#well actually I sketched it down on paper first and was then just working over it in digital

[darkdragon768]

Is it that big of a witchcraft to draw with your fingers on a phone?

[moonriverrise]

Steve has a secret, well “secret” may not be the correct way to describe it. He has something for himself, thats what. Ever since he stopped playing basketball and doing swim competitions once he graduated he's had way more free time, which at first he filled with shifts at Family Video, or bothering Robin.

Then, when she started school he started doing art more. Which, may come a surprise to many, as he never really talked about his interest in paintings and old art.

Greek sculptures that are able to show life in a still ethereal way, while still being able to twist it at their will. Renaissance oil paintings, capturing tragedy yet still being able to portray it as beautiful, in their own terrible twisted ways.

He likes sketching on paper, painting on canvas. His paintings aren't usually too different from the things he sees around him. Honestly thats the only things he paints, people, his friends, places he goes, things he sees that stick with him, dreams, moments that play on repeat in his head.

Around his Junior year, after the Demogorgon, Steve had turned the sad basement in his sad empty house, into his own space. A place where he can go and do his art, hang it, play music on his walkman, or using the record player he got from a pawn shop a few months prior. Somehow the basement is the only space that actually feels like his in his house, not even his bedroom.

Steve’s art was not very consistent to be honest, mostly the kids and Robin, landscapes that he liked, the Demogorgon/dogs, the Mindflayer (he needs some way of getting those out of his head, and somehow drawing them down feels freeing.) He does have a few paintings of Nancy from when they were together, she’s become less of a model for his work after everything though.

The last time he painted her in a painting alone, was one of that bathroom in a girl he barely knows’ house, a spilled drink on Nancy’s dress, and red solo cups littering the counter.

Steve’s art shifts though, after a moment that will never leave his mind. He knows who Eddie Munson is, obviously. How could he not? Honestly Steve isn't that surprised Henderson and the others befriended the guy, he does run a DnD club.

But then, Henderson needs a ride home after their club meetings because his mom is working late, and then Lucas and Mike’s parents are also asking Steve to pick them up too. Babysitting duty, as per usual.

Steve arrives a bit earlier than he planned. He didn't have any project to consume himself into, hitting an art block begrudgingly. But then, Steve sees Eddie Munson, sitting on a fake throne, watching the kids and other club members argue, he has his chin rested on his fist, and he's wearing a white tank top, showing off his shoulders, given the fact it’s still September.

The lighting of the small theater room captures Steve’s interest like a moth to the flame, and he is regretting having left his sketchbook at home, even though he never draws around the kids or anyone he knows.

Eddie Munson’s face and curly locks fill up the pages of Steve’s journal and some canvases for months after, and Steve rarely genuinely complains about coming to pick the kids up.

Afterwords, months later from that day. Chrissy Cunningham dies, and Eddie Munson almost goes with her. God, or whatever deity that was looking down upon him, was on Steve’s side in that moment, when he was able to revive Eddie and then drag him out of the Upside Down.

Steve gets closer with Eddie after that, they become actual friends. Steve was so used to witnessing his muse from afar, it was so…exciting, to see Eddie in all his glory, just a few feet away, and his smile being directed at him.

“Do you even have any hobbies, Harrington?” Steve blinks. Him, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and the party, are all hanging out by the pool. Steve is lounging on one of the chairs, sunglasses over his eyes as Eddie talks beside him.

“What?” Steve responds.

“I mean…I like barely ever see you do anything besides sort Movies at Family Video, or boss around the kids. Like, what do you do when we're not all together?” Eddie asks, moving his hand a little as he talks. Steve thinks for a moment.

“Funny,” Steve answers instead. Eddie scoffs.

“I'm being serious, man! What do you do?” Eddie laughs a little, most likely at the ridiculousness of it all. What would Steve know, Eddie is like a puzzle, and Steve has to take every minute slowly, deciphering everything he lays out for him, via tongue or action.

“I don't know, what do you do?” Steve says, almost carefully.

“Band stuff, DnD, Writing,” Eddie lists. “And I guess saving the world now, but thats a bit of a side hussle.” Steve scoffs.

“Whatever, man.” And thats that, they don't talk about it again. But it sticks with Steve, because his friends really do think he doesn't do anything with his life. It's not like he has college classes to study for, so what does he do?

Later, maybe two or three weeks after, Steve decides he wants to show Eddie his space. The two of them are alone, Robin is in Nevada, visiting her grandparents, so the trio’s usual movie night is cut down to a duo’s movie night.

Although Steve finds himself mostly focusing on Eddie and his beautiful hair sitting next to him, than watching ET. The little alien scares him a bit anyway. Eddie notices him staring though, his eyes flickering to meet Steves, then a smirk spreading across his lips.

“We are watching a movie, lover boy.” Eddie says. Steve goes red, his gaze shifting to his lap. Steve furrows his eyebrows then stands and shuts the TV off. “Woah! Hey!”

“I want to show you something.” Steve says, it's a bit quieter than he meant it to be, but his tone indicates something to Eddie, which has him staring at Steve, starstruck.

Steve walks out the room and hears Eddie follow him. He gets to the basement door and opens it, flicks on the stair light.

“Basement- woah- okay, guess I'm getting murdered. Thought I’d go out in a more metal way than this.” Eddie says as they walk down. Steve laughs a little and shakes his head.

“I just think you should see this.” Steve says. “Nothing life threatening, I promise.”

“Alright, I trust you, Stevie.”

“Good.”

Steve turns and flicks on the light as they step onto the concrete. The lights flicker on, revealing the paintings on the walls and art supplies on the tables and counters.

“Woah-” Eddie says. “Is this, all your stuff?” Steve sighs, he folds his arms and faces Eddie. He looks shellshocked.

“Yeah.” Steve says. “You said I don't have any hobbies, I do, actually.” Eddie looks around, walking slowly.

“Is that Henderson? Why is he wearing yellow gloves?” Eddie asks. Steve walks over to a painting of Dustin from Steve’s angle while they were walking on the train tracks, a bucket of raw meat is in one hand and he's wearing the headphones for his radio.

“D’Art,” Steve says. “That was when we were leading him away. I made that one after everything happened. I was trying not to think about the Demogorgon stuff and everything, so I just drew him. I have one of Max from that day I never finished painting in a stack I think too.” Eddie doesn't say anything for a minute after Steve is done explaining.

“You can paint.” Eddie says, though not like a question. “These are beautiful…” Eddie looks around and walks to another one he sees. It's one of the Byers and Hopper’s, all hugging while laughing. El looks the happiest. Steve had painted that after they had all gotten together after everything. “Why…didn't you tell anyone?”

“About what?” Steve asks, folding his arms as Eddie brings up a hand to touch the painting.

“This- Steve, you're amazing at this. These are…” Eddie trails off as something catches his eye, he slowly starts to walk towards a big painting propped up behind one of the tables laid out in the middle of the room. Steve walks to him to see which one he's looking at.

An angel, knelt over a puddle, crying as it stares at his reflection, which is blurred and dark. He stands in a forest, his wings are long and huge, sprawling out above him.

It’s one of Steve’s bigger ones, the inspiration came from a dream he had after they had read about Icarus in his english class back in Highschool.

“It’s… magnificent.” Eddie whispers. Steve smiles gently at Eddie’s reaction. Eddie backs up a bit and looks away from the painting. “Is that me?” Steve follows his eye, to the painting. Eddie walks towards it, Steve stays behind him. It’s the first one Steve ever made of Eddie, the one of him on the throne.

“Yeah, it is.” Steve says. “I made that the first night I came to pick up the kids.” He says. “The first time I met you, actually met you.” They share a look.

“You are incredible, Steve Harrington.”

[typing-catastrophe]

could you write a stanford pines x reader headcanon where the reader is an artist and always draws him and draws in his journals when he isnt looking? maybe he talks to the reader about the drawings and they get really flustered i dunno!!! <3

oohhh! yeesss, that's a great idea! thank you anon ^^ hope this is okay, enjoy!

1.2k words --------------------------------------------------

Your little habit started out even before Stanford came back. Dipper saw you sketching in your notebook from time to time, and asked you to draw something for him in the journal. He handed it to you and pointed next to a text he'd written about some anomaly (maybe a Manotaur or the Pterodactyl). First you were unsure, how would you feel if someone randomly decided to draw in your sketchbook? But it actually seemed really fun, an you didn't want to disappoint Dipper. Also it was in the spirit of research and preserving observations. And honestly, what were the odds the mysterious author would ever show up again?

With that attitude you began, whenever you got the chance to, to doodle yours and the twins encounters with the countless strange phenomena in gravity falls into the journal.

Well, oops? Seemed like the universe decided that not long after you started doing so, it was the right time for the author to come back.

It wasn't a big deal really, Dipper kept the journal for most of the time and Ford told him that he liked the additions he made. You weren't sure if he only meant the notes Dipper added, or if he even knew that someone else drew the newly added creatures.

It didn't take long for you and Ford to get to know each other better and spend more time together. Literally everything about him was just so fascinating. From the way he talked about his dimensional travels, anomaly hunts and research, his interest in a shared hobby of yours (dd&md), to the way he held himself. And, even if you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, his looks.

You couldn't help it, he was captivating. So to no surprise, one day you found yourself sitting the shack's porch, looking over at Ford standing in the yard, working away at something that was too bulky for the basement. You didn't even realise what you were doing, until something startled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at your sketchbook, seeing a familiar figure on the open page.

And then it happened again, in the lab. He was explaining away, deeply invested in whatever topic he was rambling about, not really taking in his surroundings. You had started out just sketching his study, but somehow he turned out to be the main focus of it.

One evening you found yourself in the living room of the shack. Ford was sitting on the floor, which was almost entirely covered in graph paper. You had joined him while he prepared the next campaign session, the tv quietly proving some background noise. While he was franticly scribbling away sheet after sheet, you propped open your notebook and began sketching some of the characters that came to your mind. Ford's, Dipper's and your characters and some npcs you encountered on your travels. But looming over all of them, half hidden behind the dm-screen, the scheming face of the man before you took his shape.

The end of the evening was rather blurry, you remembered falling asleep on the floor and being carried to bed, half asleep in someone's arms.

"hmm thank you", is all you could mumble when you felt the soft pillow under your head.

"No problem, dear", you heard a deep voice chuckle.

-

When you thought about it the next morning, a smile crept unto your face and you kinda wished, you would've been more awake, so you could've enjoyed the moment properly.

The smiled was quickly wiped off though, when you realised that you must've left your sketchbook in the living room, given that Ford probably didn't bring it with him last night. You panicked and jumped out of bed, stumbling to the door when your gaze was caught by something. Your sketchbook, laying on your desk. You exhaled, glad it didn't lay around for anyone to see. You took it into your hands and opened it to the last page you were working on. But instead of the drawing from yesterday evening, only the one before that stared back at you. Confused, you turned the pages a few times, examined it, maybe someone ripped it out? No, no remnants of a torn out page....

Then, it dawned on you. You left your notebook in your room yesterday. You didn't plan on staying or even going to the living room. God knows how you ended up there, but it definitely was without your sketchbook. Which could only mean one thing...

In record time you were out the door, down the hall and in the living room. Right in time to take in the scenery of Ford staring down at his campaign notebook, opened to the page of your drawing.

"Ahh!! No no don't look!", you jumped forward and put your hands over the drawing. Ford furrowed his eyebrows, looking quite puzzled.

"This? Oh I already saw it last night after getting you to bed. It is incredible!"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh" was all you could utter.

"It was also you who added the depictions of the twin's adventures, right?"

"Uhmm" You didn't keep your passion for drawing a secret, but you also didn't make a big deal out of it. And honestly, the way Ford was always so indulged in his own mind, you didn't think he was paying much attention to what you were doing. Now you felt a bit stupid for believing he wouldn't connect the - admittedly - obvious dots.

"They really are marvellous. And this?", he gestured to yesterdays page "Truly phenomenal!"

You didn't know what to say. You weren't even sure if you could say anything at all. All you felt was blood rushing to the tips of your ears and a flaming hot sensation in your cheeks.

"I- well uhm, thank you", you managed to stutter "I uh, I actually didn't mean to- uhm, use your campaign book. It was a mistake, I'm sorry."

"You've got to be joking! It's the perfect addition!" Ford exclaimed. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Oh", his enthusiasm caught you off guard. "I-, I guess not. Actually, that would mean a lot to me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Very well then! Thank you, dear." He looked at you with a fond expression.

You were about to retreat back to your room, turning around ready to leave, when Ford spoke up again, the smile apparent in his voice. "I also liked your artistic rendition of the twins adventures. Anything else you want to show me?" You froze.

Your heart started beating ridiculously fast. Did he knew? Did he notice you staring at him while drawing? Your thoughts started racing, but came to a sudden halt when he leaned down. His lips were almost touching your ear when he started to whisper.

"Maybe another time." And with that he walked by you, leaving you to yourself.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: if you want a second part with romance and/or where ford discovers the drawings of him, let me know! Have a nice day/night!

[reminiscingtonight]

Three's Not A Crowd

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

[WOSO Masterlist]

It was an accident. 

If confronted about it Ingrid will vehemently deny snooping.

Because she wasn’t. In any way. 

It all began with a simple tidying up. No matter how many times Ingrid reminded Mapi not to leave her various books and bags around the house the Spaniard just never took it to heart.

So doing what she does best, Ingrid puts them away for her girlfriend.

Opening the hallway closet, she starts the daunting task of hauling the heavy bag onto one of the higher shelves. It’s there, when the bag is halfway over her head that something falls out, the zipper not having been fully shut.

A couple curse words are grumbled out when the object smacks her square on the top of her head. Sighing, Ingrid crouches to grab at what she realizes is Mapi’s sketchbook… only to pause when she sees the page the book has fallen open onto.

Mapi’s artistic abilities have always been magnificent. When not busy with football or taking Ingrid out on dates, the Spaniard can always be found sketching away in some corner of their house. Ingrid’s always the first to point out how wonderful she finds her girlfriend’s pieces of art but these particular sketches, they’re nothing if not breathtaking. 

Ingrid picks up the book, fingers lightly tracing the unfamiliar face staring back at her. Whoever Mapi’s captured down on the paper is nothing if not beautiful. Your eyes look kind, mouth curled up into the gentlest of smiles.

Surprisingly it isn’t jealousy Ingrid feels at the sight of someone else captured so perfectly by Mapi. It’s curiosity that causes her to flip through page after page of Mapi’s sketchbook, each one containing a different picture of you through what’s clearly multiple different days. In some of them you’re staring right at Ingrid through the pages of the pad, in others it’s only your side profile that’s been captured.

The more Ingrid looks, the more her curiosity grows. And it’s this same curiosity that has Ingrid knocking on their shared bedroom a couple minutes later, book still in hand.

“Who is this?” It’s not an accusation, words coming out soft and curious as Ingrid gently places Mapi’s sketchbook down next to the defender. 

Mapi’s body all but freezes when she sees what Ingrid is referring to, eyes growing comically wide. “That’s uh, she’s um-- I just… she caught my eye-- and I… I--”

Mapi’s clearly at a loss of words, and Ingrid is quick to put her out of her misery. 

Ingrid puts a light hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Mapi, don’t worry about it. I know you’re loyal. This isn’t me asking if you’re cheating on me. You love me too much to ever think about breaking my heart.”

The blonde’s quiet for a moment, looking down at her fingers. Ingrid waits patiently, as the Spaniard gathers her thoughts. 

“She works at the cafe next to the park.”

Ingrid listens, if not with a little too much investment, as Mapi details the first trip that took her across your path. Something about you had Mapi returning time and time again, if just to hear your voice or get some work done in your presence. 

Mapi finishes her story and they put away the sketchbook and their day goes on as normal.The conversation really should have put an end to the thoughts swirling around her head, but something keeps tickling at the back of Ingrid’s mind. 

She should let it go. 

Ingrid knows she should let it go. 

But everyone says curiosity kills the cat and that’s exactly what happens. 

Ingrid goes to see you.

Well she actually goes to the cafe at which you work at, but it’s definitely with the intention to see you in action. 

And see you in action she does. 

Right from the get-go Ingrid can understand why Mapi’s been so drawn to you.

You’re soft spoken, eyes sparkling as you take her order. When Ingrid hesitantly pauses over unfamiliar Spanish words you don’t make a big deal out of her sudden switch to heavy-accented English. Instead, your smile grows wider, happy to converse in your native tongue. You converse in light English. Ingrid only stumbles over her words every here and there but you don’t comment, nodding along to everything she says as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

You’re just so nice and just so sweet and…

Ingrid finds herself coming back to see you again. And again. And again. 

She grows used to the way your face would light up when you catch sight of her walking through the doors. You’re always quick to nudge your coworker out of the way just so you can take her order. 

Ingrid doesn’t expect to feel things.

She’s in love with Mapi, she knows that. The two of them are supposedly going to get married in the future, live the happiest of lives together. 

But something about you is just so alluring. And it isn’t like Mapi isn’t attracted to you either. Although her girlfriend has never said it out loud, Ingrid knows her fascination with you is due in part to how beautiful she finds you. 

It’s after practice that Ingrid makes up her mind. 

There’s really nothing to lose either way. Either it works out, and she can make Mapi happy as well. Or it doesn’t. Worse case scenario the two of them will just have to get their caffeine fix somewhere else. 

Ticket clutched in hand, Ingrid walks up to the counter. 

---

Working at a cafe was never in your plans. 

But neither was uprooting your entire life and moving across the ocean to Spain. 

A year ago you had a really nice job, a loving girlfriend, a life you were sure was set to last you until the end. Walking in on your girlfriend in bed with “the friend you didn’t need to worry about” really turned everything on its head. 

When your job’s contract ended there wasn’t really anything keeping you tied down to the city you really only moved to for your ex-girlfriend for. So with nothing but a suitcase and plane ticket in hand, you made the rash decision to go to the ever sunny Barcelona. 

You’ve only been here for a couple months, but you’re already in love with the city and the culture. 

You get used to the everyday buzz of your routine. Wake up, go for a jog, head to work, make some coffee for some pretty girls, go home, rinse and repeat. Really not too much to focus on so it’s no surprise you noticed her right away. 

Bleach-blonde hair, reserved but beautiful smile, yeah, how could you miss someone like her?

She always ordered the same thing whenever she came in, one hand clutched around a small book and pencil. You’ve only ever heard her say her drink order, her name, and a polite thank you when you’d bring her drink, but beyond that, she was a mystery to you.

During lulls in your shift you’d often find your eyes drifting to where she sat, head buried in her book as her pencil made its way across the page. Her ink was magnetic, so many tattoos everywhere, her arms, hands, neck. 

You come to look forward to the days Mapi would come in. Every Monday like clockwork.

And while Mondays were for Mapi, Thursdays were for Ingrid. 

Ingrid was another one of the girls you’ve come to look forward to seeing. 

Unlike your Spanish crush, your Norwegian crush grew out of fondness.

At first you thought it was funny, having feelings for someone not from Spain in Spain. But Ingrid would always do whatever she could to make you laugh when she came in. She’s funny and attentive and just so caring, it’s no surprise you find your crush growing with each day. 

So yeah, maybe you’re crushing on two women in Barcelona, but it’s not like the other knew about your feelings for them or the other woman, so you feel vindicated to continue pining over Mapi on Mondays and Ingrid on Thursdays. 

When Ingrid asked you to accompany her to a Barcelona match your first instinct is to say no. 

First off, you never expected her to actually ask you out. 

Secondly, and more importantly, your best friend from home was always trying to get you to go to a soccer game with her but you never found much interest in people kicking balls around for ninety minutes. But to squander some alone time with a beautiful girl away from your place of work? Well that sounded pretty appealing.

The closer the match day gets the more excited you become. The day of the game you find yourself trying on at least half of your closet before calling your friend for help. All you really got was a bunch of teasing remarks, but with only a few minutes to spare you make it out the door to the game. 

You send a text off to Ingrid when you get to your seat. Everyone around you is already joyous, spanish chattering going off everywhere around you. 

But then the minutes tick by and your text is still left unread and Ingrid is still nowhere to be seen. It’s already passed the time Ingrid said for you to get to the game, but you can’t seem to get ahold of her nor can you spot her anywhere. 

You frown. Maybe something came up and Ingrid’s just running a little (a lot) behind?

Or perhaps you were just the fool to ever believe a gorgeous woman like Ingrid would ever be into someone like you.

Your heart sinks at the prospect of being stood up.

Suddenly your mood drops, no longer as excited at watching the game as you were earlier. The longer you sit here without seeing any hint of Ingrid, the more you find yourself wishing you never accepted the ticket in the first place. 

You’re broken out of your thoughts when the crowd around you starts cheering, the first of players starting to jog out onto the field for warm-ups. 

Blinking away what you know would be tears of frustration, you let your eyes rake over the unfamiliar players. Mapi’s the last thing on your mind as you wonder where Ingrid can be, which is  why you almost do a double take when you see someone who looks a bit like her jog right past you. 

Wait.

Your head whips to the side to track the player. 

Mapi’s dressed in Barcelona colors as she lightly pushes one of her teammates on the field. She’s now on the other side of the pitch, but you can still see the way she’s laughing and joking around with her teammates. 

Before you can really make sense of what you’re seeing, you feel your heart stuttering to a stop for the second time in seconds. 

There’s a familiar tall figure running up to Mapi’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. You would know that dazzling smile from anywhere.

Ingrid is on the field.

Ingrid is on the field next to Mapi.

Ingrid didn’t ask you to go to today’s game with her. She was asking you to watch her play in today’s game. 

And watching Ingrid play soccer apparently meant also watching Mapi play soccer too.

Although you’re here for Ingrid you can’t help but drool over how good Mapi looks streaking down the field. 

She seems to dance with the ball, effortlessly launching it right into the path of her teammates. 

You’re standing up and cheering when her assist turns into a goal. 

She’s celebrating with her teammates when you see Ingrid tug on Mapi’s sleeve. And then they’re both looking at you. You flush red at the gigantic smile on Ingrid’s face and the confused yet still slightly pleased look on Mapi’s.

When the final whistle blows you’re not quite sure what the proper etiquette is.

You’re still debating whether or not you should head out and text Ingrid later when you notice her heading in your direction. 

It’s automatic, the way your lips curl up into a smile.  

Until you realize she’s got one hand on Mapi’s forearm. 

It’s obvious that the two of them are arguing about something. Mapi’s eyebrows are drawn together, hand’s waving in front of her as she rapidly says something to the Norwegian. They’re still too far away for you to hear them but you can still make out the way Ingrid fondly rolls her eyes at the other woman.

As soon as they come within earshot of you though, Mapi falls silent. She’s looking a bit shy and bashful, not at all as confident as when she was playing earlier, but Ingrid still drags her to a stop in front of you.

“You could’ve told me you were playing in the game when you asked me to come, Ingrid.”

Ingrid grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You let her pull you into a sweaty hug, laughing when she shakes you side to side before letting go. Ingrid gives Mapi a slight nudge before the shorter woman gives you a subdued hello. 

She looks nervous. For what you’re not quite sure. If anything, you should be the nervous one. What’s your luck that the two women you’re crushing on know each other?

It almost seems natural, the way Mapi leans into Ingrid, and the way Ingrid so readily slots a hand on Mapi’s waist. 

It takes a moment but your heart drops when it clicks. 

“Oh, are you guys… you’re together?”

What. The. Fuck.

No, you’re not crushing on two women who know each other. You’re crushing on two women who happen to be together!

“Si,” Mapi confirms, looking a bit uncomfortable at the way Ingrid keeps manhandling her towards your body.

“Anyways, how did you like the game?” Ingrid butts in, eyelashes batting at you. 

Your eyes keep darting between hers and Mapi’s. “It was… it was a nice game. I can’t really say I have much experience to compare the match to, but you guys definitely tore up the field.”

Ingrid hums. “Well we’re just going to have to change that, won’t we.”

You don’t really understand what she means so you stay quiet, giving her a polite nod in response. If you were embarrassed thinking Ingrid stood you up earlier, there’s no words that can describe the way you’re feeling now. All you want to do is go home and curl into a ball. You’re going to need a couple days of wallowing about to get over these two stupid little crushes of yours. 

“The girls are planning on going out, if you want to come.”

Nervously scratching the back of your head, you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re not quite sure why Ingrid looks so hopeful when Mapi’s literally held in her arms right in front of you. 

“I don’t know…”

It’s the sight of both Mapi and Ingrid’s faces falling that instantly makes you start doubting your decision.

“Please?” Mapi rasps, hand lightly falling upon your arm.

Mapi hasn’t really said much this entire time, but your eyes drop to where she’s touching you, face instantly heating up at the simple feel of her hand on your skin.

“I--” You make the mistake of raising your eyes, making direct eye contact with Mapi. The Spaniard’s eyes are soft and it feels a bit as if she’s staring right into your soul. Her fingers absentmindedly dance their way down to your arm as you try to say anything other than how much you’ve been thinking about what exactly her hands can do. 

“Well I suppose an hour or two out won’t hurt.” It comes out of your mouth without you really intending it to. 

But your heart feels a bit lighter at the way Mapi instantly looks like you’ve just made her day. Ingrid’s sporting a similar smile, chin resting upon Mapi’s shoulder. As gently as she can, Ingrid shuffles Mapi out of the way. You don’t have any time to react before she’s leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. You’re sure your face is flaming red when she pulls back, but then Mapi’s leaning in next, kissing you just as softly as Ingrid did. She lingers for a beat, pausing to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

“Wait outside the corridor for us, yeah? We’ll let security know to let you through.”

