#he is so easy to draw and I found a new favorite brush for sketching

[kakyogay]

ough it's late uhh umm uhh umm have a moxxie

[eldritchscribblings]

Ever At Odds

Thranduil X Reader

Part 2

Reader is an artist who has taken up a temporary residence in Mirkwood, but keeps bumping into an irritatingly handsome elf king. What happens when a late night encounter forces them together?

Word Count: 2876

Warnings:

swearing

part two will have smut

Notes: I'm sorryyyyyy I didn't want there to be a part two but it took me so long to write this part and I wanted to get it out asap for y'all <3 Pt 2 will be out soon, I'm moving across the country, so writing is slow rn.

A cold autumn wind blew through the halls of Mirkwood, biting into the very bones of those who dared set foot in the ancient woodland realm. In the ages past that bitter wind would have only howled, but its teeth had grown sharper in recent times. Not only did the wind sink its teeth into those unprepared for the woods, but it had turned its teeth upon its own people; the elves, as well. The time of elves on Middle Earth was drawing to an end.

You, of course, were well aware of that from your perch in Imladris, watching as elves dwindled and men rose to power. You were a long way off from leaving for the Undying Lands yourself, but you had already begun to feel that tug in your soul to move from your idle nest and wander towards the sea. And so you’d decided to bide your time by traveling middle earth and sketching all that was old and new among the elves; making a record of what you’d leave behind. It had been a comforting work to put your brush and pencils to paper and convey the millennia of love and sorrow that each individual stone and sapling possessed, and it had satiated you to know that once your work was completed you could leave Middle Earth with a contented heart. But as every tree must survive a storm at some point, your storm came in the form of an elven man with thick furrowed brows and a disposition that would make soot taste sweet; King Thranduil Oropherion of the Woodland Realm.

You’d arrived in Mirkwood nearly two years prior after being rescued from a giant spider by the guards and losing your favorite quill (poor Flutterflick) among the leaf strewn ground. After a quick interrogation, you were released into Mirkwood to do your duty, and yet everywhere you went for peace and tranquility you seemed to run into the Elven King. The first time it happened you hadn’t realized who he was until he threatened to have you locked in the dungeon for disagreeing with him on the best elven wine and whether charcoal was best used compressed or as a powder. You’d tried to avoid him after that, and yet this maze of a realm kept twisting you back towards him whenever you tried to get away. Which was how you found yourself sitting in an archway sketching your view of the vaulted ceiling within this particular area of the hall in the middle of the night, using a candlestick as a light.

It was the wee hours of the morning; a time you were certain the tall blond of your nightmares would be having one of his own, far away from where you’d secluded yourself. The only noises were the hush of a breeze blowing through an open window and the soft scratching of your pencil against the parchment you’d clipped to the thin drawing board in your lap. Your eyes darted seamlessly from the page to the section of empty hall you were drawing, your steady hand moving quickly to gesture in the wider picture so that detail could blossom with ease when you pulled out your softer charcoal. With the silent night enveloping you, it had been easy to fall into a trance of placing your pencil to paper and letting the world fall away into lines and values. You should’ve known the peace wouldn’t last.

“It’s a bit late for sketching fine architecture.” Thranduil’s voice echoed from behind you, and you sighed and pressed your lips together in irritation.

“My aim was to be uninterrupted, My King,” you spoke slowly and surely, presenting each word as nothing more than it claimed to be in hopes he would leave you alone. “It’s a bit late for anyone to roam the halls alone, don’t you think?”

“I am not alone, and neither are you now.” Realizing you had no intent to face him, he walked around and knelt in front of you with a disappointedly curious expression. “How fortunate it is that we can keep each other company on such lonesome nights.”

“Oh, please.” You met his steely blue gaze with a challenging one of your own, attempting to prove yourself unafraid and ward him off. “You and I both know that the two of us together always leads to disaster.”

“Only because you bring disaster with you everywhere.” Thranduil laughed softly and licked the pad of his forefinger before pinching out the flame of your candle between his forefinger and thumb. You were grateful for the darkness to hide a traitorous blush growing on your cheeks, undercutting your disturbed expression. “Finish your sketch in the daylight. You’ll make fewer proportional errors.”

“Is poisoning your kindness with insults meant to be amusing or alluring? Because it is neither.” The only reason you were so confident with your words was because the worst Thranduil could do is send you where you already planned to go ahead of schedule. Of course that was only in theory. In truth, a part of you enjoyed the little games you played together; the spiteful spitting of venom brought energy to your day, negative or positive. You couldn’t deny he was a handsome King, but you could deny giving him the satisfaction of knowing you held him in any regard.

“Have I misled myself on the quality of your mettle? Forgive me if I have caused any true harm.” The first sentence was a sharp retort, the same wit you had begun to expect from him. The second was genuine in a way that surprised you.

“Don’t delude yourself. The only way you could bring any harm to me is with a blade. And I doubt you’d want to stain this lovely hallway.” You responded with a similar genuineness that you hid within your humor, although by the look of his expression he seemed relieved enough to surmise he’d picked up your intent.

What the fuck was your intent? Half flirting with a widowed king? He was an elf who could toss you out a window or carry you down to the dungeons as easily as he’d carry a sack of grain. You inhaled and sharply shoved your charcoal pencil back into your pouch, looking away from Thranduil to shove the image of him carrying sacks of wheat like a handsome miller’s son out of your mind. Truth is you’d daydreamed about kissing Thranduil to shut him up as much as you’d daydreamed about killing him for the same outcome. It was strange to think of how a two letter difference changed the entire context of your fantasies.

“I am no mortal man so easily prone to violence. I take offense that you would think I am capable of such a thing.” Thranduil’s voice changed tone, causing you to look at him again. He was dead serious with a furrowed brow as he knelt before you, reaching forward to take your hand in his. “My guards brought you here and promised you safety. I will not make liars of them.”

“A noble, if impersonal, thought.” You responded with an equal amount of seriousness, gathering your supplies in one hand and placing the other in his as he helped you to a standing position. His intent mystified you, making you unsure of if you’d been wrong about him or if this was a lure to finally catch you when you least expected it. Either way, as you began to walk down the hall back to your rooms he walked beside you with the smallest hint of a smile on his otherwise serious face.

“Do you really think of me as cruel and unkind?” Thranduil asked softly after you had traversed a fair amount of the hall.

“Yes and no.” You replied after taking a moment to chew through your words. It was strange of him to ask the question, stranger still for you to answer honestly. You were friends, but it was a friendship that danced a fine line between confidants and the king and his favorite jester. “I think you capable of cruelty. I think your role requires unkindness. Your presentation fits the role you fulfill. I would no more expect a thatched roof on a palace than a wisened king to be tender hearted.”

“I don’t like the word wisened; it makes me feel old.” Thranduil interjected despite you being done speaking. “But I understand. And I appreciate your point of view. You’re insightful. It’s fitting for your role as an observer. I am curious, I always see you drawing and sketching instead of talking to your fellows. I’m curious as to what you draw when you’re not intending on showing it off to people.”

“Truth be told, it’s mostly animals and people. I carry around smaller sketchbooks for those and it’s idle work to do while I watch and listen to those around me.” You felt the words leave your mouth before you could stop them. Not even death would stop you from blabbing about your art when prodded. “Of course, for those sketches I prefer drawing with metals. You can use a stylus made of silver to make marks upon parchment as well as any charcoal. It’s quite beautiful in the light.”

“Then I must see them.” Thranduil stopped abruptly, causing you to have to turn around after several paces and realize he was at the door to your chambers. If you’d known you were close to your rooms you would’ve just stayed quiet. Having the Elven King in your bedroom, looking at your art, was a bad idea.

Art was your escape, your passion, your diary. There were notes about your feelings and poems about your life scrawled among the pages among grocery lists and drawings of cats napping in sunlight. There were also -you realized with sinking dread- one or two drawings of the King that you did not want him to see. You had to get out of this.

“Sire, it’s very late-“

“Nonsense, you’re up later than this quite frequently, as am I.” He stood by your door, waiting for you to open it for him. His excitement faltered for a moment as he seemed to consider the situation, and he then added; “If you truly do not desire it, I will not impose myself.”

“No, I simply hesitate because I am afraid you will not find my art as impressive as you hope.” Your eyes were firmly on the handle of your door as you opened it and allowed yourself and Thranduil into your rooms. He was very close to you as he entered behind you, and you caught a hint of his scent of petrichor and spices in a way that sent your head spinning. 

Your rooms were simple. Far from grand with books and papers strewn about haphazardly. As you entered you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you at the state of your things, but you would not let it show. Your bed was in one corner, luckily you had remembered to make it up before leaving, but the bedside tables were covered in strewn papers and pencils. In the opposing corner there was a desk with your notebooks and sketches, and that was where Thranduil made his way to as soon as he entered.

“You live your life messily.” He stated, looking around the room before passively picking up one of your loose sketches from your desk. It was a picture of a young couple walking the halls together arm in arm, oblivious to any observer. Oblivious to you. “I do not question it. You prefer to be hidden away whenever you leave your chambers, so it must be comforting to have such things to hide yourself behind in your own dwelling.” He chuckled, glancing at you as he perused through your art, leafing through the piles of sketches on your desk. It wasn’t as if you could tell him not to, and although you were surprised at his understanding of you, you’d never admit to yourself or him whether he was right or not. 

“Or perhaps you simply collect too much and want it all near you, like a raven building its nest.” Thranduil continued despite your silence, unphased by it. He reached for a drawing closer to you, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest moment that sent a shameful shiver down your spine. It was only when his gaze left you that you realized he had grabbed one of the drawings of him, but before you could protest, he had turned it over to look at it. It was one of the less embarrassing ones; he was sitting with his chin resting on his fist, staring off into some uncaptured distance. His face was peaceful and yet melancholy. It had been at one of the star celebrations that you had forgotten the name of last year; you had been sat at the sidelines happily drawing those partaking in the merriment when you had seen him. His sadness as he sat on his perch above his kin had captured your attention, and you hastened to put his likeness on your paper lest the spell of the moment be broken. He was beautiful to you in that moment, beautiful and wounded. The moment had ended with your eyes meeting and him sending a prideful smirk your way that left your stomach churning, but you would always remember how striking it was to see past his hardened exterior for one brief moment.

As you watched him then, taking in that art piece that had truly cemented your growing fascination with the widowed king, you could not decipher the emotions on his face. His brow furrowed as he traced the lines of his face as they were portrayed on paper, and he hunched over the drawing to better see its details. You almost made a joke, just to break the hideous silence, and yet something stopped you. Your words were stoppered in your throat with tenuous curiosity and something inside you told you to bite your tongue.

“I remember this night,” Thranduil whispered, tracing the roughly sketched embroidery on his portrait. “I was lost in thought, not one of them was pleasant, but my mind was determined to see the end of the chain. I could sense eyes on me, but there is always one person or another watching my every move.” He looked up at you, and the depth of his gaze was hauntingly sirenic, like a calm sea below a dark gray sky. “You were different. I saw your brow furrowed as you looked at me, always fiery and determined to find a flaw where no one else will.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face, no more than a twitch of his eyes, and yet it comforted you. 

“A gap in your personified stoicism is more so due to a lack of divinity than any flaw.” The words flowed easily from your lips, and you stepped closer to him so you could look at your art. “Truthfully, when I found you ‘lacking’, I found you more fascinating than I did when I believed you perfect. Like how a fly, when caught in amber, reveals the quality of the jewel.”

“Am I to be the fly in this metaphor?” He teased, lowering the drawing and stepping closer to you.

“You are aware of what I intended, my lord.” The tone of the conversation had turned lighter, but the air remained tense. It was taking all your might to will yourself not to look at his lips, or his chest, or anywhere but his eyes or your feet. You were afraid any slight unexpected movement would be perceived the wrong way and break the wavering thread of connection between you. 

“What if I were not? What if we were to spend another year misinterpreting each other? Dragging out your stay here in Mirkwood for no perceivable reason?” He seemed as hesitant to move as you were, waiting for some unknown signal to allow him to act.

“Then I suppose, should I be prevented from completing my work, I would need to stay here longer.” You were beginning to catch on. Perhaps there was more to this banter and teasing than you had originally thought. Perhaps the guilt-ridden attraction that had festered deep within your gut was mirrored in his own tumultuous emotions. You leaned slightly closer, taking your drawing from his hands and setting aside. 

“To properly record Mirkwood in such sketches as yours would take decades…” Thranduil drew out the idea, but did not finish it. Instead, he stepped forward and tenderly placed his hand upon your cheek, caressing you gently. “May I kiss you?”

The thought struck you like a blind man meeting a drunken bird, and you inhaled sharply as reality dug its cruel claws into your skin. He was the king. He had asked you to kiss him. But more than the king, he was Thranduil. Your playful nemesis who was the bane of all your existence and yet whose presence you yearned for in the darkest parts of night. Was this change in your relationship worth it? Was this a risk worth taking?

“Yes.”

[kararisa]

brushstrokes

— you’re beautiful and i’m insane

— painter!kaveh x sculptor!reader; art school au

— author’s notes: kaveh’s release grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the wall and i’ve been enamored by this damn architect ever since. quote is from Venice Bitch by Lana Del Ray

Kaveh has always been a creative person, possessing the ability to take the whispers of an idea and turn them into tangible masterpieces of ink and color

Each line and brushstroke on the canvas were stories of all the love, joy, and pain that Kaveh has ever experienced

A desk of organized chaos is what someone is usually greeted with if they were to ever set foot in his dorm

Picture a set of markers and pencils lying splayed across his desk while he works on his next assignment. Or a stack of sketchbooks also sat in the corner of his room, both finished and unfinished (or “cursed”, as he so lovingly calls those with only a handful of sketches on the first page)

But creative drive can’t last forever – Kaveh’s brushstrokes, once guided by inspiration, now dance hesitantly upon the blank canvas in front of him

He stares at the white blankness, and he swears it stares back at him

“Find something that inspires you”, “Find beauty in the mundane”. People spewed all the same bullshit but none of it helped. and it didn’t exactly help that he’s constantly under the pressure of deadlines

Once, all he needed were his ideas. and now not even those are enough

And that’s when he met you

In one of the college library’s many hidden corners, the two of you just so happened to reach for the same book at the same time

Your hand brushed against his. And Kaveh’s eyes met yours 

“I kinda need that for an assignment,” you whispered to the blonde. In response, Kaveh takes the book and gives it to you

“Here. Just as long as you hand it over to me when you’re done,” Kaveh smiles

The two of you begin to chat more while checking out your books: current projects (he learns you’ve been working on improving your sculpting, and Kaveh shares he’s working on improving his composition), favorite food in the cafeteria (Kaveh tells you that he’s quite fond of soups), and the like

He began to bump into you more often, and not just in the library. You see each other in the hallway in between classes, sometimes the quad, maybe in the dorms if he’s lucky. Heck, he even saw you taking a swig of alcohol with your friends in the hidden storage room where he and his friends would drink on cooler nights

But you truly began to get to know each other when he walked in on you working on another one of your sculptures in one of the empty art studios usually reserved for lectures and live figure drawing classes

You sit near him and the two of you make easy conversation.

As the hours passed by, and the sky’s blue hues turned orange, the topic of the conversation steered to why the two of you decided to pursue art in the first place

And Kaveh couldn’t quite explain it, but ever since that day, his creative drive seemed to return to him in earnest. It’s slow-going, but at least now he can pick up a pencil or a brush without losing his ideas

Maybe it’s because he’s found a new source of inspiration

Or maybe it’s just because he likes your company

[thesmokingguns]

Picnic in the Park

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader

Word Count: 2128

Fluff

Request Summary: “Axl rose meets a girl threw slash who is his childhood friend whos also an amazing painter and just is infatuated with how pretty she is and he just follows her around like a puppy.Tan skin brown hair that goes to lower back brown eyes, wears alot of cute sun dresses and is very kind”

A/N: I am catching up on requests. So if you have requested anything in the past week or so thag oiece should be coming out soon. Thanks everyone for reading

Tag list: @ayablackwood @agroupiewhore @thenobodies-inc @littlemisscare-all

Your mind was a mixture of light and dark, complimentary colors, and images burned into your mind that you wanted to paint later. If there wasn’t a brush in your hand you were taking notes with a pencil, sketching the world around it through eyes that only you saw it from. You captured everyday life like the older woman with the mesh bag she had filled with fruit or the man with his red beard, a few weeks unkept, napping in the alley to get a break from the heat. You took these people, characters of the world and had them live forever on the canvas you painted on.

