#i have had this drawing for weeks trying to doodle fic it but nothing i wrote settled correctly in my bones

[deathtodickens]

Temptation is a dream to which Conscience has lost herself far too many times. Far far too many times.

[hwaightme]

GUY.exe

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

✏️ pairing: yunho x gn!reader ✏️ genre: fluff, crack, friends? to lovers, drawing? to lover ✏️ summary: you never expected for the character you designed for the newest dating simulator to be quite as realistic as this ✏️ wordcount: 5.0k ✏️ warnings/tags: questionable editing, unhinged crack galore, fever dream, digital artist / designer reader, shy boy best friend yunho, lowkey referencing the song the fic is named after (GUY.exe by SUP3RFRUIT) ✏️ taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ ✏️ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE MY NADIA @justhere4kpop !!! you are the kindest, funniest, sweetest person ever, i love you so so much and i am so grateful for every day because it means i can spend it with you <3 wishing you the best day, all the most amazing things, experiences, achievements and more!!

Another hour more, and you were going to scream. Hunched over your drawing tablet with bloodshot eyes and a cramping hand, you had been drawing and redrawing what seemed to be the same thing over and over again. But nothing gave you that magical feeling of completion and rightness when the abstract lines and shapes and shadows and doodles all came together on a page to form one whole. What you were experiencing was, in fact, very much the opposite. All because of these damn dumb brown doe eyes that you had decided to give to the character. Of course. What other eyes could the golden retriever type have, right? What other kinds of eyes would your boss approve of for the established archetype, the persona that you had ideated, storyboarded and proposed not only in front of your immediate team but also to senior management? That was right. None. No other. Only these doe eyes that you had been staring at and cursing profusely for the last four hours after having promised yourself that you would try to get to bed at ten in the evening instead of the less-than encouraging past midnight madness. But who were you kidding? 

Setting down the pen, you leaned back to stretch, hearing random joints crack and echo around your body, making you wonder if you have even been moving at all for the past few weeks. Having the opportunity to work from home during fast-paced sprints was, of course, a big benefit, but all too often for you, it also meant only ever walking from your home office to your kitchen and back, with the occasional bathroom break and a flop onto the armchair you had dragged into your office for designated social media scrolling time. Gone from the world, with your friends having nicknamed you an e-hermit in not one, but two separate chats. Zoned out and barely hanging onto the words spewed by your superiors, much like the rest of your fellow designers working on this same project, be it other characters, setting, clothing customisation options, accessories, or special items… as the main project lead, boss of the bosses had said: ‘whatever the user wishes for, should be there’. Who knew that a dating simulator could be that intense and demanding? 

Your drawing tablet was glaring at you, and so were the eyes on its screen, doubled onto your monitor watching your every movement like a painting at a museum would. They were meant to be kind and loving, crafted to complete the sunshine that this character was supposed to be, but the slightest misses in the lines were throwing the image off-kilter, and you could not pinpoint what was wrong. Reaching out for the now lukewarm cup of coffee off to the side of your desk, narrowly avoiding the clutter of sketches and notes you had made, you heaved a sigh, pondering if it would be the wisest to simply resign yourself to abandoning the task for today, and pick it up at work tomorrow. It was not like you would be punished for having the eyes be slightly off during an update meeting, after all, this was an ongoing process. But the perfectionist part of you was not letting go. You had managed to ideally depict everything else - the toned, tall physique with the stunning waist, torso and broad shoulders, the cheeks that made you feel a strong cute aggression, the tousled locks that could then be customised by a player’s colour preference, every other feature of the face that screamed ‘handsome’ and ‘appealing’... you did it all, and you would not be yourself if you could not overcome this little blip.

“One more try…” you whispered to yourself and searched for the file on your computer that contained a user story and profile of the character you had been agonising over. 

One click, another, and the document was up on the screen, revealing an initial concept sketch that you had made when you first proposed the man as a possible love interest for the main character in the simulator, as well as any facts about him, now being even further developed by the story-writers. Page after page, update after update the character in some ways felt more real than you, especially in your current deflated state. A gentleman, a sentimental soul, with what your colleague had called ‘four-dimensional’ traits and overall a funny, adorable sweetheart who at the click of a finger can turn into the sexiest man alive. There was nothing you did not like - aside from some details here and there that you were not sure who added but they had been approved so you had to deal with it, and that was problematic for your work since it meant that you were in the permanent state of wanting to do the character justice. You scrolled back up, starting at the brief, staring at the name as if it wasn’t already imprinted in your mind. Jeong Yunho. 

The dance instructor and choreographer. The talented and hardworking man who the main character would meet third, on her eighth day in Seoul. Born on the twenty-third of March nineteen ninety-nine in the city of Gwangju, moving to Seoul to chase his dreams and fight for them. Special talents… skills… favourite phrases… preferences… key memories… you read on, re-absorbing the details and rearranging them on imaginary shelves, trying to make sense of the information in the context of character design. How were you going to depict all of this in a pair of eyes? A part of you was confident that you were overthinking - actually, you definitely were. Not a single other designer was on Yunho's creation, and developers were going to look at him not as a persona, as a representation of a being that had become real in your mind, but as a task to execute, lines of code to make him move in predetermined ways, make him talks in predetermined ways, smile… yes, you were excited to see him be just that bit more alive, but at the same time, you were afraid of that moment - it would be right then that the world you had subconsciously built for you and him alone would be shattered, and your daydreams dispelled, maybe even crushed. So, getting the eyes perfect right now was the least you could do. At least your Yunho would be perfect.

Swearing under your breath, you picked up the pen once more and twirled it once around your fingers. His personality was fresh on your mind, heart racing, you could almost imagine him in front of you. With a final nod of encouragement, you dived back in, with more vigour and motivation than before, determined to get Yunho right, and to depict him how he truly was, how you knew he should be. The time ticked past, and so did the layers of doubt. Erasing themselves along with strokes of the digital brushes that dissatisfied you, you were unveiling the true character, and with a light heart, a smile on your face and a saved file, leaned onto your desk and rested your head on your crossed arms, just for a quick break to relish in the fact that you finally achieved the look that you had been searching for…

“Hey, good morning you worker bee, what did I tell you about sleeping at your desk?”

You never thought you could yell, right after waking up, as loud as you did at that moment. Jolting up from your seat, forgetting all the papers, equipment and stationery that was strewn about on the table on which you had been dozing, you bolted away from the source of the voice. It had resounded far too close to you for comfort, belonged to no one whom you knew, and was dangerously sweet and slightly lower-set. Pleasant. But who the hell was in your apartment and how did they break in when you almost always double-locked your door? After building up a bit of distance, you finally looked up and rubbed the last bits of sleep from your eyes. The figure was lean, toned, considerably tall, perhaps even very tall, definitely a man, with dark hair and a face that was a bit too similar to-

Jeong Yunho. Jaw-dropping, you darted back to your tablet and computer, practically shaking the mouse, forcing the entire digital system to begrudgingly awaken at your command. You searched everywhere. The open file, others, older versions… nothing. No luck in finding what you had been working on. It was as if the Yunho you had been spending weeks developing had never existed, and all that you were left with and were staring at was a blank page, and the character, no, a whole man, right in front of you, supposedly living, breathing and in your room. You stood up straight, giving the not-quite-a-stranger but still a stranger a once over, while he, confused, had an eyebrow raised and a sheepish smile on his face. He looked adorable that way. Abashed to the point of cuteness - you recalled a game developer on your team describing the planned emotional response functionality in that way; it had been a hit, and now you were seeing, in person, why. 

“Y-Yunho?” you whispered in disbelief, a hand hovering over your mouth while you were wondering whether you should officially report yourself to your boss for having succumbed to the delusions. Relief flashed over the beautiful man’s features when you mentioned his name, timidly, yes, but still, it was his name that you uttered.

“Yes, Y/N, that’s me, hey, don’t worry.”

“Y/N?” He knew your name. This was too real - a shriek erupted from what felt like the depths of your soul, and you shut your eyes, only to open them again and to see the same picture, but a little more zoomed in. He was approaching you. Code red, alert, alert, hot man of your dreams who you had been drawing all the time and were effectively being paid to thirst over was approaching you.

“Do you not remember me or something, are you okay? See I keep telling you to not sleep so late, it’s bad for you-”

“Look who’s talking, mister ‘time to text at two in the morning’,” It was a shot in the dark, a random recollection of facts that had been noted about Yunho, but that was true, since he stopped immediately, a dazzling smile on his face.

“Alright, alright, you got me. But hey, you answer me so we are in this together, right?” he countered, and winked. 

“Yeah… and I should stop drinking coffee that late, it gives me some cursed… abilities…” you concluded cryptically, though Yunho did not seem to care much about the wording, taking it as your account of how easily you had been spooked by him.

After the initial wave of ‘stranger danger’ had subsided, instead being replaced by the odd conviction that the man before you truly was just the representation of the character for the simulator, you crossed your arms and regarded him more slowly, calmly while he approached the book cabinet that was filled to the brim with manga, manhwa, figurines, dolls, action figures… effectively the best representation of what had inspired you and continued to drive you to do what you were doing in your life now. He was dressed casually, in a zip-up grey hoodie and dark grey jeans. He had taken off his shoes and was in black socks that he stuffed into a pair of slippers - so in this reality, Yunho clearly was a regular guest. Scratching the back of your head, you wondered if this was a storyline that had been updated and you were unknowingly hallucinating.

“Well, uh, if you… if you want me to come by another time I don’t mind. Whatever works best for you…”

Oh. It finally clicked in your head, and your heart fluttered. The moment was stark and aching in your mind, and you were barely able to contain yourself, the subconscious fangirl in you fully awakening. The light flush of pink on his cheeks, those damn doe eyes that were so perfect, and were now looking right at you as if you were Yunho’s entire world, it was all a telltale sign for what was to happen later, and the past disappointment at having been woken up and having no more documents to present evaporated. This was another life, it had to be. One where you did not have to worry about the endless story points, bi-weekly sprints and one deliverable after another. Only a very precious Yunho who, while toying with the sleeve of his hoodie was pondering if he was even welcome.

“Hey! No, we were planning to hang out and we are going to. Sorry, you know how work is and it got to me this time. What shall we do then? Go out, stay in?” you amplified your sociability, putting the fantastical aspect of the circumstances on the back burner for future pondering.

Laying down the pen that you had absent-mindedly grabbed for self-defence, you stepped around the desk and towards Yunho, never once breaking the visual exchange, except when his gaze darted to the floor under your intensity. You had the advantage after all, of knowledge. You could sense, and could confirm by your universe, what exactly was going to happen. He was pretending to not be affected by your closeness, looking at the cabinet again, though the tone in which he spoke was vulnerable, every bit the dream guy you were imagining all this time. You could barely resist the urge to pinch his cheek - in fact, you made a mental note to yourself to check if that was a playable option in the game or not.

“Can we… stay in?”

“Take out?” if there was something you would not quite let him do, it would be to give him full power over the kitchen. Perhaps another time, but not when the dream was so magnificent.

“You bet! I’m buying this time-”

“Yun, c’mon.”

“Technically I am still the guest.”

“You are much more than a guest-” a pause, a blur within which Yunho was attempting to pick out the meaning behind the words which you had purposefully left to be ambiguous, just to mess with him a little bit. It was too sweet, “I mean, you practically live here at this point,” he groaned and playfully rolled his eyes while continuing to tap in the order to what was for sure meant to be your favourite restaurant in the neighbourhood.

You followed him into your living room. Everything was just as you had left it. Even Yunho’s presence was beginning to feel natural, probably because it had already been pretty much just as constant as him now physically falling onto the couch and leaning back to stretch an arm out over the back of it. Hell, you had even spent some evenings sketching him in this same room. As you settled beside him, while still keeping a little bit of distance - just as friends who were feeling not quite platonic would do, you realised that indeed, you were that close. You did know him ‘since forever’, and whatever this fever dream was, you had every right to enjoy it. So upon pulling your legs onto the couch and under you, you settled in and with a soft sigh began to set up the movie you were going to watch. Just like you and Yunho would do had he been an actual interest of yours.

As the food arrived and was promptly devoured, and you were midway through the film, you found Yunho slowly but surely gravitating towards you. First, it was with an outstretched hand when he was trying to imitate a character on the screen, then with him sitting ever so slightly closer when there was supposedly a ‘spooky moment’ even though you knew full well that out of the two of you, you were the one who would not dare enter a haunted house again, and finally, under the pretence of ‘wanting to show you a funny meme on his phone’ he sat right next to you, thighs flush against each other, arm resting on the sofa right behind your head. You could not help but lean into the warmth, attracted to it, comforted. You knew Yunho inside and out, and if there was anyone who you would trust like this, it would be him. He had seen you at your worst - crying in the office bathrooms when during your early days at the company you had been humiliated by your old boss (who, thankfully, had been promptly fired), and had seen you at your best - your award-winning presentation and proof of concept for an innovative life simulation game, selected as a showpiece for the company at a major global conference. He was always there. Be it on your phone, in a sketchbook, or on your laptop - he was always there, cheering you on. There was no difference between then and now, except that now you could allow your head to rest against his broad chest, hearing the soothing beating of his heart behind the cotton fabrics, feeling how his hand dropped to trace random, intricate shapes on your shoulder while his eyes stayed glued to the television screen. 

You could sense that he was afraid to look at you, or at least of what he would think or do if he were to do so. He was warm. Very warm. Maybe too warm. You looked up, noting the adorable redness of his ears that appeared only in particular instances: either he just woke up from deep sleep which was not the case, or he had violently shaken his head and rubbed his ears - another no, or he was embarrassed and shy. Bingo. There it was. You nuzzled against him and swore you could feel his entire body stiffen. Just like when a cat makes a person ‘ the chosen one’ by lying on their lap and said person almost forgets to breathe, you nearly knocked consciousness out of Yunho, it seemed.

“What’s up?” you mumbled, noting that Yunho straightened his back, sitting in an unnatural position.

“I, uh, nothing, it’s nothing,” he responded, clearing his throat, still not daring to look to the side to face you. 

A pause. That was his character - you nodded to yourself. He had always been like this. Sympathy through the roof but when it came to his openness - he far from often strayed into that field. It would take quite a bit of coaxing, or, somehow easier, waiting for the right moment. So wait you did, comfortably resting against Yunho, insistent that he return to his previously unwinded state. Before you could snake your hand around him to pull his hood up, your friend suddenly shot up, mumbling something about it being too stuffy, or too hot, and tugged the article of clothing off.

All would be fine and dandy if he was not built how he was - and you knew it better than anyone, however strange it was to admit. After all, you had been the one to pick and sketch out his physique, knowing every muscle, curve and edge. As he fumbled with the sleeves, you took in his form, mouth agape as you saw what you had only perceived two-dimensionally, now in live action, and somehow being the one case of where the transition was impeccable if not better. If he were to turn at any moment, he would bear witness to your disturbingly dedicated scrutiny. But at the same time, what could a digital artist and designer do when a handsome man was right before them? Exactly. It was practically a duty to perceive; if not for personal interests (which you would be a liar if you were to say you did not have them), then at least for science. He looked too good in the dark grey graphic t-shirt, which, despite it being slightly oversize, did its beautiful work by revealing his perfectly toned arms. When you noticed him being in the process of turning back, you peeled your gaze away and back to the movie, not sure where in the storyline you even were, nor what the actors were saying. Patting the space next to you, you beckoned Yunho back. This time, he was calmer in his demeanour, falling back and letting you fall into him, with him, for him - and he was right there to catch you. 

Action scene after action scene turned into a blur, dialogue was static that you were not bothered to discern while you focused on Yunho’s breathing. Shallower than before, but still comforting. Who would have thought that you would be cuddling with your dream man when a mere few hours ago you were holed up behind your desk, with a cramped and stiff neck, an exhausted hand and equally tired eyes? Eyelids grew heavier, and you wondered if it would be long before you would fall asleep again, and wake up alone, as usual; a bitter smile settled on your lips when the realisation hit you, earning you a perplexed glance from Yunho and a poke in your side.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Definitely something, he turned to you, studying your every movement. The action led him to detangle himself from you, leading you to shiver a little from the lack of his body heat, “ah wait are you cold now? I- wait, here, hoodie?”

“Thanks.”

Him. In every thread. The scent of clean laundry, cotton, and fabric softener. There was something so magical in it, soothing. You wanted to float in the aroma and this moment forever. Pulling the hoodie tighter around you, you pretended to not notice the adoration that was blatantly obvious in Yunho’s expression. He watched as you pushed up the sleeves a little bit, crossed your legs and looked back at him.  Your friend, your muse and subject was nervous, and it did not need a trained professional to figure it out. The tale was climbing to a peak, and the main characters had to face it together. You waited for him, mellowness across your features as you played with one of the hoodie’s drawstrings.

Yunho looked at you, and something about the purity, and hopefulness within him made you think of the very first drawings you had made on post-its in the middle of a conference. Bored out of your mind, your mind wandered back to pondering the new project you had been assigned - the dating simulator. Idea after idea had been proposed for the characters, but not a single one stuck. Everyone was at a standstill until he came along. A breathtaking blessing, just like he was now. Silence settled like snow, only to be broken by a short hum, and Yunho taking the risk you had been wishing for.

