands reached for the buttons on my blouse. I sat up and shakily unbuttoned them down to the waist of my skirt, and I pulled on the drawstrings that gathered the fabric of my corset cover until it opened up to reveal my corset and chemise.

It was far too spontaneous of a situation for me to fully undress and show myself but it seemed just the sight of my underthings was enough to rile him up. A tightly tethered moan just barely left his lips and his large hand roughly skimmed up the front of my corset, over the smooth material and firm boning, until he reached the top where my breasts were lifted, giving him enough of the soft flesh to grab at. He cupped one breast and gave a gentle squeeze over my chemise and the warmth of his hand through the fabric had me arching towards him. It changed the angle of his cock inside me and I gasped, my own hand flying down between my legs to rub and chase my orgasm.

"I'm almost there," he stammered breathlessly, his head clawing back into the sheets of his bedroll, his long hair messily splaying out like a halo above his head. I slipped my free hand between the buttons of his shirt and kept my hand in the warmth. My fingers skimmed sideways and I found his nipple, rubbing over it thoughtlessly and receiving a buck of his hips and a slackening of his jaw in response. He was going to cum and unless I wanted him to do it inside me, I knew I had to do something.

I quickly lifted my hips and wrapped my hand around his cock, keeping it nestled warmly between my thighs as I jerked him quickly. He moaned once, only once but it was a loud and thoughtless one that could absolutely be heard by anyone who happened to be awake. But he clamped his own hand over his mouth as he spilled, marking my thighs and his own body, his seed flowing down until it was caught in the hair surrounding the base of his cock. My hand was slick with the stuff and the wet sounds of its motion was almost as loud as Arthur's moan but I kept going anyway, until I could wind him down and slow to a stop.

He panted with exhaustion despite having been laid back the whole time, and I smirked down at him, letting out a tiny laugh. His eyes peeled open and up to me, his long lashes catching the light of the lantern and glowing a brassy blonde.

"I finished too quick for you, didn't I, my darlin'?" He said, his tone a little playful and a little more self deprecating than I liked to hear. I rolled my eyes a little but he reached between my legs, ever so gently rubbing at my folds, coating his fingers in my wetness before finding my favourite position over my clit.

I shuddered and sagged forwards a bit, holding myself up with arms either side of his broad shoulders. His fingers rubbed me rhythmically and quick, quickening my breaths and heart rate. My orgasm had been fast approaching before we stopped and he easily brought me back to the brink, and I mewled softly under my breath, tilting my hips to lean into his hand as he whispered to me.

"That's it princess, let me see you cum," he said, "show me them pretty eyes," he added, and I lifted my gaze to him. In the low light, his eyes appeared a darker blue than they usually did, looking deeper and hungrier than I had seen in a while. So full of want and love that I wanted to kiss him, but I was close to my climax and I was soon too distracted to get my body to move.

"I'm gonna cum," I breathed, my hips fidgeting, almost rutting. Arthur made a low, vibrating hum deep in his chest that sounded deliciously indulgent and dirty. He sped up the circles he made on my clit and the pleasure built. It built and built until it peaked, and with a gasp my body shook as my orgasm exploded. He rubbed me through it, prolonging the pleasure as I breathed heavily, and try as I might to keep quiet, small mewles of pleasure escaped me as my hips rocked against his hand.

I leaned over him, my hands holding me up above his head, his eyes followed me, fingers still sliding through the wetness between my legs. He had a small smirk on his face, just a flash of his teeth exposed. I exhaled a small laugh through my nose at the expression, it was almost a proud one, pleased with himself. I leaned down and kissed him once, but his free hand pressed into my belly and pushed me slightly.

"Don't mess your shirt up," he warned in a whisper, and I was reminded of the mess we'd made. In the distance, I heard the rushing sound of a geyser erupting, and I could've laughed at the timing.

"Yeah, let's clean up," I nodded. Arthur exhaled heavily, reaching into his satchel to retrieve a handkerchief stained with gun oil, using it to mop away the mess on his belly and fingers. I took it from him and cleaned my own hands, making a plan in my head to heat up some water for us in the morning to clean up properly before Arthur left to run his errands. For now though, it would have to do, and I adjusted my clothes and rolled off of him, settling in beside him.

"Thank you, princess," he exhaled, his eyes closing as he rested a hand over the wound on his side delicately.

"Thank you?" I chuckled.

"I needed that," he added, and I watched the corner of his mouth lift.

"Yeah, I think I did too," I laughed softly, and took hold of his other hand where it lay beside me.

"What a God damn mess we're all in," he laughed as well. It was like he was too tired and too at ease in the afterglow to take any of our recent problems seriously.

"Just a few days and we'll be gone sweetheart, don't you worry about it," I told him anyway, squeezing his hand.

"Yeah. Just a few days," he repeated.

I lifted his hand to my mouth, pressing kisses over his knuckles, each finger, the side of his wrist… his breaths were steadying out and I kissed him until he fell asleep, the weight of his hand increasing as it grew limp in mine.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #rdr2fanfic #arthurmorganfanfic #reader insert

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

Text

Luka felt awful, even knowing that what he’d said to Marinette was while he was under the influence of the akuma and not true in the slightest. He just couldn’t get the image of her tear-stricken face out of his head.

He didn’t hate her. He didn’t think of her as weak-hearted for being torn for so long on who she loved. He didn’t think any of the things he’d shouted at her about, yet it’d still happened and he couldn’t get it out of his head.

He forced himself to go see her in person, not only because it seemed like the right thing to do, but because trying to talk to her over texts only got him short, empty responses in return. He didn’t know what he’d do if he had to read another, “Yeah. I know. It’s okay. Thanks,” from her.

Upon arriving at the bakery, he noted that Tom and Sabine seemed to be in their own state of distress, which he could only imagine meant that they’d been affected by the akuma as well. There was a shared understanding when he made eye contact with them, and they practically insisted that he go upstairs since they were too busy baking apology cakes.

As he walked up the stairs, he looked down at the sketchbook Marinette had dropped when she’d run off from him. “I love you, Luka,” was written in bold, stylistic lettering on one of the pages, which was almost definitely a confession she’d intended on giving him. Maybe she’d planned to put it on a shirt, or fold up the page and sneak it into one of his pockets.

Either way, it just made all of his feelings worse.

Luka arrived at the top of the stairs, but hesitated to knock on the trapdoor. He knew he shouldn’t - there was always the chance she'd shut him out - but eventually, the gentleman in him couldn't help knocking anyway.

"M-marinette?" His throat was dry. "Can I come in? I know what I did - what I said - but I swear that I didn't mean a word of it. I was the instrument, but someone else was strumming. None of those notes were mine."

He waited, knowing that she was there but also knowing that she had no obligation to respond to him. He felt so disgusted with himself, like his body was tainted by being used for such purposes and he has no way of cleaning it.

A full minute passed. There was still no response.

Thinking that maybe he should go back and ask her parents if he might be able to stay over for a while, or the whole night if he had to, Luka turned and began walking down the stairs, his footsteps echoing.

Just as he was halfway down the steps, footsteps that were not his own chimed in, making him stop. A noise akin to a clicking followed, implying that Marinette had unlocked the trapdoor.

He looked back up and, after a moment of internal debate, approached and pushed on the trapdoor just enough to test it. Confirming that it was indeed unlocked, he steeled himself up and slowly let himself into the room.

Marinette was sitting on her chaise lounge, hands on her lap as she twiddled her fingers. He'd never seen her so pale before, and he could only imagine what other people must've said to her.

He closed the trap door behind him, but didn't make any moves to get closer to her. He tried to speak up, but stopped himself at the last second, thinking better of it.

Thankfully, Marinette ended up speaking first.

"Ladybug told me that the akuma was made to twist everyone’s personalities into what I was afraid of the most,” she explained. Hunching over, she continued, “Some people... they really meant it. I got a lot of calls and texts from them, but they couldn't take back what they said and just apologized for not telling me or because they said it in such an angry way like the akuma made them do."

Luka grimaced. He just couldn’t believe someone could dislike Marinette so much that they’d do something like that to her.

He finally stepped forward, setting her sketchbook down next to her. "I know what you're going to tell me,” he began, “so you don't have to say anything." He rubbed the back of his neck, staring off at the wall. "I...I don't feel like I have any right to ask anything of you right now, but it's the only way I can think of."

He saw her look up out of the corner of his eyes, her mouth opening as if to say “that wasn’t you, it was the akuma,” but she caught herself, clearly remembering what he’d just said about already knowing what she’d tell him.

"...I hate hearing my own voice right now," he admitted, "so I'll keep this short. Marinette, can you close your eyes for me? Please?"

She blinked, then titled her head, not understanding. Still, she didn’t seem to need an explanation, as she obeyed anyway, raising her head up and closing her eyes.

He leaned down, keeping his hands on the chaise lounge so he wouldn't touch her. There were too many words, all of which he'd need his voice for, and apologizing to her face was too hard when it was his face that made her look so torn apart earlier.

