#i say mostly from memory bc i drew it then looked up a reference to see what i missed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

palmett-hoes · 3 years

Note

YES. Oh my God you explained perfectly the logic behind Neil getting tattoos. I get that people think tattoos fix Andrew's "aesthetic" more cause he wears all black and all but tattoos nowadays are popular and not really a thing that only alternative people get. Anyway -> if Neil got tattoos, do u have an hcs for what he might?

yea the more i think about it the more i really like the idea of neil getting tattoos. and who knows, maybe if his boyfriend starts to get covered andrew will take an interest too. i mean you're right, it does fit his aes. maybe he gets some matching tattoos with the love of his life

WHAT neil would get tho? oh there’s so many factors to consider

i see him having a similar ideology about it as i do, that his tattoos are to memorialize significant people and events in his life. most importantly though, they’re just,, to make him feel good about himself, so they’re all of happy memories, even if some might be bittersweet

it’s also not about full-coverage. he’s fine if his scars are still visible under the tattoo and probably isn’t going to try to religiously cover every single one. it’s about having something good on his body that he chose to put there to combat but not necessarily blot out the bad things done to him against his will

he tends to collect smaller individual pieces rather than large scale work and he’s not committed to a specific style, so his collection is a bit random and eclectic. but in terms of the style generally drawn to very kinesthetic art with a lot of movement and fluid lines, but also angular and hard-edged. i don’t think he’s color-averse and definitely not a strict black-and-gray guy, but at the same time i can’t see him doing like super super bright color work. he goes for darker, more saturated colors, like jewel and natural tones. also of course i see him as brown skinned so you need to approach color work differently anyway

in terms of what he actually GETS, i don’t really have a lot of opinions on placement or like,, what tattoos should cover which scar, but have some random ideas i think he might get

he has a large piece (like maybe a sleeve or thigh) that’s dedicated to his time on the run, but the good parts. it’s a mix of a lot of images and very chaotic, drawing from like,, the french cafe where his most first bought him a cup of coffee and cottage safehouses in the alps in summer and where they had room to stretch their legs and run and chase each other and hustling three card monty in dubai with his mom and diners in the pacific northwest that sold the best fruit pies

he of course gets a lot of tattoos for the foxes, definitely at least one straight-up fox. tiny pawprints are his go-to filler pattern

he has everyone’s signatures somewhere on him, maybe with a tattoo of the Championship trophy being hoisted up by a group of hands. he also has small individual pieces that memorialize each of them individually

definitely got several exy sticks and various other pieces of gear scattered in various places. dark stadium chairs leading down to a brightly lit exy court

andrew is probably his biggest inspiration. he has the photograph of them together in the airport turned into a silhouette like a victorian cameo. a ring of keys; this one might go on the back of his neck. a tire track skid mark. a skeleton sitting on a roof against a sunrise. andrew’s hand sparking a lighter. the only reason he doesn’t have a full portrait is bc andrew says he’ll leave him if he does it

a rabbit skull overgrown by moss and vines and flowers.

he gets a rook and knight chess pieces tat because kevin says that’s what he and andrew would be

he gets some small cheeky ones too. things like a line of script that says “you should see the other guy” with a gun running under a nasty scar or a skeletal arm broken in half

once he starts to really establish who he is and flesh himself out as a person he gets some that don’t necessarily have a lot of meaning but that he just likes the look of because he has the luxury of having opinions on art now

i don’t necessarily know if i want him to cover his facial scars, but i think that’s mostly because i don’t like facial tattoos very much, especially ones located where neil’s scars are. that’s just a personal preference though. however, i think the idea of a minimalist, abstract take of just like,, adding color to the scars might be nice. something like well-saturated brushstroke work

(addendum: an au or something where all neil’s scars are just covered in abstract brushwork would be so fucking beautiful. like this but full-body holy shit)

(i just don’t think it really fits him in canon to have a full-body tattoo scheme. also those would require so much long-term maintenance you’d have to get them redone like every 5 to 10 years)

he also doesn’t get them all at once, this is something he builds up over years. he also doesn’t want to rush it because he wants to stay open to memorialize things that will come in the future, because he has a future to wait for now

