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jinx-jade · 3 years

Text

AWBE Chapter 13: to be seen without pity.

Marinette let out a huff as she laid on top of her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She had begun to envy her time at the temple and League.

Marinette knows that it’s a horrible thought to have and she should never want to willingly go back there.

What were they expecting from her with the way people are treating her.

At least while she was with the league or at the temple, people weren’t treating her like she was someone to pity. Like she was a cracked glass, ready to shatter at any given moment.

The feelings of pity radiating off of anyone and everyone she has had contact with the past month were driving her insane.

Doctors.

Nurses.

Therapists.

Police officers.

The Police commissioner.

Aunt Penny.

Uncle Jagged.

The list goes on and on, even though the people she's allowed contact with are very limited.

She hasn't even had the chance to say hi to her older brother, her fox, or her cat.

She couldn't help but wonder if those three would treat her like this as well.

How much was she asking of people to treat her like a regular person?

How much was she asking of people to treat her with more than just pity and sugar-coated words?

She was getting sick and tired of being treated like this.

Of course, Marinette doesn’t plan on telling one that this is how she feels.

She couldn’t ‘tell’ anyone anyway. Even if she wanted to because her voice still wasn’t back.

Okay, that’s a lie.

Her voice works just fine when she speaks to the kwamis.

Her voice works just fine when she’s talking to herself.

Her voice works just fine when she’s talking to plants and animals.

Her voice doesn’t work with anyone else.

Marinette had tried to talk to people by not looking at them, not saying anything about the league, the temple, Hawkmoth, or the miraculi, but it didn’t work.

In addition to that any time someone is within a five-mile radius of her, Marinette’s magic picks it up and her voice disappears.

It's not like she could just turn her ability to sense people off. It is a skill that has become the same as the skill to breathe. It was a skill you don't even think about when you're doing it, and a skill that you can't just stop doing.

Marinette let out another huff before sitting up off the bed.

She quickly changed into a pair of leggings and a wrap shirt she had made in her spare time. Jagged and Penny being happy to buy her whatever fabrics, supplies, anything she needs or wants really.

Grabbing a backpack, Marinette placed her sketchbooks, Pens, Pencils, and erasers inside the bag.

Marinette sent a quick text message to her Aunt and Uncle, letting them know that she will be in the garden, before placing her phone in the bag with the rest of her things.

The gardens were always rather calming and quiet.

Just not today.

Marinette had already been in the garden for ten, fifteen minutes when a dog came barreling into her.

She tried to coo at the great dame but her voice caught in her throat.

It made sense since the owner was probably nearby.

Except this was the backyard of Stone Manor.

How did the dog even get back here in the first place?

Her question was answered when a man around her age slipped through a person-sized gap in the fence. The area was covered in vines and soft plants so it made sense that she hadn't noticed it before.

Marinette let herself appear, uncaring to the man as she giggled at the dog that was nosing her for attention.

She observed his energy and had to stop herself from physically freezing.

Her neighbor is the bartender?

He seemed to freeze upon seeing her playing with his dog. The man simply awkwardly stood there until the dog, Titus the name tag read, ran over to him and gave him a push.

The man walked a bit closer, leaving more than enough space for her not to feel crowded, and cleared his throat. She pretended to notice and looked up at him, blinking a few times before offering a smile.

"I apologize for Titus. I hadn't even known there was a way he could get out of our yard." The man said as Titus ran back to her for more pets.

Marinette nodded her head as she scratched behind the dog's ears.

The man watched her play with Titus for a bit before she realized that she never gave him her name.

Taking out a spare sheet of paper, she quickly scribbled down her name before offering the paper to the man.

He looked at her questioningly before reading the paper.

He paused to look at her before looking at the paper again.

"Marinette?" The man questioned.

Marinette simply nodded her head and pointed to herself.

That made the man furrow his brows.

"Can you not talk?" The man questioned, clearly confused.

Marinette nodded her head.

"But you talked at the bar." The man stated.

Marinette nodded again.

"Why can't you talk now?" The man questioned.

Marinette looked at him, really looked at him, observing his body language and energy.

He didn't pity her.

He was simply confused.

He didn't quite lack social skills, they just weren't easy for him.

Almost as if he hadn't learned them till much later.

Marinette paused when she could sense the Lazarus pits on him, but he most likely hadn't been in contact with them for at least a decade with how faded the energy was.

The energy made her want to try something.

Taking out another piece of paper, she asked for his name.

"My apologies, that was quite rude of me. I am Damian Wayne, and that's my dog, Titus." The man, Damian, introduced himself.

Marinette looked at him for a few moments before pointing to her throat, then at her head.

She proceeded to draw a symbol on the paper, writing something down next to it.

When Damian looked at the paper he tensed, reading it out loud to make sure it was correct.

"The doctors said I was traumatized by the bad people." He read, turning the paper to face her. "This symbol belongs to the 'bad people?" Damian questioned, receiving a nod from Marinette.

Damian looked at her with a new weariness, as if she was a weapon instead of a cracked glass about to shatter, and kwami was it nice to not feel someone's pity.

"Why are you telling me this?" Damian questioned cautiously.

Marinette handed him another piece of paper.

"You have the Lazarus pits energy on you. It's faded, so my gut says you're safe." Damian read out loud again.

He looks at her for a bit before letting out a sigh and taking a seat next to her, Titus happily laying his head down in Damian's lap.

Damian took one of her pencils and wrote a number on the paper before handing it back to Marinette.

She looked at the paper with curiosity.

"You'll run out of paper if you keep talking like that. Texting would be more effective." Damian said as if that train of thought wasn't missing a few details.

Marinette took the number and added it to her phone.

_______________

+1(***)-***-****

: Why do I need your number to talk to you?

_______________

Damian looked at her confused before releasing his mistake.

"You just got out of the League. I'm originally from the League. If you want to talk about something that happened there I would be the best person to talk to." Damian explains.

Marinette tilted her head in thought before shrugging with a nod of her head.

_______________

Marinette

: but why would you do that?

_______________

Damian looked up from his phone and raised a brow at her.

"You said it yourself, your gut feeling is that I'm safe. Plus I've probably been through something similar to you." Damian said with a shrug.

Marinette thought about it for a moment before shrugging.

They ended up sitting in somehow comfortable silence for the next hour or two.

Marinette only left to head back inside when she got a text from Penny that it was time to eat, so she has to go back inside.

Titus let out a whine when she stood up to leave.

_______________

Marinette

: it was nice to meet you again

_______________

" you as well Marinette."

With that Damian and Titus went back to their side of the wall, and Marinette back into the manor.

tag list: @liquid-luck-00 @lunathealphafemale @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @dorkus-minimus @istoleyourcookies @itsmeevie01 @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @miraculousfanfic127 @macncheesemonster @fan-written @moonlightstar64 @the-one-woman-army @remy-289 @ramos123 @jjmjjktth @ash-amg @glastwime859 @alysrose-starchild @elizabeths-rambles @animegirlweeb @iamabrownfox @northernbluetongue @thecaptainthunder @meismu @nyx-in-line @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @m3owww @icerosecrystal @legends-live-in-memories @salty-fang @a-marlene-s @savagenutella46 @elliebelliegirl @fangirlfox12 @miraculouspenta @t1dwarrior-of-earth @alittlemelody716 @charme-de-malchan @what-even-am-i-tho @raven-campanile @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @iamabrownfox @maskedpainter @our-preciousss @jayjayspixiepop @kking13 @stainedglassm @always-a-fangirl146 @corporeal-terrestrial

#maribat #awbe #angel with blue eyes

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obeiii-mee · 4 years

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Hi there! If its okay, could i ask for headcannons of the brothers finding out MC is an Artist? Something like, finding there sketchbook or napkins w doodles on them jfjdjs Or maybe they catch MC glancing at them alot while trying to draw them? hfjd Ty!! Your writing is really good~

Of course it’s OK! I’ve always liked the idea of MC having a really interesting hobby and teaching the brothers about it. I feel like all the brothers would be very supportive of them, even if they all had various reactions to their hobby but I really love writing wholesome moments like that. Sorry this took longer to come out, I made them really long to make up for it!

Also thank you. Your compliment means a lot :)

————————————-

The Brothers’ reactions to MC being an artist:

Lucifer:

-Well if you’re going to glance at him every two minutes, he’s bound to notice

-I mean, you’re pretty damn obvious

-Lucifer got pretty used to you whipping out your sketchbook whenever you could

-So for you to start doodling in his office while he worked wasn’t exactly unheard of

-He caught you staring at him before looking back down at your drawing, continuing your series of furious scribbles

-Now you piqued his interest

-“You seem very focused there love. What are you drawing?”

-Scared the crap out of you because he rarely ever talks when he’s working

-You were reluctant to show him but Lucifer has his insisting face on

-When you passed him the sketchbook, he momentarily froze

-Your drawing was so detailed and full of emotion, capturing him slumped over his desk, exhausted but determined to finish the work he’s been assigned

-He was so surprised and stunned, for a second, he forgot to breathe

-“It’s not exactly one of my best drawings yet but-“

-“You never fail to impress me MC.”

-He suspected you were drawing him but he wasn’t expecting this much effort to be put into it

-He would definitely keep all your drawings of him

-Loves all your work but secretly adores your sketches of him best

-Lucifer would occasionally look over your shoulder while you sketch, taking a peek at what you’re drawing and smile to himself

-He’s never felt this much pride for someone else before

Mammon:

-Was pissed you would rather spend time with an object rather than him

-It annoyed him at first because he couldn’t tell if you were listening to him or not while you had your nose stuck in your sketchbook

-Basically, he was jealous of a sketchbook

-You can’t do that Mammon, that’s Levi’s thing

-So one day he decided to see what the fuck was so great about that giant notebook you always have with you

-He turned your entire room upside down searching for the damn thing before finding it

-He flipped through it and I’m sure the entire House of Lamentation could hear his gasp

-You drew him for pages and pages in all sorts of positions and styles and he was a flustered tomato going through them

-You willingly drew him? The scum of a demon who could never do anything right unless it involved money? You put your time and effort into these sketches and doodles despite him being condescending and a dick at times?

-Excuse me but this man is already head over heels in love with you, you can’t keep giving him reasons to fall for you

-He was so engrossed into your work that he didn’t notice you behind him

-“Mammon why is there a mess in my room-“

-“HOLY SHI-AHHH!!!”

-Too embarrassed to even think of an excuse for going through your shit

-“Ah those...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have drawn you without your permission Mammon-“

-“Are ya kiddin’ me? MC, I feel insulted that you didn’t tell me about this sooner. Can...Can I keep some of ‘em??”

-Now he insists that you draw him as often as possible and would even pose for you (he loves the attention let’s be real)

-He wants to see all of your drawings and will endlessly support you

-Thought about using your skill as a way to make money because art can be very expensive

-But in the end, he dropped the idea

-Why would he sell something so precious to him??

Levi:

-He probably has a sketchbook too

-You guys draw Ruri-chan together in your own styles

-Levi always insists that you’re much better at drawing than him tho

-Your talent makes him a little jealous but at the same time he’s fascinated

-Was so surprised when he found out you were into sketching

-Levi was even more surprised when you showed him all the drawings you’ve worked on for your favourite anime and video game characters

-OK but how come you’re so perfect? Not only are you a lovely person that is willing to watch anime with him without insulting his opinions but you can draw? W...h...a...t...?

-He requests several sketches of ‘The Tale of the Seven Lords’ characters and will actually tape them to his wall

-Some of them are right on his Ruri-chan shelf

-“Hey normie, do you...do you mind teaching me how to draw? I want to learn.”

-Is 100% determined to learn how to properly sketch from you

-You started drawing him as well, usually while he games

-You better stop, he’ll have a nosebleed if you keep being so nice to him!

-Draw him as an anime character and he will start fangirling

-“Phew. OK I’m finished.”

-“What did you draw?”

-“Hentai.”

-“This. Is. A. Masterpiece.”

-Will proudly show your work to his brothers (usually the same drawing more than five times)

-What did an otaku like him do to deserve you??

Satan:

-He found out you were an artist fairly quickly

-I meant he found tissues with doodles you left behind everywhere

-He kept all of them

-It was so refreshing for him to see you so invested in your drawings the same way he is in his reading

-You’re still under the impression you’re being sneaky by drawing him while he has his nose in his books

-You ended up finally gathering enough courage to show him one of your portraits of him

-He had a reaction similar to Lucifer’s really

-Praise!

-He made your drawing into a bookmark

-Idk how but he did

-You leave him a few doodles of you and him being all lovey dovey and he absolutely adores them

-Will lose his marbles if anyone says anything remotely negative about your style or talent

-Draw him fluffy animals pls he will literally have them framed and fixed up in his room

-Also if you draw any of his brothers (specifically Lucifer let’s be real) in a silly way he will actually start snorting with laughter

-You sketch him pretty damn often and he can’t really complain

-It’s really peaceful when you two are in the library and you’re working on your doodling while he reads aloud to you

-Buys you equipment like pens and pencils and even sketchbooks when he knows you’re running out

-He’s really delighted when you come over to show him your drawings

-Once he caught you staring at a cat as you started sketching it

-He actually didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much

Asmo:

-Noisy little fucker that he is and in need of drama, he looked through your sketchbook

-Thought it was a diary at first but nope

-Imagine his surprise when he found pages upon pages of drawings of his brothers and him

-Except his weren’t really a surprise

-He’s gorgeous of course you would want to draw him

-But oh my God, do you realise how much he values art??

-I know he looks as if he only thinks about sex but he definitely has a thing for creativity and art like painting and photography

-“MC darliiiing~? Why didn’t you tell me you can draw?”

-He actually shrieks at how well you’ve captured his beauty

-He insists that they look like actual pictures of him

-Takes several pictures of all of them and posts them on DevilGram

-A bit salty when you drawing anything else but him

-However, he can’t deny that you’re one of the most talented individuals he ever met

-He comes up to you every day and lractically begs you to draw him

-One time you came in your room to find him naked and asking you to draw him

-Is actually kinda good at drawing himself

-Specifically people

-He has enough experience exploring the human body so he surprisingly enough, knows a thing or two when it comes to body proportions

-“MC draw me like one of your french girls~”

-I’m sorry I had to do that

-He also likes the attention he’s getting when he poses for you

-He may think he’s the most beautiful being in all three realms but he definitely thinks you’re the second

-So he often offers to draw you too

-He likes having cozy chats with you while you draw

Beel:

-You left your sketchbook behind in the kitchen with him

-Mammon needed your assistance to get down from where Lucifer hanged him after one of his failed money schemes

-He knocked a glass of milk nearby it and had a panic attack for a minute

-Legitimately thought he ruined the whole thing

-Was actually about ready to cry because he knew how important your sketchbook was to you

-Looked through it just to make sure there were no splotches or anything

-To say he was relieved when he realised it was fine would be an understatement

-He was kinda drawn to your sketches, most of them carefully drawn and expressive, even some of the ones you scribbled out

-One specific drawing caught his eye though

-You drew him and Belphie together, with his twin brother’s head resting on his shoulder while Beel ate

-He was mesmerised by your talent and by your thoughtfulness

-Beel felt bad about it but he kept looking through your sketches, enchanted by everything in it

-You drew him and his brothers several times

-It’s safe to say the discovery of your drawings brightened his day

-Gave back your sketchbook later

-He apologised for going through it without your permission more than he needed to

-You had to accept his apology because he looked like a kicked puppy

-Feels very honoured whenever you let him look at your work

-Is more than happy to pose for you!

-But that might be a bit of a problem seeing as he tends to move around a lot

-“Whoa, that looks just like me! The food I’m eating looks really realistic too...which is making me hungry. Let’s go to Hell’s Kitchen, you can finish this there!”

-Supportive bean

-You gave him a family sketch of him and all of his brothers once

-Normally, he only likes gifts he can eat

-But he treasures that drawing more than food at times

-“This...this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me! Thank you MC! But uh, someone’s missing in this drawing.”

-“Ah shit, who did I miss?”

-“You.”

-If anything ever happens to Beel or his happiness I swear to Lord Diavolo-

Belphie:

-OK but you left your notebook just sitting there right next to him???

-How do you expect him not to look through it?

-Belphie doesn’t care much for privacy

-And he doesn’t exactly have morals either

-He didn’t even know you were into drawing

-Which to be fair, wasn’t scandalous considering he sleeps 20 hours a day

-But he wants to be more involved in your interests so that’s why he took initiative with your sketchbook

-Idk what he was expecting but definitely not a sketch of him staring back at him

-His heart skipped a beat but I don’t even know if demons have hearts

-The cheeky little shit took pictures and may or may not have made on your drawings of him his wallpaper

-Most of the drawings were of him sleeping, surprising...absolutely no one

-“So that’s what you’re up to whenever I go to sleep huh? So cute~”

-But besides all that, he is really touched

-I mean, if there’s anyone undeserving of your love and respect is the piece of shit of who tried to kill you

-Yet here you are, continuously showering him with affection and now this

-Probably spent hours looking at your sketchbook while you were at R.A.D

-Didn’t say anything to you when you came back except handing your notebook back to you

-Though he was less of a smartass and more affectionate for the rest of the day

-Next morning, you took the liberty of waking up before him and sketching him again

-He grabbed your arm halfway through your doodling and grinned at you from under the covers

-“Drawing me again huh? You won’t mind me doing this while you’re at it then right?”

-Now he’s sleeping in your lap

-Whenever you show him your work, he makes a small approving noise but he’s seriously impressed

-Draw Lucifer or Lord Diavolo in any offensive manner and he will actually start giggling

-Gets all huffy puffy when you draw his brothers instead of him (we all know Beel is the exception)

-I may have a thing for Belphegour

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #⭐️ requests #☂️ demon brothers #🕯 general

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daveyjacobss · 3 years

Text

meant to be made into art

jack kelly x davey jacobs (freshman college roommates au)

summary: davey might like his new roommate more than he was expecting to.

a/n: hi @faded-dragon-flys !! i’m your secrect santa for @newsies-secret-santa !! this is being posted a little later than i wanted so i’m really sorry about that but i hope you like it!! i hope you’ve had a happy holidays and that you have a wonderful new years :)

masterlist

_________

College was....okay. It wasn't that Davey wasn't excited to have more freedom and to finally be able to pursue his interests, but the entire experience was incredibly nerve-wracking. Classes and coursework were enough stress on their own, but the addition of living away from home for the first time in a new place with a stranger for a roommate wasn't exactly ideal. Not that his roommate wasn't fine, he was —mostly. He had a horrible sleep schedule and he was a little messy and he sometimes listened to his music too loud, but Davey had many of the same flaws. So, yeah, Davey could mostly handle Jack.

It had been a bit of a shock the second week when he had been up at an ungodly hour writing for one of his classes and Jack, who he had assumed was sleeping somewhere else for the night, had returned from one of the school's art studios splattered with paint. From the look on Jack's face, it had been a bit of a shock for him, too. But after the initial surprise had passed Jack had laughed quietly and Davey's cheeks had flushed the lightest of pinks because, oh, Jack had a really nice laugh. Davey had laughed a little, too, once he got his faint blush under control, and they had stayed up a little longer to talk before going to sleep. There were plenty of late night encounters in the following weeks, but that first one lingered in Davey's mind — the way the paint on Jack's face had accentuated his jawline, the way his smile had spread across his face so easily. His laughter had been soft but, with the quiet of the room, the sound of it had wrapped itself around Davey so firmly that he had felt it in his chest.

That happened a lot — more than he would have liked to admit. Jack would laugh, or he would sing along with his music, or he would just talk, and Davey would feel it reverberating in his chest and quickening the pace of his heart. Though, to be fair, the sped up heart rate also happened whenever Jack changed his shirt in front of Davey or walked into the room after a shower in only a towel.

So, maybe he couldn't actually handle Jack that well. Or, rather, he couldn't handle the way his face warmed every time Jack looked at him and his heart jumped in his chest anytime Jack touched him. Every time he talked to Sarah on the phone she would ask about his cute roommate, and every time without fail Davey would make a little choking noise and, if Jack was there, a swift exit. She had seen him when she was helping Davey move into his dorm, and he spent every day grateful that she hadn't gotten the chance to actually talk to him.

