#i doodled this last night and i was with my friend in call i couldn't get over how eclipse carried cassie it was funny to me idk why

[clownmfxx]

They're so funny I swear.

Me posting fnaf art again is crazy

[riaki]

an excuse to touch | suguru geto x reader

pt.2 of christmas event! cw: reader is kinda drunk, u and him have a bunkbed but he always sleeps w u on the lower bunk :3

not proofread

"su— guru!"

he knows that pitchy voice; a lilt to it that tells him you've been drinking. a slur that links your breathy words together like the taut strings of a spider's web that's so imperceptible that it would've been impossible to pick up, unless you were him. because suguru knows you better than anyone else.

you say his name weird, which means you've indulged on the bottle of liquor your next-door neighbor brought you that morning, wrapped in a pretty festive ribbon with a snowman drawn into the cork. "my son drew it," your neighbor had explained, and suguru wonders how good of a parent he is, to be letting his 6 year-old doodle on a bottle of wine.

he doesn't have time to concern himself with other people's lives, however. he has his hands full making sure you don't topple into the christmas tree you'd both worked your asses off to decorate last weekend when you stumble into the living room like you're walking on two left feet, threatening to trip over the cord connecting the soft yellow lights to the outlet in the wall. he distinctly remembers the argument you had last night— you thought rainbow lights would look nicer on the tree, but he liked just yellow. in the end, he'd gotten what he wanted— but there wasn't much to gain when you had stolen his sweater and refused to give it back as a vengeance. and now, he couldn't find it.

"right here," he calls, looking up at you from where he's seated on the couch in your living room. the little tv screen plastered to the wall has a fake fire playing over the screen; he knows you love the immersion, even if your apartment complex doesn't have a fireplace or a chimney.

you make your way over to his chair and promptly fall into his already-waiting arms. he pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting you snuggle up to him in his lap. his callused hand immediately snakes up your back to slip beneath your shirt, massaging your back. his embrace is warm; soft. and he smells good, like pine needles and something gently sweet, a little smoky.

soon, your hands find his hair, winding a trail up his neck to thread into the dark strands and pull out the tie. before you can move any further, though, a hand darts out to catch your wrist, and the other moves to tilt your chin up and force you to meet his stern gaze, warm like amber resin on the tree bark.

"[name], where's my sweater?" he asks, raising an accusatory eyebrow. just like that, you shrink away, and he smothers the snicker of amusement that threatens to spill out like hot cocoa with a hand over his lips.

you blink, and he watches your eyelashes flutter. they catch the fake firelight, glowing like billowing reeds under a bright sun in lakewater that reflects the summer sky. "i dunno." a blatant lie; obviously, you do know, because a bit of the red string has tangled in your hair. it was crocheted for him by a friend; you'd think a doctor would have good needle skills, but operating on a patient might be easier than operating on a DIY crocheting kit and a bundle of old string. nevertheless, he took the ugly christmas sweater and cherished it; the scent of cigarette smoke and faintly sterile tiles that clung to it.

but suguru was pretty sure that would soon be replaced by the scent of you, if you kept it much longer. not that he minded, of course.

"i, uh. dropped it. in the fire." you said bluntly, stubbornly weaving your hands into his hair and pulling out his hair tie insistently. a few strands caught; even as drunk as you were, you still took the time to smooth out the tangles so you didn't accidentally rip out a patch of his hair. crude as it was, suguru appreciates little things about you like that. not the fire part, though.

"you dropped it in the fire." he echoes, raising an eyebrow. it feels condescending in a very suguru (read: affectionate) way, so you look away, lower lip sticking out. he thinks that just makes you cuter, though; you look like something straight out of his dreams. he can barely bring himself to be irritated.

"um, yeah."

"so.. it burned up?"

"yes."

"you don't have it anymore."

"no, i don't."

"the fire isn't real," he reminds you quietly; softly if you strain your ears.

"but it's so warm over here. and nice, and cozy. what else could it be?" you protested, flailing your arms as if hitting him would force him to reconcile with your beliefs. suguru just opts to lean away from you, an amused and easy smile on his lips. like he's looking at you in adoration; like you're still the one who was molded from clay to fit in his arms even though you supposedly 'burned' his sweater up.

"not sure," he hums, watching as you stand up on two shaky legs like a newborn doe away from its mother's side; the soft glow from the light of the christmas tree gently illuminating your frame. he wishes he could tug you back by the wrist and kiss you breathless, run his hands over you ever lovingly. "you're just like my personal little space heater." he chuckles, soft smooth and melodic, and it snaps you from your tipsiness as you glance back over at him. “fools me into thinking the fire’s real.”

his hair is loose, tumbling over his shoulders and framing his face like a renaissance prince under the soft light; the brown of his eye shines a gentle caramel, soft and smooth as butter and syrup. there’s an easy smile that curves his lips up; he looks unfairly handsome. he thinks he can catch sight of his reflection in the void of your pupil; it looks like there's a birdnest on his head. he frowns, reaching a hand up to muss the tangled black strands. the windows in the living room are vignetted by a frosted glass, a cold world of white waiting outside. it's almost enough to make him shiver, but here, in the warmth of your presence, the snow melts away with the sunshine of your smile.

his fingers catch in his hair and he lets out a pained grunt. he's straightening his bangs when he looks up from his comfy seat on the couch; you're across the room, sitting on the soft wool carpet. there's a stain on the bundles of fluff, constantly hanging over the both of your heads to remind you of how you'd been enjoying a shared cup of hot cocoa with candy cane chunks when your nasty feline sauntered over and promptly jumped into your lap yet again, knocking over the mug and pouring its terribly sweet and sticky contents onto the wool. it had haunted suguru's domestic household nightmares for days after. your evil cat is curled up in your lap, fluffy mitten paws tucked beneath its head as it naps, and suguru doesn't like the flare of jealousy that springs up in his gut.

you catch the look of disdain on his face and shoot him a lazy smile, tilting your head. it's an invitation if he's ever seen one-- deserved, he thinks to himself. that should be him with his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, smoothing out each individual knot, gently massaging his scalp in the way you knew he loved.

...

he shakes his head and stands, brushing the lint (and cat fur— always a pest) off his sweats and saunters over to you; there's that familiar gait in his step from always walking hunched over during his earlier years of youth. sometimes, you'll build a little pillow fort on your bunk bed and settle in his arms between his legs and listen to him tell you stories from a time that seems so long ago but so fresh like new mint leaves in his memory. he'll play with your clothes, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of home and something like apples and cinnamon in your shampoo. those fun little story nights are always enjoyable, only because he has the best audience.

he squats down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he peers down at you. your cat in your lap lifts its head, looking like the very dictionary definition of judgmental as it squints at suguru. you just laugh, like silver bells clear in a snowstorm, parting the howling wind as if it's the red sea. paving a path straight through the center of his heart like some cursed cupid's arrow.

he doesn’t mind, though, when you scoot your cat off your lap and open your arms wordlessly. he scoots a little closer before settling into you, back flush against his chest as your arms lock around his waist. you rest your chin on his shoulder and he can’t help the rush of butterflies in his stomach; suguru’s never been the type for this sort of girlish, giddy love. but you always bring new things to the table, don’t you? he loves that about you.

suguru settles into your arms, tilting his head to intercept the kiss he knows you’re about to plant to his cheek to instead meet your lips with his, and he swallows and relishes the little surprised gasp that leaves you when he does. a moment later, he hears a pretty little giddy laugh, and he can’t fight the smile that spreads over his lips.

"you're so soft," he whispers, and it's much more exhausted than he thinks it has any right to be, on such a comforting night like this when your laugh smells of sweet liquor wrapped in chocolate and you serve as good of a sweater as any clearance sale item could.

and soon enough, your fingers slide into his hair, separating soft dark strands like you're organizing a collection of seashells. it takes him a while to notice, but he soon realizes you're braiding his hair. the wind howls outside and the fake fire doesn't provide any heat, but your gentle touch and warmth feel like a cozy throw blanket hanging around his shoulders. and he feels okay now; with the way you run your fingers through his hair, delicately gathering the strands from his hair and running a thumb down the length to smooth the knots, weaving them together like a natural crown of holly flowers.

you brush a stray strand from the nape of his neck, and he shivers when your fingertips brush against the tip of his ear. he can't help but smile when you notice the goosebumps on his bare arms and free one hand to reach for his, tangling your fingers together while you untangle the mats in his hair. it's far too cold for him to be wearing that simple, worn white cotton shirt, but he doesn't mind if you'll be the one to keep him warm through this cold season.

it's all fine and dandy until he speaks up again, when you're nearly falling asleep over his head and your arms drape over his chest, toying with the sapphire necklace around his neck. your little cute breaths tickle the top of his head; you've finished the braid. it's a little messy and stray hairs stick out here and there— but at least you didn't settle for pigtails.

when he speaks, it's not directed towards you, though— he's speaking to your cat, with a stern tone you only recognize as the one he uses with you whenever your clothes end up on his side of the drawer or when his jewelry (or hairties) go missing.

and when you open your eyes groggily after suguru shifts to sit up, feeling the dreary loom of a mini hangover after you fall asleep in his arms tonight— you're blessed with the sight of your beloved house pet— a shredded chunk of tacky fabric from suguru's sweater in its mouth, and the death glare that you can only imagine contorting your handsome boyfriend's face.

needless to say, your cat will be nowhere around the two of you when you decide to share a therapeutic cup of hot cocoa again this time.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[kristinhateslife]

Okay so last night I was having an "art style panic"? I guess you could call it that? But I was feeling really bad, so i started drawing other peoples art styles and picking points and peaces out of it!

I did this last night when I was really tired and i used a pen so the drawings may not be how i usually do my drawings haha

Ok so first up we have @emjoyzhos-ej !! I recently just found your account but you have a very cool style!!

•Your skull shape is very unique, very rectangle

•your lines are very sketchy (most people I follow have this trait in their art..)

•when you color it looks like you mayy have rook inspiration from itsxroxannex? Idk i wrote that down, maybe it's not true but I guess i thought that last night

But I love your style! Your art is so cool and I had fun trying to replicate it!

Next we have @milkybnnuy ! Omg so I really like you!! Your art is sooo good

•You draw a lot of fell, so i made the drawing of killer like how you made that one fell killer drawing

•when you color you have a very paintly-style and that's cool!!

•your skull shape reminds me of an egg (i guess thats why i said "egg head" last night)

Up in the top I wrote "I did not replicate your art properly enough," and that's true! Your art is so unique and different from what i usually drew so i had a hard time replicating it! But nonetheless, i had a fun time trying and hope you ain't disappointed lol

Btw- I really like the way you draw your fuzz on hoods!! So satisfying to look at!

And now we go onto @voidzphere !

I've followed you for a while, and you're cool to be around and I like when you post! Though i had a hard time finding the art hidden around, I still was able to replicate it (luckily i chose to draw killer for this haha)

•so I see that you usually draw/post doodles, unless i just didn't scroll down far enough haha (plz tell me if you have drawn something big i wanna see)

•I noticed you have more pointy and thicker lines

•you have a certain way you draw your Skulls, I can't really put a shape or object here to describe it

Even though I couldn't find more drawings, I still tried! I hope you like it, friend, cause u cool

Here is @cherrio-krispz ! I just started following you last night, like seriously I had to search you up just now to figure out who you were cuz I forgot, but when i saw your art I immediately recognized you

•you have a very recognizable style!

•again, i did not replicate well.

•very painty-like when color

•sketchy lines, seems like you don't do line art?

•I like ur skulls, they look like skulls

OMG I'VE BEEN WAITING TO TALK ABOUT YOU. YOU. YOUUU. @somegrumpynerd OMG YOUUUUUU. I REALLY LIKE YOUR ARTTT.

•I LIKE IT

•very cartoonish

• noticable art style

•thick lineart

I LOVE seeing posts when they come out!!! They're really really cool and make me feel so happy when I see them! Keep going because you're so cool!

@spookeri haiiii

You're here tooo

i like ur art :)))))) a LOT . Same as the last guy, I get very excited when you post. Your DTIYS were fun, and yeye... Yeah

•Very flat colors

•flat lines

•cool looking skulls

•you have an "air-brush" shading style (i guess you could call it), which isn't a bad thing! Do what you want to do! But maybe try out cell-shading? Idk you don't have to, but idk i feel like cell-shading fits your art style

Also if you look in the bottom you can see a scratched out drawing, that was my first attempt haha

You can see it in the drawing below

@wyllaztopia !! I like your art :)) you have a very noticeable style and when you post I get excited as well!

•clean lines

•you make skulls longer than how other people make their skulls in this last

•I liked replicating it

Idk what else to say ... Its just all really cool!!

And last but not the worst

My art style!

My art style is

•cool

•easy to draw

•and funny lookin'

What did i learn from this whole thing i did? That everyone has a unique style, that even if they try to change it it still stays theirs and it's still unique

I also found out that everyone, small artists and big artists, has flaws! It's comforting to know that everyone has flaws so I know I'm just learning and getting better everyday

Another thing I got from this is that everyone's styles are always changing and warping. But thats fine! Because everyone's moving and changing, and the worlds always moving and changing!

So, don't be so hard on yourself if you're struggling to draw or find an art style, how you draw is unique to you and you'll like it one day

Just keep drawing everyday and you'll get there.

I suggest doing this challenge, on paper or digital, wether you color it or not, or post ot or not!

It's great to try out.

[the-one-who-lambs]

"Propose," for @bamsara

HI YOUR DOODLES INSPIRED ME HERE'S A POETRY ATTACK. rambling below the cut.

At first, the death waltz is a misstep.

A sickening skeletal crack, a shape of an invisible scythe.

Sincerity is too kind a lie, but His sacrosanct

Protection (you think)

Lets you rise once more.

Death cannot keep you, but you would let Him

If he welcomes you.

You only believe what He thinks you should know.

The flames engulf you after the smoke does,

But your soul has nearly shed its corpse when you see them.

You stand in the vast chain-bound sanctuary and breathe

Fully (your lungs don’t remember being choked).

It is the first of a fitful of

Scorn and surprises and bone fingertips pressed against your skin.

He helps you to your feet.

Your heart should not beat here. In the infiniteness of your bosom it awakens.

The very semblance of the jagged-bare flesh

Encircling your neck is an intimacy in itself.

The blissful torment of the swordsman’s blade

Releases (so close to peril)

And He is already in your periphery.

Call it duty. Call it love.

Choose it as the last decision you’ll ever make.

Fate’s a tarot pull. You draw your card with eyes sealed shut.

You are a disgraced, depraved approximation of a person.

The chill of his embrace is warmer than the hands

That build the bonfire. It is in the name of

Someone (you shan’t say who)

And in the ashes of your grief your reflection

Stares back with three eyes.

The temptation to burn yourself seeps out,

Ichor-like. You don’t die tonight, not yet.

A careful drip of poison. The aftertaste of iron

In your mouth: communion seeping into your own goblet.

A moonshine moment of annihilation, however brief

Before (infectious, echoing, comforting)

You bleed out. You hope you die today.

He hopes you die today. It’s an

Ambrosial veil between you.

You slip beneath it with a sweet hello.

It’s never quite intentional until

The myths surrounding Him fall away.

The secrets you keep are shared, kept safe

Until (your reunion, this time, was not quite an accident)

They are intertwined: you are inescapably

Lonely and in your separate spheres

You vie for dominance. It’s a furious, bloodsoaked rendezvous.

It was always He who waited, but you’ll be patient.

He feels you in every dream. You

Stop time with your voices.

It’s His frustration melting away

With your kisses (you’re not there yet)

And makes Him yours, in freedom,

Dependent on nothing nobody you himself

The fetters are invisible but you hear them

Rattling every time your heart beats.

Your breath need not return anymore so you

Relearn to dodge the aim of an arrow, the pierce of a blade.

Living is foul, a promise half-hidden,

Desperate. (It lingers on your tongue.)

Death bound you together. You know how to die.

You have to remind yourself that heaven lays barren.

It will not hold you

Should Death keep you apart.

Get appreciated idiot /pos /lh

So, this was inspired by this post, which was super wholesome and sweet, but I couldn't write this without infusing it with the urgency and anxiety and sense of danger that looms over The Rehabilitation of Death. Bits and pieces of references to your AU are sprinkled in throughout. I hope you (and my readers and your readers as well) enjoy picking apart the themes here!

I actually wrote this live on stream last night! I made sure none of my friends were streaming before I started because I didn't want to miss anyone if someone was already live, but then you started streaming like 10 minutes later and I was like FUCK now I wanna watch you. But after a couple of hours on my new extra-hard CotL save (OUCH), I switched to writing and just... hoped you wouldn't pop in because I wanted this to be a surprise. For most of the writing part of the stream this poem was titled "IF SARA STOPS STREAMING SEND ME A WARNING."

Anyway, we don't usually get to talk more than a couple times per week because we both have Shit To Do, but you are SO FUN to be around and I am so so glad I met you!! Your friendship is a blessing and your creativity is a gift.

Also posted to AO3 as onethirdofimpossible here!

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 2)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 8.4k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love, mutual pining, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 2 either but the next chapter does get steamy.

Note: Ok big shout out to @ghost-proofbaby for her Steve lessons and just generally being a Steve soundboard. I'm not a Steve girl yet but...idk. And then also to @trashmouth-richie for being so supportive and listening as I ramble on about plot things. I admire you both as writers and love you guys as friends; thank you for your support.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“No, no, no,” Steve whined as he approached the mirror, squishing his face and pinching at his cheeks. “This is a dream. I’m still asleep. Or I’m dead.”

He cleared his throat a few times, slapped it, pinched his Adam's apple. He used every bit of willpower in him to stop the voice that was coming out of his mouth from being Eddie’s voice. It didn't stop that everything else was Eddie's though.

Eddie’s hair. His face. His body.

Steve was in his house—trailer, Steve recalled. It was a trailer. He was wearing his clothes. Sleeping in his bed.

Steve vaguely recalled the thing he thought last night when Eddie left Family Video.

A curse.

Eddie had put a curse on Steve. Steve had made Eddie pay non-member prices for his stupid video rental and Eddie put a fucking curse on him?!

There was a knock at the door and Steve jumped.

"Everything alright in there Ed?" a hoarse, muffled voice asked.

"Uhhh," Steve tried to come up with some kind of response, but suddenly all of the excuses he could ever come up with eluded him. Every scrap of knowledge he had ever reluctantly learned about Eddie Munson—thwip—gone.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to focus, get in the moment, clear his head. If this was a basketball game or a swim meet, he would never let himself get this worked up.

"I'm fine," he started and then paused.

Eddie's parents weren't around anymore, who did he live with? The kids had mentioned it once or twice, said the guy was nice, a little rough around the edges. Said he let Eddie do whatever he wanted for the most part. His uncle...

"I'm fine Uncle W-wayne," Steve answered.

"Late for school," Wayne sighed. "You skipping again?"

"I--"

Steve didn't know what kind of excuse to come up with. What kind of excuses did Eddie give his uncle? His attendance was abysmal, Steve knew, and on the days he was in class, his attention was barely there. Always scribbling and doodling and cracking jokes when he was called on to answer.

He should have just dropped out the first time he failed, a fact that Steve had mocked him for repeatedly, let alone this second time.

Fuck, but if Steve was stuck in Eddie's body, he couldn't not go to school. He had enough trouble with his high school diploma, let alone without one. Maybe...maybe he could ask Dustin to help with his—

Dustin.

That little brat would be at school. Of course. He and others...they were a part of this little cult...maybe they knew what Eddie did to him? Or they could help him at the very least figure out how to reverse this curse.

"Listen son," Wayne continued. "I know it's hard to do this all over again; I told you that you didn't—"

"No, it's ok," Steve quickly cut him off. "I just slept in...accidentally. I'll go. I'm late but I'll go."

"Alright, whatever you say. I got a fresh pot going for you but I'm gonna get cleaned up and hit the hay alright?"

"Sounds good," Steve replied absentmindedly, staring around the room trying to figure out what, in all of the piles of clothing and junk, he could wear.

"Steve Harrington."

Eddie rummaged through the products in the medicine cabinet. Shampoos and after shaves and hair gels and mousses. Way more interesting and expensive sounding than the bottom shelf stuff he got at Melvald's.

He had to be honest, some of it didn't smell great and he didn't see the appeal. Oh well.

"The name's Harrington, Steve Harrington."

He shuffled through the clothes in the closet and the dressed. A lot of trendy, Sears catalog-looking stuff. Polos and windbreakers and jeans in various shades of blue. All neatly hung and folded, nothing out of place, even the underwear drawer was pristine. Nothing black or ripped or...god forbid a band tee or something like that.

Eddie was gonna have to change that...eventually.

"Hey, uh, have we met before? I'm Steve, Steve Harrington."

After the initial shock of finding that he was, indeed, in Steve's body, a sort-of calmness washed over Eddie. The panic subsided pretty quickly, to be honest; he might have been full of electric, frantic energy that dared to be contained, but he was also very good at improvising and devising a plan thanks to years of DnD.

But what was the plan when you found yourself in someone else's body? There wasn't really a handbook for that but like any good player...he would just have to play the part until the answers were revealed to him. And that meant he would have to become Steve Harrington--know Steve Harrington--in a way that he would have loathed if he wasn't in this situation specifically.

The first step had been checking out what Steve was packing.

Eddie peeled away the tight purple briefs and stared at his dick.

"Alright Harrington, alright," Eddie bobbed his head from side to side in contemplation and then grinned ferally. "Mine's bigger." And with that he adjusted himself back in the underwear and continued on his exploration.

Clothes, shoes, books—or more accurately the lack thereof.

Jesus, how have I failed twice and he graduated?

He dug through drawers, found the stash of dirty magazines under the bed, and then scanned over the calendar neatly pinned above the desk with shifts at Family Video clearly penciled-in in a handwriting that looked way too nice to be Steve's.

Steve would be expected to open the store this morning and Eddie grimaced. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his day, but he had a part to play.