Thus, he did the only other thing he could think of: kissing her, slowly but lovingly, and letting that speak for him.

She didn’t move at first, but let out a noise that was a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite define. He was five seconds into it when it occurred to him that she might’ve been uncomfortable, even if she did love him back. He went to pull away just in case, only for her mouth to chase after his so she could kiss him back, her hands gripping the layers of his hoodie to keep him there.

He let himself melt into her. He could sense her emotions better now, and none of them were asking him to pull away. If anything, she wanted more.

Time passed, to the point where he started to feel his spine hurt from staying bent over for so long. Marinette, apparently sensing it, pulled away just enough to whisper, "Sit down for me?"

He obeyed, moving her sketchbook aside to make room and sitting down next to her. Her eyes remained closed, but she turned towards him, reaching out to grab both of his shoulders. She swung a leg around to the other side of him, his eyes going wide as she shifted herself onto his lap to face him. He forced himself to keep his hands on the chaise lounge, not wanting to move without further instruction.

Steadily, her eyes start to open, though immediately shut again as if a spotlight had been shined on them. A few seconds passed before she tried again, managing to fully open her eyes and really look at him for the first time since he'd gotten there.

As she thoroughly studied his face, Luka couldn’t help feeling a little stiff, both from nerves and his recovering spine. Finally, Marinette let out a sigh of relief, falling forward and resting her head on his shoulder.

"It wasn't about you," she says softly. "It—it was hearing the words that I was always afraid of, but... the face... the voice... they were yours but they weren't. I hardly recognized you at first. Even when we were up against Bob Roth, your voice didn't sound like... like that."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I got hit and I didn't think to hide. I know it wasn't my heart playing for you, but—"

Suddenly, her fingers were against his lips, shutting him up. She inhaled, exhaled, then spoke again, a lighter tone in her voice now, "You don't have to apologize, and you don't have to explain yourself either."

She paused, apparently for dramatic effect. "...But, if you're going to do it, you at least have to be hugging me."

He gaped in surprise, and it suddenly registered with him that - before she'd covered his mouth - her hand had been trying to grab his while he'd rigidly not moved in response.

Offering her a smile, even if he still felt terrible over what happened, he wrapped his arms around her and allowed himself to hold her like she deserved to be held.

Apologies and sweet nothings were quietly exchanged even after Tom and Sabine came up to give Marinette the apology cakes.

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

Learning to Love (Preath x Adopted Teen!Reader)

Request: could you do something where christen and Tobin adopt teenage r whose been through a lot and shows her how to accept love or something fluffy and angsty like that

Pt 2

Author’s Note: So this was really difficult for me to write for some reason. it’s also super long, but I wanted to include several learning moments. I’m going to put a warning on this for mentions of abuse, but nothing graphic. I hope you enjoy this! Send me Requests, Questions, or if you just wanna say Hi! Let me know what you think, your comments mean the world to me.

You woke with a start, a cold sweat covering your entire body, your breathing heavy, and your brain trying to remember where you were. You clutched at the old hoodie you were wearing, pulling the collar to your nose and breathing in Tobin’s soothing scent.

You had stolen the Thorns sweater awhile ago and never given it back. You found comfort in one of the several items that had become your own the 8 months that you had been with the women.

You had immediately clicked with Tobin. Her overall laid back demeanor had set you at ease. Your mutual love of art always gave you talking points, whenever you actually felt like talking. But she never pushed, she was just as comfortable in silence as she was when you were conversing about art.

It had taken you a little longer to become comfortable around Christen. She was the observant one. The one who always knew when you weren’t telling them the whole truth. The one who always pressed you to explain why you felt the way that you did, and at first that had unnerved you. She wasn’t pushy, but she had a way of getting you to open up that terrified you.

You were like Tobin in the fact that you were never very good with words. You didn’t know how to articulate your feelings verbally, and the more… positive emotions confused you. Your parents had both been drug addicts, more interested in their respective highs than your actual wellbeing, or teaching you what affection was. You had only been removed from the home after your mother had tried to sell you to an undercover cop in exchange for drugs. You had spent the next 10 years bouncing around through the foster system, with each home only building on the scars that the last had left behind.

Then by some miracle, you had met Christen and Tobin, who seemed determined to teach you about the happier emotions. The emotions that you didn’t understand. Hell, you had nearly jumped out of your skin the first time one of them tried to touch you. The going was slow, but it wasn’t in their nature to give up.

You glanced at the clock, sighing at the blinking 4:40 that you found there. It was too early to be up, but you didn’t know if you could go back to sleep after your dream (memory?). You sighed, sliding out of bed and heading for the one room in the apartment that you knew could help you. The room that both women had made sure you knew was open 24/7 the moment they found out about your propensity for art.

You were so engrossed in your project that you didn’t hear the door to Tobin’s studio open. She looked you over from the door, watching as you traced one of her canvases with a dark charcoal color. The painting before you was striking. A perfect rendition of a man's face over a cowering form. The only happy portion of the canvass was a warm red in the distance.

“Hey kid, what ya up to?” She asked quietly, don’t her best not to startle you. You jumped anyway, dropping the paintbrush with a loud crash.

“I’m sorry I- I-I didn’t…” you stuttered turning to face her, your cheeks very red. She held up a hand to stop you. She wanted to say that this response was unusual, but it wasn’t. Your go-to was to immediately apologize for whatever.

“Slow down kid, we told you that you could use this room whenever you wanted,” She soothed, moving to stand beside you and rubbing soothing circles on your back. Your shoulders relaxed, and your gaze returned to your masterpiece.

“Okay,” You breathed out.

“It’s really good,” She said in awe, taking in the detail of the piece. Your lips twitched up slightly, and Tobin was glad you didn’t try and fight her on it. You weren’t used to complements without strings, and they were still teaching you to accept them.

“Thanks, I couldn’t get it out of my head,” You mumbled, biting your lip, shaking your head slightly. You ran a hand through your hair, and Tobin resisted the urge to laugh when a red paint line followed the path of your hand.

“Nightmare?” She questioned as casually as she could. Yes, she had read your file, but she wanted to hear about your experiences from you when you were ready. So far the only thing you had told them was that the man you kept drawing was father number 4.

“Mmm,” You hummed back, tilting your head to the side.

“You know you can always come to get me or Chris if you’re too scared to go back to sleep,” Tobin asked for what probably was the millionth time. You gave her a slight nod. People always said that but the moment you started asking for things, the moment you became more work than what you were worth, they would throw you away.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you, and you felt the urge to finally tell her more about the painting. About why he was always so much bigger than you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to find the right words. Tobin shot you an encouraging smile.

“Hey, you two breakfast-“Christen’s voice called out before you could divulge any secretes, before cutting itself off “whoa baby this is fantastic,” She said the second she saw the painting.

You pulled your lips into a tight line and nodded your thanks, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a hug. You buried your face in her shoulder, taking in gulps of her scent, allowing it to soothe you. She wound her arms tighter around you, running careful fingers through your hair.

You had taken a long time to warm up to her, but you loved her cuddles, and this was a typical good morning gesture after a hard night.

“Can I ask you a question?” Christen questioned softly, her and Tobin’s hands running circles on you back.

“Hmmm,” was your only response to her, not willing to leave your new favorite hiding spot yet.

“You’ve told us about this part, but what’s this?” She asked, pointing to the bright spot that was a new addition to the image the women had become very familiar with. You had known this part was coming. It was part of your therapy, to explain some parts of the painting to them. It was difficult, but in the end, it helped. It made everything a little less scary.

You but your lip in thought. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what the bright light was.

“It’s-, I’m always trying to get to it. I know that whatever’s behind the door is… safe? That’s not the word, it’s more than that it’s… I don’t know how to explain it,” you stuttered out, furrowing your eyebrows in concentration. You were good at naming the negative emotions, but oftentimes the happy ones evaded you.“I don’t know what’s behind it, only that I need it,”

“That’s ok baby, wanna come eat some pancakes?” Christen sent you a blinding smile, and Tobin Laughed as your face lit up. You loved pancakes.

“Can I finish it?” You asked hesitantly. You hated leaving things half-done.

“Yeah baby, come find us when you’re done,” Tobin nodded, patting your back before they both took their leave.

You watched them go. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you knew they cared for you in a way you had never experienced before.

****

Camp was an… experience, and meeting so many new people was frightening, but Tobin and Christen had kept their promise to always protect you. The team had been understanding about your aversion to touch and never pressured you to join in their shenanigans. They also gave you more people to draw.

You sighed leaning back against the bench that was acting as your backrest, pulling your knees closer to your chest and digging your feet into the grass of the practice field. You rested the black sketchbook that had always been your companion on your knees, bringing it closer to your face. You held your pencil between your teeth, your eyes flicking between the fine lines sketched on the page and the two women who were depicted. You were sure that the realistic picture was almost done, but something was missing. Something you couldn’t put your finger on.