Art was your passion. You loved walking around Hollywood with a set of watercolors or a notebook to sketch in and take in the lives of others. There was some sort of poetic feeling of taking a stranger from the street and importilizing them as a character in your art. You created a narrative for them that they may not be living. It was cathartic and you’d spend hours of your day people watching until you finally found the right subject.

Sketching out a bump on someone's nose that might have come from a childhood accident or from their Freshman year of college when they drunkenly fell down the front steps of the dorm, you created their unknown life story as you placed each line of their face into place. If you didn’t infuse their story into the piece it was just some colorful person without any meaning. But you wanted to give the viewer of your art a full piece. They should be able to look at your picture and understand the life that the subject lived; your art created that life.

It was crazy to think that a few years before you were in school thinking about becoming an English teacher.It was a chance meeting at a grocery store when you ran into your old friend Saul’s mother. When you had been kids the pair of you had been so close and secretly your mothers had both had fingers crossed for a wedding that never happened. The pair of you split apart the summer after senior year to set out of a life you each wanted. His mother had invited you over for dinner, which she also invited her son to, thrusting the pair of you back into each other's lives.

Oddly enough, it was like time hadn’t passed between you. The easiness of your friendship coming back without even trying and soon the pair of you were hanging out on almost a daily basis. With your schedule up helped manage his house, buying groceries, doing some cleaning, and running a few errands he never remembered. In return you had a few rooms to yourself. Slash had wanted to make sure you had time for your art as well as a space for it.

Dressing in a white floral pattern sundress you grabbed your bag that contained your art supplies. You wanted to get to the park early and set up a blanket you could spend the day sketching and painting on. You planned to soak up the sun in your skin and use the good lighting to get some new work to sell for the craft fair this weekend. As you turned to grab the picnic foods you had made the night before you saw Axl sitting at the counter. His green eyes looked up, smiling when he saw you.

“Hey, Y/N. Slash just left. I’m going to leave in a minute. I was just finishing up some lyrics.” he was always over and you thought that he was lonely in his role as lead singer. Even though Axl put on this tough guy imagine and had a reputation it was like he needed to work for that because he thought that was what rock stars were supposed to do. Whenever he was around you he seemed lost, always making extra conversation or taking the time to go walk to the coffee cafe with you and wait in line, even if he didn't want anything.

“I’m heading out for a day in the park.” you told him, moving the wax paper covered sandwiches into a small wicker basket, along with some fruit and cheese, some water, and a bottle of wine. You could feel his eyes on you, “I’m over packing and have more than enough if you want to come with me?” you let your eyes flutter up from packing the basket to look at him. “I’ll leave you alone to write because I’m just going to spend the time working on some new portraits.” It was important to you that you set up expectations. There was no need for him to feel like he was going there to entertain you or vice versa.

“I’d love to go. You don’t mind?” he asked as you finished packing up the wicker basket. You shook your head no, letting him pick up the food you had just packaged and leading you outside, “What park did you want to go to? I can drive us there.” you told him what you were thinking, getting comfortable in the convertible.

When you had moved in with Slash you had forged fast friendships with his bandmates. Even though you weren’t at every show and didn't always go backstage you had gotten close to them in different ways. On Wednesday nights you hosted a dinner party where you made them all come by so you had an excuse to cook for them. When someone had a ripped piece of clothing at a show you’d quietly take out your sewing kit, stitching patches in jeans and repairing favorite band shirts. You liked being around them all because of how animated everyone was; they were so easy to draw. You had a whole sketchbook of black and white images from the band. Your favorite subjects were Slash and Axl, mainly because they were the two you were around the most and had the most flexibility when it came to moods.

Axl had grown close to you, drawn into the caring nature you had. It was hard for him to understand that someone would do things for him without expecting anything in return. The first time that you had been out drinking with them and insisted Axl came home with you so you knew he was safe he had thought was a come on. When you helped him drink water and gave him aspirin before tucking him into bed he was shocked. Even more shocking was waking up to find his clothes washed and folded on the guest room chair and you carrying in a breakfast tray of freshly made foods. That’s just how you showed you cared about your friends. Being the mother of the group and taking care of them helped you feel like you were contributing as a friend.

Spreading out the blanket under the Weeping Willow tree. You motioned for Axl to sit as you toed off your sandals and moved to sit down. Digging through your bag you set out your sketch pad and pencils. You could see Axl out of the corner of your eye. He didn’t seem to know what to do. You pulled him down to the blanket, settling him so he could rest his back against the tree. You pulled off his shoes and socks and handed him his notebook as you went about unpacking your picnic so he could pick at food if he wanted to.

With him settled in the shade you laid down, belly first in the sun. Picking up your pencil you scanned the park until you found an older man feeding the pigeons. Your eyes followed his movements for a few minutes before you started your sketch. The feeling of the warm sun on the back of your thighs as you twirled the pencil in your hand, capturing all the features of the man.

As you drew you could feel Axl’s eyes on you. At first it was just light glances every few minutes and then it turned to heavy long looks where his eyes were watching you. Ignoring the way his stares made you blush, chalking up the pinkness in your cheeks as just sun exposure.

A hand slid over your calf, over the back of your thighs before going over your dress and laying on the flat of your back. You turned your face upward looking at Axl watching you. His eyes flickering from your art up to your face. There was a pause, curiosity and interest in what he was going to do next. Your heart is beating in your chest even though your body is frozen, wondering what he was up to.

“Do you want to take a break and eat? You’ve been working for a couple hours.” Looking past him you saw the sun had changed position in the sky and time had gotten away from you. Sitting up you handed out sandwiches, positioning yourself comfortably besides him in the shade of the tree.

Axl had been following you for most of the spring and now into summer. He's around all the time and often comes along for days like this. But you liked having him around. You thought that he needed the quiet comfortable silence between the pair of you; so much of his life was filled with noise.

“Y/N, do you like this?” He asked, peeling off the crust to his sandwich. The action seemed to be more of a need to keep his hands busy instead of a dislike for the bed.

“Do I like this? Picnics in the park?” You didn’t know exactly what he meant. Axl sometimes seemed to talk in riddles not wanting to fully play all of his cards.

“Being with me.” He didn’t look up to meet your eyes at this, almost embarrassed to be talking about it. You weren’t like Axl. There was no need to talk in riddles or have him guessing how you felt.

“Of course I like having you around, Axl. It’s nice to be able to spend time with someone I like.” He looked up, almost surprised that someone would like to be around him. “I’ve had a crush on you for a few months and it’s nice to get to know you more and find more reasons to like you.” You didn’t feel nervous telling him this. It actually felt like a relief to get it off your chest.

He put down his sandwich, wiping crumbs off on his shirt and looking at his hands to make sure that they were clean. Before you could figure out what he was going to do he had a hand in your hair, tugging you closer to him in a soft kiss. For months you had been thinking about what it would be like to kiss him on one of your lazy afternoons together and now it was happening.

Instead of letting him pull away and think about what he had just done you slid onto his lap, letting your hands wrap around him. His free hand was on your back holding you close as the pair of you made out like teenagers under the shade of the willow tree.

Finally, the pair of you pulled away, swollen plush lips and wild curious eyes watching each other. This new change between the pair of you sparkling like wonder between the pair of you. Axl was playing with a piece of your hair, wrapping the brown lock around his finger like he had been wanting to do for months.

“Does this mean we can finally start dating?” You asked, watching the way he smirked at this question. “Because I don’t know how many more times you can just casually show up without Slash catching on. And I don’t know how many more picnics I can plan without touching you.” You admitted, his lips were on your chin and up your jaw.

“Mhhh, I’ve been waiting for this for so long and now I can have you all to myself.” His voice whispered huskily to you kissing your earlobe. He pulled away to look at you again. “You have to tell Slash.” He said, making you laugh as you rolled your eyes. If that’s what it would take to have Axl you didn’t mind telling your best friend about the relationship.

“You take care of me and I’ll take care of everything else, babe.” You promised, meaning it. This was everything that you had wanted for months and now you were getting it. The man that you had started falling for was yours. It had only taken months worth of picnics to get him.

[aalissy]

Fan

Today’s chapter was a lottt of fun to write! I love writing a Chat who teases Marinette about Adrien loololol. Hope you like it! Also, sorry it’s a lil late! My sister graduated high school today woot woot! Happy graduation to anyone else who’s graduating around now :)

AO3

“Hello, purrincess,” Chat called out to her, landing with a thump on her bed as he came in from the balcony.

Marinette didn’t even bother to look up at him from the latest design she was sketching. It just didn’t phase her anymore. Chat continually stopped by without announcing himself and, though she would never admit it to him, she had found herself looking forward to his little visits.

“You’re not even going to try to knock? What if I said you couldn’t come in?” Marinette asked, raising an eyebrow even as she continued her drawing. Her tongue stuck out in concentration as she thought about the extra accessories she could add.

“Pawlease.” His voice sounded right next to her ear and this time she did turn in surprise, not expecting him to be so close to her. Chat grinned charmingly at her before continuing, “I know that you enjoy my visits as much as I do.”

What had put him in such a good mood? He looked so smug and satisfied that Marinette couldn’t help but purse her lips, crossing her arms against her chest. “And how do you know that?”

His grin turned even more gleeful and she couldn’t stop her own smile from beginning to spread across her cheeks. “Because today I heard some pawsitively meowvelous news. I heard that you are my number one fan.”

Her lips parted in shock. How did he know that?! Alya had teased and prodded the information out of her after asking her, Nino, and Adrien whether they preferred Chat Noir or Ladybug. Obviously, Alya had known her answer from the start and had practically answered for her. She had playfully announced that it was easy to see that Marinette simply adored Chat Noir and was his biggest fan. Meanwhile, she had still been a blushing mess over Adrien saying that Ladybug was his favorite and had nodded her head along to everything Alya said. And now, somehow, that information had gotten to Chat. How was that possible?

With a weak groan to herself, she asked, “How could you even know about that? There’s no way Alya told you.” Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she scanned him up and down. “Are you spying on us?”

“No, no, no. Why would I ever do such a thing?” Chat chuckled, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “Purrhaps you’re wrong. How do you know that Alya didn’t tell me? She and I are rather close, after all.” He crossed his fingers together in an obvious gesture of how close-knit the two were.

Marinette scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief even as an odd brush of something hit her stomach. “Are you trying to tell me that you visit Alya as often as me?”

“Why? Are you jealous?” Chat shot back quickly, looking positively gleeful at the idea.

Instantly, she stuck her tongue out in disgust, the uncomfortable feeling in her chest fading somewhat at his words. “What? No!”

He clicked his tongue before pouting at her. “Pity.” 

Marinette blinked, opening her mouth to ask what that meant. The odd feeling had turned into a much more pleasant one. Before she could even begin to figure out what that meant, though, Chat continued, “But you don’t need to worry. It wasn’t Alya who told me. I learned about it from one of your classmates who overheard the conversation.”

Oh. A small frown furrowed between her brow. How did one of her classmates get a hold of Chat Noir? And why would they even tell him about that? It didn’t make any sense. Shaking off the feeling that something was off, Marinette chalked it up to Chloé doing Chloé things. Probably with the express purpose of embarrassing her. 

“Well, I still knew it wasn’t Alya,” she murmured to herself.

“Of course not.” Chat grinned and Marinette brought her gaze back to his once more. “Afur all, I’m your number one fan too, purrincess.” He tapped her chest to enunciate his statement.

“What?” She broke out into a flurry of giggles, shaking her head. “You are not my number one fan.”

  He pouted once more at her. “Yes, I am! Who else would be your number one fan?” 

“Alya is most definitely my number one fan.” Marinette nodded her head, a secretive, little smile forming on her face. Alya had been a big fan of both her and Ladybug even from before she knew that they were one and the same. And now that she knew the full truth, Alya’s admiration had only grown, making it clear that she made the right choice in trusting her friend.  

“No way,” Chat scoffed, rolling his eyes at her answer. She suddenly snapped out of her daydreams about the past. Feeling disgruntled by his response, she opened her mouth to scold him when he cut her off again. “The only other correct answer that I will take is Adrien.”

Instantly, she turned a bright red. “What?!” Marinette screeched shaking her head quickly in an attempt to get rid of the thought. “Adrien is not a fan of mine! We’re just friends.”

Where would Chat even get an idea like that?! But even just the thought of Adrien being her biggest fan sent a wave of butterflies roaring to life in her chest. Though it was completely impossible, Marinette couldn’t stop the ideas from rushing into her mind. Ugh, he couldn’t say things like that to her! Now she was going to have an even harder time not blushing in front of Adrien.

Chat’s smile dimmed and his ears seemed to flatten slightly as she finished her sentence. What had she said that caused that kind of a reaction? Before she could ponder too hard on it, though, it was gone. Replaced by a bright beam and a cheery voice. “What are you talking about? He pawsitively adores you. Hasn’t he said like a million times how much he loves your designs and baking?”

“Yeah,” Marinette replied hesitantly. “But how do you know that?”

Chat’s eyes darted around for a second, avoiding her gaze. She would have found that oddly suspicious when he snapped his fingers. “Because of your Instagram! He comments on it all the time.”

Shock slammed into her with the force of a truck. “You have an Instagram? And you look at my posts?!”

“Of course!” He looked almost offended that she didn’t know. “How could a cool cat like me not have Instagram?”

Marinette scrunched her nose at the statement. “You should not have told me that! What if I find it and figure out your identity?!”

Just the thought was sending her into a panic. What if she had already clicked on his profile without even knowing it? Why did he tell her this? Now she was going to freak out every time someone liked one of her posts. Tugging on her pigtails anxiously, she didn’t realize when Chat took a few steps toward her, squeezing her shoulders lightly.

“It’s alright, Marinette,” he murmured, “It’s a private account and it doesn’t have any revealing information on it.”

That was a relief. Instantly, she relaxed, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Chat.”

He squeezed her shoulders one last time before stepping away from her. Wiggling his eyebrows, he continued to tease her, “So, do you believe me when I say now that Adrien is your number one fan.”

Marinette practically choked at the statement. How did Chat even know Adrien well enough to say that? Waving him off, she shook her head. “Definitely not. Adrien’s in the fashion industry, of course he looks at my designs sometimes.”

Chat huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Then I will only accept the other correct answer being me.”

Rolling her eyes fondly, Marinette tapped the sketch that she had completely forgotten about. “If I say yes, will you let me continue working?”

“Yes!” Chat chirped, looking absolutely giddy.

With a quiet, amused giggle, she nodded her head. “Alright then, Chaton. I believe you. You are my biggest fan.”

“Purrcisely.” He snapped his fingers proudly before plopping himself down into his usual position on her chaise. Snickering at him, Marinette turned back around to look at her sketch. Humming softly, she continued where she left off. What a silly, adorable kitty.

[guqin-and-flute]

In Your Hands--Ch. 2 [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[Chapter 1]

[This whole fic is the second chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

Yanli is determined to set about evening the exchange of their gifts after she finds a little chest full of her favorite floral incense on his pillow next to her when she wakes. She would like to collect information as he does, sifting through conversation to remember errant tidbits about interests but he is as frustratingly tightlipped on the subject of himself as he ever is. Agreeable to any attempt to draw out his preferences to the point of obfuscation. “Don’t you love this color, A-Yao?” elicits a kindly, “It’s very lovely,” no matter the color in question. She thinks it might be his way of not being a bother, because he certainly isn’t doing anything intentionally. Little does he know that, in reality, it’s making things more difficult on her.

I will know you, she thinks, watching him with keen eyes as they all eat breakfast together and talk. I will give you what you want, if only I could find out what that is.

He catches her watching and tilts his head, smiling in question.

“How are your dumplings?” She asks as an excuse, gesturing. 

“Oh, very good. Would you like some more?”

This man. 

His plate holds a bit of everything on the table, including one of A-Xian’s favored spicy dishes--while it’s something, she already knows he had grown up in Yunmeng and can tolerate spice. She just doesn’t know whether he likes it or not.  

It has almost become a game, to her, if not to him--though she thinks it might be, at least a little, for she sees the flash of satisfaction in his eyes when he lets her take his arm and breathes deeply, taking in the scent of the incense she had let envelop her as she dressed that morning. “You smell wonderful,” he murmurs and she feels herself flush up her neck, even though it had been the whole point of steeping herself in it to begin with.

“Thanks to you.” When she lays her head on his shoulder--partially in thanks, partially to hide her pink cheeks--she feels him lean closer.