He grabbed the little green and orange vest hanging off the back of the desk chair and threw it on over the trendy striped polo that made him itch—did Steve have some kind of allergy or something? God, his chest and arms were just itchy, and it was driving Eddie nuts.

He headed downstairs, through the immaculate house that he vaguely knew the layout of having dealt at a party Steve held last year, to the kitchen to rummage for some kind of breakfast.

He had already checked upstairs and now again as he walked through; the house was empty. Steve's parents gone for the day.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he opened the fridge and found, among the very neat and plentiful groceries, a brown paper lunch bag with the name "Stevie" written on it with a little heart.

"Great," Eddie scoffed bitterly, the first really sour thought he’d had all morning. "His mommy still makes his lunches."

Eddie thought about the handwriting on the calendar upstairs; it was the same as the lunch bag. Thought about the neatly folded clothes, about the extremely tidy rooms. He knew Steve's mom didn't work; she didn't do much of anything except parade around town flaunting her perfect life.

And she was a real bitch.

She was on the Hawkins Town Council and the PTA. She was the first person to call Hellfire Club a cult when they had originally petitioned for some money from the PTA for shirts a few years back. She had called Eddie a menace too many times to count, periodically to his face if he parked a little too close to the front to her liking at Bradley's.

"And she makes her precious baby boy Stevie tuna salad sandwiches and ants on a log like he's 6," Eddie grumbled as he peeked inside the bag. He couldn't remember the last time someone made his lunch for him.

Well he could...in those early days with Wayne. They were both trying to navigate the new living arrangement after his mom had passed. He wasn't that great at peanut butter and jelly or carrot sticks...but he did teach Eddie that you could put potato chips inside of your sandwich though. Taught him how to make the best of a situation, to take care of himself.

So that's what he was going to do. He was gonna make the best out of this situation and play the part and get through the day. Because things were always good—life was always good—if you were Steve Harrington. And he was Steve Harrington now.

"And Steve Harrington," Eddie pushed past the bitterness and found a little spark of goodness. "Drives a BMW."

"Watch where you're going freak!" Someone grunted at Steve as they rammed their shoulder into his as they passed.

"When did everyone get so damn rude?" Steve grumbled to himself. It was the fifth person who had done that today. Hawkins High really had gone to the pits in the past few months since he graduated.

To be fair, everything had really sucked for him so far that day. He thought, Hawkins High was his stomping ground. Just put on the Harrington charm—despite the rough exterior—and everything would work out.

He was so wrong.

First he had gotten detention for being late to class, apparently for the third day that week—

God, Munson needed to get his act together; no wonder he hadn't graduated yet.

—then when he had tried to schmooze Mrs. Worth, the school secretary, into giving him Dustin's schedule, she laughed. And when he asked if he could have a copy of his own schedule, Eddie's schedule, she had just rolled her eyes and said,

"Trying every trick in the book to get out of classes, Edward. I can't help you unless you help yourself."

"How can I help myself if I don't have a schedule Jeanine?" he snarked, figuring Eddie's own signature shitty attitude would get him somewhere instead.

It only added an extra 15 minutes onto his detention.

Great.

Finally he managed to find the crumbled scrap of a class schedule in Eddie's locker—the only locker without a lock on it although he doubted anyone would want to steal from this absolute cesspit—amongst the piles of incomplete homework and garbage and overdue library books. It took everything in Steve not to rip it to pieces when he saw archaic symbols drawn all over it, no doubt another curse Eddie was waiting to enact on someone.

Steve just went through the motions and still got picked on and berated by every teacher and most of the students. Of course, Eddie fucking deserved everything he got. He was a lazy student and a menace, always causing some kind of trouble. But it made Steve especially grumbly that he would now have to deal with the fallout of Eddie's shit. Despite trying to adapt his own good behavior.

"Just gotta find Henderson and this will all have been some silly dream," Steve muttered to himself all day. And thankfully he had survived until lunch and immediately spotted Dustin and Mike as they sat down at the freaks' usual lunch table.

God he needed to get those kids away from Munson and his cult. Especially now that he knew what they could do.

He quickly crossed the busy cafeteria, uncaring of anyone he bumped into or the sharp words they spat at him.

"Henderson, we need to have a little chat," Steve announced as he reached the table. One of the older kids at the table—Steve tried to recall his name: Gary, Garth, Garrett—perked up at the sight of "Eddie" though and started chatting excitedly.

"Hey we were just talking about Hellfire tonight. I know you won't tell us anything but do we ne—”

"Hellfire's canceled," Steve dismissed coldly.

"What?!" They all started talking over one another.

"You never cancel Hellfire."

"Are you sick?"

"Guys he's dying. Or he's lost his mind."

Steve felt the annoyance bubble up inside of him and he raised his voice.

"It's canceled!" He leveled all of them with a scathing look. "I've got detention. Alright?"

"You always have detention," Mike spoke up, then cowered slightly as Steve glared at him. "Y-you've never canceled before..."

"Tough shit. Maybe next week." Steve turned his attention back to Dustin. "Let's go."

He grabbed Dustin by the arm, hauled him out of his seat, and pulled him out of the cafeteria.

As soon as the heavy double doors clicked shut behind them, Steve fell back against the wall and buried his face in his hands.

"Shit! Eddie!" Dustin's demeanor immediately went from fear to concern. "What's going on?"

"'m not Eddie," Steve groaned.

"What?"

"I'm not Eddie!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands out as if it would reveal who he actually was. "It's Steve, I'm Steve."

"O-ok?"

"I'm Steve and I woke up in Eddie's body and I don't know what's happening and I'm..." He started breathing heavily. "I'm so fucking pissed off and I'm so fucking scared."

"Hey listen man, I know," Dustin began hesitantly. "I know you keep telling us that the weed is not for freshman but if this is supposed to scare me—"

"This isn't to scare you," Steve grumbled, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders so he could pull him closer. "I'm not high. And I'm not Eddie. I'm Steve Harrington."

Dustin blinked at him.

"Ok..." he nodded slowly. "You're Steve Harrington? Tell me something only Steve and I would know."

Steve wracked his brain; there were a lot of things that he and Dustin shared, he was closer to Dustin than all of the other kids. But now, so was Eddie...so what was something that Eddie wouldn't know?

"Last year...last December..."

"Yeah?"

"The Snow Ball?"

"Ok?"

"I helped you with your hair...I told you my secret."

"Which was?"

Steve and Dustin stared each other down for a moment before Steve caved.

"Thefarrahfawcettspray," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"The Farrah Fawcett Spray, alright? I swore you to secrecy, I wouldn't tell anyone else, let alone Eddie Munson." He clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth.

"Son of a bitch!" Dustin hissed. "It really is you."

"I told you so, you little punk."

"What did...I mean..." Dustin clutched the bill of his cap with both hands and exhaled. "How?"

"I was hoping you could help me figure that out," Steve sighed. "And how to undo it."

"I think this is a little beyond my academic ability Steve."

"No, not just because you're smart. Because you hang around Munson. He's the one who did this to me."

"Wh-what?" Steve started talking a mile a minute and Dustin stopped him. "Ok, slow down. I'm gonna need you to start over. If you want me to help you, I need to know everything."

Steve spent the rest of lunch explaining everything to Dustin, from the interaction with Eddie at Family Video to feeling off last night during dinner and then waking up in Eddie's body this morning.

Dustin asked, what seemed to be, random questions. Like if he had remembered brushing his teeth the night before, if he’d had any indigestion, or if there were any scars that he had as Steve that might have appeared on "Eddie's" body instead.

"I wasn't exactly eager to check Eddie's body out," Steve scrunched his nose in dismissal.

"You didn't even take a shower or anything?" Dustin asked.

"I mean, no," Steve shrugged. "But now that I think of it...how am I gonna even be able to take a shower. Ugh, I don't want to touch Eddie's junk."

"Your junk," Dustin reminded him.

"Eddie's body," Steve insisted.

"And you're Eddie for the foreseeable future," Dustin shrugged. The bell signaling the end of the period rang and Dustin sighed. "Listen, I'm gonna skip next period and see if the school library has anything useful. But I'm not hopeful."

"Hey, you shouldn't skip class!" Steve argued.

"It's just Latin."

"Which you're failing."

"Skipping one class while you've literally had your mind transplanted into another body over night seems like the correct choice. I'll see you later." Dustin disappeared amongst the throngs of students and Steve sighed, resigned to go through the motions for the rest of the day.

It was a lot more of the same shit he'd gone through in the morning: getting body checked in the hall, having his books slapped out of his hand, teachers purposefully calling on him thinking he wasn't paying attention—even though he was, thank you very much. Although...considering that Eddie's notebooks were filled with doodles and poetry and shit...it wasn't a far stretch to believe that no, Eddie didn't actually pay any attention in class.

Steve actually had never had any classes with Eddie except for PE, really. And the fact that Eddie got into constant arguments with Coach should have been enough of an indicator of his poor academic performance as it was. But he’d based all of his assumptions on other factors. They hadn’t really interacted short of seeing him roaming the halls, the many few times Steve and his friends had mocked the Hellfire kids, even the one or two times Steve had gone up to Eddie himself to coerce him into dealing at a party.

He had always thought of Eddie as a thorn in everyone's side...but now being Eddie...

The bell rang signaling the end of the day and although Steve knew he had to get to the cafeteria for detention, he still went to find Dustin and see if he had any answers.

It wasn't a long search, Dustin was waiting by Eddie's locker looking...incredibly nervous.

"Anything?" Steve asked.

"The school library isn't well-stocked with occult books," Dustin sighed. "Best I could find was this, Mysteries of the Unknown, which I'm gonna read, I just don't think it's gonna help us out very much."

Steve groaned and covered his face with his hands.

This was just great.

“Listen, I’m gonna level with you this is…kind of outside of my expertise here Steve,” Dustin said hesitantly.

“But what about the cult stuff,” Steve asked, throwing his hands out. “You spend every Friday with Hellfire Club.”

“Playing a board game,” Dustin defended. “One that you could have learned by now if you just—”

“You’re telling me there aren’t any spells or...or something that could do this in your little game?"

"It's Dungeons and Dragons. Not Jumanji."

"...does that game maybe have a spell that—"

"No!"

"Well what about all of this shit Eddie has drawn in his notebooks, huh?" Steve fumbled to flip to one of the pages that had little symbols drawn in the corner. "What is this?"

"Probably something for a campaign. Maybe you should ask Eddie?" Steve froze and Dustin frowned. "You...have talked to Eddie about this right? You didn't just...come to school...without talking to Eddie, did you?"

Steve felt like an idiot. Of course Eddie would be in his body if he was in Eddie's. Eddie didn't just...banish Steve...he put a curse on both of them.

"Dustin Henderson, you are a genius." Steve pressed a kiss to Dustin's head, turned on his heel, and ran towards the door. Detention be damned.

"I'm not a genius, you're just an idiot!"

For all of the fears Eddie had about growing up—finally graduating, deciding if he should take some classes at the community college like the guidance counselor suggested ages ago, having to get a job or really throwing everything he had into making Corroded Coffin successful—he was honestly having a good time working at Family Video.

Steve always seemed a little bored and grumpy every time Eddie had stopped in. But it wasn't that bad if Eddie was being honest.

He'd been a little frantic at first, trying to figure out which key unlocked the door, and how to turn on the computer and open the cash register—thankfully there were little handwritten instructions taped under the keyboard—but once everything was up and running, it was a good time. He got to put a movie on—Star Wars, duh—easily chatted with some of the apparent-regulars who came by to make returns, even processed shipments of some new releases. It was a blast.

Eddie vaguely wondered, whenever he found himself back in his own body, if he should apply for a job here.

The bell above the door rang and Eddie turned, expecting to greet customers, only to be met with a fuming Robin Buckley.

Eddie didn’t know Robin very well, but what he did know he respected, if not outright liked. During his first senior year, she and a group of band nerds had gone up against Corroded Coffin in the last round of the Hawkins High Battle of the Bands. Now, he knew that the whole competition was rigged—Corroded Coffin had gotten second place despite being the best metal band in town—but she was pretty cool to shake their hands after the event was over. Tell them how good they were.

Of course, her band did a cover of "We Will Rock You" and "We are the Champions." Kind of cheating if you'd asked Eddie...but they did a pretty good job of it. He couldn't fault the student body for choosing that over the alleged Devil Worship music.

However, gone was the bashful Robin in his memory, and instead there she stood seemingly gearing up for a fight, with her sleeves rolled up and teeth gnashing together as she sneered.

"Forget something today dingus?" Robin asked "Steve" through clenched teeth.

"Uhhh," Eddie fumbled. "I don't kn—"

"Me! You forgot to pick me up for school," Robin exclaimed, hands thrown up in the air in exasperation. "You didn't even call? What gives?"

"I, uh," Eddie wracks his brain for an excuse. Because he didn't know he needed to? Because he wasn't actually Steve? "I accidentally overslept."

"And then I was worried about you," Robin rambled, running a hand through her bangs as she went on. "You could have...crashed into a pole, or...or...had a stroke and drove into a ditch."

"I'm sorry," Eddie offered with a half-smile.

"You better be! And your alarm better be set on Monday; I am not walking to school again," Robin grumbled as she headed to the back room to clock in. Eddie sighed in relief as the door shut behind her.

He really did feel bad about not picking her up for school. His friends were used to him skipping or just...sleeping late. If he wasn't at their houses to pick them up by a certain time, they knew they'd have to find another ride. Or just walk.

Gareth's mom was usually nice enough to give them rides on the days when Eddie didn't show.

But Robin...well, shit, Eddie knew Steve and Robin worked together...not only here but at Scoops Ahoy before this but damn, he didn't know Harrington was driving her to school. He must have been really good about picking her up every day if she was mad and worried.

"—and the thing is that I worried all day for nothing." Robin continued as she walked back onto the shop floor. "What if he's dead? What if his parents don't know? I think I failed my algebra test because of you so...just call next time ok?" She stared at him expectantly.

"Ok, I will," Eddie nodded. But Robin just narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms across her chest. "What?"

"What do you mean what?" she asked. "What are you still standing there for? It's almost 4."

"Oh!" Eddie checked his watch. "Is it? I guess...my shift is over right?"

She stared at him with a dumbfounded expression and then slammed her hands on the counter, making him jump.

"This is why you're single, this is why you can't find a girlfriend," she whined. "I don't even feel bad for you anymore. Not when you're screwing it up every step of the way. I really thought you were gonna get it right this time."

What was she talking about?

"How could you forget!?"

And in spectacular timing that Eddie could only have expected in a movie, the clock struck 4, the bell rang as the door opened, and you walked in for your date with Steve.

You were nervous.

Of course you were nervous, this was your third date with Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington. You sort of still didn't believe that he had asked you out.

You didn’t believe you were still going out with him.

It was just a random night that you'd run into Family Video to grab a movie before they closed. How easily he bantered with you, how he made you laugh, how he suggested Sixteen Candles of all movies for your study night with the girls from your classes at the Tri-County Community College.

He had made a joke when he looked up your mom’s membership…if the number on file was up-to-date so he could inform you of new releases…or just to ask you out.

You had giggled so stupidly after you left. He had called that night.

You'd always been sort of afraid of him during school. He was cute, sure, charming when he wanted to be...but he was popular and a jock and kind of a douche. You’d seen him pick on countless nerds.

He was King Steve, The "Hair" Harrington, whose dad owned the car dealership and had even run for Mayor once and was expected to run again. And you...you didn't have confidence issues really, but there wasn't anything really special about you either. You'd always held out hope that your silly high school crush would ask you out, so you never accepted any of the offers you had from any other boys.

But he never ended up asking you out, no matter how many signals you gave him, how much time you spent with him. How you wore the cutest outfits if you knew you’d partner with him in class.

And shy of some random drunken makeouts and one unfortunate hookup at some stupid party to get your first time “out of the way” (according to Julie Williams)…you stayed single.

Now you were out of the dregs of the high school hierarchy, sure, but you never expected Steve to ask you out. You weren't popular by any means...

But neither was Nancy Wheeler before Steve dated her.

Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler.

You couldn't get the name out of your head. Or more accurately, you couldn't get Steve saying her name out of your head. You hadn't even heard of her until they had started dating in your junior year; she was a year younger than you and Steve. Sweet, a little timid maybe. You thought they were cute together, always kind of near each other. Holding hands or kissing or laughing.

Nancy stood in the spotlight with Steve, and they spent enough time for him to become nicer and for her to become more confident. Confident enough to dump him about halfway through your senior year.

Rumors were afloat about King Steve losing his crown. That the new kid Billy Hargrove had taken it when the king was down on his luck. But Billy was an even bigger douchebag and you'd thought...well, Steve was the big man on campus, he would bounce back right? Surely once you graduated at least? He’d find his footing and move on?

And you thought he had. He’d stayed in town, gotten a job, went about his life like it was normal. Still drove around and charmed the town, asking girls out and whatnot. Asking you out.

Imagine your surprise when he mentioned Nancy on your first date. Coffee at that little bakery in the town square; he had ordered for you before you got there and you asked if it was his favorite or something.

"Well Nance always liked it so I figured you might."

And then again at the movies, he'd ordered you a cherry coke and Mike and Ikes. No popcorn.

"Nancy always complained about the kernels getting stuck in her teeth."

You were patient and you tried to be nice. But it created this constant, subconscious comparison to her that hit you every time you saw her around town. And she was always around.

And Steve…tried, he made sure the dates were nice, he called on the phone, asked you about your day, told you about his. You just knew you couldn’t…allow yourself to feel less than, even if Steve didn’t realize he was doing it to you.

So you decided you were gonna end things.

You'd gone to Family Video to tell him as much, to have a nice discussion, before heading to your shift at Benny's. But he was very sweet, unexpectedly so. Promised your third date would be something special. You'd both dress up. He'd take you out to dinner somewhere nice.

"You're gonna love this place," Steve had said, taking your hand in his. "Nance thought it was great when I took her there too."

Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler.

And at that moment you decided to just pull your hand away and tell him "I'm sorry Steve" and "you can’t keep bringing her up, it’s over."

Until you caught sight of Eddie Munson at the corner of your eye.

Your high school crush.

Who was funny and clever and silly and handsome and more. Who was everything you could kind of ever dream of. Who you got into a fight with your best friend over because she thought she had dibs since her brother was his friend. Whose name you scribbled in your notebook and almost died the one time he flipped through to copy your notes.

Who never saw you as more than a classmate.

And you decided...even if you were tired of playing second fiddle to Nancy…you had spent enough time waiting to be noticed by Eddie. All of high school and, you were ashamed to say it, even now after the fact.

You couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t pass upon another boy who actually noticed you just to keep waiting on Eddie.

So you told Steve that his idea was great and you went on your merry way.

You had convinced yourself that it could work out, that you could be Steve’s girlfriend if he asked, if he kissed you at the end of the night. You'd dressed up to go to class today, knowing that you wouldn't have time to change for the date after. Your friends had teased you about your date, about the fluffy tafetta dress you'd chosen, giggled along with you and inflated your confidence.

It was still a little bit of a shock when you walked into Family Video promptly at 4 only to find Robin standing in front of the counter with the most pitying, sympathetic look in her eyes. And Steve still behind it, looking like a deer in the headlights, still dressed in his casual work clothes, hair slightly disheveled.

Not prepared for your date at all.

Did he forget?

You shouldn’t have felt bad, really. You were meeting him after his shift. You knew that you didn’t always look or feel great after work. You should have given him the benefit of the doubt.

Or did he change his mind?

Because he talked the talk yesterday and you fell for it. You let your pride get the better of you and you should have just followed your instinct to end things.

That insidious voice in the back of your mind though…

Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler.

…told you that he realized you weren’t good enough.

"H-hey," you greeted sheepishly. Your throat got tight

“Say hi dumbass,” Robin muttered over her shoulder. “Steve was just telling me how excited he was for your date!”

“Really?”

And then…it felt like Steve was suddenly seeing you for the first time. Because Steve Harrington just had a way about him, right?. That cool, casual exterior. That easiness.

Looking at him now…his eyes were wider and brighter, his smile bigger, eager. It was a version of him that you hadn’t experienced.

Was this maybe what Nancy Wheeler saw when she looked at him…looking at her?

And now he was looking at you this way.

"I...I'm not late am I? Or too early maybe?" you asked, suddenly bashful under his gaze.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

“Gross,” Robin gagged. “Ok get out of here before I vomit.”

Steve practically vaulted over the counter and disappeared into the back for a moment, then situated himself at your side upon his return.

“You ready to go?” He asked eagerly. You raised your eyebrows in question and glanced down at his outfit, still dressed the same, still wearing his Family Video vest even.

“Oh you…” you started and then stopped when his smile got even brighter. “Yeah let’s go.”

You were barely out the door when a familiar van skidded into the parking lot and came to a halt in the spot next to your car. Eddie jumped out of the driver's seat and slammed the door, before pointing at Steve with a manic look in his eyes.

“You!” Eddie shouted. “What did you do? How did you do this!?”

You immediately turned to Steve, whose eyes went wide for a moment before he smiled lazily, almost condescendingly.

“Me? I didn’t do anything,” Steve announced, holding his hands up innocently.

“I know you’re in there Eddie, you son of a bitch,” Eddie grumbled and practically lunged at Steve. Steve jumped a few steps back and you got between the two of them, hoping your presence would put Eddie at ease.

Wait…

Did he call Steve…Eddie? Did he call Steve by…his own name?

Was he high or something? You tried to rationalize it: The anger, the manic look in his eyes, the way his shoulders shook as he breathed heavily. It only made sense.

“Hey look at me,” you said gently. “It’s gonna be ok, you need to take a deep breath and calm down. You’re gonna be ok.”

“Stay out of this honey,” Eddie said through clenched teeth. “This is between me and him.”

“Steve, what’s going on?” You glance back at him for an answer.

“Nothi—” Steve began but Eddie quickly spoke over him.

“He put a curse on me, he put a curse on us,” Eddie heaved.

A curse?

“M-maybe you need a doctor or something,” you tried. “You aren’t making any sense.”

”He doesn’t need a doctor,” Steve called from behind you. “He’s a freak, a criminal. He needs to be locked up.”