---

also i assume you probably want some reference photos too bc this can be a little hard to understand just as words, so here's some of my reference images under the cut

they’re more of a stylistic reference than a content reference. also - as in all things - this will of course also tell you a lot about my own personal taste in tattooing even though i try not to make it based ENTIRELY on what i like and try to factor in what i think neil would like

these were the tattoos that most inspired me about the tattoo idea for neil’s happiest memories with his mother. for some reason my gut really drew me towards architectural tattoos for it. i like the way the perspective on the left image is curved and confusing and it takes you a second to make sense of what you’re looking at. it reminds me a lot of an MC Escher drawing and that’s sort of the exact seeling of chaos and confusion that i think the tattoo needs. but then i was also really drawn to the soft colors of the right image (although they’d have to be adjusted somewhat for neil’s darker skin), because they’re so comforting, and i think that’s the sort of balance i’m looking for out of a tattoo for mary. so like,, compositionally like the left image but colored more like the right

literally every person who’s ever considered aftg and tattoos together HAS to offer up a fox tattoo it’s law. anyway these are mine. or well, the types i can see neil with. also, not aside from the foxes, these tattoos are really the best examples i can find of the angular, kinesthetic art style that i feel very strongly matches neil

inspo behind the tattoo of andrew’s hand with the lighter. also just a good simple style for smaller tattoos or filler tattoos

victorian cameos. inspiration behind both the silhouette tattoos of andrew and neil in the airport and the skeleton & the sunrise. both would be more than just the bust and the poses would be more fluid and they don’t need the brooch design outline. it’s really more of a starter reference or a jumping off point

neo-traditional tattoos. phenomenal style. strong lines and highly saturated color, super important both for a long-lasting tattoo and for tattooing on darker skin. they also just tend to have a certain composition i really like

this is the style i see the championship trophy tattoo, the chess pieces tattoo, the rabbit skull tattoo, and the ring of keys tattoo all in

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okay i’m done now

thoughts?

#txt #pic #neil josten #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous #tattoo #tattoos #foxes w tats

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maybankiara · 4 years

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PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

14: FRIENDS

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.

w/c: 4k

a/n: this is compensation for ch 12. also check if you’ve read the previous chapter bc apparently tumblr didn’t notify people??? also check this out before reading!!!! it’s a cute reference for later on in the chapter and will 107% enhance your experience ok

read on wattpad

previous part | series masterlist

Drew is late. Obviously.

According to the time displayed over a candid photo of Drew grimacing (she still hasn’t changed it back to normal, not even after Holden noticed it), it’s only thirty-five minutes past noon. Addie sits at the corner table of Waystone with a cup of warm coffee sitting in front of her, trying to kill time.

On a shelf behind her, there’s a nice green plant. Addie doesn’t know anything about plants, but she does like the way this one looks – it fits the creamy brown of the coffee shop walls. It was actually Marianne who introduced her to the spot, and Addie hadn’t been a lover of staying in for a coffee until then, but the girl made her fond of the European tradition. She was only happy that Drew seemed to be fond of it, too.

Plus, there aren’t many people inside with her right now. Most already came in the early hours of the morning or will come in the afternoon or evening, after work. Addie presumed that’ll make Drew feel less worried about being recognised.

Before she met him, Addie didn’t think Drew would be a little… awkward, to put it that way. She spent some time thinking about it, then chalked it up to the circumstances of their meeting. As much as she’s still aware that he's an actor, and not an unsuccessful one at that, she reckons he must be aware that she is someone who’s seen his work. That’s the whole reason why they met in the first place.

So, Addie has decided to take it upon herself to eradicate that barrier between them, one way or the other. She banned Marianne from acting like Drew is the Drew Starkey from Outer Banks instead of Addie’s acquaintance Drew, and she asked the same from her other friends.

It sounds easy. It’s supposed to be easy.

When she sees Drew walk into the coffee shop and smile at the waitress, then glance around, looking for Addie, she takes a deep breath and gives him a small wave.

Addie will make it easy.

‘Hey, sorry I’m late.’ Drew plops down onto the chair with ease. He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt and a light blue baseball cap that he takes off and puts on a table, throwing around a subtle glance, before his eyes set on Addie.

She smiles at him. ‘Don’t worry, I expected you to be.’

His shoulders visibly relax a little, and he nods at the cup in front of her. ‘So, you got coffee already?'

‘Yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t sure how long I’d be waiting here and I didn’t want to seem rude by just sitting here, not buying anything. I wouldn’t want the girl to get in trouble because of me.’

‘No, it’s fine, don’t worry. Is there a menu?’