“What ya go there kiddo,” Christen asked, stopping several feet away from you and gesturing to the space beside you. You sent her a careful nod, and she sat down a few feet away from you on the turf.

That was one thing that you appreciated about the women, they always came down to your level to make you feel more comfortable.

“It’s Becky and Alyssa, but something’s not right,” You mumbled, scooting closer to the woman, who smiled softly at you.

“I’m not a sketch artist, but I could check it out if you want,” She offered, bringing her hand up to rub your back. Her smile widened when you didn’t immediately flinch away at the contact.

It was a slow process, but little by little they were showing you how nice human touch could be. You loved morning cuddles, but you only liked touches that you initiated. You bit your lip in thought and sent the woman a very tiny nod, before carefully sliding over the book. A small gasp left her lips when eyes landed in the pencil sketch.

“This is incredible,” Christen said in awe, her fingers running lightly over the near-perfect replicas of her teammates. You shrugged, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Something’s missing, but I don’t know what. Like it doesn’t feel right,” You murmured, glaring at the sketch in frustration. The picture was missing the key element that would make it come to life on the page. You didn’t know what it was, so how could you add it?

Christen glanced up at you. You rested your chin on your knees, hugging your legs, knowing that there would be no way of completely getting out of this conversation. You didn’t typically bring up your feelings, and Christen wasn’t one to let that go.

“Why doesn’t it feel right?” She questioned softly, bringing her hand up to gently smooth out the wrinkles in your forehead, and run her thumb down your cheek. You sighed and tilted your head into her hand just slightly.

“It’s just…” you stuttered, trying to find the words to describe the women. It wasn’t just one thing. It was how their bodies always seemed connected, even from across the field. How their eyes always seemed to be on each other. How they touched each other with such care. “The way they’re so… drawn to each other.” You finished after a few seconds, shaking your head. It was so much more than that. It was an extremely deep connection that went beyond simple care. “I don’t understand how…” You trailed off, pinching your space between your eyes.

Your sketch was missing the connection between the two. The ease they clearly felt with each other. The amount they… cared.

“They love each other,” Christen responded gently, watching your reaction very carefully. Your lips formed an even tighter line. Your childhood had shown you that love didn’t exist, but the thing between the women was so defined. So alive and vivid. Could it be love?

“Hmm,” you hummed, pulling the book back towards you, scratching behind your ear. Maybe it was love.

Tobin watched you from afar, her lips quirking up at how well you were doing with Chris.

“She’s a little shy, but she seems to be doing ok with all of us,” Ash mumbled, standing beside her and watching your interaction.

“Kid has had it rough,” Tobin husked out. How someone could treat a child the way you were treated, she would never understand. Hell, you had been removed from one of the foster homes for suspected poisoning, and you were petrified to eat anything you didn’t open yourself. Your file was as almost as tall as a toddler, and she wondered how you had slipped through the system for so long.

“We don’t doubt that,” Ali said gently, rubbing Tobin’s shoulder in a soothing fashions

“She seems pretty close to Chris though,” Ashlyn smiled when you leaned into Christen’s hand, the comfort you took from the contact obvious from the look on your face.

“Sometimes,” Tobin shrugged. It was odd. There were moments where you were completely open with them, and then two seconds later you would throw all your wall up again.

“She draws a lot,” Kelley pointed out, joining the three women in their observation of you.

“It’s the only way she knows how to express herself,” Tobin hummed shrugging.

“That’s not surprising,” Kelley said, and all the women turned to look at her.

“she was probably punished for showing any emotions at all,” Ash added with a thoughtful look on her face, and Tobin nodded. She had seen the scars, both physical and mental. Though you hadn’t unpacked them all with them, it would be impossible to hide the marks that would be with you for the rest of your life. It was also something your therapist had told them both in the beginning.

“All I know is that it gives us a way to start that conversation without making her too uncomfortable” Tobin shrugged. It was true, you wouldn’t tell them what was bothering you until it was drawn on a page. It was your process and that was ok. They were showing you that feelings were ok. “She’s come a hell of a long way,”

****

Your eyes traced the faces sketched upon the page, your eyebrows furrowing because there was something yet again missing. Your dinner sat untouched on the plate in front of you, as you were far too focused on your drawing of the two blond women.

You felt the presence behind you before you saw her, and you didn’t mind. Yes, Emily was a little hyper, but she was funny and sweet, and you had known her and Lindsey longer than you had known most of the other women. You had gotten to know them on the many times you had accompanied you m-. Tobin. The many times you had accompanied Tobin to practice. The same went for Kelley.

“Holy shit! Tobs was right, you do have some skill!” She exclaimed, placing two hands on your shoulders. You jumped at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut, dropping your sketchbook on the table with a thump. The noise lost in the general chatter in the room (though Tobin and Christen did send you a worried look from where they were talking with Alex and Kelley.)

“Disonny, remember we had this talk?” Lindsey said as she appeared on your other side, sending Emily a disdainful look. The women knew that you didn’t like surprise touches, it was one of the many rules that Tobin and Chris had given them.

“Oh, right. Sorry kid. But like that drawing is fire,” Emily jumped back quickly, sending you a regretful look. She pointed to the chairs next to you, and you nodded with a small smile.

“It’s not right…” You murmured, returning your attention to the drawing, biting your lip.

“What do you mean, it looks just like us?” Lindsey asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the picture of her and Emily. You had drawn it during the tactics meeting. There was just something about the way Lindsey’s hand was placed in Emily’s back, and how Emily was watching her instead of Vlatko that had been irresistible to you.

“It’s missing something,” You grumbled shaking your head. You missed the glance that the two women shared. They knew that Chris and Tobin were trying to teach you to open up about your feelings.

“Like what?” Lindsey asked carefully. Placing a gentle hand on your back and rubbing soothing circles like she had seen Christen do about a million times.

“It’s something about the eyes. They get this glint when you look at each other,” You said, turning to the two women. Your hands moved animatedly as you tried to explain the thing that you knew was missing. The thing that you didn’t have a name for, but you could see clear as day. The thing that you just couldn’t capture on paper.

“It’s because we love each other,” Emily explained as gently as she could, and you tensed. As far as you were concerned, love was a myth. A thing people used to give others hope or to justify their despicable actions. Dads 3 and 9 had proved that to you with their twisted definitions, and all of the families that had packed you up and shipped you off had destroyed any understanding of the concept. To think that someone would have such a deep level of care for another, only expecting the same in return was mind-boggling to you.

“Love doesn’t exist,” You huffed, turning away from Emily’s kind eyes, and running a frustrated hand through your hair. The women resisted the urge to sigh. This wasn’t an uncommon occupancy, but your absolute denial was still a little disheartening, as everyone was doing their damndest to show you differently.

“You’re allowed to feel that way, but I’m going to disagree with you,” Lindsey murmured, carefully untangling your hand from your hair and holding it in her own. You tended to take out your frustrations on yourself. A habit, among many others, that the women were working to break.

“How do you know you love her and not something else?” You questioned, staring at the two women. The let your challenging tone roll off of them. They knew you had some deep-seated beliefs and that it took time to change them.

“I care for Lindsey so deeply that I would do anything for her,” Emily started, grabbing her girlfriends hand and looking at her with so much devotion it almost took your breath away.

“I always want to be around Emily. I want to protect her and make her feel better when she’s sad,” Lindsey finished, an equally adoring glint in her eyes. What you would give to be able to capture those looks perfectly on paper. Do be able to do that look justice.

“I don’t, I just-,” You stuttered, your eyebrows furrowing. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to figure out what you were trying to say. Tobin and Christen were always trying to make you feel welcome to make you feel better. Could that be what they meant? “She makes you feel safe?” You asked hesitantly.

“The safest I’ve ever felt,” Lindsey said solemnly, and Emily nodded her agreement. You glanced over to the table where Christen was sending you a questioning smile. You smiled back.

Lindsey and Emily shared another look, realizing that your doubts about love had nothing to do with them, but were instead about how you were feeling about your moms.

“That’s how they make me feel,” You mumbled, looking down, almost ashamed. Tobin and Christen had done nothing but try and get you to open up to them. To make you feel safe and comfortable, and you couldn’t get a grip and call them Mom or tell them that you cared about (loved?) them.

“For the record, they have the same glint when they look at you,” Lindsey whispered into your ear, pulling you into a hug. You gave her a tiny, not quite believing nod. You wanted to believe her, but how could anyone love a messed up 13-year-old like you?

****

You woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in your hotel room bed. Your heart was racing so fast that you thought it might beat right out of your chest. You clenched your eyes shut in an attempt to rid the images out of your mind. To rid the smell of his breath, that evil glint in his eyes, or the pain he had inflicted on your lower half from your brain.

