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reidsnose · 3 years

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spilled coffee

overview: spencer mistakenly spills his coffee all over reader's stuff on a case, but it turns into a happy accident (based on this request)

genre: fluff :)

a/n: ok so i think this is so cute and ive been meaning to write something ab coffee art for so long im so hapoy i got sent this request! as always lmk what u guys think of it :)

masterlist

you sat at a raggedy table, spitballing with the team in a run down police station in the absolute middle of nowhere. your notebook was open wide in front of you, the blank page taunting your inability to make a good assessment of this unsub.

"hey guys, i think i've got something," Spencer announced, walking into the room.

"thank God," you murmured under your breath.

he began walking over to the board, setting down his coffee next to you. except he accidentally bumped the corner of the table as he crossed the room, consequently knocking over his cup and spilling coffee all over your paper.

he gasped, profusely apologizing and you assured him that it was ok as you wiped it off as best you could, urging him to say what he came to say about the case.

you left your notebook out to dry and the next couple of days went by very quickly, and you nearly forgot about it. it wasn't until you were all packing up that Spencer handed it to you.

"im so sorry again, ill buy you a knew one." he offered.

"no its ok! it just has some character now!" you explained, thumbing through the pages, now stiff and various shades of brown, "mmm and it smells like coffee."

"i'm gonna find a way to make it up to you." he stated as the two of you walked out of the room.

the jet ride was going to be long, and everyone was schlumped, meaning it would be void of fun commentary and be even more long and unbearable.

you sighed, flipping through your stained notebook before getting to the exact page the coffee had been spilled onto. it might have been the lighting on the jet, or maybe the sleepiness on your eyes, but the longer you stared at the blob, the more it looked like a person.

a person you knew... someone with wavy hair that stuck up in all directions, someone who had a cute button nose, someone with kind eyes and a bright smile. someone with an iq of 187 and a particular interest in halloween and chocolate frosted donuts with sprinkles.

the coffee stain looked just like Spencer.

you rubbed your eyes a couple of times but nope, he was still there, in the coffee stain.

you couldn't help but think you were going a little crazy. you had liked him for quite some time, maybe you were just seeing him in everything now. maybe to everyone else it just looked like a coffee blob?

regardless, you took out your pen and started sketching. outlining his perfectly messy hair. and his defined jaw and cheek bones. and his puckered up, oval, kissable lips, curled up in a smile. and his little boop-able nose. and his off center tie.

you weren't sure how long you had been drawing, or how many times you had looked over at Reid to make sure you were getting him down correctly. and yes you were.

all the other times you had secretly sketched him it never turned out right. there was always something that made it like someone looks like Spencer. but never quite him.

until now.

because somehow, this spilled coffee sketch had perfectly captured his essence. maybe because he was the one that spilled it? maybe it had to be done together to look right?

whatever it was you just couldn't stop staring at the wonderful accident that you and him had created.

you looked up again to see him walking over and quickly flipped your notebook to the other side, trying hard to hide your drawing.

"hey," he smiled sitting down across from you.

"hey," you replied, voices low to avoid waking up the team.

"what were you drawing?" he asked innocently.

"oh..uh nothing," you denied quickly.

"oh come on you know how much i love your doodles, show me!"

"you've seen my doodles," you face palmed.

"yes! and i love them! especially the little flower chains you border your paper with sometimes," he giggled.

"well this one..it um didn't turn out right, you wont like it."

"i doubt that."

you sighed, giving into his pleading eyes, "here."

he flipped it over, eyes going wide and mouth hanging open, "WOAH!"

"shhh!! they're sleeping!" you whispered, pointing at the rest of the team.

"y/n! this is absolutely incredible! how did you- out of a coffee spill- and it looks so- wow. i-" he looked up at you, a huge smile stretching across his face, "i'm honored that you chose to draw me. thank you."

"you're welcome, i've tried to draw you before but i could never get it right until now," you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up.

his eyes softened.

"nothing says Spencer Reid like spilled coffee," he joked, making you smile. "but how come you didn't add yourself?"

"what?" you chuckled.

"theres a second blob here. right next to me," he pointed.

"yeah but that just looks like... a blob."

"no! that looks exactly like you! look theres your hair, and your eyes, and even the height difference is right!" he explained excitedly, grabbing your pen, "may i?"

you nodded and watched him get to work, sticking his tongue out as he focused. his approach was much different then yours, he drew connected, long shaky lines, and even though it didn't match the style you drew him in it was still perfect. and it still looked just like you.

he finished up, adding his last touches before pushing the paper back towards you.

"spence, i love it!" you breathed, holding it up in-front of you as you felt your heart begin to swell. "look at us. Spencer and y/n"

"Spencer and y/n." he echoed, liking the way your name felt in his mouth.

you smiled, "we forgot to sign."

"oh, right," he stammered, taking the pen and signing at the bottom corner before passing it to you and watching you do the same.

"something is off," you frowned.

"no! i think we look good together." he countered, wondering if you would catch the hint.

"no.." you sighed, taking the paper and holding it close as you scrawled something else.

his heart sank. rejection. you were probably scribbling out his face. or drawing a line between the two of you. this was gonna hurt.

you dropped the notebook back in front of him with a happy sigh. he brought his eyes up, wishing you'd at least had the decency to not show him.

but when he looked he was surprised. pleasantly surprised.

a large heart floated above your heads in the picture.

he grinned at you, his heart making its way back up to his chest from inside his stomach.

"i think we look great together." you grinned back.

his fingers grazed yours on top of the table.

"i agree." he breathed, looking like the physical embodiment of heart eyes.

"hey lovebirds," morgan groaned, "i'm so happy for you but please shut up and let me sleep."

you two chuckled, both whispering an apology, grinning ear to ear.

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @takeyourleap-of-faith @vampire-overlord @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni

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j-amespotter · 3 years

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★ august [pt. 1] - s. b.

“you weren’t mine to lose.”

Pairing: Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader, Regulus Black x Reader (mentioned)

x. x. x.

Summary: As one of the Order of the Phoenix’s freshest recruits, love certainly was not on Sirius Black’s mind the summer after he finished school – especially not with a Slytherin, who just happened to be his brother’s girlfriend.

Genre/Warnings: angst, alcohol, language, mentions of death & war, infidelity, implied smut

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: august but from the guy’s pov?? i think yes. this was the first one-shot i wrote for this series so let me know what you think! lmk if you wanna be added to my taglist. p.s. i do not condone cheating!!!!!!

masterlist

Your lips were centimeters apart. It seemed too late to change course, but he had to ask. He had never done something so reckless, which for him, was saying something. “Are you sure?”

He was scared of the answer. One look at you told him you were scared of answering. “We’ve never… I mean, I’ve never done this before,” you whispered. Your noses grazed against each other, tantalizingly close.

His hand hovered underneath your robes. It felt large against your bare stomach. “We can stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.” With one hand around his neck and the other on his chest, you tugged him closer. The moment your lips met erased his doubts so fully that if he stopped to think about it, it would have scared him.

Your shoes slipped off as he delicately lifted you off of your feet. Gently, he laid you down on his bed and paused to stare at how small and trusting you looked in the moment. It was only your fifth visit to his flat, yet you already looked like you belonged. He would never have expected someone from his forgotten life to fit into his current one so unquestionably.

*One Week Earlier*

It was getting easier and easier to slip away from Regulus these days. While you were accustomed to seeing less of each other during the summer holidays, now you were more distant than ever. You knew why, of course. Being a Slytherin, you were privy to an entire host of secrets – Regulus was too. Hogwarts’ rowdiest, most divided class graduated just a month earlier, and many of your friends, if you could even call them that, had chosen a side in this war. His side.

You knew Regulus agreed with the Dark Lord’s philosophies and marveled at his promises. However, it was not until this school year that you realized exactly how much your boyfriend worshipped the elusive man responsible for the murders of so many innocent people. He would scour the Daily Prophet for news, eager but not uneasy. He trailed after Snape, Avery, and Mulciber, and the whisperings about the three of them were hardly positive. It was rumored that all of them had been "marked." You didn’t know exactly what that meant but worried Regulus was next.

He sensed your fear but didn’t say much to soothe you. Perhaps he thought he could convince you to join him – or, at least, stand by his side as he signed away his services. You weren’t interested. In fact, you were terrified. Though your family was prominent, prosperous, and pureblood, they never participated in what your father coined to be “blood politics.” Your indifference, which occasionally transformed into blatant disgust, over the growingly common prejudice among your peers ostracized you from your fellow Slytherins. You managed to keep your reservations to yourself for the sake of House unity but could no longer remain silent. Not when your childhood love drifted further and further away from you.

It was slow, but of course, there was a final straw. In his last letter, Regulus wrote that his cousin Bella was teaching him how to duel “the proper way.” As someone who saw nothing substandard in your Defense Against the Dark Arts education thus far, you could only imagine what Bellatrix Lestrange would consider to be the “proper” way to duel. You had limited experience with the woman, having only caught glimpses of her as a child at Grimmauld Place and as Regulus’s date to her wedding. Nonetheless, the rumors about her were becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

So you sought the one person you thought may listen to you. Of course, there was the issue of finding him. You had no idea where he lived, though you doubted he would be thrilled to meet you, especially at his place of residence. You thought of writing to him but could not risk seeing and sending the words you had not yet uttered aloud.

Ultimately, you decided that the best course of action was to find him in public, no matter how difficult it would be. You knew if you willed it hard enough, fate would bring him to you – and you understood the power of your love better than anyone.

It took six days of solitary walks through Diagon Alley for you to finally find him. It wasn’t easy at all. You managed to keep your parents at bay by entrusting your safety with your pureblood Slytherin status. However, what was once the most bustling shopping center in the Wizarding World became drearier by day. More wanted posters appeared on brick walls as the number of disappearances grew. Within days, there were fewer groups of visitors for you to huddle behind without drawing suspicion.

He was in the Leaky Cauldron with a shorter man, someone you recognized to be Peter Pettigrew. They were huddled together but deep in conversation. Actually, it seemed as though he was doing most of the talking. You found yourself staring at his muscular, tattooed arms as he gestured wildly at Pettigrew, who stared at him with wonder, excitement, and apprehension all at once. Despite the normal-looking exchange, both men gripped their wands tightly and took turns periodically glancing over their shoulders.

Peter was too far away for you to read his lips, but checked his watch and jumped in surprise. You inched closer, hoping to find an in for your mission. Finally, you were close enough to hear his parting words. “Sorry, Padfoot... Mum’s waiting for me. You know how she gets, especially now.”

“Alright, mate. Get home safe. I’ll see you… when I see you.”

You were not stupid. You had no idea what that meant, but judging by Peter’s stiff nod, there was definitely a predetermined meeting time and place that they could not risk anyone overhearing. Given the circumstances, you could hardly blame them.

Your interaction with Sirius Black was limited, but you had heard enough about him to know that he was reckless, devil-may-care, and according to his brother, inconsiderate of everyone’s feelings. Hearing the sincerity in his goodbye to his friend sounded quite the opposite, or perhaps was just a sign of the times.

Peter scurried away and out of sight. You saw Sirius reach for a pouch in his pocket, out of which he scooped a handful of Sickles. They clattered onto the table. Before he finished counting his change, you slid into the seat across from him.

Startled, Sirius stood and pointed his wand at you. His motions were seamless. It was as if he could kill you with a single swish. You hardly had time to wonder if you would be as skilled with your wand as he seemed to be when you finished school. “Listen, I just want to talk. Please sit down.” There weren’t too many other customers in the pub, but there was no doubt your exchange was attracting attention.

Sirius sneered at you. “Why would I want to talk to you? Did he send you? Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”

It surprised you that he knew who you were. Regulus was convinced that Sirius abandoned the Black family once and for all and did not care for his extracurricular activities. Granted, much of your scheme relied on the fact that he did. “No, he didn’t send me. I need to talk to you about him, actually. In private.”

He looked apprehensive but curious. You sighed in relief as he lowered his wand and sat down, “Whatever you have to say, you can say it here.”

“Please,” you tried again. “I’m no threat to you.”

He stared at you, and in his pale eyes you saw something so familiar yet so foreign. “Fine. Follow me.”

He swiftly led you out of the pub. Although you were eager, you maintained an acceptable distance from him. The air was sticky; you could feel your flushed cheeks. You always hated summer because of the unbearable weather and because it was always the longest you would spend apart from Regulus. However, you found yourself entranced by the way Sirius’s neckline glistened. There was a warm glow radiating off of the little bits of his exposed skin, slightly tanner than his brother’s. You were surprised at how easy it was to distinguish these details. You always considered yourself to be too young for and morally above noticing Regulus’s physique. It was far too shallow to remark on a man's physical beauty and far too desperate when all you could see were his neck and arms.

“Get your license yet?”

You shook your head. “No, not yet.”

“Okay,” said Sirius, extending a hand. “I’ll take you with me.”

You were used to Side-Along Apparition, so your surprise was more at your surroundings. You landed on a street in front of a very tall building. Craning your neck to observe the one in front of you, you asked, “Where are we?”

“London,” he answered vaguely. He had not let go of your hand.

“I figured. But this looks like a Muggle building.”

“Got a problem with that?” He snapped, and as if he had just realized what he was doing, he let go of your hand as if it was rotting.

You internally groaned at how sweaty it was. “N-No. I’ve just never been around here, that’s all.”

You waited for a snarky response, but received none. Instead, he pushed open the door of the building and led your to what you could only assume was his flat.

“I would say make yourself at home, but don’t.” Sirius did not have guests often, and when he did, they definitely did not include his little brother’s girlfriend. Damn, he thought to himself. Wait until James hears about this.

You were still in school – although, so was he, just a month earlier. But you were in a rival house. And worst of all, he had seen you in the same position, perched onto a sofa with inquisitive eyes, when you both were children at his parents’ house. It was curious to him that you looked just as out of place then as you did now.

“I know this is strange, but I have no other choice.” Your voice broke off and for the tiniest millisecond, he felt sorry for you. “I think he’s… I mean I feel that… that R-Regulus is planning on joining the Dark Lord.” “Call him Voldemort, will you?” Sirius interrupted irritably.

You flinched. “I really shouldn’t.”

Though he was annoyed, he understood and did not probe you further. “Listen, I don’t know what you thought trying to find me, or even how you found me for that matter, but I can’t help you. I know what you’re worried about and you’re probably right to be worried. But I tried talking to him before I ran – I mean, left. He won’t budge. He’s in too deep. Sorry,” he added.

Your eyes glossed over. “I figured you’d say that.” Tears streamed down your rosy cheeks. “S-Sorry, I don’t mean to load this on you. I just feel so alone sometimes. And so scared for him. He really has no idea what he’s getting himself into, does he?”

Sirius stared at you, contemplating whether he should tell you what his dim-witted brother was really getting himself into. He only started to see it for himself now. “I’m not sure what I should tell you, but I understand. If you want to talk about it…”

You glanced at him in wonder, cocking your head to the side. “Er, thanks. But I should get home. My parents must be worried. Can I Floo out of here?”

You looked even more upset than before, and Sirius felt guilty for leaving everything so unresolved. Although, should he really care about your feelings? Anyone who willingly chose to spend time with a tosser like Regulus probably deserved whatever hell he would put them through… although…

“Yeah, I installed one,” he said, gesturing to the fireplace.

Wiping your eyes nimbly, you stood and smoothed the front of your robes. “Thank you. Sorry if it was a bother.”

“No problem. I know… I know that you aren’t like them. And I know what you’re going through. Probably better than anyone.”

You smiled at him, and without warning, his stomach flipped. It couldn’t have been the first time he’d seen you smile, but it was definitely the first time you smiled at him. Maybe you had once before when you were children. For now, all Sirius seemed to hone in on was the soft dimple on your right cheek and the way your eyes lit up almost automatically.

“If you ever need to talk about it, you can always come around here.” He knew it was strange for him to offer you that, but you had known each other for so long. You both had the same doubts… perhaps you lacked the bravery to act on them as he did, though he could hardly fault you for that.

“Thank you, Sirius,” you said softly.

☆

It was more than sex. You would spend hours talking, entangled in his bedsheets, watching the sunrise together for several mornings in a row. Sirius glanced warily at the clock on his bedside table. “Where do your parents think you are?”

You were drawing circles on his bare chest. “I told them I was with him.”

Despite being the reason you sought him out, it became an unspoken rule between the two of you to not mention his name. The subject of Regulus and, by extension, the war became as taboo as saying Lord Voldemort.

He hated it. He tried to convince himself that he was acting on lust, that he just needed to relieve his stress of the war and Order training, but he couldn’t. Not when every time you arrived unannounced, he scribbled excuses to get out of dinner with the Potters, or drinks with the boys, or hell, even Order meetings.

Sirius wished he could explain it to James. Surely, his best friend would convince him of the stupidity of engaging in an affair with his brother’s girlfriend. But then he would watch you wearing his shirt, sipping wine, and dancing barefoot in his kitchen. He would imagine you wrapping your arms around his waist on his new motorcycle and his insides would implode. Then, he would decide that he did not want to be dissuaded. He was falling for you. One look at you told him you were falling for him too.

“Where have you been, mate? The parents are driving me up a wall about you. Lily’s convinced you’ve got a girlfriend or something,” joked James.

They were sitting in the pub on a night Sirius knew you had a family function to attend. He swallowed bitterly as he wondered whether or not Regulus would be there. Were you together right now? Did you confess? Was he angry? Were you crying?

Noticing his best friend’s silence, James raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Have a girlfriend or something?”

Sirius knew he could not lie to James, but he debated exactly how much he wanted to delve into the subject. “Or something.” Before he could he stop himself, the secrets were spilling off of his tongue.

When he finished, Sirius wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse. He tried to focus on James’s hazel eyes as they widened at every turn in the story. “Mate… you’re fucked.”

He tried not to ponder at these words too hard in the hopes that he wouldn’t splinch himself Apparating back to his flat. It didn’t shock him to see you there – he had allowed you too much access to everything and he had no intention of taking it back.

Emerald green dress robes were slipping off of your shoulders. With pearls draped around your neck and pieces of hair straying out of your topknot, Sirius could not help but swoon at how beautiful you looked. He wondered briefly what it would have been like if you had chosen him over Regulus. What if there was no foul play? Would you be happy? Or would you run away, as you had with his brother?

He was still tipsy. James’s warnings ran scattered in his brain, ringing like a siren. But they mattered little now that you were in front of him. “How was–”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted. Then you stepped forward and tugged at his half-unbuttoned shirt, pressing your lips against his. “Make me forget.”

“Consider it done.”

Your bare limbs tangled together as you shared wine-drunk, open-mouthed, sporadic kisses, giggling and whispering words of sensual encouragement. How did you become so in sync in a matter of weeks? Sirius had never fallen this hard. “I’m yours, (Y/N).”

You hummed in satisfaction, fingers wound up in his hair.

“I mean it,” he urged. “I love you.”

You didn’t respond. Strange, he thought to himself. You never hesitated in reciprocating, ever. When he jumped, you jumped with him, no questions asked. He glanced at the clock from over your shoulder and watched it strike midnight. It was the first of September. “You’re due at King’s Cross today, aren’t you?”

You nodded, not meeting his eyes.

He chuckled darkly. All of a sudden, he felt cold and strangled. He wanted to push you far away and yet, pull you close to him so you had no hope of escaping. “Will you write to me?”

“Sirius…”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t say my name like that. I should have known… fucking snake.”