Still dumbstruck you nod, not able to get rid of the tingling warmth from your skin. 

The two of them bid their goodbyes before disappearing down the tunnel towards the locker room. There’s nothing you can do but stare after their departing figures, hand coming up to touch your cheek as if you can’t believe what’s just happened. 

Because now that you’re really thinking about it, what did just happen?

[areyouwell]

Thanatophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of losing somebody you love. Children or adults with this condition tend to steer clear of any form of relationship, haunted by the possibility it could be ripped away from them.

Ch.6

Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Paring: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content, brief description of rape, extremely fucked up timelines cuz i can't do maths but just like, go with it? for me? pls?

Word Count: 13k

A/N: whew boy was this chapter tricky. not to go into too much detail about my personal life but i actually managed to trigger myself writing this so please please please be aware that this could be difficult to read if you're an SA/Rape survivor cuz yeesh... was this tough

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik

Settling into your new life hadn’t been as difficult as you’d thought. Perhaps it was because you’d spent the last two years away, but you didn’t miss the mansion as much as you thought you would. Sure, you missed Kitty randomly barging into your room, and you sincerely hoped someone had explained to her at least some of what was going on, but the feeling faded fairly quickly within the first few weeks. You and Logan fell into routine domesticity a little too easily. He taught the correct way to aim a hunting rifle, nestling the butt of the gun into the nook between your shoulder and chest. He taught you how to follow deer tracks, what to look out for when estimating how far away the game is, and which tracks not to follow under any circumstances.

You, on the other hand, started teaching him a passion you’d forgotten you’d had until you found yourself with too much time on your hands. Or at least, a passion you’d forgotten was planted in your memory… was it your passion, or just a passion you thought was yours? Every time thoughts such as these rose to the forefront of your mind, you tried to push them away. They never yielded any answers and just served to send you spirally. Logan usually caught your faraway stares, the way your eyes glazed over as you dissociated back into your mind. He’d bring you back with a gentle call of your name, hands tilting your chin up to look into his eyes. 

The first time you’d slid your sketchbook across the dining room table, Logan’s eyes welled up slightly. Sure, he’d stolen glances at you whilst you huddled on the window seat bench, charcoal staining your fingertips black as you elegantly swiped it across the paper, but he had no idea you were sketching him. When you’d asked him what he thought, he couldn’t find the right words and ended up with you perched on the kitchen counter, his head between your thighs, pouring his awestruck gratitude into eating you out. Since then, you both took time out of your days to sit with each other and you taught him everything you knew. As it turned out, he wasn’t half bad. At least, that’s what you exclaimed with a slightly insulting amount of surprise in your voice. He’d always brush off your praise, comparing his work to yours, but he couldn’t deny the pride that bloomed in his chest.

Logan had learnt not to ask after your well-being too often, finding that you would huff in irritation if he mentioned it more than once a day and remind him that you weren’t that mentally unstable. After a month of settling in, you’d mutually decided to start training again, heading out into the woods a little ways and finding a safe, exclusive spot on the lake shore. Plenty of shadows around between the tree line and the water, it was perfect. Though, not that it made much of a difference. The progress you made was second to none, barely managing to make the darkness shift a fraction before you’d grit your teeth and attempt to stamp down your frustration. 

The days grew colder as the months went by, leaves fading from lush, vibrant greens to crinkled, burning oranges before dropping altogether, coating the ground in a blanket of crunchy fire. It was your favourite season, autumn. The sweet scent of mulch wreathed your senses with every kick of the chilly breeze as you stepped from the warm cabin thankful you’d donned a knitted scarf around your neck, two mugs clasped in your hands. Amongst the many other things Logan had taught you, how to make the best cups of hot chocolate may be, in your opinion, the most useful. Small marshmallows melted atop the surface of the drink as your boots crunched along the gravel, eyes drinking in the sight before you.

He was made for this life. Leather jacket discarded atop a stack of logs, he’d rolled the sleeves of his brown flannel shirt up to his elbows, the hood of the truck propped open and his head ducked far into the depths of the engine. You mentioned you thought the spark plugs were going a few days ago, but he brushed off your concerns. It wasn’t until he’d received a call from the local garage about a bike part he’d requested and he went to leave that morning did he realise you were right after the truck misfired almost instantly. You tried not to be too smug about it.

“How’s it going?” Logan looked back as he heard your voice and approaching footsteps, withdrawing from the depths of the hood and swiping his hands on the dirty rag over his shoulder. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he saw what you were carrying, and he thanked you with a quick kiss, taking the mug you’d offered to him. 

“Well. you were right,” you pursed your lips as you tried not to smirk wildly, failing miserably when he rolled his eyes. “Yeah alright. ‘Scuze me for asusmin’ you didn’t know what you were talkin’ about. Anyway,” he continued pointedly and you giggled lightly. “Todd rang, he’s on his way with a few replacement plugs, since the damn thing won’t even start now. The good news is, he’s bringing the bike part with him, so we could get that goin’ this afternoon.” He raised the marshmallowy mug to his lips, humming pleasantly as he tasted his own hot chocolate recipe you’d followed. 

Your eyes lit up at his words. He’d been working on the bike hidden in the small barn since you’d arrived here six months ago, making its restoration his little personal project. He’d spoken to Todd before about acquiring replacement parts and had slowly been fixing up the motorcycle with each trip to the garage. All he needed now was the replacement brake calliper and it would be good to go. “I would have made a third mug if I knew Todd was coming round. That’s amazing though, crazy to think it’s taken this long.” You cradled the steaming mug with both hands, blowing slightly on the warm liquid before taking a long sip, licking at the remains left on your upper lip.

“I know right?” he agreed, tucking you against his side with an arm around your shoulders. “Startin’ to think I should have asked you for help since you can recognise a blown spark plug from a single misfire,” you snorted a laugh into your drink.

“Yeah well, in my completely fabricated past, I trained as a mechanic for a bit so I know a thing or two.”

“You’re only tellin’ me this now?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time!” You held your hands up in defence, your fingers still hooked around the handle of your warm mug. Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame his disobedient smile. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, ya know that?” He set his half-full mug next to his jacket on the stack of logs, taking yours and setting it down as well all so he could pick you up in his arms, your legs instantly circling around his waist, his hands settling on your thighs. Your fingers threaded through the soft strands at the back of his head as you looked down at him, your eyes dancing with mischief.

“Me? Little ol’ me? I’m heartbroken,” nothing about your current body language suggested anything of the sort, your faux innocence only serving to confirm his suspicions. 

“Bet it’s just eatin’ you up inside, huh?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone and you threw your head back as you laughed, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck before you looked back down at him, wasting no time in taking his lips captive with your own, giggling into the kiss when he bit gently on the soft flesh of your upper lip. You inhaled a sharp gasp through your nose when he smoothed over the small hurt with his tongue, feeling your core respond to his actions, your blood heating with every languid brush of his lips against yours, every slight nibble of his teeth.

Logan groaned softly at the scent of your arousal building, his skin tingling as you returned every nip of his teeth with one of your own, sandwiching his lower lip between your front teeth and tugging slightly. Your hands returned to his hair, twirling the longer strands between your fingers and pulling tight. Todd’s imminent arrival forgotten, Logan swiped at the hood prop, slamming the lid shut and setting your down so his hands could roam up your waist to your breasts, kneading and groping at your tits over your hoodie. 

His lips dragged a trail of soft bites down the side of your neck, his fingers deftly popping open the button of your jeans and pulling down your zipper, his entire hand disappearing down between your damp thighs, his fingertips grazing across the centre of your slick core over your underwear. He growled in response to your whimper, tugging the crotch of your briefs to one side and sliding the back of his finger up over your clit. 

“So wet for me, what got you goin’, hm? ‘S it that book? Did they finally fuck? Make you miss me, hm?” He’d caught glances of you in the window, lip caught between your teeth as you devoured the pages in front of you, your legs crossed tightly. He’d laughed to himself at the time, but now he wanted to show you what the real world could offer. 

You went to bite back at his condescending tone, opening your mouth only to inhale an embarrassing gasp as one of his thick fingers slid inside you, pumping and curling in the ways he knew would have you creaming in minutes. Your nails sank into his forearm, mouth dropping open as hot pleasure coursed through your veins. Humiliatingly enough, it was exactly why you’d come out to see him. The two characters in the book you were reading finally put aside their differences and realised they loved each other in a passionate display of tender fucking. And yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of Logan at the time. But this wasn’t what you were expecting at all.”

“Logan!” you cried out to the blue skies as your head fell back the moment a second finger slipped inside your aching heat, your walls clamping down against his digits as if he would ever try to escape. With his one free hand, Logan dragged your jeans and underwear down just far enough to slip beneath them between your legs, keeping your knees over his shoulder as he pushed you back against the windshield. You clutched at the wipers as he rubbed his nose against your clit, moaning wantonly at the scent of your liquid nectar. 

His tongue darted out to swipe a long line up the centre of your core, using his fingers to provoke more of your slick to drip down the apex of your thighs for him to drink like a man parched of water. Your hips bucked with each stroke of his tongue, gasping a pitched whimper of his name as his lips wrapped around your sensitive pearl and sucked until you screamed at the heavens above you, your orgasm splitting every nerve in your body with each slow caress of his fingertips against that delicious bundle of nerves nestled two knuckles inside you. 

Your nails scratched against the hood of the truck, flaking off the paint job as wave after wave of your high crashed through your mind and body, your spine arching your hips further against his face as you ground against his tongue before the pleasure spiked into overstimulation and you squirmed away from his fingers, panting desperately. 

“That’s my girl, y’allright?” he soothed, pressing soft kisses to the scar on your inner thigh, cringing in second-hand pain as the back of your head smacked the windscreen behind you, your tensed, shaking muscles finally relaxing. “Y’okay!?”

You giggled, still a little dazed from your orgasm, your hand lazily feeling the slight numbness at the back of your head, simply making sure you hadn’t cracked it open, or at the very least, split the skin. But you felt no blood. “Yeah, ‘m all good. But if you don’t fuck me on the hood of this truck I might pass away– whaaat’re you doing?” You asked as he ducked out from between your legs, pulling your underwear and trousers back up over your knees and to your waist.

“I’ll start makin’ funeral arrangements then. Todd’s here.” You didn’t miss his growl of discomfort, and your heart bled for him a little, knowing he was going to have to go the next god knows how long hard as a rock in his jeans. Pulling up the zipper and fastening the button at your navel, you hopped off the truck just as Todd’s beaten old 4x4 trundled through the tree line. He was one of the only people who knew you were even here, apparently, he was a friend of the previous owner and knew Logan fairly well. The two hadn’t kept in touch, but he’d given him a firm handshake when he first took the pickup truck to his garage.

Retrieving the two mugs of now slightly cooled chocolate, Logan smiled gratefully as he once again took the mug from you, placing a kiss to your brow as he held up an arm of greeting to Todd. The older man stepped from the car, slamming the door shut, a ziplock bag of spark plugs grasped in his broad hand. He had a thick, greying beard bushing proudly along his chin and jaw, bridging across his upper lip. A full head of salt and pepper hair slicked back from his brow, tied into a small bun at the back of his head. You couldn’t deny that he most definitely would have been a lady's man back in his prime, with deep-set blue eyes and a smile crisp as winter frost? You could definitely have seen yourself falling for his charms.

It seemed you had a thing for bearded men. And Logan also seemed to have noticed. He raised a brow as he looked at you out of his peripheral. “Stop eyeing up my mechanic.” He elbowed you lightly and you snorted a laugh.

“Not my fault,” your tone was hushed as you watched Todd head into the backseat of his car, retrieving the new brake calliper for Logan’s bike. “Clearly I like older men.” You sent him a wink and he rolled his eyes, smirking against his better judgement. 

“What’ve you done to ‘er then? And I don’t mean to yer girl ‘ere.” Todd strode over with the self-assurance of a gold medal athlete, a winning smile parting his bearded lips to reveal bright white teeth. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, stepping forward to embrace the man who planted a kiss on your cheek. “Hello, gorgeous. He lookin’ after ya properly?” His faux seriousness had you casting a cheeky glance back at Logan, who narrowed his eyes in response. 

“He’s doing his best.” You whispered loudly behind your hand, and Todd nodded in an exaggerated display of understanding. 

“I’ll ‘ave a word with ‘im, don’t you worry.” He winked at you and you placed your hand against your heart dramatically, pretending to faint as Todd turned from you to Logan, who folded his arms across his chest with a thick brow raised. But he couldn’t keep up his irritated façade for long. It was a tradition ever since the two of you started visiting the garage frequently for Logan’s bike. Todd would flirt with you relentlessly, Logan would pretend to get irate about it for all of thirty seconds before breaking into a wide grin and firmly clasping the man in an embrace. And this time was no different, a solid clap to Todd’s back was all that was needed for you to know this wasn’t the time the men fought it out. The first time you’d visited, you genuinely thought Logan was going to slice his head clean off the second Todd looked your way. But he just stood back with an amused, almost proud smirk as you were flirted with relentlessly. It took you completely off guard at first, but now you were more than happy to go along with it. 

“Didn’t surprise me, it’s an old truck,” you heard Logan explain as you returned from your memories, stepping up to lean against the raised hood of the pickup, your arms crossed against your chest, gesturing to the engine with the mug in your hand.

“Think the oil needs changing too. The mileage counter was going crazy the other day and I only went out to the corner shop. I checked the oil level when I got back and nothing was wrong so I think it’s most likely carbon buildup. Like Lo’ said, it’s an old truck.” The two men stared at you in disbelief as if knowing how to check the oil on a car wasn’t something they expected from you. You flipped them both off. “Oh fuck off the pair of you, I was the one to notice the faulty spark plugs thank you very much.” You placed a defensive hand on your hip, and Todd looked from you to Logan next to him.

“That true?” he asked with a bushy brow raised. 

Logan released a long sigh, offering a low, reluctant “Yep…” 

There was a beat before Todd howled with laughter, his hand clasping Logan’s shoulder with a loud clap. “Said it before an’ I’ll say it again, you got yerself a keeper ‘ere Logan. A woman who looks this good in jeans and knows ‘er way ‘round an engine? Tie ‘er down ‘fore someone else does.” Todd sent you a wink and you blew a kiss back at him. “C’mon then, gotta fix yer bike ‘fore I tackle this hunk o’ metal. Unless missy mechanic over ‘ere would like to do the honours?” he raised a brow and you held up your hands to decline. 

“Cars I can do. Bikes are totally foreign to me, so you lead the way,” you gestured for him to head to the barn, which he did but not before offering you a chivalrous bow. You rolled your eyes as he turned away, falling into step next to Logan who slipped a hand to your waist. You elbowed him slightly. “See? I’m a keeper.” you shot him a shit-eating grin and he pursed his lips in a feeble attempt to suppress his smile.

“‘M stuck with you either way,” he shrug in mock nonchalance, and you poked his ribs.

“You like being stuck with me.”

“Shut up.” He breathed, smothering your face into the crook of his arm, muffling your maniacal cackles as the two of you followed Todd into the barn, watching as he pulled off the tarp sheltering the bike from any leaks in the roof. 

“You’ve done ‘er up somethin’ great, Logan. Lookin’ good as new.” Todd patted the back fender the same way you would a horse you were proud of. Logan just grunted in acknowledgement, being truly terrible at receiving compliments. 

“Think we can get her up and runnin’ today?” Logan asked, glancing as once again your eyes lit up. It had been since months ago since he promised to take you out on that date, and he wanted to stay true to his word. Todd nodded thoughtfully as if contemplating how realistic that was.

“We can certainly give it a go. If you an’ the missus wanna change those spark plugs I can start on replacin’ this break calliper and we can go from there.” You suppressed a grin at being referred to as Logan’s ‘missus’, a giddy spark pepped up your step as Todd tossed the ziplock bag to Logan who caught it in one hand. 

“Sounds good. Absolutely no way I’m leavin’ you two alone together.” You snorted a laugh at Logan’s slight grumble, sending Todd a flirtatious wave as he steered you back out of the barn and towards the pickup. “Unbelievable…” he shook his head fondly as you all but skipped over to the hood of the car, removing what Logan only now realised was his jacket and rolling up the shirt sleeves of his flannel. Not that he was about to complain, but he must have been too caught up in your cunt earlier to notice.

Leaning into the hood of the truck, you peered around the side of the engine, finding the six plugs you needed to change. With deft fingertips you twisted the wire boot of the first plug instead of just yanking it free, a trick you’d picked up when you’d…

Oh yeah. That never happened. A trick they’d planted in your brain, you guessed. You extended a hand out behind you, barely needing to open your mouth before the socket spanner was placed firmly in your grasp. You looked over your shoulder at Logan who’d returned to leaning against the large pile of wood to his right, smirking shamelessly at your ass as you bent over the engine. You grinned, making a show of rolling your eyes, before returning back to the task at hand, unscrewing the first spark plug from the well. Discarding the old part to the floor, you accumulated a small pile of six faulty plugs when you’d removed them all.

Stepping back from inside the hood, you wiped a small bead of sweat from your brow with your oil-slicked hand, leaving a dark smudge just above your eyebrow. Logan handed you the ziplock bag, his smirk ceaseless. “I ain’t gonna pretend this isn’t the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” He shrugged when you sent him a questioning look before bubbles of laughter rose from your chest.

“Now look who’s the freak.” You shot back with an equally wicked smirk, before eyeing up the toolbox to his left. “You got a torque wrench in there? Todd might have one actually–”

“Todd is not seein’ you like this, he’ll lose his damn mind. The man already worships the ground at your feet.” Logan rifled quickly through the toolbox as if speed would prevent you from heading back up to the barn and giving the poor mechanic a love-induced heart attack. 

“And why shouldn’t he? I’m a keeper, dontcha know?” You responded haughtily, raising your chin with a dignity you couldn’t possibly hope to possess with your face smudged with engine oil. Logan barked a laugh, tossing you the torque wrench from the box and watching as you returned to your mission, fitting the new plugs in the wells and using the torque when you couldn’t tighten the screw any further with your fingers.

Logan slotted his hands in the dip of your waist, his front pressed against your back as he bent over you, teeth catching the sensitive skin behind your ear. “You’re a keeper, sweetheart. And you’re mine.” his breath fanned your ear as he growled lowly, the outline of his hard cock grinding against the seam of your ass as his hands pulled you against him slightly. 

You gasped airily, teeth clamping down on your lower lip. “You been hard this whole time?” You asked, struggling to focus on fitting the remaining plugs as he trailed one of his hands down your front and between your thighs. He just released a gravelly moan in response as you pushed back into his crotch, moving your hips in a slow circle. Logan bucked with a sharp gasp, nipping at your earlobe. 

“Not my fault. I got this gorgeous new mechanic. She’s hot as fuck and you wanna know the best thing about her?” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as he rubbed your clit over your jeans, eyes fluttering closed as a smile split your mouth.

“What would that be?”

Logan inhaled your scent, a mixture of engine oil, wood smoke and sweet arousal, his fingers tightening on your waist. “She lets me do whatever I want to her after she changes my spark plugs.” It was a blackened promise filled with swirling lust, sucking the vow of pleasure into a bruise on the side of your neck before withdrawing completely to lean back against the stack of firewood, giving the both of you room to catch your breath.

You had to shake your head of the daze he’d left you in before you could continue, agile fingers reconnecting the ignition leads before you stepped away from the hood completely, swiping at your cheek with your forefinger and leaving yet another dark, greasy smudge. 

“The oil still needs changing but at least we won’t be getting anymore misfires. At least, we shouldn’t.” You wiped your hands on the dirty rag still draped over his shoulder and he licked his thumb, rubbing at the dark smudge above your brow but to now avail. You waved him off, ducking out from his fussing with a look of irritation. “Alright, Dad, I’ll clean myself up later, Christ.” You folded your arms across your chest, before remembering exactly why he wanted to get rid of the smudges, and snorting a laugh. 

“His blood is on your hands if he keels over at the sight of you.” Logan shrugged just as Todd emerged from the barn, wheeling the good-as-new bike along with him.

“A’ight Logan, she should be all ready for ya. Though I’d take ‘er steady to start, I don’t–” The man stopped the second his eyes shifted to you, and he clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh my lord this is it, I’ve seen the light! An angel! Here! Standin’ before me!” He sank to his knees and you chuckled madly, Logan shaking his head in disappointment. “Oh, nope, beggin’ yer pardon. It’s just yer girl.” Todd stood, dusting off his knees and sending you yet another wink, clearly having heard Logan’s comment. “Well, that’s me all finished up then. Comes to around fifty dollars.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance of knowing. You were both well aware Todd had been giving you both discounted prices. Hell, just getting the spark plugs replaced was around eighty, and he was only charging you fifty for both the plugs and the brake calliper? You and Logan had prepared for this moment. He gave you a subtle nod, and you pranced forward, hooking your arm around Todd’s shoulders. A perfect distraction. Logan stepped up behind the two of you silently, slipping the extra hundred-and-twenty into Todd’s pocket, listening to you ask about the difference in performance between the firing cylinders on a V6 and a V8 engine and not really listening to the answer. 

“Well, I think that’s everything, right Lo’?” You asked and he confirmed with a brief nod as you pat Todd’s shoulder once, letting Logan take the lead and make a show out of counting out fifty dollars from his wallet. You left them to it, folding away the prop for the truck hood and slamming it shut, giving the side a gentle pat. The pickup really had served you well for the last six months, and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to either consider getting a replacement car. You’d grown kind of attached to it, developing a taste for the more rugged things in life. 

You couldn’t help but look over at Logan alongside the thought. Rugged things indeed. You leaned against the car door as the two men made their way back over to you, and your ears picked up on their ongoing conversation as Logan stopped by your side. 

“She’s a gem, Logan. Fuck knows how yer ugly mug managed to bag ‘er, but you look after ‘er, ya hear me?” Todd jammed a finger towards his aforementioned ‘ugly mug’  in an empty threat.

“Loud ‘n clear, Todd.” He sent the man a false salute, settling an arm around your shoulder and you instantly leaned into his side. Todd took both your hands in his own and Logan fought the urge to laugh. 

“An’ if this one ever pisses y’off, you know where t’ find me.” He grinned and you chuckled heartily.

“You’ll be the first one to know.” You responded with such conviction Logan had to double take, though your partially imperceptible smile eluded to your sarcasm. You were incredibly good at that. At saying the very thing people wanted to hear. You were also incredibly good at saying the opposite of what people wanted to hear, one too many bar fights started because some handsy asshole decided you were a prime target. If it didn’t piss him off so much, he’d sit back and watch as you both verbally and occasionally physically beat a motherfucker down.

But unfortunately, handsy motherfuckers at bars did piss him off. Monumentally. And though he rarely threw the first punch, he would always throw the second. You didn’t need defending. He knew that. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you both soon then. Best’ve luck with the bike, and my door’s always open for the both of yous, whatever ya need.” He nodded as you both waved him goodbye, standing in the driveway until he disappeared down the track and past the treeline. You hummed a contented smile.

“You’re gonna get a really angry text later, you know that. How much did you slip him?” You asked, stretching your arms high above your head and checking Logan’s watch on his wrist. The time had just gone midday, the sun still casting speckled shadows through the canopy. 

“One-twenty. Brake callipers aren’t particularly cheap.” He admired the way your arms flexed as you stretched, that bruise he’d sucked into your neck blossoming a dark purple. He needed to control himself if he wanted to make good on his promise to you six months ago. “Fancy a drive?”

You spun round to him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll get my boots!”

Biting wind whipped your unbound hair, exhilaration flooding your system as you clung to Logan’s leather jacket, your cheek resting against his spine. True to his word, he’d taken you out for the day on the back of the bike, finding a secluded, forested cliffside for the two of you to perch on. It wasn’t quite the lakeside romance he’d planned for you before, but it still worked to perfection, watching the clouds pass by overhead, the view a palette of every shade of red, orange and yellow, trees igniting as the sun began to sink low in the sky, faded the bright blue to a softer pale pink as the daylight descended into twilight. 

His hand secured your arm around his middle, caressing the sleeve of your jacket with his thumb with soothing swipes. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan smiled to himself as you nestled closer into his back, your arms tightening around his waist. One of your hands spread up his chest and over his heart, something he’d noticed you started doing absently, subconsciously. His soul sang along with the warmth you brought.

“Y’okay back there?” he called over his shoulder, returning to face the road. He felt you shift in what he could discern was a nod of your head, patting his abs twice.

“Perfect!” he caught your response over the roar of the engine and the whistle of the wind in his ears. Though you sounded alright, something had been off about you. You covered it well, playing around with Todd, nestling into his embrace as you watched the setting sun, but Logan had been seeing that faraway look on your face more often recently. 

It started around a week ago when you were looking for a new book to read after finishing your old one. You were sifting through the bookcase, carefully removing old sketchbooks the two of you had filled and grainy photographs taken on a digital camera when Logan heard you stop abruptly. He’d been oiling a baking dish when eerie silence greeted his ears, and by the time you returned back down the stairs, that vacant look had returned to your eye, the shitty romance novel clutched in your hands.

He’d asked if you were alright, but you waved off his concern with a huffed laugh of dismissal. Though Logan could see it, he didn’t press you. You’d talk about it when you were ready. You always did. 

Turning off the tarmac and down the track to the cabin, Logan took your hand over his heart in his own and dipped down to press a kiss to the top of your knuckles. He was rewarded with a squeeze of your fingers, kicking down the footstand as he parked up next to the truck. He couldn’t smell any rain on the air tonight, so he was happy to leave the bike out and just cover it with the tarp from the barn. 