“Hey baby doll, you alright?” Tobin’s sleepy voice broke you out of your spiraling thoughts, and you bit down hard on your hand to prevent the sob from leaving your lips.

“Hey, Y/n are you alright?” She said, flipping on the light, which startled Christen awake. They both took in your shaking form. Your face was pale, and you were rocking back and forth in the bed. You stared unseeingly at them, almost as though you were in a different world.

The two women immediately jumped into action, Tobin rushing to grab a warm washcloth from the bathroom, and Christen slowly moving to sit beside you on your bed. Her hand came up to gently run circles on your back.

“Y/n, baby,” She murmured, afraid that she would startle you more than you already were. Your eyes snapped to her and you shook your head rapidly, tears flowing freely down your face. You leaned further into her touch, collapsing in her arms. She pulled you closer to her, rocking you back and forth as you sobbed into her chest. Tobin ran a comforting hand through your hair when she returned, unwilling to coax you out of your hiding spot in her wife’s chest.

She held you tight as if to reassure you that she was there, and she was never leaving. She and Tobin shared several worried looks, unsure of how to proceed. It was rare that you showed them any emotions besides happiness and frustration. They knew you had nightmares, but they had never been involved in the aftermath of one before.

They half you between them, cooing soothing words and reassurances into your hair until your crying slowed.

“Hey, baby can you look up at me?” Tobin asked softly, running the warm cloth over your features when you glanced up at her. You sighed into the touch, unused to the warm feeling that settled in your chest.

“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Christen murmured into your hair, never stopping her comforting rubbing on your back or her rocking back and forth. You rapidly shook your head, returning to your hiding place. You knew that they had read your file before they adopted you, but reading a second-hand account of events and hearing it were two very different things.

“Why not baby? It might help to get it off your chest,” Tobin pressed just a little, and she saw your shoulders deflate.

“You won’t want me anymore,” You said so quietly into Christen’s shoulder that it was almost inaudible. The women gasped.

“We will never not want you Kid” Tobin declared firmly, as Christen’s rocking picked up to ebb the tears that had started to flow again.

A choked “Why?” left your lips, muffled by the soft material of Christen’s shirt, and you felt both women tense. You had been to hell and back, and you just couldn’t understand why the women hadn’t given up on you yet. Perhaps it was their competitive nature. Always wanting to overcome every challenge they face. But perhaps it was something else, the little voice in the back of your brain said.

“Because we love you,” Christen whispered into your ear, and your tears increased.

“You’re an amazing kid, and you bring so much light to our lives, despite all of the shit that you’ve been through,” Tobin added, wrapping her arms around both of you. You sighed into their touch.

“Will you stay with me?” You whimpered softly. They made you feel safe, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep without them.

“Always kiddo,” Tobin hummed, pulling the covers back and allowing Chris to maneuver you had her underneath them before joining you. You sighed deeply, relaxing at the feeling of both of them. You felt so safe, so protected between them. You felt… something so much greater than care. Something that you had been avoiding.

As you drifted off you released a soft “love you mom and mama,”. You missed the shit-eating grins that took over both women’s faces, as they had been waiting for this moment for 8 months. The moment where you would finally accept their love, accept their invitation into their family. But you did catch the soft “love you too baby,” that came from both women.

Things weren’t perfect, but they were heading that way. Sure, it would be a challenge, but they would never give up on you. You were theirs and they were yours forever and always.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #preath x reader #preath imagine

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caitlyn-winchester · 3 years

Text

Pilot (Part 3)

Cordell Walker x daughter!reader

word count: 1,667

warnings: mention of dead parent, abandonment issues?

masterlist

»»————-　★　————-««

It was the next morning and I got ready for school. I went toward the kitchen and saw grandma making breakfast and August sitting on the kitchen island.

"Goodmorning." I greeted my family and hopped up on a stool.

"Mornin' Y/N, eat up!" Grams said while putting some eggs and toast in front of me. I poured myself a glass of juice and started to eat my breakfast.

"Is dad almost ready to take us to school?" I asked August but he shook his head which caused me to frown a bit.

"He got a call, he had to go into work." He replied and Uncle Liam entered the kitchen while fixing his tie.

"Of course." I grumbled, "Can't even greet his kids in the morning" I sighed.

"Come on Y/N/N. We got a good morning routine going anyways." Uncle Liam reminded

"I know but I just wish he'd be here with us, you know, to parent and do family like things together." I pointed out.

"He can't just not do his job, Y/N. It has always been like this. I don't know why you're being so annoying about this now." August seethed

"Really August? You're telling me you didn't want dad to be here these past eleven months? To go through this tough time together, lean on each other like we've always done, have him by our side when we went through these life adjusting changes. You really didn't need him at all?" I asked and August was quiet. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"That's enough, Y/N." Grams chimed in. "You're dad is here now."

"No he's not!" I raged. "I don't think you understand, yes he is here in Austin but he is not here spending time with us." I ran a hand through my hair and got up from the island. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just going to walk to school today." I apologized, grabbed my backpack and left the house.

»»————-　★　————-««

I left school after my morning classes. Every little thing started to aggravate me, especially after this morning. I decided to go to the gazebo at Lady Bird Lake to clear my head. I just don't understand why dad wanted to jump back into work so quickly. Why couldn't he just take a second to get to know his family again. I miss him.

As I sat on the floor of the gazebo I heard a truck pull up. I turned my head to see who it was and it was dad. He climbed out of the car and we made eye contact. I turned my head away and sighed.

"Do you know who worried we've been?" he asked.

"Well you actually showed up, so this must be a super big deal for you." I quipped.

"Did you forget the part where I picked you up at the police station last night? And now you're here?" He motioned to the lake. "What are you playing at Y/N?" he demanded.

"It's not a game." I stood up from where I was sitting and faced him.

"Then tell me what the hell this is so we can end it," he began, "I'm telling you right now, we can't keep going on like this. Trying to figure out where you'll be next, scaring the crap out of everyone. I'm in the middle of a case!" he ranted.

"When aren't you?" I challenged him to cross my arms. Right his precious case that's always way more important than his family. He sighed and was left speechless for a second. I could see in his eyes he was searching for something to say.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked. "What do you want me to do? I am here and I am trying."

"Yeah," I scoffed, "when you're forced too."

"I just got back and I am trying to make this work. Be here for you, protect you and yes, do my job. I can't just do it all." he tried to reason.

"She did." I dared. "But what? You're somehow more important?" I asked.

"Of course not" he said as I started to walk away. "Y/N...Listen, stop!" he called and I turned around to face him again. "You think it sucks just having me, I know but it's not just me. You have Gramps and Grams and Liam-"

"I needed you! August and I needed you!" I shouted and I can feel tears pressing against my eyes.

"Ok well we need to find a way to have a balance because when I get a call I have to go." he stated.

"Do you?" I challenged him. "Do you just have too? You can't just call up your boss and say 'oh oops i have to actually pay attention to my kids now'. We lost mom, then you left. I-I felt like I lost you too." I choked up at the end. A tear threatened to slide down my face but I quickly wiped it and looked away from dad.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked. I rolled my eyes and started to walk away "How can I fix this?"

"I don't know, the only person that could have fixed anything is gone!" I exclaimed. Dad swallowed and looked at me with a half angry, half sad expression.

"Get in the truck." he commanded and I did so slamming the car door behind me.

»»————-　★　————-««

I heard dad and grandma talking right outside my room so I decided to stand by my door frame and listen in. They were talking about August and I and Grams basically reiterated what I said this morning about dad being in Austin but not at home with us. She also mentioned the farmhouse that could be our new home.

"You already arranged the whole thing, didn't you?" dad asked grandma.

"Well I wanted you to put your own personal touches on it first" she responded and my dad chuckled.

"Mama," dad began, "It's a tricky time for me. I-I mean there's a task force I've been recommended for. It's down south and it's really important-" dad was cut off by August walking into the room. I entered my room and slammed the door. He's probably leaving again, I can't say I'm surprised though. He always put work over family.

»»————-　★　————-««

It was much later when someone knocked on my door.

"Come in" I said. I sat at my desk and doodled in my sketchbook. I never really liked doing very detailed art, just basic doodles. My door opened and August entered my room.

"Dad and I are sleeping in the farmhouse. Would you like to join?" he asked me

"No thank you." I grumbled and I heard August let out a sigh.

"You're so confusing." he huffed

"What do you mean?" I asked as I concentrated on my drawing.

"You always say Dad's never here but when he actually is, you're the one that avoids him."

"Well sorry if I don't want to get attached just to have him leave again."

"He's not leaving."

"Did you not hear him earlier? He got offered another case away from us." I started tracing the same circle over and over again on my paper. I concentrated on the circle getting darker to distract me from the tears trying to escape.

"He isn't taking the job." August insisted.

"Ok so say maybe he isn't taking this job, but he will take one eventually and leave us again, just like he always does." I pressed too hard on my paper that it tore. I ripped the page out of my sketchbook and tossed it in the trash can. I sniffed and started a new page.