He hadn’t let go of you. “I’m sorry darling,” you whispered, “but I can’t give up on him yet.”

It was all he had to hear. He couldn’t think of how he was going to recover from this, not when you were lying right in front of him. “I think you should go.”

“M-Maybe someday we can–” “Forget it.” He should have seen this coming from the second you walked up to him in the pub. You had come to him for Regulus and now you were leaving him for Regulus. Yet another bit of happiness his brother snatched away from him. But even so... he was your first and Regulus would never know. He would never know that you lost yourself in him. His no-good elder brother. But none of that mattered now, not when you were going back to him. After all, at the end of the day, you were his.

I should have known. Sirius silently cursed at himself, watching the retreating figure of the girl he had fallen in love with. He should have known that you were always on borrowed time. You were gone quicker than the seasons change, and left with him your sweaty, sun-kissed memories.

PART 2

Taglist: @iwritesiriusly @mads-bri @she-seeks-magic @sarcasticallywitty15 @lunalovecroft @fific7 @u-no-poo

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hologramband · 3 years

Text

One Day p1

Alive!Luke x Fem!Reader Modern AU Word Count: 2.6k A/n: hehehe here’s the first part! I have it mostly planned out, there should be 3-4 parts! Lmk what you think! Summary: A shy girl is used to floating under the radar, keeping to herself most of the time, all was well until an opportunity fell into her lap, but what will these new people bring with them?

You were really good at staying right under everyone's radar at Los Feliz. You knew everyone, everyone knew you, but you didn’t have anything more than just a surface relationship with your classmates. You didn’t mind that, it was harder to get hurt this way. You got accepted to the Performing Arts High School with your ability to dance, but have always found your real talent lies within your visual art. Whether you were using paints, pencils, or a pen, you loved the way that your hand flew over the paper and created an image that represented your many different emotions.

In a way it made sense how you loved both dance and drawing, both sharing the flowing of movements to express things that words cannot. It was easier for you to express your emotions and thoughts in these mediums since social connection was hard for you. You had tried it once, really connecting with a person, but it ended up coming back and hurting you, causing you to shut down, so you weren't in a rush to try again any time soon. You floated down the hallways with ease, only having to stop at your locker to grab the remaining textbooks you need for the next few classes. While you were stopped you heard your name called from across the hallway, looking up to see Julie raising her hand in a small wave. “Hey, (y/n)! I like your top!” She came to a stop by your locker smiling. “Thanks! It was my moms, she just found this box of old clothes from when she was in school, this one just really stuck out to me.” You smiled down at yourself and looked back up at the girl to see three boys approaching. You felt heat subtly rise to your cheeks and you tried to focus your eyes on Julie. “Hey Jules, you ready to go to class?” Luke spoke as soon as they reached her side, sending you a nod of acknowledgement when he noticed you standing in front of them. Alex and Reggie both raised their hands with small waves in greeting to you. You smiled in return and turned back to close your locker, swinging your backpack on in the process. “Well, I gotta get to class too, see ya around.” You smiled back at the group and heard Julie call after you. “See you in Art!” You turned slightly and waved in return. Julie and you were pretty decent friends, you talked to her more than anyone else at the school, she had a good balance of how to get to know you without pushing you. You had met the boys a few times in passing, much like the previous occurrence, them not really speaking much more than a ‘hello’ here and there. There was something about Luke though, he never failed to send a storm of butterflies loose in your stomach. He probably didn’t even remember your name, but you could remember all the details of his face, not in a weird way, just in an artistic way, ya know? He had such a coolness about him, like he could totally embarrass himself but brush it off like it was nothing, like he meant to do it even. You thought you were getting better with your anxiety around people, but as soon as that boy was in front of you, it seemed as if your brain forgot how to function. You shook the boy from your thoughts as you continued through your day, classes went by like they typically do, all your general classes like math and english were in the first half of the day, the second half being taken by your dance class and then art. It was simple to say that you much preferred the second half of classes. In dance you went about as normal, running through a few routines and while wrapping up your teacher mentioned something about a new project that would be announced tomorrow. After changing you made your way to your final class where Julie had already arrived and claimed a table for the two of you. “Hi!” she smiled up at you. “Hi! How were your classes today?” You replied, starting a conversation that you hoped would carry throughout the class. You really did like talking with Julie, she was so sweet and really made you feel like she wanted to get to know you. The first day of class she noticed you were sitting alone and she took this as an opportunity to introduce herself, commenting on the particular band tee you had on, being able to strike up a conversation instantly. You admired her for this, the confidence she had when walking in a room was just astounding to you. The two of you went about the class in a way that you similarly would, talking about this and that while sketching away in your respective books, her only pausing to write ideas in her song notebook when an idea would hit. The class you were in didn’t have many actual assignments, just that you needed around 3 small pieces turned in periodically and one larger one for your final at the end of the semester, it made it an easy free flowing environment where there wasn’t too much pressure to stress on any one thing. Before you knew it the ding of the bell was going off overhead and you and Julie started packing up your things, she quickened her pace when she saw the boys waiting at the door for her. “You guys have practice today?” You giggled at her rushed movements. “Yeah,” she laughed as she zipped her bag closed, “Luke and I just finished up a new song too so I’m really excited to get back to the garage to figure out the music behind it.” She smiled up at you and you returned the affection. “Well don’t let me hold you up! Hope it all goes well! See you tomorrow!” You waved to the girl as she ran to the door, only pausing to throw a wave back at you. You laughed and shook your head at the girls' antics and went about your day as usual, starting your walk back home, you didn’t live too far and enjoyed the fresh air and time to recollect after the school day. After getting home you grabbed a quick snack and retreated to your room to finish a sketch that you had been working on in class today. Digging through your bag your heart rate increased when you pulled the red covered book to see the top covered in multiple stickers, this wasn’t your book, it was Julies song book, meaning she was currently in possession of your sketchbook. She must have grabbed yours on mistake when she was packing up quickly. You lightly sighed as you pulled out your phone to text her about the accidental switch-up. She replied instantly just realizing the mistake herself, then invited you over to switch them back and possibly hear some of the songs they were working on, looking for an outsider's opinion. You hesitated in saying yes, did you really need your book back that bad? Sighing, you sent back an okay and asked for an address, as nervous as you were to hang around the guys, more specifically Luke, you remembered how excited Julie was to go over the new song, the one that was probably sitting in the book you were holding in your hands. You threw on a light jacket and grabbed your backpack, for reasons unexplainable to you it just always just felt safer to walk around with a backpack on, and you were on your way to Julies. You could feel your nerves rising with each step you took towards her house, by the time you stood at the end of her driveway you felt like your heart was in your throat. “Calm down, (y/n), it’s just a little hangout to get your book back and hear a few songs, no biggie, nothing to fret about at all.” you whispered to yourself, taking one last deep breath before continuing your walk up her driveway. You had just come into view from the garage when you heard Julie calling out your name. “(Y/n)! How was your walk?” Julie ran out to meet you, now walking beside you into the garage. “It was good! You actually live closer to me than I thought, it was only like a 15 minute walk,” you smiled at her and you continued the small talk until you looked up and met eyes with the brunette guitarist. “(Y/n), these are the guys, Alex, Reggie and Luke,” she introduced them to you and you raised your hand in a wave. “Yeah, i’ve seen you guys perform before, you’re all really good!” you smiled and met each of their gazes. “Thanks! And that was all our old stuff, just wait until you hear what we have coming, um..” Luke stuttered realizing he didn’t know your name. You went to say it but Alex beat you to it. “(Y/n) you idiot,” he hit the back of Luke's head, while rolling his eyes. A blush rose to Luke’s face and he laughed it off. “I-I knew that, I-I just-” “You’re at the school for dance right?” Alex spoke again, interrupting and trying to take the attention off of the stuttering Luke. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah! I’m on a dance scholarship, so that's my main focus but my second is visual art, which reminds me,” You take your backpack off and pull out Julies song book, “here’s this!” She smiles and takes it from you. “Ugh thanks so much, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost this, Reggie can you grab her sketchbook? It’s on the piano!” Julie opened her book and smiled looking at the page. “Oh wow,” you heard Reggie mutter causing everyone to turn to him, “(y/n) this stuff is like, really good.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, you’ve never been good at accepting compliments. “Dude, boundaries!” Julie muttered reaching for the book, but Luke got to it first, taking his own turn looking through the pages. Your heart jumped when he started smiling at the pages he was flipping through, you didn’t have anything in there that you kept hidden, it was just that no one had ever gone through your work before. “You have so many different styles, this one is like a cartoon, but then the next one is like hyper realistic.” Luke looks up to make eye contact and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. Alex took the second of him being distracted to pull the book away from him and hand it back to you. “I’m sorry for them, they still haven’t figured out what it means to respect someone's privacy.” He narrowed his eyes at his two bandmates. “You know,” you opened the book in your hands to search for a particular page, “I actually have something of each of you individually. I sketched them out the night after I saw one of your guys’ gigs.” You scrunch your face in concentration, you feel everyone rush to stand behind you when you finally find it. You look around at them to take in their reactions, their eyes were all glued to the papers you were displaying in front of you, Reggies mouth falling open. “Oh! Is this why you asked for the pictures my dad took of that night?” Julie looked up at you. “Yeah, I wanted to be able to add the details of everyone's chosen instruments and get some added information on where the highlights were from the lights,” you looked at each of their faces again and made a rash decision to gently tear the pages from your book, handing them to each respective person. Each person held them gently in their hands, then looked up to you in amazement. You just shrugged your shoulders in response, not knowing what else to say. “Well,” you looked out the window and saw the setting sun, “I better start my walk back to my house, it’s getting dark and I wanna get back before that happens. Enjoy the pictures guys!” You smile and turn to walk away, all the band still shocked to silence. “She’s never torn a page from her book before,” you hear Julie tell the boys as you walk further down the driveway, smiling to yourself. It was true, you never pull pages from your sketchbook, not this one at least, it was the better quality of all the other ones you had. You typically just used the less expensive books for class, you go through all the pages so quickly you didn’t want to waste the one’s in your higher quality notebook for the rough sketches, but the pages that you drew the band on were in the higher quality notebook, you had taken the time to really get them right, and they turned out fantastic. Your mother had always told you to spread joy where you can, and after seeing all their faces you knew that it was only right to let them have the pages that they were looking at. You arrived home and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, there might be something there with them, an opportunity to make new friends, to open up. This idea makes you both nervous and excited, you let these thoughts and ideas later lull you to sleep. --- The next day at school you were walking to your locker when Julie caught your eye, she was waiting in her phone by your locker door. You would usually see her in passing in the mornings, but this is new. “Hey Julie, what’s up?” You greet the curly haired girl at your locker. “Hey (y/n)! Not much really, just watched to catch you this morning and run an idea past you…” She smiles and looks around her before returning her gaze back to you. “Okay? Is everything alright? You seem nervous,” you giggled at her antics and went back to putting the combination into your locker. “Yeah, yeah, I just know you take a while to open up and get close with new people, and I don’t wanna rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but the boys and I were wondering if-” She gets cut off by a yell from down the hallway. “JULIE! HAVE YOU ASKED HER YET?” You turn to see all three boys running towards you, Julie facepalming at Reggies yell. “Geez Reg, she literally just got here. There's no need to yell,” Julie rolls her eyes at them and looks back to you. “Anyways, we were wondering if you wanted to make more designs and stuff for the band, like for posters and maybe album art one day.” She smiles at you after finishing. “You-you want me to… really?” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yeah! We all really like what you did with those portraits, and you’re pretty chill letting us keep them and all, we want you to be a part of our band, even if it isn’t you on stage with us, you’ll keep things looking cool.” Luke says as he leans against the lockers beside you. “Plus, then you’ll be able to hang out with us more!” Reggie pipes in. They all look at each other then back at you. “So,” Alex smiles at you, “What do ya think?” A million thoughts fly through your mind at once, they really want you to hang out with them more? They liked what you did? You looked at them all, looking back at you, and smiled. “I’d love to.”

tag list ✨

@gia-kerks @fangirlangioma

#jatp #jatp imagine #jatp luke #jatp luke x reader #luke patterson #luke x reader #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #jatp luke patterson #jatp luke patterson imagine #jatp luke imagine #one day #luke patterson x fem!reader #mini series

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armysantiny · 3 years

Text

Callous - CYJ

Pairing: Yeonjun x female reader || TXT

Genre: angst

Includes: college au, exes to strangers, break up, fashion major Yeonjun, performing arts major reader, regret, naps, Xiaojun (WayV) mention, Wooyoung (Ateez) mention, Changbin (Stray Kids) mention, Wooyoung x Changbin reference, swearing, venting, alcohol mention, trip to London

Word count: 2.56k

Warning: anxiety attack, anxiety, breakup, venting, swearing, alcohol mention lmk if I need to add any more!

Rating: 12

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw, @hybenet, @k-library, @moacabinet

Tagging: @intokook, @cherry-hyejin, @sinchoi || Fic Taglist

Prompts: “you know damn well we meant something” || “Don’t leave me here.”

An: Prompts are from the @ficscafe dialogue prompt event!

They say time heals all wounds, but for Yeonjun, it seemed as though he was the bitter exception. Months after he had split off from his relationship with y/n, the wound in his heart was as fresh as ever. And who could he blame? He started the argument, he brought up her past trauma, he blamed her for things she had no control over. No wonder she wanted out so badly. But if time didn’t heal the wound in his heart, it definitely gave him perspective. A perspective into his own reckless behaviour. However, the end of term-break was nearing, and he’d be forced to face y/n - and the aftermath - again.

Sighing as he watched the time tick forward inch by inch, Yeonjun tried focusing on eating breakfast, ignoring the reminder in his head that he’d be in the same class as his ex-girlfriend again. Perhaps Professor Chae would have mercy and not put their seating places beside each other. His phone going off as he finished the last of his cereal, Yeonjun picked it up, rolling his eyes as his best friend’s message.

Wooyoung: Hey, do you think I’ll get any confessions this term?

Yeonjun: Dude, you get a new confession like, every other week, why are you even asking?

Wooyoung: Oh yeah~ you’re right!

Yeonjun: Don't you have a boyfriend though? Where’s Changbin? Say hi to him for me

Wooyoung: He doesn’t have class until 10:30 :(

Wooyoung: Hey! You have his number too! Say hi yourself!

Yeonjun: Ehh, can’t be asked. See you later.

Wooyoung: Uh huh love you too - bye!

Bag slung over his shoulder, outfit complete, a water bottle in his bag and he was ready; now all he had to do was to brave actually going out of his apartment and to his first class of the day. But his thoughts were being less than kind to him, and Yeonjun could feel his heart start to palpitate. Patting his chest repeatedly as he tried to steady his own breathing, the 21-year-old took to heading back inside to his living room, where he sat down and tried dealing with the oncoming wave of anxiety and panic.

Yeonjun hadn’t heard the knock at his door, nor had he heard when the passcode had been entered, a concerned Wooyoung walking through the door. “Yeonjun…? Junie? Choi Yeonjun where are-,” Stopping in his tracks when he walked in on his best friend crouched behind one end of the sofa, out of sight. “Yeonjun-ah, it’s me…”

“Oh - Wooyoung, I- how, how did you get in?” The fellow 21-year-old asked, finally aware enough to realise that Wooyoung was in his apartment, kneeling down beside him. Looking over, the vulnerability was raw, and entirely out on display. And Wooyoung’s gentle smile provided a sense of warmth and familiarity, no matter how small that feeling was.

“You still haven’t changed it since you told me. Anyway- that’s not too important; let’s get you feeling better hmm? I’m not the emotional support friend for nothing you know~.” Wooyoung hummed, taking Yeonjun’s hand into his own. Starting with a short breathing exercise, the dance major got Yeonjun to relax, asking him to describe the items in his room; starting with five things he could see, going down consecutively until they had gone through each of his senses. And it had started to work; Yeonjun’s heart didn’t feel like it was beating out of his chest, everything had become clearer - the crushing in his chest going away. Taking a few more stable breaths, Yeonjun’s body relaxed as he slowly stood up, Wooyoung standing up soon afterwards.

“That...that was rough. Thanks Woo.”

“No problem Jun, it’s what I’m here for.”

Arriving in class but five minutes late, Yeonjun tried concentrating on the presentation in front of him, making notes every so often as his professor explained the lesson. Everything felt normal, perhaps even too normal. But normal was better than nothing, and it seemed like the fashion major wouldn’t be facing y/n at school for the time being. Busy with his notes as he adjusted his glasses, the universe must have counted him lucky as he didn’t see who entered the lecture hall to talk to the professor. When he finally looked up from his notebook, his eyes widened before he immediately went back to staring at his notes, in hopes that y/n didn’t notice him on her way out.

But she did notice him. She did notice him sitting in his seat as she left. When did he change professors? Remaining by the door as she closed it behind her, the performing arts major blinked back memories before she made her way back to class; class was more important than an old relationship gone sour. Walking back into the hallspace that was the location of her class, tried refocusing as she joined her group of friends as they watched some of the improv performances after speaking to her own professor.

“Well? What did Mr Kim say? Are we going to be working with the fashion majors for the end of year performance?” Dejun asked, leaning over to whisper while they watched their classmates.

“Oh? Yeah, yeah, Mr Kim said Mr Song will be ‘lending’ his students to us,” Y/n replied, air quotes as she spoke, “ I don’t know about you Xiaojun, but doesn’t ‘lending’ sound kinda off?” She asked, an amused grin on her face as she went over the wording one more time. Taking a moment to realise what about it was so amusing, he snickered when the correlation finally clicked. The pair exhaled rapidly to try and drown the laughter, they covered their mouths with their hands once their professor glared in their direction.

“Well; looks like we got caught~ but yeah - are they products to him or something?”

“We may never know Xiaojun, we may never know~.”

As class finished up, y/n grabbed her bag and headed out, waving to Dejun and her friends as she made her way into the hallway. Earbuds plugged in, she kept her hands in her pocket as she aimlessly wandered through campus, humming along to the song playing as she found herself walking towards the courtyard. Without any other classes until that afternoon, there was plenty of time to sneak in a nap while she listened to her true crime podcast. Finding a bench off in the corner, the second-year student let her mind rest as she placed her coat along the bench and laid her head on her bag.

As luck would have it, Yeonjun’s timetable had more or less the same timings as y/n’s, and he had also been looking for a quiet place to rest. Class had gone well after seeing y/n, and the book he had been reading was just getting to the good part. Finding a bench that wasn’t too far away from y/n - he didn’t intentionally sit close by, but life is never predictable - he took a seat, opening the book and continuing with the tale in his hands. His reactions muted as to not draw much outward attention to himself, the bout of uncontrollable snickers ended up waking and getting the attention of the only other student in the courtyard. Looking up from his book when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, the nervous palpitations of his heart started again when he recognised who he was sharing the courtyard space with.

“Hey-! Can, can I talk to you? Please…” Y/n was seconds from heading out of the courtyard when she heard Yeonjun’s voice, turning around for a brief moment before sighing. After the way he treated their break up, she was certain that there would be no way she’d want to see him again by choice. Rolling her eyes, she turned back towards the direction of the hallway, only to be stopped by a hand holding onto her wrist; holding onto her as though she was an uncertain dream. One that would fade away if not given the chance to confront it.

“Choi Yeonjun, I thought I made it clear that I don’t want you to speak to me again. Is it that hard to stick to?”

