#i surprise myself with my sceneries... i never draw them but they always come rather easily | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sankyeom · 4 years ago

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picture perfect | k.m

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath caught in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moon scribbles.

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

Kevin didn’t take any notes that day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why couldn’t you get this right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I’ll be there,” you promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A few,” Kevin said modestly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kevin’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kevin’s heart soared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Insomnia,” Kevin corrected you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The famous Y/n?”

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

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

“Don’t make me hide your guitar.”

moonscribbles accepted your follow request!

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

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

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

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

You can keep it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That worked out well,” you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

You rose an eyebrow. “Worse?”

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

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

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

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

Kevin nodded. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. “Surprise me.”

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

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

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silvanable · 4 years ago

Note

If request are open, could I ask for Theo, Vincent, Leo, Arthur and Dazai finding out that MC is a manga artist/writer? Thank you so much!!

this is such a cute idea. as an artist and writer myself i take enormous pleasure it writing this and their reactions.

i switched these up a little bit, where the mc is an artist for one, a writer for another, and maybe both for yet another! i hope you enjoy~

↪ GUIDELINES

ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

arthur just happens to find out on accident.

he knew that they had their hobbies and never really pried into that, it was something they did in their pastime just like how he was with his writing.

it just so happened to be that he was passing by the parlor when he noticed them inside with... was that his manuscript? and what were those other papers there?

nosiness curiosity got the best of him as he slips into the room to see what the mansion’s little visitor is up to.

he is, for once in his life, quite surprised to find the dear hunched over a pad of paper with a pencil in their hand.

he was quiet for a moment, examining what they were doing— which was clearly not writing— as their instrument moved over the page.

they shifted to look up at his manuscript, flipped a page, and was about to go back to their work when the noticed something from the corner of their eye.

arthur had leaned over the each of the seat, gaze fixed on the drawings in their lap and strewn about the table and seat.

the poor dear practically jumped out of their skin.

“arthur! don’t scare me like that!” they scolded him, face flush as they quickly tried to scramble and cover up their work.

“ah, was just curious to what you were doing, love,” he would flash them a grin and snatch up one of their papers before they could grab it.

“arthur, give it back!” they yelled in protest but he was far too quick for them.

his eyes scanned over the page, taking in the delicate lines of each character’s face and their expression, the texture and the design of the scenery and then his eyes fell to the dialogue...

“is this... holmes?” the genuine curiosity in his voice as he holds the paper out to them.

they try to snatch the page back but he jerks it up out of their reach before they can.

“yes okay! i’m sorry— i just saw your manuscript and i started reading it and... well, i just got inspired.”

now it has him curious and when arthur sets his mind to something, whether it be to unravel a mystery or get his questions answered, he’s going to get those answers.

after some encouragement, they finally admit to being a manga artist from their time— which as arthur understood was a unique artist who creates art to tell a story instead of words.

he is actually quite proud about the fact that his story is what motivated and drew out this creativity in them to the point they wanted to draw a ‘manga’ of his stories.

he absolutely keeps the page and a few other of their drawings he snatched up, every now and then when he’s working he finds himself drifting off to stare at it with a small smile.

ー DAZAI OSAMU

dazai was a writer and it seemed that the newest guest at the mansion was too.

of course, he never seemed to bring that up, as it seemed the writers of the mansion kept to themselves and wrote privately.

that was until the little darling had come stumbling up the stairs with an armful of paper.

of course they had not been looking where they were going, being rather preoccupied with trying to scribble down god-knows-what onto one of the pages, and walked straight into dazai as he was coming down.

he had acted fast, grabbing their wrist before they could tumble down the stairs, but the paper in their arms was less fortunate and thrown into the air.

“if you wanted to see me, ume-san, you could have just said so,” he greeted with his usual light and teasing voice.

the poor dear was flustered and apologizing profusely as they ducked around him, desperately trying to collect all of their paperwork.

well he was not just about to leave them like that, so dazai stooped to help them, only to find when he tried to reach for something they were quick to snatch it away.

the two made eye contact, both a look of surprise, as they stuttered out, “you don’t have to help— i dropped them.”

the reaction was rather cute but also he felt partially responsible, and because of this it became a game of who could snatch up what before the other.

“i— just— thanks, i’ll take those now!” the dear tried to take the papers from his hands once they were all collected, but the vampire danced around them breezily.

“why is toshiko-san so eager to get these back, hm?” he teased, flitting through what he had collected.

at first it was merely to poke fun, as he and arthur were known to do to people like poor isaac, but as he glanced over the notes and what looked like crude drawings he became intrigued.

those piercing golden eyes came up to a rather flustered person across from him, clearly embarrassed at having their work looked at.

“these are quite interesting,” his tone took on a strange seriousness as he handed them back, “what are they?”

even as flustered as the dear is, they take back their papers and shuffle them protectively in their arms, mutter a, “manga scripts and design ideas...”

of course the term was somewhat familiar to him, briefly recalling it being a rising trend before he died.

would become rather curious and invested in hearing about what the dear did in their time, finding it quite interesting that not only were they a writer but worked with artists to translate their stories visually.

ー LEONARDO DA VINCI

leonardo found it quite cute when he came across their little guest in their free time, seemingly distracted by whatever papers they had in their lap and strewn about them.

it was a reoccurring thing to find them like this as he wandered through the mansion on his way to his next nap.

this time though, that building curiosity of what they were doing finally seemed to reach the max and flood over as he approached them.

they did not seem to notice him from their seat on the floor until he was about a hairsbreadth from the side of their face.

“cara mia?” curse love languages not having gender neutral terms in their ear, causing the poor dear to jump out of their skin.

it was a wonder they didn’t headbutt in him the process and they all but threw themself across the floor to create some distance.

leonardo’s laughter was rather helpful to quell their panic, only for it to swift to a soft rage.

“leo— don’t ever do that again!” they scolded but by now the man had been distracted by the papers that had been haphazardly thrown in the dear’s attempt to flee danger.

golden eyes flickered over the pages as he gathered them up, some written over while other seemed to have sketches of what looked like persons.

they were quick to scramble back up to their feet and snatch the papers from leonardo, their face an uncharacteristically bright shade of red as they mumbled out, “they’re not ready yet...”

though their reaction and expression only seemed to encourage the vampire, after all, things that intrigued him he always pursued to understand investigate.

a soft hum escaped his lips as he looked down at them, only to snatch up another set up papers, ignoring the squeaks and protests to ‘don’t read it yet!’.

there was no getting them back at this point, as he used his height to his advantage against them, holding the pages high as he examined him.

and it suddenly made sense, it looked like a script and these little doodles were scenes from the scripts.

“quite creative, your story here,” leonardo handed back the pages to their flustered creator, “what is it?”

they hesitated as them shuffled the papers, hesitating for a moment before quietly, “a manga idea, something from my time, like a visual story.”

if he had not been intrigued before leonardo most certainly was now and he wanted to know exactly what sort of story they were making.

of course, he doesn’t push but he is more than willing to lend an ear for them to listen to the passionate and eager descriptions of their characters and, if needed, offer a suggest or two when they’re stuck.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

having the lost pup new guest at the mansion following him while he worked was just a way to keep them out of trouble and help him out.

of course, he had never expected them to take such an interest in art as they had, marveling at every little detail, asking questions when they weren’t with a customer, and practically hanging onto every detail theo would spare.

he would never have guessed that everything they had picked up and learned from him on the job they were translating into their own work.

theo was never one particularly nosy and whatever they did in their spare time was their business as long as it didn’t mess with anything or anyone.

so imagine his irritation when they are late for breakfast and sebastian asks for him to go get them?

he walks in, ready to grab them by the arm and drag them out of their room so he might get the chance to enjoy his pancakes for a few moments of peace.

instead, he waltzes into their room finding them pouring over their desk with numerous pages scattered over the surface and stuck against the wall... and most any available space it seemed.

at first he was ready to ask them what sort of mess they were making but stopped as he began to draw closer and examine what they were doing.

it looked like they were... drawing? not that he would judge their strange style, as he was a promoter of the arts that were outside of the norm.

“oi, hondje,” he calls out to them, placing a hand on their head in a familiar way.

the squeak they make is almost laughable but he doesn’t have the chance before they recover and looking up at him quizzically.

“why are you awake so late?” it was a genuine question.

“late? it’s morning already, did you stay up all night?” theo is quick to shoot back, only to receive an even more confused expression.

that answered his question.

“what are you even working on that you would forget to sleep? i can’t have you dozing off at work you know,” he leans down over their desk and they suddenly get shy.

they are subtle, or at least try to be, as they shuffle papers and cross their arms over them, mumbling a soft ‘nothing’.

theo doesn’t take it though and instead turns his gaze up to the art displayed literally all over the room.

before they can even think to snatch drawings away he’s already asking questions, “did you draw these?”

it takes a moment for them to respond, as they mull over a way to answer, but finally cave in to an explanation.

“yeah, i did,” they paused, expectantly staring but theo only waved his hand for them to continue.

“for a manga—something from my time, they, um, tell stories through pictures,” they explained, spreading out the papers on the desk again, “and i got an idea last night so...”

theo is thoroughly impressed, of course they have to explain further about the detailing and techniques— he’s going to ask after all.

there are times where theo will actually watch them draw, he likes to see artists in their element and this is something entirely new he wants to learn more of.

expect that he will have a sketch or two from them, would deny it, but he keeps it in the breast pocket of his coat.

ー VINCENT VAN GOGH

vincent found it quite enjoyable having another person at the mansion, especially with how they spent time with him.

of course he knew they were an artist too, it had come up one day when they were together, while he was painting and they seemed to be doing something in their notebook.

he had asked about their work and if they would let him see but they seemed to get flustered, so he let it rest, after all he wasn’t going to force them.

but still they came around to spend afternoons together, drawing or painting, in silence with the occasional conversation.

one day that they had stayed out rather late in the garden, vincent hadn’t noticed the time passing until it was too dark to continue.

as he packed up his things, he was talking, but got no response back from his friend, and when he turned around to check if they were gone, he found them asleep on the ground.

he felt rather back for not noticing earlier, seeing as the ground probably wasn’t all that comfort and that they hadn’t said how tired they were— he wouldn’t have asked them to spend time outside if they needed rest!

vincent was quiet as he approached their sleeping form, ready to gently rouse them as he outstretched his hand, but stopped as something caught his eye.

in the evening sun, the pages from their notebook were illuminated by the fading sun.

he didn’t mean to pry, truly, but he couldn’t help curiously picking up the book and examining the pages.

some were full of notes, others these beautiful drawings, and more still with a combination of both.

one drawing in particular had caught his eye, a series of scenes it seemed, of someone who looked a lot like him making his way to the gardens and painting...

“mhmm... vincent?” they peeked an eye open groggily, rubbing their face as they looked up at him sitting beside them.

“is it dark already? i’m sorry i didn’t mean to fall asleep—” they sat up, stretching, only to stop halfway through the motion when they saw their notebook in his hand.

they flushed red but vincent only smiled sweetly as he offered them the book back.

“i like your drawings,” he said softly, “they’re very beautiful.”

they were hesitant but took back their notebook, redder if it were possible, as they mumbled a ‘thank you’.

“who were the other people in your drawings?” vincent asked as he stood, holding out a hand towards them.

“uh, well,” they accepted and were pulled to their feet as they explained, “they’re fictional—not real—for a story i was doing...”

vincent cocked his head cutely to the side as he listened, “what kind of story?”

“a visual on, a manga from my time,” they explained as the both of them began to gather up their supplies.

on the way back to the mansion, vincent listened as they explained, he found it quite interesting that someone would paint out a story, but enjoyed the idea.

vincent finds the whole idea quite fascinating and often asks them about their stories afterwards.

they are still flustered to show him many of their drawings, but vincent is sweet about it each time, and has invited them to try painting their ideas on a canvas saying he would love to see how their style reflects.

definitely adores all their drawings, his favorite ones are when they do simple doodles of the members of the mansion, often claiming they’re not great, but he loves them.

absolutely reads their manga stories, whatever they’re willing to let vincent read and he is enthralled by the stories and characters.

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imlostinsantacarla · 4 years ago

Text

@daydreamerneko123 said: Hello, I wanted to make a request for a imagine involving The Lost Boys. How would the boys react to an artist reader drawing them in secret? Due to their shyness and the fact they are just too freaking hot to confront. 🙏 Please and thank you

(a/n: hey lovely! thank you so much for requesting this, as well as for being so patient with me. it took me awhile but i finally got there. sorry that these are shorter, but i hope that you enjoy them nonetheless! - admin kat 🌙❣️)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Lost Boys x Artist Reader Drawing them in Secret Headcanons:

David:

° Being the observant type, David was acutely aware about your little hobby, along with his observant tendencies, he also read your mind. He’s an incredibly smug shit about it and the entire fiasco definitely inflates his ego considerably.

° In order to mess with you, he will remain in the same position for awhile and when you look up to reference him once again, he’s got a cigarette hanging breathtakingly from the side of his simpering mouth, blonde brows raised innocently and in utter humor.

° An immediate sense of embarrassment courses through you, resulting in you dropping your sketchbook rather clumsily.

° That’s when this cobra strikes, stepping from his prized bike and coming over to pick up your sketchbook with such nimble swiftness that it leads to your head spinning wildly.

° David is such a dick about it as well, because instead of returning the sketchbook like a gentleman, he’ll thumb through to pages to find not only one sketch of him, but several!

° Oh, it’s on! He’s teasing the hell out of you until there’s no tomorrow. All in good fun though! David doesn’t want to see you cry... at least not yet.

° “You know, you’re not half bad, actually. But I think you’ll enjoy the real thing much better.”

° This fucker w i n k s afterwards, just like the suave bastard he really is.

° David will flirt with your relentlessly afterwards. You won’t escape from his smooth words and his luscious leathery touches. You’ve peaked his interest after all.

° Prior to this specific occurrence having played out, he had dropped hints that he knew but when you picked up on them, he’d act entirely oblivious, which only confused you further and entertained him profusely.

Dwayne:

° Oh, silent Dwayne with the observant eyes of a hawk! His observant qualities had seriously downgraded themselves in this instance, your form hunched over a sketchbook having gone entirely over his head. It’s safe to say that it literally took him f o r e v e r to figure this one out.

° In fact, Paul had to tell him. Paul! Which honestly indicates something rather big here. Marko and David never let Dwayne live that down. And of course, Paul got teased in the process as well.

° Ignorantly, Dwayne had always assumed you had been drawing the scenery around you. It never occurred in his head that he could ever peak enough interest in someone to become a subject of art. Bruh, has he even seen himself???

° Though now he’s a little a lot curious and he wants to approach you about it.

° So like a slinking panther, he patiently observes and waits for you to look at him, and once you do, he s m i r k s the Big Shit™ and just says nothing!

° Due to your ample amount of embarrassment, you avoid looking up at him for quite some time, though once you deem it to be safe to take a peak, he’s disappeared into thin air, though his buddies are gawking at you like savage simpering wolves.

° “Is that me? That’s pretty good.” A deep voice blossoms in your ear, cold air causing gooseflesh to speckle across your skin like wildfire.

° You have never quite screamed at such a sheer volume than you had in that very moment, my god! And Dwayne couldn’t help but laugh, the other boys cackled wildly from a distance. Though Dwayne wasn’t poking fun at you at all: Yes he found this rather amusing, but he also wasn’t sure how else to respond. But he found it adorable nonetheless.

° With your permission, he goes through your sketchbook, because he’s a Gentleman™!

° As he thumbs through your sketchbook quietly, he discovers one of Laddie and himself, which makes him grin like an idiot! He evens asks if he can keep it, and keep it he does.

Paul:

° One thing that Paul isn’t is observant. Often things like this go straight over his head, though the only reason he noticed your secret sketching sessions of him was because he was checking you out first in all honesty.

° Curiosity practically bounds through his undead veins, mixing that with the his lack of shyness... you’ve got yourself a dangerous concoction that often get’s this vampire into tons of trouble. This dangerous concoction of qualities leads to him coming over.

° How adorable, you’re attempting to hide your sketchbook from him! It’s too bad that he owns the most pesky nimble fingers in existence and snags the book right from you in a swoosh of bountiful laughter. You really stood no chance against him anyway.

° Your feeble attempts at snatching it back from Paul is Childish™, and in response to your embarrassment, Paul cannot hold himself back from holding it above his head and poking a little mean spirited fun at you. This is definitely Paul that we’re discussing here, so are you even surprised at this point?

° Paul lacks the polite boundaries that come along with normal social interactions; either that or he decides to just completely ignore them. So he goes through it right then and there, not being able to resist the urge to throw you flirty comments the entire time. Anything to see you get flustered.

° “I didn’t know I’d bagged myself such a hot fan girl!”

° “At least you got my good side!” Does he really have a good side with that bedhead?

° “Hey, you think next time you could paint me like one of those French Girls?”

° “I can get naked if you want?”

° Paul adores just how shy and flustered you become about it, it provides him with entertainment after all. He’s kind of an ass.

Marko:

° Marko is swift, so it didn’t take him that long to figure out that you were drawing him. Yes, he’s usually up to no good with his best pal Paul, but he’s got incredible brains. He had just been hanging back nonchalantly and planning on how to confront you. Lmaoo what a dork!

° His infamous Cheshire Cat grin is obviously plastered all over his countenance whilst he confronts you about this. Marko is also rather suave, he’s definitely going to flirt with you the entire time this is going down. Winks galore!

° “I’m impressed. The jacket looks like the real thing.”

° Genuine inquisitiveness is activated during the entire encounter, and honestly, Marko is quite abrupt and honest: He asks you in total candidness whether you have a crush on him or not. And even though he’s being candid, you aren’t entirely sure if he’s being serious or making fun of you, because let’s be fair, Marko is rather difficult to read, especially if you’re not close to him just yet.

° “If you did have a crush on me I wouldn’t be complaining.”

° In all honesty, this only gives him more ammunition to flirt with and tease you: Two things that he just loves to do.

° “These are amazing. I’m so glad I no longer have to see the chicken scratches Paul calls masterpieces!”

° Marko inquires a lot on whether he can keep one of your drawings because he is also a Gentleman™, though he has acute tendencies to be a little bastard. He’s friends with Paul, after all.

° As sappy as this sounds, he honestly becomes your biggest fan. The other boys rip into him about it all the time, but he doesn’t mind. You’re good at what you do and even they know it.