"You alright?" he questioned.

"Yea," I lied, "Augie just go spend time with dad. Let it be a father son thing." I forced a smile and August nodded and left the room.

»»————-　★　————-««

I walked up to the farmhouse holding a blanket grandma gave me to bring up to Dad and August. I know what she's actually up to. She wants dad and I to talk. I opened the door and entered the house.

"Hey." Dad greets while looking towards me. August was sleeping on my couch next to him.

"Mawline told me to bring you this, which was super subtle." I said and dad offered up a smile. He took the blanket from me and draped it over August. "I heard you earlier." I told him referring to his conversation with Mawline about his job offer down south.

"Come on" he motioned for me to sit next to him on the couch. I sat on the floor beside the couch instead. I'm trying to not get too used to him being around because there will always be that fear of him leaving us for good in the back of my mind. I bit my lip nervously, not knowing if he is going to take that job makes me anxious.

"I am not going to that job." he affirmed.

"You might feel different in the morning." I said sadly.

"I am not going to feel different about you, and being here." He vowed which made me smile a bit.

"For now." I scoffed. Sometimes I feel like I am to blame for mom's death and that's the reason dad went away.

"I'm learning. Now's all we got." he said and I took a deep breath

"Do you think I could have saved mom?" I dared to ask "I mean when I heard the gunshot, If I went back, would have I been able to save her?" Dad was silent which had me terrified.

"Y/N, I can't tell you if you could or couldn't have saved her but I think," he paused for a moment, " you did everything you were supposed to that night. You did exactly what mom told you to do, which was always our number one rule for when you went out with her. If you went back, you'd probably have died too" he informed me. I sniffed, leaning further down the floor and resting my head on the couch cushion.

»»————-　★　————-««

#walker #cordell walker #jared paladecki #walker texas ranger #gen padalecki #emily walker #walker fan fiction #august walker #supernatural #Cordell x daughter!reader #micki ramirez #ddm

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 7 - Memories

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, was it a memory?, 2.6k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

“Don’t look down ‘cuz we’re still rising up right now...and even if we hit the ground...we’ll still fly, keep dreaming like we’ll live forever but live it like it’s now or never…”

Willie bobbed along as the song played from the tinny radio speaker outside the bodega. Sheldon was curled on his lap, purring contentedly as Willie pet him absentmindedly.

“You gonna take any chamoy candy, amigo?” Escobar asked, peeking his head out the door.

Willie shook his head.

“Not tonight.”

As Escobar disappeared again, Willie kept nodding to the beat of the song. It wasn’t exactly like being at a concert, but he had been happily surprised to hear the local station playing their songs - they’d been repeating them, in fact. By now he’d been able to assign faces to the voices singing different parts, and hearing Alex’s come through in the harmonies and the occasional solo was comforting.

“We ain’t searching for tomorrow…’cuz we got all we need today…”

The lines were strangely fitting. If Willie could’ve chosen how to spend his last day on Earth, he knew he would’ve spent it just like he had yesterday without question. If only that could make the Alex-sized hole hurt a little less than it had today.

“Can we turn it back to my station now?” Escobar called out. “We’ve heard the same songs, like, four times.”

“It’s Alex’s band, though,” Willie contested. The radio was already playing rancheras. As he stood up, Sheldon leapt off of his lap and went to eat more food.

“Que tiene este muchacho, anyway?” Escobar asked. “You knew him for, like, five seconds and he didn’t leave you a number.”

There was no way to properly express in words the feeling he got about Alex. Their interactions weren’t based on words, even when they had spoken.

“You don’t have to get it, Escobar,” he said, grabbing his board and helmet from leaning against the counter. He hadn't let himself hope it would magically last forever, but the memory was worth it. “I’ll see you later.”

“Adios,” the man said, sweeping up the store and singing along to his music. “Una piedra en el camino...me enseño que mi destino...era rodar y rodar…”

Shaking his head and smiling, Willie kicked off into the late night. He’d spent all morning cleaning hotel rooms, and he tried to remember which number had been the one for Alex and his band, but he never figured it out. The rest of the day, he’d run errands for Caleb and let the one memory he had regained play on loop in his mind. There was nothing that specifically indicated that the man in the truck was his dad, but he simply knew it was. They had the same squint when they smiled.

He hadn’t bothered telling Caleb about it. It would’ve been irrelevant, since he’d apparently been in the foster care system for quite some time. Those were some of the important details he’d gotten from him, but Caleb was rather stingy about the rest - he’d said it was so Willie could live unbiased and make himself into whoever he wanted. It didn’t feel that way, though. Eventually Willie had stopped trying to weasel things out of him and accepted that he might never regain his memories. Of course, it was different now that he knew they could return.

The wind in his hair was nice, but lacked something he couldn’t put a finger on. As he came upon a large home, he skated onto the driveway around the back. He was headed past the pool in the backyard toward his shed and was surprised by a sudden voice from the water.

“William, I’ve asked you so many times not to skate around the pool,” Caleb said, wading over from where he had been doing some laps. Slowing to a stop and picking his board up, Willie gave him an apologetic nod, continuing toward the shed.

“Wait,” he heard from behind. Turning, he saw Caleb climb out of the pool and move toward him.

“You’ve been running around all day, so I’m sure you want some rest. I’ve just been worried about where you go when it’s so late. That’s two nights in a row. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

Put on the spot, everything went blank in his mind. What was there to worry about? Did he know about Sheldon? Even if he did, it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong keeping the cat at the bodega.

“Not anything to tell,” he replied, trying to mask the strange guilt that had arisen. “Just been skating around.”

Caleb looked down at him, and Willie could never tell what was making those gears turn in his head. He knew he was just looking out for him, but sometimes he just wanted not to give some kind of report at the end of the day like he was doing business.

“I just think about what would happen if you were out there and something were to hurt you,” Caleb told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Or someone. Wouldn’t want another accident.”

Willie nodded solemnly. Caleb’s tone was serious, but for the first time he just felt that it was...insincere. His stomach flipped at the thought and he drove it down into the depths of his mind. That was an awful thing to think about the person who literally provided everything for him, especially when he wasn’t blood-related.

“I’m being careful, I promise,” he said, not meeting the man’s eyes.

“I’ll take your word,” Caleb said. He let go of Willie’s shoulder and strolled back toward the pool.

Walking to the shed, Willie shut the door behind him and confusion swept over his whole being. His dad’s face rose to the front of his mind again. If only he knew more about him to compare the two men, then he could understand why he felt so strangely about Caleb. Looking around the shed, he wondered if an answer could be found.

It was big enough for his bed, some shelves and a desk, with a small closet and bathroom. Apparently he had been living in there instead of the house even before his accident. In his first memory of seeing it, it was the bare necessities and nothing else. While Willie still wasn’t much to keep lots of clutter, he had dozens of sketches that he’d put up on the walls to make it feel more at home. It was quiet and thankfully Caleb didn’t bother him too often in there.

Sitting at the desk, he picked up a pencil and opened to a blank page in his sketchbook. Slowly shaping out a face, he tried his best to remember the details as clearly as he could. Willie wanted it to be as close to reality as possible, even though it wasn’t his usual drawing style. That way if his memory slipped, he could have something to keep him steady. So far the best thing about it was the eyes, but it wasn’t hard because all he had to do was check his own face in the mirror every once in a while. The smile was a little more crooked and wrinkly, and it took several attempts, but he was determined to get it right. He knew it was probably a good idea to get some sleep, since he had a full day of work in the morning, but this was more important.

Hours into the drawing, making sure everything was as close as he could get, Willie looked down at the portrait of his dad, steering wheel in hand, happy as could be. It was a really nice image, and if this were the only way he would ever remember him, Willie was glad it was happy. Checking the time, it was a little past three in the morning. He’d probably hate himself later for staying up so late, but it didn’t make him any less proud of his work. Aside from preserving his memory, it had been a great artistic challenge.

Finally climbing into bed, Willie tried to focus on something else. He brought Alex’s eyes to the forefront of his mind and let himself get lost in the soft crashing of the waves again. It had been rhythmic, which was so fitting for Alex. Allowing the rhythm to repeat continuously, he eventually nodded off to sleep.

Sirens blared and red and blue lights surrounded his vision. Willie was lying on the pavement, not moving and fading in and out of lucidity. The pain in his head was overwhelming. For a few moments, he stayed that way, watching the lights flash indefinitely. Slowly, he watched as all the lights and sirens pulled away, and above his face, the front bumper of a car came in view. A man that he couldn’t see clearly appeared, moving backwards, going from the side of the car to kneeling over Willie’s motionless body in a panic.

After a few moments, the man went back to the car in the same backwards fashion, and Willie’s body lifted in the air. His vision tumbled and he made contact with the car a few times, and when his head hit the pain vanished. Strangely, he landed perfectly on his board and it was like watching the city in reverse. Aware this was a dream, he felt so puzzled by the whole thing. This was a part of the city he could’ve sworn he’d never been through before. Willie had his corners that he’d memorized, but Vegas was big enough to confuse him still.