“I know y/n - and I’m sorry - but I’ve been beating myself up over this and I need to apologise. Apologise to you properly.” He was desperate, desperate to set things right and try to regain some level of contact with y/n. Yeonjun would be a dirty liar if he tried telling himself that even after all he had put his ex girlfriend through, he didn’t want to try becoming closer, at least platonically. But the feeling wasn’t mutual. Y/n wanted nothing to do with her ex; he’d hurt her too much, and despite the memories they shared, she could see nothing but the man who used the insecurities she trusted him with against her. He was a chapter in her past she wanted to separate herself from, to never look at again.Y/n said nothing as she pried his hand off of her wrist, a hard glare in her eyes as she left Yeonjun alone in the courtyard. Staring at his hands as though they were red with blood, his thoughts spiralled, exactly one being voiced out through a whisper, only for Yeonjun’s ears but meant for y/n.

“Don’t leave me here, don’t leave me clasping at straws y/n…”

“Wait, wait, wait - Yeonjun was in the courtyard?” Xiaojun’s voice called out from y/n’s phone late that afternoon, well after all classes were long over. They had been talking for the last ten minutes, and the topic of what had happened had just been brought up. From his side of the call, Xiaojun saved his assignment - of which he was already ahead in - and leaned back in his chair. He had been there for y/n when the breakup happened, spent days comforting his long-term close friend, and had some choice opinions of his own when it came to the fellow 99-liner.

“Yeah! I think he was reading a book or something, but I didn’t see it. Anyway - my point; this bastard actually wanted to talk to me. He grabbed my fucking wrist and everything; something about wanting to ‘apologise’.” Y/n answered, her phone on speaker as she set about making herself a hot chocolate. She’d get to her research assignment after telling her best friend what had happened. First order of business? Getting herself a drink.

“Wow…” Dejun started, the disbelief loud, “after the crap he put you through, it took him this long to want to apologise?” He asked, putting his own phone on speaker as he stood out of his chair to get a water bottle. The conversation stayed like that for the next half an hour; both talking about one topic after another, all seeming to revolve around y/n’s painful break up. It had been less than a week after y/n’s birthday when Yeonjun had decided that he wanted to end their two-year relationship, a fake cold exterior as he left her alone in the silence of her own apartment that night. Y/n never went to sleep afterwards, burying herself in work as she let the tears fall down her face freely, only praying that the end of the year could come any faster. Each day had dragged on at a snail’s pace though, each hour feeling three times as long as she tried avoiding the cause of her pain. It was those six weeks before her second year in university that she found her mercy, going on a three-week trip to London with Xiaojun and a couple others in their friendship circle. Tears were shed, alcohol was consumed and heart-to-hearts were had. By the time y/n had returned to Seoul, she was on track to healing the wound in her heart.

At the end of their mini venting session, the question that was really hanging in the air was whether y/n should even bother hearing Yeonjun out. But it seemed as though fate was eavesdropping on the pair’s conversation, because a knock at the door after y/n had hung up on her phone call immediately grabbed her attention. There was no way Xiaojun could have been at the door, otherwise the university student would have heard it across the call. Walking up to the door with a minute sense of apprehension, y/n looked through the peephole and audibly groaned. Massaging her temples out of frustration, she opened the door, arms folded as she stared him dead in the eye.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have your own mess of an apartment to get to?” She questioned, watching her ex walk in with a raised brow.

“I told you, I needed to talk to you. Please y/n, just one last time, hear me out. I beg of you.”

And despite her resentment, that’s what she did.

There was no level of regret or guilt that could describe just how apologetic Yeonjun was feeling as he spoke, each syllable a thorn on his tongue. He had avoided the glare in y/n’s expression as he tried explaining his point of view, but it was clear that it really was Yeonjun who had brought it upon himself. His actions, his callous behaviour led to where they were now; sat in y/n’s apartment while he desperately tried to repair a burned down bridge with nothing more than pretty words.

Having forced herself to sit through Yeonjun’s failed attempts at winning some semblance of friendship, y/n stood up, not in any mood to hear his voice any more. “You know what the real issue is with you?”

“What, what is it..?”

“You’re pathetically entitled.” Y/n started, looking everywhere but the man sitting on her sofa in front of her. “Two years, Yeonjun. Two fucking years and you decide to break up with me in front of my family while we were on video - humiliate me - and give me no reason. You erased me from your life even though you knew damn well we meant something. And suddenly now you decide that ‘Oh, I need y/n back’?”

“Y/n-ah, I’m - I’m sorry, I was a coward, I- I wanted an easy way out…” A ‘tch’ coming from y/n at his poor attempt at an excuse, she said nothing as she went to the apartment door and opened it.

“Get out. If I see you come to my door again Choi I will call the police.” His head hung low, Yeonjun complied; putting his shoes back on and walking out in shame. Flinching when he heard the slam of the door behind him, the broken man made the journey home by foot, too ashamed to feel the need to take the bus.

From inside her apartment, y/n reached for her phone. She needed to spend the night somewhere else.

Y/n: Mind if I stay the night?

Dejun: No problem, you’ve already got some of your own stuff here.

Y/n: Thanks Jun

As she left her apartment, there was one question on her mind. One that put into question exactly how she had dealt with the situation;

She wasn’t being too callous with Yeonjun, was she?

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mintsuke · 4 years

Text

Second Chance (k.s.)

In which; Kita Shinsuke falls for his daughter’s f!kindergarten teacher.

WC: 6.6K

A/N; 200 follower special!! 😳 ty all again and I hope you enjoy and lmk what you think <3

*Slight reference to Clannad :’)

Warnings!: mentions of death, miscarriage, cheating

First day of school jitters weren’t a thing in Kita’s book. There was no such thing when he was always prepared with all his supplies in his satchel and knowledge of where and what class he was in. Why was there a need to be nervous as long as you studied and prepared like usual?

It hadn’t even registered in his mind that he was nervous until he had to let go of the tiny hand curled around his index finger. There was only three times he’d ever felt nervous, his chest twisting crudely and his stomach fluttering uncomfortably with butterflies. One of which, he’d like to never have to relive.

And currently. It was scarily coming back to him like a pick up truck hurling towards him at dangerous speeds.

He almost forgot how to breathe as other parents kiss the bubbly cheeks of their own children and watch as the students stand in line as best as they can in front of their classroom.

“Papa?” the little girl asked, her large hazel eyes blinked at his strained chestnut own, cheeks full and pinch-able, and mouth wide in excitement. His grandmother had helped pull her dark hair into cute little pig tails, not taking a no for an answer when the little one threw a fit about being a big girl now.

“Kita Erina-chan?”

A breath. Then all oxygen once again left his lungs as he snapped his head up to greet his daughter’s teacher.

You stand there with a warm smile, eyes crinkled and nose slightly scrunched. A striped apron had been tied over your clothes.

He’s not even quite sure of his own reaction as he watches with deaf ears as your lips move, but all he can hear is his heart thrumming loudly in his ears. He doesn’t snap out of his stupor until he realizes you’re calling out his family name in confusion.

“Oh... I apologize...” He mutters in a fluster, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Looking around now, he’s probably one of the last parents to let go of their child, and he can’t help the heat that crawls over his cheeks.

It was unlike him to act shy like this as well.

“No worries. A lot of parents have a little reluctance on the first day of school. I mean who wouldn’t when you look at these cute little ones,” You smile down at Erina, who mirrors your expression as you hold out your hand, “Shall we go? I have a lot of fun things planned for you, Erina-chan!”

The heartbreak is unbearable when the little girl releases her hold on his index finger after a brief kiss on his forehead.

“Tell Papa see you later!” You instruct jovially to Erina, who parrots the phrase cutely, as you and the girl lead the line of kindergartners into the classroom.

Kita’s attention is divided between the absolute adorableness of his own child, and the comfortable way you had just referred to him as papa. It doesn’t even kick in that he’s so smitten with your mere appearance until he’s halfway home and realizes he didn’t catch your introduction and name during his stupor.

He forgets, however, that work needs to be done in the field, and regretfully relinquishes picking up his daughter to his grandmother - who claims the walk is nothing for her strong bones. He’d beg to differ, but kept his thoughts to himself and waited until he returned home to Erina and his granny welcoming him home with dinner.

“How was school?” He asked as he opened his arm wide to beckon her onto his lap. Bouncing, she nearly cannonballs onto his crossed legs, briefly hugging her father before kissing his cheek happily.

“It was fun!” She exclaimed, going on to excitedly recount her day. He smiled and listened carefully to her story of playing tag with the other kids, her new favorite book being the one you had read during story time, and the drawing she had made during art - which she ran all the way to her room to grab to show him.

“Oh who’s this?” Kita asks curiously as he places his pointer over what he presumed to be a woman holding the child’s hand, the other being held by a man. At least from what he could out of her block-y crayon shapes and mitten-hands and waves to indicate long hair.

“(L/n)-sensei!” Erina grins toothily.

“You really like your teacher?” A question to which she nods mirthfully to.

Yumie smiles in adoration at the child of her grandson, “She’s a very nice woman, very pretty and young... A perfect match.”

Kita’s eyes narrowed for a half second at the glint in his grandmother’s eyes. What was she trying to hint at?

In all honesty though...

You were pretty.

Ah.

Pushing aside the thought, he made a sound of mild appraisal as he distracts himself with his glass of water. His cheeks flushing in mild embarrassment.

As much as he’d hate to admit it, his grandmother was sharp and sly, she loved teasing when the moment warranted it.

She took every chance she got.

Especially after another day of work for Kita and school for Erina.

“Say Eri-chan, is (L/n)-sensei married?”

Kita choked on his water. Faking a cough to hide the mishap, before dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

“Nope!”

The look of knowing crosses his grandmother’s face, and he can only silently continue to eat his meal.

“Goodnight Eri-chan,” Kita smiles softly down at his daughter, stroking the back of his fingertips over her plump and rosy cheeks. Just like her’s. Those hazel irises that reflected her similar ones, glimmering with curiosity and mischief.

“I love you, Papa,” the young girl yawns in a sluggish manner, eyelids falling close and open as she struggles to stay awake.

Settling down beside her, he turns on his side to allow his daughter to curl against his body. Arms wrapping around her much smaller form securely.

“I love you too.”

He thought that maybe he was just attracted to you. You were a single and beautiful woman, that much was clear. That was just it though, right?

Right?

No.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t dare to love another woman.

Yet, why did he feel so empty? Why was he looking at another woman the way he was?

He had no answer.

Why did he tend to watch as you corralled the children in a somewhat single-file line into the school building? What were these fleeting glances you both shared, a timid smile from your part, and a blush burning on his cheeks as he nods firmly to greet you silently.

Your smile was gentle. Tender and soft, just like her’s.

Crap..

This was fine.

Besides, Erina never expressed a curiosity for her absence of a mother. Why should she, when she had a mother figure like his granny?

It was fine like this. Kita didn’t need to date. He shouldn’t.

At least that was what he kept telling himself. Mother’s day had come and passed, Kita and Erina had spent the night making a mess out of the kitchen in an effort to make dinner and a cake for Yumie. He’d thought everything was fine.

“How was the mother’s day breakfast?” He asked her when he helped her set up their futon for the night.

Her smile was a little more somber this time around, unlike her usual bubbly and wild grin that lit up the world. This one felt sad and he wanted to know why.

“It was good!”

“Want to tell me about it? Why do you look so sad?”

Her gaze fell to her hands, just as her smile did.

“Well, we ate onigiri and sandwiches and desserts that (L/n)-sensei made for us!”

“But?” He pressed slightly.

The girl clasped her fingers over the bedding. Her head tilt downward, her dark hair falling over her head like a curtain that hid her sad expression from his gaze.

“Everyone else had their mamas...”

His smile never faltered, although the pain in his chest grew.

“You don’t like granny accompanying you?”

“No!” She exclaims abruptly, “I... the other boys and girls noticed that I had only brought granny... and I felt sad. Where’s Mama? How come I’m the only one without one?”

She never did have a reason to ask. Now that she does, he’s not sure how to answer. He doesn’t want to upset her with the truth, but lying to her was no good.

“She’s not with us anymore.”

He thought that answer would suffice. Erina looked dejected at the answer but slept on it.

Perhaps a day to the park, when she doesn’t have school and he’s got a day off from working away in the farm, will mend the pieces he’s broken from revealing half the truth of her mother’s whereabouts. She didn’t deserve that kind of pain at this age. It just didn’t help her desire for a mother figure, a real one that she would call Mama.

“Oh! Kita-san?”

His heart nearly skips a beat before increasing exponentially in rhythm.

You’re standing above him, Kita sitting on the bench while watching his daughter play with the neighborhood children, grocery bags hanging from your forearms. His eyes make a mistake to examine your figure as a whole.

No apron. Just casual clothing on your day off with no need to look nice for your students. Yet, he couldn’t help but admire your natural beauty. Simply effortless.

Erina immediately notices you and comes racing over, calling your name out brightly before greeting you with a tight hug around your hips. You smile warmly at the girl, greeting her politely as she rejoins the children again.

Kita is in awe. He’d imagined this scene millions of times. Erina running into open arms, two pairs of hazel eyes gazing at one another with affection, kisses pressed to the girl’s forehead with whispered praises of her cuteness.

“Mama!” he imagined her say it dozens of times. Not out of sadness that she was different from her classmates who had mothers, but out of love for the woman who had given birth to her.

“Kita-san?”

He blinks, eyes widening a fraction before he bows his head in your direction.

“Sorry, I was very deep in my thoughts.”

Taking a seat on the bench beside him, you laugh slightly, and he can’t help but adore the sound. It brings a fluffy feeling in his chest and he can’t remember the last time he’d felt such a way, or heard her laugh.

“You’re thinking a little too hard, don’tcha think?” You say with a soft chuckle following your teasing. He doesn’t answer, but you take this into stride and direct your attention to the adorable mini Kita playing on the monkey bars.

“Eri-chan, is so cute and lovable,” You say after a brief moment passes, “You’re a lucky father, Kita-san.”

His lips quirk and you can’t help but stare, his expression nostalgic and sad.

“I am, she reminds me a lot of my wife.”

“Her mother must be a kind and gentle woman.” You comment good-naturedly.

“She was.” He says with that same, fond expression.

“A lucky woman indeed,” You chuckle, slightly envious of the woman who captured his heart. “Pardon me if I’m intruding, but does your wife work often? Eri-chan looked a little sad after our mother’s day activities.”

“Oh. I...” he trails off.

He looks slightly uncomfortable, his smile falling and you feel like you had in fact crossed a line. He’s unsure how to put the words together, but you stop him with a hand held up.

“Don’t worry about it, I apologize for pressing too far.”

Blinking, he opens his mouth, but you grant him that gentle smile of yours. He hates that it reminds him so much of her. Everything about you felt serene and soothing to be around, that darned smile of yours made him feel weak and vulnerable. He always was around her.

“Not at all, but thank you.”

You cast him a sidelong glance before standing up, looping your wrists through the loops of the plastic bags.

“Well, I suppose I should be heading home now, it was nice seeing you both outside of school.”

He’s not sure what compels him to, but he stands abruptly. The action causes you to stop and wait for him to say something, and he’s not even sure why he reacted the way he did. Warmth spreads across his cheeks, the hue noticeable to your amusement.

“Um would you like some help with your groceries?”

The question shocks both you and himself. Your eyes widen a fraction before crinkling, accompanied by that beautiful smile.

“How gentlemanly of you Kita-san,” You chuckle, “I’m okay though, the sentiment is appreciated.”

He doesn’t argue, almost feeling embarrassed by his own rashness. Erina seems to notice that you’re preparing to leave and comes running over to hug you goodbye. His stomach is turning, chest twisting, but his expression keeps a small smile as you bid your farewells.

“Thinking about (L/n)-sensei?”

A few hours later and he still can’t seem to stop thinking about you. He stiffens as his grandmother chuckles wholeheartedly. Was it really written all over his face?

The elder takes a seat beside him on the engawa, Erina already tucked away into bed in their shared room. Her warm, chocolate eyes observe the dazed look that remains on her grand son’s expression.

“It’s been five years already Shin-chan.”

He glances at her, unsure of where she was getting at suddenly.

“It has,” He agrees wearily.

“You don’t think Eri-chan asks me all the time where her mama is?”

Oh.

His jaw clenches.

“Why don’t you move on and let her go already?”

An image of her and now, you, appears in his mind. He’s far too aware of his attraction towards you. It just...

“It doesn’t feel right.”

The elder snorts at his answer.

“And why does it not? Like you’re betraying Reina’s love? For moving forward in your life? You don’t even notice how much you’re suffering by living in the past.”

He doesn’t answer and her eyes soften, placing a gentle hand over his shoulder.

“At best, Eri-chan is your living reminder of yours and Reina’s love.”

A moment. Then a sigh.

“I want you to be happy Shin-chan.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, “That doesn’t exactly entail that I have to date again Granny.”

The woman snickers, “I never said anything about dating, Shin-chan.”

The man flushes.

“No. I— Well...”

“Just admit it, you stubborn grandson of mine,” The woman jabs lightly at his arm.

“I admit nothing,” He says with a hand raking slowly over his face to hide the darkening blush.

“Then why do you get so flustered around Eri-chan’s cute teacher?”

He stands abruptly, pressing his mouth firmly into a straight line as he takes a deep breath.

“I... I’m going to get some rest, don’t stay up too late granny.”

The elder watches as he retreats back to his room and chuckles.

“What a stubborn boy. How unlike you.”

He never realized how much Erina really wished to have a mother of her own. He never thought it’d get to the point of Erina throwing a tantrum at dinner, tears welling up in her large hazel eyes.

“I hate you Papa! I wish I had Mama!”

“Erina-chan!” Yumie starts, but the young girl stands and races out of the room. Sniffling, she throws the sliding doors open and disappears into the night.

“Stay here granny, I’ll go look for her,” Kita says as he gets up, “It’s my fault for never telling her the whole truth.”

Hurriedly, he slips on his shoes and leaves the house in a rush. He’s not even sure where she’d run to, but the fear is bubbling in his chest and reaching his throat. Sweat is falling in beads over his forehead. The anxiety is growing and growing like a flame, making his breath shortened.

He couldn’t lose Erina too.

Frustration and stress is starting to overwhelm him. Two emotions he’s never had to deal with until Erina’s birth.

To his relief, however, he passes by the park where you had sat with him while he watched Erina play. He spots your crouched form underneath the flickering lights of the park lamps. The breath stuck in his constricting throat finally relents as he hurries over.

“(L/n)-san!”

You look up with a flinch, eyes wide before relaxing at his appearance as you raise a finger to your lips. He nods as you turn slightly to reveal his daughter. The girl clutches close to your front, her cheeks still moist from crying minutes prior. Her breathing has calmed and she sleeps soundly in your arms.

“Thank you,” he whispers as you adjust your hold on her to carry her properly as you walk with Kita back to his home.

“Don’t mention it, I was luckily on my way to the local conbini when I saw her run into the park.”

You glance down at the girl, those same kind eyes, and that same motherly smile. They were the same.

The journey back to his home comes to an end and you attempt to pass the child onto her father, but she stirs from her sleep and complains. He wonders if she might’ve been a mama’s girl if she was here. The thought makes his chest tighten briefly. Although, it is quite endearing to see his daughter cling to you like so.

“Sensei has to go back home, be a good girl for your papa okay?” You say as she continues to make it difficult for you to leave. The two of you share a look before she finally relents and allows Yumie to take her, still refusing to face her father.

“Just let her cool down, she’ll come around,” You say when you catch his downhearted expression.