Eddie froze and looked between you and Steve, fear suddenly in his eyes.

“Steve are you crazy?!” You turned and hissed at him, but by the time you turned back to Eddie, he was backing away and retreating into the van.

“This isn’t over,” he threatened, pointing at Steve through the window. “You’re gonna fix this.”

“Eddie wait!” The van backed out of its spot and sped back out of the parking lot. You sighed with worry. “Eddie.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve casually put a hand on your shoulder “Don’t worry about him.”

You turned on your heel and slapped his hand off you.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Eddie played the part perfectly...

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

...or so he thought.

While he would never call anyone else a freak, standing and staring at his own face--despite the realization that Steve was in there--it was almost cathartic to yell those things at himself. To get a feel of what everyone else felt when they yelled those things at him. To not be on the receiving end of it for once.

Except you didn't seem to see it that way.

While Eddie had felt like he had hit the jackpot all day, being in Steve's body, he knew that he really came out ahead when you showed up for your date with him. The thought briefly crossed his mind...if he broke your heart as Steve...it might be a better chance for him to ask you out and for you to say yes.

But considering that he might possibly spend the rest of his life as Steve Harrington...having you was too good of a chance to pass up.

He would rather have you as Steve, knowing you would never care for him as Eddie, than lose you altogether.

Except that might be exactly what he had done as you stood there glaring at him.

"W-what?" He asked nervously.

"Are you kidding me right now?" you exclaimed. "He...there was clearly something wrong with him. How could you say those things? How could you call him those names? And then he...he left...what if he gets hurt?"

"What do you care about Eddie Munson?" he scoffed.

"He's my friend!"

Fuck.

Hearing that made his heart ache in his chest. He was a friend. Yeah. Just a friend. Which is why...if he wanted to salvage this, he would have to think quickly.

"I just...you're right," he explained, holding his hands out defensively. "He looked like...there was something wrong. And you were so quick to jump in the way...what if he hurt you?"

"He wouldn't!"

"I was worried."

"He wouldn't have hurt me."

"Listen to me," he soothed and approached you carefully in case you lashed out again. "I...I care about you, honey. I don't want to see you hurt. And Eddie...definitely looked like he was ready to hurt someone. I needed to get him away from you."

You gnawed at your bottom lip for a moment, pulling at your fingers nervously as you contemplated his excuse.

"Alright," you finally nodded. "I understand."

"You do?" he asked.

"Yeah," you sighed. "But please...please don't do that again. Don't call Eddie a freak. He's my friend and he deserves better than that."

Eddie's throat got tight, wanting to scream--

It's me. I'm Eddie. I'm in here.

--instead he took a few steps closer and folded you into a hug. You shook for a second, and god damn did he feel like he was on the verge of shaking too.

He needed a distraction.

"So...how about that date huh?" He questioned after a few moments of savoring the feel of you in his arms. "You ready to go."

"Sure," you pulled back and gave him a small smile. "Where are we going?"

Eddie, of course, had no idea where Steve had planned to take you. His mommy didn't mark dates in his calendar like she did his work schedule. So he simply decided to make something up on the spot. One of his favorite places.

He simply told you it was a surprise and led you to Steve's BMW, opening the door for you like a gentleman should, before he got you both on the way.

His fingers fidgeted on the steering wheel as he drove. He debated asking you questions, but decided against it on the off chance that they were things Steve had already on your first two dates. And the music that Steve had in the car was abysmal and wouldn't do anything to calm Eddie's nerves.

You seemed content to stare out the window as he drove though, still fidgeting with your fingers as the drab scenery passed by once he got onto old highway 77.

A few miles past Starcourt sat "Stoney Creek Adventure Center," boasting a halfway decent arcade and two miniature golf courses. With all of the new amusements in and around Hawkins, it wasn't as busy as it was the few times his mom and Rick had taken him when he was a kid. But it was still pretty lively on a Friday night: some families with younger kids, a couple of teens who snuck into the windmill to get high and make out.

Eddie escorted you out of the car and watched as you stared at the half-faded turf and oversized obstacles.

"So?" he asked, hands on his hips. "What do you think?"

Your hesitation to answer made his throat tight again.

What if this wasn't a Steve Harrington-calibur date?

"Uh..." you paused and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. "This is the place you took Nancy Wheeler? You said...you were taking me someplace she really liked."

Alright, time to make it or break it.

"I just thought you might like something different," he shrugged. "I thought...I've been bringing up Nancy a little too much. I want to enjoy new things. With you."

The way your gaze softened and you smiled at him...yeah, he was really fixing all of Harrington's fuck-ups. Give you everything you deserved.

"Oh, that's...yeah, that's really sweet," you giggled. "I...I didn't want to say anything...I know she was important to you. But I was actually starting to feel like--"

"Hey, listen," he interrupted you, knowing what you were going to say next...feeling a little smug that he was right. "The past is the past. I'm sorry I made you feel like you were playing second fiddle to Nancy."

"You really did," you confirmed.

"But I really like you," Eddie admitted, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders as the words escaped him. Even though the voice he said them with was not his own. "I want you to feel important too. Ok?"

"Ok," you agreed, lips pursed and nose scrunched as you obviously fought a smile.

"Alright then, let's get to putting," he clapped his hands together and started walking towards the arcade to pay for your rounds of golf.

He stopped, however, as you grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't you think I'm a little overdressed?" you asked bashfully, gesturing down at yourself. "You told me we were going someplace nice."

He placed a hand over his heart and acted wounded.

"You're saying mini golf isn't nice?" he whimpered.

"No, it's perfect, I just..." you shrugged. "I don't know, I think...I don't even have a jacket or anything."

"Well tell you what," he said and peeled his Family Video vest from his shoulders. "As long as you don't tell Keith that I made you a temporary employee for the night--that's what this means you know, so don't take it lightly--you can wear my vest."

You didn't fight the smile this time, it beamed brightly in the golden afternoon light. You put the vest on and did a little turn, modeling it for him, looking slightly ridiculous with your fancy dress and the stupid green and orange vest.

What Eddie wouldn't have done right then to have his battle vest instead right then. To make you look like you were his girl and not Steve's.

"Beautiful," he told you truthfully. "Now you ready to lose? I happen to be a mini golf champion."

"In your dreams," you scoffed.

No...not in his dreams anymore...

At the end of the night, well past it getting dark, Steve drove you back to the strip mall parking lot for you to get your car and head home. But it felt no less romantic than it would have been if he was actually dropping you off at home and you were chatting on your porch before you went inside.

“I really did have a great time tonight,” you told him honestly. It felt like a cliché, like something from a tv show. But...despite the rocky start, you did have a great time and it was absolutely nothing you expected from Steve of all people, especially not after those first two dates. After all of the things you had doubted.

You had played both of the miniature golf courses, sat at the little picnic benches and shared a basket of half-soggy fries with ice cream cones--yours strawberry, his a chocolate-vanilla swirl--and chatted about your classes, and then ended the night beating the high score on Space Invaders.

Maybe things were looking up after all. Maybe you were right to give him this last chance.

“It was kind of perfect," you continued. "Thank you.”

“Well, what can I say?” Steve beamed. “I’m full of good ideas, when I’m inspired to have them.”

“And I, um, inspired you?” You asked hesitantly.

“You have no idea,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t even believe what was going on in here even if I told you.” He tapped his forehead a few times.

You reached up and rapped your knuckles on the side of his head the way you would a watermelon to see if it was ripe.

“I dunno, sounds kind of hollow to me—Steve!!” He grabbed you around the middle and started tickling you. You yelped and giggled as his fingers relentlessly tapped and pinched at your sides. “Stop it.”

“Sorry, honey, I told you I was full of ideas,” he pouted playfully but didn’t let up. “You just looked awful ticklish; it inspired me.”

“I can’t,” you laughed. “I can’t breathe.”

“I guess I can stop,” Steve sighed, the tickling letting up for a moment. His hands stilled on your waist as you caught your breath and he inched closer. “I think I’m inspired by something else now, to be completely honest with you.”

And then he did a thing--something he had been doing all night--he was looking at you like he couldn’t really believe you were there with him. His eyes were sparkling and happy. His smile wasn’t the…signature smooth Harrington smile that you’d grown accustomed to the last few dates. It was wider, easier.

“Y-yeah?” You whispered. “What’s that?”

He leaned in closer, rubbed his nose against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you exhaled softly.

"C-can I," he whispered, soft enough that you could barely hear him. "Can I kiss you, honey?"

"Y-yeah," you agreed just as softly. He hummed but didn't make another move, choosing to continue giving you such soft attention. It made your heart melt.

"You sure?"

"Please," you keened.

He let out a soft chuckle and pressed his lips to yours and you sighed.

If was all of the tender softness you deserved, but never knew in the fast, hormone-and-alcohol driven kisses you had experienced in high school. However few. You were simply surrounded by him.

His touch--his soft lips molding to yours, pressing, and his hands on your waist, pulling--constant and pleading for more but never pushing. His scent that invaded your senses--sharp and citrusy and fresh, like a summer's day. His sounds, that simple...constant little hum as the seconds ticked by.

He was everywhere and everything.

But...

You thought about Eddie earlier that day, the striking, wild look in his eye. So different from the Eddie you were used to, the Eddie you cared about, the Eddie your heart beat for over the past 5 years. You were worried about him, yes, but one thought occupied your mind.

How would Eddie have kissed you?

Your heart stung when Steve pulled away and you blinked back the burning in the back of your eyes.

You couldn't entertain those thoughts, not when Steve was standing right in front of you, after he had just kissed you so perfectly, and looked at you as if you were the only thing that could ever make him happy.

“G’night honey,” he murmured.

“Goodnight,” you whispered guiltily. "Goodnight Steve."

Eddie made it back to the Harrington's house with a big smile on his face.

He could do this forever if he had to.

Live in Steve's body, go to work at Steve's job, drive Steve's car, kiss Steve's girlfriend.

He'd been partially wondering on his drive back to the house--

Between the long, sweet moments of recalling your kiss.

--if this was, perhaps, some kind of karmic reward for all of the shit life had handed to him. A terrible father, a dead mother, a short attention span, and the entire town voicing their opinion that he was some dirty, rotten, trailer park freak. And then on the contrary, Steve--who had been given everything he never asked for and was an ungrateful shit--could have some karma as well.

As he made it up the stairs--the stairs, Eddie still couldn't believe it--to his new bedroom, Eddie thought about Wayne and did feel a little guilt. He definitely suffered just as Eddie did, maybe more so, simply for the fact that he had to put up with Eddie for 10 years and now would have to put up with Steve too. Eddie's stomach turned when he thought of all the things he did just to take something off Wayne's plate. Repairs around the trailer, grocery shopping and "making dinner" (which was usually code for some kind of takeout when he was too lazy to pop some frozen pizza in the oven). Not to mention the extra cash he made dealing...would Steve do those things now that they were stuck like this?

Where was Wayne's karmic reward?

There were so many things Wayne sacrificed for Eddie. And Eddie knew and did everything he could to give back to his uncle, as much as his uncle would let him. Now with this situation with Steve, he had to do a little more to lift what would end up being an additional weight off of his uncle's shoulders.

Maybe...

Maybe "Steve" could convince Mr. Harrington to offer Wayne some better, cushier job at the car dealership? So he wouldn't have to suffer as much as he did at the plant. He definitely deserved more, but this was the first thing Eddie could think of off the top of his head. After a few months it might be a new car, or some...help with a down payment on an actual house...or at the very least, a larger trailer so that he could have his own bedroom instead of that fold-out bed.

Yeah, that was it. He would think about how he would bring it up next time he saw good ol' Pa Harrington...but since the house was still empty almost 14 hours after Steve's parents apparently left for work that morning, it might not be any time soon...

Eddie opened the door to the bedroom--momentarily dismissing his thoughts of Wayne to consider if he should get some posters to cover the pretentious plaid-papered walls--only to find the light on and his own face staring back at him, scowling, as Steve sat propped against the headboard of the bed.

Eddie hesitated in the doorway, stunned.

“I told you this wasn't over, Freak."

Fuck.

Tag List: @luna-munson83 @kaitebugg03 @invaderzia1 @delusionalbabe @secretdryrose @eddiesguitarskills @simplyundeniable98 @imaslutforcuddles @hanobe8

[little-star-bun]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙥𝙩｡ 𝟮 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

because you all liked the first one so much, i have more for you <;33

warnings: 18+ Lesbian fanfiction!! Men and Minors DNI!! masturbation, low-key stalking, Ellie is a bottom, mentions of drug use;;

enjoy angels ♡♡

I do not own Ellie or anything associated with TLOU.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✎ ;;

Loser! Ellie is a stoner. She has joint butts littering her car and her room. She smokes after school, before work, after work. Pray for her lungs please.

She wants to smoke with you. She low key fantasizes about getting you high for the first time, to watch your eyes turn red and your lips form around the blunt.

She made a playlist and fills it with songs that remind her of you. She's so stereotypically lesbian it hurts.

She has at least a dozen drawings of you in her journal. Sometimes she'll sit in her car, watching you talk with your friends while she doodles you. Sometimes using your social media as references. But it's so sweet the way she adored every feature of yours :((

Like I mentioned last time, she definitely whimpers and begs. I love top! Ellie, but let's be honest, she's a total bottom. She loves to think of you touching her, eating her wet cunt. She genuinely has so many perverted thoughts of you. She wants you to take control of her, make her do anything to give yourself pleasure. Use her face to masturbate, please.

Not just that, but she watches porn thinking about you. She can't help it, she's just so in love. Loves to rub her needy cunt to videos of girls scissoring and cumming, thinking of how she could try it with you.

One day you had asked her if she finished the homework. You were out and hadn't had time to do it. Poor girl could hardly speak, handing you the answers before you could even finish asking.

Your words had played in her head for three days straight. "You're a life saver, Ellie!"

Later that night you even texted her.

[Thanks again! Seriously, I owe you one.]

She stared at the message, heart racing. Come on Ellie, say something clever!!

[No problem, I'll take you up on that one day!]

Nice.

[You're cute. Goodnight, Ellie.]

She had stared at the conversation for hours. She couldn't believe you had been so grateful to her that you texted.

She was so flustered that of course she had gotten hot and bothered, touching herself through her boxers at the way you called her cute.

Shes a gamer, duh, preferring open world rpg shooters. She's tried every cringe game at least once. Fortnight, World of Warcraft, Valorant. She loves GTA and RDD. Her perfect night is just sitting in her room, smoking a joint, playing on her XBOX. (XBOX is superior idc)

She did get the Sims, making a sim of you and then a sim of her. She made you two have a dog (she didn't even know if you liked dogs). And she makes them woohoo. Alot.

Definitely plays with mods and cc. She has wicked whims and basemental. Loves looking at your Sims tits and making them get high together.

And the drawings I've mentioned before? Half of them, you're half or fully naked. She loves to sketch your boobs, your curves. Makes her mouth water. She has no shame, she masturbates to them when she's done.

Her major is defined the arts. She loves to paint and draw and sculpt. She may not seem like it, but she's such an artistic person. Sometimes you'll see her walking around with clay or paint on her hands. It's honestly adorable :(( Thinks of your body as a work of art fs.

Def shops at Spencer's and Hot Topic. She's so fucking emo and cringe. Reddit user vibes.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

My requests and asks are open!! I'm so bored, please send some!!

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

© 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎-𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛-𝚋𝚞𝚗 — 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚢, 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔!

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twelve of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K (I got really carried away)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ just in case. References to sex, Implied Sex, Heavy Making Out (not really explicit, but also not real un-detailed…), Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soft Soldier Boy, Angst, Fluff.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

A/N: The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

**************************************

1984

You take a sip of wine, leaning over your coffee table to pull another photo from the Rosewood box perched on the edge. It's your birthday, your 65th birthday to be exact, of course one look in the mirror revealed that you barely looked over 30. To some women that might be a welcome thought, but given your current situation it wasn't.

It marked the fourth year since you told Ben that you were unhappy on Payback and as a supe, told him that you wanted a normal life, and four years after you'd let him talk you into staying. But this was the year. You were going to tell him that you were done, that you were moving on and getting out.

Unfortunately the only person you had to convince about letting go was yourself, because leaving meant giving up Ben. And you weren't sure that was something you could do.  You were having a hard time convincing your heart to let go of him or rather the old version of him, that only made it's appearance when it was the two of you. The memories that tied you to Ben were tight and difficult to unravel. You couldn't imagine your life without him, couldn’t see past this moment in your life.

But that's why you had to go. You knew you were in too deep. Fantasizing about a  relationship with someone who would never love you the same way you loved them, hoping in something that would never happen. And you needed to let him go, whether it be the new version of him or the boy you used to know, you needed to let Ben go.

The Rosewood box was filled with photos, old doodles, memories, and objects from your past. Usually it was stored under your bed, but tonight you had dragged it out into the living room to reminisce on your birthday. It was a tradition you started a few years ago as a way of remembering the past. Sometimes it was a welcome distraction from the way things were now and tonight you were letting it be a last supper of sorts, to indulge in the memories Ben and you had shared over the years before you told him that you were leaving.

You had no idea where you were going, but the thought excited you a little bit. Finally striking out on your own for the first time, doing something for yourself for once, it felt right.

Leaving Ben was the only thing that felt wrong. You wanted him to come with you, for him to choose you the way that you chose him that night, but you knew he wouldn't. He liked this life too much to let it go, he thrived in the spotlight, embraced everything about being a supe that you hated, and so you would let him go.

You look down at the strip of paper in your hand. It was a collection of photos from a photo booth, yellowed with age, but lined up one by one from the first baseball game Ben ever took you to, one of your favorite memories from your childhood. You were wearing the ridiculous pinstriped hat and Ben looked as handsome as he always did, smiling wide with his dark hair hanging in his face. It was hard to look at it now, hard to look at Ben and you when you were so young, and you didn't know where your lives were going to go.

Your eyes drift to the velvet case pressed into the corner of the wooden box. You had kept the ring that Howard got you, well, technically you had tried to give it back but he refused, begging you to reconsider.

Sometimes you thought about throwing it away. It was ugly, but it was a reminder. Not a reminder of Howard, you could barely remember what he looked like, but it was a reminder of the night Ben asked you to come with him. You could remember the earnest look in his eyes, how he cupped your face, and the promise he made to you. The future he promised had been filled with so much possibility, but you weren’t sure anymore. You think about the years you'd spent together and how leaving felt like the end of an era.

But it was necessary, breaking away from all of this would be good. Yes you would miss Ben, but you needed to move on. You knew that deep down. Because you wanted something more than all of this, and the night Ben asked you to come with him you thought he could give it to you, but after all these years you understood that he couldn’t and that he didn’t want to.

Someone knocks loudly on your door.

“One second.” You take the last sip of wine before standing and crossing the room to open the door. “Hey what are you doing here?”

Ben is standing in the hallway outside your apartment, looking handsome as always. He's wearing a tailored dark suit with a black tie, his hair is combed back from his face, dark stubble graces his rugged jaw and a wide smile pulls up at the ends of his lips that makes it very hard to focus on anything else. “Happy Birthday Sweetheart.” 

“I’ve had too many birthdays.” You laugh and wave a hand to brush it off. “What are you doing here, I thought you had an interview about the premiere tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night was the premiere of the third and final installment of Anti-Communist films that Ben was currently staring in. The first two had been utterly ridiculous and you knew that the one tomorrow would be just as pointless. Which you knew for a fact, because one day Ben asked you to meet him on set and you saw a scene he was filming, not to mention one time he tried to get you to run lines with him and you told him you'd rather drop dead than read Countess' lines, who took the co-star role when you refused. Ben’s offer of the co-starring role to you had been his way of appeasing you after you told him you were unhappy. When you refused, Countess had been more than willing to slide into it.  Who was still trying her upmost to get into Ben's pants, but he still completely ignored her, which gave you an unmeasurable amount of joy.

“I told them that I couldn’t miss my girl's birthday.” Ben smiles wider. “Plus I’d much rather spend tonight with you than those fucking vultures and I’ve never missed your birthday.”

Instead of the words "my girl" filling you with happiness as they had the first night Ben said it in the dancehall, they only make you frustrated. He had called you that several times over the years you'd been friends and each time it made you more and more angry. You were tired of it. Tired of Ben acting like Ben only when it was the two of you. Tired of Ben acting like he cared and like he wanted to be more than friends only to crush you the next day. Tired that he called you “my girl” and then did nothing that meant more than friends.  You loved him more than you’d loved anyone ever, took care of him, did everything you could for him, and each time when he didn’t acknowledge it, you felt like you weren’t enough. It made you feel like a kid again when you tried your upmost to please your mother only to have her be disappointed in you each time.

“That’s sweet.” Anger and frustration burns in the back of your throat, but you push it down with a tight lipped smile.

“And I got us reservations, so go get dressed.”

"What?"

"I got reservations. Come on." Ben makes a gesture with his hand.

“Oh I’m okay, I was just going to-“ You motion back at the bottle of wine, the couch, and the box of photos.

“No. I’m not going to let you sit here on your birthday. Come on. Let’s go.” Ben takes your arm and turns you around gently pushing you towards the small hallway that leads back to your bedroom with his hand on the small of your back.

You brace yourself for the warmth that follows with the brush of his fingers against you, but each time you're unprepared for how it makes you feel when he touches you.

“But I don’t have anything to wear! And if you do have a reservation, how much time do I have?” You argue, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid dinner.

As much as you wanted to go, you didn't want to sit there and pretend to be happy. You were tired of doing that, but then you raise your head to look Ben in the eye.

He's smiling down at you the same way he always has, looking like the boy who climbed in your window after flunking out of boarding school to bring you paint and your resolve wavers. You hated saying no to him.

Damn it.

“By the time you stop making excuses it will be time to go. And as sexy as those pajamas are, you can’t wear them to a restaurant.” Ben teases, tugging on the bottom oversized paint-splattered shirt you were wearing

“Fine.” You grumble, cheeks flushing bright red as you snatch the shirt from his hand. “Give me ten minutes.”