“I… I know it has only been a few months but… I really don’t think I can be friends with you anymore, Y/N,” you tilted your head as he put his hands on his lap, fingers repeatedly messing with the material of his sweatpants - his attempt to soothe himself. You, on the other hand, were oddly calm. Simply waiting for the events to unfold and for you to embrace them with the fullest heart. While he was searching for the right words to say, you placed a hand over his, waking him from rumination. A weak smile was replaced by determination, truth spilling from his soul.

“I like you too much. Really. I would not be able to keep my distance even if I tried.”

“Well I think you are a bit too far away right now, Yun,” with a wave of boldness having washed over you, you acted on instinct, leaning towards the beautiful, infinitely precious man until he could not look away, captivated by your proximity, your glimmering eyes, your acceptance.

“Huh?” the sound was barely audible, an echo lost to the tension. You ran a finger over his jawline, instantly seeing his expression darken with another reverberating, deep sensation.

“We should seal the deal, shouldn’t we?” remaining cryptic, you inched closer and closer until you could pick apart the flicks of lighter mahogany in those stunning irises - you wanted to shake your hand for having persevered to finish them in the drawing. Truly, one of a kind.

“What-”

“Oh just kiss me already-”

That phrase you did not need to tell Yunho twice. Finally catching on, he was the first to destroy the distance between you, capturing your lips with his and letting his hand find purchase in your hair, digits running through it, caressing you, guiding you into a shared rhythm. He was as sweet as vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. An intoxicating, ecstatically overwhelming daze that consumed you whole. You saw the sketches flash before you, burning one by one to fuel the desire building for Yunho, for you, for the two of you together. It felt right, it felt real. Arms over his shoulders, you allowed him to pull you into his lap, embrace you and pepper the softest kisses on your cheeks, and your neck, finding the path back to your lips. You felt more alive than ever with the electricity coursing through your newfound intimacy. Nothing existed. This universe was Yunho, and you could not be happier. Better than in any story that you or your co-workers could develop, better than in any fairytale, the oddity transformed into eternity. This was a dream you wanted to remain in for as long as you-

Saying it was hard to wake up was an understatement. Your entire body had been aching from having fallen asleep in an awkward position over your drawing tablet, you had slept past your alarms and as such had only fifteen minutes to cram getting ready and leaving for the office, and upon checking your schedule you had the ‘pleasure’ of having three more meetings being crammed into it, reducing your lunch break to what was a near null. With a sigh, you moved away from your space, dragging your tired body to your first official interaction of the day after having sat at your desk for a couple of hours, already dreading it. The new CEO - whoever they were, was the ‘I want to know all the details and be one with the teams’ type, how joyful, you wondered how long that would last. 

It was hard to find the motivation, especially after a dream such as yours. It kept on revolving in your head, pressing down on you, making you reminisce the gentle caresses, the sweet words and actions, the delightful kiss that you had managed to just have the time to experience with Yunho. You were seeing your character in an entirely new light, already having reworked some ideas for the possible special event outfits and spammed your close colleagues who were working on the storyline with some ideas about how Yunho could have even better depth and as such, engagement from prospective users. Perhaps for this meeting with authority you just needed to tap into your delusions and it would be good enough - at least they were productive for once. 

While you were setting up the presentation, the rest of your immediate team began to file in, giving you excited waves that you returned with an unprecedented warmth. Pleasant chatter, discussion of possibility, mention of just how special it was that this dating simulator game project was the one the CEO had chosen to see today… you were feeling confident. Whoever this person was going to be, you were going to give your best and-

The door opened. Heads turned. Greetings, bows - all forms of politeness that could be expressed being delivered. People standing up, while you stood up taller by the board, the title slide behind you. You raised your head, only for time to slow down and freeze entirely. Your hold on the clicker tightened, and the only person aside from you who existed at that moment was the newcomer. The CEO. Greeting others with a smile and with equally as elegant bows. Every bit the gentleman in his tailored suit, hair swept back and impeccably styled. Jeong Yunho.

This had to be some kind of joke, right? Was this a dream? The stinging remaining after you pinched your arm slapped you back into reality. No. This Yunho was definitely real. But who was the one you-... the one you started dating? The one who you were way more than colleagues or friends with? Before your mind could accelerate into panicked rumination, his gaze stopped at you, and you could sense everyone else’s attention drift to you too. You were under his spotlight. Melting under what was nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“L/N Y/N, right? I heard a lot about you,” his grin was making you dizzy, memories of his taste resurfacing and sending heat to your cheeks, giving them a light dusting of pink.

“Good things, I hope?” you managed, he chuckled, and sent you a wink before sitting down on his chair.

“The best. I am really looking forward to this,” a playful tease.

“Glad to know this.”

“I heard you made quite a few new developments, how did that happen?” you knew what he was getting at, and that made you feel secure. So it was the same Yunho. That precious Yunho who had confessed to you, the one who had come to life and was now part of yours, by some odd twist of fate had appeared in your company, and was now right in front of you, eager and in love. You smirked while twisting to check the slide one last time, well aware that his only focus ever would be you.

“Came to me in a dream.”

✏️ perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @/justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @cromerteez @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnmepls @pyeonghongrie-main @archivesummer @little-angel-k @marsstarxhwa

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a kind reblog, much love!

[hazybisou]

ONE CHANCE

fic

reader x mark estapa

summary: for weeks, mark has been trying to get y/n to go out with him but he always got a ‘no’. that all changes one night when she admits she’s developed feelings for him after a game.

a/n: literally i got like four drafts rn so have patience with your girl here

you had been sitting in the same spot for 43 minutes and 32 seconds but who’s counting? obviously, you were. as much as you enjoyed your intro to business course, you were tired and were just yearning to go to your apartment. the idea of lying in bed and doing nothing but binge-watch “New Girl” and cuddling up into your blanket was sounding very, very tempting to you. god wasn’t on your side today.

you finished up taking the final bit of notes you needed before you closed your notebook with a sigh of relief. there was approximately 12 minutes left of class and then you’d be free. to kill time you had begun to scroll through instagram.

at the beginning of the year, your professor had gone over the rules and expectations. one of them included how if you were to finish early, for the reminder of class you could just hang out till you were dismissed as long as you wouldn’t distract your peers.

eventually you got tired of instagram which is when you switched to doodling on the back of your notebook. it was quite relaxing actually. to be able to do whatever you pleased. in between classes, you has always loved going into the courtyard and sitting under a tree, whether it be listening to music or drawing, you had found that time to be peaceful. just like now.

in the midst of sketching a rose, you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned your head and were met with four grinning faces: johnny druskinis, luca fantilli, luke hughes, and mark estapa. they were known around campus for playing for umich’s mens ice hockey team. to many, they were considered to be royalty, but to you? they were just a bunch of childish men who thought way too much of themselves. so what could they want with you?

“can i help you?” you asked, clearly annoyed with the situation already. the boys all looked at each other before they all spoke in unison, “yes.”

“okay…what is it that you need?”

mark was the first to speak, “for you to go out with me.”

silence.

you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. why the hell would some guy you barely talked to ever would want to go out with you? it made no sense. the most you’ve ever spoken to him was during your first semester and it was only to ask if you could borrow a pencil. even then, he wasn’t this weird.

“you’re kidding, right?” you really hoped they were. you hoped that this was all some sick joke.

he just shook his head, “no, i’m not.”

you squinted you eyes at him before slowly turning around and getting back to you drawing.

the fours boys looked at each other once again before one of them asked, “sooo is that a yes?” it was luke.

you turned your upper body toward them. “why are you asking me to go on a date with you if we’ve barely ever talked?” it's a valid question. no one goes up to a girl they’ve never had an interaction with before and just blatantly asks them out. unless you’re a cocky son of a bitch but other than that it has never happened.

“well first of all, i think you’re a nice person and second of all, you’re cute. ” mark stated.

you just stared at him for a good minute before turning around again. you tried to convince yourself that, that last comment he made hadn’t made you blush, but you could feel your cheeks get hot. “no.”

mark’s eyebrows furrowed before he turned to his teammates, “what do i do now? she said no.” you were still able to hear them but blocked them out as you continued to sketch the petals of the rose.

“man i don’t know! i’ve never had a girl reject me before, what do you want me to tell you?!” luca whispered-shouted and mark just rolled his eyes before turning back to you.

he had leaned forward and was right at your ear. “oh cmon, i’m not that bad of a person.”

you put your pencil down and just stared ahead before answering. “my answer’s still no,” you turned your head and that’s when you realized how close you were. you couldn’t help but feel the heat creep up to your cheeks.

mark had noticed as he had a small smile plastered on his face. “please?” he begged like a little kid when they wanted something.

“you just won’t give up will you?” you knew he would keep pestering you about it until you’d yes but that’s not like you. you weren’t going to go out with some random guy you just met and expect it to go good. you wanna go out with someone who you know and have had moments with. and mark hadn’t checked either of those boxes.

“nope.”

you just smiled before turning around. your professor had dismissed the class and you quickly picked up before walking out of there and heading to you apartment, wanting to forget about what had just happened.

he was cute but that’s all you had to say about him.

━━━━━━━━━━

it was finals week and you had a huge exam coming up. every chance you got, you’d be going over your notes, reading your textbook, highlighting and writing more notes down. it was a pain in the ass. which is why currently, you were sitting at a table booth in the far corner at some cafe near campus.

you had your headphones on, listening to your playlist you had created for occasions like this. you were singing the lyrics to yourself, not wanting to make so much noise as you were in public and it’d be embarrassing if someone had heard you sing. you were in the middle of highlighting a paragraph when you felt the cushion dip, signaling someone had sat next to you.

you grab your headphones and wrapped them around your neck as you turned to face the perosn who had decided to sit next to you.

it was mark.

you had no idea why you were even surprised. for the past month, he had been trying to get you to go on a date with him. always sitting near you in class, passing you notes as if you were in high school again and sometimes, he would even leave a flower bouquet on your doorstep with a little note. it always said something along the lines of, ‘beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl -mark’ and if you were to be honest, it made you feel something inside.

you tilted your head a bit as you looked at him in confusion. “what are you doing estapa?” you already knew the answer to your question. normally, you’d want the conversation between the two of you to end the second he’d start talking to you but today you felt like talking to him like you would with anyone else.

“sitting down to talk to you,” he answered before scooting closer and leaning forward to look at why you had been doing. he just raised an eyebrow before he leaned back to look at you. “finals?”

“yeah, it’s been a pain in my ass recently and if i don’t pass this upcoming test, my life is practically over” you remarked as you gestured to your stuff laid out over the table. “it’s just been a stressful week and i’ve barely has time to do anything but study.”

mark only smiled. “i know something that can relieve the stress.” mark noticed how you perked up at the statement.

“oh, please! literally anything would help all my worries go away.”

“tomorrow night, go out with me.” mark inquired. you should’ve seen it coming. at this point all conversations with mark had ended in him asking you out and you giving him the answer, ‘no’.

you sighed as you put your head in your hands. “mark,�� you stopped yourself before you could go any further.

mark had turned his body towards you, “oh cmon y/n. just one chance, i’ll make it worth your while.”

“i can’t. i have to study and you should be doing the same.” you said as you picked up your highlighter again and began to resume your reading.

mark rolled his eyes at the mention of studying. “all you do is study. you know you’re allowed to go out at times, right?”

you ignored his comments and spoke up, “my answer’s no.”

“i won’t stop until you say yes.”

“then i guess you’ll be trying for a while.” you shot him a fake smile before returning to your reading.

he only shrugged, “that’s fine by me,” and with that he slid out of the booth and headed out.

what is it with this boy and insisting on taking you out? surely it was all a joke, a bet even, between his friends if he could get you to agree to go on a date with him or not. it had to be a joke.

━━━━━━━━━━

it was friday night meaning you had finished all your exams and were happily laying in bed, wanting to relax. you had ‘New Girl’ on and you were enjoying every second of it until your roommate aka your best friend, natalie, had barged into your room. you were pretty sure the door knob had left a hole in the wall.

“get up hoe, we have places to be.” she exclaimed as she began to raid your closet.

you sat up as you stared at her like she were a mad man. “what do you mean, ‘we have places to be’” you began thinking, trying to remember if you had something important to attend to. “did i forget about us having plans or something because i don’t-”

“no, we didn’t have plans but now we do. so get your ass out of bed and start getting ready.” she ushered you into the bathroom and she handed you a pair of light washed jeans, a white tank top and a maize zip up with a michigan beanie. now you were really confused.

natalie had taken out your makeup bag and began to take out your mascara, lip gloss, blush and many other things you didn’t even know you had. you grabbed her hands making her turn towards you. “where are we going?”

“to a hockey game.”

she can’t be serious.

“you can’t be serious.” she only smiled and shrugged before going out of your bathroom and into the living room.

“i’ll be waiting for you and you only have thirty minutes!” she shouted as she made her way to the couch. this bitch is crazy.

you had put on the outfit and began to do your makeup. you hair was already done from when you did it in the morning before your 8:00 am lecture. somehow it had stayed in tact, only a few baby hairs were sticking out but nothing you couldn’t fix with hair gel.

you finished up your makeup and started to put everything in the bag but you left it be as natalie had shouted you only have two minutes. it’d be cleaned up eventually.

you walked out of the bathroom and headed toward the living room where natalie was waiting for you. “can we go now?” natalie looked up form her phone and a grin spread across her face. she nodded her head and you both headed out the door.

on the walk to yost, you both had met up with some of the player’s girlfriends. you and natalie were friends with them and you all hanged out even if you have never been the biggest fan of the men’s hockey team.

a couple minutes later, you had all arrived to the arena and went inside before showing your tickets and heading towards the rink. you followed behind as you watched the boys warm up. you had thought you were to get seats up high where you could barely see the puck, but to your luck, you had front row seats to the game.

you all had began to talk when molly, adam fantilli’s girlfriend, spoke, “so y/n how’s your relationship going with mark?” all the girls turned towards you, some confused while others just had a smirk on their face. what relationship? you guys were just friends. well if you could call it that.

“our relationship?” you questioned. you weren’t even in one. although sometimes you wish you were. over the course of mark’s attempts to ask you out, you couldn’t help but develop some feeling for him. with the flower bouquets on your doorstep, the small conversations you’ve had with him, to him trying to sit near you in class, always staring at you, it made you feel things you’ve never felt before.

molly furrowed her eyebrows, “you’re not together?” you could only skate you head no, “that’s weird. adam keeps telling me about how mark wont shut up about you and how he can’t wait for you to go on a date with him soon.”

“i never agreed to go on a date with him.” you replied to her statement. had he been making up lies? “if anything, i keep telling him no whenever he asks me.”

“why?!”

“you should say yes!”

“he’s in love with you, you know.”

“you guys would be cute together.”

you just looked at all of them and playfully rolled your eyes. “i don’t know.”

“he’s always sending her flowers almost every day. we’re running out of vases to put them in.” natalie explained and they all started squealing, asking you about the whole situation.

you were too busy explaining the whole story from when mark first asked you in class till now that you hadn’t noticed a certain player staring at you from the ice.

mark couldn’t help but smile at the thought of you being here at his game. he was too busy staring that he hadn’t noticed that ethan and mackie had skated over to him when they noticed their friend had been in the same spot for a while. the pair followed his gaze and both smirked at each other when they realized who mark had been looking at the whole time.

ethan put a hand on his shoulder, “dude, you are whipped.” that seemed to snap mark out of his trance.

“what?” mark‘s face had turned a deep shade at red as he had been caught staring at you.

“are two dating or what?”

mark looked at mackie, “where’d you get that from?” he asked.

“for the last month, she’s all you ever talk about. kinda just assumed she was your girl.” mackie shrugged as he skated side to side.

“no way is that ever happening. i’ve asked her out more times than i can count and the answers always been no,” mark said as he moved to stand in front of the two, “i’ve given up hope at this point.”

“might as well try one more time.” ethan suggested as he looked over mark’s shoulder. “i mean she’s looking at you right now,” he pointed over to where you and all the girls were seated. mark turned around and you quickly looked back as you had been caught. “they’re giggling. and are back to looking at you.”

mark could only give him a look. “so what? that’s what they do.”

ethan and mackie looked at each other before they bursted out laughing. “what’s so funny now?”

“god you really are stupid.” ethan told mark who playfully pushed ethan. “she’s in love with you too.”

mark scoffed. “and how would you know?”

“because i heard her talking about you to her friends. she said how at first she was a little annoyed with you because she’d be in class and you would sit either in front or behind her just to ask her out. and then you started to send her flowers with a little note attached and you’d pass her notes in class telling her she looked pretty and how you loved her personality and shit and wow you’re in deep man.” ethan explained and mark got annoyed before gesturing for him to continue, “she couldn’t help but feel something inside. she started to develop feelings for you and now that she looks back at it, she wished she would have said yes to when you asked her if she’d go out with you-”

ethan couldn’t finish what he was saying as frank had called them over. mackie and ethan skated over to the bench, mark not too far behind.

throughout the whole game, mark kept thinking about you and what ethan had said. did you love him? had you said no all those times to avoid your feelings for him? many thoughts ran through his head. he had to ask you. just one more time and hopefully this time you’d admit your feelings to him instead of avoiding them.

