#some of the best sketches in my sketchbook I swear

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

wc: 4346

cw: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

me: the remus brainrot is strong rn

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You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Prongs, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

[ur-local-wizard]

Eye of the Storm (Part 2)

Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.

Here's part 2!! Sorry it took so long. So many versions of this were written. Still not entirely happy with this one, but oh well. (Not much fluff in this one either, mainly angst. And obviously no smut either.)

characters are college age, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, whipped!mattheo, use of y/n, slight obsession, stalking implied(?), i think that's it

w/c: 658

masterlist part 1 part 3

a/n: shout out to my editor, A <3

Reader's POV:

Slamming the door behind yourself, you stumbled into your dorm – bag sliding off your shoulders and falling to the floor. Grabbing Mattheo’s notebook, you walked to your bed and laid down, staring at the pages in your hands. After a little contemplation, you decided to open it. 

You were greeted with a compilation of sketches. Things like nature scenes, ornate architecture, people, etc. Some of the drawings were of things you recognize, some of things you didn’t. But what really caught your attention is the same drawing from earlier.

Upon closer inspection, you realized that Theo was right. It really was your eye. But not how you’re used to seeing it in the mirror. He captured more emotion, more life than what you normally notice. It was breathtaking… and a little intimidating; solely because of the amount of time and effort he must have put into all this. 

As you flipped through the notebook, the drawings progressed from objects to anatomy. It seemed to all be of a girl – side profiles, views from behind her, different individual features. For example, there’s a drawing of a girl in a library, the viewer facing her back. She’s reaching for a book high on a shelf. Her tote bag caught your eye, it was full of what looked like books and stationary. On the front was an intricate design of a rose.

You looked up, and the exact tote bag is hanging on a coat rack by the door. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, and you snapped the book shut. “Why is Mattheo drawing me of all people? How is he getting all these details about me in the first place?” You ask yourself, staring at the sketchbook in front of you. 

You stand up and slip some shoes on, grabbing the book again as you hurry out of your dorm. Time to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this is.

Mattheo’s POV:

Mattheo laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind was spinning – all he could think about was her. Her annoying cheerfulness, the way her smile lights up her face. It was infuriating; the way she burrowed herself into his thoughts so effortlessly, despite his best efforts to ignore her. But he just couldn’t help falling for her – couldn’t resist the magnetic pull she had on him. And the worst part? He hasn't told anyone. 

Deciding he’s had enough of sulking, Mattheo sat up and walked to his desk. Sketching her always helps to clear his mind. As he opened his bag, reaching in for his sketchbook, he discovered it wasn’t there. Panicking, he flipped it over, dumping out its contents, and still the sketchbook was nowhere to be seen. Searching for it, he slammed open every drawer he could find. Desk drawers, dresser drawers, his sock drawer at the bottom of his wardrobe; nothing was left unturned. The boy even looked under his bed. 

Still, it was absolutely nowhere.

A knock sounded on his dorm door, and his head snapped up in response. Standing up, he slowly approached it. His heart pounded so fast he could swear he heard the blood rushing through his veins. 

All he could think was, “Where's my sketchbook? Who the hell is at my door? Fuck- I’m shaking.” 

He cast one last look at his ruined bedroom before opening the door with trembling hands. Standing in the hallway, eyes wide with fear, was Y/n. He ran a hand through his messy hair, suddenly self-conscious. “Why is she here? Is she okay? She looks terrified… Am I the one scaring her?” His thoughts were jumbled, and he stared at her with concern for a few moments before stepping aside, holding the door open. 

“Please, come in. Sorry, my room is a mess… I lost something,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft with her. He was afraid of scaring her more. But as she passed him, he saw his sketchbook in her hands. Shit.

Hope you liked it!! As always, tell me if you want to be added to the tag list, and ty to everyone for all the amazing support! You have no idea how amazing it feels <3

Taglist: @ilovejamespottersomuch @mattyriddlesbitch

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

[dixons-sunshine]

I Never Lived For The Applause | Daryl Dixon x Former!Celebrity!Fem!Reader

Summary: Before the world quite literally ended, you were a famously known singer. However, your celebrity status didn't do you much good in the apocalypse, despite most people in your group giving you privileges that you didn't want. Thankfully, a certain redneck archer treated you like a normal person, unwillingly becoming the guy who caught your attention.

Genre: Angst, fluff.

Era: The quarry; the farm; the prison.

Warnings: Swearing, usual TWD warnings, suggestive themes.

Word count: 3.9k.

A/n: Okay but the former!celebrity!reader x Daryl was such a unique idea that an anon requested! I never would've thought about that on my own. I thought that this idea would be great combined with a few other requests, and this was born. There's a few time jumps and this is honestly not the best. I scrapped over 1500 words and this is all over the place, and it was supposed to be smut, and I don't really like this, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Before the apocalypse came to be, you were a famous singer and songwriter. You had multiple hit singles that made the charts and your concerts always sold out. It seemed like wherever you would turn, there would be someone there who would want an autograph or a picture. It seemed like you could never escape the spotlight.

Not even now, when the dead started rising and the world came to an end.

“Amy, I told you, I'm fine. I don't want your food. You need it more than I do.”

Amy shook her head defiantly, practically shoving the paper plate into your hands. “I insist. You're my idol, and I'll be damned if I let my idol go hungry when I have food I can give her.”

You sighed and reluctantly accepted the plate. “This is unnecessary. I already had my share, sweetheart. You don't have to give me yours when you also have to eat.”

“I'm fine. Rather me than you.”

Before you could protest, Andrea called Amy's name. Amy gave you an apologetic smile and bid you farewell, walking over to her sister and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed and turned around, heading over to the tent you shared with your daughter. You opened the flap and stepped inside, seeing your twelve year old daughter, Nicolette, busy sketching in her sketchbook.

She looked up when she heard you step inside, sending you a smile. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Nic,” you greeted her, sitting down on your cot opposite hers. “Why aren't you outside with the other kids?”

Nicolette shook her head, closing her sketchbook and sitting up in her cot. “Most of them treat me funny. They keep asking me if I can sing or if I can write songs, and if I got free stuff because you were famous. Only Carl and Sophia treat me like I'm a normal kid, but they're with their mom's right now.”

You sighed, guilt gnawing at you from the inside. Never once did you regret having your daughter, but sometimes you regretted having to raise her while you were in the spotlight. The paparazzi were relentless, and your daughter more often than not had to pay the price for that. It was unfair, and you wished that you could've just faded from the spotlight to raise your daughter in peace.

“I'm sorry, baby. If I knew back then what my fame could do to you, I never would have signed on with that record label. I wish I could take it back.”

Nicolette shook her head. She got up from her cot and sat down next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her, placing a tender kiss on her head.

“It's not your fault, Mom. I don't blame you. You shouldn't, either.”

You shook your head. “That's easier said than done,” you replied, before adopting a more lighthearted tone. “But let's not talk about that. I've got some more food for you if you're hungry.”

Nicolette smiled at you and nodded eagerly. “I'm starving. Thanks, Mom.”

You smiled at her. However, before you could respond, a ruckus could be heard outside your tent. Both yours and your daughter's heads snapped in the direction of the two voices, instantly going quiet to hear what was happening.

“M'tellin ya, man. S'a fuckin' waste of time. We should jus' cut our losses here and scram. Take a few guns and food fer the road.”

“Merle, fer the last fuckin' time, we can't leave righ' now. It's too dangerous. We should wait 'til the heat dies down 'fore we go.”

“Wha' m'hearin' s'tha' yer a pussy. Wha's the matter, Darylina? Scared the geeks will get ya? 'Cause yer too incompetent to handle 'em?”

“Fuck off, Merle! It ain't like tha'. I jus' dun' wanna risk our lives if we dun' need to.”

“Whatever, man. M'goin' back to the tent.”

The man who's name you had learnt to be Merle left, his retreating footsteps growing fainter until you couldn't hear them anymore. However, you could clearly see the silhouette of the other man still outside your tent. You could hear him quietly muttering to himself.

Turning to Nicolette, you gently placed the plate with the food—cooked squirrel with some beans—onto her lap and stood up. You turned to her and leaned down to place a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“Eat up and get ready for bed. I'll be right back and then we'll continue reading that book.”

Nicolette nodded, and with that, you exited your tent. The man stood with his back to you, but a simple slight twitch of his head in your direction showed that he had heard you. His body stiffened visibly, and you frowned at that.

“Hey. You're Daryl, right?” you asked him, prompting the man to turn around.

However, he didn't meet your gaze, finding great interest in the ground below. He simply grunted his acknowledgement, a slight upwards nudge of his nose confirming your question.

“I'm Y/n. It's nice to officially meet you,” you introduced yourself, extending your hand to his for a handshake. Daryl made no move to shake it, however, making you awkwardly retract your hand. “I, uh, just wanted to say that you were right.”

“Wha'?” Daryl asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. He hadn't meant for the question to slip from his lips, trying to just remain quiet until you got the message that he was in no mood to socialise, but he failed.

“That argument you had with your brother. You were right. It's way too dangerous to wander off on your own right now. Personally I feel like you shouldn't be wanting to go at all because it's safer with a group, but that's not my call to make. Just thought I'd let you know that your instincts are right. Don't listen to your brother.”

Daryl was confused by your niceness. He was even more confused by the fact that you agreed with him. He was so used to women taking Merle's side instead of his all the time, so this was something entirely new for him.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he replied awkwardly, nervously chewing on his lower lip.

You smiled at him before nodding. “Okay, well, just wanted to tell you that. Oh, and to ask you not to argue in front of my tent again. I have a twelve year old in there who doesn't need to hear all of that.”

Daryl ducked his head, an embarrassed blush flushing over his face. “Sorry.”

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” you said with a smile. “And thanks for the squirrel. Thanks to you, my daughter doesn't have to go to bed hungry tonight. Never thought we'd have to resort to eating squirrel, but it's not that bad. It's actually kinda delicious. It's way better than—” Realising that you were busy rambling, you shook your head and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just, thank you.”

Daryl didn't know why, but he felt an unexplainable pull to you. Maybe it was the way you showed him kindness without even knowing him, or maybe it was the fact that you were the only one who seemed to actually appreciate the food he brought back from his hunts, even if it was squirrels. Despite their hunger, everyone else mostly refused to eat anything he brought back if it wasn't deer. Yet there you were, thanking him for bringing back something as mediocre as squirrel.

And it certainly didn't help that he found you absolutely radiant.

“S'nothin',” he finally responded. “M'jus' glad yer lil' girl can eat tonigh'.”

“You're the one who brought back the squirrels?”

At the sound of a small voice, both you and Daryl turned around to face your daughter. Nicolette walked up to your side and beamed brightly up at Daryl, catching him off guard. The other kids in the camp were terrified of him and wouldn't even glance in his direction, yet this kid was not only looking at him, but willingly talking to him.

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed, smiling fondly down at your daughter.

Nicolette looked up at Daryl, realisation dawning on her. “You're the man with the crossbow! And the vest with the angel wings! You're so cool, sir. Do you think I could maybe shoot your crossbow one time? It's okay if you say no, but can I maybe see how you shoot it so that when I get my own crossbow one day, I know how to use it? Or—”

Daryl's lips subconsciously twitched up into a smile. Her rambling was so similar to yours. Like mother, like daughter, he thought to himself as he looked between the two of you. There were over a dozen similarities between you and Nicolette. She looked just like you.

You placed a hand on Nicolette's shoulder, halting her rambling. You turned to Daryl, giving him a smile. “We should probably get ready for bed. Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Daryl!” Nicolette greeted him enthusiastically, following you into the tent.

“Night,” he whispered.

“Oh, and by the way, don't be a stranger. I'd love to see more of you.”

Daryl blushed and ducked his head. He hummed, not trusting his voice at that moment in time.

You smiled and finally entered the tent, zipping the tent closed behind you. He stood there for a couple of moments before turning and walking back to his own shared tent with Merle.

Daryl couldn't explain it, but for some reason, in that short conversation, he felt drawn to you. It was unnerving, but felt nice at the same time. And your daughter was downright an angel, your exact copy.

“Wha' were ya doin', sniffin' 'round tha' popstar?” Merle asked when Daryl entered the tent, catching him off guard. Daryl had assumed that Merle would've been passed out by now, high off of whatever drug he was using that night.

“Popstar? Wha' the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?” Daryl questioned, plopping himself down on his cot.

“Tha' woman ya were talkin' to, she was a singer 'fore all this. Real famous, too. Used to see her on TV and in magazine's all the time.”

Daryl's mind swarmed with questions. You were a famous singer? How the hell did you end up there, with a bunch of nobodies? And why had you thanked him for bringing back something as simple as a squirrel? If you were famous, you had probably eaten banquets of the richest, most delicious food out there, yet you enjoyed squirrel? And to top it off, why would you willingly want to hang out with him of all people?

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, oh my god.”

At the sound of your panicked voice, Daryl slowly sat upright in the bed in the guest bedroom. He looked up and locked eyes with you, seeing the worry written all over your face. You hurriedly sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and gingerly reached out to touch the bandage around his side, careful not to add too much pressure and hurt him.

“M'fine, sunshine. Dun' have to worry 'bout me,” he replied, waving off your concern and gently grabbing your hand to push it away from the bandage.

You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head. “You're my friend, Daryl. Of course I'm going to worry about you. I care about you, and you expect me to not worry?” you asked, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek.

Friend. That word reminded Daryl of how you viewed him. It had been two months since your first interaction at the quarry and his affection and attraction to you had only grown stronger. However, it seemed to him like his feelings weren't reciprocated, so he settled on being your friend.

Little did he know that you felt the exact same way. You just didn't know it yet.

“Heard ya punched Andrea fer shootin' me. Any truth to those rumours?” Daryl asked, diverting the attention away from his now pounding heart as your fingers gently pushed his hair back.

You smiled sheepishly. “My hand slipped?” you tried, shrugging your shoulders.

Daryl smirked slightly and shook his head. “Sure. Whatever ya say, sunshine.”

You let out a sigh, reluctantly drawing your hand back from his hair. “She had it coming. We told her not to shoot and she didn't listen, trying to boost her own ego instead. She almost killed you, Daryl. That's not something she should be allowed to get away with, but Rick and Shane aren't gonna do anything, so I took matters into my own hands.”

Daryl smiled softly. “Not bad fer a popstar.”

You giggled. “Hey, I got into a couple of fights before my career took off. I know my stuff. I know how to shoot a gun, too, but that's a discussion for another day.”

Daryl chuckled and nodded. He shifted back against the headboard and gazed at you, simply admiring your beauty for a moment. It amazed him that a beautiful, kind, caring, smart woman like you would ever wanna be associated with the likes of him. You were perfect and he was, well, him. It didn't make sense, but he dared not to question it.

“Can I ask ya somethin' personal?” he blurted out before he could think about it.

You nodded at him. “Sure.”