She wants to delight him, to see him pleased and surprised into a genuine smile. But more than anything, she truly wants to know more about him. 

There is an inkling of a clue when she buys a guan for him made of graceful silver arches that form a lotus that seems to sit upon water that is reminiscent of the hair pin he had gotten her. When she presents it to him at bedtime, he seems surprised. He lets loose a soft, “oh,” turning it this way and that in his hands. Watching him, triumphant, she slides out her own pin and twirls it next to the guan, allowing her hair to begin its tumble down. “We’ll match.”

For a moment, he simply looks between the two ornaments, one hand coming out to slide his fingertips down the beaded chain of hers. Then, he smiles at her, and it’s wide and very nearly new. “We will.” 

“You like it?”

“Of course, it’s beautiful! I will like everything that you choose to give me.”

She scrunches her nose and tweaks his cheek. “Well, that’s hardly fair! How will I know if you truly do and aren’t just pretending for my sake?”

Turning, he picks her hand up from the bed and chastely brushes his lips across her knuckles. “I will like them because you are the one who gave them, A-Li.”

And at long last, it’s something! Because she thinks it’s true. Perhaps, for him, like it is for her, it is not the usefulness, or the beauty of the thing, but the loving it was given from. She has kept the little drawings A-Xian has given her since he was young, the little carved creatures of wood and soap that A-Cheng used to whittle her (though, realistically, they are little more than blobs she was told are bears and the like. Whatever they look like, they are blobs of love.) She has them lined up on a shelf in her old room, and has brought a few over to the room shared by A-Yao. They make her smile to see because they were made for her; love in a little scene she can revisit through touch again and again. Sometimes, she simply holds them and remembers how it used to be.

This, she decides, is probably what she should focus on for A-Yao--a shelf of happy memories and the knowledge he is loved. 

So, when she is sitting in her favorite pavilion one bright and breezy morning and He Si, one of the servants, delivers a gorgeous new calligraphy set to her and informs her with a barely contained grin that her husband has sent it, Yanli sets to work. After she unpacks and marvels over shiny new things, of course. It’s all sleek and beautiful and of the highest quality.

All morning, she uses his new gift to write him notes that she spends the afternoon ferreting away into places he will find them--like in his pockets or his desk drawers or under his spare boots. Some of them are little lines of poems she cherishes, one or two are shy sketches of the butterflies that had visited and twined through the fluttering, gauzy green curtains as she wrote, and more, still, are idle little thoughts she thinks will warm him. ‘I will be pleased to see you at dinner.’ ‘Remember not to work too hard.’ ‘Have a good day.’

She even gets the joy of seeing him find one while on a walkway, tucked in between 2 delivered missives with the help of He Si’s sleight of hand. The brisk, dutiful stride to business pauses and Yanli watches his slightly bowed head as he reads, the sunlight sliding down his hair like silk. When he looks up and around, she slips behind a delicately carved pillar on impulse so that he can’t see her. Then, she peeks back around. He’s looking back down at the slip of paper in his hand, his mouth a small curl of aching fondness. This one had said, ‘thinking of you.’ Warmth spreads through her when he folds it, neatly and carefully, into his fingers and presses his knuckles to his lips, closing his eyes. It is a moment of him with no mask in sight and she would feel sheepish for intruding if it didn’t bring her such happiness just to see his own. Even after he resumes his purposeful stride and disappears indoors, she is grinning, glowing, and allows herself a moment to seek out He Si to review the heist. “Did it please him?” the girl demands, excited. “What did it say?”

“It’s a secret,” Yanli teases. “And oh yes it did.”

It continues in this manner almost daily, when his gifts allow it; he gives her a parasol and she invites him on a walk under it with her; he buys rich embroidery thread and she weaves a delicate braid for him to wear or display a pendant from. He presents her with a fine silken handkerchief that she returns only days later, embroidered and thoroughly infused with the incense he had given her, draped over his pillow. Sadly, she didn’t get to witness this discovery, but she does see him slip it from his inner pocket as he removes his outer robes, that evening. As she watches him from the bed, Yanli resists the most absurd urge to bashfully pull the covers up over her nose and asks, “You...found it, then?”

Instead of answering, he slowly sits on her side instead of his and spreads it between them on the covers with deliberate care, one side of his mouth tucked up, that dimple pressed in sweetly in the lantern-light. “A pair of mandarin ducks,” he observes, voice quiet, eyes on the handkerchief as he runs his fingertips over it.

“I stitched them myself.”

“They are masterfully done and the colors are beautiful.”

“It was the thread you gave me. I wanted....” The intentions, the symbolism gets caught on her tongue and she blushes. Husband, she has to remind herself. It’s allowed! It’s expected! A long and happy marriage is what one is supposed to want. He makes the prospect of closeness and affection all at once so mysterious and alluring, almost a forbidden thing (though the thought is a ridiculous one, she admits.) “Do you like it?”

He raises his eyes to her and they are night soft. “A-Li, may I kiss you?”

Yanli’s heart jumps to her throat in an anticipatory sort of apprehension and her hands twist in her lap. Anxious without fear; she trusts this and him. “You may.”

Though she had kissed his mouth once before, he had been still, accepting the simple press and nothing more. Now, as he leans in, his hands settle lightly on her jaw, tilting her face up to him, his lips are a sure, gentle slide over hers. It’s odd to have someone so close to her face, and it’s  warmer than she would have thought--not to mention wetter. But not bad. 

Oh no, definitely not bad. 

A-Yao kisses her with the same keen attention he gives everything else; controlled and intent. It feels as if he is slowly sampling her, sometimes the pressure feather-like and almost tickling, and other times an earnest press, inviting her along. The entirety of her skin grows hot at the realization she is being experienced and she can feel her heartbeat as if her entire chest is a drum. He makes it easy, a song that sounds vaguely familiar without completely knowing the next step. She doesn’t feel lost or stupid or silly. She feels wanted. Precious.

When he draws back, her lips are tingling--who would have thought such an ordinary part of her face could produce that much sensation? One would think she would have noticed this before!--and he is watching her carefully. His own lips are slightly pinker and without thinking, she reaches out to touch them, wonderingly. His watchfulness melts at her touch and he smiles against her fingertips--his mouth is warm, like her own when she lifts her other hand to compare. 

“That was….”

“Good?”

“Oh, it was strange but I think I liked it. I--can we try again?”

A-Yao laughs and reaches out as she eagerly shuffles forward on her knees. Yanli allows him to draw her onto his lap sideways but, this time, she reaches out and draws him down. And being the good, patient man that he is, he lets her try again and again as she wishes, moving as she does.

There is no sudden revelation or awakening as she had secretly hoped there might be with such a kiss, (how easy that would have been, if all the whispers and stories and songs had all aligned with ultimate clarity and understanding within her, if it was all at once as easy as everyone else made it seem). But it is new and oddly pleasant to simply be in his arms, closer than she has ever been before, sharing with him. He pulls away and takes her wrist, eyebrows pinched. “You’re shaking. Are you alright?”

Oh. It seems she is. It isn’t fear, but instead a sort of deep trembling that seems to originate from her core, almost like excitement or the kind of giddy terror of a friend chasing you in a game of tag. She smiles up at him. “It’s...new. I think I’m just getting used to it. You’re my first kiss.” 

Something she can’t define as positive or negative before it’s gone passes over his face and he gathers her up, burying his face in her neck, squeezing. She curls back around him, hands stroking his soft hair. “I’m so glad it’s you,” she murmurs, the ghosts of the kisses still shimmering on her lips. “You’re so sweet and kind to me. How did I get so lucky?”

Against her throat, he sucks in a deep, shaking breath before pulling back to deliver an almost perfect smile, the slight tremble in the corner of his mouth the only thing betraying whatever depth of emotion he is feeling. “Jiang-furen,” he says with playful reproach. “You simply can’t steal my lines like that. What will I be left with?”

In response, she clasps his face and leans up to rub the tips of their noses together. "Oh, you're so very clever. I'm sure you'll think of something."

[ayellowcurtain]

Could you write something for Sobbe based on the song "Close your eyes" by Michael Buble please?

They had countless fights the past week. Sander will never forgive himself for starting most of them. It wasn’t your fault, Robbe keeps using as an excuse but Sander knows it’s not that easy to take all his part of the guilt. He wasn’t feeling well, wasn’t taking good care of himself and Robbe was also struggling with his mom so they were both on edge, trusting on fighting with each other instead of others because they knew stupid fights wouldn’t hurt them as badly. 

Sander remembers only flashes of the days, spending way too much time away from Robbe to avoid more fights, staying way too much time and energy buried inside his own head, feeling guilty and ashamed. 

Robbe is the strongest person he’s ever known. Sander wishes Robbe knew how strong and amazing he is because sure, he can tell him, every day if Robbe needs to hear it but it’s not the same as feeling and knowing it. 

After most of their hard times it’s Robbe who pulls them through, who makes sure they’re back to perfection. And Sander can’t explain how thankful he is and how Robbe deserves to be taken care of just as much. 

He came to Sander’s place two times during the week even though they were mad at each other. Robbe would make some small talk with his parents and then they would leave him alone to join Sander inside his bedroom. Some parts Sander wouldn’t be able to listen because they were obviously whispering, probably talking about his mental state, checking if Sander was taking his medication, drinking his water, resting. The same old story. 

Robbe would finish his homework on Sander’s desk and then would join him in bed to sleep, close because Sander’s bed is not big enough to give them any extra room but not close enough for cuddles or make out sessions like they normally would do. 

Sander decided to fix everything with a relaxing weekend just for them, away from everyone else, from their phones too. Just some time to take a deep breath and stop fighting. He went to the tiny airbnb in the neighboring city first because Robbe got stuck doing some stupid school project. At least that gave him time to improvise a small surprise for his favorite human. 

Hoping Robbe wouldn’t connect these new sketches to the ones back in his old studio when his boyfriend found him months ago, he puts every new drawing he has of Robbe on every surface he can find. Next step is to take a cold shower, wash out any trace of his horrible week with the cold water running down his body, disappearing inside the small drain on the tub.

He lights the candles he brought and distributes them around the apartment, putting some Bowie for him to listen in the background as he goes back to put some clothes on, deciding for the comfortable ones, hoping Robbe won’t want to go explore the second he gets there. 

Sander just wants to hold him so tight, kiss his cheek and apologize in person after doing it through their video call last night. Hopefully they can make some pasta together, talk about their days and just be in the same room without a fight to remind themselves of their normal. 

His phone finally vibrates on the wooden table in the tiny dinning room between the living area and the compact kitchen and Sander rushes to check, smiling when he reads the text from Robbe saying he’s downstairs. Sander presses the button on the intercom and rushes to unlock the front door too. He walks around in small circles, trying to decide if it’s too desperate to wait for the door open. 

Robbe walks upstairs with no rush and Sander counts every echoing sound Robbe’s steps make in the stairs, closer to him and his getaway. 

“Hey...there are some bikes outside.” Robbe gets in and closes the door like he’s home and Sander smiles, nodding his head. 

“Yeah, I asked the owners if we could use them and they said it’s fine...thought some bike rides would be nice.” Sander explains, reminding just now of the two bikes parked right outside their door, “If we race, I’ll let you win this time.” 

Robbe looks at him and smiles with his shinny eyes, taking his jacket off, “I’ll win with no help from you.” 

Sander watches as he hangs his jacket and take his sneakers off, looking around to get acquainted with their place for the weekend, smiling from ear to ear when he starts finding the drawings. When he finally looks back at Sander, he comes closer, holding Robbe’s face carefully, brushing their noses against each other. 

“Hello.” Sander says like it’s the first time he’s actually seeing Robbe in a while. 

Robbe laughs, his eyes turning into half moons for a second, “Hi!” 

He wraps his arms around Sander’s waist, making him stand closer, flat against Robbe and he holds himself back from kissing Robbe, afraid it’ll feel off still. 

“Will you show me around?” 

Sander snorts and nods his head, moving away from Robbe’s grip, holding his hand instead, showing him the living room two steps from where they started their tour, walking down the short hallway to find the only bedroom in the flat, with a door on the other extreme of the wall that leads to their tiny bathroom, with a big enough shower for both of them to share later, hopefully. 

This bed is a lot bigger than Sander’s or Robbe’s but he can’t imagine them spending another night not being tangled together all night long so it doesn’t matter how big it is. Robbe sits on the bed, stretching his arm to keep holding Sander’s hand while testing the mattress.

“Good?” 

“Fantastic!” Sander smiles, wrapping his fingers around Robbe’s to pull him back closer, his turn to wrap one arm around Robbe’s small waist, resting their foreheads together. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, San.” 

“You’re the best person to ever exist.” He stares at Robbe’s lips, smiling when he talks and leaves his lips partially open like an invite. 

“Even better than Bowie?” Robbe asks softly and Sander laughs, kissing his cheek, hiding against his neck to breathe him in, help end his desperate longing for some private and peaceful time with his boyfriend after what feels like an eternity. 

“Bowie is a close second.” Sander lets go of Robbe’s hand to hold him tighter, wishing he could do both at the same time, “I’m sorry for this week. For the fights and everything.” 

Robbe moves his arms up, around Sander’s neck, kissing where he can reach. 

“I’m sorry too.” He continues kissing every inch he can of Sander’s face, playing with his hair, “Can I go see all these drawings now?”

“As long as I can go with you and you won’t tell me how shitty they are.” 

Robbe lies his head over Sander’s, his cheek feeling when Robbe smiles, his dimples pressing against Sander’s skin. 

“I want you to go everywhere with me, always.” 

[tomhollandstrash]

Spiderman the Matchmaker

Please enjoy this classic friends to lovers trope! 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Artist!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2k

You grinned at Peter as he danced around your room wearing the ridiculous meowing cat sweater one of your relatives gave you for your birthday. The way he wiggled his hips and kept squeezing the cat’s nose to make it meow made your shoulders shake in laughter. Moments like these with Peter were your favorite. The way he looked so worry free made your heart soar. This care-free version of Peter is one you often found yourself missing these days. 

“Pete, stop I’m going to pee my pants if you keep doing that,” You said through your laughter, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye. 

“I can’t, I’m enjoying this way too much,” Peter said, letting out a loud laugh as he set off the sweater’s obnoxious meowing again. “I just can’t believe they bought this for you,” 

“It’s the thought that counts,” You said, feigning seriousness before breaking out into another fit of laughter. “Okay, okay I can’t even say that with a straight face. It is kind of a wild sweater choice,” 

“You could say that,” Peter chuckled, out of breath from dancing. 

He flopped down on the bed next to you and let out a sigh of contentment. You looked at him over your shoulder before looking back to the sketch in front of you, tilting your head as you examined it. 

“What’re you working on?” Peter asked curiously as he sat up to look at your sketchbook over your shoulder. 

You blushed slightly because of Peter’s close proximity. You would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little attracted to Peter. Not only was he a fantastic friend, but he was more than easy on the eyes. The way his eyes would twinkle when he smiled and his messy brown curls made your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him. 

“Oh, you know... It’s nothing much,” You said absentmindedly. 

“Are you kidding? Y/N, you’re the best artist I know!” Peter gushed, pulling the sketchbook out of your hands despite your protests. 

“Peter! I’m not done with that yet!” You tried to grab the book back from him to no avail. Peter was too good at blocking you. You bit your lip as you carefully watched him as he looked at the sketch. 

“Well?” You asked tentatively, bringing Peter back to reality. 

Lately, you’d been trying to practice more self-love. You decided to start by drawing a self-portrait. No better way to practice loving yourself than by drawing yourself. 

“Y/N, it’s beautiful!” Peter said, looking at you with his heart stopping smile. “Can I have it?” 

“What?” Your cheeks turned a deep crimson color as your eyes widened to an almost comical size. 

Was Peter Parker calling you beautiful? You shook your head and looked everywhere except for at him, rubbing your arm shyly. He couldn’t have been meaning that he thought you were beautiful, he had to have just been talking about the drawing. 

“Do you really want that?” You asked, looking at him holding the sketchbook. 

He nodded enthusiastically, holding the sketch close to his chest. You could never quite figure out how to say no to him when he pulled out the puppy eyes. You sighed and nodded. 

“Sure, you can have it,” You chuckled gently and put your hands out, gesturing for him to hand you your sketchbook. 