**************************************

"Shut up." Ben laughs from across the table at you. "Your mother loved me!"

His laughter is contagious, making your own release from your lips and ease the tension you are holding in your chest.

The Italian restaurant is small and filled with the soft lit of music from the band in the corner, the rich aromatic smell of food, and has the calming atmosphere of a intimate bar. When Ben parked out front, you were surprised. He usually liked the restaurants on page 6 where other heroes would be found eating and places where he could be photographed for the news, but this place was different, it was almost, special. And the way Ben was acting was unusual.

He'd walked around the car after he parked and took your hand in his, to lead you down the steps to the front door where a hostess had asked for his name. Ben had used his real name rather than Soldier Boy for a reservation and when you walked out of your bedroom wearing the dress you found at the back of your closet that you had for emergencies, you swore you saw his eyes darken as they trailed across your body making your breath catch in your chest. It was odd. Ben had taken you out for your birthday before, but tonight seemed to be filled with a palpable tension and electricity that you couldn’t place.

Then again, you were probably imagining it like always.

The restaurant was perfect, it made you forget about being a supe and the glamorous lifestyle that Ben indulged in and allowed you to pretend that you were normal. However, while you sat there together, you tried not to think about what you were going to have to tell him eventually, that you were leaving. He would ask for an answer why and you’d try to tell him the same thing you told him four years ago while avoiding screaming “because I love you, you fucking idiot” at the top of your lungs. 

But it was difficult to find a way to tell him, not when he had a soft smile on his face and every few minutes Ben would find some reason to touch you. So you allowed yourself to indulge in this, to have this last wonderful memory together before you have to tell him. And in doing so, you let yourself forget being a supe, forget everything else but Ben and you in this moment.

"Oh sure, you were her favorite." You snort into your wineglass. "She put a crucifix up over my window to keep you out. Every time you went to a new boarding school, she prayed in the living room with a rosary to God begging him to keep you far from me and she cried whenever you came back. Not to mention when you got me thrown out of boarding school she forbade me from seeing you-"

"But you couldn’t stay away." Ben sing-songs with a grin before taking a sip from his glass. "And your roommate was a fucking snitch."

"She was." You smile down at the table. "I also think she was a little jealous." You lean back in your chair, holding the wineglass in your right hand.

"Oh and why is that?" Ben's smirk widens.

"Don't make me say it-" Your eyes roll.

"Oh I want to hear you admit it." He leans towards you across the table, eyes shining with a mischievous glint that makes it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Not going to happen.”  You look around the room to distract yourself with the other couples.

All the tables around you were full of people sharing stories, holding hands, brushing feet under the table and for the first time you weren't jealous of their love. The couple next to you was practically breathing the same air, leaning towards each other with sappy looks in their eyes. You were happy for them, allowed yourself to be filled with compassion at their happiness. You remember what you said to Ben four years ago, about wanting to have someone to come home to, someone who loved you and then remember the night at the dancehall watching the elderly couple dance under the twinkling lights holding each other close and gazing deeply into one another's eyes.

You wanted someone to look at you like that, wanted someone to share you life with. You wanted that so badly, that in this moment you knew that you were making the right decision leaving because you would be closer to getting it, because the man across the table from you might be your best friend and have your heart, but he didn’t want to be more. And as much as it hurt to leave the only man you’d ever loved,  you knew it was the right thing.

Ben taps his index finger on your left hand where it rests on the table between you, drawing your eyes back to his. "Did I lose you Doll?"

"Hmm? No sorry. I was-" You smile at him. "Distracted. What were you asking?"

Ben's gaze shifts to the couple sitting to your right, the one you were watching a second ago, who are holding hands on top of the table. The man says something that makes his date laugh and lean towards him to grasp his other hand. The way he smiles at his date makes you smile. Ben's eyes slide back to yours and an odd look flashes through them that you can't identify.

"You know what I was asking." His index finger begins to brush over your knuckles in a smooth circular motion. Warmth trails with his touch, sending goosebumps dancing up your left arm.

Shock buzzes at the back of your mind, you didn't understand why he was doing that, Ben had barely had anything to drink tonight, in fact that was his first and only Whiskey. Not to mention when he showed up at your door he seemed more sober than usual. He didn't smell like reefer. So for him to touch you this much was unusual, especially when he wasn't drunk or high.

“Come on Sweetheart.” He smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

"Fine. Pearl thought you were devilishly handsome and was upset that I danced with you when I had Howard-"

"Don't mention that pussy." Ben’s smirk drops into a frown and he stops moving his finger against the back of your hand.

"I don't understand why you were so jealous of him." You try not to think about how much you wish he would start moving his finger again.

"I was not jealous of that idiot." Ben rolls his eyes.

"Uh-huh. After all these years, you still can't admit it." You tease him taking another sip of wine. It was giving you a pleasant buzz that made you feel just a little bit warm and bold enough to make you brush your thumb against his where his hand sits only a few millimeters from yours.

If he was touching you, you thought that maybe it would be okay for you to touch him, maybe it was okay to pretend that he wanted to hold your hand as much as you wanted to hold his, like the couple next to you were.

"I will if you admit you were jealous of Missy Callahan." Ben's eyes trail down to your thumb before looking back up at you, waiting for your answer.

"I was not-"

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can hear your heartbeat Doll.”

“Just as I can hear yours Darling.” You smile back at him.

“Y/n.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous smile. "Fine, I will admit that was a little jealous of her, but she was awful.  She was dumb as a rock and she was the most terrible gossip-"

"I knew it." Ben smirks.

You sit there in silence for a minute gazing at Ben, your eyebrow raised. "I'm waiting."

"Oh I'm not going to admit that I was jealous of Howard. I just wanted to hear you say the thing about Missy." Ben laughs, beginning to run his index finger against the back of your hand again. His eyes on yours, as if he's gauging your reaction.

"Bastard." You roll your eyes at him. "Did I tell you that I saw Howard?"

"What?" Ben looks surprised.

"Yeah, when I went to my brother's-" You clear your throat remembering when you saw Howard four years ago. You don’t know why he went to your brother’s funeral, but he was there, gray hair slicked back staring at you open mouthed. The last time you'd seen him was the day after he proposed, when you tried to give him back the ring and he refused, stating that he wanted you to keep it, to think about it. He never got over the break up, never dating anyone else, never married. It had been an awkward reunion, especially since he kept trying to corner you, but you evaded him expertly through the crowd. You weren't interested in making awkward small-talk about the past forty years.

Ben's hand finally slips into yours, intwining your fingers together because he understands what you’re about to say. "I'm sorry I didn't go with you, I should have."

It was weird that Ben wasn’t with you, but it was also weird because you tried to comfort your sister in law and her son and his family, but it felt forced. Ben was the only person who understood what it was like for everyone to age around you while you stayed the same. Standing there to celebrate the life of your brother while you, yourself couldn't die completely or even age felt awkward. You found yourself longing for Ben when you were away, wishing that he was there to hold your hand or try to deflect some of the awkward conversations, none of which were focused on your brother and were all about you being a supe. You hated how much you depended on him.

After the funeral you had stayed in Philadelphia an extra week to help your family and when Ben called to see how you were you broke down on the phone. Ben had showed up within the next hour at your hotel and sat with you while you cried. It was one of your favorite memories, because Ben held you gently against him, whispering "It's okay Sweetheart, I've got you" while you pressed your face into his shirt, letting the smell of whiskey and his cologne soak into your skin. It was so unlike him and it made you believe that Ben wanted more, but then he never acknowledged it, like always.

"Ben it's okay, you were there when it mattered. And you went to both of my parent's funerals. Surprising because my mother would have hated that you were there. Always said you were going to ruin my life." You meant for it to be a joke, but the look in Ben's eyes shifts to something more vulnerable for a millisecond before it hardens again.

"Did I?" He asks quietly. Ben looks down at where he was holding your hand, his thumb beginning to move over the smooth skin on the back.

The question catches you off guard. It was the very question that you had been considering the past few days before you finally decided to leave all of this and your best friend. But the truth was you didn't believe that Ben ruined your life, you blamed yourself, blamed yourself for loving your best friend, blamed yourself for loving someone who didn’t love you the same way.

And it wasn’t that you hated your life, it was different than what you would have planned for yourself, but you liked parts of it. Not to mention you would have hated it more if you had said no to Ben and married Howard. If anything, Ben had saved you and you were thankful for that.

Of course the way he's looking at you and holding your hand is making it difficult for you to consider leaving. It seemed like every time you tried, Ben would do something like this- take you out to dinner or act like he wanted you and only you, and then you would reconsider. Four years ago it had been him holding you after your brother’s funeral and now it was this.

"Ben." You sigh, squeezing his hand and putting as much love into your gaze as you can. "No. You didn't. If anything you freed me. I didn't want to be with Howard and I was too afraid to say it until you asked me to come with you.”

“He could have given you a life though. You said that’s what you wanted.” For a second you think you see Ben’s eyes flick to the couple on your right with his words.

Your mind stutters to a halt in surprise. He remembered what we talked about four years ago? After he almost killed Noir?

“Um-" You clear your throat to recover. "And if you remember that conversation, you should also remember I said I didn’t want that life with Howard.”

“Yes, but you said you wanted to marry someone.” The ends of his lip twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Still waiting on that wedding invite.” His thumb is stroking long smooth patterns on the back of your hand, making your throat tight and making it impossible to think.

“I’m sure you’ll get it any day now. Legend is happy that I finally said yes.”

“I should have known. Y’all looked pretty cozy at that party two weeks ago.” Ben laughs. “So if you’re engaged to him, does that mean you don’t want your birthday present?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, I’m too old for birthdays.”

“Then why did you come out with me?”

“Oh I’m just going to write this off as old friends having dinner. That or a kidnapping. You practically dragged me to the car.”

“Be thankful I let you change.” Ben replies.

“I don’t know, I think I would have really made a statement with my paint splattered shirt and sweatpants."

You’d chosen the dress you were wearing at random. It was a dark green, the same color as Ben’s supe suit, off your right shoulder cinched around your waist and fell elegantly to your ankles. It was one of your favorites, something you believed accentuated your body effortlessly.

"They were something. Though I think that you-" Ben pauses, dropping his eyes to where he's still holding your hand, before looking back up at you. "Um-"

"What?" You smile.

He clears his throat, a soft smile on his face. "I think you look beautiful now too."

Your next words dry up in your mouth, there's not a shred of joking or teasing in Ben's eyes. Ben had said it before, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but now there is only sincerity. And it makes your heart jolt out of rhythm.

He said too. That means that he thought I looked beautiful before when I was-

"Thank you." You flush red and squeeze his hand. "I don't think you look too bad yourself, you know, for a old man." You add that last part because you don’t know what to say when he's looking at you like that.

Ben's smile slips into a frown. "You should be nicer to me, I got you a birthday present."

“See, you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen it.”

“I thought you didn’t want it.” The mischievous glint is back in his eye.

“I could be persuaded.” You smirk.

Ben releases your hand and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a long navy blue velvet box wrapped in a thick silver bow before sliding it across the white tablecloth.

“You get me another paintbrush?” You smirk running a fingertip over the velvet top to examine it while acutely missing the feeling of his hand grasped in yours.

“Something like that.”

“Did you steal it?” You pick up the box and wave it for emphasis, remembering all the times Ben stole little things from the stores that lined Downtown Philadelphia and the box he had hidden under his bed filled with random trinkets.

You never understood why he did that. Ben's family was almost as wealthy as yours and although his father didn't approve of anything Ben was doing, he never cut him off.

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans on the table towards you, his eyes filled with excitement.

“With how much money they pay you for those ridiculous films you shouldn’t be stealing anything.”

“I’m sure if you sold your artwork instead of shoving it in the closet you’d be just as wealthy as me.”

“Yes, but my grand plan is to have you pay for everything so I can continue to use you and I can’t do that if I’m rich."

“You can use me anytime sweetheart.” Ben winks.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, but can't stop the blush that stains your cheeks at his insinuation.

Everything about tonight felt just like old times, the way he joked with you and the way you couldn't stop smiling, but at the same time, something else nagged at the back of your mind. The handholding was new, as were the compliments and deeper conversation, especially because Ben wasn't drunk or high, and yet he was being gentler than usual, almost soft. And that was something Ben never was, at least not in public.

You tried not to be frustrated with the turn of events and just enjoy the moment, but deep down you wanted to know.

Was Ben doing this because he cared? Or was he doing this because he sensed I was unhappy and that I was leaving and he thought this was the only way to keep me around?

“Come on, open it.”

“Fine.” You smile down at the box and slowly slide off the bow. “Please tell me you have photos of you trying to tie this bow. Preferably while you were wearing your supe suit.”

“I already destroyed the evidence.”

 “Figures.” You sigh. “Would have been a nice birthday present.”

“I think this is better, but given the pace you’re going at I’ll still be sitting here waiting for you to open it at your next birthday.” Ben takes a drink from his glass.

“Which I won’t be celebrating.”

"Oh you're going to. I’ll make sure.” 

You roll your eyes at him, before finally opening the velvet box and your next joke is forgotten as you struggle to catch your breath. You were expecting something art related. Ben always got you brushes, paints, colored pencils, and any other art supply-like gift, because he knew that you liked those things but not tonight. Because for your 65th birthday Ben decided to get you something that took your breath away.

Nestled in black velvet is a pearl necklace, elegant, beautiful, catching in the fluttering warm light of the restaurant as the band in the corner continues to play a jazzy tune that makes you remember the records your father would listen to while he smoked before bedtime.

“Ben-“ You begin to say, but you can’t finish your sentence, you're too surprised to say anything else.

Not once in all the years you’d been friends had Ben bought you jewelry. Shopping for his birthday was harder, his last one you had gotten him a pair of silver cufflinks that he was currently wearing, but each time you bought him something like that it didn't feel like you were revealing too much about how you felt and it never felt like a gift you would give someone who was more than your friend. But now, staring down at the necklace that Ben bought you feels, intimate almost romantic.

“I remembered how upset you were when you lost the one your dad got you.” Ben says slowly, his eyes on you. “I know it’s not the same one, but the lady in the store said it was the most like the ones they made when we were younger and I thought-“ He rubs the back of his neck. “Um- I thought you’d like it.”

You smile, still unable to speak, fighting the happy tears that build behind your eyes. You had lost the necklace your father got you a few months ago and you tore your entire apartment apart to find it. Ben had walked right into the middle of the chaos and found you a sobbing mess.

Your father had bought it for you on your 23rd birthday. It was your first birthday as a supe and your first one away from home. Your father had it delivered to you with a vase of fresh cut lavender, because you couldn’t go home and he couldn’t get away.  It was one of the last things you had from him, besides the antique watch perched on your wrist.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” You swallow the ball of emotion lodged in your throat.

“I do listen to you.”

You look up and raise an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.” His soft smile makes you feel light headed and makes you wish all over again that you had the courage to tell Ben the three little words that you'd always wanted to.

“I don’t know what to say-“

“Too much? Because I can take it back and buy you a paintbrush-“ Ben starts to reach for the box, but you catch his hand against the table tangling your fingertips together.

“No. It's perfect. Thank you Ben.”

He looks relieved by your answer. “You’re welcome.”

The soft sounds of conversation swell around you mixing with the tinkling of utensils against plates and the music that pours from the band in the corner where a singer dressed in a long red sequined gown sings a familiar song. But you can't stop admiring the necklace nestled in the fabric, your hand still clasped in Ben's on top of the table.

Ben finally breaks the silence. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”

You blink for a minute to comprehend what he was asking, raising your eyes to his genuine smile. "Please.”

Ben stands from his chair and comes around behind you as you gently twist your hair out of the way, so he has access to your neck. His rough fingertips brush against the smooth skin of your neck sending a shiver down your spine that you hope Ben misses because how would you explain that? When he secures it at the back of your neck you look down at the pearls, holding them between your thumb and forefinger.

"They're beautiful." You whisper, before looking back up at him.

"Yes, beautiful." He responds, but Ben isn't looking at your necklace, his eyes are locked on your face.

What is going on?

"Ben-" You begin to say, attempting for the first time to ask him why he does this, acts different around you, gives you hope and then takes it all away, but he interrupts you.

"Come on." His hand falls on yours and he pulls you up out of your chair, weaving through the other tables to stand in front of the band in the corner. His right hand finds the small of your back, while his left gently holds your right in the air.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ben smiles. "We're dancing."

"No one else is dancing." You look around the room at the couples sitting quietly together enjoying their meals, who have begun to watch Ben and you sway to the music.

He leans forward to whisper into the curve of your ear. "Then let's show them how it's done Sweetheart."

You can't help but laugh at him, enjoying the way that he feels pressed against you, how it makes you feel alive in the best way, how you feel safe in his arms. Being here, swaying to the last few notes of the song with him made you reconsider leaving again. Ben was the only person who knew you completely, inside and out, the only person who seemed to understand you. Choosing to leave him would be like choosing to leave home, because after everything you'd been through, Ben was home.

As soon as the song ends, the one that follows is familiar, a tune that sparks a memory at the back of your mind. You raise your eyes to Ben's. His are crinkled with his smile, a mischievous glint behind them.

"Ben, did you tell them to play-"

"Yeah. I told them to play our song." He whispers, holding you tighter against him.

The memory of the night you first danced warms against your skin. You remembered it well. It was the night that you almost told him you loved him, the same thing you were considering right now. You couldn't believe that he remembered the song you danced to. You smile at the memory of that night, when Ben punched Howard in the face and it gave you a sickening amount of joy.

“What are you smiling at?” Ben asks you.

“I still can’t believe you hit him.” You shake your head with a laugh.

"He hurt you. And I didn't like that he made me stop dancing with my girl."

You sigh before you can stop yourself the phrase immediately making the laughter dissipate and making the warm feeling at his touch fade. Tonight Ben was again making you think that he wanted to be more, and worst of all it was making it harder to leave. Because what if this was him trying to tell you the only way he knew how? What if this was him finally admitting that he loved you and you just left?

"What?” He frowns down at you.

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that.”

"What?"

"Your 'girl'." You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the frustration from making you say more.

 “You don't think you are?"

“What do you think it means? To me it means being in a relationship with someone. We have been friends for over fifty years and you have never once said that you wanted to be more-"

"I did try to propose.” Ben jokes, not understanding that you’re upset.

"Really? That was your proposal?" You scoff rolling your eyes. "A joke while you were sitting on my shitty couch drunk off your ass while trying to apologize for almost killing Noir and telling me that you hate when I get in your way?  Forgive me for imagining some big gesture and for not swooning."

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Oh please-“

“I’m fucking serious.” He shrugs.

“What?” You look him in the eye to look for the teasing glint, but it's not there, Ben looks serious.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Ben’s eyes lock with yours. “I also didn’t apologize for almost killing him. And I do hate when you get in my way." 

"Yes, I figured that given how angry you looked." You roll your eyes, glancing to look at the couples around you again, but this time the happiness you felt for them is gone. The jealousy is back coupled with the frustration of Ben acting like Ben and then pulling a complete 180 the next day and making you question everything. Because you wanted to exist in the moments that he was still Ben and you didn’t want to leave him, but you did want to leave Soldier Boy. The problem was right now all you saw was Ben and you hated that you couldn’t enjoy it because you knew it would end. Someone would piss him off or he’d get drunk or high or go down the rabbit hole with some other woman and Ben would be gone.

You didn’t understand how he could go from hot to cold so quickly.

“But I didn’t lie when I said I’d never hurt you.” Ben's voice rumbles up through where his chest is pressed against yours.

You want to say that you believe him, but after the past forty years you weren’t sure anymore. And that thought hurt more than anything else. You didn’t know your best friend anymore, and it scared you.

Your eyes are leveled on Ben’s chest, by now he’s stopped swaying you to the music. You know what will happen when you look up into his eyes, he'll make a joke or say something like the last forty years never happened and you'll crumble like always. You can feel his breath against your face, the warmth of his body transferring through his chest and soaking into yours.

“Y/n, please look at me.” He releases your hand and cups your cheek to tilt you head upwards to him. The one still planted on your back slides down to your waist, tightening around you as you lock eyes with him. “You know that I’d never hurt you. Right?”

Ben's eyes lock on yours, the love and care reflected in the irises makes your body burn. He's never looked at you like that, looked at you like you were the only woman in the world and deep down it makes you want to pull him close and whisper the three little words you've wanted to say for fifty seven years.

You focus on Ben's words to shake it off, it was the same thing he’d said four years ago, but this time the air between you is charged with electricity.

And you can’t take it anymore.

“Why?” You whisper.

It catches him off guard. “What?”

“Why are you different with me? When the cameras stop rolling, when the team goes home, when it’s just the two of us, you’re different." You stop to catch your breath.  "Ben, I’ve known you for fifty seven years. And in the last forty you’ve changed. But not around me, not when it’s just the two of us. You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night, we talk, we laugh about the past, you sleep in my bed, you call me 'your girl'-”

“You’ve known me longer than anyone else-” His hand is still cupping your cheek now, thumb gently brushing against the smooth skin making your throat tight.

“But even before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. You were always around me, showing up, taking me out to do things in the city. Ben, we both know how you are. I watched you chase after whatever caught your eye and even now-“ You shake your head frustrated. “But you never act that way with me.”

Ben is quiet for a minute, his eyes searching yours, soft green in the fluttering lights above your heads. “Because you’re different y/n. You’ve always been different.”

“But that doesn’t tell me why Ben. We’ve been doing this for so long and I want-“ You sigh frustrated with yourself because you can’t say it, can’t say that you want him. “I mean I’m not sure if I can-“ You were going to say that you weren’t sure you could do this anymore, that you wished he would let you go, wished that you could walk away, and wished that he would stop giving you hope that the two of you could be something more because you couldn’t do it.

But the words are stopped when his lips meet yours.