The backwards skating seemed to be endless, until finally he was running back into Caleb’s home. Caleb was yelling, and Willie couldn’t make out what he was saying at all. Then suddenly they were at a social worker’s office, and Willie looked down at a file with his picture on it. He couldn’t make out anything it said, but he simply sat there as Caleb and the social worker blabbed in backwards gibberish.

The scene changed again, and Willie found himself sitting in the shed, crying. He was repeating a name but it made no sense. A deep loneliness filled his entire body and a strange force seemed to try to compress him into as small a space as possible. The tears and the shaking only intensified, ringing loudly in his ears. Everything was miserable, overwhelming, and he just kept crying out into the dark.

Willie opened his eyes and sat up in his bed. Looking around his room, there was too little light to make out any shapes, and after blinking his eyes he found they were wet. Huddling his knees into his chest, he just sat there in his confusion and fear, breathing in and out. Had those been memories? It was so hard to tell, especially since watching everything in reverse had been so trippy. If they had been, he wondered if they were warped in any fashion. Who would have their memories return through a dream in reverse, anway? The frustrating thing about amnesia was that it had very few absolutes and every case was different.

A pit of anger grew in his chest. Willie felt like some higher power was having fun at his expense. The tears that fell were more from quiet fury than pain. Glancing over at his desk, he saw the drawing of his dad smiling back at him again. Unfolding himself and laying down on his side, Willie stared at the picture and let the tears run until either his eyes dried up or he fell asleep again, whichever came first.

Loud banging on his door was what woke him up. Rising groggily from his bed, he opened the door to find Quetzal, one of the girls from the diner.

“You just woke up?” she was saying. “Come on, Willie, Caleb doesn’t know I rushed over here to get you, you better hurry up.”

Sighing wordlessly, Willie pulled on some clothes, followed Quetzal to her car and clambered inside.

“You’ve been off the past couple of days, you okay?”

Willie took in a deep breath and tried to blink himself more awake as they drove to the diner.

“Just in a funk, that’s all,” he breathed. “Thanks for coming to get me, though.”

“Let’s just pray we don’t get caught.”

“We won’t get caught, he’s doing some kind of new deal today. I heard him on the phone a while ago about some record label he was thinking of buying.”

“A record label? How many businesses does the guy own now, like five?”

“I stopped keeping track. Anyway, Dolores is probably managing today.”

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed. “You had me so worried when you didn’t show up on time. I was ready to get fired for leaving during my shift. At least we don’t have to worry about it now.”

Willie didn’t respond. He knew Quetzal was one of those people who would go out on a limb for anyone, but it still surprised him when she did it for him. He never felt deserving. As they parked at the diner and hurried out of the car, he shook his head. It wasn’t always successful but he always hoped it worked like an Etch-A-Sketch, to get rid of the many things cluttering up his brain.

That was it. Enter the kitchen, punch in, grab an apron, and he was in his corner by the dishwasher again. He ignored the eyes of everyone else who clearly wanted to express their upset by his tardiness. He was there now, right? Heaven forbid. Willie’s mind, of course, only remained cleared from the shaking for a few minutes. As he got into the groove of spraying and moving things into the industrial trays, he tried to remember more details of the dream, but most had been forgotten. All that was left were sirens and lights.

He’d walked back home at the end of his long shift, since he hadn’t taken his board like usual in the morning. That also meant he couldn’t go to the bodega for lunch, and he desperately needed to check on Sheldon. Willie had peeked into the house and called to see if Caleb was home at all. His own voice echoed back followed by silence. Taking that as a confirmation the man was still busy, he gathered his board and helmet and made his way out to the street.

The wind wasn’t its usual soothing sensation against his face. Willie knew he was tired, but was disappointed to feel that the one thing that felt most freeing to him wasn’t doing its job. It should’ve been enough to lose his thoughts to the sound of the low roll from the wheels, only interrupted by the gentle clacks here and there. There was too much noise inside of him. Suddenly, he understood why Alex had chosen to play drums.

Sheldon was already pattering toward him as he came through the doorway. Scooping the cat into his arms, he held him close and stroked his fur in an attempt to find some comfort. When he started purring, Willie made a little sigh of relief.

“Busy day?” Escobar asked as he organized a shelf.

Willie only nodded. Sheldon was rubbing his head against his face, and it did more to soothe him than the wind.

“Sorry I didn’t come for lunch,” he apologized. “I haven’t been doing my part for Sheldon and I owe you.”

“I would like it if you could be around more,’ Escobar said. “But he’s a pretty good cat, so it isn’t too much, amigo.”

Nodding again, Willie finally heard the music playing in the background. Was it…?

“I thought you were tired of their songs,” he commented.

Escobar shrugged.

“Eh, I had an idea you wanted to listen to them. And they’re not all too bad.”

A surprised giggle came from Willie’s throat, and he smiled for probably the first time that day. He went to give Sheldon some food and let his mind replace the red and blue lights with soft green eyes.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #caleb covington #viva las vegas #memories #fiddlepickdouglas #memory

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torujours · 3 years

Text

"Their Portrait"

✏️ paring: kita x gn!reader

✏️ summary: it's not easy when artist can't find inspiration, in the last attempt to find some Kita to find it in the form of you on a warm November day and he's determined to find it again.

✏️ WC: 1656

✏️ warnings: none other than my bad writing

✏️ A/N: hope you like this one! i have been trying to write something for kita foreVER cause the brainrOT is real and as always reblogs are super duper appreciated!!

The sun shone down on the park as birds chirp over head, kita inhales taking in the November air. It's an unusual warm day so why not enjoy it before the snow comes. He doesn't go to the park often, preferring a much more quiet enclosed in space. Yet, he holds onto his stretch book tightly as he walks past people walking their dogs, children playing and older people feeding birds that have landed on the ground. This is perfect, he should get a lot of inspiration here right? He has been struggling the past few weeks trying to get some inspiration to pick up his pencil and just draw. He was hopeful at least.

So he finds a tiny table, most of them taken from other people, and set his supplies down. Looking around at his surroundings, being an artist was always both a challenge and enjoyable to him. Inspiration hit him like a truck some times and other times it's as if he couldn't draw even if his life depended on it.

Shaking his head, he knew inspiration would come when it came so he decided to start sketching the trees around him till that time came.

He hoped it just came soon.

~~~~~

The smile doesn't leave your face as you stop jogging and take deep breaths in and out. You have jogged the longest you have in a while so you are feeling pretty accomplished. Plus it's gonna be hard to jog outside when the snow came. but it was time to give your legs a break, so you walk around the familiar park and even greet some people you have met while jogging in the past.

It takes a little while for you to find an empty place to sit, not really wanting to sit on the ground (cause you knew that after that run you wouldn't get up if you did) but your legs saving grace came when you saw an empty chair across to someone with gray hair and black tips. He is doing something with what looks like a book but you walk over anyway “excuse me?” you start politely and he looks up, pushing up his glasses while taking in your “yes?” you send him a smile “can i sit here? sorry i just need to give my legs a break” you chuckle a bit but he just nods “sure thing..”

His smile is subtle but it's there. Saying thanks, you sit down and sigh happily.

Now kita doesn't want to seem creepy but watched you from the corner of his eye for a moment after you sit down. Blaming it on his “artist blood” was the reason why he paid so much attention to your side profile. Kita was man who could admit you had a nice face. Calling you good looking was too much for him, after all you are a stranger but you caught his eye and that’s saying something.

Kita stares down at the tree sketches and found himself annoyed with the lack of inspiration but hearing you giggle making him look over for just a second. You are now leaning on the table, looking at your phone. A smile can be seen on your face and Kita just picks up his pencil again, flips to a clean page of his sketchbook and starts the outline of a human face.

God this could be seen as creepy but he draws the best faces when there is a much closer example and here you are, still minding your own business and typing away at your phone. Kita keeps you in the corner of his eye, wishing to look at you head on again for a much cleaner view but he can't do that. So he roughly sketches your cheeks, the shape of your nose, the arch of your eyebrows, the way your lips look soft and nice-

He stops his hand, feeling embarrassed his by his thoughts so he moved on from your...lips and moved to your eyes. The sun wasn't shining in them or anything but they still looked bright (maybe it was your phone), the shape of them was unique and he would love to get a better look. He sketches and sketches your face, a small smile on his lips as the drawing smiles up at him but his pencil stops as you stand up and stretch your arms. He looks up at you for a moment before dropping his head again then second you turn to him “thank you for letting me sit with you...goodbye” you give him a small wave and he just nods “goodbye...” and with that you jog away, leaving Kita alone with his incomplete drawing of your happy face.