Sarah was better at making friends than Davey was, she always had been. Where she blossomed in social situations and could easily command a room, Davey floundered for what to say and criticized every word that came out of his own mouth. He was awkward, and people tended to give him strange looks rather than friendly smiles. Jack was the same way as Sarah, from what Davey could gather. He had plenty of friends back home and he had had no trouble making friends at their university, never eating alone in the dining hall and always having someone in each of his classes to text about assignments. Davey could understand it, the way people seemed to fawn over Jack and melt at his smile — after all, he did the same things. Jack never really brought his friends back to their dorm, though, and it warmed Davey's heart to think it was out of consideration for him.

The only real friends Davey had made since arriving on campus were Jack and a girl in his english class named Katherine, who sometimes scared him but he still adored all the same. Katherine had caught onto his growing feelings for his roommate so fast Davey had briefly wondered if she was psychic. Jack had seen them sitting together while they ate dinner and came to say hi, and Katherine had clearly not missed the way Davey had simultaneously brightened out of excitement and shrunk down out of nervousness. Thankfully, she didn't say anything until Jack had left, but then a teasing smile had spread across her face and Davey knew he was a goner.

"Don't think I didn't see that," she had said, nonchalantly flipping her hair behind her shoulder. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief as she looked at him.

"See what?" He had asked, trying to appear as unbothered as she was. He failed miserably.

She hadn't responded, only going back to eating her salad, but she had been poking fun at him about it ever since. It didn't help that she insisted Jack had a crush on Davey, too. She would tell him about how Jack's smile was different for him and he rarely looked away from Davey when they were in the same room — but Davey just couldn't bring himself to believe it. Believing it would let in too much hope, and with too much hope came the inevitable bone crushing weight of heartbreak.

Even just the little bit of hope that had crept into his chest after Katherine's constant reassurances of Jack liking him as well left him stealing glances at his roommate while perched on his own bed and making half-assed annotations in his textbook. Sometimes he felt creepy, always watching Jack when he wasn't looking (thought he probably spent an equal amount of time averting his eyes for his own sanity), but every once in a while Jack would catch him and he would just smile — so Davey never felt too bad about it.

He watched as Jack hunched over his sketchbook, his lip between his teeth and his brow furrowed. Jack always looked breathtaking when he was concentrating on his artwork. He ended up in strange positions that looked like there was no way they could ever be comfortable, but his body was as relaxed as it was tense. Sometimes his tongue would slip out between his teeth if he got really into it, and it always made Davey smile. Jack's control over his face in general seemed to disappear when he was working on his art, every emotion clearly written in his expressions as he cycled through them. Once, Jack had brought Davey to the art studio with him so he could have company while he painted. It had been one of the smaller rooms in the art building, and they were the only ones in there. The way Jack had loosened and opened up was incredible to watch, it was like as soon as he picked up his paintbrush his whole being clicked into place and was brought into focus. The painting was beautiful, as was every piece of Jack's, but it was the painter who Davey had watched come alive in vibrant colors.

"What are you working on?" He blurted out, startling even himself as Jack looked up from his sketchbook. His roommate's face relaxed a little as his eyes fell on Davey.

"Just some warmup sketches," he answered easily. Everything Jack did seemed to come easily.

"Any particular subject?" Davey pushed his textbook off his lap, his notes forgotten in lieu of a much more important subject (Jack, of course). For a split second, he swore he saw panic flash across his friend's face.

"Not really, I just like to make sure I draw a bit everyday." He smiled at Davey, closing his sketchbook. "What class are you working on?"

"Oh, this?" Davey gestured to the several colors of highlighters and pens scattered across his bed with his textbook. "It's just stuff for my intro to philosophy course. The professor gives us, like, never-ending readings. It's nowhere near as interesting as your art." He was blushing by the time he finished talking, not having expected himself to turn his answer into praise for Jack (...again). But Jack scoffed, bringing himself and his sketchbook over to Davey's bed. He plopped down next to him and their knees knocked into each other, Davey's heart missing a beat.

"Nah, if it's interesting to you than it's cool. You don't have to downplay it or justify it to me." Jack caught Davey's eyes while he was talking, locking in so that Davey couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to (he didn't). There was something so simultaneously comforting and exposing about Jack looking right at him, all of his attention focused on Davey. He was so caught up it in that it took a second for his words to register. But, when they did, he found his chest warming and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering their wings — not the harsh, violent flapping that happened when he got anxious, but a gentle soothing rhythm that could have lulled him to sleep. Not knowing how to respond to such a warm act of reassurance, he tried to redirect the conversation.

"Can I see what you were drawing?"

It was Jack who finally broke their staring contest, dragging his eyes down to look at his sketchbook resting in his lap. He glanced between it and Davey, biting his lip.

"Tell you what, I'll show you some of these sketches if you finally let me read one of those short stories of yours for your fiction writing class, deal?"

Davey's eyes widened, feeling himself shrinking back without actually moving. He was retreating from the warmth Jack was radiating and it left him cold and regretful, but he didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know if he could let Jack read one his stories, let him look that deeply in Davey's mind. Sure, his professor and his classmates would read his stories for workshops to help him revise it, but this felt different. They were reading it for the sake of constructive criticism and helping him improve it, Jack would be reading it just to read it. Jack would be reading it and in doing so he'd get the biggest peek into who Davey was that he would probably ever get. Even Sarah hadn't been allowed to read his stories yet. But —

But Jack was there. Jack was sitting there in front of him on Davey's bed, offering up a part of himself, too. Davey had watched Jack paint, but he had never had the privilege to look into Jack's sketchbook. Even when he asked he had been expecting a playful dismissal, a kind brush off. Jack's other friends, Davey knew, weren't allowed to look at his sketchbook. He had confided with Davey that even his foster brother back home had only been allowed to glimpse a few pages. And if Jack was willing to show that part of himself, to reveal that to Davey, how couldn't he offer up the same in return?

"Okay," he said, looking Jack right in the eye again and watching as his lips turned upward. "Deal."

Jack grinned fully before spitting on his hand and holding it out as if for a handshake. Davey scrunched his nose as he looked down at it. "That's disgusting."

Jack laughed, pulling hand back to wipe it on his pants. "Sorry, force of habit."

Davey's phone vibrated on the bed beside him as he was giving Jack a slightly bewildered stare. He picked it up without really looking, pulling up the text notification from Sarah. His face flushed at her message, quickly putting his phone face down on the bed to make sure Jack couldn't see it. It was Jack's turn to give Davey a bewildered stare.

"You alright there?"

Davey laughed nervously. "Yeah, uh, I'm good. Sorry, it's my sister. She won't stop asking me about my cute roommate." He froze as he realized what he had said. "Uh! Her words, not mine. She won't shut up about it."

"That so?" Jack asked, smirking. He was so smug and so boyishly attractive that Davey's brain didn't even give him a second to think before he was talking again.

"Well, you know, you are." And holy shit he did not just say that. Holy shit he did not just say that. Jack's jaw dropped just slightly, but Davey was more focused on the panic making its way through his entire body and forcing even more words up his throat. "I mean—like, uh, objectively, ya know? Like, your face is, uh — it's, like, aesthetically.... pleasing?"

He wanted to die. He wanted to throw himself out the window and die. He could not believe all of that had just come out of his mouth. He continued to stutter for a few more seconds without any real words coming out, Jack's eyes still fixated on him as he blushed and fidgeted. Then, suddenly, he turned away as if to hide his face — but he didn't turn enough. Davey watched in muted shock as Jack lips spread into a broad grin.

"For what it's worth," Jack's voice was soft and gentle, slipping out from behind his smile, "I think your face is pretty aesthetically pleasing, too."

Davey's entire body shut down. Oh. Jack thought he had a nice face. Okay. Yeah, definitely not something he could handle — definitely something he would need to deal with and process when he was alone and could express the proper amount of freaking out over it.

"I actually, um—" Jack was turning back to him, opening his sketchbook to his most recent pages. "I think you have a really nice face, Davey." He held the book out to Davey and he took it with slightly trembling his hands. In front of him were two full pages populated entirely by sketches of Davey. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at them, at Jack's beautiful handiwork. He made Davey seem more breathtaking than he was, than he could ever dream of being. And, more than that, he made Davey seem like the kind of person worth paying attention to.

When he turned to look back at Jack, his gaze was softened and his mouth was stilling hanging open slightly. Jack looked like he was holding his breath, his eyes hopeful as they met Davey's.

Oh, Davey thought again. Oh.

While he had been sneaking glances at Jack, Jack had been doing the same. While he had been romanticizing every detail of Jack, Jack had been doing the exact same thing to Davey in his artwork. He made Davey feel like he was the kind of person who deserved to be romanticized, like he was the kind of person who was meant to made into art.

Oh.

Davey gently placed the sketchbook down on the bed, feeling more calm than he had since he moved into their dorm. The butterflies in his stomach were fluttering, his heart was beating out his chest, his face was practically burning, and yet everything felt peaceful. Jack's eyes widened as Davey reached for him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

But he melted into it when Davey kissed him. He grabbed at Davey, his hands scrunching up the fabric of Davey's shirt as he pulled him closer, smiling into the kiss. Davey felt like he had literally ascended to heaven, curling his fingers in Jack's hair.

When they eventually pulled away Davey's nerves returned in full force, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself. But Jack just smiled at him and kissed his forehead before lacing their hands together. And, yeah, Davey could make do with that.

"What do you say we go grab some dinner and I read one of your stories when we get back? Then we can have a movie night or something," Jack offered, standing up from the bed and pulling Davey with him.

No fear came with the idea of Jack reading his story that time, not after having seen Jack's sketchbook. Not after Jack had revealed himself so openly to Davey — it was only fair he do the same. Plus, he found that he wanted Jack to see that part of him. He wanted to know what Jack thought of his writing.

"Yeah," he smiled, squeezing Jack's hand. "That sounds good."

_________

tag list: @isarants @tomanybandstolove @seriously-ceci @bens-platt @earlyjunes @broadway-trashh @interwebseriesfan24 @returnoftheborle @cozykleinman @timesarehardfornewsies @jackclyde @last-an-eon @annabethgranger123 @musi-xals @notyouraveragegryffindoor @magic-made-by-melody @i-also-miss-our-talks@linfuckingmirandaaa @shatteringinprogress @storytellersun @psych-stereo @books-cats-sprinkles @me-andthe-sky @connor-is-my-sunshine @merediths2003 @papesfordavey @larryisinfactnotstraight @casifer-is-cute @gem-evieve @actually-lizzy @broadwayobsessedteen @majo16199 @sarkitsm @suffering-bi @tommy-braccoli @starryrevelations @woolfhrd @thesleepingandthedead @cruelnatalie @bencookisagod @abovethyfold @mycollectionofnuts @gayrightsansa @dorkydavina

#javid fic #javid #jack kelly x davey jacobs #newsies fic #newsies #newsies secret santa #jack kelly #davey jacobs #not my best work lol but i think it's a lil cute :)#bambi can kinda write

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anystalker707 · 4 years

Text

Lights, camera and fuck off (4/4)

Pairing: Gerard Way x Fem Reader Genre: Fluff Word count: 2 349 Requested by @liv-silver1 Summary: It seems like Gerard wants to tell reader something. Will he have the guts to?

The kitchen is filled with the smell of coffee and pancakes as I prepare some, with music playing in the background, though not too loud since Gerard's still asleep. Or was when I woke up. Nonetheless, it doesn't really matter, the quiet ambient is good enough.

As much as half of me already waited for it, I'm still surprised when arms suddenly wrap around my torso and Gerard's beard scratching against my neck makes me shrink with the tickling sensation. He chuckles at my reaction and places a kiss on my neck, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Good morning," I greet him with a smile, receiving a lazy hum in response.

I continue cooking, Gerard continues there – he's warm, so it's quite pleasing. He stands still until I finish the pile of pancakes on the plate. With it, I believe he'll let go to eat or so I'm able to set the used dishes in the sink and all, but no. He continues there, the same way, not moving a muscle.

"Gee? You fell asleep there?" I joke with a chuckle. I would certainly turn to check on him if our position allowed me to.

It takes Gerard a moment, but he eventually moves; he adjusts his position, though still doesn't let go. "I can't stay away from you," he groans quietly and finally pulls away from me, stepping back to let me do what I need to before turning to him.

"We're in the same house," I tell him with a smile as taking the plate to the kitchen table, placing it with the rest of the food. "You're not really away from me if you're here, even more if you're just a few steps away." My purpose is mostly to tease him since I do know what he means. I don't think we do spend much time away from each other because we're often at least in the same room, whenever possible.

Gerard pouts as rolling his eyes, pulling me to a hug before I can notice. Sighing softly, I hug him back anyways, resting my head on his shoulder as enjoying the calming sensation he brings me. It feels like he's got something to say and there are a few specific options which would leave him in this shy state.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask, half of me curiously while the other half mostly wants him to start speaking and eventually feel encouraged to blurt out whatever he's holding back.

"Eh, kinda, y'know," Gerard says after a moment of thinking. I pull away to face him – he smiles shyly at me – and press my lips to his in a soft kiss. He hums appreciatively against my lips. The way his hands feel tense around my hips end up confirming my assumptions about something bugging him. Anyways, there must be a reason why he still didn't tell me about it, so I won't push it further.

"I think it'll rain later," I say as looking up – it's not like I can see the cloudy sky properly through the trees' leaves, but the specific cold wind going through them and giving us chills tells me enough. Averting my attention to Gerard, I see him looking up at the same direction I did seconds ago before his gaze moves to me.

"'Guess so," he replies, pulling on my hand again for us to continue walking; dry leaves and fallen sticks crack under our feet, creating a rather pleasing sound.

After we had lunch in a restaurant, he told me he'd like to come here for a walk in the woods and of course I accepted. I don't know if it's because I'm with him, but it always brings me certain peace. That's not something easy to explain, but it's calm. Like if there's no weight on hour shoulders. A kind of synchrony with... everything, I guess.

Gerard clearly wants to reach the clearing or maybe the creek, considering the way he takes. Both places are really beautiful and we usually go there many times since Gerard likes making sketches of the views. There are leaves and flowers pressed between the pages of his sketchbook – ones which I find in the way there and give him –, sometimes with something written. The places are naturally connected to a lot of happy memories.

Our plans, however, seem to change in the moment I feel the first cold, thick drop of rain falling on my hand. I plan to not mention about it – since Gerard seems determined to get there for some reason unknown to me –, but it's practically impossible with more and more drops following close. The rain catches us earlier than we thought.

A sigh escapes my lips as Gerard stops and furrows his eyebrows at the sky, like if silently cursing it. Behind the annoyed expression, I can notice an air of frustration.

"We should return," I tell him, pulling lightly on his hand. "'Don't want any of us catching a cold," I smile softly in an attempt of cheering him up. Gerard hums quietly as turning to look at me, nodding.

In our way back to the car, we barely exchange a word, more worried about rushing back to it. The atmosphere is noticeably heavier once we sit inside the car, in silence, with just the muffled sound of the rain against the car echoing in the small ambient besides our heavy breaths.

Gerard seems bothered and I wonder if I did something wrong. He looks out the windshield glass with an expression I can't really decipher and I observe him in an attempt of checking if my assumptions are right.

I'm startled with Gerard's eyes suddenly averting to me, blushing and about to apologize, but the unexpected smile over his face stops me from doing it. It doesn't seem forced, though the frustration didn't leave him, showing itself even in the way his shoulders fall.

He pulls me to a soft kiss, wordlessly comforting me and pushing away all my worry. Well, at least most of it.

"I love you," Gerard says softly, caressing my cheek lightly with his thumb while his other hand wraps around mine, both over my lap. "I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met."

A smile cracks my lips before I can notice and I can feel my cheeks burning again. I breathe a happy chuckle, "I love you more than you can ever imagine." I say back, softly. Carefully, I raise a hand to pull one of the now wet stands away from his face, smiling as I bring him for another kiss.

My attention is on my phone until I see Gerard in the walking in the room – the frustration is still present, though not as much as before. There's a smile on his face as he comes to sit down beside me, wrapping his arms around my torso as making himself comfortable next to me. He leans his head against my shoulder after pressing a kiss to my cheek and it's quite peaceful.

Just the faint sound coming from the until now neglected TV fills the room. It's a nice weekend, anyways, without anything much to do aside from lazy cuddles, even more with the cloudy weather.

"We should go outside," Gerard suggests out of sudden, his voice barely anything above a whisper. "It's going to rain again. I like watching the rain." He hums questioningly as nuzzling my neck, placing a kiss on it.

"Sounds nice," I smile, pressing a kiss to his head before reaching for the remote control to turn off the TV. How he was leaning against me, the sudden motion makes him fall to the couch without any warning – the playful complaining coming from him makes me laugh.

There's another couch in the back veranda – the place itself is quite wide, with a table where sometimes we'll have lunch when the others are over. It's also a good place to hang out, talk or even cuddle. The view of the garden is a nice one and Gerard likes to make sketches of it too. Or of anything that catches his attention, really, what's many things. So, of course, the familiar sketchbook is in his hand, along with his ink pens and charcoal pencils, as we walk to the outside.

The couch is cold, but not unpleasingly, quickly growing warm after we sit down on it. Gerard sits back on the couch, his sketchbook over the armrest for support. Meanwhile, I pull my legs over the cushion and lean against him; we're pretty much like in an exact inversion of the position we were in minutes ago.

"You feel like home," Gerard tells me suddenly, his voice quiet while his attention doesn't even leave his sketchbook. His words make me blush and crack a stupid smile; I bury my face in his shoulder, trying to hide my red cheeks.

"You do too." I press a kiss to his cheek, sighing happily as averting my eyes to the garden.

Just like earlier, the wind makes the trees' leaves and the plants shake, bringing more rain clouds with it and also creating a pleasing sound.

Our silence makes me think and, with the day unconsciously playing in my head, I notice something.

"You're being extra sweet today," I tell Gerard, playing with the folds of his hoodie over his arm. "Is there any special reason?" I ask more of teasingly, believing I'll finally find out whatever he's holding back. I don't really think there's anything apart from him just wanting to act sweeter or something similar, particularly, however, the way his cheeks redden do sparkle my curiosity.

Gerard opens his mouth to reply, his hand tightening a bit around his pencil, but nothing comes from him at first. He glances at me with an emotion I can't really identify and seems to have given up on saying something before finally speaking up.

"No, I," he shrugs, "I just wanted to." The red tone on his cheeks intensify as he twists his lips lightly whenever nervous, looking at me by the corner of his eyes.

A chuckle escapes my lips and I reply, "okay then." Well, it's probably to do with earlier – both the tension from the morning and whatever related to the woods earlier, but I can't think about what it could possibly be neither am I going to question him about it directly. At least yet.

Sighing happily, I lean my head against his shoulder again, my attention averting to the garden. It's not exactly sleepiness, but a similar feeling takes over me with all the comfort brought by the situation.

Unlike earlier, the raindrops that start falling from the sky are thin, signing that the rain will certainly last longer. It makes both of us noticeably relax with the new mood we're set in. I play with the hem of Gerard's hoodie, unconsciously trying to find a pattern in the sounds of the pencil against the paper and the small motions of his arm.

Suddenly, I'm pulled away from my thoughts. Gerard's sketchbook is held out in front of me and I instinctively take it in hand, looking at Gerard in seek for any explanation just to be met with none.

I try waiting, but I'm just able to notice he's probably blushing and I don't know if the fact of what's visible of his face being covered with hair proves it or not. Shrugging lightly, I turn to the sketchbook to see what's it.

A detailed drawing of Gerard and I is on the pages, with a few things written and some flower petals pressed to the paper. I take my time to observe the drawing – that's truly wonderful –, taking in all the details, before my attention moves to what's written.

You make every day worth living. You've shown me what love feels like. Will you marry me?

The question makes me freeze – my heart skips a beat and I'm left without reaction at first, with it coming out of sudden – and I can feel Gerard tensing up beside me due to it. What brings me back to reality is the pencil being held out towards me. He's probably not even looking at me, if I know him well, but it's not like I've got the guts to face him just yet.

As I stare at the page with my pencil in hand, I start reasoning everything and I notice that it's probably what he's been wanting to tell me the whole day. Maybe he was going to propose when we were in the woods, what justifies his frustration with the rain. My thoughts end up turning incoherent and just notice it when the of course is already written on the page in a shaky, nervous letter. I add a heart in the end before returning it to Gerard.