“I suppose...” He sighs before glancing at you, “Thank you again, I couldn’t have found her if it wasn’t for you.”

“It’s no problem Kita-san,” You chuckle, “Please, I don’t mind so don’t worry about thanking me.”

Scratching the back of his neck meekly, he decides to press his luck and offers to take you home.

“O-oh no, that would be too much of a hassle, you’re home already and all...” You wave your hands in front of you but he shakes his head.

“No, I’m the one offering, how could I let a woman walk home by herself at this time of night too?”

You pout to his surprise, the expression way too cute for his heart.

“You’re a rather sly man, Kita-san.”

You finally allow him to walk you home, falling into stride alongside one another. The pace is neither too slow or hurried. One question leads to a passionate talk, on your part, about teaching children and how you adore them. There’s an unfamiliar glint in your eyes, a falter in your expression that he notices as you talk, but he chooses not to interrupt.

In turn, he talks about volleyball, but any story that had to do with high school always led back to her.

“I met my wife in high school,” He admitted meekly, gauging your expression briefly for any signs of discomfort or whatnot, but you smile at him encouragingly. “I was actually a first year when I met her, she had been a second year. She wasn’t the manager for the team or anything romantic like that, really... In fact, she was part of the home economics club.

“She loved cooking. We didn’t start dating until the year after, but she would make me bento boxes every day. It wasn’t until half a year into our relationship did I learn about her weak immune system. She constantly fell ill, and even missed much of third year that she had to be held back.

“Even then... she still managed to watch my games, although she was never able to come watch us when we went to nationals.”

You listen intently to his stories of his wife, adoring the way his face brightens at times and turns somber the next, his expression a whirlwind of nostalgia. He really loves his wife, and you feel a little jealous and guilty for feeling the way you do. It doesn’t even hit you that you’ve reached your apartment until he stops and motions to your door.

“O-oh, sorry, I... would you like to come in for some tea? As thanks for walking me home of course!” You stammer as he chuckles heartily at your fluster.

“If I’m not intruding.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, your cheeks burning as you prep the kettle on the stove and search for two mugs. It doesn’t even feel real that he’s in your home, but he’s there when you look over your shoulder to see him seated on the floor cushion at the low table.

When the tea is ready, you settle down adjacent to him. He receives the mug gratefully, sniffing the hot liquid with an exhale of bliss at the calming aroma.

“Your wife sounds like an amazing woman,” You say after you take a sip from your own mug.

“She was,” he says cryptically, and before you question it, he beats you to the punch, “How about you? Do you have a lucky man in your life?”

You laugh. Gazing down at your ring finger dreamily.

“I did. Before at least.”

He felt a twist in his chest. Was it because you looked so sad and lonely, or the fact that there was once a man in your life.

Why should the latter even matter to him?

“Puppy love, straight out of high school. He was any girl’s dream. Intelligent and handsome. We were engaged a little ways through my studies to be an elementary teacher.” The look on your face is one of bliss, remembering your younger days, “We always talked of having a family together, we would move into a nice house with a cute pup and surrounded by our children.

“At least until I found out, I was infertile. I’d gotten pregnant finally and the baby never made it. It was a deal breaker for our relationship, he’d ended up cheating on me and lashing out on me for being the way I am.

“I spent a very long time mourning for the loss of my child and my relationship. I’d lost everything and blamed it on myself for being like this.

“I guess after a while, I was teaching and looking after these children as if they were my own, and it had healed me in its own way. I guess I finally accepted where I was, who I was. It still hurts even now, wanting nothing more than my own family, my own child, but teaching them like this makes me happy nonetheless. A lot of my old students often come visit from time to time, it makes me very happy.

“I guess even now... I don’t try to look for a partner out of fear that I won’t be enough due to my condition.”

Your eyes gloss over and he wants to reach over and wipe your tears away, but he keeps himself seated as you smile down at your left hand.

“That’s not true,” he says, “Any man would be lucky to love and be loved by you (L/n)-san.”

Your cheeks grow warm at the comforting words.

Maybe, just maybe, you thought, he could’ve been referring to himself as someone possibly capable of loving you.

“Truthfully... my wife isn’t around because she passed away. The birth had taken a toll on her weak body,” he reveals finally, eyes downcast at the liquid in his mug.

The birth of their daughter had been one of the most happiest and yet saddest moments of his life. It left him a widow and a single parent.

“I’m so sorry...” You begin but he shakes his head.

“No don’t be...”

“...So does Erina-chan...?”

“I never told her to the whole truth... I didn’t want to make her sad, but she’s constantly asking for her mother and wondering why she is different from the rest of her classmates who do. I only ever explain that mama’s not with us anymore... but I was too afraid to face the truth myself. I see much of Reina in my daughter and I’m so afraid losing her and letting go of her. I don’t want to let go of her hand too.”

He remembered that day like it was yesterday. They had been expecting the arrival of their daughter with excitement. His wife’s immune system had always been poor and he knew that very well. He just never expected the amount of strain child birth had put on her until her hand that was once holding his very firmly, let go.

“I can’t let her go, Reina... Moving on would be leaving her in the past and betraying her love.”

He bites his lip. His emotions were starting to flare at the thought of losing Erina and remembering the loss of his wife. Moving on felt too selfish. He didn’t deserve that. Moving on would be a luxury and almost felt wrong. Like he was choosing to forget Reina.

“Someone as important as Reina-san is very hard to forget, and shouldn’t be forgotten at all,” You start, choosing your words carefully while glancing at his expression every so often, in case you step on a sore spot, “In fact, it is her love that keeps you going, it is her legacy that lives within both yours and Erina-chan’s hearts. Erina-chan is the living proof of both of your love. A beautiful daughter, indeed. She must be very happy watching over you both. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over this, she’d want you to be happy Kita-san. What’s holding you back?”

“I’m afraid.”

Admittedly, Kita Shinsuke is very afraid.

You empathize with him, seeing a little bit of yourself, when you were at your lowest, in the way he slumps in his seat and glares down at his tea to keep his emotions in check.

“It’s okay to be afraid. It’s natural for us human beings. You just don’t need to rush yourself, Kita-san. Don’t let yourself bottle those kind of feelings. Acknowledge them and respect those emotions, or else you’d be ignoring the feelings that Reina-san has given you. Take all the time you need to make peace with yourself and live on for her.”

Your words are heartfelt and he appreciates it very much.

“Thank you and I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, but I think you owe Erina-chan an apology.”

He still lingers though, despite preparing to leave to head back home.

You still smile, although sadly this time. “Actually, Kita-san... I know this is sudden... but I need to get this off of my chest... I quite like you, romantically to be more precise.”

His eyes widen. The breath catching in his throat, almost as if he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

You scratch the back of your neck meekly, looking anywhere but at him, “To be honest with you, I was under the impression that you were a single father but under different circumstances...

“I was prepared to face the fact that you still loved your wife whether it be separation through divorce but never had I considered her passing; I apologize for my rudeness and over-zealousness.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, in simpler terms, is that I kind of like you Kita-san, and I.. trust me when I say that I never hoped to ever replace Reina-san’s place in your heart, because she is a very special person to both you and Erina-chan... but I cannot just overlook the way I can’t stop thinking about the charming man that comes every morning to see his, just as beautiful, daughter off to school.”

His heart skips a beat, stomach fluttering. Then it twists and he has to bite his lip. You’re looking up at him with tenderness, neither expecting him to share or reject your feelings. You look up at him with those similar eyes that hold so much kindness and patience for him. You don’t expect anything from him, if not a rejection. You had prepared yourself for it when you had realized you were starting to stare far too long at the man when he came in the mornings.

Your fellow teachers teased you for your crush, asking what you’d do if he was married. He never did have a ring on his finger so you did have some sort of hope. Perhaps you were just a little too ambitious.

He finally takes a shaky breath, unsure what to say anymore. He didn’t want to hurt you or your feelings. The conflict was evident in the swirl of emotions in his chestnut hues. Brows knitted together and teeth worrying into the plush of his bottom lip.

If it were your place, you would have kissed him and told him it was okay, there was nothing to worry over. It, however, was not your place to.

“I’m sorry... I...” He starts, unsure how to answer, but you stop him.

“I know. I didn’t tell you this to force you into anything or rush you into moving on, maybe it was just me after all, falling for you without so much as a date or a proper talk like we just had.”

“(L/n)-san...”

You shake your head, placing your hand over his mouth to quiet him. At the realization of your bold action, you retract your hand with a timid smile. Looking at him finally from under your lashes.

“You should go see your daughter Kita-san.”

How was it, that you were still able to look at him like that? Like he deserved your affections?

He leaves reluctantly. There was no arguing that, not when he’d in-explicitly rejected your feelings, but even so, his chest ached for you.

The walk back is long. He’s drowning in his own thoughts and worries, regretting his own indecisiveness and fears. This was not like him, where was the confident captain of the strong Inarizaki volleyball club?

Atsumu would definitely think the world was ending if he saw him distraught like this. One time was enough, the setter being present along with Aran at the birth of his daughter and the death of his wife.

He slips off his shoes in the foyer, greeting his grandmother who waits for him outside of his bedroom. The elder casts him a meaningful smile before opening the door for him, and closing it once he’s inside.

The miniature lump under the covers is enough to tell him of his daughter’s whereabouts. She’s wide awake as she immediately turns her back to him upon noticing his presence.

Settling into bed, he releases a soft breath.

“I’m sorry Eri-chan. Papa made you mad. Please forgive me.”

His arms reach out carefully, slipping around her middle to pull her close cradle her smaller body close to him. The hold is firm and unyielding despite her silence, afraid that she’ll let go just like Reina.

“Mama... she... she’s an angel now. She watches over us, you, me, and even granny. I’m sorry for keeping this from you.”

A moment passes before he feels her body tremble, sniffles that turn into quiet sobs. The girl turns over to clutch her father close.

“I love you Papa, no matter what!”

“I love you too,” He replies with a soft smile, relief and adoration swimming in his eyes.

Like this, they fall asleep, tired from the events of the day.

It’s the weekend the next morning and he allows the girl to sleep a little longer as he slips out of the room. Dawn has just barely broken through the night and he stretches his limbs before taking a seat on the engawa in a daze. He can’t stop thinking about you. He never could.

It had unsettled him however, that he might’ve been deluding himself into thinking he liked you. There was always the possibility that he only was attracted to you for your similarities with his wife. He didn’t want to take advantage of your feelings because of that. It wasn’t fair to you.

“Ahhh I messed up,” he mutters exasperatedly

“Messed up? I never thought I’d see the day you say such a thing, Shin-chan. You finally made up with Eri-chan though, what’s troubling you so?” Yumie asks as she takes a seat beside him.

“(L/n)-san confessed to me.”

The woman continues to watch the sun rise without waver. She must’ve expected it after all.

“And? What are you planning on doing? Does it still feel wrong? Is it something you don’t want? Shin-chan, you just need to choose what’s best for you. Both Eri-chan and I want you to be happy. Trust yourself as you always do. Where is that unwavering confidence I always saw in you back in your volleyball days?”

His eyes glimmer.

“Granny...”

“What is it that you want?” She asks again, “Why not be selfish just this once, you deserve happiness, Shin-chan.”

His grandmother’s right, and he knows it. The same thoughts continue to boggle his conscience even as a few days pass and he continues to walk Erina to school. You both steal glances at one another, but he’s still unsure of what to do.

“How’s my cute 'lil God-daughter?” Atsumu asks heartily when he comes home for the week, inviting Kita for lunch at Onigiri Miya.

“Our God-daughter,” Osamu corrects as he sets down a platter of their favorites. He smiles at their ex-captain, gesturing towards the onigiri with his hand, “Made fresh only from the best rice around of course.”

Kita chuckles and nods his head in thanks. Truthfully, there had been a whole entire chaos when word had broke out among his old volleyball club members that he was having a daughter. The boys were ecstatic about being uncles to Erina and made a whole fuss about who was to be her God-fathers. In the end, Aran and the twins had been chosen.

“No need to be salty when yer clearly not the cool uncle,” Atsumu sticks his tongue out at his brother.

“I’m sorry? Who almost broke ‘er arm when...” Osamu trails off immediately, sweat dropping down his temple at Kita’s tight-lipped smile.

“When what?”

“Nothing!” The blonde interjects with a shaky laugh, “How’ve ya been Kita-san? How’s Eri-chan and Yumie-san?”

He’d almost forgotten about his whole dilemma until then, his expression faltering as he glances down at the onigiri in his hands.

“It’s been... okay... I guess.”

The two blink at him in unison.

“You guess? Who are ya, and what have ya done with Kita-san?”

The elder shoots them a hardened look, unamused by the question.

“What’s botherin’ ya? It’s not everyday we see ya this unsure,” Osamu asks thoughtfully, remembering the days of their ever robotic captain. Robust and always confident, they had never thought they’d ever see their ex-captain downtrodden like this. At least not since Reina.

Just like in high school, when he surprised the team in a sudden spurt of emotion and teared up at being offered the title of captain, they were still never used to the sudden burst of emotions he was capable of at the birth of his daughter and the passing of his wife. The same shock remains as he lets his sadness cross over expression.

He finally relents under their pressing stares, explaining the situation revolving his attraction towards Erina’s teacher... and well, your reciprocated affections. He expressed his fears, his feelings, anything and everything that held him back.

“Is she pretty?” Atsumu grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively before yelping when Osamu smacks him upside his head.

Kita casts him a blank look, biting his lip to hold back the fond smile that crosses his expression.

“She’s very pretty.”

Osamu elbows his brother before he can open his mouth. “Kita-san, from what you said just now, she sounds like a very kind woman and honestly I believe you deserve happiness. You’re not at fault for anything, you’ve done nothing wrong, but you need to trust yourself, trust (L/n)-san, and decide what it is you want.

“I can see where you’re coming from, comparing (L/n)-san to Reina, but you need to look at her as her own person. She also deserves that much.”

The older twin nods in agreement, “It’s not everyday I get to give you advice Kita-san, but I agree with Yumie-san, you should let yourself be selfish just this once.”

“You both deserve a second chance at love.”

It’s a lazy night after finishing all of your grading for the weekend. You order takeout instead of cooking and cozy up in your sleeping clothes with a blanket and plush pillow. Perhaps a romance movie to quell the ache of your rejection.

You were just about ready to watch your selected flick when the doorbell rang. Blinking, you hadn’t expected company, other than the delivery man at least. With not much effort put into your appearance, you shrug at your unkempt hair and lack of professional clothing and answer the door.

“Hey.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets. Kita stands tall and confident at your apartment door step, and yet there was something timid about the way his eyes glanced down at you shyly, his fingers clasped at his sides.

“Hi,” You reply immediately before feeling the heat creep up your neck. To your horror, his eyes glance down your sleeping attire and you hold out your hand to stop him. “S-sorry, I apologize for coming out looking like this... I wasn’t necessarily expecting visitors at this time.”

He blinks once, then twice, before chuckling softly. The sound is warm and fluffy, making your heart flutter effortlessly. It almost hurts knowing he didn’t reciprocate your feelings.

“No, I should apologize for showing up unannounced... but I never did quite get your number.”

Huh?

Your jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Kita-san... are you...”

“Asking for your number? Yes. I am.” He says firmly and confidently, eyes sparkling as he gazes at you with that beautiful and charming smile of his, “Maybe a date to go with it as well?”

“But... I thought... you rejected me...?”

He shook his head, “I never said I didn’t like you back, (L/n)-san. To be quite honest with you, I think you look very adorable like this.” Your fluster is a treat to his eyes as he reaches forward to take your hand in his. It’s warm and soft, and yet strong and calloused from working in the fields. “Thank you for opening my eyes. I thought about it and my own feelings and I want to stop running away and being afraid of the present and accepting my past.”

“If it’s okay with you. I’d really like to try this.”

You look genuinely surprised and touched by his sincere words, his eyes full of determination and adoration as they bore into yours.

“And by this you mean...”

The sly quirk of your glossy lips is tell-tale of your knowing of his intentions, but you like to tease him nonetheless.

He might never stop seeing her in his everyday life, but he’d come to the acceptance that you were two individual women and he would continue to love and be grateful to his late wife, but he decided he would move forward for his daughter’s sake.

There was no stopping the way he was falling hard for you. He adored you for who you were and that was what mattered.

“Please grant me the honor of going on a date with you.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #kita imagines #kita x you #kita x y/n #kita scenarios #kita shinsuke scenario

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lilchibi-chan · 4 years

Text

Hawks x Black Female Reader

I thought about this yesterday when I was out and it’s just so adorable!

TW: Bullying and Prejudice/Ignorance

You and Keigo have been married for 6 years now and you have two children. Your oldest is your daughter, Yuki, and you have a new born son, Miko. Yuki is 4 and goes to a preschool near your house. A few of the parents give dirty looks sometimes, but you pay them no mind.

You go to pick up Yuki and she doesn’t seem like herself. She’s usually a very happy child and always excited to tell you about her day, but today, she didn’t do that. She was quiet. You tell her to wait for you by the door and you would be there soon, you just wanted to talk to her teacher.

“Hello, Mr.Hitoshi,” you say with a concerned tone but still smiling at him to be polite

“Hello, Mrs.Takami! What can I do for you?” He asks

“Well, Yuki, she seems a bit down. Not like her usual self when I come to pick her up. I was just wondering if anything happened today.”

“Oh that, well, the kids were playing on the playground and Yuki went to play with a few of the other kids. She really wanted to play, but one girl told her no and when Yuki asked her why, she said it was because her mother said that she would get dirty if she played with her and that her skin would get dark like hers,” he says sadly

This breaks your heart because you knew what this could do to her self esteem and that in later years, it could even become self loathing and lead to something worse.

“T-Thank you, Mr.Hitoshi,” you say fighting tears back. You bow and make your way over to Yuki, take her hand and walk out. You put on a brave face and try to get her to smile by telling her you’re making her favorite food for dinner and then you can have ice cream, but nothing worked. She went straight to her room when you got in, telling you she wanted to lay down. You tell her okay and watch her go upstairs with her backpack.

Hawks comes home a few hours later.

You’re in the kitchen making dinner when he enters.

“Hey, love bird~” he says hugging you from behind, you turn to face him and give him a sad smile.

“What’s wrong, baby bird” he asks concerned. You tell him what happened at school with Yuki and he pulls you into a warm, comforting hug.

“I’ll talk to her,” he says. He goes to greet Miko who is sitting in a high chair in the kitchen with you, before heading upstairs to talk to Yuki.

He knocks on her door.

“Hello, angel,” he says to Yuki

“Hi daddy,” she says sadly, hugging him

“What’s the matter, Yuki?”

“Is there something wrong with me?” She asks. This shatters his heart, but he tries his best to keep his composure

“Ab-so-lutely not, angel! Why would you think that?”

“Well, I was playing on the playground at school today and a girl told me that if she played with me that I would make her dirty and he skin would be dark like mine. Is there something wrong with my skin?” She asks piercing his heart again

“Angel, there is NOTHING wrong with your skin and don’t let anyone EVER tell you that there is. You are the most beautiful girl in the whole universe. You’re kind and you always make daddy smile when you tell him about your day and when you draw me pictures, I show them to everyone at work and hang them up.”

“Really” she asks now having a small smile on her face

“Of course, angel. You are my favorite artist after all and you’re my favorite genius too. You are so smart.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” she says gaining some confidence

He grabs hold of Yuki’s hands and starts singing

“Brown skin girl, your skin just like pearls. The best thing in the world. Never trade you for anybody else.”