~~~~~

Kita tried to complete the portrait of you but he couldn't. He just couldn't replicate your face the same way without you in front of him. He prides himself in not letting artwork unfinished but what can he do in this case? It's not like he would see you again? He shuts his sketchbook and sighs, maybe he would go back to the park tomorrow. Maybe he would see you again. Maybe he would say something this time. Maybe.

Well two of those three maybes came true, cause once again Kita was greeted to a warm day as he making his way around the park. Just as full as yesterday but now he had a mission, an objective, inspiration.

Maybe this was stupid, he knew nothing about you. What if you had school or work or don't even live around here? Why was he so caught up in finding you besides his pride to finish the sketch of your face. Still he found the same table he was at the previous day Once again placing his sketchbook down he sat and looked around for you he knew his chances of finding you again we are slim but he tried to remain hopeful anyway.

You were going to go back to the park, but a friend of yours wanted to meet up there and spend some time together. You were walking around trying to find a place to wait for them but they texted you that they couldn't make it something came up so you thought about what you could do with your changed plans while still walking around. You were just about to walk back and out of the park when you realize this was the part of the park you were just yesterday and more importantly, you saw Kita. So being nice, you wanted to greet him before making your leave (so you don't disturb him he looks like he is looking for someone) so you walk over and almost laugh as he jumps slightly at seeing you appear beside him.

“Hello again! sorry I didn't mean to scare you” he laughs awkwardly and turns to face you head on “ah no you didn't but hello it's nice to see you again” you notice the words “sketchbook” on the book resting on the park table “likewise but hm that was draw you were doing yesterday i see” kita panics a bit as you sit down across from him again, yet he nods “yes i’m an artist..” “really? that's amazing! and oh i’m y/n by the way haha i didn't get to introduce myself yesterday” Kita smiles “I’m Kita Shinsuke and i’m not that good of an artist honestly..” you rest your cheek on your hand “i’m sure you are wonderful, I’d love see your work if you are comfortable...” kita thinks for a moment, his hand already going to hand you the precious sketchbook “here you go, it's alright...” wait his sketch of you is in there but it's too late cause you are smiling widely as you flip carefully through the various sketches he's done over the course of having the sketchbook. “They are beautiful!” You take in the talent strokes of his pencil carefully as you look at all the sketches. Kita watches you nervously, feeling a little sick as you get to the last page of the sketchbook.

The page with your Portrait on it.

it doesn't hit just what you are looking at till you notice the date, time and place written at the bottom of the page along with a tiny title “the Portrait”. It's you. He started drawing you. A lot of thoughts run through your head but first of all, it's beautiful. He has already captured so much of your face in the small amount of time you two were together yesterday. And you giggle a bit, feeling flattered but kita is about to explode from the embarrassment. “I-I...I'm sorry I should have ask your permission before I started doing anything-” you cut off his apology with another chuckle as your fingers trace over the paper “don't be sorry this is so amazing... i’m really flattered you saw me worthy of even drawing in the first place”

he made you look so good wow even if it was incomplete.

You hand him back the sketchbook and smile “so when can I pose for you to finish it hm?” Kita coughed a bit to hide his surprise as you flash a big smile toward him, he was cute honestly “huh?” “you wanna finish it don't you? but you need my face so consider me your muse” you state proudly, you never molded for anyone before so this was new yet excited for you. Kita pushes up his glasses again before breaking out in a much bigger smile that almost catches you off guard with how warm it is. “Muse huh? I’d like that...”

You and kita chat as he softly moves his pencil, finally getting that perfect view of your face and maybe it's just he is glad to have some inspiration or something more but he could get use to drawing you much more and more.

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7: A Sentimental Journey

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,095

Warnings: None? I mean probably swearing but this is straight fluff

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @thecaptainsgingersnap @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge @wildcvltre @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @boredoomfm @voidnarnia @anonymousonion33 @the-passionate-freak

“Steve, take me to prom,” Steve nearly shot milk out of his nose. He’d spent the morning counting down the hours till school was over. The final essay for crabby old Lawrence was due in less than a week and you still hadn’t handed over his essay for his final rewrite, which wasn’t a problem, he could just wait until he was back in your bedroom. Steve liked your house a lot more than his. He liked your grandparents, especially Maude who’d sit him on the couch and show him photos from your childhood. He liked your bedroom and digging through your sketchbooks, he liked how comfortable you were in your own space. Samantha would sometimes join the pair of you there, eating popcorn and playing her 48s on your dusty Mickey Mouse record player. But most of the time it was the pair of you alone, working on assignments and swapping stories. He’d forgotten about Vicki entirely, he’d only joined Tommy for lunch after he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over.

“What?” he sputtered, swallowing hard. The whole table was watching him carefully. Vicki merely shrugged, batting her eyelashes at him. Steve’s stomach soured. It wasn’t as if Vicki wasn’t an attractive person, she was very pretty, but only on the outside. He didn’t really have it in him to stomach another night with her.

“I…I kind of have my eye on someone else, Vicks.” Steve watched as she deflated, looking down at her untouched kernel corn. “Besides, Hargrove’s probably itching to take you anyway.”

That was the wrong answer. Vicki immediately burst into tears, pushing away from the table. Carol rushed to console her, Tina taking up the rear. “They broke up last week, jackass.” She bit out, flipping Steve off angrily as she followed behind the crying Vicki.

Steve stood from the table, heading away from the mess he made. He didn’t want to hang out with Tommy anyway, especially with him glaring him down from across the table. He didn’t get why it mattered so much to Tommy that he do things the way he wanted. Dating Vicki didn’t make him more or less popular. It literally didn’t matter. They were going to graduate soon anyway.

Samantha grinned as she caught Steve walking over. “Harrington, twelve o’clock.” She whispered. You didn’t look up from your pad. The light had caught his hair right and you wanted to finish your shading before you lost the image in your mind. You heard Steve pull out the chair next to you and then your pad was tugged away.

“Hey!” you cried, your charcoal making a wide black streak down the page, effectively ruining the drawing.

“Who’s this supposed to be?” he held the sketchpad in front of him and then next to his face. Samantha chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “Is this supposed to be me?”

“Well, it was going to be till you ruined it.” You grumbled, snatching the pad back .

“That looks nothing like me!” Steve laughed loudly. In truth, he thought the man in the picture was too symmetrical and handsome to be him.

“On what planet?” Samantha scoffed, pulling her butterscotch pudding cup away from Steve’s greedy hands. He was a notorious pudding thief, and food thief in general, much to her annoyance and surprise.

“I get the best of everyone’s features…” you muttered, working on removing the mark he’d made “Not that there’s much to discard from you…”

“You missed the scar on my nose.” He replied with a shrug, grabbing your vanilla pudding. You both knew that you wouldn’t eat it.

You looked up “What scar?” Steve pointed to the bridge of his nose. You inched closer, getting a better view of the mark. Steve held his breath, utterly paralyzed. He felt like such a doofus. He was usually so smooth with girls, but you made him utterly tongue tied.

“Hm, yeah you do.” You pulled your face back, turning back to your pad, adding a thin line to the strong bridge of his nose. “How’d you get that?”

“Got hit in the face with a baseball bat in pee-wee t-ball.” Steve admitted. The participation trophy he had was from that game, his father took him out of the sport after getting hit. His whole team won the season, but because he didn’t play he got a tiny trophy from the league as a consolation prize.

“Seriously?” You and Samantha said in unison.

“Yeah, I made the paper and everything.” That was a point of pride for Steve, he had the clipping somewhere in his room. You and Samantha laughed at his cockiness. The image of elementary aged Steve with a huge gash down his nose and a toothless grin, holding up a dinky little trophy for the poor, underpaid reporter taking down the story.

The bell signalling the end of lunch blared over head and the three of you rushed to collect your things. Steve grabbed your tray, waiting for you to pack up your things. Samantha left without you, bidding her goodbyes to the pair of you.

Steve reached out to touch your elbow lightly, drawing your attention to him “We still good to hang out after school?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure, we can look over your essay.” You shrugged, trying to get the electric current blazing up your nerves to settle. Your breath caught in your chest every time he touched you. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, you liked him. You more than liked him; you didn’t even know how to explain it. You’d say it was love but you weren’t even sure how that was supposed to feel. All you knew is that the world seemed better when he was around and it wasn’t everything seemed greyer and duller. He was summer personified. He was sunshine and summer evenings and flowers and everything beautiful. And you never used to like all that shit. But now you wanted to bask in the glow of the sun that was Steve Harrington.

The hours till the bell always ticked slower and slower after lunch. The individual grains of sand cascaded past your eyelids as you zoned out in your other classes. When the final bell rang, the pair of you rushed from opposite sides of the school to meet in the middle. Samantha was walking disgustingly slow to your shared locker. “So, yeah I was going to ask Robin but I figure it might be suspicious enough to go with a girl, besides I don’t think I can snag another ticket so close to the deadline as is,” she’d been going on about whether or not she should invite her little junior paramour to the prom.

