Frank Iero x Reader Oneshots

The only hope for me is you | Punk! F.I. x Shy! Reader

(A/n)

Request by xXout-castXx 

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So, sorry for taking longer,,, y'all already know I've been working in another book, but some problems also came up, whatever

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"Almost..." I mutter to myself, mixing a bit of yellow to the mixture to get the perfect tone of orange. A smile makes itself present on my lips when it turns out well and I raise the brush to the canvas, carefully starting to paint the details.

I'm sure I spend at least ten minutes working on the detail, but an accomplishment feeling fills my chest as I stare at the half done painting. - I've been doing it for a new project and I've always wanted to paint that English styled building that's on the city's main square, it's just so beautiful and has some colorful trees by it. It's a work I want to do my best in and want it to be perfect; I started painting it incredibly well, so I don't want to screw it up. The painting somehow makes me happy.

Nodding, I turn my attention back to the drops of paint on the lower part of the canvas' support, cleaning the brush before starting to mix red and green to give base to a tone of brown. When reaching the desired tone, I hold the brush close to the canvas' surface then start to tap on it with extra carefulness, wanting to make the tree's trunk as perfect as possible.

My eyes widen and I gasp when someone bumps into my elbow; it makes the brush to be pressed harshly against the fabric, creating a brown smudge that sure as hell won't be easily fixed and covers some of the building's part I had already painted.

It feels like a glass just broke inside of me or something that can be compared to when you feel after doing something embarrassing in front of the whole class. I take a few seconds to come back to reality and, when I do so, I can feel some tears on my eyes as I blink a few times. There's a male standing by, who shoots me an annoyed and confused look as soon as I glare at him angrily.

"The fuck? Not my fault!" He says, throwing his arms in the air.

"Not your fault?!" I get surprised at my loud voice, but my irritation doesn't allow me to worry about it. - Damn, I was so fucking focused on the painting! It was turning out so well!

"Who the fuck paints in the middle of a square?" He throws his arms in the air, his tone slightly louder.

I feel like my normal self sinks back in at this right moment and I can't reply, suddenly feeling extremely sad about my painting - I turn back to my things to start preparing myself to leave, not wanting to continue painting anymore. He shoots me a look of disbelief at my lack of answer, grinning in a mocking way before saying some stupid then finally walking away.

My body feels somewhat numb as I finish organizing my materials, reading home right after.

That's how started a hell called knowing Frank. I needed to go to that square more often to realize other works and somehow always ended up meeting him there - either him being with his friends or alone, sometimes vandalizing a wall or another. In the following day, he did apologize for what he did, but it didn't really convince me. We continued talking as if the incident had never happened tho, yet he continues being an asshole. Don't think I'm all kind to him either. - Maybe I started feeling something for him; I avoid to really thinking about it, yet it's always there; a warm feeling inside me when I'm near him. It balances with the hate, considering he's still rude.

"More important than the three Rs." Frank says and I can feel his face by mine. Humming questioningly, I turn as he points towards a direction and the words 'refuse', 'resist', 'rebel' and 'revolt' are written with spray paint over a wall. I scoff, not finding it necessary to express my thoughts through words.