━━━━━━━━━━

the boys had won and you were all waiting outside the locker room for the boys to come out. the group was talking about going out next weekend but you zoned out. the whole night you couldn’t help but think, ‘maybe telling mark no was a bad idea’ and you knew it was. when he came out of the locker room, you would tell him how you felt, no hesitation.

about ten minutes later, you could hear the boys all shouting and clapping. you all winced at the noise but soon it stopped and the boys had started to file out of the room, some saying hi while others just smirked as they passed by you. the boys went over to their girlfriends while you stood to the side, letting them have their moment when all of a sudden you heard you name being called.

you turned around and were meet with mark and the sophomores behind him. you were confused, majorly confused. “hi?”

“i’m only going to ask once. y/n will you please go on a date with me?” mark pleaded.

that was unexpected.

you stood there, frozen. you didn’t know what to say. well you did but with everyone around you just froze. mark waved a hand in front of you face. “y/n?”

“huh, what?”

he couldn’t help but smile, “will you go on a date with me?” you did the fist thing that came to mind, you went up to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. you leaned back and could see the blush on his face. “is that a yes or?”

“it’s a yes.”

everyone that was still there cheered and mark couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you as everyone had practically pounced on you both, celebrating mark’s success of you saying yes to a date.

“you know i like you right?” you broke the hug as you stared up at him. you nodded in response.

“i do mark. and it’s ok because i happen to like you as well.”

“i know.”

what did he mean he knew?

“what do you mean, ‘i know’?” you wondered as you pulled back.

“ethan told me earlier.” that little bitch.

you hid your head in his chest. “i’m gonna kill him.” you felt mark laugh.

“don’t be embarrassed. it’s okay. i mean i’ve loved you since i saw first saw you in class but was too much of a pussy to even talk to you so i just kept my distance. which is probably why you’ve always said no to all those times i asked.” mark said as you two began to walk out of yost behind everyone else.

“woah buddy, how about we keep the ‘i love you’s’ away until after that date.” you both chuckled. “i love you too. i have ever since you started sending over those flowers. and those notes you’d give me in class always made my day better. especially when i was having a shitty day which happened to be very often.” you both walked behind everyone. “i didn’t realize until a month later and now i wished i would’ve said yes sooner. it would’ve saved me all this trouble of denying my feelings for you when clearly i had loved you ever since you started to do all these things just to get me to say yes, which by way worked.” you smiled and he did too.

“i can tell. otherwise i wouldn’t do this.” he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. your hands found his cheeks and his found your waist. you didn’t waste a second to respond. the kiss was slow but passionate. it was all you ever wanted. you pulled away and looked up at him. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” you leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before you heard mackie call out, “hey lovebirds, let’s go! we’re going to the bar to celebrate this win!”

you and mark laughed as he stared down at you. “this doesn’t count as our first official date, right?” he asked as you two caught up with everyone.

you shook your head, “no, not unless you want it to be.”

“good.”

the way i honestly got a little carried away with this and it somehow still turned out like shit. it’s fine. the last part was booty as i had gotten tired but at least it’s done. this took me two days to write and i promise all of my other fics won’t be this long.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

TW: Smut-tacular 3 way smut. Angst. NSFW.

AN: Thanks to @loveshotzz for listening to all my ramblings & my beta @billybluboy for all her hard work.

Masterlist Fic Menu

""Goddam, baby."

"Mmmmhmmm."

"Please tell me your close," Eddie says with closed eyes, neck muscles straining, his hand furiously circling your clit. 

"No. Not yet. Just a little longer." With both hands pressed on his smooth, solid chest, you raise your hips and drive them back down, taking his hard cock as deep as you can. After a notably quiet dinner, Eddie wanted to take advantage of the empty house by finishing what you had started that morning. 

The sex between you had always been spectacular and left you feeling closer to him, which is exactly what you are craving, but your body must have missed the memo. Teetering on edge, your muscles are bunched so tight, begging for release, but every time your close thoughts of what could have happened between you and Steve appear, pulling you back from the brink. 

"Baby, I'll eat you out for hours after this, I swear, but I need to come." Leaning back and changing the angle, you ride him faster. "Fu..oh ga." He moans as he pulses deep inside you, filling you with his warm release. 

"Holy shit, that was amazing," he pants as your motions slow to a stop, "Just give me a minute, and I'll make you come.

"It's just not going to happen tonight, Eddie," you say, climbing off him and going to the ensuite to clean up, grateful for a minute alone to sort through your emotions without worrying that your expression will betray you. When you return, he's sitting up with his back against the wooden headboard, the sheet gathered around his waist and his eyes full of worry. 

"What's wrong?" His hesitant tone leaves you steeped in guilt. 

"Nothing," you sigh, pulling a shirt over your head, "I don't know what's going on with me." He holds open his arms, and immediately some of the tension fades. You join him under the blankets without hesitation, letting him draw you close. "Tell me about your day. You got your van, alright?"

"Yeah, I owe Wayne another fifty bucks for the impound fee. The cops tore through it and took my favorite bowl."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find another."

"Baby, she was my favorite. What we had together can't just be replaced. I'll need some time before I'm ready to move on." He pulls the blankets up to his chin and makes his doe eyes droop.

"Okay. I'm sorry for your loss. Please, continue."

"Thank you," he says, putting his arm around you, "Hopper was able to clear most of it up…except for Chrissy." You stiffen at the mention of her name. 

"That's still under investigation, but Hopper said it's a formality. There isn't any evidence that, you know, that I hurt her. Just that she was at my place. So, I've just got to stay in town and stay out of trouble until that's over."

"And why were you two alone in your trailer, again?"

He hesitates. His lips draw into a thin line, and he turns away from you, sliding open the nightstand drawer and rummaging through it.

"Uh-huh." Getting out of bed, you pick up the basket of clean laundry that still needs to be folded. The clothes in the basket mainly belong to Steve, and you sigh, remembering you forgot to stop at your parents" house to pick up more of your things. 

"Can you drive me home tomorrow? I need to pick up the rest of my clothes." Shaking out a pair of jeans, you try to smooth some wrinkles before folding them neatly. 

"I start back to school tomorrow." He's doodling in a small black notebook he found in the drawer.

"Tomorrow? You can't start back next week?" 

"I've already missed so much. I have a ton of make-up work to do or I'm going to be repeating this year again. Plus, there is hellfire and the band."

"Alright. I get it. I was hoping we'd have a few more days together. And I'd have a car or a job or something." And maybe it would be better for you not to be alone with Steve all day, but you weren't going to tell Eddie that.

"No luck today?"

"Not unless you want me stripping. Steve is going to ask Hopper to help me get a job at Enzo's." 

"Steve is?"

"Yeah, why?" You ask, matching up a pair of socks, "Maybe he can take me to my house tomorrow." 

"Well, isn't Steve being helpful now that you've fucked him?"

The shirt you were shaking out slips through your fingers, and you look down at the pile of clothes in front of you. "I'm going to take a shower. You can fold your own goddamn clothes," you erupt, taking the rest of the clothes and throwing them at him. Turning on your heel, you walk to the bathroom. 

"Baby-" The rest of what he said is cut off as you slam the door and turn on the shower.

The clock built into The Mister Coffee dings, followed by whirring and gurgling as it comes to life and begins to percolate. Standing at the island, you yawn as you smear some mustard, mixing it with the creamy mayo on two slices of bread before adding some deli-sliced ham and cheese.

"Baby, are you making that for me?" Eddie walks into the kitchen wearing his hellfire shirt and light jeans. 

"I am. I wanted you to have a good lunch for your first day back." You explain as you wrap up the sandwich in wax paper and add it to the brown bag filled with an apple and a bag of pretzels. 

"Thank you, my love." His arms go around, and you turn your head to receive his soft kisses. 

Lingering in the shower last night, you had hoped the hot spray would wash away some of your anger toward Eddie. By the time you slipped into bed, he was already asleep, and you wondered if his early night was preparation for an early morning of school, or avoidance. You battled a restless night of tossing and turning, and when the alarm blared this morning, it was as if nothing had happened. A silent agreement sealed with an almost mundane good-morning kiss to move on and leave things unresolved—the status quo whenever there is a conflict between the two of you.

"Hellfire on a Tuesday? Did it move nights?"

"Nah. It's still on Fridays. I can't go back to school in one of Harrington's Polos, though. I need to go to Wayne's after school. He said he had saved a box of my things. Hopefully, there are some clothes in there. I need to talk to Rick too. I'm hoping he'll front me so I can get some money for necessities."

"I thought you were laying low?" You tighten the lid on the mayo before putting it back in the fridge.

"Baby, it's seven in the morning. Can we please not do this? Just trust me, okay?" He presses a kiss to your lips. "I got to go." He picks up his lunch bag and slings on his jacket. 

"Alright. Play nice with other children." He rolls his eyes, and he's out the door. 

Padding through the quiet house, you had every intention of going to your room to get ready for the day. So when you find yourself standing in front of Steve's room with your hand poised to knock on the door, you pause. The grocery bag with a few boxes of tea sat on the kitchen counter this morning, which was the only reason you knew he was home. He's your friend, and you want to see that he's okay. Your heart beats a little faster as you lightly knock on his door. 

"Come in," he calls in a gravelly voice. Your hand turns the brass knob, and you open the door just enough to slip inside. A sliver of light at the bottom of the window frame steals in below the drawn curtains illuminating the dark room enough to see Steve propped up one arm, laying shirtless in his bed, the light blue sheets gathered at his waist. Your eyes follow the curves and dips of his muscled arms and shoulders, and you remember how they felt as they flexed under your hands while he was inside you. Tearing your gaze away from his body, you focus on his face as the memory has your skin flushing red, sending tiny sparks to every cell. 

All the words you wanted to say stay locked away as you stand caught in his gaze. He opens his mouth and swallows, saying nothing, folding back the corner of the blankets on the empty side of the bed. Accepting his invitation, you slide between the soft sheets until you lie facing him, tucking your hand underneath the pillow. 

"Hi," you say softly, wanting to break the silence as he mimics your position. 

"Hi." His hair sticks up every which way, and light stubble lines his jaw. 

"I didn't hear you come home last night. I was worried."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"Too bad. I'm going to worry about you anyway. That's what friends do."

"Does it make me a terrible person if I admit I like it?" 

"Why do you like it?"

He rolls onto his back and scrubs his face. "I don't know. Don't listen to me. I think I'm delirious from lack of sleep."

"Okay. Let's go to sleep then. I'll stay with you."

"Okay," he says, shutting his eyes. And so it became something of a routine. As soon as Eddie left for school, you would crawl into bed with Steve for another few hours. Then again, after lunch, you would watch TV or read while he napped next to you. By the end of the week, he started looking and sounding a little more like himself. 

"You can come in," Steve calls after you knock Friday morning. Surprisingly, he's up and almost dressed. The curtains are open, and the bright morning light fills the room. 

"What are you doing today?" He asks, pulling a green sweatshirt over his white tee tucked into a pair of light-wash jeans. Your plan was to spend the morning in his bed, and you were a little disappointed that wouldn't happen.

"Nothing special," you try and sound casual, not like your whole day had been planned around him.

"My dad called. I have to bring some paperwork to his office in Indianapolis."

"That sounds nice," you say, looking down at your feet and tugging on the sleeves of your shirt, "getting out of town for the day."

"Yeah? Do you want to come with me?" He fastens his watch over his wrist, and you wonder if he's trying to be as nonchalant as you are by pointedly not looking at you when he says it.

"I'd like to, but I'm not dressed," you say, looking down at your long-sleeved tee and a pair of Eddie's boxers. 

"I have to pick up the files at his office in Hawkins. I can go do that and come back. Would that give you enough time to get ready?"

Smiling, you nod your head.

"Alright. Better hurry." He teases. 

Two hours later, you've traded the quiet streets of Hawkins for the noise and bustle of downtown Indianapolis. Skyscrapers and tall buildings line the streets of Mile Square, and you try not to gawk like a tourist as you exit the underground garage where Steve parked his car. The sound of rushing water has you turning your head. The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument is just a block away.

"I didn't realize we were so close to Monument Circle. Your dad works down here? How rich are you?" You ask, brushing aside some hair that's blown into your face. 

"I have about four hundred dollars in my checking account and some savings bonds from grandparents, so not very," He laughs and takes your hand the way one would a child as he leads you across the busy street. His father's office is on the third floor of a tall gray building. Embarrassingly, your sneakers squeak on the polished marble floor of the pristine lobby as you walk to the bank of elevators. Steve hands off several folders and a manilla envelope to the receptionist, who thanks him before he opens the office's glass door for you to exit back into the hall.

"That's it? You don't want to say hello to your dad?" You ask, following him down the beige hallway.

"Nah." He pushes the 'down' button to call the elevator. "He's busy. Besides, there's someone else I'd rather spend time with." 

A warmth that pinkens your cheeks and ears accompanies the smile you wear all the way down to the lobby. Once you hit the crowded sidewalk, you look towards the memorial again.

"Do you want to go?" Steve asks, motioning with his eyes toward the towering monument.

"Do we have time?"

"We have all day. Come on." He holds out his hand, and you take it. The two of you step into the stream of people walking toward the circle. 

The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument is a limestone obelisk that stands tall enough to look like it's kissing the clouds, but in truth, is still dwarfed by the taller buildings in the Indianapolis skyline. The ornate stone statues pay tribute to fallen soldiers and the four branches of service, with lady victory standing watch over all of it with her sword and torch. The tiered fountains that flank its raised foundation always draw your eyes. The two of you linger there, watching the water cascade from the statuary.

"This is my favorite part," you say in a voice raised high enough to be heard over the falling water as it flows into the pools at its base. 

"The fountains?" He asks, turning those deep hazel eyes on you. The gold flecks are strikingly notable against the green of his sweater. In fact, if you could only choose one word to describe Steve Harrington, it would be golden. 

"Yeah. Anything with water just makes me instantly at peace. I have a cousin in Maine that my family visited a few times during the summer when I was little. I used to sit on the beach and just watch the waves for hours." You turn your eyes to the monument and the tourists viewing its majesty. "Eddie asked me to move away with him after he graduates. A fresh start and all that. He said we could find someplace near the ocean."

"You're leaving?" You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't return his gaze. "That's... it's really soon. What I mean is that's good. I'm really happy for you. You both deserve a happy ending."

"Well, we are working with Eddie time here. It probably won't be that soon. We'll have to save up. I'm sure you'll be more than ready to kick us out by then."

"I doubt it." He turns quiet and runs his hands through his hair before resting his arms on the stone banister. "Do you want to go up?" After a few minutes of silence, he asks, "it might be your last chance if you're leaving."

It only takes a moment to consider before nodding your head and following him inside. He pays a small fee for you to take the elevator bypassing most of the stairs that lead to the observation deck. After climbing the remaining forty-nine stairs, the tight stairwell opens up to the small viewing area, and your breath catches at the gorgeous view of the downtown area. 

"When was the last time you were here?" Steve asks as he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you closer to the windows so a family can pass around you in the tight quarters. 

"The field trip in eighth grade. Do you remember?"

"That's right. I goofed off all day. I don't remember very much of it. That's what we should do today."

"What?"

"Go on a field trip. What do you think?" His excited smile makes him look younger, and you have to admit you're happy to see the lightness in him return.

"Where do we start?"

"I can't believe we're at the zoo," you say happily as you wrap your arm around his elbow while passing the dutch windmill at the entrance of the Washington Park Children's Zoo. "Are we going to ride the little train?"

"Absolutely. Anything you want." The late spring sun warms your skin as you take in flowers bursting with color planted around the park. "What do you want to do first? Look at the Tigers or ride the train?"

"The train," you say, bouncing on your toes, "we can look at the elephants."

"Okay, sweet girl." He laughs and steers you toward the little station. Sliding onto the bench seat of the miniature train, you wait for the driver to sound the whistle before it starts chugging down the tracks. 

A little girl in front of you twists in her mother's arms and peeks shyly at Steve. "Hi." He waves at her, and she buries her head in her mother's shoulder, only to pop up a moment later and stick out her tongue. The two of you start making faces at her until she's caught up in a fit of giggles. Her mother notices and turns her around, seating her on her lap. Steve wraps his arm around you, pressing you into his side as he points out the elk on his side of the open-air car. Hawkins and everyone in it feels so far away. Maybe it's okay to get a little lost with him today?

"I'm glad we ate before we went into the primate house," you say, crinkling up your nose.

"It was a little ripe in there." He shares your sentiment as he sucks in some cleaner air on the way out of the exhibit. "You know they are closing this whole place soon."

"What? No." Your brow pulls together as he takes your hand.

"Yeah. They're moving to a bigger piece of land. It will be all new."

"Another piece of our childhood gone. I guess we're growing up," you say a little wistfully.

"I guess so," he nods, stopping in front of the penguin pool, "I always like these guys. They seem so happy diving in the water, hanging out with their friends, and getting tasty fish."

You laugh and squeeze his hand. "The good life." you agree.

 A flustered dad with three crying children plows into the back of your heels with his stroller knocking you forward and mumbling apologies as he tries to get his children a spot to view the animals. "Are you alright," Steve asks, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you in front of him. 

"Yeah. I'm fine." He slips his other arm around you, and you relax into his strong chest. His breath is in your hair, and you're not really paying attention to the penguins anymore.

"I wasn't expecting it to be so big."

Steve blows out a breath and tilts his head to the side. "I get that a lot." Spinning to face him, your eyes widen, and your mouth hangs open. His cheeks blossomed apple red. "I mean not a lot. I've heard it…The sculptor. I'm talking about the sculptor," he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck, "Get your mind out of the gutter. Let's go." 

