Shaun White Imagines

The Artist and Her Muse

Eyes...nose...a curved lip...chiseled jawline...a wisp of hair. The pencil skimmed across the surface of my sketchbook, varying in long dramatic sweeps or short, precise strokes. Hazel...how could I even capture the right shade of hazel? It was like trying to capture the exact hue of the sea. 

“What are you doing, babe?” A voice startled me out of my focused reverie, snapping my notebook shut quickly with a loud and resounding snap. Shaun had flung himself down on the couch next to me, his playful gaze trained on my face, fingers tapping a pattern on my leg as he questioned me further. “That your sketchbook? You draw? Let me see it.” 

“N-no!” I snapped back anxiously, attempting to hide my notebook but that move proved to be useless as Shaun’s lightning quick reflexes reacted and he snatched it out of my unsuspecting hands. Flipping the cover open, the coppery haired man settled down closer to me as he studied the first portraits: a man suspended in the air, hand gripping his board. The sound of a flipping page. There he was, drawn out onto the sketchpad, splayed across the couch, wearing a small smile on his lips. Next. Shaun with both hands pressed lightly against my door, his head bent down low, the day we broke up. 

“You...draw me?” I had been expecting slight horror, maybe disgust, but the man appeared...awed. Brushing a lock of my honey colored hair away from my face, I raised my gaze to his and nodded lightly, my heart pounding a mile a minute, toe just nudging his leg as he sat beside me. “Why?” An incredulous laugh escaped my mouth and I pushed backwards so that my body came to a sitting position, watching every emotion cross Shaun’s face: confusion, interest, affection, calm.

“Because I love you, I guess. And I have your body memorized, so that helps.” Before I could even recognize movement, Shaun had launched himself across the couch, his arms on either side of me as I was pushed downwards, my back flat against the cushions and my head raised to face his own. Shaun’s hazel eyes darkened to a harsh, muddy brown and he dove in, planting butterfly kisses up my neck slowly, his breath against my skin making me shiver in delight. Throwing one hand around the man’s shoulders to pull him closer, I let the other hand wander behind his back while he was distracted. Just glancing the edge of my sketchbook, I gripped it tight and pulled as my lips rendered Shaun rather defenseless. 

It didn’t take the man too long to figure out my manipulative plan. Ripping myself away from my boyfriend and darting away with my precious sketchbook, Shaun flopped down onto the floor and wailed out, “Chelsea! I thought you loved me!” At the time, my only response had been a series of euphoric giggles, but it was true. I did love him. I loved him more than anything in the world. I was an artist, and Shaun White was my muse.

Sorry it’s so short...I was just working on this idea and this length was what came out best, so I hope it’s good! I had to give up my dog today, my puppy, and so it’s been really incredibly hard. So yeah. Today has been tough on me. But you guys can enjoy this, okay? Have a great day.