° “I could draw you too, but only if you go out on a date with me.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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musicallisto · 4 years ago

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Hi Clara!! Congratulations on 800 followers again!! (also I was looking through your blog and we have the same birthday!! 🥳) I was wondering if I could please have a male Bridgerton ship? I’m an ENFJ, libra, and Hufflepuff if that helps at all. I can be a bit introverted a times but I’m usually a pretty outgoing, kind, and optimistic person! (although I can be a bit sensitive at times lol) Currently I’m studying to be a teacher. My friends/family are very important to me, and I will always try my best to help them it whatever ways I can. As for some things I enjoy, I love to read and write, as well as spend all day watching movies. I’m also interested in signing, acting, etc. and making things with my hands (ie. knitting, embroidery). Thank you so much in advance!! 💛

hiii birthday twin!! <3 you seem like the most fantastic person ever, I love your personality - and your writing, but it goes without saying. I hope you like your vanilla milkshake, but don’t get caught sipping on it unchaperoned with benedict bridgerton, that would be quite the scandal...

Now, was I influenced by your profile picture? Probably. But even without it, you’d be perfect for each other, and let me tell you the story of you both.

For your first society outings, and following your debutante ball, you became the talk of all London. Sure, you were praised far and wide for your beauty, but there was something else, ineffable and far more tender, that caused your name to linger on most gentlemen’s lips.

It was your first season, and yet you had already shown a mesmerizing elegance and poise, as well as an acute optimism and enthusiasm, making your conversation all the more enjoyable to all those you encountered.

Benedict had noticed you on your first ball, when whispers of your name and your every move had spread among the crowd like wildfire, and he had to admit that you were radiant, and your warm and welcoming smile gave you beauty like no other, but bright eyes and rosy cheeks were legion this side of London, and he knew the superficiality of these pretty little faces all too well. He wasn’t intrigued enough to start up a conversation or ask you to dance, and imagined you would be married in a matter of weeks.

But as time went on, and you apparently gracefully declined each proposal you received, Benedict couldn’t help growing a little bit more captivated each time he heard your name. What could you possibly waiting for? You’d had dashing young men bring you presents, you’d had the wealthiest nobles serenade you with flowers and compare you to a summer’s day; you’d had sonnets and promenades and bouquets and jewelry... and yet you had rejected them all, but not out of malice, still with this grace that everyone knew you to have.

Perhaps, and it was a little pretentious of him to dare entertain the thought, but it pleased a small part of his soul nonetheless, perhaps what you were waiting for was a portrait.

Eventually, after having theorized for days about what could possibly prompt such unambiguous refusals from a lady who seemed to have plethora of choice, Lady Whistledown must have deemed your situation to be less worthy of attention, because not scandalous enough, and you, like most other trends and fashions in that everchanging society, became an old tale before you’d even reached your prime.

But paradoxically, exactly when you were no longer the subject of Whistledown’s tittle-tattle, were you the most intriguing to Benedict.

It was then that he finally asked you to dance, under the watchful (and, though she did not show it, agreeably surprised) gaze of Lady Violet Bridgerton.

“You look positively radiant, lady Y/L/N. Your gown is exquisite.”

And he immediately regretted every single word that he had just said; he sounded just like those boring Lords you had rejected one after the other; but he meant it, he truly meant it, for he was just then seeing the hues in your eyes and in your smile, all those colors like those of a vibrant landscape...

If there ever was a time to show the depths of his soul, it was then; but he had always been good at avoiding conversation, not prompting it.

Still, you didn’t drop your beaming smile, and answered with a slight blush.

“Thank you, my lord. It is... oh, you will think it’s silly.”

“Not at all, I promise.”

“You see, you are the first to say that. Other lords have reproached its simplicity, but I am rather fond of it, because I sewed it myself.”

“Really? That’s impressive!”

He found he had little trouble continuing with the conversation after that, because you were so easy to talk to, so understanding of everything he said and so enthralling to get to know. You were creative and great with your hands, an artist, just like him, and it was the first of many things he would love about you.

“Tell me, lord Bridgerton... I have heard that you are quite the artist yourself.”

“Oh, that’s a gross exaggeration, they are but half-good sketches, nothing of interest, truly...”

Yet as he danced the night away with you, he felt as though a new blood surged through his veins, ready to craft the most beautiful pieces the world had ever seen, if only they could resemble the colors of your face.

“Well, I would love to see these half-good sketches someday, if you allow. I am sure they are brilliant.”

You had never seen a lord blush before, especially not a Bridgerton. It made your heart soar like it had rarely before.

“If you so wish. I couldn’t possibly refuse a lady.”

All along the ride back home, Benedict has the hugest, silliest grin on his face as he looks wistfully at the night sky.

“If it is what it takes to see my beloved brother swoon like a simpleton, then I will come to society balls more often.”

“Eloise, do not talk of your brother like that!”

But she’s right - it only took one night for him to be completely enraptured by you. He understands what they all meant when they couldn’t keep your name out of their mouths, when they said you were delightful and spirited... but they all hurried with their proposals, without getting to know you first, without listening to you, without discovering the depths of your character, and it’s all he wants all he can think about.

The next morning, he’s at your doorstep with a bouquet, and, of course, tightly wrapped inside it so as to not draw suspicion, a few of his sketches, ones that he drew the evening prior because his mind was too restless to sleep.

And thus begins a long period of courtship that has all of London in a frenzy. Surely no one expected the second eldest Bridgerton and the former diamond to have an affinity for each other. Truly no one.

“My Benedict has his heart set on an accomplished lady, a beautiful and clever one at that - this truly is the season of surprises! All a fulfilled mother would need now is for your brother to be the next to mend his ways...”

“And all his brother would need now, mother, is an escape from this interminable paperwork, but alas.”

You can often be seen promenading together in Hyde Park - you enjoy the company of the squirrels and the geese as much as he loves taking in the sceneries to later paint them.

“Y/N, pardon me if it is too bold of me to ask, but why are you not engaged yet? Surely you must have had a plethora of charming young men propose to you...”

“Handsome they were, but hardly charming. Oh, they all had plenty of qualities... an estate by the sea, a racing stable with twenty horses, a spot in the throne succession... but, oh, I care little if this is unbecoming of me to say, they were all so boring! None of them had half the charm that you have. The hours fly by when I am with you, Benedict, and I am entirely truthful when I say I have never felt as content as I feel with you.”

Everyone is London is awaiting the moment they’ll see you with a ring on that finger, but it seems to never come; yet everything is idyllic and your courtship and, beyond that, in your friendship, and he sincerely knows that he is irrevocably and utterly in love with you. But he just doesn’t dare ask.

To the point that Benedict’s entourage give him signals that it is now or never. Even Anthony, though with varying success.

“If you don’t propose to Lady Y/L/N, brother, I will.”

(And no one believed that.)

“Fine, I will, then!”

“Eloise!”

But what he has with you is so special that he’s terrified of rushing things. What if you are not ready, what if he is not as interesting, just as boring as the other men you turned down? What if he read everything wrong? What if...

Until he shoots his shot. It’s not nearly as romantic as he expected, because he fumbles over his words a few times and almost drops the ring in the Hyde Park lake...

... but given the enthusiasm with which you nod and embrace him - not caring about the passerby’s judging gazes -, he’s not sure why he agonized over it so much.

It’s self-evident that your love story is one for the ages.

800 follower sleepover

#writeroutoftime #800sleepover #ship request #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #oh my god this got so long???? but i have many feelings about the bridgerton siblings #and i wanted to add even MORE stuff but i still have homework to do asdfghjkl #anyway i hope you enjoy it!

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years ago

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER SIX: PICKUP TRUCK THOUGHTS

SUMMARY: Lynn takes a moment of solitude to put things into perspective, all thanks to a friend’s truck and some clouds. WORD COUNT: 2.8k NOTE: Not me falling of the face of the internet for a couple months. Whoops! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

"YOU REALIZE IT'S A SERIOUS problem at this point, right?"

"At least it's not crack."

The two familiar voices catch both mine and Gabe's attention. With the doors open, legs sprawled out wherever they're comfy, and some early 2000s alternative music jamming from the speakers, we genuinely look like high school delinquents. All we're missing is a cigarette hanging from our lips.

My back aches as I pry my upper half to sit up straight, a chorus of popping following my movement. I brightly grin at River and Ellie and my feet reach the black pavement. It appears Ellie just rolled her eyes at River's sassy remark. I begin to ask what they were talking about before I notice something being shoved back in the boy's backpack: his new Obi-Wan Kenobi lightsaber. Part of me isn't surprised, but the other half is wondering what reason he has to carry it around at school. Regardless of the reason, we all have our quirks: it took me until the eighth grade to leave my replica of Harry Potter's wand at home.

Geeky things, I guess?

I can only guess what River was telling Ellie when it comes to his devotion to Star Wars. There isn't an existing number to count how often River and I find ourselves on the topic of space battles and the Skywalkers.

"What's up, friendos?" I ask as they draw closer. A sudden chilly breeze lifts my hair and bumps along my skin. It's almost a frustrating sensation, it being the middle of August. It looks like I'm the only one who feels it, as my teeth are the only ones that chatter. Since my arms are tightly holding each other, I barely have time to react to Ellie's next reaction.

Ellie drags her feet dramatically until she goes limp in my arms. "I wanna go home and sleep."

I stumble back at the weight added, wriggling my arms to hold her steady. The last thing I need on the first day of school is a concussion. "Christ— well maybe if you get off, we can take you home."

River piles his backpack into the back of Gabe's truck, the loud thump startling Ellie, and looks at us with a confused stare. "Weren't– Weren't we supposed to hang out today?"

The girl in my arms rises to her feet, groaning. "Shit, I forgot. My mom said she wants me back home after school as soon as possible. You know, groundings and all."

"Next time, don't get into an accident." Gabe sends her a smirk.

Ellie narrows her eyes and mocks his response, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg. A small chortle parts my lips as I lean up against the truck next to River. After her bickering, Ellie continues. "Go get ice cream or something in my memory. I just have to get back before I'm killed, which should be any day now."

"I call your funeral playlist," I reply. Looking up while my fingers stroke my chin comically, I add, "A ton of 80s pop with a dash of Gaga?"

Booping my nose, Ellie smiles. "You know me too well."

We all file into Gabe's small truck— well, almost all of us. Since the truck is a three-seater and police like to patrol this area, there is always a sacrifice who gets to claim the back of the car. This time, it happens to be me. Once I was lying flat on my back, a blue tarp was pulled over my body, coming right above my nose. Oh, the perks of old, short pick-up trucks roaming a town with endless police...

Sliding open the window, Gabe's voice calls out. "You good back there?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking peachy," I reply.

There's the sound of laughter before the engine kicks on. At that moment, my paranoia starts to kick in, starting with my heart beating fast in my chest and palms getting sweaty. Not once have any of us gotten caught, but I can't help but think the day we are, it's my ass going to jail. I've never bothered to look at the laws relating to seat belts in other states, but here, the law is highly enforced. Not only would I get fined and definitely put into a cell, but I have no doubt Gabe would endure the same fate.

Nice way to put yourself in one of these states, I chastise myself.

I almost groan, but I can't be sure if I'll cause one of the friends up front to worry. So, I exhale and inhale rhythmically like I was taught. Looking straight ahead, all I can see are blue skies and puffy white clouds. Occasionally, a tree or two will enter the scenery. I'm barely blinking as I try to put shapes to the clouds, some more impossible than others. Despite having an imaginative mind, the figures aren't creating a picture for me to follow.

I like to remember how easy it was as a child to create something out of nothing. An empty napkin roll wasn't just cardboard; it was a telescope that needed color. Our dolls weren't acting on our behalf; they were doing it themselves and showing us their lives. Every cloud wasn't just a random array of water droplets but rather, a visual story to be told. I want to know what causes all of us to lose that form of innocence. Ways of thinking like pessimism or optimism, that's easy: once too many shitty things start to happen more than the good, one is likely to form a biased view or vice versa. But, why do we stop playing with imaginary friends? Or act out intense battles on the playground? Even the smallest blip of innocence, like cloud-watching, becomes warped.

Sometimes, it's easy to pick out that moment in our own lives where we find ourselves becoming grown-ups and leaving childhood behind, but the shitty part is that it isn't just me or Ellie, River, or Gabe who go through trials. It's not just the kid who loses a parent or the girl who was taken advantage of. Everyone has their wars. And in the end, we lose, becoming a part of the system that inflicts these damages.

These damages I speak of tear us apart. They mold us into shapes beyond recognition. No longer a funny shape or a distorted animal in the sky, but dark, heavy, and so close to bursting. And when we finally let go, after all the waiting and rolling, we seem to explode, leaking and oozing our pain, our torment, us. And when it's over? What's left? I guess there are two options: remain on the ground to seep into further nothingness, or rise once more, only to break again, again, and again. But life is such torment and full of trials, is it not?

Funny how staring at a cloud can put life into perspective.

My brain is overrun by these thoughts that I don't even realize Gabe's truck is rolling to a stop. I finally take notice when car doors swing open then shut.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," River says leaning over the side of the truck to get a look at me.

Rolling my eyes with a grin, I swat at his shoulder, which misses as he recoils. "Shut up, loser." I sit up, tossing the tarp to the side as I move to stand. River smirks and offers his hands to help me down. Without hesitation I take them, swinging one leg over the side and the other following before I made a short leap to the ground. Because neither of us apparently can avoid embarrassment, we're both holding each other's hands after I land. A rosy blush spreads across his entire face— no doubt mine as well— before I take the initiative to lean backwards, focusing on Ellie who crawls from the side door.

"Speaking of losers," Gabe sighs. I can't help but feel the reddening in my cheeks, assuming this asshole is talking about River and me, but I notice he's looking at Ellie, now swinging her backpack around one shoulder in her driveway.

She notices that all of us are looking, causing her to freeze. "Why does everyone hate me today?"

I smile bringing her into a goofy hug. "We just miss you. Don't get into any more accidents, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," she snorts, hugging me back to the best of her ability, considering I have her arms pinned down at an odd angle. "Alright, leave my driveway before I actually get you guys killed."

Gabe, River, and I say our goodbyes before filing into the white truck, heading God-knows-where as a worn-down engine sparks to life. Looking over at River, who sits to my right in the passenger seat, I send him a glare that he doesn't see since his eyes are focused on what lies beyond the window— or lack thereof.

While his hair barely covers his neck, mine flows down to my mid-back, meaning having windows rolled all the way down and speeding down a highway won't lead to the best outcomes for my hair. But I can't complain too much: River's hair going crazy in the wind is both cute and a bit funny. A small smile graces my features before a thin lock of hair enters my lips.

Glancing over at the driver, I notice how only locks of hair toward the ends move slowly despite the windows rolled all the way down, as if the strands are wearing a shield against the wind. I wonder how Gabriel keeps his hair so still before making the dumbfounding realization that he wears that beanie 24/7 and who knows how long he goes without washing his perfect hair. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen the boy without the hat. I guarantee no one would recognize him without it.

"So, where are we heading?" Gabriel asks when we reach the stoplight before entering the populated part of town.

I exhale, leaning my head on the headrest of the seat. "Well, I for one could go for something frozen. Maybe a burger, too."

"Didn't you just eat lunch?" River asks, humorously smiling in my direction.

"And had coffee literally less than an hour ago," Gabe adds.

Sending a blank look to River (whose smile widens) then over to Gabe, his eyes never leaving the stretch of road ahead of him (at least one person in the group can do that), I huff, my eyes shutting closed and I bring my shoulders up into a shrug. "I don't know what you both have against me and my food and drink consumption, but you better knock it off."

There's a small hum of laughter to my right, sending a slight shiver down my neck. "If we left you alone for a week, there's no telling how much you'd put in your system," River tells me as if I don't know that already.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, Bob and Jillian, I don't need you to berate me."

══════════════════

Twenty minutes later, the three of us find ourselves outside a burger joint. In one hand, I have a burger waiting to be devoured and in the other is a frozen strawberry lemonade. Nothing says summer like this combination. We're sitting the parking lot eating our meals, more specifically in the back of the truck. From my phone, I have a playlist plainly called "Chill" playing from the nearly-blown speakers.

"I never thought food could taste so good," I moan as the burger slides down my throat.

"You're acting like you haven't eaten in a week."

Sending Gabe an eye-roll, I reply, "It might as well have been."

There's a moment of silence before River brings up a topic not discussed in a couple weeks. "Do you guys wanna come over and jam for a bit sometime this week? We haven't done anything in a while."

One summer a few years back, the trio of us learned we can play different instruments. I have been playing the guitar and drums since I was younger, thanks to a musically gifted grandfather. Gabe and River both had a knack for guitar too, though Gabe had more experience with the bass guitar and River had some training with piano. While our jam sessions are nothing too serious, as none of us want to be in a band or write our own songs, it's become a fun and stress-reducing way to hang out when silence would otherwise fill the atmosphere. The last time, we figured out how to play the theme songs of our favorite movies using a ukulele and bongos. It was something I didn't need to hear, but I'm glad I did.

I nod my head. "Yeah, we can this weekend if we aren't being drowned in homework by that point."

Gabe also agrees with a nod, his mouth full of fries. "It's a maybe from me: Mom might need to borrow the truck since hers is wearing down."

River turns his dark brown eyes over to me, capturing an embarrassing scene as lettuce pokes between my stuffed lips. Great. "Well, I guess I can hang out with you if someone can't show."

While I playfully punch his arm, I send a look over to Gabe who hides a smirk in his straw. He catches me looking as River goes on about one of his classes. Sending me a wink, I narrow my eyes knowingly: his mom just got a brand new truck. Mr. Matchmaker goes back to this food, making a statement on how hot River's finance teacher is, causing the boy to make a very uncomfortable face.

Despite the long talks we shared in the back of Gabe's truck, I find myself zoning out hardcore once again. I can't figure out why exactly my mind had wondered, but I do know where. My thoughts go back to Trinity's face, remembering how she would sit next to me against the side of the truck the very few times she decided to make time for my friends. There's a ghost of warmth in my palm like fingers squeezing when the short snippet of a memory expels from deep inside my mind. I don't know why I thought of it. It just appeared, causing a droplet of woe to fill my gut.

Like my friends have told me before, I need to let this go. There's no use in holding on to something, or rather someone who isn't coming back, especially someone who was never good for me in the first place. Glancing up, I spy on River munching and talking with Gabe. A blush covers my cheeks when I remember how utterly embarrassing it was when I broke down in front of him over a stupid girl. He told me there are worse things to worry about.

"Like climate change?" I asked, sniffling into a pillow. I hope he washed it after that encounter. Hell, he needed to lysol everything down after my mopey ass walked through the place.

River smiled warmly at me, pulling me into a giant bear hug. Sometimes, I want to ask for one of those hugs again. "I was going to say people who like pineapple on pizza, but climate change is also a concern."

I remember crying not a second later, but that was due to the thought of polar bears facing extinction.

Contrary to knowing how wonderful my three best friends are, I'm also aware that there are certain things I can't share. I don't want to overbear them with my problems that should have been solved months ago. The fact that I'm still getting small flashbacks and thoughts of her is pathetic, and I'm aware of that fact. On the other hand, it isn't like my group of friends will give up and leave if I spill my guts, right? I shouldn't be scared of expression my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to my closest friends. And yet, here I sit, undecided on what to do.