The Love sculpture stands impressively about twelve feet high with the serif letters of L and O stacked over the V and E, spreading its message to the visitors of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Walking closer to the steel rendering, the poetry of feeling small in the face of the word that defines something that often feels too big to contain is not lost on you. A light breeze sweeps across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you turn to look at the boy standing a few feet behind you, whose gaze brings about the same effect. 

"Now I know what love looks like." He's watching you with glittering eyes, and pieces of your heart break away, turning into butterflies that flutter inside you. Moving to where he waits for you, your fingers thread through his, and you wonder how you can be afraid to lose something that's not even yours. 

He's still holding your hand. Driving with the other, your intertwined hands resting on your thigh while he sings softly along with The Cars playing on the tape deck. Unlike earlier today, Steve hadn't stopped touching you as you toured the museum, his hand tangled with yours, an arm around your shoulders or waist, pressing against you with his soft lips grazing your temple and his thumb tracing patterns on any exposed skin it found.

An unspoken permission had been granted with your act of affection, one that you are now rescinding as you cross into Hawkins town limits. Your trembling fingers pull away from him as you rest your head against the car window and hug your arms across your chest to stave off the loss. His empty hand falls to your thigh, giving you one last squeeze before returning it to the steering wheel. 

The passing street lamps illuminate the dark roads on your way to Steve's house. Most streets are barren, the majority of the town already tucked safely into their homes at this late hour. Eddie's van is in the driveway when Steve pulls in and shuts off the car. 

"I had a really nice time today. Thank you." Your voice is shaky as you break the silence. 

He twists in his seat to face you. "I should be the one thanking you. You gave up your whole day for me." 

No stars are out tonight, and the moon is obscured by clouds. The inky blackness of night presses in on all sides. The only traces of light escape from gaps between the curtains covering the house's windows. The engine ticks as it cools, and neither one of you makes a move to go inside.

"Why does it feel like I'm saying goodbye to you?" Steve asks, his expression hidden in the darkness. 

"Steve, that's…we live in the same house." But you feel the same way. He leans in closer to you. And although you know you shouldn't, you mirror his movements. Your pulse is racing, and your breath comes quicker through your parted lips. Moments pass before you feel his touch, but it isn't what you expected. His forehead rests against yours, noses brushing, his warm exhales fanning your chin. Your decision is made, and you lift your chin to find his lips. The second before your mouths fully meet, he changes direction after the barest brush of his silky lips. His nose glides down along your cheek, and a low noise escapes his throat. 

"Go inside, sweet girl." He leans back in his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Please. I'll be in a few."

With the fog of your longing dispelled, you scramble out of the car with the sting of unshed tears behind your eyes. You don't look back as you close the front door behind you. Your limbs feel heavier with every stair you climb, weighted down with the reality of what almost happened. Again. As you plaster on a smile before entering the room where you know Eddie is waiting, you promise yourself this will be the last time.

Part 5

Tag List @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven @tlclick73 @totally-bogus-timelady @katelyndestini95 @munsonswhore86 @kelsietilley-blog @figmentofquinn @champagne-glamour @ilovecupcakesandtea @bimbobaggins69 @munsonsgirl71 @sidthedollface2 @miarosso @micheledawn1975 @eddiescorrodedcoffin86 @takeitsteddie @tiannamortis @munsonology @manda-panda-monium @prestinalove @sunfl0wern1kk1 @pbeckn26 @yogizzz @justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @sllooney

[romanarose]

Leather and Lace: Chapter 5

Santiago "Pope" Garcia X Fem!OC

Pervious chapter here : Next chapter

Fic master list

A/N: I'm so sorry this is just long as hell. I couldn't find a natural end and there was so much I wanted to include. Sorry it took so long. Hopefully a new chatper of Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside will be out this week.

The hat scene is based on a post by @copingchaos and @welcometostayingawake which I will link in at the scene, be sure to give the post a like and reblog!

Final A/N: I want to make a masterlist for this fic but I wanna have some nice art or something for it sooooo if anyone wanna draw something or make a mood board or something for this, I’ll include it in the masterlist and tag/link ur account and any pages you use for your art! Anything sent will be included, even little doodles so don’t be embarrassed!

Chapter Summary: We see Santi and Will's side of the argument when they went inside. Santi and Laci find a special time just for them and have a moment. Laci babysits Rosie will the guys have drinks.

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“Do you have ANY IDEA how close you came to dying, Pope? It’s a goddamn miracle you didn’t get your head blasted open! You and Ben could’ve died! Then what? Do we spit up the money again and give it to your non-existent family and pretend it’s okay? If Ben died, would you just give me a pat on the back and say ‘Oh, sorry!’ and move on?”

Pope couldn’t sleep. The day had riled him up too much. Him and Will, after Frankie chewed them out, had gone to the kitchen. Santi hated leaving her out on the porch. Hated more how jealous he felt of Benny. But he didn’t want to test Frankie’s patience.

“Is that what this is all about, Will?” Santi crossed him arms at his friend. “Jesus, go to therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy, I need to stop watching my friends get shot!”

“Will you shut up? Frankie is going to fucking kill us as it is.” There was a long, pregnant silence. “Listen, I’m sorry Ben got shot. You know I’m sorry. But Ben agreed with me, he said I should’ve stayed with her… Maybe you should-”

“Don’t tell me to take time out of the field, Pope.”

Santi raised his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. But I think we’re all going to maybe take some time off, Frakie wants to spend time with Rosie, Ben’s got physical therapy-”

“You’ve got the girl. Who you want to spend time with” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

Pope rolled his eyes. “Can you stop being shitty about Laci? I’m trying to help her”

“Oh please” He countered. “You have way past doing your job. You got a thing for her, even if you won’t admit it.”

“She needs help, Will”

“You saved her life, you were supposed to bring her back to the embassy, and be done. Have you ever stopped to consider you are overstepping? Have you ever considered that maybe there's a reason soldiers aren’t supposed to take back trafficking victims to play house?”

Santi shook his head. He had considered that, of course. “That’s not what's happening here.”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t fuck her if you had the chance?” Will challenged.

Santi pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re getting off topic here.” He diverted. “We’re here because you’re being a dick to her”

There was a pause and Santi watched a boatload of emotions dance across Will’s face as he searched for a smart ass answer. When nothing came, he simply agreed. “I know.”

“Then why are you being like this? I know you know damn well this isn’t her fault, and knowing you, you are going to start feeling really shitty about how you treated her.”

Will groaned dramatically. “I don’t know man! I know I can’t blame her for what happened but my subconscious does anyway.”

Santiago’s lips smirked up a bit at that. “Subconscious, huh? You sure you haven't been the therapy?”

Will flicked Santi’s head. “No, I took psych in high school.”

“Nerd.”

The men stood in silence, feeling better but also not feeling like everything had been spoken. 

Will broke the silence again. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been. I just… I can’t help it sometimes.”

Santi knew he was sincere, but he also knew he had a duty to her. “Well you’re going to have to help it, man.” Santi crossed his arms. “Because for the time being, she’s going to be here, and if you want to be around me, you’ll have to be around her. And if you’re going to be around us, you’re going to have to be nice, because I’m not putting up with it anymore.”

Will closed his eyes “I know.”

“That girl has been kidnapped, raped, beaten, and god knows what else this last year, I’m not letting her put up with you bullshit too.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Will opened his eyes to look at Santi. He knew the protectiveness his friend felt over the girl was partially due to the loss of his sister, but he couldn’t help but feel there was another attachment here.

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” He nodded out the door.

Will gave a short laugh. “You gonna leave me alone with her long enough to apologize?”

“If you promise to behave.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Will headed for the door. 

Laci said things were good, that they’d made it. She didn’t go into details and he didn’t ask. That was their business. But right now, he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t abnormal, he didn’t sleep a lot. Right now, all he could think of was Tom’s head with blood oozing out. Santi shook his head like an etch-a-scetch, and stood up to get some food. Unsurprisingly, Laci was up watching Friends. 

 He popped back into his room to pull shorts over his boxers and a white tee shirt, mumbling. “Even’n Lace.” As he rubbed his eyes, walking behind the couch in the living room. Lace turned around, hopping up on her legs, looking over the couch. He sees the movement, and looks over to find her eyes following him. He could swear she was looking at his butt. He smirked at her “Need something?” 

Her eyes flicked up to his, embarrassed at having been caught, she turned back to the tv and sat down.

“Ah, c’mon Munacita, I’m only teasing.” He waited until she glanced back at him. “You hungry”

She shrugged and smiled. ‘I could eat’

Santi heated up some pizza rolls, and brought a plate over to her. “Bon appetit, mademuasel.”

She grinned at him as she accepted the plate.

“G’night” Santiago began walking back to his room with his plate.

“Santiago?” She called after him, causing him to turn around.

“Yes?”

She nodded over to the seat next to her on the couch, and raised her eyebrows. ‘Join me?’

Santi knew damn well this was a slippery slope. He knew, really, that he shouldn't be indulging her in her little flirts. But she looked at him with her big hopefully eyes, how could he deny her like that? “Yeah, sure Lace” He sat down at the other end of the couch. “But we aren’t watching Friends.”

Laci grinned at him, bouncing over to sit next to him and handing him the remote. “Well you can’t sleep…” She spoke softly. “What do you watch?”

Santi was thankful for the dim lights, he was sure his embarrassment would show. “I um… it’s kinda silly”

She nudged him, urging him on. 

“I like to watch old sitcoms”

Laci laughed at this. She smiled, shaking her head ‘That’s not silly’ She pointed at Friends still on the TV.

“Friends isn’t old!” Santiago insisted, suddenly very aware of their age gap, making him feel even more ashamed of the thoughts that had been creeping into his head.

She gave him a pointed look. “It’s older than me.”

Fuck, that made him feel old. “I meant, really old sitcoms. Dick Van Dyke, I love Lucy.”

She nodded to the TV while nuzzling up next to him. “Relax.” She told him, and he tried.

A few hours later, he wondered how he got there. How had Santi ended up laying down, stretched out on the couch, with Laci asleep in his arms?

That’s how they found themselves more nights than not. Santiago would join Laci on the couch, and slowly their bodies would come together, and she’d fall asleep in his arms in various entanglements. There was something natural in it. There was a bit of desire on Santi’s part, how could he not, with a party blonde girl in his arms?

When she woke up the first morning, Laci smiled at him. She looked at Santi like they were lovers waking up on a lazy Sunday morning. Laci climbed off of him as he stood up. Santi’s thoughts were racing. Why did he do that? Why did he let her lay on him? Why did he wrap his arms around her? Why didn't he get up? But when he looked at her all sleepy and smiling at him, he couldn’t find it to feel as guilty as he should’ve.

She looked at him, touching her back.

“Does your back hurt?” He asked

She shook her head and pointed at him. ‘No, does yours?’

Oh. She had been asking about him. “No, actually I feel great. I haven't slept that well in…” years. He thought. Santi didn’t finish the sentence. He changed the subject as he stood up. “Well, the whole day is free. No doctors, no therapy, nothing. What do you wanna do?”

Laci thought for a moment and shrugged.

“C’mon, we can do anything you want. Whole day, up to you, what grand plans do you have?”

Laci considered his words. After a moment, she made scissors with her fingers and went to her hand.

“A hair cut?!” Santi chuckled. “We can do anything, and you want a hair cut?”

She blushed, but shrugged.

“Okay, Munecita. A haircut it is.”

Santi had her pick wherever she wanted for breakfast. Starbucks, IHOP, some fancy brunch place, it was up to her. He tried to express that money was no issue, but wasn’t sure how to go about that without sounding like he was bragging. The moment he got the money, he was set for life. He could have lived in luxery without working a day in his life. But he did work. He needed something to do. They all did, needed something to take their minds off the horrors. Benny still fought. Fought in matches and in bars. Frankie had his beautiful daughter, Santi’s god daughter. Frankie also had coke, something that no one dared bring up. Will always seemed like he had it together, focusing on field work and making sure Benny didn’t get himself killed. Seemed like he had it together, until he didn’t. Incidents like this last week were reminders that Will had a lot of guilt over Tom’s death that no one addressed. And Santi? Santi had work. Constant work. He always had something going on, something to distract him from everything he had seen and done… and hadn’t done.

He knew that the guys thought, or at least wondered if that's what Laci was. A project. But Santi didn’t think so. There was so much more he wanted to know about her, wanted to do with her, time he wanted to spend…

Santiago went to a barber for his hair, but Benny had a recommendation for a hair stylist. He promised that she wouldn’t make a big deal about Laci not talking.

“You must be Benjamin’s friends! I’m Brit. You can take a seat at the first chair, I’ll be with you in a sec, hon” The stylist called over to Laci, then looked at Santi. “You getting a hair cut too? You look like you could use it.” She teased while washing items in the sink. “Nay has some free time, could squeeze you in?”

“No thanks, I’m-” Santo started, but felt a nudge. Laci was looking up at him, grinning and nodding. She looked so excited, how could he deny her. He sighed with a smile. “Okay, yeah I suppose I could use a trim.”

“Excellant!”

Santi walked over to where Brit was cleaning. “Hey uh, did Ben talk to you about her at all?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, he told me how y’all found her. Horrible. Don’t worry, her cut is on the house.”

Santiago shook his head. “No, no I’m paying for hers, don’t worry ‘bout that. Thing is, she doesn’t talk much. Sometimes at all, she has pictures for what she wants, but she can’t really reply unless it’s yes or no…”

“Don’t worry hon, I understand, I’ll keep it simple.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” Santi began walking away, but turned around. “Is there any like… hair treatments or something… nice? I asked her what she wanted to do today, all she asked for was a hair cut… Is there anything I can add to make it nicer for her?”

Brit gave him a knowing look. “Yeah, I’ll check out her hair, see what she needs.”

Laci and Santi spent the next few hours in the chairs, it was almost like a spa day. Much of Laci’s hair had been damaged from a year of no care and malnutrition, so she got much of it cut off, holding up a picture for reference on the phone Santi had bought her.. Brit had opted for a keratin treatment to strengthen her hair. Laci had asked (via her notes app)  about highlights, but Brit was concerned about the integrity of  her hair at the moment, and suggested they come back in a few months and recommended hair skin and nails pills.

Santi got a trim, and Laci gave him pleading eyes to get the keratin treatment. Nay suggested he get a deep conditioning for his curls, and Laci allowed it. Together, they relaxed as the soft music played. Nay and Brit were thankful for not having to make conversation, and Santi secretly enjoyed being pampered. 

“Jeez, whatever you and Benny do for work, if you wanna send more coworkers my way, feel free”

Santi had left a generous tip, and he knew Benny would’ve as well. They were very popular wherever they were regulars at. 

The next two weeks were something akin to domestic. During the day, they took turns cooking for each other. Well, “cooking” Santi could get by with a few Guatemalan recipes, but he tended to rely on burgers, microwave food, and pastas. He generally was in charge of lunch. Laci took on dinner. She was better at cooking than him. Some recipes, a white girl from St. Louis probably wouldn’t know, and Santi figured she had learned in her year of captivity. It occurred to him that they never really talked about what happened. He supposed that's what her therapists were for. Laci had given him access to all her medical and psych records, something Santi never took advantage of or even asked for. Laci had given permission for her psych to talk to Santi about what they talked about, she signed everything away to Santi. He was all she had. He could, if he wanted, find out everything they had done. But Santiago didn’t want to find out that way. If she wanted him to know, she could tell him. He didn’t want to invade her privacy. She deserved to be allowed secrets, even if she had given up her rights to any. 

More nights than not, she fell asleep in his arms. it had become routine. If they couldn’t sleep, they’d meet on the couch and watch old sitcoms. More nights than not, she laid on his chest. And tonight? Tonight he was regretting it. Not regretting it enough to stop, however. Not enough to move, to get up, to get away from her. Not when she was so close to him. Laci had sat up on his chest, her hands tracing over his face. He was tired, too tired, and the soft glow of TV bounced off her face. She was beautiful. Her haircut was chin length, a style that worked well for her straight blonde hair. Despite his best judgment, he reached up to touch her face. Laci’s fingers trailed his hairline, his cheekbones, his jaw, and softly over his bottom lip. He fought her urge to take her fingers in his mouth, but this was more innocent. Something pure, delicate and new. He didn’t want to ruin what was happening, even if he knew he should walk away. Her skin was still pale, but had gained color in its cheek’s, a bit of pink on her face that matched the shade of her lips. A shade that matched the color of pink she generally likes to wear. 

Laci leaned into his touch, and before he could stop himself, he lifted his face to hers. For a moment, their lips merely brushed together, an air of hesitancy like a teenage crush, like a first kiss stifled by nervousness and awkward touches. Finally, the hand on her face gently entwined in her thin hair, bringing her to his mouth ever-so carefully. It wasn’t a demand, it wasn’t an insistence, it was a guide. ‘Come here’ it said ‘let me love you, please’. The kiss was a plea. ‘Let me love you, let me love you, let me love you’ from who to whom, Santi didn’t know. Was Santiago asking to let him protect her and love her and help her, or was Laci asking him to open up, to know and be known by him.