‘Yeah.’ Addie leans over and reaches for the menu that’s propped on a holder on the empty table next to them, then hands it to him. ‘We didn’t get one.’

‘Right.’

Drew shuffles through the pages of the menu with a slight wrinkle between his brows. Addie notices how they’re almost straight, one a bit thicker than the other, and something about that makes the corners of her lips tug ever so slightly upwards.

‘Are we getting just coffee or do you want something to eat, too?’

‘I planned on getting food when I’m back at my place,’ Addie admits. ‘But you’re more than free to get something, I won’t mind.’

‘Alright. I’ll be right back.’

He gets up with a tap to the table, and he’s off to the counter. The girl working behind it doesn’t freak out when he approaches her, so Addie figures she doesn’t recognise him.

Not too long ago, Addie was working in a small coffee shop, back in Denver. That’s what she spent most of her summers doing – travelling was something that was for after she’s done with all her studies, and working was what gave her the money she needed for both. She wonders if a celebrity—or as much of one as Drew is—ever approached her and she didn't know.

Maybe. So far, she hasn’t recognised any of the faces, and Denver isn’t really a place for celebrities as much as Atlanta is.

The sound of chatter fills the space. Drew is making the waitress laugh, half-leaning against the counter as he rests his hand on it.

It’s not flirtatious, at least not as far as Addie can tell. He ends up waving to the girl and comes back to the table with a wide grin.

‘That’s Nikki,’ he answers Addie’s unasked question as he takes a seat. ‘One of my friends used to date her, she hung out with my group a few years back. Didn’t know she works here now.’

‘Oh, cool.’ Addie remembers her promise not to make things awkward, so she relaxes into her chair, takes a sip of her coffee. ‘What did you order?’

‘Latte and strawberry pancakes.’

‘So you’re a latte and strawberry kind of dude.’

Drew lets out a chuckle, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. ‘Judgy much?’

‘Nope. Just thought you’d be, hm…’ Her thoughts trail away, and she rests her elbows on the table, placing her chin on her palms. She looks at him, at the rough lines of his face – the high cheekbones, the long eyebrows, the kind, intelligent blue eyes, and lips that seem oddly soft. ‘Black with a sprinkle of milk. And, like, a croissant or something. Strawberry’s good, though, I approve.’

Drew’s pose mimics hers, and it takes all in her to keep herself from laughing. ‘Your pronunciation of croissant is very... French.’

‘My roommate is half French. You bet she made sure I knew how to pronounce croissant.’

‘Ha. Knew it.’ At this, Addie quirks an eyebrow. Drew sighs. ‘Fine. I didn’t. I thought you were French.’

‘Wrong. Denver, born and raised.’

‘Well.’ The smile he gives her is playful, and a whole lot more open than any she’s seen on him before. ‘Guess we read each other wrong.’

Just as Addie is about to reply, the waitress—Nikki—greets them, placing a mug identical to Addie’s in front of him. Drew thanks her and she tells him the pancakes will be in a few minutes, then walks away.

‘Hey, Drew,’ calls Addie. She raises her mug and nods at him to do the same. When he does, she clinks the mugs together. ‘To getting to know each other.’

The actor repeats the word with a smile.

They chat, for a bit, mostly about coffee preferences. Addie tells him how she started with having straight black every morning back in high school, switched it to afternoon in college, then to drinking cappuccino in her senior year. He tells her how he drinks straight black when on set, a habit from college, and latte is what he rewards himself with when he's not working.

A bit later, Nikki comes back with a tray, as promised. Drew makes small talk as she puts a pancake plate with chocolate poured over the strawberries on top, and then she places another one in front of Addie.

‘Thanks, Nikki,’ says Drew before Addie gets a word in. The girl walks away, and he eyes the plate in front of Addie. ‘You said you like these, right?’

Addie just stares at him, for a moment. She thinks she should say something, ask why he got one for her, too, and then— ‘I do. Thanks.’ A beat. ‘You didn’t have to.’

‘Hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.’ His mouth is already full, fork and knife in one hand each.

Of course Addie can’t help but smile.

She takes the cutlery herself and dives into the pancake, making sure he can see her roll her eyes. ‘This better not be another way to apologise for stealing my phone.’

‘Nah, that’s not it. I just didn’t want to be the only one eating.’

The wide grin on his face is enough to tell her that he’s being honest about this.