My eyes observe Gerard with certain excitement as he hesitantly looks at the sketchbook. His surprise is honestly confusing to me, but he eventually turns to me with glassy eyes and bright red cheeks, his eyes on the floor.

"Thank you for staying with me," he mutters almost inaudibly, shyly.

I don't move until I can't hold back anymore the happiness in my chest. I carefully set the sketchbook aside before tackling him in a hug.

"Oh, look at you! It's not something you need to be thankful for, I'm with you because I love you!" I say with a happy chuckle, wrapping my arms tightly around him and burying my face in the crook of his neck, too embarrassed to let him see my reaction.

Honestly, I never thought anyone would – or could – like me that much and maybe I'm even worried if Gerard is sure about that. However, the happiness is overwhelming. He chuckles lightly and I can feel him rubbing my back, playing lightly with my hair before a kiss is pressed to my head.

#emo #emocore #mcr #mcr x reader #x reader #imagine #mcr imagine #gerard x reader #gerard way #gerard way imagine #oneshot #reader insert #fanfic #fan fiction #my chemical romance #fluff #my post

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dear-selena · 5 years

Text

Sketchbook (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader): Chapter 3

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Female)

Summary: (Y/N) never understood science based subjects, despite putting all her efforts into studying them. Kids at school bullied her, her father, Tony Stark, was disappointed in her, and the Avengers looked the other way. Peter Parker, her best friend and secret crush for almost two years, was always there supporting her when she needed someone. However, since he became an Avenger and her dad’s ‘favorite kid’, (Y/N) doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be around.

You find yourself struggling to exist with everything working against you, and instead of asking others for help, you turn to your sketchbook.

Warnings: Depression, suicidal ideations, angst central.

A/N: Hello again! School is still crazy, but I’m so happy that I found the time to update this story! Thank you to everyone for being so supportive and patient with me. I can assure you that I have not forgotten about this story. I’ve been making mood boards because, well, I got bored one night and thought they’d be better than using random gifs of Peter that don’t relate to the story.

Like I said before, my updates will be a bit sporadic, but I’m doing my best to write and update. Please stay patient with me. I can’t wait to share more of this story!

Chapter 3: Unseen Potential

Words: 1935

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Showers always feel nice, especially when you feel like you want to live.

After stepping out of the shower and into your room, you put on your favorite (F/C) tank top and gym shorts. Taking out a long comfy cardigan, you wrap it around your body and smile at the warmth.

After drying your wet hair, you step out of your room and make your way into the kitchen. Around this time, Vision always cooks something, and when he cooks, you eat well. Besides you were starving after all the energy you used training earlier, and you felt you deserved a good meal.

However, your good mood didn’t last long.

On your way to the kitchen, you spot your father and Natasha at the end of the hallway having an intense conversation. At first, you wanted to join the conversation, knowing that Natasha was talking about your successful training session. However, your father’s voice was rather harsh, making your stomach drop.

Rounding the corner, you hide from their sight and listen in. “No! I will not allow her to do that.” You hear your father sternly say.

“But Tony,” Natasha butts in. “(Y/N)’s been steadily improving, and today I think she made a breakthrough. I don’t want her breaking that momentum now. Pretty soon she’ll be mission ready-.”

“(Y/N) is not going to be mission ready for a long time.” Your father practically shouts, making your heart drop to your feet. “I don’t want someone who can’t pass a simple science class out there risking their life. She’s not to train anymore.”

“But Tony-.”

“Natasha,” your father angrily sighs. “I don’t understand why my own daughter can’t pass her classes, but I know all these distractions are hindering her. So until she actually starts to study like she claims she does, she’s not going to train anymore.”

Hearing your father and Natasha’s footsteps walking out of the hall, you quickly make your way back into your room. Slamming the door shut, you sob, sliding down the door until you’re sitting. You hoped your father would be proud of you. Hell, you hoped your father would have wanted to see you in action. But no matter what you did, it was never enough. No matter what good came in your life, it was always taken away. No matter how much you wanted your father’s love, he would never give it to you.

What was the point in existing?

—————-

Slamming your calculator on your desk, you push yourself away from your homework.

After crying your eyes out, you decide to try and get some homework done. After all, that’s what your father wants. You were currently trying to tackle your algebra homework, but per usual, you kept getting the wrong answer, no matter what you did and how many math help sites you used on your laptop.

The negative thoughts start to come to you head, wrapping your conscience in a blanket of fear. You couldn’t help but imagine what the compound would be like if you didn’t exist. Natasha wouldn’t have to waste her time training you with little results, Bucky could find someone his age to pick on, and your father could spend all his energy being proud of the son he wish was you.

Thoughts of Peter suddenly came into your mind, but instead of being pleasant like they usually were, they were rather scary. You saw Peter staring at you in disgust, practically mocking you for your pathetic mind. Peter stopped hanging out with you and started befriending prettier, smarter girls at Midtown, leaving you friendless. You even saw him taking over your own bedroom, kicking you out of the compound and acting as if you never existed to begin with.

Everything hurt. Your head, your heart, and your soul.

Trying to snap out of it, you sit on the floor leaning against your bed, go into your backpack and find your sketchbook, the air returning to your lungs as you held the moleskin. Looking through your past notes, you find a poem you wrote when you felt a similar way weeks ago.

Oh my lord, can you hear me?

Chanting a stupid pathetic plea?

Oh my lord, please I cry,

Take me away from this worthless life.

Reading these words fills you with an inspirational numbness, if that makes any sense. Turning to a blank page in your sketchbook, you find your pencils, pens, and colored charcoal, and begin to draw.

After what felt like an hour, you hear a knock at your door. “Come in,” You say, not looking up from your work.

When the door opens, you finally stop what you’re doing, and look up to see Peter, smile on his face and a bowl in his hands. “Hey (Y/N),” you couldn’t help but send him a small smile. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some of Vision’s food.”

Peter sits down next to you and hands you a bowl full of pasta. There were meatballs and veggies cooked into the sauce, making your mouth water. You didn’t realize how starving you were.

Glancing at your hands, you put the bowl on the floor. “Thanks Peter, I’m going to go wash my hands,” you say showing them off and revealing the massive color stains from the charcoal. Peter simply chuckles and nods his head.

Getting up, you make your way to your bathroom and quickly scrub all the colors off your hands. When you return to your room, you see Peter looking through your sketchbook, a pleasant look on his face. You smile to yourself, liking the little attention he gave you. Normally, you were super protective of your book and its contents. Not even your father knew you owned it, as you bought it and all your art supplies on your own accord. But you felt comfortable sharing it with Peter, even though there were some questionable things in it (he never found the dark poems you wrote in it).

Sitting back down next to him, you grab the bowl and immediately shovel the pasta in your mouth, practically moaning at the sensation. While you eat, you watch Peter look through your drawings.

“Wow… (Y/N) these are incredible.” Peter says, his voice full of amazement. He was currently looking at some colored sketches you just did of clothes you designed for various climates, inspired by the weapon drafts you saw earlier in your father’s lab. “Your father and I were working on stuff like this today.”

You nod, swallowing your food. “Yeah, I might have accidentally saw the drafts when I was in the lab today. I thought it would be cool to make matching outfits, I don’t know.”

Peter smiles at you and looks back at your notes. “You have some really cool ideas written down to the clothes that we haven’t thought about yet,” he says, making you look back at your sloppy handwriting. “Gloves that adjust to the temperature of what you touch, clothing with a built in air conditioner.”

You laugh at the silly ideas you had. “Those are stupid. I just wrote what I thought sounded neat.”

“But (Y/N), they are neat!” Peter says, making you look at him confused. “And not only that, your drawings are absolutely amazing. I wish you would show your father these.”

You start shaking your head vigorously. “That’s the last thing I want. If my dad finds out I’m doing things other than studying my butt off, he’ll make my life more of a living hell.”

It’s Peter’s turn to be confused. “But they’re so good. I bet your father will love to take a look at these and maybe then you can spend time in the lab with us working on your designs-.”

“I know that’s never going to happen,” You interject, stopping Peter in his little ramble. “He’s taking my training privileges away. Again. Even after I beat Captain America.

Peter did a double take. “You best Captain America?!”

You nod, softly smiling at the victory. “Yup, but that’s not enough to please my father.” Shaking your head, you look at Peter teary eyed. Nothing I do pleases him. Why waste more of his time?”

Peters face goes from confusion to concern, a transition it always made when you start opening up your negative thoughts. “You’re not a waste of time (Y/N).” Peter reassures, putting an arm around your shoulders. You turn your face away from him, trying so hard to hide the blush. “Your father loves you, you know that right?”

Bringing your knees close to you, you hold yourself closely, sighing in frustration. “No, he doesn’t. He never has.”

Once again, negative thoughts start to form in your head, reminding you of how unfair everything feels in your life. Your father’s control over what you do absolutely destroys you, and you cannot do the one thing he asks of you to gain any of that control.

Peter was definitely lying, trying to give you some sense of hope that you know is not there. You love him, but with all the time he spent with your father and the respect he continues to gain from the other Avengers, you can conclude that he doesn’t love you back, at least in the way that you wish he did. After all, you weren’t smart, and you couldn’t even train and fight beside him. Peter deserves someone special, someone who is worth something more than you ever thought you’ll be.

Standing up and removing yourself from his grasp, much to your dismay, you clear your throat. “Hey, it’s getting late, I think I should just go to bed right now.” You say looking everywhere but his face.

Peter stands up in front of you, cupping your chin and making your eyes meet his. His eyes were glistening, full of sadness and worry. What does he have to be worried about? “You do know you can talk to me (Y/N), right? I’m here for you.”

It took all your strength to stay level-headed, as you were practically getting lost in his eyes. In moments like these, you wished you could confess your dark thoughts to him, tell him about the poems you wrote in your sketchbook, and how you wish everyday that you were no longer around. But you knew better than to admit these things to him.

They’d definitely scare him away.

“I know, thank you Peter,” You simply say, looking back down again.

Peter was not satisfied with your answer, but knew that if he tried to force anything out of you, he’d get nowhere. Sighing sadly, Peter presses his lips to your forehead, causing you to look at him in confusion. He’s never done something like that before, but if you were being honest, it felt nice.

After a quick goodbye, Peter left your bedroom, leaving you alone once again. In order to stop yourself from hopelessly day dreaming, you left your room to put the discarded pasta bowl back into the kitchen. Coming back into your room you quickly change into pajamas and crawl into bed, sketchbook in hand. Opening up to a clean page, you start drawing a light sketch of the one and only Spiderman doing one of his iconic heroic poses. No matter how much you knew he would never love you or how much you cared for him, you still saw him as a muse, someone to bring positivity in your dull, negative life.

You wanted to embrace as much of him before he was gone.

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-Sketchbook Tag List-

@randomfanders-blog // @freestarlight // @depressing-as-shit // @sweetmilki // @supernerdycookietrashblr // @supermassiveblackhope // @starksthunder // @multi-fandom-headcanons // @adri1ii // @futureauthor03 // @maddie-laufeyson // @thejourneyneverendsx // @noakantor14

-Peter Parker Tag List-

@sweetcoffeeblandtea // @house-arya // @jovialpeanut // @bookstoreblossom // @jackiehollanderr

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@mindset-jupiter // @romance-geek // @imcharishope // @fakindob // @cutiekoa // @wowursofunny // @cals-cigarette

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glorifiedpigeon · 4 years

Text

Fluffuary - My Muse and Inspiration

A Loceitmus oneshot for Choice OT3 day! Darren has to clean up yet another one of his best friend's messes. Unfortunately his kinda sorta maybe crush is Remus' brand new mess. Way to go, buddy.

AO3

"Dee, you've gotta help me!" Remus shouted, bursting into the room with a wild expression, the dramatic cape hanging off the shoulders of his frilly waistcoat fluttering with the movement.

"What is it now?" Darren asked with a heavy sigh. He glanced up to see Remus now engaged in a very odd tug of war over his cape with- "Logan Croft?"

"Oh good, you know him!" Remus exclaimed, sounding relieved.

"Ah, Mr. Salazar! I see you're familiar with my muse," Logan announced, and he straightened, fixing the glasses on his face.

"Your muse?" Darren asked, glaring at Remus.

"Loogie, why don't you go draw my face in the other room? I'm sure it's burned into your cranium, yeah?" Remus suggested.

"But the light was hitting you just perfectly ten paces over there, I was hoping-"

"Go draw me as a fish, that sounds fun, huh?" Remus suggested. Logan gasped, and he scrambled for the bag at his hip. Remus shoved him out of the room and slammed the door, quickly locking it.

Darren blinked. "Remus, what did you do?"

"I just wanted him to pay attention to me," Remus exclaimed.

"You charmed him to get his attention!? What spell did you use, because a simple glamour would not have him acting like he needs you to survive!" Darren snapped, gesturing angrily towards the door.

"He's an artist! His pictures are so pretty, I just… inspired him a little?" Remus said nervously. Darren gaped.

"Of course you used a muse spell, you goddamn romantics don't think about the consequences of anything!" Darren snapped, shoving Remus. "He's just a sketch artist, right? He won't be singing ballads to you in the dark of the night, or chiseling your face out of stone?"

Remus coughed and rocked on his heels. "Ah. He might be an everyman? Jack of all trades?"

Darren could've strangled Remus in that moment. "Remus. Fix it."

"I don't know how! How did you fix it when you accidentally spelled that theatre kid in seventh grade?" Remus demanded, flicking his cape aside and getting down on his knees. "Please, Dee, I need you to help me out!"

"My parents handled that for me, and I haven't studied a single charm spell since- I don't know how to fix this!" Darren protested. Remus whined.

"He hasn't let me eat my lunch, or bother my brother! He's just been making me pose for him!" Remus complained.

"That's your own fault!" Darren snapped, but he made his way over to the spellbooks on his shelf, disguised as law books.

"I wouldn't mind so much if he took a break. I'm pretty sure he sprained his wrist trying to paint me on a wall last night, but he won't stop- it's even freaking me out," Remus said, glancing at the door. Darren scowled.

"He's going to keep drawing, and painting and whatever else until he wastes away, Remus. That's the nature of the spell, he can't think of anything but you now," Darren explained, as he began paging through his barely touched book on charms. Remus frowned.

"I just wanted him to notice me. You talk about him all the time, and I just wanted to get his attention," Remus moaned.

"I talk about him because there's no way in hell that he'd be interested in me or in you. Logan Croft is a man of high standards," Darren scowled. Remus whined wordlessly in complaint. There was a knock at the door. Darren sighed heavily. "At least try to feed the poor man something while I work on reversing your stupid mistake."

Remus grumbled, but he opened the door anyway. Logan stood behind it with a big smile.

"I came up with a poem about your smile," Logan announced, looking more than proud of himself.

"What, you didn't set it to music and make a song?" Darren snorted to himself. He immediately regretted it as the man nearly dropped his sketchbook.

"Brilliant idea. I have to go home and get started right away-"

"Hey, Loogie, wait!" Remus exclaimed, but Logan was darting down the hallway too fast for Remus to stop him. He turned to Darren with an icy cold glare.

"Sorry, I didn't realize he could hear me," Darren said, feeling more than a little chagrined.

"I'm going to go catch up to him and try to bring him back," Remus sighed. "You worry about the reversal spell."

Darren began flipping through the book. Of all the goddamn spells, Remus had to choose the muse spell. It was a terrifying charm, a spell that twisted the mind of the affected party, causing them to lose sight of anything that didn't have to do with the caster. They would simply create tributes and fawn over the caster. Eventually, like poor damned Ameinias, their "love" would drive them to their deaths.

Or, at least, landed them in the hospitals and kept under watch so they didn't hurt themselves to try and use that… "inspiration" their muses gave them. Darren remembered being thirteen and terrified, finally begging his parents for help and confessing that he'd gotten Jeremy Olsen hospitalized. It was horrid, an absolute nightmare. Afterwards, his parents had sent him away to a boarding school, where he was not allowed to practice magic at all.

Darren never relied on magic to charm people again, especially not people he was fond of, like Logan Croft or Remus. And now his idiotic friend had gone and made the same terrible mistake. Well, he was determined to help him solve it.

Muse spell, muse spell, muse spell. Darren sighed as he scanned the page the spell was located on. Oh thank god, the reversal looked simple enough.

Suddenly, Remus kicked open the door, Logan Croft slung over his shoulder like a child throwing a tantrum.

"I wasn't finished! That child was about to lend me her chalk!" Logan cried out.

"Nope! You're gonna sit your pretty little ass down and let Darren here fix you up all nice and normal, yeah?" Remus interrupted. He shoved the door shut with a foot, and dropped Logan into a soft armchair.

"At least give me a pen and paper-"

"Nope!" Remus said, and he kicked the notepads Darren had been doing homework on off the coffee table so Logan couldn't reach them. Darren sighed heavily.

"I have the reverse incantation, Remus. Go stand in the corner and think about why a muse spell is more than a bad idea, okay?" Darren suggested. Remus pouted, but he still moved away to give Darren his space. "Hello, Croft."

"Salazar. Are you and Remus friends? You know, the light catches on him just splendidly, I'm almost jealous of what a pretty picture the two of you mak-"

"Yes, yes, he's utterly fascinating- do you have a middle name at all?" Darren asked.

Remus piped up, "It's-"

"I've heard just about enough out of you, Remus!" Darren snapped.

"My middle name is Berry," Logan informed.

"Wait, seriously?" Darren asked. He shook his head and looked back down at the tome in his arms. "Nevermind. Okay, well Logan Berry Croft… Notsgnik sumer esum wen eniht morf noitaripsni ekat dna eeht erofeb ytuaeb eht ezingocer."

In a sudden flash, Logan was blinking up at Darren in confusion. He looked around the room. "I- I feel as though I've made an awfully big fool of myself."

"No bigger a fool than Remus is every day," Darren assured. "Are you alright?"

"Ah… no? I mean- magic is real, I was charmed by a classmate, and I am currently in the apartment of another classmate, both of whom are technically strangers to me," Logan summarized rather succinctly. He glanced at the pile of notebooks on the floor, then at his left hand. "I didn't think there was anything other than drugs that could take away one's self preservation."

"Oh, are you in pain? Remus said he thought you hurt yourself earlier," Darren asked. He hovered over Logan, worried about his wrist. "He said he thought it might be sprained."

"I don't think so, but it certainly smarts. I won't be writing for a day at least," Logan said with a disapproving frown.

"I'll take notes for you in class," Darren offered. Logan managed a smile.

"That would be rather kind, thank you, Mr. Salazar," Logan stated.

"Just call me Darren." He probably sounded desperate, but Darren had never had this long a conversation with his classmate. He was relishing it.

"Wait, hang on, that reversal incantation was just the actual spell backwards! I could've done that easily!" Remus protested suddenly, and Darren rolled his eyes.

"The spellbook said it was a literal reverse incantation. Of course it was the spell backwards," Darren said drily. Logan snorted out a laugh.

"Is magic particular about language then?" Logan asked.

"Well, translations always have to be done carefully for a reason, you know," Darren pointed out.

"Or else someone could lose their head trying to cast a dancing spell!" Remus piped up, grinning wide. Logan actually burst out with a warm laugh. Darren stared at him, mystified.

"Well, I'd love to learn more about magic, then. If you're both available on Saturday, we could discuss it over dinner?" Logan suggested. Darren's heart skipped a beat.

"Sure! We'll see you at six?" Remus suggested.

"Six," Logan confirmed with a nod.

Darren squeaked, in a horribly undignified way. "Six."

@tsshipmonth2020

#logan sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #loceitmus #sanders sides fic #sanders sides #tsshipmonth2020 #glorified pigeon writes

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astxlphe-fics · 4 years

Text

Snapshot.

Atsushi likes to draw in the park. He doesn’t realize how many times he’s drawn the handsome photographer until the man comes talking to him.

Kuniatsu / Artist Atsushi, Photographer Kunikida (also ft. bug lover kuni)

Word count : ~3K

Atsushi settles down on the grass, back against the tree, and crosses his legs. He sets his cardboard folder against his knees and opens his sketchbook.

It’s new, and empty, a gift from Kyouka for his birthday, along with the set of pencils he’s brought with him. He puts the metal box on the ground next to him, picks on and looks around.