“When ya talk 'bout yer career, it sounds like ya hated it. Why'd ya become a singer if ya hated it so much?”

You remained silent for a minute. Daryl feared that he had asked the wrong thing and was about to apologise, but you spoke up.

“I was nineteen when I signed with my first record label. I didn't want to be in the spotlight because singing was more of a hobby to me, but my parents forced me to. Growing up, there wasn't ever really any money around and my parents made it out like it was my fault. They made me feel like I owed them for everything they did for me, and they forced me to sign with that record label. My parents were my managers and all the money I earned for the songs I wrote and sang basically went to them. That went on for a couple of years until I met Nic's father. He was a bass player in a band I was collaborating with. I fell in love way too quickly, jumped into bed with him when he made an advancement and ended up pregnant. The guy didn't want kids and bolted, leaving me a single mom. My parents hated that and basically disowned me.”

“M'sorry to hear tha',” Daryl replied sympathetically. He didn't really know how to respond; he never knew that about you. You chose to keep your life before you had Nicolette private, and he respected that. He had his own demons he preferred to keep quiet.

“It's okay,” you reassured him, shaking your head. “He was an asshole. And I was better off without my parents. I managed to sign with a decent enough record label and the rest was history. I got a ton of backlash from haters for being a single mom. There were even rumours that I had cheated and that's why the guy left me, but that wasn't true. But none of that matters anymore. My reputation doesn't matter anymore. All that matters now is keeping my daughter safe and keeping the people I care about alive. People like you.”

“Ya shouldn't care 'bout me. S'a bad idea.”

“Well, bad idea or not, I care about you. And so does Nic.”

As if being summoned, Nicolette knocked on the door and hesitantly stepped inside. Daryl adjusted the covers over his body and sent her a tight-lipped smile. Nicolette gave him a small smile back but he could clearly tell it was strained. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

“Are you okay?” Nicolette asked, crossing her arms over her chest as if to make herself appear smaller.

“M'fine, kiddo. Dun' worry 'bout me,” he reassured her. “Hershel fixed me righ' up. I'll be outta here in no time.”

Nicolette looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded. “He's right. He'll be fine. Some antibiotics and he'll be up and at it in three days. You'll see.”

“Okay,” she nodded, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “I'm glad you're not dead, Daryl.”

Daryl chuckled at the girls forwardness. “M'glad m'not dead, too.”

You smiled at the small interaction between Daryl and Nicolette, your heart swelling with fondness. You stood up from the bed and motioned for Nicolette to follow you.

“C'mon, baby. Let's leave Daryl to get some rest, okay?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could maybe stay?” she asked timidly, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It's just... I wanna stay.”

You looked at Daryl, and he shrugged nonchalantly. Despite his nonchalance, Daryl's heart swelled with fondness. This little girl, who owed him nothing, wanted to stay with him. He couldn't believe it.

“Okay, you can stay for a while. I'll be back later, okay?” you relented.

She nodded and sat down on the chair. You gave Daryl's hand one last squeeze before heading out, sparing one last look at the two. Nicolette was starting to retell some of the events of what her and Carl had gotten up to that day, and Daryl hummed in acknowledgement before looking up and locking eyes with you.

With one last parting smile, you headed out and made your way back to the tents. On your way there, a startling realisation hit you like a ton of bricks, one that would change the way you saw Daryl forever. Despite the fact that he could be snappy at times, and that he was known for being grumpy, he treated you with respect. He didn't care about who you were before the end of the world. He didn't care about your mistakes, about if you were famous or not. That didn't matter to him. He only saw you, the person behind the old tabloids, and he had become close with your daughter. He even took the time out of his day to teach her how to use his crossbow, even if she was a slow learner. And in that moment, you realised something:

You had feelings for him.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Y'know, m'glad Nic didn't have to meet her father. She's better off.”

You turned your head to Daryl, a look of confusion spreading across your features. “I agree with you, but why do you say that? You didn't know the man.”

Daryl shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from you. “Ya said back at Hershel's tha' he never wanted kids. If he had stuck 'round, god knows wha' he would've done to her.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, turning your attention back to the darkness ahead of you. “She is better off.”

The night was relatively quiet, save for the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the prison's fences.  Daryl was on watch that night in the guard tower, and you had taken the initiative to join the archer that night. Everyone else had retreated into the prison for the night, leaving only you and Daryl awake.

“So are we gon' tell Nic 'bout us or not?” Daryl broke the silence, taking the last drag from his cigarette before putting it out next to him. “S'been over a month now. She deserves to know.”

Unbidden, flashes of that night a month ago arose in your mind. The feeling of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body and the way he felt pressed against you. The feeling of your bodies becoming one was one that you wouldn't forget anytime soon, but the one memory you'd hold with you forever was the confession from the man next to you. After the heated, pleasurable moment you'd spent together, feelings were revealed, and you and the archer had unofficially started your relationship. You had both agreed to keep it a secret, but Nicolette was starting to get suspicious about the two of you.

“I'm okay with telling her tomorrow. She deserves to finally have confirmation on her suspicions,” you told him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She already sees you as her dad, anyways.”

Daryl couldn't argue with that. Flashes of his own arose in his mind. A couple of days ago, he had returned from a run, battered and bruised. He could barely walk and both you and Nicolette were distraught. However, after he was patched up and resting in his cell and you were up in the guard tower for your shift, Nicolette had come to him in tears. He had hugged her tightly to his chest, acutely aware that she was transported back to that day on the farm when he had been shot. That night was the night Nicolette had confirmed that she saw Daryl as a father figure.

“Please don't leave. My mom needs you. I need you. We both need you in our lives. Please, Daryl.”

In that moment, even though she didn't know yet that you and Daryl were together, he knew that he wouldn't be able to live without either of you. You both were his entire world. Nicolette was his little girl. You were his partner, and there was no way he was letting either of you go.

“Dun' worry, Nic. I ain't goin' nowhere. I promise ya tha'.”

Shaken from his thoughts by your lips on his exposed shoulder, he turned his head to you, coming face to face with a mischievous smirk. He instantly knew what that smirk meant, and he helped you climb onto his lap.

“But,” you began, pulling his attention back to your previous discussion. “Let's worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, it's just me and you.”

Daryl smirked and attached his lips to yours. You may have been a popstar before the apocalypse, a celebrity living in a mansion, but in that moment, you were simply you. The woman Daryl cared for deeply, the woman Daryl was never gonna let go of.

Because in that moment, you were nothing but his.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Me or him (part 3)

~part 1 & part 2

pairing: felix x afab!reader x hyunjin

genre: angst, smut

word count: 2.6k

warning/s: swearing, brief description of sex, cheating, lots of drama & angst in this chapter, brief description of a panic attack, toxic behaviour, lots of fighting

a/n: i was supposed to work on cult of love but i was in an angsty mood, so enjoy ig and please reblog if you like it🫶🏻 (also this is not the ending of this fic, there will be more)

~check out my: Masterlist ~part 4

Hyunjin knows that Felix has always been a touchy-feely guy. He knows it's the way his friend expresses love. And he's used to it.

But he couldn't help but notice the lingering touches between his girlfriend and his best friend. Even though all three of you are friends, it seemed that gradually, hugs between you and Felix were tighter and longer.

He told himself that he's just imagining things and that there is no way there would ever be anything like that happening between the two of you.

Not when you're smiling at him so beautifully, bathed in the afternoon sun, wearing your pretty dress as you share a picnic blanket.

Hyunjin's hands itch to take out his sketchbook and fill it with yet another sketch of you, the lines and curves etched into his mind so deep that he could draw you in his sleep.

But he longs more to feel you closer to him so while you bask in the beauty of the nature around you, he sneakily sits behind you, arms around your waist as he pulls you into his embrace.

You shriek in surprise, your back flush against his chest as he leans his chin on your shoulder.

"What are you doing?"- you chuckle.

"I wanna hold you a little while, before I start sketching you."- Hyunjin smiles, gently moving your hair to the other side.

You're about to answer something witty but Hyunjin's lips are pressed into your skin, right over your pulse that reveals your heart beating fast.

"Oh..."- is all that leaves your lips as your boyfriend kisses you gently and holds you tight.

Your eyes are closed and you tilt your head, enjoying the quiet and the warmth.

You're about to lose yourself when Hyunjin suddenly pulls away.

"Why'd you stop?"- you whine and he laughs cutely and annoyingly at your pouty face.

"We can continue this at home."- he smirks and kisses your cheek.

And you don't think about Felix.

Until you do. Until he somehow creeps into your mind while Hyunjin sketches you. And you wonder what he's doing right now and if he's thinking about you too.

And you also wonder why are you thinking about another man when all you need to be happy is right here with you, your sweet boyfriend Hyunjin who always tries his best and loves you more than you know?

-

You and Hyunjin stumble into your apartment, giddy with the good vibes you shared on your picnic date. You're laughing until you almost choke on your spit when you see Felix standing in your living room.

"Ugh... I let myself in. Hope y'all don't mind."

Right. He knows where the spare key is hidden.

"Lix! Oh my god, I haven't seen you in weeks!"- Hyunjin is quick to greet his friend and you feel like your legs are heavy. Like you've grown roots and you can't move from where you're standing.

"Yeah, sorry, I was working on some projects."- Felix says and looks at you, his arms opening up, silently beckoning you in a hug.

You move towards him automatically and pat him awkwardly. Hyunjin watches the whole interaction.

"Hi, y/n."- Felix smiles like nothing is wrong. "I brought brownies."- he adds, pointing to the kitchen.

"Oh we haven't had those in a long time. I missed them actually."- Hyujin says and almost skips to the kitchen. Little does he know you've had those brownies for breakfast more times than you can count.

You throw daggers at Felix with your eyes while Hyunjin is busy digging into the tupperware his friend brought.

Felix gives you a smug smile before it melts into his innocent one.

"I thought we could hang out today. I'm sorry I didn't call in advance. I just wanted to surprise you guys."- he says.

"Nonsense! You're always welcome here, Lix."- Hyunjin says. "Right, y/n?"

"Yeah, ofcourse."- you nod.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom."- Hyunjin gets up and leaves the kitchen.

You wait and listen for the bathroom door to click.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"- you whisper to Felix, fuming at his presence in your apartment.

"Me? Nothing. I'm here just to hang out with my friends. Is that not allowed?"- he smirks.

"What are you planning?"- you squint, your heart beating fast in anger, hands already starting to shake.

"Nothing. But, I must say. You look really pretty in that dress. How come you never wear dresses for me?"- Felix bites on his lip, giving you the elevator eyes.

"Why would I wear dresses for you?"- you say through gritted teeth.

"You're really hot when you're mad."- he whispers, reaching his hand to touch your face but you grab his wrist mid-air.

"Don't touch me."- you say angrily, and both of you step away from each other as you hear Hyunjin coming back.

Felix just smirks at you again.

And even though you tried to get out of it, make just the two of them hang out or somehow make Felix leave, you ended up sitting on the couch between them.

Hyunjin suggested a movie night, and Felix was ofcourse all for it and that's how you ended up practically cuddled between them.

Your brain is racing, heart beating out of your chest as Hyunjin leans his head on your shoulder and comments on the movie, completely unaware of Felix's wandering hand under the blanket.

You couldn't believe he was this bold. Hyunjin was not even an arm's length away from him and Felix somehow managed to sneak his hand on your thigh.

At first, you jumped a little and Hyunjin asked if you were alright and you made some poor excuse as Felix squeezed your plushy flesh.

You hated how it made you feel, how any touch by him, even if it was feather-like made your core throb. Felix knew exactly what he was doing.

So, you decided to excuse yourself and go to bed.

Hyunjin kept asking if you were alright and you kept answering that you were just tired.

-

You weren't tired, no far from that. You were turned on by Felix touching you while Hyunjin was right there. What the hell is wrong with you?, you think.

"Baby, you okay?"- Hyunjin peers into your room.

"Did Lix leave?"- you ask.

"He did."- Hyunjin says and comes in, closing the door behind him. "Are you mad at him or something?"- he cautiously asks, kneeling behind you as you lay wrapped up in your blanket.

"No... I just wanted us to have the day to ourselves."- you say.

"Aw baby, I'm all yours now, I promise."- Hyunjin leans over you, kissing your head. "You still tired or you wanna continue where we left off today?"- he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows and you chuckle at him as you turn to look at him.

"Remind me where we left off."- you tease and Hyunjin grips your blanket, slowly pulling it down and leaving you just in a shirt and panties.

He leans in and kisses your neck, his hands splayed on your hips as you spread your legs to make room for him.

You try hard to not think about anything or anyone else, as Hyunjin's gentle hands caress your skin, his lips hot against you, worshipping you with all he has.

You're still trying, when Hyunjin's deep inside you, touching spots no one else has, when he whispers praise and love into your ear. Your head is thrown back, eyes closed and you clench around him.

"Ah- Felix!"- lost in the pleasure, it slips out of your lips and you both freeze.

"What did you just say?"- Hyunjin stops his movement and your eyes snap open.

"What did I say?"- you hope he hasn't heard you. You hope you hadn't said it actually, maybe you just thought of it.

"Why the hell would you moan Felix's name?"- Hyunjin asks, slipping out of you, his face unreadable.

"I- I don't know, Hyun! It slipped out! We were hanging out with him earlier and-" -you scramble to sit up.

"Bullshit! We hung out with him a million times before and you've never moaned his name while were making love."- Hyunjin stands up, clearly mad.

"Hyunjin, it's not what you think-"

"And what is it I'm thinking y/n? Why don't you enlighten me?"

"I-"

"I can't do this right now."- Hyunjin shakes his head, picking some of his clothes up.

"Where are you going?"- you ask, eyes already welling up with tears.

"To clear my head, before I do shit I'll regret."- he says and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

You can't believe you just did that. You can't believe you moaned your lovers name right into your boyfriend's face.

Your heart starts racing as your stomach churns. Your breaths become laboured and your hands shake. You feel like you're slipping into a panicked state, unable to even see because of the tears blurring your vision.

Your hand reaches out for your phone and you shakily manage to go into your contacts and click on his name.

"F-Felix?"- your ears are buzzing.

"Y/n?"- he answers.

"Where a-are you?"- you barely choke out, a sob escaping your lips.

"I'm home. Where are you? What's wrong?!"- he sounds concerned.

"I... I made a mistake. Hyunjin left. Please. Please come see me. I think - I think I'm gonna have a panic attack."- you somehow manage to say.

"Fuck, okay I'll be right there. Just, just stay with me on the phone, okay? Just try and take deep breaths together with me, hm?"- you hear rustling, and him slamming the door of his apartment, you assume.

"Okay, I'll try."- you say, tears now freely streaming down your cheeks as you still sit in bed, clutching the blanket that is wrapped around your shaking body.

"I'll drive as fast as I can, okay?"- he says.

"Be safe."- you say, and Felix's hands grip the wheel harshly as he hits the gas.

