#all my doodle ideas for today fought in my head and i got none of them done oop

[mspaintbladie]

bladoodle speedrun any%

[iaintlithuanian]

You could draw anything, so why me?|| Xavier Thorpe x reader

Summary: you often catch Xavier looking at you when drawing in his sketch book, it confused you to say the least. So, when one day he left his sketch book in class, surprisingly, you decided that a small peek wouldn’t hurt. What you found intrigued you. That’s when Xavier walked in to retrieve his precious sketchbook.

Warnings: none :)

Master list

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Lately, you had been catching Xavier glancing at you and then scribbling in his sketchbook. You were curio use as to why but you weren’t going to investigate as it didn’t bother you and you hadn’t really spoke to him much, and being an introvert you didn’t really feel like starting up a conversation.

Today you had a couple lessons with Xavier but this was the last of the day, botanical science, ms. Thornhill’s class. You entered the class and sat in your seat, right behind Xavier Thorpe. Class was boring, you just doodled along the margine of your book and took a few important notes, you had planned to stay back and ask ms. Thornhill about helping out with the Rave’N. So when class ended everyone packed away their stuff and left, you stayed behind and walked up to the red headed woman. “Ms. Thornhill?” You asked, feeling as though you had been a little too quiet, but she had heard you anyways.

“Yes, y/n?” She asked, smiling sweetly. It looked sort of fake, but you just guessed that every teacher did that anyways and brushed it off.

“I was just wondering if you needed any extra help with planing and sorting out the Rave’N.” You smiled, and she returned the gesture. “I don’t have any plans at the moment and want to keep myself busy” you explained.

“ well, I can’t think of anything off the top of my head but I’ll get back to you on the offer!” She exclaimed, then she looked like she had just got an idea. “But if you’d like to keep yourself busy at the moment, why don’t you water the plants and give them some fertilizar, i dont have time and haven’t done it today.” She suggested, explaining what You should do aster you gave a small nod. She left the room afterwards leaving the key for you to lock the door afterwards. Of course you would have to give that back later though.

You had got through caring for all the plants when something fought your eye on a desk. Xavier’s sketchbook. ‘We’ll it wouldn’t hurt to look a little’ you thought, reaching for the book. You flipped through the pages, amazed at his artistic talent even though you knew he was good. Suddenly you spotted a drawing of you, holding a bow and arrow getting ready to shoot. Then another, you were sitting on a table in the library, earphones in your ears and reading a book. Another, another, another. There must have been at least 8 drawings, all with perfect details. They looked exactly like you.

Suddenly you heard someone clear their throat. Startled, you quickly closed the book, looking up and seeing the artist himself, awkwardly looking at you. “Um, could I have that back please?” He questioned, clearly nervous. He must have been hoping you hadn’t got to the drawing of you yet.

You nodded handing the book back to him. “Your drawings are amazing, you really do have a talent” you smiled, trying to be nice and hiding your embarrassment at the same time. “I do have a question tho” you continued, having a suden burst of courage to confront him about the drawings of you. He looked puzzled and nodded his head slowly, smiling back at me awkwardly. “You could draw anything you like with just a glance” you started, cocking your head to the side slightly. He nodded, chuckling at the compliment. “But why is your subject always me?” You asked, genuinely intrigued. But slowly you began to feel shy and regretted asking as he just looked at you, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“Well-I-I- uhm.. you see-” he stuttered, trying to look for the right words. “Look, y/n…” he began, gulping and continuing. “I..I like you, okay? And I know it’s weird to just draw you but it’s just how I get my feelings out” he rambled on, confessing his feelings to you. Your cheeks flushed and you began to feel insecure. What if this was a prank? To embarrass you if you said yes? ‘I mean who would like me?’ You thought.

“Why would you like me?” You thought out loud, and he looked at you confused. “Seriously, why would you?” You repeated. “I’m way too quiet, I’m definitely not a attractive girl, and have no talents! And my special ability is just water bending, I’m no one special. I’m just..well, me” you rambled, explaining why you weren’t likeable. You was scared, really, you thought that maybe if you name the obvious he would see it and stop liking you.

“ what do you mean?” He questioned, he seemed a little agitated. He walked over to you and put his hands on your shoulders, looking you straight in the eye. “I love that your quiet, at least you dont go around bad mouthing people, being mean and gossiping like other girls, also, you are one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen!” He half yelled, trying to get all the information through t to you. “And ive heard you singing to yourself out in the quad, granted it is quiet, but I heard it, and you have an absolutely amazing voice! And your ability is awesome!. But your were right about one thing” he said, his voice getting softer. You raised an eyebrow.

“What?” You asked.

“You are just you”he said. “But I love that about you!you aren’t like everyone and you don’t try to be like them! I love you for you.” He confessed. And you just looked into his eyes. Butterfly’s fluttering around in your stomach.

“Thank you” you whispered before crashing your lips into his. He kissed back almost immediately. Your arms snaked around his neck. As his made their way to your waist. The kiss was passionate and loving. You pulled back and took a deep breath. “Thank you” you repeated.

He pulled you into his chest and swayed you back and forth slightly. “So, would you like to got the the rave’N with me?” He asked. You giggled at his question.

“Ofcourse” you said, and he kissed your fore head.

[plus-size-reader]

His Business

Patrick Hockstetter x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1570 words

Warnings: reader gets hit, but not descriptive 

Summary: Reader (Henry’s kid sister) and Patrick are dating. However, they keep it a secret until they can’t anymore. 

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Patrick cared about you a lot...or, at least as much as he could.

He wasn't the kind of guy to take you on romantic dates or bring you flowers and candy on valentines day. He didn't go out of his way to make sure you knew how much he loved you, not in the traditional sense anyway.

Patrick showed love in his own unique way.

He slid his hand in the back pocket of your jeans when you walked together or let you doodle up the entirety of his arm in black pen. Sometimes, he even called you cute little pet names like "punk" or "kid."

It wasn't exactly a fairytale but when it came to being with Patrick, you didn't want one. All you wanted was him, with all his issues and faults.

The only trouble was that you weren't able to actually be with him in public.

If you so much as looked at him for too long when you were all together, Henry would have a cow. There was no way you could actually date out in the open-it just wasn't an option.

At least, not right now.

"Hey dickhead, I sit in the front!" Henry barked, shoulder-checking Vic out of the way. The school day had just wrapped up for the weekend, and like every day, you had to catch a ride home with Henry and his friends.

Belch was the only one of Henry's friends who drove, and as much as he fought it at first, your dad didn't want you walking to school all alone. It was dangerous with all the kidnappings, so you had to tag along with them.

Where the Bowers gang went, you went, which wasn't always a bad thing.

"Looks like you're stuck in the back with us" Patrick sneered, gesturing between your two bodies and Victor.

Now, you were by no means the smallest of the three of you but due to your inferior age, you got stuck in the middle. Something that Patrick happily suggested, though he dropped his smile after a few seconds.

He didn't want to be too suspicious, after all.

Patrick personally didn't mind the idea of beating Bowers up if he needed to, but for your sake, the two of you had agreed to keep your relationship a secret. However, it any of the boys had looked closer, they would have put the pieces together.

As the two of you sat in the backseat, you between both Vic and Patrick, the latter kept bumping your thigh with his own, keeping your two bodies touching. On top of that, every time Belch would go around a corner, you slipped closer and closer to the greasy teen.

...Something neither of you was complaining about.

Though, you had no choice but to cover your blush, shying away from his sly whispers in your ear and sideways glances. He was only going to get the two of you in trouble.

Luckily for you, all three boys remained oblivious to your constant flirting.

For the most part, you were pretty good at keeping it hidden. The two of you didn't even talk about one other, until of course, you needed him.