Addie ends up teasing him a little more as they eat their pancakes and finish their latte and cappuccino. It gets easier, talking to Drew. She doesn’t even notice when the starting awkwardness turns to laughter and jokes, all caution and reservation either of them might’ve had, thrown out of the window.

Time goes by, and Addie doesn’t notice.

They end up deciding to go on a walk around the neighbourhood. There’s a nice park nearby that neither of them has been to in ages, so that’s on the agenda for the rest of whatever their time together. Addie snaps a quick photo of the coffee shop before they leave. She’s planning to do just the interior, when Drew leans into the frame, squirming a little.

Addie laughs and focuses the camera on him, taking a quick shot. ‘Already missing being in front of the camera, huh?’

‘Always.’ Drew makes a grimace at the camera, looking twenty-six and six at once. ‘Want me to take one of you?’

‘Nah,’ says Addie, shaking her head. She then turns her camera off and puts the phone into her back pocket, ready to leave.

Drew follows suit. He puts the plates one on the other, cutlery, too, and brings them to the counter. Addie follows his example and brings the cups. Nikki thanks them and Drew just waves her off, both of them saying goodbye to the waitress.

The air that blows into their faces as they leave the place is fresh and welcoming, a slight chill present even under the October sun.

She feels Drew bump into her. ‘What’s the deal with the photo?’

They take a turn around the corner as Addie gathers her thoughts, hands finding their way to her pockets. ‘I just like having evidence of the things that happen, I guess.’

‘But not posting it,’ he says. He lets out a nervous laugh then, scratching his nose. ‘Sorry, I stalked you a little.’

‘Fair. ‘Cause, you know, me too. Obviously. But yeah, I like my privacy. Putting shit out there is a bit... I don’t know, iffy, I guess.’

‘So you just take pictures of everything?’

‘Pretty much. It’s a great way of keeping memories.’

Drew takes a turn earlier than Addie would’ve expected, and she takes a second to follow. He waits for her to catch up to him, sighing as he does, as if doing so is a great bother.

Addie rolls her eyes again. ‘Don’t give me that face.’

‘What face?’

She points at him. ‘That face.’

They fall into step and it’s as easy as breathing. Drew’s presence at her side stops being something she’s aware of like a summer breeze, and more like the stability of summer warmth, instead.

‘What do you do with the photos?’ he asks.

Addie chuckles, a cheeky smile stretching over her face as she glances at him. ‘I print them. Put them in an album. Basically the exact thing our parents used to do.’

‘Why not just get a film camera, then?’

‘Because it’s weird to carry a film camera wherever you go. Or any camera, for that matter. Using your phone is just convenient, I guess.’

‘You’ve got a point.’

They turn another corner. Addie recognises the road – it’s about half an hour’s worth of walking back to her apartment, and in about five minutes, they’ll be at the park. Around them, birds chirp, high up in the skies. She hears a faraway plane, cars that pass by them speeding past over the limit, and kids screaming at one another in one of the back alleys, game or not.

The silence between them isn’t heavy. She hears their footsteps, too, hers faster than his. Drew’s close enough for her to just feel him at her side.

‘How long have you lived here?’ asks Addie.

Drew glances at her. ‘I moved here after graduation, so... about four, five years, now? It feels longer than that.’

Addie chuckles, hands in pockets. 'Yeah, I get that. How come you picked Atlanta?’

‘Job prospects, mostly.’

‘Ah, yes. The blooming film industry of Atlanta.’

‘It’s true! It’s no Hollywood, but it’s easier to find gigs here than in LA,’ he admits. ‘If I ever move to LA, it’ll be because I’ll think I've got enough of a resume to pick up some bigger roles.’

‘So no toilet commercials, then?’

Drew gives her a look that’s part disbelief, part amusement. It comes with a smile, so Addie gives him one in return.

At the point of walking into the park, Drew’s telling her about what his first experience of Atlanta was like. The girl finds herself laughing a lot – he’s a good storyteller, motioning with his hands a lot more than she’d expect him to, and a lot of the story benefits from the way his voice carries the words.

The bench they sit down on is in the middle of the park, right in front of a modest fountain. It used to be the pride and joy of the neighbourhood, Drew tells her, but someone kept trashing it and they eventually stopped trying to repair it.

‘It’s still kind of cute,’ Addie notes.

It makes him chuckle. ‘Right. You’re allowed to dislike it.’

‘Okay, it looks absolutely nothing like a park fountain and I’ll file a complaint to the major.’