"Sure."- he says. "Now, let's try and take those deep breaths in."

-

Felix arrives in less than twelve minutes, you hear his hurried footsteps running from the door to your room.

"Y/n?"- he calls out as he walks in and you look up at him, still in the same spot you were in when Hyunjin stormed out.

You can't really talk as you sob and hiccup and Felix rushes to your side, grabbing your shaking hands.

"What happened?"- he asks and you shake your head.

"It's okay, I'm here."- Felix sighs sadly, pulling you into his embrace, your hands grip his shirt and you bury your face into his chest and keep crying.

He's caressing your head, shushing you and whispering comforting words like he always does.

You manage to calm down a little after a few minutes.

"Can you tell me what happened now?"- Felix asks quietly, his hands coming up to wipe away your tears.

"I fucked up. I fucked up bad."

"What did you do?"- he asks, taking your hands in his once again.

"I- I accidentally said your name while Hyunjin and I were- you know-"

"Oh. Oh."- Felix looks stunned.

"He was so mad, Lix. Like he already knew something."

"What did he say?"

"He said he needs to clear his head before he does something he'll regret."- you say.

"Look, I'm not gonna lie and say I wouldn't be glad if the two of you broke up. But, I'm also your friend and I don't want you to be hurt."

"It's too late. I already hurt myself, it's all my fault."- you start crying again.

"Shh, I'm at fault too. You're not alone in this, y/n."- Felix says as he holds your face and leans in to kiss you and you let him.

You don't know why but you always let him. Your brain and your body find comfort in Felix, even though it's wrong. Even if he's using you in your fucked up state.

A voice inside you tells you he isn't just using you and that's probably why you can never push him away.

Not even when the bedroom doors open and you hear Hyunjin scoff.

Felix and you practically fly away from each other, startled by the sound.

"Hyunjin!"- you freak out as Felix stands up from the bed.

"I can't believe I was right. After everything, both of you put a knife in my back."- Hyunjin eyes the both of you, something distant and cold in his usually warm eyes.

"Hyunjin it's not-"

"Shut up, you cheating whore!"- he loses it suddenly.

"Don't talk to her like that!"- Felix intervenes.

"Or what? You gonna hit me after you fucked my girlfriend, huh best friend?"

Felix shuts his mouth, guilt finally catching up to him as a lump forms in his throat.

"How long have you two been going behind my back? Just answer me that."- Hyunjin breathes deeply, his ears and neck painted red in rage.

"A year or so."- you answer quietly.

"A year- Okay. Well. I'm done with the both of you. Don't even bother trying to explain or contact me. I'll send someone to pick my stuff up from here cause I don't ever wanna see your faces again. You two are disgusting and you deserve each other. Now you can enjoy together without me being in the way of your happiness."- Hyunjin spits and you can see tears forming in his eyes but he turns around quickly before either of you can react and he's gone.

Hyunjin is gone.

Rage bubbles up inside you, you're mad. You're mad at your poor decision making, at your weakness, you're mad at throwing away a good thing, you're mad at Felix but mostly at yourself.

Still, you take it out on him.

You get up and grab some of your clothes as Felix watches you getting dressed quickly.

"Are you happy now, Felix?"- you say angrily.

"Me? Oh, so now this is all my fault."- he throws his hands up angrily.

"It's not but you said you'd be happy if Hyunjin and I broke up. Are you happy now?"

"I didn't say that exactly. But, I'm also not exactly sad. I'm only worried about you."

"You don't get to worry about me."- you say, shaking with anger.

"W-what do you mean? What about us?"- his voice wavers.

"Us? There is no us, Felix. There never was and there never will be."

"Don't - don't say that. You don't mean that."- Felix looks pained. Your heart hurts because of everything. You can't take it. You can't look at him. Not right now.

"What, you thought I'd jump into your arms the moment Hyunjin steps out?"

"You don't have a problem jumping into my arms any time you feel like it."- Felix crosses his arms.

"What does that mean?"

"What I said. You call me. I always answer. You invite yourself to my apartment. I always let you in. You need a shoulder to cry on, you always lean on me. You need someone to fuck your sadness away, so I let you use me. Did you ever ask if I needed support? A shoulder to cry on? Did you ever ask how I feel?"- he's angry now, his lips trembling.

"Don't make this about you."- you say.

"No, because everything is about you. And I still want to stay next to you. Even if you're being selfish, I'd take it. I'd take any crumb you give me, like a fucking stray dog."- Felix says angrily.

"That sounds like your problem and not mine. I don't want you here. Not anymore. I want you to leave."- you say coldly.

"Really? You don't... You don't care about me at all?"

You don't answer, turning your back to him as your eyes water again.

"Goodbye, Felix."

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @yongbokkiesworld @selinia86 @xxkhxndlelitexx @hash2013

[crow2222]

Darry x Paul headcanons

They're in my head and I'm gonna make everyone aware of this. Mostly fluff, warning for an eating disorder.

Darry's ticklish. Paul knows exactly where, and would tickle him out of nowhere which pisses Darry off. PAUL on the other hand, isn't at all and Darry hates this fact.

When Darry had custody of his brothers, he'd always be up and early first, but once they grew up and Darry had time to finally slow down, Paul would wake up first and make him breakfast and lunch if he had enough time. Darry is bashful about it everytime.

They have two rings each, one lavish bought by Paul, which are rarely worn, and one bought by each other in the early stages of their relationship, holding much more sentimental value and worn almost daily.

I don't think they'd be in lavender relationships. Darry wouldn't want to marry a woman he doesn't love that way, and Paul simply doesn't bother. Maybe they try to go on dates here and there but oh boy they never work out.

Paul likes leaving his clothes or straight up buying new clothes for Darry (cough purple madras shirt) (cough lettermans jacket like in white knight) Darry felt guilty about it at first but once Paul realised he needed more working shirts than fancy dress shirts, he started being much more glad to find new shirts without holes to work in.

Olive theory but with tomatos. "You like ketchup but not tomatoes?" "Darry I'm not explaining myself again."

Darry likes when Paul runs his fingers through his hair, and when he rests his chin on his head too. #darrywouldloveweightedblankets but it's okay he has Paul for that.

Once Soda and Pony caught onto what they are, they were mostly confused as to why it was Paul.

They extensively plan holidays abroad but only manage to carry out their plan of a roadtrip across America. Paul swears he'll bring Darry to Europe one day.

Paul got really worried when he noticed Darry's small eating habits, which he'd developed when he was really low on money back when he was taking care of his brothers. Paul tried his best to help, but eventually Darry did gain more an appetite in his own time. (He didn't want to tell Paul he was being the opposite of helpful)

Absolutely love looking back on football team photos, and laughing about how young they really were when they first got together and fell out.

Oh yeah they fell out at some point. Years later, both better and healthier to be in a relationship, they got together again.

When asleep in the same bed, they're moving constantly to find more comfortable positions, but when they're cuddling, dead still.

Back when they were in school, Darry would write about Paul, and Paul would draw Darry. I'm talking sketchbook filled to the brim of drawings of Darry, some from memory, some quick sketches 'in the moment' and the occasional rare painting of when Darry would model for him. Darry mostly wrote poems, but sometimes he'd just write memories with great detail so he'd never forget. Years later they also look back at these, too embarrassed to show each other (They both know where their sketchbook/notebook and have looked through them.)

Absolutely love parties, no matter how boring they might be - like a cousins baby shower that's just cake. If it's called a party, they're showing up to catch up with old friends and cause general havoc together.

Ponyboy gets them those Christmas decorations with two male cardinals (he's a bit of a bird nerd) and they don't understand whenever he buys them yet another bird decoration. One Christmas he tells them, and they become much more cherished.

Darry's handwriting is HORRIBLE and Paul writes in any cards they send out.

Paul got Darry a dog once he started talking about adopting a kid, jealous of fathers he'd see in town with kids attached to their hips. He thought he'd never want kids after taking care of his brothers, but he sure enough, he grew up and wanted a junior of his own!

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Hint of Lovely Oblivion

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After a week of sleeping terribly, Frank makes an effort to help you get the rest you deserve.

warnings: Swearing, fluff, caring Frank, this is not medical advice

a/n: I wrote this for my lovely bestie @madschiavelique who wanted some Frankie comfort. As someone who deals with insomnia pretty regularly, this was very cathartic! I hope you all enjoy. A huge thank you to my other bestie @gracethyomen for beta-ing and helping me plan this fic!

w/c: 4.6k

Inhaling deeply, the frigid air of the room made your nose twitch. Sliding as deep as you could into the blanket pile while maintaining your seated position, you bit your lip, shifting the pad of paper on your lap and craning your neck once again. While your duvet provided an excellent shield to lock in heat, your shoulders inevitably poked out whenever you weren’t fully horizontal, leaving your body to sit in a temperature regulation purgatory; your consciousness rumbled uneasily as the hair on the back of your neck refused to flatten, your brain torn between making you shiver or letting you sweat. The position was far from comfortable—but being awake all night made comfort an unattainable goal for you anyways.

It had been days since you’d slept through the night. You were no stranger to insomnia, you’d been cursed with it your entire life, but lately it had dug its malicious claws into your chest with the violence of a starving feral animal. Your bed, which used to be a haven of rest and relaxation, was now a space that you avoided at all costs—the wonderfully soft pillows and warm blankets mocking you as they sat untouched well into the night, fatigue never overtaking you when you needed it to. For the first few nights of your ongoing battle with sleeplessness, you’d crawl under the covers anyway, praying to any deity listening that the weight and heat of the fabric would force your eyelids to close—but it never did.

Sighing as your pencil tip snapped, you closed your eyes, letting your breath rest in your lungs for a moment before exhaling again; apparently your frustration with your own hormone production created a physical pressure on the lead of your pencil. Picking up a fresh one from your nightstand, you did your best to clean up the smear of graphite from the impact of the broken point.

Turning your attention back to the subject of your sketch, you chewed your lip to stifle a smile. Despite the thick curtains your partner had insisted on, a sliver of moonlight illuminated the massive man slumbering beside you, quietly snoring away—completely oblivious to the inspiration he'd given you. The feather-light moon beams shone through his tousled hair, creeping down over his face, which was adorably mashed against his singular pillow. Considering that he'd turned up a handful of hours ago drenched in other people's blood, it was downright ironic to be calling him “adorable” as he slept—but you couldn't shake the giddy feeling that always bubbled up when you saw his face so lax with sleep. His expression was so uncharacteristically peaceful, it never failed to make you happy.

Sure, not sleeping sucked. You'd be plagued with jaw-cracking yawns and mild memory loss in the morning, just like yesterday and the day before that. Having the opportunity to watch Frank sleep soundly, didn't make up for the fact that you'd accidentally put orange juice in your coffee yesterday, but it made the build up of irritation much easier to bear. Which is why you'd decided to memorialize it in your sketchbook.

Studying the map of shadows on Frank's handsome face, you scratched the pencil over the thick paper, the rasping sound soothing the constant buzzing in your brain. Scrunching your nose as you tried to smooth out the sketch in front of you, you nearly jumped out of your skin when he spoke.

“Why're you up, darlin'?” His voice was rough with exhaustion. Noticing your wide eyes and ragged inhale, a large hand slid up to rest on your thigh. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya.”

”It's alright, Frankie. I wasn't paying attention.“ You tried to laugh, but the sound died in your throat.

His hand stroked over your leg as he waited for you to answer his question. Instead, your eyes remained trained on the book across your lap, pencil moving fluidly through the silence. Tracing a thumb over your warm skin, Frank frowned. “Ya didn't answer my question, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?” Your tone was innocent, but the way your eyes remained glued to your work was enough to tell him you had definitely heard the question.

Squeezing your thigh with a yawn, Frank tried not to groan as he dragged himself up to sit next to you. His movement finally captured your attention, your brow furrowing as you set your pencil aside. “What are you doing?”

Giving what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug, Frank slid an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple. ”Sittin' with my girl. That a crime now?“

Smiling despite the guilt flaring in your chest, you shoved at his solid torso feebly. ”Go back to sleep, Frankie. I'm sorry I woke you. I can—“ Shuffling in your seat, you tilted towards the edge of the mattress, fully intending to relocate to a different room so that Frank could go back to bed. Foiling your plan, Frank's arms held fast against your teetering, pulling you flush against his chest.

”Don't you dare.“ He growled, chin resting atop your crown.

”Frank! I didn't even finish my thought,“ You wriggled against his hold, your brain torn between reacting with endearment or annoyance over being imprisoned by his strength. “Let me go, you...you...butthead.” Whining at your own lackluster insult, you buried your face in Frank's neck as he chuckled.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Ain't gotta go for my throat like that.” Frank murmured smugly. You could envision his shit-eating smirk despite it being out of your line of sight.

”Shut up,“ You muttered, a tiny smile gracing your lips against your will. Your body trembled as Frank shook with rumbling laughter. Drawing you into his arms, Frank set your legs over his lap, positioning you towards the windows. The gusting heat from the vent closest to your bed ruffled the fabric covering the panes, the pale glowing rays of moonlight fluttering over your knees as the drapes shifted. It created a mesmerizing dance of light and dark, captivating you.

”Ya gonna tell me how long you've been sittin' here starin' at me or did ya wanna keep pretendin' you were asleep?” In defense of your ruthlessly persistent boyfriend, it has been said that the third time’s the charm. His tone was as delicate as his gruff voice allowed, the muscles of his jaw and throat rippling against your scalp as he spoke.

Eyes falling closed, you focused on the warmth of Frank’s body surrounding you as you willed the tears pricking your eyes to back down. Another unfortunate side effect of sleep deprivation—your emotions started to go haywire over the littlest things.

It wasn’t that you thought Frank would be angry. Well, it wasn’t the biggest anxiety on your mind, at least. It was more the fear of burdening him with your own issues at all hours when you knew a good night’s sleep was practically a miracle for him. The first night at home after a few weeks away always seemed to make it come easier, but other than that Frank rarely rested. The mere thought of forcing him to sit up with you, especially on the one night this week he’d get a full 8 hours, grabbed your guilty conscience by the throat.

Giving a halfhearted shrug, you caved. “Dunno. Slept for a few hours when we went to bed. Then I got up and...” Trailing off, you gestured to the bed in front of you, which was clearly not being used for sleep.

Frank withdrew from the embrace and your pounding heart sank. You set your jaw, waiting for the frustrated scolding…but it never came. Instead, one calloused finger landed underneath your chin, tilting it upwards as he spoke. “You been awake that long?” His eyes shone with concern, boring ferociously into yours.

Nodding miserably, you swallowed the overwhelming shame crawling up your esophagus before speaking. “I’m sorry, Frank. I tried to sleep, but I just couldn’t—“

Cutting you off with a tender kiss, Frank’s hand moved to cup your cheek. “Nothin’ to be sorry about, honey. Ya shoulda woken me up.”