He pulls her into a tight hug and she smiles.

“I love you, daddy.”

“I love you more, angel,” he says then kisses her on the forehead

You were standing in the doorway and you happened to catch him sing to her. When he turned around, he walked/rushed over to you when he noticed you were crying. He pulls you into a hug and rubs the back of your head.

“What’s wrong, baby bird?” He asks in a comforting tone

“That was just really beautiful. Thank you for talking to her...when I couldn’t find the strength to,” you say honestly

“Now, baby bird, you are so strong and this is a hard conversation to have with her, but as long as that amazing girl has us, she’ll do amazing things and that’s what she gets from you. That same fire, you had in you the first time we met, is the same fire she has. She knows you love her and that you would do anything for her.”

Just then, you felt arms around your legs.

“Don’t cry mommy, I love you so much and you’re the best mommy in the whole world,” she says with glimmering eyes of admiration

“Mommy loves you too, Yuki,” say squatting down to her level,“never forget that, babygirl.”

“I know mommy... Can we go downstairs now? I’m hungry,” she says causing you and Keigo to laugh at the little girl you created together

Yuki races downstairs with you and Keigo behind her. He stopped you before you went into the kitchen for all of you to eat together and pulled you into him. He backed you into the wall and kissed you passionately. After he pulled away, he winked at you and held your hand, walking you over to the table. He pulled out your chair, then took his seat next to you.

You guys are together and Yuki spoke about her whole day and even showed you a picture she drew of the family. You all finished eating and you and Keigo cleaned up and got the kids ready for bed.

While you’re in bed together, you notice Keigo can’t keep his eyes off you.

“What,” you ask with laughter in your voice

“Nothing, I’m just wondering how I got so lucky. I mean I do have the most beautiful woman in the world laying next to me and she found a way into my heart and stayed, no matter how hard it was.” He says with love filled eyes

“K-Keigo,” you say speechless

“I fuckin love you baby bird. Thank you...for giving me the world and making my dreams come true.”

“I love you too, Keigo,” you say cuddling into his chest. You both drift off to sleep, holding each other close.

Art by @shayaizawa

I hope y’all enjoyed this one. This popped in my head when I was in forever 21 because they had Brown Skin Girl playing in the store speakers and I thought “oh my gosh! imagine Keigo singing this to your child” and that’s how this was born. Part 2? Lmk 🥺

Siren Song part 3 will be out soon 🌸

137 notes · View notes

mikwrites-archive · 4 years

Text

♖ afflatus, /əˈflādəs/ a divine creative impulse or inspiration.

♖ pairing: xu minghao x reader (painter x royal au) ♖ warnings: hella long oops ♖ wc: 5k words

♖ a/n: new fandom to write for, new record of a word count, who am i damn HWJBJDSFHS anyways i hope u guys like this pls lmk what u think bc im kinda nervous HAHAH

You’d grown up with a penchant for pretty things.

Your gaze of innocent youth widening with wonder at your mother’s glittering jewels, your father’s heavy crown, laughing at the splashing fountains across the vast gardens that spewed crystalline water amongst shimmering koi.

Yet with age, the gilded champagne tinted chandeliers, flowing gowns of all pale and deep hues, and all the other little beauteous wonders thrust at you across the years whether you desired them or not, became dull.

The listening to melodies became the study of notes and aching of fingertips, the joy of dancing became tight shoes and even stiffer, polite movements; every little action and hobby seemed to soon become a task of royalty.

“Who made that?”

It’s not any style you recognize, with furrowed eyebrows you study the art hanging on Lord Jun’s wall in his quarters, almost as a habit of your studies.

You’re parsing through the list of painters in your mind that you’d been forced to memorize the previous week, as Jun laughs.

“I didn’t know you were interested in art, your highness.”

You shoot him a glare, and he fails to hide his grin as he stuffs his garments into his luggage. While Jun was a lord of your father’s council, your close ages allowed you both to maintain a close friendship, and he knew most of your recent complaints with sympathy.

He was currently packing for an ambassador trip back at his home kingdom, and you were attempting to dispel the simmering disappointment at your closest friend leaving for even just a few weeks.

“A friend painted it for me. Do you like it?”

“It’s pretty.”

And for once, you mean it.

“You’ll meet him soon enough I believe. Your mother has been wanting an artist on grounds for family portraits and I recommended him.”

“What’s his name?” You squint, the squiggle of signature in the corner incomprehensible to you.

“Xu Minghao.” Jun answers.

“He’s not from here?”

Jun hums, casting you a glance, noting how you’ve yet to take your eyes off the painting.

“I think you’ll take a liking to him.”

Jun’s letter is like a piece of home to Minghao, the script messier than his own, but in the familiar tongue that Minghao whispers to himself softly as the tide laps at his feet.

He knows his decision before he even reaches the end of the parchment, but reads through anyways, and folds it neatly back into his pocket. Heavy, umber eyes watch the rolling waves for a few more moments, chipping absently away at the dried paint on the tips of his slender fingers, before making his way back to the tiny house a little ways away with his hollow knocking heart.

Minghao packs his belongings the early morning of his departure, not looking back once at the shabby house he’d spent the past few months in as he canters away on his black mare, eyes set on the salt spraying sea he was really leaving behind instead.

He wonders if palace gardens were a satisfying alternative.

The idea of stable housing and food was enough to satiate his artistic nitpicking for the time being, and Minghao makes a silent promise to return to the sea one day.

Minghao is introduced to you a day after he arrives and the day Jun leaves.

Wind strewn dark hair grown past his ears, worn leather vest, paint flecked billowing sleeves of eggshell white, black loose pants, and scuffed shoes. He’s the opposite of your delicate satin gown, immaculately styled curls, and dainty accessories, but you feel as if you’re the one out of place as you observe him, both of you waiting for Jun in the courtyard, finishing his farewell to your parents.

He’s quiet, long features often solemn, sometimes slipping upwards in a small smile at the littlest of things or out of politeness.

You’re about to attempt to start conversation to fill the silence, but another voice cuts in.

“I hope you’ll behave while I’m gone.” Jun grins at you, appearing from the large doors with your parents in tow, shining brightly under the beaming sunlight, and you snort, relieved.

“I should be the one telling you that. God knows what you’d do without me.”

“Rejoice, of course.”

Your retort is muffled as he gathers you in an embrace, which you return just as strongly.

“I’ll write as soon as I settle.” He promises, and you only nod as you watch him move to Minghao, absently listening to the soft Mandarin they used to converse.

“Watch over her, yeah?”

“Me?” Minghao blinks, the surprise etched on his features comical to Jun who laughs. Jun knows you well enough that your curiosity would eventually overtake your tiptoeing around Minghao, but for the artist, while loneliness wasn’t ideal, he’d endure it no matter how much it gnawed at him.

“And yourself as well. You both need more friends. You can’t always be alone.”

The words settle forlornly in the pit of Minghao’s stomach as Jun draws him in, patting him on the back before he clambers upon the saddle, waving one last time before setting off.

Your mother suggests then that you provide a tour for Minghao before he begins his work the next day, claiming it as practice for future diplomatic encounters, and you almost miss his curiously amused glint in his eyes as you murmur a quiet agreement, beckoning him to follow you once you Jun becomes a tiny speck in the distance of your squinted vision.

The royal gardens do not disappoint as the last destination, almost exceeding Jun’s scrawling description within his letter, Minghao realizes with satisfaction.

The soft hum of fat bumblebees puttering across the extensive variety of blooms that were maintained to their fullest in neat order, along with the trickling ponds and fountains you could hear if you honed in just enough by the glade of willow trees where you decided to end the tour.

Minghao settles down on one of the bumpy roots, closing his eyes as he rests his hand on the cool bark, the other twirling the blades of grass by his thigh.

You’ve convinced yourself he’s fallen asleep, breaths rising slowly as his movements cease, but suddenly his eyes open, meeting yours, and you flush as if you’d been caught in the wrong.

“Would you like to meet here tomorrow morning to begin the portrait?”

You can only stammer a hasty agreement, and the lanky boy stands, gazing up at the filtered sunlight between the leaves with slightly squinted eyes.

“I would say you could return to your daily activities, but if I’m honest, I don’t remember how to return to the palace.” He admits after a moment, and you duck your head to hide your smile, but he catches it with one of his own.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

While you’re sure there’s a deeper meaning, the head piece currently sitting upon your tightly styled hair, was indeed weighty, and didn’t assist your focus of maintaining a still, straight posture.

“You fidget a lot. Your highness.” Minghao adds on respectfully after a beat, and you immediately cease your movements, smiling sheepishly.

“My apologies. I’ve never liked getting my portrait done. When I was younger I remember they always had to promise me my favourite sweet afterwards.”

“I’ll try to finish as quickly as I can then.” He grins wryly. “Or perhaps I can request the cook to make something specific for tonight’s dessert.”

You fail to hold in your shaking laughs, but Minghao doesn’t mind.

Minghao doesn’t see you often after he completes the portrait.

It seems to be an occurrence for most around the palace, the few acquaintances Minghao made telling him it was common now for you to be holed up in a study, while you used to constantly tag around the kitchens, amble around the stables, and meander the gardens. He’s slightly disappointed in your lack of appearance, but fills his time with roaming around the palace grounds himself and satisfying his artistic needs.

He meets you again by accident (or fate), as he brushes aside the curtain of flowers that concealed a small space he’d discovered yesterday, perfect for peaceful painting.

The air is charged with awkward stumbling as Minghao fumbles with his armload of supplies and you bolt up from your relaxed position, but you’re quick to react, snapping your book shut lightly.

“I’ll leave you to work. I’m sure your artistry requires more of the space than I do.”

“Please, stay.”

You’re convinced that he’s only insisting you stay out of courtesy, but you know he’s one to not say something he doesn’t mean, so you settle back down, skirt pooling under you, lace hem fluttering like your heart.

“How are you liking the kingdom so far?” You prompt as he sets up his palette, and Minghao shrugs, flicking a few stray strands of hair impatiently from his eyes. It leaves a smudge of paint on his forehead, and you smile in the secrecy of your pages.

“It’s not home, but it’s pleasant.”

“Will you tell me about your home?”

Home.

The word pangs in Minghao’s chest like an empty echo in a gaping chasm, but he obliges, hoping to fill it with his memories, recalling the sound of rain outside his window, the croaking of frogs at night, and the aroma of his mother’s cooking.

You listen carefully, closing your eyes as you do, inhaling slowly the scent of honeysuckle, lulling you to peaceful bliss. Minghao’s voice is calming, lilting and gentle, and eventually fades out of your consciousness.

He’s not sure how long it is that he’s been speaking while you’ve slept, surprising even himself as he usually prefers painting in peace, but the pale array of buds on the stretched canvas bloomed with a sleeping form as the sun slowly begins to switch places with the moon.

Time is unrivaled as Minghao loses himself to the simple intricacies of his art, until a messenger arrives.

“Your highness.” The address comes with a gentle shake to your shoulder, and you rise slowly, rubbing your eyes drowsily.

“What happened?”

“You've been called for dinner.” Minghao explains. “You fell asleep in the garden.”

“My apologies,” you bow your head lightly, regret washing over you as you notice the orange tinged sky, a contrast to the baby blue of when you last recalled consciousness. “I hope I didn’t waste your entire day waiting upon me.”

Minghao thinks of the piece behind him, palms dusted with the colour of your chiffon gown, and shakes his head.

“I didn’t.”

Minghao almost falls asleep amidst the bustle of ballgowns and coattails, the lilting laughter and flirty chatter tuned out, an imprinted mark left on his face as he starts at a tap on his shoulder.

“Won’t you dance?”

Your voice is sweet and quizzical, and he shakes his head timidly, an expression you had used to mistake for solemness, and you sigh.

“Why not? It’s fairly easy.”

“I don’t dance.”

It’s a blatant lie, and Minghao knows you see through it, his guilty eyes flicking away from your gaze hurriedly as he utters it. As you hold your hand out knowingly, Minghao grudgingly takes it, letting himself be pulled onto the floor where other pairs flocked like seagulls.

Faint crescents of colour are under his neatly trimmed nails, calloused palms a contrast to the gentle grip of his hands.

Minghao hopes you don’t notice the way they shake slightly.

The music starts, and he stumbles in the sudden rapidity of the orchestra, and you bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your giggles, which he notices with narrowed eyes. It’s almost forgotten as you’re immersed within the dance, reminding Minghao of the sea, of home, and the thrumming of his heart.

“You said you didn’t dance.” You accuse breathlessly as the music fades and you’re both upon the sidelines once more, and Minghao blinks.

“You said it would be easy.” He retorts, and you grin cheekily.

“Forgive me, I suspected you weren’t entirely speaking the truth. Especially considering Jun told me a bit about your skills upon mentioning the ball to him in his last correspondence.”

“Of course.” Minghao purses his lips, hiding a smile as he tugs at his collar, fanning himself lightly.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” You’re already making your way to the exit, and Minghao finds himself following subconsciously.

“Now?” He blinks, and you nod.

“No one will notice, if only for a few moments to cool down. It does get fairly stuffy at events such as these.”

As if sensing his hesitancy with his darting glances around the ballroom, you grab his arm, a glowing flush on your features as you tug him along. He excuses his own blush creeping up his neck upon the crowd, dispelled sharply when you both meet the crisp night air.

“I didn’t take you for a worrier, Xu Minghao.” You grin as you prop yourself up easily on the short garden wall, implying to Minghao that you’ve done this before.

“I didn’t know your highness was such a rebelliously improper figure.”

He hops up next to you with a smile as you laugh, trickling off to a content sigh that puffs out wispily, hanging in the air before dissipating. Legs are kicked lightly, childishly, heels thumping against the wall, filling the comfortable silence.

“We should go inside, your highness.” Minghao notices with a murmur, but he makes no move himself, entranced with the way the pale moonlight filters itself across your upturned features. His fingers itch for his paints, to resolve the artistic ache within his chest at this scene, but instead he resorts to memorizing every little detail in breathlessness. “You’re shivering.”

“Just a little longer.”

He’s in no position to argue, but his fingers twitch at the hem of his coat, battling with whether it is appropriate to shrug it off and drape it upon your shoulders, but before he can make the decision, you turn with a satisfied smile upon your lips.

“Shall we have another dance?”

Minghao convinces himself it’s the bubbling champagne that tells him to agree, and for once since arriving, he feels his heart’s solid rhythm.

When you don’t make an appearance within the gardens for the first day since the ball, Minghao tells himself he isn’t fazed. He blames the frustration of his art upon the fact that he’s not entirely used to sketching, crumpled parchment littering the grass.

Yet as the second and third day toiled by, the wilting pink camellias in the heat are all that Minghao can depict, and he takes it as a sign, gathering up some supplies hastily in a coarse bag before roaming the palace.

He has to ask for directions in some areas, but eventually reaches where he wants to be.

You don’t hear the argued exclamations outside your chambers, but when your door cracks open, you struggle from under your bundle of blankets to sit up.

“I thought you would be bored and brought you some things to do.”

“How did you get inside? I thought I told Chan to not let anyone in.” You frown hoarsely, and Minghao grins.

“I convinced him to let me have five minutes.”

“The poor boy.” You laugh, trickling into a fit of coughs, and Minghao rushes awkwardly to the water pitcher at your bedside table, but you wave him off, pouring it yourself.

“What did you bring?” You inquire curiously as you sip your water, straining your neck to watch him slip out brushes, thick parchment, a palette with circles of varying colours, along with a few books.

“I hope this is alright.” He places them all on your mattress in methodicalness, and you immediately examine them all.

“Thank you.”

He opens his mouth to utter something, but the door bursts open with Chan in tow, and he leaves you with a dry grin and a slight bow.

The watercolour blooms through the paper with every touch of the thin bristles across your page as you amuse yourself, and that morning, Minghao finds solace in the freshly bloomed tulips that were speckled with dew-like tears.

The corridor your room lies within seems to draw Minghao towards it, even when his desired destination is far from the route.

This caused Minghao to form a friendly relationship with your personal guard, Chan, who often updated him upon your status during your sickness.

“Could you take my place for a few moments while I run to the kitchens?” Chan pleads the second Minghao appears one morning. “Soonyoung told me that Mingyu baked, and I’m sure the princess wouldn’t mind if it was you.”

Minghao doesn’t have the time to confirm or deny the young guard before he rushes off eagerly, and while he’d normally be annoyed, he’d been meaning to ask you a question anyways.

“Your highness?” Minghao tiptoes tentatively after his knock on the door receives no answer, and ventures further in.

He’s honestly not entirely sure what occurred, perhaps he bumped his head on his stumbling out of your chambers, but his cheeks are hot as he leans against the door to catch his breath, bidding the glances at your bare skin away.

“What’s wrong?” Chan has crumbs speckling his chin as he tilts his head at Minghao, curiously innocent, with a pastry in his hand as he returns to his post.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Your door cracks open with you fully clothed much to his relief, saving Minghao from Chan’s oncoming suspicious questioning as you beckon to him.

“Would you like to come in?”

You both settle down on the small sofa by your window, and Minghao shuffles awkwardly.

“Chan told me you were feeling better.”

“I am.” You smile, propping your chin on the heel of your palms as silence ensues for a beat. “I suppose I have to thank Chan for his responsibility in our wedding now.”

“What?” Minghao sputters, a few seconds too late to the processing of your words.

“Didn’t you know?” Minghao’s stomach roils. “If anyone other than family sees a royal indecently it’s considered taboo if they’re not immediately married.”

He catches the twitch of your lips after surveying your expression carefully for a few moments, and groans, posture sagging.

“That’s not funny.”

“Oh, but it is.” You insist with a boisterous laugh, and he can’t help but grin at the sound. When you calm down, swiping giddy tears away from your eyes, you tilt your head at him.

“Did you only want to find me because I was feeling better?”

“I actually wanted to ask you something.”

Your inquisitive gaze encourages him to continue, and he picks at the end of his thumb nail timidly.

“May I paint you again?”

He refuses to let you see the progress of the portrait.

It’s a breezy afternoon when you give up your pestering, Minghao warning that he’d leave it unfinished. While you know he never would, you silence your curiosity temporarily, biting your tongue as Minghao smirks.

“The wind keeps moving your hair.” He huffs, partly to himself. “May I?” Minghao gestures lightly towards your hair with a questioning raise of his eyebrows and you nod your consent.

You try not to shiver as he brushes aimless strands back into their place, adjusting your shoulders and angle of your chin with feather light touches. It’s no use, at least for your hair, the wind deviating it constantly.

“Perhaps we should continue another day, when the weather is more forgiving.” He muses, pads of his fingertips lightly twirling stray strands once more before falling to his side before returning to pack up his easel.

Your voice seems to be caught in his pigment streaked palms, but when he smiles at you boyishly, you know he understands.

Neither of you show it until the painting is finished, and Minghao thinks there’s something beautiful about the way it ties you both together.

“Your highness, your mother requests your presence in the study hall.”

“Thank you Seokmin.” You smile at the messenger, who beams back as you attempt to not shift. “We’re almost finished, I’ll be there shortly.”

He scurries off, peeking at the painting with wide eyes, and your mind races at the imaginings of the completed piece.

“Would you like to see?” Minghao finally sets down his brush, glancing at you as he runs a hand through his hair amusedly, stepping back. Eagerly, you amble up to Minghao’s side, shoulder brushing against his as you peer at the canvas with wide eyes.

“It’s beautiful.”