Swinging your leg over the back of the bike, you cupped the side of his furry jaw, stooping to mould your lips to his grateful kiss, your warm smile infectious. Logan sighed into your mouth, his hands tugging you closer by the waist until you stood between his knee and the bike. His palm moved to the back of your thigh as you swiped your tongue along the seam of his parted lips, your taste sweet honey on his tongue whilst he pulled you onto his lap, two steadying hands braced on the dips of your waist.

“‘M gonna fuck you on this bike… wanted to do it since I first saw the thing,” you breathed against his cheek before dipping below his jaw, suckling little nibbles against his skin. Logan groaned lowly. You’d been teasing him all damn day,  from the way he ate you out that morning to the way he ground against your ass when you were changing the spark plugs. His cock twitched as he let himself hope he would finally find the relief he needed deep within your cunt. 

You rolled your hips against his growing erection as he sat more deeply in the saddle, your legs perched daintily on the foot pegs on either side of his calves. Nimble fingers fiddled with the front of his thick belt, unlacing the buckle from the loop and pulling the two halves aside. Logan growled at your urgency, appreciating the swift tug of his zipper, your fingertips ghosting along the waistband of his briefs, causing his skin to prickle in anticipation. Scratching through the happy trail leading down beneath the elastic, you bit down into his throat, drawing a gasp from his chest. 

He could do nothing but hold you tight as your hand finally sank beneath his briefs, curious fingers circling around the shaft of his cock and tightening your grip. His eyes screwed shut when you circled his sensitive tip with your thumb, his mouth falling open with heavy pants, his hips bucking up into your soft palm. Your nails clawed against the nape of his neck as he pushed you from his throat, turning the tide and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh behind your ear, licking and biting at the same bruise he’d left there earlier. You whimpered against him, and the scent of your arousal teased his nose. 

You tugged his hard cock from his briefs, shoving the fabric down as far ar you could. Logan shivered slightly, the cold air caressing his raging length as you released him to fiddle with the buttons and zipper of your jeans. 

Too long. It would take too long. Logan needed to be inside you yesterday. With a heated hiss, he slid his middle claw from his knuckle, using his other hand to grip both your wrists. “Stay still…” he murmured, bracing the tip of his claw over the clothed apex of your thighs. You gasped, promptly sandwiching your lower lip between your teeth when the ripping of fabric caused your gut to churn. Logan’s nose twitched as your quaking cunt gushed to soak the crotch of your underwear, and you both looked down, equally as surprised at your reaction. 

“Yeah?” he queried with a raised brow, ever-so-softly dragging his claw down the inside of your thigh. You pitched an airy whine, tugging tightly at the hair on the back of his head. To see you like this, gaping and breathless because of his claws did something wicked to him. Instruments that had previously only been used for death had suddenly become something so much more, gifting you with sharp peaks of pleasure when he dragged the back of it over your throbbing clit. 

You nodded desperately, breathing hard through your nose when he hooked that same sharp claw around the waistband of your underwear, slicing clean through the fabric and exposing your pulsing cunt. “Fuck…” you breathed as he retracted the silver claw, giggling slightly when he lifted you against him, pausing to tease your dripping entrance with the head of his cock. 

“‘course you get off on knives…” he muttered, smirking wildly as you attempted to sink onto his cock, using your weight to push down on the hands holding you aloft. You groaned in frustration, dragging a wicked chuckle from his throat, before he slowly pulled you down, humming a low moan as your tight walls welcomed his thick shaft. 

“Should… should do that again… sometime.” You panted into his mouth, barely able to form your words as you slowly roll your hips against him, earning yourself a gravelly grunt along with your movements. “So fucking hot.” You gasped as he thrust up into you, using the bike’s suspension to bounce you slightly as you clung to him, your fingers buried in his hair.

Logan looked down to where he rhythmically disappeared up into you, his breath hitching as you took one of his hands from around your waist and pressed your fingers into his knuckles, right where the slight hurt of his claw healed over. His cock twitched as you massaged his knuckles gently, finding just the right spot between each bone where his claws usually split. He couldn’t help the way his jaw fell open, his eyes rolling when you lifted his hand to your mouth and tongued one of the three surprisingly sensitive skin. 

“Fuck… Fuck! D’do that again…” Logan fucking stuttered as you repeated the motion with your tongue the very same way he would when he ate you out. Pleasure surged through his veins at the newfound discovery of the erogenous zone, thrusting up into you deliciously and causing you to bite down at the bone of his knuckle as the tip of his cock brushed against that patch of ecstasy inside you. 

You held his gaze as you made a show of dipping your tongue in the slits between his knuckles, closing your lips around the skin and sucking the same way you would against his cock. Logan furiously drove into you, still holding your waist with his one hand whilst you lavished the other. Eight months he’d been seeing you, and not once in that entire time had he ever come before you with his cock inside you, always taking extra care to make sure you hit your high at least once before he found his own. But with the liquid heat pulsing in his veins, he didn’t know if he could last.

He was thankful when your other hand left his wrist, skirting down beneath the waistband of your torn jeans to play with your own clit, throwing your head to the sky as the building pleasure wracked your body, only to bring his knuckles back to your lips. 

Your walls clenched tightly around his thrusting cock, deft fingers toying with your own pearl when your thighs started to shake, your whimpers and moans climbing in pitch, the vibrations of your voice tingling against the skin of his hand. 

Logan felt his own high cresting, his back tensing as his balls drew up, trying in vain to hold your failing gaze. Watching your eyes roll back into your skull was his undoing, feeling you coating his cock as you came around him, your teeth sinking into those little patches of pure pleasure shoving him over the edge of tension and into the honey-coated lightning storm of ecstasy. He cried your name, sharp pulses of fire shaking his system as he exploded inside you, coating your inner walls white.

Your brows pinched, mouth forming a perfect O as you struck your peak, his aphrodisiac cries of your name pulling you under as you simultaneously came with each other. You’d never felt him come so hard, and through your pleasure-addled brain, you assumed it was the result of being so pent up all day. Logan clung to you like a lifeline, nestling his face against the nook of your neck as he continued to twitch inside you, those overwhelming waves finally receding until he was basking in the full afterglow.

You panted hard, finally releasing his hand to grab at his shoulders, anchoring yourself against him to recover from just how hard your release had wrecked your body, barely able to laugh breathlessly and in utter disbelief into the little peaks of his hair. Logan grit his teeth together as you lift yourself off him to sit back on his sturdy thighs. How you managed to absolutely wreck him every goddamn time he didn’t know, but at least he’d been working on his self-control, and his claws didn’t slice your mouth open.

“That was fuckin’ dangerous…” he murmured, swiping his thumb along your lower lip. “Coulda hurt ya.” His brows pinched with genuine concern and you pressed your forefinger into the creases between them, easing his worries.

“How have we waited until now to use your claws? Such a good idea!” You were way too enthusiastic about that, and Logan simply huffed a laugh, looking up at you through dark lashes. 

“Not a good idea. Sure it was good today–”

“Logan it was fucking great today–” he clamped a hand over your mouth, silencing your protests. 

“But I can’t guarantee I’m always gonna have that kind of control. I could’ve done some real damage.” He knew reprimanding you was going to do absolutely nothing. Not when it had felt so fucking good, and you’d seen and felt what it had done to him. “Where’d you even get that idea?” He asked as you giggled a little mischievously, swinging your legs back over the bike and shimmying a little as you felt him drip from your cunt. Logan snorted as you squirmed awkwardly, tucking himself back in his briefs, not bothering to re-buckle his belt before scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal-style to the cabin.

“Just came to me in the moment. I’m sensitive around my scars, so I guess it made sense to me that you would be as well. Or rather, if scars could be left on your body.” You shrugged, your arms looping loosely around his neck, your head resting against his shoulder as you reached into his pocket for the key, inserting the metal into the lock. 

Logan nodded in understanding as if your explanation made sense. And, in a way, it did. You were sensitive around your scars. He knew that better than anyone. At any point he wanted to distract you from something, all he needed was to nip at the mark on your neck, swipe his thumb against any of the four bullet wounds on your chest, or even pinch lightly at the one on your inner thigh, and you’d throw your head back with a breathy gasp.

So it checked out that, if scars could be left on his body, he’d react similarly. Which he had done. 

You tossed the keys into the bowl on the kitchen windowsill as Logan carried you through the cabin and up the stairs. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t enjoying the treatment, and at the very least it was preventing his cum from dripping uncomfortably down your leg. 

Laying you on the bed, he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your brow, before disappearing into the ensuite. “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?”

You choked on your spit, half laughing half coughing at his question as he returned to you with a warm, damp towel clutched in his hands. “Come again?” you asked, still in recovery.

“We’ve been fucking, unprotected, for months now, and you still regularly get your period. Sure, you’re ovulating at the moment–”

“Logan!?” You gaped, kicking him lightly with the side of your foot as he cleaned you up, tossing the towel to the side and innocently dragging down your ruined jeans.

“But I’m just curious. Surely something woulda happened by now, even just a scare,” he pulled open your drawer, rummaging around until he recovered your favourite dark grey sweatpants.

“You got a point. Maybe it’s my mutation? I guess my body sorta resets itself every time I shadow walk, almost like a default state,” You shrugged, sitting up as he handed you the pair of trousers to replace the ones he’d ripped. “I guess if we wanna know then we could always just…” You trailed off and Logan turned from where he was changing his own clothes, comfy loungewear pulled up to his waist. 

Following your line of sight, Logan’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew where you were looking, and if he was being truly honest with himself, he knew what you’d found a week ago. He wasn’t blind. The first month settling into the cabin, you’d cast fleeting glances at the bookcase where the folder was nestled, and he didn’t know whether you thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. 

The months went by and you didn’t quite forget about it, but you learned to live with it. Until a week ago, when you were searching for a new book to read. Logan didn’t know if you were ready. Shit, he didn’t know if he was ready. He’d only scanned a few pages of the file and he was truly terrified of what he’d discover if he’d looked at the pages in more detail. 

His blood turned to ice as you stood, approaching the shelving as if it would lash out and bite you. Steeling your nerves, you reached behind the first layer of books, parting them slightly as you retrieved the thick folder detailing every day of your life. Every horror you endured, every agonised second. You inhaled a shaky breath, returning to the bed and setting it down. 

NLMO. Subject Eight. “Phantom”.

Logan slowly came to sit by your side, taking your hand in his own, a silent gesture to remind you he was here. You looked up from the file, uncertainty swirling in your irises.

“I have to…” you whispered, trembling slightly as you went to open the folder, only for Logan to stop you.

“No. You don’t. You’re safe here. Nothin’ can get to you, sweetheart. Only do this if you want to, not because you feel like you have to.” You squeezed his hand, gaze flickering from the sincerity in his face to the handwriting on the documents containing who you were.

“I do have to do this, but I have to do this for me. Not for anyone else. I still have so many questions, Lo’. I don’t understand why Rowan is still there and I’m here. I need to know what happened. To all of us.” You spoke with such conviction, that Logan knew you’d made up your mind. Covering your hand positioned at the corner of the folder, he nodded.

“Alright then. We do this. Together.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you whilst my heart was still beating, yeah? Do I look dead to you?” You snorted a laugh, shifting to lie on your front. Logan waited until you settled yourself before he too shuffled about, lying almost on top of you so his cheek was practically pressed against your own.

“Dead gorgeous maybe.” You grinned, and he pinched your waist, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Just open the fuckin’ folder, freak.”

You turned your attention back to your past, once again inhaling a long, shaky breath. “Ready?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. 

Logan nodded once in response. “Ready.” And the two of you turned the first page to your past.

For the some of the part, the documents within were mundane. It was incredibly creepy to start off with, knowing every moment of the life you remembered was being observed and written down, but it quickly became more of a story and less of a recounting. Logan would often crinkle his nose in confusion. “Wait, which one’s Subject Three again?” He’d ask, to which you’d respond with a sigh and a long look. “That’s Joseph, or Janus. He can teleport. Kinda like Kurt but less smoky.” And he would raise his head with understanding, before continuing to read in silence. 

You were okay for the first few pages, Ex.3 shook you up a little, reading about a memory you simply don’t have where they pushed your mutation to the limit alongside your bother. Deprivation and indulgence indeed. You took deep breaths through the surge of anxiety, Logan holding you close to him, asking softly if you needed anything. You just shook your head. You were fine. There were worse things to come. If you couldn’t handle this, how would you be okay with everything else?

The first big obstacle arose in 1944. The day was usual, you’d woken up, made breakfast with Rowa, and visited Jade, before they took you out for experimentation. It was the shift at Shots Shack. The one where you’d been flirted with all night and ended up fucking one of the customers in the bin shed.

Except, that’s not what happened at all. It was an accident. The result of a guard getting far too handsy with you. You’d fought him off as much as you could, but Subject One hadn’t restored your memories yet, so your mutation was at its baseline. You clenched your jaw as you kept reading, nausea roiling in your gut as Kreva detailed his observations, from your agonised screams for him to stop to the way you couldn’t stop shaking after he was done. You could barely stomach another sentence before a particularly vivid description of what was left behind had you detangling from Logan’s arms, racing to the bathroom and throwing up the contents of your stomach. You were kept under extreme observation after the incident. Not to make sure you were alright, but to look out for any signs of fucking pregnancy.

Logan had to suppress his burning hatred, not finding enough justice in knowing that the guard was let go from his position. He should be torn to fucking pieces for what he did. But flying off the handle wouldn’t help you. He followed you to the bathroom, gathering your hair in his hands as you convulsed over the toilet seat, the acidic stench of pure bile burning his nose. 

It was a fairly fond memory, what supposedly happened that night, only now for it to be tainted forever by the truth of what really happened. Your gasp echoed into the toilet bowl as you wretched again, your skin itching as if you hadn’t washed in days. 

“What’d you need?” Logan asked, gently scratching down your spine as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your weak response of “Shower…” Had him moving instantly, opening the window before turning the dial of the shower, letting it warm before he helped you to your feet. 

“Where d’you need me?” He asked as you swallowed hard, clinging to his arm.

“Here.” You whispered, before slowly removing your clothes. Logan helped you out of your sweater, leaving you to pull down your own sweatpants unlike what had been written in the folder, before he guided you into the steam. Stripping himself of his own clothes, Logan stepped in after you, his heart breaking in two as you instantly sought his embrace.

He held you beneath the warm water until he completely lost track of time, your face nestled beneath his chin, his thumb slowly caressing up and down your spine. Occasionally your shoulders would spasm with a stifled sob, and he’d whisper sweet nothings into the top of your head. You were safe with him. He was going to look after you. He’d never let them find you again. 

Despite having read your previous experiences, his hands on your body felt clean. Pure. Nothing about Logan was tainted in the same way that memory was. You nuzzled your nose further into the hair on his chest, feeling the aura of comfort wrap around your heart. He had you. He wasn’t letting you go. 

Promises and vows drowned by the hum of water left his lips until you took a deep breath, stepping back from his embrace and meeting his gaze with newfound determination. You were okay. You’d be okay. Reaching behind him, Logan turned the dial for the water pressure until it was off completely, barely separating far enough from you that you could wrap a fluffy, heated town around your shoulder before he was stuck to your back again like a limpet. You weren’t complaining. It was absolutely what you needed right now. His presence. His touch. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave your side no matter what. No matter how broken your past, or how ruined you may be. He’d be by your side through all of it. 

Logan kissed the top of your head, stepping ahead of you to snap the folder closed and shove it somewhere out of sight, but you stopped him before he could. 

“I’m okay…” you murmured, loosening your grip on his forearm a little. He tensed his jaw, looking between you and the file. The mere fact that you were alright to continue was a testament to your courage. If he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t know how much more he could read before it was you holding his hair back. And you giggled as he said just that. “Big baby.” You teased lightly, threading your fingers through his dark strands, swiping the damp back from his brow. 

“‘Scuze me if I’m not exactly thrilled to read all the agony they put the love of my life through…” he admitted with a soft huff, unable to meet your gaze as your eyes lit up. You rose to your tiptoes, moulding your lips against his in a soft, reassuring kiss, before pulling back. You chose not to mention it, how he’d never said anything like that to you in the last eight months you’d been together. You chose not to pinpoint the moment of vulnerability, opting instead to let his words settle in your heart. 

You didn’t know the time and honestly didn’t want to. Making yourselves two cups of tea, you returned back to the folder on the bed, once again getting comfortable. “Well. That was fucking harrowing…” you commented flatly as if you’d read something in the news, and Logan grunted in agreement, raising his fresh mug of tea to his mouth. He’d never been a tea drinker in the past, but living with you had turned him to all kinds of interesting new habits. “Ready for more…?” you asked with a wry smile to mask your nerves. He shot you an exhausted look but nodded nonetheless as you flipped through the papers to return to the one you’d had to leave. “Yeah no okay we don’t need to continue that one, we get the gist of it…” you turned the page hurriedly, smoothing out the paper as you pushed the contents behind you.

Year by year you kept reading, huffing little laughs as Kreva noted down everything NLMO got up to. From stealing some man’s car in the 1950s to graffitiing a wall with a penis in the 1980s. And whilst you knew your entire life was a simulation, it was almost gratifying to see that half of the things you remembered really did happen. You really did cook food with your brother. You really did hang out with Jade, or Kaleidoscope, every day. Erin, or Wood-Nymph, really did teach you how to grow plants effectively. You used to sit with Morgana, or Sanguine, and sketch together. Atlas, or Harmony, used his mutation to heal you up every time you ‘got into a fight’. You refused to refer to them by their numbers, just as you would refuse to refer to yourself that way too. 

Logan wasn’t expecting the moments of peace within the file. He’d only skimmed a few pages back in the med bay and hadn’t picked it up since, so he was pleasantly surprised every time you chuckled lightly at your old shenanigans. You would offer small anecdotes of what you remembered, providing further context to what he was reading. 

It broke him apart, however, when you went quiet. When you’d turn the page and be faced with the reality of what was happening to you. Psychological torture to test your mind’s durability. Scans and tests that had you screaming in pain as they injected you with various drugs, just to see how your mutation would react, if at all. These were the moments when Logan would hold you tighter against his side, eyes flickering from the pages to your face to guage where you were mentally. 

1962, your mouth fell open as you scanned down the experiment report. They were helping you develop your mutation. Logan too pinched his brows in confusion. You’d been able to call the shadows at will, conjuring various objects, weapons, and appendages without a sweat. “Wh– How?” you muttered to yourself, flipping back through the pages you’d already read as if to find some kind of answer. Logan stilled your hand, his eyes scanning furiously down the log before pointing to a paragraph roughly a quarter of the way down the page.

“There.”

Sub.8 only seems to access its mutation after we use Sub.1 to refocus its brain. Whereas 5 had access to its full range of powers at all times, 8 shows signs of regression when 1 replaces its memories. To combat this, I have 1 reassemble only the memories it needs to regain full control and access to its mutation. The reasons for this are, as of right now, unclear. However, it is suspected that, though subconscious, 5 retains muscle memory of utilisation. It could be that 8 is so resilient because it simply forgets even on a subconscious level. Further investigation is needed to yield an answer.

You rolled your eyes, muttering a sarcastic “Oh, very helpful.” Before you continued flipping through the pages.

Spending the next day in bed, Logan was up and down the stairs, mainly to stretch his legs every now and then, but also to grab snacks and drinks before falling back down next to you on the bed, offering you a bite of whatever he’d snatched. You’d continue reading the document in front of you, absently opening your mouth before sinking your teeth into what you learned was a block of cheese. Only then did you look away from the text, shooting him a look of bafflement. 

“An entire block of cheese?”

“‘M hungry.” He shrugged defensively, and you snorted a laugh, shaking your head as you returned to the words before you.

Logan didn’t know how you did it. He’d seen you sit for hours, with a nose buried in a book, but this was on another level. In the last twenty hours, he thinks he saw you get up and stretch once, head to the bathroom maybe three times, and take a roughly two-hour power nap. He, on the other hand, had to stand every hour or so, his legs feeling like dead weights if he lay down for much longer than that. The stacks of pages evened out slowly before finally, the read side looked far larger than the to-read side. 

Setting down another mug of sweetened coffee on your nightstand, a new secret recipe of espresso mixed with hot chocolate, Logan lay back down next to you, skim-reading the rest of the page where he’d left off before you turned it over. It was how he forced you to give your eyes a break. You couldn’t continue until he’d finished the page you shared, and you only looked away when you’d reached the bottom and he’d stood up to go somewhere. 

You’d reached 2013 now, only seven years ago, and the two of you were coming to the end of the folder. Flipping over the final page, you were met with penmanship rather than the typeface you’d become used to. Glancing to Logan, he returned your look of trepidation, before you started to read it aloud. 

6th April, 2013. Fuck fuck FUCK! He’s let them all fucking go. FUCK! I barely managed to save their folders before the stupid bastard blew up the whole FUCKING FACILITY! I don’t know how he managed to get 1 to alter their memories without coercing it, but they’ve all scattered across the fucking country. We need to start rebuilding. We need to get them back. Now. We cannot let this research go to waste. They need to be understood. If we are to create an army of these mutants, we need them to return and continue understanding their fundamentals. 5 was the easiest to manipulate, and 1 didn’t know how to run. I found it lying on the ground by the road. I will rebuild what he destroyed, I will find them all again. I’ll continue the work of my great-grandfather. But if anything should go wrong… I’ll have 5 eradicate all evidence. 

That was the last entry in your folder, and you wondered if any of the other seven had a similar log. Blowing out a long breath, you folded the file closed, turning to look at Logan as he seemed stuck in his head. A palm against his cheek, you turned him to look at you, tilting your head to the side in silently questioning.

“Hundred-and-five.” Was all he said, and you squinted in confusion.

“Hm?”

“That’s how old you are. At the start, it said you were sixteen. The first entry was in 1931, and the last entry was in 2013. Add the last seven years to that, and you’re hundred-and-five years old.” You stayed silent, attempting to wrap your head around his calculations. Over a century, you’d been alive. And eighty-two years of it was spent in a simulation, your memories being replaced almost daily. It was like your brain was a computer software they updated every ten years, making sure the background to your memories matched the decade. Fucking hell.

“Guess I can’t really make fun of you for your age anymore, huh…?” You smiled a little sadly, genuinely upset that half your jokes were now completely voided due to the fact you weren’t that much younger than him. You still didn’t know his age for sure, and neither did he. “But, looking on the bright side… at least I won’t grow old and grey whilst you look gorgeous forever.” You elbowed him softly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

If this was how you chose to cope with it, then Logan would be happy to go along with you. “You were worried ‘bout that?” he asked, raising a thick brow as you nodded.

“It crossed my mind, sure.” You shrugged, before kicking the folder to the floor, its once imposing presence in the room was now little more than an inconvenience taking up too much of the bed. The silence settled as you contemplated that last page. A mutant army. It didn’t seem possible. Who would be willing to join something like that? And why would any mutant fight for a human doctor? But you couldn’t shake your growing fear. And now he’d gathered whoever was left of NLMO, minus yourself and Jade. And since Jade was dead, you were the last on his list.

The thought didn’t scare you. You knew what you needed to do. And you were pretty sure Logan knew it too. 

“We need to get you back to Charles…” he whispered in defeat, being the braver of the two to actually voice what needed to happen. You needed your full mutation, and if the file was to be believed, the only way you could get it back, was if your memories were restored. Your real memories.

Closing your eyes, you tensed your jaw as you nodded in agreement, still too afraid to speak it into existence. Truth be told, you didn’t want your memories back. Whilst you weren’t exactly thrilled at what happened to you, it felt so far away, since you don’t remember living through any of it. “What if…” you started, trailing off almost immediately as you found the right words. “What if I’m not… me, anymore. If he can get them back, my memories… what if I’m different than I am now?” You asked timidly, avoiding looking anywhere near his face by fiddling with one of the tassels of his zipper hoodie.

Logan sighed through his nose, clasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and raising your head so he could look you in the eye. Honestly, it scared him too, what those memories might do to you, but he also knew who you were. At your core. At the centre of your being. He knew exactly who and what you were. 

“You’ll be different, sure. But you’ll still be you,” he urged you to meet his gaze, adjusting his grip on your chin every time your eyes shifted from his own. “No matter what happens. No matter who or what you are after you remember, I’ll be right here.” His fingers shifted from your chin to your jaw, sandwiching your face between his calloused palms, his thumbs tracing the shadows beneath your eyes. 

Your head settled against his brow, simply feeling him close to you, whispering a quiet “Okay…” before he pressed a kiss of assurance to your lips. You smiled against him, your breath fanning his mouth and chin. 

“Glad I changed the spark plugs now… shame about the oil.” You chuckled slightly, and Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Think an oil change is the least of our concerns…” he mumbled, before you sat back, rubbing a tired hand down the side of your face. You looked exhausted, but then again, you always did. “Well, no time like the present, huh?” A rapid sigh flew from parted lips and you scrambled off the bed, pulling your rucksack out of the closet. Logan made to follow your lead, before halting as rhythmic, low vibrations hummed from the bedside drawer. His wry gaze slid to you, a brow raised in sly amusement. 

You held your hands up in innocence. “Don’t look at me! My drawer’s on that side! Plus it has an off switch, thank you!” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, wrenching the drawer open, various different objects clattering around with the force, including his unused mobile phone. It was rudimentary, barely more modern than the Nokia Brick, sporting large thick buttons rather than a screen. What small screen it did have illuminated as Logan chuckled at the name, holding up the mobile so you could read it. 