You inhale sharply in surprise, before your entire body melts against his, deepening the kiss as you drag your hands up into his dark hair, while your mind goes blissfully blank. Ben’s mouth is firm but tender against yours, moving in a slow dance that makes warm tingles trail down your spine. The hand that was on your cheek, joins the other on your waist. His hand tightens on your hip as your song continues to play while the other presses against the small of your back to secure you against him. The solidness of his chest is familiar, molding against your curves in the best way as if he was made for you and you were made for him. You feel his thumb begin to circle slowly against the fabric on your hipbone and suddenly you remember the night he helped you loosen your corset and all you wanted was him. You never thought it would feel like this.

When you finally pull away for air, Ben doesn’t let you go far, he leans his forehead against yours, the look in his eyes is surprisingly vulnerable, as if he thinks you’re going to push him away.

“I-“ He begins, his green eyes are wide almost afraid.

Why?

You raise your hands to gently cup his strong jaw, searching his eyes with a smile to confirm you aren't going anywhere, before pulling him back to you for another kiss that makes your toes curl in the tight shoes you forced them into an hour ago. Ben sighs into your mouth, a soft sound that surprises you. You had seen him kiss other people before. Ben was anything but gentle, but now you believed that he reserved that gentleness just for you and it made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle.

When you pull back again, Ben’s forehead is still against yours, his eyes bright and unmoving from your face. For a moment neither of you speaks, too afraid to break the silence.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours Sweetheart?” Ben asks, the deep rumble of his voice working up through where your chest is pressed against his. His expression is gentle, and he brings up one of the hands that was on your waist to trace the pillow of your lips with his thumb.

And before you lose your nerve your smile curves into a smirk.  “Took you long enough Benjamin.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Make me.” You mutter against his thumb.

And then he’s kissing you again, moving his lips in tandem with yours while your heart flutters and dances. And you never want it to end, because he's kissing you like he never wants to let you go and you're kissing him like you don't want him to.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Ben mutters against your lips with a smile, his deep eyes catching yours. "Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you, never has been, never will be."

Your heart warms, cheeks blushing with his words, because even after all these years, Ben still knew exactly what to say. You hold his face reverently, admiring the familiar dips and curves, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben."  You whisper back before you kiss him and allow yourself to fall again, hoping that this time he’ll catch you.

*************************************

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask Ben, gesturing with your free hand towards the kitchen.

Standing in your apartment feels different post kiss. It feels like this all represents something bigger now. The apartment, him coming upstairs even though he has spent most of the nights here since you bought it and of course the way he’s looking at you, how he’s been unable to stop looking at you since he kissed you.

“Are you going to get it for me?” Ben is still holding your hand, had held it the entire car ride, only releasing it when he got out to open the door for you and then took it again as you walked up to your apartment. His thumb is moving across the back in a soothing motion that makes you want to curl up in the warmth that trails behind like a cat in the sun.

“I’m sure you remember where it is”

“Mhmm.” Ben is eyeing you again, the green in his eyes darkening in a way that makes your throat tight.

You’re not sure who moves first, all you know is that someone closes the distance between you, and you lose yourself in him. Your curves melt against the hard muscles of Ben’s chest and arms as he pulls you into him, his hands  gripping your waist so tight that you know there might be bruises but you don’t care.

Your hands trail up his muscular chest to tangle in his hair, pulling at the darkened strands and forcing his mouth harder against yours.

He tastes like whiskey and smoke, night and day, and all those bittersweet moments you’ve shared over the years you’ve known him. There is no semblance of Soldier Boy left behind, it’s just Ben and you and it's everything you wanted for so long. The kiss is charged with so much emotion and tension you feel something inside you snap and warmth floods your body in its wake. Ben moans into your mouth, his hands coming down to sweep low over your curves and ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

There had been others try to do exactly this. Other heroes you politely declined because you didn’t feel anything for them. You remember the kisses with Howard, passionless, boring, but being here with Ben was like nothing you’d ever imagined. The subtle scratch of his scruff against your cheeks makes you lose all feeling in your legs, his strong embrace makes goosebumps burn against your skin, and the sounds he’s making against your lips makes your heart seize in your chest.

He backs you up and you both fall on the couch in a tangle of limbs, his body caging you beneath him while his fingertips boldly trail against your body, finding places that make you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his smirk against your lips and you’ve never felt more sexy in your life. Ben’s moans against every piece of skin he can get his lips against make you blush crimson and echo his cries with soft sounds that make him grip you tighter. His hands are everywhere, coaxing along your curves, discovering places that you didn’t know could be sensitive and that make you gasp and arch against him as he continues to kiss you.

Everything about this feels right, feels perfect, as if you were both made for this exact moment. The subtle drag of his hands against you, the firm assertive way he holds you beneath him, how your body responds to his touch, and the way your heart continues to swell in your chest, frantically beating as if it wishes to break free. You forget about all the other women he's ever been with, all the others he's probably held close, nothing else exists at this moment, nothing else exists except him and you here on this couch. His lips ghost to your neck as he sucks a mark into the column of your throat and you realize he's saying your name over and over the way that no one ever has.

There’s a loud ripping noise and you understand that Ben ripped off the bottom half of your dress, the tattered remains just barely brushing against your thighs. But you can’t be angry with him for that, not when everything he’s doing feels perfect.

Ben’s hands slowly begin to push up the bottom of your now ruined dress and you come back down from your high, feeling the gentle press of his fingers against your thigh as they begin to move upwards.

“Ben-" You breathe.

You hate how breathy your voice sounds, but the new sensations running through your body are almost too overwhelming for you to gain control of. If you weren't both as indestructible as you were you would be afraid of the possibility of killing Ben.

He moans into your neck, working his hand up further to a place that makes your grip his shoulders tight and you leave bruises of your own, because you’re the only person strong enough to bruise him, to leave marks against his almost invulnerable skin. And it makes a shudder go down his spine.

"Ben wait-"

He stops, looking down at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated in a way that almost sends you back into a frenzy with him. "What's wrong?" He is also out of breath, chest rising and falling fast. You can hear his heart beat thundering in his chest, beating in tandem with yours.

“Before we do this I just want to tell you that I’ve never-" You bite your lip nervously. "I've never done this before.”

“This?” He looks confused, withdrawing his hand from under your ruined dress.

“Well- you know." You gesture between the two of you. "This.”

"You've never had sex with anyone before?"

"No." You flush bright red wondering if that's a deal breaker for him. If he wanted someone more experienced. "I’m sorry."

He sits there for a minute, staring down at you. "Why are you apologizing?” Ben’s hand brushes your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture, so different than the heavy caresses of his hands against your curves he did earlier.

“I don’t know.” You whisper embarrassed. “I just- everyone else has and I’m pretty sure you have with millions of people.”

“Well not millions.”

“But still.” You suddenly think that this was a giant mistake, that you should just go to your room in shame. You drop your eyes to his chest embarrassed.

His hands are stroking along your waist, toying with the frayed edges of your dress. “Y/n.” He whispers.

“What?” You mumble.

Ben raises his hand to cup your cheek, turning your gaze back on him. The way he’s looking at you causes a hot jolt of energy to race down your spine and makes you wish that you were more confident or knew what you were doing.

 He’d been with hundreds of women all kinds of women and what had I been doing all these years? Nothing and no one. I’m not really sure if I understood the mechanics OF sex- but oh how I wished. My head was just getting in the way of everything else as usual.

“I will admit that I have slept with a lot of women.” Ben sighs. “But it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.”

 “Are you sure? I don’t know if I’m the best person for this-“ And for a moment you think he looks almost worried.

Why would he think that?

“I’m sure. I want it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you.” You breathe, running your hands through his hair, your cheeks flushing bright red with your confession, afraid that you’re saying too much, giving too much away as to how much he means to you.

“Really?” Ben smiles in a way that makes your breath catch.

You nod.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” The darkness in his eyes shifts to something else and for a moment it’s difficult for you to form a sentence. He leans his forehead against yours, searching your eyes.  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ben whispers it like a secret.

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you Ben.” You whisper, knotting you hands in his hair.

“You do?”

You nod your head. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m just as capable of hurting you-“

“Maybe.” The look in his eyes is back, blazing through his green irises in a way that makes your throat swell closed. He bends over to whisper against the curve of your ear. “Then again, I kinda like that Sweetheart.” His lips brush just behind your right ear, making a shiver go down your spine. Ben smiles at your reaction before he dips down to kiss you, but it’s different, the kiss is soft, trusting, and not the previous manic haze of desire it was previously. “ I know you think it’s a big deal, but I like that I’m your first. Because it means that no other man has touched you, made you feel any of the things that I’m going to do to you, and that I’ll never have to share you with anyone else.” His grip on your waist tightens possessively. “That you’ll be completely and utterly mine and no one else can do a damn thing.”

You inhale and try not to faint from the darkened look in his eyes. “Well when you put it that way-“

“Come on.” Ben stands from the couch.

Before you can get up to follow he picks you up like you weigh nothing causing you to automatically wrap your thighs around his waist as he kisses you feverishly again, wiping your mind of anything and everything but him.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, entangling your hands at the nape of his neck to secure yourself.

“I’m not going to let your first time be on some shitty couch.” He mutters against your lips while adjusting his grip under your legs

And with that he takes you down the hall and kicks your bedroom door closed behind you.

********************************************

A/N: Well it finally happened. Unfortunately this is also when all hell breaks loose…

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan

[cupidjyu]

red flavor

eric x reader (submission for the cutest tbz summer event💕)

summary: your planned summer getaway doesn’t go as expected and it’s only you and eric, your childhood best friend. but, new feelings may just join you on your little vacation

genre: summer time!! beach house, childhood friends to lovers (my absolute fav btw), fluff, eric pining for years, getting together, cute little memories, feelings realization, juyeons just there for a second, slow dancing, slight hurt/comfort, eric's love language is fixing your hair, author is a big red velvet fan if you couldn't tell, love confession notes: this is more of a character/relationship study so if youre expecting a super simple oneshot with lesser description then im sorry🥲 songs mentioned are from this specific summer album LOL word count: 7.8k

Sometimes, you just liked to observe. A lot of people did anyway for various reasons. Some people, like your friend Juyeon, observed for the sake of reading others’ needs and emotions. He was always the one to notice when you were upset and he would hurry to make horrible puns just to make you laugh. 

Other people, like Eric who’s been your best friend since the age when you two couldn’t even reach the kitchen counter, observed for the sake of learning who a person was as a whole. He was the one who took note of your tendency to shift energies and he would adjust his own to match yours.

You, on the other hand, liked to observe simply because what you saw brought you back to the past. You treasured good memories, so being able to see them again in the future brought a sense of joy to your heart like a flickering lightbulb.

In Eric’s room, there was a lot to observe that brought back the past. The broken science project of the solar system because you two were dancing too much late at night, the cut-out superhero mask that was supposed to be Eric’s last-minute Halloween costume in middle school, and the foolish paper heart that sparked it all in the first place.

Sitting on his bed, you then observed your two closest friends. Juyeon was on his phone whilst drinking from a water bottle—which he comically once tripped on that led to his lunch tray and its contents flying into your clothes. But that was how you became friends anyway. Eric was simply doodling in his sketchbook with a small, content smile. Just like he had done on that same paper heart in elementary school.

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were met with a boy, about your age with a backpack on that was much too big for him. He had a kind smile and bright eyes.

And then he shoved a red, paper heart in your hands. Though, it took you a second to realize if it even was one with the edges so raggedly cut.

Bringing it up to your face, you read the large, shaky letters with your newly obtained skill of reading words.

“Will you marry me?”

Young Eric simply had bad comprehension skills. Apparently, he wasn't proposing. He just wanted to become friends.

“How does ‘marry me’ and ‘be my friend’ sound at all similar?” You muttered to yourself. 

Eric looked up and groaned. “You’re still on that? I was a baby back then. A cute one at that.” 

“An annoying one at that.”

Eric was about to argue back but Juyeon had spoken up with his lovely and calm voice.

“Let’s not fight. We have a trip to look forward to.”

The two of you immediately brightened at his reminder—the Summer Getaway. The three of you called it that because you all sucked at coming up with a better name. It was the trip that you had been planning since the first year of high school. The beach house to rent, the seaside to visit, everything already was laid out. And after so many years of fumbling with life and its many obstacles, it was finally happening.

“Tomorrow!” Eric sat up. “You’re all going to witness my dreamy beach boy actor debut.”

Juyeon looked at him, unimpressed. “And who’s the love interest?”

You snorted, turning your gaze over to Eric, only for him to be looking straight at you. Widening your eyes, you stuttered in confusion.

“No one,” He curtly said, turning away suddenly, his ears slightly red.

It was awkwardly silent. Until Juyeon nervously laughed. “What about clothes? Summer outfits?” He rambled. “We have to take a lot of pictures.”

You nodded, smiling excitedly. “I bought some just for this trip actually.” You frowned. “My paycheck practically disappeared.”

Juyeon laughed. “Was it as expensive as your prom outfit?”

Again, memories rushed back to you. More negative this time. With a frustrated sigh, you grimaced. “Let’s not bring that up. It was so bad, I looked horrible.”

Juyeon shook his head sympathetically. But your ears picked up someone else’s voice.

“I think you looked beautiful,” You heard Eric whisper. But maybe you were imagining things. 

“Too bad my date dumped me the day after,” You continued.

“He was horrible for that,” Juyeon remarked.

“That’s why you should’ve taken me,” Eric piped up. He got up to sit next to you on the bed. And to your surprise, his hand gently came up to your hair to smooth it down. But of course, that's what friends did.

You nodded in agreement. “I should have. You looked handsome that day.”

Eric glanced at you briefly and you could catch the sight of his cheeks turning red. “Of course I did,” He stammered. 

“Then why didn’t you ask anyone out for prom?” You questioned. “You went all alone.”

“Because you—“ Eric sighed, hurt flitting across his expression. “Nevermind.”

Juyeon coughed anxiously. “So!” He blurted. “The trip! Let’s talk about the trip tomorrow.”

—

“Where’s Juyeon?” Eric called out when he noticed you approaching the car. Yes, you prepared so much for the trip that you even had the car inspected and tested the driver—Eric—to make sure he could properly drive without swerving from talking too much. He did talk a lot.

You shrugged, lugging your bag packed with all the things you needed.

“He’s not here yet?” You frowned.

Eric shook his head with a worried look. “Usually he’s the early one.”

You hummed, standing next to him. And then you looked him over. He had dressed differently, his hair swept up nicely and his skin glowed golden in the sun. You wouldn't admit it but he did give off “dreamy beach boy” as corny as it may have sounded.

After a few minutes, you were about to call Juyeon to make sure he didn’t oversleep until you heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What took you so long?” You complained.

Juyeon furrowed his eyebrows and that was when you realized that he did not have a single piece of luggage with him. 

“I can’t go,” He breathlessly responded.

Eric inhaled sharply. “What?”

“There’s been an emergency,” Juyeon whined. “Involving my cat.”

You pouted knowing very well that Juyeon absolutely adored his cat and would drop anything for the feline, including this trip that you’d all been planning years ago.

“But go without me,” Juyeon rushed to say. “I don’t want to hold you both back.”

The two of you silently stared at him, disappointment and guilt holding grim over your faces. 

“Please.” His eyes softened. “Just make sure to send pictures.”

—

The car ride that was initially meant to be a karaoke session, turned into a quiet silence. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was never awkward between you and Eric. But it was solemn.

“He did say he’d be fine,” Eric spoke, flipping the right turn signal.

You sighed. “But you know him. He always likes to hide his disappointment.”

Eric shook his head. “He would be more disappointed if he knew we weren’t having fun.”

You thought for a moment. And then you nodded because it was true. You often observed that Juyeon would smile whenever you or Eric would smile first. He was like an older brother to you.

“Okay. Then I’m choosing the first song.” A devilish smile appeared on your lips as you queued up the music.

“Go ahead,” Eric laughed.

When you pressed play, he gasped. He glanced at you with acknowledgment accompanied by a slight wince. “Is this…”

“Mhm,” You giggled. “The song we sang together when we got drunk for the first time?”

“The headache I had after,” Eric groaned. “Never again.” You smiled at the fond memory. 

“And you’re such a clingy drunk.”

“I was not.”

“You literally hugged me and kissed my cheek,” You deadpanned. “You even said—“

Eric had his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a warm back hug, so tight that you could feel his hips and chest pressed up against your back. He smelled faintly of cherry wine and from the corner of your eye, you could see his adorably flushed cheeks and the dazed look in his eyes. “Please, don’t ever leave,” He cried, snuggling his face into your neck. “You’re so special to me.” 

But then again, that’s just what friends say, right? 

Your best friend looked at you in confusion. Ah, he must have forgotten. 

“What did I say?”

“Nothing,” You muttered. Choosing to change the topic, you turned up the volume. And soon enough, you were dancing and singing along to the song like you were on cloud nine. Eric chuckled to himself as he watched you with soft eyes, a small smile tugging on his lips.

You glared playfully. “Eyes on the road, sir.”

Eric rolled his eyes but obliged. For safety, of course. When the song ended, you sat back in your seat and you looked at him. Sometimes you forgot that Eric wasn’t a little boy who played hide and seek with you anymore. He was a man who had grown up to be… fairly attractive. His jawline was sharp now, he was taller, and he had muscles from his endless workouts that you would constantly walk in on him doing. You could see that from the way he had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms, handling the steering wheel with one hand. Taking a gulp, you quickly looked away. What were you thinking?

“Eyes on me?” He lifted an eyebrow, glancing at you teasingly.

You cleared your throat. “No, I— You just look bad today.”

“Mhm,” He hummed smugly. “Sure.”

And for some reason, your cheeks felt unusually warm.

It was a long road trip so naturally, that meant that the evening would come. It was dark out now and the music was long turned off. At some point, you had fallen asleep, the sound of the car engine lulling you easily.

Whilst you were dreaming of a beach house lit naturally by the bright sun, Eric took a glimpse at you. He smiled to himself affectionately, staying quiet. But it faltered when he noticed you shiver from the cool night air. 

Parking to the side for a moment, he reached back to pull out a blanket. Carefully and lovingly, he placed it over you, trying not to wake you up.

But, you always had the tendency to wake up whenever the car was stopped so you felt every single sensation with your eyes still closed. The warmth of his fingertips brushing against your arm, the rhythm of your quickening heartbeat, and… the press of a soft pair of lips on your forehead.

But maybe it was just a dream.

When Eric had started driving, before you dozed off again, you could hear him humming a song. A song that you recognized. A love song.

—

The house was ten times better than what it looked like in the pictures. The exterior of it looked like it came straight out of those real estate magazines. Palm trees decorated the scene and if you had simply turned around, you would be met with the breathtaking sight of the beach with its clear, almost sparkling ocean. Scrambling to explore the inside, you were surprised to see just how big it was. The ceiling was tall and the interior was embellished with various decorations. 

“This is what we deserve after practicing good financial habits for all those years,” You marveled, opening all the doors to reveal gorgeous rooms that were bright simply from the sunlight outside. Just like you had dreamed about. Eric hummed, trailing behind you, taking in the house silently, as opposed to your constant awes.

Finally, the two of you ended up in the master bedroom. 

Turning to him slowly, you put on your best puppy-like impression. “Can I have this one?”

Eric looked at you thoroughly unimpressed. “Is that the best you could do?”

You even pouted this time. He still stared back, completely unabashed. At a loss, you leaned in close, right up to his face. And for some reason, almost immediately, he was backing away with reddening cheeks.

“O-okay,” He stuttered. “Fine. You can have this one.”

Cheering, you flopped down on the bed, and with a sigh, you looked out the window dreamily. “If only my room was this neat all the time. It’s always messy.”

Eric huffed, lying down next to you. You turned your head to him and smiled softly at his serene expression as he looked up to the ceiling. 

“You can always call me if you need someone to clean your room,” He mumbled. “I’m the neatest after all.”

“Ah…” You breathed. “You’re right. Last time when you–”

“Knock, knock.” You could hear Eric’s voice from outside your door. With a slight sniffle, you brought the covers over your face, curling up to yourself. Being hit with a sudden slump that left you unable to do anything except lie in bed defeated wasn’t entirely ideal. 

Your room was an absolute mess and when Eric had called you, he immediately could tell from your voice that you were having a hard time. You heard the door opening and him entering the room. He stood there silently for a moment. But suddenly, you could hear various sounds. Trash being picked up, clothes being folded… peeking your head outside of your blankets, you realized that he was cleaning up for you. 

With tears welling up in your eyes at his kind actions, you sniffled even louder. Eric instantly looked up at the sound and he was right by your side. He pulled you into a hug, whispering sweet, sweet words in your ear as his hand stroked the back of your head soothingly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” He had whispered, pulling away so that he could brush a strand of hair out of your face gently. Even caressing your cheek, he had let you fall asleep against his chest.

But that’s what friends do, right?

Clearing your throat, you sat up abruptly. Eric followed, staring at you with slight perplexion. Suddenly, you turned to him.

“I never got to say thank you,” You blurted out. “For taking care of me that one time. So… thank you.”

And you had feared he would question what you were talking about. But instead, he nodded with a small smile.

“Of course,” He chuckled casually. “I’ll always care for you, dummy.” 

You smiled at that and then you lunged forward, pulling him into a hug. With your sheer force, he fell back on the bed. And just like that, it was the two of you, giggling and hugging each other, arms wrapped around warmly, in the midst of a beautiful beach house.

–

After unpacking and getting everything in order, you were so exhausted that you had fallen asleep almost immediately. But waking up in the morning was refreshing, with the bright sunshine pouring straight onto your face, warming you up perfectly. With a satisfied yawn and stretch, you walked out of your room, still dressed in your sleepwear.

But you paused abruptly when you saw Eric standing in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist and his sleeves rolled up again. He looked up and he smiled.

“Let’s cook together today.”

You gave him a pained smile and approached him. Before you could even say anything, he was leaning in to brush the messy strands of hair out of your face from just waking up. You’ve always noticed how gentle his hands were on you. When with Juyeon, he was rough and playful. But with you… he treated you like a piece of glass.

“We still suck though,” You complained.

“All the more reason to practice?” He gave you a quirked-up smile. 

Late at night, Eric was sleeping over. But suddenly, he had sprung up, startling you from your dozing off.