Christ, do I need to get my priorities straight.

When my eyes break away from their trance, all I see is Gabe and River entering a heated discussion, about what I'm not sure. With my thoughts still in a bit of limbo, I'm shocked back to reality when they both leap from either side of the vehicle, rushing to pull items from their bags.

Under any other normal circumstance, it would be concerning to see two dudes arguing one moment then reaching into their bags the next. I'm willing to bet the next logical calculation for a stranger would have been to get away, fearing the queue for guns or knives. But I know these losers. Even if they are fighting or wanting to kill each other, there is only one way they can settle their differences.

"Soon, you will see the way of the Jedi," River exclaims while thrashing his blue lightsaber through the air.

"Shut the fuck up, you nerd!" Gabe flicks out a red lightsaber, taunting the other.

"Oh, my God," I say with no emotion in my tone, watching as red and blue shamelessly slash at each other in battery-produced light in a burger joint parking lot.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 5 years ago

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Something to Uplift Us

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic DLAMPR (Roman-centric, kinda Remus-centric), platonic Creativitwins!!!

Do I like this??? Meh. Is it something that I wrote? Yes. I will heal myself from SVS-R with Fluff.

Warnings: Remus Typical Nonsense, swearing, mentions of being in Quarantine, all sympathetic sides, non-sexual Pole Dancing

Word Count: 2,667

Roman was the essence of romance and it showed. For his entire existence, he'd been well acquainted with the hypothetical. If he were his own person, if he had a prince of his own, if he had the chance at a romantic relationship, he knew what he would do. Roman knew relationships, he always had, and it had tortured him to know that he'd never have one.

Which was why it frustrated him to no end that he hadn’t been the one to ask out his fellow sides. He’d honestly never thought that it would be an option. When he first developed his feelings for the others- Virgil, Patton, Logan, Janus, in that order- he had felt nothing more than excitement. He was giddy, he was light-headed, just to know that he could feel that way. He would spend hours daydreaming, just musing over the way they made his heart stop, but he never hoped for anything to come of it. He wasn’t sad, or mournful, or pining per se- just so caught up in the joy of feelings that he forgot that he could do something with them.

So he thought about it a lot, suffice to say. And all he had now was time to think; it was nearly month three of quarantine. Roman had wrung his brain out like a sponge for anything new to think about- The Imagination was practically turning gray! He tried to tend to it, truly he did, but it was getting harder every day. Creativity's fellow sides had all busied themselves taking up new hobbies- Virgil was teaching Patton to draw, Janus had learnt embroidery, Logan took up knitting, Remus made trash sculptures… They all seemed to be having their own little renaissance (complete with plague), and what was Roman doing? Wasting valuable free time!

In a fit of desperation, the artistic trait dived under his large canopy bed, rummaging around until his hand caught on the lip of a cardboard box. With no small amount of effort, he pulled the enormous container out from under his bed so that it could be properly examined. There, piled high in the box, were dozens of notebooks and sketchbooks- all of which filled to the brim with writing, drawings, and poetry. Having no clue what he was specifically looking for, Roman upended the box and watched the contents crash to the floor. Something in here would surely spark his mind! Perhaps some old work would catch his eye and inspire some redraws!

The side hadn't needed to search for long. Right at the top of the pile- bright pink, its cover dotted with puffy heart stickers- sat a large, spiral-bound sketchbook. You could almost see the light bulb pop up over Roman’s head as he squealed and snatched up the sketchbook. Flopping down onto his bed, he flipped it open in one hand and placed the other against his chest.

“Ooh, some of my best,” he cooed to no one in particular, gaze turned to the dozens of love poems surrounded by little doodles of hearts that filled the pages. This was the journal he’d confided in before the sides had all officially begun their relationship, filled with flowery prose about anything from Janus’ scales to Patton’s smile; from Logan’s laugh to Virgil’s freckles (a rare sight, usually hidden by make-up). Roman was so lost in nostalgia that when the ideas hit him, he nearly fell out of bed in excitement at his own thoughts.

Of course! He could take all of these old writings and compose them together, into one eloquent amalgam that would illustrate perfectly all those things that he’d been unable to articulate in the beginning! And it seemed only fitting that such a soliloquy be delivered in The Imagination- in the most gorgeous scenario he could fabricate! Somewhere open to a starry sky, for his left-brained loves- but it had to have ornate architecture, of course, and it had to be cozy. Oh, it was all coming together now.

Roman leapt out of bed, posing with his hand above his head and sinking deeper into The Mindscape extravagantly. He didn’t waste time looking around at the depressing half-formed scenery, sweeping his arms up and erasing the entirety of his half of The Imagination. Time to get to work.

Remus was stretched across the Commons couch, his head in Janus’ lap and feet in Logan’s. The TV hummed with whatever show they’d thrown on as background noise, and a few feet away at the counter, Patton and Virgil were hovering over some sort of scrapbook. Nobody had the energy for conversation; nobody had the energy for anything.

It was magnificently boring. The Duke already filled up an entire sketchbook, written half a dozen shamelessly smutty self-insert fanfictions, constructed and subsequently destroyed eldritch beings in his room, and bothered his boyfriends. So, all that was left to do was doze.

It didn’t help Remus’ tired state that Janus was running his fingers through his hair. The monotonous waking world was finally slipping away. Maybe there was something buried in his dreams that could hold his attention.

But just before sleep took hold, a white-hot energy ran through the trait’s body, jolting him so suddenly that he tumbled off of the couch and onto the floor. His arms and legs were all pins-and-needles as he looked up at his very concerned partners.

“There’s fuckery afoot!” Remus announced, wide-eyed. He pulled himself up and grinned, “You guys stay here!”

Without so much as a good-bye, Remus threw himself into the ground, saving himself the time of sinking out properly. After a moment’s silence, Janus resumed working on his embroidery.

“Should we go see what that was about?” Patton asked tentatively.

“Meh,” the three other sides responded in unison. After a moment, Janus added, “It is Remus, after all.”

Roman’s structure was coming together beautifully! Wide marble columns rose up and held aloft the glimmering silver ceiling, the middle of which was a sky-light open to thousands of stars and a brilliant full moon. Surrounding the opening was a spiral of stone roof- through the gaps of which even more astronomically accurate stars shone!

The inside of the building consisted of an immense mahogany stage, currently cloaked by thick velvet curtains and overlooking plenty of seats. Rather than traditional theater rows, Roman had arranged the seating like lovely cafe tables, all of which were given generous space from each other (Except for two at the very front, of course). Lanterns hung from the walls, casting the space in warm lighting. Creativity currently stood at the very back, thinking that it could use just a little more of something. With a smirk, the side snapped his fingers and the wall of the room was pushed backwards several yards. With a few more flicks of the wrist and dividing columns, a little lobby was formed.

He’d given the theater room maroon carpeting and rich gray walls, but the new back section needed brighter lighting and a more cream-canary color scheme. Now he could just finish the decor!

Or he would have, if not for the fact that at that moment someone crashed into his ribs with all the grace of a flaming motorbike.

“BRO!!!”

“ACK-!” was all Roman managed, as all the wind was knocked out of him. He glared up at his brother, who was sitting on his chest.

“I knew you were up to something! You wiped half of the whole fucking Imagination! What is this!?”

Roman wheezed, pushed Remus off of his chest, and finally pulled himself off the ground to catch his breath. His brother was spinning around the room already, eyes sparkling as he took in the building.

“I had to blank it, I needed my full focus,” Roman explained, back to work and filling the back wall with tall bookshelves, “and it’s a surprise, so don’t tell the others.”

“Oh, I won’t. Provided you let me in on whatever this is,” Remus had an ear-to-ear grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet. After a moment’s consideration, Roman hummed.

“I’m doing something nice for our boyfriends. I think we all could use a little pick-me-up, so do not ruin this!”

“I wanna do something nice for them! Lemme help!”

“You don’t even know what it’s for! Plus, it’s personal!”

��I already asked what it was for, Stupid.”

Roman huffed.

“I wrote them something. Hence the stage.”

“So, what, you’re gonna bring them all into your fancy library-opera for your poetry orgy and I sit in a corner somewhere and be quiet?”

“Ideally.”

“Not a chance, Whore!” Remus swung himself up onto the concession stand that Roman had just created, tearing into a box of candy (food made in The Imagination always tasted weirder than food or ingredients they conjured elsewhere in the Mindscape, but he didn’t particularly mind).

“Fine. What do you want to do?” Roman challenged, hands on his hips.

“I. Want. To. Help.”

Roman raised his eyebrows doubtfully. Grumbling, his twin started gesturing around the room as he spoke.

“The stars are too bright, they take the focus away from the stage instead of accenting it. The color of the curtains are too similar to the carpet. You’ve got Corinthian shit in there and bookstore lobby vibes in here, which is garbage and inconsistent.”

Roman blinked, his eyes following along with Remus’ criticism.

“Hm. You have a point.”

“I’m Creativity too, you know. I have some taste.” The Duke said, gnawing on the cardboard box that had contained Imagination Candy moments before.

“You’re wearing crocs and jorts, simultaneously.”

Remus waved his hand dismissively, hopping off the counter and rushing across the room.

“Whatever. Come on, I’ve got an idea how I can accompany your performance, too.”

“Oh, goody.”

Hours had past and little had changed in the Mindscape living room- Virgil and Patton had finished up their scrapbooking and were curled up together in an armchair, so Logan was sitting at the counter space previously occupied by the two and clacking away on his laptop, and Janus hadn’t moved. The muddled energy of the room had remained pervasive.

That was, until the door to the imagination slammed open, the doorknob cracking against the wall. Four heads shot up to see Remus and Roman, standing side-by-side (quite looking the part of identical twins, matching smiles and all).

“Oh god,” Janus groaned instinctively, carefully setting his embroidery on a side table, “What did you two do?”

“Yeah, I don’t trust that look,” Virgil said.

The twins scoffed in mock-offense, continuing their odd coordination.

“We try to do something nice,” exclaimed Remus.

“And not so much as a ‘thank you,’” added Roman solemnly. Eyes were rolled, but Patton perked up considerably (just as planned).

“Ooo, what are you talking about?”

“It’s a surprise!” Said The Duke, bouncing up and down. Creativity Prime gave a sweeping motion to indicate the still-open door to the Imagination, which had been steadily seeping into the common room with a bright new energy that it had been lacking for days.

“Follow us,” he instructed, disappearing through the door once more with Remus at his back. Patton bounced after them immediately, grinning.

The three left-brained sides exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed suit.

The twins were backstage in an instant, trusting their partners to figure out where their seats were on their own. Roman began pacing around as soon as they finished warming up.

“Are you sure you can do this? I’m still not sure if your performance is well-suited to acoustic guitar-”

He was cut off by Remus groaning exaggeratedly.

“I can work with anything, bitch.”

“Right, right,” There was a beat. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready. What’s going on with you?”

Rather than responding, Roman did another lap around the stage.

“C’mon! Stop pacing before I take a bonesaw to your legs!”

“Okay! Alright! I’m ready!”

Before Remus could come up with any more gruesome threats, Roman snapped his fingers and the curtains began to rise. He took his place half-sitting on a stool up front, a guitar in his arms. Behind him, Remus stood between two sturdy metal poles that rose from the stage and into the ceiling. You can already see where this is going.

When the stage was fully revealed, the lights above the audience dimmed. Figuring that the show would be rather awkward if said audience consisted of four people, the Creativities had The Imagination render dozens of prop-people. They moved and acted like a crowd of humans, but each individual was too vague to focus on for long. Thus it was made very clear where their fellow sides were, sitting right up front with a wide array of expressions from amazed to amused to bewildered.

Roman took a moment to steel himself and then began playing. Originally, he’d planned on spoken-word for his loves, but traditionally there is music involved in pole-dancing, so he’d made a few adjustments in order for Remus to be able to contribute.

Roman started singing, melting as the gazes of the real audience members turned awestruck (and also very flushed, likely from whatever surprisingly impressive poses his brother was pulling behind him). He liked to think that he poured his heart out into every performance, but for this one it felt quite literal.

Roman’s voice picked up gradually, and he could vaguely hear metal clanging behind him. It went on like that for a good few minutes- because if there was one thing the Twins weren’t, it was brief- before the show finally concluded. Roman stalled for a moment as both the imaginary and real components of the audience applauded uproariously. Remus swung down from the pole and hopped over to him.

“We bow now, Dumbass,” he hissed, noticeably out of breath.

“Oh- right.”

They took hands and took a couple bows as the clapping died down, standing back up with wide grins and red faces.

As soon as the auditorium was relatively silent, Patton rushed the stage. He outstretched his arms and hopped up and down excitedly.

“Lemme up!”

Roman grabbed his hands and pulled him on stage while Remus was still attempting to catch his breath. Morality leaned down to give The Prince a brief kiss, and then bounced over to the much more exhausted half of the act to give him the same treatment. He was grinning so wide that it looked painful, his face a bright pink. The Duke wore a matching expression, but the smile was much more unnatural in that preferred way of his.

“So you liked it?”

Rather than verbally responding, Patton grabbed the hands of both Creativities and made a cheerful ribbiting sound.

“It was wonderful,” Logan supplied, climbing the stairs on the side of the stage to meet them, Virgil and Janus right behind him. He was much less outwardly enthusiastic as the other spectacled side, but no less appreciative.

“Yeah, did you guys put all this together today?” Virgil asked, throwing an arm around Roman’s shoulders.

“What else did we have to do?” Remus answered with a shrug.

“Good point.”

Janus cleared his throat lightly, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. His eyes were noticeably rimmed with redness, a small smile on his face as he outstretched all of his arms.

“Here, all of you, now.”

Patton cooed.

“Group hug!”

Fitting six people into one hug may seem awkward, but it always seemed to work out for the sides. At least, Roman thought so. Virgil would fake exasperation at the affection, but they could all tell he loved it. Logan would try to maintain his dignity and fail miserably. Patton was a ball of warmth and energy that seeped into the rest of them. Janus was by far the best at giving hugs, though it could be considered cheating to have extra limbs.

At that moment it hit Roman that, perhaps he hadn’t started this relationship, but he was still a part of it. And that was all he could ever want.

These Performances inspired Remus’. They are oddly calming to watch, and super impressive!

@shrimp-crockpot

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

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“ I read your diary. ” or rather journal, when he was sleeping or while he was taking a bath in a secluded area and left his satchel wide open for grabs.

This one’s so damn fluffy, I’m gonna die! It’s also one of those ones that easily could lead to a really smutty scene, but maybe I’ll leave that for another time 👀

Read all my works on AO3

(Maybe if I’m bored enough and actually have some damn time, I’ll make a masterlist on Tumblr)

Flat Iron Lake gleams orange and blue in the midday sun, flies collecting in swarms hover above the water, begging to be eaten by a hungry fish. You stand on the pier, pole in your hand, hoping to fool one of those fish to take your lure instead of a real insect. So far, you’re having good luck, despite the hot sun above. You know from experience that fishing at any time other than dawn and dusk is spotty, but the fish around this area of the lake seem to always be biting, which is lucky. It saves everyone from having to go far to get meat.

You love fishing, always have. You’re not the biggest fan of the taste of fish, though you will eat it. You enjoy the act of catching them, though. Fishing forces time to slow down, allows you to just sit and enjoy the peace and quiet, and then there’s the chance that something exciting will happen. Not only that, but the scenery is beautiful.

As you stand, waiting for something to grab your lure, you hear footsteps on the shore. You turn and see Arthur, his hands on his hips. He smiles at you a bit, but doesn’t say anything. You return it and then go back to watching your bait, feeling a bit self conscious. Although you’re the newest member of the gang, having only been with them a couple of months, you’ve quickly grown fond of Arthur. You like most people in camp (aside from Micah), but Arthur was the one you took to. He’s handsome, smart (though he denies it), funny, loyal and sweet. He thinks he’s nothing more than a big dumb brute capable of nothing but violence, but you’ve seen the side of him that proves him wrong. You saw him give Tilly a necklace a few days ago, he got a book for Jack, and you’ve seen him playing fetch with the newest member, a dog named Cain. You’ve also seen him many times sitting on his cot or at the base of a tree, scribbling away in his journal.

You’ve wondered many times if Arthur feels anything for you too, but you’re too nervous to ask. You won’t ask the others if he’s mentioned you at all, afraid it’ll clue them in to your crush. You wish, more than anything, that you could get a glimpse in his journal.

You glance behind you again and spot Arthur sitting at the base of a tree not too far from the pier. His journal’s in his lap and he seems to be writing, or maybe he’s drawing. You wonder if he’s any good. You’ve tried your own hand at drawing with little success. You can barely draw a stick figure.

You go back to fishing, wishing you could at least gather the courage to go and talk to him. You’ve wanted nothing more than to do that. He helped teach you how to shoot a gun after you first joined, and how to shoot a bow. It was through him that you learned how to hunt and fish, and you overheard him a few days ago talking to Dutch about teaching you how to rob people. You just wish you could talk to him about anything that didn’t involve you learning how to pull your weight in the gang. It’s doubtful that he has any interest in you though, even in an innocent, friendly manner. You sigh, wishing things were different.

An hour passes and you decide you’re done fishing. You have a decent collection of fish to give to Pearson, he’ll be happy at least. You collapse your pole and begin walking down the pier when you see Arthur, still sat at the foot of the tree, his hat tipped over his eyes. He seems to be sleeping, but next to him is his journal, lying open and just begging to be read.

You approach him quietly. You really shouldn’t be trying to read his journal, it’d be an invasion of his privacy. Still, you can’t help but be curious. You get a bit closer, waiting for him to stir, but he doesn’t. You quietly set down your bucket of fish and kneel down, picking up his journal. You check on him again, but he still hasn’t moved. You can tell by his slow, heavy breathing that he’s out.

The first thing you see when looking at the open page of his journal is a sketch. Undeniably, it’s you, fishing on the pier. The sketch extends across both pages. The drawing is beautiful, simple yet detailed. You had no idea he could draw this well. You flip to the previous page and see sketches of a horse (undeniably his own), a husky and a duck. The duck is really no more than an outline, but it’s endearing. The husky is incredibly detailed, its tongue dangling from its panting mouth. You love the detail of the fur, you can tell exactly what color it is based purely on how he’s shaded it. You flip to the next previous page and are startled by an extremely detailed drawing of your face. On the page next to it is a passage he’s written. You study the beautiful, looping words. His writing is gorgeous. You begin to read it.

“Took Y/N out hunting today. She’s got a natural talent for it, considering she’s only been doing it a few months. If only things were simpler, life wasn’t such a mess, I might ask her to be my girl. Yet damn you, Mary! Y/N ain’t nothing like Mary. She’s sweet, she don’t hold people’s past over their heads or play games with ‘em. When I’m alone with her, I feel like the luckiest man and the biggest fool. If she’s smart, she’ll stay away from me.”