“Will you sign it?” He handed you the book and crossed his legs. “I want to make sure I have it when you’re famous” 

“Sure, Pete,” You smiled softly, taking your favorite teal pen out of your pencil bag. You opened the pen and put it to the paper, signing your name in the corner of the drawing. Tearing the sketch out of its place in the sketchbook, you turned to Peter. “Here ya go. One Y/N original,” 

Peter took the sketch out of your hands, admiring the details of your face on the page. 

“I love it. Thank you,” He smiled brightly. 

--

It had been a few days since you’d seen Peter last. Something about him needing to help May out around the apartment, and needing to do some extra work for his internship. While you two would usually hang out after school and into the evening, you hadn’t been seeing each other as much lately. It wasn’t that Peter was pushing you away, it just seemed like he was busier than usual. You were happy that his internship was going well, and you always wanted to support him in everything that he did. He was your best friend, so you couldn’t help but miss him a little bit. 

You wandered the winding path in the park before settling on a nice looking bench. A sigh left your lips as you let your bag drop into the spot next to you as you sat down. You pulled your sketchbook and pencils out of your bag. Shivering slightly as the cool autumn air brushed past you, you opened the book and started to draw. You weren’t sure at what point your brain decided to draw Peter, but when you looked down at the sketchpad, you blushed slightly. Were you really so hopelessly in love with Peter that now you were just drawing him without thinking about it? Apparently, so. 

As the sky began to turn purple and the streetlights turned on, you packed up your things and began the walk home. You could have taken the subway, but you decided you could use the fresh air. Caught up in your thoughts, you yelped when someone tried to grab your bag from you. 

“Hey! Let go!” You shouted, pulling on your bag with all your might. 

You saw a flash of red and blue in the corner of your eye and suddenly, you found yourself on the ground with the contents of your bag strewn about the sidewalk. 

“Ouch,” You pouted as you looked around. When you looked up you saw Spiderman.

“If I would’ve known they were going to let go like that, I would’ve tried to catch you,” Spiderman chuckled lightly and offered you his hand to help you off the ground.

“It’s okay,” You said and grabbed his hand, surprised at how effortlessly he helped you up. “Thanks for showing up, I’m not sure I would’ve made it out of here with my stuff if you hadn’t,” 

“It’s my job,” He said. You swear you’ve heard his voice somewhere, but you weren’t sure where. It must’ve been on the news or something. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as he helped you pick up your things. You were about to grab your sketchbook when you noticed Spiderman looking at its pages. 

“Oh! Um, I’ll take that, thanks for grabbing it,” You pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, and gently took the book from him. 

“You’re really good, you know,” He complimented. “Who’s that guy you’re drawing?” 

“That’s Peter,”  You smiled as you pulled your bag over your shoulder. 

“He’s good looking,” Spiderman chuckled. 

“He is,” You nodded and smiled, trying not to give too much away. 

“Can I walk you home?” He asked. 

“Uh, sure! I’d appreciate that,” You said and began walking toward your apartment. 

The two of you walked quietly together for a bit before Spiderman broke the silence.

“So are you two together?” He inquired, nodding toward the sketchbook in your hands. 

“No, we’re not,” You blushed deeply, looking at the ground. 

“Why not?” He pressed. 

“I mean, he’s my best friend. And as far as I can tell, he’s not really interested in me like that,” You explained, glancing in Spiderman’s direction. 

“I mean, you never know, he totally could be. Are you interested in him like that?” 

You sighed and looked back at your feet, the ground suddenly the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. Were you really about to confess your feelings for Peter to Spiderman? You weighed your options before deciding there was no harm in it. What were the odds that you’d see Spiderman again? Besides, it’s not like he would tell Peter how you felt. 

“Yeah, I mean, Peter’s wonderful. He’s so sweet and fun to be around. Not to mention extremely cute,” You said, pausing for a moment. “I mean, I didn’t mean to fall for him. It’s kind of typical right? Falling for your best friend,” 

Spiderman went silent for a moment, almost like he was thinking. You looked over to him, worried that perhaps you’d shared too much. 

“Sorry, maybe that was too much,” You added. 

“N-no! Not at all!” He said, sounding somewhat surprised. “I was just thinking. If I were Peter, I would want you to talk to me about it, and I’d honestly probably feel the same way,” 

You were going to respond, but saw your apartment building coming into view. 

“Thanks for walking me home!” You said before quickly slipping into your apartment building. 

Spiderman had given you a lot to think about. 

--

“Hey, y/n. What’s going on?” Peter said, slightly breathless. 

In the past week, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spiderman’s words. You decided you would talk to Peter and you would tell him how you felt. Peter was one of your best friends, and you didn’t think he’d make it weird if he didn’t feel the same way. So, you called Peter and asked him to come over one afternoon, hoping he was free. 

“Can we go to the roof?” You asked, pointing toward the fire escape. 

“Sure!” He chirped, leading the way to the roof. 

The whole way up your heart was pounding. You were nervous but feeling somewhat hopeful. Although you weren’t sure if he would feel the same way, you wanted to believe that he did. 

You shoved your hands deep into your pockets and looked at Peter. 

“So, I asked you to come over because I have to tell you something,” You began. 

Peter’s ear perked up, his heart racing. He had to try to keep the smile that was forming. Peter had been thinking about the night he, well- Spiderman, walked you home. He’d been in love with you for the longest time. The way you lit up the room, your incredible skills as an artist, how kind you were to those around you, the list of things he loved about you could go on forever. You were everything to him, and he was just hoping that you would feel the same way too. 

“I don’t know how to say it, so I guess I’ll just do it...” You took a deep breath and shut your eyes tightly. “IreallylikeyoualotIthinkyou’rereallywonderfulandIthinkImightbeinlovewithyou” 

You opened one of your eyes to gage Peter’s reaction, shoulders relaxing when you saw him chuckling. 

“Peter,” You whined, covering your face with both of your hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything,”

“Y/n,” Peter said, walking over to you and taking your hands away from your face. “I love you too,” 

“You do?” You blinked a few times, finally having the courage to look him in the eyes. 

“Yeah, I’ve been in love with you since the day you accidentally broke my bike,” He said, placing a warm hand on your cheek. 

“Did I mention that I’m really sorry about that?” You chuckled, cringing at the memory. 

“Yes,” He laughed, his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way. 

The two of you stood there on the roof looking into each other’s eyes, feeling so much joy and love. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

Peter didn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. You sighed happily into the kiss, happy that you decided to tell him how you felt. You could have never imagined that Peter felt the same way about you. When the two of you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a smile on his lips. 

“I love you,” He said again, grinning ear to ear. 

“I love you too, Peter,” You said going in for another kiss. 

The night went on sharing sweet kisses and warm embraces. You were so grateful for the night that Spiderman walked you home. You’d have to remember to thank him. Peter would eventually tell you that he was Spiderman, but that was a confession for another day. 

--

[getnight]

So, hi, here is the part of my big fic about sons of Mike&Rachel and Harvey&Donna. It's just a little piece. Actually, Chris and Tyler (their sons) are my Original characters, but... I like them) And, yeah, we haven't Marvey at Canon, so i did their children in love. They are cute, I think🌚 Soooo... Maybe you'll be interested. Yeah.

Christopher caught up with Tyler in a few seconds, yanking off his hood and grabbing him lightly by the neck with his forearm. The boy flinched, leaned back and tried to pull his arm away, and when he failed, he tried to fall with his attacker to the side of the road. At that moment, Chris let go.

— Hey, Tyle, take it easy. This is me, — He steadied Tyler from falling and stood beside him, brushing him off.

— You... why did you do that? — Tyler frowned, pulling the headphones out of his ears and pinching a lollipop to his cheek.

— Why are you so cute? You're a formidable genius, but you love lollipops and you frown like you're five instead of fifteen.

— I'm not cute, keep your high energy endorphins with yourself, — Tyler pulled up his hood, turned around, and was about to continue walking when Chris literally dived in front of him, blocking the way.

They faced each other. Chris was literally a centimeter taller, but he had rather broad shoulders, which made him look much bigger than Tyler.

— Hey,— Christopher whispered.

— What? — Tyler replied.

Chris smiled fondly as he pulled back his hood.

— That's better. I love your hair, — he hesitated for a second, then gently took Tyler's hand, the other gently pulling the candy out of Ross' mouth and tugging at his wrist, pulling him into a soft, chaste kiss that Tyler happily responded to. Christopher's other hand went to the back of the boy's head, and he felt long fingers on his waist. When they finally parted, Chris said:

— Good morning, Tyle, — and he smiled sincerely, expecting something like that in return: "Don't call me that”.

— Good morning, Topha, — and the kind of smile that only Tyler Harvey Ross could give. Sincere and pure. The one that no one but those closest to her had ever seen. The one that opened the veil of a brilliant, sullen guy.

The nickname "Topha" seemed strange to Chris. It was indeed a derivative of his name, Christopher, but how Tyler came up with it... no one ever found out. Parents said that as a child, baby Ross could not pronounce Chris ' full name and called him "Topha". And so it turned out. Since then, Tyler only calls his boyfriend that when no one is looking.

Tyler pulled the hood up again. His clothes were no different from what he always wore. Black ripped jeans, a huge black hoodie, and... something had changed that day.

— I'm not going to ask about the paint stain, or what wall you painted on the way here, but do I really see your badge? — Chris stared at the rainbow-colored iron circle attached to the left side of Tyler's chest.

— Exactly one year, three hundred and sixty five days, eight thousand seven hundred and sixty-six hours, five million two hundred and fifty-six thousand minutes ago, I first realized that I was in love with you, — Tyler said calmly.

Christopher choked and blushed. No, no, no, no. Damn, why is he so bad with emotions?

— I'm sorry, I… — Specter whispered, and suddenly felt a warm hand on his cheek.

Tyler looked at him, not affectionately, not solicitously, just calmly.

— It's all right. I know we'll be working on your emotional range, — he said.

— God, — Chris suddenly smiled, — How do you do that? How can you so easily talk about your feelings and understand them, but absolutely not be able to communicate with people? — he abruptly hoisted the thin Tyler onto his shoulder, running ahead of him down the road.

At first there were attempts to resist and shouts that they would be seen, but then the guy just hung on Chris ' back.

— You took my lollipop, by the way, — he mumbled.

— Is that the only thing that bothers you? Christopher laughed.

— No, the fact that you laugh for some reason means that you experience joy, happiness, euphoria, fun or…

The schoolhouse loomed up ahead, and Chris lowered his boyfriend to the ground.

— Here, just shut up, highactivity sociopath, — he said, handing Tyler a lollipop he'd taken from his backpack. Yes, he always had such a supply. It was the most important thing in his things. What Chris checked every day before he left for school. Ever since he had the pocket money. That is, from the age of nine.

Tyler's face lit up with a childlike smile, and he took the candy, opened it, put it in his mouth, and said through it:

— You can't blame my love of Sherlock.

— I'm not blameing.

Tyler's entire room was covered with posters, quote sheets, DVD boxes taped to tape, and other decorations. By the way, the love of watching movies on DVD was instilled in Tyler by Chris ' father.

Christopher never disapproved of posters and things like that, no. Conversely. He thought it was extremely cute. In his room, despite the fact that he had both favorite movies and favorite bands, there was not a single poster. Somehow, he had never been attracted to such a way of designing a room.

A couple in love walked towards the school, holding hands. Tyler, who was always more open with Chris, chatted about how he'd tried to curl his hair again over the weekend, which he did often, and he liked it. Chris, always a sociable bully-athlete in front of everyone and a little modest, relaxed and allowing himself to revel in his mind, not strength, and the mind of the person he talks to, in front of Tyler, listened carefully to his boyfriend, once saying that he wanted to make Tyler's curls himself one day.

Closer to the school, they uncoupled their hands. At school, they are just childhood best friends, close brothers. There may be rumors that will quickly reach the teachers, and from them to the parents. Both Chris and Tyler agreed to hide it from the families at all costs. They didn't know what the reaction and consequences would be, so the longer their relationship was kept secret, the better.

— I have literature, — Tyler said, pulling his hood up again and searching for something in his backpack.

— Math, — Chris said.

— Here. I drew it yesterday. Will you watch it? Tyler waved his hand, closed his backpack, and walked away, putting in his headphones.

Christopher hated painting, drawing, and galleries. But there was one exception. The exception who bore the name was Tyler Harvey Ross. His boyfriend was an incredible artist, he drew a lot of different sketches, gradually a whole pile formed in his desk drawer. These drawings were never shown to anyone other than Chris. Moreover, Specter suspected that even he did not know all of Tyler's works.

— Chris! — a voice called out.

Christopher turned.

— Let's go to class, buddy — said the guy who flew up.

— Where are you going in such a hurry, Jim? Christopher chuckled.

Jim was one of the guys on the football team.

Jim ruffled Chris ' red hair.

— Come on.

They entered the classroom,where there were already quite a few people. Christopher walked past a girl who was eating grapes and brazenly stole one of the berries.

—Thank you, — he chuckled.

The girl said nothing. Everyone is used to it. Chris Specter is a real badass.

The teacher appeared and the bell rang.

When everyone had calmed down, and the rowdy teammates and friends were deep in math, a topic that he and Tyler had gone through with Uncle Mike a year ago, Chris pulled out a drawing, unfolding it.

It was their portrait. Him and Tyler. Just a sketch, not even painted, but Christopher just couldn't look away. The two of them were standing on the pavement of New York City, high-rise buildings behind them, and a car was driving in the foreground. Chris was hanging up the Topha Coffee sign on the stairs. The building he hung it on says "Open," and there are all kinds of cakes and other desserts in the windows. Inside, there are a couple of tables and a counter. On the sides of the picture are depicted tree branches with birds. Tylee himself was standing a little apart from his boyfriend, his index finger outstretched, apparently instructing him on how to hang up the sign. Tyler's self-portrait was perfect. It was the coal-black hair with the little curls, the ice-blue eyes (the eyes of both of them were the only color spots in the drawing), the thick eyebrows, the lean body hidden under a large apron that Chris found charming, wide nose and sharp cheekbones.

Christopher seemed to be busy with the sign, and Tyler was busy with putting it up, but their eyes were only on each other. And there was life in those eyes, real life. Frozen, yes. But it's real. Perhaps such a picture was their dream. Chris wanted to move to New York, and Tyler wanted to open his own cozy little coffee shop with his paintings hanging on the walls.

A couple of times Specter asked his boyfriend if his genius mind would not be bored in such a routine. Tiley just smiled and shook his head. Then Chris realized that the teenager himself did not know. He wants a simple quiet happiness, but at the same time not to lose his mind and genius. He's afraid of society, shuns it, finds it boring and disturbing, but he wants to see people smile when they drink his freshly made coffee or try a piece of that apple pie that Edith Ross, Tyler's great-grandmother, then Uncle Mike, and now Tyler himself, baked. He rushes around, not knowing where to put himself and what to do.

Maybe they should just finish school first and enjoy their youth. And then… Then they will definitely come up with how it will be. They will tell their parents about their relationship, go to university, and who knows what will happen next. We'll see. That was Chris ' opinion.

The bell rang in the hallway, dismissing all the students for recess. Christopher carefully folded the drawing and put it in his pocket. They'll meet at dinner, they always do. And this day will be no exception.

That's what Christopher thought as he walked out of the math room with his friends in his arms. But perhaps this day will be something that will soon change their entire lives and views on her, their family and each other.

[hitsuackerman]

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.12

a/n: it begins >:)

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi @oikawalmart-hq @extrasugafree @bbykiyoomi @apricotjihyo @awings @simpformiya @sayakaaaaaa @colorseeingchick @demursv1ogs​ @chrisrue15 @beanst0ck @something-that-idk (i have no idea why i can’t tag some of you :( huhu )

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 13

Time flew by so fast in this dimension. Now that you were well adjusted and loving the new life here, it had not dawned on you that 7 months had already passed. Things were moving smoothly and pleasantly.

“Here you go.” Akaashi handed you a snack bar. The two of you (well maybe three if Bokuto is included) were practically inseparable. The team had finally managed to pin the both of you down and confirm that you two were indeed dating. “Did you sleep well?”

Walking to school was still a thing both of you did. Except this time, fingers were intertwined and barely any distance between the both of you. The only time you two let go was when the school gates were near. Still, walking down the hallways, Akaashi made sure to always brush his fingers with yours.

“I did!” You pulled him in to kiss his cheek. The small smile he gave you still made your stomach butterflies flutter. “I did have a weird dream last night. You and Bokuto-san switched personalities. Seeing you do his ‘HEY HEY HEY’ was just so wrong on all levels.”