“I’m hungry,” He grumbled. “Let’s cook something.” 

And that was how you found yourself, half-asleep in the kitchen, figuring out how to make a simple dish from an old cookbook in one of your drawers. The two of you tried so hard, following each and every direction, only for it to taste like burnt pieces of garbage.

And so, Eric, with a sleepy, raspy voice, had to order takeout. You were silent until your eyes landed on the failed attempt once again. It looked like a blob of black, green, and somehow… pink. And soon enough, you were bent over the counter, laughing so hard over the monstrosity. You had expected Eric to join in on your laughing fit but instead, he had put down his phone and only stared at you fondly.

His eyes were sparkling as they met with yours and he had on the softest tug of his lips. Something in his expression made you stop laughing over how embarrassed you had gotten. Why was he looking at you like that? Almost like he… 

But that’s just how friends look at each other, is it not?

“You look focused,” Eric remarked, brushing past you to flip the pancakes.

“Huh? Oh– yeah,” You breathed out. “I just… remembered something.”

“What’s up?” 

And again, he looked at you like that. Eyes warm and gentle on yours, his smile small yet so, so fond. Your eyes trailed down to where his hand had reached forward, near your waist to steady you from bumping into the sharp corner of the counter. Your cheeks immediately warmed up as you abruptly turned around. 

“N-nothing.”

–

After breakfast and getting ready, you headed out to the nearby outdoor market. It was a beautiful, yet bustling sight. People were in every corner, every stall, buying various things like seashell necklaces and cute jellyfish lamps. Your eyes were practically shimmering and you quickly grabbed hold of Eric’s wrist to pull him along.

At the first stall, a woman was selling beautiful leis. You gasped, picking one up and showing your best friend. He grinned and nodded expectantly.

“What’re you waiting for? Put it on,” He joked. 

You laughed and shook your head. Instead, you stepped forward, looping the pink and purple flower garland around his neck. You could hear the small intake from his lips as he looked down at you, eyes wide. Maybe, you were a bit too close to him. But, you didn’t think much of it as you continued to adjust it and admire the colors that complimented him perfectly.

Well, up until a child had run past, bumping into you and causing you to fall straight into Eric’s arms.

“Oh, I–” You gulped, feeling a warm hand close around your waist, holding you steady. 

“Sorry,” He muttered nervously, his cheeks flushing.

“It’s okay,” You whispered, peering up at him, still pressed against his body. He gazed back and his eyes began to slowly trail down to your… With a cough, you pulled away, refusing to look him in the eye. His hands were always gentle.

Again, you took his wrist to lead him somewhere else. But that was when you felt him pull away. For a second, you thought you might have lost him in the crowd, but he was still right behind you. Instead, his hand closed around yours, his fingers—rough from playing baseball in his free time—intertwining firmly around. You tried to ignore the quickening pace of your heart.

“So you don’t get lost,” He teased.

“You’re the one who gets lost the most,” You retorted, your voice slightly shaky.

At the next stall, there were plushies displayed for sale. Some were badly sewn, like the cat missing a buttoned eye. But some were particularly cute, especially the white bunny keychain, sitting on one of the shelves. 

“Hey,” You mumbled, approaching it. Both ears were intact and upright. “This reminds me of…”

Clutching the bunny plushie with the price tag attached to its ear close to your chest, you looked at Eric with a pleading look. 

“Please,” You complained. “Let me buy it. I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Hm?”

Eric looked at you with narrowed eyes, switching his gaze from you to the plushie. And then he sighed, taking it from your hand. With hopeful eyes, you watched as he walked to the shelf and put it back. And just like that, all your dreams were crushed.

“C’mon.” He urged you away. “That’s dumb.”

“But you know my favorite animals are bunnies,” You whined. But still, you followed him out of the store.

About a week later, he showed up at your door. It was your birthday after all so when your eyes landed on the small present box in your hands, you smiled with delight. He tilted his head with a shy smile.

“Happy birthday,” He whispered, leaning in to pull you into a hug. “I know this isn’t great, but I tried my best.” He smiled at you sheepishly.

When you opened it, sitting inside was a small plushie. Of a bunny. It was so, so badly made, the stitches mangled and the ears practically falling off. But it was so… Eric.

“Is that why you didn’t let me buy the other one?” You questioned, clutching it close to your chest protectively.

He nodded with a completely serious expression. “I didn’t need unnecessary competition.”

And despite rolling your eyes at his comment, you found yourself carefully placing the plushie right at your bedside so it was the first thing you saw when you woke up. 

And to this day, you still have it.

But that’s just what friends do… you think.

Eric had read your mind and quickly, he was grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the stall.

“My sewing skills could be better,” He said with an embarrassed look on his face. You laughed in response. Before you could even say anything else, he was reaching forward to clasp a necklace around your neck. He was so, so close that you could feel his breath across your lips and smell his scent which reminded you a lot like cotton candy. 

“When did you get this?” You whispered, looking down at it. It was a small seashell shaped like a heart.

“Few minutes ago.” He smiled. “But you didn’t notice.”

“I love it.” You grinned. And just like that, you hadn’t reached for his wrist this time, but straight for his hand. With fingers intertwined, the two of you walked down the rest of the market, smiling and laughing all throughout the sunset.

–

Another day had passed and the two of you had mostly stayed inside the beach house, due to the cloudy weather ruining the mood. It was fun nonetheless, watching movies and even playing board games. Which, Eric won all three of them for some reason. You simply call it luck.

Now, laying in your bed, you felt yourself grow drowsy over the ambient noise of the rain pattering on the windows and the occasional rumble of thunder. Sometimes, there would be a flash of light outside–lightning, but you were much too tired to really care.

Just as your eyes were about to shut close, you heard a knock on the door.

“Eric?” You whispered, your voice croaky from sleep.

The door creaked open, and there he was, dressed in a comfy t-shirt. You recognized it. The one that he had once let you borrow because you had spilled coffee all over yourself. It was warm and… well, it smelled just like him.

“What happened?” You frowned, sitting up. He stepped closer and if you looked closely, you could see the tinge of red on his cheeks.

“...you know,” He muttered.

You did know.

Your phone rang, startling you out of your sleep. Despite your initial grumpiness, you picked up when you realized it was your best friend.

“Eric?”

A deep breath from the other line. And then–

“Can you come over?”

You looked at the time. It was two in the morning.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m… scared of thunderstorms.” You could even hear his voice tremble. And just like that, you were out the door, umbrella in hand. But the rain was so heavy that it managed to seep into your clothes and hair anyway, leaving you drenched by the time you reached his door.

At the sound of the doorbell, Eric flung the door open. You couldn’t even get a word in because he was pulling you in and he was throwing his arms around you, scrambling to hold you close, his hands grasping onto your shirt tightly. You smiled softly as you hugged him back, even if you were getting his clothes wet too.

“I missed you,” He whispered, tightening his hold. “So much.”

You laughed softly. “I’m right here. You saw me yesterday already, didn’t you?”

“I–” He grumbled, pulling away. His lips were pulled into a tight frown as he searched your eyes with a deeper meaning behind them. “I always miss you.”

That’s not… how friends act, do they?

“Want to sleep here?” You patted the spot next to you, even bringing an extra pillow and adjusting the blankets.

“Gladly,” He grinned. “That’s why I came here in the first place.” In only a matter of seconds, he was climbing into bed with you. The two of you never… slept in the same bed together but it felt so natural with the way your arms wrapped around him and he had snuggled up to your chest.

This is definitely how friends act.

–

The next day was boring. You all had planned it to be the day where each one of you would go off and do whatever separately as a way to individually relax. But, you realized just how much Eric was a part of your life. Wandering the gardens, you found yourself thinking of his stupid puns and his even stupider smile. Truth be told, Eric was always with you. The two of you never went a week without seeing each other. Any much longer than that and Eric was clinging and hugging you for the whole day, saying he needed to “recharge.”

Finally, in the evening, you saw Eric again. He was wearing a comfy, zip-up jacket since the evenings tended to get chilly and his hair was adorably messy. Adorably? Since when did you think that?

“Want to sit with me?” He leaned against the doorway. “My room has a better view.” You nodded brightly and followed him. 

You had never noticed just how beautiful the scenery actually was from his room. Your room mostly pointed towards the various palm trees. But his room, with its wide and tall window that overlooked the whole beach, was different. The two of you sat together on the bed, knees drawn up to your chests, as you observed the constant motion of the ocean water moving back and forth, creating bubbles with it. The night sky was dark, yet it sparkled with twinkling stars dotted across it. 

When you looked over, you saw Eric, looking out the window too. The moonlight shone perfectly on his face, accentuating each of his handsome features. His kind eyes, the slope of his nose, his plush lips that shaped into a soft smile.

He was always handsome. You always knew that. But something about this moment, right now, left your eyes widening, cheeks flushing, and your heart pounding. 

“What do you mean you lost the grocery list?” You whined. “Juyeon wanted this huge Christmas feast. I can’t bear to disappoint him.”

Eric grimaced. “I swear, my dog ate it.”

“You don’t even have a dog.”

The two of you continued to bicker, walking down the numerous aisles of the grocery store, trying to figure out the ingredients to make Juyeon’s favorite food until an elderly couple stopped you in your tracks.

“Aren’t you both an adorable couple?” The woman cooed.

Your jaw dropped and you turned to Eric, only to find that he didn’t share the same shocked expression. He was smiling almost… shyly, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Oh, just look at the way he looks at them,” The man pointed out before turning to his wife. “Just like I had looked at you all those years ago.”

The woman laughed bashfully, batting him away. Then, she turned back to Eric with kind eyes.

“You must love them a lot.” She said with a kind smile.

You were about to jump in and refute, explain everything was all a lie, that you both were just really good friends up until–

“I do,” Eric replied. He looked at you with that same look that he’d been looking at you for ages now. The softening gaze and slight tug of his lips… it was like you were the flame to his wooden match. “I truly do.”

That’s not how friends act.

You swallowed thickly, all words caught in your throat for a moment. That particular moment often flitted past your mind briefly because you thought that he was just playing along. But now that you think about it…

“Did you mean it?” You finally whispered.

He turned to you with a confused smile. “Mean what?”

“That you… love me.” You studied his face for an answer and you had hoped that you wouldn’t find one—that you wouldn’t see the absolutely smitten look on his face that would further complicate your friendship that’s already lasted decades. But you saw it. The smitten look, right there in front of you. It was there and it gave you all the answers that you needed.

He was quiet, watching you with a tender look in his eyes. And then he leaned to the side, bumping his shoulder with yours lightly.

“I meant it,” He replied, smiling to himself shyly. You gazed at him in shock. “But...” He turned to you, his smile faltering slightly. “However you want to interpret that is up to you.”

You bit your lip and tilted your head so that it was resting on his shoulder. It was odd but not that surprising how well it fits in the crook of his neck, almost as if you were always meant to be there. You didn’t say anything right away, instead, choosing to watch the waves roll, over and over. But everything reminded you of the man sitting right beside you. The bright stars in the sky were just like the mischievous twinkle that he would have in his eyes before he would tackle you into a hug and the crystal clear water that flowed in and out on the sand was just like the steady pounding of your heartbeat whenever you caught sight of his pretty smile. 

“As friends or romantically?” You spoke, so quietly that Eric had to lean in even closer to hear you, his hair brushing against your forehead.

He hummed ambiguously. “Whatever you want.” But you could hear the slight tremor in his deep voice.

His words only further answered your question. No matter how hard he would try to make it so that it was all up to you, you could sense everything. The soft tone of his voice, his warm hand covering yours, and his calm breathing. You could sense his feelings. Each and every one of them, like his heart was beating directly through yours.

Slowly, the rustle of the palm trees and the natural sound of his slow breaths gently pulled you into a state of drowsiness. Shuffling so that your whole side was pressed up to his, you leaned closer, nuzzling your cheek into his warm shoulder. And gradually, your eyes closed, sleep overcoming you peacefully.

He smiled down at you, gently bringing you to lie down on the bed. He pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in snugly. And then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, gazing at you with so much warmth.

“Romantically,” He whispered, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “It’s always been romantically.”

–

You had woken up to a text from Juyeon. And yes, you have been sending pictures to him, mostly consisting of blurry selfies of you posing perfectly and Eric who wasn’t even looking at the camera, constantly distracted.

Stretching, you realized that you weren’t in your bed. You were in Eric’s bed. And just like that, all the memories came rushing back to you. Romantically or as friends? As friends or romantically? Whichever one was it?

Shaking your head, you opened the text.

Juyeon: did you do the last activity on the itinerary yet?

Juyeon: the beach party

And so there you were, dressed in one of your summer outfits, flowy and perfect for the weather. Eric was beside you, staring in awe at the scene. The two of you had never quite made it to the beach, being so preoccupied with other places to explore. But now that you were here, the sand soft under you and the sun setting in the background, you couldn’t help but smile dearly. You had waited excitedly for this moment really, as Juyeon had claimed that this was a surprise made by him and he had hired someone to set it up.

And set up it was. String lights and lanterns were scattered about, lighting up the scene. There were chairs set up, made to sit together and watch the calm ocean. And on the right, there was a speaker to play music.

“Well isn’t this pretty?” You mumbled, your mouth agape.

Eric smiled, turning to look right at you. “Very pretty.”

Wordlessly, he took your hand in his, leading you toward the lanterns. It wasn’t really a party anymore. You couldn’t help but think that this was actually a beach… a beach date.

You sat down in one of the chairs and you watched as Eric picked up his phone to put on music. Immediately, you recognized the song. 

“You Better Know?” You laughed, remembering all the times you and Eric had belted out Red Velvet songs after failing an exam to cope with the feeling of failure. It never really worked but it was fun either way. 

He shrugged with a charming smile. He began to dance slightly as he walked away to pick up seashells that were scattered across the beach. You watched silently, leaning forward as you let your eyes wander over your best friend. 

Eric truly no longer was the messy boy who scribbled outside the lines on coloring books or the boy who repeatedly tripped on the playground causing his knees to get scraped. He no longer was the boy who experienced constant voice cracks or who struggled in exams because he had overslept with dark circles under his eyes. 

Instead, he was a man with a deeper voice, broader shoulders, and a charming middle part in his hair as opposed to the disorderly, overgrown middle school hairstyle he always had. He was a man who had ditched the dark hoodies in his angsty teenager phase, instead opting for white, flowy button-up shirts that complimented his golden skin perfectly. He even reminded you of Prince Eric–ironically, enough–from The Little Mermaid.

Eric no longer was the boy that you simply were best friends with. He was a man who you have fallen in love with. And you had no idea for how long.

Standing up silently, you approached him. He looked up at you, giving you a soft smile, a beautiful white seashell in his hand.

“Here,” He said, taking your hand in his. He placed the shell in yours, gazing at you with so much affection that you felt a shudder all throughout your spine. “For you.”

You smiled, looking down at it. It was round, embellished with small ridges. It was perfect. The faint sound of the upbeat, song playing in the background as you looked up at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“Eric,” You started. “I have to tell you something.”

And for some reason, he had leaned forward, pressing a finger to your lips to shush you. You let out a muffled sound, gaping at him in bewilderment.

“Eric?”

“Let me speak first,” He whispered. 

You inhaled sharply…

“Romantically.”

…held your breath…

“My answer is romantically.”

… and exhaled shakily, processing his confession, one word at a time. But before you could, Eric was saying more.

“For the longest time, I’ve had the biggest crush on you. Ever since I saw you back in elementary school. And mayhaps, I did mean that stupid ‘will you marry me?’ statement,” He chuckled. He reached forward taking your other hand in his, wrapping his fingers around. “Over time I… I tried to get over you. But, since you’re my best friend I couldn’t distance myself. So I accidentally fell in love.”

You felt your heart pound at his words, all of your memories rushing back in full force. It all had started to make sense. The acts of service when you weren’t feeling well, the soft looks when you were only laughing, the homemade gifts even though he claimed that he hated making things, and the… words. The specific word love.

“Eric, I…”

“Ah, wait,” He laughed. “This song.”

Red Flavor by Red Velvet. The classic, happy summer song. 

And suddenly, he reached forward, pulling you in by the waist. “Can I sing for you?”

You snorted, your cheeks flushing once you registered the warmth of his large hand on the small of your back. “This song?”

“Mhm,” He hummed, grinning. “This song.”

And before you could retort, he actually started singing, Swaying you from left to right, his arms continuously wrapped around you, his deep voice resonated through the cozy summer night, igniting each and every star one by one. He sang the pre-chorus, gazing at you with affection and well, love.

"I like you, it was love at first sight. I keep thinking of you." His lips pulled up into a soft smile as he sang, his voice husky and a great contrast to the higher-pitched voices of the actual song. You were enamored, your heart beating right against his chest as you watched him silently, watching as he sang so, so, gently. Only for you and for you only. “I want to go my own way.”

And then the chorus started with its fun beat and cheerful singing. You giggled, placing your hands on his chest, leaning forward to hide in his neck. 

“This song does not fit the moment right now,” You remarked, smiling against his skin. You could feel the vibration of his deep laugh as he held you closer, his hands stroking your sides gently.

“But at least it got the confession down. So, what’s your answer?”

You laughed, pulling away to look up at him lovingly. He smiled down at you, his eyes wandering over each of your features fondly.

“The very last line,” You replied. He had grown silent at that, listening to each of the lyrics, waiting for the end. And then–

What I like the most is you in the summer.

Eric widened his eyes and he looked down at you hopefully. “Really?”

You nodded, your cheeks flushing. “Not just like. Love.”

“Oh, wow,” He breathed out. And again, just like he had done all those other times, he brushed a piece of hair out of your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with sparks accompanying it. “God, I’m so in love,” He muttered. And just like that, the next song had started—Hear The Sea—playing softly in the background.

You laughed, “Did you just put on a whole Red Velvet playlist?”

“And what about it?” He grinned. “It’s summer.” And slowly, he pulled away, not before looping your hand in his. His hand rested on your waist, holding you close. To the calm singing and beautiful instrumental of the song, the two of you danced. Sometimes, either one of you would trip on the sand, causing an endeared laugh here and there. But mostly, the silence between you was filled with soft smiles and flushed cheeks.

Even though Eric no longer was the boy who ran around when it was summertime, he always would be the boy with the most beautiful smile. 

His eyes were bright on yours, watching you closely as the two of you swayed slowly to the music. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this for?” He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling hot all over. 

“So long,” He continued. “I’ve always longed to dance with you.”

You smiled. “And what else?”

“Hold you.”

You hummed. “You always loved doing that.”

But then his eyes darkened on you for a moment. “And… kiss you. Though I haven’t done that one yet.”

Your breath hitched, your dancing coming to a halt. “Then do it.”

He gazed at you softly. “Are you sure? There’s no rush.”

“Think for yourself.” You giggled. “How long exactly have you waited to kiss me?”

He paused, and both of his hands came down to grasp your waist this time. “Years. I’ve waited for years.” He looked at you shyly, his eyes adorably hopeful and loving.

“Then act.”

And so he did.

Almost aggravatingly slow–as if to make sure he really had your consent–he tilted his head and he softly placed his lips on yours. Shutting your eyes closed, you allowed yourself to get lost in the addictive feeling, the soft pull of your lips and the gentle grasping of your waist as he pulled you so close that your bodies were flush against each other. 

It was like everything was drowned out. In your ears, you could no longer hear the crash of the waves on the shore. Instead, you could only make out the quiet, satisfied hum that escaped Eric’s parted lips. You couldn’t feel the summer breeze blowing against your skin, you could only feel the warmth of the palm of his hand as it came to cup your jaw, tipping your head slightly so he could kiss further.

It was a soft kiss, filled with sparks that would set off fireworks in the very pit of your stomach. Slow movements without fervor, as it was just Eric, kissing you like he must have been dreaming of doing all these years. The hand on your waist fit perfectly around you and so you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, stepping closer. Eric huffed out a quiet laugh as he blindly guided your hand to where his heart was where you could only feel it beat and beat and beat.

And with a tap against his chest, the two of you broke apart, lips red and slightly swollen. You stared at him in silence before bursting out into shy laughter, lunging forward to hide your face in his shoulder. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you once again, but this time with a different feeling. Love, maybe. 

“Who knew that this trip would force me to confess?” He wondered to himself.

“Good.” You scowled. “You took too long.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “But look who finally figured out their feelings on this very trip?”

Your cheeks flushed and you playfully shoved him. “Stop it.”

“Say it.”

You frowned in confusion. “Say what?”

“You know what I mean,” He teased. “I want to hear you.”

You gulped and looked down at the sand. “That I… love you?”

“Mhm,” He hummed. “I love you too.”

And then he pulled something out of his pocket. When he unfolded it, he placed it in your hand which was still clutching onto the seashell. You looked down, only to realize that it was another red, paper heart. Written in neater, more legible handwriting this time, were the words, 

“Will you date me?”

“Ah,” You breathed out. “So you finally get the words right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is that a yes or no, my beautiful?”

“My,” You laughed. “If you use my, then that means I’m already yours.”

“You’ve always been mine.” His eyes sparkled.

“Then my answer is yes,” You whispered before smiling and leaning up to peck his lips once again. He was about to pull you into a full-fledged kiss but you giggled before running away, kicking behind flurries of sand. Eric groaned and he began to chase you down the shoreline.

“You can’t do that after you’ve just kissed me!” He complained. 

“Too bad.” You stuck your tongue out. His frown turned into a fond smile as he laughed and ran after you.

You didn’t know exactly when, but the two of you somehow ended up in the water–clothes that weren’t meant for swimming, thoroughly soaked.

He looked at you with a loving smile as he waded over to you, his hair slightly damp from your splashing. Huffing out a fond laugh, he quickly trapped you into his embrace. And then he turned you, his back to the rest of the ocean so that you wouldn’t be hit by the waves. Smiling at you, he pulled you back in, his lips, wet from the water, pressing onto yours.

“You taste like the ocean.” You grinned after pulling away.

“And you taste delicious.”

“Oh my.” You gasped. “Why are you flirty now? I only know the clumsy, foolish Eric.”