TODD

You snorted a laugh, checking the time on the phone simultaneously. Had he really only found the sneaky money after almost two days? At two in the morning? “Told ya you’d receive an angry text or call!” You grinned triumphantly, Logan tossing the phone back down on the bed to let it ring out. He’d return his call on the road whenever you’d inevitably fallen asleep, and listen to whatever long-winded reprimanding he had coming his way. 

“Stay in the car…” he’d growled, his nose twitching as he sensed something wasn’t quite right. Your heart thundered in your throat as he opened his door, claws sliding from his knuckles, surveying the treelines on either side of the road. The air beyond the cab was quiet. Too quiet. And Logan angled his head to the sky, inhaling deeply before exhaling a threatening snarl. 

Something was very wrong. 

You linked your fingers through the handle of your door, pulling against the mechanism. Logan whipped to look at you through the driver’s side, his eyes wide and panicked as you shot him a look back. You weren’t fucking defenseless for Christ’s sake. You were a powerful mutant even without the whole scope of your abilities. 

You stepped out of the car despite his protests, waiting for something to happen the moment your feet touched the tarmac.

Silence.

You took a step forward.

Silence.

Casting a glance over to Logan, you watched as his chest heaved with adrenaline, and you didn’t fight the urge to cross the road with the intention of setting him at ease.

The second you were crossing the headlights, the dark road ahead exploded with light, shadows disappearing as a single gunshot rang out.

Logan’s world froze as blood exploded from your chest, spraying the hood and windshield of the pickup. A look of confusion tilted your head, before realisation dawned on your features and you staggered back, your breath strained in your throat as a dark line of crimson slid from the corner of your mouth. Pain wracked his chest as Logan roared, though his desperate attempts to get to you were in vain, finding his limbs sluggish and his brain hazy. 

Your knees gave out as you collapsed onto the road, splitting your head against the tarmac. This is why you haven’t left for six months. This was the exact reason why he’d kept you safe in the cabin. Logan supported himself against the truck, dragging his stubborn legs across the ground, his vision swimming. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. All you needed was a shadow and you’d be okay. He’d deal with the rest. He just needed to get his shadow within your reach. 

“The Wolverine. I’ve heard a lot about you.” A voice echoed around the trees lining the road, that pocket-sized sun moving closer to where you lay, gasping and bleeding, with no shadow to disintegrate into. “You’re extremely hard to get rid of. I never take Subject Two anywhere, yet here it was needed to keep you at bay. An impressive little mutant. It can manipulate blood cells. You see, right now, it’s slowed the beat of your heart to the point where you feel… drowsy? Sluggish? Exhausted? How’re you feeling right now?” He almost mocked, crouching down to where Logan had fallen to the floor, inches away from you. But the light had moved, his shadow now behind him and nowhere near where you needed it.

“Kreva.” He hissed, his claws slowly sliding from his knuckles and scratching along the tarmac. You gurgled weakly, making a subconscious reach for where Logan lay immobile, his eyes bloodshot. You’d read the file now. You knew all about NLMO and their individual mutations. Subject Two, Sanguine, could control and manipulate blood, whether it was her own or belonged to somebody, or something, else. And of course, that constant glow of sunlight belonged to Subject Five. Rowan. Solaris. Your brother. 

Your body itched as you bled out, begging for the haven of darkness to dissolve and reform, it was taking all of your strength to hold together those threads.

“It’s been cute, watching our Phantom domesticate the great Wolverine. But it couldn’t last. I still need it, unfortunately.” Dr.Kreva patted his hand against Logan’s arm as if in consolidate him, but it did nothing other than fuel his rage. Logan struggled against Sanguine, looking up at her shrouded face, eyes burning a deep red as she continued to manipulate his bloodstream. “Everyone step back!” Kreva called out, resulting in the team around him shuffling back a few feet.

“Don’t… don’t you– fuckin’ touch her!” Logan’s vision tunnelled slightly, barely managing to ground out his threat between clenched teeth. Kreva simply laughed with bitter condescending.

“Yes, I suppose I could let her bleed out. Though considering she’s been shot in the chest before and lived, I wonder how long it would take for her to actually die. Maybe that’ll be our last experiment. Whaddya say, Eight?” He bent over you, and you mustered up enough energy to spit a globule of blood into his face. He swiped at your crimson spit, cracking a hearty smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Subject Five, if you could.” Rowan moved behind Kreva, his shadow shrouding you in darkness and you fought the urge to dissolve into it, knowing that if you did, there would be nothing you could do. He had intimate knowledge of your mutation, he’d already prepared by bringing along your brother, let alone whatever else he’d had with him. You greet your blood-stained teeth, shivering as your body pleaded with you to let go. “You’ll give in, Eight. You always do. You tried this before. Not that you remember. Those scars on your wrists? You’ve tried this before and your body wouldn’t let you. So just give in…” He urged quietly, and you balled your fists, your nails digging harshly into the soft flesh of your palm. 

Your eyes slid to Logan a few feet away, his breath heaving in his chest, fear swirling in his wide hazel irises as he looked at you. 

“I will find you,” he grit, the tendons in his neck straining. “I promise. I will find you.”

You offered him a weary, bloody smile, and his heart broke as he saw the hope fade from your face. 

“I love you…” you barely managed a silent whisper, lingering just long enough to watch his whole world shatter through the windows to his soul, before you released the threads within your body, sinking into Kreva’s shadow. 

“Splendid,” Kreva clapped his hands together as if he’d done nothing but lit a fantastic barbecue. “Subject Five, you can stop now.” Like a switch had been flipped, the daylight glow resonating from your brother cut out, the torch beams from the truck headlights now the only remaining light. Logan clawed at the ground, his eyes lingering where he’d seen you last. You weren’t dead. He needed to remember that. You weren’t dead. But the way you spoke to him like it was the last time you were ever going to see him…

A cry of anguish worked its way up his throat, splitting the air as Kreva turned back to him like he’d just remembered he was there. “Oh, I know, hurts, doesn’t it? Let’s ease your pain for a while. Subject Two, if you’d be so kind.” 

Logan’s vision swam further, the pounding in his head growing to a crescendo as his heart rate slowed, knowing nothing more as his senses faded to black. 

It must have only been seconds of unconscious, the sky still shrouded in black clouds when he came to once again. Though Kreva was nowhere to be seen, a pool of crimson blood left behind where you once lay dying. 

You weren’t dead. You weren’t dead. 

Raising to his forearms, Logan shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the cobwebs, hazy memories dancing just out of his reach. Staggering to his feet, he craned his neck as the hum of a jet hovered overhead, recognising the Blackbird instantly, the sleek design blending in seamlessly with the sky above before the beams from the truck headlights illuminated the cockpit, steam hissing with pressure as the feet extended to the ground.

The engine was still whirring when Storm sprinted down the ramp toward him, her stark hair flowing behind her in the breeze she kicked up. Logan shook his head numbly as she approached, in answer to the question she had yet to ask. “Gone…” was all he could say, eyes sliding from Ororo to the bloodstain on the tarmac. Scott jogged up behind her, fingers braced at the side of his glasses before he stopped, seeing Logan’s expression.

There was a moment of understanding between the two men, Scott swallowing hard, Logan shaking his head still, slightly helpless before Scott stepped forward and firmly enveloped him in a tight embrace. 

“We’ll get her back, man. We will.” 

Logan’s breath shuddered as Scott drew back, keeping a hand firmly clasped atop his shoulder as Ororo looked between the two of them. “Kreva, right?” she asked rhetorically, though Logan nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah. Ambush. Had this freaky blood manipulator. I couldn’t fuckin’ get to her.” he bared his teeth, running a hand through his hair.

“How’d he even know where she was? Where were you headed?” Scott asked, continuously glancing around as if someone was eavesdropping on the conversation. But they’d gone. Kreva and his subjects had gone. 

And taken you with them.

“Headin’ back to you. We read the file. She needs her memories back if we want to use her mutation. I don’t have a clue how he knew. I just–”

The realisation struck Logan like a brick to the head, stopping abruptly as he absently removed his phone from his back pocket.

There, glaring in the low light, the sole reason for icy fury to flood his veins. There, the sole reason you weren’t by his side right now.

Logan gripped the phone in his palm, hearing the casing crack slightly as he read the text over and over, a name he thought he could trust. The only name he thought he could trust with you.

TODD:

Forgive me.

[andreas-river]

I would love to request an Artist! Reader sketching out Ghost, König, and Horangi, Taking a guess on what they looked like underneath their mask. Once done, they gifted the picture to them, only to freak them out with how close they were at getting their features correct :D

Only if that’s okay with you! Thank you for taking a look!

Ghost/König/Horangi X Artist!Reader

TW: mention of insecurity, mostly fluff.

A/N: hello anon, and thank you for the request! It's my first time writing for Horangi, and I have to say that is a interesting character. It took me a while, but listening to his voicelines helped me a lot. Here they are because they are some funny ones and they deserve to be listened and shared!

════════════════════════════

Ghost

You've been working on your sketch for days, and every pencil stroke gave you goosebumps. You've been dating him only for some months now, but he never removed his mask once, but it was okay since you were always a patient person. Yet you couldn't help but imagine what he looked like underneath the mask, often imagining what he looked like under those so expressive eyes.

And you'd finally had the chance, noticing a little extra skin that had come out into the open due to his mask being a little more loose than usual, and the urge to draw him was more stronger than before.

The paper was now full of erasures, and part of your fingers was now stained by the graphite, but after settling down and waiting for the right moment, you had handed him the paper, and then ran away with a pretense, a little afraid of what his reaction might be.

He simply shrugged his shoulder, walking back to his room, turning the paper over and over in his hands, making sure no one was around. When he felt safe to open it, he had to stop walking, admiring the drawing before the realization hit him. He has always been self-conscious, even if sometimes was reluctant to watch himself in the mirror, but how in the world- he literally made a 180 turn, almost running to catch you.

He had to make sure to make you swear on anything that you could no longer try to redraw him- you had come so close that his heart was beating too fast in his chest, but at the same time, to excuse himself he would give you so many compliments because you were so damn good at drawing, and then- if he could keep it forever.

König

For all this time, it was a guessing game with him, he was always a reserved person but with you he showed a more intimate part, revealing himself only when you were around and ending up sitting with you and admiring your hands at work, hypnotized by how they moved smoothly on the paper.

Unfortunately, he was called away for a mission and had to leave you for a few more weeks, but before he could turn away, your hands stopped him as you gave him a folded piece of paper and asked him to look at it only when he was alone- specifically alone.

The opportunity came when he finally sat down on the bed, he wasn't alone in the room, but everyone was sound asleep and he took the opportunity to finally see your drawing. He had never felt so curious in his life, and knowing that it was something you had done made his heart flutter in his chest.

It took him a while to realize that you were actually trying to draw his real face, and he stared at the paper in awe of how much it matched him.

He knew you could never see him, even when you slept together he wore something to cover his face, and if you'd tried to see he'd have noticed- one of the advantages of being a really light sleeper, but he was amazed to see it.

And honestly, he couldn't wait to get back to you, just to show you how close you'd gotten.

Horangi

To say that Horangi was a walking mystery is an understatement. The two of you came closer after so many months, but you knew very well that taking the next step would be harder than anything else.

You often fantasized about what he looked like under the mask he so stubbornly wore, and found yourself sketching his face- or more accurately, what it might have really been like, not sure if the features you imagined in your head were right or wrong, but you decided to try anyway.

All the time your pencil was on the paper, you didn't have a clear purpose, and only in the end you think that maybe the best thing to do would be to give him the drawing as a gift, maybe with a note at the bottom apologizing for the messy drawing.

You gathered all your courage and gave him the drawing folded up after dinner, knowing that he would go to his room and hoping that he would look at it in the privacy of his space. You knew it was a bold move that would definitely change something between you and him, but like everything else in life, you only live once.

You fall asleep with anxiety in your guts, but wasn't the same for Horangi.

The drawing in front of him was magnificent. He had never seen himself so beautiful, in reality, he felt normal, a type of man who would blend in perfectly with the crowd.

It wasn't exactly him, the cheek lines were definitely different and the hair was longer than it was in reality, but the rest of it was almost an exact copy of himself.

On the bottom he read, "Hi, sorry if it's messy, but I wanted to show you how I imagine you. You have the right to kick my ass at sparring tomorrow."

Under his mask, he smiled.

[thetriumphantpanda]

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

[caxde]

still live | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you and Eddie have been friends for ever, but have chosen to keep your feelings quiet, until a single afternoon changes it all. (2.7k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff (like a lot of it) hurt/comfort, friends in love, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

-

It had never been a question. 

You had started painting even before you learned how to talk, your house was always messy and stained because of you. As you grew up, stained carpet floors turned into stained old clothes, paint splattered all around your wardrobe, and a burning passion was developed. 

So, of course, when the dreaded question of what are you going to do after high school started going around, your answer had always been the same ‘art school’. 

But anxiety and stress were getting to you, you had been working hard on your portfolio, barely sleeping, painting canvases that were bigger than you, held by reclining it against your bedroom wall, and working in sketches nonstop, not even in the middle of class. 

He would tease you, everytime he heard the pencil scratch against the yellowish paper. He always does the same thing, he starts watching quietly, admiring the way your fingers hold the pencil ever so delicately, the way your eyes follow the grey stain so closely, concentration evident on your expression, and your hair messing your face when you look down.  When he couldn’t hold it any longer, a soft smile curves the end of his lips, as he brings his body closer to yours, and he always whispers, his voice always sweet and soft when he calls your name to get your attention. 

And he chuckles everytime you jump out of concentration as you breathe out his name. 

But today was different. 

Eddie knows you, better than anyone for that matter, and he also knows that you had been a little too stressed about it all. He knew you needed quiet company while you worked, so he asked you to come finish your last one over to his house. 

He had made his room tidier, in his own way. He cleared the floor, no dirty clothes could be seen, and the table was what he would charmingly call an “organized mess”, little piles of things in a neat position, a clean composition. Window open and clean air coming in, with a space under it so the smell of the acrylic paint can leave as fast as it comes. 

“You moved the bed.” You let out as soon as you step inside his room, looking at the open window. 

“You need to paint.” He answers, as he shrugs, trying not to give it that much meaning, even if he feels his pulse quickening as you smile grows deeper. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” He answers quickly, really trying to not hyperfixate in the way your smile is caused by him, or the way it seems to illuminate the room a bit more. 

You laid the canvas against the wall, and started organizing your paint tubes in your particular way. Black, blue, red, yellow and white. The other fancy special colours away from them, the lilac, teal and silver pulled apart. 

He knew you needed your space, just as much as he knew you appreciated the quiet companionship. 

It was nice, being in the same room as him, not feeling alone, and knowing that he’ll be here when you inevitably feel tired or burned out and need a little push. 

And you liked feeling him look closely at you. Though you think he’s looking at the way the thin light blue haze is staining the pristine white of the canvas, he’s actually looking at the way your oversized, full-of-various-faded-splatters-of-paint shirt is hanging from you, the way it wraps on your waist, and the way your hair is falling down your back, your face tilted, only makes him more nervous, and in a way, realize even more that he wouldn’t do this for just anyone, so he might as well admit to himself that he does have some feelings for you. 

He played music on his guitar, quietly, and smiled deeply at the sound of you muttering the worlds of the songs he always chooses absentmindedly. Even if he only plays Bowie when you’re around. 

You're obvious to it all. You only focus on the way your hand won’t stop shaking, and you’re not even sure why, so the frustration is starting again, and with it so does the headache. You need to finish the stupid sketch so you can actually start painting, but your hand won’t stop shaking and you don’t even have a good enough reference. You’ve stopped singing and are instead biting your lip, an anxious tic that Eddie knows a bit too well. 

He doesn’t say anything, instead he stops playing, goes to the kitchen and brings two cups of tea. 

He decides to sit down beside you, and instead of startling you as he normally does, he instead leaves a soft touch on the small of your back, his fingers feeling the beginning of your jeans through your shirt. The familiar warmth left in both of your bodies. 

“Here” He whispers, a bit too close to your ear. 

You turn to him, realizing that he’s never been as close, that now you could if you wanted and had the time to count every single one of his eyelashes, and that his lips look pinker than ever. And in that moment, something seems to click, a warmth awakens in the inside of your chest, and you move a bit far away instinct kicking in. 

“Thanks” You whisper back, blood travelling fast to your cheeks as your fingers touch his for a moment, grabbing your tea. 

“So, what’s wrong?” He chooses his words carefully, his tone softer, his voice quieter. He raises his eyebrow in concern, making you frown for just a second. 

“It’s all wrong.” You whisper, in anxious shame, nervously, avoiding his eyes. 

“What do you mean it's all wrong?” He echoes your voice, not really following your train of thought. 

“It’s all wrong Eddie.” Your voice is stronger now, more impatient. But still barely above a whisper, it felt stupid to speak at a normal volume when he’s so close to you. “ The proportions are awful, the reference is shit, and I can’t start painting until I finish the stupid sketch but I can’t manage to finish it.” You’re trying your hardest to not stumble over your own words, it’s complicated, frustration getting the best of you, making your voice shake as you can feel the small tear threatening to form on the verge of your eyes. 

“Hey…” He whispers once more, the hand he had on your lower back petting you once again, trying to get you to calm down for a second. “Step by step, yeah?” He watches you nod at his question, and he waits for you to take a deep breath. “What can you do to fix it?” 

“I need to restart it all.” You answer in defeat, you were tired, and with a clear idea in mind that didn’t seem to transform as well as you wanted to. 

“Okay, so restart it, what can I do to help?” 

“Nothing really.” You add, looking back at him for once. You're captivated by him for a moment. The way his curls frame his face makes you really want to put the little flyaway away from his complexion, touch his pale face for a second, but instead, you hold the cup harder, your knuckles turning white. 

“What’s wrong with the reference?” He asks, trying to refocus you, snatching the photograph off the floor. A blurry image that’s barely recognizable, a kiss between two people that you don’t know. 

“It’s shit.” You admit, hiding a chuckle. “ I found it on the floor of The Hideout and thought that a kiss scene would be the perfect ending for my project, but… I’m not… I don’t know” You admit, defeated, tired, and anxious about you having to start the whole project again. 

“Why a kiss?” He asks, innocence in his tone. He tries to hide his curiosity with that Eddie grin, that stupid grin that makes you smile in return even if you're not aware of it. 

“I…” You look at him for a moment. Stopping at his lips for a second, and this time it doesn’t escape you that he does the same. “It’s about melancholy. The whole thing. Situations that have happened and you miss, and the ones that haven’t but you wish they did… Love… I wish it happened to me but… Yeah” You stop talking, as you feel his eyes not leave yours, it’s stupid, but talking about this in this space, for some reason is making your heart beat faster, and wherever your body touches his, it tingles, electricity flying between both of you. 

“You haven’t been in love?” The question took you out, it didn’t make sense for Eddie to ask this. It doesn’t fit the way he has always acted around you, but in a weird way, when you look back at him, and see the way his eyes look softer, kinder. 

You always saw Eddie repel the idea of love, avoiding it at all costs, so it was weird seeing him like that, like he was hopeful for an answer, as he wanted to tell you how he started feeling, he also knew he would never dare to tell you such a thing. Much too proud, much too careful. 

“I have. But, they don’t love me back.” You mutter, not ready to voice it fully. Not sure if this is the best time to say, yes, Eddie, I have been in love, I’ve been in love with you for ages. 

Because, even now, you’re slowly realising that what you’ve been feeling for him is love. 

“I understand.” He mutters, his sight leaving you for the first time, looking down at the photo, while he yells to himself, his brain is telling him to not do anything stupid, while his whole heart and body are begging for him to tell you that he could learn how to love you if you let him. 

For fucks sake, he tells himself, he cares so much about you, he wants you to be happy and loved and cared for so much it pains him a bit not knowing what to do to help. He slowly lifts his head up.

Coincidence, destiny or just dumb luck, he makes eye contact with his old, beaten up Polaroid and a stupid idea, oh so stupid crosses his mind, and he narrows his eyes. 

You notice. 

And before you can stop yourself you're asking him a soft and questionable “What?” that leaves him looking back at you. 

“We could take a picture.” He states, blankly looking back at the camera. A nervous smile that makes his eyes shine. 

“What picture?” You’re left even more confused, following his glance. 

“A kissing picture.” He says. Your body frozen, heart skipping a beat. Eddie’s does the same, amazed at himself for actually having said such a stupid thing. “Just so you have an actual reference… I just… Wanna help.” He’s now avoiding your sight, embarrassed about his idea, he begins to get flustered, and the only thing he can get himself to do now is stare at the floor. 

You need a second. 

A moment. 

Silence fills the room, as the only thing you can feel is the beating of your own heart, loud in your eardrums, a rhythmic rhythm that begs kissme kissme kissme. 

So, once again, it wasn’t even a question. 

“Who’s taking it?” You answer, sweet quiet voice. Your eyes also set on the floor, as you can feel your cheeks burning. Anticipation forming in the air. 

“I’ll do it.” He answers, his smile bigger than ever. As he stands up, you leave the cup on the floor, wiping your nervous hands on your jeans. One swipe, two, three. 

You’re left looking at him, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think that he was just as extremely excited and nervous as you are. And then it comes, the realisation of what was about to happen, he’s going to kiss you, and you’re going to kiss him. You’re about to do what you’ve been wanting to do for ages, all for some stupid excuse that you can’t be worried about. 

As he moves, gracefully, it all stops mattering for a brief moment. 

It doesn’t matter if the painting is good enough. 

It doesn’t matter if the admission committee thinks your work is good enough. 

It doesn’t matter if this complicates your friendship or not. 

He sits down beside you, a trembling hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his lips slightly parted, his eyes switching between your eyes and your lips. The electricity is tangible now, you almost feel like you could fill up jars with it, a weird anticipation, an excitement. A promise almost. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, his thumb gracing your lower lip, his breath so close to your lips you could actually drink it if you wanted to. He smells of vanilla and sandalwood.

“Yeah.”

Then it happens. 

Eddie kisses you, softly. 

A soft, sweet kiss is left on top of your lips, as you close your eyes and enjoy it, one of your hands travels slowly to the back of his neck, tentatively, you start playing with his hair. You see a flash, a bright light that makes you giggle, only brighter when you feel the way he’s also smiling. 

Eddie can’t stop kissing you. 

He’s delighted that he’s finally doing this. He doesn’t care that he can’t fully give in, somehow worried that the photo won’t turn out good, he takes a couple more. And then he finally gives in. One last touch, a small bite to your lower lip, and he gently pulls away. His forehead against yours. Catching his breath, you can feel the way your lips are left tingling now. How your heartbeat seems happier in a weird way, like something got fixed for a moment.

When Eddie opens his eyes, he can see that yours are still closed. And that your lips look pinker than before, that your cheeks are flushed and you’re breathing faster than usual. He smiles quietly to himself, and looks down, between your bodies, lays the camera and the polaroids spread around, proof that he didn’t imagine it all. Proof that he did just do it. 

He carefully bumps his forehead into yours, playfully almost. 

You open your eyes, looking down. 

He hands you one of the photographs, you can’t help but smile. 

“I don’t think I ever had such a beautiful photo” You whisper, as you’re taken back for an instance. You’re blooming with joy, an uncontrollable smile decorates your face. The shyness gone for this brief moment. 

“Me either.” Eddie adds as he holds another one. 

You’re both idiots. 

Happy idiots, unaware of each other's feelings, not knowing that it was more than a favour. 

“Thank you, Moon.” You tell him, as he blushes even harder. 

And he’s not sure if it was the eye contact, the way you look right now or the fact that you had just given him what might be his new favourite nickname. 

“Now, get back to work.” He teases, while he decides to lay down, resting on his forearms so he can still look at you. 

“Don’t distract me.” You add back, a flirty banter evident in the air now. 

“I won’t kiss you until you ask for it.” And in that moment it's clear, he’s being sincere. 

You can’t help but laugh, softly. And he can’t help himself, echoing your laugh. 

He doesn’t need to say anything, and neither do you. You just know that now he knows something more about you, you know that now that he’s tasted your lips he will be left craving for more, just as much as your craving for a new encounter. 

Eddie is left mesmerized, proud of you, seeing how now you’re determined to finish this painting, with a soft smile and quick brushstrokes. So, you spend the next afternoon painting, and stealing soft glances at him, as he just sits there, amazed by you, as he continues talking with you as if nothing has changed, as if his heart isn’t now all yours, even if you know as well as he does, that it is. 

[eucalyptus-lvs]

Carmen Berzatto’s Night Off - Carmen Berzatto x Reader

I would have had this out earlier, but I got hung up on a two-parter that I’m putting out in the fall. The platform is still pretty new to me so I’m still learning as well. This could be in the same universe as my last two or a stand-alone. I’m trying to think of a nickname or smth to use in place for this series without putting an actual name so it’s still immersive for everyone. I was also thinking about doing requests if it’s smth that has interest so if anyone has thoughts on either feel free to lmk. As always any thoughts or constructive criticism are appreciated! Thank you to everyone who has read and supported me. Love you all! - Elli🌿

TW: None.

A knock sounds at the office door, startling Carmy before it slowly open.

“Hey.” You call to him, walking over.

“Hey, what’s up?” Attention turning back to the papers in front of him, arm circling your waist. He squeezes your hip as you stand beside him while remaining in his chair.

“Just wanted to come see you before the day starts.” You lean down to place a kiss to the top of his messy curls. “Getting some paperwork done?”