It’s a sunny day, in April, so the weather is still somewhat cool and the park isn’t as packed as in the summer months. Atsushi takes in the tree line, in the high building behind it, the people walking, the guy sitting on a bench playing a video game, the blond man lying on his stomach, a camera in hand.

He starts to draw.

Broad strokes shape the trees, from gross shapes first until he moves on to smaller details, leaves and patches of grass and the shape of a man with a camera.

It takes over an hour for Atsushi to get to the point of drawing him, deciding last minute to add him to the scenery, and when he looks up to check if he has moved, he finds the man in the exact same position.

Utterly still, and a look of complete concentration on his face.

Atsushi draws him, smiling to himself, taking great care in the placement of his finger on the camera button, in the way his messy ponytail falls on his back, in the angle the sunlight makes his glasses glint.

About another hour later, about ten minutes after he changes page and takes on drawing a spider that crawled up his leg, the photographer sits and stretches, setting his camera around his neck. Then he walks to the man on the bench, who puts his video games in his trench coat.

They exchange a few words, and leave.

Atsushi tries to imagine what this man could possibly have photographed.

Bugs.

What Kunikida absolutely wants to photograph is close-ups of bugs.

It takes longer than he expects, but waiting is something he can do. His roommate is Dazai Osamu, so his patience is forged in fire, iron and exasperation.

The last bug close-up he takes is a caterpillar crawling its way to the nearest leaf, set right in front of his camera, and he has a pretty good shot of it eating.

When he is done, he sits back and stands, joining Dazai, who puts away his video game.

“Are you finished?” he asks, and Kunikida nods.

“I’m done.”

“Show me!” Dazai leans over to see the screen of his camera, almost knocking Kunikida off balance.

“Oi, be careful!” He huffs and turns the camera back on and opens the gallery, flipping through the different pictures he took during the last few hours.

There is, besides the caterpillar, a group of ants carrying bread crumb from where a family had picnicked for lunch. He shows him the ladybug as well, particularly proud of this one, as it's a picture of it as it takes off.

Several grasshoppers, a yellow butterfly and a bee.

Dazai looks over the pictures, and his nose wrinkles as he makes a face. “That’s gross, Kunikida, you could at least try to take pictures of more glamorous subjects.” He grins. “Like me.”

“Bugs are certainly glamorous,” Kunikida shoots back. “Unlike you, they’re an essential part of the ecosystem and are underappreciated. They need to be more recognized for the role they have in preserving our environment!”

Dazai sighs over-dramatically, draping himself on his shoulder. “Am I not an essential part of your ecosystem? Kunikida, you black-hearted man.” When Kunikida rolls his eyes, Dazai pulls himself straight again. “I’m only trying to help you. If the cute boy over there knew you took pictures of bugs—”

“The what now.”

“Don’t turn around,” Dazai orders, and Kunikida almost does as a reflex. Instead, he glances back to where Dazai is looking, to a (admittedly cute) white-haired young man sitting under the tree. “He’s been staring at you for an hour.”

“He’s drawing,” Kunikida hisses, starting to walk away. “This activity usually requires a lot of staring. He just happened to look in my general direction.”

Dazai doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says. “But you’re wrong. He was looking at your butt.”

“Dazai.”

The park is a good source of inspiration, Atsushi decides on the third day of drawing there. He changes his spot every time, looking for new sceneries and people to draw. There are a lot of critters he ends up doodling, from birds to bugs and a few squirrels.

He brings a hot drink with him today. The temperature has dropped during the night, and it’s pretty much cold, so there is no one in the park besides Atsushi himself — and the photographer.

Today he has a tripod and facing away from him, and it’s an angle Atsushi rarely draws anyone in, so he takes the opportunity to put it down on paper.

His friend is with him today too, and Atsushi plans to draw him as well, but he quickly forgets about him. He puts special attention in the angle of the photographer’s shoulders, well defined by the blue coat he’s wearing. It stops under his knees, mid-calf, and then Atsushi makes sure to draw the folds of the pants just right.

Once, the photographer makes a movement to turn away, seemingly in Atsushi’s direction. Atsushi ducks his head, pretending not to be watching.

Then he tries something new. He looks up, trying to guess what the man is seeing, what he is taking a picture of, and sketches it as well as he can. It’s not perfect, but it’s a fun game that he finds out he likes to play, for now.

Once he is done, he catches sight of a cat playing in the grass and changes his subject.

Maybe, he thinks, he should bring Byakko to the park with him, next time?

Kunikida comes back to the park often.

It’s not necessarily to take pictures of bugs, though he likes it, but he needs practice in taking pictures of larger sceneries and finding a focal point in it.

A subject, noticeable enough to draw the eye, placed in a way that makes it looks part of the larger picture rather that the focus of it.

He turns on his heels, and catches sight of the young man he has seen two days before — the one who, Dazai insisted, was looking at his butt. He’s sitting just on the line between shadows and sunlight, bent down, focused on his drawing, hair overshadowing his face.

His pen scratches at the paper, and he periodically looks up to the calico cat playing a few meters away.

When he does, the light hits his face just right.

Kunikida twists the head of his tripod and turns the camera in his direction, making sure to include the cat. The white-haired artist isn’t paying attention to him at all so, the next time he looks up at the animal, Kunikida snaps a quick picture.

He opens the picture folder and stares at it.

It’s perfect.

It’s not the only picture Kunikida takes of him.

“You’re turning into a stalker~" Dazai teases, poking his side, and Kunikida flushes.

“I’m not a stalker!”

“S—ure. It’s not your fault he is so photogenic, right?”

On the latest one, he is lying on the ground, legs swinging slowly as he draws a different cat. This one is black and white, and Kunikida saw it arrive with him. It’s probably his cat.

Over the next few days, it seems like every time Kunikida tries to take a good picture, this young artist is just there, in a corner, looking a natural part of the place. He zooms in on one of them as much as he possibly can before it turns blurry.

He is smiling here, wide enough to show some of his teeth, to make his eyes crinkle and shine.

Kunikida spends several second looking at it, at every details of his face he can make out, committing them to memory. Then, he duplicates the pictures and crops it.

That’s a smile he wouldn’t mind seeing up close.

God, he’s starting to sound like Dazai.

Next to him, Dazai’s obnoxious laughter only gets louder, and Kunikida would strangle him with his bare hands if not for the attention it would draw.

“I should apologize to him,” he decides suddenly. Because taking secret pictures of a stranger isn’t simply weird, it can come off as downright creepy, and Kunikida is not a creep. Because he’s started to look for this young artist on shots he’s definitely not on, and to zoom in on his face, and this is getting out of hands.

“You can’t!” Dazai can barely contain his glee. “He’s napping!”

Indeed he is, and Kunikida gives up. He huffs and settles on the ground to take more pictures of bugs, stopping all movement to wait for one to approach him.

A few minutes later, he finds himself nose to nose with the young man’s cat, who bops its face on the camera lens.

Resigned, Kunikida adjusts the settings and presses the button. The cat’s nose looks enormous on the resulting picture, it’s curious eyes wide, its face magnified. One it's taken he sits up and shows it too the cat.

“There,” he says. "Are you happy?”

It stares at the picture of itself, rubs its head on Kunikida’s hand until he gives it a good scratch, and leaves.

The cold has passed now, as the end of April nears, and more and more people come to enjoy the sunshine and warmer weather. Atsushi sees families and several dog walkers.

He sets Byakko upon the grass. “Don’t go too far,” he tells the cat, who flicks her black-tipped tail at him before ignoring him.

The photographer is almost facing Atsushi today, so he has to be more discreet while drawing.

He focuses on his face, this time. On the line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the shape of his eyes, and the way he frowns where he’s focused. He adds in as many details as he finds, and the more he draws the more his eyes are drawn to him.

By the time he is done Atsushi feels like he knows this face by heart.

The photographer’s expression changes as he takes different pictures of crowds while Atsushi records them in his sketchbook as fast as he possibly can, stomach fluttering as he discovers the range of emotions this man expresses.

It’s wonderful practice, especially when his tall friend annoys him until he turns to him.

“Stop it, Dazai,” Atsushi hears him snap when the friend in question purposely waves in front of the camera to wave at him. He supposes the picture is ruined, because the photographer emits a loud noise of frustration. “Dammit, it’s all blurry now! Stop that, you useless waste of bandages!”

The sound attracts Byakko’s attention, and she wanders away from Atsushi. She curiously paws towards the pair until Dazai notices her and bends down to pet her.

She rubs her head against the man’s hand, before messing around, coming close to knock the tripod over. The sight it almost as Atsushi on his feet, but before he can Dazai looks up. His eyes catch Atsushi and he smiles, wide, like a Cheshire cat.

Atsushi’s face burns. He has been caught staring. To make it worse, Dazai tugs on the photographer’s arm and points to the cat, then to Atsushi. The man picks up Byakko and walks over to Atsushi with decisive steps.

He's mad at him, he thinks as he tries to read his face. He’s going to yell at him for staring or for letting his cat mess around his equipment.

The photographer stops right in front of him, and Atsushi realizes his work is in plain sight. He slams his sketchbook close, hoping he hasn’t noticed it — and the handful of drawings of his face all over the page.

“Is this your cat?”

“I’m sorry,” Atsushi says, standing up to take her. “I’ll be more careful with her —”

“Please do,” the man answers, handing her to him. “What is she called?”

“Byakko.” He scratches at her ears and sighs. “I’m really sorry, I figured the park would be safer for her than letting her out in the streets.”

“No harm was done.” His face smooths over as he notices Atsushi’s distress, as if trying to reassure him. “She came over to me yesterday as well, and got her picture taken for her troubles.”

“Really? Thank you for not—you know—” He shrugs. “Uh, I’ve seen you around? Several times. I’m Atsushi.”

“Kunikida, it’s a pleasure.” His eyes fall on the discarded sketchbook. “I’ve seen you here as well, you seem to be a prolific artist.”

“I try!” He sends him a weak smile. “That’s how you progress, right?”

“Of course. Practice makes perfect— you must be skilled.”

“I can show you?” Atsushi offers, cheeks fading to a light pink. “If you want?”

Kunikida nods. “I can show you some of my work as well, if you’d like.” He gestures back at where his camera is still set. “I’m a photographer.”

Atsushi picks his sketchbook up again and flips it to the previous pages, trying to find one he likes enough to show off. He’s never liked showing his drawings to anyone, but Kunikida doesn’t seem the kind of man who would laugh at him, and something like excitation bubbles in Atsushi.

Until he realizes just how many times he has drawn Kunikida in the past few weeks.

“Uh—” The sketchbook snaps shut again, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Would you look at the time! I should really head home!”

“What—”

It’s obvious, from Kunikida’s face, that he’s seen them. He glances from the sketchbook to Atsushi, who is currently stuffing his things in his bag as fast as he can.

“I can hear my mom calling me!”

It’s only after he offers to show Atsushi his work that Kunikida remembers just how many pictures of him are on his camera roll.

He is almost relieved when Atsushi runs away, because it would have been a lot to explain. He would probably think Kunikida is a creep.

“Or maybe not,” Dazai tells him, thoughtful. “You say you saw that he’s been drawing you? So, I was right, he was looking at your butt.”

“Dazai, I’m sure he didn’t draw my butt.” He sets up his camera and looks around.

“Shame, it's very nice.”

After three days of going back to the usual park, Kunikida finally resigns to the fact that Atsushi isn’t showing up anymore. Since then, all his pictures have been bland — incomplete — so Dazai suggested moving location.

This new park is larger than the previous one and different enough to give him new material. The trees are denser and clear-cut paths run through it. A fountain stands in the center, the water flowing with a soothing noise.

Next to him, Dazai flops down on the grass, staring up at the sky and pulls out his earphones. Kunikida takes a picture, mentally labelling it as “Dazai being a lazy ass, as usual”.

It's only half-hearted, because Dazai doesn’t have to come with him on his photographing endeavors, and some days Kunikida wonders why he comes at all. Besides, saying he doesn’t enjoy Dazai’s company would be a blatant lie, they both know it.

Suddenly, Dazai rolls on his side and takes one of his earbuds out. “Your favourite subject is here,” he points out. “Looks like someone had the same idea!”

Following his fingers, Kunikida finds Atsushi sitting near the fountain, scribbling in his sketchbook. He almost has his back to him, so he can’t see his face.

“You should—”

Kunikida doesn’t hear the end of Dazai’s sentence. He grabs his camera and walks towards him until Byakko, sitting by him, raises her head in his direction.

She stands and meows, attracting Atsushi’s attention, and he turns around. His eyes go wide as he sees Kunikida, and he stammers out something that sounds like “hello”.

“I would like to take a picture of you, please,” Kunikida declares, and Atsushi’s face turns into a deep, concerning red.

“Uh?”

He raises his camera. “You also don’t have to be embarrassed about drawing me. People watching — and drawing — is a strong hobby that can only lead to great progress in your art.” He pauses. “There are also several pictures of you I took without your knowledge and consent, I’m sorry. In my defence, you are often the only person who doesn’t move around.”

Atsushi looks a lot less panicked now that he knows Kunikida doesn’t hold anything against him, and laughs. “I hope you know how weird this sounds.”

“I’m aware.” His strict composure softens, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “So, can I take a picture?”

“Sure.” He sets his sketchbook down. “How would you like it to be?”

“Just a portrait.” He crouches to be on the same level as Atsushi, who is still sitting, and smiles as the camera is pointed to him.

It’s the first picture he takes where Atsushi is looking right at the camera, smiling at him, and Kunikida’s heart jumps in his chest. He sits on the bench, right next to Atsushi, to show him.

The young man leans over until their shoulders touch and stares at his own face, not unlike his cat did just a few days ago.

His cheeks are still pink when he pulls on of his uneven strand of hair behind his ear. “Could I see the other ones?” He gulps, and seems to gather the courage to add something else, twisting his hands: “I mean, I could show you mine—” his graphite stained fingers tap his sketchbook as he speaks “—and you can show me yours. Over coffee? Maybe?”

Kunikida blinks in surprise, taken off guard, but he smiles. “I would like that.”

#bsd #kuniatsu #kunikida doppo #nakajima atsushi #bsd kunikida #bsd atsushi #writing

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faee-riee · 4 years

Text

let me see your soul; pt. I

let me see your soul;

SoulMateAU! OCs

\\ where everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate.

TRIGGER WARNING: A few swears, but other than that, none !

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

It was depressing, to say the least - to witness people halt in their tracks as they meet eyes with a total stranger then suddenly, sparks fly. It is a monumental moment in every person’s life: they meet their lover, they can start a family with their lover, they can turn grey with their lover. However, they obviously do not know the risks of locking eyes with their lover.

Elena rested her chin on the palm of her hand as she peeks out the window at the tops of people’s heads, trying to find a subject to illustrate. Her gaze locks onto a couple parting ways, seemingly, for good. The girl walks away as the boy stands dazed. He stares at her shrinking form until she disappears out of his life completely. He looks heartbroken and that is exactly what ignites the fire inside of her. Elena’s brows furrowed together and she gripped her stubby pencil.

What’s the point in dating another person if you know they are not the one? Were they really soulmates? Is it possible for a soulmate to be unrequited? If so, is this man really heartbroken or is he just going through the notions? Either way, it’s just more wasted time that you could be using to do something more productive. The fact that some people pretend to be, bothers me. They don’t know what heartbreak looks like; and, they should be elated that they don’t.

Elena feels her pencil snap from the pressure that has been put on it in the midst of her irritation. She doesn’t need to look down to process what happened, instead she allowed her eyes to close as she sighed in frustration, “You’re kidding me.” She opens her eyes and gets up from her task chair to walk across her studio to where she keeps her graphite pencils. Passing by the door, she glances out to see her dad’s slumped form in his armchair. Elena frowned to herself by continues to open the drawer containing her regular graphite pencils. After tugging at the handle of the drawer, she groans at how light it feels and runs her fingers through her hair before looking inside.

“Empty. Okay. This is fine,” reaching for the other drawer, “Anything is okay. I’ll make do with whatever I find.”

She prays that it is filled with graphite sticks, pencils, pens, anything - but, alas, nothing. Deflated, Elena truds back to her seat and rests her head on her desk. Her lips involuntarily assumed a pout as she thinks back to her dad - she’s never seen him look that down before. Minutes pass by before she gets up and heads to her closet. She psychs herself up as she changes to go out to buy another bulk of her art supplies. Usually, she would ask her dad to buy her art supplies when he goes out to buy groceries but he hasn’t been in the mood to go outside. The food stashed at their house has been diminishing slower than normal so they did not need to head out as often. Elena deduced that her father had not been eating properly and chastised herself for not realizing sooner. She makes his favorite foods constantly, but it’s still never enough for him to finish a bowl. At the dinner table, she would look into his eyes and see a piece of his soul missing as each day goes by. His facial expressions lost its warmth: his soft dark hair, his smile, his dimple, his laugh lines. All of them were replaced with short strokes of depression etched onto his skin. Elena hated seeing him like this, and she hated her mother even more for making him like this. She has tried to convince him to go out and meet new people, telling him that maybe there was a mistake but, this would only bring up emotions that she would rather keep subdued.

------

Her father’s eyes crinkled into slits, “No, listen to me, Elena. Your mother was my only shot. She was my person! My love! She left with all the color! This shouldn’t have happened -- no, this doesn’t happen! Who else has experienced something like this? No one! This is a predestined thing, and you know you fucked up when it turns out that you and your soulmate aren’t meant to be.”

“But dad! Who says that she was your one shot? Who says that--”

“No, Elena. Please, hear me out,” his sharp eyes softened considerably as he regarded her tense stance, “Her leaving isn’t the only thing that saddens me. It’s you.. You had to witness this, and you had to adapt to my behavior. I can no longer see the vibrant explosions of your work that you created. Your heart and soul. While you couldn’t see them the way I saw them, I saw you in your artwork. Along with that, I lost the colors of your warm brown eyes, your olive skin, your long black hair. That hurt my heart because all of those colors were you! All of them, painting or appearance.”

He let Elena process what he said and continued when he saw tears form in her eyes, knowing that she needed to hear this for her own good.

“I wasn’t able to hide the hurt and, I’ll admit, I let it get the best of me. But seeing you notice and start to use more colorless mediums that I told you about, just so I wouldn’t be sad made me realize that you had hidden yourself for my sake.,” he stood up from his chair and walked over to Elena to embrace her, “I’m sorry I got angry earlier.”

“Elena hid her face in her father’s chest, “It’s okay, dad, I’m sorry I pushed.”

“I don’t want you worrying about me like this, honey. Could you do that for me?”

“I can’t promise you that. I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby. But please try? I hate seeing you like this more than anything.”

“I’ll try my best.”

------

Elena stared at her reflection for a few more minutes and then grabbed her sketchbook before heading out into the kitchen to see which groceries she needed to buy. Okay, potatoes, carrots, chicken broth, what else..? Her dad slowly stood up, “You’re going out?”

“Yep. Ran out of some art supplies-- well, actually, all of them. But! I thought I’d restock on food while I’m out.��

Elena turned around and her dad was at the kitchen island, taking note of what was gone in the fridge, “What else do you need?”

“No, dad. Sit back down,” she pointed back to the chair and threw a playful glare at him, “I’ll be the one getting all the stuff today.”

Her dad smiled softly, “You don’t need to, I can do it. I know you don’t want to risk going outside.”

“I never said that you can’t do it,” Elena rolled her eyes, I know that you shouldn’t, “I’ve been in this house the majority of them time, that window really blocks where most of the action happens. So, I had the brilliant idea of actually putting myself in the action for once.”

She closed the fridge and smiled at him, “I’ll be fine. I’ll be out and back in no time, you wouldn’t have even known I left.”

“Why are you taking your sketchbook then?”

Elena walked over to the keyring and grabbed the spare key and put on her sunglasses, “I’ll be in the action this time, remember? I’ll do rough sketches of things and come back home to add more details.”