Looking up at him with glossy eyes, you bit your lip, ”You deserve to sleep uninterrupted. I didn't want to be the one to take that away from you.“

Frank chewed the inside of his cheek as he was overrun with waves of adoration and sympathy for you. How he'd managed to end up with such a considerate partner, he'd never know. Especially when he didn't consistently return the gesture.

He'd come home yesterday and practically collapsed into your arms—ignoring how unsteady your balance seemed when you dragged him into the apartment, blaming it on his own weight. You'd patched him up sweetly, as you always did, and Frank hadn't thought twice about the fact that you'd had to leave the room three times to get the gauze, assuming your memory had just been shaken by his battered appearance.

Was he truly so wrapped up in his own bullshit that he hadn't noticed the sunken crescents underneath your eyes? They were so prominent now, stark sepia bruises on your otherwise even skin. It must have been days since you slept properly. Beside himself with worry, his thumb traced the indent under your left eye. ”Shit sweetheart...“

”I'm—“ You started to apologize, but it stuck in your throat when Frank shook his head.

”Hey, none of that. Don't wanna hear it, ok?” You nodded in response to his gentle command, sitting there quietly as he schemed. “Are you tired at all?”

The pitiful shake of your head seemed to make up his mind.

Unwinding from you, he raised his arms above his head in a stretch, moaning as his back popped with the movement. Your face scrunched in disapproval, making him grimace sheepishly. “Sorry, honey. Guess I was stiff from drivin' all day.” Without waiting for your response, he slid out of bed. Your brow furrowed as he strode over to the dresser, pulling a shirt over his rumpled hair.

“Get dressed, darlin'. I have an idea.” He called to you over his shoulder as he rummaged for a clean pair of pants. Sighing, you abandoned the bubble of heat surrounding you in bed and headed for the closet.

Despite your grumbles and evident confusion, the two of you were dressed and on the road before the sun even peeked over the horizon. With one hand settled in yours, Frank kept his gaze trained on the road ahead, trying not to laugh at your exasperated questioning and adorable pout. Dragging you out of the house at this hour might not have been his brightest idea—since he normally tried to remain on your good side—but hey, he’d gotten this far without you chewing his head off.

Frank could hardly be considered a morning person, but you were practically nocturnal. Leaving the house before dawn was probably high up on your list of personal hells, but staying in bed when you couldn’t sleep wasn’t a good idea. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Curtis’s agitated tone.

“For the last time, Frank: staying in bed will make it worse.”

Way back in the day, during his first trip home after going overseas, he’d bugged Curtis relentlessly about his own sleep issues. Maria was tired enough raising a wandering toddler and an imaginative kindergartener, she didn’t need to worry about a restless marine to boot. He’d tried every suggestion under the sun, but sleep still evaded him. Tour after tour, night after night, he’d lay beside his wife in their bed and stare at the ceiling until his alarm went off. After his family died, well…it didn’t exactly get easier to rest.

Despite scouring the internet, a few libraries, and the expanse of Curt’s brain for any possible cures, his sleeplessness persisted. It was a torture he endured for years, and an anguish he wouldn’t wish on anyone but his worst enemies.

Finding out that you also dealt with insomnia was a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, not having to explain his fickle moods and constant absence from the bedroom was a welcomed relief. On the other, seeing the symptoms of sleep deprivation in someone he cared about was an agony worse than an infected bullet wound.

He knew what you were going through all too well, which meant he was determined to try and help. Getting you out of the house was just the first step of his admittedly too-detailed plan.

His lips twitched with a smile as he spotted the building. Turning into the ragged asphalt lot behind the restaurant, he turned his attention to you.

“We’re here, darlin’.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you remained unimpressed. “A diner?”

Letting out a bark of laughter at your obvious disdain for the activity, Frank pointed a finger at you in warning. “Hey, don’t knock it til ya try it, sweetheart.” His exaggerated stern expression broke through your apprehension, your lips turning upwards into a fond smile.

“There’s my pretty girl.” Frank pressed a kiss to your temple, heart swelling as you leaned into him. “If ya wanna go home, just say the word.”

Biting your lip, you glanced out the window at the electric blue awning extending from the glass doors. The yellow lamp lights lining the sidewalk reflected in your wide eyes as you stared. “No, we can go. I, just…can I ask you a question first?”

“Course, honey. Anythin’.”

“Why here?” Your question was soft, but genuine; your curiosity was outweighing the contempt you’d previously shown for his choice of destination.

Running a hand through his hair, he gave a one-armed shrug. “Fuck, well... ya know I’m no stranger to the whole…not sleepin’ thing. And, uh, back in the early days, when it was real bad for me, I’d come here. We– er– Maria and I, we took the kids here a couple of times. Dunno, wanted to remember the good times, I guess, and it became a sort of tradition. Thought it might help you too.”

With a stuttering inhale, you reached for his hand, stroking a finger over his knuckles as you looked up at him shyly. “Thank you for sharing it with me. I didn’t mean to be rude about it, I’m sorry.”

Squeezing your fingers, he could feel heat creeping up his face. “It’s nothin’ sweetheart. Ain’t gotta worry about that.”

Glancing back out the window for a moment, Frank could see the gears turning in your head as you turned back to him with a tiny grin.

“Lead the way?” You asked tentatively.

“For you, sweet girl? Always.” He pressed a kiss to your hand, his stubble scratching at the skin of your fingers.

Frank ushered the two of you inside and into a booth in the back of the diner. The restaurant was lacking in customers, as could be expected given the early hour. While the inky black sky was broken up with dim streetlights outside of the building, the inside was flooded with fluorescent lights--so bright that you had to shield your eyes with a limp hand for a few minutes.

Once your vision adjusted, you had to admit that the energy in the diner was quite nice. The chipped linoleum tiles that lined the floor were a gorgeous cobalt blue. Along the ceiling, large chunks of the roof had been replaced with thick panes of glass, allowing you to watch the clouds float by, the darkness of the night contrasting beautifully with the intense lighting. You and Frank were seated on a worn vinyl booth, the strips of fabric alternating between silver and black. Similar booths wrapped around the space, almost twinkling as you looked at them.

“So,” Frank pushed a mug towards you. “Whaddya think?”

“It's nice.” You murmured, pulling the warm cup closer to yourself. Somehow you'd missed him ordering himself coffee and you a tea in your distracted state.

Frank cocked his head at you, lips turned up in a smug smirk. ”’S that so?“

Smiling into your mug as you took a sip, you retorted. ”Shut up.“

The drink was warm and, thankfully, unsweetened. It's crisp flavor relaxed your shoulders as you sipped, settling your anxious stomach.

“Hope mint is a’right.” Frank spoke quietly, a blush creeping up his face as he studied his own drink.

“You remembered.” You breathed out, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it tightly as your eyes prickled with emotion.

“Course I did.” Frank huffed, draining the rest of his black coffee. You shuddered in distaste and he chuckled, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand. “You hungry at all?”

Shrugging noncommittally, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. Frank sighed, but didn't push further on the subject, which you were very grateful for. You'd never explicitly spoken to him about the effect your insomnia had on your eating habits, but--being the observant partner he was--he'd clearly picked up on it anyways. Once your day started with little to no sleep, it was like all of your bodily functions forgot how to...function. Hunger and thirst cues were practically impossible to read, your body and brain battling each other ferociously at every turn. Which, of course, just exhausted you further.

Scrubbing at one eye with the heel of your free hand, you grit your teeth to keep from groaning. Dwelling on how miserable you were going to feel today wouldn't solve anything, it would just worsen your mood.

”Head botherin' ya?“ Frank asked, brow folding in concern as he watched you knead at your forehead.

”No more than usual.“ You cracked a small smile, hoping that didn't sound as sad as you thought it did. “Just...frustrated with myself.”

“I feel ya, sweetheart. Not sleepin' ain't any fun. But I have some ideas, so don't you worry your pretty little head about it, ok?” Frank tangled his fingers with yours, his gaze earnest.

“You get ideas?” You scoffed, grinning when Frank rolled his eyes in return.

“Ya know what? Just for that, I ain't gonna tell ya about 'em.”

“Nooo,” You whined, taking Frank's massive hand in both of yours and pouting at him. ”I was just kidding. Please tell me.“

”Hmm, I dunno. First you insulted the diner, then my intelligence. Seems like you don't want my help, sweetheart.“  Frank withdrew from your grasp, pretending to sulk into his coffee.

Giggling at Frank’s pout, you reassured him. ”No, I do! I do!“

With a sad little shrug, Frank glanced forlornly out the window.

“Please Frankie,” Pleading with your gaze, you tried to keep a straight face.  “You're my only hope.”

Dropping his startlingly believable moping act, Frank cackled. “Ya think you're real clever, don't ya?”

Smirking into your tea, you gulped down the last remnants with a shrug. ”Maybe.“

After your countless apologies for insulting his intellect, Frank finally explained why he'd encouraged–forced–you to leave the house before sunrise. Apparently he'd heard that staying in bed while awake could perpetuate the cycle of sleep deprivation. And, though you were loath to admit it, it seemed to help.

The little excursion definitely lifted your spirits, if nothing else. You were able to admire the sunrise and mess around with Frank without your anxiety skyrocketing because of the city crowds.  It was nice, and you told him such–even at the risk of over-inflating his ego.

His next activity, however, was not as pleasant.

“Are you going to have me carry you around the apartment next?” You groused, hefting the bedframe up so that you could adjust your rapidly loosening grip on the cold metal. This much physical labor on an empty stomach and no sleep was not what you’d had in mind for a relaxing day with Frank. He, however, was insistent on moving the furniture in your room immediately upon your return home. 

“You offerin'?” Frank smirked at you, pretending to set the bed frame down. His eyes glinted with a humor you didn’t share over the current situation. 

“Fuck no.” You muttered, glaring at him until he lifted the majority of the weight once more. Frank laughed deeply. 

“Set it right over here, darlin’. We gotta move your dresser and then we’re all done.”

“You know, if you hated the layout of my room so much, you could’ve told me months ago.” Instead of waiting until I was already reaching my limit. You thought to yourself, not vocalizing that particular vulnerability. 

“And have you put me out on my ass for bein’ so forward? I’d never, sweetheart.” Frank chuckled, adjusting your bed as you collapsed against the mattress with a huff. “I’m teasin’, honey. It’s an old trick Curt told me about. All the rearrangin’ is supposed to help your brain remember how to sleep, or some shit.”

Rubbing at your forehead as the ache that had been plaguing you all day made a sudden resurgence, your limbs instinctively curled into fetal position as a small whimper escaped your lips. 

“It’s helping it remember to bother me is what it’s doing.” You grumbled, gritting your teeth as the pain ebbed and flowed. You knew the more you thought about it, the more it would torture you–but the stabbing sensation was all that your fatigued brain could focus on right now. 

Frank snorted, sitting beside you gingerly and caressing your hunched back with an open palm. “‘M sorry, sweet girl. Let me get ya some meds and you can lie here while I finish movin’ shit around.”

Your body felt like it was aimlessly floating, untethered to the Earth and hurrying to escape the pain so viciously attacking it at the moment. You were so tired. Every blink was a reminder of the heaven that had been ripped from your delicate grasp hours ago because your body couldn’t even function in the way it was designed to. Brow scrunching, you burrowed under the covers with a sigh.

“Ya better not be sleepin’ on me, honey.” Frank murmured as he stepped back into the room. 

“Course not,” You mumbled. “Would never…”

“I know you’re tired, darlin’, but ya gotta stay awake until it’s dark. Naps will just make ya feel worse, trust me.” He trailed a finger down your arm, taking your hand and placing some painkillers into it. Waiting patiently until you begrudgingly dragged yourself into a seated position, Frank smiled softly at you as you popped the pills into your mouth. Holding the glass of water out to you, the Marine squeezed your leg as you drank, tucking his chin over your head as you collapsed wearily into his side.

“The big bad Punisher takes naps? Hard to picture, Frankie.” You teased, your voice morphing into a satisfied hum as he threaded his fingers into your hair. 

Frank scoffed, kissing your crown before returning the jest. “Maybe I should take the vest off before closin’ my eyes next time.” 

You giggled, burying your face into his neck. His warm flesh felt wonderful on your pounding head, soothing the pain behind your eyes with each measured breath. “Do you cuddle your guns like teddy bears?” The question was overtly ridiculous, but Frank loved you enough to entertain it anyway. 

“Course. What else would I do with ‘em?” He asked coyly. 

Looking up at him, the corners of your lips lifted as he pressed a line of gentle kisses down your nose until he reached your lips. 

“If I turn on the TV, are ya gonna pass out on top of me?” He murmured, his stubble scratching your face as he spoke. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, love.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his sturdy jawline before he stood up to grab the remote. 

If someone would’ve told you a year ago that your next boyfriend could make a bad insomnia week feel tolerable, you never would’ve believed them. But here you were—lying on your stomach completely topless as Frank massaged a lightly scented lotion into your back—feeling pretty comfortable with the whole arrangement. 

After you’d failed to stay awake during the movie you’d picked out, Frank had carted you around town on various errands: picking up groceries, going to the bookstore, and even taking a quick walk around the park to feed the ducks, which he knew you loved. Your body still ached, and your mood still waned, but overall, it was a good day. And all the credit belonged to your incredible partner. 

Groaning appreciatively, it felt like you were melting into the mattress as Frank tenderly stretched your taught muscles, unraveling the knots of stress that had been building up all week. 

Chuckling, Frank pressed a tiny kiss to your bare shoulder. “Glad it feels good, sweetheart.” 

“No, it’s awful,” You lied. “You clearly need more practice..” 

Frank snorted, “Noted. How’re ya feelin’?” 

“Tired.” You sighed, rolling over as Frank handed you one of his tees to sleep in. 

“I bet. We’re on the last leg, sweetheart, almost there.” Frank’s large hands eagerly wrapped around you as you nestled into his side. Cupping your face with one palm, the fingers of his other hand threaded into your hair, detangling it carefully and brushing it off of your face. 

Biting your lip in frustration, and to keep from sighing again, you nodded. Attempting an understanding smile, you poked him in the chest. “I know. Thanks for putting up with my cranky self today.”

“Sweetheart, you can be snappy with me as much as ya want if it means you’ll sleep through the night.” Frank smirked, squishing your cheek as your eyes suddenly blurred with tears. 

“I love you.” You whispered, going limp in his hold as he settled against the pillows. 

“I love you too, darlin’. So much.” Resting your foreheads together, he kissed you delicately and your lashes fluttered. 

“Frankie?” You looked up at him with your practiced ‘doe eyes’ expression that he could never resist.

“Yah?” He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Can you read to me?” Batting your lashes, you watched with satisfaction as Frank’s expression softened, your eyes taking in the exact moment he caved to your whims. 

Straightening his posture stoically, he reached over to grab your new book from the nightstand with an exasperated huff. “Oh, I see. This was all a scheme of yours to get me to read to ya? ‘S that it?”