Butch could get a little rough with both you and Henry, though Henry had always taken the brunt of his anger. You tried to keep to yourself for the most part, whereas your older brother had taken a more aggravated approach.

He constantly was getting into scream fights, which turned into all out fist fights with your dad-fights that Henry would always lose.

However, Henry couldn't always be there to take the punches for you. Like today for example, Henry and the boys had dropped you off at the house before heading off toward the quarry.

Which meant that you had to go through the backdoor all alone, if you were lucky your dad had skipped going to the bar after work. He was always more mean when he was fully loaded.

...But you were never that lucky.

As soon as you came through the door, you heard him, yelling at whatever was currently pissing him off. The noise startled you, preoccupying you from quietly closing the door like you normally would.

Instead the door slammed behind you, making you flinch.

If you had done it right, you would have been able to sneak upstairs without alerting him of your presence but that wasn't going to happen now. You could already hear him, getting up from the recliner.

His footsteps were heavy as he made his way over to you, already yelling. You were vibrating with nerves as he turned the corner, your blood running cold.

~

The actual events resulting from his rage were all a blur in your mind. It was more or less just a lot of pain, too quickly occurring to recall, not that you would if you could. Instead, you ran from the house.

You didn't have any particular destination in mind. You just knew that you had to get as far away from there as humanly possible. The last thing you wanted was to accidentally run into Butch again.

After you cleared the house, you slowed your pace, your heart hammering in your chest. You weren't all that sure what had actually happened, meaning that you weren't sure about the damage.

As far as you could tell, it wasn't as bad as it had been before.

However, as soon as you reached the shore of the quarry, all hell broke loose. As soon as Patrick saw you, he ran out of the water, not stopping until he reached your side.

"What the fuck happened?" he yelled, his hands gingerly holding your face, trying to get a better look at you. You clearly didn't realize it but there was blood dripping from a scratch on your face, already bruising all around it.

He was gonna kill whoever the fuck thought it was a good idea to lay a hand on you.

...If only he knew.

"Pat, stop" you pleaded in a soft whisper. He was drawing too much attention, standing too close to you. One of the guys were bound to notice something if he didn't knock it off.

But trying to reason with Patrick right now wasn't really an option. He was far too angry to give a shit about the opinion of your brother or any of his friends. None of that mattered at a time like this.

He was hardly breathing, red in the face as he tried to calm himself. You two had talked about this, he knew that right now you needed him more than his anger but he couldn't help it.

If he had been with you, this wouldn't have happened.

Though, before he could really focus on calming down, there was a touch on his shoulder...it was Henry.

"Don't touch my sister man" he ordered, looking between the two of you with a dark curiosity in his eyes. He had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, he hated it.

Patrick couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Of all the things he needed right now, this didn't even make the top ten. Henry's biggest problem should have been the state of your face but he really didn't seem all that shocked.

He just wanted to knock some sense into the shorter man.

"Are you serious? Look at her Bowers" he ordered, gesturing wildly to the state of your face. You knew that he wasn't going to hurt you but flinched out of habit. His hands were just a little to close.

As soon as he saw your reaction, Patrick melted. He never wanted you to feel like you were in any kind of real danger with him. He liked to tease you and make you uncomfortable sometimes, but not like this.

It made him sick to see you act like that.

"It's none of your business, step back" he suggested, lightly shoving the taller man to try to put distance between you.

However, Patrick wasn't going to back down like that.

"She's my fucking girlfriend, I'm pretty sure it's my business" he barked back, shoving Henry in turn. He hadn't meant to do it, but Henry had crossed a line. If anything, you were his business.

You were more of his business than you were Henry's. He sure as hell cared more about your well-being than he did.

You assumed that the two teens were gonna go at it but they didn't. As soon as the words left Patrick's lips, Henry stopped. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or what but in all honesty, he wasn't surprised.

Sure, he didn't like the idea but of all the things he frequently thought about, you weren't really one of them. Henry just wasn't the touchy feely kind.

"I don't wanna see that shit, not ever-you understand me?" he grumbled, waving his finger between the two of you. He didn't give a damn what you two did, but if he every had to witness it, he would lose his mind.

All you could do was nod, unsure now why you'd waited so long to tell him. It shouldn't have surprised you that Henry wouldn't care. Henry didn't really care about anything at all.

...But now you had a bigger problem-You had to keep Patrick from killing your dad for what he did to you.

[sunlitangles]

Prose and Cons

I had the pleasure of also writing a fic for the @grishaversebigbang! Please go check out the other wonderful fics written by my fellow Etherealki. 💙

Thank you to my Corporalki @jdobrski and my sensitivity readers @niecity, @nekonamicosplay, and @wybiegowritey

And my talented Materialki (please check their pieces out and show them some love):

@ninaaswaffles x

@artzy-lia-art x

@dingy-doodles​  x

@protec-kuwei-yul-bo x

Summary: When his father kicks him out of America in disgrace, Wylan leaves for London looking for opportunity. He loves telling stories and sharing knowledge, so when the publishing company Crows Publishing accepts his application as a writer, he is overjoyed. There’s only one problem- Wylan can’t physically write. The solution to this stumbles into his life as Jesper Fahey, the anonymous author of popular war-time novels and coworker. They quickly enter a co-writer relationship, but maybe Wylan wants it to be more. The pair starts to get closer, but it isn’t long before Wylan gets caught up in the secret goings of the Crows Publishing company.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316439/chapters/64080943

Keep reading after the cut for chapter one! 

“Mister Van Eck, I simply must inform you that you are not qualified for this job,” said the man. Wylan sighed and glared at the stout man sitting before him. “Mr. Rollins, I really need this job. I don’t have anywhere to go, and I-” Wylan started but was quickly cut off. “Van Eck, I couldn’t give a damn. Now, please see yourself out of my office,” Mr. Rollins said, spit flying out of his mouth. He didn’t give Wylan another look, proceeding to make a ‘shooing’ gesture and turned back to his records. Wylan grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

Wylan stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in his tweed blazer. He grabbed the strap of his leather bag as Mr. Rollins lit a cigar. The beady gaze of the older man followed Wylan out of the office, and as Wylan stepped outside into the cool autumn breeze, the noisy bustle of London streets overwhelmed him. Wylan resisted the urge to plug his ears, which were not accustomed to the din. The countryside was never this loud. He missed the scent of the rolling fields, the clean autumn breezes, and the subtle hints of life on the farms nearby. He sighed disdainfully and stepped into the chaotic streets of London.

The intricately built buildings arched high above Wylan, seemingly watching his every move. What am I supposed to do now? His bag thumped against his side as he strolled the uneven cobblestone, dodging other pedestrians in long coats and large skirts. He was alone in this damn city with no steady source of income. If only my dad could see me now, Wylan thought, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth. He walked down Fleet Street, a sour expression stuck on his pale face. He strolled past the brightly lit shops of 36th street, the warm smells of the bakery wafting towards him. He stopped in front of the shop, observing the buttery pastries and golden rolls in the shop window. The soft light emanating from the bakery illuminated workers bustling around inside, putting more dough in the oven and piping thick jam on top of fluffy cakes. His mouth watered at the sight of flakey scones and he longed to taste at least one warm confectionery but tore himself away from the shop, turning back to the crowded streets. He certainly didn’t have the money for those types of luxuries yet.

He continued down the street, avoiding the large skirt of a beautiful fair-skinned brunette who strutted as if she owned the town. Her red dress flaunted her generous, soft body. She was fairly plump, and Wylan could tell her corset was laced far larger than customary. He stared as she bounced down the street, entering the bakery with a wide grin on her face. The other patrons stared after her, their expressions a mix of disgust and confusion. Wylan grinned to himself.