She walked up to her dad and stood on her tiptoes to give a kiss on his cheek then headed for the door. Once she stepped out, she realized that she actually truly missed being outdoors. While her parents were together, seeing how in love they were - it made her long to be in a relationship with someone like that. So, as a little girl, she always wanted to be outside staring at random boys around her age until she locked eyes with them. Of course, none of them were the one as she still sees in shades of black and white. Once her mother left them, she refrained from going outside as much as possible for two reasons. First being so she could stay and keep an eye on her dad to the best of her abilities, and second is to not risk ending up like him. She walked down the sidewalk until she turned onto the main road where all the businesses were. Elena waltzed through the doors of her local grocery shop and navigated herself to the vegetables. At times like this, she wondered if seeing in color would really make a difference. Words like Orange, Green, Vibrant, and Dull were just words. She knew basic things like, the sky is blue, grass is green, trees are brown, and clouds are white. But they meant nothing because she couldn’t manifest what she’s never seen. She picked up a carrot that did not look physically deformed and gave it a light squeeze to see if it was spoiled or not. Because she couldn’t rely on color, she depended on her other senses to make sure she was not buying potentially poisonous ingredients. She tossed a few more into the basket before continuing the same process with potatoes.

Elena rounded the corner into the aisle containing the chicken broth. Okay, a little rectangular carton with a picture of a chicken shouldn’t be that hard to find, right? It was. The relatively short length of the aisle seemed to drag on forever as there were multiple small rectangular boxes with a picture of a chicken. She browsed each row on the self reading the titles since she did not recall any unique features of the one they normally buy. Her walking back and forth in the same row did garner some unwanted attention.

Things like, “Poor girl, remember when we had to live like that?

“Colors really change the game.”

“Isn’t she like, twenty-one? How has she not found her soulmate?”

“I’m so glad I have you now.”

“I don’t appreciate color enough!”

They were poorly whispered around Elena. She heard every single comment, but she carried on with what she was doing until she found what she was looking for. Smiling softly to herself, she placed the chicken broth into the cart and grabbed a few more for good measure so she doesn’t ever have to do that again. She made her way to the self check-out, as she wanted to desperately get away from the eyes of those who saw her earlier, and paid for her items then immediately beelined to the exit. Elena peered into her bags to recount her items as she went through the doors only to run into a wall, effectively knocking her and her things to the ground.

A voice appeared, “I’m so sorry! Let me get those for you!”

Elena’s eyes saw a hand frantically grab for her sunglasses and her gaze couldn’t help but trail up the person’s arm until she met with this person’s eyes.

“Oh shit.”

She stared at this man’s face as it slowly started to warp into something unknown to Elena. Something new and scary - but so refresing!

“Definitely not what I thought my soulmate’s first word to me would be. But that works, too. I’m Adolfo.” He bent down to pick up the other items before he reached his hand out and patiently waited for her.

Elena’s mind wanted to start a war with her subconscious, but she put it on hold as she processed more colors becoming more saturated. She doesn’t know what she’s seeing, but she wants to see every single bit of it. It started with the color of his eyes, his skin, his hair, then it moved to the color of his shirt all the way to his shoes. Before she knew it, all her surroundings had painted themselves in all the colors known to mankind. She looked up to the sky, blue. Then to the trees, brown - her eyes went to the grass surrounding the base of the tree and jumped back up to the leaves on the tree, and green? A clearing of the throat from behind her made her take his and and jump up, apologizing profusely to the individual who wanted to get past them.

Her mind clicked and Elena whipped around to face the man who was flipping through her sketchbook, “Oh god. I said that out loud didn’t I?,” she was mortified.

He looked up and smiled, “You sure did, cutie. What’s your name?”

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out of me. I’m.. Elena.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “And that’s your real name, correct?”

“Of course! What makes you say that?”

“You hesitated.” Adolfo shut her carefully shut her sketchbook and handed it to her.

“Oh...”

“Well! Nice to meet you Elena, like I said before: I’m Adolfo. Your elated, and less talented, soulmate.”

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

Author’s Note: It’s been awhile. Writing got rusty, but with all this online learning classes, an opportunity to write more stories came up. Revised the first part got tired on the rest :p This is actually supposed to be a short story for my english class, but I think I’ll make it into a series? Who knows. Hopefully through this, I improve some more and get better ideas!

I hope that you guys are staying safe and calm. If you are struggling with something and just need to vent, I’m here if you’re comfortable with that. I won’t push. In any case, if it’s more serious (because I know that some people are in unfortunate circumstances) please, don’t hesitate to seek help. People are here for you in this time of need, and they care for you.

Below, I’ll list hotlines that you or someone you know may need:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline: (800) 799-7233 The Trevor Project: (866) 488-7386 Crisis Text Line: Text ‘START’ to 741-741 National Runaway Safeline: 800-RUNAWAY (800-786-2929) True Colors United: (212) 461-4401

Stay safe and Take care. -s.

#soulmateau #ocs #writing #story #oneshot #drabble #writing prompt #random #fluff #angst #love

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zach-the-fox · 4 years

Text

Furiends Episode 1: A New Beginning

“Just sign your name and we will take care of the rest,” says a deer with glasses to an orange fox, male in body build, with brown eyes. The fox takes the pen and writes along the dotted lines next to the “x”. Upon finishing, the fox hands back the pen as the deer takes the clipboard of the discharge forms. “Zach the Fox. All right, you’re all set, Mr. Fox. Is anyone coming to pick you up?”

The fox sighs as his ears droop. “I wish there was…”

“Nobody at all? Well, I’m sorry to hear. Hope you have a wonderful day.”

“I doubt that I will…” The fox heads off. “Everybody hates me… Nobody wants me…” Just as he heads out the door, he sits on the wooden bench by the entrance, deep in thought. “What do I do now…? I’m not wanted anywhere here… Everybody hates me… I should leave this place…” He is interrupted by a voice.

“Mister! Hey, Mister!” The orange fox’s ears stick up before he turns to see a brown cat approach him. Eyelashes and wavy hair at the tip, but also tied in a ponytail in the back shows her gender to be female. Glasses shield her eyes, while also wearing a red, long-sleeved shirt under a purple vest, blue jeans, and sneakers. The brown cat then raises her paw up with a blue bandana. Her brown eyes glare at the fox as she keeps the bandana in her grip. “You left this in the hospital room. I was afraid you might’ve forgotten it after you got up and left.”

The fox looks down at the blue bandana, then back up to the girl, keeping his frown on. “Keep it…” His head pivots away from her. “I don’t want it anymore… It just reminds me of the life I dreamed of having… I can’t stand the pain of remembering all that…”

“Why does this blue bandana trouble you?”

“It was given to me by an orphanage patron, who thought I was special… Special enough to be labeled and picked at, as well as a symbol for being flawed.”

“So, it’s yours, then.” The fox faces her again as she offers it to her. “Take it.”

“You can have it,” he tells her. “I insist. Wear it.”

“I’d rather you wear it. Besides, I think you’d look better with it on.” She holds the bandana closer to him. “Will you wear it?” Her eyes glisten in the sunlight.

“If it’ll make you happy…” The fox takes the bandana from her paw and proceeds to tie it around his neck. He makes sure the triangular part is big and points down toward his belly. “There… Happy now?”

“You don’t seem happy yourself,” she reflects. The cat sits beside him. “Is this about Team Rescuers pushing you away? Or is it about everybody seeing you as the flawed fox of Heroto?” The fox looks away with his ears drooping. The cat places her paw on his shoulder. “Listen, I know how you feel. It’s never good to be picked on or singled out because of a disorder, or even from being a product of an inappropriate relationship, or just be bad at something. My mother can get on my nerves sometimes… She thinks I can be a butt when I do things the wrong way… But, I learn, don’t I?”

“Carly?” Coming up alongside her is a beige warthog. Eyelashes and long, chocolate hair, messy on top but flowing in the back nicely straight with curves at the end, shows her gender to be female as well. Her eyes are protected by grey glasses as she dons an orange shirt underneath a black jacket and blue jeans. She stops in front of the cat, appearing to be half her size. “What are you doing out here? I got worried about you after my appointment ended.”

“Sorry, Emmy,” Carly tells her. “I was just returning something to this fox… I started to talk with him.”

Emmy pivots to the fox. “Hey…” She points to the orange animal. “Aren’t you that fox who was with Team Rescuers?”

The fox sighs. “I used to be… Not anymore… They all hate me…”

“I feel you. My stepfather’s a big jerk, yet my mom and I struggle to put up with him, yet he doesn’t like us very much.”

“At least you and your friend here have got families… I’ve had it hard my whole life… I have no family… no friends… No one… Unloved… Hated… I don’t even know what to do anymore… I’m on my own and there’s no one to help me. Maybe it’s just better if I left…”

“Where would you go?” she asks.

“Just be away from here… Maybe try to make it to Buscity, or even the forest… I’d have to start a new life…”

“You don’t need to,” Carly says. “We’ll be your friends.”

The fox’s ears stick up as he turns to the two animals. “Y-you will?”

Emmy leans closer to the cat. “Are you sure about this? People don’t like him very much, and they may think we’re crazy.”

“It’ll be fine, Emmy,” responds Carly. “He needs friends, but he’s never had anyone. Everyone deserves a chance.”

Emmy sighs. “You better be right about this.” She looks to the fox. “It’s a pleasure to be friends with you, um, Mr. Fox…”

“Zach,” the fox says. “I’m Zach.” The cat and warthog introduce themselves. Zach’s mouth bends into a small smile. “It’s good to meet you, Carly and Emmy. What are we doing?” The two girls look at each other, figuring out what to do for their next plan.

“I’ve got it!” Carly stands. “Let’s go to the mall. Besides, I really want to see what sketchbooks they have on sale.”

“Sure,” Emmy adds. “Guess I could look at that stuff. Zach, what do you think?”

“I’m fine, wherever,” Zach tells them, standing from the bench. “You’re my friends now, so I’ll follow.”

“Cool!” Carly heads off, leading the fox and warthog away from the hospital area.

***

Standing around on a grey-tiled foundation in front of a store are three animals. One is a blue jay with nothing but long, Persian-blue hair, black glasses, and a white tank-top with a lightning bolt on it. Her body is female in build. On the bird’s right, a neon-blue wolf, male in figure with rainbow hair, walks alongside her. The three chat amongst themselves as they amble the right side of a long corridor, lined with stores. On her left, a deer, who is slightly shorter than her, waits nearer the entrance. His head is covered with an aviator’s hat with goggles as he dons a short-sleeved, buttoned-down shirt and cyan jean shorts. Emerging from the store is a grey newt with four arms carrying paper shopping bags full of purchased items. His black hair sticks out with the white undershirt and black jeans he wears.

“Did you really need that plushie?” the newt asks, looking at the wolf.

“I couldn’t resist!” the wolf tells him. “He was just so cute!” He snuggles the little stuffed animal. “I didn’t want anyone else but me to have him. I love him!”

“If you love him so much, why don’t you kiss him?” utters the blue jay. She snickers.

The wolf looks at her with a mean glare. “Don’t start with me.”

“Come on, guys,” the deer utters. “Please no fighting… We’re here to hang out, not start brawls. Now, where should we go next?”

“Can we hit the art store?” the bird asks. “I heard they were having a sale on sketchbooks and I wanted to check it out.” The three animals look at each other before coming to an agreement. “Cool! Thanks, guys! It won’t be long.” The group heads off down the corridor together. They talk differently along the way, passing other stores, kiosks, and other animals with bags in their grips. “Hey!” Everyone stops as the bird interrupts. She points her feather at the three figures inside the art store. “Isn’t that Carly and Emmy?” The others look into the store, eyeing the brown cat and warthog with the fox inside.

“It is Carly and Emmy,” Niji says. “What are they doing here?”

“Let’s go say hi!” The bird heads into the store, leading the three others inside. She walks up to the two animals and hugs the cat. “Carly, Emmy! So good to see you both!”

Carly chuckles. “Good to see you too, Navy.” She notices the blue wolf. “Heya, Niji!” The wolf smiles and responds with “hello”.

Emmy turns to the deer. “Hi Eren.”

“How’s it going, Emmy?” The deer shakes her hoof. “Silus and I are glad to see you and Carly.” The newt joins the deer and stands behind him. Upon noticing Zach, he looks to him. “Oh, hello. Um, Carly, Emmy, who is this?”

Navy notices Zach and turns to him as well. “Oh! You made a new friend? I like new friends! What’s your name, Fox?”

“I-I’m Zach. You must be friends of Carly and Emmy here… Pleasure to meet you all…”

“Wait…” Niji points to Zach. “I know you… You’re the Flawed Fox of Heroto.” Zach’s ears droop down as a frown forms on his face. “Why are you here? Come to prove to everyone you’re a hero by staging a “fake” rescuer, or have you come to cause more trouble?” Zach doesn’t answer. “What’s the matter? I make the poor little foxy upset?”

“Hey, what does the fox say?” utters Navy. Niji begins to snicker and laugh, causing Navy to let out a giggle. The fox puts his paws together in front of him with nervousness as his head leans with sadness. Shame shadows over him as the two animals laugh.

Emmy steps between the two and ceases their fun. “All right! Lay off! You two aren’t right!”

“Whoa, easy, Emmy,” says Navy. “We were just poking a little fun.”

Carly stands in beside Zach, placing her paws on him as a way of comforting him while facing the others. “Can’t you see the poor kid’s upset already? He just got out of the hospital with nowhere to go. No one he can turn to. He’s on his own.”

“Really?” Eren asks. “That’s awful…” The little deer walks up to the orange animal. “I’m so sorry for you. But hey, pay no attention to those two over there.”

“Yeah,” adds Silus, approaching and putting one of his hands on the fox’s shoulder. “They don’t mean any harm. They’re just goofing around.” He offers another hand to him. “I’m Silus. It’s good to meet you.”

Zach takes his hand and shakes it. “I… It’s a pleasure to meet you all as well… I guess…”

The newt goes on to introduce the others. “This here’s Niji, Navy, and my husband, Eren.”

Eren waves. “Hi, Zach. We are happy to meet you.”

“What time is it?” Niji looks around and spots a clock. “Oh, lunch time!” He faces the others. “You guys want to grab something to eat?” Everyone of the group agrees, except for Zach, who stays quiet. Navy and Niji proceed to leave the store, leaving the others behind. The four animals stay behind as they notice Zach’s motionless in his spot.

“Aren’t you hungry, Zach?” asks Carly. “Come join us.”

“N-no,” Zach responds. “I-it’s fine… I’m not very hungry.” Growling ambles around the animals, who trace the sounds back to the fox’s stomach.

“Your stomach tells us differently,” Eren tells him. “You should have lunch with us.”

“Zach, if it’s about Navy and Niji, don’t worry about them,” Emmy adds. “You’ll be with us.”

“I can’t afford anything,” Zach continues.

“It’s fine,” Silus says. “We’ve got you. Nothing to worry about. Come on.” Giving enough encouragement, Zach follows his new friends out of the store.

***

Everyone sits at a round table with trays of unwrapped burgers, boxes of fries, and tall colas in them. Niji chews through his burger, tearing it apart, while Navy shovels fries in her beak quickly. The others take their time, enjoying their food.

“I like these fries,” Eren comments. “They’re so good.”

Niji darts his eyes at the fox, noticing him staring. “Well, what are you looking at, Flawed Fox?”

“Niji,” Emmy utters. “Please… Don’t start.”

“What? He is, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, everybody knows that,” the fox tells him, crossing his arms.

“Let’s not fight, shall we?” suggests Carly. “How about we talk about what makes us happy? I love to draw and sketch, and it gives me joy.”

“I never had joy,” responds Zach. “Not once in my life was I ever happy.”

“Because you’re a flawed fox?” asks Navy.

The fox stands to his feet with his eyebrows dipping into his eyes. “Oh yeah, sure!” His voice becomes louder over the conversations around him, prompting everyone to fix his eyes on him. “Let’s all make fun of the Flawed Fox! He’s so horrible! He’s such an annoyance! For your information, I never asked to be like this! I never wanted to be a flawed fox… I just wanted to show everyone I’m anything but flawed… I wanted to give love to all… Ever since I was influenced by Captain Red Mask, I believed caring for others and helping those is a great honor and esteemed privilege… I wanted to prove that I wasn’t bad… I failed… Not because I stopped trying… Because I never got support and love… Everyone thinks I’m awful… They all see me as the product of an inappropriate relationship and mentally disordered…” He sinks down into his chair. The tone in his voice decreases. “That’s what everyone sees in me… Being a hero is all just a dream now…”

“Damn,” goes Navy. “That’s dark…”

“Nobody wants me… Nobody loves me… They all confirm that I fail because of my faults… I’m nothing!” Zach pounds the table with his fist. Nobody…” Tears develop in his eyes. “Nobody… but Flawed Fox…” He lies his head on the surface of the furniture, hiding it with his arms around it to shield his expression. “Why doesn’t anyone appreciate me…? I never asked to be bullied… Never asked to be ignored…” Carly and Emmy do what they can to comfort him. They rub his back and shoulders as he hides his face with shame.

“Hey…” Niji gets up and walks up to him. “I didn’t realize how bad you had it… I apologize…”

“Same here,” Navy implies. “Didn’t know you felt that way…”

Zach lifts his head. Tears still stream down his eyes. “It doesn’t change anything… It doesn’t change what I experienced…”

“It does change things going forward, Zach,” Carly tells him. “You have us as friends, now. You have nothing to fret over.”

“Yeah,” adds Silus. “You can hang out with us whenever you want. We won’t push you away or ignore you.” He manages a smile as everyone else agrees with him and Carly.

The fox’s mouth bends to reflect his expression as he looks at his new friends. “T-thank you… I-I’ll try not to be a pain in the butt…”

“Nah,” Navy goes. “You won’t be a pain. You’ll love us.”

“I need to figure out what I’m going to do about where I’ll live. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll find a nice, comfy spot in the alley…”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Eren tells him. “Silus and I have an extra room at our home. We’d be happy to bring you in.”

Silus sighs. “Eren, you shouldn’t make hasty decisions without asking me first.”

“It’s fine,” Zach says. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll just struggle on my own.”

“No.” Silus puts two hands on him. “It’s not fine. Eren and I will make you feel right at home. Sleeping in the streets isn’t good, anyway.”

“Y-you wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. We’ve got you.”

“T-thanks… If it’s all right, I would like to go to the orphanage. I need to get a couple of things… Are you all okay to come with me?”

“Why?” asks Emmy. “Why can’t you go alone?”

“I’m scared… I’ve had a lot of rough memories in that place, and I’m not very comfortable going in alone…” The others turn to each other and exchange head gestures.

“Of course, Zach,” Carly answers. “We’ll happily go with you. Let’s finish lunch first, okay?”

“Sure,” responds the fox. Zach picks up his burger and takes a bite out of it. @carlycmarathecat @emmy-the-absolute-goof @rainbow-strike @pink-unicorn-boi @ask-choro-mama

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stylesgalaxy · 5 years

Text

mastermind; chapter 6

turns out some of you actually enjoy this fic!! i didn't think anyone really liked it so here's chapter 6! ngl i kinda forgot about this bc i was working on something else, but i'm here now :)

***

"You didn't call," Harry says when I stumble home a few hours later. I was trying to be quiet but clearly it didn't work because Harry hears me and quietly slips out of Julia's room.

"I didn't need you," I respond. Which was true, I didn't. Zayn got an Uber and dropped me off here before going home himself.

"Your friend drop you off? He was drunk, Aria, you could have—"

"Relax he called an Uber," I say, taking my shoes off and hanging my jacket on the coat rack. "Zayn's not stupid."

"That was Zayn?" he says, appalled. "Hold on, I knew the name was familiar and he looks familiar... He's not the one who Julia..."

He trails off awkwardly.

"Yeah, he went home with Julia after a party in freshman year," I say rubbing my eyes. I was going to say "fucked" but I thought it was too insensitive considering he's in love with Julia. I sigh heavily when I remember being so hopeful that Julia would like Zayn long enough for me gather the courage to talk to Harry. But the universe was cruel, and I was too late.

Harry nods and I'm left wondering if he ever thinks about that night. Thinks about whether he saw Julia at the party they were both at, or thinks about how another guy went home with his future girlfriend, or thinks about the girl he made out with blindfolded. He obviously doesn't know it's me. But he never gave any indication on whether or not he even remembered kissing me.

Well, of course he wouldn't. We were acquainted through Julia, his girlfriend, he's not allowed to talk about those things. Just like how Julia didn't talk about how good Zayn was in front of Harry.

Harry remains silent so I start walking towards my room.