‘That’s more like it!’

Addie gives him the same look he’d given her a couple minutes earlier, and he breaks into a big smile.

‘Stay like this,’ she tells Drew. ‘You're getting in front of the camera again.’

‘Oh, boy. As if that’s a problem.’

He begins to move in place almost immediately and Addie grunts, taking a quick snapshot before he’s able to ruin everything. She takes another one, and then another one, and before she knows it, they’re laughing their hearts out as Drew makes the oddest faces at her, tugging at his hair and saying some of the weirdest shit she’s ever heard.

Before she puts her phone away, she scrolls through the photos they’d taken. Drew leans closer, their shoulders touching, and watches them with her.

Addie is aware of his proximity in a way that she hasn’t been before. She feels his breath on her shoulder and his hand on the bench is dangerously close to her thigh; her thumb trembles a little and she really hopes he doesn’t notice.

Drew puts his finger on the screen just as she’s about to scroll forward. ‘I like this one.’

She chuckles.’'It’s not bad.'

‘Right? It should definitely be in one of your albums.’

The feeling that brushes over Addie in the moment after Drew says that is like a smile, but filling out the entirety of her body. Whatever barrier they had between the two of them, it’s gone now, as if it had never existed.

Addie composes herself, hoping Drew won’t think much of her hesitation. ‘Obviously. That’s where all photos of my friends go.’

Friends. The word hangs between them like a soft exclamation mark, an unspoken promise.

When Drew moves a little, Addie feels the sudden lack of heat at her side as if someone had blown cold air into the spot. ‘Good.’

Despite its ugliness and age enhanced by vandalism, the fountain has running water. The stream is just loud enough to notice if one is listening, as some of the machinery pushing the water upwards seems to be out of function. It’s a nice, soothing white noise – Addie feels as if time doesn't flow according to the same rules here.

The feeling inside her chest is something she’s never felt before, yet she can’t put it into words. It’s like trying to catch a thought without thinking about it – here and there and nowhere at once.

She wonders what Drew is thinking about.

He sits with his back against the wooden backside of the bench, one arm on the metal armrest. His eyes are fixated on the fountain in front of them, eyebrows slightly furrowed, lips parted in thought.

She looks at him, and he’s Drew. Not an actor; not a stranger.

Her friend Drew.

She sees him run his tongue over his lips, right before he turns to her. ‘I’ve got a film camera. I should bring it sometime.’

Sometime – a promise of this not being the last time. A promise of this happening again, when he’s back from LA.

Addie faces him with a bright smile, her fingers fleeting in her lap. ‘You should also get an album. So we can keep the photos somewhere.’

‘Or we use one of yours,’ he suggests. ‘I don’t know anyone our age who still keeps albums.'

‘Physical copies are more secure and permanent than whatever we keep on our phones or in the cloud. It’s just the maths of odds.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yep.’

‘How long have you been collecting photos?’

Addie ponders about it for a second; the hum of water running fills the moments in-between. ‘Ten years, give or take.’

‘You’ve got the albums here?’

‘Some. Most are back in Denver, but I’ve got the ones I took here.’

‘Can I see them?’

The “now” is silent, but Addie hears it nonetheless. It sounds like the water running; it sounds like the “friends” they'd just declared themselves.

His eyes are looking into hers, deep and gentle; Addie is astonished at just how blue they are. She’d thought they’d be a clear blue, like a crystal glass, but they’re muddied with sprinkles of green and yellow, even some grey around the irises.

She nods. ‘Sure. My roommate is going to be out ‘till late, anyway.’

He nods, too, and smiles a little. ‘Cool.’

It’s settled – they’re going to Addie’s.

About half an hour later, Addie feels like she’s bringing an old friend to a new home. Their conversation feels up the walls of the building as they climb up the staircase – his laughter does’'t feel out of place here, even when they enter the apartment and Addie makes him take his shoes off.

‘Leave your coat here, shoes there, and feel free to take those slippers if you want. The albums are in the living room, underneath the stack of French books,’ Addie instructs as if she were reading it off a list. Drew chuckles and does as told, following her into the living room like a really tall puppy. ‘Want something to drink?’

‘You got a beer?’

Addie grins. ‘You bet.’

‘Thanks.’

She nods, already halfway to the kitchen, and holds herself still against the doorway to nod at him. ‘Which one?’

‘What you got?’