“There’s much more to learn about me,” He whispered, grinning widely as he reached a hand out of the water to brush away a strand that had stuck to your forehead. “Just you wait. I’d even write a whole novel for you. And you know I failed literature class.”

You laughed, clearly remembering the defeated look on his face when he had checked his exam grade. 

“I learned something already,” You quietly said. A particularly harsh wave almost shoved you both off your feet, but Eric was quick to steady you with his hands. Always so gentle and firm.

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re an excellent kisser.”

He laughed adorably before pressing a kiss to your lips again. 

“And I knew something already,” He uttered. "For a while now."

“Hm?” A smile grew on your face.

“That I’m so–” A peck on your cheek. “So…” Another on the tip of your nose. “So in love with you.” And finally, a kiss on your lips. 

The truth is, that neither of you cared if the ocean was trying its best to knock you both over. Your blooming love and soft, adoring smiles in between kisses were steady enough to hold you up.

Because that’s just how friends act. Or more specifically, how two best friends who fell in love with each other act.

–

You sent one thing to Juyeon on the last day of your trip. Attached, was a selfie of the two of you, kissing softly, the ocean and the moon in the background. 

Juyeon immediately opened it. And then the bubbles of his texting appeared and disappeared, for over three minutes. When his message appeared, you laughed loudly at the one word that appeared on the screen.

Juyeon: finally 

[theredhairedmonkey]

In the heart of Katolis castle, amidst the grandeur of its stone walls, Soren, Callum, and Rayla sat before a campfire in the castle courtyard while Ezran convened with Opeli on the crisis in Lux Aurea.

The flickering flames of a carefully tended fire illuminated Soren's face as he couldn't hold back his questions any longer. "Hey, Callum," he began, poking at the fire. "How did you even learn the Ocean Arcanum? Did you find some ancient scroll or a magical tome?"

Callum looked up from his sketchbook, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Nah, it's not like that. You can't just read about it and get it. Arcana come from lived experiences, the connection to the primal source. But, I did have a little help."

Soren raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Help? What kind of help?"

With a casual grace, Callum reached into his bag, retrieving a weathered book with a sea-blue cover. "A book of Ocean poems I stumbled upon in the castle library. The words resonated with the magic of the ocean, helping me grasp the Arcanum in a more profound way."

Rayla raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Poetry? You're telling me you actually found the key to elemental magic in a book of poems? I thought you were joking!"

“Hey, don’t knock it! The rhythm of the language, the emotional resonance...it stirred something…elemental inside me.”

Soren cleared his throat theatrically. “Oh Callum the poetic prince, weaving spells with heartfelt verse!” He exclaimed in exaggerated fashion.

Callum chuckled while Rayla playfully elbowed Soren’s arm. “Didn’t know you had a knack for poetry too,” she teased.

Soren took Callum’s book of ocean poems into his hands. "So, what’s next, painting landscapes?"

A chuckle escaped Callum's lips. "Well, maybe not landscapes. At least not yet. Dunno, maybe that would help with the Earth Arcanum?"

Rayla’s eyes glinted with curiosity. "Who would've thought, the former High Mage turned poet. What's your take on this, Soren?"

Soren, never one to miss an opportunity for a friendly jab, cleared his throat dramatically. "Ahem, Prince Callum, the poetic mage, casting spells with a quill on an enchanted page!"

Callum smirked. "Okay, that was terrible, but I appreciate the effort."

Undeterred, Soren continued, now fully embracing his poetic side. "By the ocean's edge, with waves so grand, Callum found magic in the sand. With every rhyme, he flies above, a princely poet, spreading love."

Callum couldn't contain his laughter any longer. "Alright, Soren, you win. I never knew you had such a hidden flair for rhyming."

Soren, reveling in his poetic victory, grinned. "Well, maybe I'll start dropping rhymes on the battlefield!"

Rayla, with a sly grin, teased Soren, "Who would’ve guess the big tough warrior had a soft spot for poetry?"

Soren winked. "Soft spot? More like a strategic advantage. Imagine facing an enemy who's too confused to fight because you hit them with unexpected rhymes."

Callum, still chuckling, added, "It's a unique tactical approach, to say the least."

"Who would've thought our journey would include poetry lessons from Soren of all people?” Rayla asked.

Callum, finishing up a quick doodle in his book, replied, "Life is full of surprises, I suppose."

Rayla met Soren’s eyes with a smile. “Poetry in moonlight,” she said, lifting her gaze to the glittering blanket of stars above. “Friends beside a dwindling fire.” Her hand found Callum’s, their fingers intertwining. “The laughter of loved ones, where just hours before there was only silence.”

Callum gave her hand a grateful squeeze, touched by her words. “Hey now, look who discovered her inner poet.”

“And just like that, my work here is done!” Soren announced. Getting up, he let out an exaggerated groan. “It’s getting late, we should probably call it a night.” 

“Agreed,” Callum said at last, gathering his sketchbook as Soren kicked dirt over the cooling coals. The three wandered back inside, the mystical poetry book tucked under Callum’s arm. The Ocean Arcanum flowing through his veins. But the real magic of the night glowing in their hearts.

[deryuj]

Follow the curves

You wish you could focus on your case but truth be told, Connor is far too distracting.

(Or Connor is helping you with your case while you sketch him in your notebook instead)

Rating: General audience

Ship: Connor x gn!reader

I started my summer job and realized I have a lot of free time so I actually wrote a fanfic because I was bored. Enjoy!

p.s. Last time i wrote a fanfic was in 2017 and english isn't my first language, lol.

It's been three hours since you stepped your foot into the squeaky clean department. Also, it's been two hours and fifty-five minutes (minus ten minutes you spent making yourself a coffee and five minutes you took for a bathroom break, which was an excuse to just get up from your workspace and do something different) since you made yourself comfortable by your desk and started working again with the weird writings and drawings you found last night at the apartment, left by what you suspected was a deviant. Looking at the same set of lines for hours turned them into uncomprehensive scribbles and doodles at this point so you couldn't make anything out of them anyway. You needed to do something else rather than stare absent-mindedly at the same page for the next five hours until your shift is done.

You wish you could say you were going in circles with this investigation but honestly, there was no circle you could even walk in in the first place.

How frustrating.

With a soft sigh, you turned your gaze to your right where Connor sat way before you even arrived, his blue LED shining and flickering as his brown eyes stayed glued to the screen. It was funny that for an android he insisted to use computers to scroll through information like the rest of the DPD did. He didn't have to, it was probably more time-consuming and less efficient to do so, but somehow it was so endearing that he makes sure to act as human as possible and blend with the rest of his coworkers.

You haven't really spoken to him today though, he was assigned to you strictly because of the notes you discovered, it was the longest you have been in his presence, which is a bummer. Usually, you would see him casually follow Hank like a puppy, hand folded behind him, long legs easily matching his anger, quick steps, and a soft smile that was always plastered on his face. You weren't sure if he was designed to always smile or chose to do so, but you decided to believe that he wants it that way. Now though you could see that soft smile and adorable chocolate cowlick up close with him working mere centimeters away from you and you couldn't help but smile yourself.

Cyberlife sure did a great job designing him.

Connor was the newest addition to the team, assigned to help the lieutenant in his cases, which definitely did not make him happy since he oh so loved his broody and lone wolf reputation. You were pleased though, you never had a chance to work with an android (and you kinda never exactly did until now). You liked Connor, maybe more than you'd like to admit, and you found yourself doubting the whole 'friendship' if you could even call it that. Yes, he was an android and he definitely wasn't programmed to like everyone (based on his previous interactions with Gavin) but somehow you found yourself hoping that after all the small conversations you shared he, at least, considered you a friend because he liked you, not because his program told him so. Were you even making sense at this point?

You let out a soft sigh, reaching out to grab a half-empty cup of stale coffee before your eyes glided back to working Connor. He hasn't moved from his stiff position since morning, his warm eyes fixated on the computer screen, subtle nose twitches, jaw tightened, smooth hand gripping the notes you wrote down yesterday as he silently analyzed the same set of information written in your handwriting over and over again before looking up at the computer screen, trying to find some kind of clue on what exactly the deviant was trying to write down or show.

As if it was that easy to understand the maniacal scribbles they left behind before running away.

He looked so focused, so eager to prove himself and his skills to everyone that he completely shut himself off from the whole department and new information from his surroundings for now so nothing will take him out of the process of decoding the messages. You were almost curious if by any chance he knows you're watching him so shamelessly or if he even realized that you joined him by your desk to help almost three hours ago.

He was cute, really cute, and in some way you felt a little weird with choosing this word to describe a grown man, or more specifically someone designed to hunt down deviants and do it without any hesitation.

You'd rather keep your observations to yourself rather than get embarrassed though that's what you told yourself with your inner voice.

You comfortably leaned against your palm, letting your gaze dance across all the soft and sharp edges of his profile. His small, pretty nose, freckled artificial skin, pursed, plush lips, and extremely long lashes. Someone put all these details down into this single design just to make fun of you and your silly little crush on an android, that you were almost sure has no algorithm that could by any chance make him like you back. It was stupid, really, but God was he too pretty to not like.

Never mind your earlier praises, you hated Cyberlife for this design.

You felt your cheeks heat up just from thinking about this, definitely not your smartest thought of the day.

You tilted your head to the side, your hair moving with your move as you glanced at him from a slightly different angle. Still pretty. Dang.

One line, second line, join these two with another line.

Without thinking much your hand danced across your handy notebook, your pen leaving gentle lines and curves as you tried to memorize his pretty features. You weren't an amazing artist but you could at least make it resemble him. That's all you needed to do. You needed to convey his pretty profile somewhere where it won't disappear, somewhere you'll be able to look at whenever you'd feel like it, and not when Hank would get up from his desk to go to your communal kitchen with his partner in hand.

You poked the thin paper with the tip of your pen, spreading small, inked dots across his sketched cheek, dragged curled lines from his eye down to his cheek to mimic his long curtain of eyelashes, and made sure that the curve of his lips was the curviest, kissable line you ever drew on paper.

Your silly attempts caused you to let out a quiet snort. I mean the sketch wasn't bad… it's just that you finally caught up with what you were doing that caused you to realize that you were acting like a lovestruck teen if not worse than that.

Stupid- said your more sober side.

You still proudly looked down at the small sketch of Connor that popped up in the corner of your notebook, it was no longer accurate though since the model decided to finally rise his honey-filled eyes away from the screen and face you instead, clearly curious about what made you laugh during a long, boring investigation.

"What's wrong detective?" Your eyes snapped back up at his seeking expression, right in the middle of him tilting his head to the side as he would usually do whenever asking a question and being actually curious about it.

Now what?

"Ah" passed your lips before you could catch yourself. What exactly are you going to tell him and make it sound not weird?

"You draw a lot?" He took your silence as an answer and leaned in to trail his eyes along all the sketched lines, his lips curling into a soft smile to your dismay, a soft whir erupting from his chest.

You silently flipped your notebook to the next page, lips pursed as you turned your face away from him to hopefully regain your ability to say something smart rather than babble while looking at his handsome face. And yet he still watched you, or more like observed you, analyzing your mouth twitch, gaze shift, and muscle tense. Clearly, he was getting what we would call 'nervous' at his seemingly failed attempt at making a small talk and you couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

"Sometimes, helps me think or get myself to reboot" He could somehow understand the concept, maybe because you used a techy word he had some experience with.

He hummed in response, shifting comfortably in his seat, almost like he could feel his muscles sore from staying in one position, and looked down at the blank page, as if the drawing was still there and he was still taking in every single stroke of your pen.

"You are quite talented" He seemed honest, maybe there was a hint of something else, and you couldn't help but chuckle. There was something so innocent behind his words, he almost sounded excited to face a new quirk humans had.

He always liked those. The quirks. Things that made people unique and so interesting.

"I guess once I retire I'll move out somewhere quiet and spend the rest of my life painting landscapes" You mumbled sarcastically, your eyes rolling as you tried to get Connor off his path to compliment you more. He would always be painfully nice to get people to like him and accept him in the department. It worked, sure but you don't need him to get you flustered at work where people can see. Especially where that asshole Gavin can see and use it to make you annoyed.

He let out another soft, vibrating hum at your small joke, leaning down to comfortably lean against his smooth hand. He was thinking, processing and rinsing your words to find a suitable answer to your lighthearted response and hopefully match your tone.

"That sounds nice, I'm glad that for now, I can enjoy your work here at the department." He replied and you let your lips form a smile at his response. I mean you could interpret it as if he wanted to work with you more. You wouldn't complain, your work quality would suffer though. Or maybe you're looking too hard into it.

"Have you tried drawing Hank before?" You let out a sharp exhale from your mouth, your laugh stuck somewhere in your throat, safe from being let out to the world. You weren't sure if it was a joke or not, if it was it was funny, if it wasn't then it was cute but still, you don't want him to feel bad for laughing at him.

Connor didn't mind, in return, his plushy lips quirked up into a bigger smile, doe eyes narrowing as the smile finally reached them while he happily watched you light up after working with papers.

"Don't know, I guess I'll ask him if he wants to model, sounds like a cute date" You wanted to continue the banter, it was somehow of an anomaly to see Connor try to joke like this, hopefully, you weren't expecting too much of him. On the other hand, hopefully, Hank didn't hear that because even though you two are friends he'll scold you for joking around at his expense and giving 'the android weird ideas'.

In return he let out a quick, soft chuckle before clearing his throat to get back to his professional self, his pale cheeks dusted with a soft, blueish color. Seems like he doesn't want to make you feel bad for laughing at you as well.

"Sounds like a lovely evening" He admitted before falling silent once again, his brown, gooey eyes now staring deep into yours, analyzing you. In moments like this, you were always envious of how he can pretty much see through you and see what you think while you're left with his pretty face and zero ideas on what might be going on through his head.

"Let's… check the notes again and work through it together" You finally suggested, trying to put the awkward conversation (on your part) behind the door and focus back again on your actual job. You let Connor shift closer to you, his shoulder bumping against yours as you flipped pages back onto the one with your infamous little drawing.

Seeing the real deal up this close made you realize how much longer his lashes actually are, how his lips are far more softer than what you left on the paper and how many freckles you haven't even put down on your drawing.

You should probably try again, maybe at home.

Maybe with him in your apartment.

[datrb]

2023 art review!

Even if this year wasn't the biggest on art, due to my physical condition (especially in last couple of months), it would still be nice to look back on what i did as an artist throughout it!

This is gonna be a fun ride...

So, let's dive straight into it, shall we?

Continuation under the cut

January

2023 started on a high note, with me just having finished the King piece, and moving on to the next big thing, being an AvA3/5 double piece.

Sadly, during the process i messed up big time which led to me being unable to finish the piece the way i wanted to, rendering this project an eternal WIP. However, i still cherish the idea and do wish to either redraw, or complete it.

February

Doing 2 big projects one after another did end up affecting my overall drive, so i spent majority of that month just making sketches.

First one is a little redraw/redesign of my old character - Derek, whom i used for a roleplay with my friends like 3 or 4 years ago, and second one is Deach, a character from my fantasy setting.

Also, back then i joined a new fandom, people in which have reminded me of my admiration for SCP, after which me and my friends proceeded to make OCs for it. Was a fun time! (Also this access card was sold by me as a YCH, sadly i couldn't really find buyers, so yikes)

March

By march is slowly started recovering from january's disappointement and was a bit more productive already. One of my friends really helped with it too.

A musician friend of mine reached out to me, asking to develop a design for a villain character in the plot he was working on. After listening to the theme song i couldn't resist. This ended up being one of my favorite designs so far, and i adore its look in neon.

In the meantime, i kept working on my fantasy setting, refining more minor details of designs and stories, yet having to reserve only to making sketches as i was too busy with college and other projects. Characters you see on screen are Ian and Lanfor respectfully. One is a strong yet troubled mage and other is a great Emperor, and even better person.

April

I'd say april was one of the most productive months of this year, mostly because i managed to snatch some time for myself and my setting, which allowed me to complete two full pieces and achieve some extreme progress with my story.

This piece is an illustration to a scene i wrote for two of the characters, Lanfor and Emile, called "Night Visitor". This was a scene of a reunion of two old friends. A bittersweet, yet a lovely work. Love both the written one as well as the illustration.

This one was more of a... Proof of concept. Needed to test out the expresiveness of the design for one or a relatively new characters - Covlar. Was originally a simple sketch on paper, but i couldn't resist the urge of making it into a complete illustration. I then proceeded to make a few notes for this scene. Both want to write it properly and avoid it at all cost... Best to avoid it, for my own sanity.

May

May was a bit of trainwreck, because i got a brand new laptop, which took me quite some time to get used to and even more time to reassure myself that it is in fact alright for me to draw on this suspicioiusly thin piece of tech.

Ironically enough, the only vomplete piece i drew that month was drawn on my old laptop. This screenshot redraw was to made to honour the premiere of AvA6 ep.1. Sadly, i did it a bit late because fo technical issues, but i still had a ton of fun doing it.

June

June was... Chaotic, to say the least. Mostly because i finally got comfortable with the new laptop and could now draw a lot more freely due to it being a lot more compact than the original one, which worked almost like a PC. Besides, i got a ton more free time because semester finals ended up being a breeze.

Ended up making a ton sketches and doodles, that i didn't actually plan to finish, but still enjoyed a ton. Here are some of them

Then, ofc, the memes and the gand redesign, because AvA6 just had to break all of my portrayals. But, i mean, after AvM s3 my original designs did become a bit dated.

The biggest pride and saddest of failures was this picnic piece, however. I still plan on finishing it, but it is hard doing so, when i have changed quite a bit of my artstyle by now.

July

July was quite lazy. Semester ended and i spent that entire month out of the city. It was a great time, very peaceul indeed.

And again, that musician friend from before came into clutch, asking me to develop another design for his other project. And again a villain. He said he really liked how i draw bastard type of characters.

August

Well this is where fun began. End of summer break means i have just this much time to actually draw something i would never have time to draw normally.

For me to draw something to commemorate a new episode is almost like a tradition at this point. And, given how long it's been since i made anything that would require effort, no wonder i have chosen arguably the most complex piece to pull off energy-wise. Yet i did and now i simply adore this piece, even if it did render me disabled. (I crunched through all of this piece, pulling off 40+ hours of work in just 4 days, so naturaly it ended up worsening my condition by a lot)

Then i also proceeded to do all of these tiny side projects, like Victim ask, which i couldn't last long at due to my condition, and working on a design for my favourite streamer. (Which i cannot show as the work is not complete an it's best if i avoid spoilers)

September and October

These two months i spent being unable to draw at all via a doctor's advice. Arguably, these two were the hardest months for me to handle.

I assume you can imagine how hard it is to suddenly stop being able to do what you love, regardless of how much you wish to do it.

Novemer

*Nervous laughter* I... actually still wasn't allowed to use my hand, but that didn't stop me and i ended up making an entire series of sketches to celebrate AvA6 ep2.

"Small in big quantity will sure be less exhausting than a single big thing" - (C) Me, proably

I will admit, i still adore all of these sketches and each of them deserves to become a fully fledged piece in it's own right, but i really better keep them as they are. For my own safety.

December

As you way have expected, this month will stay without a single thing from me. It's not because i don't want to, but because i can't. And, given the circumstance, it better stay that way.

Afterword

I finally got my diagnosis and soon enough i will start active treatment for my condition. It would be a shame to make this worse than it already is with impulses like those that happened in november, so i am making this post as a way to draw a line for myself.

It is still kinda crazy to realize that there are quite a few people interested in what i make, so i will make sure to take my recovery as responcible as possible, and then come back to you with even more art in the upcoming year! Let's be positive about it.

[pleasantlyinsincere]

May Pang, Sunday Mirror December 14, 1980

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH LENNON - I didn't steal her man - by Tony Frost

John Lennon's secret love has talked for the first time about her "beautiful and tender" affair with the tragic superstar.

Chinese beauty May Pang has fought back the tears and said: "I still can't believe he is dead. Now he is gone, I feel a part of me has died too." Lennon turned to May after breaking up with his Japanese wife Yoko Ono in 1973. They spent eighteen 'Idyllic' months together - living in Los Angeles for six months, then setting up a love-nest on New York's fashionable East Side, before Lennon eventually went back to Yoko.

Only a few close friends knew of Lennon's romance with May, who was once secretary to him and Yoko. The affair was deliberately concealed from fans.

May, 30 but looking ten years younger, overcame her grief at last week's assassination of the ex-Beatle to give me an exclusive interview at her Manhattan apartment. "They were such magical times", she said. "Thank God, no one can take away my precious memories. I count myself as a very lucky woman to have shared some of John's most tender moments, his private thoughts and, most of all, his love. John brought me more happiness than I could hope to find in a lifetime with another man."

May originally worked for apple, the Beatles recording company. She became very close to Yoko and helped her in women's lib campaigns. "I don't want to say anything that might be hurtful to Yoko", she said. "She was always very kind to me. I didn't steal her man - they had broken up before John and I became lovers. I know she is deeply upset, and my heart goes out to her. But I have shed as many tears as Yoko."

Last Monday night, when Mark Chapman pumped five bullets into Lennon outside his New York home, May was at a friend's flat half a mile away. "We had the radio on," said May. "The disc jockey suddenly interrupted saying 'John Lennon has been shot'. At first I thought it was some kind of a sick joke. The initial news flash said that John was wounded. A few minutes later it was announced that he was at the hospital being operated on. I began shuddering and held my breath. I prayed that it wasn't true, but the third bulletin revealed the awful truth - John was dead. I screamed hysterically for several minutes. I stayed in bed for two days, sobbing and just thinking of John. I couldn't eat or sleep - my body was so numb from shock."

TOO UPSET

"The only thing I managed to do was pull a call through to Yoko. One of her aides answered the phone, saying she was too upset to talk to me. I can understand her feelings. Perhaps she cannot forgive me for loving John as much as her, and I feel I have no right to intrude into her sorrow. I left a message that I would gladly to anything to help her or their little boy Sean."