"I'm sorry," he says just as I pass him. "I shouldn't have interrupted you... o-or talked to you the way I did."

"Good," I deadpan. "You should be."

This makes his softened expression fall, and confusion spread.

"Aria, I was just looking out for you--"

"Harry, are you really going to defend your actions after you apologized for behaving that way? And besides, I don't need you to look out for me."

"Everyone needs someone to look out for them," he says quietly.

"Maybe," I answer, not trying to get deep or philosophical with him right now, "but you embarrassed me in front of Zayn and made me feel like a child."

"I thought he was—!"

"Whatever you thought was wrong," I counter, frustrated. "I'm an adult, I can take care of myself. Me and you, we're friends, Harry. That's all we are. Save this type of reaction for your girlfriend."

His eyebrows pinch and I am mortified by what I say.

"Goodnight," I squeak and all but run to my room, nearly slamming the door.

Could you not have made it anymore obvious, Aria?!

What the fuck was wrong with me?

---

The next day I wake up around noon. Normally I'd spend this day of relaxation watching something with Julia, but since Harry is here, I don't want to. I slip into the bathroom unnoticed and take a shower. I hope that if it's long enough Harry will realize that I'm awake and leave.

I dry off in the bathroom and change into fresh clothes before wrapping a towel around my hair. Upon leaving the bathroom, I find out Harry did not take the hint and he was still here.

He's sitting on the couch with his arm around Julia, fixated on the television in front of him. He's eyes snap to mine when he sees me exit the bathroom and he gets up and gathers his things. Julia watches him pack his things with a sad frown on her face.

"Must you leave so early? We're almost done season six," she says with puppy eyes. Seriously, how does she not get tired of always sitting on the same couch watching the same shows with him?

"Sorry, love, but I have to see my father," he kisses her forehead. He turns around and pins me with his gaze just before I can escape to my room. "Aria? Can you walk me out?"

I want to roll my eyes at him. He's closer to the door! Julia looks between us curiously.

"It's only a few steps, Harry, I'm sure you'll manage to find the door," I say, opening my door.

"Aria, please."

I sigh and look at Julia first. She's watching me questioningly as if to say, what's up with him? I give her a look back that says, I'll explain later.

Only then did I look at Harry's pleading expression and walk over to the door with him. I hand him his jacket and he says quietly, "I just want to make sure everything is okay between us."

The bitter and petty part of me wants to respond with, There is no 'us'. But I shut her up because last night's response kept me up.

"I really am sorry about how I acted," he continues with pleading eyes. "You're right. You're an adult and I shouldn't tell you what to do. Just please forgive me, I don't want you to go back to ignoring me. I promise I won't do it again."

My heart clenches at his words. He really likes being my friend?

"Of course, Harry, it's okay," I say softly. He looks relieved but his smile is still a little tense. To ease the mood, I say, "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily. I'll remain an annoying thorn at your side."

He chuckles.

"Are you sure I'm not the thorn?" he says.

"You are, actually, I was just trying to be nice. But thanks for realizing what you truly are," I chirp. I open the door for him and he steps out waving at me.

I'm almost about to shut it when Julia yells, "Bye, Harry!"

Harry quickly comes back, says goodbye to her too, then leaves.

"So what was that all about?" Julia sits up immediately after I lock the door.

I relay what happened last night at the party to her, deciding to keep out the conversation we had when I arrived.

"So he just wanted to make sure we were cool, and I told him we are."

Julia nods, "That's good."

I go to the kitchen to grab something to eat when she says, "Hey, you know what we should do? We should go shopping!"

---

Since Julia and I are at the mall, I make her do her Christmas shopping. She already knew what to get her mom--a Valentino bag--but I force her to look for something for her father too. It would make him happy that she thought about him. Julia whines and complains, but eventually we settle on a flask set and a fancy Montblanc pen for him. I leave her to look for a gift for Harry while I go to shop for my family.

In the cheaper side of the mall, I shop for my parents and my little brother. I go inside Barnes & Noble and buy a bunch of cute homey things I know my mom likes. My dad loves board games so I pick one up for him along with a puzzle. I get two books for my brother because I wish he read more, but I also sneak in a video game from another shop, because I want him to like his gift. My bags are getting heavy, but I'd really rather not come back another day since the mall will only get busier closer to Christmas, so I look for gifts for my friends too. Niall and Louis are easy, they'll like anything. I get a fancy jewelry box for Julia with fancy scented candles and fancy bath bombs that she likes.

I leave Harry last. This will be the first time I get him a gift from myself and I want to make it special since he bought that leather sketchbook for me but it was hard because I'd already gone over my budget. So, I get him a Gordon Ramsay cookbook, a trivia game, and chocolates. It's not until I go to Starbucks where Julia and I were supposed to meet, that I see a set of six reusable cups with cute sayings like "Live in the Wow" or "Be About Love". This was perfect. Smiling, I purchase it and add it to my bags.

I sit at a table with my bags around me and wait for Julia to show. She arrives, with way less bags because she was only shopping for three people. And her gifts were small but expensive. She joins me at the table and I ask her what she got for Harry.

"Socks," she says, pulling out a pair Christmas socks. I look at her, somewhat annoyed.

"That's it?!"

"And chocolate!" she says quickly, pulling out a Lindt chocolate bar.

"Julia!" I chastise.

"What?"

"He's your boyfriend! You can't get him socks and chocolate!"

"I know," she whines, "but I looked and looked and I didn't know what else to get him!"

I sigh heavily and pin Julia with a glare.

"Let's go," I huff finally, "I'll help you find something for him but you're carrying half my bags."

She grabs my bags with great eager and sets out of Starbucks.

---

"Oh my God, you know what we should do now?" Julia says once we're done shopping. I'm about to roll my eyes because I can't imagine doing anything else except lying down or eating. "We should go to that Italian restaurant! The one I said I'd take you to for getting Harry a gift!"

That grabs my attention.

"Okay but where will we put our bags? We can't take them with us there's too many," I say.

"It's okay, I'll call Liam. He can take them to our place and drop us off, he wouldn't mind," she assures and pulls out her phone, searching for his number. "Hey, Liam? Yeah, yeah everything's okay! I was just wondering if you're busy right now? No? Well it's just that Aria and I have been shopping all day and we have so many bags, but we're really hungry and want to go for dinner, and--" she pauses for a moment. "Thank you so so so much! Okay... yeah... great, see you soon!"

She ends the call and smirks at me.

"I thought he was your father's personal assistant not yours," I comment.

"He is, but he told me that if I ever need anything to not hesitate to call him. He's really nice. I'm gonna tell my father. Hopefully Liam can get a raise."

---

Liam drops us off at the restaurant and then drives away with Julia's key to take our bags home. I watch him driving away and wonder if this is what it's like to be rich. Huh.

My mood is instantly brightened when our server places our food in front of us. Julia whips out her phone to take a Boomerang of our pizzas, I stick my tongue out when the camera reaches me. She puts that on her Instragram story and I guess she was really feeling the love for me because she asks to take a proper photo. She pushes her chair to sit beside me and asks our server to take a photo.

I shrug one shoulder and smile sweetly at the camera, while Julia rests her arm at the back of my chair and leans her head closer to mine.

"Adorable, fucking adorable," Julia says after she takes her phone back, typing away. I get a notification that Julia tagged me in a photo, but ignore it for now. I have more important things to focus on, like my pizza which I take a slice out of before shoving it into my mouth. Julia looks up right then and howls with laughter, snapping another photo.

"Julia, no!" I try to say but my mouth is full.

"You look so funny!"

"Don't post that one, okay?"

She promises she won't and we eat the rest of our dinner laughing and talking about random things.

---

"Hey," I say to Julia when the episode of Friends that we were watching ends.

"Hmm," she replies, looking up from her phone.

"I kinda... I kinda wanna try makeup," I hesitate. I'd seen a lot of girls with perfect makeup on their face and it made me want to give it a go. And today, at the mall I went inside Sephora and wanted to buy everything. Sephora was just a fancier, prettier art store.

"Oh my God!" Julia hollers. "Come, I'll teach you everything."

She drags me into her room and sits me in front of her vanity. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the products she throws at me, but I get the basics: primer, foundation, concealer, setting powder, brows, mascara. She says that the primer and foundation I use are the most important part, and then hands me some good ones to keep.

"You're about my colour," she says, dabbing some on my face to check. "You're a little darker, that's okay you can use bronzer to even it out."

Bronzer, blush, and highlighter: they were good but not always necessary, she says. She applies eyeshadow to my eyelids and then swipes a thin line of eyeliner over it. I curl my own lashes and apply mascara. My eyes instantly stand out so much more.

"Wow, this colour really enhances your eyes," Julia says. "I wouldn't even wear foundation if I was you, you have nice skin. Do your eyes, though, they make you look like a bad bitch."

I smirk and we start experimenting with lipstick, giggling and dabbing some on each other's faces.

"Okay, now I have to show you how to wash it off," Julia says half an hour later.

"What, you mean I can't just use water and soap?" I ask feeling stupid.

"No, silly, not all soap will wash off makeup. You'll be scrubbing at your skin harshly then breaking out." We go to the bathroom where she pulls out her makeup remover, gently wiping the makeup away from my face. "There, all clean."

"Thanks," I smile.

"Here, I'll give you the products I don't use that you can experiment with. I'll give you some brushes too, and I'll show you how to clean them."

Putting on makeup sounds like it's includes a lot of cleaning that I didn't anticipate. I take the items she gives and watch how she washes brushes and sets them upright to dry. I've never had to deal with germs when it came to art supplies, but it makes sense why you have to with makeup supplies.

I call it a night after I put away the makeup. Getting in bed, I start scrolling through my phone. I open my Instragram notifications and see the cute picture Julia posted of us with the caption: My ride or die, love you @aria_collins.

Smiling at my phone, I double tap the picture. I comment, love you too bitch <3 before scrolling through the other comments. Some are from her other friends, that I don't know that well, and one is from her mom. My heart jolts when I see Harry commented on it too.

harrystyles: Cute

It was just one word.

Cute.

But it made butterflies erupt inside me. I shake my head at myself.

He was talking about his girlfriend, stupid.

Nonetheless, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

---

The sound of my door opening wakes me up. I was never a heavy sleeper like Julia.

"Aria?" Julia whispers in the dark. I hum back in response. I'm awake now, might as well see what's up. "You're awake?" she says hopefully. I check the time and see I've only been asleep for half an hour.

"Yeah, what's up?" I turn fully towards Julia who looks wide awake, she hasn't even changed into her pyjamas yet.

"I really, really want to take a bath but Harry won't stop texting me," she says coming to lay down on my bed beside me.

"So tell him to shut up," I deadpan, letting my eyes shut in fatigue.

"I can't... he's like talking about serious things. And it's stressing me out and we had such a long day, I just want to take a bath and sleep. Can you just talk to him for a bit? It's way past his bedtime, I'm sure he'll fall asleep soon."

I want to ask her why she doesn't think I want to sleep, and why it makes sense to wake me up so I can talk to her boyfriend while she relaxes.

I grab her phone to see what he's even saying. Maybe I can tell her how to respond to end the conversation. But Julia takes this as me giving my consent and kisses my forehead before running out. I roll my eye before blinking to focus on the texts but they don't make sense so I scroll up to about half an hour ago, where he seems to be asking her a lot about her day. I skip through the parts where they talk about shopping and the restaurant we went to until I get to the serious part.

You're not busy are you? he wrote.

no, what's up? Julia responded.

I'm just a bit frustrated.

oh no baby, what's wrong?

So you know how I went to see my father today? It didn't really end well...

what happened?

He has a girlfriend

He wanted me to meet her because apparently they're "serious"

they've only been dating for four months

Not to mention, I'm JUST finding out? Four months later?

oh shit

Sorry, I know I'm just dumping all this on you. I tried to forget about it but it's been a few hours and I'm still kind of mad, to be honest.

Babe?

I curse Julia for leaving him like this. Stumbling out of bed, I hurriedly knock on bathroom door.

"Julia!" I call.

"What?" she responds.

"This is serious stuff!"

"I know, that's why I was so freaked out."

"I can't pretend to be you! That's-thats... wrong."

"Well I can't get out now, I just applied this mask, it needs at least thirty more minutes to set! Fuck."

"Why would you leave him like this! He clearly needs someone to talk to, how can you even think about relaxing and taking a bath?"

"I'm sorry! But I freaked out and panicked so I came to you!"

"Well now he's panicking."

"I'm sorry, Aria, please don't yell at me, I don't know what to do in situations like this. He's never told me anything about his father before!"

I sigh deeply. That makes it worse!

"I'll talk to him, but you have to get out as soon as you can!"

"I will."

I go back to my room and sit on my bed. Harry hasn't sent anymore texts after that last one. I try to come up with something quick to excuse her absence.

hey sorry, aria nearly burnt the kitchen down i had to help her

I send the text with a terrible feeling growing in my chest.

Oh okay, that's ok. I thought you fell asleep.

I shake my head and glare at Julia through the wall for making me do this. I don't want to pretend to be Julia like this to Harry. I know I told Julia a lot of what to say or do in this relationship, but those were things I hoped she'd learn from.

Fuck that, right now Harry needs someone to talk to, and the he thinks the person he turned to abandoned him.

no, i wouldn't fall asleep on you, I continue.

why are you mad that your father has a girlfriend?

I dont know... I guess I'm just mad that he would even consider marrying someone else after my mother

My heart breaks a little for him.

but it's been a few years since your mother died

don't you think your father deserves to move on?

I guess. five years just seemed a little too soon

you can't decide how much time someone else needs to mourn and move on. that's up to them

you're right, but that doesn't mean he should have told me this late

Doesn't he care at all what I think?

he probably knew you wouldn't take it well. maybe that's why he waited until your exams were over

You're making it sound like he cares for me. he doesn't.

he does, harry. he's your father. of course he cares for you.

My father isn't like yours, Julia. He doesn't just call me up out of the blue and shower me with gifts to show his love. The only interaction i've had with him in months was the money he's been depositing in my account.

My heart aches for him. His father doesn't talk to him? I never knew that. Harry is always so positive and keen on keeping everyone happy that I never once thought he might have issues like this.

my father was the same. he didn't talk to me, only sent me money for months.

do you want to know what changed?

what

one day he wanted to have dinner with me and update me on his life, and ask about mine

after that, i visited him regularly even though i didn't really want to

and now we're actually getting somewhere in our relationship

He doesn't respond for a few minutes.

does that situation sound a little familiar?

I send the text hoping to get a text back from him. I dread that I may have overstepped and said too much.

You're right.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to undermine anything you're going through

it's alright, you didn't :)

i just don't want you to look at this negatively. i know you don't like him, or the fact that he's getting married

but you have to try to make the best out of it, right?

When did you get so wise?

I have the smartest girlfriend in the world

I nearly choke on my spit. I'm an awful, awful person. I hate this, I hate doing this.

Before I can type out another response, he says:

Thank you for letting me talk to you. I really needed to hear this

Sorry if I kept you up, love

You should go sleep now :)

it's okay, you didnt :)

text me if you ever need to talk again

I love you.

I stand up. Marching to the bathroom, I'm about to pound on the door when Julia opens it.

"There," I fume and shove her phone at her. "Now you need to get your shit together, and be a better girlfriend," I say. Julia nods, tears welling up in her eyes. "Get some sleep, I'm going back to bed."

*** Please let me know your thoughts!

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#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #mastermind

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stsgyuri · 5 years

Text

writing gift exchange thing for @thetravelingdreamer97!! i hope u like it

A lean girl with dark skin and even darker hair sits on a rust ridden park bench. Her sketchbook, a small thing with crinkled pages and dirty edges, sits on her crossed legs; on top of the sketchbook sits her hand, creating sweeping gestures with a granite pencil.

The girl has always enjoyed nature: the organic shapes, the soft greens and heavy browns. It’s real, definitely, positively real. There is no denying nature, and she loves the truth of it. It does not hide behind kind lies, although flowers may deceive from time to time. She prefers to steer clear of people.

People can lie and deceive. People have lied and deceived.

But the girl would rather not think about that right now, so she simply drags her pencil loosely across the page, the lines giving the impression of a tree dancing in the wind. The park is empty at such an early hour. Oranges and reds are still painting houses in their hues. It’s worth the inevitable exhaustion that comes with being up and at it at 6 AM. No one bothers her, and she bothers no one. It’s just her and the dancing trees.

At least, until she hears a click.

Now it’s just her, the dancing trees, and a pretty photographer.

A plump girl with tan skin and sea foam dyed hair stands a few feet away, smiling brilliantly at her camera screen. She’s clad in bleached jeans, a plain white shirt, and a sap green jacket embroidered with white roses. Her hair is braided down the side, falling over her shoulder in a long rope.

A few thoughts string themselves together in the lean and dark girl’s head:

One; she has a beautiful smile.

Two; she looks like a she was a mermaid in her past life.

Three; I need to get the hell out of here before she starts speaking to me.

Attempting to draw minimal to no attention to herself, the sketch artist quietly assembles her pencils and tools, shoves them into her bag, stands up, and is about to make a break for it, until--

“Oh, hey! I didn’t expect anyone to be at the park so early in the morning on a Saturday,” the pretty photographer says from behind her. At the back of her mind, she thinks how the pretty girl has a pretty voice.

She sighs, turns around, and sees that same bright smile still plastered on the pretty girl’s face. She shrugs in response.

The photographer is not deterred. In fact, she seems to be encouraged by the silence. “I usually come here to avoid crowds. In the morning, that is,” she clarifies. “Anyways, I’m Allie,” she sticks out a hand.

The sketch artist stares for a bit. She could’ve sworn this only happens in books and movies. People actually shake hands when they meet? Nonetheless, she takes the pretty girl’s hand and offers her name in exchange: “Salem.”

Somehow, impossibly, Allie’s smile grows brighter. Salem suspects that prolonged exposure will likely cause blindness. Not that’d she mind. It is a beautiful smile. And it looks so real…

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” Allie says. It’s weird, how it sounds like she’s telling the truth. Salem eyes her a bit warily. Why is she so nice? What’s her motive? Maybe she is genuinely nice, but maybe not.

“Thanks,” Salem responds a bit slowly. She’s not sure what else to say, curse that social anxiety, but Allie beats her to it.

“Hey, want to get some coffee? Or are you a tea person?”

Salem has not met anyone who talks so fast. She has also not met anyone who invited her to coffee twenty seconds after meeting her. She’s about to automatically refuse, but she’s curious, so instead she asks, “Why?”

Allie’s smile falters a bit. “Well, why not? It’s just so early so I thought, you know, coffee? Get to know each other? But if you don’t want to it’s completely fine! I just thought it’d be nice…?” Somehow, she got that out all in one breath.

She’s not sure why she nods and says, sure, I guess. Maybe it’s because she’s never had much of a close friend to go get coffee with. Maybe it’s because the girl is another art student, someone to relate with. Maybe it’s because the girl seems so honest and real, not a common trait among most.

So, they go to get coffee. And maybe a donut, who knows.

-x-

They talked on the way there. Well, Allie was the one who did most of the talking. Salem listened to every word, though she wouldn’t admit to the pretty photographer. In the fifteen minutes it took to reach the coffee shop, Salem learned that Allie adores cats, flowers, and art. They go to the same college, but don’t have the same classes. It’s strange how they haven’t seen each other before, but Salem tries to avoid people for the most part and Allie is usually too focused on her new assignments to notice anyone.

Allie managed to get a few things out of Salem: she also prefers cats, though she’s not a big fan of flowers she loves trees and other plants. The walk was filled with Allie’s bright smiles and Salem’s contemplative silences.

Salem has never been on a walk with someone before.

Now, they sit at a circular table in a small coffee shop, steam wafting up into the air and tickling their faces. Allie is prattling on about her cats and how they always try to eat her food and is that normal because she’s pretty sure a cat should not be trying to eat potato chips and Salem feels a smile creeping across her lips.

“I’ve never had any pets,” she admits. “But… I’ve always wanted a kitten.” That is likely the most she’s spoken so far. Her social walls are starting to melt a little for this pretty photographer with potato chip eating cats.

Allie swallows her coffee before answering. “We had a lot of stray cats in our neighborhood and they all kept making babies. At one point we had eight cats at once. It was kind of ridiculous.”