“No…” You giggled, nuzzling into him as he cracked the novel open.

“Sure, sure. You’ll be hearin’ from my lawyer, sweetheart. Think ya owe me compensation.” He winked at you, eyes lingering on your face.

“Honey, before ya drift off, jus’...” Sighing, he stroked a thumb over your cheek. “Just know, if all this doesn’t work, cause it ain’t a cure all, ya know–”

Laying your hand over his, you gave him an encouraging look. He inhaled sharply, thinking about how he wanted to phrase the sentiment. 

“I want you to sleep, darlin’, ya know I do. But if it doesn’t happen tonight, we can always try again, ok?”

Startled by the affection in his tone and his beautiful promise, your face went slack as you nodded. Eyes flitting over your gaze, he nodded curtly once he decided you understood. Returning his attention to the book in his hands, he cleared his throat before beginning to read. His rumbling velvet tone soothed you, your eyes falling closed almost immediately. Here, in the safety of Frank’s arms, surrounded by his beautiful voice and reassured by his adorable promise, you finally felt at peace. Though you knew sleep might continue to evade you, the anxiety you’d felt about your insomnia didn’t feel quite as all-consuming tonight. Whatever happened, Frank would be there. And, for now, that was enough.

Thanks for reading!!

[kazumiwrites-fanfiction]

Not-So-Secret Drawings

REQUEST: Hi there, so I've been daydreaming about this for awhile but I absolutely suck at writing so, could i request hcs were the reader is really good at drawing and has been secretly drawing random people on campus whenever they get the chance, but one day reader forgets there sketch pad somewhere and a character (of your choosing) finds it and decides to snoop and finds drawingsof them and people on campus. Just as they finish looking through reader comes (after realizing they forgot it). I hope this makes sense to you, have a nice day/night.

SUMMARY: Your carefully hidden secret is out now. WORD COUNT: 1k

WARNINGS: Riddle, Azul, Floyd, and Vil snooping looking through your drawings, reader is a really good artist, Riddle threatens you (out of love I swear), Azul is uncomfortable by your drawings (not in a bad way- I think), mentions of getting lectured by Azul, Floyd is a ball of chaos, Vil gets no warnings because he's perfect/j A/N: When I tell you that as soon as I saw this I immediately rushed to write two parts before having to stop because I needed to do my summer homework - and then procrastinated the last part (Vil)- Also I know you implied one character but since I'm indecisive I did multiple haha (I'm sorry (but also kind of not because this was fun)) I'm sure you don't suck at writing!! You just get sick of your own writing because it all seems predictable (speaking from experience, I read my work and I'm like "ew?? I need better words" haha) Vil's part is definitely weird because I was like "Fashion Designer!Reader" (probably because some of my friends take fashion/design classes) and I don't know how accurate this is I suck at drawing so I know nothing please don't come at me- Also on a side note, I have a lot of requests right now and since I have a lot of schoolwork I have to do right now, my writing will probably be scattered. Hope you guys understand! (Hope you have a nice day/afternoon/night/etc too!!)

© kazumiwrites - All rights reserved; please do not steal, edit, copy, repost (etc) my work without my express permission.

You had always been careful with your drawings. You never wanted another person to look at them. After all, you had been drawing other people - and who knew what they would think?

Sure, they were pretty accurate, but still. It wasn't like the people at Night Raven College knew that you were drawing them. And you didn't want your drawings to get destroyed just because someone in a foul mood found them. Just your luck though, as you had left your sketchbook somewhere. Where did you even misplace it…

Riddle Rosehearts

He had always seen you with your sketchbook, but had assumed it was just for studying.

Likewise, when it popped up during class, he assumed that you were diligently taking notes.

It was almost sad seeing how far from the truth he was in hindsight.

Since he found your sketchbook on the floor (perhaps having fallen from your bag - it was always full, after all), he decided to take it to you. On the way over to Ramshackle Dorm, he flipped through the sketchbook before he paused.

These weren't notes. They were drawings.

And very good ones, at that.

They were so detailed, he thought for an instant that you had magicked them on here somehow (before remembering that you didn't have any magic).

So was this what you could do with some time and diligence?

His mother had never let him draw much so his drawings were mediocore at best (at worst, one would think that a small child had drawn them).

He found himself captivated by the artwork, flipping through the pages, seeing the drawings of various people from the school. Even some of himself…? With more details... It was odd, the small flutter in his chest. Happiness?

He jolted as he heard your voice, asking if that sketchbook in his hands was yours, abruptly slamming the sketchbook shut as if he had been looking at something completely inappropriate. Which, in a way, he might have been?

"Sorry for looking at these without your permission." He got out after a moment, handing it back to you. "You're a really good artist." He paused. "But you shouldn't be drawing in class. If I catch you with this sketchbook out during Trein-sensei's lectures, I'll have your head!"

Azul Ashengrotto

Of course Azul had noticed your drawings. He needed to in order to make sure he knew as much as possible about others so he could scam help them whenever they needed it.

Still, he found it intriguing, so he couldn't help but skim through your drawings. And my, were they amazing.

Until he got to the section where you had drawn him.

Sure, there were drawings of him in regular uniform, some of him in his P.E. uniform (he thought that they weren't really flattering on him, but you made it look good).

But then there were the sections where you had drawn him in mer form.

Of course, you had no idea what his mer form actually looked like (without all the overblotting, which you never got the chance to see clearly anyway) so it was mostly guesswork and using your imagination.

There were ones with long, large tentacles swarming around him.

Some with tentacles that were slender.

Some of them popped out of weird angles, which he was puzzled about, but okay.

My tentacles can't move like that - or can they?

They definitely shouldn't be popping out of his ribs. Wherever did you get that particular idea? It made him uncomfortable just by looking at it.

He was so caught up in examining your drawings and he didn't notice you until you literally snatched the sketchbook from his hands, saying something about how they were private.

"Sorry, [Y/N]-san... But these drawings aren't too accurate, you know."

And that was how you got roped into a three-hour long discussion about the anatomy of octopuses as well as the anatomy of merfolk and how your drawings were terribly inaccurate. (You were just guessing, how were you supposed to know any of this?)

Floyd Leech

Floyd wouldn't even wait until the sketchbook was unattended.

He'd pop out of nowhere, eyes bright, asking what you were doing.

Never mind if it was in the middle of class or not.

You've both gotten scolded about this, he should know better.

Still, one day he caught you by surprise, and the book slipped from your hands.

You muttered a small curse before trying to grab it, but whoops, too late. Floyd had already gotten it and was flipping through the pages.

"Aww, Koebi-chan, you drew me?" His gaze met yours, a wide grin on his face (showing his extremely sharp teeth). "You should've just asked, I would've modeled and stuff for you."

You shook your head slightly. You had wanted to keep this a secret if possible... At least Floyd seemed to be in a fairly good mood. You told him that you wanted to draw people in their natural state, without them posing for the "camera," so to speak.

He looked disappointed, but then immediately asked if you could come to a basketball practice or match or something. Perhaps you'd find it more interesting to draw him there. Or maybe in the ocean?

Vil Schoenheit

He was no stranger to people drawing him. He was famous after all.

He did sometimes get… odd pieces of artwork, but that was to be expected.

Still, he didn't expect to find a sketchbook with him in it, abandoned at an empty seat. Only drawings of him.

It had so happened that you were trying to figure out a good design for clothing. You always wanted to have a face to your designs, and he was the perfect subject.

Maybe your drawings didn't do him justice, but it was interesting to see how you could tweak your designs to fit him better.

Still, Vil was plenty impressed.

These designs... He could definitely see himself wearing them.

Maybe he could show them to one of the people he knew... They could help make something like that. With your permission, of course.

He closed the book as he heard you come up.

"These designs really are fascinating. Would you mind showing me more details? I'm certain that we can turn these drawings into reality if you'd like it."

As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ♡ Send your thoughts grr

Feel free to send requests! Check out this post for info ^^

[charlotteswriting]

Hi Mod Kaede! I hope your having a great day or evening Can I request shuichi, himiko, ryoma, Gundam, and chihiro with an s/o who is the ultimate Artist and they (somehow) go through their s/o sketch book to see multiple drawings of them because the s/o is very inspired by them please?

This was in my inbox for ages I feel so bad TT but this requests inspires me to write. Whoever you are, anon, I LOVE YOU! (Not writing for Ryoma cuz his personality is hard and chihiro atm cuz i couldn't think of anything for him)

(This cg is so beautiful, I had to use it-)

Shuichi Saihara

It wasn't rare for Shuichi to do his detective work around you. He wasn't distracted by you being there, if anything your mere presence comforted him and motivated him to keep it up.

He takes random moments to turn his head and observe you and you're sitting there, focused on what you're drawing, he'd look at you then go back to his work again

When he finally took a break he went to the kitchen to get himself some coffee and he returned with your favorite drink

When he handed it to you he didn't miss how you immediately covered up your sketchbook as soon as he came near

He raised an eyebrow but quickly came back to reality as you muttered out a "Thank you!"

In following days he had noticed how cautious you were around him whenever you were drawing. He tried to snuggle up to you only to take a look at your sketchbook but you threw it away with no hesitation and he was CONFUSED

What're you hiding and why do you not want him to see 🙁

Still he didn't bring it up hhh

When he came home from work he saw you in the living room. He wanted to be in your arms as soon as possible but then again he had to change so he went to bedroom

While changing into more comfortable clothes, he noticed a book on the bed.

It took him some time to realise that wasn't one of his books that he reads at nights. That was??? your sketchbook??????

He was fighting himself mentally. It doesn't matter if he's been staring at the ceiling thinking about what you were hiding in that drawing book of yours, he mustn't invade your privacy.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't. He shouldn't-

Nvm

He passed through the pages, looking for something s u s p i c i o u s just what was in your sketchbook that you tried to hide so desperately?

Omg-

He froze on the spot as he stared at that perfectly drawn picture of him- Wait, there's more-

"Shuichi, what's taking you so long?"

He let out a little squeak as he closed his mouth, "N-nothing, sweetheart,"

He placed the book back carefully as the guilt was eating him out. What was he expecting? He was overthinking while you were just admiring him-

He shook his head and started thinking of ways to take that blush off his face as he walked downstairs.

day1 of trying to write for shuichi without simping: fAiLed

Himiko Yumeno

(oMg she is requested!!!!!🥰)

Himiko,,, isn't great at art

She watches art tutorials all the time but the best she can do is a stickman 💀 (i swear this isnt himiko slander-)

And seeing your GODLY art, teach her your ways!

Even your messy sketches looked so good

You're everything Himiko wants to be. You're goals.

And when you said you'd help her improve her art she was over the moon!

But still,,, she wanted to impress you in her ways! Still she was desperate for your help so she accepted </3

You didn't expect her to be so serious about it but Himiko was taking your tutorings WHOLEHEARTLY.

She wanted to be worth of your efforts, after all

Himiko asked your opinion on her art, but instead of giving advice you praised her art

She blushed but that's not what she wanted to hear! So with a pout, she left

Gundham Tanaka

I'd be inspired by him too, always with devas by his side, drawing him would be fun

You're usually interested in stuff he has to say but sometimes you just look at him deeply then say nothing and return to the book that is resting on your lap

What could it be that makes you stop giving him attention?

He's asked you of it multiple times but you just say you are sketching to relax

And you don't let him see like you're plotting sometimes

He can't contain the curiosity

Dodging every question of his, he makes one of his devas of destruction steal your sketchbook while you're asleep

He feels guilt to his bones but he's consumed by his desire to see

And when he opens it he sees multiple drawings of himself, his face, outfits and even devas!

At the bottom of the pages he sees little doodles of you which makes him smile warmly

He is just sad why didn't you show him earlier? After he apologizes to you for looking at your stuff without your permission (and maybe stealing it) he's going to offer modeling for you

[pillow-anime-talk]

his talented baby. {pt.2}

synopsis: You as a person with a huge (and hidden) talent, and also a person who really surprises your boyfriend.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; some comedy; big fluff; some PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. sebastian michaelis & undertaker {kuroshitsuji} + josuke higashikata & rohan kishibe {jojo 4}

part one {click}

— SEBASTIAN (ft. chess)

Sebastian was perfect in everything; in cleaning, in cooking, in playing various instruments, in foreign languages, in gardening, even in singing and dancing. There was, however, one thing he couldn’t achieve fully well, and that was the game of chess.

Of course, he defeated others (I mean here; Grell, Agni, Bald or Finny) with ease, but when you offered him a game one day, his so far intact worldview changed dramatically. Eventually he found someone better than himself, but at the same time he felt so damn frustrated that he couldn’t win against your person. You were better than him, than Ciel, and even better than Mr. Tanaka, who was almost equal to him and the young lord.

“... Your move, Sebastian.” You announced by moving the bishop to the field of your choice, taking his black rook at the same time. “Are you going to give up, my love?” You smiled gently as you took a sip of delicious English tea with the perfect amount of sugar. The man looked at you in response, frowning and looking at the chess alignment after a short while.

“No. Everything is fine, I just need to think for a moment.” He said calmly, though his face expression seemed to hide the urge to swear. “I am impressed with how quickly you made such a confusing setup, darling.”

“Well, well. My grandpa taught me to play. As the saying goes, the student has surpassed the master.” You chuckled as you put your chin on your right hand while looking at the fingers of your man surrounded by white gloves, who decided to move the king to space F5. “Maybe someday you will surpass me, who knows?”

Sebastian stared at you out of the corner of his eye, nodding in delicate, almost invisible amusement.

“Maybe someday, dear. For now, I will give you the honorable title of the best chess player.”

— UNDERTAKER (ft. drawing)

Drawing has been your passion since you remember and you loved to paint literally everything; still life, nature, huge landscapes, other people, animals, and even things that didn’t make much sense (Picasso was one of your biggest inspirations when it came to cubism). In addition, in your bag you always carried your favorite blue sketchbook in which you drew tiny thoughts or things you noticed while walking, working or drinking coffee in a cafe.

That day, however, you were sitting quietly on one of the chairs in the funeral parlor, and the Undertaker was also sitting nearby – he was writing names with concentration, calculating in his mind the number of deaths in the last month and year.

His calm face was really handsome from your perspective; the faint light of the lantern caressed his pale complexion, and his green eyes full of mischief stood out behind his fair hair. Every now and then you glanced at the tall man, then your eyes focused again on the small notebook whose pages were blank. I mean, they were not all empty; some of them had sketches of dogs on them, others sketches of flowers, and others featured the figure of a tall Grim Reaper.

When you finished your illustration, you smiled and nodded, satisfied with your work. A beautiful play of light, self-confident pencil strokes and small additions in the form of ivy and rosemary beautifully composed the whole black-grey picture of Adrian.

“Excause me, darling...?” You whispered hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt his work. Nevertheless, the man quickly looked in your direction and a wide smile appeared on his face.