Loose pebbles skittered down the path as Wylan continued to make his way down to the run-down hotel that he called home for the time being. He’d managed to make enough money doing odd jobs between university classes to keep himself out of the streets, but if Wylan didn’t find steady work soon, he’d surely be down on his luck. He hurried down the cobblestone streets until he reached the hotel. The front needed a new paint job and windows were in a serious need of cleaning, but the rooms were in good enough condition. He stepped inside the lobby, which was empty save for a Suli family who waited on the moth-eaten couch and a tall, well-dressed man speaking quietly with the concierge. Trudging up the stairs, Wylan searched for his room number, turning right and then forward. He slid his key into the lock, taking off his jacket as he stepped into his hotel room.

He examined his belongings, anxiously making sure nothing was missing. Earlier in the week, he had experienced a run-in with a maid who had taken a liking to rifle through his belongings, looking through his music notebooks and pockets for spare change. He sighed in relief as he realized none of his belongings were swiped. Wylan could hear horses trotting along the street below him, barkers shouting at passerby and the mumble of conversations over watered-down tea and lumpy rice pudding. He still couldn’t believe he was in London. It felt a lot bigger, even though it was barely big enough to fit a fraction of America. He sat down at the tiny desk in the corner of the room, lit by the setting sun. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, illuminating his fiery copper-red hair. Setting his head in his hands, he rubbed his temples, willing the stress of the day to disappear.

He had no idea how he was going to sustain himself for much longer. The funds that his dad had sent him off with were running low, and it would only be a few more weeks until he would be kicked to the streets with only the clothes off his back and a university scholarship, forced to feed himself and fend off the rats and pests that lurked in the dark alleys. According to his calculations, he would be able to afford his room for three weeks if he cut back on his food budget and skipped meals. He groaned as he pushed himself out of the creaky wood chair, the moth-eaten upholstered cushion leaving dust on his nice black pants. Brushing himself off, he collected his school work from his leather bag. Thick leather-bound books and spare pieces of paper stared up at mockingly, the neat font gleaming under the setting sun. Rubbing his eyes, Wylan attempted to make out the words written on the crisp pieces of parchment but gave up after a few tedious moments.

Mind still preoccupied, Wylan grabbed his flute. The cool metal was familiar to his smooth hands, the brass instantly calming his nerves. Grabbing a few sets of sheet music that he had already memorized, he brought his flute to his mouth and began to play.

As the stars twinkled in the midnight blue sky outside his window, Wylan fought to ignore the rumble of his stomach. He had played for hours, taking breaks to try to read the work he was assigned but he quickly gave up; the frustration consumed him as simple words mocked him. He craved a flakey pastry from the bakery he’d passed earlier, but the almost non-existent weight of the money in his pocket reminded him that indulging in such luxuries would not suit him well. He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, wondering if he could afford to buy potatoes at the grocer. Deciding to go food shopping tomorrow, Wylan got himself ready for bed, humming under his breath as the crows chirped in the distance.

*** The streets of London were never quiet at night, Wylan had soon realized after his first night at the hotel. The drunken steps of men stumbling out of bars and their loud, slurred voices filled the streets night after night near the gambling halls and pubs while the sound of horses trotting through the cobblestone alleys mixed with quiet sighs of private theatricals. Tonight, Wylan caught wind of a few conversations, most of them noisy neighbors complaining about the prices of tea and whatever was in the paper that morning. Curling up on the window sill, he felt the cool London air blow into his room.

“Brekker said he would be here by now,” mumbled a gruff voice. The voice was coming from a stocky man, leaning against a building with a few companions by his side. The man to his right drawled in a kaelish accent, “Damn that kid. I can’t stand him.” “Did you hear what happened to Thomas today?” a blond man asked, rolling his neck. Fiddling with the pistols at his hips, a Zemini man replied, “Did Brekker con him?” The blond man nodded and replied, “Got ‘em good, too. I heard he got all of Thomas’ inheritance. Didn’t even see it coming.” The group of men continued to converse, loudly complaining about “Brekker”.

Wylan tuned out the rest of the conversation, opting to watch the early morning carriages drive across the roads. He watched rats scour the streets below, rotten apple cores littering the darkest corners of the alleyway. A young couple took a stroll along the other side of the street, speaking to each other in earnest. Wylan wondered what that was like. To have someone to tell everything to. Try as he might, Wylan’s father never could seem to get Wylan interested in the town girls. He just didn’t fancy any old girl, right? That had to have been the explanation for his blunt taste in women. They were just so peculiar. He often felt as if he never really liked any of them.

“Damn Brekker, can’t seem to keep his nose outta people’s business,” complained the man with the kaelish accent, snapping Wylan out of his daydreaming, “Do you reckon The Dregs will write something about Thomas?” Wylan knew that The Dregs was a popular newspaper in London, published by Crows Publishing. The Zemini man snorted and replied, “It’s a newspaper and publishing company.” “So? They can’t possibly know everything.” “You would be surprised, and I don’t read their shit. You’re the one reading penny bloods from Crows Publishing.”

Wylan knew about the penny bloods that were taking the country up by a storm. His neighbors often gossiped about them with their friends and family, and his classmates read them at school. They formed clubs where they would read them aloud and catch up on the latest episode. Wylan joined a few of those clubs, enjoying the way the writing sounded and taking note of the masterful ways they were written. The most popular penny bloods were written by a man named Kit Young starring a plot of war- novels and by the sounds of it, they were almost the most popular penny bloods in London, second only to a series of detective penny bloods published by the Dime Lions publishing company. Wylan heard that they told tales of crime and detection in America, but he didn’t find the descriptions as intriguing as the bloods written by Kit Young. Wylan participated in one of the clubs for Mr. Young’s stories and he latched on to every one of his words, but he had to stop going to the clubs as he needed to find work more than participate in leisure. He laughed bitterly as he thought about the war bloods and continued to ponder the on-goings of Crows Publishing.

Wylan had dared to hope that he could potentially be hired at the publishing company. He imagined conversing with his coworkers, and hopefully friends, about the latest stories and articles looking to be published. He imagined laughter spilling out of him and his coworkers and them sharing a mutual love for stories, him hopefully writing successful penny bloods that took the country by a storm. He wondered what he would do if he met Kit Young, and how he would praise the man for writing the stories that kept almost all of London intrigued. He let his imagination roam free until the sun rose over the gray city.

***

Though he was drowsy from his lack of sleep, Wylan tried to pay attention to the lesson his English professor was droning on about. He had yet to read the book assigned and he tried to understand what Professor Williams was saying about the metaphors in the book, but the encounter he witnessed from last night had been playing on repeat. The name “Crows Publishing” stuck out to him and kept nagging in the back of his mind. Wylan got chills down his spine each time he thought about how “Brekker” worked the gang and how disturbingly good he was at getting what he wanted. Doodling on the piece of paper in front of him, Wylan continued to ponder the mystery of Crows Publishing. Professor Williams announced that he would be calling on students, effectively breaking Wylan out of his stupor. Wylan silently prayed that he wouldn’t be called on as his professor scanned the room for participants. Though of course, Professor Williams decided it would be the perfect time to call on him.

Locking eyes with Wylan, his professor said, “Mr. Van Eck, what did you think about the relationship between Victor and his monster?” Wylan gulped nervously, the room feeling awfully hot and stuffy. “I found their relationship, uh, quite intriguing.” Professor Williams raised his eyebrow in expectation, “Anything else, Mr. Van Eck?” “Uh, I thought that Victor treated the monster unfairly and that maybe the author was commenting on the times,” Wylan said, balling his hands into fists. He thanked the lord that Mary Shelley’s work was popular enough for him to have known the plot. His breathing began to get shallow, and he focused on simply breathing in and out to avoid getting too worked up.