“Yeah, I mean most people already think you’re weird enough, showing up with a random junior might totally ruin you.” You sneered. Graduation was just around the corner, and Samantha’s acceptance to Wellesley was well taken care of. She was almost out of Hawkins; there was no point in trying to pretend that she was straight.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s her. She’ll still be stuck here after I leave, I don’t want to make things hard for her.” Samantha replied with a shrug, pulling her gym kit from the bottom of your locker.

“Just take my ticket. You know most of the soccer team is going anyway.” You replied, shoving her cleats into her bag. You dropped your textbooks onto the tiny top shelf and pulled your messenger bag across your body. You spotted Steve from across the hall. He’d just left his gym class and his hair was wet and dripping on his face. He bounded over to you, grinning like a fool.

“You ready?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You ever going to dry your hair?” Samantha mused. Steve shook his head hard, water flying off his to dry it like a dog would. You and Samantha screeched, holding up your hands to hide your faces from the water.

You smacked Steve’s back “Enough!” you cried. Steve stopped immediately, laughing softly.

“I’m gone, catch you tomorrow.” Samantha waved, jogging off to probably find little Robin. You and Steve headed off towards Steve’s car. He drove the pair of you home even when you weren’t hanging out. It was nice to have a ride home, Hawkins weather wasn’t kind in spring and even in May when the weather turned warmer and the sun shone brightly, rain could still hit at any moment. That was how you rationalized making maps in your mind of Steve’s hand on the gear shift and the way his jaw clenched when someone tried to cut him off or turned too slow in the left hand turn lane. He was too beautiful. It was painful to watch him, like staring directly into the sun. You thought about kissing him more than you’d ever admit out loud. It felt like wanting to kiss the statue of David, like Pygmalion with his Galatea, too self-flagellating to even attempt. You didn’t know why you felt like his creator, but you did. You’d done nothing to build him, to mould him, and yet you left as if you knew him better than anyone else. You understood his nature, the way his mind worked.

Steve parked in his driveway and the pair of you headed across the street to your house. Your house seemed to be a specific choice for both of you. For you, being in your own home was comfortable and safe. You knew it like the back of your hand and it felt correct to be there. A cocoon of security for you to burrow into. Recently, Steve’s mother had been home much more than a month ago. You couldn’t read his mind, but being somewhere else than his own bedroom was probably a nice change. He seemed to keep you away from his house when his mother was there.

You unlocked the front door, kicking off your shoes in the doorway and tossing them on the rack. Steve followed suite mindlessly, calling into the house “Hey, Maude! Mr. Y/L/N…” he still wasn’t certain that your grandfather liked him; he seemed at times disinterested and at others cruel and cutting.

“Nice to see you again, Steve.” Maude smiled, poking her head out of the living room to smile at the pair of you. Your grandmother liked Steve. You were certain that she’d like anyone new you brought home. She was desperate to meet any of your friends and refused to believe that she’d met them all.

You and Steve headed upstairs, taking your usual seats in your bedroom, you on your desk chair and Steve laying flat on your mattress, constantly staring up at the stars. You read back his essay to him, noting the problems you’d found. This was the third time you’d edited it and the words were well worn into both of your brains. He’d decided to write on way Heathcliff is painted as a monster within the text, a fine topic which Mr. Lawrence had suggested as one of the topic choices. His argument was that Heathcliff is painted as a monster because of his interest in a woman he’s come to find in a sisterly position in his life. Basically, incest isn’t cool. It was a hard argument to proof, because the answers weren’t in the text itself, you had to push him to find points within the spaces in between the words. You were proud of the final piece that he’d created; it was a strong case and a decent attempt at a college level essay.

“What’s the verdict, chief?” Steve asked, sitting up slightly to address you fully.

“It’s good, there’s still a few sentences that need reworking and a quote that I think you could axe, but even without those edits you can still swing a solid B.” you handed the papers over to him. The pages had the least amounts of edits you’d done for him all semester. He’d really improved his writing.

“You think?” Steve replied, flipping through the pages quickly, noting the wide circle around a bit of dialogue from the fifteenth chapter. He couldn’t help but smile at the wide, bubbly ‘B+’ you’d scrawled at the top of the page. You’d drawn a little smiley face next to the grade, a small touch you’d started doing after editing his second paper, a little one pager about the thirteenth chapter of Wuthering Heights. He liked the little smiles, they made him happy whenever he saw them, they were a little touch of you on his work, a detail he refused to miss.

“Duh!” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Steve stood from your bed, turning his attention to your shelf. You’d let him go through your work before, a small feat of trust for you. You didn’t usually even let Samantha go through most of your work. You’d usually choose what people could see of your work. But Steve seemed to like the strange, unfinished, or messy works hidden in binders or pads shelved. He pulled out a grey binder, labelled in masking tape ‘Hawkins’ Most Beautiful’. He held up the binder to you, raising an eyebrow. “Now, what the hell is this?” he asked.

“That was my first attempt at a portfolio, before I learned what a portfolio was.” You replied with a small length. Steve opened the binder, which you’d turned into a sort of album with plastic viewers holding sketches in place, both in black and white and colour. He recognized the first one immediately as Nancy from about a year ago, judging by her ringlet curls. It looked so much like he remembered her, but he knew the girl you’d drawn wasn’t who she really was. Steve flipped the page. He didn’t recognize some faces, strangers to him, and you hadn’t labelled them with names. You done a couple recreations of yearbook photos, he remembered signing a picture of Carol, Tina, and Vicki from the previous year, the trio grinning in Hawkins High merchandise.

“You could do a whole like show with these, they’re really cool.” He held the binder up, pages flipped to the portrait you’d done of Barbara Holland. When you’d drawn that, you hadn’t known that she’d go missing or wind up dead, she was just the girl sat across from you in the library with interesting glasses.

“I’d want to redo them first. They’re all rough drafts. I planned to redraw them, choosing to emphasize one colour for each of the drawings, but then I also planned to black out their eyes, and then I thought they were all stupid ideas.” You explained sheepishly.

“No, don’t touch them.” Steve cut in “They’re perfect the way they are.”

Steve wasn’t much of an art critic. He certainly wasn’t an objective judge. But despite logic, you blushed heavily, turning your gaze away. You wished Steve would look away but he didn’t, you felt his eyes on you. “You really don’t have to be so nice, you know…” you muttered, looking up to meet his eye with a shy smile.

“Go to prom with me?” Steve hadn’t thought about the question before he said it. The subject had been on his mind since that afternoon and when he told Vicki that he had someone else in mind for the dance. At the time he didn’t think much of the statement, now it seemed obvious who his subconscious was alluding to.

“What?” you breathed out wide eyed and confused. You hadn’t planned on going at all. Samantha wanted to go, and you’d bought tickets but when she gained interested in Robin you relinquished your ticket easily to her. She’d have more fun on a quasi-date with the junior.

“Go with me,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have a date yet do you?”

“I don’t even have a ticket…I gave it away.” you replied, looking at your feet instead of him. You felt like such a little geek. You knew Steve wasn’t laughing at you, but you still felt small.

“I have two. And I want you to go with me.” Steve said simply, reaching out and taking your hand.

“Are you sure? I mean your friends all hate me and I don’t think your status as king will be damaged if they see you with me.” You replied, shaking your head as if the statement was funny. You couldn’t imagine spending the night with Tommy and Carol, and having it go well. You knew that it wouldn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. It can be whatever you want.” Steve said easily. He just wanted you to feel comfortable and it was so obvious that you weren’t. “And I don’t care about those guys. I’ll kick their asses if they try anything.”

“Whoa, calm down, we don’t want you getting hurt.” You joked, looking up at the ceiling. You didn’t have to know Steve personally to know that he was not a fighter, losing to freak Jonathan Byers was not a small story in a small town. Steve laughed at his own expense. Internally, he knew he could fight when he needed to, to protect people, but he couldn’t exactly tell that story. It still scared him too much to speak of.

“So, will you?” he asked. You rubbed your lips together, unsure what the right answer was. If there even was a right answer. Your gut instinct said yes without a doubt, but your mind fought back at the notion of even humouring the idea. You’d get laughed out of the place. You’d get mocked. Steve was playing a cruel prank. He couldn’t want to be seen with you. But you met his eye and you didn’t see any malice there. His wide, expressive eyes screamed kindness and patience.

You swallowed hard, pushing away feelings of worry. “Yeah, okay…” you said softly, taking Steve’s hand again to steady yourself. Steve would protect you if he needed to. He’d promised to. And you trusted him.

“Yeah?” he asked, matching your tone.

“Yeah.” You nodded hard, almost as if to convince him as well as yourself. Steve’s face split into his wide grin and you found yourself smiling too. Despite yourself, you were a bit excited. You spent the afternoon with his hand in yours, not letting go unless you did, looking over the portraits and discussing what you saw in the faces. It was the first moment of peace your heart had found in a long time

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