There was no tongue, no fever, no wet, hot kisses and lascivious touching. Just his lips on hers, slow and kind, her gentle touch on her face begging him not to pull away. He only did so for moments long enough to check on her, only to see her smiling dreamily at him before one of them went back to the languid affection. There was a tightness in his chest, nervous to be seen so openly. It was a vulnerability he really shared. His job, the way he lived his life, had prevented him from normal relationships. This felt like a new start, a brand new thing not only with them, not only between him and the pretty girl in his arms, but within himself. There was something in him that had been laid to the ground with every military move, everyone had had to kill, everyone he watched be killed. Every kiss he planted on her lips brought new life; the hand in her head secured her to him, begged her to stay, stay, stay with me Laci, please. Something that had been burried deeper with every time he watched his friends get shot, every member of his family who died, all that was being brought to the surface with every faint, soft brush of her lips and the tender touch of her hand on his stubbled face. He didn’t want to stop. He wondered if he could stop time, what he would give to keep them like this, safe in each other’s arms for ever.

But he did stop, he had to. If he didn’t, he’d take things further. He would already regret this in the morning, he didn’t need to give into every carnel desire he had. Laci smiled, giving him one last kiss on the cheek before laying her head down on his chest. Tomorrow was for regret; tomorrow was for feeling shitty. Tonight was for nothing but thoughts of her lips, and the comforting touch of her hand.

The next day

“You two ready yet?” Will called out to Santiago and Laci in the doorway. Will was the DD for tonight. 

Ben was already half drunk. “LET’S GOOOOOO”

“Benny, shut the fuck up or I swear to god I’m leaving you here”

“Hey!” Santiago Garcia emerged from his room. “You’re not leaving a drunk Ben alone in my house.”

“He’s gonna get in a fucking fight tonight and I’m too sober to deal with this.”

Santi patted his friend on his back. This was Will’s apology for being a dick at the BBQ. 

Laci practically skipped out of her room. She wore white overalls over her pink undershirt, and was beaming. Frankie had asked her to babysit Rosie so the guys could have a few hours out. Santi had he feeling it was primarily for Laci’s benefit, but he was nervous. Him and Laci had been attached at the hip since the moment he found her, hardly being separated. She always had him in the room with her for doctors, and if she was in therapy, he stayed in the waiting room. For any meeting for social workers and things of that sort, he was always in the room, translating or relaying messages, depending on how verbal she was that day. This was the first time they would be separated by anything more than a few yards.

“Frankie is going to fucking kill you” Santi commented when he saw the hat Benny was wearing. It said ‘women want me, fish fear me’ from some tik tok audio.

Benny grinned. “I’m counting on it!”

“You change your goddamn ringtone yet?”

“Absolutely not!” Benny had set his ringtone to “Benny and the Jet’s” months ago, and it was driving the guys insane. Laci seemed to think it was funny. Every time it went off while they watched Always Sunny, Santi groaned, and Laci giggled.

Will started to drag Ben back to the Jeep. “Who still has a ringtone anymore?” He mutters as everyone loads up, heading to Frankies next.

Laci held Santi’s hand as she usually did when they left their house, but as soon as Laci spotted Rosie, his hand and him became irrelevant. She scooped the toddler off the floor, and began whispering praises to the giggling girl. She talked to Rosie more than Santi. 

“Two peas in a pod” Frankie commented and he put the food on the high chair. Then he spotted Benny’s hat. “Take that god damn shit off!” He tried to grabbed it off Ben’s head.

Ben yelped but doged Frankies grasp. He ran around the counters, tailed by Fish, mimicking the audio. “Women want me, Fish fears me”

Frankie chased the boy around the living room.“I don’t fear shit, Jackass, fuck off” Frankie grabbed the hat off Ben’s head.

“Hey!” The whole group of men turned to see Laci covering Rosie’s ears. She nodded to the baby. “Language” she scolded.

“Yeah, Fish, l a n g u a g e!” and took his hat back.

Frankie sighed, one battle at a time. He turned to Laci. “This is her dinner, she’ll fight you over it for a while but I promise she’ll eat it, just gotta keep at her. If she gets too messy you can give her a bath, but I think she’ll be okay. Bedtime is 7, but she gets really excited with new people, so if she doesn’t go to sleep, don’t sweat it. Help yourself to anything in the fridge or whatever, remote for the TV is on the coffee table. Don’t worry about dishes or anything. Any questions?”

Laci looked like she was mentally noting everything in her brain. She shook her head.

“Great. Any questions, you have my number, you can text Santi if that’s easier. I’ll set the security before I go, theres camera’s in the living room. Not that I don’t trust you, I don’t trust the outside. Years of military makes me paranoid.”

Laci nodded, smiling and still holding the little girl.

Santi spoke up. “I think I’m gonna sit tonight out guys.”

Everyone, including Laci, turned to him.

“What?” Ben asked.

“I’m kinda tired, I think I’ll just stay in with Lace and Rosie tonight”

“You stay in with Laci EVERY NIGHT, Pope.” The shots Benny had taken had loosened his mouth. “Jesus Christ she’ll be okay for a few hours.”

“No, that's not it-”

Ben scoffed loudly “Oh yes it is! Come one, give her a little freedom”

Santi glared at Ben’s comment. “Freedom? Ben, I’m not keeping her captive.”

Laci handed Rosie to Will, who took her with a smile and a kiss. Laci took Santi’s hand and dragged the irritated man to the hall. “Santi, it’s okay. I can handle a one year old”

He sighed, momentarily distracted by her pink lips, that only last night were on his. “I know you can, I just…”

“I know I havn’t…” Laci shuffled a bit. “I don’t really let you go anywhere, I don’t want to keep you back…” She looked up at him, her thoughtful blue eyes on him.

He softened for her. “Oh Lace, no, you aren’t keeping me back, not at all. I… I enjoy our time… together…” he trialed off, both of them thinking about last night, the kiss… neither had talked about it.

“Santi, I promise it’ll be okay. I’ll text you if anything goes wrong, or if I get anxious or something, okay?”

Santi considered this. It had been a long time since he had a chance to get loose with the guys, and Ben and Frankie promised to provide some entertainment… “Okay, yeah, just… keep me updated, okay?”

She lit up at that. “I promise”

They walked out of the hall, everyone turned to them, Laci smiled “Parties on.”

With a loud bunch of cheers from the guys, everyone got ready to go. Frankie gave Rosie a bunch of kisses and when everyone else had left, Santi kissed Laci on the cheek. “Have fun.” and tickled Rosie before he left. Benny absolutely saw that.

A few hours and a few shots in, Ben brought it up. “So, you two finally kissing” He said out of nowhere.

 Everyone turned to Santi, whose cheeks were flushed with a bit of pink. “What are you talking about, jackass.”

“Everyone’s calling me a jackass tonight!” He exclaimed. Benny wiggled his eyebrows. “I saw you kiss her when we left.”

“What?” Will exclaimed. Frankie was not surprised.

“Listen” Santi defended himself. “It was a kiss on the cheek”  there was a pause, as no one seemed to beleive him. “There might have been… some kissing last night.” A loud ooooooo from Ben. “No, no, not like that. And I should havn’t done that” Santi shook his head. “That’s not why I took her in.”

“Well…” Will started, but stopped, hesitating.

“Whatever it is, say it.” Santi groaned, finishing his drink and ordering another round for the guys sans Will.

“I just mean, it’s not the only reason. But I think it was somewhere in the back of your mind.”

Santi looked indignant. “I didn’t move her in to coerce her into sex, Will”

“I didn’t say that!” He raised his hands defensively. “I just mean, she’s a pretty girl, you’re a good looking guy who has been very nice to her,” he stifled a smirk “it’s natural that theres gonna be some… attraction.” Will tried to remain polite.

“Listen.” Santi scrubbed his face. “I’m well aware that she might find me…” He tried to find the right words without sounding braggadocious. “Appealing” he said he a smile, earning laughs from the guys. “But” he got more serious. “I don’t want her to feel like she is obligated to do anything.”

“Santi.” It was Fish’s turn. “I don’t think she feels like that. You treat her like a porcelain doll, she feels safe with you.”

Santi wasn’t relenting. “And I plan on keeping it that way. Lace is still in a high emotional state, I don’t know if she’s thinking clearly, and I’m not going to take advantage of that.”

Ben took another shot. “So what you’re saying is, when she gets more settled, you would go for it”

The alcohol flowed through Santi, taking back his usual inhibitions when he spoke. A smile quipped up at his lips. “All I’m saying is… I enjoy spending time with her, and I wouldn’t mind if she wanted toooooo, continue that” Oh yeah. Yeah he was drunk.

This evoked a round of cheers from the guys, and Frankie ordering more drinks.

A ding on Santi’s phone. When he looked at the screen he smiled.

Frankie looked over. “Everything alright with our girls?”

Our girls

“Yeah, they are great.” He show Frankie, then Benny and Will the picture. Rosie was fast asleep in her bed, Laci laying next to her smiling. Yeah, he was saving that picture.

Laci woke up on the couch, Will very softly whispering for her to wake up, careful not to scare her. “Hey”

Laci gave a sleepy little wave, but was concerned there was no Santi.

“Listen, I just got Frankie to bed, Santi is… drunk off his ass.” He chuckled. “Let’s get you guys home so I get throw Ben on his front porch and be done with him.”

Laci’s face falters, and Will assured her he was joking and would get Ben to bed safely. She stood up, glancing over to the room Rosie was in.

“I already checked on her, but you can say goodbye if you want.” 

Laci shook her head, she didn’t want to wake her.

When she got in the car, it was clear Santi and Ben were DRUNK drunk. Will had shoved them in the back, opening the passenger door for Laci. The whole ride home, Ben and Santi alternated music. Despite his earlier insistence that he didn’t like Luis Fonsi, he sure sang No me Doy Por Vecino loud as hell. Benny did too, even if he couldn’t pronounce the words. Laci looked over to the older Miller, who was glancing at his brother and his friend in the rearview mirror as they screeched out ‘Una senal del destino’ the top of their lungs, gripping to each other dramatically. Will was not as irritated as he pretended to be. He turned to see Laci catching him smiling. 

“They’re funny.” He defended.

Will practically had to carry Santi’s short body to the bed. Laci was grateful for him, there was no way she’d get him there. She took off his shoes as Will practically forced him to drink water.

“STOP WATER BOARDING ME!” Santi half yelled, half laughed.

“I’M NOT WATER BOARDING YOU, I’M TRYING TO HELP YOUR HANGOVER AFTER ALL THOSE SHOTS, DUMBASS”

Laci stood up, gesturing for the cup. She stood over Santiago, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Will watched as she held the cup to his lips with one hand, and carefully coaxed his head back with the other. The way Santi looked up at her… he was done for. Laci had his wrapped around her finger, and likely had from the moment he saw her. His large brown eyes watched her face as she watched the cup, far more careful with him than Will had been. Santi drank every bit of the water, and Laci patted his head, leaning into whisper “good job, baby“ Suddenly, she looked up, turning around to see Will. She had forgotten he was there. Santi laid down on the bed, mumbling something in Spanish they couldn’t understand.

His face flushed a deep pink as her eyes widened in panic.

“Hey, hey,” Will Miller held up his hands, before pretending to zip his mouth shut. He mimiacked locking his mouth, handing over the key to her. Laci smiled and tentatively took the metaphorical key, tucking it in he roveral pocket.

“You guys gonna be okay here?”

Laci nodded.

“Okay, call me me if he asphyxiates on his vomit or something.” Pope had put all the guys numbers in her phone as soon as he bought it, incase of emergencies.

She looked panicked again. 

“Oh! Oh no, I was joking. Sorry, dry humor.”

This didn't comfort her. Now she was worried about him choking.

He sighed, but smiled. “Here” Will moved Santi to his side. “If he’s on his side, he’ll be fine” Will promised.

Feeling better, Laci nodded

“Okay, I’m gonna get going. Leaving a drunk Ben alone is a bad idea, he’s probably fighting a racoon as we speak.

Laci laughed and waved goodbye. 

When he was out the door, she locked it behind him and set up Santi’s extensive security system. She went back to check on him, sitting on the edge of the bed. When was sure he was asleep, she played with his beautiful, thick hair. “Thank you for everything. I don’t say it enough, but thank you. I owe you everything. Te amo.” A kiss on his forehead. “Te amo, Santiago” Laci climbed into the other side of the bed, not wanting to leave him alone. Will’s joke had worried her. She was going to watch out for him the way he watched out for her.

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

I hope y'all liked the kiss bc I wanted to write it really fucking sweet. Their first kiss was impulsive, but I wanted this to be slow, deliberate.

I used a piccrew maker to make how I picture Laci when she was found, and then after she had been with Santi and got her hair cut this chapter, which you can find here for reference

Also I'm working on a spotify playlist for this fic, if you have any suggestions go ahead and comment! Its gonna have leather and lace by stevie nicks (duh) some luis fonsi (duh) Selena, etc. if you have any songs you feel fit this fic, comment them here!

Also, writing dialoge that switched between 4/5 people is hard, im sorry if it was confusing.

be sure to follow the leather and lace fic tag, and if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!!! smut is coming i swear

relbogs help a lot and comments mean the world! love y'all and thank you so much for the support y'all have given to this story!

@littlenosoul @bensolosbluesaber @milkymoon2483 @gogh-with-the-flow @itspdameronthings @trinkets01 @p0edameronswife

[sataniquepanique]

Painkiller - Part One

Hi! I'm a long time lurker of fanfics, but a first time writer! Like the rest of you, I have fallen hopelessly in love with Eddie Munson. He also reminds me of not only myself in high school, but a lot of the people I knew. The freaks, the outcasts. I started this fic with my own high school experiences in mind, so those themes are sprinkled throughout. This will be a multi-part piece, with a lot written already. If it gets enough interest, I'll keep posting! Please be nice, I'm new!

~~~

Summary: You move to Hawkins during your Senior Year, trying to keep your head down and just graduate. You meet Eddie Munson, who tries to help you adjust to life in Hawkins. You're apprehensive but end up falling for him, only to be roped up in some drama when Eddie goes on the run.

Genre: slow burn, angst.

Warnings: cursing, general angst.

Word Count: 1.1k+

~~~

Part One: Cherry Bomb

“This is so fucking ridiculous…” you think to yourself as you walk into the lunchroom. It’s 11:40am, the time you’ve been dreading all day: lunch. High school is hard enough, but moving to a new town for your senior year? That’s pure, sadistic torture. In your head you replay the moment your parents broke the news to you a few weeks ago, 

“You can’t be fucking serious” you said as you deadpan over to your mom’s face. “Watch your mouth…” your dad cautions as he shoots you a glance from across the dinner table. You laugh incredulously, “Mom. I’m starting senior year. All of my friends are here! Why are you doing this to me?” You plead with her, as your eyes start to well with tears. Your dad had gotten a new job in Indiana, some hick town called Hawkins. He couldn’t pass up the offer, so he was forcing the entire family to move halfway across the country from the East Coast. Your mom sighed and looked down at the table as you slammed your chair back and went to your room. There was no stopping this move no matter how hard you tried.

You scan the lunchroom for an empty chair, something preferably away from others. You aren’t very good at talking to new people, and mostly chose to keep to yourself. At your old school, you had a small group of friends who were like you: into art and horror movies and punk music. The lot of you didn’t fit in with any other social clique, but somehow found each other. “Remember…” you think to yourself, “…you’re just here to get through one year and graduate. You’re not here to make friends.” Finally you see it, a seat at the very back at the last empty table. You make a beeline for it, and quickly throw your backpack onto the table and sit down, pulling out your sketchbook and a pencil. You put on your headphones that have been hanging around your neck for the majority of the morning, and escape into Joan Jett’s familiar voice. Art has always been your thing, ever since you were little you were always doodling or sketching something on any blank surface you could find. Your mom had bought you a new sketchbook before the big move, in the hopes that it would stop you from drawing on your arms. Todays project was a space-scape, with a lone figure floating through the abyss. The nothingness of space mirrored your attitude towards this new town. Nothing. You felt nothing. 

Suddenly, your sketchbook is ripped out from under your hand, causing you to accidentally draw a huge dark pencil scratch down the center of the page. “What the fuck dude!” you slam down the pause button on your walkman and look up and see a tall, blonde, smug looking basketball player holding your sketchbook and thumbing through the pages. “Check this out guys, we have a new resident weirdo!” He exclaims as he turns his head to laugh with the rest of his jock friends at the next table over. You remember him from your history class earlier, Jason is his name maybe? He wouldn’t stop ogling the cheerleader that sat in front of you in that class. “Can I please have that back? I wasn’t bothering anyone.” You say quietly, tucking a loose strand of dark auburn hair behind your ear. “Not until I’m done looking at your masterpieces.” Jason smirked, still tearing through the pages. You feel your eyes start to burn, and you try your best to not start crying. “HEY JASON!” You hear a voice boom from across the lunchroom. You look up startled to see a kid you remember from your math class, standing on a lunch table with his fists clenched. His name was Eddie, and you only remember him because he had leaned over in class to ask you for a pen. Not because he needed it to take notes, but because he wanted to etch Slayer into the desk. “Leave her alone, man.” He says more calmly than his previous outburst. “Or what? You want something, freak?” Jason yelled back, tossing the sketchbook back onto your lunch table and clenching his fists. Eddie put his hands up next to his head and stuck his fingers up, mimicking horns, while sticking his tongue out at Jason. You giggled at him, and he shot you a quick wink. One of the other kids at the jock table came up to Jason and grabbed his shoulder, “C’mon man, it’s not worth it.” Jason shot Eddie and you one last piercing glance and went back to his seat. 