He moves his arm to run both hands down his face in frustration before settling them in his lap. “That and the menu Syd’s pushin’ for.” Tipping back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

You lean back against the desk to face him, crossing your arms. “Shouldn't you be working on the menu Syd wants…with Syd?” Questioning what, to you, seemed obvious.

“Yeah, I will. I just wanna get some general ideas down and go from there.” he shrugged.

You lock eyes with him, expression showing you think he's full of shit. “You know this does nothing for your control freak allegations, right?” you laugh.

“I'm not a control freak. I just want everything to go well. It has to if Syd wants her star.”

Tilting your head with an endearing look, you grab his hand in yours. “I know you do, but maybe you should give yourself a break. Take a night off.”

He scoffed. “I can’t just take a night off. There’s too much that needs to get done. This fuckin’ paperwork, the menu, makin’ sure the deliveries are comin’ in and that those deliveries are actually what we fuckin’ ordered and-” He ranted, getting increasingly frustrated with each task mentioned.

“Fine, fine.” You squeeze his hand as a way to gain back his attention but also ground him as he spirals. “I get it, but you can leave on time for once. You get here early and you stay later than anyone else.”

“Because I'm running it.” he interjects.

“And the place won't cease to exist if you leave with everyone else. C’mon, just one night, and tomorrow you can dive head-first back into the neurosis. I'll even come in early with you and help if it'll make you feel better.” You plead with your best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“Don't look at me like that, Sweetheart. Please.” He tries looking away only for you to huff like a child trying to get their way.

“You are in need of some serious rest and recovery. Slow down a bit. Enjoying your life won't kill you.”

“Baby, c’mon. I gotta try and figure out these recipes or I'll get behind a-and everything will get derailed-”

“Okay, Cameron Frye.” You roll your eyes, mocking him. “I swear, your mind goes straight to the worst-case scenario every time.” Releasing his hand and turning to flip through some of the papers on the desk.

“Who?” He looked confused, shaking his head.

“Cameron Frye. Ferris Bueller's Day off? The best friend.” Focusing on what you think are the beginning sketches of a dish.

“Never seen it.” He said flippantly, going back to looking through the files.

Your eyes shot back up to look at him. “What?! How have you not seen it? Isn't old stuff your whole thing?”

“Vintage is not my whole thing.” He corrects. “I just like it. And I'm talkin’ about denim, not an era as a whole. I barely consume current media. Let alone somethin’ that came out 4 decades ago.”

“Oh, come on. You're missing out. The 80s had some of the greatest movies ever made. The practical effects of horror were unmatched. The love stories were iconic. Not to mention all the feel-good nostalgia. Which, not to be that girl, with your attitude you could probably use in your life.” You ramble on.

“Ouch.” Throwing his hands up slightly in mock offense.

You sigh, feeling as though you’re fighting a losing battle. “Okay, how about a trade? Tonight we go back to my place and have an awesome 80s double feature. You can cook whatever you want for us to enjoy it with. Call it practice for the menu.”

“I can cook anything?” He asked skeptically, crossing his arms.

“Yes, as long as you agree right now to two movies. I pick. No backing out.” You stuck out your hand with a pointed look. Giving the impression of a serious transaction.

If he was being honest, he found it quite cute.

“Okay.” He took your smaller hand in his, sealing the deal.

A smile takes over your serious expression, so wide your face aches.

“Okay! You make plans for dinner and I'll think about what we’ll watch.” Nodding your head as you move back towards the door, making your way out of the office to complete the necessary tasks before opening.

Carmy matches your smile. Happy to see you so excited. Shaking his head as his mind fills with ideas of what you might like and what is to come of the night.

______________________________________________________________

A knock sounds at the door for a second time today. Not to the office this time, but to your apartment. You race over and throw it open. “Well, hello.” You grin.

Carmy stands in the doorway, grocery bags in hand. “Hey, Sweetheart.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he passes you to walk to the kitchen, immediately making himself at home as if it were second nature.

When setting the bags on the counter he sees that there are already some there. “You stopped at the store?”

“Yeah, I just had to get a few things for tonight.” You shrugged.

“You shoulda told me. I woulda picked it up for you.” He didn't like the idea of you going out of your way for him. It was something he had trouble getting used to while being with you because he never wanted to inconvenience you.

“Well, next time we'll go together. Save the trouble.” You tease. Diverting his attention by pulling him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck while his came to your hips.

You bring him in for a soft, slow kiss. The kind that made him seem to sink into you.

He likes the idea of doing something so domestic with you. He always thought he was fine with being alone.

That was until he met you.

Now a trip to the grocery store sounds like the best way he could spend an evening.

He can’t stop himself from imagining how much of the cart you’d fill with random items. You’d swear it was because you had some sort of craving, but he’d know it was more likely that you’d gone on an empty stomach and were just hungry.

Breaking the kiss, he smiles at the prospect. “Okay.” He replied sincerely.

You release him so that he can continue to unpack the groceries, standing to the side of him and watching. “So, Chef Carmen. What's on the menu?”

“Chef Carmen?” He raised an eyebrow, letting out a chuckle.

“Stop, I'm taking this seriously.” You laugh. “You need inspiration for the menu and I'm trying to simulate a good environment for that.”

“I don't think a proper simulation involves you in the old Dio shirt you like to sleep in as a uniform.” Gesturing to your attire with a teasing grin.

“Fine, forget it. What's for dinner, Bear?” You relax, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter.

“Spaghetti.”

"Spaghetti? Hardly seems like something you'd put on the menu.” You questioned, confused.

“It probably won't be on the menu.”

“I thought that was the whole point of tonight? Practicing.”

That was the point originally, but the more he thought about what you would like and how the night would go he didn't want to practice.

He wanted to take work out of the equation completely.

It was obvious you were excited about tonight and he wanted a dish to match the energy of an evening with you.

Something warm and comforting.

“I changed my mind. It’s uh- kinda a family thing. Thought you'd like it.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but it comes out unsure as he spares a glance your way.

“Spaghetti sounds great.” You said softly, a small smile gracing your face.

He has to change the subject quickly before he abandons the idea of cooking completely in favor of you.

He clears his throat as he starts prepping the ingredients for the sauce. “What are we watching?”

“Well, I wanted to pick something I thought you’d like, but since you don’t watch a lot of stuff already I had to gamble with my favorites. First is The Thing since I talked about practical effects. It’s horror, but I don’t think it’s really scary in case that bothers you. The other isss-” You pause to drum your hands on the counter.

Carmen shook his head with a smile and laughed. This is why he likes you.

One of the many reasons he likes you.

You were weird but in a good way. Having the ability to be effortlessly fun in a way he could never be.

“Ferris Bueller's Day Off!” You beamed. “An obvious choice, I know, but I figured it’s the reason we’re having this night in the first place. Plus, it kinda has a little of everything. Friendship, romance, adventure and it takes place in Chicago! A little bit of a 180 from The Thing, but hopefully you’ll like it. It was hard to narrow it down to just two.”

“I feel like this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” He teases with a small grin.

He can see an immediate change in your body language. Suddenly turning shy for the first time tonight. He curses himself for mentioning it in the first place.

He was good at nothing if not ruining a good thing.

“It’s easy to talk about things I like,” you take in a deep breath, fidgeting with your hands “with someone I, yknow, really like.” Moving the strands of hair that had fallen in your face as your eyes focus on the floor.

Oh.

He pauses, thoughtfully. It was often hard for him to approach direct conversations, especially ones centered around feelings. But he knew if there was ever a time to try it would be for you. “Well-uh, those sound good. Maybe we could do another night? For the other ones you had in mind.”

The olive branch is all you need to perk up. Going right back to the bubbly personality he became accustomed to with you.

“Yes! Okay, I have so many ideas. A close runner-up was The Lost Boys. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about vampires though. And Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice was a good one and I heard they’re doing a remake so we could watch both if you like it and compare-“ You continue to ramble as Carmen listens intently. Nodding along to everything you're saying as he cooks for you.

______________________________________________________________

The dishes have long been forgotten on the coffee table. Empty since the first half of The Thing.

You’ve both settled back into the couch with large blankets and at least half a dozen snacks you picked up on the way from work because you insisted that ‘people enjoy movies more with fun snacks’.

It's logic he’s not quite sure he agrees with, but when it came down to the two of you he wouldn’t claim to be the expert.

Now onto the next movie, Jennifer Grey is front and center on the screen as her character sits in the police station.

You stare ahead, almost hypnotized. “Yknow she had been in a couple things at this point, but I think I read somewhere that her role in this is what helped her get Dirty Dancing. It came out a year after.”

“Is that one you wanted me to watch? Dirty Dancing?”

He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d seen it before. It was something Sugar had played once when taking over the tv in the living room and he was forced to watch that or nothing at all. It wasn’t a movie he remembered in great detail, just that he was able to sit through it.

He was thankful Mikey and Richie weren’t around that day or he never would’ve heard the end of it.

You shrug, still transfixed by the screen. “Yeah, if you’re down for it. It would only be my second time so it’ll be pretty new for the both of us.”

“You only saw it once?” He asks curiously.

“Yeah, last month.”

He paused, looking over at you.

Sensing his gaze you turned to him and locked eyes. “What?”

“So you’re givin’ me all this shit about missin’ out on 80s pop culture when you didn't even see one of ‘em until a month ago.”

“I love the movie genre. It doesn't make me an expert! Plus, I used to get creeped out by the age gap between her and Patrick Swayze. But they do this flashback cinema thing at the movies sometimes and I thought ‘How often do people our age get to say they've seen Dirty Dancing in theaters?’ I figured if I was gonna give it a real shot I should watch it the way it was intended.” Your eyes lock back on the screen as a sheepish smile appears.

He just continues to look your way. “Did you like it?”

A grin breaks out on your face and you turn to him once again.

“I kinda loved it.” Your nose scrunching a bit. “I was wrong! I was totally wrong. The soundtrack was great. The choreography was hot. Even though the age thing creeped me out I did end up liking their relationship a lot. I mean, their chemistry was unreal. I guess you could say that about most romantic films, but I don't know… It felt different. Maybe because I built it up in my head?”

You let out a small laugh, turning back to the tv. “As soon as I left the theater I played the soundtrack and sang to it the whole way home.”

A moment passes as he looks between you and the screen.

He leans close to you, putting an arm around your shoulder, and whispers, “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.”

You turn to him so quickly he thinks you might have whiplash.

“Hey! You got one!” You giggle.

Smiling at him, you once again turned your attention to the movie. Only this time scooting closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

As the movie goes on, shared laughs and your mumblings of the dialogue can be heard filling the small apartment.

Towards the end, he goes to make a joke. When he gets no response he looks down to find you asleep on his shoulder.

Captivated by how peaceful you look, the voice of Ferris pulls him back to reality.

“Yup, I said it before and I'll say it again. Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Leaning down, he places a kiss on your forehead before laying his head against yours.

He's glad he didn't miss this.

[junvibing]

Artfully Yours

pairing: art major renjun! x fem!reader; youtuber!renjun

warnings: lots of art and ramen, renjun is very much in love, college

summary: Renjun wants to get you something special for your birthday. He has two problems though: 1. there's not much time left, 2. he's a perfectionist. But hey, at least Chenle gave him the perfect idea. Now, he only has to finish in time and hope you'll love it.

wc: 12.5k

a/n: I've been working on this on and off for around a year lol. Anyways I really like it and I hope you do too! Leave me feedback haha this is my first long fanfic and honestly it's special to me :') <3

song recommendation: Like we just met - nct dream

credit for art inspo: matlagesilke3 on pinterest

The second Renjun got home, he prepared to spend the rest of the day working on a drawing. Since it's due for tomorrow's Drawing II class, he really needs to put his energy into finishing it today. His art projects are often accompanied with him staying up into the nights to perfect them. Sometimes while painting his thoughts drift away and he starts thinking about other things. This tendency surely adds to him staying up late but for today he hopes he’ll be able to finish before midnight. That’s why Renjun starts gathering his materials quickly before sitting down at his desk. His room is a little messy but college is stressful and an art major is no exception. Especially since he is somewhat of a perfectionist but he couldn’t imagine studying anything else other than art. For as long as Renjun can remember, he was always interested in it. The way colors dance on the paper, the way they blend into each other or how he can create anything he wants and get lost in the process - he just loves it. One of his favorite things is to try out different art mediums and see how they work, how comfortable he could get with them and if he’ll resort back to them in the future. Over the years, he discovered that he loves painting with oil paints and watercolors the most as they bring him great joy and the best results. Both mediums can be tricky at the beginning and it wasn’t much different for him when he started out but proper practice helped a lot. However, Renjun also enjoys drawing on his tablet, which is especially useful if he wants to post his work online. 

In his opinion, art is meant to be shared and what better way is there to reach lots of people than sharing it online? That's why he had started to post his art on Twitter when he was still in middle school. Whenever someone retweeted his art, he felt so elated, it pushed him to continue sharing his work. In high school he even started exploring with posting videos on YouTube, all related to art of course. Jisung, his classmate and one of his best friends, had encouraged him to just go for it and soon enough his other friends had joined in. Thinking back to his very first YouTube video, Renjun lets out a chuckle. Dang, I was so nervous. Shaking his head, he continues sketching. The thing is he never used to show his face on Twitter, it was all about his art and creativity but with the encouraging words of Jisung and his other friends, he dared to show his face on YouTube, alongside his art of course. The first video Renjun ever posted was of him drawing Moomin fan art. Over the years, his channel actually gained quite a bit of attraction and while in high school, he would often daydream about making money with his artwork even though he knew his parents wouldn’t really support him in pursuing such a career. As far as Renjun knew, his parents wanted him to get a “real” career. But he spent most of his free time either with his friends or sketching, drawing and painting. 

I still do that. Renjun sits at his desk, room dimly lit and pencil in his right hand. But y/n’s in the picture as well now. He grew up with art and it accompanied him throughout his ups and downs. He loves being creative, that’s why he had decided to go through with applying for a fine arts major when the time came around. However, his parent’s opinion and support was important to him. So at the time, he had a serious talk with them. Renjun knew they only had his best interest at heart. Naturally, they want him to be successful in life and it’s important to his parents that their only child has a good and comfortable life. They imagined for him to pursue a high paying, high status job like being a lawyer. His parents couldn’t picture how studying art would provide him with something like that. To them, pursuing an art career was too unstable, too risky. But Renjun managed to show them different ways in how he actually could be successful with it. He would do internships, could go into graphic design, could become an illustrator or go as far as to become an art instructor. There are different paths he would be able to take that would pay him well and hearing that eventually convinced his parents. Of course, Renjun had been overjoyed about that. He still is actually. All his life, art was one of the things that brought him the most happiness and his parents supported him in pursuing it as a career. What else could he wish for?

Turns out, there really was something else he could have wished for. He only knew it after you entered his life though. Renjun occasionally thinks back to how you two met. Out of nowhere, his mind sometimes drifts to the first time he saw you. Just like right now. The window in his room lets little light shine through, the sun is almost fully set at this point and the only other light source is the lamp on his desk, illuminating a bottle of milk and a few pieces of fruit. Renjun’s project for tomorrow is a still life, an art depiction of inanimate objects. It is pretty normal for him to drift off when he was monotonously sketching away, which is exactly what he is doing right now. His pen glides easily on the paper in front of him while he thinks back to his second semester. Renjun never really used to be a person who obsessed over relationships. His mind was filled with other things like ideas for art videos. In fact, he actually used to be the type who didn’t believe in love at first sight, which Jaemin thought was crazy by the way. But you kinda proved Renjun wrong. 

He still remembers the day clearly. It was fall and Mark invited you to come hang out with the boys. The dreamies, as Haechan likes to call their friend group, were still great friends even if they didn’t see each other everyday like they did back in high school. Mark actually mentioned your name before, it wasn’t your first time hanging out with the boys either but the few times you were with them, Renjun couldn’t make it, so he only officially met you in his second semester. Crazy, almost two and a half years ago. He can still remember exactly how he reacted to seeing you for the first time. The second Renjun’s eyes landed on you, the things and people around him somehow were moving in slow motion. To say he was intrigued by you would’ve been an understatement. You looked so mesmerizing, smiling at whatever Jisung was saying while the evening sun hit your face in the most beautiful way. Renjun felt like he was looking at the prettiest painting he ever laid his eyes on. All the beautiful, intricate art he saw over the years didn't compare to you and he immediately wanted to introduce himself. From that day onwards you joined his dear collection of things he loves to draw the most. 

It actually didn’t take long for Renjun to ask you out as there was no way he would be able to let you slip through his fingers. Over the years, your relationship has been going strong. Just like art you've become a constant in Renjun’s life that he wishes to never lose. With time, he even introduced you on his YouTube channel. It took a little convincing but after a while you were able to put your shyness away and join him in a vlog. Renjun smiles, thinking back to your first video together. Back then, he had decided to participate in the challenge of drawing under a blue light and you tagged along in his vlog at the beginning. It was fun for both of you and Renjun’s subscribers enjoyed seeing you guys together. The comments were flooded with how cute the two of you were and requests for you to join him more on his channel. But for today, Renjun's plans don’t include any art challenge. It’s time to finish this still life. He needs the day tomorrow for something else, something more important. 

The next day, with a fresh mind and his still life finished, Renjun prepares for a different project. There is still a bit of time left before he needs to get to class, so he wants to use it to start before it's time to turn in his still life. Renjun has something special planned for you. Your birthday is just around the corner and he had been unsure on what to get you. Last year he got you a beautiful necklace with a butterfly charm. “To show you my appreciation” is what he had said when putting it on you. Renjun never wanted to stop feeling warm and fuzzy inside when he was with you. For this year’s gift, he was thinking about decor for your dorm room since you moved recently. Yet for some reason, whenever he was strolling through stores, keeping an eye out for a suitable gift, he felt like nothing fit perfectly. You don’t really need a new rug or pillows. Your room is already decorated with various plants. Just getting you a few scented candles like Mark suggested was too plain. Getting a mug was out of the question as it’s not special enough for you. Not to mention a mug technically isn’t decor. Although it could be. However, Renjun wanted to get you something special, something that shows he put thought into it and when speaking to Chenle about it the other day, he suggested the perfect idea: painting you a picture. 

Naturally, Renjun drew small pictures for you over the course of your relationship and you cherished every single one of it but he never created a proper painting for you. Almost outrageous, how come he never did that for his girlfriend? Even Jeno did it at some point for his girlfriend. Or tried at least. Nevertheless, she loved it and Renjun still remembers your reaction actually. You and her go way back, having met during middle school. Naturally, you only ever wished the best for your best friend. So of course, seeing her that happy about Jeno’s gift, had put a smile on your face. You even laughed a little, seeing her show it off to the others. Thinking back, that should’ve been Renjun’s first clue to paint you something for your birthday. But at least he came around now, even if it is a little overdue. As soon as he had decided to paint you something to put on your wall, he had brainstormed for ideas. His still life project got in the way so he couldn’t start earlier but today is finally the day he can turn his draft for your gift into the beginnings of a painting. Last week, Renjun sat down and thought about what he wanted to paint for you and since the painting is supposed to fit your room well, he had decided to go with an enchanted forest. He feels like it would complement the various plants in your room nicely. A dark forest with colorful sparks throughout would be the perfect eye catcher for your plain white dorm wall. He had decided to draw two particular trees to accentuate the centerpiece of his painting: a magical path that’s curving to the right. Renjun feels very confident about the idea, so much so that he had decided to film a YouTube video around it: “Painting for my gf’s birthday”, where he documents the process of his painting and captures your reaction to the present. 

That’s why he sits in his chair right now, camera on his desk and films himself. His subscribers will surely enjoy seeing this. “Hi painters, so my girlfriend’s bday is just around the corner and I’ve been struggling quite a bit with finding a gift. I can’t just get her an ordinary gift, you know me. So I was thinking and searching and man almost gave up but my friend literally saved the day.“ Renjun salutes to the camera. “谢了, 哥们.“ ”So anyway, I decided to go with his idea of painting for her, hence this video. I was brainstorming in advance and already did a vague sketch of my idea.“ Renjun holds his sketchbook into the camera so his viewers can see the enchanted forest. “You can see it’s supposed to be a forest. I wanna add different colored sparks to it and make the path here a blueish white to give it a fairy, enchanted type of feel.” Renjun traced the path with his finger and then mentioned two particular trees. “The big trees in the front that bend over and form a heart accentuate the magical path nicely. I also added a little pond. I really like it and I think y/n will like it as well.” Renjun adjusts the camera to show his canvas and him. For the next thirty minutes, he hunches over his desk, sketching his draft carefully onto the canvas. Since this is supposed to be the centerpiece of your wall, Renjun bought a big canvas last week. It is supposed to be an eye-catcher after all. As the time passes and he finishes sketching, he stands up to look at his work. “Okay that’s good enough.” Renjun looks into the camera. “I’ll stop for now cause I have class in about forty minutes. But I’ll see you later tonight when I continue. Y/n’s bday is literally in 9 days and you know how it goes with oil paints, long drying times. So I need it to be done one day before her bday, meaning there’s no time to slack off.” Renjun takes the camera into his hand and smiles before moving his hand in front of the lens. “Only the best for my babe.” 

Hours later, Renjun is setting up his camera again. After his last class for today, art history, he got some lunch with the boys in the dining hall. Mark and Haechan had class though, so the group wasn’t complete. The boys catched up a little but Renjun didn’t want to spend too much time eating. There was still a project awaiting him at home after all. That’s why he only had a small chicken salad. Jaemin talked about how his professor has been kicking his butt with reading assignments for class and to be fair, Renjun could understand. There was just something unpleasant about having to read two 15 page papers about the causes and consequences of the French revolution. But Jaemin chose to major in history education. Although Renjun knows it’s not Jaemin's fault for having an unpleasant professor. Chenle, however, hadn’t been that interested in his friend’s distress. “Glad I don’t have to deal with that”, is what he had said. “Yeah, you need to deal with statistical models dude, gross” Jaemin really doesn’t like math. But, the boys were all able to agree that college workload is a lot, whether one studies education or economics. “Chill guys”, Jeno had taken a bite of his pizza slice, “Jun, how’s it going with y/n’s gift?” Well, Renjun still has lots to do, which is why he had used that opportunity to briefly explain his progress and bid his friends goodbye to go straight to his dorm.

“I’m back, people. I turned in a project and I had art history today which wasn’t so great. It has the touch of being boring sometimes but it’s okay, let‘s continue.” Renjun turns his camera to show the sketch he made earlier today. “This is what we’re working with. It’s time to bring some color into this. I don’t wanna waste much time, so let’s begin.” He pulls his easel out and places the canvas on it. The camera is pointing at him and the canvas again but this time he is standing in the middle of his room. After opening a window, he starts with mixing light gray and dark brown. Oil paints don’t have the nicest smell, so it’s good to have a window or two open while painting. This way, Renjun can maximize the time he is able to paint before getting a headache. “Since I don’t have much time for this painting, I’ll use a fast drying medium. Hopefully this way the painting will be dry on time for y/n’s bday.” Renjun starts with a medium sized brush to paint a thin layer of light gray on the middle of his canvas, where fog would later shine through the trees. The next step is to use brown to block in the general shape of the trees. The two bend trees forming a heart take up quite a bit of space on the left and right side of his canvas. Later on, he wants to spend time on the details to tie everything in. Renjun, like most artists, finds it better to start with the general shape of things and work himself up to the smaller, more detailed parts of a painting. 

After almost two hours of painting, he takes a small break to get a snack. I should still have a pack of ramen left somewhere. Of course, only if his roommate Jay didn’t eat it. After locating the ramen and preparing it quickly, Renjun places his camera in front of him. “As you can see, I took a break guys. I’m sitting in the kitchen right now since I don’t want to expose myself to the smell of the paint unnecessarily. I only have a little bit of the background left. So, I think I should be able to finish in about twenty minutes or so.” Renjun turns his camera off to continue eating. Conveniently enough for him, you video call him while he's still eating. So, he wasn’t rushed to get out of his room to hide his painting from you. Renjun answers your call while positioning his phone against the fruit bowl on the table. “Hi babe, hold up.” After his phone is stable, he smiles at you. “How was your day?” Seeing Renjun after a long day makes you sigh and smile at him. You just wanted to see him and hear his voice for a while to feel better. “Exhausting, I had so much class today and work was a mess.” You pout. You work at a coffee shop downtown a few days a week to save up some money. Sadly, more often than not, you have to deal with difficult customers. “I’m sorry to hear that, love. Did you just get home?” You nod. It is way past nine in the evening and you were ready to go to sleep in a bit, ideally with Renjun cuddling you but that won’t happen today. “Jun, how come you’re eating at this hour?” You know he doesn’t usually eat this late as he doesn’t like to go to bed with a full stomach. Renjun quickly tries to come up with a plausible answer. He doesn’t want to tell you that he spent a good portion of the day painting your gift. “I had a bit of a light lunch today, went out with the boys but didn’t eat too much.” That technically wasn’t a lie either. During lunch he was eager to go back home to paint your gift but the boys insisted he ate at least something before spending hours on it. Renjun and you spend the next ten minutes talking, before he sents you a kiss through the camera and you hang up for the night. 