Professor Williams sighed, nodded, and called on another student. Wylan felt the eyes of his classmates burning holes into the back of his head. Wylan shifted uncomfortably, digging his fingernails into his sweaty palms. He focused intently on the paper in front of him, fighting the blush creeping up his neck and heating his ears. He silently wished for the floor to open up and devour him; anything would be better than sitting here embarrassed.

As the class ended and students were packing up their belongings, Wylan felt a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him from exiting the classroom. “Van Eck. Hold on,” said Professor Williams. A few moments after all the students had sifted through the door, he leaned against his oak desk, crossing his ankles and watching Wylan intently. Wylan gulped and settled his hands on the strap of his leather bag. “You wanted to see me, Professor?” Wylan said, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. “In fact, yes, Mr. Van Eck. Your performance in my class has been… less than satisfactory. I am quite aware of your, ahem,” Professor Williams cleared his throat, “difficulties with reading and writing, and I would like to help you.” Wylan looked towards the ground, “I’m sorry, Professor.” “I have a tutor willing to help you. I hope you accept this offer, as I truly think it would help you.” Wylan nodded, “I accept. Thanks.” Professor Williams smiled slightly. “Let me know when you’re available and I will let your tutor know. Don’t worry about the finances, I have it handled.” Wylan walked out the classroom, cheeks hot. His professor was paying for his tutoring sessions, and Wylan couldn’t help feeling useless. He wanted to think that the tutor could help him, but he was too overwhelmed by the fact that another human being had to know about his inability to read and write. Wylan silently decided to somehow find a way to pay his professor back; his search for a job becoming his top priority.

***

Professor Williams had found Wylan a tutor, all right. He was a 19-year-old boy with hints of patchy peach fuzz along his upper lip. His blonde hair was gelled back and he wrote a purple bowtie, rather than the standard university’s blue. Wylan sat down at the library table his tutor, Joost, had found. Joost pulled out an intimidating stack of books and Wylan eyed the stack nervously. “I think we should start with the book Professor Williams assigned to us. Do you have a copy?” Joost asked with a pretentious air in his voice. Wylan smiled, narrowing his eyes. He already disliked Joost.

“I do. It’s required, you know,” he said, the fake smile slathered on his face. If his jab affected Joost in any way, he didn’t show it. Joost eyed Wylan up and down, waiting for him to pull out his book. Wylan gritted his teeth and grabbed it out of his bag. Joost smiled and opened his heavily- dog eared copy. “Let’s start with chapter one. Do you know what happens?” Wylan bit his tongue to stop himself from lashing out at the blonde boy. “I don’t remember.” Joost cleared his throat arrogantly. “Then open your book to chapter one.” Wylan groaned internally as he began his slow descent into hell. He tried to read the words printed on the smooth sheets of paper, attempting to keep up with Joost’s monotone droning. After ‘reading’ the first chapter, Joost looked at Wylan expectantly. “Now, can you finally tell me what happens in this chapter?” Joost looked at Wylan intently, and Wylan dropped his head into his hands, pulling on the strands of his hair. This was clearly not going to work.

*** No matter how well-intending Joost was, he was not the tutor for Wylan. Wylan endured two grueling weeks of his pretentious personality and he couldn’t stand how Joost treated him like the scum under his shoe. Wylan sagged in his seat, pretending to read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as Professor Williams directed them to a certain part of the book. He glanced at the pages, scanning the words printed on the cream pages. As the rest of the class went on, Wylan avoided eye-contact with Professor Williams and Joost. He couldn’t stand the way Joost kept glancing at him. Wylan silently hoped that the class would be dismissed quickly.

Professor Williams held Wylan back at the end of class, grabbing his shoulder as he tried walking out of the door. “I take that tutoring with Mr. Van Poel didn’t go well,” his professor said after the students cleared out of the room. Wylan internally rolled his eyes, heat crawling up the back of his neck, “Joost was… fine.” Professor Williams pursed his lips. “I’ll find you another tutor, Wylan.” Wylan nodded, embarrassed of his additional request, and quickly thanked him and sprinted out of the room. As he rushed down the hallway, he felt his spirits deflate. Wylan couldn’t believe he’d already needed a new tutor. He already felt bad enough that his professor was paying for it, and now he’d complained about his old one? In times like these, he thought that maybe it was a good thing he could no longer disgrace the family name.

***

The library he’d agreed to meet up at was on campus, and it stretched a sizable distance. It had a big, arching front doorway and, once inside, beautiful oak shelves lining up the tall ceilings all the way to the back. Wylan held down a shaky breath thinking about the words lining those pages, words that he couldn’t read. It was almost suffocating. There were about fifteen people spread around the library’s common area, including a plump, whiskery little man sitting at the front desk. Wylan shuffled his way over. “Hi, sorry, I’m looking for a- um,” he glanced at the slip with the address and his tutor’s name, a name that he already memorized but he looked at the slip nonetheless, “Jesper Fahey?” “Always great to meet a fan,” called a rich, deep voice behind Wylan. He spun on his heel, coming face to face with a tall man with a rich-umber complexion. The confident expression on his handsome face made Wylan’s heartbeat quicken. “Hi, I’m uh- Wylan Eck Van. Uh- sorry, Wylan Van Eck. I’m assuming you’re Jesper Fahey?” Wylan said, stumbling over his words. “That’s my name,” the stranger said, raising his eyebrows in amusement, “And nice to meet you, Wylan.” Wylan reached his hand out for a handshake, but Jesper started down the hallway, looking for a table to sit at. The whiskery man stared at Jesper and went back to reading, smoking his cigarette when Wylan turned back to him. “Uh- wait up!” Wylan called, dashing to catch up with Jesper. Finding an unoccupied desk in the middle of the library, Jesper sat down, pulling out various books from his worn messenger bag. Wylan sat down, mimicking Jesper’s actions. “So…” Wylan started, glancing around the musty library, “What subject should we start with today?” Jesper looked up from his bag, pulling a textbook out. “I was thinking we could do English. Professor Williams told me you were struggling with the reading assignment?” Jesper confirmed, and Wylan glanced down at his hands, heat flushing his cheeks. Clearing his throat, Wylan replied, “Yeah. Something like that.” Jesper gave him a wide smile and said, “It’s fine, Mr. Van Eck. So, how far are you into the book?” “I haven’t- um, I haven’t started it,” Wylan clenched his fists tight, “I can’t read… it. I can’t read.” Jesper’s playful smile dropped just enough for Wylan to feel embarrassment flood over him. “Oh,” Jesper simply said, scrunching his eyebrows, “Well, we can either read it together or I could give you a brief summary. Williams said that we should be at chapter four by now so I highly recommend the summary.” Jesper winked. Wylan took a deep breath and felt the tension leave his body. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[royallyjoon]

detention

a percy jackson k-12 au

all credit of the song and film goes to melanie martinez and her producers✨🖤💛

Nico opened the doors to Mr. Geryon’s class, calmly walking in despite the multitude of accusing stares. No, he was not late, nor was he trying to draw attention to himself. They simply felt as though his very existence was disturbing to their presence.

He’d dyed his uniform sleeve bands and the “K-12” on his chest black, and spent most of his days in black jeans and boots. The silver skull ring and earrings he wore probably didn’t help either, but he finally felt comfortable in his attire.

His friends embraced his style, and the teachers didn’t care, so why not?

He took his seat in the front next to a blonde boy doodling something in his notebook. As he placed his bag by his feet, Nico felt the boy’s eyes on him.

Ah...will he be like everyone else? He thought to himself.

He saw how curious the boy was, glancing over at everyone whispering and pointing at Nico.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Nico smiled. “so don’t treat me bad. What’s your name?”

“I’m Will Solace,” the boy blushed as he introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you; my name is Nico di Angelo.” He replied.

The two shook hands.

“I’ve never seen you in this class before,” Nico stated.