Eddie hopped down from his lunch table and slid into the seat next to you. “Hey, sorry about that, he’s a total dickhead. Do you want to come sit with us?” He motioned over to his table, a bunch of misfits wearing the same lame shirt with “Hellfire Club” emblazoned on the front. “No thanks, I’m good.” You said nonchalantly, not even looking at him while you put your sketchbook away. “Oh…uh, my name’s Eddie by the way” he stammered, obviously trying to keep a conversation going with you. “I know” you said matter of factly “you borrowed my pen in math earlier, I’d like that back by the way.” “Oh shit! That was you!” His eyes widened as he remembered. “I saw you drawing in class, you’re pretty talented.” You shot him a look, unsure if he was making fun of you or being sincere. “Listen, we have a club that meets on Tuesdays, Hellfire Club. We play DnD, and tonight is the culmination of a months-long campaign but we’re down a member. Would you want to join? I feel like you might be into it…” he trailed off. “….why? Cause I’m a freak like you guys?” You say, meaner than you had intended. Eddie smiled, the same devilish grin he had used on Jason moments prior, “Precisely.” You threw your bag over your shoulder and made your way towards the door, Eddie following behind. You stop in front of the Hellfire lunch table. “I’ll think about it.” You say, glancing over at the rest of his group, all of which were staring at you. You throw your headphones back on and hit play, blasting Cherry Bomb into your brain. You turned around before Eddie could respond, and made your way out of the lunchroom. 

“Eddie, you seriously didn’t just invite your new girlfriend to Hellfire did you?” Dustin groaned. “Shut up.” Eddie snapped, shooting daggers at him through his eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend. Not yet, anyway.”

[palmofafreezinghand]

request by @acewardcullen "Can I have fic Edward and Esme goofing around back when it was just the two of them while Carlisle was at work?"

Edward had wanted to hate Esme from the moment Carlisle had first thought of her, fleetingly,  one stormy night when Edward had dared ask if there was anyone he had ever considered changing before him. He really wanted to hate her when she showed up cradled in the doctor’s arms, her spine crooked, and thoughts grating. He told himself he hated her those first few weeks when she took all of Carlisle’s attention with her curiosity and forgiveness. 

Edward Masen had failed, miserably, at hating Esme Platt. 

She had been in their lives for less than two months and had quickly wormed her way into Edward’s affections. With Carlisle working night shifts at the hospital, Edward and Esme spent most evenings alone together. 

“What was that?” Edward exclaimed, halting his piano playing to hone in on the quick thought of an easel and paint set, sandwiched between memories of her childhood. Her thoughts jumped to creepy bugs she knew would make him itch. 

“Stop thinking of centipedes!” Edward squirmed. 

Esme attempted to respond, her thoughts jumbled, her words cut off by her uncontrollable laughter. She had found his aversion to bugs with too many legs — centipedes, millipedes, silverfish, pillbugs, spiders — entirely by accident. She had found a centipide in the attic and promptly tried to show it to him which sent him screaming out of the house, like a little toddler she had thought in the moment while she chased him with said centipede, like a toddler he had thought. 

“It was nothing,” she said when she finally caught her breath. 

“It was an easel. You paint?” 

“No,” she said, but her thoughts gave way to hazy memories of blurry doodles in the margins of books, framed images on her bedroom wall, sitting in the branches of an apple tree with a heavy book in her lap and a piece of charcoal staining her fingers. 

The past two months had been spent simply trying to keep her alive and get her through every twenty-four period as stable as possible, they failed often. There simply hadn’t been time or energy to ask about her past hobbies, she was slowly working her way through Carlisle’s extensive library but could be most often found turning over her own thoughts while listening to Edward play the piano. He never played the piano more than in those past two months desperately trying to distract her from some more horrifying memories. 

“You like art,” Edward stated as he rushed out of the room. He came back a second later with an empty leather-bound journal from Carlisle’s study and a pencil and shoved the materials in Esme’s lap. Her arms were crossed over her chest, an unthreatening glare on her face as she looked up at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking down at the book. ‘This is far too nice. Did he steal this from Dr. Cu– Carlisle?’ 

“He’ll forgive me, it’s for you. Draw.” 

Esme’s frown deepened, upsetting Carlisle, really anyone but especially Carlisle, was unfathomable to her. Her thoughts were racing a mile a minute, fantasizing about the disappointment on the doctor’s face — a sight she had yet to ever see but was convinced was only a matter of time — as he chided them for stealing his things. 

“Fine,” Edward sighed. “Sit here all night bored beyond belief, your choice.” He took a seat at his piano, he made it six bars into his song of choice before her theatrical sigh and loud thoughts interrupted him. 

“If I draw will you stop playing that god awful screeching?” 

“It is frankly comical how much you hate jazz,” Edward smiled, turning on his stool to face her. 

‘Is that what you call it?’ She thought with scorn. “I don’t know what you want me to draw.” 

“Anything you want. The world is your oyster, Esme.” 

Her frown was going to become permanent at this rate but she eventually opened the journal to the first page. Edward went back to his playing, an original composition this time, as she thought over her plan of attack. 

Three minutes later he was once again stopping his playing, watching her page – through her mind — and his keys turned out to be quite a challenge, especially when the image she was blocking out was of him. 

She continued chipping away at the image as he took a seat on her armrest, watching the page over her shoulder. Her thoughts indicated she did not even notice he moved. 

The image forming on the paper was clear talent. It was like the first time he looked at his mother’s needlepoint for the first time, or watched Carlisle operate — through memories he had yet to work up the strength to sit in an operating theater — or listened to the Chicago Symphony live. 

He likened those moments to church, the reverent revelation, the moment everything in life made sense. Edward was still waiting for this moment for himself. 

When she finished the sketch of Edward at the piano she moved onto attempting to sketch Carlisle’s face. Edward let out a bark of laughter before he could stop himself. 

Esme startled and looked up to the piano stool and then quickly corrected herself and looked at him on the armrest. She slammed the journal turned sketchbook closed. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” Edward smiled. “Just find it amusing who you decided to draw.” 

“You.” 

“Who was that other guy?” Edward teased, trying to grab the book out of her hands  to look at the sketch of her infatuation. 

“No one. Hush up,” Esme said defensively, clutching the book to her chest. 

“Mhmmm.” He elbowed her lightly. “You don’t like him at all and you’re not an artist.” If Esme could blush her cheeks would have been red as her eyes.

‘Don’t tell him, please,’ she mentally begged. 

“You know I won’t tell him about the crush,” Edward affirmed, wrapping his arm lightly around her shoulders, she only flinched slightly, progress. 

“Or the drawing?” She asked, book still clutched to her chest. 

Edward saw no reason to hide it from Carlisle, he would be overjoyed Esme had an interest in anything. Perhaps that was precisely the reason she wanted to hide it. Her thoughts were already imagining an overzealous Carlisle bringing home every art supply known to man, just like he had done with her clothing, and books, and anything she had shown a mild interest in over the past two months. 

“Fine,” Edward smiled. “Our secret.”

[artistsfuneral]

bc i'm the kind of person to get really excited abt 1 thing and 1 thing only, i have the regret to announce that i am still thinking abt your Polaroids and Sunshine fic, so pls bear with me here-- (ik i already poked abt things in the comments of said fic, so double bear w me)

Lambert, upon realising how much Ciri loves Jaskier, jokingly says "like father like daughter" to Geralt, which gets him a glare. When Jaskier is back with them all, he says it to Jaskier, which makes Geralt glare again, and also Jaskier looses it bc "oh god I can't unsee this now" and he then starts pointing out all their common points. Ciri finds it funny

However, when Geralt realised that Ciri was proper obsessed with Jaskier as an artist, it definitely had to hurt, though he's way too selfless to mention it - however, Lambert did try to help by taking part of the Jaskier-related jobs

did Geralt have a "if i ignore it, it can't hurt me" approach, while Lambert had a "it's nice to hear his voice still, even if it's on videos and CDs" approach of things? 🤔

anyway, blbl sorry :') i have decided i'd draw for it too bc i have doodles in my brain but this might take from several days to several weeks, so, in the meantime, too many thoughts abt ur fic that u might not find interesting, and a big thank you for writing it in the first place x)

have a good night :)

Oh I absolutely do not mind that kind of obsession, in fact I am so here for it :D I am honestly a bit overwhelmed (in a good way) with how many people seem to like that fic and how many comments I got, my latest fics didn't do so well so I kind of really needed the hype :)) and I got it <3

I stopped the fic at the point of Jaskier and Geralt meeting again because it's originally supposed to be a Ciri centered fic and as soon as her Dad and Jaskier meet the center shifted to them for obvious reasons, so the whole getting back together happens off camera, so to speak XD

Lambert and Jaskier are definitely two peas in a pot in this fic. They both have the youngest sibling energy and totally vibe wih it. I hinted at it in several ao3 comments, but not only does Lambert constantly tease Ciri with her celebrity Jaskier obsession (lets all remember the glitter hairbrush pls) but also is Jaskier 100% on board for it - he is enthralled that Ciri is a fan of him and his music which thankfully makes everything a whole lot less embarassing for that poor teenager ("You have the glitter brush? I have it too!")

Then again when Ciri first started talking about super-awsome-mega-cool-singer-Jaskier-the-Bard when she was 12/13 y.o. everyone in their family kind of held their breath and watched how Geralt would react. Being father number 1 he really took it in stride. Like I mentioned in the fic, a lot of bad things had happened to Geralt before so he is not really fond of talking about his past - telling Ciri not to listen to Jaskier's music would have needed a very long in depth explanataion as to why which in return would have probably ended up with Ciri wanting to talk to Jaskier which Geralt at that time was definitely not ready for! So Geralt kept quiet, nodded his head when his daughter asked him for poster number 1 and poster number 2 and CD number x and and and. Geralt who has always been nothing but supportive of Jaskier's dreams had found a way of knowing what his ex was up to without having to google his name (which would have been to hurtful, but hearing "Jaskier is now in Temeria singing for thouands of people in this really big concert hall" from his daughter who is looking at him with a wide smile on her face, makes things a lot more managable) Then again. It was Lambert who chaperoned the infamous 13th birthday party, not Geralt. Things were okay but not great.

The whole thing behind the story is that Geralt put everyone else in his life first. Be it Pavetta for whom he's the best big brother, be it Jaskier whom he lets go to live his dream, be it Ciri who is raised with the utmost care, or even Roach a rescue horse that he spends hours and hours training with to give her a better life. (his family obviously knows this to some extent and they all watch out for him, especially Vesemir and Eskel tho)

And yes, once Geralt and Jaskier are comfortable enough with each other again Lambert definitely teases both Geralt and Ciri aaaallll the time :D

[factorialsfandoms]

Usually I draw the kind of stuff I find a lot of interest in and your fics are just prime art material, I don't draw out of obligation coz then it makes art boring for me lmao. I'd draw your other fics more often but I haven't been drawing LU very much and I've only just gotten back into drawing the boys. Time's a lot easier to draw these days coz I'm more used to drawing muscles than back in October, it's Twi's face I just can't get right anymore lol. I'm glad you like my silly ideas so much.

Admittedly I adore la-sera's art for odaahfc, it's absolutely gorgeous I wish I had half the digital talent to draw such amazing scenes. Currently working on it and building up my skills, which is why I want to redraw it.

Good luck with your objectives. I usually procrastinate my own tasks but I like to view them like side and main quests like in BotW to help me. I've even got it set out a little bit like the Sheikah Slate in a diary lol. I feel kind of bad for not chatting with you recently but I've been sleeping all odd and it's made me too exhausted to really talk to anyone on their blogs until around this week. I appreciate you coming to talk on my blog, makes me feel less lonely over there lol.

So long as you are having fun <3 Faces and muscles are both so hard. I do need to doodle the other fairies, and also all of Warriors', buuuut Warriors fairies are being taken from my HW play, so I want all the costume pieces and to dress them up with in game stuff because that pleases me.

Practice is good but sometimes a pain ^^;

Thanks! I've got... 2 fills for the goreswap exchange to do (neither especially gorey but I'm trying. It's like... T rated gore but oh well), then also I need to somehow get more chapters for In the Belly of the Whale written. I have one for this week pre-drafted, then I'm into the I've got nothing written zone oops. And a fic with Time and Navi in HW era which is... sort of part of fairyverse and so dragging LU a bit more AU for that ^^' And some fun ideas with Rulie's mother.

Eh chatting is to come and go. TBH I've not had much brain recently. House keeps falling apart, health things, family stuff got weird, you know, all that.

The side and main quests is useful! Prioritising things or something.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

"A finding a hand-sketched photo of them on B's desk." w/ Rick Flag! - Babs

Thanks Babs! I'm not sure when a piece can no longer be called a drabble and is just considered a full fic, but here you go!

POV Rewrite: A Hand-Sketched Photo (Alternate POV)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waller had been running everyone so ragged the last few weeks, was it really that surprising you had fallen asleep during the briefing? Luckily, she hadn’t seemed to notice, but Flag sure had. When you finally woke up at the conclusion of the meeting, you found half a dozen pens shoved in your hair. Glaring over at your fellow officer, he just chuckled behind his hand and shrugged. But then he smartly darted out of the meeting before you could confront him.

It took you nearly twenty minutes to finally track him down outside the cafeteria and as soon as you did, you threw the handful of pens at his head. Dodging most of them, he gave you a charming half-smile. “Hey, serves you right. You know the rules. Anyone who falls asleep durin’ a briefing is free game to mess with.”

“Yeah, but could you have been more obvious! If I hadn’t been sitting behind Nanaue, Waller would have noticed in seconds!”

Rick shrugged, “I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.”

“No, you and I did make the rules! It’s our game, you jackass.” You punched him playfully on the arm so he knows you’re not really mad. “However, to make it up to me, can I borrow your notes? I obviously missed everything she said in there.”

“Sure, but I already dropped my notebook back in my office. I can get it for you after lunch.”

“Do you mind if I just go get them now? I’m not really hungry and I want to get caught up in case Waller wants to discuss it more later.”

Rick shrugged again as he headed into the cafeteria. “Whatever works for you. It should just be layin’ on top of my desk.”

You find his notebook exactly where he said it would be. But as you began flipping through his notes, you suddenly froze. There, right in between a page listing the squad members for this mission and a page detailing the extraction plan, was a drawing. You had seen Rick doodling in his free time before (usually violent depictions of what he would like to do to Waller given the chance) but you had never seen one of his pictures like this.

The sleeping person in the drawing was you. It was obvious from the clothes and the hair, but you had never seen yourself look this beautiful before. Long eyelashes that brushed your cheeks, full lips parted just ever so slightly, neck elegantly extended to the side as your head tilted in sleep. The shading accentuated and highlighted each area to perfection, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. This was not just another doodle during a long meeting. This was a work of art that was filled with love and devotion. But this couldn’t be how Rick saw you….could it?

“No! Wait!” Rick suddenly burst through the door breathlessly, the remains of his tacos all over the front of his jacket. It must have finally dawned on him what else that notebook contained besides just notes. When he saw what you were looking at, he glanced back and forth between you and the book a few times before finally settling his gaze on you.

“What is this, Rick?” You asked softly as you held up the drawing.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered as he stormed over and tried to rip it from your hands.

But you dodged out of the way, clutching the notebook tight against your chest. “This isn’t nothing. This is…...I’ve never even imagined I could look like this…But-but why did you draw it? Why like that?”

“Just drop it, okay? I was bored and I just wanted to draw something. I saw you asleep and….”

“And what? Rick, why did you draw me looking so…so beautiful?”

Rick shrugged and in a low voice that was almost inaudible said, “I just drew what I saw.”

A new thought occurred to you, and you began flipping through the rest of the notebook. Rick dove at the book, trying to stop you from seeing anything else. But it was too late. Near the back of the book, you saw page after page of sketches of you. In uniform, in your covert ops gear, in your workout clothes, laughing, scowling, smirking, smiling. Each one was as detailed and as beautiful as the last.

Looking up at your partner, you whispered, “Rick?

His face had gone a deep red and his jaw was clenched as his gaze bored holes into the floor. You walked over to him, only stopping when you were practically touching. You stared at his chiseled chest for a moment, gathering your courage. Then, reaching up, you placed one hand behind his neck and pull him down to your lips.

He didn’t fight back like you expected. Instead, he surged into you, immediately lifting you up as his arms wrapped around your waist. Instinctually, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he carried you over and placed you on his desk. He tore off your jacket, exposing your thin tank top underneath. His lips left yours with a moan as he began peppering kisses across your jaw and down your throat.

However, as much as you had always dreamed of this and as much pleasure that was currently flooding your system, something still nagged at the back of your mind. “Rick, there is one thing I need to know.” He hummed in acknowledgment as he continued to trail kisses down your throat and onto your collarbone, causing your eyes to flutter with desire. “That picture you drew in the meeting today was so detailed, so beautifully sketched and shaded……How long was I asleep?”

210 Prompt List

[pepperonijem]

When He Sees Me || Peter Parker

MASTERLIST

Pairing:  Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: um peter might be a little ooc and that’s because i’m writing about my unfortunate crush but i basically just changed his name to peter parker any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental <3 

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can’t close it? Catching feelings for your best friend is never easy.