“Is there a quirk that can do that?”

At this point in time, you barely relied on your quirk. The feeling of accomplishing things without it’s aid was much more satisfying. Of course, Akaashi still reaped its healing benefits and took note of how his stamina had improved.

“High chances. If we can have a washing machine as a pro-hero, then there’s bound to be a quirk swapping quirk.”

“A washing machine?” He brushed his thumb on the corner of your lip to wipe off a crumb. “Even now, your world still surprises me.”

“It’s great if you hear it.” Leaning on his shoulder, you tightened your hold on his hand. “Living in it is a completely different story. It’s been, what, 7 months since I arrived here and I am more than content with not having to rely on my quirk.”

“What about your combat skills? Shouldn’t you still be sharpening them?”

“I wish I could.” That was true, though. “I’m pretty much useless at 30%. Even if I wanted to lift boulders or shit, I have to maintain at least 40%. The difference is small but the output is huge. I don’t get my quirk’s logic.”

“Well, it’s still early.” The gates were now in sight but he refused to let go of your hand. “I’m pretty sure you can work on your quirk. The others won’t arrive within 30 minutes.”

“It’s been 5 months and you’re still curious to see how I fight?” You giggled.

“Yes.” He nodded. “If my girlfriend trained to be a hero, I’d love to see how you move.”

“Well, you made that sound sexy~” You nudged his elbow. “Think we can have a little action before we head to the gym?”

“It’s 6:30am, (y/n). It’s too early for that.” He teased. Yet his steps were a little faster than before. “But, I guess I can’t oppose the idea.”

The next thing you knew, your back hit the wall as Akaashi hungrily kissed you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers found themselves coming through his hair. Pinning you even more, Akaashi’s hand undid your ribbon and unbuttoned the first two. Letting go of your lips, he trailed kisses from your cheek down to the crook of your neck.

As he was softly sucking on your skin, you loosened his tie and undid the two buttons as well. Tugging his hair, you were face to face with him again. Lust filled eyes staring back into yours. Leaning in, you gently kissed his lips before returning the favor. Activating your quirk, Akaashi felt his feet leave the ground. Knowing what you were about to do, he could feel you turning the both of you around.

Skillfully placing the both of you on the floor, Akaashi leaned on the wall as his hands began to roam higher and higher up your skirt. Having you straddle him this early in the morning was rather pleasant in all aspects. Tilting his head a bit, he gave you much easier access and felt you sucking on his skin a little harsher this time.

“Make sure it’s hidden under the collar.” He managed to whisper. Hickeys were a common thing to have both your bodies. He smirked at how your only response was a nod.

Caressing your cheek, he admired the way your face glowed even more. Pulling you in softly for another kiss, he felt his stomach fluttering when you smiled.

“We should probably head to the lockers now.”

“Fine.”

“We can continue this in my room later.” He whispered before kissing you deeply.

“Counting the hours~”

Moments later, you were now pumping air into some volleyballs. Morning practice for today would only take an hour so there was plenty of time to freshen up before the homeroom. Now that the gym was packed with your boys, you rolled out the volleyball cart and positioned it beside the net.

Everyone was now used to having you as a ball girl. In fact, some of them even tried to challenge you by purposely hitting the ball too hard or too low. With your hero training, it was nothing but a walk in the park. You did notice, however, that your body began to sweat a bit more. The after effects of not using your quirk for a long time was showing.

Nothing bad happens, though. Just panting and sweating.

“Aghkaashe!” Bokuto yelled. “Can you and (y/n)-chan help with my math later?”

“I don’t mind. What about you, (y/n)?”

“Sure thing~” You approached your two favorite boys. “Bokuto-senpai, how well did you do on your previous quiz?”

The captain’s golden eyes sparkled.

“HAHAHA! Thanks to you both, I managed to get a 32/50! Whatdya think?!” He punched the air and grinned widely. When the both of you applauded he began to jump up and down while shouting his trademark.

“Calm down, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi tried to stop him from jumping up and down. His friend obeyed and gave a cheeky thumbs up.

“God, I love you both so much~” You giggled at their exchange.

“But you love Ahkaashi more, don’t you (y/n)-chan?” Bokuto added as he shouldered Akaashi. This time, his deadpan face was holding a soft smile.

“Of course!”

When Konoha’s alarm sounded, each of you began to clean up and prepare for the rest of the day. With how often you did it, it had now become second nature to you. Yukie and Kaori even admitted that you adapted much faster than they had anticipated. Once all of you were now freshened up, the gym was locked once more and each player looked forward for the after school practice.

“Exams are approaching.” Akaashi said as he let you step into the classroom first. “Have you prepared your notes?”

“I did. But, you do remember that the subjects you have here are way too easy for me, right?” Placing your bag on your desk, you took a seat and faced Akaashi. “Shall we study in your room or mine?”

“we can take turns.” Now that he was seated, he fished out one of his notebooks and placed it on his desk. Not that it was needed, it merely became one of his habits. Watching as you dragged your chair closer to him, he offered you a pen and flipped the notebook open.

“So, what do you want me to draw?” This had become one of your recent traditions. Before the start of homeroom, Akaashi noticed how you liked to doodle on his notebooks. Deciding that a special one was needed, he took the liberty of buying a blank journal for you to fill with whatever it is you saw fit.

“Hmm, I recall you saying that you designed your own hero costume.” He saw how your eyes lit up. “May i see what it looked like?”

Starting the sketch, you began to draw a figure and dressed it with your costume.

“So, my costume isn’t flashy unlike the others.” You explained. “A quirk like mine doesn’t really need a lot of support items so I went with mobility and comfort. I decided that simplicity was key. Just the normal jacket, shirt, pants, and boots. The only support item I had were my gloves.”

Sketching your gloves, Akaashi couldn’t help but adore just how focused you were. Tucking in a loose strand of hair, he felt the butterflies in his stomach churning once again as the corners of your mouth formed a smile and your cheeks turning a faint hue of pink.

“What do your gloves do?” They looked like standard fingerless gloves.

“The material was specifically designed to aid in manipulating my quirk. It concentrates the energy I release and wraps around my hand. Sorta like a human torch~” It was a bit difficult to explain how it worked knowing you didn’t listen to the man who gave you the item. As long as it aided you, it was fine.

“What were Todoroki-kun’s support items?”

“Shoto’s support items were mostly temperature regulators. Wristbands and a big one he wears like a backpack to help even him out.” You drew his support items rather well.

“Can you try to sketch Todorki-kun’s face?” Letting you draw your friends was something he wasn’t so comfortable with. Not for that reason of course. He merely assumed that it would be a sensitive topic knowing the circumstances of how you arrived in his world. When you giggled, he tilted his head.

“About time you asked~” Beginning to draw your childhood friend, you continued. “I honestly wouldn’t mind drawing my friends for you, ya know? There’s no way I can introduce you to them so sketching them would be the best alternative.”

“I’m sorry.” He held on to your free hand. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfy.”

“You never make me uncomfy. Keiji~”

It was a quick sketch of half and half but a good one. He squinted his eye when he took note of the scar. He had heard of Tokoyami and Mina, but this one merely showed a boy about his age with a nasty burn on his face.

“Shoto’s got one helluva back story.” Your thumb began to brush Akaashi’s knuckles. “That scar was given to him by his mum when he was around 5 or 6 years old. It’s sad but he grew to accept it and is now healing.”

“You were engaged before, right?”

“For a while, yeah.” You handed him back the pen and closed the sketchpad. The bell had now rung and right on time, the teacher entered the room. Just as she was relaying a message, you were rummaging in your bag for a notebook.

“Please introduce yourselves~” The teacher said.

“Bakugo Katsuki”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

- - - - -

a/n: sooo... what yall gonna do now? :’)

[chaoswriting92]

Games we shouldn’t Play

Chapter Four: hoping for better days

Lunch rolled around and you’d gotten a few texts from Jin apologizing and one or two from Jaebeom asking if you were alright and about what happened when he got off the elevator. You hadn’t answered either of them. It was too much. Jackson had come over up to ask how Friday went right as lunch time rolled around and you didn’t say anything to him either. Jasmine was the one left to explain about everything that happened this morning and yesterday and after that even Jackson. The group’s friend who was almost always happy and energetic was down on his mood.

You made it to the cafeteria and Jaebeom was waiting for you, smiling and waving from his table a second tray of food already waiting on you and you felt better about that. He wasn’t making a move to join you at the door just waiting patiently for you to come to him and you did. Walking past a few of the models and Hyeji and her inner circle head held high to go sit by him and try to let all your worries from earlier dissipate. You sat down and bit into the crisp red apple smiling at the fond look he was giving you and the sweet taste. 

“Did I mention earlier that you look beautiful?” He leaned in and whispered.

“Hmm… No, I don't think you did. I remember you calling me beautiful, and saying I looked stunning, but not telling me I looked beautiful.” You commented falling into that easy feeling that you’d had Friday and Saturday when the two of you had gone out by yourselves. The upset from this morning still stung around the edges, but what he’d said on the elevator was right. You had discussed this and you had a plan. None of that involved giving up on Jaebeom just because Seokjin came around. 

“Hey Y/n, JB.” Yugyeom came over from where he had grabbed his lunch and sat down at the table. He was followed shortly after by Sooran and Jinyoung, then Jasmine, Jackson, Youngjae and Mark followed. Finally the rest of you were joined by BamBam who always seemed to take the longest to grab his food, but it didn’t surprise you all that much because he was usually held up talking to Lisa since she sat at one of the other model’s tables close by to the check out counter and vending machines. 

“Hey Bambam, how did that video presentation from this morning go?” You asked, sticking your fork into the salad that had been sitting in front of you.

“It went well. They really liked the track and thought that Lisa was a good choice of model. Thanks for suggesting her. The even said that they want her to be the permanent model for their campaign.” He said taking a bite of his pizza when he was done speaking.

“Hey y/n. Is that a new dress?” One of the models who had been sitting at HyeJi’s table had passed by your table  to go over to where the waste bins were and on her way back seemed to notice the dress you were wearing.

“Oh, yeah, it’s from a new design series I was working on,” you replied.

    “Is there going to be a photo shoot for that series?” She asked curiously.

“Maybe sometime soon. I still have a few more pieces I’m working on and some changes since the advanced copies of the designs were shared I have to change some things.”

“I thought it looked familiar. That’s the dress Hyeji was gushing about. She had a picture of the design sketch on her phone. She said you were making it specially for her. You know, I knew she was lying. If you need a new model for any shoots let me know, okay? By the way congratulations not everyone can leave a catch like Seokjin and land on their feet.” She eyed JB up and down making it obvious what she meant and both of you almost choked on the respective drinks and food you were eating.

“I.. uh...Thanks. If I need a new model I will let you know.” You placated her and tried to recover from her comment and she nodded satisfied that she may have replaced Hyeji as your favorite and that she got something she could hold over Hyeji’s head in the meantime.

“What did she mean by that?” Youngjae asked.

“Probably just that word has traveled about me and Jabeom dating.” You muttered like it was common knowledge and continued to eat.

“Oh okay. Wait when did you two start dating?” Youngjae asked, confused.

“Saturday. We went out for breakfast trying to see if we could really get to know each other after the fun we had Friday, thanks for buying dinner by the way Jackson.” You said.

“Technically we went out for Bingsu Saturday not breakfast.” JB countered. 

“Same thing. After that I helped him dye his hair and we kind of just decided that we’d give this a try.”  You finished.

“And you said we should let them find someone else on their own.” Jackson said smugly and gave a pointed look at Mark who rolled his eyes again. You and Jaebeom gave each other a knowing look. This was actually working. They all seemed to believe you. The pieces were falling into place. 

The rest of lunch was spent with your friends asking you questions about Saturday until you finally told them the story leaving out a few key points of course.

                                            ***Last Saturday Afternoon***

After leaving the Bingsu place the two of you bought the hair dye JB had wanted and went back to his apartment blessedly not running into Jin or anyone else. Jaebeom’s apartment suited him. It was cozy and sort of intimate and looked like it was lived in and loved in the time he’d been here. The door bathroom traveled through his bedroom and it took everything in you to keep from laughing as he scrambled to pick up the mess of laundry lying around and had blushed a little in your direction and apologized. You had tried several different scenarios out in your head for how to go about dying his hair without staining his shirt and finally let out a sigh.

“This is hopeless. Take your shirt off.” You ordered and he got a sly grin on his face.

“I thought we were dying my hair,” he teased.

“I will leave right now and you can call Jackson and explain why you were about to have me dye your hair” 

“I’m just kidding, y/n, please don’t leave me like this.” He grabbed onto the soft denim of the shorts you were wearing. His knuckles brushed the outside of your thigh and your eyes met his for an almost electric moment before you shook your head, made a little uncomfortable coughing noise and went back to mixing the hair dye. 

“I’m... You should... Unless you want your shirt stained I’d suggest either changing or taking it off,” you told him.

“Right, I’ll… I’ll just go change. I have an old t-shirt I use for cleaning. That should be alright. You just keep mixing I guess.” He left the bathroom and went looking through his room for the shirt and you let out a sigh and looked at your reflection in the mirror not meaning to but noticing where JB was standing with his back turned to you as he slipped his shirt he’d been wearing over his head and you found yourself transfixed by the flawless expanse of tan skin revealed as he slid the shirt over his head. His long hair just barely grazed the space between his shoulder blades on his neck and you found yourself imagining what would be like to feel that skin under your fingertips. When he quickly began slipping the new shirt over his head it seemed to snap you out of your daydream and you had shook your head squeaking in panic when you realized your hair had dipped into the pot of hair dye  in your distraction and sat it down scraping it off in a determined fashion with a tissue that you pulled from a nearby box. Jaebeom didn’t even bother to hide his laughter.

“We could have matched.” He said and you swatted at him before tugging him down into the seat and putting gloves on so you could apply the bleach to his hair. Things were quiet while you did this. He watched you as you focused on what you were doing. Your brows knit together and concentration tugged the corners of your mouth down in this cute little frown. He found himself imagining what your reaction would be if he kissed the little creases you had forming there and mentally cursed. The two of you weren’t really dating he couldn’t just take advantage of thoughts like that any time he wanted and you were his friend there should be a line. That did remind him though. He cleared his throat a little and you pulled away satisfied with the work you’d done on the bleach. Now all you both had to do was wait for it to do its job. He tapped your side where you had leaned across and sat the bowl and brush down then you turned to look back at him.

“We should probably decide what our boundaries are for this whole thing.” Jaebeom said.

“What do you mean?” You sat down on the edge of the tub and shifted so the two of you were face to face.

“Like for what would cross the line and be a deal breaker.”

“Oh. Right. No meeting parents or siblings unless it is absolutely unavoidable. The last thing either of us needs is our families getting attached to the idea of us being a thing and getting hurt too.” You said setting a timer on your phone for when to rinse the bleach. 

“Fair enough. Um… no sex. I think that would complicate things.” Jaebeom said.

“Really? You think sex would complicate things. I would never have guessed.” You teased.

“Listen here smart ass.” He chastised you for the comment and you let out a full and jovial laugh tilting your head back and exposing your bare skin at your neck and creating a clear line to the v of your shirt to his eyes. He was starting to already be glad he set that rule, but also beginning to curse himself for it. You were still as beautiful as always, but for some reason even more enticing as the realization sunk in that you were essentially untouchable now due to the rule he’d just put in place.

“Okay um… We should go to every public function that requires a plus one together if it means one of the others will see us.” You said drawing him back to the topic at hand.”

“Does that mean I am driving you to and from work from now on too?” He asked and you nodded. 

“I can give you gas money if you need it, but it would look weird if you let me ride the bus when you have a car.”

“Fair. Um… couples clothes or accessories?” He asked.

“Not unless you think we need to unnecessary money being spent if you ask me.” you replied.

“Not yet. If it gets too hard to keep the ruse up then maybe.” he said thoughtfully.

“Group dates?”

“Probably unavoidable, but only if someone asks.” He answered.

“You just want me to have all my attention focused on you. I should probably borrow some of your clothes too.” You teased then suggested the latter as an afterthought.

“What? Why?” The thought of you in his clothes with your small stature and how his hoodies would probably fall about at the same length as the shorts you were wearing now effectively making you look like you were wearing nothing underneath them was a particular brand of torture he hadn’t even imagined when he had been factoring in things that would complicate your friendship. 

“Wouldn’t it be odd for a girlfriend to not at least have one piece of her boyfriend’s clothes?” You asked.