“I can’t tell if that would be an awful experience or a cute one,” Salem says, and the pretty photographer gives her a pretty laugh. Salem didn’t know she made a joke, but she smiles anyway. Allie’s laugh is as infectious as her smile.

They talk for a few hours about nothing. Like time is nothing. It’s ten in the morning when Allie says she has to leave for class. She offers to walk Salem back to wherever she needs to go, but Salem waves her on. She’d love to walk with the pretty photographer for as long as possible, but she needs a few minutes to collect her wits.

She’s still staring at her coffee cup when Allie leaves. She whispers to herself, in all the elegance she can muster up, “Holy shit.”

-x-

They text each other. At first, it was mainly Allie keeping up the conversation. But after a few days, Salem started adding to the conversation more and more. She likes how Allie is so honest. Salem is honest in return. Allie’s text messages consist of minimal grammar and an enormous amount of emojis. Salem’s contain more grammar than necessary and, that’s it.

They meet up, occasionally. They’ll walk to the park and Allie will snatch a photo or two of Salem, who discreetly sketches the pretty photographer. They discuss their favorite artists, their favorite type of cat, their favorite anything. Salem snatches glances of Allie whenever she can and ignores the feeling in her chest as best she can.

Two weeks after they’ve met, they’re sitting on the bed in Allie’s dorm. Her roommate is gone for the day, for whatever reason. Salem didn’t pay much attention, too absorbed in looking over Allie’s side of the room.

There’s a few prints hung along the wall, both of paintings and photographs, along with a few of Allie’s own photographs. One of them is of Salem, sitting on a park bench with her sketchbook out and a wistful smile as she stares at some point past the camera. Allie’s desk has a few cat plushes, a mint green laptop, and a scattering of pens and pencils. Her schoolwork is shoved unceremoniously beneath the bed, which has soft green sheets and another cat plush.

She looks back to Allie, who’s wringing her braided her as if she’s nervous. “There’s a lot of cat stuff, I know,” she says, as if she were expecting that kind of comment.

Instead, Salem comments, “I love the green. It’s cute,” like you, she doesn’t add,

That seems to restore Allie’s mood, as she beams immediately like a sun. “Thanks! It’s my favorite color, if you can’t tell,” she adds, gesturing to her hair, her bed, her… well, everything.

“Yeah? Mine too,” Salem admits. She notices for the first time that Allie has brown eyes. Green hair, brown skin, brown eyes… Honest and real… It’s no wonder Salem fell for this pretty photographer.

Allie smiles back. Salem’s heart stutters a little.

Allie hops off the bed towards her camera, eyes twinkling. “Okay, so you’re gonna pose for me, right?” After Salem nods, she smiles. “Great! Just sit right there.” She fiddles with a few things of her camera.

“What do I need to do?” Salem asks. She’s just sitting on the rumpled bed, sketchbook thrown across her lap, hair in a messy knot on her head. Not exactly the epitome of perfection.

As if reading her thoughts, Allie smiles softly. “Nothing. You’re perfect.”

Click.

-x-

“Do you mind if I try something?” Allie asks.

They’re sitting on a park bench, the one Salem had been occupying when they first met. There’s only an inch of space between them, though they both have enough room on either side to move away if they wanted. Neither did.

Salem looks up from her sketch, a dancing tree made of charcoal strokes. Allie looks nervous, but there’s a sort of resolve in her warm brown eyes. Salem thinks that if wood nymphs existed, Allie would be the striking image of one.

It’s been two months since they first met, and in that time, Salem has come to trust Allie. She’s no longer afraid that Allie is being ingenuine, deceiving her like most people are apt to do. She’s more comfortable around the girl, has even opened up to her.

So, she says, “Sure.”

And Allie kisses her.

It’s soft, just like everything about Allie, but it still paints colors behind Salem’s eyelids. Greens and brown mixing with the soft red of passion. Her hand reaches up to tangle itself in Allie’s loose hair. Allie lifts a hand and strokes Salem’s jaw, softly, as if she were about to evaporate at any moment.

It doesn’t last long, and after they’ve caught their breaths, Allie sputters out an apology, speaking at a mile a minute. “I’m sorry, was it too soon? Too much? I didn’t mean to over step anything and I’m really sorry if you’re uncomfortable now and if you don’t want to be friends anymore I completely understa--”

Salem kisses her silent.

-x-

Allie leans over Salem’s shoulder, her arm draped around her girlfriend as she looks at the sketch. It’s a pair of soft and full lips with a small dip in the middle. They’re a little pouty.

“What’s that?” she asks, though she already knows. She just wants to hear her say it.

Salem smiles slightly, eyes flickering from Allie’s lips to the page of charcoal smudges. “Oh, you know.”

She tilts her head up and plants a brief kiss on Allie’s lips. She feels her girlfriend smile against her own mouth. Allie has a tendency to smile when they kiss. Especially when they kiss. Salem finds it a little bit adorable. Okay, a lot adorable.

Salem runs a dark hand across Allie’s still grinning lips. “Just those.”

#writing #my writing #ehh #text

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the-blackholeus · 2 years

Text

Obsession(MBPS-Fanfic)/Chapter 5: The First Meeting

(Just a fun little idea for a My Beautiful Paper Smile Fanfiction that came to my head one night while I couldn't sleep. It's quite ridicules, and so I decided to share it with you. If there are any grammatical mistakes in there, I apologize, for English is not my native language. Feel free to point them out, I am thankful for every little help that I can get.)

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Summary: The Authorities found an injured human on the beach of their island.

->->->->->->->->

When the human did not sleep or eat, he drew.

Whenever the Elder went to check on their special guest, whose name had been revealed to be Alexander, he was scribbling around in his little sketch book, creating whatever masterpiece he had in mind, the pens painting exact lines and waves as he guided them over the paper.

It was quite a wholesome sight to be honest. The concentrated yet content expression on his face with the hunched position that he always took on the bed, the fact that he seemed to forget everything around him as he dedicated his entire attention towards his doing…it was easy to get caught in the act of staring at him, watching as he worked on his project.

The old Authority had done so more than once.

Occasionally, when he had brought food to the human, escorted the Medic to meet him or simply had gone to check up on him, he had remained on the spot and took a few minutes of his time to enjoy the unique sight, forcing himself to stay silent to not disturb the other.

The Chapel Elder must admit, he had grown quite fond of Alexander during the short time that the beautiful being had been here. Not only was he a treat to the eye, but he was also quiet and obedient, following every order he was given, even when the doctor was working her magic (as long as it did not involve his back of course).

He was truly what could be considered as Perfection in Imperfection.

It was a shame that their time together was short, he would have loved to get to know him better. But the third evening had arrived, and the Medic came for one last checkup before they would escort him to the castle in the early hours of the following day. His new permanent home.

“How is he doing?”, the doctor asked as they began to climb the stairs which would lead them to the floor where the human rested in his quarters. “Is he aware that this is his last night in the Village?”

“No, at least not as far as I am concerned.”, the Elder answered as they began to walk towards the door. “I have not told him yet. But maybe another Authority did while they checked on him. But since his behavior didn’t change for the worse, quite the opposite actually, I doubt it. He seems to start to trust us.”

“He seems much more comfortable with us than he did three days ago, which is understandable, for he was in an environment that was completely new to him. But especially with you, he seems to have formed a special bond, and the fact that you have shown him no violence surely helped.”, she explained as they stopped in front of the door, deciding to not let their special guest know about their conversation. “Though I ask myself; How did you do it? What have you done to achieve this?”

The Chapel Elder closed his eye and began to think, letting the events of the days run through his mind, trying to find the moment where Alexander seemed to have opened up to him a little more. He stopped at a particular moment and decided that this must be it. He opened his lid again and turned to look at the wooden surface separating them from their mute friend.

“After the first night, I have found a book in his clothing. It was not a regular book, but rather a sketchbook. A holder of masterpieces, I say.”, he chuckled lowly, remembering the beautiful images that he was allowed to see. The works of a true artist. “It seems to hold much value to him, and while he had not been happy with me searching through his private belongings, he had been relieved that it had not been taken from him. When I have handed it to him, he had hugged it like one would hold an infant to protect it from damage or hide it. I believe this moment has formed some kind of connection between us.”

“Oh, so that is why it had rested beside him. I was unaware that it was his.”, she hummed, vaguely remembering it lying next to him when she had performed her last two check-ups. “And that is where you have his name from as well, have you not?”

“Indeed.”, the older Authority nodded in confirmation, his eye softening a little. “Yet sadly, the meaning of it raised more questions than it solved. “Defender of Men” proves that he was not alone once, but it is a mystery who he defended and where they are now. And sadly, despite having become more comfortable, he would still not speak with us.”

“The time where he will find his voice will surely come.”, the female tried to cheer him up a little, setting her free hand onto his rather skinny shoulder. “I’m sure the Glorious One finds a way to give it back to him. Speaking of our hailed leader: Should I tell the human that he will be escorted to the castle thirst thing tomorrow?”

“No, I will tell him in the morning.”, the Chapel Elder answered as he wrapped his long, thin fingers around the handle, his claws accidentally scratching upon the wood’s surface. “I do not want to prevent him from having a good night’s rest. He has to be in his best possible condition when he steps before His Perfection.” He ended their conversation and opened the door.

They found the human on the bed as usual, a pen in his hand and the book lying in front of him, the outline of yet another incredible painting scribbled upon the rough paper. He had turned his head towards them as they stepped inside, their arrival gaining enough of his interest to break off his concentration dedicated to his work and give them all of his attention. He robbed forward and sat upright, aware of what the female’s presence meant for him.

“Hello, Alexander.”, the Medic greeted him as she set her bag down, opening it to search for the supplies she would need for this examination. “Are you feeling well today?”

A short nod was the answer, and he began to unbutton his robe as she approached him with gloves. She felt her smile widen as she kneeled in front of him, waiting for him to brush the cloth aside to expose what laid beneath. “Well, that is pleasant to hear.”

Carefully, she began to undo the bandage, unwrapping it to see how the wound had progressed in the last 24 hours.

While it was still deep and open, the swell had reduced further, and crusts were beginning to form at the rim. It was beginning to close, the tissue regrowing and the flesh repairing itself. While it would definitely leave a noticeable scar once healed, the infection was gone, and if it was taken care of correctly, the human would not have to fear any further health issues.

His hands, however, had sadly not improved. The skin was still torn, they were bleeding on several areas, and while none of them seemed irritated in any dangerous way, she was aware that they could easily contract something that could end his life in less than a few days. They were heated to the touch as well, obviously inflamed and apparently incredibly painful. The human even flinched slightly as soon as she spread his fingers to get a better view of them.

“Those do not look good.”, she told him as she released him and began to roam in her bag once more. “While I’m more than satisfied with the process of the injury on your lower abdomen, your hands are in a worrying state. They will definitely require further professional treatment. Until then, I can give you this.”

Pulling a jar of cream, she transferred some of it onto her palm and began to spread it over the critical area.

“Why do you think that they do not heal?”, the Elder who had moved to the other side of the room to sit in a chair asked, watching as the Medic pulled out new bandages to replace the old ones to prevent bacteria to from.

“They have been inflicted in an unfortunate area. Since the hands are something that a being regularly uses, the skin is stretched again and again, leaving it no rest to recover properly.”, the female explained, fixating the white cloth so that it would not fall of. “Though I must say, your skin, my human friend, is unusual dry as well, which of course complicates the process further. I will most likely have to put a balm together which provides the moisture that it requires.”

“I see.”, the Chapel Elder hummed, turning his head lightly so he could glimpse at Alexander’s face, which was lightly tense. He was clearly uncomfortable with what the doctor was doing, yet he did not resist any of her actions or orders. “Anything else?”

She gave a nod. “The wound on his stomach needs further treatment as well of course, for it is a rather impressive injury and cannot heal without supervision. But we can rest assured that it is already in the process of closing and should be completely gone by next month. Only a scar will remain.”

The human helped her to bandage his lower abdomen, as always refusing to let her see or touch his back. He made sure that it was tight enough to stay in place, yet loose enough not to be painful or an issue when moving. Once done, the beautiful man buttoned up his robe to hide his gorgeous body, his skilled fingers working quickly and precisely.

Speaking of clothes, they should probably get him something more presentable than such simple attire when he would step before the King tomorrow. It would be a shame if that natural beauty the other possessed would be dulled by lumps that could easily be replaced.

“That is good to hear. I take that this is as healthy as he can get in three days of recovering?”, the old Authority asked, watching as she pulled out a paper from her bag, the results of the blood sample that she had taken last night. A few seconds of silence followed in which her eye was squinted in concentration as she took in the information written upon it. Only when she was done, she gave a slow yet clear nod, and lifted her head to make eye contact with him.

“Yes, he is. While the blood samples still show a slight irritation, he is quite well compared to when he got here.”, she mused as she overlooked them once more to make sure that she does not give any false information. “The fever is gone, the inflammations have reduced, and while he still has some medical issues, his state of health is more than acceptable. If this treatment is continued, he will be completely healthy in a little more than two, maybe three weeks, if not any unfortunate event occurs, of course.”

“Thank the gods…” To hear those words was excellent. The Chapel Elder had to sigh in relief, and his eye softened a little. He had not even noticed that he had held his breath in anticipation of what the doctor had to say. That news would certainly thrill His Perfection.

As usual, the Medic ended the examination by injecting the medicine that the human now received at a regular basis and would continue to do so until it was decided otherwise. With care, the experienced female pierced his skin with the needle, squirting the liquid into his blood circle so that it could do what it was created to do, making sure to spend every last drop before pulling out, wiping the area with a tissue afterward.

“We are finished here. Thank you for your cooperation, Alexander. Your behavior has been excellent once again. I will make sure to remark this in my report.”, the doctor spoke as she began to sort her supplies back into her bag, making sure to get everything into the right order so that she would not have any issues shall there be an emergency. She was a Medic; it was her duty to be organized so that she could perform perfectly in the worst-case scenario and hopefully save the lives of her brethren. She rose to her hooves and brushed off her robe as if dust had settled upon the soft cloth. “I will lower the numbers of my visits from now on. Now, you only have to expect me every third day, for I believe that it is not necessary to observe your health as closely as we have done until now.”

“Well then…” The Elder stood from his seat, aware that the examination has officially ended. He stepped towards the female Authority, stretching his arm to set his hand onto her shoulder, beginning to guide her towards the door. “Let’s let him rest. It is getting quite late, and if I recall correctly, you have another appointment.”

“I indeed do. And I have to hurry as well, for I am already late. We have required more time than usual today.”, she confirmed as she walked along with him, throwing her bag over her shoulder causally as she did so. Yet before she left, she stopped in her tracks and turned towards the human once more. “One last thing, Alexander.”

That caught the young man’s attention, who had begun to already settle down as he truly had desired to sleep, unaware that he had been given something to urge his tiredness so that he would get enough rest for tomorrow’s events. His dark, clouded orbs met hers, a slight questioning in them. She took a deep breath, unaware of how she would formulate what she wanted to say next, remaining silent for seconds before releasing the air in her lungs through her nostrils, deciding to just settle on eight needed words that the human would only understand when the time would come.

“Good luck, my friend. You will need it.”

**Day 4, At the Castle**

It has surely been more than a decade since the King had last been so excited.

The monarch had been unable to sleep all night, the adrenaline rushing through his veins forcing him to remain awake and painfully await the morning. Every minute seemed to be an additional hour, the time passing in such a slow speed that he had suspected that it had stopped entirely. It was torture, yet he was sure that it was worth in the end.

Sitting upon his throne, his golden chalice rested in his hand, filled to the brim with a delicious drink that the King enjoyed quite often. He lifted it to his lips, and took a large sip, staring at the other side of the throne room as he awaited what he had yearned for in the last few days, feeling himself growing more and more impatient with every passing minute.

Any moment now, this door would open. Any moment now, his servants would come and bring him his beautiful human. Any moment now, he would finally see this gorgeous man with his own three eyes, and officially have him all to himself.

He had made sure that he was looking his best for Alexander, and as such had dressed in his most expensive attire and finest jewelry. He had even used the early hours of the day to let his fur get groomed and beard get trimmed and braided, removing any unruly hair string that tainted his flawless appearance. After all, all that breathing treasure should see was absolute Perfection.

Swallowing the sweet liquid in his mouth, he set his chalice onto the arm of his throne and moved to slide a small piece of paper out of his pocket. It was the picture of his human, which he had kept after he had torn it out of the medical report. He would be lying if he had said that he had not spent the majority of the night staring at it, unable to take his eyes off that black-haired, imperfect beauty that looked back at him with those dark eyes of his. He had even neglected all those reports from the Facilities, simply having them left untouched in his study for he had deemed the preparations for his soon to be man’s stay as more important.

He had taken it upon himself to make the quarters that will be inhabited by him human proof. With the help of the Book of Legends, he had made sure that this beautiful individual had all that he needed to feel secure and comfortable; Blankets, Pillows, Books and (a strange advice from a Chapel Elder) tons of pens. All that was missing now to complete the picture was Alexander himself.

And just as this thought came to his mind, the doors suddenly burst open, catching his attention, and causing his ears to twitch.

His breath quickened with excitement. He straightened his composure, holding his head high and his smile broad, the later only growing when he saw the Authorities walk in, creating a line along both sides of the red carpet resting on the floor, forming a path leading directly to the throne and the powerful male sitting upon it.

“Your Perfection, Alexander has officially arrived!”

The room became deadly silent after. All the King could hear now was his own rapid heartbeat, and the sound of quiet footsteps that approached steadily, giving away that someone was coming. Tightening his hold on the arms of his chair of royals, which almost broke by the sheer force he used, he leaned forward, the anticipation growing with every passing second as he waited for who he had yearned for to finally turn around the corner for him to see.

And by the gods, he was not disappointed.

Accompanied by the Chapel Elder, Alexander turned around the corner, in flesh and blood, looking absolutely, outstandingly gorgeous.

The black robe he wore, one made of the finest silk, fit him so well. It was tied to by his narrow waist with a belt, giving away his impressive built, yet also leaving much room for imagination. His incredibly long hair, freshly washed and brushed, was folded into a skillful braid, reaching below his wrists where they curled upwards. His pale skin, almost appearing pearly white in between all those dark contrasts surrounding it, almost appeared to glow in the dimly lit throne room, appearing so very soft and smooth despite all the scars and little wounds that taint its visible surface.

However, what took the cake was his eyes.

Two pitch-black orbs, which seemed to be as deep and dark as the void itself, a long, deep scar running over the right one, which let it appear a little brighter compared to its counterpart.

With a shaky huff of air, the King leaned back into his throne, and watched as his beautiful human came to a stop right in front of the platform his throne stood upon and was guided into a bow by the old Authority accompanying him. His movements, though a little shy, were elegant and fluid, almost appearing to be unreal as he lowered himself a little to pay the ruling monarch the respect that he deserved.

Taking a deep breath, the royal collected his thoughts and feelings, and began to speak.

“Greetings Alexander.”, he all but purred, his powerful voice as smooth as silk as it echoed through the throne room. “Finally, we meet face to face.”

Other than a curt nod, that gorgeous man did not answer, something that was to be expected, for he had not spoken a single word ever since he came here. It was not what he had hoped for, yet the royal male decided to ignore it, and proceeded with his speech.

“This is my castle, my residence, the location of all decisions, and most importantly, your new home.”, to underline his statement, he made a gesture to his surroundings with his arm before bowing himself, doing that all without rising from his seat. “And as the ruling monarch, I welcome you with joy in my heart.”

Straightening his back once more, the King made eye-contact with the human, seeking for any kind of emotion in those dark orbs, for any clue to how he felt. Sadly, there was nothing but an endless void in there, the walls that seemed to stand tall and proud effectively shielding his mind from any attempt to read it.

What an interesting ability. He wondered how he had acquired it.

“Of course, everything has already been prepared for your arrival. You have a room, a bed, everything you could ever desire, as far as the book of legends concerns.”, the hailed leader of the Authorities continued after a few seconds of silence, leaning back into his chair of royals once more. “Of course, shall you be missing something essential, feel free to inform me. You are, after all, a creature of legends, and it would be foul to not pay you the respect you deserve.”