A/N: This fic is sponsored in part by @bitchassbucky, @spiderrpcrker, @shurisneakers, @midnightsunfae, and @blackberrybucky who instead of shutting down my feelings, hyped me up to turn my crush and some of the things that we’ve done into a fic <3 this goes out to anyone who has ever started crushing on their best friend.

Oh God, please don’t walk this way, please don’t wa-

“Oh, hey Peter!” The crack in your voice betrayed your attempt at a casual greeting, despite your efforts to disguise it with a cough. “How’s it-- how’s it hanging?”

“You good?” Peter smiled at you but his eyebrow quirked upwards in concern. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight?” His concern faded into a wide grin as you nodded in response. Peter gave you a quick goodbye before walking away towards his next class.

As soon as you saw him turn into the classroom, you turned to face your closed locker, letting out a groan before setting your forehead against it. Peter had asked if you were good, and although you nodded, the butterflies in your stomach threatened to give you away. You were very much not good.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned to see your friend MJ. “What did Peter do this time?” MJ asked. For the last month, every interaction with Peter -- there have been a lot -- ended this way: a groan of defeat and a few welted lines on your forehead from holding your head against your locker. You turned to give MJ a dirty look, annoyed by the amused smirk on her face.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed, finally lifting your head up to talk to her. You opened your locker as you talked, not wanting to make eye contact with MJ as you confessed your feelings. “He just… smiled… and everything went downhill from there.” You rolled your eyes as MJ laughed. “It’s getting worse, I have no idea how I’m going to get through tonight.”

MJ laid a hand on your shoulder. “Well we’ll all be there,” she offered. “And if it makes you feel better, no one’s even noticed. Just act normal and you’ll be fine.” She shrugged her shoulders as if that was the easiest thing to do. But you couldn’t act normal anymore, not with Peter. Not when normal means resting your head against his shoulder every time he makes you laugh. Not when normal means borrowing his clothes when his aunt May tells you to stay the night every time a study session runs too long. Not when normal means wearing the extra sweater he keeps for you because you always forget yours.

Normal was when you didn’t feel butterflies everytime he looked at you, before your curious heart got the better of you and you began to wonder what it might be like to hold his hand. Now, things were just weird. At least for you. Nothing on the surface had changed, no one noticed how your heart rate picked up every time Peter touched you, or how you suddenly felt hot whenever he winked at you. But inside your heart was navigating uncharted territory in your friendship, trying to traipse along the thin line that separated how things have always been and how you suddenly wish things could be.

Pulling your textbook out of your locker, you shut the locker door a just a little bit more aggressively than necessary. MJ gave you a small hug before linking her arm through yours as you walked to your next class.

For the rest of the day, you found it impossible to focus on anything. Instead of taking down notes on George Orwell in English, you found yourself absentmindedly doodling hearts. Everything just reminded you of Peter and your own confusing feelings. Thankfully, you didn’t share any classes with him today, leaving you enough solitude to think about just why you were so frustrated with yourself.

Logically, you knew there was nothing wrong with having a crush on someone. You’ve had plenty of crushes before, a few of which reflected a temporary lapse in judgement on your part. You remember telling Peter about each of them, gushing about the most basic acts of human decency as he rolled his eyes and told you that you deserve someone better, but nevertheless helping you pick up the pieces every time someone broke your heart. That, you realized, was what scared you the most.

If you were to date, and then break up… well who would be there with kind words and your favorite boba when everything fell apart? The thought of losing your best friend over emotions, feelings, left far too much to chance. Was the idea of holding his hand, of hearing him call you his enough to make you risk the friendship that has always been enough for you? It should be enough for you, you reminded yourself. There was too much on the line and not enough guarantee for you to risk it.

With that determination in mind, you steeled yourself for the rest of the day, determined to put your feelings to rest and go back to normal.

Unfortunately, that plan quickly fell through.

You got to the restaurant a half hour late with only a really good nap to blame. You felt bad that your friends were waiting for you, but when you got there, you found an empty spot next to Peter, where your usual order of ramen was waiting and against your will, the butterflies flew rampant. The noodle that hit Peter’s nose as he ate while waving you over made you laugh as you sat down beside him.

“I got you your usual,” Peter explained in between bites. You smiled and thanked him before digging in. Peter had done this for you many times, and you willed your body to fight against the flutter of your heart.

Thankfully, the rest of your dinner was going well, and everyone had plenty of stories to tell. MJ had begun doing more portraits of people in distress and revealed her latest piece -- a portrait of Peter slurping up a noodle only to get a rogue drop of soup in his eye. Ned and Betty were off again, but of course they tried to keep it civil (they were on again by the end of the night) so no one would have to pick sides. Flash teased Peter about the B that he made on his literature exam yesterday over poetry and Peter’s face turned beet red.

“Hey,” Peter began, attempting to defend himself. “I totally could’ve made a perfect score. I was just distracted.” He shrunk down in his seat a little bit, and the rest of you laughed teasingly.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Flash continued. “You’ve been drawing little hearts all over your notes, dude, it’s unsettling.” He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his food, swirling his fork around the bowl trying to grab as much noodle as possible.

Across the table, you and MJ made eye contact, a look of surprise between the both of you. You tried to signal her to say something before a weird silence fell on the table, but she was not reading your cues. Thankfully, Peter spoke again.

“H-hearts?” He repeated. “Why would I be drawing hearts on my notes?” Although he tried to play it off, the rise in pitch gave him away. He scrunched his face in exaggeration.

“Actually,” Betty began. “Now that I think about it, you were doing that in Spanish class too.” You glanced over at Peter who looked at you with panic in his eyes. You took a long sip of water, suddenly feeling a layer of sweat form at the back of your neck. “Wonder what that’s about.” She shrugged and turned to Ned asking if he wanted to split a slice of cheesecake with her.

Before Peter had a chance to try to defend himself once again, the waitress appeared. “Are you all ready for the check?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we’re splitting the check,” Flash replied. Betty rolled her eyes in response. “What? Just because I’m rich does not mean I have to share the wealth.”

The waitress nodded in response. As she was leaving Peter called her back. “Oh wait,” he called. “I’ll also be paying for this order,” he gestured to your bowl. She smiled at him and headed for the counter.

“Peter,” you smiled. “I have money, I can pay for myself.” Although Peter usually had to order for you, he didn’t usually pay for you, unless it was a special occasion.

“I know, I just wanted to be nice,” he responded, giving your shoulder a playful nudge. “Plus, you seem like you’ve had a rough week. Every time I see you, you seem to be lost in thought. What’s been on your mind?” The sentence came out casually, but the furrow in his brows revealed how concerned he actually has been. Peter was nothing if not observant, like he could sense things better than most people.

You let out a sigh, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to lie to Peter, but you also didn’t want to tell him the truth, that you were thinking about him-- well, your feelings for him. Just when it seemed like he had backed you into a corner, however, the waitress had returned with the checks, and the question left unanswered.

After dinner, the six of you went to Flash’s house to watch a movie. He had a home theater and early access to new movies and he loved to remind everyone of that. Not that any of you minded, especially if it got you free popcorn and a movie out of it. Every week, a different person got to select the movie and today, unfortunately, was MJ’s turn.

You loved her, of course, but you absolutely detested her taste in movies. Mostly because she was a horror junkie, and you were absolutely not. Her last few turns however had been spent making sure you all had seen all of the Shrek movies. But today, she picked a horror film. Something about demons and the like. Peter and Betty cheered at her selection as Flash groaned. You settled into the couch in the back of the room and grabbed a blanket. Ned and Betty sat together on a smaller loveseat, and MJ sat on the floor in front of Flash’s seat, the perfect spot to be able to scare him with a single touch on his leg.

Peter sat down beside you, handing you a tub of popcorn and a soda. He pulled the blanket over his own lap as he sat criss-cross on the couch. You tried not to pay attention to how his leg was brushing against yours under the blanket, instead focusing on the screen as the room went dark.

The movie had just started, but you could already feel yourself tense up in expectation.The music was coming to a crescendo and you knew something was already going to happen. You didn’t realize just how tightly your fists had balled together in your lap till you jumped at the sound of Peter’s soft voice at the shell of your ear. “Are you okay?” He asked.

He tried to hold in a chuckle as you almost bounced the tub of popcorn off your lap. He grabbed it from you and set it to the side. “Look,” he pointed to the screen where the creature’s head had just rotated a full circle as it crawled up the wall in pursuit of the main character. “That thing kinda looks like the spider from that kid’s tv show, but not as creepy.” You let out a laugh, a little louder than you meant, and Ned turned to tell you to shut up.

The small joke was enough to dissipate the anxiety you felt towards the movie, but unfortunately only heightened your feelings about Peter. But he noticed how your fists unclenched and how your shoulders relaxed once you laughed, so he continued to tell you whispered jokes for the rest of the movie. Each time he noticed your body tensing, he tried his best to make you laugh, and god, how could you stop yourself from those butterflies anymore?

At the height of the movie, you found yourself with your hands over your ears, and eyes squeezed shut, unable to even look at the screen or hear a joke. When Peter realized a joke wouldn’t be enough, he slid closer to you and pulled you into his side and you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Before you had a chance to think about the spicy notes of his cologne or the softness of his skin, the sound of a high pitched scream in the movie caused you to jump with a gasp. In response, Peter wrapped his arms around you tight, with a gentle shush.

It was only after the music began to die down that you opened your eyes again, only to find Peter’s eyes fixed on the screen. Now that the worst was over, you no longer had an excuse to be in his embrace the way you were. You began to wiggle your way out of his arms, attracting his attention.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Peter I’m a big kid,” you smiled, teasing. “You don’t have to hold me like a baby.” Peter let out a soft laugh before relaxing his hold on you just a bit.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll just hold you like this then.” He began to shift so that your head was on his shoulder, and one of his arms looped under yours, intertwining your fingers. The smile on his face was calm as if this was something the two of you did all the time, but his racing heartbeat reminded you this was something new.

The two of you remained that way for the rest of the movie. By the time the soft music began to play in the credits, you could hear light snoring from everyone else in the room. However, you and Peter made absolutely no efforts to untangle yourselves from each other. It was as if you were worried that once the lights came back on, you would never find yourself like this again, and what a sad idea that was. Normal, would never be enough for you again, not when you know now how much better life could be like this.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the jump scares, or the sureness of his hand in yours, like it’s always belonged there, that gave you the courage to finally break the silence.

“Peter,” you breathed out, lifting your head from his shoulder, but not letting go of his hand.

He turned to you, with a look of concern, afraid of what you might say.

“Kiss me.” The words came out so softly and so quickly that you weren’t sure if you said it at all.

“Finally,” he whispered as his lips fell against yours, softly and slowly. He pulled away after what felt like hours and yet not nearly enough time. His hands reached up to cup your face. “I like you,” he admitted. “So much.”

Suddenly, you felt it. You felt exactly what it must feel like to fly, to let yourself go without worrying about gravity or anything else. The risks were still there, the numbers hadn’t changed, but you knew that no matter what happened next, just having the chance to fly would always be enough.

[sunrisefairy]

Sketches

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Y/N likes drawing people. More specifically, she likes drawing George Weasley. Which is fine, until she loses her notebook and George is the one who finds it. 

A/N: Okay so because of lockdown and me having legit nothing to do i spent the last 2 days writing this fic for @teawiththeweasleys​ writing challenge and i couldnt wait to share it with you. im lowkey very proud of it so i hope you all like it 

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines message me if you would like to be added!

Ever since Y/N was a little girl she was always drawing whether it was scribbles of her family, animals, magical creatures or plants, you could always find the girl with a pencil and paper somewhere nearby. For as long as she could remember her home was covered in her drawings, Y/N’s mum and dad would frame and hang up all of their daughters’ drawings all over the walls. They were so proud of Y/N’s creativity and encouraged her to keep creating her art. It had become a tradition that every year for her birthday Y/N would receive a new notebook and pencils form her parents and it was always her most cherished gift.

Over the last few years Y/N has become very intrigued with drawing faces, she loved how she could capture a person’s emotion with just some charcoal and parchment. More recently when Y/N was sketching she’d try to focus on the subtle and small features that make humans unique and beautiful, may it be the way their eyebrows arched in curiosity or the dimples and freckles etched into their skin or small wrinkles that danced near their eyes when they smiled. Y/N loved it all.

Because Y/N was so captivated with how facial features made everyone unique she found herself draw a particular ginger a lot more than anyone else. George Weasley. Everybody at Hogwarts knew George Weasley was the twin to the confident and loud Fred Weasley. And being that they are identical twins they look very similar. Y/N found it fascinating trying to pinpoint their minor physical differences and she had become quite good at it.

Her brown leather notebook, which if it wasn’t in her hand was usually found stuffed in her book bag, was full of sketches of George. It started of gradual, her drawings of the sweet boy. Y/N was usually found sitting on a bench in the courtyard if the weather was nice, drawing anyone she saw nearby and normally it was someone new each time. But when her eyes landed on the loud group of Gryffindor boys, she felt a pull to the tall boy with fiery hair who was standing next to his twin, both taking turns to tell a story which had the rest of the group engrossed. Y/N wanted to challenge herself, it was simple, she wanted to capture the features that made an identical twin unique.

Y/N spent the last few weeks ‘studying’ George in a very non-threatening and not at all creepy way. The pair had a few classes together being in the same year at school but the two hadn’t really spoken much to each other. So, Y/N admired from afar, normally from across the great hall or in class. She quickly learnt that George’s face was longer than his brothers, his eyes were more slanted, and his lips had a curve in them that was more prominent when he smiled, something he does a lot, Y/N observed.

~~~

The weather was particularly nice on this Saturday afternoon, so naturally Y/N found herself on a bench in the courtyard with her pencil tin open and a range of charcoals scattered around her as she doodled in her notebook (the one which wasn’t unofficially dedicated to George).

“Hello there little Gryffindors-” Y/N heard a voice call from nearby, the voice belonging to Fred Weasley. George was standing next to his twin and the duo were chatting to some unsuspecting first years.

“-anyone fancy a nougat? They are delicious” George finished; the twins shared a mischievous glance at each other.

Y/N quickly grabbed her other notebook and some charcoal and began sketching the boy’s face focusing on the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed at the poor Gryffindor who accepted the free candy which turned out to be a nosebleed nougat. Y/N was absorbed in her sketching she didn’t notice her best friend sit next to her, peering over her shoulder.

“Ah, drawing your lover boy again I see” Alicia chuckled as Y/N slammed the book shut.

“He’s not my lover boy, I’ve already told you; I draw him to-”

“-capture the features that make an identical twin unique. Sure, so if I flick through your other notebooks, I’ll find one dedicated to Fred too then?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “shut up.”

“Come on creeper, we told the others we’d hang out today.” Alicia pulled on Y/N’s hand as she quickly threw her notebooks and pencil tin in her book bag.

“Merlin, hang on! You’re gonna rip my arm out of its socket!” Y/N giggles hoisting her bag strap higher up her shoulder.

The two girls walked off, arms linked and laughing, neither one noticed the lone notebook that was left on the bench.

~~~

George, Fred and Lee were heading towards the great hall after their amusing interaction with a group of first years when the younger twin noticed a brown book perched on a bench. He detoured that way to pick it up, flicking through the pages in hopes he will find who it belongs to so he can return it.

George furrowed his brows as he dove deeper into the book. He expected it to be filled with notes and writing but he was not expecting to see drawings of people; of him and Fred. But as he looked closer, he quickly realised that they weren’t sketches of him and Fred, just himself.

“Oi! What are you doing? We’re gonna be late for dinner” Fred’s voice pulled him back. George shoved the notebook in his pants pocket and hurried after his twin very confused as to why the notebook was filled with drawings of him.

Later that night George found himself sitting on his bed in his dorm room flipping through the notebook. These drawings were incredible, whoever it belonged to had some serious talent but he couldn’t get over why someone had drawn him, let alone multiple drawings. Each sketch was different to the last though, some were of his whole face others just of his eyes or mouth. George was in awe of the skill this person had; they had managed to capture his face perfectly.