“Oh, that’s because I transferred from Mrs. Dodd’s class,” Will replied. “I felt like she wasn’t really interested in teaching for the sake of teaching, but more so for the pay and the principal. I wish I could teach myself the material, but I found it really difficult, so I wanted to see if Mr. Geryon was any better.”

Nico nodded in understanding. “Unfortunately, Mr. Geryon cares even less about us than Mrs. Dodds...”

He hesitated on saying the next part, but he recalled what Percy said to him a few weeks prior.

If you don’t try, you’ll never know.

“I-” Will was turning his head to look at his notebook when Nico blurted. He whipped his head back around.

“I...if you want, I could try and help tutor you...my friends say my grades are pretty decent.” Nico murmured in embarrassment.

Will broke out into a grin. “Really? I would appreciate that so much, thank you-”

“Are you sure you want that freak to tutor you, handsome?” Some random girl called out from the back. Nico had forgotten that the minute he stepped into this room, he lost all sense of respect from his classmates.

“Yeah, he’ll probably take you to his dorm room and sacrifice you to his father,” another boy snickered.

Nico turned red and turned away from Will, lowering his head to his desk. The girl in the back bounced up to Will as if she had done nothing wrong as the teacher walked into the classroom.

“I could tutor you,” the same girl from before drawled, drawing a line on Will’s chest from his collarbones to his naval. “Trust me, I get better grades without even trying.”

“A false testament, Ms. Terry.” Mr. Geryon slammed his briefcase onto the teacher’s desk. “You had the lowest score on the last test out of everyone in your grade. So if you would please take your seat so that I can teach my lesson and be done with you all. The sooner, the better.”

Terry, or whoever she was, walked back to her seat rightfully mortified.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer,” Will whispered back. “How about tomorrow after school in the library? I can wait for you by the nonfiction section.”

Nico smiled. “Sure. We’ll start from the beginning.”

They turned around before Mr. Geryon singled them out for talking. The whole class, Will could barely focus on the lesson.

For one thing, he had an undeniably cute guy sitting next to him. For another, he had no idea what was going on in terms of material. He spent most of the time drawing tiny sketches of Nico, hiding his notebook from the other boy.

When the bell rung, Will packed all his pens away and threw his pencil case in his bag. But when he looked up, Nico had already disappeared.

——————————————————————————

Will walked through the hallway, telling a classmate about his crush.

“Jake, you don’t understand! He’s so cute!” Will gushed.

Jake laughed. “Don’t shoot those heart eyes at me, man. Who is he?”

“His name is Nico.” Will replied.

Jake paused. “Nico?” He asked incredulously. “Nico di Angelo?!”

“Yup.” Will said, popping the “p”. “Why do you say it like that?”

Jake grabbed Will’s arm and dragged him to a corner of the hall, looking from side to side to check that no one was listening. “Dude, he’s one of those freaks. He hangs out with Percy Jackson and Grover Underwood. They have weird, special abilities. I heard their eyes glow in the dark or some shit like that.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“From Malcolm...he’s in Percy’s class and he saw him fight Drew Tanaka over Jason Grace. He literally lifted her in the air and then threw her back down.” 

“They call him the ghost king. Nico hangs with a dangerous crowd, man. I’d be extra careful if I were you.”

The bell rang and Jake ran from Will waving him goodbye. The blonde lifted his hand halfheartedly, mind still reeling from the information.

Special abilities? Like...

——————————————————————————

Will traipsed across the campus greens, mulling over what Jake told him. “He seemed more than normal to me,” he muttered to himself.

He walked past the principal’s grave and came across his favorite grove of trees. He often came to this part of campus because it was closer to the lake and the quietest space available around this time. WIll spent at least an hour or two here, doodling nature.

Today, however, as he happened upon his space he found none other than Nico di Angelo sitting cross-legged on one of the granite benches in the grove. He appeared as though he were meditating. His eyes were closed and he held his palms over his knees and sat with his back straight.

Will ducked behind a nearby tree before Nico could hear his footsteps. He set his backpack and sketchbook on the ground gently, peering at his classmate.

Nico opened his eyes. He stared out into the open air, nodding his head at something in the distance. 

“Maybe he’s listening to music?” Will thought but when he glanced at his ears there were no headphones present. 

Nico’s mouth moved as he gazed into the empty space seriously. He seemed as though he was actually talking to someone.

Will stared at him some more. He breathed in deeply and concentrated, allowing his blue eyes to glow brighter and brighter. 

“Woah,” he said softly in amazement.

Nico was shrouded in a cloud of darkness, but the gloom was not clinging to him in a way that was suffocating. No, it was the exact opposite. The cloud stood assuredly around him, accentuating his every move. At the top of Nico’s head lay a crown made of bones and jewels. The sparkling gems contrasted with the dull osseous matter wonderfully, standing out in the black mess that was Nico’s hair.

When Will looked into what was empty space before, he choked down a gasp.

Standing across from Nico were a number of spirits, all but one kneeling in his presence. The one standing is who Nico was currently having a conversation with.

Jake was right, Will thought in his momentary panic.

The ghost said something to Nico. He smiled at the air before tensing. His head whipped in Will’s direction just as the other pressed himself flat against the tree.

He stuffed his sketchbook into his bookbag, crawled through a space in the underbrush and ran off to the library.

Nico got off the granite bench, thanking the spirits before dismissing them. He approached the tree where he swore he saw someone just moments before. During further inspection, he couldn’t find anything and turned to go to class when a flash of white caught his eye.

It looked like a torn piece of paper, caught between the leaves of the underbrush. Nico gently untangled the branches and retrieved the paper.

The drawing held what looked like half of a flower, with the initials “W.S.” in script at the bottom of the page.

Nico smirked and folded the paper, tucking it into his pocket for tomorrow.

————————————————————————

The next day after classes, Will tentatively opened the door to the library.

Their sleepaway school’s library was quite large and homey. It contained red leather, plush seats resting by an unlit fireplace. The wooden tables and chairs adorned the bookcases, filled with old, religious books as well as more recent YA fiction.

Will spied Nico sitting at a table near the back of the library by a fireplace. It was adorned with fairy lights, a favored section for bookworms to cuddle up and get lost. There were bean bags on the floor, but Nico felt that it would be more appropriate to sit at a table for a study session.

“Hey,” Will whispered his greeting, cheeks immediately beginning to flush as he thought back to yesterday.

“Hey, how’s your day so far?” Nico replied. He had a black mechanical pencil behind his ear and the front of his hair tied back in a skull hair clip.

Will physically fought the urge to melt.

“It was okay, just filled with the normal mindless chatter from people around me.” He said as he sat. “How is yours?”

“Great, now that you’re here.” Nico grinned.

Will scoffed and pulled his books out his books. “Alright, Professor di Angelo. Don’t start flirting with your student now.”

Nico chuckled lowly. How does he get his voice that deep, Will panicked as he got out a pencil.

The two quietly chatted in their corner. Will thought the library would have been busier, but it seemed as though every time someone headed towards them, they would drift away with a misty look in their eyes.

He found that Nico was a pretty great teacher, and with the sharing of notes the two quickly caught up to that week’s material.

“I understand! Wow, I had no idea Professor Geryon’s material could actually make sense.” He gushed. “Thanks so much for tutoring me.”

Nico smiled, thankful his efforts proved successful. “Ah, it was nothing. We could stay study buddies, if you’d like...?”

“Like? I’d love.” Will replied.

Nico took in a deep breath. “I hope you won’t change your answer...”

Will’s brows furrowed in confusion before he saw Nico pull out a tiny slip of paper and handed it to him. His expression balked at the sight of his own signature.

“A hyacinthus, correct?” Nico said.

Will nodded wordlessly.

They sat in awkward silence as Nico heavily examined the table. “So...you saw me?” He asked.