Your stomach does a backflip. Has he really thought about asking you to be his girlfriend? No way, no way could Arthur, the Arthur Morgan, be interested in you! You’re just a simple girl who grew up on a farm until a few months back when it was burned to the ground, killing everyone inside. You were in the barn when it got destroyed by a group of drunk O’Driscolls. It was only a couple weeks after that you were brought in by Arthur, who found you begging on the trail in the middle of nowhere.

You flip through more of his journal, reading about how he hopes never to get on Sadie Adler’s bad side (you agree with him), how he detests doing jobs for Strauss. You’re glad he never went to collect that debt from that Downes fellow a few weeks ago. You’d heard rumors he was incredibly sick and you passed that information onto Arthur, who decided it wasn’t worth the risk and just absolved the debt. Still though, he’s doing a few other collections.

You go on to read about some of the people he’s met, including a blind man who seemed almost like a prophet, a photographer who seemed to be trying to get himself eaten by some wild animal, and a crazy woman touting about dinosaurs. So many of these entries are accompanied with drawing, each one detailed to the point you feel you could touch them.

Every few pages, he seems to mention you, whether it’s just taking you out somewhere to teach you a new skill, or about how you’ve surprised him with one of your own visions of the world. One in particular stands out to you. It’s accompanied by a sketch of you just standing there, drinking a mug of coffee. The passage itself started off with him talking about one of his debt collections from a woman named Lily Millet.

“This world is an ugly one, I see it everyday. I see it in the things I do to people, the way they look at me. But Y/N seems to see the beauty of it. Whenever I’m with her, she sees light and color where I would see only violence and horror. The more I’m with her, the more I see the beauty too. If I were smarter, I’d spare her the misfortune of my own company, yet I find hers euphoric. If I weren’t such a coward, I’d ask her on a proper outing. John keeps saying she’s sweet on me, but Marston wouldn’t know the first thing about women. How the hell he ended up having a kid with Abigail is beyond me.”

You giggle at the last line and then your heart drops when you hear Arthur begin to stir. You quickly flip to the page it was on and throw it on the ground. Unfortunately, it lands a solid foot from where you picked it up and in a different position. You just hope he doesn’t remember those details as you stand up and take several feet back.

He tilts his hat up, notices you trying to walk away in such a manner that screams you’re guilty of something. He looks down at his journal and notices right away that it’s been moved. He connects your guilty smile and knows instantly that you at least looked at the sketch. Before he can say anything to you, you dart off into the middle of camp to give your fish to Pearson and where he won’t confront you.

During the rest of the day, you find any excuse you can to stay away from Arthur, positive he’s furious that you invaded his privacy like that. You’d be mad had it been you, and you’re sure he’d like nothing more than to tell you off. However, you often catch him staring at you, but not in anger or disappointment. His eyes say he’s curious, and he doesn’t seem to be pursuing you to get you alone, though he does try to approach you often. You always come up with an excuse or pick up a conversation with the closest person so he can’t confront you.

After the sun’s set, your luck runs out. Arthur left a few hours ago and you figured he’d be gone the rest of the night. You decided it was safe to go stand at the shores of the lake and look at the stars. You didn’t even hear him approach until he was standing right next to you, a beer bottle in each hand.

“So,” he said, making you jump. You flushed when you saw him standing so close to you, but then he handed you one of the bottles. You thanked him quietly and looked away. You didn’t see the soft smile he wore. “Enjoy readin’ my journal?” he asks, sipping his beer as he stares off across the lake.

You sigh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan. It was wrong of me. I understand why you’re upset.”

He chuckles softly. “Ah, it’s a’right. I ain’t exactly innocent in that myself. Guess I earned it, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

He rubs his neck nervously. “I, uh, I read your diary too once. It was on your bedroll and I guess Grimshaw snatched you up while you was writin’. I was just passin’ by and saw it, couldn’t help myself.”

You blush even more. Shit, shit shit! You wrote in there shortly after getting the damn thing that you have a massive crush on Arthur, it’s pretty much a guarantee that he saw it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Morgan,” you say, closing your eyes.

“For what?” he says, shocked.

“That you had to read that. I’m… I’m such an idiot and I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanted to know about me. I completely understand if you don’t want to teach me anything else.”

He turns to face you. He nervously reaches up a hand to tilt your head up to look at him. “Y/N, I know you read my journal. Pretty far back too, I’d guess. If you actually read it, you’d know I’ve… well, I’ve held somethin’ for you too.”

You smile and take his hand into yours. “I don’t know why you would. I’m nothin’ special.”

“Maybe you don’t see yourself the way I do.”

You look up at him again. His face is inches from yours and his eyes dart down to your lips before going back to your eyes again. Is he thinking the same as you? Right now, you’d like nothing more than to kiss him. You start leaning up, you can feel the heat radiating from him. He moves closer, his free hand sliding over your back. Your lips are centimeters from touching.

“Mr. Morgan, we are in the shit again. Deep in the shit!” the gravelly voice of Reverend Swanson washes over you again. He stumbles over, his eyes bloodshot. Arthur leans away and lets you go, making you let out a soft groan.

“You got quite a way with words there, Mr. Swanson,” Arthur replies.

“Words are the least of my problems, Mr. Morgan.” He stammers for a moment, almost as though he’s seeing something you can’t. His eyes refocus on you both standing inches apart, looking irritated. “But I wanted you both to know that you are children of God! Children of God.” He starts mumbling to himself, almost singing.

You chuckle. “That’s sweet, Reverend, but I stopped believing in God a long time ago.”

“But he has never stopped believing in you,” Swanson says, then he stumbles off.

Arthur lets out a long sigh and hangs his head so his hat covers his eyes. His cheeks are slightly pink. “Sorry for that interruption, Y/N.”

“That’s okay, ain’t like we could stop him,” you say. You want to ask him to try that kiss again, but you just can’t manage to get the words out. He’s thinking the same thing, but like you, he’s too embarrassed to ask. Instead, his hand slowly wraps around yours. You look down at your entwined hands and then back up to him and smile. Encouraged by this, he lets your hand go and both of his slide over your back, pulling you close to him. Yours go up to settle on his shoulders.

Before anyone else has the chance to ruin the moment again, Arthur dips down and presses his lips to yours. His are slightly chapped, but they’re warm. You’ve only imagined kissing him a hundred times, but you didn’t ever do him justice in those daydreams. You move your lips with his, your hand winding behind his neck to pull him even closer. His arms grip you tight, pressing your body against his. Your heart’s pounding in your chest. Something in your chest purrs as he deepens the kiss. Oh, how you’ve wanted this, wanted him. All those moments you spent alone with him, you wanted to kiss him exactly like this.

After several moments of you studying his lips, he breaks it, his breath leaving in quick bursts. He smiles at you and cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheek bone.

“I hope that was okay,” he says softly.

“More than okay,” you say and you kiss him again. This one is short and brief, but just as sweet as the previous. You lay your head on his shoulder, your forehead pressed against his neck. His arms embrace you protectively and his heart hammers into your ear. You stare off across the silvery waters of the lake, content in this moment. You want it never to end.

There’s no way you could know that Arthur, for the first time in a long time, finally thinks he may actually be a somewhat decent man if someone as sweet and good as you chooses to nestle in his arms like this. He kisses the top of your head, wishing he could tell you how grateful and how in awe he is. Perhaps he’ll have to write it in his journal and leave it somewhere that you’ll find it again.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #awkward asks

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crossxskulled · 4 years ago

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Mailing chocolates, it seemed, was too impersonal. The Japanese tradition was to give them in person, was it not? And as a surprise, at that. That left Sonia with only one option. She would have to give Ryuji the Valentine’s Day treats she’d arranged herself and with little explanation as to why she needed to meet him that day. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask too many questions about why she wanted to meet in one of Shibuya’s parks, as opposed to the usual convenience stores and inexpensive restaurants they often visited. She didn’t think it was right to bring such gifts to a dining establishment and she certainly couldn’t visit his home. Thankfully, Haru had been a wonderful help correcting the Princess of Novoselic some of the cultural implications that, at home, would have been a non-issue.

“I hope this wasn’t too terribly inconvenient for you, and I’m not sure if you even like these really,” Sonia began, surprising herself by dancing around the point she was trying to make. At least she spoke clearly and smiled through it all. “But I hope you accept these Valentine’s Day chocolates. Happy Valentine’s Day, Ryuji-san!”

Inside the golden yellow box and coordinating bow, rows of pyramid-shaped dark chocolate candies and round milk chocolate truffles were neatly arranged. The dark chocolates were filled with dark chocolate ganache and liquid fondant to be tiny lava chocolates that would ooze upon biting past the outer shell. But the milk chocolates were filled with chocolate-hazelnut filling, far less messy, and rolled in crushed macadamia nuts. “I remember you telling me about your class trip to Hawaii, the one you seemed to quite enjoy with your friends! I’ve never been myself, but I thought a chocolate volcano and macadamia nuts might remind you of a wonderful time.”

___________________________

☠ - Time managed to bleed through his hands despite a shift of a holiday, hardly slowing, rather, keeping that same pace of trickling sands while he pushed through his training on this day. Motivation and a return to old form blew the blonde’s mind in ways he could’ve of perceived. So what better day to productively blow all that energy than at the gym? Through the help of his old coach and upperclassmen by the name of Ikeda, a regimen that remains rigorous, reward and perfect for warding off the rust across his body’s specifics was the goal for this Valentine’s day.

Gaining a small bounty of friendship chocolate had been a unforeseen boon that only made him double down. Seeing the smiling faces of those knuckleheads had been too much of a damn treat not to do anything less. (Taking Yusuke out to get a good meal as a miniature get-together had also fit into that equation.)

If only he could’ve known why Haru kept such a doting voice of knowing in her town. Ryuji simply brushed it off as a means of her being jovial in the atmosphere, enjoying the time no different than he had.

One text message however completely altered the route of his plans like a fork in the river. Business was business and his partners at the gym kindled a brand of training related friendship. So of course knowing the season, there he was being tacked on out with a number of teases, especially seeing how February serves as the season for some to shoot their shot, couples to get more couple-y, while some managed to romanticize facets of romance to make the world look a touch more sunshine and rainbows.

‘Too bad’ that with a huff and a laugh, he’d call them all some bastards after he freshened up, changed, and rolled out back to the busy streets. Like a bolt amidst a mass of sky,. he’s nimble and dedicated to his beeline, wading his way through the day filled with either saturated hopes or the jaded atmosphere as Inokashira Park remains the place to meet with a girl who’s pleasantly been in his thoughts. Just thinking of a touch of their previous ventures makes a chuckle rumble in his chest.

Oh yeah. There sure as hell was a good deal of memories they’ve made since their arrangement while having a blooming friendship.

“Yo, Sonia!” His cheerful voice would soon call as the scenery of an opened sky is replaced with the natural roofing of branches and trees. That had caught her attention, leading to them catching eyes and suddenly having her.. look a touch bashful? Or maybe that skittered in his imagination. Just being met with a soft nod while she balanced something in her hands was a little weird? Here he was much more adjusted to a upbeat prestige or the excitable questions to explore a world that cast refined inclination to the side.

”My bad it took me a lil longer than usual to hop on the scene here.” He begins, grunting in distaste at his tardiness. “The short notice caught me att middle up at the gymmmm-- ah ah, not that it’s a big deal or anything!” That definitely had to be set once she made mentions of inconvenience! Heading out for someone he cares for always had a priority even if there were routine plans for a day. ...And now that he’s getting a better look at this whole situation. Wasn’t that introduction of her’s a touch too kind while she swayed a bit in her spot? Once their eyes met with a gentle glare of sunlight remaining in between, the answer soon arrives, dressed up in an ornate box that makes his eyes pop open a deal wider while unceremoniously dropping that duffel bag of his to the ground.

Unexpected? Unexpected. Somehow that mind of his couldn’t translate the moment at hand while his eyes shoot open like saucers at the ornate box she presents between them both! Seeing that particular design as if she plucked this from the lap of luxury... That made the ticker within his chest speed on up, for real. ‘Wha wha wha.. Whoa! Hold on! Am I seein’ this right!? I.. She had plans of hauling some of these to me?! People usually just roll these out in the hand bags! But this.. I-’ Any other thoughts failed to meet the mark of coherency as he could only stop, stare, and just drink in the view of that familiar smile and the presented box set before him.

Soon a pair of mildly shaky hands would come to take it. No longer was it the aftermath of a good workout that supplied such heat, nor the hot shower taken before making his way on down here. The act in offering this gift itself had burned a fuzzy brand of energy through him while his fingers braced upon the box and drew it a touch closer. Naturally too curious for his own good, this led him to a world of intricate design, for chocolate of all the damn things! Being a more modest and moderate fan had left him ignorant to the designs outside of chocolate bars to bats and eyes on the Halloween days.

Seeing the spread while hearing the story began to tack so many of the pieces together. Antsy thoughts were quelled by the truth of her intentions, the inspiration as to why they’re designed this way and kindness shuffled into each and every one. Had she really been thinking that deeply over one of their past times while getting this fixed up?

So to see Sonia place that much care into him causes a soft sensation to well up as the dominate point of feeling. Settled upon his face was a genuine look of contentment swirled together with a touch of gratitude. “You.. Really went through a damn lot, huh? I mean.. Look at these! So frickin’ cool and designed like people draw with chocolate!” His enthusiasm instantly takes the charge while he glosses over them, taking a touch longer to notice how the play of positioning also added to that! This for sure got a ‘Yoooooooooooo!’ strained from his lips as his eyes instantly sparkled with joy.

”Almost doesn’t make me wanna eat ‘em.. Almost! Maybe I can keep a few for a touch longer and..” Noticing that his delight might’ve had him going on a small tangent made him a touch self-conscious, causing him to seize up while a soft laughter escapes from him. If it wasn’t clear from his expression alone within their momentary getaway of the park’s atmosphere, Ryuji here was really pleased with the gift. ..To the point that somehow the whole Valentine aspect hadn’t reigned as the highest mark of importance.

Spending some more time with her instinctively feels like the best bet in his eye. Taking good care in the way he closes the box, the dropped bag is quickly swiped up before he makes a charged point to one of the sites of scenery appreciating seating off to the side.

“In that case! You sure as hell unlocked a route to some more funny stories! C’mon- how about we try some of these together while we kick back for a while?”

....

“Oh and uh.” This much would be said as they pressed off to the selected spot. “Happy Valentines Day to ya too, Sonia. Thanks for this..”

Today would be another one filled with fun promise.

#more-than-a-princess #submission #| Keepsakes #D'AW THIS WAS SWEET #And much thanks for the send in!

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tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

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【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: A Love Poem to Skadi - Xia Yan Encounters

Translation Masterlist | Themis Event Masterlist

Encounters: Xia Yan | Zuo Ran | Mo Yi | Lu Jinghe

See under cut!

Mini-Story - A Strange Riddle

Part 1 - Detective Convention

Dark Night Beach

MC: Xia Yan? Is that you?

Xia Yan: Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?

MC: Why are you standing here – weren’t you going to participate in the detective convention?

Xia Yan: I’m waiting for someone – I agreed with a friend to meet here and go together to the convention venue.

MC: Is that so. Great Detective Xia, can I interview you? You’re about to participate in a detective convention, so how’s your mood? Are you nervous?

Xia Yan: Nervous? Why would I be nervous?

MC: Don’t you have to solve riddles in this detective convention? Plus I heard that, to stimulate the participants’ hype, they’ll also hold a competition. You might encounter super strong opponents.

Xia Yan: You’re trusting me way too little. I’m Xia Yan, after all, your Sherlock. Just wait, I’ll definitely return with the first place.

Part 2 - Strange Riddle

MC: Xia Yan?! Why are you here? Your convention’s ended?

Xia Yan: Not yet. Right now, it’s the time to look for evidence. I’m currently looking for clues here.

MC: What kind of clues do you need to find? Is there anything I can help with?

Xia Yan: I’m looking for clues related to a “witch”.

MC: A “witch”?

Xia Yan: Mm, the riddle this time has to do with an old woman that calls herself a witch in a certain little village near the Dark Night Beach. She also claims that the shipwreck of the pirate king is buried on this beach, and the task us detectives have is to solve this riddle.

MC: Sounds like the difficulty level isn’t low…

Xia Yan: Yeah… although I already have a bit of the basic idea. I just still need clues and evidence to support it. Give me a little more time.

Part 3 - Exposing the Truth

Xia Yan: MC, do… do you have time after? Can you help me with something?

MC: What’s the matter? Based on your expression… is it something that has to do with the riddle?

Xia Yan: Mm, I’ve already found the truth of the riddle, but considering the involved old woman’s age… Maybe, with you there, I can appease her mood quicker.

MC: Is it actually this serious?

Xia Yan: Yeah, although this is only my personal consideration… Maybe that old woman will be far stronger than what I thought.

MC: Then let’s hurry out, as early as possible…

Xia Yan: Don’t get anxious yet, relax. With me here, it’ll be fine.

Part 4 – Happy Ending

MC: Awesome! We finally solved the puzzle about the “witch” successfully!

Xia Yan: Yeah, it really is great that we could successfully have the old woman untie the knots in her heart.

MC: But I really never would’ve thought that the reason why the old woman calls herself a “witch” is… because she wanted to rely on this kind of “weirdness” to gain attention as she lived on her own. And that “pirate king’s shipwreck” was actually pointing to the similar-shaped massive rock on the beach…

Xia Yan: But based on the attitudes the people of the little village have towards her, she probably won’t have to worry about the same problem again.

MC: Yeah – just now, there were a lot of people inviting the old woman to live permanently at their houses! I hope that her life in the future will be happy.

Xia Yan: Mhmm! It definitely will be!

Xia Yan Chance Encounters

Message in a Bottle

Dark Night Beach

MC: Xia Yan Xia Yan, I picked up a bottle with a message in it!

Xia Yan: This bottle looks pretty new… was it just released by someone?

MC: It might be… then let’s throw it back in the sea.

Xia Yan: Speaking of which… do you know what will happen when two people throw a bottle with a message in it?

MC: What?

Xia Yan: A creature that holds onto love lives in the bottle. If you send it back into the embrace of the big sea, then… it will protect you and the one you love, forever and forever, and you will never split apart.

The Sound in the Conch

Dark Night Beach

MC: Xia Yan, what are you doing with the conch shell?

Xia Yan: Have you heard the legend of the Dark Night Beach?

MC: Legend? What legend?

Xia Yan: The legend of Dark Night Beach is that it’s where the elves and trolls battle. If you stand on the beachside and listen to the sound of the conch… You might be able to hear the sounds of the fighting between the elves and the trolls.

MC: So you’re listening to the sounds of the fighting?