Some might view finding a notebook filled of drawings of themselves a little creepy, however George Weasley found it flattering. You see, for his whole life, George has seen himself as the other half of Fred. Most people in their lives couldn’t tell the pair apart and opted to talk to them and refer to them almost as if they were one person as FredandGeorge and not Fred and George. This notebook was proof that someone out there noticed George as a singular person, an individual, which made George’s heart flutter.

~~~

“Oh godric” Y/N mumbles pouring out the contents of her book bag on the table.

“Hey, Y/N relax. I’m sure it will turn up eventually.” Alicia says in attempt to calm her friend down.

Y/N ran her hands through her hair, very stressed. She had been searching for her notebook all morning with no luck worried that the wrong person had found it and would deem her a creepy stalker.

“How can I relax when my notebook-the notebook which is filled with drawings of George Weasley-has gone missing. Oh merlin, whoever has it will most likely recognise the drawings of George and give it to him and he’ll eventually find out that it belongs to me and think I’m a freak” Y/N’s arms are frantically waving around to empathise her point as she paces up and down the room.

Alicia stops in front of her friend, placing her hands on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly “Y/N breath. You’ve told me a million times that those drawings are just about capturing someone’s facial features, right? It’s not like you have a crush on the guy so it doesn’t matter if anyone thinks that, because it’s not true.”

Y/N’s sketches of George Weasley had started just as Alicia said but it quickly turned into Y/N possessing a small, okay maybe huge crush on the red head and her trying to find any excuse to stare at him and draw. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest at the thought of George being the one to find her notebook. There was no way George wouldn’t be freaked out and think Y/N had some weird obsession with him.

“Okay so when was the last time you remember having your book?” Alicia questions.

Y/N racks her brain trying to remember, “yesterday afternoon. In the courtyard on that bench, I was drawing him when you came over. I’m sure I put it in my bag but I haven’t seen it since.”

Alicia nodded, the two deciding that was the best place to start.

Y/N practically sprints to the courtyard, luckily there wasn’t many students here, giving it was a Sunday morning and everyone was probably still sleeping. The two girls look around trying to spot the leather book. Y/N sighs in defeat, collapsing onto the bench and groaing into her hands.

“Bloody hell, I can’t believe I lost it. I’m so stupid”

“Err, Y/N” Alicia nudged her friend’s shoulder.

“Geez, thanks Alicia, you’re meant to say ‘No Y/N you’re not stupid’”

Alicia widened her eyes at Y/N before glancing behind her, “look”.

Y/N follows her gaze and freezes. George Weasley was walking towards them, that in itself was strange but it wasn’t until Y/N looked down at George’s hand and noticed the missing notebook.

“Oh no.”

George had figured whoever misplaced the notebook would probably come back to the last place they had it to search for it. He was hoping for that at least. Not only did he want to return the book to its rightful owner, he also wanted to thank them for seeing him, for noticing him.

As George rounded the corner his eyes scanned the courtyard and were met with Alicia Spinnit and Y/N L/N sitting on the same bench he’d found the notebook on, bingo. Judging by Y/N’s wide eyes that were glued to the notebook in his hand and how Alicia gave her a pat on the shoulder before disappearing, George figured the drawings were the work of Y/N. George’s heart sped up with this information. The two of them weren’t close but were friendly having shared some classes together. George had caught himself on more than one occasion glancing at Y/N during lessons and mealtimes, wondering what it would be like to get to know her. Guess now he has a chance.

His feet stopped a few paces in front of the bench as Y/N gawked up at him.

George cleared his throat, “uh I believe this belongs to you?”

Y/N basically snatches the notebook from his fingers, feeling insanely embarrassed and when Y/N is embarrassed, she rambles. “Oh merlin, I’m so sorry! I’m guessing you looked through it, of course you did. I would have too if I stumbled across a stranger’s book. I’m also guessing you realised all the drawings were of you. Look I’m not some stalker, I swear. Like I’m not some girl that has a massive crush on you and decided to fill a notebook with drawings of you… Well I do have a crush on you. But I promise I didn’t mean to be creepy. I just, I like drawing people and you have a nice face.” Y/N chews on her bottom lip, forcing herself to shut up.

George opens his mouth and closes it a few times as he processes the girl’s words. “Wow, um- I want you to know that I don’t think you’re creepy at all. I was actually really flattered looking through your pictures. It’s nice to know someone sees me as me and not as an extension of Fred.”

The two stare at each other for a few moments, neither one knowing what to say.

George moves to sit beside Y/N, close enough that their thighs are touching, “they are really good by the way. The drawings I mean. You’re very talented.”

Y/N blushes at his words, “thank you. I don’t normally share my art, with the exception of my parents and Alicia.”

George places a hand over his heart, “well in that case I feel very honoured.” He runs his fingers through his hair as Y/N giggles before continuing, “I know we aren’t super close and I kind of hate that it’s taken me this long to ask but would you maybe wanna hang out sometime? Like a date.”

Y/N fiddles with the notebook in her lap trying to hide her excitement “for sure, I’d love that.”

George lets out a sigh of relief, “great, well what are you up to right now? Maybe we can hang out and you can draw more pictures of my handsome face.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and playfully shoves at his side “careful, your head might explode with all that ego. But yes I’d love to hang out with you right now.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

[drabbles-mc]

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust​:  Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge​ @mayans-sauce​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @masterlistforimagines​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​​ @lexondeck​​​

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

--

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

--

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

--

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

[rehkkuma]

aa hiii I just read that fic you wrote and I love the way you write so much😭💕 I saw requests are open, so if it's not too much to ask and if you have the time/inspo for it can I request hcs of Garou with a really caring s/o who's also an artist? If you don't feel like writing him maybe the same theme but with Kakyoin? Those two have my heart ahh whichever you chose is fine! Tysm!

AHHHH im so glad i got a garou request because he's one of my favourite characters of all time 😭😭 i also included a small scenario underneath because yeah<3

garou + a caring s/o who's also an artist headcanons

disclaimers/tags: gn pronouns and fluff!

-Him being the Hero Hunter, he tries to limit his contact with you so you won't be dragged into his mess.

-The few times a week you do see him, he just looks so tired and drained from energy.

-As soon as you hear his footsteps enter the household, you don't waste a second and give him a giant hug with kisses.

-Sometimes he just stands there like (。・_・。) while he embraces your touch, but expect some eager kisses back on the days where he misses you extra.

-Because of your caring nature, you can't help but insist on treating wounds, making his favourite meal, or setting up the bath for him.

-Garou would refuse because he doesn't want to put an even heavier burden on you, but the concerned look on your face makes him accept your offers.

-One of the things that he struggles at is showing how grateful he is for you. Despite him being gone half the time, you're always keen to helping him.

-Any small gifts or favours you give Garou will always leave him blushing (as much to his dismay). If that gift happens to be a portrait of him, he's going to go wild.

-Whether you painted a hyperrealistic portrait of the two of you or a scribbly sketch under 2 minutes, he will cherish all of your work.

-That small doodle you drew of him on a napkin? He keeps it in his pocket and takes it everywhere.

-He may be a giant hotshot who loves teasing you, but one thing that he doesn't try to make fun of (even as a joke) is your art. He genuinely loves that you have a hobby you're passionate about and wouldn't dare try to discourage you from doing what you love.

-Whenever he has a day that's a bit shittier than the others, nothing will make him happier than coming home to your arms and you showing off an art piece of him!

It had been a while since you last picked up your sketchbook. Your increasingly busy schedule, complicated relationship with a famous villain, and art block resulted in empty pages.

That's when you had a sudden spike of inspiration. After weeks of avoiding art altogether, you wanted to draw again. You didn't exactly know what you were going to draw, but you'd find that out sooner or later.

You sat on your couch, one knee holding up your sketchbook and your dominant hand holding a pencil. The tip of your pencil then began to scratch the surface of the paper, making a series of intricate lines. After maybe a minute or so of random drawing, you leaned back to see the entire pad of paper from a further view. It looked... horrible.

You assumed that your skills have gotten rustier from your months-long absence from the art world. Just when you thought your art block had gone away, you felt unmotivated to continue your drawing.

Before you got up to put away your supplies, you remembered that your boyfriend was coming home tonight. The last time you'd seen him was 3 weeks ago-- also one of the longest periods he'd been gone for. As much as Garou tried to hide it, you knew he loved it when you drew him. With that information, inspiration began to flow once again.

***

Garou didn't remember the last time he'd truly relaxed. He ate cheap meals, had sleepless nights, and hadn't taken a good shower in a while. All these problems would've been solved if he dropped by your house more often, but he was scared that it would endanger you. When he did come home, however, it was always during the late evening. Today was no exception.

As he stood in front of your door, he checked his surroundings to make sure no one followed him on his way here. Once he confirmed that he knocked on the door.

"Coming!" he heard your voice say.

After a few seconds, he saw your face pop out of the door. Your eyes were glowing, a bright smile also accompanying it.

"I missed you," you said, placing a small kiss on his jawline. "I made dinner not too long ago! It should be on the table," you smiled.

"Ah, thanks." Garou slowly made his way to the table, sitting down on the chair with a slouched posture. He saw the sultry plate of food sitting in front of him. In no time, he began to devour all of it.

Because Garou was busy eating, you decided to wash some dirty dishes. The sound of water hitting the plates was the only thing that could be heard in the room until Garou began to speak.

"Sorry I've been gone for so long," he said while chewing. "Has anyone been bothering you lately?"

You let out a small laugh. "If there was, what were you planning on doing?"

Garou shrugged. He was about to reply but got distracted by a sketchbook sprawled on the other side of the table.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, wondering why he went silent.

"When did you draw that?" He pointed at the rough sketch of him- his hair was down to his shoulders with a hair tie attached to his left wrist. His harsh facial features were softened, but just strong enough to still resemble him.

"Oh, that? I just wanted to mess around a bit. I think it turned out pretty good!" you said, eyes still focused on the dishes.

Garou held up the sketchbook higher and smiled. Even if the picture didn't exactly remind him of himself, it made Garou blush to know that you interpreted him this way. "I... really like it."

[wafflesandkruge]

One Early Morning in Os Alta

Nikolai accidentally drinks one of David's experiments and becomes obsessed with solving the mystery that is Zoya Nazyalensky. The Triumvirate is his most unwilling audience as he attempts to piece together where she goes at night with nothing but his caffeine-fueled brain and a chalkboard.

Written for the @grishaversebigbang mini bang! Thank you so much to the amazing @kolarpem (x) and @denndrawings​ (x) who created beautiful art for this fic 🥺 ❤️  

ao3

In their three short years of marriage, Genya and David had developed a morning routine. David, eager to get to the labs early so he could have the room to himself, would wake at the crack of dawn like clockwork and share a few sleepy kisses with her before getting on his way. After a few more hours of much-needed beauty sleep, Genya would commandeer some breakfast and find him tinkering away at whatever project Nikolai had put him to. It was a comfortable rhythm, a familiar constant in their otherwise hectic lives.

But today, Genya was just drifting off to sleep again after being woken by her husband when the door to their bedroom slammed open to reveal a very disheveled David. His glasses were slightly more askew than usual and his kefta rumpled. Genya let out a small yawn.

“David? What’s wrong?”

“There has been a development.” He didn’t elaborate further as he strode over to their wardrobe and pulled out her kefta. She tugged it over her head without question and followed him sleepily out of the room. They’d been together long enough that she’d learned not to try to get him to elaborate. He’d either clam up for hours trying to find the right words or talk in circles trying to fully explain a very easily explainable situation. Only the Saints knew what it was this time. She just hoped it was something easily resolvable so she could go back to sleep. Perhaps a puppy running loose in the labs, or an Inferni who’d burned off their eyebrows and wanted her to Tailor them back. Simple things.

But instead of the labs, David pulled her into Nikolai’s bedroom and Genya knew it was going to be a long day. Tamar and Tolya were already seated on a sofa, both with their arms crossed and similar scowls on their faces. Zoya was absent. And Nikolai was animatedly scribbling on a large blackboard that had been wheeled to the front of the room, “ZOYA NAZYALENSKY” scrawled at the top in large letters and circled three times for emphasis. The rest of the board was covered in near incomprehensible writing and doodles.

Genya frowned as David pulled her down into the seat next to him. “Did you steal that from the Little Palace, Nikolai? How will the children learn?”

Her king didn’t answer. He seemed busy working on a doodle of what looked like a five legged tiger on a corner of the board. David patted her hand absentmindedly as he opened his notebook and started scribbling as well.

“Is anyone going to explain this to me?” Genya asked mildly as Tolya slid a cup of tea towards her. She supposed the Triumvirate had seen worse, and their king acting like a man possessed didn’t rank particularly high on their list, but she still didn’t appreciate being woken up early for this. If anything, the twins should have just knocked him out and then everyone could get their well deserved rest.

Tamar crossed her arms. Her short hair stuck up in every direction as if she’d just rolled out of bed. “Well, your genius husband over there,” she starts, her tone not quite complimentary, “was working on one of his little experiments again.”

Genya nodded distractedly as she removed a small mirror from the inside of her sleeve. David took it from her obediently and held it up as she began Tailoring away the dark circles under her eyes. It wasn’t a substitute for her lost sleep, but it’d have to do for now.

“Coffee with a mild strain of parem in it for an extra stimulant,” David explained as she moved on to bringing more color into her cheeks. “Since you’re always complaining about the Little Palace’s coffee leaving you groggier than before.”

Genya’s hands stilled as she offered David a small smile. Even after knowing him for this long, his kindness never failed to surprise her. “That’s lovely, dear. But how does that relate to Nikolai acting like...this?”

Both of them jumped when Nikolai let out a rather concerning cackle. He had moved on from the deformed tiger to a caricature of someone who looked alarmingly like General Pensky. Genya scanned the board, barely able to decipher his scribbling. Secret lover...treason...illicit rendezvous? She furrowed her brows.

Tolya glowered at them from his spot next to his sister. “Nikolai drank David’s experiment. And now he refuses to administer the antidote because he wants to observe his behavior for the sake of science.”

“That’s not strictly true,” David said as he handed the mirror back to Genya and picked up his pencil again. “I don’t have an antidote ready. Instead of taking the time and labor to manufacture one, we might as well just wait for it to wear off naturally.”

Tolya opened his mouth again to argue, but then a piece of chalk flew by, barely missing Genya’s nose. Nikolai slammed his hands on the table and her tea splashed out of its cup. 

All four of their heads turned towards their king. His shirt was buttoned incorrectly, his hair wild, and a distinctly unhinged look in his eyes. His jacket was tied around his shoulders like a cape. It had to be the worst Genya has ever seen him, though there had been that time when Kirigin had convinced him to do a few shots of that whiskey from the Wandering Isles and he’d been convinced he was a saint—

“Friends!” His voice was entirely too loud for the intimate setting. “I have gathered you here today to solve one of our most pressing problems.”

“Our empty coffers?” Genya asked with a yawn.

“Impending war on three fronts?” offered Tolya.

“My brother’s incurable love for five hour poetry recitations?” 

David continued silently taking notes in his book.

“No,” Nikolai declared with an empathetic shake of his head, “we’re here to discuss the mystery of...Zoya Nazyalensky.”

He stepped to the side and for the first time, Genya was able to see the entirety of the blackboard he’d been writing on. Not a single inch of it had been spared from his rather enthusiastic scrawl and doodles like he was preparing to give them the world’s most fascinating lecture on the enigma that was Zoya. Genya felt a headache incoming.

“Perhaps we could do this at a more reasonable hour,” she began, but Nikolai smacked his hand against the blackboard which sent up a giant cloud of chalk dust.

“Nonsense! There’s no time like the present, and Zoya is away so it’s the perfect time to speculate upon her true intentions.” He waved his arm towards a bullet point at the top of the board, but in his eagerness, nearly knocked the entire board over. Genya let out another yawn and sank back into the couch. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if she dozed off.

“Where does she go at night?” Nikolai demanded as he began pacing furiously. The papers pinned to the board fluttered in his wake. “About once a week or so, the palace guards tell me she’s seen walking on the grounds late at night, alone. She’s almost certainly meeting with someone. But who? And why?”

“Are you sure you don’t have an antidote?” she whispered to David.

“Positive.” He scratched his ear, a sure sign he was lying. Genya sighed. She supposed she’d have him make it up to her later. She knew better than to talk him out of one of science moods. 

“A lover!” Nikolai continued. “She has a secret lover!”

Genya knew for a fact Zoya had no one in her heart other than their king as much as she liked pretending she hated him and his entire existence. In her own opinion, it probably had something to do with the very expensive gifts Nikolai routinely offered because Zoya was nothing if not a creature of luxury. Still, she took a sip of her tea and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do go on.”

“At first I thought it was General Pensky, but he’s been stationed at the border for over a month and the night walks haven’t stopped. So that leaves no other option than…” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. He executed a sloppy about-face that any army commander would have had him running laps for and pointed an accusing finger at Tolya. “You’re Zoya’s secret lover!”

Tolya frowned and crossed his arms. “I would rather go back to Novyi Zem and become a jurda farmer. Less chance of sudden death.”

Nikolai grabbed at his hair. “But if you’re not seeing Zoya...and Tamar isn’t– you’re not right?”

“I’m married, Nikolai.”

“Right, right, right,” he muttered. He turned back to look at his board. “Then there’s only one other answer.”

“We all go back to bed?” Genya suggested.

Nikolai turned to her, an oddly intense look in his eyes. “How could you suggest we all retire when Zoya is plotting against the throne?”

Genya blinked. “How exactly did you get there?”

“It all makes sense!” Nikolai babbled excitedly. He waved his arms in excitement. “The late night walks. The secrecy. Why she’s always so mean to me—”

“She’s mean to everyone,” Tamar interjected.

“She’s working with the Fjerdans! Or the Shu! Of course, I should have seen it from the start…”

Genya tuned him out again as he went back to drawing on the board while muttering to himself about how the Fjerdan’s diabolical plan to have Zoya seduce him was working too well. She put her head on David’s shoulder and focused on the page of notes he was working on. Except instead of notes, it was a sketch of a woman’s face. Her face. As she watched, his pencil scratched out the curve of her lips, one corner lifted in a half smile. “What are you doing, dear?”

“Studying something beautiful,” he answered without a moment of hesitation. 

Genya’s lips curled into a smile as she let her eyes shut. “You’re sweet today. Maybe we should let Nikolai poison himself more often.”

“There’s a seventy percent chance his heart would give out if we attempted this more than once a week.”

“Regicide,” Genya said with a sigh, “How romantic.”

[huebris808]

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry. 

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years. 

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!” 

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why? 

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place… 

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr… 

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…” 

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

..

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

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BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic