I blame @latinposeidon for this. This post he made inspired it. I failed in the 'Don't write a ficlet' department. Enjoy!
Hmmmm, which color, Willie wondered, his fingers dancing over the sea of black lids in Julie's drawer. Okay, this probably wasn't what she'd meant when she said he could borrow some of her stuff for the band's gig tonight, but well, Willie had been eyeballing her nail polish collection for like a month now.
What, it was pretty. The little flashes of color always caught their eye in the best way when other people wore it. And without Caleb around to police their wardrobe choices, he could finally give it a try.
Though maybe there was a reason Willie hadn't just asked Julie outright if he could borrow hers. Maybe he was a bit nervous about how it would look. Maybe they couldn't quite shake Caleb's disapproving glares, couldn't always ignore the nightmares of that same expression coming from the faces of Julie or Luke or Reggie...
Willie tried not to think about the dreams where Alex gave him that look.
But those were just dreams and this was real. Willie wanted to do this and they were going to. He just had to pick a color already.
"Everybody decent in-" Julie started, entering the room and cutting herself off at the sight of Willie hunched over her desk. "What's going on in here?" she asked slowly.
Oh geez, this wasn't good. She was going to get mad. Boys weren't supposed to wear nail polish. And they definitely weren't supposed to just take stuff without asking. There went Willie's friendship with the one lifer who could see him-
"Ooo, are we doing nails?" Julie questioned, peering over their shoulder into the drawer. "Perfect, I needed to do something with mine anyways."
Willie just stared at her for a long moment. What? She wasn't upset? Why wasn't she upset? Was she pretending? Why would she-
"Willie, you're spiraling," Julie said softly, touching his arm. "You're doing that same glazed-over thing Reggie does. What's going on?"
Willie shook his head. Right. This was Julie, not Caleb. She'd already let them borrow and tie up her hoodies and oversized band shirts more than once. She hadn't batted an eye when he walked in on Alex braiding their hair. It was fine.
"I just haven't painted my nails before," Willie confessed, voice much softer than he'd intended. "Caleb didn't let us."
Julie bit her lower lip and nodded. Willie didn't talk about Caleb much, so he wasn't surprised that she didn't really know what to do with this information.
"It's fine," he added. "Just got in my head for a second." More than a second, but who was counting? "Well there's no Caleb here now," Julie said after another silent moment. She reached for the drawer, fingers wrapping around one of the bottles. "What color do you want?" Willie was a little startled by their own laughter. "Well that's what I was trying to figure out," they explained, twisting the black ring around their middle finger.
Julie gave him a long, appraising look. "How do you feel about pink?" she asked, after taking in his black shorts and purple and white crop top.
"Isn't pink more Alex's color?" Willie asked slowly. He couldn't stop himself from checking out the options though. That one was almost the same color Alex's cheeks got when Willie kissed them.
"Well yeah, so it'll make him lose his mind," Julie retorted. "Pick a color."
Willie grinned and grabbed a cotton candy bottle of polish.
"Perfect," Julie agreed, choosing a dark purple color of her own. "I'll do you, you do me."
Willie nodded, grinning. They perched on her desk, letting her take the chair. Julie laid out some paper towels in case of any drips and they got to work.
And Alex did lose his mind a bit over the pink on Willie's fingertips. Though he confessed later, when it was just the two of them curled up in the loft of the garage, that it was Willie's grin that got him first. And really, what was Willie supposed to say to that? Alex was just being too cute. All Willie could really do was kiss him at that point, his pink nails tangled in the pink string of Alex's hoodie.
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for the ask game, perspective flip of let's fall in love (for the week)?
hello this is not so much a perspective flip as it is a deleted scene because I got possessed by the urge to write some established exr hurt/comfort because I am in my FEELINGS so enjoy
Also hello I posted this before I finished it bc I suck I WILL BE BACK SOON I DON'T HAVE TIME NOW
Enjolras doesn't quite slam the door behind him, but it's close. He closes his eyes and focuses on taking deep, steadying breaths in and out. He can just barely make out the low rumble of Grantaire and Eponine speaking in the kitchen, and acknowledges to himself that he should have thanked Eponine for covering for the two of them. But he can't really face speaking to anyone right now, not while his skin is still crawling.
Enjolras walks to the edge of his and Grantaire's bed and sinks onto it, gripping hard to the fabric of the duvet. He's just considering burying his head in the nearest pillow and screaming for a while, when his phone, resting on the bedside table, starts ringing. One glance at the screen tells him it's Cosette.
Enjolras takes a few more deep breaths and physically tries to pull himself together. He swallows, and then answers. "Hello?" To his credit, he thinks he manages to sound pretty normal.