“And you saw me...” Will confirmed.

Some more quiet.

“It’s a beautiful drawing-“

“I didn’t mean to disturb-“

The two blurted out sentences at the same time.

“No, sorry, you can go first.” Nico said.

“I usually draw in that grove because I find it inspirational and quiet...I didn’t mean to spy on you.”

Nico stared down at the table unmoving. “Did you see everything?” He whispered.

Will nodded.

Nico junped up from the table, stuffing books into his bag.

“Wait, where are you going-“

“I have to go.” Nico blurted. “I have a friend thing to go to-“

“Mr. Solace and Mr. di Angelo.” A low hissing voice appeared before the two.

The apparent shield that had been around them dissolved, and other students looked on as Mrs. Dodds approached the two, whispering and pointing.

“Oh my God, look at them.”

“Who would willingly hang out with that freak?”

Mrs. Dodds nodded at Nico, something like respect in her eyes. “I understand that the two of you are catching up on school material but there is no need to make such a ruckus. Two days’ detention, Mr. Solace.”

Will spluttered in indignation. “Mrs. Dodds-“

“It’s not his fault, Mrs. Dodds. I was the one trying to leave in such a hurry.” Nico muttered, staring at the floor. He tightened his grip on his bag strap.

“Then you can join him, Mr. di Angelo.”

Nico looked up, engaging in a glaring contest with the homeroom teacher. She eventually won out. Nico rolled his eyes and left the library.

Will sat alone at the library table, more confused than ever.

—————————————————————————

“So you jumped up and left?” Percy asked Nico, munching on a blue brownie.

When he’d heard his friend needed emotional support, the boy rushed over with brownies and ice cream. Nico sat on his half of the room, decorated with black, purple, and gold.

His roommate hadn’t returned from sports practice but promised to attend the comfort session as soon as possible.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said miserably. “He probably saw me talking to air, looking like an idiot. I couldn’t handle the rejection...so I left. Like an even bigger idiot.”

Percy mused quietly, wiping his hands on a napkin. The door to the room opened and Jason Grace stepped in, sweaty from practice.

He smiled at Percy and dropped his equipment on the floor next to his bed before draping himself over Nico. “Ah, the woes of teenage love.”

Nico groaned. “You reek, go take a shower.”

Jason grinned and winked. “You love it and you know it.”

Percy scoffed. “We really don’t. Hit the showers, Grace.”

The three made an unlikely group of friends but each knew that if they were having trouble with anything they could go to the other two for help.

Once Jason was showered, they laid on the floor with a Disney movie playing in the background.

“Now Mrs. Dodds gave us detention for tomorrow and Saturday.” The smaller raven grumbled.

“It’s not like you guys are going to be the only ones there.” Jason said, scarfing down all of Percy’s brownies. “Mrs. Dodds loves handing out detention slips like an old man handing out Hershey bars.”

“She won’t give anyone a chance to talk to each other, either. Keep your head down until you’re ready to talk to him, and just nap or do homework or something.” Percy added.

Nico nodded, more prepared to face the next two days with his friends’ advice.

—————————————————————————

It turned out that both Percy and Jason were wrong.

Mrs. Dodds had managed to not give detention to anyone else. Not only that, She placed Nico and Will directly next to each other, took their phones, and the proceeded to leave the room to “make a call” (read: eat her after school snack).

Nico shifted uncomfortably. He avoided Will’s gaze at all costs and focused on trying to finish the homework Mr. Geryon had assigned.

That is, until a piece of paper slid onto his desk.

When he glanced at Will, the blonde had his head buried in his sketchbook.

He unfolded the slip of paper.

It was a letter with a sketch of a chibi Will with closed teary eyes and prayer hands and an amazingly descriptive drawing of two blue eyes at the bottom.

They were bright. Almost impossibly bright, in a way Nico didn’t think could be reflected on paper.

The letter read:

Dear Nico,

I’m sorry if I upset you by watching you. I found you meditating and at peace, and honestly I was going to draw you. But then I saw you smile and start talking to the air. But it wasn’t the air, was it?

It’s okay. I don’t know who was there, but I can tell that it was probably someone important. It was pretty cool to see your crown in midair, to be honest.

I don’t find you weird or repulsive or any of the other insults that other kids keep throwing your way. They don’t know you, and they have no right to judge you just because of your abilities. From what I can tell, you’re a great person to be around.

So, if you would still like to accept the offer, I would love to still be your student, and maybe more in terms of friends, and someday maybe more than that?

Sincerely,

Will

P.S. You’re an awesome Ghost King.

——————————————————————————

Will sat with his heart pounding. Every second Nico spent reading the letter threw him deeper into the dark, twisting hole that was his anxiety.

Soon he heard snorting, then giggling.

It was the cutest sound Will had ever heard.

“So you...were like me...this whole time?” Nico said between laughs.

Will nodded. “I was curious...I normally don’t pull the eyes out in public but I felt that there was something special about you.”

Nico smiled. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Solace. You can keep being my student, and I’d be happy to be friends...and more.”

Will pumped his fists in the air in victory. “Yes!”

He faltered as Nico took his left hand. The raven pushed a ring onto Will’s finger, sterling silver and decorated with tiny purple and blue gems.

It was still warm from Nico’s hand.

He pulled Will’s hand towards his lips, softly kissing the back. “To us,” he said.

Will blushed furiously. “To us.” He returned.

[rigonelli]

Hey! I enjoyed your story with the chicken! I was wondering if you still took writing prompts and if yes if you could write something about the newest update with HT and MGS peeling a mango at the supermarket? Thank you, even if you don't have time to do it :)

He Tian looked over Mo Guan Shan’s shoulders at the mango being sliced by experienced hands.

Damn. It looked so easy when Mo Guan Shan did it. But He Tian had learned his lesson and would never try to help him do his job again. At least not when it came to the truly delicate stuff.

“Container!” Mo Guan Shan ordered, lifting his hand for He Tian to put a container in it.

He Tian gladly obliged, happy to be of help. Besides, he still owed Guan Shan for that one massacred mango. The boss had kept half of Guan Shan’s pay for that, which was just mean. But He Tian had never worked in a supermarket, so he had no idea if that was a normal thing or not. Anyway, from now on, he vowed he wouldn’t be a nuisance anymore. Guan Shan had been pretty upset with him.

“Lid!”

He Tian quickly put a lid in Guan Shan’s hands and watched how he wrapped up the mango so it was ready to be presented in the ‘ready-to-eat’-aisle.

“Mango!”

They worked like a well-oiled machine, He Tian thought, as he put a mango in Guan Shan’s hands. It had been a while since Guan Shan had snapped at him for doing something wrong. Although he was cute when he was annoyed, He Tian had come to appreciate the moments when they were just at peace with each other. Just existing in the same space together, the promise of a touch always hovering within reach. Something to be given willingly, not to be taken.

“Container!”

Wait a minute, He Tian thought, stopping in his tracks.

Had Guan Shan trained him like a dog?

Even now, he couldn’t help but to reach for a container and put it in Guan Shan’s waiting hand.

My God – it was true. He Tian had been… domesticated.

“Lid!”

He Tian watched his own hand reach for the lid and pass it along. How strange. If Guan Shan’s voice had ordered him to strip naked and do a chicken dance on the counter, He Tian would have probably done it.

“Brother Mo,” He Tian murmured against Guan Shan’s nape. It was funny to see the hairs there stand up when he did that. “Do you see me as a dog?”

Now the nape before He Tian’s face started to turn an alarming shade of red. Good thing he hadn’t been cutting a mango, because the lid promptly fell from Guan Shan’s hand.

“How… how did you know?” Guan Shan croaked.

“Wow!”

“It was just that one dog!”

“Huh?”

“It looked just like you!” said Guan Shan, turning to look at He Tian’s face, probably to check if he was mad.