Xia Yan: Of course not. What about the sounds of fighting is worth listening to… I’m looking for another sound – the sound of the fairy’s blessing.

MC: ???

Xia Yan: In the legend, the sound of the fairy’s blessing is hidden among the sounds of the fights, ensuring that all the elves can safely return. If you can distinguish this sound, the fairy will arrive by your side and grant you blessings.

MC: So… you want to find the fairy and get her blessings?

Xia Yan: Yes, but also no.

MC: ???

Xia Yan: I do want to find the fairy, but rather than me, I hope her blessings can be given to someone else. I hope that she can ensure that that person will forever be happy and blessed… and then, to forever, forever stay by my side.

Awaiting the Snow

Sati Falls

Xia Yan: MC?! Is that you? What are you doing over here?

MC: Nothing, I’m just casually walking around…

Xia Yan: What’s the matter? Your eyebrows look so tightly furrowed – got some troubles?

MC: It’s not really anything, I’m just wondering when it’ll snow…

Xia Yan: Snow? Why are you paying attention to this?

MC: I heard others say that seeing a snowscape beside a waterfall feels different from other places, so I came here a little expectant… But it seems like there’s nothing that indicates that it’ll snow here…

Xia Yan: Don’t get discouraged. Sometimes, surprises come a bit late. How about this – we pray for it together?

MC: Pray?

Xia Yan: Mm, praying for the winter snow to come fast, and praying that every one of your wishes will become reality.

Tiny Surprise

Sati Falls

Xia Yan: Want to taste the flavour of the waffle I have here? I just bought it from the nearby sweets shop.

MC: Why did you think of buying this?

Xia Yan: It’s because of this waffle’s taste. It’s said that this flavour is one that only Skadi Island has – you can’t buy it anywhere else, so I wanted to buy it for you to taste.

MC: Thank you, Xia Yan. How about we split it up and eat it then? Good flavours are meant to be shared!

Xia Yan: Then… I’ll help myself!

Coloured Stones

City of Elves

Xia Yan: MC? What are you doing, crouching on the ground?

MC: I’m looking for coloured stones.

Xia Yan: Coloured stones? What are you looking for these for?

MC: It’s like this – I saw before on the guides that the City of Elves has a lot of coloured stones piled together. If you circle these stones, following the hour hand, you’ll be able to see the little elves on there fixing the houses, and you can see their lives!

Xia Yan: You’re just like when you were little – you still like these fairytales a lot.

MC: Can’t I? Plus, this story itself is very interesting!

Xia Yan: You can, you can, of course you can. Right, I also know a lot of other interesting stories. Do you wanna hear them?

MC: Sure!

Xia Yan: Then let’s walk as we talk.

Sunset

City of Elves

MC: The sunset in the City of Elves looks very special… Especially when I think back on this city’s legends that are full of magic. I feel like it’s just like fairyland of my dreams when we were little.

Xia Yan: Do you like this place a lot?

MC: Mhmm!

Xia Yan: Then… should we stay here for an extra two days? Just like when we were little, we can explore everywhere and walk through every corner of this city. There are a lot of beautiful sceneries here, waiting for us to discover them.

Picnic

Sajya Fjord

MC: …

Xia Yan: What’s the matter? You look like you’re in low spirits.

MC: Xia Yan… I’m hungry… could we eat lunch first?

Xia Yan: You should’ve said earlier – then let’s look for a place to rest and have a picnic. I’ve prepped a lot of food – they’re all ones you like to eat.

MC: Xia Yan, thank you.

Xia Yan: Don’t be so courteous… I see a spot over there that’s pretty good – let’s head over.

Unexpected Discovery

Sajya Fjord

MC: (Seems like there’s something under the sand…)

MC: Eh? There’s actually a galvanized iron box!

Xia Yan: What did you find?

MC: Seems like someone buried a box here, and I accidentally dug it out. Look at this, doesn’t it look like the boxes we often buried to make wishes when we were little?

Xia Yan: It does look like those… but this was buried way too shallowly… It was dug up so easily, so the wish that was made definitely won’t come true.

MC: Speaking of which… Xia Yan, did the wish you made back then come true?

Xia Yan: It did. Aren’t you right by my side right now?

Lucky Bracelet

Vikja Capital

Xia Yan: What did you buy so many shells for?

MC: I want to try making a bracelet. It’s said that the shells sold at Vikja Capital’s marketplaces have all been bathed in the holy light of the elves, and it can bless someone so that everything goes as they desire and they can accomplish whatever they want.

Xia Yan: Do you want to make these because… you’ve encountered some trouble?

MC: I haven’t, I’m just hoping for good omens. Who knows if I’ll encounter something troublesome in the future…

Xia Yan: You don’t have to worry about these. No matter what happens, I’ll always protect you.

Secret Drawing

Vikja Capital

MC: We can experience making sand art… Xia Yan, how about we try?

Xia Yan: Alright, I’ll listen to you. Right, what do you want to draw?

MC: I’ll draw stuff like plants and animals… what about you?

Xia Yan: About this… let me keep it a secret for now.

MC: So mysterious? Could it be some shocking masterpiece?

Xia Yan: You’ll know after I finish drawing it – it’ll definitely give you a shock. Look forward to it.

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #xia yan #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿 #夏彦 #he's the sweetest #tot translation

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1102

survey by joybucket

What color are your eyes? They are dark brown. They’re actually really more of black because of how dark they are, but that sounds creepy so let’s just go with really really dark brown.

What's your favorite type of milk? I don’t take a lot of milk and am not familiar with most of them.

What's your passion? What a deep, introspective question three questions into this survey lmao. My interests are always changing so I don’t really give much thought into this. I don’t let myself be bound to just one thing.

What's your favorite color? I really like the way baby pink looks on everything.

Are you shy? Sure, but I’m trying to break out of that shell. Based from hundreds of past experiences, being shy is the easiest way to be forgettable and I’m tired of people never remembering my name or anything about me.

What is/was your favorite school subject? History. Anything about it I will surely enjoy.

Do you celebrate Christmas? Yes.

What's your favorite quote? I don’t keep track of quotes.

What is your natural hair color? It’s black.

Do you like it? There’s nothing to complain about. I’d love to have it dyed just to try out something new with my look, because it’s been black and untouched for 23 years; I guess it’s just a matter of when I’ll push through with it.

Are you happy with the way you look? I wish some aspects were different, like my hair to be less frizzy, my front teeth to be straight, my eyesight to be clearer, etc. But it’s also whatever; I don’t really focus on these things too much as I’ve never been the type of person to concentrate on my physical looks.

What would you change about your appearance if you could? ^ Well, those things I listed. Also, to have boobs?? Puberty never did anything for me in that department.

What would you change about your bedroom if you could? I’d move the bed up against the wall because that’s always been more my vibe. If I had the energy, I’d buy a storage container and place all Gab-related stuff in there so I can finally hide away those things (but not entirely throw them out). I would also fix my closet, all three sections of it. I’d also love to get a homey and soothing night lamp and be able to regularly buy scented candles to de-stress at the end of the day. In other news, my room has remained stale for so long and needs a revamp HAHAHA.

Are you rich or poor? I’d say we are in the middle, but our financial situation throughout Covid has been making me increasingly worry.

Are you double jointed? Nope.

What's the most physically painful thing you've ever experienced? The time I ripped my ear piercing, and my foot infection from snorkeling. Also getting my blood drawn, but that’s only because I’m a big baby when it comes to sharp things.

Do you like shots? See above.

Are you afraid of spiders? Our spiders are never too large or look menacing where I live, so not really. I’m aware of how big they can get in other places though so I totally understand the widespread hatred for spiders lol.

Have you ever had an allergic reaction to something? Not sure if it’s an allergy, but my legs quickly get irritated if they’re exposed in a grassy area for too long. My face also doesn’t seem to appreciate face masks, (the skincare kind), but I’m not sure if that’s an allergic reaction or if face masks are meant to do that.

Name a food that you like that's green. Green curry, or broccoli.

Do you like to read? Yes. More of non-fiction, though. I haven’t read a fiction book since I wasssss probably in middle school or early high school.

Do you know what your purpose in life is? No. I don’t stress out over stuff like this lol, I just make sure I’m happy where I am and at the same time, still feel fulfilled with the things I’m doing.

Are you lonely? I can be, but I guess it’s just meant to happen sometimes.

What's something you are good at? Reading people. Sometimes to my benefit, sometimes otherwise.

What's a color that looks great on you? Olive green and maroon are my favorite shades.

What's something you would like to improve at? Being creative. My work requires a lot of it and I end up being a shitty teammate whenever we have to do brainstorming, because I literally just stay to the side, unable to think of anything.

Do you believe you have great potential? Yes.

What's one word to describe you? Right now? Tired.

Are you spiritual? Nope.

What's one thing that you get a lot of compliments on? My writing.

What's one hidden talent that you have? I dunno if it counts as a talent but I memorize a great deal of songs from Jay-Z and Kanye’s Watch the Throne album, which has always been a fun ‘talent’ to whip out and surprise friends with when we’re partying at a club/bar and a song from the album is suddenly played.

What are three girls' names that you really like? I love Olivia, Mia, and Harper. I’ve probably listed those names a thousand times on these surveys by now.

What are three boys' names that you really like? I like Liam, Mason, and Lucas.

What is the most beautiful scenery you have ever beheld? The prettiest place I’ve been to was probably Palawan.

What is your favorite pizza topping? Just cheese is fine with me. If that doesn’t count, bell peppers come second. I can definitely live without the other usual toppings like pepperoni, beef, etc.

Name a food that you like that's red. I said green curry in the green foods question, and I’ll answer red curry here, haha.

Are you color blind? Nope.

Have you ever had a crush? Yes.

Can you type fast? I can and I do on a daily basis.

What's your favorite type of cereal? Erm, I’ve never tried them before but I’m drawn to cereals that are rather sweet lol, like Reese’s Puffs or Hershey’s Kisses cereal line. The thing is, they’re classified as one of the luxury imported brands over here so their prices are very unreasonable for a box of cereal, and I never get to have them as a result. Otherwise I don’t enjoy cereal too much.

What is one of your dreams? I would love to have a family.

What are your top three favorite colors? Baby pink, white, and mustard yellow.

What is your favorite book? I don’t have one.

What is your favorite amusement park ride? Ones that would provide enough thrill but won’t make me pass out, like the octopus.

What are three middle names you wouldn't mind having? Idk, I’m fine with my second name. I actually really like the name Isabelle and at one point I unsuccessfully tried to make it my main name, back when I still hated Robyn.

Are you flexible? Not really anymore. I used to be, kind of.

Do you consider yourself religious? Not at all. I haven’t been in around five years. I’ve been atheist since I was in the 4th grade, then I had this very sudden (but very brief) change of heart back in senior year when I started praying a lot. I went back to atheism as soon as I started university.

Are you bold? I can be, but it’s not one of my principal traits.

Are you spontaneous? It’s nice to be every once in a while, but I’m not always.

Do you have a significant other? No.

What's your pet peeve? Lateness.

How tall are you? Just a little over 5 feet, which does not classify me as tall at all.

What's your sexual orientation? Demi. I’ve also been increasingly self-identifying as asexual, so let’s go with that too.

Can you sing? Nope.

Can you dance? Nope, but I still do it when I’m alone.

Can you draw? No.

Do you play an instrument? I mean, just the recorder, but I don’t know if that counts.

What school subject do you hate the most? Chemistry. I struggled with it both in high school and in college. I hated physics and geometry too, but at least I got better at them as I got older. Chemistry is just far too complicated for me to appreciate.

What's your least favorite color? Most shades of yellow and neon green.

Do you eat healthy? I wouldn’t say I exclusively eat healthily, but I do keep a good balance in the food I consume. I enjoy my junk food as much as I like eating vegetables.

Do you think you look better with short or long hair? I’d say short.

What's a color that doesn't look good on you? White.

Are you passionate? Sure.

Are you doing the most you can with your life? Right now, with the world falling apart around me? I definitely try to. I have a great job, I spoil myself and try out new things for myself every now and then, I’ve pulled myself out from the rut I used to be in a few months ago, etc. I guess I can say I like where I am.

Are you proud of yourself for the way you are living? See above.

Do you love yourself? I've started taking a couple of steps down that path.

Do you have regrets? Sure.

Do you have wishes and dreams? Of course.

Do you have a huge secret you are keeping from the world? I suppose so.

Do you have neat handwriting? Yeah, I get quite a lot of compliments on my penmanship in general. I liked practicing my writing as soon as I learned how to properly hold a pencil, so I guess all those times served as good training.

Name a current favorite song. I dunno but Hayley is set to release a new album by tomorrow so a couple of songs from there will most definitely end up being a favorite.

List a song lyric that you like. “Can you live with what you know about yourself when you're all alone, behind closed doors?”

Are you happy? I think so. I’m definitely not as sad as I used to be.

Are you a generally optimistic person? I try to be, but I allow myself to be negative or realistic sometimes.

Have you ever had something horrible happen to you? Between deaths in the family, depression and other mental health issues, and personal life events that were less than nice, absolutely.

Have you ever been abused? Sure.

Have you ever been harassed and/or bullied? I was bullied as a kid because of my name, and as a result it was difficult to make friends for years. I’ve never been harassed though.

Do you love nature? Yes, I love being around nature when I get the chance.

Are you free-spirited? I wouldn’t consider myself that. I like being on the careful side when it comes to many things.

Are you carefree? Not really.

Would you say you are an overcomer? Yup.

Are you a good friend? I hope I am.

Do you like animals? Love them, except insects.

Do you meditate? No. I actually tried yoga for the first time yesterday because that’s what my workout app had planned for me, but I quickly learned that I am way too impatient for it, lmao. The whole session was meant to be I think 30 minutes? but I quit by like the 14-minute mark and did another program. Idk, I guess it’s just not for me.

Do you pray? No.

What month were you born in? April.

What's your favorite season? We don’t have the usual four seasons but I’m gonna go ahead and say winter because it’s what appeals to me most.

What's one place you've been to that you want to visit again? I want to keep coming back to Sagada.

What's one place you want to go that you've never visited before? Thailand.

What's your favorite type of tree? I don’t have one.

Are you laid-back? I tend to be uptight most of the time, actually.

Are you hard on yourself? Yes.

How's your self-esteem? It’s been getting better, but sometimes I still can’t help but feel insecure.

What medical conditions do you/have you had? Scoliosis.

What are you allergic to? I have had itchy, irritable reactions to face masks and grass before, but not sure if they’re allergies.

Do you like to try new things? For sure, as long as it’s not a crime or if it involves my fears lmfao. Like I would be willing to skydive or dye my hair a strange color, but I’d never scheme a burglary or jump in a tub of cockroaches.

What's one word to describe your style? Chic.

What's one word to describe your bedroom? Plain. I definitely need to mix it up so that it can feel more like who I am.

What's one thing you like about yourself? I like that I’ve always been able to surpass difficulties and come out a better person from them, instead of letting them consume me.

What's one thing you dislike about yourself? I need to stop blaming myself for things out of my control.

Are you competitive? To a fault.

Are you faithful? Sure.

Can you cook? Hell no.

What's your favorite restaurant? Ramen Nagi.

#survey #surveys #kinda basic-ish but not really which works out v well for me

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vampiregirl1797 · 5 years ago

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Hopeless: Chapter Twelve

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

Click Here For Masterlist

1492

The first thing I registered when I woke was the smell of burning. The smell of scorched flesh. Evangeline’s face flashed through my mind and forced my body off the couch before I even thought about standing. For five hundred years, since becoming a vampire, I had never had difficulty with something as simple as walking. But in that moment, my legs felt like led, unwilling to carry me over to the ashes that lay ten feet away from the entrance. I didn’t remember falling to my knees, I felt the tears falling from my eyes without permission, but the only thing I could focus on completely was the gaping hole in my chest. My heart head been ripped out—she had taken it with her—and left behind was an empty chasm that ached as a reminder of what I had lost.

My hands clenched unwittingly and I felt a small sting of metal in my palm. Opening my right hand I saw her daylight ring. She must have put it into my hand before she… left. I held it tighter for a moment before sliding it onto my little finger. It got stuck halfway down, but all that mattered was that it stayed there—it was one of the few reminders of her that I had left.

‘Niklaus? What has happened?’ Elijah’s voice broke through the haze I had fallen into, long enough to commandeer my gaze to him.

‘Evangeline—she is dead.’ My voice sounded hollow. Broken.

The elder Mikaelson’s brow furrowed in confusion and concern, but I didn’t acknowledge either emotion. My expression hardened, my jaw ground together in determination and I stood, allowing my anger at the entire situation to take over—falling back on anger was after all what I was best at. But before I could speak a word, Elijah’s hand landed on my shoulder, bringing me into his embrace. He hugged me firmly and with purpose.

‘I’m sorry brother. Truly.’ He murmured, and that was all it took for the tears to return.

Telling Elijah the truth hadn’t been a part of the plan. Mainly because I didn’t think he would approve of me compelling the doppelgänger. But as we took a carriage to our next destination—we had left with haste that Elijah hadn’t understood until I explained it to him—he listened, without expression or interruption. When I had finished, I hadn’t been able to meet his gaze. For the first time in a long time, I felt like a boy seeking approval from the only brother I had ever looked up to. Another aspect that had returned with my personality. I cared about what Elijah thought. I was worried that he wouldn’t approve. And while his lack of support wouldn’t stop me, it had the potential to hurt me.

‘Brother, I made a promise to you a long time ago, that I would stand by you always and forever. That promise was made before you became a man I didn’t recognise as my brother, and yet I continued to uphold it because a shadow of the man that used to be my comrade, I believed, to be better than no brother at all.’ Elijah paused, his gaze had been focused on the passing scenery, but now it returned to me, ‘the entrance of Evangeline in our lives was sudden, and while I myself didn’t get to know her incredibly well, I did notice how she bought out something in you that I had believed to be decimated—your humanity.’

My fingers found the ring on my little finger and began twisting it gently. If my heart were still beating, it would have been pounding in that moment.

‘In a matter of weeks, she saw and accepted the darkest parts of you. She helped you recognise that you needn’t be ashamed of your werewolf lineage, something you have been disconcerted about since we learned of our mother’s dalliances with a werewolf and forced a part of you into dormancy.’ A small smile played on his lips as he once again grasped my shoulder, ‘and now here you sit, choosing to be truthful with me, despite your obvious fear that I will not approve and aid you.’

‘Will you assist me, brother?’ I murmured, keeping my voice low.

‘Will I help you hide that you’ve broken your curse? Will I leave Katarina believing she evaded you? I finally have back the brother I remember from all those years ago, and I’m not going to let the reason for that be jeopardised.’ Elijah’s hand lifted to slap my shoulder once before he held it out to me, smiling at the surprise and appreciation on my face, ‘always and forever brother.’

Our hands met and clasped together, bringing us closer as we patted each other’s backs.