“Fine but I’ll pick it.” He said.

“Deal.” You agreed.

“Y/n are you sure you still want to-” The timer beeped and interrupted what he was going to say. You pulled the shower hose down and sat on the edge of the tub switching the water to the hose rather than the faucet and gesturing with your free hand for JB to lean back across your lap from his seat on the lid of  the toilet his hair dangled down now a whitish shade of yellow. You were right to buy the toner because you were going to need to take the yellow out after you dried it so that his hair wouldn’t turn green. Not that you really thought he’d mind, but he’d wanted blue and you weren’t going to be the one to ruin it. 

A few more hours passed and his hair was finally a dark blue with his black brown roots poking out of the top. It looked good on him and you smiled and nodded your approval after drying his hair a final time.

“Thanks, y/n. I owe you one.”

“No you don’t this is the least I can do for you helping me with the whole Jin and Hyeji situation.”

“That’s another thing we need to talk about. What are we going to do Monday. Jin is going to see us there.”

“I’m going to avoid him like I’ve been doing I guess.”

“That’s not going to work forever, y/n.”

“Then what do you think I should do?”

“I think if he bothers you, then you should stay by my side. We don’t have to talk to him, but if you stay by me maybe he will probably get the point and at least you will know you have someone there for you.”

“And if that doesn’t work? What if the two of us get in an argument or you two get in a fight?” 

“If he and I get in a fight I can handle it, but if you two argue then when it’s over the two of us will get back together and have a good day and you will act like nothing happened. It will be hard, but he deserves to see you happy without him and so do you if we’re being honest. If at any point you are sad, call my name, do you think you can do that? ” 

“We’re not being honest JB, that’s the whole point of this, but I can try anyway.” 

“Just trust me. We can make this work, Y/n I know it.”

“Okay… well I guess since we’re done with your hair I’ll get going. I need to clean the extra dye off of me anyway.”

                                                   ***Present***

“So you’re telling me that you spent the entire day in his apartment and nothing happened?” Jasmine had been pestering you since the two of you got back from lunch with the others.

“Pretty much,” you replied. You walked over to the different bolts of fabric selected a few and nodded when you were satisfied with the combinations cutting small sample squares from each of them and safety pinning them to the respective designs that they were going to be used for in the look book you had planned for the company’s next runway production. A few of them had more than one layer and you were already discussing with the people who usually did the sewing how you wanted them to work when she caught back up to you.

“You and I have really got to have a chat about seizing opportunities, y/n. You were in his bedroom, for crying out loud. In his shower,” She scolded and you laughed.

“Okay, first off, I wasn’t in his shower. Second, what was I supposed to do just finish dying his hair and have my way with him right there until we were both covered in blue hair dye?” You asked.

“Yes. Yes you were.” She said matter of fact tone and a serious look on her face.

“That is a quality man downstairs and you should take advantage of every inch of him from head to toe.” You laughed again this time for a good solid few minutes and even snorted a few times from how hard you were laughing. She began laughing too and that’s how you knew this entire exchange was just her way of trying to cheer you up. Jasmine was almost as energetic and twice as eccentric as Jackson was and you were grateful to have her as a friend but she definitely had her priorities skewed sometimes. 

“It was only our first real date.”

“No it wasn’t. You had a date Friday.”

“That doesn’t count. You guys set us up.”

“Okay yes we did, but it should still count anyway.” She argued and before you could protest the point further your phone chimed. 

“Is that him?” She asked trying to peek over your shoulder, but you hid the phone away and made some distance between the two of you.

[tizzymcwizzy]

A Stranger’s New Year’s Resolution - Chap 1

Reposting this cause I messed up the formatting last time!

Here’s to the first fic that I’ve ever written and posted! AUuuGgh okay okay.

Ao3 Link

Chap 2 

This takes place in an AU were there are no powers, and Adrien never goes to public school. So they don’t know each other. Oh, and aged up characters.

There is some alcohol use and talk of alcohol use on this, just as a warning

Summary:

Marinette sat alone at a table for two, sketchbook open and staring out the window at the fireworks that splashed color over snow-covered rooftops. She wasn’t waiting for anyone and no one was waiting for her really. She just sat quietly among the incessant chatter of the tipsy people around her. It was around 10 at night so there was still 2 hours until New Years officially began, but that never seemed to stop people from getting far too drunk far too early.

She flipped the pencil around in her hand and gazed back at her sketchbook. She was doodling some cocktail dresses until she found a design she wanted to stick with and carry onto the next page. 

People-watching is amazing inspiration, she’d found. Especially on nights of celebration when people wore their best and drank lazily, not caring about how they looked. 

Marinette scanned her eyes over the crowd once more and admired a red dress with tassels on the ends. Tassels, hmm. She hadn’t thought about that. She made a quick doodle on her page and put the pencil up to her lips, scrunching her nose. 

“Would you like another drink, mademoiselle?” A waiter asked, peering down at her.

Marinette startled and flipped her pencil. “Oh, no thank you, I’m just fine.” She waved them off with a smile. 

The waiter nodded and smiled as they walked away. Marinette had never been really fond of drinking. Sure alcohol could taste good but hangovers were never fun. Especially alone. She thought, sadly.

She swiped her finger around the edge of her half-empty glass, watching the reflection of the fireworks flash and sparkle. She watched it for a second before gasping. That’s a perfect idea! She swiped up her pencil and made a small sketch. It was perfect. She flipped her page and sketched the dress out with quick lines. 

A hand appeared in her peripheral. Hesitantly tapping the table in front of her. “Excuse me,” he said. His voice was shy, but just loud enough to be heard over the music. Marinette glanced at the hand before looking up. A man stood at the edge of the small table, smiling warmly. “I’m sorry, is anyone sitting here?” He asked. “There’s no other seats open.” He turned around to gesture at the crowd of people that had slowly grown since the evening’s beginning.

“Oh, uh,” she found it hard not to gawk at him. His hair was golden blond, combed back near perfectly and his eyes were stark green, shining brightly with reflections of fireworks dancing in their centers. “Sure, there’s no one sitting there.” She pulled her sketchbook closer to her and gathered her pencils to her side of the table.

“Thanks a ton,” he smiled again. He is really pretty, wow. She nodded and turned back to her sketchbook. He sat down, facing the rest of the bar, away from her. They sat in silence for a bit as he scrolled through his phone and she sketched. Marinette didn’t find it exactly easy to ignore him, but he didn’t seem to be uncomfortable with her presence. As she finished the sketch she found herself wondering what he was doing here alone. Well, she was alone too, but he was far too good-looking to be alone, wasn’t he? She pondered this and glanced up at him. Then jumped internally as she found him watching her. His eyes were trained on the paper and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He noticed her hand pause and he glanced up at her. “Oh, sorry.” He laughed awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” she managed to squeak out in a voice that was close to normal. “You’re fine,” she waved her hand.

He looked back down at the sketch. “That’s really good, you’ve got a lot of talent.” He gestured at the page.

“Oh, thank you.” She gave him a small smile. When most people saw her art they said the same few things like a broken record, she never received just a kind compliment. They sat in comfortable silence, both occupied with their tasks; his being scrolling through his phone and watching the crowd. Her thoughts were drawn back to the fact that he was alone. Was he waiting for someone?

“Adrien! Salut, It’s so grand to see you, would you care for anything?” The waiter appeared at the table again. He smiled warmly and shook Adrien’s hand.

Adrien smiled back just as brightly. “It’s good to see you too, Jackson. You can just get me my usual.” He leaned back in his chair and placed his elbow on the table.

“Would you like anything else, mademoiselle?” Jackson turned to her, pen at the ready.

"No thank you, I’m fine,” she chuckled softly.

“Tsk tsk,” the waiter shook his head and scribbled something down. “You shouldn’t have left her waiting for so long, Adrien. She’s only ordered one drink all night, you’ve soured the poor girl’s appetite.”

The both of them froze. “Uh, um, no, no i-it’s not-” she glanced frantically between them. “We’re not-” she stumbled over her words. Jackson raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like that, Jack.” Adrien laughed good-naturedly and shook his head. “There were just no other seats open,” he gestured to the packed bar.

“Oh, well, you could’ve just asked, Adrien. I’m sure we could get you a place to sit,” he turned to walk back to the front bar.

“No, no it’s fine Jack.” Adrien shot his hands up. “Really you don’t have to. I was just looking for a place to rest my feet." 

"Well, if you insist.” He nodded. “Sorry for insinuating that, mademoiselle.” He glanced at Marinette, who looked down at her sketchbook, ears red with embarrassment.

“It’s alright.” She smiled weakly. He left for the bar. She fidgeted with her pencil and tried to focus on her drawing.

“Sorry about that,” Adrien laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Jack can get pretty carried away.”

“It’s alright,” she repeated. He gazed out at the rest of the bar. His eyes were really pretty. “Do you know him?” She asked and took a sip of her half-empty drink.

“Huh?” He turned back to her. “Oh, yeah. I know most of the waiters here. This place is one of my favorites.” He laughed softly. “You come here often?" 

She nearly choked. Thank God she’d swallowed her sip. Had he meant to make that sound like a pick-up line? Or had he just asked that normally without any connotations? "No, this is my first time here.” She tapped the side of her glass lightly.

“Really?” He smiled again. Man, he really was pretty. “Want some drink recommendations?” He turned in his seat so he faced her head on and leaned forward.

“Sure,” she tried to calm her pulse. Get a hold of yourself, girl! Marinette imagined Alya slapping her shoulder and pushing her forward. He’s just a hot guy. She smirked and raised a brow. A strange confidence filled her. “Hit me,”

“Well, you’ve got to try the Devilled Tears To Go with a shot of lime, that’s my favorite.” He waved his hand around as he spoke, strangely enthusiastic. “But the Avant-garde Fruit Punch is another good choice. It depends on how much kick you’d want, though.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And how much ‘kick’ is that?” Is that a normal response? Is this how people talk?

He shrugged. “Depends.” He looked up for a moment and turned back to her with a smirk on his face. “How we kicken’ today, little lady?”

She scoffed and chuckled. Her face started to heat up again. “Was that a pun?” She glanced up at him through her lashes. 

“Maybe,” he leaned back in his chair, smirk still light on his lips.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I’d say I’m kicken’ for something light.” She picked up her pencil and twirled it in her hands again.

“Then you’d probably want to go with the punch.” He nodded.

“Okay, I’ll roll with that.” she glanced over to Jackson who was coming back with a drink. Adrien’s eyes lit up, he caught her subtle pun.

“A Devilled Tears for you,” he placed the purple drink in front of Adrien lavishly. But Adrien didn’t even glance at it, he fixed his eyes on her, a wild gleam sparkling along with the fireworks. “Can I help you with anything else?" 

"I’ll get an Avant-garde Fruit Punch, please.” She rested her chin on her wrists and smiled up at Jackson. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Coming right up, mademoiselle.” He nodded and scribbled it down. As he walked back to the bar he gave Adrien a gentle pat on the back.

“That was a good one.” He chuckled. “Roll with the punches,” he whispered. He pulled his gaze away from her and sat back up in his chair.

“Thank you,” she smiled and picked up her pencil again. He’s a fan of puns? He nodded and picked up his drink.

They sat in comfortable silence once again, sneaking glances at each other as she sketched. The dress was coming along nicely. She peeked up at him and watched him watch her in stolen glances. Why was he so intrigued? Finally, she placed her pencil down and flipped the sketchbook to face him. “What do you think?”

He put his drink down and turned his full attention to the page. “Wow, it’s amazing,” his eyes traced the page for a while. “Are you a designer?” He looked up at her.

“Not independently. I work as an apprentice.” She fidgeted with a pen. “But I hope to be someday.” She took a quick glance up at him before turning to the window. He was still looking at her.

“I feel like you could definitely become a professional. I’ve seen plenty of designers, but this is really something special.” He spoke softly. She turned back to him, there was something soft in his eyes.

“Thank you.” She whispered. He nodded and smiled gently. He was so pretty. Oh, man. And his smile was so kind.

“How long have you been designing?" 

That was a difficult question. She posted and thought for a moment. "Well, I sort of drew all the time, but I started taking it more seriously when I was in sixth grade I think,” she brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Did you always want to be a designer?” He tapped his finger on the table between them.

“Yeah,” she laughed through a sigh, “I was one of those weird kids that always knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. No doubt in my mind I guess.” Marinette scratched a spot on the table. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“I, I work as a model, for my father’s company.” He massaged the back of his neck. Wait, really? Yeah, sure he was good looking but being a model… He grinned at her lopsidedly. Oh yeah, she could definitely see it.

"You’re a model?” She twisted her brows.

He looked at her and laughed. “What, you don’t think I have the dashing good looks?” He joked. Then he squinted at her, still smiling. “You seriously don’t recognize me?” His voice was softer.

“Am I supposed too?” She scoffed.

“Do you know my last name?” It was his turn to quirk his brow. Playfulness laced his voice.

“No, you haven’t told me?” She clearly wasn’t getting it.

He chuckled softly and spun the drink in his hand. “I guess it’s only fair since I know your last name.” He stuck out his hand again. She took it instinctively, still confused. “My name’s Adrien Agreste, nice to meet you." 

She blinked. "Wait,” she froze. “Adrien… Agreste?” She sputtered. “Like, son of the ruler of the fashion empire and my favorite designer, Adrien Agreste?” Her eyes were as wide as the moon.

He burst out laughing, still holding her limp hand over the table. She joined him after a moment. They laughed like a pair of idiots until Jackson came with her drink. He squinted at both of them with a small smile and placed it down without a word, before scurrying back to the bar. 

“Yeah,” he said a little out of breath. “That’s the one." 

"Wow,” she rested her head on her hand. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you.” She picked up her second drink. It was a pretty shade of orange-pink. “I’d like to think I’m bright enough to recognize a face I see on billboards every day.”

He chuckled. “Is my father really your favorite designer?” He leaned forward with his elbows braced in the table.

“Duh, I mean have you seen his winter line? Of course you have, you wore half of it,” she took a sip of the punch. “Wow, that’s good.” She put the drink down.

“I know, right,” he said off-hand.

“Like, his control of color and shape is stunning, do you remember that one blue-teal sweater? It had this little white stripe near the bottom. Anyway, oh my GOD the way it just rested on the model was amazing!” She leaned in with her eyes lighting up. “It was this perfect blend between baggy and form-fitting, I just,” she made a chef kiss and he chuckled. “And I mean off the bat the model had a great body,” she raised her brows.

“Of course,” he nodded with a soft gleam in his eye.

“But it just enhanced it in the most perfect way, and I mean,” she gazed out the window and then back to him. “It’s just a sweater, but I can’t help fangirl over it.” She giggled. Adrien smirked at her. His cheeks were a little pink. Probably from the alcohol. “What, is it weird to hear me gushing about your dad?” She put her head in her hands. “Oh god, that must’ve sounded super weird, sorry.” Her face felt hot.

“No, no, you’re fine,” he laughed. “It’s just, do you remember who wore that sweater?” He peered at her through her fingers.

She sucked in a breath. Oh god. Oh god. OH GOD. Her face must’ve been hilarious because he burst out laughing again. She scowled and slammed her hands on the table. That made him laugh harder. “Stop laughing at me!” She growled, trying to stop her own smile from forming.

He covered his mouth and doubled over. Failing miserably to stifle his laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” he breathed between giggles. She couldn’t help smiling at him. He had a cute laugh. Dammit.

“It’s just flattering,” he looked down at his drink and sighed. His cheeks were definitely pink. Hers heated up in turn. “So,” he played with a strand of his hair. “How is the drink?” He nodded to the glass in front of her.

“Oh,” she picked it up and took another sip. “It’s good, it’s good.” She nodded and closed her eyes focusing on the taste. “It’s definitely got ‘kick,’“ she pursed her lips, then smiled as he laughed.

"Wanna try mine?” He picked up his drink and handed it to her. Is he serious? Oh goodness her face felt hot.

“You sure?” She tried her hardest to smile naturally.

“Yeah, I wanna hear your opinion of the both of them.” He tapped the glass.

She picked up the drink and nearly brushed his fingertips. Chill OUT MARINETTE. She took a sip. And then coughed. “Oh, wow,” she cringed. “That’s definitely got something.” It was super strong, definitely a lot of lime as well.

He laughed, “The after taste is worth it though." 