At those words, Alexander’s expression finally changed. It was a small difference, easy to miss and gone just as quickly as it appeared, but it was there, and it spoke of disbelieve. He watched as the human moved to glance at the Elder who still stood next to him, and only when he turned back to him, he, in one fluid movement, bowed deeply to show his gratitude.

But the gracefulness and fluidness of this movement astonished the King. It was clear that he was not inexperienced in bowing to others.

Feeling warmth come to his cheek, the monarch cleared his throat and gestured the gorgeous man to straighten his back again. “That is enough, thank you.”, the King then decided to turn his attention away from his gorgeous new possession, and focus on the old Authority standing nearby and providing some sort of support. “Elder, tell me, has he eaten?”

“No, your Perfection. He has not yet consumed any meal.”, the male with the overgrown horns answered honestly, knowing that it was not only futile to tell the truth, but also unwilling to face the punishment that would come when he lied to his leader.

Alexander had been…less than thrilled when in the morning, he had been told that it was finally time to confront the monarch with his arrival. While he was offered a delicious meal so that he could gain strength, he outright refused, not even turning to look at it as if it was poisoned or something. Most likely, it had been the sudden stress that he surely had when he heard the news and killed all the appetite that he might have had, leaving him with an empty stomach to this moment.

He just hoped that after this suspiciously friendly and open introduction to the royal, he was a little more relaxed and ready to eat. That poor man was still in recovery and needed a good nutrition just as much as he needed rest.

And that’s why exactly he fears the moment he needed to leave and return to his Chapel, leaving the most likely terrified human, who was once again in a whole new environment with no one to turn to, alone with his rather unstable king, who was currently being far too friendly to not have some kind of evil scheme planned.

He just hoped that it all won’t turn out into a disaster.

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

Chapter 1:

Chapter 4:

Chapter 6:

Coming soon

#my beautiful paper smile #the king mbps #mbps #fanfiction #mbps authority

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emoace616 · 4 years

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Broken Wings- Analogical Fanfiction

Word count~ 2830

At a very young age, Virgil had gone through a rough experience that he would rather forget about. But the event left him scarred, mentally with his trust issues, his bitter attitude and pessimistic outlook on life, the flashbacks he would get and the nightmares that would haunt him, and the walls he built to protect himself, and physically, with cuts and scars still left on his body and his clipped wings, leaving him permanently grounded. He couldn't remember flying, but every day he used to stare up at the sky, longing to see that world that was taken from him. But at this point he accepted that he would never see that, that dreaming about the impossible was pointless.

School was a struggle for him. He had nobody. He was either picked on, ignored, or pitied, and he hated that. He was constantly harassed for his wings, with people grabbing at his and teasing him, or shoving their own into his face or flying around him, mocking him. People acted nice to him either to turn on him or out of pity. And most people ignored everything that happened to him or just ignored his existence. It only made his trust issues worse. He was alone, with no one to care. There were times when he questioned the point, all he ever did was suffer, so why continue only to suffer more? He kept going though. Why? He wasn't sure.

The bell rang as he took another sip of his black coffee. He sighed as he picked up his bag and began to walk to his first class.

As he was walking, he felt a tap in his shoulder. He brushed it off, believing it to be some dick ready to make fun of him.

"Um, excuse me?" A voice he believed to belong to the person who tapped his shoulder spoke up. He wasn't mean or mocking in the way he had spoke, Virgil then came to the conclusion he saw his wings and felt bad.

"Yes?" Virgil asked, in a tone indicating he wasn't in the mood. He didn't want to have his attention drawn to his wings or be reminded of what had happened. He turned to the boy, getting a good look at him.

He was tall- maybe five inches taller than Virgil- and fairly lean, he had a pale complexion, though not as pasty as Virgil, his face was framed by a pair of square glasses, behind them were deep blue eyes, on his back sat a beautiful pair of large, black wings, their tips turning into a dark blue.

"Oh, I apologize if I'm bothering you," he said picking up on Virgil's tone of voice, "It's just, I'm new at this school and I'm struggling to find my first class."

Virgil became a little nicer and was a little less tense, knowing the boy wasn't here for his wings, "No, your not bothering me. Let me see your schedule, I'll help." With that the boy handed him the schedule and Virgil knew immediately where he had to go, "Oh that's my first class too, you can just walk with me, in fact you have quite a few of the same classes as me." Virgil started walking again, the boy following behind him.

"I'm Logan Berry by the way." The boy said, trying to start a conversation.

"Virgil Kage." He wasn't really in the mood to start a conversation with him, even though Logan clearly has no bad intentions, he was still a new person and Virgil still didn't trust him.

As they walked Virgil saw the Logan's attention occasionally drew to his wings, Virgil sighed knowing that Logan would ask about the wings sooner or later and by this point he definitely pitied him.

"You must be the new student I was supposed to get." The teacher says after seeing Logan, "I'll find you a seat and get you started."

Virgil left him with her as he went to go take his seat in the back of the class by himself. He took out his literature homework that was due, his textbook, a pencil and a sketchbook. A few moments later someone came to sit at the desk next to him. He turns to see Logan, laying out the papers the teacher gave him along with a textbook and a pen. Logan turns and gives him a slight smile.

As the teacher started her lecture, Virgil started to sketch and draw, what he was working on, he was not sure yet, he just let the pencil move and draw whatever. He glanced at Logan, seeing him taking notes, but the way he did it was interesting. He wasn't just jotting down important information the was written on the board or presented in the slideshow, it was like he was writing every word the the teacher said, and he never seemed to fall behind despite how fast she had been talking.

About fifty minutes of a lecture the bell was due to ring soon, Virgil looked down at his art. Though not his intention, by the end of class, he had drawn a rough sketch of Logan. Why? He wish he knew. He closed the book and shoved it and everything else into his bag.

"I don't suppose you know where my next class is, do you Virgil?" Logan asked as the bell rung.

"Let me see your schedule again?" Logan handed it to him, "Ah, thats my third period, I can take you there before I go to my class."

"I won't be burdening you at all, will I?"

"Nah, your fine, my next class is relatively close to that chemistry lab anyways."

"Okay, if you say so." Logan remarked as they started walking to his next class.

After a few minutes of silence Vigil spoke up, "So how come you transferred here so late in the year?"

"Oh, I used to live a few towns over but my father received an excellent business opportunity and we had to move here as soon as possible."

"So you had to leave all of your friends behind?"

"Oh, I'm not typically one for making friends. Typically it's easier for me to be alone. Or people just don't like me and find me annoying and either leave me alone or pick on me. Though I did have one friend, and I do miss him terribly."

"Oh? What was he like?"

Logan gave a soft, nostalgic smile, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks, "Patton was soft and sweet and welcoming, he was always smiling and cracking jokes, he was compassionate and caring, welcoming and open. Not to mention beautiful. But he has no phone and no way to keep in touch with him. And my hometown is to far to fl- travel there to see him. I'm afraid I won't be able to see him again and our friendship will have to fade into oblivion.." Logan's expression changed to a more melancholy look for a moment, "But here there is potential to find another person, maybe more. And I already have you, maybe we could be friends."

"I- you'd want to actually be my friend?? Like genuinely? Not to mock me later or just out pity?" Vigil was rather confused by that statement, no one's ever actually wanted to just be is friend.

"Yes. Why would I do it for such awful intentions?"

"I- don't act like you haven't noticed... it's the one thing everyone automatically sees when they see me.." he looked down to the ground, his wings flapping slightly from nervousness.

"I must say, I did notice, but I didn't want to bring it up in case it upset you. But I won't think of you any differently simply because of your wings, and I'm not going to become friends with you only to double cross you like that." Virgil was relieved to hear those words but still, he didn't fully trust Logan, he only met him today and there was no way his intentions truly were pure.

They then arrived at Logan's class, they said goodbye and then Virgil went to his class down the hall, Pre- Calc. It was hell but then again so were all of his advanced classes.

After a few more classes they went to lunch together. Vigil went to his usual place, a table few sat at, Logan set his bag next to him before leaving to get some food, Virgil stayed behind, not being the fondest of eating and preferring the feeling of starving himself.

"You really should eat." Logan told him once he sat down.

"Don't worry, I'll eat when I get home, I just don't like the school's food." Virgil lied.

"Hm. Alright." Logan said, though he wasn't convinced.

The rest of the day dragged on after lunch, they saw each other in a few more classes and Virgil helped Logan with finding every class he needed.

Days went by and those days turned into weeks and weeks to months. Virgil and Logan grew closer and were the best of friends. Virgil trusted him and felt safe with him. He was happy to finally not be alone. Though he felt like he was a burden to Logan. And he didn't want to be weighing him down. He just wanted Logan to be happy, he was so scared that he was stopping him from truly being happy. He cared for him so much and by this point, Virgil was sure that he was falling for him, which scared him even more for a number of reasons. If he were to tell him, he most likely won't feel the same way, if he does feel the same- just the thought made Virgil so flustered- there is a high possibility they'll break each other's hearts in the future, or Logan will realize he didn't love Virgil and could hate him, or Logan could move again and leave him alone. There's too much that could happen, and it scared him so, so much. He tried to stop overthinking but it never stopped, he just tried to enjoy every second with Logan without worrying so much.

Virgil was lying on his bed, smiling as he listened to Logan reading one of his newer science fiction books. He loved listening to him read, his voice was always so calm and smooth, he never stuttered or messed up on words, and whenever he read dialogue his voice changed ever so slightly for each character. It was so calm and peaceful and he loved every second of it. Logan stopped reading for a moment, taking a drink of his tea before continuing again. Virgil kept listening, constantly drinking coffee, trying not to fall asleep. Logan's voice was so calming when he read and so often Virgil fell asleep next to him, he didn't like that he did, but it almost always happened.

As Logan kept reading, his eyelids became heavier and heavier and before long, he fell asleep.

He was in a dark room. He was panicking, he had to get out. How was he stupid enough to trust and listen to these people? Why were they doing this to a small child? Cuts and burns decorated his body as tears poured from his eyes. He frantically flapped his wings hoping he could fly away, but they were sore and clipped. It was no use he was grounded and stuck. He struggled against the tight ropes on his wrists but it only burned his wrists more. He would've screamed for help but his mouth was sealed shut. He kept struggling but two tall figures walked in and stood in front of him. One was taller and seemed more beefy, he had dark green wings and his eyes glowed a bright evil green, he had a big menacing smile. The other was a bit shorter and leaner than the other, though his yellow wings were much bigger, he seemed more calm and less unhinged, but was far meaner, his yellow eyes gleamed, he was far more terrifying than the other. Virgil started violently shaking, with muffled screams of terror as more and more tears fell. The shakes grew more and more until it felt like everything around him was shaking as well. A voice was calling out his name, it was soft and smooth, unlike the harsh voices of the figures in front of him. The voice called for him more and more.

Virgil jumped awake, his body shaking and tears falling from his eyes. He looked up, seeing a scared and worried Logan looking down at him, holding his shoulders, where he was previously trying to shake him awake.

"A-are you okay?" Logan looked so scared, he didn't know what to do. Virgil didn't say anything to reply, more tears welled up as he tightly hugged Logan, still shaking. Though taken aback at first, Logan hugged him back, holding him close. He stroked his dark brown and purple hair and hummed softly, hoping to calm him down.

They stayed like that for a while, Logan holding him as Virgil cried into his chest. Virgil slowly calmed down, finding warmth and comfort with Logan, he felt safe in his arms.

"Are you doing a little better now..?" Logan asked softly, rubbing his back slowly. Virgil nodded into his chest. "Do you want to talk about it..?"

Virgil wipes his eyes before speaking, "It... it's just.. just s-something.. something that h-happened a long.. a long time ago.. its- it's nothing..."

"You were violently shaking, crying, screaming, your wings were flapping enough to lose several feathers. Virgil... that is not what I would call nothing. But I understand if you would rather not talk about it." Logan replied, placing a soft hand on his cheek and looking into his purple and green eyes.

"I.... I just.. just want to forget about.. forget about all of it... I want.. I want to forget them.. and what they... and what they did... but they haunt my dreams and my... my thoughts... I just.. I just want to forget.. I want to fly away..."

"Then why don't we? Let's just forget the nightmare, and let's fly away, escape the world for a bit."

Virgil was taken aback. Did he forgot? Was he just teasing him? It wasn't funny.. "L-Lo... you know I ca-" before he could finish Logan took his hand and opened up his window, leading them to the roof.

"Get on my back. And hold on tight." Virgil was confused but he obeyed. He wrapped his legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders. Logan stretched out his wings, Virgil never noticed just how big they really were. And before he knew it, Logan took off and they were soaring into the sky.

Virgil curled up and closed his eyes tight, he was scared, he hadn't flown in so long, and they were so high in the sky.

"Virge, look." Logan said, feeling how tense he was. Virgil opened his eyes, seeing the clouds and starlight around them and the city lights below them. His eyes were filled with wonder, he laughed and smiled.

He opened up his wings letting the cool air and wind blow through his dark grey and purple feathers. He forgot how amazing this feeling was. He let out a hoot of excitement.

Logan looked up at him, smiling, a soft blush dusting his cheeks as he let out a soft giggle. He flew for about a half hour before feeling exhausted and landing back in his roof.

"Lo! Thank you so so much, you don't understand how much I've missed that feeling, how much I needed that!" He hugged him tightly, a few tears falling because of how happy he was.

Logan hugged him back, smiling, "Your very welcome starlight, I'm glad your feeling better." Virgil blushed at the nickname.

"I-I am." Virgil smiled. He was so happy with Logan and he never wanted this moment to end, "U-um, Lo? Can I tell you something?"

"Yes, of course."

Virgil looked up at him, "I.. I like you. A lot. Not just in a platonic way. You make me feel happy and safe and secure. And I never want to lose you and I never want that feeling to end.

Logan cupped his cheek, smiling sweetly at him, gazing into his eyes, "I feel the same my dear."

Virgil blushed even more at these words, "I.. r-really?" Virgil could hardly believe those words, he never would have though that Logan would ever reciprocate his feelings.

"Really, I have for some time now, I just never realized you felt the same." He smiled at Virgil more, hugging him close.

Virgil hugged him tightly, nuzzling into Logan's chest, he felt so happy, he was in the verge of sobbing.

He could finally be happy without a single worry, knowing Logan would be there if anything were to happen.

A fanfiction I wrote here on Wattpad

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mysme-hcs · 7 years

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Match-up with a male: I'm 5'1" and 112lbs, not very active. Don't exercise on my own, but I'll wander town/nature if suggested; mostly I'm indoors, likely on my computer. Love to write, sing and pun. I smile and joke easily, and befriend everyone I can. Can't handle too much social interaction; have anxiety/depression issues I don't share with many. More likely to smile and hide to deal with problems on my own than ask for help, but it can noticeably affect me and last for days/longer. (1/6)

[Under a “Read More” to prevent spam. I won’t use these often, but if you can’t view this post on the app, try pasting the link into a mobile browser or open it on desktop!]

Always eager to learn, from history to languages to cooking. I'll try anything at least once. Rambled about the Elder Futhark multiple times; don't get me started on mythology (especially dragons, shocker). I also love to debate and listen to others ramble. When researching (probably for writing) I'll take lots of notes, with different colored pens and whiteboards and sketches. I'm... thorough?I have THE MESSIEST room; hard to get motivated to clean without music/outside influence. But I'll (2/6)

do my job, and then some; it's important to do your work, and do it right the first time. I swing between eating a lot to forgetting to eat; I do better with reminders. Sometimes like the cutesy little sister, or the worrying supportive big sister. Easily startled, not easily spooked. Think all animals are adorable/cool. (Except bees.) Generally have a good idea of who means well for me, who means ill, who I can open my heart to and how seriously I should take what they say. Apparently good(3/6)

at entertaining kids and keeping them in line? Will support others as much as I can, and step up to take care of something they won't/are having trouble with (i.e. work tasks, flagging down waiters, asking awkward questions, apprehending shoplifters, etc.).I can cuss up a storm, but am professional when required. I'll stop if someone's uncomfortable. (I have kid-friendly swears JIC.) The one who says "press cancel" instead of "press the red button" in case someone's colorblind. Compliments (4/6)

on appearance don't mean much, but comments on singing/writing/etc. make me awkward and bashful. I try to be fun, for as long as I can handle it until I retreat to my lair! I'll be silly to make someone laugh/feel normal, or join in on the silliness someone else already started.But I will get serious, and I want to be taken seriously when I do even if I'm smiling. When I say I love you, I mean it, even the fiftieth time. Privacy and honesty are also important. Definitely want someone I can (5/6)

[ha]ve fun with, discover the world with, who wouldn't push if I need quiet/alone time, but still offer his support. Sometimes, just a text or being there is enough. But cuddle-days are also welcome. He'd have to deal with my awful habits/quirks though: Sleep is fickle, I make odd (sometimes cat) noises, can be forgetful, and will get hit with anxiety/depression without warning. A slow relationship is fine. No kids in the immediate future. (6/6) Phew! Sorry for rambling aha. Hope this works for you?

Sure! Since you said this was your first match-up, I tried to make it super special :3

I match you up with....

Yoosung!

Yoosung isn’t very active either (he pretty much sits around and plays video games all day) so you have nothing to worry about here!

But sometimes he’d try to get the two of you out of the house and take a walk every night after dinner

It’d be super comfortable, the sun setting and his hand in yours as you walk along the busy city streets and chat on park benches

And when you both have tired out, he’d be open to cuddling and listening to each other ramble

LOLOL most likely has dragons and other mythical creatures, so if you want to, he’ll teach you

Loves hearing you talk about dragons and mythology because both they and the fact that you know so much about them is really interesting to him

Even though he doesn’t pay attention in school he’d take a class in mythology just so he can talk a little more in-depth with you, same goes for any of your other interests ;)

Yoosung also enjoys cooking, so the two of you can try out new recipes and he can share tips from both himself and his mother

No matter how bad or good, Yoosung will always laugh at your puns

Also loves hearing you sing and if you think he won’t compliment you about it until he’s blue in the face, you’re quite wrong

Anything you write = he’ll read

Not just because this boy adores anything and everything you do, he genuinely likes your writing and is interested in your characters

If there’s anything you need to research for your writing, he isn’t above taking you to every bookstore/library/Noogling everything/or asking 707 for help finding what you need

Constantly surprises you with new notebooks, pens, and sketchbooks to help with your note-taking

And oh boy

It’s canon that his apartment is insanely messy (cockroaches, mold, etc) so the two of you together....

RIP

Sooo (mostly because of Jaehee and Zen’s complaints) you’ll have cleaning days once every two weeks!

It sounds lame but since you’re a hard worker and he doesn’t want to disappoint you, everything will get clean in no time

what even are these, I’m so sorry this is all random lmao

He doesn’t like to argue with you, but he’d be open to debating sometimes!

He most definitely needs help staying on task/focusing/and just overall doing his work, so having you around helps him immensely

Don’t need a ton of social interaction? He’ll take your needs into consideration and try to take you out of uncomfortable situations

He also understands that problems with depression and anxiety are private matters, but he hopes that when things get bad you’ll come to him

Would learn how to tell when you’re upset and would automatically try to take care of the situation or would just be beside you. Again, he knows they’re private matters, but he doesn’t want you to feel alone

Anything you want to learn, he’ll try to take up as well and turn it into a couple activity ^-^

Yoosung also likes animals, and he’s probably terrified of bees too

He’d be willing to sacrifice himself to them if it meant you being okay though

Yoosung thinks that you being good with kids is adorable!

He obviously wants some, but if you don’t then he’ll drop the subject

Finds your support sosososo encouraging

Yoosung was honestly a little shocked by your swearing at first, but it quickly grew on him and sometimes he uses a few of them oops

You don’t need to tell him to take you seriously because he always does

he’s okay with stepping away for a while to let you be if you need space or to be alone, he’ll just make sure to remind you that he’ll be in the next room

The two of you are always saying “I love you”, once Zen and 707 threatened to deafen themselves if y’all didn’t stop

Yoosung also would rather being around someone who is fun, so he often tries to make the time you spend together enjoyable

Can’t sleep? CuDdLeS under warm blankets and stuffed animals surrounding you

Would rub your back and play with your hair until you can fall asleep

If you’re forgetful, he has your back! In fact, it makes him feel more important to you when he can remember something you can’t

Expect cute little texts all throughout the day

Hope you enjoyed your match-up!

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