Addie hears him plop down onto the couch with a sigh of comfort and makes a mental note to tell Marianne that Drew Starkey enjoys the couch the French-Brit picked. She opens the fridge, eyes glancing over the assortment of beers (mostly courtesy of Marianne’s boyfriend, Tom). ‘Heineken, White Claw, Corona—’

‘I’ll take White Claw.’

‘Basic bitch!’

‘I like a reliable drink, alright!’

In the end, Addie walks back into the living room with two glasses, a can of White Claw, and a can of Heineken. She finds Drew on the floor instead of the couch, surrounded by a heap of albums that Addie recognises in a heartbeat, a familiar stack of French books shifted to the side.

The sight of Drew hunched over photos she took at her friend Leanne’s twenty-third birthday party last year makes her laugh, and the sound startles him.

‘Sorry,’ he says. His cheeks redden in an instant and he rests his palm flat on the album. ‘I didn’t mean to just start rummaging through your personal stuff.’

Addie shakes her head. ‘I told you where they were for a reason, Drew.’ She joins him on the floor, gives him a glass, fills it up to the brim, then pours Heineken into hers. ‘These are from a birthday party, the first one I attended in Atlanta. A little over a year ago. I met Leanne’—she points at the brown-skinned girl on one of the pictures—‘literally, like, a month before this. She was friends with Marianne’—points at the plump ginger-haired girl—‘before I met her.’

‘You met Marianne in Atlanta?’

‘Kind of. Give me a second.’ Addie leans over the album Drew’s got in his lap and reaches for the one furthest back. She flips the pages until she’s gone through about a fifth of the album, and the first photo that pops in the left upper corner of the page is a selfie of her and Marianne in no place other than Waystone.

Addie smiles at the picture with a fond smile on her lips. ‘This is when I met her for the first time, at least in real life. We’d spoken beforehand for about a week or so, a lot of the move and everything happened suddenly for the both of us. Marianne spent her first week here with her boyfriend, Tom, who’d moved to Atlanta a few months prior. She suggested Waystone, we hit it off, and that’s how it all started.’

‘That’s a nice story,’ comments Drew. ‘How’d you meet her?’

‘Mutual friend. Iona. Marianne’s friend from back home, she went to Berkeley with me.’

‘Damn.’

‘Yeah’'

Drew raises eyebrows at Addie as if asking for permission, and she nods at him. He takes the album and flips through it, slowly, asking questions here and there, commenting on Addie sometimes.

There is something irrevocably intimate about sharing your life with someone like these. Addie’s always thought physical albums carry more weight than any other form of memory collection, and she’d always collected them for herself first. It’s different from social media, where everything is curated to be nothing short of perfection, for others to see.

Now, Drew is seeing into Addie’s past in a way that’s as close to partaking in it as possible. Her friends, her experiences, her dumb photos – with a glass of beer in hand, music playing on Marianne’s speaker in the corner of the room.

She tries to remember if she’s ever so openly shared her life with anyone before this, and she can't.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Drew. The corner of his mouth is curled into a permanent half-smile, moving only as he remarks a photo he’s looking at in the moment. His hair is still messy from their impromptu photoshoot, and it looks dark brown under the apartment light. Addie notices he’s got freckles, all around his nose and under his eyes.

She doesn’t know the exact moment they became friends, but they did. Now, Addie can’t picture a life where Drew isn’t a part of it.

Some time later, when they’ve gone through two albums, a dozen more stories, and two more beers, the door opens with Marianne just about screaming bloody murder. Addie answers to her name with a calm, inconspicuous voice, and motions to Drew to be quiet.

In the end, it’s a bit of a ruckus, when Marianne just about faints at the sight of Drew Starkey chilling on the floor of her living room, surrounded by cans of beer and a heap of albums. It’s over soon, with Marianne calm and managing to find out that Drew likes goulash because his old neighbour was Hungarian and would make it for the Fourth of July, and that he is a basic white bitch who loves White Claw (Marianne gives him a lecture on buying alcohol in bulk, aka the British binge-drinking practice).

In the end, Marianne doesn’t consider him a celebrity anymore, either. He gives Addie his phone number (‘It’s simpler than Instagram, I’ll see it faster.’) and promises to let her know when he’s back. It’s two promises in the form of one, both verbalised this time, and they reassure Addie that she isn’t the only one considering them friends now.