She squinted and let the taste sit in her mouth. She hummed and wiggled her tongue around. As the lime and strength of alcohol died down a subtle taste of fruit floundered to the front. "Oh,” her eyes widened. He stared back at her, full of anticipation, a slight smile on his face. “Oh!” She smiled. “Passion fruit?” She smirked and picked up the glass and took another sip. He grinned.

“Yup, most people miss that though,” he tapped his chin.

“Must be the baker in me,” she chuckled and switched their drinks back around.

“Baker? I thought you were a designer?” He cocked his head at her.

“My parents run a bakery, I can bake but I’m not all that passionate about it.” She ran her finger over her glass.

“Multiskilled I see,” he raised his brow dramatically and took a sip of his drink. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Hmmm, well I’d probably say some kind of macaroon. The strawberry ones are good, oh but those kiwi ones my mom made were great,” she pondered.

“So, kiwi macaroons are your favorite?" 

"If I had to pick, yes.” She nodded. “What’s your favorite dessert?" 

"Guess,” he smirked.

She pursed her lips. “What would a model have as a favorite dessert?” She tapped her chin. Marinette eyed him carefully. He wasn’t giving her much. He was thin and fit, as models usually were, but he seemed to be a food enthusiast of sorts. Or a drink enthusiast. A drink enthusiast… oh! The passion fruit in his favorite drink? “Let’s see, do you have a passion for passion fruit?”

Adrien’s eyes lit up again as he chuckled. “Right on the nose, Marinette.” He tapped his nose, to emphasize his point.

“How do you like your passion fruit though? Besides in your drinks.” Guessing what kind of dessert it would be in was difficult.

“My go-to is a fruit-filled cake, with frosting on top.” He cupped his hands to show her the size. “They’re so good when they’re crunchy and warm,” he smiled and looked down at his hands.

“I’ve tried plenty of fruit-filled cakes, but never a passion fruit one.” It was more of an acquired taste. 

“You should definitely try it at some point. The ones from Danielle’s are pretty good." 

"Danielle’s, huh. I’ll ask my parents to make one." 

He furrowed his brows. "You’ve got something against Danielle’s?” He chuckled.

“Maybe,” she mumbled.

“What was that?” He leans in and cups a hand around his eat, grinning like the fool he is.

“I do!” She groans. “I know, I know, it’s not nice to hold grudges, but she totally stole our cake design for the annual Cake-fest two years ago!” She throws her hands up in the air and he laughs at her frustration.

“How so?” He asks through giggles.

“Ugh, I don’t want to get into it. I could rant for hours.” She rolled her eyes thinking about it.

“I’ve got time,” he smiled. 

She laughed. “So, the cake was supposed to be based on a specific type of tree, because the prompt that year was nature, right?” She began.

“Right,” he nodded and folded his hands under his chin, paying close attention.

[for-a-better-life]

Our lifestyle during Covid-19

Yes. you, me and every single human being agree that the global pandemic is challenging. We struggled, but it fortunately made some positive impact around the world to a certain extent.

 However, since Covid-19 started to diffuse rapidly worldwide, people were overly pessimistic and were thinking about how boring and hard their life will be. In addition to the spread of social media rumors regarding Corona virus that made people get confused, stressed and anxious.

 Positive side of Coronavirus

 Individual’s lives has been transformed from the way they live to the daily tasks they accomplish. It spontaneously, took them out of their comfort zone. people started to rely more on themselves, rather than paying for some goods or services. In terms of hobbies, people spent their free time practicing their skills and abilities to improve them. Perhaps, to start their new business by taking advantage of their hobbies which will be their source of income.

Psychological and cognitive effect

Despite the ongoing threat that we face nowadays, exploring and learning odd things during corona virus lock down does not only help in acquiring more knowledge and new skills, but also relieve stress, boost self-esteem and energy level. Just like you strengthen your body by exercising, your mind can also be trained, particularly when learning a new skill or language, and disseminating what you learned to others flex your memory muscles. Research emphasized the importance of  keeping our mind active as we get older, as it can result in a better life satisfaction and optimism.

Practicing skills

 During my long vacation, lockdown was taking place from 6 AM to 8 AM. Personally I was at home all the time, scrolling through Instagram and I found many inspirational videos about Art which really encouraged me to buy acrylic colors and brushes via online store. I was really surprised by how amazing my drawing and painting was. I usually use only black pencils to sketch. But luckily Covid-19 persuaded me to use colors.

    Image credit:  Ohood

Cooking healthy food

These days, during Corona virus,  many people prefer to cook at home because it is  healthier, low in calories and safer. Whilst eating or ordering from outside food is not recommended , because some restaurant’s environment are contaminated while the staff may not adhere to preventive measures which will increase the spread of the virus and it will affect people’s health because fast food are high in calories and hydrogenated fats.

A student from University of Sharjah, Noora Hassan said:” It is very important to stay healthy during the global pandemic”. She added, “Pancakes is my favorite meal, but during lockdown I cooked it by replacing white flour with oats and banana it was healthy and tasty”.

Image credit:  Noora Hassan,UOS student 

CDC emphasized the importance of eating dark leafy greens, tomatoes and oranges because they are rich in vitamins, fiber and minerals. As a result, if someone catches the virus, his body will be able to fight against the virus efficiently and effectively.

However, since many private and public sectors were closed during the beginning of the global pandemic, some people, got affected negatively, where they stopped exercising because they only get motivated in the gym and thereby, they became extremely lazy and  obsessed with junk food ! which unfortunately, lead one in 3 individuals in the UAE to gain weight,whereas,38.5%  of residents claimed that they never exercised since the beginning of the global pandemic according to a survey conducted in April in the UAE.  

 Remote working

“Working from home was bittersweet , I love what I do and was ready to get back into it, so being told to work from home felt odd.” said Ms Jensen, 35.

 Although some people barely accepted and adapted to remote working, but it actually helped in boosting their skills and knowledge regarding technology. Thus, they will more likely to be confident in their technical abilities. Fortunately ,it has been found by Stanford study that employees who work from home are 13% more productive thereby, perform better than if they were in their work office.

Thanks to the global pandemic, it is saving the money of companies who shifted to remote working, where they don’t have to pay for office rent nor its resources or utilities. In addition, cleaning services and offering free snacks will not be required. In terms of taxes, the amount of money they will have to pay will significantly decline. 

Kids distance learning

When the global pandemic spread in the UAE in March 2020 , they implemented distance learning for all students in the UAE in private and public schools and  universities.For adults it may be easy for adults to use websites and applications for online classes.

However, kids in grade 1 or 2, might find it challenging at the beginning to use the computer or the application of their classes, because they are still young and their knowledge is limited. In addition, some of them not take it seriously and they barely focus . However, according to my observation, as the time goes by, children are capable of turning on the computer, tablet or iPad and sign in to the website or application they learn from like zoom and Microsoft teams.

Moreover, they are aware of their username, password and their class section, and able to turn on/off the microphone and the camera when needed, so they become independent and they don’t need any help anymore. As a result,covid-19 successfully left one choice for kids which is to use technology to achieve distance learning that positively affected their cognitive abilities.

Regarding concentration,some teachers,started to ask kids questions individually during online classes,to ensure that they understand the lesson.Moreover,they conduct short quizzes on Kahoot! website,to test kids knowldge about some topics.

A science and design teacher at Manila Xiamen International School in China, claims that he uses Kahoot at the begging and end of the lesson, because his students always want to play and learn using Kahoot , which is a great opportunity to refresh their mind and allow them to focus better since they are stuck at home.

Image Credit : Jessie Casson/getty images

However, UAE Ministry of Education applied some steps to guarantee that distance learning is successfully applied for school and students. Some of the procedures like  providing an online professional training for more than 25,000 government school teachers and administrators for one week. Also, train more than 9,200 private school teachers and principals. Furthermore, coordinating with Hamdan Bin Mohammed Smart University, in providing a free online course called “be an online tutor in 24 hours” for teaching and academic personnel to acquire the skills that allow them to efficiently and effectively to teach in online classrooms.

Allow private schools to implement their own e-learning system, as well as assign teams and committees to supervise an make sure that distance learning process is being applied and followed successfully.In terms of the internet,the UAE coordinated with Telecommunications Regulatory Authority (TRA), Du and Etisalat to offer free mobile internet package for UAE families who do not have internet connection.

References:

 Mary Gaul, success magnified, the benefits of learning new information.p,1,4,5,7.(2018).

Beyond blue, ways to reduce stress during the coronavirus pandemic, Ways to reduce stress,p,3.(2020) .

Joseph Jones,Health.mil, COVID-19: lifestyle tips to stay healthy during the pandemic,p,5.(2020).

Salam Al Amir, Thenational, Coronavirus ; one in three UAE residents gained weight since outbreak began, survey finds,p,1,5,10.(2020)

 David Dun, Thenational, how companies going remote-first amid signs working from home is here to stay,p,5,7.(2020).

 Business,Does working from home save companies money ?,cost saving for allowing employees to work from home,p,3,4,5,6.(2020)

 UAE government, Distance learning in times of COVID-19, Implementing distance learning.p,1,2,3,4,5,7,10.(2020).

[maddrmatt]

Kairi’s Epic Journey: The Quest for Sora

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Chapter 1: When Everything Fell Apart

Destiny Islands

Crouching down, Kairi was practically crawling as she entered the Secret Place on the Play Island.  She remembered how easily it used to be when she was little.  But now that seemed like such a lifetime ago.

Soon, she emerged in the cave.  All around were the scribbles that she, Sora and Riku had doodled throughout the years.  As she walked toward the door to the world’s heart, she averted her eyes from glancing at a certain drawing.  Looking at that one would only bring her more pain.

Stopping right in front of the door, Kairi gazed on what she had added to it.  Though she had always been more of a writer, she did have a small talent for art.  After all, Naminè had to get it from somewhere and it definitely wasn’t from the other person who had a hand in bringing her into existence.

But what was now on the door was a far more ambitious piece of art than the various doodles on the walls.  It was an elaborate woodcut picture that had been partially painted in.  It almost resembled a stained-glass window made of wood.

A small whine was heard.  Kairi turned around and saw that Pluto had emerged into the cave.

“I’m going to finish this today, Pluto.  I want it to be ready when Sora comes back,” she said a little more half-heartedly than she meant to.  The dog just laid down and watched Kairi get to work.  

First, Kairi took out her Gummi Phone and opened up th-e music app. It still fascinated her how useful the device was especially the fact that she could get several of her favorite songs.  Selecting a song, one that she had listened to very often since starting this project, she pressed play and the set it on the ground next to the door as the piano introduction began.

(In-Universe Music: Don't Think Twice by Utada Hikaru playing on Kairi’s Gummi Phone)

She then reached over where she had left some painting supplies in the cave and took out a painter’s smock.  Once donning it, she assembled herself a palette of colors, selected a brush and began to work on the picture.

As she added the colors to her picture, tears began to run down her eyes and onto the palette wetting the paint.  But in spite of it, she carried on painting as she thought back to the day one month ago when things truly started to fall apart.

________________________________________________________________

Land of Departure, One Month Ago

“Fire!” shouted Kairi as a ball of fire emerged from Destiny’s Embrace.  The fire soared across a field and incinerated a target.

“Well done, Kairi!  You’re getting a lot better at casting magic,” said Aqua who had been instructing her.

“Thanks Aqua.  It’s good to know that I’m improving.  But then again, everyone is,” said Kairi as she looked around at the others.

Riku, Ventus and Goofy were sparring.  Terra was teaching Roxas and Axel how to transform their Keyblades into Keyblade Gliders.  Xion was running and dodging through a gauntlet of various magical attacks conjured by Donald as Mickey oversaw them.  Nearby, Naminè was sketching while Chirithy watched all the action.

“Things are going to be different when the next big threat comes along.  We’ll have an unstoppable team.  Yen Sid even said that he was going to give Terra and Axel a Mark of Mastery exam in the near future,” said Aqua.

“That’s great!  Then you’ll both have finally achieved your dream,” said Kairi.

“Yes.  After all this time.  I just wish Master Eraqus had lived to see it,” said Aqua casting her gaze downward.

Kairi placed her hand on the Keyblade Master’s shoulder.  “He may not be here anymore.  But he’s still watching you from wherever he may be.  And I know he’d be proud of you as well as Terra and Ven.”

Aqua mustered a smile.  “Thanks, Kairi.”

“Anytime, Aqua,” said Kairi with a smile.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you this: how have you been doing lately?” asked Aqua.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been quite busy these past few months. Whenever you’re not training, you seem to be doing a lot of research.  I’ve noticed you working through much of Master Eraqus’ old Keyblade lore as well as all of the notes on the Heartless and Nobodies that Jiminy wrote down.  Also, is it true that Chip and Dale are also teaching you how to take care of Gummi Ships?”

“Yes, I am Aqua.  And I’ve just been trying to learn a few extra useful skills.  There are more ways that I can help than just by fighting.  If trouble comes back, I want to be as useful as possible,” said Kairi.

Aqua felt a sudden feeling of pity toward the Princess of Heart.  ‘I can’t believe she still feels that she wasn’t useful during the Keyblade War way even after all these months.  Kairi, don’t you realize that if you hadn’t kept Sora alive, we would have lost completely?’

“And what about your…?” Aqua hesitated to finish her question.

Kairi looked into her eyes and knew what she was meaning.  “My scar?”

Aqua nodded in response.  Much to the dismay of everyone, when Kairi had been restored, they discovered that she had not come back unscathed.  

On her back, extending from her right shoulder to her left hip, was a long ugly slash mark that was unhealable by medicine or magic.  An unfortunate reminder of when Xehanort struck her down.

“It’s fine, Aqua.  It hasn’t hurt in months.  Why are you so curious right now?” asked Kairi.

“Just wanting to make sure you’re okay,” said Aqua with a gentle smile.

“I am and I appreciate your concern.  But right now, I just want to focus on training and honing all my skills.  Now I think my other spells could use some improvement.  I think my aim with the Thunder spells could be better.  I want to be in tiptop shape for when we go looking for Sora.”

The smile vanished from Aqua’s face.  “Kairi, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh that reminds me.  There’s something I need to tell you all.  In fact, I better do it right now.  Hey everyone!  Come over here!” she called excitedly.  Everyone stopped what they were doing and immediately headed toward the two girls.

“What’s up, Kairi?” asked Ven.

“Yeah.  You seem pretty excited,” said Goofy.

“Oh I am.  And you’re going to be excited too.”

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense.  Out with it!” exclaimed Donald.

“Okay.  This morning, I felt something I hadn’t felt for so long.  It was Sora!  I felt him! We can find him!”

Surprisingly, the group’s reaction was not that of excitement.  Instead, they gazed at the Princess of Heart with skepticism.

“You felt him?” asked Roxas.

“Well, it was only for a few minutes.  But I know it was him!  He’s somewhere out there in the worlds and now we can set out to bring him home!”

“Kairi, are you sure you didn’t dream it?” asked Xion.

“No, I was awake.  It happened just before I left my house to come here.  Guys, why are being so doubtful?  Don’t you believe me?”

“No one’s calling you a lair, Kairi.  But it has been six months.  Why would you feel Sora’s presence now and only for a few minutes at that?  Maybe you only imagined it,” said Mickey.

“Yeah, Kairi.  I can’t even feel Sora anymore and I spent a long time in his heart,” said Ven.

“Well, I don’t think amount of time has anything to do with it since Roxas and I were in the same boat.  But we haven’t felt Sora either,” said Xion.

‘Yes but you guys never shared a paopu fruit with Sora and I think that makes a big difference,’ thought Kairi who was getting angrier by her friends’ doubts by the second.

“Maybe you only imagined it,” said Mickey.

Kairi couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No, I didn’t.  Guys, it was real!  Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

Aqua gave a heavy sigh as she walked up to Kairi and placed a hand on her shoulder.  “Kairi, this isn’t going to be easy to hear.  But some of us have been talking.”

“Talking?  Talking about what?” asked the Princess of Heart.

Terra chimed in, “Please understand that this was not an easy decision.  But many of us believe that maybe it’s time to suspend the search for Sora.”

Kairi gasped.  “Suspend?  You mean, give up?  We can’t!”

“Try to understand where we’re coming from, Kairi. Over the past six months, we’ve looked into anything about the Power of Waking for some way that could help us get Sora back.  We’ve looked through everything Master Yen Sid, Master Eraqus, Merlin and Ansem the Wise had, and we’ve found nothing,” said Aqua.

“Even I have no solution at all, Kairi, and I’ve been around a lot longer than anybody here,” chimed in Chirithy.