After washing his bowl, he goes back to his room. He could feel a headache approaching but was determined to finish the background today. Soon enough, around thirty minutes later, Renjun picks up his camera again. “I’m finished with the background guys. This is how it looks so far.” He turns the camera to show the canvas in detail and zooms in a little. At this point, it looks like a simple foggy forest with tall, leafless trees. Renjun will worry about the details later, for now this is good enough. “Quite simple but that’s fine for today. Hopefully it’ll be dry by tomorrow so I can continue after classes. See you then.” Renjun quickly changes into his pajamas and brushes his teeth to go to bed but not before making sure to keep his window open. 

Wednesday morning comes around and Renjun wakes up in his chilly room. He doesn’t mind it that much since he needs to get to class soon anyway. His Wednesdays are usually packed with classes. But thankfully, they are ones he mostly enjoys, Ceramics, Contemporary Art, Digital Media and lastly Painting II. After quickly eating breakfast and getting dressed, he was ready to start the day. Today, Renjun and you are actually planning to get lunch together. Wednesdays and Fridays were set dates where you would either hang out in between classes and snack on a few things or eat lunch together. Renjun loves doing small, simple things with you like snacking on sandwiches together. Since you’ve been busy lately with your part time job at the coffee shop, he hasn’t been able to spend lots of time with you. He made an effort to show up at your workplace every other day or so but seeing you for fifteen minutes just wasn’t enough, which is why he looked forward to today. As soon as his fourth class finishes, he makes a beeline to the door. 

You were supposed to meet next to the library and just as agreed he sees you standing there, smiling down at your phone. You’re wearing one of his hoodies and jeans, quite simple but you still manage to look great. As if you had a feeling he was coming your way, you look up. Renjun kisses your cheek, “Hi love, missed you.” He holds out his hand for you. Putting your hand in his, you start walking towards a convenience store nearby campus. “Junnie, how was class? Did you manage to finish your charcoal drawing from last week?” A few weeks ago in Painting II, Renjun's professor introduced the topic of shading with paint. His professor gave a deadline of one week to turn in a small charcoal drawing and today they had the first hour of class to finish it. The assignment was only intented to be a supplementary technique though. It would help to understand contrast and value as a basis for shading with paint. Charcoal isn’t a medium Renjun uses often, so he chose a somewhat simple object to draw, a vase full of your favorite flowers, tulips. “Yeah, I managed to finish it within the last ten minutes. The shading was a little tricky though. I’m not too satisfied with it but you know my perfectionist self.” Renjun smiles sheepishly. You know he takes his art seriously and has a tendency to focus a little too much on the details. Sometimes he would ask you to have a look at this work since your input helped him and over time he learned that looking at his art with a fresh set of eyes always worked. Nevertheless, in your opinion, he always manages to create something that was beautifully executed.

On the way to the supermarket you tell him about your day, how boring class was and how your professor gave you tons of reading material for the next class. Renjun knows you have a thing for reading, hence your English literature major but he never understood how you were able to survive reading so much for your degree. He enjoys reading from time to time but having to read pages upon pages of who knows how old literature and analyzing it all in class never had much appeal to him. Nevertheless, he listens attentively to you and after you both get some snacks that Renjun kindly carries, you walk back to campus to your favorite spot near the economics department. Just a few minutes away from the main building were a few benches looking out at the gardening club’s flower field. You and Renjun love to sit on one of them and enjoy the beauty of different flowers together. Thankfully, one of the benches isn’t occupied so you both can sit down and enjoy your break together. Every year, the gardening club arranges their flowers in different themes. A few months ago in summer the theme was “beach sun set”. For this, their flower field basically consisted of flowers in three colors: blue, orange and yellow. Since the season has already changed, a new theme is in place at the moment. This winter, the gardening club focussed on winter themed food by using white and red roses arranged in a way that looked like a candy cane and so on. Renjun likes the idea of different themes, it was nice to see the club have fun with being creative. In a way they're creating their own art. 

An hour later, Renjun walks you to your next class and squeezes your hand lovingly before making his way home. He is happy that he got to spend some quality time with you, even if it wasn’t very long. While walking back, he is mentally preparing a list of what he needs to paint next for your gift. Since the background was finished and hopefully dry, the next step would be to go into more detail by giving the trees more depth, properly outlining their roots and branches. Renjun also wants to add more color accents to the trees by painting green and slightly bluish leaves. He wants to mimic moon light shining through the forest. It would cast onto the leaves of the trees and give them a light blue tint. As soon as Renjun arrives home, he continues filming his painting process. “Hi painters, I’m back for the next round. Right now it's Wednesday afternoon, meaning I have exactly 6 days left for this painting to finish, so it can still dry in time. Let's go!” The next hours of Renjun’s day consisted of his open window, the smell of oil paints and color on his fingers. At one point, he did actually take a small break to eat, even his roommate Jay made an appearance. Renjun gets along just fine with him but both prefer to stay in their respective rooms, meaning they don't see each other often. He literally is just his roommate, still a cool guy though. One time Jay even asked him for some art advice. Renjun didn't really imagine him to be the type of guy to be interested in art, but turns out he wanted to try out something new. Of course, Renjun was happy to help and advise. Maybe this time for his painting he would ask Jay for his opinion. 

Thursday flew by him it seemed. Renjun got in and out of class, worked on another assignment and met up with the dreamies. He didn’t continue to paint on the canvas because it was still too wet. Time is worrying him a little bit since the paint takes longer to dry than he likes and he still needs to do quite a bit. But he'll push through. Renjun is determined to finish your gift one day before your birthday and there's no way he'll give you an unfinished painting.

The next day, your Friday lunch break falls short because of an essay you have to finish. However, this gives Renjun more time to perfect his painting for you, which he feels like he really needs. He spent so much time working on it, yet he still isn’t satisfied with the outcome. In fact, he feels like the painting was nowhere near being finished in time. There is something about the way he placed the sparks that he doesn't like. The thing is, he can’t really pinpoint why exactly he doesn't like it. They just aren't really “flying” in the air well enough. Some are too close together, others too far apart. In a way it doesn't look natural enough, but that in itself doesn't make any sense, cause no normal forest has such sparks flying through it. Renjun was expecting them to deepen the magical feeling of the forest, but for some reason he couldn’t portray that feeling onto the canvas in a satisfactory way. Regardless, a few spots shouldn't be enough to give him the feeling of not liking the placement of the sparks overall, right?

To be frank, he is very frustrated. So, at one point he decides to vent to his camera. “I know I’m too nitpicky. But I just want it to look perfect for y/n. I also know she will like my painting regardless. Heck, she probably wouldn’t mind if I doodled her something as a present. But I want it to be deserving of being in her room. I want her to love my painting and me to like it as well.” Renjun wipes a hand down his face. “Maybe I’ve been on this for too long. It’s already past 7 pm and I’ve been working on this painting since I ate lunch. Or maybe time is just stressing me. There are only a few days left and I still need to work on the details.” Renjun decides he needs a break, a fresh breath of air. Maybe the oil paint smell is messing too much with his ability to create. Whatever the case is, he decides to go by your workplace and see you. Your smile would definitely help him feel better. 

As soon as you see Renjun walking through the door of the coffee shop, you have a smile on your face. Your work day is slowly coming to an end and even though most customers today weren’t that difficult to handle, working a long shift naturally tires your body out, which is why it's a pleasant surprise to see your boyfriend. “Junnie, what are you doing here?” Seeing you standing behind the counter smiling at him, gives Renjun a warm and comfy feeling. It was like all of his worries evaporated into thin air as soon as your beautiful face smiled up at him. “Hi love, came to see you. I needed a fresh breath of air.” You walk around the counter to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, the rag still in your left hand. As expected, his insides are feeling fuzzy again.

You’ve always had that effect on him. Renjun didn’t really mind holding your hand in public or you leaning on him, but kisses, even if only on the cheek, are something intimate to him, so he only really initiates them in public if he really misses you. Otherwise they are kept for when you two are in private. “Trouble with painting again?” Renjun smiles sheepishly. Of course, you would figure him out. But he doesn’t mind and fortunately, you don’t know what exactly he was painting. “Yeah, I think I’ve been on it for a bit too long. You and a nice cup of tea will surely help.” Renjun isn’t a big fan of coffee, he preferred drinking tea over coffee any day. Whenever he comes around the coffee shop you work at, he either orders tea or just some pastry to snack on, sometimes both if he feels like looking at you a little longer. Often Renjun thinks about how pretty you look and about how he could watch you for hours. He realizes that thought might be creepy but you didn’t mind when he told you about it one day. It’s him after all, not some stranger. 

You quickly wipe down the table before going behind the counter again to prepare his drink. Today, Renjun chose to drink lemon tea. Being the nice girlfriend that you are, you gave him a small cookie on the side as well. Sadly, he can’t spend much time talking to you as new customers come in. That‘s why he sits down at a table and enjoys his tea and the cookie. How nice it would be if we could just sit on my bed and talk. Or rather on her bed, can’t have her seeing the painting. Occasionally, he looks over to see you wiping down tables and you wink at him. He was right, a tea and you definitely help to calm his mind. Renjun spends about twenty minutes in the coffee shop before he gets up and gives you a sweet goodbye. It is time to return to the dorm and continue his painting.

For now, he plans to continue with a few details of trees. Maybe having a fresh look at the sparks tomorrow is a better idea. Not counting today, 5 days were left till your birthday, which meant he effectively has 2 to 3 days left to paint since oil paint, even with a quick drying medium, still needs comparatively long to dry. After working for about half an hour on the details of the trees in the back, Renjun feels a little better about his painting. He takes this as an incentive to end the day with a positive feeling and grabs his camera again. “Okay guys, I’m calling it quits for today. It’s about 8 pm already. I think it’s better to tackle the sparks tomorrow. ” Renjun quickly shows the current state of his painting before he turns off the camera. 

The next day is a Saturday, meaning Renjun has all day to paint and he wakes up with a good feeling. He quickly eats breakfast and immediately wants to get to painting, so he sets up his camera to further film his painting process. It’s time to focus on the sparks. The ones he already painted were in different colors, namely pink, yellow, blue and red. But looking at his canvas with a fresh set of eyes, he realizes they were not bright enough for his liking. They aren’t really sparkling. Maybe the feeling he got last evening of them not “flying” in the forest nicely was caused by that. He needs to paint in such a way that they look like they were actually sparkling. Renjun has the revelation that he needs to add highlights to the sparks. Adding highlights to them would ensure that the sparks stand out more against the forest, making them more interesting and giving the painting a more refined look. He likes that approach. Maybe he can even place the highlights in such a way that it would have the effect of letting single sparks look more apart from others. This way his problem of the placement of some sparks would be solved, at least to some extent. 

For the next hour Renjun works on adding enough highlights and blending around the sparks. He also adds a few more sparks to the forest. Taking a few steps back from his canvas, he regards the result. This time, Renjun definitely likes it a lot more. The sparks look nice against the dark forest and shine in different colors. It felt realistic and he was happy with the outcome so far. He grabs his camera, “Finally guys, I managed to paint the sparks in a way I’m satisfied with. I had the realization this morning that I needed to add highlights to them and I'm happy to report that it was a good idea.” Renjun shows his viewers the current state of his painting. “I’m thinking of continuing with the details of the two bent trees in the front. I only have a few days left to paint and I still need to work on the details of the pond.” Renjun puts his camera back on his desk again, before facing the canvas. These two trees still need leaves and defined roots. He wants to make them look like they are quite old.

Basically, Renjun spent the rest of his day painting, except for the occasional toilet and food break. After hours in front of his canvas, his head hurts. His bedroom is cold because of the opened window, yet he still feels the effects of the oil paint. Whatever. I need to continue at least a little bit more. At this point, the two trees forming a heart are finished. Renjun added a few bushes to the forest as well and moss around the pond. Since he had decided to make the path leading to the pond a blueish white, he worked on that as well. This way, it seems like the moon lights it up. Of course, he also needs to add highlights to the crown of the trees. He thinks about whether to make them a different color, but ultimately decides to go with the same blueish white since it ties in better with his concept of the moon shining down on the forest. Renjun wants to finish that part today, before calling it quits for tonight. It should take him under half an hour to finish this detail and then he can enjoy a bowl of ramen before going to bed.

The following day, Renjun can’t really continue working on his painting since it needs to dry, so he mainly spends the day working on his art history essay that is due for Tuesday’s class. He already had planned it ahead, which is why he had mainly focused on his painting for you yesterday. Since it needed to dry for him to continue, Renjun can use today for his assignment. He needs to write an essay about the way leadership and power gets depicted in art. For that he had to choose a picture to analyze and write about. Renjun knows he is pushing it a bit late but since he doesn’t plan to work on anything else today, he figures it’s fine. He’s sure that he can finish the assignment today and if not, he still has a bit of tomorrow left. It is only supposed to be four pages long anyway. How hard can that be, right? Well turns out a little harder than he had thought. Renjun spends around three hours in front of his laptop before he decides to take a break. I really should eat something. After all this writing his brain needs energy and a break. Standing up from his desk, he turns around and his gaze falls on the canvas in his room. Renjun inspects it carefully from a distance and actually likes the result. Of course, it still isn’t finished. He definitely needs to add a few more details. The bend trees need to look more interesting and realistic. A few more details on the trees in the back would be good. Maybe I also should add a few more sparks-– his finger twitches. There is nothing more that Renjun wants in this moment than to grab his brush and continue painting, perfecting your present. But right now is not the time. He shakes his head lightly. Still needs to dry. 

Trying to get his thoughts away from the painting, Renjun decides on what show to watch while he eats something. Surprisingly, he has been enjoying a Chinese drama you recommended lately, but maybe watching the next 40-minutes episode isn’t such a great idea with an unfinished essay sitting on his desk. So he decides to just watch a YouTube video. Twenty minutes later, Renjun sits at his desk again and continues with his essay. That’s basically how he spends his whole afternoon. Around 6 pm he is actually almost finished with the essay. That’s why he decides to get up and go into the kitchen to make some ramen. He knows that he ate a little too much ramen throughout the week but they are really just so convenient when he doesn't have much time to cook. 

However, on the way to the kitchen, his doorbell suddenly rings. Renjun isn’t expecting anyone, his roommate might have but Jay doesn’t come out of his room to open the door. So when the bell rings a second time, Renjun opens the door. To his surprise, it’s you. You stand there, smiling at him, dressed in an oversized jacket and plaid pajama pants, a small handbag on top of your right shoulder and a plastic bag in your left hand. As usual, you look cute and cozy but Renjun can’t really concentrate on that. He only stares at you. Why is she here? Did I miss something? And then it hits him. He curses in his head, you’re here for the movie night you both agreed on last week. Seems like amidst all the painting and college he forgot about it. Good going Renjun. You tilt your head a little to the side, “Baby, are you going to let me in?” Renjun’s mind immediately goes to your gift. Damn it, the painting’s still in my room! He can’t possibly let you see it. In panic, Renjun turns his head back, looking into the flat. He needs to come up with some kind of excuse right now, on the spot, “Love, babe, give me like 2 minutes okay, my room’s kinda messy”, he looks at you, his hand already resting on the door to close it. “Jun, you know I don’t care about that”, you step forward, laughing a little but he holds his ground. “No really, just give me like 5 minutes”, Renjun doesn’t give you any time to properly react and closes the door. 

Quickly jogging into his room, he looks around. He only needs to hide the canvas, his paints and brushes aren’t a problem. But where should he hide it? Behind the closet? No way, too risky. The kitchen, no it’s right next to the front door. And then it hits him. Jay! Carefully grabbing the canvas, Renjun quickly goes across the hall and knocks on his roommate’s door. “Listen dude, my girl’s just outside the door but I can’t have her see this painting. Can I please hide it in your room for a few hours?” Fortunately, Renjun and Jay get along well. “Oh yeah sure” Jay points to the corner next to his dresser, “you can put it there dude” Renjun quickly puts the painting down and thanks Jay like three times before he goes to get you. “Okay love, you can come in.” “Thank you for being so gracious, your highness” You jokingly bow down before entering, Renjun shakes his head, closes the door and grabs your hand. You do sometimes have this amusingly bizarre streak. “How come you suddenly felt the need to tidy up your room for me? Hiding something?”, you tease him. Renjun almost scratches his head. Surely, if he would’ve done that you would be more suspicious of him. “It’s just messy babe. I want you to be comfortable.” Humming, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. It sure seems like he didn’t expect you to come over today though. “Did you forget our movie night, Junnie?” Renjun smiles apologetically and nods, “Sorry love, promise, next time I won’t forget.” He squeezes your hand. Renjun normally isn’t the person to forget your dates. Spending time with you is one of his favorite things to do but even he can sometimes forget. You don’t mind, he’s also just human. Besides, you know Renjun had a couple of deadlines lately. 

Entering his room, the familiar sight of art materials, a few soda cans and an easel greets you. Renjun keeps his room mostly tidy except for whenever exam season hits and he has to deal with many art projects at the same time. Renjun’s habit of spending too much on details leads him to making full use of the deadlines, which in return stresses him out so much that he doesn’t bother a lot with cleaning. To you that’s fine, you aren’t much different in that aspect. Besides, why add more stress to exams by worrying about whether your room is clean or not. You make your way to his bed and put your handbag down, your gaze finding the empty easel in the middle of his room. That usually means he's working on something. “Jun, what have you been working on?” Renjun’s gaze quickly follows yours. Dang, should've put that away! Okay, just say something. Quick! “Ahh love, you know I have a few projects due soon. I’ve been spending a lot of time painting.” Renjun sits down next to you, nodding as if he was trying to reassure himself that he wasn’t caught by you. But technically he didn’t lie. Quickly trying to change the subject, he grabs your plastic bag. Before coming over to Renjun’s place, you quickly got a few snacks at a convenience store. “No movie without snacks right? Oh and I got you some ramen as well, Jun.” He looks inside the plastic bag, it contains chips in two different flavors, some gummy bears, his favorite ramen and pretzel snacks. “Thank you love, I should still have some soda in the fridge for us.” Renjun stands up and takes a step in the direction of the door but halts as you grab his wrist. “Jun, can we prepare the ramen now? I’m actually quite hungry, I haven't had dinner yet.” You’re hoping he agrees as the last thing you ate today was just a piece of toast a couple of hours ago. After your eight hour shift at work today you worked a little on an assignment before buying the snacks for tonight. Renjun immediately agrees, laughing a little. “Sure, I’ve literally wanted to make myself some ramen before you rang the bell.”

After cooking the ramen and grabbing two soda cans, you’re sitting on Renjun’s bed while turns off the lights before he grabs his laptop. Since he knows how much you like to have a few scented candles lit up while watching a movie, Renjun also does that before sitting cross-legged next to you and putting his blanket over you both. Turning on the third Harry Potter movie, you cuddle up to him and enjoy the evening together. Three weeks ago, Renjun and you had decided to rewatch all HP movies and so far you both enjoyed it very much. It’s been years since the last time you watched them, so you figured doing it together would be fun. That’s why you’ve met up with Renjun once a week for movie night, snacking away your worries and college stress for at least the few hours that you spend together with him. Sitting together under the blanket and just spending time together with him is one of your favorite things to do. It doesn't matter if you watch a movie or drink tea together, you just enjoy spending time in Renjun’s arms. How can you not? Renjun is just so good to cuddle. That’s why you always end up putting your head on his shoulder, hugging him and it’s no different today. Your head is resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. 

From time to time Renjun gives your body a little squeeze and feeds you snacks. He also sneaks a few glances at you. Seeing you so comfortable around him, makes his insides feel warm. So cute. He might love you a little more every time he sees you like this. You aren’t wearing any makeup and aren’t dressed up, yet you manage to make him attracted to you nonetheless. There is just something so attractive about you being your true self around him, not caring about how you look in your pajamas or how much you snack. Suddenly, Renjun feels the urge to kiss you. If only you weren’t so focused on the movie, “My love”. You hum as an answer, eyes still glued on the laptop screen. “Look at me please.” You lift your head off his shoulder and Renjun just looks at you lovingly. While you slowly sit up, he can only think about how you really are the most beautiful woman he set his eyes on. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he slowly leans in. Renjun believes there is nothing better in the world than moments like these. Moments where everything fades into the background and only you two seem to exist. Moments where he can be very close to you and his lips can meet yours in a loving and intimate way. Your lips are soft and smooth in such a way it feels like kissing the clouds. Your hand naturally finds its way into Renjun’s hair. His right hand cups your cheek while his lips move slowly against yours. His other hand rests on your waist and after a loving moment, Renjun tilts his head a little more to the side, deepening the kiss. His lips still taste a little of the ramen you two had earlier but you don’t mind. Kissing him is always great. In a sense, kissing him is like drinking a cup of hot cocoa on cold winter days. Renjun’s kisses give you comfort, warmth and a sense of belonging like you’ve never felt before. Even in very passionate moments, where kissing him stole your breath away, Renjun is caring and gentle. Just like now as he holds you a little closer, loving you a little more. His hand, previously on your cheek, moves down, stroking your waist. Slowly he pulls away, hands still on your waist. “I love you.” Truly, you’re one of the people that make him the happiest. Smiling, you lean into him to place your lips on his one more time, portraying your love for him. “I love you too.” Putting your head on his shoulder again, you notice the movie is still playing. Both of you return to watching and enjoying it further. 

Around halfway through the movie, the cozy atmosphere and dim lit room actually make you sleepy. You did have a long day today and after a while, Renjun notices your lack of comments and snacking. Turning his head to look at you, he sees you fast asleep on his shoulder. Not wanting you to be cold, he places the blanket further up your body and tightens his arm around you. Renjun is unsure about waking you. Since you don’t need to work tomorrow morning, you could sleep over today. It’s been quite a while anyway since the last time you slept over at his place. To be honest, he kind of misses falling asleep with you next to him. However, if you are to sleep over, the painting will need to stay in Jay’s room for the night. I guess I could ask him. He probably wouldn’t mind. Renjun decides he would ask. So he slowly begins to move your head from his shoulder, hoping you won't wake up. He really tries to be careful but apparently isn’t careful enough since you slowly start to wake up while he tries to lay your head down onto a pillow. Slowly sitting up, you quietly mumble his name. Your hooded eyes find the laptop screen still playing the movie. “I’m sorry love, didn’t wanna wake you” “It’s okay. When did I fall asleep?” Renjun smiles, “I’m not sure, some time ago.” “Oh”  “Yeah, oh” He laughs a little. “Do you wanna sleep over, love?” You nod, you can just leave in the morning since you don’t need to work until the afternoon shift begins. Renjun and you decide to just wash up and relax in his bed. He doesn’t need to finish the movie and you’re so tired, you probably would’ve fallen asleep again anyways. Closing his laptop, you make your way to the bathroom he shares with his roommate. Renjun always has a toothbrush prepared for you even if you didn’t sleep over most nights. It’s pretty cute and someway along you also started to pick up that habit of his for whenever he would sleep over at your dorm. That didn’t happen so often though since you share your dorm room with another girl. It’s definitely more comfortable to sleep at his place since he has a room to himself. 

While you’re in the bathroom, Renjun quickly makes his way to Jay’s room and knocks quietly. In hindsight, he could’ve also just sent him a text but whatever, Jay already opened the door. “Hey man, y/n’s gonna sleep over. Is it okay if the painting stays with you tonight?” Jay doesn’t have a problem with it. It’s just in a corner anyway, so the painting doesn’t really bother him. Having solved that problem, Renjun makes his way back into his room and starts to put the snacks away before getting you a shirt and sweatpants to wear for the night. Just in case she wants to get out of her pajama pants. Shortly after, you enter. “Here love, you can get changed if you want while I brush my teeth”, Renjun points to the clothes on the bed that he neatly laid out for you. You’ve always liked sleeping in his clothes, somehow it’s another kind of comfy. Maybe it’s because they always smell like him and how is a girl able to resist that? “Thank you Jun”, you quickly kiss his cheek before he leaves the room. Looking around you notice that Renjun already blew out the candles and sorted out his bed. After quickly changing your clothes, you grab a corner of his blanket and slip under it. 

Not even three minutes pass before he opens the door to his room. A soft smile makes its way onto Renjun’s lips as he sees you already comfy and ready in bed, waiting for him. Seems like the tiredness is slowly creeping up on you again. My poor baby. It's not even 9:30 and she’s ready to call it a day. Renjun quickly turns off his light and gets in bed next to you. You turn around to face him and his arm automatically wraps itself around your waist, pulling you a little closer. You place your hand on his chest while your head rests on his arm. Renjun slowly strokes your hair, soft eyes looking at you in the dark. After a few minutes, you snuggle a little closer to him. Cuddling him like this makes you even more sleepy. You nuzzle your face into his chest, giving him the perfect opportunity to lay a sweet kiss on top of your head. Renjun rests his cheek against the top of your head. Little words are exchanged as you welcome the comfortable and sleepy atmosphere. Except for your breathing, your heartbeats and the occasional sound of the blanket shuffling, the room is silent. You love moments like these. You love when Renjun cuddles with you, when you can feel his arms holding your body closely and his soft breath against your hair. You’ve always had a soft spot for his hugs anyway and being so close to him that you can listen to his heartbeat while feeling the warmth radiating from his body gives another level of bliss. You actually want to stay awake a little longer, want to consciously feel his body for some time more but it’s getting progressively harder for you to stay awake and Renjun sees how you struggle to. He murmurs against your hair, “Close your eyes, love. I know you had a long day” You feel another kiss on your hair and mumble an “I love you” to him before closing your eyes and letting sleep take over you. You barely manage to hear him say it back before you fully fall asleep.  