“My place here is to simply paint what I see.” Minghao distracts himself from your gaze, bending down to pick up a fallen flower at his feet. When he rises, his eyes finally meet yours, and neither of you can help leaning forwards.

The kiss is delicate and sweet, lips like crushing silk petals against yours, as sweet as nectar, intoxicating your senses and making your head spin.

“I have to leave.” You murmur, pulling away reluctantly.

His smile is devastating, you think, gentle and adoring, his thumb brushing against your jaw; you know in that moment that you’ve lost a part of yourself to him, given as freely as the soft breeze in the arching branches above, holding you both in a secret lover’s haven.

“Go.” He nods, and a part of you wishes he’d told you the opposite, but you both know the impossibility of asking that. As if he can sense your hesitancy, his fingers fall, moving to clasp your hands lightly. “I’ll still be here when you’re finished.”

“You swear it?”

This draws out a chuckle, and while you realize it’s a foolish inquiry, when he tucks the gardenia bloom behind your ear affectionately, you want to hide there with him until the tides stopped and the sun’s flames flickered out of existence; until the impossible became a common ideal.

“I swear.”

You rush off after hearing his promise, resisting the urge to kiss him again, knowing you’d be held later if you were any more tardy to your lessons, out of breath by the time you reach the hall.

“You’ve got a smudge on your face.” Your mother huffs, reaching out to swipe at it with her thumb, but you dodge it, glancing in the mirror, gently touching the streaks of colour with a fond smile, as if you were touching the fingertips that left them.

Your heart seems to thrum freely out of your chest around Minghao.

Whether it’s the sound of his soft laughter, the focused expression he adorns as he immerses himself within his art, or the fact that thinking about, speaking to, or kissing him seems to make you late for almost everything.

“Is there a fire?”

The corner of Minghao’s lips quirks up amusedly as you stumble backwards from colliding with him in the corridor, adjusting your skirt hurriedly as he steadies you with firm hands.

“Minghao.” You drop a quick curtsy, and he bows in return, albeit confused as you brush past him, borderline running down the plush carpet.

“Should I be running too?” He shouts after you, ignoring the stares he gained in the corridor.

“I’m just late for my lessons!” You call out with a laugh, turning back, and Minghao giggles as you bump into Seungkwan, who almost topples over, causing more apologetic fussing from you.

He darts after you after a pause of thinking, and it’s not difficult for him to catch up, the surprise on your expression a contrast to his gleeful one as he grabs your hand, making you halt, tugging you close.

“Minghao, someone could see-”

He pays no attention to your paranoia, knowing as well as you did that the study hall was kept empty for the sake of your focus, cupping your face warmly as he met your lips breathlessly.

“I’ll see you after?”

You believe sometimes that you have him pieced together, until he shakes the puzzle board with a cheeky grin.

Minghao doesn’t remember the throne room being this intimidating. The thrones seemed to tower over his head, banners and artworks of historical wars and ancestors adorning the walls, all scrutinizing him.

He feels small, a scurrying insect to be crushed under the heavy boot of societal status. You’d both known that the time to reveal your relationship to your parents was better to come sooner than later and from your own mouths, but in the situation itself, Minghao feels uneasy.

“You know of his nature in his time here.” You argue persistently, and your parents are silent, the epitome of stoic rulers, and Minghao is almost afraid. “He is kind, and has treated me with nothing but respect and love-”

“What will the people say when it's revealed you’ve chosen a foreign commoner to be your husband?” Your father interjects, and this only stokes the passionate fire in your eyes, while simultaneously making Minghao flinch at the searing heat in the words.

“HIs talents will take him far. He won’t be just a commoner soon enough. I know you know this-”

He clambers to his feet suddenly, startling everyone, who seemed to have forgotten his presence despite him being the topic of discussion.

“Pardon my interruption.” He bows stiffly. “But if I may offer a suggestion?”

Minghao takes the silence as agreement, and barrels on hurriedly.

“I would like to request leave from my work here, to travel amongst kingdoms with my art. I’ll return a known man, and I’ll be worthy of your daughter’s hand, if you’ll have me.”

“That could take years.” Your mother blinks, and Minghao’s reply is quiet.

“Yes.”

“You expect us to wait for something that might not even happen?” Your father raises an eyebrow.

“Father-” you stand abruptly next to him, and Minghao grips your hand. You silence, looking at him incredulously.

“May I ask how long you would be willing to wait?”

Your mother murmurs something to your father, who contemplates before answering, and the words overturn the trickling hourglass of your fates.

“Two summers from now.”

You don’t speak to him until the next day, when he leaves.

He doesn’t hold any grudge against your actions, but as the dawning sun peeks over the horizon, the reins of his mare tightly gripped in his hands, the tightness in his throat is only relieved by your appearance in the wispy dewed morning.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe as you approach him, and something inside him aches at the melancholy in your eyes as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What for?” He whispers softly, thumb stroking your cheekbone tenderly.

“I wanted to see you before this. But I couldn’t. And now we only have a few spare minutes.”

“We’ll have all the time in the world when I return.” He murmurs, and you know he means it, yet the sincerity in his eyes couldn’t ever explain the way he would move the hands of time himself and mould the world to your own desires if you simply asked.

“My heart has belonged to you since that day you convinced me to stay.” You confess quietly, and Minghao listens intently. “Call me foolish for it’s easily swayed nature, I know I have, but it’s true.” Your voice doesn’t waver, it’s firm, and you’re staring at him with intensity, but he can see the fragility of your words. “I only ask that you be gentle with it.”

His hands fit loosely with yours, cupping them in his palms gently as he kneels, bringing them to his lips, bowing his head slightly, resembling the swaying bluebells at his back.

“I wouldn’t tend to it in any other manner.”

Jun returns soon after Minghao leaves, when the leaves tint with orange and scarlet, and your fingertips are always cold no matter how deep you delve them into your sleeves.

“I crossed paths briefly with Minghao on my way back.” He muses, hands cupping a steaming mug as he kicks lightly at the littered leaves on the ground.

“How is he?”

“Good.” Jun smiles reassuringly at your troubled gaze. “He’s working hard.”

“He hasn’t written to me lately.” You sigh, tracing the rim of your cup lightly, the scent of cinnamon apple wafting up from the ceramic. “And I don’t wish to bother him with my own letters.”

“He just doesn’t want you to worry.” His voice trails off quietly, almost commenting to himself. “I think he knows the most out of us that this is not all guaranteed.”

The icy wind nips at you, settling in your bones, and you both decide to go inside silently.

All to keep you company when springtide returned was creased parchment, each having worn edges from the amount of times you’d reread them, fingertips tracing the flowing ink.

Jun had departed once more in the winter, and while Minghao sent letters whenever he could, he divulged no time to when he would return.

It’s not until the weather warms, and the sunsets are softer, that you get your answer.

“Lord Jun has arrived. And he’s brought Xu Minghao.” Seokmin breathes, bursting into the study room and it’s not missed how you go rigid, fingers twitching to push back your chair before pausing.

“Go.” Your mother waves her hand amusedly, and you scramble from the table, maneuvering your skirt impatiently in bunched fists, striding steps racing towards Jun’s quarters.

“He made his way to the garden.” Jun smirks, and you think it’s entirely typical for Minghao to make you run around like this as you catch your breath in the doorway.

“How was your trip?” You breathe in an attempt to fill the silence politely as Jun unpacks his belongings.

“Do you care?”

It’s an amused jest, but well aimed, and you snort truthfully.

“At the particular moment, no, but-”

“Go.” Jun cuts in, laughing. “You’ve waited long enough.”

The words don’t fail to bring a giddy beam upon your features as you heed his words, and Jun thinks he’s never seen you this illuminated, with a fond heart.

You find Minghao by the white rosebuds, and you can’t help stop and admire the way his upturned features glow under the pale blue sky, as if he never left, a heavenly image.

“Xu Minghao.”

He looks at you, eyes fluttering open, and he tries to hide back a smile, pursing his lips as you step towards him.

His touch is as gentle as you remember, kisses as warm and honeyed, and you almost weep when his thumb runs along your cheekbone tenderly.

“I have something to show you.” He brightens, one hand drifting to the covered canvas at his shoes, the other gripping your own gently.

“I went back to the sea before I came back to you.” Minghao explains, carefully undraping the sheet, and you can only gaze at the revealed painting with wide eyes. It was you, sitting amidst the lapping waves that only seemed to get more turbulent as they strayed farther from your grasp, as if you were ruler of the seas. “I remember before I came here, the sea was the only thing that gave me comfort away from my home. But when I went back, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, with me there, the hard work that I endured to get here to you, and the sea suddenly was cold and unfamiliar.”

“I love you.” He professes simply after a heartbeat, and he shushes you fondly when you sniffle, and all you can do is thump his chest lightly with your fist. He laughs aloud, as you say it back, once, twice, bright and beautiful, and you join him, swaying in one another’s embrace, with all the time the universe could offer.

♖ tags: @writeiolite

#seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #minghao imagines #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao imagines #the8 imagines #the8 x reader #myungho imagines #svt imagines #svt x reader #I HOPE IM NOT MISSING PARTS THATD BE SO EMBARRASSING WHJSBDJFSH

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wonderlustlucas · 4 years

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i hemoglobin you - byun baekhyun

⇢ prompt “Yeah, but Baekhyun doesn’t really talk romantics with me.” ⇢ pairing baekhyun x gender neutral reader ⇢ word count 4.8k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. kinda descriptive when it comes to the actual needle idk i’m bad at warnings if needles make u uncomfy don’t read. ⇢ summary You’d think, after some time, your crush on the annoying little shit named Byun Baekhyun would fade away. Fortunately for him (and you), falling out of love with someone brighter than a star is near impossible. Plus, needles are scary and even med kids need their hand held sometimes. Alternatively: Junmyeon found dead in a ditch.—friends to lovers!au ; college blood drive!au ⇢ a/n ok yes i realize this is an odd setting for fanfiction but like,,, my school had a blood drive & what happens in this is exactly what i experienced, minus the whole crush revealing they like me with a kiss thing. so i decided to WRITE IT OKAY?! also, i really tried to make this gender, color, absolutely everything reader neutral but then when i was editing i saw the nurse call y/n ‘miss’ so if i missed anything pls lmk so i can edit it!!! thank u & i hope u enjoy ♥︎

If it weren’t for that time you tried anal with your ex-boyfriend back in high school, you’d consider Byun Baekhyun to be the biggest pain in your ass. If asked, you definitely could come up with a hefty list of all the things about him that annoy the living daylights out of you, things from the unnecessary high volume of his voice to the time he introduced himself as “Bacon” on the first day of your internship at the hospital.

Truthfully, however, it all comes down to one certain realization: seeing Baekhyun’s stupidly cute smile has become the sole thing you look forward to everyday. For the first two years at university, you did not know Byun Baekhyun. You knew of him. As fate would have it, you were bound to meet at some point with an undergraduate enrollment of around four thousand, and your sanity began its downward tumble the third week of junior year.

At the time, you couldn’t quite put your finger on why he left such a sour taste in your mouth. From a distance, he was a star; this great, big bundle of sunshine and joy, full of life and spirit and in the eyes of someone as mild-mannered as yourself, he was magnificent and everything you wished you were. But, once the barrier between you fell and your relationship swiftly jumped from strangers to friends, you realized just how polar opposite you were. Always going out of his way to meet new people and a little too chaotic for you personally, Baekhyun draws attention to himself without even trying. And you can’t blame him— it’s hard to go unnoticed when you prance around with a thousand-watt smile and the energy of a three-month-old golden retriever.

Sometimes, you wished he had chosen one of the arts as his major rather than health sciences.

Nevertheless, it is hard to ignore such an innocently beautiful soul such as Baekhyun. No matter how many times you told yourself to find a new lab partner, no matter how many countless nights you found yourself rolling out of bed, bundled up in your blankets and into the cold hallway of your residence hall to knock on Park Chanyeol’s door and tell him to open the window for his frost-bitten roommate hiding in the bushes, no matter how many this or how many that’s, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the friendship and chaos that came with Byun Baekhyun.

If it weren’t for that time you tried anal with your ex-boyfriend back in high school, you’d consider Byun Baekhyun to be the love of your life.

“Absolutely not,” you interrupt, looking up from your clipboard in order to search the crowd for the younger boy. Baekhyun groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and dropping his head on your shoulder. “C’mon, ___. He’s fine, you know Sehun.” He whines, adding a drawn-out ‘please’ against your ear. It makes your stomach sink for reasons you’d rather not disclose.

“Baek,” you scoff, wiggling out of his grip despite his best efforts of keeping you against him, “are you serious? Sehun quite possibly may be the smallest person in this room. He needs to rest.”

“He’s twenty pounds heavier than me!”

“Taller, too.”

“___,” he groans, crossing his arms over his chest and mustering his best straight face. It makes you laugh.

“I’m not arguing with you. He did Power Red; he’s not going anywhere. If he didn’t want to miss chem, then he should have made his appointment later. It’s one class. He’ll be fine.”

“Why must you be so stubborn?” Baekhyun sighs in defeat, combing muted silver hair away from his forehead. Your eyes follow the movement, distracted for hardly a second, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I learned it from you,” you smile, nudging his arm with your elbow. The signature tilted smirk returns. “Tell Sehun I’m sorry, but I—well, we—can’t risk letting him leave. He could have a delayed effect and end up passed out in the staircase. Twenty more minutes and he can go.”

“I get it,” he hums, snatching the tentative schedule out of your hands before you can even protest. For as rash as he may be, Baekhyun is not dumb. And even if he was, he knows that when you are as unrelenting as you are now, there’s no point in arguing. “I think I’m gonna try and donate.”

“What?” You exclaim, maybe a little too loud if all the Red Cross employees shooting annoyed glares your way is anything to go by. Baekhyun truly is started to rub off on you. “I thought you were scared of needles?”

“Heights, ___,” he scoffs, “needles aren’t my favorite, but if I’m going to eventually put them in other people, I better get used to them for myself.” As he explains, he rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie and presses at the soft skin on the inside of his arm before stretching it out for your examination. “I mean,” you hum, holding him still and feeling around for a thick enough vein, “you definitely have the veins. Do you want me to hold your hand?” You sing the last part cutely, lips puckered out at him.

“Will you? Since Sehun has to stay over there, I have no one else,” Baekhyun retorts, using your previous resolve to his advantage. You can’t tell if he’s oblivious or simply choosing to ignore your mockery. Rolling your eyes, you drop his arm and reach for your clipboard, tearing it out of his grasp. “Don’t you have anything else better to do than annoy me? Aren’t you supposed to be watching the donors?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Baekhyun starts, trailing behind you before the shout of his name promptly cuts him off. “Baekhyun! Can you help Jongdae carry in more water?” See, precisely as you were saying.

“But I like annoying you,” he pouts, hugging onto your arm and holding on tight. “Sorry, Baek,” you offer, feelings in shambles because 1) he is so cute you could cry but 2) he’s really distracting and now you finally will be able to focus, at least while he’s gone. Frowning, he releases your arm at last, combing his hair back and once again, you feel like throwing up.

“Go see if you can donate when you’re done,” you remind him, nodding toward the rather quiet donor room. “Yeah, I will. Wish me luck,” Baekhyun grins, blowing you a kiss. Without a second thought, you blow one back.

You have begun walking on an incredibly unstable rope, you realize, the thin line distinguishing the way you look at Baekhyun diminishing each and every day. On one side, he is simply your friend, your lab partner, a coworker of sorts. Comrades working toward the same goal, and once it’s reached, you go your separate ways. But on the other hand, he is much more than that. Now that you no longer live on campus, days spent bullshitting in the dining hall or dorms over, you most certainly do not spend as much time together.

And yet, nothing has changed. Except for your feelings, of course. This time last year, you were minding your own damn business when Chanyeol had to go and mention how much time Baekhyun spends with you instead of him. “Sorry?” You had offered, unsure of what the crease in his brow meant.

“No… don’t be sorry,” he hummed, deep in thought and stabbing at his salad in disinterest, “not to be blunt, but he usually bounces from person to person each week. He’s been sticking to you for, what, six months? Something is up.”

“Don’t you live with him?” You asked, confused. What was he getting at here?

“Yeah, but Baekhyun doesn’t really talk romantics with me.”

“Romantics?” You exclaimed, spit flying from your lips. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

“He definitely likes you. God, it all makes sense now! Okay, I need to do some interrogating,” suddenly rushing, Chanyeol was up and swinging his bag over his shoulder before you could blink an eye. “See ya, ___!”

“Wait!” You yelled out for him, but the obnoxiously tall boy just kept running, dodging students meandering around the dining hall. Slumping in your chair, you eventually turned to look out the window, watching as he continued his flight across campus. “Good talk.”

Nothing ever came up afterward. No answers, no clarifications, nada. Chanyeol never brought it up again, despite the expectant raise of your brows the next lunch you had alone with him. You were content shrugging it off— it was out of your hands. If Baekhyun liked you, so be it.

Or so you thought. Turns out, having such unanswered questions dangling over your head every time Baekhyun left his friends for you at parties, fell asleep with his head on your shoulder during chem, or arrived at your front door with your favorite boba in hand just because he ‘was driving by’ left your mind racing almost as fast as your heart. You thought, for some time, that you could dodge such budding emotions by countering it with all the things you didn’t like about Baekhyun. (Spoiler: it didn’t work.)

Even now, as you watch him catch up with Jongdae, the left side of your brain has already begun arguing with the right. You miss his annoying ass already, one side points out. But he was a distraction, now you have double the students to check in, the other reasons. With a heavy sigh, you shake your head to rid such enraging thoughts and turn to said students, counting each one before making your way to the first in line.

He can’t donate. You realize this before he has even left his seat.

From across the gymnasium, you have continued glancing his way as he went through the mini physical. Just before the finger prick, he shot you a thumbs up and a beaming smile bright enough to challenge the Sun before jerking in his seat at the sudden pinch. Laughing, the grin you returned has not even left your face before his shoulders are sagging, a cloud of disappointment replacing the anxious excitement that was there hardly ten seconds ago. Your smile is gone just as quickly as his.

Standing, Baekhyun nods one last time to the nurse before making his way over, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck from side to side. “Low iron?” You guess, opening your arms for him to nestle into your side like the little munchkin he is. “Yeah,” he mumbles, miserable, and you cringe knowing he’s going to be like this all day now. “I wish I could donate, but…” You drone emptily, trying to change the subject despite the deceitfulness of your ‘wish.’ Over your dead body would you lie on one of those tables and have a harpoon in your arm.

“You should, now that I can’t,” he hums, breath warm on your skin. Convincing as snuggly Baekhyun is, it’s not happening. “Yeah, I’ll pass,” you snort, offering a faux smile to a group of sophomore girls making their way in, shooting confused and envious glances your way. “Make sure to grab a water before starting your Rapid Pass, ladies. If you have not eaten much today, there are snacks by Katie,” you spew, pointing to said girl across the room, “if you have any questions, let me know.” With one last feeble smile, you turn your back to them because, well, it’s awkward facing multiple females whose eyes are trained solely on the boy clinging to you.