‘Always and forever.’ I murmured, pulling back and offering Elijah a genuine smile, ‘thank you, brother.’

He didn’t verbally respond, but he didn’t need to. He had said all he needed to reassure me of his loyalty, of our vow. So we fell back into comfortable silence as Evangeline’s face invaded my mind.

1919, New Orleans

It had been my idea. To lure him here, to the town we’d built, the town we had prepared for war. I had first thought of it when we’d managed to establish a treaty between the species. With witches, werewolves and vampires willing to work together, we had ourselves quite the army. Something Mikael couldn’t be prepared for. Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken a lot to convince Elijah, Rebekah and Kol that it was time that we fought and stopped running.

All of us wanted our lives back. Although my main priority was assuring that Mikael was gone before Evangeline was born. I had plenty of enemies already, mostly from before I had met the elder Gilbert—since she had left I’d been careful not to acquire anymore unless absolutely necessary—and I didn’t want Mikael to be alive when she eventually came back into my life.

Elijah was the only one who wasn’t surprised with my newfound restraint, but that was because he was the only one who knew about her—we’d decided that keeping it to ourselves for the time being was for the best. Which led to us uniting to defeat our father. We lured him to New Orleans with a witch and a photograph of us at the grand opening of New Orleans’ Opera house. After that we prepared extensively. Everyone trained within their factions everyday, with an original being present within each to give an idea of what strength they would be facing. Everyone—human and supernatural—ingested vervain to avoid compulsion. A witch placed a boundary around the city limits that would immediately alert us to his arrival—she had to use a knife that had belonged to him that Rebekah had stolen when we were children, but we were assured it would work.

Of course, what none of us had anticipated was how close the preparations made us. Kol felt included in the family that Rebekah, Elijah and I had never intentionally meant to seclude him from. He seemed lighter—he no longer killed meaninglessly as he didn’t need to use high body counts to draw our attention. Rebekah found love with Marcellus and despite my lack of violence with her past few dalliances before him, she was nervous to tell me. I assured them both I was happy if they were happy—a reaction that had her beaming with delight and I hated that I’d ever reacted in a way that generated a different response. Elijah was happier, as anyone who knew him well would have been able to tell. His expression usually remained sombre, but occasionally a smile would appear when he saw the way we interacted without hate, deception or malice. But most of the time, his joy could be seen in his eyes—before they were often bleak as he observed his siblings regressing to an inhumane state—while now, his eyes often twinkled with mirth and uncontained contentedness.

All of us worked to maintain this new relationship. Kol confessed to trying to create a gold dagger to use against me—this was before we’d begun to mend our relationship—and as soon as we were on the right track, he handed over the diamond he’d intended to use. I’d embraced him and offered my gratitude to him for not going through with it, along with a promise to give up the daggers as soon as Mikael had been dealt with. All siblings had been shocked at that—but I’d seen how important the bond we had created was. I had seen the importance of family.

I managed to keep the secret of my broken curse hidden with a repression spell that a witch had placed on a ring for me. It meant that when I wore it, I appeared as a vampire, and I rarely removed it because it was vital that no one knew. As much as I wanted to tell them, I refrained because telling them about it would mean explaining why it needed to be a secret, and I’d rather do that when Mikael was dead.

The night we had come together to destroy our father, we reaffirmed our pact of always and forever in the Mikaelson compound. It hadn’t been easy—the wolves and vampires corralled him to the centre of the City. This was where the witches waited with an incapacitation spell that held him long enough for me to drive the White Oak stake he’d planned to use on me through his heart. While everyone cheered for his demise, my siblings and I watched him burn with uncontrollable relief.

‘It’s over, Nik.’ Bekah murmured, winding her hand around my waist while my arm fell over her shoulders.

Elijah placed a comforting hand on Kol’s shoulder and we all fell into silence, revelling in the freedom that was finally ours.

1947 Paris, France.

The first time I heard it was in the streets. It was a girl humming. I’d stopped, ignoring the people bumping into my back and violently swearing at me in French as I frantically glanced around, trying to locate where the sound was coming from.

‘What is it brother?’ Kol had asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

‘That song. Did you hear someone humming it?’ I said, still looking around, my hearing focused, but I couldn’t hear anything anymore.

‘I don’t hear anyone humming.’ Kol told me, his eyes clouding with the same look that overcame him whenever he realised I was remembering something about her—he and my siblings empathised with me as much as they could.

I appreciated their concern and their attempts to understand, but they couldn’t, at least not completely. The circumstances were incredibly specific and therefore, hard to comprehend entirely.

I sighed, defeated, and continued walking. Kol and I were in Paris to meet Marcel and Rebekah—they were celebrating their 28th wedding anniversary and they’d invited us over after they’d been here for a month. They wanted time to enjoy themselves without interruption before we made it a family vacation. Which was something we made a point to do a couple of times a year—since the defeat of Mikael we ran New Orleans, and sometimes we needed time to be a family without the pressures of running the city weighing us down. We had trusted second in commands, of course, and we could be contacted in the case of severe emergency. Elijah was set to arrive tomorrow—he wanted to assure that the newly turned vampires weren’t a problem. Logically he knew our second’s in command could handle it, but the elder Mikaelson was overly cautious.

‘Come on, brother, you mustn’t mope. You’ve lasted this long. What’s a few more decades?’ Kol’s arm wound around my shoulders for a moment and squeezed before falling back to his side.

I offered him a tight smile, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest. The feeling was always there, of course, but when something reminded me of her and caught me off guard, the pain was much worse. Kol was right. What were a few more decades?

1990, Mystic Falls, Virginia

I had known that this was the year she would be born, but I hadn’t known what day exactly. My sources were told to keep an eye out for any children born with her name, and just as I was getting restless, just as my paranoid mind was telling me that something had gone wrong with the time travel, I got a call on October 15th. She was born at 5:27am, weighing 7lb 2oz. As much as I wanted to see her, to see the baby that would grow into the woman who would fall in love with me, and I her, I stopped myself. I couldn’t risk doing anything that would jeopardise her future, not when I’d lasted so long. So, after thanking my contact, I hung up my phone and went to my art room, painting a portrait of her whilst listening to the song I’d come to associate with her, when I’d properly heard it all those years ago, first from her lips, and then the voice of Édith Piaf.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Il me parle tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Et ça me fait quelque chose

When he takes me in his arms

He whispers to me

I see life in pink

He tell me love words

Everyday words

And it does something to me.

2011, New Orleans, Louisiana.

‘Niklaus.’ Elijah’s urgent voice commandeered my attention away from the book I was reading.

‘What is it?’ I asked, lazily closing my book and trying not to let my concern show.

‘It’s time.’

Those two words had me standing from my seat without conscious thought. I knew we were getting close, of course I did, but I’d had to force myself to stop obsessing decades ago, in order to maintain some semblance of sanity.

‘The contacts on her have witnessed the loss of her locket and the new daylight ring she has had to acquire.’ He said, his eyes reflecting his happiness for me.

‘I—I’ I stuttered, suddenly at a loss for words, and a loss for what to do.

Of course I wanted to go to her—I’d been waiting for this moment for six centuries, but I also wanted Evangeline to want to come to me. I didn’t want to just show up in her life and make her feel like she didn’t have an escape, a freedom to choose her own path. I believed that she loved me then, I knew she did, but I owed it to her to give her time to decide if she wanted me in her life now.

Slowly, I sat back down, my head bowed and my hands running through my hair as I came to terms with my decision. I was going to give her some time, but could I do that with the issues that were occurring in Mystic Falls in that moment? The biggest one was Katherine. While Evangeline would have returned to the date she originally disappeared, the time line would have stretched out a little. Originally at this point, Stefan and I would be hunting werewolves, I would believe her sister to be dead, and her aunt would have died for my ritual. However, as I hadn’t arrived in town yet, Katherine was still lurking and planting seeds of fear about the big bad Klaus Mikaelson who wanted to break his curse. I didn’t want to remove the compulsion encase Katherine tried to kill Evangeline as revenge, and I didn’t want to kill Katherine both due to the suspicions it would raise and because I was certain Elijah still had some semblance of feelings for her. I would just have to wait; no harm should come to them, as they believed me to be the impending danger. The only one who would know that wasn’t true was Evangeline.

I’d waited all this time, what was a little more?

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #Klaus Mikaelson x OC #the originals #the vampire diaries

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captainchrisfics · 5 years ago

Text

Why Not?

About: Loosely inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Wildest Dreams,” in which Chris Evans and the first-person pov narrator try to escape L.A. in search of some ocean air, planning to spend the night snuggling up on a secluded beach somewhere. At a crossroads in their lives, when there are so many choices regarding their careers and their future as a family, tensions rise as the couple suspects they may want different things after all.

Word Count: 5,855

Requested By: Anon! Thanks for giving me a chance to write this. I hope you don’t mind I changed the point of contention a bit from the original work, but I had this conflict somewhere in me instead and found that the song was a perfect foundation for it. Totally not an excuse to use one of these hot new beach gifs. x

“Let’s get out of this city,” Chris shouted suddenly, fast footsteps pounding down the hallway. Soon he was standing between me and the television with a hand on his hip as he dropped a packed duffle bag onto the coffee table with a clatter.

Chris looked tired, worn in a way only a day of stressful work with the press made him. His hair was messy, like his anxious fingers had been raking through it and tugging at the long strands with nothing else to let out the nervous energy. I knew he’d had a rough day by the way he stormed into our L.A. apartment late and locked himself in our bedroom since he didn’t want to talk about it, but this crisis was surprising even me.

“Oh?” I asked with a playful smile, liking this spontaneous outburst of his. Usually Chris was rather disciplined, strict with his schedule because he had to be. Thousands if not millions of other people’s dollars usually rode on it. But he did have the occasional break in routine, more often than not when the flashing bulbs of Tinseltown became a little too blinding.

“I want to drive out of here, out of the crowds you know? I mean,” Chris shook his head in exasperation before throwing his hands into the air. “It’s not normal, this place- God, this place isn’t normal. The grass is all AstroTurf and the water tastes weird. There aren’t even any stars in the sky!” He gestured wildly to the ceiling as he looked up. As if he was disappointed not to see the Milky Way swirling above our living room, his shoulders sagged as his arms fell back down and he looked at me dejectedly.

“That’s because they’re all in Malibu, babe,” I joked, earning a sarcastic laugh from my husband as he rolled his tired eyes. “Where do you want to go anyway?” I asked more seriously, genuinely entertaining the idea. I sat up from my lounging position on the couch to give him my full attention.

Chris smirked like the devil, sure he had me hooked. “The ocean,” he said and, before I could make a snide comment about how he’s able to see it from our backyard, he continued. “A beach without anybody else.”

I leaned back onto the couch, stretching my legs until my toes pressed against the other side’s arm. “Please, leave me and my DiCaprio movie at peace then.” I pointed to the screen behind him, where Rose was just about to ask Jack to draw her like one of his French girls.

Chris peeked over his shoulder before turning back to me, his upper lip curled underneath his beard’s mustache as he smiled. “Don’t be a smartass. You know you don’t count. Now come on,” he insisted, walking around the table in only a few of his long strides and extending his hand to me. I looked between his palm and his gaze, biting my lip before flicking the tv off and taking his in mine. Chris not only hoisted me off the couch but pulled me into his chest while peppering the top of my head with kisses.

“I’m not ready, though,” I said, wriggling out of his grip and holding my arms out as if he hadn’t seen me yet. I’d done rounds of auditions that day and I hadn’t bothered to change out of my nice dress, one with a floating fabric I saved for readings since my agent called it “age-appropriate,” let alone take off any of my makeup or unpin my hair. It was so exhausting, trying to keep up with Hollywood’s standard of idealized young women as I aged out of many roles, that I just collapsed on the couch when I came home. It seemed the longer I sat in the waiting rooms, the younger, prettier the girls who joined me on the couches were. The more roles I was rejected for.

My protest didn’t dampen Chris’s grin, I don’t think anything could’ve rained on his parade. “I packed your things. The tent is still in your trunk. Dodger’s got tons of sitters I can text on the way. And you don’t have a good enough reason as to why we can’t drive until this godforsaken place is nothing more than a twinkle in the rear-view mirror,” he said without his eye-pinching smile ever wavering once. Chris must’ve recognized the hesitation in my eyes as he gave it a last-ditch effort with, “We won’t be able to just pick up and leave for the weekend forever.”

I squeezed his hand a little harder, a meager but earnest smile creeping onto my face. “Guess you’re right,” I admitted, trying to feign absent-mindedness. I pressed a quick kiss to his lips, leaving behind a ghost of the cherry red color I wore on mine. Then I crept around him toward the front door. I grabbed the keys to my convertible, which housed our camping supplies from our last we-can’t-survive-in-this-city-for-another-second trip. Now that I thought about it, they were becoming more often than not. “Race you!” I shouted as I tried to push that thought and its implications out of my mind. Instead, I took off running out the door as Chris’s shouts about foul play and heavy footsteps trailed behind me.

The drive, however, offered too much time to think. Over the quiet hum of the engine and Chris’s low voice whispering along to the oldies on the radio as I drove, the wind whistling filling my ears as I sped down the curving roads carved into the side of the coast, I was left with little more than my own thoughts and Chris’s fingers tapping along to Elton John’s beat on my thigh. I realized this was the third weekend in a row Chris and I needed some sort of escape. Even before this last month, we jetted off to the Cape even though it was freezing or hopped in the car to drive until the lung-coating smog turned to salty ocean air or climbed mountains so high we could barely see the skyscrapers below. I was suffocating. I never thought I was trying to escape something until I realized how fast I was going, as if I desperately wanted nothing more than to put that city behind me.

Once we arrived at our usual spot, there were only a few hours of sunlight to prepare for the night. It was a small cove a bit of a hike from the beach’s parking, but it was private. The perfect place to set up camp without being bothered. Chris started propping up the tent while I got cracking on the portable grill and some hotdogs that would be inevitably undercooked for dinner. Neither of us minded too much, having become accustomed to worse food on our travels.

While we sat together in the tent, picking apart granola bars and waiting for the sun to start setting, I found myself playing with my wedding ring. Turning it around my finger, mulling over my thoughts. For better or for worse, we’d promised we’d be there for each other for as long as we could, but that was a hell of a lot different than asking him to give up this life he’d worked so hard to build. With a stiff resoluteness, I decided I couldn’t ask Chris to leave. I’d pick him and his happiness over and over and over again.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing a hand on my knee tentatively, like he was casting a line and praying I’d take the bait so he could reel me back into reality. “Look, the sky’s turning already. Why don’t we take a walk?” Chris prompted as he stood, tugging me along with him. I glanced out the tent’s entrance to see the sun was barely even grazing the water’s edge and the sky was still daylight blue, but I guess he thought a change in scenery might ease the creases in between my furrowed brow and at the corners of my frowning mouth.

We didn’t get far, only to where the last of the waves spluttered into foamy white bubbles along the sand as the water dragged away. It was cold between my toes and the whipping wind didn’t help, but Chris pulled me into his side to block some of the breeze. He was always hot, with skin like a radiator that was warm to the touch. I fit against his shirtless chest so perfectly since Chris was so much taller, curling up to his side like a cat hiding under the heater. He tugged the elastic out of my hair with a goofy smile, claiming he liked watching it whip around in the wind, but I managed to subdue the strands by tucking them behind my ears.

“Nothing lasts forever, you know. The way you’re feeling, it’ll pass,” I said quietly, partly hoping he wouldn’t hear me over the crashing waves and seagull squaks. I wasn’t sure if it was more for Chris’s sake or mine, but it felt like a rationalization even as the words left me lips. Of course Chris would get over these weekend-long sprints away, he just wanted a small break from the hectic celebrity life. I couldn’t blame him for craving an escape from all the paparazzi cameras, wanting for once to be able to leave the house in pajamas without worrying about getting recognized and looking your worst. It was all for work he loved, though. Ultimately that would overcome his frustration and, when it didn’t, we’d be here.

But I knew, deep down, I needed to hear those words out loud just as badly, even if they were coming from me. My yearning to leave the L.A. lifestyle behind, to find something that fulfilled me in the same way acting used to before it became little more than an age-shame game. To ask Chris to pack a few suitcases a lot bigger than his duffel bag and join me. It would pass, it had to.

Unaware of the tornado my thought-spirals were sucking me into, Chris’s arm fell from my shoulder as his hand reached for mine. “I want us to,” he said with a firm purpose. “Last forever, I mean.” He played with my fingers, running the tips of his over the length of mine before finally intertwining them.

I paused, too busy with my mind to adjust to Chris’s calm declaration of familiar love. “What a relief,” I laughed through the unease in my shaky breath, wagging my diamond-clad ring finger in his face.

We hadn’t been married for long. The ink was barely dry on our license, even calling each other husband and wife still felt a little funny on the tongue, but it meant our promises were still fresh. We’d known each other forever though, having lived in the same complex when we first moved to the city fresh out of high school, and we dated for years before he put this ring on my finger. If I had any insecurities when it came to our relationship, he would’ve known about them a long time ago, but Chris still looked past my hand, right into my eyes and through to my soul with nothing more than one eyebrow hanging slightly lower than the other.

“Are you having any, uh, doubts?” My eyes snapped to Chris, the worry lacing his voice as fresh as the preemptive hurt. He avoided my stare, instead watching the seashell he kicked back into the ocean. “About us?” Chris added like an afterthought, as if I could’ve thought he meant anything else with the dejected way he tore his hand from mine to shove it deep into his pocket.

“Why would you say that?” I spit out the words like poison. I didn’t realize I stomped my foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum until I felt the water’s splash. It was the very last thing to cross my mind, even amidst thinking about our drastically different wants right now, so it must be on his.

“Only because you said it like that,” Chris defended indignantly, crossing strong arms over his chest. He shot me one hard look, steely eyes looking ablaze with the setting sky’s reflection, before reverting his gaze back to the ground. “And you’ve been... I don’t know. You’ve been distant,” he concluded, rushing the words out of his mouth while he still had the courage to confront me. Chris shrugged, trying to pass himself off as blasé about it, but I could tell by the way he clenched his jaw tight that he was trying to bottle it up.

“Baby, the only thing I want is for us to be happy,” I asserted, choosing my words carefully. It was the truth, evident enough in my voice to quell any of his suspicions. More than I wanted to get away from L.A. and all of its pressures, I wanted to be with Chris. “Old and grey,” I continued with a wistful smile, “holding hands in creaky rocking chairs on a wrap-around porch somewhere in Massachusetts wouldn’t hurt either.”

It was quiet while Chris thought it over. Too quiet, in fact. I imagined it’s what it felt like to be on the other side of the moon, the dark one where there wasn’t any sound and anyone who could hear you if there was any was hundreds of thousands of miles away. So I stretched to reach a hand to his shoulder, only for Chris to shrug me off as he sucked a breath in between his gritted teeth.