“You saw a dog that looked like me?”

“It was sleeping on the street.”

“Wow,” He Tian said again. “You think of me as some kind of street dog? Even though I’m richer than you?”

“No!” Guan Shan said, turning back to his box of mango, fussing with the lid. “It was… cute.”

“Oh my God – was that the dog you doodle everywhere?”

“MANGO!” Guan Shan said loudly.

A mango appeared in his hand. He Tian blinked – he hadn’t even realized he was putting it there. Maybe Guan Shan should become a dog trainer or something.

They easily fell back into their routine. Maybe some weeks ago, He Tian would have prodded some more, trying his hardest to make Guan Shan blush and shout. But the more time they spent together, the more He Tian realized how nice it felt to have someone open up to him. Especially after how they had met. He had come to care for Guan Shan. Really care for him, not just wanting him.

He had never known that something was missing – at school, everyone loved him. Everyone respected or feared him. Guan Shan had done none of that, which was why he was so intriguing. He had fought He Tian’s advances every step of the way. But it had been worth it – now He Tian had someone by his side who didn’t suck up to him, who was ready to protect him, whom he could send messages to any time of the day, who was there to fill his big, empty apartment. Who wasn’t afraid of the darkness, even after experiencing it all first hand.

Guan Shan had not trained him like a dog, He Tian realized. He had simply made him a better person.

There was only one thing missing.

“Hey, Mo…” He Tian whispered against Guan Shan’s nape again.

“Hm?”

The voice sounded nonchalant, but He Tian could still see the little hairs rise.

“I never apologized.”

“What for?” Guan Shan asked, calmly cutting his mango.

He Tian really wanted to bury his face in Guan Shan’s nape. It was only inches from his nose and his skin smelled nice and warm.

He wondered what had brought this about. It was a fairly normal day, they were doing a fairly normal thing. Just standing there, in the supermarket, cutting up mango after mango. Still, He Tian felt like this was the time – the time to set something straight, something he had carried about with him for a long time.

“Back then… When I kissed you. I didn’t think you’d be so disgusted by it. But I should have known. I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Guan Shan simply stopped moving, knife still stuck in the mango. He Tian wondered what would happen now. They had never talked about it again. It had always been with them – the moment when Guan Shan turned away, disgust clear on his face. It had taken a lot to work past that moment. Or had they never truly worked past it at all?

He Tian was about to find out. Movement came back to Guan Shan – first of all, the skin on his neck reddened again, then the knife fell to the floor, along with the mango. He didn’t seem to care. He turned around to face He Tian, not even slightly taken aback by how close he was standing.

What was he going to say? He had a wild look in his eyes, so he was probably about to shout. He Tian braced for it, but all that happened was that Guan Shan reached for his supermarket cap, grabbed it by the visor, and turned it to the back of his head.

For some reason, that was funny. He Tian wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it reminded him of Ash Ketchum, about to point at He Tian and have his Pikachu shock him to dust.

Instead, Guan Shan leaned forward and kissed him.

It felt similar to being shocked to dust by a Pikachu, only so much better. There were hands on his neck, pulling him closer. He Tian couldn’t remember ever having been so close to any human. It was all he had wanted, all he had craved. Then Guan Shan’s mouth opened up and they were even closer, they were practically one.

He Tian couldn’t speak, once it was over. He could barely breathe. All he could do was look at those dark eyes in front of him and try to come up with words to express what he felt. Do it again. Never stop doing it.

I love you.

“Was that so damn hard, you idiot?” Guan Shan growled, letting go of He Tian’s face. Even though his voice didn’t waver, his red face betrayed him. He was just as shaken as He Tian.

Was this apology all he had been waiting for? He Tian could have kicked himself for not apologizing earlier. He had assumed that never bringing it up again would somehow make Guan Shan forget it. He had assumed that his eye-for-an-eye-style apology would cover it all, but that was stupid, of course. By beating up She Li, He Tian had proved he could protect Guan Shan from other people. But he had never proved that he could protect Guan Shan from himself.

“I’m sor-“ He Tian tried to say again, but a movement from behind Guan Shan caught his eyes and he trailed off.

The boss woman was standing there, and she was looking at the mango, which had rolled to the floor.

“Uhm…”

He had no time to warn Guan Shan – the woman was already screaming.

“GO HOME!” she yelled, making Guan Shan jump to face her. “YOU ARE COMPLETELY USELESS TODAY! I DON’T PAY YOU TO TOSS MY PRECIOUS MANGOES TO THE FLOOR!”

She took a deep breath.

“IN FACT – I WON’T!” she screamed. “NO PAY FOR TODAY!”

“Shit!” Guan Shan moaned under his breath. “Not again!”

The woman took another deep breath, but this time, it suddenly turned her completely calm.

“Other than that,” she said, pointing between the two of them, “Congratulations. He is really quite good looking.”

With that, she trotted away, leaving a completely shocked pair of teenagers and a few startled costumers in her wake.

“You cost me another payday!” Guan Shan scolded, once he gained his wits back.

“Can I pay you back with kisses?” He Tian grinned.

“No!”

“But I’m really quite good looking!”

“Still no,” said Guan Shan. “I got used to it. Besides, you look like a dog, remember?”

“Wow”, said He Tian, a third time. “Must have been a really quite good-looking dog, that one.”

They left the supermarket, bickering like an old married couple. He Tian didn’t even have to ask Guan Shan to come over. That was just normal now. Just like the brush of their hands as they walked side-by-side, just like the light in Guan Shan’s eyes, just as the protectiveness and the honesty and the vulnerability.

The trust, though.

The trust was new.

[etherealrj]

same game - reddie

pairing : reddie

words : 2K

warnings : none

MASTERLIST

request here 

five times richie flirted with eddie and the one time he didn't

A/N I've never written one of these before so I hope its okay anon! it's four am rn but i was so determined to finish this but then tumblr wiped it and i almost cried. i wasn't gonna post it now but my last request did super well so i'll treat ya'll.

i legit googled how to flirt with someone bc i have never. So I legit googled how did people flirt in the 90's and then this happened :') I'm so sorry in advance, I got so carried away with this my god. Imagine if Pennywise never happened and Ben, Bev and Mike were losers from the beginning.

I

Eddie had always known Richie to a big flirt. He was his best friend so it was granted that Richie was to flirt with Eddie, so Eddie just put up with it. It started at the young of ten when the boys were sat side by side in their respected seats. That’s why in the middle of English class when Richie leant over to doodle a love heart on the corner of Eddie’s book with their initials ‘RT + EK = Forever,’ written within, he thought nothing of it. Everywhere you went throughout the school, Richie would have marked his territory by writing some obscure devotion of love for Eddie. Whether it was their initials in a heart, ‘Richie ♡ ‘s Eddie’ or Eddie Tozier, there were signs written everywhere. From classrooms, to bathroom stalls, to random wooden chairs that lingered around the school’s perimeter. Eddie knew Richie had a book covered in variations of their names etched upon every single piece of paper, he also knew the Richie’s parents weren’t too fond about it. But Eddie never understood why.

II

They were at the school disco, at the age of twelve, all the losers rocked up in hopes of having a nice time. In other words, they were forced by their parents. But Mike did end up tagging along so they were all happy about that. It wasn’t any surprise that the seven misfits sat in the back of the gym, all sitting around a circular table in their own conversations completely oblivious to the rest of their peers. Eddie sat with Richie to his right, Stan to his left. He was in a deep conversation about the new Captain America comic book when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced at Richie’s out stretched hand to see a small red bottle of Panda Pop sitting in his palm. Richie had a wide grin permanently stuck to his face. Eddie glanced at the drink before looking back up to Richie. He looked around the circular table at the lack of drinks in any of the other loser’s hands. “Richie.” Eddie said, gazing locking with the taller boys. “You forgot about everyone else!” He exclaimed. “This is just like you.”  Eddie shook his head, standing and brushing shoulders with Richie as he headed in the direction of the rectangular table filled with beverages. All the other losers glanced up at Richie, with amusement behind their eyes. Richie sent them a glare and fell back into his chair.