“You’re hot when your all doctor,” Baekhyun whispers, lips brushing ever so softly against your collarbone. Suddenly, you regret taking your sweatshirt off during lunch. Swallowing past the panic rising in your throat, you scoff. “Doctor? What doctor are you seeing that directs their patients toward donuts, muffins, danishes—”

“Hot ones, I guess,” he interrupts, smirking against your skin. “Ooooh ‘kay,” you wheeze, heart racing and eyes wide as you wiggle away from him, “y’know, maybe I will donate. Just so you stop bugging me.” Gasping, Baekhyun fakes a bullet to the heart. “Ah, but here’s the thing,” he counters, following close behind as you make your way to the front table, “my job is to distract donors from the needle, hold their hand, tell them ‘good job!’ So, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Groaning, you choose to ignore the inexhaustible boy and smile to Lauren once you have reached her. “Do you know if anyone can cover for me for a little? I’m going to try and donate.”

Gasping, she ruffles through the papers spread about her for the volunteer log. Then, “You should be fine. After those girls, the next appointment isn’t until two. I thought you hated this whole concept?”

Snorting, you pull one of the laptops towards you and begin filling out the information needed for a walk-in. “Yeah, well,” tilting your head in Baekhyun’s direction, you sigh, “he couldn’t donate, so now I feel obligated to. Plus, I need a break.”

“Ah,” Lauren hums, writing your name and ‘Walk-In’ on a sticker before passing it to you, “are you guys…?”

Immediately catching what she is hinting at, you jump up from your knelt position and quickly return to your station. “Nope! Negative! Okay, bye Lauren! Thanks!” Laughing, she chooses to ignore your antics, watching after you with a knowing smile when Baekhyun realizes you have left and scrambles to catch up.

You’re hoping you won’t be eligible since you left the country for vacation with your family nine months ago.

Never mind. It’s fine.

Perhaps your heart rate will be too high. You’re pretty anxious, after all.

84. Shit.

You flinch when the quiet-mannered nurse pricks your ring finger. Praying that your iron will be too low, you lean forward in your seat just enough to see the machine’s reading. 13.4. Fuck.

“Alright, I’m just gonna need you to read this first paragraph and sign here,” she directs you, using a pen to point at each spot. When she stands to wave for the next potential donor, you glance up to search for Baekhyun. You could use one of his smiles right about now.

And what you ask for, you receive. Finding your gaze instantaneously, he shoots you bright, encouraging grin and a thumbs up. It’s enough to calm your nerves. A little.

Offering an uncomfortable smile back, you return to your paperwork and hurriedly finish up, your leg bouncing ceaselessly. “All done?” The nurse returns, smiling softly at you and taking the papers when you nod. “You can head over to the third table in the middle.” “Okie,” you squeak, nice, “thank you!”

Good god, what happened to never allowing one of these needles to go in your arm? Sure, you have had blood tests done before, Hell, you have even given someone else one! But this… this is different. This is no ordinary needle, and you certainly do not have Byun Baekhyun veins.

“How are you doing today?” The Red Cross worker greets you once you have reached the table, smile warm and comforting. Seoyeon, her nametag reads. “I’m, ah… I’ve been better, honestly,” your voice comes out shaky and weak. You cringe. Going to med school and you’re whining over a needle. A big, fat, wide needle that will stay in your arm for more than five minutes. “Aw, no! Why’s that?” Seoyeon pouts, shuffling through your papers and slapping a big sticker onto the bag your blood, eventually, will fill.

“I have pretty tiny veins, so I’m really nervous this isn’t going to go well for me,” you admit, artfully rolling the sleeves of your tee even higher. Humming as she finishes carrying over the rest of the equipment, Seoyeon helps you onto the cushioned table before standing beside you, reaching for your arms. “Well,” she starts, brushing over each one for a few seconds before tying a tourniquet around your right bicep, “lucky for you, we do in fact check to make sure your veins are big enough. Hansol, can you double-check that this is alright?”

Your nerves seemingly do not know how to feel at the given moment. On one hand, these are professionals. They know what they’re doing. Plus, Seoyeon is lovely and has certainly eased your anxiety. Nevertheless, you realize that if your veins are okay, that needle is going to be in you in minutes.

This Hansol skirts around the table to feel the two veins Seoyeon has gone back and forth prodding. “Hm,” he grunts, pressing harder on the vein set deeper beneath your skin, “this one is good.” Oh, Christ. “Okay! Thanks,” Seoyeon smiles, then, once he has left her side, “you can lie back this way, sweetie.”

“Okay,” you sigh, settling back and resting your head on the pillow. Unsure of how to situate yourself, you awkwardly cross your legs and nestle your left arm into the pockets of your joggers, right arm dangling over the edge of the table. Then, just as you have closed your eyes, “___!”

Oh, good. This should be interesting. “Hey, Baek,” you smile at the boy as he jogs over, stopping on your left side. “You made it! No backing out now, right?”

“No, no. I’m praying for the best,” you hum, turning away from him to look straight up at the ceiling as Seoyeon begins sanitizing your arm. “You’re gonna be fine,” Baekhyun sings, tugging your hand out of your pocket to intertwine his fingers with yours, “if Sehun could do it, so can you.”

“I’m just marking where your vein is, no need to tense up,” Seoyeon interrupts, chuckling at how easily your posture has gone rigid at the sensation. Funny, how you only tensed up because of Baekhyun’s tender gesture. “I know I’ll be okay, I just,” anxiously licking the desert-dryness of your lips, you once again turn to Baekhyun, “I’m not looking forward to feeling this thing in my arm for ten minutes.”

“Nah,” he giggles, thumb swiping back and forth against your skin, “I’ll distract you!” Yeah, well you do that every day anyway, you snort to yourself, shamelessly taking advantage of the moment and scanning over his features, zoning in on the pinkness of his lips and the tiny moles sprinkled about his face. From this angle, even the shitty LED lighting of the gym somehow makes him look immaculate. “Alright, I’m going to count down from three,” Seoyeon interrupts your gawking, though you haven’t really processed her words until she’s on two. “One…” She utters, and you are instantly squeezing your eyes closed just as hard as your squeezing Baekhyun’s hand as the needle first breaks skin.

“Oh, shit,” you heave once it’s completely sheathed, rolling the plastic grip anxiously in your increasingly sweaty hand, “that actually wasn’t so bad.” Now that Baekhyun has moved to stand directly behind your head, you stare straight up at him and muster your best smile. Really— it was not as bad as you imagined, felt just like regular blood work. As long as you don’t focus too much on it remaining in your arm, you’ll be fine.

“See! I knew you could do it,” he cheers, letting go of your free hand in favor of combing his fingers through your hair. “Ooh,” you quite literally purr, leaning your head back to give him further access, “so, Mr. This-Is-My-Job, is this how you distract donors?” Chuckling, Baekhyun continues to comb through the knots that have accumulated throughout the day. “No,” he admits, “I usually just talk to them about what they did over the weekend. You’re an exception, though.”

Christ, you hope he can’t feel the way your face heats up at his words. “Ah, well, this is great. Thanks, Baek,” humming, you cannot help but let your eyelids fall closed. Peak comfort when you're donating blood? Not what you would have expected.

“So, what did you do this weekend?”

“Well, I went to Target, which was kind of disappointing.”

“Oh, yeah! Didn’t I see on your story that you only got one pair of pants or something?”

“Yeah! Crazy, honestly. I needed to pick up some things and they were completely out. Even their clothes were kind of slacking.” Before he can reply, Seoyeon returns to check up on you. Gasping in surprise, she gives your shoulder a congratulatory nudge. “___! Look at you! You’ve already filled up a fourth of the bag.”

“Oh shit, really?” Laughing, you try to lean up in order to see, but there’s no use. “Have you been drinking a lot of water today?” She asks. Well, now that you think about it… “Huh. I guess I have. Nice.” Chuckling, she fiddles with the tape holding the needle in place before turning away once more.

“So,” Baekhyun starts conversation up once more, “did you do anything else?”

“I hung out with Junmyeon on Sunday again.” Suddenly, you wish you didn’t tell him that.

“Oh,” Baekhyun coughs, accidentally yanking too hard on the tiny braid he’s attempted by your temple, “how was that?”

“It was fun. He’s a great guy…” Clearly, you are hesitant and he easily catches it. “But…?”

“I don’t know,” he’s not you, “I feel really immature and lame compared to him. He’s like, super chill and polite and somehow, it makes me nervous and then I act like I’m on crack. He needs someone older than him, not younger. A lawyer, or something.”

“___, you’re getting a degree in Neuroscience. What the fuck is lame about that?” Baekhyun scoffs, undoing the braid and starting over on the other side. “I don’t know! I guess I just don’t have romantic feelings for him. Everyone keeps pushing me to go for it and he really is amazing, but… it’s just not what I want.”

“No one’s forcing you to date him, ___.”

Well, yeah, but he doesn’t know the bit where your friends are doing it so you can get over a certain someone else. “I know. I think he’ll be fine when I tell him I just want to be friends.”

When a heavy silence falls over you, you rush to change the topic. “So! What did you do this weekend?”

“I played New Horizons,” Baekhyun chuckles, giving up on the braid and going back to simply combing through your hair. When you laugh, you feel the vibration in your arm and realize with another wave of surprise that you still have a needle in you. Damn, looks like you’re a pro at this. Who knew!

“All weekend?” You snort. He definitely went out for drinks with Chanyeol or something.

“Yes, sadly,” oh, never mind, “I couldn’t help it. It’s so relaxing. I can’t wait to go home and play.” He sounds ashamed. “Hey,” you shrug, “sometimes we need a mental health day. Or weekend.”

“Or week.”

“Month?”

“Year, I’m thinking.”

In the midst of your giggle fit, Seoyeon returns, evidently shutting the two of you up. “You’re all done! I just have to take a few tubes and then I’ll tell you when I’m going to take the needle out.”

“Wow, was it just me or did that seem really quick?” Baekhyun asks, frantically moving to hold your hand when he notices you wince at the uncomfortable feel of the needle moving slightly as Seoyeon fills each tube. “No, you’re right,” she hums, “six minutes! Wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Not at all,” you agree, blinking up at the ceiling. Still, you can’t wait to be done. “You sure? Your hand is shaking really bad,” Baekhyun murmurs, hovering directly above your face. He looks funny, messy hair cascading around him and cheeks looking extra squishy. It makes you smile. “Yeah, just nervous for it to come out, actually. Feel like it’s gonna hurt,” you admit, accidentally squeezing his hand when all Seoyeon does is remove the tape on your wrist keeping the line in place.

“Alright, you ready? It’s just going to a be a little pinch,” Seoyeon interrupts, giving your fingertips a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah,” you hum, instinctively sucking in a deep breath and squeezing your eyes shut.

The sensation that first registers in your brain is not that of Seoyeon slowly withdrawing the needle from beneath your skin. Actually, it’s unnoticeable behind the gentle pressure lingering upon your lips, soft to touch and minty in taste. Blistex, you recognize, eyes flying open just in time to see Baekhyun leaning back up. “Did you just—”

“Alright, keep pressure on this for me and keep your arm straight up,” Seoyeon interjects, oblivious to what just transpired as she presses a hefty square of gauze to your skin. You oblige, brain cells going haywire still trying to piece together the fact that Byun Baekhyun just kissed you.

“Do you do that to everyone?” Is the first thing you blurt to the grinning boy, who, surprisingly so, wears cheeks just as rosy as yours. “No,” he laughs, moving to the side and continuing to stroke you hand, “just donors named ___.”

“Oh,” wrinkling your nose, you slowly lean upright once Seoyeon instructs you to do so, “can I ask why or am I just special?” When she busies herself for few moments cleaning up all of the equipment, Baekhyun releases your hand in order to cup your face with both hands. “Well, of course you’re special,” he murmurs, thumbs swiping against your jaw, “but I figured this was a good opportunity to show you how much I like you.”

It takes a fat second for you to realize what he’s just said. Like you?

“I’m gonna kill him,” you groan, definitely not the response he was expecting if the way he retracts is anything to go by. “Kill who?”

“Chanyeol! Like, a year ago he went all detective mode on me trying to figure out if you liked me, but then he never said anything again, so for the past year I’ve been going nuts trying not to fall for you because I figured if he had nothing to say, you probably didn’t like me like that, yet here we are a year later and—”

In the midst of your mindless babbling, Seoyeon coughs, promptly shutting you up and you turn to her with a wince. “I just need to wrap you up, then you can head over to Recovery,” her attempt to hide her smile is futile but you don’t comment on it, instead allowing her to wrap elastic tape around your elbow. “Leave this on for about an hour, or you can take it off after twenty minutes. Other than that, you’re good to go!”

“Thanks so much, Seoyeon,” smiling appreciatively at her, you slowly turn to slide off the table with the help of her grip on your other arm. Before you are even fully upright, Baekhyun has rounded the table to help, slipping his arm between yours. Honestly, you feel perfectly fine, but you’re not about to go arguing right now. Once he starts leading the two of you toward Recovery, he breaks the silence once more. “So, were you finished back there, or can I talk?”

Cringing, you shake your head, avoiding looking him in the eyes. “No, I’m done.”

“Good,” at this, you pinch his arm, “Chanyeol didn’t say anything because I told him not to.” Baekhyun shushes you when your mouth opens to argue. “I thought I would make a move a lot sooner. But every time I went to, I just started panicking thinking you didn’t feel the same, because, y’know, you don’t show much emotion. And then you started hanging out with Junmyeon… but that doesn’t seem to be working out, so I decided to wing it.”

Your jaw certainly must be on the floor. Stopping by the snacks, Baekhyun releases your arm so you can fill your hands with a donut, apple juice, and a bag of Cheez-Its. “Glad to see we’re both airheads,” you grumble with a mouthful of donut, “I say we blame Chanyeol.” Making sure you safely seat yourself onto the mats spread around the room, Baekhyun then joins and sits crisscross across from you. “I agree. It’s his fault.”

Then, once you have stopped laughing, Baekhyun leans in close, face centimeters from yours and evidently stealing all the air from your lungs. God, he sure is beautiful. “This means you’ll go out with me, right?” He whispers, wiping away a sprinkle that has managed to stick itself to the corner of your lips.

“I thought you were going to play New Horizons when you got home?” You tease, raising one arm to sling across his shoulders. Groaning, he finally cups your face in his hands, strawberry pink lips ever so slightly brushing yours as his smirk deepens. “I am, but you can come watch.”

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aosxra · 4 years

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manhwa recs of the daddy issues variety

its ya boi back again after many years of hiatus - almost forgot that this existed but hey i’m back - let’s get to it

in my attempt to escape reality, i’ve delved into the unescapable hole of isekai reincarnation mangas, and just thought i should at least do something with my time and get back to doing rec lists :’) in particular, the daddy issue manhwas, or mangas?

specifically, those stories where someone from our modern era reincarnated into the body of some tyrant’s daughter - i think this might be slightly too specific to make a dedicated list but... well, i think there’s some things to be said about them.

starting off with the GOD TIER:

Who Made Me A Princess // holy shit i love this so much // i’m at chp 61

in the original novel, princess Athanasia gets killed by her dad (Claude) who is an absolute tyrant who has never acknowledged her as his daughter, and instead fawns (as much as he does) over this other girl who claims to be his daughter

now that MC is reincarnated, she is determined to not get killed by this dickhead of a father and decides to run away w valuables asap, but is forced into a situation where she might be forced to suck up to him instead //

the art is super good & you actually feel for the characters, like they are somewhat relatable or at least you can sympathise with them. MC isn’t super dumb af & her tyrant father doesnt do anything OOC (aka become a useless fawning idiot dad once he warms up to her) plot is somewhat slow but at an acceptable pace, it doesn’t feel rushed or disjointed... i just rly like it damn it

& ALSO romance isn’t forced down your damn throat (even tho i do have ships alrdy) because they are still kids after all, and something that i super appreciate is that MC doesn’t go on about how handsome her dad is... like she does acknowledge that he’s handsome but it’s not like omg dude my dad is so handsome, i can’t sleep when his face is super near mine!!!!!! ///

(unfortunately this is where my good recs stop, but i’m just gna add the other manhwas of this variety, just to acknowledge that they exist, but just as a side note - i don’t really recommend these lol feel free to disagree, but also! there might be spoilers below)

daughter of the emperor // nope 2/10 // art is meh, story is also meh

lowkey same premise as who made me a princess except not as well developed...? I enjoyed it way more when she was a kid but after a while she kinda got on my nerves - she’s cute & all, mainly to gain favour from her dad but as she grows older, she starts to act like that around everyone

and she is totally ignorant as a princess & is not educated...? like i don’t really understand why. the plot keeps venturing off to weird ass tangents like an anime that caught up with the manga and has to resort to bad filler arcs. the time skips are hella odd too but ya know, i dropped it after awhile, i might just be biased and directly comparing it to WMMAP lol maybe i should give it another try

if i remember correctly too, i think she also goes on about how her dad is handsome????? idk it bothers me

they say i was born a king’s daughter // wtf/10 // nope nope

before being reincarnated, MC had a loving bf & died w regrets that she didn’t properly love him back or smth like that THEN she gets reincarnated into a world where women are treated like absolute SHIT, and she’s the daughter of a king (tbh i don’t know whether he can be called a tyrant because judging by the standards of her reincarnated world, he’s normal...?) oh and also males are superior because they can use magic

so she basically tries to not live a shit life by sucking up to the males in her life aka her 2 brothers

other than the fact that it’s super uncomfortable to read the super misogynistic world building, it’s ok-ish at first? even though it’s weird how her brothers & dad just basically falls in love with her rather quickly (her brothers in a...maybe not so platonic way, who tf knows), the series is somewhat OK right up till season 3

i think they switched the writer/artist (?) when it came to S3 and it really shows:

1. they like to use a certain way to tell the story, like start off with a foreshadowing and cuts to a flashback, and after awhile it gets predictable and idk it broke the storytelling for me personally

2. the story took a very very VERY weird ass turn - i guess the story before might have been building up to it but... ????????? i’m so fucking confused so i dropped it like 10 chapters into S3

i was born as the demon lord’s daughter // tbh too soon to really tell

currently i’m only 4 chapters in but time will tell... BUT SO FAR

(stealing the summary from manganelo because 4 chapters can’t tell me shit) Joara lived and died miserably, but as her life ended she realized that she was reborn as the demon lord’s daughter? Joara lived as the school’s loser and while running from her aunt’s physical abuse she got into a life-ending car accident. After nearly dying at the hands of her new father, the newly named “Irene” starts a new life with her father’s familial love and adventure!

it’s ok? maybe? slight complain that babies don’t look like actual babies but what do i know, i can’t draw for nuts //

it feels like there might be a plot going on but i can’t tell? it’s just here because ya know, daddy issues & he’s a demon lord, though he seems to dote on her quite a bit AND ALSO she will go on about how her dad is handsome, which i guess if a grown ass woman were to go back and see cute guys around you without really comprehending that he’s your dad...maybe???? idk???

ok i’m done peace out // feel free to argue w me or if you have other recs, pls lmk i need more

#manga #manhwa #mangarecs #reclist #aosxra #daughter of the emperor #who made me a princess #i was born as the demon lord's daughter #they say i was born a king's daughter

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pommedelamer · 4 years

Text

art of the pen

a/n: soo uhh it’s been a while. here’s a couple pages worth of a story idea I had, as well as my character design that inspired it! this is. extremely rough but I figured that I should get something up. hhhh I was considering turning this into a formal book with actual developed characters and plot advancement (oh god saying that gives me anxiety) but I don’t know if the content I have so far is very promising. lmk what y'all think lol

Character Description: This character is a young female writer. When the novel she has poured her life’s work into is denounced by publishers, she withdraws to a foreign country in attempts to kindle the flames of a new life and reignite her passion for writing. Rejection, coupled with extreme loneliness, causes her to sink into depression. She wanders aimlessly through her new remote town in search of a sense of community. She comes across this in the last place she expected when she discovers that the decrepit building in which she temporarily resides is inhabited by a troop of eccentric underground journalists. Alongside her intrepid neighbors, she tears into the controversies and secrets woven into the fabric of her town and writes like she never has before.