“Yes, my little flower.” He asked, instantly standing up and forgetting about the paperwork – you were definitely more interesting than the dead, after all. You showed him your drawing with a slight blush on your face and he opened his mouth in slight shock. “It’s me?” You nodded, and the Grim Reaper just chuckled. “Am I really THAT handsome?” He joked and you just rolled your both eyes. A short time later, Undertaker praised your talent, asking if you’d like to hang some of your sketches on the board next to the entrance.

— JOSUKE (ft. playing drums)

More than five years ago, you and your three friends started a music band. Since then, you’ve been focused on making your dreams come true, on small concerts played in the Morioh, on school performances, also on learning notes and practicing singing. You were the drummer and leader of ‘CR△WL’; your vast musical knowledge, willingness to develop your passion and daily rehearsals aroused great admiration from the rest of the band and from people who watched your slowly growing career. Of course, Josuke was no exception, on the contrary – he considered himself your biggest and most faithful fan, who with the greatest pleasure went on dates with you to music shops or bookstores with records of old bands.

The young man was delighted every time you played the instrument – just like years ago in your garage when you first played ‘Paranoid’ by Black Sabbath for him. He was smitten and would come over to your house to listen to your covers or help you make a video for your YouTube channel (you were pretty popular for tutorials, trivia, and drum videos).

“...Y/N, Y/N. Would you be able to play this song?”

That day, Josuke visited your house once again. Your mom made you two some snacks, and you grinned as you practiced another song for an upcoming concert at one of the smaller festivals this summer. Your boyfriend seemed to be excited like never before, so you asked what is the title of mentioned song. Hearing the familiar words, you just smiled, nodding your head in response.

Instantly, your both hands and right foot began to beat the drums, which making the dark-haired teenager’s face look very surprised.

“Y/N... You really know every song on this planet!”

— ROHAN (ft. rapping)

Karaoke, bowls full of ice cream and fruit, carbonated drinks, hot snacks and great company were what you’ve been missing for the last few weeks. Focused on studies and work, you didn’t have time to rest properly; but you finally met with your closest friends and you also took Rohan with you.

You had a great time gossip with besties who talked about changes in their lives and new achievements, for example, at work. You were telling about your experiences as well with a huge smile, while Rohan was sitting right next to you, talking to some people from time to time. He wasn’t interested in large gatherings, but he couldn’t say ‘No’ to you either because you were too sweet that evening.

Suddenly, one of Cardi B’s songs was played in the background and you almost squealed.

“Ooooh, I see that someone want to sing, huh?” The blonde haired girl asked, and you just laughed, thanking her for the black microphone.

Rohan almost spit at his new shirt as soon as you started rapping the verses without any problems, without even looking at the screen where the lyrics were displayed. You had a great time dancing a bit in the middle of the small room. You looked at your partner with a smirk, sometimes sending a kiss or wink in his direction. You were literally in your world; you showing your energy and love for music so perfectly.

Rohan was really surprised.

[bittersweetcreep]

All According to Plan Red Luna! Darling x Yandere! Damian

Part 1

Author's Note: This is part 2 of my Talia Al Ghul and Red Luna post, but you can read this as a standalone.

A nice breeze rustled the tree's leaves, and sitting underneath that very tree was Luna. She was spending her free time sketching away in her sketchbook. Art was a nice way for her to relax and let her guard down. It can be so taxing to be constantly aware of her surroundings, It's nice to let go of that need to be ready for an incoming attack. That's the reason why she didn't sense a presence coming towards her. She didn't sense them sitting on the grass next to her, she didn't feel their stare.

Feeling a hand tuck her hair behind her ear was the moment she realized someone was there. Turning her head, she was met with Damian Al Ghul. He had this look of confidence and was wearing a devilish smile when he spoke his voice was filled with fondness as he greeted her. "Hello Luna."

Choosing to be polite, she signed back to him °Al Ghul. What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you this time around?° moving his fingers, he began to stroke her cheek. He seemed to be admiring her. "Don't worry your pretty little head, I'm not here to kill anyone. I'm not even an Al Ghul at the moment." She noticed he used the words 'at the moment', so he must be staying with his father at the moment but will return to Talia. Now that Luna thinks about it, who is Damian's father? After all, Talia wouldn't just procreate with anyone. It's probably best she doesn't know.

°If you're not here on a job, then why are you here?° Resting an elbow on his knee, Damian was once again wearing that devilish smile while he spoke. "I'm here for you, I wanted to spend time with the Red Luna who bested the heir of the League of Assassins and Talia Al Ghul herself." Picking himself up off the ground, he extended his hand for Luna to take. "What do you say, Luna? Will you do me the honor of showing you a good time?"

There was a moment of silence between them before Luna responded °As long as nobody gets killed, I don't see the harm.° putting her art supplies and sketchbook in her messenger bag, Luna took Damian's hand. Once being pulled to her feet, she signed one more thing before they left. °Don't make me regret this.° bring her hand up to his lips he reassured her. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He took her to a large warehouse like building that had the words Palette Paradise on it. The building was surprisingly walking distance from the park they were at. Once inside the building, they were greeted by a receptionist who opened a door for them. Damian offered his hand, giving Luna a reassuring smile. Deciding to trust him, she took his hand as he guided her inside.

The door closed shut behind them, leaving them in a pitch-black room. This put Luna on edge, but then the room lit up with millions of floating lights. Blue, pink, and yellow covered the sky around them. It truly was a beautiful sight, one where Luna couldn't look away from. Damian couldn't look away either, but it wasn't the lights that had his attention it was Luna.

Her eyes shined even brighter than those lights, and she had the biggest smile on her face. She was radiating pure joy and wonder as she stared up in awe at all of the colors in the sky. Damian swears he was falling for her all over again.

Entering the next room, they were greeted by the sound of birds chirping with a sunny sky. It had this peaceful atmosphere to it, but a sudden struck of lighting broke that atmosphere. The loud sound startled Luna, causing her to jump back into Damian's arms. Then dark and stormy clouds started to surround them both with low lighting coming from under their feet in an ashy purple tone. It suddenly started to rain too but for some reason she wasn't getting wet.

The sudden sound of laughter coming from Damian snapped the girl out of her surprise and shocked. Twirling her around, he placed his hand around her waist while clasping her other hand in his. "Follow my lead." They began to dance while staring into each others eyes. For some reason, Damian staring at her with his dominating gaze is making her feel shy, and her cheeks seem to be heating up too. Why is she feeling like this? And why is her heart racing? Can he hear the pounding her heart is making?

After exploring the other rooms, they left Palette Paradise. Damian wanted to treat her to something sweet, saying he had a place in mind. What Luna didn't know was that he was treating her to Puff Perfection, a high-end bakery that's known for their luxury desserts only the rich can afford. Tugging the back of the teen's shirt to get his attention, she informed the boy of the cost of this place °Not here, this place's desserts are costly. I know other places that are much more affordable.°

Placing a hand on her head, Damian gave a reassuring smile. "There's no need to worry about prices. You can trust me to treat you to something sweet." Trusting his words, she (with some apprehension) stepped inside of Puff Perfection. They were immediately escorted to a private table on the balcony and were given a shared menu that's filled with nothing but desserts.

Luna planned to get something cheap, but seeing all of the mouth-watering desserts that thought was thrown out the window fast and her sweet tooth took over her. There were so many tasty desserts with so many flavors. How can she choose one when her sweet tooth is telling her to eat them all. "Hey Luna, look right here." Damian pointed his finger to something called The Sweetheart Special. Reading it, the special comes with a triangular raspberry and rose essence cake covered in a pink ombré buttercream, a pink ombré macaron tower with rose Italian buttercream and hibiscus rose chocolate ganache and a rose milk tea latte.

"You wanna get that?" Giving him a thusiastic nod (which is just her nodding her head up and down super fast) Damain calls their waiter over and told them,"We'll be getting The Sweetheart Special." Luna was surprised to see the waiter back so soon as they didn't even wait for a full minute, but that thought was long gone when he served them their drinks and desserts.

Picking up her fork, she took a slice of cake into her mouth and let out a satisfied moan. Luna swore when she took that bite she bit into a slice of sweet berry paradise. Wanting to share this little slice of heaven, she took a portion of her cake and held her fork out for Damian to take. He leaned over and took a bite off of her fork.

Luna took a sip of her rose milk tea. When placing her cup back on the table, she was met with the sight of a macaron. Pressing the cookie to her lips, she took the hint and bit into the macaron. Damian took what's left of the cookie into his mouth. They took their time eating the rest of their desserts and continued feeding each other while making menial chatter.

"So you're telling me you don't have a TV or a laptop, but you have a flip phone that can only call people?"

°And a apple iPod.°

"You should come over to my place sometime. I could show you a few TV shows you might like or even a movie."

°We'll see°

Luna looked over the balcony to see the sky painted in an orange hue and the sun setting far off in the distance. This is usually the time she would be heading home to get ready, but the thought of her time with Damian coming to an end saddened her. There was a selfish part of her that wanted to skip her vigilante duties to stay with Damian a little longer, but she knew she couldn't.

°I should be going, I have something that can't be left unchecked.°

"I understand. My father is expecting me soon anyway."

Getting up from their sets, they walked past many rows of empty booths. Now that Luna thought about it, the whole place was empty when they first walked in, and the Palette Paradise was too. It didn't make sense with a place like Puff Perfection she expected the place to be jam-packed, but there wasn't a single customer in sight. Deciding not to dwell on it, she continued to follow Damain past the receptionists desk (she chose not to say anything when he didn't go to pay them) and towards the entrance were he held the door open for her to go through.

°You made today a real dream, makes me wish i could stay with you and never wake up°

"Luna." he said her name in a breathy tone as he looked at her with all the love and passion he held for her. With one hand, she continued to sign while the other reached for her phone. °We should do this again sometime. Do you mind if I get your number? I would like to schedule our next meet-up. °

Taking the flip phone from her hand, Damian started to put in his contacts. "I was thinking of taking you to the glass pebble beach to do some swimming, maybe take you jet skiing too." Finished typing in his number, the raven-haired teen handed her phone back to her °I don't have a swimsuit° she looked at her phone to see his number with the name 'Your Personal Demon❤️‍🔥' attached to it. "Don't worry, we can stop and get you one on the way there. My treat."

°Ok, then I hope to see you soon.° leaning forward, Luna placed her lips on Damian's, catching him by surprise. Pulling away, he was met with her gentle smile. Giving him a small wave, she turned around and started making the journey to her house. Leaving behind a lovestruck Damian.

Bonus Sense

Walking through the mansion's doors was a glowing Damian who had this dreamy expression on his face. He was practically floating off the ground as he made his way to his room without a care in the world. He even passed Dick without so much as giving him a glance, which freaked out the ravenette as he's never had an interaction with the kid without hostility. With a million questions Dick headed off to the man who always had the answers.

Rushing to the billionaire's office, he slammed the doors open and screamed, "Bruce! Something's wrong with the hellspawn!" Looking up from his paperwork, said man responded to the raven-haired male in a calm tone."In what way is something's wrong with Damian?" "I walked past him without being threatened, insulted, or being stabbed, and he had this weird look on his face that Damian would NEVER be caught dead wearing by anyone, let alone ME."

Looking back to his paperwork, he responded to Dick "Well Luna does have that effect on him." This confused the circus boy."I know that much, but he was out as Damian, not Robin." With a dismissive tone, the affluent man answered him. "And now she knows Damian Wayne." Running a hand through his hair Dick let out a frustrated groan. "What did he do this time?"

Without missing a beat, he asked his question, "He took her on a date, and from what you're saying, it went well." "I guess that explains why he's acting like a Disney princess, and let me guess he used the Wayne's name for this date of his?" There was a small pause before he answered with a simple "Yes." Bruce looked up to see Dick making a face. "And you allowed this because?" Letting out a deep sigh, he started explaining himself "Talia for lack for a better word 'persuaded' me and Damian promise to in his words 'play nice with the mediocre villains and your non-biological son'."

"Hmm.... for how long?" The billionaire rubbed his temples to ease the incoming headache. "Originally, he proposed 2 weeks -" "Go figure." Bruce gave a stern glare. Dick chose to shut his mouth and let the man continue. "I propose 6 weeks with the addition of providing all the resources needed for more dates with Luna." Dick cocked his head to the side. "And if he went back on his word, you'll pull back all of those resources?" "Exactly, and I have a feeling these dates with Luna will keep him on his best behavior."

[lumiambrose]

Blue lock matchup for @hidden-oracle

I ship you with…

Rin Itoshi

hear me out hear me out… while rin could rock the extrovert x introvert trope, i think introvert x introvert suits him much better.

mans does not need someone as loud as shidou shouting in his ear 24/7. which is why he loves you so much. you guys definitely match each others energy; quiet, attentive and passionate.

honestly, i think rin would be completely fine with your autism and anxiety. he certainly understands that different people have different difficulties and stuff that they’re going through so he’s very understanding.

althoughhhh you gotta give this guy some time to adapt. rin has only had rivals in his life so he’s like a lost kitten when it comes to comforting a friend, or better yet, a lover.

rin is a good learner though. give him some time and communicate a bit and he’ll have it down quickly. need a hug? he’ll definitely pretend to hate it but he could hug you for hours. want to go home? he’s already called an uber.

basically rin is the perfect boyfriend.

but this guy has his own issues too. poor boy is still scarred from his brother so him opening up to you could take a while.

he’s never had anyone to hold so close to him. but once he’s able to open up to you? this man wouldn’t leave you for the world. especially knowing you’re just as scared as him.

oh and his hugs? the best. now in public he won’t hug you, but god he loves it when you hug him. like yes, show everyone how good you two look together.

he’ll definitely pretend to hate it for the first few seconds but you swear it looks like he’s sulking if you try to pull away.

hold his arm while you two are walking together. he loves it.

and in private? my god he matches your energy 100%. he will not leave your side. being alone together is the only time you’ll ever wonder if he’s more touchy than you.

honestly, you two don’t even need to be talking to each other. your presence is enough for rin.

while mans definitely loves to spoil you and take you out on nice dates, sitting on the couch together while you read and he analyzes his matches is almost just as good for him.

now as to how you two even got together? i’d say you met at a cafe. it was a busy day and as there was no space left other than on your table, so he sat there.

now none of you actually said something (god forbid human conversation). althoughhh you thought he was pretty enough to sketch and spent your time drawing him.

of course he noticed (he didn’t seem to mind it) and before he left he scribbled his phone number on your sketchbook and asked you to send him pictures of your sketches.

and that’s how a cute ass couple is born.

he reacts the same to your chaotic behavior as he does with pda. he pretends to hate it. he really tries. but alas he can’t hide the smile that pierces his lips.

the fact that you can keep him on his toes and keep things interesting has him in awe.

horror movie marathons. he loves horror. you love horror. you at least spend one evening per week binging your favorite scary movies.

he’ll also play horror games with you if you ask nice enough :p

personal favorite of mine but the HEIGHT DIFFERENCE? ugh… i love it.