III

When the boys reached the age of fourteen, Richie’s charade continued and Eddie saw no end to the plague of Richie Tozier. After a long, exhausted filled day of school Eddie just wanted to leave the prison that they were supposed to call a haven. Ducking around the back of the school to meet the loser at the bike racks, hopefully avoiding Henry Bowers and his goonies at the same time.   Heavy footsteps echoed his ears and a slow cringe made its way onto Eddie’s face. He froze in his place, bracing himself for the first round of physical abuse he was about to endure. But nothing ever came.

“Hey Ed’s!” Eddie felt an arm wrap around his shoulder, which caused the poor boy to let out a sigh, his body coming down from the fright. He really wasn’t in the mood to get beat up right now.

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie mumbled under his breath and began walking again. Richie hummed in response, tightening his grip around Eddie’s neck.

“Do you have a band-aid- “

“You know I do Richie why.” Eddie’s patience was running low with the boy. There was only so long you could handle being around Richie ‘trashmouth’ Tozier.

 “Because I just scraped my knee falling for you. “Eddie rolled his eyes before shrugging off Richie’s arm and began to walk away from the boy in a huff.

“Eddie my boy, don’t be like that!” Richie said in one of his completely ridiculous accents that Eddie could only describe as the, ‘shitty British John Cleese.’  Richie jogged lightly to catch up with the shorter boy. “You know I love you! Almost as much as your fat Mom!”

IV

At the age of fifteen was when Richie had really began listening to music. His home life was rough, that Eddie knew and the only way Richie seemed to deal with it was listening to his music. Eddie never seemed to see the appeal. That’s way when Richie Tozier snuck into his bedroom window at two am with a mixtape, Richie’s chicken scratch hand writing over the top, reading the words ‘Eddie Spaghetti’ a messy love heart was added after his name and a doodle of roses sat beside it. Eddie didn’t know what to think.

Richie hadn’t even stayed long enough to make sure Eddie would listen to it, but he did and Richie knew he would. Eddie opened the plastic container, a folded piece of film fell out from on top of the cassette tape and landed within his lap. Picking the white film up he unfolded the picture and was greeted with his own laughing face starring back at him. He was sat on top of Richie’s shoulders, the photo he remembers being taken only a week earlier after school.

He remembers the day clearly, he had fought Richie and told him to leave him alone because there was no way in hell, he was willingly getting on top of the 5”7 boys shoulders without a fight. But there he sat, legs hanging over Richie’s shoulders Richie’s hands holding tightly on Eddie’s own. As both boys smiled happily, hand in hand.

Eddie admired the wide smile on Richie’s face, the pure joy that seemed to radiate from the photo brought a small smile to his own. Brushing his finger lightly over Richie’s face, just appreciating the loud boy. With a sigh, Eddie flipped over the film to read the small words written on the back, “love is like syphilis, it makes you crazy, eventually leading to death.” [X] Eddie rolls his eyes at Richie poor attempt of humour but he was humoured at the very least.

Leaning over to the stereo on his shelf, he turned the volume to the minimum as to not wake his mother, the first song started to play. The tune of the song made his eyes roll before the words even started to play. He laid back onto his bed, arm behind his head, the words filled his ears, a small smile on his face.

“Oh, I can't fight this feeling any longer,

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out this friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show,” [X]

V

A year later the losers were standing at the counter of the Aladdin. Richie’s arm in its forever permanent spot around Eddie’s back. The smaller boy subconsciously leant into his side. Eddie wonder if Richie ever regrets how much he flirts with the younger boy, Eddie thought he surely would be stopping any girls from getting to Richie. But Richie didn’t seem to care.  “Hey Babe?” Richie questioned.

Eddie hummed in response, too use to the pet names that Richie’s given him over the years for it to matter. Richie had grown a whole lot in a year, he had to be nearing 6” foot by now. Eddie was not at all jealous over the fact he was still barely reaching 5”5, still the shortest of all the Loser’s, Bev included. Eddie felt Richie shift behind him, head resting on top of his own, arms around Eddie’s waist. “Did you want any popcorn?” Richie could be extremely clinging when he wasn’t in your face obnoxiously joking about sleeping with his mom. Richie didn’t seem like he was in the happiest moods today, all the Loser’s would agree, so Eddie went with the flow and gave him the attention he thought the older boy needed.

“Don’t worry about it Rich, I’ll pay for the popcorn. You got us the tickets.” Eddie said with a light tap of his hands-on Richie’s own.

“It was my idea to come see the movie Ed’s, I’ll get the popcorn. “ Richie said, stepping away from the teenage boy. Eddie turned around to catch him before he left.

“Hey Richie?” Eddie questioned. Richie turned with hum in response. “Why do you never buy any of the others popcorn?” Richie eyes lifted slightly in surprise, a small smile playing on his face, he flicked his tongue out to swipe itself across his bottom lip. He stared over to where the rest of the loser’s stood, laughing loudly at something Stan had said. Richie’s face deadpanned.

“I’m trying to impress your Mom, Ed’s. “

+ I

All the Loser’s sat around a circle, it was March the seventh which means it was Richie’s seventeenth birthday. Buddy Holly [X] was playing lowly in the background. And Eddie was feeling nervous. The past few days Richie had seemed to distance himself from the boy and Eddie had wondered if it was something he did. Neither Bill or Bev had any idea on the matter which Eddie feel even worse about the situation. Eddie bit his lip as he passed the bottle half filled with amber coloured liquid around the circle. Richie seemed perfectly happy but Eddie felt out of place. Without the touches or the kind words or jokes about his Mom. Richie wasn’t Richie.

Moments later, the bottle was done and the group had dissipated. Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand and pulled him away from the main floor. “Ed’s?” Richie questioned. “Is everything okay?”

Richie eye’s squinted to look into Eddie’s own. “I-Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Richie turned his head to the side seemingly confused. Eddie opened his mouth before closing it. “I-Yo-We-Bu-,” Eddie stared at Richie in exasperation.

“Damn Bill, calm down a bit would ya?.” Eddie stare turned quickly into a disappointed glare. Richie held his hands up in defence.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at the taller boy through his dark brown curls. Eddie let out a huff, “Why don’t you treat me like you use to.” Eddie looked at the ground, suddenly more interested in his stark white converse than the conversation.

Richie cracked smile. “Finally.” He muttered. “I was waiting to see how long it would take for you to miss me.”

Eddie tilted his head in utter disbelief as he watched Richie face etched with a cheeky smile. Eddie shook his head and in one quick moment his small moisturized hands were upon Richie’s cheeks, he stood on his tippy toes and placed his soft pink lips against Richie’s chapped ones with an impatient desire. Eddie felt Richie gasped in surprise as he lips moved against Richie’s own. Eddie was yet to pull away when he felt Richie began applying the same amount of force or maybe even more back. Eddie noted that Richie tasted like tobacco and cheap whiskey, but the boy couldn’t get enough. Richie’s hands trailed down to Eddie’s hips, gripping the edge of the small boys lightly coloured shirt.

As he pulled away, the feeling of Richie’s lips lingered against his own, Eddie brought a hand to his lips touching them with his fingertips as a smile spread across his face. He rested back on the balls of his feet before looking up to meet Richie’s gaze.

Richie’s mouth laid ajar, eyes widen in feign surprise. “Was that you trying to flirt with me Eddie Kaspbrak?”

A/N this did not turn out what I was hoping but eh, still cute ish

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