The sun peeked through the gaps in the verdant canopy above, but my journal pages were still mostly barren. My pen always seemed to still a few sentences in, flailing like a line unable to lure in a bite. I flipped back to the cover, sluggish in the evening heat. It was adorned with pressed indigo flowers on a cream-colored background. Some of the pigment in the flowers had escaped under the pressure, and each blossom was framed with a deep purple halo. The wind sent the pages tumbling in a delicate fan, and suddenly I was a vandal, a delinquent with the gall to tarnish such beauty with the aftershocks of a passion that had run its course.

A cloud crossed over the sun and the forest floor seemed to close itself off, a flourishing ecosystem in which I was a parasite, leeching off its natural resources to fuel my own unavailing pursuits. I felt the crabgrass clawing at the soles of my feet as I reread the fruits of my two hours. Oh. My breath thickened in my throat and the canopy of branches above shifted in the wind. I suddenly felt compelled to trek back to the little corner market and seek forgiveness for the heinous crimes I’d committed inside the lovely journal with the flowers festooned across the front. And then I’d make a pit stop back at my publisher’s to apologize for my persistence with that novel I’d probably packed with even more of my insufferable delusions. My pen felt leaden and foreign in my hand, and I let it fall to the forest floor in penitence.

I stood up and saw that a thicket of scraggly trees was eyeing me curiously. It could just be a hobby, I told them. They remained steadfast, bony limbs still contorted in thorny skepticism. I didn’t quite know what they sought from me, but I wanted to oblige them. Something to unwind with in the afternoons. The forest was drawing further and further away from me, the thrushes and jays flocking in the leaves of a far-off pine tree, the wind gently guiding the little saplings away on their scrawny legs. A shadow crossed over my bones, and I knew that it was a lie. I wanted to crawl out of the skeleton that had confidently put pen to paper every morning and leave the remnants to disintegrate on the forest floor. I scooped up the marred pages of the little journal and tucked it away. Just something to pass the time. If that.

❋❋❋

The town had fully transformed itself when I crossed onto Washington Street. The daytime freshness had long since evaporated from the air, a numbing sense of finality sliding into its place, a reflective epilogue on the day passed. The possibility that I’d felt on my trek to the market that very morning remained in the air, and, silhouetted against the cloak of night, it was mystifying and beckoned me through the alleyways and over the crosswalks. In spite of my spirits, my eyes were dazzled with it. I watched as my shadow, elongated by the streetlamps, tapered off into drains and crept up the sides of buildings, beguiling the eye with its disappearances and reappearances.

I arrived at my complex and allowed myself a moment to take it in at nighttime for the first time. Unlike some of the buildings that retained their daytime charm in the dark, 42 Washington Street took on an air of its own. The streetlamps threw long, delicate shadows over the siding, and the balconies seemed to withdraw back into the wall for the night.

I fumbled with my keys and let myself in. I was immediately enveloped with cool air that seemed awfully artificial, if the sputtering air conditioner on the far wall was any indication. The lobby had also fully adopted the nighttime guise, the broad armchairs appearing to purposefully hold their poses in the dark, as if they had once been dancing. Even the idyllic watercolor gondola painting mounted on the wall behind the front desk had shifted in the night, now depicting rafts traversing the inky river Styx.

“Your first night at 42 Washington, I assume?”

It took me a moment to locate the speaker, tracing over the corners of the room that the moonlight had claimed. It was only when I stepped back and observed the room again, allowing my gaze to slip beyond the cool puddles of light on the wooden armrests and coffee table, that I found the source.

Completely submerged in shadow, a man was reclining on a velvet armchair. Even entirely cloaked in dark, I could tell that he was incredibly tall, almost larger than life. One of his legs draped over the side of the chair, and his foot still managed to touch the ground. His left hand curved over the other arm of the chair, spanning the entire width. He wore a plain button up, the hem of which fanned out onto the chair. I saw an object on his lap that I recognized from my own fruitless pursuits, as a journal. His was almost bursting at the seams, the binding probably beginning to fray under the stress. I saw movement inside the shadow that overtook half the man’s face, swallowing up his likeness so that his features were still up to my imagination.

“It’s a completely different place in the dark, all transformed and the like. One might say we have two buildings for the price of one. It’s a bit of a joke around here.” He spoke as if he were scribbling on a page, the drawl of his voice trying desperately to align itself with the words in his head – as if I’d walked in on him in the middle of constructing his own universe and it hadn’t quite stopped for me. My eyes fell on the fountain pen dangling between his fingers that I’d dismissed as a cigarette, and I realized that was exactly what he had been doing. “But it’s best to keep it between us. If the landlord catches on, you can expect rent to double in price. All the apartments are the same around here, and the landlords are no different. They’ll take anything they can get.” He laughed faintly, and the shadow shortened as if the man had tipped his head back, lost in thought. There was a brief silence, during which I realized I hadn’t yet uttered a single word. “Are you a writer too, then?”

The question was wholly disarming, catching me right between the ribs. I hoped that the night would obscure the rivers of uncertainty it sent ghosting over my skin and coursing through my veins. My heartbeat rattled against my ribcage as I willed myself to respond.

“I’ve dabbled in it. So one might say I am, but ... no, I suppose I’m not, by definition, anyway.” I was again grateful for the anonymity the night provided, for my voice was telling a story of its own, one that I’d recently established was no longer mine. “What might give you that impression?”

The man shifted forwards, the contours of his face revealing themselves inside the beam of moonlight that fell at his feet. I rushed to dismantle the collage of shadowed features I’d loosely fabricated in my head, although it was not far off from what the moonlight illuminated before my eyes. I observed that, for as much as he liked to talk about it, the man’s face was not like 42 Washington Street. “We have a certain look about us, I s’pose.”

My hands wrung behind my back as he propped his elbows on his knees. I couldn’t help but wonder what else he’d detected during this shadowed analysis. I was sure the distress his question had instilled in me had not gone unnoticed, but he did not question it. He did not question me, and I did not question him.

The man skimmed through the pages of the teeming journal and produced a piece of brown paper that, from the looks of it, had been folded up to four times. “If I’m right in my assessments and you’re interested, there’s a group of us around here. I think we’d all be open to more writers in a town like this.” He placed the paper in my palm, and I nodded.

I unfurled the paper and scanned it quickly as I walked. I was already halfway down the hall when a blank space on the flyer piqued my curiosity. “Excuse me, sir, the address-- it seems to be missing?”

But the enormous man had already eased back in the armchair, hands closing around the journal as the shadows overtook him once more. “It does have the feel of a haunted house around here, doesn’t it?” He mumbled into the dark.

*~to be continued~*

feedback would be appreciated :)

#writers #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writing #amwriting #writeblr #authors #creative writing #this is really bad sorry #writblr #written #words #free write #writers of tumblr #wip #current wip

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acadieum · 6 years

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Do you have any tips or advice for someone looking into digital art?

Mmm, I dunno if you’re asking as in software, products (tablets), or the process of actually doing art but? I’ll give you a couple tips for all of them, but if you want tips on something specific, feel free to ask!

Also, this is kind of just my input on it? So don’t feel like everything I’m saying is an absolute MUST, y’know? It’s just suggestions and whatnot. But anyways, I’ll put it under the cut since it’s a bit long!

For software, I’d try out the free programs first. That way, you’re not paying for a program you don’t like when there might be better programs for you out there that are free to use. (Regardless if you’re downloading a “copied” version or the original software, always make sure you’re downloading from a reliable source! Verify that the website is safe and check what it plans to install so you don’t get viruses!)

Over my art experience, I’ve tried multiple art programs, but Paint Tool Sai has always been the best one for me. A few other programs that I’ve tried are Fire Alpaca, Krita, Medibang, etc. and they’re all free and work fine! I’ve also tried Manga Studio, which is a paid software, and Photoshop, which I didn’t pay for, and they work great also! It has plenty of tools and extras on the program so it was definitely worth the money! Though, for drawing, I still heavily prefer Paint Tool Sai because of its setup! However, every artist is different and there are plenty of digital art programs free and available out there, so try ‘em out! See which one’s work best for you! Just make sure it’s safe.

For products/tablets, I would only suggest buying a tablet if you see yourself actually using it and frequently. If you’re uncertain how frequent you’d use it, I’d suggest buying a less expensive tablet. There are plenty of drawing tablets that are under 50 USD and they are perfect to use as starters. (If desired, you can buy better quality tablets in the future as you become more comfortable with drawing digitally. You know, like upgrading your setup, but I wouldn’t go super expensive right away.)

If you’re getting your first tablet, DO NOT go over 100 USD. This is just in case because you may end up not liking digital art and that’s totally fine! It’s not for everyone. Some people prefer traditional and that’s completely okay! But if that’s the case, it’s better to have spent 50 USD vs 100 USD on something you won’t use.

Regardless of which you choose, just make sure that the tablet you buy is compatible with the drawing software you desire to use! The description of the item should tell you if it’s compatible or not. If it’s not compatible, it will either not work on the program at all or just won’t have pressure sensitivity. (My first tablet wasn’t compatible with PTS so my pressure sensitivity never worked but I could still draw on it. Some people can still make great art without pressure sensitivity but I am not one of those people. orz)

If you see yourself using it often, I’d suggest getting a more reliable tablet - one that will last you a while. Just like drawing softwares, drawing tablets can vary in preference from artist to artist.

My first tablet was around 40 USD and while it was bigger, I occasionally had problems with it. Sometimes, it would have problems connecting, etc. I can’t speak for others, but the tablet I currently use is a Wacom Intuos Draw and I heavily prefer it to my first one. I think it was 80 USD when I bought it and it works super great! Though, it’s a bit on the smaller side, so if that’s not your thing, it’s probably not the product you’re looking for.

But, I’ve never had any problem with it so I’d highly recommend it! I personally don’t have a tablet size preference but I’ve had it for a couple of years, and thanks to commissions, I’ve already paid back its cost multiple times over the duration that I’ve had it. So while a bit more expensive than other tablets, it was a great investment, esp if you plan on doing commissions!

For the art process, I don’t really have tips for this one because everyone does art differently? So here’s a few maybe not-so-obvious tips?

USE MULTIPLE LAYERS.

Designate linework and color layers! (Unless you’re a daredevil and wanna do it in one, go for it.)

ABUSE THE TOOLS OF DIGITAL ART.

Traditional art is great and all! But the difference between traditional and digital is immense. Take advantage of using clipped layers, preserving opacity, layer options, hue/saturation, etc. (If you don’t know what those are, hmu and I can explain.)

FREQUENTLY SAVE YOUR ART.

I don’t know how many times I’ve been working on a drawing and it’s just hours and hours of progress lost because I forgot to save. PLEASE remember to save your art.

TIP: Some programs have a setting where it automatically saves every set amount of minutes, so if it does have that setting, I highly encourage to use it.

IT’S OKAY TO TAKE A BREAK.

Sometimes, I have not-so-great art days and I get upset that nothing I draw comes out right. This especially happens when I come back after a huge art block.

Dealing with Art Block.

It’s okay if this happens. At this time, don’t overwork yourself and don’t focus on perfection. It’ll probably get you more stressed.

Just breathe and try doodling small things to get you back into the groove of things. Again, don’t strive for perfection. Just make little meme scribbles so that your hand can re-learn the movements and then along the way, you’ll hopefully get inspired and go back to making the beautiful art you had been before! But it takes time, so don’t rush anything!

REMEMBER TO STRETCH AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.

I often draw for hours on end without getting up, stretching, or hydrating. As a result, I have many frequent health issues and wrist problems.

Please take care of yourself! Every now and then, remember to get up and do stretching exercises. Take a drink of water, breathe, walk around, etc. It really prevents the strain in future scenarios!

If you have any other questions, feel free to lmk! Hope this helps somewhat???

#adrien replies #th0t-topic

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lcncasters-blog · 7 years

Text

hey everyone!!! i’m d, i’m 23, and i use they/them pronouns. super hyped about being here so i’ma just get right into it

so kai is my fave character and kinda notoriously The Worst while also being The Best, so i’m warning y’all before we even go in that he’s actually so sloppy and wild pls proceed w/ caution. i’ve been playing him for over 4 years. that being said, he does have a fuck ton of information, so while the bullet points are going to be as condensed as i can possibly make them, you should really check out the appearance section (or you can just look at my sidebar which is wonderful artwork of kai one of my close friends did for me --- give them love on their art blog nialls ok SO talented) of his STATS FRAMEWORK and then if you really hate yourself i have a DEVELOPMENT TAG too with a bunch of headcanons (feel free to RB the rebloggable ones from me btw)

LOUIS TOMLINSON? no ⏤ KAI LANCASTER, the DEMIBOY is TWENTY-THREE and was born with a GOLD soul, and now has a GREY soul. i would describe HIM/THEM as EXUBERANT + BRAVE, yet CARELESS + IMPATIENT. KAI spends HIS/THEIR time PLAYING AT SMALL VENUES WITH HIS ALT ROCK BAND AND WORKING AS A NANNY and has lived in seattle for TWO YEARS.

TW FOR TERMINAL ILLNESS/CANCER, SUBSTANCE ABUSE MENTIONS, ABLEISM, & MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM/SUICIDE.

kai was born a gold soul into a pretty posh, old-money typea family in manchester, uk. like i’m talking on his mothers side they’re all doctors, lawyers, scholars, etc, etc, and on his dad’s side entrepeneurs. his parents themselves built a fairly large business from the ground up together that now goes by the name of lancaster industries. their current biggest venture and pretty much what they’ve built the whole of their fortune on is a chain of luxury hotels that you can find basically in every major city in the world.

he had 3 younger sisters who he essentially raised considering his parents were too busy to be around during their childhood. only two of them are still living, his youngest sister having passed a couple years ago at the age of 7 from leukemia.

his mother is literally the devil? kai always hated school/struggled in it for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which were his not diagnosed adhd and his dyslexia, which he never got the help he probably needed for. he’s always kinda just thought he was extremely stupid, and that idea was reinforced by the way his mother always used to tell him the very same thing. “think harder, kai. use your brain.” is a phrase that’s essentially been reinforced so many times in his head, he p much hears her voice ringing in his ears every time he gets so much as vaguely confused now.

that being said, despite how he struggled in school, he was always a very vibrant, kind, charismatic, and magnetic young person. he tends to draw people into him with his silly nature and upbeat attitude, and he’s kind of the Eternal Optimist, so he was fairly popular when he was attending. to say he has eccentricities would be putting it lightly, and he’s loud, never seeming to run out of things to say or fail to command the interest of the room.

anyway things with his mum only got worse in his relationship with her when he barely managed to complete his a levels by the skin of his teeth (and with an absurd amount of tutoring), and then refused to go to the university of her choosing. she p much wanted him to “get his shit together” so he could take over the family business someday, but i am not kidding when i say kai would wilt away and probably legit just die if he had to work in a place like that forever – and that’s assuming he even got through business school in the first place.

his father was always a push-over and sort of was absent/bent to her will when he was around, so he didn’t bother to defend kai when his mother decided 2 cut him off from everything and essentially ex-communicate him once she realised he was refusing 2 be manipulated and forced into shit anymore.

that was at age 18, and by that point he had plans to move out and travel to london with his best mate anyway, so he was basically like “peace out” and got the hell out of dodge. he still harbours a lot of guilt for abandoning his younger sisters, particularly so considering his youngest one fell ill so soon after his departure.

he lives, breathes, and sleeps piano. music as a whole is something he’s passionate about, having taken the time to develop his somewhat unorthodox voice, but the way his fingers fly over the ivories is a living art form more than it is anything. it’s how he communicates, how he speaks his deepest truth and just like? put those feelings out there into the world that he otherwise wouldn’t be able to articulate in the common vernacular.

so what he wants to do with his life is to just? talk to people? through his music? to play for them and the be in front of a crowd every night and to feel the energy of them, to command them with his presence and to exist with them in that way. he almost gets high off of it? he’s been playing small shows since age nineteen with his band, but since he moved to america he obvi hasn’t had them and has been on his own.

SORRY I’M REALLY TRYING TO CONDENSE THIS so ok basically he was in love w this girl from the time they were 14. they lost their virginity 2 each other, they were on & off all through HS, & then through to age 20 after he moved away and all that. she was v v ill and struggled with mental illness and kai tried his best 2 take care of her, but he was always in over his head despite his dedication to like making her feel OKAY. she needed help that he could not give 2 her, and they ended up breaking up & him letting her go at the end. she died soon after that, and it remains unclear 2 him whether or not it was a suicide. it was officially ruled as an “accident”, but he knows different and yeah i mean. essentially like.... the most “smudges” on his soul kinda came from his sitch w her bc he was always coming and leaving and dropping her and returning when she needed him and like. he TRIED but he just COULDN’T? anyways

after that he got involved with this boy who was a substance abuser, addicted to H to b exact, and for a while he thought that he was getting better and they were building off of each other, building a healthy life together. the fact he called kai his “new addiction” was probably never a good thing, but kai didn’t recognize that at the time. they got engaged eventually, and kai was 100% convinced that he was the actual love of his life after caro. of course, in the end, it wasn’t built to last, and when it went bad, it went really bad. kai eventually felt like there was a chasm several miles deep between them, and he had no hope of getting to the other side again. he broke it off, broke the guy’s heart, and made his soul even darker.

THIS NEXT ONE IS KINDA AN OPTION CONNECTION OKAY SO IF ANY1 IS INTERESTED PLS PLS LMK!!!

kai has been posting vids on YT of him covering songs on his YouTube for like actual years, and when he was around 20 he met this person via the comments section on one of them. they seemed to be quite the fan of his interpretation of some of the songs he chose to play. they ended up talking more and more as time went on, exchanging contact information, and grew very very very close.

that was the start of the LDR that is what brought him to america/to seattle in the first place. they were together for about eight months and had seen each other in person three times for a total of about 3 weeks before he made the decision to get started on his visa and move to the states. the moment he was able to, he crossed the pond and moved in w them!!

strain on their relationship was created when at first kai was unable to find work and contribute to the bills and the household funds. they lived in a tiny flat, and going from barely seeing each other to having each other all at once and all the time was a lot. on top of that, kai was homesick and restless and felt trapped because that’s what kai does and it’s not okay and it’s totally wrong and he cheated on them soooo there’s another tick against his soul ig. within six months of his arrival, they broke up, and kai moved out.

he couch surfed w some friends he’d met 4 a while, and eventually found a decent paying job as a nanny for a well off family.

he plays live shows at small venues in bars/clubs and still seeks to make a living as a musician but it’s hard out there and plus his soul aint exactly the prettiest to look at any more. i mean he doesn’t have a DARK DARK grey soul, it’s more a lighter grey, not quite silver, but definitely not storm clouds.

he’s still working on getting his full citizenship though he’s v v v close 2 it & has been lowkey getting help from his cousin w paying for the process so!!

THAT’S BASICALLY IT

last but not least IM REALLY FUCKING SORRY ICOULDN’T MAKE THIS SHORTER I JUST HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND fEELIGNSA

SEND ME AN IM OR LIKE IF YOU WANT TO PLOT!

#soulintro #i fucking hate myself

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