5’1 and 6’1? yes. he’s over a head taller than you and thinks it’s hilarious.

definitely puts stuff on the top shelf so you have to call him to get it for you

as you said you’re quite observant. rin definitely values your opinion on his plays and matches. even if you don’t know much about football, he’ll take your words into account and discuss them with you.

sometimes after his matches, you two will sit together on the couch with some popcorn and analyze the match together. (peak quality time)

i may have written quite a lot for this one… :p

what can i say? i really enjoyed writing your matchup. i hope you like it! <3

[raythekiller]

um this is my first time requesting but 👉👈 could you do a fluff scenario with toby and his s/o who likes to draw and he happens to see a page of their sketchbook filled with doodles of him? tysm and i hope you have a nice day!

🗒 ❛ Artschool Wannabe ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Ticci Toby

#Notes: FINALLY something for my fellow artsy bitches

pronouns used: none, gn! reader

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

TOBY was sitting by the campfire, the darkness of the night completely surrounding the two of you, the trees so tall and grouped together barely any moonlight managed to make its way to the ground where you were sitting. The only sounds that could be heard were the every so often owl hooting, the fire crackling and your pen scratching against the paper of your sketchbook.

Toby, who was gathering some more kindling and throwing it in the fire below him, was blissfully unaware of how handsome he looked in this lighting. You, however, couldn't help but feel captivated by him, stealing glances every so often and trying to copy it on the paper accurately as to capture the moment.

"W-what are you-" He tics, letting out a whistle and jerking his neck to the side before continuing the sentence "What are you drawing t-there?". You look up at the boy now standing in front of you with a slightly startled gaze in your eyes, hugging the sketchbook against your chest out of embarrassement. "Oh! Uh... Nothing much." You reply in a low, slightly charged-as-guilty voice. "Can I- can I see it?" He asks enthusiastically, sitting beside you on the log. You know he loves your work, so saying 'no' to him is basically out of the question. You hand him the sketchbook, conflicted between averting your gaze out of awkwardness at being caught in the act or staring to capture his reaction, eventually settling on the latter.

If he wasn't wearing his mouth guard, you'd be able to see his mouth hanging slightly open in amazement, taking in every detail of the few different sketches you made of him throughout the day. His stomach fills with butterflies as he shifts his gaze towards you and you swear his eyes are practically shining with the happiness that has taken a hold of him at that moment.

"Y/N, I... These look a-amazing, th-" Another neck jerk, "Thank you so much, I don't even know w-what to say...". You can't help but giggle at his awe-filled expression. His reaction is as if you have just given him the best gift he's ever received in his life. In a way, that's not too far from the truth - you are the best thing that's ever happened to him, after all. He couldn't ask for anything else.

[brave-and-gentle]

Angel vs. Devil: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 2

I got more ideas after I wrote the Ice Sculpture Fluff, so now this is a mini series - surprise! If you haven't read that yet, please read it here.

If you like this, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on Ao3 here

Pairings: femme reader x Jean

Summary: Weeks after your first kiss with Jean, you're wondering why nothing else has sparked. He's evasive about a night out with friends that he's not going to – and you decide to find out why.

Warnings: none, this all v cute fluff, a self-indulgence

Word count: ~4K

It's been weeks since your first kiss with Jean after seeing the ice sculptures together. Weeks – and nothing. You thought things might progress, but bar trivia nights were too big and crowded for much to happen, though you were still thoroughly enjoying them. You and Jean had kept up your schedule of meeting at the coffee shop twice a week for you to write and for him to draw, but it was all very platonic. At least, you thought. A couple times you swear you caught him staring at you, but as soon as you looked up he was buried in his sketchbook again.

On Wednesday nights, the coffee shop switched to wine after 5 pm, while you met on Saturday mornings and enjoyed your favorite coffee orders. Sometimes you chatted nearly the entire time. You learned a few more things about Jean – he switched back and forth between straight black coffee or sugary lattes – no in between. He almost quit the soccer team his first year of college because of the emotional stress, but Marco talked him into staying. He had a habit of squeezing his hands into fists when he was frustrated or anxious.

He learned a few things about you too – that you twirled your hair when you were stuck in writer's block, that you chose to Trost for college because you knew nobody from your high school would be there, and that you were a sucker for the baked goods at the cafe and wouldn't share with him.

Sasha is just waking up when you yell that you're heading out to the coffee shop with Jean.

“Have fuuuuun,” she teases. Though she's buried in blankets, you know she's winking. You told Sasha everything, and she's just as baffled as you – why hadn't Jean made another move? “Don't come back unless you've got some good Jean tea!”

“I'll do my best,” you roll your eyes and head out the door.

~

You smack Jean's hand out of the way as he tries to take a piece of your chocolate chip muffin.

“Funny that you and Sasha ended up as roommates, you're just as stingy as with food as she is,” he accuses in a playful tone. The Saturday morning sun streams in through the windows and over Jean, giving his hazel eyes even more warmth. He runs his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes and dives back into his sketch. Fuck, why is he so cute? Though you do notice dark purple circles under his eyes and wonder what's been keeping him up at night.

“You can buy your own,” you retort and tap your pen on his elbow. You take another bite of your muffin, still warm. The chocolate chips melt in your mouth. You put it back down on the plate to get back to your character development worksheet, but Jean interrupts you.

“Oh, you uh. . .” he trails off and you glance up to see him pointing to the corner of his mouth.

“Hmm? Oh.” You realize you must have chocolate from the muffin on your face. You lick around your lips and look down, refusing to make eye contact. “All good?”

“Ah, not quite, here.” Jean's long arm reaches over to you. You freeze and hold your breath. His thumb rubs the corner of your mouth with a gentle but strong touch. He lingers for a second and brushes your bottom lip and – someone at the front of the coffee shop yells your name.

“And Jean, you're here too!” Jean jerks his hand away from your face and turns around to see none other than Connie bounding over to your two-person table. He grabs another chair from a table and plops down.

“Why are you awake before 11 am?” Jean glares at his friend.

“Because it's the big day! Don't tell me you forgot!” Connie throws his hands up in excitement for what, exactly you're not sure. You and Jean exchange a blank look. “Not you too?? C'mon guys, the basketball game is tonight!” Shit. You did in fact completely forget this one. Normally you are so honored to be invited something that you remember every detail, but watching sports has never been your thing. The Trost Titans are hosting their rival, the Marley Warriors, which apparently is a big deal. Connie “knows a guy” and scored everyone tickets. “I need everyone there in Titans gear for good luck, or Reiner, Bert and Annie will never let me hear the end of it.” You remember that those three are from Marley.

“Ah, I'm not sure Connie, basketball's not really my thing. . .” you trail off and worry that you'll seem ungrateful since he already got everyone tickets. You might be up for it if it were a sporting event outside – that's the big reason you and Historia played intramural sand volleyball in college, but trying to pretend to care about basketball inside in arena surrounded by die-hard fans doesn't sound appealing in the slightest.

“It's no sweat,” Connie says your name, “think about it, or at least meet up at our place after.” You nod and consider that meeting up after could actually be fun. Connie, Eren and Armin all live together and you haven't been to their place yet – ironic considering Connie practically lives on the couch in your apartment with Sasha. “What about you Jean?”

“I already told you, I can't.” Jean doesn't look up from his sketch.

“What do you mean you can't??” Connie throws his arms up again.

“I mean, I can't. I have a thing.” His voice grows with irritation. You have to admit that meeting up after the game without Jean there sounds a little less fun, although maybe it'd be a good distraction from pining after him.

“What thing? Got a hot date tonight?” Connie presses. You notice Jean's tell tale sign of his free hand closing up in a fist.

“No, a work thing.”

“Whaaaat? Why you working on a Saturday?? Come out and play with us!”

“Because I have a work thing, Connie, now get off my back!” Jean tears his eyes away from his sketchpad to narrow his eyes at Connie.

“Geez,” Connie leans away from him. “Whatever got up your ass this morning must be sideways. Anyways, that's my coffee order.” He points to the barista at the counter “Hope to see you tonight.” Connie waves at you before he grabs two coffees, presumably the other for Sasha, and dashes out the door. You turn back to Jean, who's sending invisible laser beams at his sketch. You had never asked Jean what he was working on and vise-versa. It's like an unspoken agreement.

“So uh, what is your work thing tonight? If you don't mind sharing,” you ask with caution. He finally brings his head up but avoids eye contact.

“Ah, it's an open house fundraiser for the kids. We show their art like a gallery and there's a suggested entry fee. It's mostly their family and friends.” He shrugs. You perk up at this endearing side of Jean you haven't seen since the ice sculpture night.

“Oh, that's actually really cool. Will you or any of the other teachers have pieces on display?”

“Not sure yet. I'm going to head there early and see if I can finish something up.” He continues looking away from you and places his hand on his neck. “Anyways, you'll have fun at the basketball game?” He gives you a questioning glance.

“Mmm, like I said, not sure basketball is my thing.”

“Yeah, I hear that,” Jean says as he packs his sketchbook away. “It is a fun time though – you'll get to see Connie get completely sloshed and try to pick a fight with someone. And believe it or not, Annie gets pretty amped for the game.”

“That's almost intriguing enough,” you laugh. You had never seen Annie anything other than stoic. She and Armin are truly like the moon and the sun. “Would it be weird if I came to your fundraiser?” You blurt out the words before you realize the gravity of what you asked. Why does your brain keep short circuiting around this man? Jean pauses and grimaces.

“It'd probably be pretty boring for you, it's just a bunch of paintings made by melodramatic 13-year olds. You'll have more fun at the game. Anyways,” he tosses his backpack over his shoulder, “I'll see you at the after party.”

“See you,” you say with a monotone voice. It's like a punch to the gut.

~

With your phone in hand, you pace back and forth in your living room. Sasha and Connie had already left to pre-game. As soon as you get home, you call your best friend to see what she made of the situation.

“But why was he being so weird about it? It didn't even sound like he was going to have any of his art there,” you muse.

“I don't know,” Historia says your name, “maybe he was telling the truth, maybe it is really just boring.”

“But still. Wouldn't he want a friend to show up to support what he does? Am I overthinking this?” You flop down on the couch, which is covered in crumbs from Sasha and Connie's late night munchies. Historia would've cleaned it up already, but you don't mind the mess. It's a sign of life, of fun.

“Maybe. . . “ she trails off.

“What if I just went?” you propose. Apparently, your brain was still short circuiting.

“Why do you even want to go?”

“I'm not sure,” you confess. “Something just feels off with how evasive he was.” You hear a muffled yet abrasive voice in the background. “Is that Ymir?”

“Um, yeah, I hope it's okay – she heard everything.” At this point, you assume Ymir knows anything and everything you told Historia.

“HEY,” Ymir shouts your name. “I think you should do it! Go to the art thing. Fuck around and find out!”

“But he seemed like he didn't want anyone there,” Historia counters in her gentle way.

“Exactly,” Ymir retorts, “You gotta find out why.”

It was like talking with an angel and devil on your shoulder. And today, you choose the devil.

~

This was quite possibly one of the stupidest things you've ever done. You linger outside of the nonprofit art studio that Jean works at and shove your hands deep in your parka to protect against the cruel wind. Although really, zero degrees was quite balmy in comparison to the -20 degrees you and Jean braved for the ice sculptures. The slightly dimmed, warm lights beckon you inside as you wonder what in the actual hell you're doing here.

A gaggle of giggling girls interrupt your thoughts. They head for the front doors of the studio, give you a pointed look, and then collapse into giggles once again as they enter the building. Despite the nearly subzero temperatures, heat rushes to your face. Somehow, it's worse getting bullied post-school.

Another sharp wind cuts right through your parka and you can't take it anymore. You rush into the building and involuntarily hum with relief. You barely hear what the kid at the table propped up in front of the doors says to you. Without thinking, you shove a $10 bill at them and walk further into the studio. As expected for an arts nonprofit, it's small – not really a studio as much as a couple connecting classrooms someone tried to dress up as a studio. You dart behind the coat rack and scan the room for Jean, but he's no where to be seen. Parents mill about with their middle school kids.

You keep your parka on, in case you need a quick escape. Plus, it's fucking cold. You begin wandering through the sea of student paintings. A sign at the start explains that the theme is peace. Some paintings are right on the nose – a dove flying with an olive branch or a collage of psychedelic-looking peace signs. Others are a little more nuanced. You chuckle at the painting of a cat stretched out on a floor in a sun spot. You too would like to be sunning yourself and lazing about. Another is a woman, you assume the student's family member, baking bread. You cycle through the student showcase faster, eager to see if Jean has anything on display. Finally, you reach the back corner of the studio. Your eyes flit to the tags below the instructor's paintings. True to what Jean told you earlier, you don't see Floch's name. At the very last tag, you find “Saturday Coffee – Jean Kirstein.”

You look up and find yourself face to face with -

Yourself.

You are on display for everyone to see. Exposed. Your eyes widen and your lips part in shock. Jean has captured you perfectly – from the exact shade of your hair and eyes, to the way you hold your pen, even the slight scars on your skin from a severe case of acne in high school. In the painting, you're at the coffee shop writing. One hand holds your pen, the other your cup of coffee.. There's even a half-eaten muffin to the side.

I'm going to kill him.

A torrent of emotions flood you – violation, honor, embarrassment, humility. Footsteps approach behind you.

“It's beautiful, isn't it? That's my Jean boy's painting.”

You turn to find none other than Jean's mother. Even if she hadn't said anything, her eyes were a dead give away. Nobody else could have his exact shade of earth-like hazel eyes.

“Yeah, um – it's – it's” you stutter.

“Oh,” her eyes light up. “It looks just like you! Are you his muse?” Her laughter is like deep music, but she's interrupted by an aggravated voice.

“Mom, what are you doing here? I asked you not to come.”

Jean. Shit.

Heat flushes your face as you make eye contact with him. And goddamn, he looks good. He's wearing Vans, black loose fitting jeans, and an olive green sweater. Based on his facial expression, you're not sure which of you is more mortified at this situation.

“Oh – “ he says your name and softens, “you're here too.”

Horror and humiliation take over your body.

“So this is why you didn't want to come.” You jab your finger at your mirror image. Jean shrinks into his sweater.

“Look, I can explain - “

“Explain what? That you drew me without telling me?” You try to ignore his mother's worried eyes darting back and forth between you two. Your throat chokes up and you whip around and head back toward the front door. Jean follows you and says your name.

“Wait!”

“No!” You turn back around to face him, tears threatening. “Shit Jean, you at least could've fucking asked me first.”

Hurt flashes across his eyes, but you don't care.

“Ooooo!” The middle school students are entertained by the show you don't realize you're putting on. All too aware of every eye on you, you dash out the door. The now subzero temperatures suck the air out of your lungs. The door behind you doesn't slam shut as expected.