Opening your eyes the next morning, Renjun’s sleeping face greets you. His hair is kind of messy and his shirt got pulled down a bit, exposing part of his collarbones. Renjun’s arm rests on top of your hip and your feet are touching. Watching him for a few minutes, you get lost in your thoughts. There’s just something different about him in this relaxed state. It's like all the world’s stress and pressure can't get to him, like he can truly be undisturbed and there’s nothing in the world less than peace and happiness that you wish for Renjun. You know he has tendencies that make his life, especially his college life, a little more difficult than it needs to be. But honestly who knew an art major could be so demanding? You used to have this picture in your head of an art major being easy. After all, the students only need to paint stuff, right? Yeah, not exactly. Because of Renjun, you were able to glance beyond surface level and it turns out, studying art is harder than it seems. Renjun has written exams, almost weekly mini art projects for his classes, he needs to hold presentations and when exam season comes around his room is piled up with different art materials for his creative projects. It truly seems like you have to love art to study it or else you will drown. Renjun gives his all for college and you love that for him but him being a perfectionist adds another layer of difficulty to his degree. Sometimes he really needs to relax. That’s why you like seeing him resting so much. He can shut the world out and doesn’t fry his brain with details of his unfinished projects. You get to see him recovering from all the work he puts into his passion. 

You regard Renjun‘s sleeping state for a little while longer. The sun falls beautifully on him, partly on his face and hair. It highlights his slightly puffy face that he tends to get in the mornings. Your hand unconsciously reaches out and begins to stroke his hair slowly. Feeling your hand caressing his hair, Renjun stirs a little and sighs. It’s a very cute sight. Slowly opening his eyes after a few minutes, he smiles at you. Tightening his arm around your waist, you exchange a small kiss. Spending the morning with Renjun is usually a calm and loving experience. He likes to take his time in the mornings whenever he can, especially when he’s still a little sleepy. So you both spend a while wrapped in each other's arms with quiet murmurs to not disturb the morning quietness, taking in the warmth of one another before slowly getting out of bed to get ready. After eating breakfast together you need to leave to go home. Since you didn’t plan on spending the night, you plan on making a stop at your dorm, changing into a different outfit and maybe reading a little before going to work today.

As soon as you left, Renjun got his painting from Jay’s room. Today is the last day he can work on it since the painting needs to be dry for your birthday. After spending the last evening with you, Renjun feels quite good this morning. He feels like he can finish the painting in time and that he’ll like the outcome. The painting still needs details to the pond. It hopefully won’t take more than two hours. After that, Renjun still needs to add finishing touches to your gift. He starts with the pond by adding light blue highlights and a few branches that touch the water before letting the paint rest a little. In the meantime, he moves on to the finishing touches of other parts of the painting. Renjun had planned on spending the majority of today to finish your gift. Unfortunately, he can’t varnish it yet because it needs a few months to properly dry before he can put the varnish on top to fully seal it. However, for your birthday it will be enough for the painting to be dry to touch. After adding a little more detail to the trees in the background and defining a few of them a bit more, Renjun continues with the two main trees forming the heart. He decides to add some moss to the tree barks. 

However, after regarding the thin layer of moss he painted, he isn’t really satisfied. It seems a bit too flat for his liking, so he decides to try a different approach and goes to the kitchen to get some coffee. Maybe adding a few sprinkles of ground coffee into the paint will create a more natural finish. After trying it out on a paper and liking it, he uses his mixture of paint and coffee for the moss on the canvas. Looks pretty good. Being satisfied with the moss, Renjun takes a few steps away from his canvas to have a look at the pond. It doesn’t necessarily look bad but there’s still something he doesn’t like. He feels like it's kind of looking boring, which probably is because of a lack of details. That’s why for the next hour or so he spends his time perfecting the pond. In a spur of inspiration, Renjun also decides to add shadows of little fish inside the water.

Just in time for a small food break, Renjun finishes with the painting for now. He decides to come back to it after eating a bowl of ramen to regard it one last time before deciding if it’s really finished or not. Twenty minutes later, after he finished eating, Renjun stands in his room with crossed arms in front of the canvas. The window is open again, still his room very much smells like oil paints. His shirt and hands have paint on them, he truly looks like an artist in this moment. To him, there’s something strangely satisfying whenever he gets lost in painting so much that his hands and clothes show the proof. Renjun is satisfied with the outcome. It looks great. Exactly how I envisioned it. Finally. The forest looks enchanted, mysterious and doesn't have too much or too little detail. It looks like a forest one could stumble upon in a fantasy world and that’s what he was going for. She will surely like it. Smiling, Renjun starts to collect his art materials to clean them.

But suddenly, he gets a thought. I totally forgot to film! He quickly gets his camera and presses record. “Hi painters, it’s the last day of painting. Tomorrow is just for drying and then it’s y/n’s birthday. I actually already finished the painting but forgot to film it. Sorry about that. It's around 5 pm right now. Last night, y/n stayed over so I couldn’t wake up extra early to finish it. But it’s okay, I finished anyway. Have a look at the result.” Renjun turns his camera to show the canvas. “This is the finished product. I added details to the pond and some finishing touches today and I made some spontaneous decisions that turned out really well actually. ” He zooms in on the moss. “For the moss I added ground coffee into my paint. It gives it a more realistic finish, maybe give it a try some time.” Renjun laughs a little, “I think I might use this hack more often.” He turns the camera to show himself again, “I’m super satisfied with the result and actually very happy that I got finished in time. Although I wouldn’t recommend that you guys start a project this size in such a short time frame. Honestly, it was quite stressful. But I’m glad I was able to pull it off and I know for a fact that y/n’s gonna like it. Thank you guys so much for watching!” Turning his camera off, Renjun let out a happy sigh.

He didn’t immediately start editing the video though. It’s really time to take a break. Renjun just finished a big project and wants to celebrate. That’s why he quickly cleans up his room and video calls the dreamies’ group chat. Haechan is the first one to pick up “Look who came back from the dead.” Renjun laughs dryly and right after Mark joins the video chat, “Yo whats up?” Soon enough all the dreamies join and Renjun tells them about how he’s finally finished with the painting. Of course they want to see it, which is why Renjun switches to his phone’s back camera. “Dude, that looks so cool!” “I think she’s definitely gonna like it” “How come you never paint me a pic like that?” “Are you my girlfriend?”, Renjun deadpans. Haechan sulks a bit, “No.” “See. Now anyways, do you guys wanna hang out tonight?” It’s been a while since all of them hung out together anyway. “Yeah, we could try out that new Mexican restaurant near my place.” Renjun likes Jeno’s idea and everyone agrees, except for Jisung. “Guys, I have to finish an assignment by Wednesday. Can I join a bit later?” Mark reassures Jisung that his assignment was more important. “For sure dude, work on your assignment. We’ll save you a spot.” An hour later, the dreamies are sitting in the restaurant, going over the menu. Renjun thinks it’s nice to spend time together again, catching up and joking around. 

After Jisung joins, the whole group is complete and they spend the evening eating delicious food and talking. Renjun knows that he shouldn’t spend too much money there but stressful days of assignments and the painting is coming to an end and he wants to enjoy himself. That’s why he goes for dessert even when he was kinda full already. It’s okay, I deserve it. Soon, the relaxing evening comes to an end and the boys part ways. The day after tomorrow they’ll meet up at Jeno’s place to celebrate your birthday. You know it's a bit strange to celebrate your birthday at Jeno's place and you were a little hesitant at first. Of course you and Jeno are friends because of Junnie and your bestie, but not that close. Originally, you had planned to just hang out somewhere in the park but the weather has been kind of on the colder side lately. But, Jeno assured you that it’s fine. He's living alone, meaning he has enough space to host your small birthday get-together. Having some people over is nice anyway and he knows most of the people you invited. Besides the dreamies and your best friend, only two other friends of yours were expected to come. So it’s really fine for Jeno. Not to mention, his girlfriend, your bestie, would probably be somewhat upset if he said no to you. You were the person to introduce them after all. 

The next day Renjun slept in. His to do list doesn’t include much for today, mainly getting some nice wrapping for your gift. He also plans on visiting you at work again. It’s going to be a pretty simple day but he likes that his day doesn’t include any stress. Tomorrow, the day of your birthday, he’ll buy you some flowers and your favorite chocolate before meeting up with Mark. He was so nice to offer Renjun to put the painting in his car and drive to Jeno’s place together. This way he won’t need to take the painting on the subway. Renjun is pretty excited for you to see his gift. Of course he knows that you would like it but he still looks forward to your reaction. Since Jeno’s place allows for more room, Renjun plans to show up a bit earlier to decorate the place tomorrow. He excluded you from decorating on purpose and had said he was gonna handle it and so you let him. That boy can be stubborn. Renjun wants to keep his painting out of your sight for as long as he can. 

So when he and Mark arrive at Jeno’s place with your gift on the day of your birthday, Renjun puts it in Jeno’s bedroom. He knows you aren't gonna go in there, so it’s a safe spot to hide it. After making sure the painting isn’t gonna slip while he’s away, Renjun starts to prepare snack bowls and places your cake into the fridge, before helping Jeno and Mark with some balloons and a happy birthday sign. There wasn't much to prepare since you just want to spend your birthday relaxing with your friends. So soon enough, the three of them finish and around 6 pm everyone you invited is gathered on the floor around Jeno’s couch table, playing some board games and catching up. Throughout the day, Renjun films a few moments of your get-together. He wants to include your birthday party but especially your reaction to his present in his video. As the evening passes you turn to karaoke, singing songs from ABBA to Little Mix. At one point Renjun even starts to serenade you. He puts on quite a performance, singing Hot by Avril Lavigne and you totally enjoy it. It’s pretty funny actually, he’s pointing in your direction and dancing around. It’s nice seeing him so carefree. You’re kinda tempted to join and serenade him but he won't let you outperform him anyway. Besides, Renjun really has a lot of energy to spend. It’s already 8 pm, gifts still haven't been exchanged and he’s excited but also somewhat nervous for your reaction. He hopes you’ll love the painting as much as he does. However, there’s a part of him that fears he chose the wrong thing to paint but he tries to ignore that voice. You’re gonna love it, he just needs to keep on reminding himself of that.  

To say your reaction didn’t disappoint would’ve been an understatement. Renjun actually managed to hold himself in check till he was the last one left to give his gift. You really like the gifts you got this year. From a new book to new skin care you’ve been eyeing for a while, your friends put thought into them and that’s what counts and makes you happy. Two of your friends left half an hour ago, cause it’s kinda late already. The boys spontaneously had decided to sleep over at Jeno’s place, so it’s only you, your bestie and the dreamies left. “Okay, time for the finale”, for some reason, Haechan is very excited for your reaction to Renjun’s gift as well. He secretly plans to take pictures of you two. Earlier today, he also appointed Jisung to take a video. “Give me a minute, love. I’ll get your gift” Renjun squeezes your hand, giving you a smile. You look over at the boys and they just have smiles on their faces. It’s obvious that you’re gonna like the painting. Really, Renjun doesn’t have anything to worry about. A minute later, he comes back with the painting in wrapping paper. He chose one with a leaf print on it. It looks nice and maybe it could give you a bit of foreshadowing on what the gift entailed. “Happy birthday, love” Renjun sets the painting down, holding it in place and signals for you to open it. “I hope you like it” 

It’s clear that his gift was some kind of painting. Knowing Renjun, you guess that he actually painted it. “You painted for me?”, you place your hand on the gift. There was a certain smoothness to the wrapping paper. Renjun murmurs a small yes and the thought alone that he had painted you something this big was enough to make you tear up. He must’ve spent hours on this, hours just to make you happy. Sometimes you question how you were so blessed to have someone like him love you. Renjun really is giving his all to make you happy. Slowly, you unwrap the painting. Piece by piece different colors shine towards you, greens, some darker and some lighter, brown and little colorful spots. As soon as you unwrap the gift completely, you have a proper look at the painting and almost can’t believe your eyes. It’s so beautiful and perfect. You would’ve never expected such an amazing gift from him. You can’t believe Renjun would spend so much effort just for you. He put so much detail and love into the painting and it feels like you could see that from a mile away. This was the most thoughtful gift anyone ever gave you. You couldn’t possibly describe the meaning this holds for you. It’s so mesmerizing, the way the colors dance on the canvas, how he managed to portray feelings into his painting and really make it come alive. In a way it feels like the gift expresses how much Renjun loves you. 

You’re so overwhelmed and touched by the painting, the hard work and love he must’ve put into it that the only thing you can do is let out a sob. Renjun definitely didn't expect that reaction. His eyes widen and he starts to panic inside. No no no, she hates it? I should’ve chosen something else, damn it! Your hand naturally finds its way onto your mouth, more tears rolling down your cheeks while you admire the painting for a few moments more. You know Renjun has always put thought into the gifts he got you, but this really is on another level. The amount of devotion he put into making this is unbelievable. You've never seen more beautiful art than this painting and he did it with his own two hands.

Renjun’s wide-eyed gaze finds Mark’s but he also doesn’t know what to do. It’s like Renjun’s worst nightmare comes true right in front of his eyes. How could I be so stupid! Damn it! I was so sure she’s gonna like it. “Baby-”, Renjun’s ready to apologize and go buy you a better gift immediately but you don’t even give him time to finish his sentence. Throwing your arms around him, you hug him tight. “Thank you, thank you.” Four simple words and Renjun’s world stopped crumbling. He is beyond relieved. It’s like all his panicky thoughts leave his body instantly. He lets out a small laugh, hugging you back and smiling into your shoulder. You actually like it, like really like it. “It’s so beautiful. Thank you so much” Your heart almost can’t handle the thought of Renjun giving you something so precious, so beautiful. “Baby you almost gave me a heart attack.” You lean back a bit, mumbling a small sorry before placing your lips onto his. Renjun’s lips were soft and smooth like always. His kiss makes your stomach flip. He’s truly yours, not going anywhere and loving you like no other guy ever has. Renjun’s arms tighten around yours before you tilt your head a little, deepening the kiss and soon enough you hear a mixture of complaints from the boys. “Okay, what the heck” “Ew, leave that for later guys” Renjun blushes a bit, pulling away slowly. He really isn’t used to doing that in front of the boys. Pecking his lips one last time, you loosen your grip and just smile at him. “Dang,” Haechan looks at the pictures he took of you two kissing, “I really need to learn how to paint”.

a/n: excuse any painting process parts or art major parts that might be inaccurate haha, oh and if you wanna request something, I'm open to hear your idea :)

[jinnie-ret]

MY YOUTH | SKZ NINTH AU

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

<---------- back to my youth

<---------- back to main masterlist

chapter 4

genre: fluff content warnings: none word count: 1.2k

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Lou went straight back to her room after an incredibly filling meal. She did struggle to find her room at first, not quite remembering which one she exited from earlier in the morning, and none of the visions she had been having gave any hints away. But when she got weird looks from the other members about why she was looking in every room, she smartly used an excuse that would actually pass at the truth.

"What you doing Sunny?" Lee Know rose an eyebrow in curiosity at the girl who was looking through different rooms in the dorms.

"Hmmm? Oh... I'm trying to find Garfield, can't find it at the studio so it must be around here somewhere..." Lou miraculously thought up the excuse, twiddling her fingers as she made it look like that's definitely what she was looking for rather than her own room.

"You lost Garfield? Hmmm, don't worry, I'm sure we'll find him," Lee Know patted her head before heading off to his own room, which just so happened to be next door to Bea's.

Which brought her back to now, where she was staring at the ceiling wondering what to do with herself. The empty space in her mind seemed to be filled by another vision.

"Huh? What could this be?" a younger Hwang Hyunjin looked around the walls in his room, Lou hiding trying to muffle her giggles.

Hyunjin looked around at the bizarre and amateur drawings of weird, disproportionate animals drawn on post-it notes, stuck as some sort of mural by his bed.

Lou accidentally let out a laugh at his utterly confused expression.

"Yah, Sun, I can hear you..."

She emerged from her spot, no longer tucked away round the side of the wardrobe.

"Don't you like the drawings I did for you?" she giggled at his 'done' expression.

"I don't know what I'm looking at right now," Hyunjin dramatically deadpanned, before letting out a cackle, only triggering Lou further.

"Look this one is a ferret! It looks like you!" Lou laughed, pointing at his face and then the silly drawing, before running away from him as he chased her.

Some may say that Lou created Jiniret.

The girl blinked as she tuned back into her surroundings. She was happy it wasn't as much of a sad memory, and decided maybe it wouldn't be so bad to tease Hyunjin again. Wearing a mischievous smile on face, she rummaged around the chest of drawers in her room and was happy to find a stash of post-it notes and pens to use for her 'artwork'. Because of course, it would obviously be so much better than Hyunjin's gorgeous paintings. Well, she didn't know if he started painting yet, perhaps he sketched, she did remember seeing a pad of paper in the small vision she just had.

Tiptoeing into the room she remembers seeing herself run past, she quietly pushes down the handle and walks in, relieved that there was no one there yet. Sticking a pink post-it note on the wall, she popped of the lid of the pen and starting working her magic. Soon there was a couple drawings decorating the walls, ranging from Jiniret to Hyunjin pulling dramatic faces, and an artistic impression of him morphed with a llama.

She hoped he would appreciate the effort she put in.

Exiting out his room like nothing happened, she was caugh red handed by the guy himself.

"Lou... why were you in my room?" Hyunjin jumped at seeing her, not expecting her there as he put a hand over his heart, eyes wide.

"Oh... Can't find Garfield," Lou casually nodded and swiftly left the situation, joining the others sat in the living room. She plonked herself down on the sofa, next to Jeongin, giggling to herself.

"Oh no... she is laughing already," Jeongin announced to the room.

"What has our Flo done now?" Changbin questioned with a grin, causing Jisung to stand excitedly.

"Our Flo man! Our f-low! Flow so sick man!" Jisung hyped himself up with Changbin, bouncing in his spot and giving a proper handshake to his hyung.

"This always happens..." Seungmin sighs, pretending to look exhausted from the energy of his members. Or was he pretending...

"You'll find out in 3, 2, 1..." Lou smirked, rubbing her hands together.

"Lou. Ie. Sa!!!" Hyunjin yelled from his room, seeing the monstrosities of doodles that Lou had produced. He marched out of his room and immediately dove onto the girl, tickling her sides.

"Hahaha I got you again!" Lou giggled loudly, kicking her legs as Hyunjin playfully attacked her.

"Lee Know. Hannie. Get your child under control," Hyunjin ran his hands through his hair, pointing at Lou as he stared at the two guys.

"Our Lou has learnt well," Lee Know simply came over and hugged her from behind, patting her head and laughing to himself thinking of the mischief she had caused. This only caused Jisung to laugh harder.

"Jinnie... she decorated your room again?" Felix grinned imagining the sight.

"She vandalised it!" Hyunjin kept up his streak of over-exaggeration, making his members burst out into laughter once more.

Lou giggled once more and hugged Hyunjin from behind, causing him to turn and around and pick her up, depositing her next to Bang Chan.

"He is your only hope now," Hyunjin whimsically said, saluting at Bang Chan before retreating to his room, probably to plot some revenge on the girl.

"What shall we do with you, hmmm?" Bang Chan poked her sides, causing Lou to laugh once again as she accepted the cooing of the leader.

"Send me to art school."

More laughter resounded from the room.

"I can't believe he never noticed you going into his room again..." Changbin shook his head thinking of his dongsaeng.

"You're so sneaky, like a little spy," Seungmin nodded at his own observation.

"Yah! Did the 'little' really have to be there?!" Lou protested, sitting up in her seat and looking at the older with a challenging expression.

"Of course," Seungmin said like it was obvious.

"You're next, Kim Seungmin," Lou confirmed her next plans.

"Oh fighting talk!"

"She's gonna beat him up!"

"Seungmin's going to find out before she does anything."

"Yeah Seungmin is the real spy!"

The members conspired about what was going to happen next.

"Right, we should get some sleep now, got a couple of busy days of practice ahead of us before Miroh is released!" Bang Chan ushered his members to bed.

Lou couldn't help but feel nervous. In her home, universe, let's say, she knew the choreography of Miroh, she loved practising the dances from Stray Kids. But she knew she wasn't the best, and she didn't want to be the reason that the group wouldn't win their first award for the song. She couldn't change things that happened in the original timeline, could she? She thought to future events, like the ISACs and Kingdom, thinking if the group would be able to participate how they originally did due to her being a female. Or would there be special allowances...

Lou wasn't too sure on that for now. But she would have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Now, her first obstacle would be attending their very first live performance. Oh how she wished she had a memory full of everything that had happened to herself in this universe. Getting small glimpses wasn't feeling enough.

And this had just been the first day. She was in for a wild ride.

<-- previous chapter next chapter -->

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tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @lixie-phoria

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 003 ] rock paper scissors.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. none, it's a cute chapter. word count. 2.3k

　　　　　　　　chapter ii // chapter iii // chapter iv

Surprisingly, you and Wooyoung agreed on most things when it came to compiling plausible ideas for the project. You worked together for an hour before he told you he had to go somewhere with Seonghwa and one of the guys you hadn’t met yet—Yunho?—in half an hour, to which you nodded as you continued writing down some notes.

Seonghwa joined the two of you at some point, coming down the stairs with his laptop so he could work alongside you, muttering something along the lines of “Hongjoong is working on something and I can’t concentrate” as he sighed. Though it didn’t take very long for him to retreat back to his room with a yawn having finished whatever paper her had to write.

Over the hour that you and Wooyoung worked together, he had scooted himself closer and closer to you until your knees were brushing against each other (but you didn’t mind, all this talking had made you reasonably more comfortable around him). At times he got up to demonstrate some poses he thought would look nice as you drew rough, blocky sketches of said poses. You showed him some of your own sketches, letting him choose what kind of style would fit.

At this proximity, it was very hard for Wooyoung to concentrate for longer periods of time. The perfume you wore had a divine smell that he couldn’t quite place, but if he had to he’d describe it as vanilla, a hint of something sweeter folded between. Every time he got a whiff of it, he had to stop himself from chasing the sweet smell. He also didn’t miss the way the beating of your heart sped up very slightly as he leaned over you to grab the pencil by your side, a fact that brought a smug smile to his face.

Since the final event for this project would be an exhibition in the gym, you both thought it would make sense to either do one big artwork or multiple smaller artworks to fill out the space dedicated to you. This was one of the things you couldn’t agree on.

“But wouldn’t it be so cool if you could do, like, a few sculptures and a few paintings of me?” He pouted.

“Wooyoung,” you pinched your nose bridge, “did you forget that I would have to be the one to actually make everything?”

“Well, no. But since we have like, 3 months to work on this I thought that would be more than enough time.”

“I have more—and better—things to do than paint and sculpt you.” You reasoned. “As the person that will be working endlessly on the actual artwork, I’d much prefer to do one big, impressive painting.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes before staring you dead in your eyes. “Are you sure?”

There was a change in his voice so subtle you wouldn’t be able to place it. Even his voice seemed sharper and it sent a chill down your spine. He squinted at you as you hesitated to answer and suddenly seemed so much closer than he actually was.

You blinked and looked away from him, and he was pleased to see the tips of your ears dusted a rosy shade. “Yes, I’m completely sure I’d rather do one larger painting.”

And that is how you and Wooyoung found yourselves in what may be the most intense game of Rock Paper Scissors. He decided the first to three points would get to choose, and it didn’t take long for the two of you to reach two points. After that, you kept tying and at some point, you both stood up, dramatically turning around every time you had to show your weapon. But you continued choosing the same things and each time he’d throw himself on the couch, yelling before standing back up.

After a few more rounds, you finally got a winner.

Up in the bedroom he shared with Wooyoung, Yeosang could not fall asleep. Out of all eight of the men that lived in this house, he had the most sensitive hearing. So when his best friend’s car pulled up to his house and he first heard that familiar voice accusing them of being part of the mafia, one could only imagine the surprise he felt. The two of you had run into each other a few times and eventually, he noticed he was looking for you when he went to certain places.

The first was at a café he worked at five days a week. Of course, he didn’t really need the money, but he enjoyed the atmosphere. Dim lighting, music playing softly so as to not disturb the customers, potted plants anywhere you looked. On one of the days he was working, you came in with who he assumed was your friend, talking animatedly to the girl next to you.

He didn’t notice you until you came up to the counter to order, immediately endeared by your polite smile. Your friend was seated on one of the tables by the window that looked out onto the street. He took your order: One americano, one iced latte with triple sugar, and two eclairs. 

“Name?”

You gave him your name and a small smile made its way to his face as he scribbled your name on the cups. You paid and with a nod, he asked you to wait by the pick-up counter. You watched him idly, rocking on your heels as you waited. The song caught your attention and you tried to memorise at least one phrase so you could find it later.

It didn’t take too long for both of the drinks to be made and he quickly fsíshed two eclairs out and carefully placed them into a white paper bag before handing everything to you, catching you as you took a sip of the iced latte and added in one more sugar packet. Before you left, you stopped him from turning around, a gentle ‘Excuse me?’ leaving your plump limps

“Yeah?”

“This song is nice, what’s it called?”

“Oh! Uh,” he pretended to think for a bit, but really this was his playlist and he knew every single song from the top of his head. “it’s Reflections by The Neighbourhood”

“Thank you,” your eyes flickered to the small name tag clipped to his apron. “Yeosang.”

The second time he saw you was in a quaint little bookshop. It was pretty much across the street from his café, so Jongho texted him to see if he could go a get a book for him when his shift was over. Of course, Yeosang wouldn’t decline his request so, true to his word, as soon as his shift was over at 7:30 in the afternoon, he made his way to the bookshop.