May's flat is a shrine to Lennon. Two pictures that she took of John - one showing him shirtless on a beach in California, the other relaxing with ex-Beatles drummer Ringo Starr - take pride of place. A note that Ringo slipped through the door of their New York home is pinned on the wall. "Dear John and May, Popped round to see you. Will call again." May has all of Lennon'd records but her most treasured possession is a doodle he produced.

"He was talking about finding peace and tranquility in his twilight years," she said. "He sketched for several minutes and handed me a drawing of himself as a little old man. 'That's how I'll look, when I'm 64,' he told me."

Lennon obsessed with assassination during the early Beatlemania years, later curbed his fear of death. "His great desire was to grow old gracefully," said May. "Some people fear old age, but John actually looked forward to it."

May, who was nicknamed 'Mother superior' by Lennon because she loved to organise things at his recording sessions, now works for Rod Stewart's record company. She cuddled two pet cats as she told of the gentle side of Lennon.

"When he read about callous acts of violence throughout the world, he would take it all so personally. 'Guns are for cowboys in the movies,' he said. John wanted desperately to be accepted at the level of the ordinary man. He always shunned bodyguards, to avoid attention being drawn to him."

WITTY VERSES

In a magazine interview shortly before his death Lennon said he had sometimes beat up his women. "He was never like that with me," said May. "He was a kind, caring and gentle companion. We would often stay up until dawn discussing music and the world's problems. Sometimes as we lay in bed he would recite poetry - nothing heavy just little witty, amusing verses - or sing to me. He was a real romantic and I don't believe he was capable of hurting a fly."

Lennon's fling with May ended after he bumped into Yoko backstage at an Elton John concert in New York.

She suggested he should improve his health by cutting down on alcohol, losing weight and stopping smoking. An appointment was made for him to visit a hypnotist who treated heavy smokers. Friends say that after his first session in the hypnotist's chair Lennon walked "almost spell-bound" back to Yoko's flat. From then the two were inseperable.

"When John went back to Yoko I knew it was finished between us forever, because he was a loyal and honorable person", said May. He was faithful during our time together and since he returned to Yoko there was never any question of him looking at another woman."

The last time May spoke to Lennon was three years ago ata party at Regine's nightclub in New York. "He was very careful in his choice of words because Yoko never left his side," said May. "I believe he could sense that I had never stopped loving him. I will love him forever. There will always be a corner of my heart reserved for John Lennon.

Lennon's affair was observed by Chris Charlesworth, then American editor of Melody Maker.

Chris, 33, said in London: "He was obviously infatuated with May. Yoko thought it would be a short-lived fling while John sowed his wild oats. I don't think he could ever get Yoko out of his mind. He used to ring her every few days just to hear her voice."

Chris said: "Dying so young was something that never entered John's head. 'When I'm 64, Yoko and I will be a doddery old couple living in a tiny cottage in Ireland,' he said. "Yoko envisaged them growing all their own vegetable and milking a couple of goats every day."

Lennon gave the reason why the fab four could never perform together again.

He told Chris: "If we got our act together it wouldn't be as good as the old days. We're rusty old men." The world will now never know if he meant it.

[fateinthestars]

Star-Crossed Myth Fluffbruary Fanfic (22nd Feb): Treasure Hunt (Ichthys/ MC)

(A/N: I'm ever so slightly late with this for my timezone but I've really been wanting to at least attempt to write something to try and get back in tne flow. Then I prodded my Fluffbruary file and Ichthys to the rescue!)

Title: Treasure Hunt

Fandom: Star-Crossed Myth

Genre: Fluff

Rating: T

Pairing: Ichthys/MC (MC’s name left blank so you can fill it in with whatever you wish in your head)

Word Count: 1,087

Written for Prompt: February 22 : key | silly | quest for @fluffbruary

February 22nd: Treasure Hunt (Ichthys/ MC)

___ frowned a little to herself as she headed out of the Planetarium at the end of the working day. From what Ichthys had hinted at whilst she was at the mansion the night before she had been expecting him to be here but there was no sign of her boyfriend.

Maybe he'd just lost track of the time? If work was just busy he'd probably still sneak away to tell her even if he couldn’t stay. An emergency on the other hand… swallowing hard with worry, she was about to head to the mansion to find out what was happening when Hiyori called out to her.

___ turned sharply around, blinking as she saw her best friend had an envelope in her hand. “Hiyori? What’s that?”

“It fell out of your bag as you were leaving! It feels like there’s a key in here so I figured it’s probably too important to just keep safe until tomorrow…”

“But I didn't…” ___ trailed off as she saw the style of the writing on the front along with telltale small doodles of fish in the corners. “Oh! Ichthys must have slipped this into my bag last night…”

Hiyori smiled widely as she handed her the envelope. “Well if your boyfriend has a surprise planned it's probably even more important I got this to you. Talking of boyfriends I best be going…”

“Yeah. Thanks, Hiyori!” 

After waving goodbye, ___ turned her attention back to the envelope and blinked as part of the contents did indeed turn out to be a key. Holding it with puzzlement, she took out the other item in the envelope, a piece of folded paper. Unfolding it, ___’s expression changed into a rather exasperated but happy smile.

Why on Earth was she even worried for a second? Anything work related she would have heard about. Ichthys wasn't here because he’d set her a surprise up. She read carefully through the note once more:

‘This key will open your treasure but first you have to find it. No searching for clues on an empty stomach!’

Smiling brightly, ___ rushed off in the direction of the Taiyaki stand they often used. That had to be what this first clue meant. It seemed the other had set a treasure hunt up for her. She laughed softly to herself as she approached the stand and glanced around for any sign of another clue, sure that if she’d found this note at the mansion the others would have told her to ignore it. But even if this did turn out to be a prank, she was sure Ichthys would have a reason for it.

Her smile faded a little when she couldn't find anything, but then she recalled that the note had technically told her to eat first. Ordering a red bean paste Taiyaki, ___ was about to bite into it when she saw a corner of paper sticking out. She broke it in half instead and carefully removed the clue. She blinked. Yes the Gods had powers but how did Ichthys know the stall holder was going to give her this precise one? She glanced around in case he was nearby but she couldn’t see him.

‘Betcha wondering how I pulled this off! Well that'd be telling! Hey, have you filled that notebook up yet?’

___ laughed lightly and ate her Taiyaki quickly, before heading off once more. Seemed like all the clues were taking her to places that they had visited. A warm feeling welled up inside her, realising that Ichthys had seemingly remembered everything that they had done together, no matter how small.

***

Half a dozen more clues later, ___ sat down on a nearby bench to catch her breath. It was great to remember all the places they had been, and her earlier thought had been proved correct. No doubt if she had powers of her own, Ichthys would have even included the further away places. But time was getting on now and part of her wished that Ichthys was with her to enjoy this. He must have set this all up in advance as she was pretty certain if he was following he would have got too impatient to see her by now and broken the illusion that way.

A little tired, she lifted her leg to take her shoes off for a moment, and her eyes widened as a piece of paper floated slowly down as she removed the left one. Quickly she picked it up.

‘Missing me? Then use this cheat. It's fiiine. After all, there's no place like home.’

Home? Well she couldn't get to the Heavens without help from another God and she doubted Ichthys would want her to go to the mansion when they'd planned to have a date tonight. 

Realising he must mean her apartment and she would have found the ‘treasure’ if she'd simply headed home for the evening, ___ couldn't help but laugh. Deciding she would waste no more time clue hunting, she put her shoes back on before heading quickly home.

***

In her apartment, ___ was greeted by a huge box in the middle of the room. Eyeing it a little suspiciously, she eventually found a keyhole. Taking the key she had been given at the start of all this, ___ placed it in the lock and turned it.

The lid sprung open and hundreds of helium filled balloons floated upwards and stuck to her ceiling. 

Initially looking at them in trepidation due to the sheer amount and wondering how on earth she'd clear her apartment up of this mess, her eyes widened as she noticed they all contained different star constellations and were giving off their own light.

“This is so pretty… oh but… where is Ichthys?” ___ murmured to herself, her elated mood deflating slightly. This was indeed a treasure to her, but…

“Right here, silly!” Ichthys replied, jumping out of the present box and landing by her side, grinning widely. 

___ turned to face him and hugged him tightly. “What were you doing in there?”

“Huh? I told you in the first note didn't I? That the key would open your treasure!”

Initially confused, ___ then shoved him back playfully as he stuck out his tongue. “So when you said treasure…”

“I meant myself, obviously! The balloons were just something to add to the surprise!” Ichthys answered, smiling brightly.

“... And you called me the silly one?” ___ murmured softly, joking around with him, before pulling the other into a deep and loving kiss.

[megaawkwardhuman]

finally explaining the bunny thing!

ok I'm currently really board and stumbled upon an old sketch book and I've decided hey let's FINALLY explain why tf I draw wwdits characters as bunnies (cuz I know it's random as shit and I personally find the story behind my bunny art intresting)

so strap in cuz I'm going to write a lot for something I could probably sum up in two sentences

also small heads up a lot of drawn cartoon violence and blood ahead sooooooo :|

if you just want a short answer I draw these goofy looking bunnies cuz 1 it's fun 2 it's kinda a way to release stress and just a way to overall put myself in a better mood. at first I was drawing the same bunny getting kill/injured over and over again and now I draw characters I like as cute bunnies cuz it cheers me up and it's fun!

ok so I know that last part came out of nowhere but to explain a bit of how tf we got from point a to point b that let's go to the long answer

OK SO (wow I say ok so a lot sorry idk how else to start shit lol) THIS ALL STARTS SOMETIME AROUND EARLY 2022

well if you really get technical it all starts like late 2019 early 2020 when I first read a little comic called johnny the homicidal maniac then picks up in early 2022

in the comic there's a character called nail bunny which as the name kinda suggests is a dead bunny with a nail in it and I wanted to draw this character for whatever reason (I think I might have re read the comic? or I was just bored at the time idfk)

shortly after starting I gave up and instead doodled this:

why yes that was a heart and yes I did scribble all over it and stabbed it with a pencil for some reason? I kinda learned not to question past me at this point ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

so later that night I couldn't for the life of me sleep and idk why but I couldn't forget this bunny I drew so I pulled out my sketch book at the time and drew this:

(btw the little virgo simbol in the corner of some of these drawings was my signature at the time cuz it's my zodiac sign and I thought it looked neat)

and as the next day came and I talked to my friends over discord I STILL couldn't get this bunny out of my head so we gave her a name

this plush (yes despite bleeding this bunny and any bunny I draw is intended to be a plush bunny which is why I draw them with twinkies for arms and legs) bunny over here is named alexis (named after a friend who wanted the bunny to be named after her) and from that day onwards it was my goal to needlessly kill/injured her over and over in ridiculous ways

the story I created for this character to kinda justify it is that she gets killed/injured in ridiculous ways often (which is why I draw her with X eyes) cause her luck is just REALLY shitty and she just kinda accepts it all at this point ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

some of my favs from this time:

as times goes by I draw her less and less (cuz I shit you not I ran out of ideas) to the point where I kinda stopped drawing bunny art

jump to later in 2022 and after creating a pixel art shitpost which led to me learning pixel art (but that's another story for another time) I realized wait a minute I actually really like this but idfk what to draw

then I remembered alexis existed! so while chatting with a good friend of mine I asked how should I kill her this time (yes that's exactly what I asked he knew about the bunny thing tho) he said "dying peacefully in a hospital"

so like the great friend I am I decided to be a dick and drew this

this led to the creation of a new bunny character alexis's friend/roommate/idfk what they are anymore courtney!

courtney's little shory is she knows alexis, she has witnessed her die far too many times, and in later drawings she would gain the stare of a victorian child

no joke she looks like she saw her parents die of the plague

after asking the same friend what else to draw alexis doing I also created a zombie bunny but I didn't really draw them much

all of this sparked another wave of bunny art with like a few digital drawings but after a bit it went back to traditional but now with color!

some faves from this wave:

now ngl this next point is a blur but soon I would draw something that would change the course of history bunny art where bunnies AREN'T killed *gasp*

so apparently this happened earlier this year but it feels like it happened last year ngl

at this point I wasn't drawing bunnies AS much but I would doodle them every so often and for whatever reason I decided to draw stede and ed as bunnies (it might have to do with the fact that I'm not the greatest at drawing humans but idk)

and for a while it sat in a notebook with the only people I've shown it to being my irl friends

that is until the one year anniversary of this show when I decided to open up that pixel art website again and turn it into pixel art! (here's a link to the post tho I lowkey wanna redraw this since I don't like the way I drew the ears) and originally it was going to be the only bunny pixel art I was gonna do since it took a while and idk how I felt about the results

but then wwdits brainrot set in and I decided since I suck at drawing humans why not draw my boy guillermo as a bunny and the rest was history

ngl when my bunny art first for attention whenever I saw someone calling it cute in the back of my mind I would think hehehe this only exists cuz I would stop killing the same bunny over and over again

so now you know the history behind the art

yay but why?

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell

at the beginning it was just a fun little thing I did and I never gave it much thought. It wasn't until recently as I started to post it onto tumblr I ACTUALLY thought about my bunny art and to say it's just a fun thing to do doesn't really describe it as well as it used to. To me it grew to be MORE than that! it's a simple thing I could draw to mess with new mediums, it's a thing a can draw over and over again and not have to worry about how it turns out since even if I post it on here at the end of the day I'm mainly drawing it for myself, if I need to let off some steam I can draw alexis getting killed in a goofy way, and if I don't wanna draw alexis I can't just draw wwdits bunny stuff since that always cheers me up since it's hard to be upset while drawing plush bunnies (and trust me I've tried)

yeah I know this whole thing is kinda silly and honestly random as shit but this bunny art has a special place in my heart despite me only really doing it for a year

hell it's gotten to the point where I have a small list of rules I stick by whenever creating something bunny related and I have fucking bases I use whenever I'm drawing pixel art of a character as a bunny for the first time

why yes I am taking pastel bunnies far too seriously

I think the funniest thing is (and I think I've stated this before in the tags of a bunny drawing but I'll say it again) bunnies aren't even my favorite animal

that honor goes to frogs (bunnies are in the top five tho)

so this whole thing makes LESS sense if you take that into consideration but idk it's just fun

and at the end of the day that's really all I had to say but I wanted an excuse to talk about the history of this bunny bs lol

thanks for coming to another one of my TED talks and remember I swear I'm not crazy

[pierogish]

@lonlonranching thank you for tagging me!

I took so long because I couldn't make myself sit down and write, but something I discovered today made me want to talk about it:

currently listening: do we include music here? because today I found an album by Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp titled We're OK. But We're Lost Anyway. This day today honestly sucked and this was what literally revived me. Everything, from the song titles to fresh play with instrumental and vocals... small band that I am now a big fan of.

I mostly listen to music or various videoessays or podcasts while I am drawing. recently have been bonked on head with "philosophy tube" pretty hard. so I am in constant need of stuff to listen to and I want to check out magnus archives that you mentioned! I am in the mood for some horrors. There are some other horrors I am currently working on too,,

current obsession: drawing for the locked tomb, okay? I just made a few skeleton doodles in my textbook but it escalated quickly to me planning to draw every location and visualize magical and creepy ways of necromancy.. and the ladies ofc.. let's see how long I will last

other honorable mentions: grape & pineapple ice pops. ate two today while running around town at temperature over 40°C which is 104°F I guess? This is a torture, but these popsicles felt like the best thing I have ever put in my mouth. Cold green tea. Sports drinks that are lemon flavored. tomezeme's writing project and map for that world. mp100 always has my back as well. I can draw for any fandom I love but I always return to my moboblorbos.. In the evenings, swifts flying outside my window and very bright sunsets! (reason being hideously dusty air. yikes) Also, these cool handmade doorknobs I got in Germany. I wish I took picture of all of them in the basket, there were so many! They remind me of decor from Howl's moving castle a little.

currently reading: I am midway "Snow Flower and the Secret Fan" by Lisa See, recommended to me by my mom, which gives a look into women's life in 19th century China, and about a friendship of two girls, tied by a union called laotong. Often sad and disturbing, but interesting - though I am not sure that I am really enjoying the story itself.

currently watching: err, nothing much? But not in your sexy bookish way, but more like unable to concentrate on anything else besides drawing these days. Seriously, I would be so content with life where I just sit and draw most of the time, going on walks every day (somewhere where it's not so dusty and full of concrete..) or wait, like once a week we have a discord movie night with my friend and i'm showing samurai champloo to her..

choosing people to tag scares me so just please whoever sees this and wants to talk about stuff please do <3

[kaz-playz]

MEGA QUOTES POST.

Chaos.

~~~~

Maryland: Why do I always try to tell people we're cool? We are so very uncool.

~~~~

Iowa: If I ever had a child, I imagine they would be a lot like you. 
California: Aww, thanks— 
Iowa: Which is probably why I’ve never reproduced.

~~~~

Kentucky: If the thought of something makes any of you giggle for longer than 15 seconds, you are to assume you’re not allowed to do it.

~~~~

Massachusetts: Clownery. Tomfoolery. Absolute fuckery, I am going to revoke your life privileges.

~~~~

California: How high are you? 
Colorado: Mm, I don’t know how to say it in feet. 
Florida: No, they’re asking what drugs are you on. 
Colorado: Oh, antidepressants, why?

~~~~

Conneticut: When I met you I thought you were a real bitch. 
Illinois: What changed your mind? 
Conneticut: Oh, I still think you’re a bitch, I’ve just grown to like that about you.

~~~~

Conneticut: It’s time to turn this into a real business. 
Virginia: What do you mean? Like, carry a briefcase, and wear a tie, and pay taxes? 
New York: Wait, have you not been paying your taxes? 
Texas: I handle our accounting.

~~~~

Virginia: Are you trying to seduce me? 
Massachusetts: Why, are you seducible?

~~~~

Colorado: So oxygen went on a date with potassium, it went... OK. 
Louisiana: I thought oxygen was dating magnesium, OMG. 
Colorado: Actually oxygen first asked nitrogen out, but nitrogen was all like NO. 
Illinois: I thought oxygen had that double bond with the hydrogen twins. 
Florida: Looks like someone's a HO. 
Louisiana: NaBrO. 
Maryland: I'm done with all of you!

~~~~

Georgia: Tell them to eat shit, Alaska. 
Alaska: Tell them yourself. 
Georgia: Eat shit, asshole. Fall off your horse.

~~~~

Pennsylvania: Regular soda is too sweet! 
Colorado: Diet soda has a weird after taste! 
Pennsylvania: No! Ugh, oh my god. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn't have sugar! It's SPICY! 
Colorado: It has other weird stuff in it! I'll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda! 
Pennsylvania: It's SO SWEET like it's a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink! 
Colorado: I'm going to physically attack you. 
Pennsylvania: Which is better, Iowa? 
Iowa: Oh, I usually drink water! 
Colorado: Wha- NO! 
Pennsylvania: DISGUSTING!

~~~~

Colorado: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like Conneticut a little bit. 
Montana, holding Colorado's notepad: You doodled your wedding invitation. 
Colorado: No, that's our joint tombstone. 
Montana: My mistake.

~~~~

Maine: We both look very handsome tonight. 
Texas: You know, if you'd just said that I looked handsome, I would have said, "So do you." 
Maine: I couldn't take that chance.

~~~~

Florida: Can I bother you for a second? 
Alaska: You're always bothering me, but go ahead.

~~~~

Indiana: My friends say I'm the most charismatic out of the group. 
New York: Well, you always have a smile on your face. 
Indiana: Thank you. 
New York: 
New York: What drugs do you take?

~~~~

Pennsylvania: What’s the dumbest thing you believed as a child? 
Alaska: That naptime was a punishment.

~~~~

California: I love murder mysteries! 
Gov, trying to impress them: I've been a suspect in four murder cases.

~~~~

Massachusetts: Don’t weep for the stupid. You’ll be crying all day.

~~~~

Florida: I don’t remember that. 
Texas: Do you remember that night last week when you slept in a revolving door? 
Florida: ...No. 
Texas: Okay, do you remember when you were chased by those wild dogs for two miles? 
Florida: Not especially, no. 
Texas: It was in between those two things.

~~~~

Gov: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming? 
Maine: Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"? 
California: Ya know... it might be.

~~~~

*Pennsylvania is fighting a monster* 
Indiana: Just stay calm! You already have everything you need to beat it! 
Pennsylvania: The power to believe in myself!? 
Pennsylvania: No, a knife! Stab it!

~~~~

Iowa: What are amphetamines? 
California: Drugs that can go on land and water. 
Iowa: Ohhhh.

~~~~

Illinois: *walks to cabinet, removes oreo box, takes half a sleeve, throws empty box out* Hi! 
Indiana: Hey- what are you doing-? 
Illinois, shoving an oreo into their mouth: I am saving space :D

~~~~

Pennsylvania: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire?? 
Virginia: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔 
Texas: Why were you microwaving a lemon??? 
Virginia: I read boiling lemons helps cover up up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges) but I didn't own any pots. 
Maryland: Did you burn an orange too? How??? 
Virginia: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

~~~~

Alaska: Wow! Maryland made you cry? 
Maine, tearing up: Yes, and they said some really mean things that are only partly true.

~~~~

Pennsylvania: Maine, those tarot card readers know what they're doing! Think of Iowa, they're so smart! 
Maine: Those are suggestions! They're not- 
Pennsylvania: Iowa knew things, Iowa knew things! 
Maine: I don't think tarot cards told them that, though! I think if you just shotgun blast things into the air, saying you think you know things, then you're bound to hit one of them! 
Pennsylvania: I don't like thinking about it like that. They're just brilliant. 
Maine: Well, they are brilliant! But- 
Pennsylvania: And they saw into the future, and they're basically a god. 
Maine: ... 
Maine: They aren't.

~~~~

Georgia, shooing Gov away: Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area.

~~~~

Pennsylvania: Are you drunk? 
Conneticut: Only on the spirit of Christmas! 
Alaska: And the spirit of whisky.

~~~~

Illinois, trying to comfort Alaska: What's the problem? Anxiety? Low self-esteem? Obsessive thoughts of random arson? I've been there.