Chris started walking along the foamy wet line drawn by crashing waves as they pulled out to meet the rest of the sea. I stood there, watching him walk away, feeling utterly useless. As I debated whether or not to follow the indents his feet left in the sand, Chris peeked over his shoulder. Seeing me still planted where he left me, he jerked his head forward, encouraging me to chase after him. We walked silently, the only sounds being rolling water, the squishiness of our feet hitting wet sand, and seagulls chirping overhead. After a moment, I couldn’t stand it.

“I just...” I released a defeated sigh, sputtering like a deflating balloon as I tried to find the words to explain myself. “I want you to remember this, though. You know how work’s been. Chris, I want you to remember me like this... not the way Hollywood makes me feel,” I divulged, hands wringing in the fabric of my billowing dress just searching for something to hold onto.

“Darling,” he said, admonished. Chris turned to face me, placing one firm hand on each of my shoulders as he dipped to be at my eye-level, imploring me to believe him. “That’s what this is about? You do know I’ll still love you even when you’re not. I mean, I can’t wait to grow old with you. Comparing our crow’s feet and arguing over whose hair is grayer.”

I met his eyes, their sincerity coupled with my desperate need to believe him, made me feel enveloped in his love. I cracked a smile, feeling awfully silly for even questioning it in the first place, as I joked, “Oh, I can already guarantee it’ll be mine with all the stress you and your antics put me through.”

Chris smiled too, although his was crooked and haphazard in a lazy sort of way, lips upturning with tired relief. “Just wait until it’s me and three or four mini Evans’s running around. We’ll be in for it then,” he said, eyebrows raising as he begged me to believe him, a smug smirk playing on his rosy lips.

Chris turned back to the ocean, tugging me to his chest with a new comfort. I thought I could last for a little longer in L.A. if it meant I still got to be held like this, his mountainy musk nearly drowning out the salty smell of the water. “Three or four?” I asked incredulously, wrapping my arms around his waist. Of course I thought about having kids with him before, but never that many. Although now that he said it...

He bumped my hip with his. “Mhm...” Chris hummed as he laid his chin on top of my head. He didn’t take his eyes off the horizon, where the sun was sinking below the water and turning the sky a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors as warm as the feeling in my chest, as he said, “A conservative guess, if you ask me. In rapid succession, too.” Chris laughed hard, but I had a feeling he was only partly joking. Suddenly, he sobered up. “I’m looking forward to starting a family with you, darling.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you won’t be the only one I’m calling baby for much longer. Enjoy it while you can,” I teased with wriggling eyebrows, leaning impossible deeper into his shoulder and slipping a hand in the back pocket of Chris’s jeans.

“You know what I’m really going to enjoy right now?” Chris asked, a rascal’s grin growing from ear to ear. Before I could even ask, one of his arms hooked around my knees while the other supported my back as he lifted me close to his chest. Carrying me bridal-style despite my squirming and shrieking giggles, he darted further into the cold water until he decided to drop me. Even submerged, I could hear Chris cackling. When I broke the water’s surface, I pushed down on his doubled-over shoulders suddenly with all the force I could muster, sending Chris tumbling head-first into the sea.

He stood up quickly, shaking his head like a wet dog before pushing his hair back and wading toward me. “So that’s how we’re playing this, huh?” he said in a low voice, looking at me in a way that made me feel all too much like he was a lion stalking its prey. Looking around for a way out, I realized I was the exposed gazelle. When Chris lunged, he missed, but I was drenched by his splash anyway.

Soon we left the water, not wanting to be caught with anything lurking under the surface at dusk. Somehow, even in the dim moonlight, Chris’s wet torso managed to twinkle and I was tempted to make my very own constellations out of the water dripping down the curve of his back. I hung back, watching as he pushed the long dark strands of hair matted from the ocean out of his face, the silhouette of his flexing bicep and the rippling muscles of his back driving me mad.

By the time I reached the tent, Chris had already traded his soaked shorts for checkered pajama bottoms. I turned to face the wall, as to avoid Chris’s wandering eyes and the inevitable, burning blush they’d ignite in my cheeks. I don’t know why, the clingy fabric of my wet dress left little to the imagination and my body wasn’t anything he’d have to dream up in the first place, but I tried to maintain an inkling of modesty as I kneeled so my head wouldn’t hit the ceiling, slowly peeling the dress away until I was left in nothing more than my underwear.

It was dark, with just the faint glow of a lantern filling the tent with an orange hue and exaggerated shadows. I saw Chris’s hand reaching for me, spindly shadow fingers projected onto the wall in front of me before he made contact, his warm palm pressing into the curve of my hip as he held me.

Chris’s chest melded with my back as he moved closer, our hearts pounding hard enough we could feel each other’s being somehow in sync. Our bent legs rested between one another, bringing us as near to each other as we could be. He gathered my hair in one hand, moving it all out of his way as he rested his scratchy beard on my shoulder’s bare skin, nuzzling into the crook of my neck. He placed gentle kisses along the exposed skin, trailing up my collarbone. I reached around, tangling my hand into the long hair at the nape of his neck as I urged him to continue. My neck craned, trying to give him more surface area to suck on while I released breathy, fluttering gasps that elicited a deep moan from the very bottom of his throat.

Chris reached my ear, nibbling on the sensitive skin. Instinctively, my head moved toward his until our noses were brushing. Every breath was borrowed. “It’s not good for you to stay in wet clothes, you know,” he growled instead of kissing me as I anticipated. Instead, he went back to marking me neck, always such a tease. His hand on my hip reached across my stomach, dragging his fingernails across my cold skin until he held me, pressing my impossibly closer toward his torso. His fingers didn’t make themselves at home, choosing instead to travel up the other side of my torso’s curve until he reached my chest. Over my wet bra, Chris kneaded my breast, already tender from the cold. His warmth was a welcome contrast.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold, darling.” Chris’s lips left my neck suddenly, leaving me feeling a rush of the night’s frigid air in the wake of his absence. My hand fell to his chest, the back of it landing just over his heart as my fingers curled with anticipation. I felt him pressing against the back of my thigh, hard through the thin fabric of his pants. It continued to fall until I found the hem of his pants. My fingers hooked below the flannel, beginning to tug it down the subtle curve of Chris’s hip. Then his teeth grazed my shoulder as he gripped my bra’s strap, tugging until it slipped. My breath hitched in my throat as his hand traveled up my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and I froze.

He started to unclasp my bra as my lips, trembling like there was an earthquake, spit out a word I wasn’t even anticipating. “Stop,” I whispered earnestly before I even registered that I’d thought the word. My hand dropped to my bare thigh, tightening into a fist with frustration at myself.

If Chris wasn’t so attentive, he may have mistaken it for a lustful sigh. But in a second, with no questions asked, he untangled himself from my body and sat back on his heels so there was a foot or so of space between us. It wasn’t much, but considering the size of our small tent, it was all the room I could have to breathe.

I sighed, snapping my bra strap back into place with my thumb. “I just-“ I tried to say, only for my voice to betray me and break. “Damnit, I’m really sorry.” I buried my face in my hands, too afraid of the hurt Chris’s eyes would inevitably hold.

“No, no, darling,” his measured voice reassured me, just barely above a whisper. His hands wrapped loosely around my wrists, tugging me out of my hiding spot. Despite my trepidation, Chris’s whole being only held concern. Between his low shoulders and soft eyes, all he had was repentance. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling-“

“Don’t you start saying sorry then either, Evans,” I responded with a sudden insistent flare. “It wasn’t anything you did. God, it never is.” I reached for Chris’s hands, where they sat wringing in his lap, and enveloped them in my own. “I-I don’t know... I’ve just got too much on my mind to enjoy this... To enjoy how great you make me feel, baby,” I disclosed, looking at him longingly through my eyelashes. In all honesty, I did want to make the most of our alone-time together. To make Chris feel that bliss he came here craving, to allow him to return the favor, but I couldn’t pull myself out of my own head enough.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. No worries there, Evans,” he responded with a giddy grin, still not used to calling me by his last name. He tucked some of my hair behind my ear so I couldn’t hide my blush. It was infectious, coupled with his kind words, I couldn’t stop from breaking out into a smile myself. “Why don’t we go look for some shooting stars then? I think NASA tweeted something about Jupiter and Saturn lining up with the moon this week.” Chris stood as tall as he could, though it wasn’t much more than a painful-looking crouch. He extended a hand to me, a peace offering I accepted with open arms. Or, rather, by taking his hand and allowing him to lead me back toward the sand.

“Oh, babe,” I giggled, a mischievous smirk of my own making its home on my lips. I stumbled a little, having difficulty finding my footing in the sand when I could hardly see in front of my face. “You know I love it when you talk nerdy to me.” Chris laughed while shook his head at the sky as he searched it, deciding this spot was nice until he thought the view would be better another couple side-steps to the left.

Finally he dropped, making a quiet thud against the sand as he dragged me down with him by our joined hands. Chris intertwined our fingers before nodding with satisfaction and laying down. He stretched his other arm, resting his head on his bicep as he jutted his chin out to the spot next to him.

As I snuggled into the soft sand, Chris pointed up to the sky with a lazily extended finger. “You see the Big Dipper?” he asked, a childlike amazement evident in his voice. I said I did, although I was too busy being overwhelmed by all the other dazzling lights twinkling in the sky as well. Feeling awfully small and insignificant in an inexplicably liberating sort of way. I curled up close to Chris, trying to catch every bit of his body heat I could.

“It’s actually called Ursa Major, Latin for the Great Bear,” he continued. Instead of staring at the sky, I turned to Chris. I watched his blue eyes light up, although I wasn’t sure if it was the moon’s bright reflection or a burning passion inside of him. “The Greeks had a story for it, tons of them actually. But I like the version where this nymph named Callisto swore a vow of celibacy to Artemis, although Zeus had a bit of a thing for her,” Chris turned to me with wagging eyebrows.

“They end up having this son…” he trailed off, turning back to the sky as his face tightened with concentration. “Sorry, I can’t remember his name now. Anyway, Zeus’s wife, Hera, gets super pissed and turns the poor nymph into a bear. She spends years like that until, one day, her son happens to find her.” Chris squeezed my hand, his eyes flickering between watching me in their corners to staring at the constellation again. “It’s not the happiest family reunion though. He’s a hunter now so, without knowing the bear he’s afraid might attack him is really his mom, he goes to kill her.”

Chris pulled our laced-together hands to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to my knuckles as he tried to prolong my suspense. “Zeus takes pity on them, but if you ask me, he was trying to make up for being the dick that got them in this situation. Ease a guilty conscience, if gods even have those,” he paused to scoff. “He ends up carrying Callisto and her son to the heavens and turns them both into constellations so they couldn’t be hurt anymore,” Chris finished, his voice growing quieter until he reached the end, barely above a whisper.

“Is the moral supposed to be that kids ruin everything?” I said sorely, offering a bitter laugh to try to pass it off as a joke, but Chris could tell my heart wasn’t in it. In fact, I’d been thinking the opposite all night. A lot longer than that, actually, now that I think about it. Too nervous to see the confirmation I suspected may be in his eyes, I kept mine glued to the sky. Feeling an awful lot of the vulnerability I imagined Callisto may have, if only in a fraction.

“Nope,” he said, popping the word on his lips. “I just think it’s comforting to know that we won’t be able to fuck up that badly. I mean, as far as I know, neither of us are deities so, unless you’ve got some secret jealous ex with that potion from Brave, we’ll be alright parents. Sure, we’ve got crazy lives, but I don’t think we’ll suddenly wake up tomorrow with all the answers, so I don’t see why we’re still waiting.” His voice was as level and laid-back as if he was talking about the weather, not actually starting a family someday soon.

My neck nearly snapped with its velocity when I turned to Chris, flabbergasted in every sense of the word. Of course I knew he wanted kids, I don’t think there’s a person that’s ever watched a minute of a Chris Evans interview who didn’t. But we were always too busy working. Too focused on each other. Too far from a good school district. Too not-living-the-lives-we-want-to-lately.

“That is what you’ve been thinking about, right? Kids?” Chris asked, his whole face contorting with confusion, screwing up as he thought he did. “I figured, you’ve been worrying about getting older a lot lately. Plus, it seems like you’re tired of the whole L.A. lifestyle, lord knows I am, and like you’re ready to do something else career-wise. So I thought… I don’t know. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if-” he rambled, trying to put words to his thoughts in an attempt to make me understand them as well.

“Chris,” I said. It came out more sternly than I intended. “What do you want?”

He flipped over to his side so we were facing each other completely now. “Well, of course, I want you to be happy-”

“No, Chris. What do you want?” I repeated, unrelenting. Our eyes bore into each other, playing the world’s worst staring game with a poignant intensity. Chris’s eyes narrowed, his thick lashes nearly brushing his cheeks, until he lost.

“Honestly?” he said, liberating a heavy sigh from his lungs. I turned on my side to face him completely, curling up against his ribs which nearly rattled with every one of his stalling, shaky breaths. “I want kids,” Chris admitted in a breath. “If you aren’t ready yet, if I misunderstood whatever you’ve been going through lately, I’m really sorry, but I’m ready to settle down a little more. Move out of the city, find a nice home in some suburb with a yard for Dodge and a few empty bedrooms to fill.” Chris spoke with longing for a life we weren’t quite living, not dissimilar to the one that’d been plaguing my thoughts ever since I figured out the words for it. Although he was hesitant at first, once he started rolling, Chris couldn’t help confessing this residential life he’d planned down to the picket fence.

“Do you- Chris, don’t fuck with me like this. Do you really mean that?” I asked, utterly unable to hide my desperation. More than anything, I wanted that picket fenced front yard and a dozen little feet pitter-pattering down the hall. All I needed was for Chris to want it, too.

“Absolutely,” he said with confidence and a slow nod to boot. “I mean, we’re both tired of L.A. anyway, right? We aren’t getting any younger. I figure, why not, you know? I’d rather raise our kids where they can see the stars and walk down the street without getting papped. What do you think?” Chris inquired, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. He’d gone out on a limb, hoping I’d be there to catch him when he fell.

I couldn’t stop the tears brimming in my eyes at just the thought of packing school lunches. Shutting the fridge, littered with finger-paintings of our family and tacky magnets we’d collect on every vacation, before handing a bag to each little kid. Kissing the tops of their heads as they rushed out the door, ready to board the big yellow school bus waiting out front.

“If that’s not what you want, that’s okay,” Chris rushed. His eyebrows dipped, heavy with concern that tugged down on the corners of his lips as well. “Really, it’s okay. No pressure. Please don’t cry about it.” Chris reached an arm around me, pulling me close to his chest to comfort me until my quiet cries erupted into laughter. “Wait, wh-what?” he stuttered.

“You meatball,” I teased, trying to catch my breath. “God, you don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting to hear you say that. Would it be wild if I told you I think that’s exactly what I want, too?” I laughed again, relishing in every bit of the relief.

“Not at all, darling,” Chris reassured me quickly. “I think it sounds like a dream, waking up with one arm around you and our baby snuggled in the other.” His eyes turned glossy, like he was remembering something that hadn’t even happened yet.

“In that case,” I said with a smirk that grew into a devilish grin. I placed my palm on Chris’s chest and pushed him back, flat against the sand, as I rolled over to straddle his waist. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as an incredulous laugh left his rosy lips. I flipped my hair to one side, biting my bottom lip with an excited suspense, as I looked down at Chris, balancing myself with a hand on his stomach. I swear I could feel his diaphragm halt as he forgot to breathe. “Why don’t we get started?”

Chris’s hands found their place on either side of my hips. His eyes watched his finger as it slipped under my underwear’s waistband, tracing the horizontal line dangerously low on my skin. As his gaze rose slowly, trying to soak up every last drop of this moment. “Are you proposing we make a baby right here, right now?” Chris asked when his eyes met mine, a soft smile carving crow’s feet next to his blue eyes.

“Well, in your very own words,” I purred, laying my chest to his so our faces were only inches from each other. I ran my fingers through his dark hair, trying to engrave the way he was looking at me now into my memory, as if I was the moon and the stars and the whole, entire sky. His grip tightened on my hips with anticipation as I leaned in to press a longing kiss to his lips, only a tease of what was to come. “Why not?”

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kikizoshi · 4 years ago

Text

Gogol Dialogue w/ Turgenev then Dostoyevsky

Gogol stared suicidally down at a blank page.

He didn't bother brushing off the itchy black flakes accumulated in his hair from the quill nib's scratching, nor did he concern himself with the fact that he was, as was he every evening, due in the dining room in about… negative five minutes, so indicated the glowing clock. His only care, rather, was the fact that, in the four hours he sat staring at the page, not a single image in his mind seemed to want to grace its empty canvas.

Unlike many who tried this craft, he wasn’t want for stories. He imagined a Tsar enjoying a heroine, embracing her and singing her praises as she slid a knife from her thigh into his back. He remembered two young men talking in a plain drawing-room, sparsely furnished--especially compared to the men, one of whom’s shiny black suit hugged his frame in place of the woman long-since gone; the other who quite resembled a gentlemanly peacockish clown, with frilly lace and a quilt of vibrant patterns--yet the atmosphere remained homey and comfortable nonetheless. He saw through his mind’s eye these stories as clearly as the neon numbers before him, but he couldn’t find /written/ words to express them.

If Gogol wanted to orate the story to someone, to make a grand spectacle of it, the words would flow endlessly. He could go on for hours about the most inane of matters, and men would hang on his every word. However, those magical, honeyed phrases he just never seemed to be capable of forcing through his quill.

And so tonight, exactly as every night for the past three months, a restrained knock came upon his door, and Gogol sighed.

“Come in,” he said as he resignedly set the quill down. “I was practically finished anyway.”

“Ah, good,” the man's voice came muffled from behind the door, which he opened thereafter. The relatively average-sized man--an Ability user by the name of Turgenev--held quite the appearance of the black-suited man previously described, though I’m afraid Gogol neglected to mention the quite striking scarlet hair. “Dinner’s ready," he continued, "I know you probably don’t feel like eating, but you should at least come out of your…” he looked around, blatantly fraternally concerned about the, frankly speaking, hovel of a room his friend managed to subsist in, “nest.”

Gogol chuckled and stood, cracking his back at an alarming volume. He waved for his friend to leave, and went about the room, picking up the black-and-white vest he discarded as too confining hours ago and grabbing his cape from the hat rack. While he went on reassembling his outfit, Turgenev spoke once more.

“You didn't get up once?”

“Mm, yes, so it seems,” Gogol said, agitated, after a moment. “I’ve taken your advice to ‘try and write something’, but nothing comes to mind! It’s not even art block… I just have nothing I want to tell the page.”

Turgenev sighed. “You don’t /have/ to write, it was just a suggestion. Now, frankly, I wish I’d said trapeze instead and avoided this whole ennui.” He held the door as Gogol moved to exit. Gogol shuffled out.