As the door opened, the kindle of a small bell signalled the arrival of a new customer. You were seated at the cashier, leaning your head on one of your hands while the other held your favourite mechanical pencil, drawing small sketches in your worn sketchbook, nodding your head to the beat of whatever song you were listening to. He recognised you immediately but decided to focus on finding the book Jongho needed.

With his phone in his hand, he looked between the title Jongho had sent him and the books on each and every bookshelf. Yet, he couldn’t find it. Deciding he should just ask you, he mustered up the courage and made his way to the front of the store, hesitating before calling out to you.

“Excuse me, um… Y/N?”

You were startled, but looked up at him and as recognition flashed through your eyes, smiled and took off your headphones. Unlike the last time you saw him, his hair was longer and he dyed it blond, but you still recognised him. You tried not to get distracted by how well this new look suited him. “Ah, Yeosang, right? How can I help you?”

He explained his situation and gave you the name of the book when you asked. You hummed and told him to follow you, walking to a section he swore he already looked in, missing the way he looked positively delighted by the fact you remembered his name. After you told him you wouldn’t be able to reach it, you told him exactly where the book should be and, lo and behold, there it was.

The next times he saw you (yes, multiple times), was somewhere he frequented almost as often as his workplace; the skatepark. You usually showed up with three of your friends and watched them skate around as you sat at a picnic bench. One time, in particular, he remembered you showing up in an outfit that nearly drove him insane. 

It was different from what he usually saw you wearing, oversized and cosy, covering up nearly all your skin. But this time, while you wore an oversized knitted white sweater, you also decided to wear and black miniskirt. Thigh-high black socks hugged your legs and fitted especially snugly around your thick thighs. If he denied the fact that he thought of about a hundred different inappropriate things in the span of a second, he’d be the biggest liar to have walked the earth.

You sat at your usual spot, watching with a fond smile as your friends bickered and skated around, that usual sketchbook opened in front of you as you drew. After twenty long minutes of skating to get his mind off you (and failing), Yeosang decided to take a seat next to you.

“You draw a lot.” He nearly smacked himself for not coming up with something better to say. But luckily, you seemed amused, letting out a small chuckle.

“I’m an art major, I kinda have to.”

And from there you conversed for another hour about whatever came to mind until your friends called you over so you could go grab dinner together. You offered Yeosang to join you, but the biology major needed to get home since he had early classes the next day.

He sighed once more, throwing the blanket off him as he got up and pulled a random sweater over his head.

“No!” You practically cried out and fell to the ground in defeat, Wooyoung cheered and jumped around the living room in utter glee. “I want a rematch!”

“In your dreams!”

“What’s going on?” A deep voice interrupted Wooyoung’s cheering (and your mourning). His eyes found yours very quickly, offering you a smile. “Oh, hey.”

“Hello!” You got up from the floor and gave him a small bow, brushing the fabric of your sweatpants despite them not being dirty.

Wooyoung’s brows furrowed as he looked between you and the blond in confusion. “You know each other?”

After explaining how you two knew each other, you had to leave. Wooyoung had to go wherever it was he need to go soon and you were getting pretty tired. After wishing them a good night and exchanging numbers with Wooyoung, you stepped out of the house, bag hanging from your shoulder as you made your way to the front gate.

That’s when you realised you didn’t have a way of getting home and didn’t know where the nearest bus stop was either. Shortly after you stepped out, both Wooyoung and Yeosang came to the same conclusion. So, while Wooyoung had to go wake up Seonghwa and get Yunho, Yeosang rushed out of the house and took his car.

“Need a ride?” He pulled up next to you, his usual smile making the apples of his cheeks look extra squishy.

You let out a sigh of relief, nodding and getting in the passenger’s seat.

The drive to the apartment complex you lived at took nearly half an hour. For the first ten minutes of the ride, you and Yeosang caught up and whatever had happened between the last time you’d seen each other and now. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it was quite obvious you already developed a small liking for the man next to you.

After those first ten minutes, you fell asleep with your head leaning against the window on your side. Yeosang could tell how tired you were and didn’t blame you at all. Spending so much time with Wooyoung can either be energising or exhausting, there was no in-between. So, he let you rest, head turning to make sure you were alright every now and then.

The steady beating of your heart grounded him, calming his senses and he was sure that as soon as he got back home, he’d be able to sleep without any difficulty.

As soon as you stepped through your front door, your housemate greeted you from the couch. “Hey, where were you?”

“I had to work on a new art project with a partner,” You yawned, making your way to the kitchen and grabbing a cup of water.

“Oh, how exciting,” Sangmi laughed, knowing you preferred working on your own. “Who’s your partner?”

Swallowing the big gulp of water you took, you answered, “Jung Wooyoung.”

Her deep brown eyes practically bulged from her eye sockets. She immediately demanded every detail. Sangmi always had a sort of admiration for Wooyoung, but an admiration that was less like a crush and more akin to respect.

She was also a dance major and often told you about how hard he worked during dance practice, describing the way he moved like art in and of itself. You had yet to see what she meant, but her words still set a high standard.

After telling her everything, you excused yourself and got ready for bed, changing into comfortable shorts and a white tank top. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light with no hope of waking up any time soon.

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] and so you have found out who she likes :> sorry this update was a bit late, i kinda forgot to finish writing. but here it is! i love blond yeosang so much it's actually insane.

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @legohwas @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @kitty4hwa @hyukssunflower @aestheticsluut @neohyxn @mrowwww  @darkdayelixer @itsokaytobedumb00 @hwa-sans @purplelady85 @meginthebuilding27 @stopeatread @mothworked @foliea @euphoric-emily16 @teezers99 @mulletjoonsupremacy @imalildelulu @sunukissed @blehhhidk @ad0rechuu @d1am0ndw0lfxd @strawberry-moonpies @bluehwale-main @lightinythedark @stupefystudies @yandere-stories @skz-enthusiasttt @seongwin @huachengsbestie01 @galaxypox @seongwin @yuyunhoo @kyukyustar @seongfury

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023

[thepickledmermaid]

A Halsin fanart piece over on twitter inspired me to write this…. Just a little Drabble set far in the future of the BG3 fanfic I’m working on. Enjoy ☺️

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Halsin’s ears twitched in the direction of his study’s entrance. He’d heard the patter of little feet long before the little voice attached to them called out to him. He looked up from the papers he’d been bent over for the last few hours and gave the small girl peeking out from the doorway a bemused smile.

“What are you doing out of bed, little one?” he asked gently as he took the pipe from his lips.

“I can’t sleep,” the child replied, shuffling barefoot a little further into the room. “Will you tell me a bedtime story please?”

Halsin leaned back in his chair a bit while chuckling, “Surely you’re not going to claim your mother hasn’t already told you one?”

“She read one from a fairytale book,” the child grumbled, folding her arms in an adorable stubborn pout “I wanna hear a real story.”

“And how do you know those aren’t real stories?” Halsin teased. “I happen to have it on very good authority that fairies are quite real.”

Amber brown eyes fixed him with an exasperated look.  “Paapaaa!” She whined.

Halsin laughed and set his pipe down on its holder. He leaned over and opened one of the desk drawers, withdrawing a worn leather bound book from it. Turning back towards the child, Halsin held out a hand to her, “One story. Then it’s off to bed with you, My Joy. Lest your mother find you missing again and scolds the both of us.”

A large smile spread across the girl’s face before all but running to jump into Halsin’s arms. The Arch Druid scooped her up effortlessly and propped her on his lap. The child nuzzled herself into the crook of his arm before laying her head down on his chest to get comfortable. She pulled the well loved stuffed bear she’d been holding closer and stuck her thumb in her mouth, waiting for her papa to start.

“Now then. Which one would you like to hear?” he asked, holding the book open with one hand. The little girl reached out and turned several of the pages until she found one the was covered in almost as many sketches as it was words.

“I like this one,” she said, pulling her thumb out of her mouth just enough for Halsin to understand her.

Halsin hummed in approval, “An excellent selection, My Joy,” he smiled. “Ready?”

Halsin felt the little girl nod against his chest, her thumb already back in her mouth.

“Alright then…. It’s been several weeks since we arrived back in this terrible place. The grip of the shadow curse remains unwavering as ever but my new companions have given me something I haven’t dared to entertain in over a century…. Hope….”

The little girl felt her eyelids start to droop as the low rumbling of her papa’s voice wove her a tale of magic and heroes. Papa always told the best stories. Her favorite part was when the silly wizard starts yelling about spider butts. Papa always did funny voices for that part so she didn’t want to miss it… or the part about the Angel! That part was good too.

She was getting kind of sleepy though… maybe she’d just close her eyes for a little bit until he got to those parts….

Halsin continued to read until he felt the child go slack. He glanced down to make sure his willful little wildflower was actually asleep this time and smiled to find her softy snoring face first into her bear. Now if he could just get her back up to bed before…

“Why am I not surprised?”

Halsin’s hazel eyes snapped up to see his love leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a mirthful smirk on her lips as she surveyed the two. Halsin tried to look remorseful but they both knew his guilty grin was just as much of a lie as her disapproving stare.

“In my defense she asked very politely this time,” the large elf said.

“I’m sure she did,” Taverah replied, her tone giving the impression she didn’t believe that for a second. “Sometimes I think you’d abandon nature itself if she asked you nicely enough.”

“You say that as though I would not still be surrounded by natures perfection purely by being in both your presence.”

Taverah shook her head chuckling softly as she pushed away from the door frame to enter the room. She walked over and pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her daughter’s head. Halsin's teasing smile melting into one of pure adoration as he watched them.

“Pushover,” she chuckled again, placing a much different type of kiss on Halsin’s lips.

“A fair assessment,” Halsin replied. "Though if you are waiting for a penitent response we might be here for a while."

“You’re going to spoil her you know.”

"A bed of flowers can not be spoiled by receiving its gardener's time and attention, My Heart," he said softly. "So neither can she be spoiled by receiving ours."

Taverah hummed, “A very valid point.”

“Tho admittedly there is a selfishness to it on my part,” Halsin looked down at the child in his arms before brushing a lock of brown hair away from her face.

“I never would have guessed,” Taverah teased.

“She’s just growing so fast,” he said wistfully. “It is the natural order of things of course, but a day will eventually come when she will not need to seek us out for comfort or care at all, never mind an extra story past her bedtime. That day might not be today, but it will be upon us sooner than we think. And I shall miss this.”

Sometimes Tav wondered how her heart hadn’t exploded with love for this man.

“She really is growing like a weed isn’t she?” She mused. “She’ll probably be able to start reading this by herself soon.”

Taverah gently took the well worn journal from Halsin’s hand and began idly flipping through the pages that he had used to document their adventures together. She stopped on a page of sketches, her eyes lingered on one in particular. A sad look settled on her features as her fingers brushed over the drawing of a smiling shaggy haired man. “I’ll admit I’m… sort of dreading the day we have to tell her the whole ending of this particular story.”

Halsin reached over and took her hand, careful not to jostle the slumbering child in his other arm. “That story has not yet ended, My Heart,” he said gently. “That story continues on in her. He continues on in her. And when the day comes that she is ready to hear it, I’ll be right there with you to tell it.”

Tears swam in Taverah’s eyes, taking solace in the feeling of Halsin’s thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of her hand. She watched the slow even rise and fall of her daughter’s breathing, a warmth and an ache sat in her heart.

“Do you… do you ever regret… This,” she asked in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Do you ever regret choosing to walk this path with me?…. With Us?”

Halsin brought Tav’s hand to his lips and kissed its palm. “Never,” he said as she cupped his cheek. “…well the potty training years gave me some pause but…”

Taverah snorted a laugh and flicked the tip of her love’s ear in response. She bent down to scoop her little one up into her arms and started towards the door. Halsin did his best to stifle his laughter so as not to wake anyone up and stood up to follow. They made their way upstairs to the second floor of the little cottage that had been their home for nearly five years now, until coming to a door with little blue and purple flowers painted along the edges of the frame. Taverah expertly stepped around the toys and books littered across the floor until she reached a carved bed under the window. Halsin turned down the covers as she laid her precious arm full down. Moonlight flooded in from the window, illuminating the beautifully decorated headboard of the bed. Little silver stars and moons had been lovingly painted into a pattern across the wood that almost looked like a protective halo was arched over the child’s head. Tav kissed her daughter’s cheek as she laid her down.

“Goodnight, Abigail,” she whispered as Halsin pulled the blanket back up to make sure the sleeping child was tucked in snugly.

“Sleep well, My Joy,” he whispered as well, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her still baby soft brown hair.

Halsin stood up and wrapped his arms around Tav from behind, allowing her to lean against him while they waited for the child to fully settle in. The little girl stirred slightly once more for just a moment but stilled again after instinctively curling in on the bear she kept a death grip on.

“You know… I just realized that there may be a day we should dread more than the one you spoke of,” Halsin whispered in her ear.

“What day is that?”

“The day Karlach fixes her engine and comes asking for Clive back.”

“Good gods…” Taverah turned around with an expression of horror on her face “Faerún may not survive.”

-fin-

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I kinda wanna draw something for this Drabble myself if I can find the time at some point…. Stupid adulthood obligations getting in the way of my hobbies 🫠🥲

(also side note this is the piece that brought on this bit of inspiration)

[stuffeddeer]

DEEEER happy (late) new year 🎊

i been so busy with work 😭 hope you're resting well!

been thinking about dazai lately as i usually do, he would be such a fucking pain in the ass if you gave him a drawing (if you gave a mouse a cookie style LMFAO)

it doesn't even have to be anything good, just some stupid doodle of a cat, and then he pesters you every day for a new drawing just for him

oh GOD and if you actually draw as a hobby? INSUFFERABLE, he'd probably dig through the trash for your discarded drawings or smth (smfh this man) and then complain cause why didnt you show HIM first instead of wasting perfectly good paper!

lol this is so stupid 💀

anyway byee -🩵

I’M SO GLAD YOU MENTIONED IF YOU GIVE A MOUSE A COOKIE BC THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I THOUGHT.

Your face scrunches up as you stare down at the corner of your paper. Would it be weird to give this to him? The last thing you want is to be perceived as some weird stalker, and you know he'd find a way to tease you for this. But... is throwing it out worse?

"Hey, Yosano," you tapped her on the shoulder before taking a seat on one of the medical cots she was working near. "I have a question for you."

"Shoot," she speaks listlessly, continuing to clean up the many medical papers littering her desk. It's not that she's uninterested, just a little out of focus.

There's a clear hesitation, causing the doctor to spin and look at you. Fiddling with the torn paper in your hand, you sigh. "This is probably weird, but, I drew Dazai."

"Don't see how that's weird," she replies, an amused smile on her face at your awkwardness.

"Well, I doodled him, I should say. Just in the margins of my r-report— " that you tore up. Oops. " —because he was across from me. And I could just throw it away, but I could give it to him. Would he think I'm a total creep if I offered it up..?"

And after a pep talk from Yosano, you found yourself standing beside Dazai's desk. His eyes lit up, having already noticed long before you had even registered it that you were drawing him. Everyone at the Agency was aware of your hobby, a few members having taken small doodles in the past, and Dazai was excited it was finally his time.

— that, along with your continued glances between him and your page earlier made it obvious it was him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asks slyly, his tone higher pitched than normal and mischievous. "Are you visiting little ol' me just to say hi?"

"Not quite. I drew this, if you want it." Trying to swallow your awkwardness, you hold out the paper scrap to Dazai. For a small sketch, it was surprisingly detailed. So this is how you viewed him, hm? He'd always known he was pretty, but...

"Is it possible to fall in love with myself?"

You choke back a laugh. "Alright, Narcissus. I'll take that to mean you like it?"

Dazai nods happily, jumping from his chair to rest his body weight onto you. "More more more! Please? Next do us together! Or even us kissing," he wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

The laugh finally bubbles over as your hands rest on Dazai's sides. "Get back to work! Or Kunikida will stop letting me draw at work, and then you'll have nothing."

"So that means if I stop, I'll have more?" He grins, his face close enough to yours to make you stumble back.

"Do you have to be so close? You're so clingy," you mutter, still holding his sides to keep him from coming closer. "If you get off, I'll consider supplying you with more doodles. Maybe."

And Dazai immediately jumps off of you and back to work.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

How do the m6 react to MC drawing them? Whether theyve stumbled over their open sketchbook with a bunch of random everyday sketches or MC actually shows them a finished piece they're proud of.

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a doodling MC

~ for every confident artist out there, there is probably another person like me who loves putting pencil to paper and hates what results each time lol. Here are your headcanons anon, with a little bonus of the M6's attempts to respond in kind - brainrot ~

Julian

He's not the most private person himself, so when he sees your sketchbook on the table he doesn't think twice before flipping through it

Regardless of your skill level, he will be very impressed. It's canon that his drawing skills are even worse than his handwriting, which is abonimable

Completely absorbed, takes a seat so he can flip through and study every page

If you catch him while he's looking at it he'll get the most adoring grin on his face

"Why haven't I seen this before MC? I'm dazzled!"

It will not occur to him that you might not want him looking at it unless you react negatively, in which case he will be extremely apologetic. He never meant to cross your boundaries

Will be the most obliging model if you ask him to. Desperate to please, just let him relish the way he can feel all your attention on him

He'll try once or twice to leave you a little drawing in return, but you're never able to decipher them so he sticks to complimenting your work instead

Asra

They tend to respect your privacy to a fault. The first glimpse they get of your work is when you sit down next to them and openly invite them to look at it

So deeply honored and generally in love with everything you do that he will genuinely adore every piece you've made

Which will definitely make you a little insecure at first. Considering they were talented enough to sell their masks and trinkets by the time they were a young teen, you might think your work is a little shabby next to theirs

His approach to art is, "if it came from your soul, it's as it should be" and if you tend to be overcritical towards your own art he will drill that into your head

If you ask them to model they absolutely will, but they'll get shy about you showing those pieces to anyone else

Will give you "come hither" looks the whole time though. No matter how you pose him he'll find a way to make it seductive

They like leaving doodles for you around the shop now, on little notes (or in the margins of your inventory ledger)

Will happily collab with you on a piece

Nadia

She notices the ink and pencil stains on your fingers long before she sees you sketching for the first time

Understands the importance of privacy but isn't the type to hesitate when she wants something

She'll approach you the second or third time she sees you sketching and ask if she can see what you're working on

Considering her background, you're ready for her to be unimpressed. She's a highly accomplished and educated lady after all

That's what ends up fascinating her. The only art she's seen has been hung up in galleries, or her sister's attempts which she never paid much attention to

Seeing something as raw and open ended as an unfinished sketch fascinates her

She has so many questions. Do you observe something or does it come out of your head? What are all the extra little lines for?

Will happily model for you if you request it. Even better, she can hire a professional model and provide some of her own input. With your permission, of course

She can't draw very well, but she can embroider. You are going to have very pretty handkerchiefs from now on

Muriel

One of the things that first drew him to you was your doodling. At the end of a long, hard day, you'd put down your bow and pick up a pencil instead

It was the first thing he felt connected to you by. But he's way too shy to ask to see, so if it's lying open he'll gaze at it with his hands respectfully clasped behind his back

You were a little shy with him too at first - you've seen the carvings he can make, he's quite the artist himself

But then he'll point out the little details and quirks of your style, and comment on how he likes them, and somehow he talks you into putting some on display in the hut

If you ask him to model, he'll be reluctant but he'll do it. Especially if there's nobody else available

No matter how you pose him he'll end up with his face partially obscured. He's just not used to sitting and letting someone study him like that

Buckets of sweat. By the time you're done he'll be bright red and dashing for the bath

Will take some of your studies of the animals and try carving them

Portia

Like her brother, boundaries aren't naturally assumed, they are only present in her mind if someone communicates them to her

So unless you've explicitly told her that your sketch book is private, she'll be flipping through it like a curious cat at the earliest opportunity

She's never been the type to sit still for very long unless there's something exciting to do (like read a really good novel) so she doesn't do much art beyond her exceptional hair styling skills

If she sees anything you've drawn of a part of town or object she recognizes, she'll point it out with so much excitement

Frames every sketch you've done of Pepi. You have to talk her into giving back the unfinished ones

Will happily model for you, but struggles with sitting still with nothing to do

The best piece you ever drew of her will be a candid portrait of her reading by candlelight, one hand on Pepi in her lap, the other holding her novel

When she sees how beautiful she is through your eyes she'll be too flustered and giggly to make eye contact for a bit

Starts adding small doodles of facial expressions to each note she leaves you

Lucio

He doesn't hesitate. The very first time he sees you sketching he's sitting halfway in your lap in his eagerness to see what you're working on

Goes through your sketchbook constantly, commenting on anything new

"Ooh, you added a plant to that one. This one is new! When did you do this one?"

If you really hate it he'll stop, but unless you put your foot down, what's yours is his and what's his is yours and that includes your art

There's no doubt in his mind that you're the best at what you do. If you don't measure up to the art he's used to seeing, he'll chalk it up to you using a different style and leave it at that

Will suggest posing for you before you can request it

It's a bit of a struggle. He'll hold a pose for five minutes and then think of a better one and switch to that immediately

Will start to pout if you tell him you don't like his poses, but when he keeps one long enough to feel the attention you give when you're drawing him he gets addicted

Will sometimes sit across from you with his own pen and paper and try to sketch you

[bruh--wtf]

To the Moon and Back

Remus Lupin x Reader

Main Masterlist

Remus Lupin Masterlist

Request:

Requests are Open

Remus walked into the library, aiming for the back corner. The place the two of you always met up at during your time away. It was one of the few places and times where it was just the two of you, not your friends.

He spotted you writing something, huddled over paper and books at the window. He came up behind you and placed his stuff down besides you. You looked up, tilting your head back to look at him. He smiled at you, watching your upside down face smile back up at him. He leans down and pecks your lips.

Then he sits down beside you and glances at the papers in front of you. He notices different moon phases in the books, and looks at you again. “What are you working on, love?”

“An astronomy assignment. It’s actually really interesting.” You smile and look down at the book. You show him a calendar in your book. Each day showed a different moon, going through the cycle. Each new phase on each day. He couldn’t help but cringe a little at the depictions of the full moons. He rightfully despised them. You flipped the page and revealed yet another one. “The library has the moon phases of every day dating back centuries. It’s said that the phase of the moon on the day you were born and the day your soulmates were born should make a full moon. The closer to a full moon you are, the more likely that person is meant to be in your life.”

He smiled a little, glancing at the different moon phases. He looked at you and raised an eyebrow. “So what’s this assignment, love?” He asked. You smiled and nodded at your papers.

“I’m glad you asked. I have to go through all my friends and find all our moon phases. Then I have to find out who is my soulmate. See, I have transparent paper and I’ve been working on it for over an hour.” You explain. Remus scoffs and raises an eyebrow.

“An hour?”

“Hey, I’m going through centuries of moon phases here,” you say, smiling. Then you look at him and find him glancing between your doodles. “I was about to find your birthday.” He looks at you again with wide eyes. He blushes a little and shakes his head.

“It’s a silly moon thing, I don’t need the moon of all things to tell me you’re perfect,” he says. You smile a little and kiss his cheek.

“I know that. But, it’s still cute. Look, I already did Lily and I. And James, and Marlene,” you say and show him the different drawings. Then you roll your eyes as you show him the Sirius one. “So far Sirius has come the closest. I think I won’t tell him, he’d never shut up about it.” Remus scoffs and nods, but he can’t help the sinking feeling in his gut as he looks at it.

Remus loved Sirius. He was best friends with the boy. But, Sirius was more of a flirt. He knew Sirius was more conventionally attractive, especially compared to Remus. He was insecure about his scars, his awkward height, his… problem. He’d always been nervous about introducing people to his friends, especially Sirius. He thought the people would always like him more.

But you’d all been friends since first year. And you’d chosen him regardless of everything. He always had to remind himself of that, and you did as well.

“Alright, March 10, 1960,” you mumble, flipping through the months. His chest clenches with nerves. He pressed his lips together as he looked over your shoulder. “A waxing gibbous.” You smiled when you stopped, and glanced at him. Then you give him a pointed look. “Doesn’t matter, eh?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips.

“I just want to beat Sirius,” he says. You roll your eyes, a smile spreading across your lips. He kisses your cheek as you turn to the book again. You grabbed a piece of translucent paper, which already had a sketch of your birth moon on it. You pressed it against the illustration of Remus’ moon phase. You smiled but Remus couldn’t fully see it. He tried to remain casual, leaning back but he just wanted you to show him.

Once you’d finished tracing his moon onto the paper, you turned to him, smiling. “Bad news,” you say. His heart drops, but you grin and hand him the tiny piece of paper. “You’re stuck with me.” He creases his brow and looks at the paper in his hand. A perfect full moon. His eyes widen a little and he looks over your shoulder at his birth moon. He glances at your other drawings of yours as well, just to make sure they really line up, and they did. You smiled at him as he relaxed.

His whole heart expanded. You were his soulmate. He already knew that, of course, but still. It was a nice confirmation. You pressed your lips together before placing a hand on his wrist. His attention went back to you in an instant. You smiled at your boyfriend.

“Now… when you see a full moon, you can think of me. And how absolutely perfect we are,” you say with a smile. He can’t help but smile a little and look down at the piece of paper in his hand. You press a kiss to the tall boy’s lips and then wave at the paper. “Keep it. I can draw another for my class.” He looked up at you again, studying you for a moment.

He had no clue how he’d gotten so lucky.

“I love you.” You smile and put a hand on his cheek, before running a hand through his tousled hair.

“I love you too, Rem. To the moon and back.”