"Enj," Cosette says, voice frantic. "I just woke up, and mom and dad- I think they're in Paris. I swear, I didn't know they were going. They left a fucking note. I don't know if they're there or not yet, but they might-"
"They are," Enjolras interrupts her frantic rambling.
There's a pause, and then "They've been there already, haven't they?"
"Yeah," Enjolras sighs, lying down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "They just left."
"Shit," Cosette says simply, which, yeah, Enjolras agrees. "Did anything- Was it all okay?"
He rubs his hand over his eyes. "Just about. Grantaire was here when they arrived, and I wasn't, but Grantaire's friend was here too and she managed to cover for us."
Cosette hums thoughtfully. "Sounds like a useful person to have around." There's a pause, and then she says softly, "Are you okay?"
He's not really, but he's not about to tell Cosette that.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he says instead.
Cosette, mercifully, leaves it there. Enjolras hangs up and goes back to staring up at the ceiling in silence, and he doesn't look up at the creak of the door opening.
"Hey," Grantaire says softly. He's holding a cold flannel in one hand, and before Enjolras can say anything he rests it gently on his forehead. "I couldn't tell if you actually had a migraine or if you were just trying to escape. So I figured I'd bring you this anyway."
Enjolras hums softly. It had mostly been an excuse to escape, but there is an undeniable throbbing in his right temple now. "Thanks."
Grantaire sits down on his side of the bed, his hand still resting gently on Enjolras' head.
"You okay?" he asks softly.
Enjolras has to lie to Cosette, but that doesn't mean he has to to Grantaire. He hesitates, and then shrugs helplessly.
Grantaire sighs, and then slides down the bed and grips Enjolras' chin gently in his hands, turning his head so they're looking at each other.
"Nothing happened," he says, his voice gentle. "Ép covered for us. We're okay."
Another knot of anxiety curls in Enjolras' stomach. "It was too close."
Grantaire makes a noise, neither an agreement or disagreement, but he does frown.
"Three months left," Enjolras says, "Three months, and that's it." Three months until Cosette comes to Paris, three months before he never has to talk to his parents again.
Grantaire sighs. "Three months is a long time, E. Are you sure you won't-?"
Enjolras shakes his head firmly. "Not an option." He's already done three months of no contact with Cosette once, he's not doing it again.
Grantaire sighs, but they've had this conversation many, many times, so thankfully he drops it for now, and presses a kiss to Enjolras' forehead instead.
The two of them lie in silence for a moment, simply looking at each other. Enjolras takes the time to admire all the little details of Grantaire's face- the dimple in his left cheek, the soft dark scruff of his beard, the deep grey of his eyes. Enjolras finds himself settling down slowly, his mind not in hyperdrive anymore.
He still scowls. "I can't believe he ate your pastry." He's furious about that actually, now he thinks on it.
Grantaire laughs. "Enj, it's just a pastry."
Enjolras scowls harder. "I bought it for you, though."
Grantaire smiles, and leans over to peck Enjolras on the nose. "You're sweet," he says, and Enjolras smiles despite himself.
"Now turn around," Grantaire says. "I've had like four hours of sleep followed by a traumatic event, and I'm calling mandatory nap time."
Enjolras huffs a laugh as he shifts on the bed, pressing his back up against Grantaire's chest. Grantaire's arm settles heavy around his waist, rubbing a small, repetitive circle on his stomach, on the spot where Enjolras' anxieties always seem to fester and make him feel nauseous.
But the motion of Grantaire's hand slowly soothes him, and finally, the comforting feeling of Grantaire breathing against him calms his racing mind
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" in another life, i would, have really liked just, doing laundry and, taxes with you. " // this is probably later on in their friendship, if you don't mind me jumping around a bit!
wally, expressing himself, when he doesn't even rlly think his feelings actually
matter to the players, bc he's 'just' a NPC, being self aware or otherwise? yeah.
From this prompt list! / Always Accepting!
She smiled at his genuineness. Him being a NPC had escaped her with how he spoke and presented himself, it was second nature to just treat him like she would anyone else; his level of sentience proves her secret belief that these characters had souls in some way or another. That there were more layers than what met the initial eyes on the surface.
It touched her heart, the feeling of some normalcy being brought up. And for Wally to think of wanting to do those things with her? Very mundane things, but life always seemed a bit brighter sharing typical every day activities with someone by your side.
⸺ ❝ Heh, laundry and taxes? They're not that extravagant. But you're in luck then, because I'm pretty good at those. Or, at least taxes. I used to be. Being in the uh, circus, guess those things don't really matter anymore. ❞
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