“I know.  I didn’t find anything either in all my research.  But just because we haven’t found a solution doesn’t mean there isn’t one.  There has to be something!” shouted Kairi as she pulled away from Aqua and turned to the rest of their group.  “You all can’t be seriously considering this, can you?”

The ones in the group who had yet to voice their opinion gave uncomfortable looks.  Kairi could see the conflict in their eyes.  That just made her madder.

Axel spoke up, “Kairi, you know I’m hardly the one to be rational.  But we can’t spend the rest of our lives looking for him.  Especially when we have no idea where to start.”

“And it’s not like we’re giving up completely, Kairi.  If something does come up, we’ll pursue it.  But for now, maybe it is best we stop actively looking and just move forward. It might actually help us adjust to the possibility that he might be…” began Mickey before being interrupted by the increasingly distraught Princess of Heart.

“He’s not gone forever!  I felt him!  He’s out there somewhere!  I know he is!” Kairi turned to Riku, Donald and Goofy.  “Riku, Donald, Goofy, you believe me, don’t you?  You don’t want to give up on Sora too?”

What she saw in the eyes of Sora’s closest friends were the same conflict that the others had shown.  After a few moments, Riku spoke up, “Kairi, you know I want Sora back just as much as you do.  But…”

“But what?”

“…they are making some very good points.”

Kairi felt like she had been stabbed in the back by the one she thought would always have her back.  She looked to Donald and Goofy who sadly nodded.

‘You promised!  When I got back, you promised we would find him!’

“Look, I’ll try to reach out to him!  I’ll see if I can detect where he is!” said Kairi desperately as she closed her eyes and tried to focus on Sora.

‘Come on, Sora!  Wherever you are, please let me know!  Please show me where we can find you!’  

She stayed that way for minutes.  But there was no response.  

Tears began to drip down her cheeks.  She felt a hand take her own.  Opening her eyes, she saw Mickey holding her hand.

“Kairi, maybe you’d better go take a rest.  We can discuss this later when you’ve calmed down,” he said.

Kairi wrenched her hand out of Mickey’s. “No offense, Your Majesty, but I think you’ve all made it perfectly clear there’s nothing to discuss since it appears that your minds are all made up on this. So, don’t count on me ever coming around here again!” she shouted as she started to run away from them.

“Kairi, wait!” shouted Xion.

“Don’t go!” shouted Naminè.

Kairi stopped in her tracks and whipped around, her face a portrait of hurt and rage.  “How could you all?  After all that Sora has done for you, you all just give up on him?”

She looked at Terra, Aqua and Ven.  “He didn’t even know you and still risked everything to undo the damage Xehanort did to you.”

She looked at Roxas, Naminè and Xion.  “He’s not only responsible for your existences but he also made it his mission to get you your own lives.”

She looked at Axel.  “He forgave you for what you put him through even when he had every right not to.”

She looked at Mickey.  “He did everything you ever asked of him even when you didn’t make him a Master when he clearly deserved to be one.”

She looked at Riku, Donald and Goofy. “He…”  But she couldn’t even form the words because she was thoroughly disgusted by Sora’s closest friends.

“Sora told me that his greatest power was his friends.  But right now, I see no one who deserves to be called that.”  And with that Kairi ran away.  

She never looked back.

________________________________________________________________

Onto the next chapter!

[sofya-fanfics]

Ink And Paper

My Sasusaku Month contribution for the prompt : Ink And Paper.

I'm sorry for the mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer : Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

Ino was sitting in the armchair and she leafed through one of her husband's sketchbooks as he painted on a new canvas. It was one of Ino's favorite pastimes, to watch Sai drawing. His first sketchbooks, full of drawings of landscapes, were now full of portraits of her and Inojin. Ino frowned when she saw another sketchbooks. She had never seen it before. She opened it and discovered many portraits of Team Kakashi. There was Kakashi, Yamato, Naruto and Sakura. Ino could not help smiling, it was fun to see them fifteen years younger. She remembered as if it was yesterday. She kept leafing through the sketchbook until she found an ink portrait of Sasuke. It was the first time she saw a drawing of Sasuke drawn by Sai. After all, they were not particularly friends. They only tolerated each other for the sake of Naruto and Sakura.

‘I did not know you made a sketch of Sasuke,’ Ino said.

Sai put down his brush near the easel. He came up to Ino to look at the sketchbook.

‘I'm not jealous,’ Ino smirked. ‘I used to have a crush on Sasuke too when I was a child.’

Sai smiled and sat on the armrest of the armchair.

‘I did this drawing before Sasuke went on his journey of redemption. It was the first time I saw such emotion in his eyes, that I had to draw it to understand. He was looking at Sakura and I did not understand why he was looking at her that way while he seemed indifferent when he was looking at Naruto and Kakashi.’

Ino looked carefully at the drawing, especially Sasuke's black eyes. She had never seen him with such a look, filled with tenderness and love. It was almost unimaginable to see him that way. It was odd to think that years ago, she would have given everything for him to look at her that way.

‘It was when I fell in love with you that I understood what Sasuke felt for Sakura.’

Ino blushed. It was incredible that after all these years he still found a way to make her blush.

******

A few days later, Ino met the Uchiha family at the market. Sai had told her that Sasuke was in Konoha for a few days and Inojin said that he had never seen Sarada smile so much. As soon as they saw her, Sakura and Sarada went to meet Ino. Sasuke stayed behind. He nodded to greet her.

Ino glanced at Sasuke from time to time and noticed that he was looking at Sakura quietly. She knew that look. It was the same look that Sai had drawn with black ink. By looking at him, Ino saw that Sasuke's love for Sakura was more and more stronger with time. She knew that things had not been easy when Sasuke was on his mission. Ino had witnessed the strength that Sakura had shown all these years. She had also seen the happiness of Sakura and Sarada when Sasuke had returned. Ino smiled, she was happy for Sakura. Her friend deserved this happiness.

‘Why are you smiling like that ?’ Sakura asked.

‘I am just happy for you.’

Sakura and Sarada exchanged a surprised look, not understanding what Ino was saying.

The end

[softbiker]

A Familiar Place - Part 2

Warnings: a bad word or two, literally zero editing 

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Not sure if I’m satisfied with this, but posting to celebrate hitting 200 followers!! Thanks for being here, I love you all! As always, let me know what you think :) 

This is not an “x Reader” or romance story.

“Okay, I’m 100% sure it’s not supposed to look like that.”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

“Will you two stop it I can’t hear the instructor.”

Three soldiers exchange glares behind their easels, brushes poised over canvas. Their stools are set in the back of the class, clustered close together so they can peek over each others shoulders. Other easels are arranged  in semi-circle rows towards the front of the classroom, with the instructor at the epicenter, walking back and forth and making comments to the students. To her credit, she tries to ignore the fussing commentary from the back of the room, only sparing them a glance every once in a while.

An oil painting class. Painting was never Steve’s strong suit - he prefers pencils and charcoal, quick messy sketches under his flurried fingers, captured on the spur of the moment. Bucky faintly remembers a smaller, softer Steve, the graphite on his hands, the smudges that covered his nose. Pencil fixed behind his ear, where Bucky would have placed a cigarette. But when they came here, settled into their place in Bed-Stuy, Steve decided to try out something new. And today he invited Sam and Bucky to join him.

Steve takes easily to new mediums, whatever his protests about not being a “natural” painter. Sam has no idea what he’s doing, but Bucky knows that has never stopped him from having a good time.

Bucky, though.

Bucky feels nervous each time he dips his brush, blends his paints. He feels somehow wasteful, putting his own brush to the canvas. Hand him a knife, a gun, hell - even one of Stark’s high-tech weapons, and he’s steady. A deadshot. But a paintbrush? He doubts every stroke and line. Without a talent like Steve’s, he thinks, this canvas would be better off with someone else.

But Steve is having a good time and he hates to ruin that, so Bucky quietly frowns at his canvas, tongue poking between his lips. Today’s class is a still life, their reference a pale blue vase of flowers on a table in the center of the room. Steve has rendered it beautifully, even captured the soft lighting from the windows on the west wall of the room. Sam’s attempt is passable, for someone with no training at all in studio art.

It isn’t that Bucky doesn’t have some skill, or proficiency, or artistic eye. He remembers sitting through a couple of figure drawing classes with Steve - he managed to learn a thing or two, when he wasn’t winking at the models. And his work isn’t bad, he knows that, but -

Well. He doesn’t think it’s worth making.

**********

He keeps coming to the class for a few weeks, when Steve’s schedule is free from missions and meetings, of course. They sit near the back of the room and Bucky makes good attempts but he’s not really sure if he’s making art.

“You know, I’m really not sure if oils are your medium.”

The class is over, and the instructor stands at Bucky’s elbow, looking at the row of paintings laid along the shelf to dry. Bucky had been comparing his work to his classmates, thinking pretty much the same thing.

“Not that you don’t have a hand for painting,” the instructor continues, hands slipping into the pockets of her overalls. “But I think you’re letting it intimidate you - you put too much pressure on yourself and then you hesitate. I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Bucky shrugs. “I guess.” The instructor laughed a little, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“See? You hesitated to tell me that you hesitate.” She was shaking her head with a not unkind smile.

“Jeez - you have a side gig as a therapist?”

“Nope - just good at seeing people.”

Bucky shifted his feet, not used to the feeling of being closely observed - it definitely wasn’t something he liked. Seeming to sense this, the instructor took a step back, shrugging her shoulders and looking away from him.

“Look, you should keep coming,” she offered. “You have some talent, that’s for sure. But you can try other things. Doesn’t have to be oil paint and flowers. What do you want to make?”

Steve is waiting outside the classroom, reading the bulletin board in the hallway. Fluorescent-colored flyers litter the board, interspersed with lost pet ads, ride shares, roommate offers, and piano lessons. Steve fingers one, tears off the number for an Asian cooking class, and tucks the slip of paper in his jacket pocket. He turns when he hears Bucky’s footsteps, that classic smile curling up his mouth.

“You, ready?”

“Yep.”

They take the subway back, dutifully ignoring the raised eyebrows and cell phones that turn their way. It’s New York - sooner or later people get over it. Bucky’s metal hand is wrapped loosely around a pole that Steve leans against, supersoldier strength and balance making him barely shift as the train speeds and slows.

“Sam is supposed to get back from that recon op this afternoon,” Steve says, his voice low enough keep their conversation private. “He’ll probably want takeout for dinner.”

Bucky nods. “He always does, after a mission. Milks it for all he’s worth, so we have to get his favorite - I bet he’ll want fried rice from that Thai place, and we better make sure there’s cold beer in the fridge.”

Steve just smiles, glances down at his sneakers, shifts his feet a little. He’ll never say a word, a single goddamn word, about how much Bucky and Sam pay attention to each other. About Bucky remembering Sam’s takeout order from every single one of their usual places; about Sam bringing home new exotic fruits from the health food market so Bucky could try things that weren’t available back in the day. He will never breathe a single word about how Bucky took Sam’s laundry and scrubbed the blood out after that mission in Denver went bad, or Sam driving back and forth to Bucky’s therapy appointments, in spite of the distance.

Loose lips, Rogers. Nope. His are sealed.

**********

“If I didn’t know any better, I would honest to God think that Stark didn’t respect me,” Sam shakes his head, shovelling rounded lumps of rice into his mouth with his chopsticks. His cheeks are comically full, but he continues to talk. “I mean, the guy really asked if I needed air support. Me? Baby, I am air support.”

Steve makes a noise of assent around a mouthful of noodles that he continues to slurp into his mouth. Bucky says nothing, but smiles into his egg roll. The coffee table in front of them is littered with takeout boxes, some still full, some already emptied. Steve and Bucky have already finished 2 beers each - Sam is drinking at a slower pace so he can continue to talk.

“I fucking invented air support. Pssh.” Sam rolls his eyes, settling back against the cushions of the couch and pulling his standard blanket over his lap.

The TV is set to a sports channel, a college basketball game they’re not too invested in carrying on in the background. Sam talks and talks, the other two barely getting a word in, but that’s alright - he always needs this, after a mission. Sam has to get it all out, decompress, debrief, de-everything in that post-victory rush of adrenaline he’s still high on when he comes home. They let him - they sit around in their sweatpants and half-watch a ballgame and shoot the shit over beers and Thai, and let Sam come back to himself.

“So,” Sam sighs, sipping his beer. “What’d you old farts get up to while I was gone, huh?”

“Mm, not much.” Steve’s reply is muffled as he continues to inhale his noodles. “Art class. Running.”

“Getting some goddamn peace and quiet,” Bucky pipes up, crumpling up the now empty egg roll bag and reaching for a full styrofoam container of steaming fried rice.

“Ha ha.” Sam doesn’t even look up from his food. “Y’all know it’s boring as hell around here without me. And who else is gonna help you two to meet some females? Hm? You think people are lining up to wingman for your hundred-year-old asses? No way!”

“What would we do without you, Sam?” Steve asks, that ironic twist to his mouth that Bucky has known all his life.

“You’d be star-spangled roadkill, I can tell you that much.”

They laugh and settle, eyes passing over the ballgame as one of the teams lines up for a free throw. It’s just the three of them in their little place, but it feels full. It’s enough. It’s home.

**********

Over the next few weeks, Bucky takes the painting instructor’s advice.

He rolls out huge canvases on the floor and slings paint in random patterns, layers of splatter until he feels like his eyes have crossed. The freedom, the lack of pressure, the fun of throwing paint around like a child - all of that he likes, but still.

“Still not sure if it’s my thing,” he tells Steve, as they look at his finished piece propped up against the wall. Steve nods, lips pursed.

“Well, we could hang it up at the compound. Tony keeps talking about needing more art around that place.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“I’m not five, Steve. You don’t have to hang my scribbles on the fridge.”

He goes back to the studio and slings pots - pots and vases and key bowls and jewelry dishes and mugs. They’re passable, usable, functional - these are the words he thinks of when he glazes them in soft blue and yellow shades. Bucky likes the feel of it under his fingers, the wet firmness of the clay that yields to his hands. He’s gotten little bits of dried clay between the metal plates of his arm, but he doesn’t mind - he’s learned they’re easy enough to dislodge with a toothbrush. He gives away or takes home all of his little projects, happy to see them used.

Sam gifts him with a polaroid camera he found going through some of his parents things, and Bucky fiddles with it until he’s quite good at taking pictures. Whenever they go out he has his camera slung around his neck, an extra packet of film and a flashbar in his backpack. He has dozens of photos now - photos of Steve sipping coffee and flipping off the camera. Photos of Sam and Rhodey laughing, in full gear, when the team had drinks at the compound last month. A few photos of Natasha and Wanda, who come over to the brownstone sometimes - Natasha’s legs are folded over the end of the couch, while Wanda gets a piggyback ride from Steve. He tacks the pictures up, covering nearly half of the wall of his bedroom, not caring about the holes he leaves in the drywall.

It’s Wanda who introduces him to knitting, one weekend when both Steve and Sam get called out on a potential terror situation in London. There’s a rule - unspoken, unwritten - among Steve’s friends that someone comes to check on Bucky whenever they have to leave him alone. He doesn’t protest, knowing that they do it out of kindness and loyalty to Steve; he knows all about being loyal to Steve.

Wanda sits cross-legged on the couch, her fingers working the knitting needles at a hypnotic pace. He likes Wanda; she’s quiet and sensitive, all soft smiles and knowing eyes. A room always feels calmer with her in it. She had used his hands earlier to loop the yarn, and now he watches her over the top of his book, which he has all but abandoned.

When he asks her about the knitting, if she can show him, she looks up. Soft smiles and knowing eyes.

Bucky has always been good with his hands, so no one is surprised that he’s good at knitting. Eventually, they all have something he’s made: a beanie for Sam, a scarf for Steve, fingerless gloves for Wanda, and blankets galore for their too-cold brownstone.

**********

It fills up his time, somehow.

Bucky makes drawings, and paintings, and little origami birds out of grocery receipts. He makes bowls he can give to his friends and pictures that he can keep and blankets that he can share. He scours google and breaks a few (literal) eggs and makes banana bread that fills the brownstone with a smell that he could float on. He makes pancakes and poems and -

Bucky makes.

On the subway with Steve - a figure drawing class tonight - Bucky is staring at his hands. Ungloved metal and soft scarred flesh. His hands are tools, they’re instruments. They can be molds or looms or brushes or chisels.

“Weapons” doesn’t even enter his mind at all.

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