“Seriously,” he continued as they entered the hall, “at first I thought some rest would do you good, but now it’s clear that being cooped up for days at a time is draining the little sanity you have left. What am I supposed to do when you get jobs that have you killing again? Watch your slow descent into madness from the sidelines like some half-rate circus hand watching the clown set the tent ablaze?”

Gogol forced a laugh, “Well, why not? All of your work--which has always been excellent, at least as long as I’ve known you--has been shrouded. Where’s the harm in a change of scenery?”

“I said seriously.” Turgenev sighed. “Be serious.”

“Hmm, well, seriously,” Gogol considered, turning into the dining room and taking his seat across from his friend, “Seriously, then, isn’t madness the point? After all, my namesake wouldn’t /be/ my namesake without his madness! And what am I, if not, his namesake-ee?”

“Ha,” Turgenev said, “Hilarious, I’m dying. Have you considered stand-up?”

“Eh? No, I’m writing stories right now.”

“Comedians can tell stories. I know, become a trapeze comedian.”

Gogol huffed merrily, “Well, why don’t you?”

“/I/ don’t-”

“Excuse me,” the butler of the house, Gregor, interrupted, “I wasn’t instructed to account for the palate of Gogol, so I need to have your order now.”

“Hm, well Gogol,” Gogol said with a conspiratorial wink, “probably wants--though I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him directly for confirmation, God knows where he may be--whatever’s leftover. I’ve heard he’s not picky! Although that could be just a rumour…”

“Very well,” Gregor said, unperturbed, and turned to Turgenev, “and for you? I’m afraid I wasn’t informed of your coming either, Sir.”

“Ah, no,” Turgenev said, “that’s because I won’t be eating here. There’s an assignment I’ve gotta do not long from now, but I wanted to see Kolya here first.”

“How gentlemanly,” Gogol gasped, starry gold eyes twinkling, “I’m almost jealous of your lover, Vanya! If this is the treatment she gets...”

Turgenev simply smiled. “And I,” he said, “am not in the least jealous of yours.” Gregor took the moment to slip away.

“How proper…” Gogol gazed at Turgenev, lost in bittersweet memories, “You never used to be so cordial, to imply I’d manage something as sophisticated as that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Turgenev scoffed. He flatly punched the side of Gogol’s arm in jest, “I’m still every bit of the strapping young chap you knew. Just… in a different skin.”

“Hmm…” Gogol donned a severely suspicious face, “But old Vanya wouldn’t have implied such! No, you must be Ivan Sergeyevich now… If not, then tell me: where’s the grin in your eyes?! The coil in your limbs?! The fire in your heart?!” All of a sudden, Gogol’s face fell into a deep melancholy, and he lay a single finger over the centre of Turgenev’s breast, “It’s bitter cold in here now, I can barely feel myself.”

Turgenev frowned. “It’s cold,” he said, “because fire without fuel always burns out eventually. There’s no if, and’s or but’s. Oh, but one but,” Turgenev rekindled some warmth into a smile, “you should still be able to feel yourself; the fire hasn’t gone completely. It’s just muted right now.”

“A muted fire…” Gogol thought aloud, retracting his hand, “How very… poetic.” He laughed, “Like your hair.”

“My hair?” Turgenev tugged at his short red ponytail in confusion. “How is my hair poetic?”

“Exactly in the way that it exists!” Gogol exclaimed, “In this dull, drab, dreary, /monochrome/ colour scheme our boss seems so fond of, not one colour stands out when you’re away! Not Sigma’s grey-and-darker-grey hair, not our boss’ white-and-black suits, and /especially/ not either of my own! The only slight argument you could possibly make is for the Recluse’s eyes, and their purple is so muted they might as well skip the middle man already and turn black. No, only yours,” Gogol concluded, “is a colour that inspires.”

“Well, I disagree,” Turgenev said, smiling, “For you at least. You’re not wrong about the Recluse, definitely, but you have some colour in your eyes. Yes--they’re pale. But they’re very expressive, even when they’re trying not to be. They have a liquid shine, so maybe they’re the gasoline that keeps the red flame burning.”

Gogol clutched his chest dramatically, “My, how sincere! If I were a woman, no kings or horses could ever restore me after how far I must’ve fallen!”

Turgenev’s face lit up, and he laughed, “So, in other words, the women in my life are eggs? Give me a hundred years and I’ll never crack what on /earth/ that’s supposed to represent!” He cackled and nearly fell over. Gogol grinned along.

It wasn’t just Turgenev’s face that lit up when he laughed, Gogol thought, but his entire being. His shoulders relaxed from their usual stiffness, the rigidity melted away and the true man--the ‘Vanya’, as Gogol loved to refer to it--shone through with a blinding passion.

Every time Gogol saw it, it was as though the gamma was suddenly switched from near-debilitating dark to enlightening technicolour. Alas, the times nowadays that such an occurrence happened were few and far between. And unfortunately, Turgenev took the time in Gogol’s silence to check his watch.

“It seems my stay is up,” he rose, “or was up way too long ago. But eat when Gregor comes. He went through the trouble of getting it ready, so don’t be an ass.”

Gogol nodded and waved as Turgenev hurried off, smile taking time to fade from his face. He sighed. Along with Turgenev’s departures, Gogol’s happy interludes vanished just as soon as they appeared.

‘It’s just as well,’ he thought, ‘happiness isn’t something that’s meant for me, and Vanya’s too nice to be corrupted by me for long. Plus, I shouldn’t get carried away. He’s wrong about my eyes… If anything, mine are like Fyodor’s--no, worse, because mine aren’t weathered by compassion. Maybe an empathy, but I have no compassion to keep some sort of innocence in my eyes like he. If Fyodor’s eyes are the dead twigs left in the ashes of the fireplace, mine are the cracked stone, with no hope of ignition. But we’re both dead.’ Gogol sighed at his conclusion. ‘Lone Vanya, then, has the only touch of colour, the only spark of happiness in this God-forsaken world of ours. I suppose I should thank Him that happiness isn’t my goal.’

“...Are you going to eat?” A voice, soft but not hesitant, crept past his thoughts.

Gogol forced the mask of his smile into place and turned to look at Fyodor. “Yes! Yes, I’m just waiting…” As he spoke, he noticed the distinct smell of seasoned tomato. Quite strong was it, in fact, so strong that it surprised him, and he looked down to see an innocent bowl of tomato soup staring politely up at him.

“Gregor brought it while you were disassociating,” Fyodor supplied.

“Hm…” Gogol contemplated for a moment, mask still firmly in place, and continued, “Hm, well, I suppose…” But he, so lost in a state of confusion, couldn’t figure out how to continue. The boy seemed to take pity on him, and sat gently next to him with a bowl of his own.

“Turgenev sent me to you,” he went on, “to ensure that you would eat. So you will eat?...”

“Yes,” Gogol said, a spark of amusement in his eye as he replied. “I will eat.” He noticed, looking at Fyodor’s eyes, that his former thoughts were eerily close to the mark, though perhaps Fyodor was more like he than initially suspected. The simmering mania and deep morbidity felt sickly familiar.

“Good,” Fyodor replied. He left it at that and stirred his soup quietly. He must have known, Gogol realised in that instance, what Gogol and Turgenev thought of him--that they called him the Recluse. He was smart, even if young, and so Gogol couldn’t help wondering why Fyodor would waste time on them. On a whim, he inquired thus.

“Why?” Fyodor paused, then smiled benevolently, “‘As you do to the least of these, so you do unto me.‘” Gogol raised an eyebrow.

“You fancy yourself our saviour, then?” Fyodor merely sipped his soup carefully in lieu of a reply. Despite the care, he winced as the tomato seared his lips, and set his bowl down. After a moment, he appeared to deem it worthy of a second attempt, and brought the bowl’s lip to his own gingerly. He blew softly this time on a tilted portion before sipping slowly, and, as evinced in Fyodor’s lack of reaction, he managed to consume the cooled viscous liquid harmlessly. For reasons unknown, the boy’s actions struck Gogol as odd.

“Well, if that’s the case, then surely you’ve a plan for our salvation,” He prompted as Fyodor set his bowl down once more, “Care to share?”

“A plan…” Fyodor considered for a time, “For you two, no, not yet. Is it necessary?”

“‘Is it necessary?’” repeated Gogol, as though he couldn’t believe the words were uttered, “Of course it is! How can you save someone without the slightest clue of how you’re to go about it? Your enemy--no matter how metaphysical--isn’t going to just sit there and wait patiently for you to come up with plans. If you start a performance haphazardly, if the bar gets tossed just a second too late without the safety net of a plan, the trapezist comes crashing down and all the show is ruined.”

“Much to my fortune, the trapezist is more than capable of catching himself and his fellow performer.”

“No, not like that,” Gogol said. “That’s my point. If I’m a trapezist, then I can’t perform with a cape--it’d ruin everything preemptively! And so I couldn’t catch anyone. It’s up to the choreographer to ensure that the performers have a set route more ingrained than their own morals. If a saviour can’t ensure the safety of his save-ees, then he’s no better than an incompetent stage director.”

Fyodor frowned and drank more of his soup. After all that remained in the bowl was a splotchy red residue, and he had nothing else to occupy his thin mouth with, he sighed and rested his chin on his palm. The angle couldn’t have been comfortable, Gogol mused. Fyodor’s wrist bent at a right angle and his sharp chin dug into the delicate skin of his hand, where Gogol could already see the blood gathering under the surface. Gogol’s own hand ached in sympathy.

“Safety of what?” Fyodor asked after another moment. “If the matter is of the physical, then you’re correct. However, if it’s the soul, then so long as a person devoutly follow their God, their spirit shall be forever saved.”

“And eviscerated over time,” Gogol continued for him, “as what’s first assumed as a benign happenstance crushes self-expression and crumbles autonomy. Metaphor or not, we’re talking about performers, and performers can’t perform if they can’t hold a simple form.”

“...Eat your soup, please.” Gogol sighed, but acquiesced.

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fanficshiddles · 5 years ago

Text

His ray of sunshine, Chapter 14

Keira woke up the following morning feeling extremely satisfied. But she was still tired, even though the sun was peeking through the curtains she just snuggled up under the duvet with a content sigh.

Not long after she felt the bed shift as Tom got up. She opened one eye to take a peek, he was stood at the side of the bed, stretching upwards. So graceful like a cat. She was admiring his muscles while he stretched up.

He turned and smiled when he saw she was awake. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Go back to sleep, little one. I’m just going out for a jog, I won’t be long.’ He purred.

Keira nodded and stretched out in the bed, making the most of having it to herself. Though she had to admit, she had become used to sharing a bed with Tom scarily quick.

When Tom returned, Keira had fallen asleep again. He had a quick shower then returned to the bedroom and carefully sat down on the edge of it. He admired her for a moment, she was so peaceful while she slept. The duvet was low around her waist, her long hair was spread out down her back as she was lying on her front, hugging the pillow under her chest.

He couldn’t resist reaching out and brushing her hair to the side, revealing her bare back. He lightly trailed his fingers down her spine, then back up again. Goosebumps broke out on her skin and she arched her back under his touch.

She turned her head to the side to look at him, he smiled and stroked up to the back of her neck. ‘Good morning, my little omega.’ He purred.

‘Morning.’ She said shyly, her cheeks going red.

Tom smiled and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. Keira knew if she was a cat, she would be purring.

‘I’m going to go make breakfast. Come join me when you’re ready.’ Tom leaned down and kissed her forehead, making her smile grow even larger.

With a quick glance at her over his shoulder, Tom exited the bedroom and went to make breakfast.

Keira rolled out of bed with a groan, it was far too comfy. She grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom for a quick shower before then joining Tom for something to eat.

They ate breakfast on the sofa, once finished Tom patted his lap. ‘I want to speak to you about something.’ He said softly.

Keira looked concerned as Tom took her on his lap.

He smiled at her softly. ‘Don’t look so worried.’ He chuckled and rubbed her back. ‘I just wanted to apologise for last night.’ He said sheepishly.

‘Apologise? Why?’ Keira frowned, really confused.

She tried to think back, to what he could be apologising for. But she couldn’t think of anything. Had he hurt her? Nope. Had he said anything to upset her? Nope. She had no idea what he was on about.

‘I got a bit carried away last night, when I was going down on you.’ He said, his tone slightly lower at the mere memory of it. Hearing her moans and whimpers, the way she squirmed and wriggled in pleasure. But mainly, her taste. God, her taste. He couldn’t get enough of her, the thought was making his mouth water.

‘I can’t get enough of you, you’re like a drug.’ He purred, his arm sliding around her waist and squeezing her. ‘I hope I didn’t scare you, or hurt you.’

Keira blushed like crazy. ‘Not at all.’ She said quickly. ‘I… I really enjoyed it, actually. It was intense, but in a good kinda way.’ She said shyly, suddenly becoming very interested in the buttons on his shirt.

Tom gathered her hand in his and brought it up so he could kiss her knuckles. ‘I didn’t go too far?’

She shook her head, looking into his eyes for a moment.

‘Well, I am very glad to hear that. I feel that I went into some crazed animal kind of mode. Unable to stop myself. It wasn’t until after when you fell asleep and I calmed myself down, that I realised I’d forced you into multiple orgasms and hadn’t even asked if you wanted to continue. Your squirming to get away, I didn’t heed to that and kept you there.’

‘It was just because of the intensity. I wanted it to stop, but at the same time I never wanted it stop… If that even makes sense.’ She laughed shyly.

‘It does make perfect sense, love.’ Tom smiled.

Keira looked at Tom and smiled back. She trailed her fingers along his face, under his eyes and down his cheeks. She felt warmed that he was worried about that, something that she never even gave a second thought to. Aside from how amazing it had been.

Tom closed his eyes and enjoyed her soft touch, just feeling all over his face. When he opened his eyes again, he felt his heart racing at the look of adoring on her face for him.

‘I tend to get overly dominant sometimes. I know that Alphas are naturally dominant, but I may get too dominant sometimes. And if I do ever get too intense for you, you have to let me know. Ok?’ Tom said seriously, holding her chin as he looked into her eyes for an answer.

‘I… Ok… But I… I really like it when you’re dominant. It… excites me.’ She stuttered out, blushing even more if that was possible.

‘Oh really?’ Tom growled playfully and circled his arms around her, holding her tightly.

She nodded and hid her face into his neck, making him chuckle.

‘As long as you’re always honest with me. Tell me when something is making you scared or uncomfortable, whether sexual wise or otherwise.’ Tom said while rubbing her back.

‘I will.’ She said, muffled into his neck.

The following day Tom, Luke, Jeremy and Idris had to go out for some business to attend to. Michael stayed back to keep an eye on the place and the omegas. Tom never liked to risk leaving them unattended in-case of any attacks.

Keira was happily drawing outside, she was never going to tire of the scenery, that was for sure.

‘How’s my niece doing today?’ Michael asked, joining her on the grass.

‘I’m good. How are you?’ Keira smiled brightly at him.

‘I’m good too. How are things going with Tom? Are you settling in well?’

‘Really well. I’m so happy that you took me here, I can’t thank you enough.’ She smiled at her Uncle.

‘I’m glad to hear it. Your parents keep phoning me, your mother especially wants to come and visit. Would you like them to?’

‘Oh… I’ve not thought about it. Would they be allowed?’ Keira asked.

‘We can check with Tom. But I don’t see it being a problem. We are allowed visitors from other packs, as long as they’re monitored, of course.’ Michael said.

Keira nodded. ‘Sounds good. It is odd not seeing them. But at the same time, being here feels so natural. Is that weird?’

‘Not at all. You know this is where you’re supposed to be. This is your home.’ Michael smiled softly.

‘How long have you known Tom for?’ She asked, curious as to how they met.

‘We have been best friends since we were three. We lived on the same street when we were kids, and we went to the same school. Secondary school included.’ Michael grinned.

‘Really? Wow. So have you known Jessica for a long time too?’

‘I met Jessica once, when she first moved in with Tom and his family. But I never saw much of her, as I’m sure you know, omegas and Alphas aren’t really allowed to mingle at that age. I didn’t see her again until I was twenty-four. When she and Tom had moved into a new home a few streets away. And, well… it was love at first sight.’ He smiled fondly.

‘That’s so cute.’ Keira grinned.

‘It was. The three of us then moved out here to start our own pack. Tom was already incredibly strong, had a lot of work going. I trained myself even harder too, so we got quite the reputation. Then the rest followed.’

‘When did my dad leave home? I know he’s older than you. But did he know Tom, too?’

‘He was obviously ahead of me in school by five years. He didn’t want to be seen with his annoying little brother and his dweeby little friends.’ Michael chuckled. ‘I believe he was around fifteen when he moved out of the family home. He didn’t exactly get along with your Granddad. Granddad was, for his age, really open-minded about the world. About how Alphas and omegas should be, similar to my own views. But your father, not so much. I believe he spent too much time with the wrong crowd in school, tried to hang out with the cool Alphas. But they were just nasty. And very often, Tom and I, among a few others, were always at the brunt of their pranking and ridiculing.’ Michael sighed.

‘Oh no. Really?’ Keira frowned, not really liking this story about her dad.

‘Unfortunately so. It was different for me, because he’s my brother. But he was particularly mean towards Tom. Especially after what happened with Tom’s brother. I hate to say it, but he was rather vile. To be honest, when I told your dad that it was Tom who wanted you, I was surprised that your dad agreed to it. Then again, he does know how well-known Tom is now. Our packs power.’

‘That sucks. I didn’t think dad would be like that.’ Keira sighed and looked down.

‘He’s a changed man now, nothing like he used to be. Don’t sweat over it.’ Michael assured her and nudged her with his elbow playfully.

‘I guess. Are you sure it would still be a good idea having my parents come to visit, though?’

‘We will see what Tom says.’

‘Will you ask him?’ Keira fluttered her eyelashes at Michael.

Michael raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not scared of him, are you?’

‘No... I just don’t want to be the one responsible for getting him in a bad mood if he isn’t keen on the idea.’ She grinned and hopped up to her feet, leaving Michael on the grass chuckling and shaking his head.

‘She knows him too well already.’ He said to himself.

‘Do they have to come here?’ Tom grumbled to Michael that evening. ‘Can’t you take her back for a day trip instead?’

‘They want to come and visit, to see where their daughter is staying. Can’t blame them as such, they care for her. I was the same with Amelia when she went to her new pack.’ Michael said, munching on some crisps.

They were all down by the lake that evening, as usual. Michael managed to get Tom for a quiet word to ask about Keira’s parents.

Tom sighed and ran his hand down his face. ‘Fine. You organise it. And you better be here when they visit, I don’t want to be playing host.’ He growled low.

‘Nice one.’ Michael grinned and patted Tom on the shoulder.

#Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #his ray of sunshine #omegaverse #alpha Tom

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