“Please, give me a chance to explain,” Jean pleads with you. You turn around and soften at the sight of him running after you with no coat on, his ears instantly red.

“That was humiliating,” you voice cracks.

“I know, I know.” Jean tips back and forth on his toes and shoves his hands deep in his pockets. Fuck men for getting pockets. “Look, I gotta stay here for a little bit longer, but can you give me a chance to explain? I'll take the painting down immediately.” You raise an eyebrow. Though you do want to know why, the devil in you wants run home and leave him hanging. It's what he deserves. “Meet me at the brewery around the corner? Beers on me? Please?”

This time, you choose the angel.

~ ~ ~

By the time Jean gets to the brewery, you've already guzzled nearly all of you raspberry sour. You take the last sip and eye him as he walks in, flushed from the sudden heat.

You knew exactly what brewery he had referenced as it was the same one that you, Historia and Ymir frequented after intramural volleyball games. After one game, you three sat in the back corner and Ymir scratched “Historia + Ymir + their pet” into the brick wall. You're still not sure how she managed to scratch all that and not get caught.

One year later, you sit in the same spot – but alone. Until Jean comes running up to you. He tears his knit cap and winter coat off, leaving his lengthening hair sticking up in all different directions.

“You started without me?” He points at your now empty glass.

“Mmmhmm.” You nod and cross your arms.

“Can I get you a refill?”

“Yep. Raspberry sour.” You push your glass toward him. A few moments later, he returns with your drink and an IPA for himself.

“Explain yourself,” you demand as soon as he sits down.

“Right,” he agrees and sighs, running his fingers through his hair before resting his stubbled chin on his hand. His face is still flushed, but probably not from the heat inside anymore. “I panicked, honestly. I'd been trying sketches all the time we'd been at the coffee shop, but I was getting no where with the peace theme. I already didn't show anything at the last showcase, which isn't a huge deal, it's mostly for the kids, but I figured it would be a good way to get back into it. Then one morning, it hit me that what I needed was right in front of me.” He gestures his hands to you. “It was you. You were writing in your notebook and drinking coffee, nothing special, just our usual Saturday morning, but you looked so at peace. It's different from how I normally see you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your eyebrows. “Different how?”

“Oh, um,” he scratches his stubbled jaw. Fuck. You are not immune to the effects of a well defined jaw. “I guess when we're all in a big group, I've noticed that you're a little tense, like you have your guard up – which makes sense in a big group of people you don't know very well. So it's been nice to see you relaxed and in your element.” He shrugs, seemingly embarrassed of all he just divulged, of just how much he pays attention to you.

“Hmm.” You keep your arms crossed and nod, unwilling to think too deeply about Jean's accurate observations. “And you didn't bother to ask my permission because . . . ?”

Jean takes a deep breath. “Because I was staying up past midnight painting and I was terrified you'd think it's weird. I didn't want to risk not showing anything tonight, so instead I just hoped nobody would show up. And that's not an excuse, I know. It was a stupid decision. I should've given you the chance to say no. I've taken it down and I promise I won't show it to anyone without your permission.” He slumps down in his chair and looks to you for a response.

You clear your throat. “Thank you.” Jean's face loosens a little.

“Actually, you can have it, if you want. You have more of a right to it than I do.”

“No,” you shake your head and take a sip of your drink. “That feels weird. I can tell you put a lot of time into it, if nothing else.” He nods, but remains silent, unwilling to accept the compliment – probably out of shame. You're not sure if you're quite ready to forgive Jean, but you also don't want to talk about it anymore. “So what was the deal with your mom?”

Jean's head jerks up. “Ah, I owe her an apology too. She's come to every single one of my shows, but I was nervous that she'd get the wrong idea. The curse of living in the same city as your mom means she'll find out anyway,” he smirks.

“And what would be the wrong idea?” Your heart skips a beat as you wait for Jean to answer.

“That we're . . . together,” he purses his lips together. “We're friends, right?”

“Right,” is your knee jerk reaction. Disappointment and glee fill your body at the same time. Glee because you do in fact want to be friends with Jean. Disappointment because this clearly meant the kiss meant nothing to him. You remind yourself that you barely know Jean, yet the attraction is undeniable, especially as a broad grin stretches across his face, which sends you melting.

“Good. Thought I'd lost you there for a minute.”

You return his smile and give his long leg a gentle kick under the table. It's all too easy with how far they stick out. “Just don't do anything like that again,” you warn, half kidding, half serious.

“On my honor,” he says, placing his right hand on his heart in a mock salute. “But seriously, I feel like I owe you a lot more than a beer on me. Can I take you out around Trost sometime?”

Those are date words, but a small voice in the back of your head reminds you that this is an apology – and you don't want a pity hang out.

“You don't have to do that – hang out with me because you feel obligated to.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “That's not what I meant! I mean, I do actually want to hang out with you. It'd be fun to see you outside the coffee shop and trivia. Really, you'd be doing me a favor. Marco's been so busy with his nursing shifts and there's only so much of Sasha and Connie I can handle.” His words spew out almost faster than you can comprehend.

You know what he means, but you tease him. “So you want to hang out with me because your other options are out?”

“Ah shit, I'm really digging myself in a hole here.” He looks down and rubs his fingers through his godamn sexy hair again. He says your name, “I want to hang out with you because I like spending time with you. Better?”

You laugh. “Alright, you've got me. What do you want to do?”

“It'll be a surprise,” he gives you a wry smile and takes a sip of his beer.

“Hmm, mysterious.” Your phone buzzes – someone's calling you. Nobody ever calls you except Historia. You take your phone out and it reads “Connie Springer.”

“Connie?” You answer.

“HEYYYY,” he slurs your name. Jean busts out laughing. Connie's voice is plenty loud enough without speaker phone on. “We WON! Titans win! Get your ass down to our place NOW! And make sure to bring that horse face with you.” He hangs up before you can respond.

“Horse face?” You ask Jean, who crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.

“Eren's insult turned nickname, I guess.” Something tells you that it's endearing from Connie and infuriating from Eren. “Do you want to go after we finish these?” He points to your still mostly full drinks.

“Sure, though I'm not really sure what to expect. Never really been into super competitive sports.”

“It's a lot of fun, even if you're not into it. Mikasa and Armin are pretty 'meh' about it, and they still manage to have fun. Expect Connie to be belligerently drunk and insufferable. Sasha will be off the wall. Reiner might be in tears.”

“Tears?? For a basketball game?” It's hard to imagine the beefy guy in tears.

“He's a big dude with a lot of feelings,” Jean chuckles. “Shall we find out?”

[tiramisuucakeee]

7. TEACHING

twitter + written

!

"i'm bad at everything, i swear," y/n groaned as wonhee dragged her down the hallway toward the school's patio.

"no you're not," wonhee replied, her tone light. "my family always says that the people who struggle in school end up doing great things later. just you wait."

"sure, wonhee," y/n mumbled, her resolve fading. she suddenly stopped by the bathroom. "i'll be with you guys in a second, okay?"

wonhee nodded, heading into the bustling patio where niki sat under a tree, absorbed in his phone and munching on lunch.

y/n stepped into the empty girls' bathroom, taking a moment to adjust her appearance in the mirror. she reapplied her lip gloss and smoothed her hair. feeling more confident, she pushed the door open to leave. but as she stepped out, she collided with someone real hard, sending the person's belongings tumbling to the floor.

"oh my god! i'm sorry!" y/n exclaimed, looking down to help gather the scattered items, taking the worksheets and pencils.

"oh no, i'm so sorry!" hanni said, her cheeks turning pink from embarrassment as she knelt beside y/n. "i should've watched where i was going" she was lucky there weren't many people around.

as they picked up the books and materials, hanni's art sketchbook fell open, revealing some sketches and drawings of random things.

y/n stood up with the sketchbook on her hand, breath caught in her throat. "wow, this is really cool, hold on hanni." she flipped through the book, forgetting all about it not being one of her personal belongings.

hanni looked up and stood as well, surprise flickering in her eyes at her name being remembered, then a shy awkward smile spread across her face. "thanks y/n."

"no, i'm serious," y/n said, feeling the need to express the compliment until hanni understood how good she was. "you are really good at doing this, i wish i could draw naturally like you. i'm really bad at art, and i'm sure mr. park is going to strangle me if i don't get any better," she laughed at herself, making hanni giggle a bit too.

hanni blushed a bit at the comment, but took her chance to hint something. for the past month, from far away, she had watched y/n be bad at art, and she was etching to take over all her work, it bothered her that her art didn't make sense. "oh i'm in mr. park's art class too, you know. my friend told me he's very strict, so maybe you should try to practice a bit." hanni shrugged lightly.

but the uninterested act didn't cause any trouble for y/n at all when she talked to people. "definitely! i mean, you could totally help me out or something," y/n smiled, clapping in excitement, already picturing herself as the next picasso of the seniors.

there was a moment of silence as they both looked at each other, something unspoken hanging in the air. hanni felt a warmth spreading in her cheeks, and

y/n's curious gaze lingered just a bit longer.

"maybe... maybe i can try to" hanni looked down, her voice soft. "i mean, i'm not a teacher.." she trailed off.

"i'd love that," y/n interrupted and ignored the second comment, closing the sketchbook and looked at the tree in the patio, seeing her best friends already arguing. "text me, please. i'll do anything not to fail this class" she almost begged, and gave hanni the book back, their hands brushed against each other again.

hanni agreed breathlessly, giving her a small grin.

and so y/n left for her friends, but didn't forget to look back for a moment. their eyes met, and for a second, the two girls felt as if something really important had happened.

!

!

EXTRA!

masterlist.

prev chapter.

next chapter.

all chapters.

[bookshelf-dust]

another request for Gareth! what if artist!reader asks Gareth if they can draw him and he gets all panicky and blushy🥺🥺

(don't you dare worry if I'll like it or not, I know your work is going to be amazing as always and the important people is that you enjoy writing it!)

bane of my existence

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 622

warnings: swearing, fluff

a/n: hi lovely! this was fun to write. the art kid in me enjoyed it. i hope you like this too!! <333 love you!

————

You set down the piece of charcoal you’ve been using, start playing with your eraser. You stretch the putty out, trying to get some of the dust off of your fingertips.

“Gare?” You ask, something coming to mind. You’re sick of charcoal for today.

“Hm?” He’s sitting on your bed, raiding your comic book stash.

“Can I draw you?”

Gareth’s fingers freeze where they flip through an issue of Captain America, one with Sam in your favorite red outfit on the cover. The boy feels his face go red. He’s panicking.

Drawing him would mean you’re looking at him intensely for however long—long enough for you to pick on all his flaws.

“Are you sure you wanna do that?”

You nod, patting the eraser over the edge of your desk. There really is charcoal everywhere.

“Yes. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. I think you should be documented.”

Gareth shuts the comic and sets it on the bed before running his hands down his face. He’s trying to hide the blush before you see it.

You look up at him. “I have a new pen I want to try too,” you say, but your voice softens even more when you notice his state. “Gareth,” you coo. “Don’t go all shy on me please.”

He puts his hands down and you grin at his reddened cheeks.

“I’m gonna hide again if you don’t stop looking at me like that.”

“I don’t have to if you’re really not okay with it, Gare.”

He finally makes eye contact with you. “No! No, it’s okay. Do I need to do anything?”

You grin again. “Nope. Just forget I’m here.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s impossible.”

Now you’re the one blushing.

————

True to your request, Gareth does his best to relax and go about his business of sorting through your belongings. Your comic book collection is much more extensive than his, and frankly, he’s kind of jealous.

You sit in your desk chair, one knee propped up with your sketchbook resting on it.

You started off using a pencil, sketching the prettiest parts of him—which proved difficult since they’re all the prettiest parts. You decided this would be more fun than a portrait or anything. Portraits stress you out.

Now your page is full of different Gareth features. His nose, his mouth. You’re working on the eyes now, the ink from your pen spreading over the paper to give him the long and unfair lashes he has.

You’ve used the pen to hatch some shadows in the areas that need them, and even if it’s a little messy—and by no means perfect—you’ve had fun drawing him.

You stand, capping your pen. You hand the notebook to Gareth, who looks over it so intently that it makes you nervous.

“Damn,” he says.

“Good ‘damn’ or bad?” You ask tentatively.

“Very good. Although I can tell you spent a little more time on my eyelashes than probably necessary.”

Your face splits in a grin and you take his in your hands. “Your eyelashes are the bane of my existence, Gareth Emerson.”

He laughs heartily. “And your nose,” you start. “And your mouth. And your freckles. Your everything.”

You tilt your head back, mock swooning. Gareth is bright pink, and you soothe your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. “You really like them though?” You ask, needing reassurance.

His eyes dart to the page in your sketchbook again. You really are talented. Everything is so simple, the lines practiced though messy. “I love them,” he says.

Gareth pauses, looking you over.

“You have charcoal on the side of your neck, honey.”

“Dammit!” You exclaim, releasing him from your hold to examine the crime scene in the mirror.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[rott1ngbra1n]

I posted this to my BlueSky (which is the same handle as here and I will be trying to post there too, I also ramble more there at points haha), but I’ve been experimenting more with traditional art since healing my sketchbook trauma/anxiety.

Ramblings below the cut as usual:

I want to show off more of my sketchbook pages cause I want to maybe help some other younger artists or other people who struggle with sketchbook anxiety. This is also not to say that everyone struggles with this, or has had this experience.

I just know it affected my art journey a bit, and I want to show people how I healed from it. Aside from me needing heal from my carpal tunnel *cough* which is why you haven’t seen me much lmao-

I’ve caught the AO3 author curse I swear /lh

But to explain this page, I was testing out better cell shading styles!

I’m not fully used to alcohol markers, but I wanted to use a bounce light along with a shadow. I still have some more refining to do but I quite like it! Using a red pencil then placing the colors on top, then lining it with a normal graphite lead helps to not only have a bolder final line.

It helps hide certain mistakes or guidelines, I’ve really enjoyed sketching like this. It reminds me of how I would sketch in a different color on my digital art, then do a more refined sketch in black.

I think adding what I enjoy about digital art to my sketchbook has helped for an easier transition between the two, along with easing the anxiety with sketching just in the graphite.

You can also tell I had to test a lot of markers to get the base, shadow, and bounce light colors in a nice order. I found that doing the base color, then bounce light, and then shadow was the best way for these pieces.

As sometimes the bounce light didn’t peek through the shadow as much as I wanted. Learning as we go.

The characters are as follows:

Purple: A cybernetic character, he’s very fun, his name is undecided rn

Green: PonySona, cause cringe is dead

Orange: A fur sona? Maybe? I might make them an adoptable, I dunno I just like their design, funky little fiend. Their name is JuiceBox

Red: Shadow the Hedgehog. No explanation needed. Current hyper fixation-

Blue: GoreSona! I like drawing gore works and wanted a character dedicated to that, one that’s not just an old version of my persona