He leaves, and she cleans up after themselves, getting Marianne up to speed with their hangout.

Addie could get used to this.

◇

15: ALCOHOLISM IN HOLLYWOOD

tagging. @jjmaybanksbaby @taiter-tots @sacredto @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw @stfukie @x-lulu @drewstarkey @butgilinsky @solllaris @hyperactive2411 @chasefreakinstokes @surferkie @jroseron @k-k0129 @starlightstories

#drew starkey #outer banks #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x oc #phone swap series

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mybiasisexo · 3 years

Text

Reverent

Genre: Angst | Fallen Angel!au

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Length: 1.8k

Warning: Religion (?) | Blasphamy (?)

Summary: Suho’s dull life takes quite the turn when he stumbles across a beautiful demon

Author’s Note: @byunfirstlady here is the roughest of rough drafts of the angel!suho fic I promised like 2 years ago smh. I really need to give it the attention it deserves bc it could really, truly, be something great. Until then, here is what I have for now. Mind you it is not edited and I plan on changing a lot of things about it, but I really like the narration, idk, its kinda beautiful??? Title is also a WIP

MASTERLIST

credit

What do you miss?

That was the question Suho thought constantly. It repeatedly flowed through his brain. Oh, so many answers to the question! But, undeniably, being in good grace was the most regretful.

He made his choices, fair enough. Some would say he shouldn’t had been able to do that much, he knew all too well, free will wasn’t of his domain. Yet, look where it got him.

Trapped. Stranded on an insignificant sphere that twirled around mockingly as a cruel reminder of all that he had lost.

Time to him meant absolutely nothing. It was yet another thing out of his domain, but some years such as this, he dreaded the slowness of it. Dreaded the reminder that he was stuck in this vacuum they called Earth, waiting for a day that will never come.

For him to finally be forgiven.

His eyes squinted as he took in the corn yellow sun. It was almost blindingly white, as if life itself had sucked away all of the vibrant hue. This part of the world was like that: dreary. Filled with washed out blues and browns, dusty and dry. It wasn’t a place he preferred, he found himself more at home in large metropolises, surrounded by people too busy to recognize such a raw entity, although they could still tell when around his presence that something was…off.

It was a blessing and a curse, Suho supposed, his soul. If he even had one. If he could even call it that. That was the one thing that reminded him of who he truly was. After being stripped of everything, that was all He left him with. Naked, shaking in humility, bleeding for the first time, and radiant.

He could leave the holy place, but it would always reside within him.

Lately, he felt lonely.

That’s what had brought him here—the loneliness. Being imprisoned upon the Earth for as long as he had, you grew to become lonesome. There were many ways to try to compete with it, but as long as he was an outcast, he would forever be lost in his isolation.

His closest friend throughout it all was the sun. The bright mass of energy that warmed his hard skin always reminded him of the love he once had—that he still had. The sun kept his faith alive. And as it rose in the morning, it brought with it the start of a new beginning.

He could never turn back time.

That was probably why he disdained the word so much.

His attention was pulled away from the hovering orb, brought to the young man of which he came for. The boy with the brazen skin.

He was beautiful, this could not be denied. As he rushed out of his house, keys clanking in his awkwardly large hand. He was late again. Suho tisked, but his eyes widened with what followed after the boy.

An unfamiliar woman trailed behind him, not nearly in as much a hurry as the one before her. Her face was otherworldly beautiful, built to invite, built to seduce.

The boy was in the car in no time, speeding away in a hurry, leaving dust in his wake.

The woman stopped, not taking after him. Instead, she lifted her head and locked eyes solidly with Suho.

He gasped as she smiled angelically and then the dust lifted, barricading her from view.

Once it settled again, she was gone.

~*~

Suho could barely recall the last time he saw another one of the Fallen. About fifty years, give or take. A demon? It had been a bit longer. There were fewer of them, although some of the fallen seek refuge under the dark wings of the under lord. It was why they were created after all, to follow, to serve. If not to Him than to his enemy. The two of them were more similar than they thought, although Suho would never dream of telling either one—not like he would ever get the chance to. Lucifer terrified him and God… well, they weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

Even though it had been a while, he recognized a demon when he saw one. What did she want with the boy? Puzzled, Suho pondered what drew the creature to him in the first place.

Speaking of places, this wasn’t Suho’s at all. He never considered himself a vigilante, as many other Fallen do. Their sense of purpose and protection overwhelming them to do right. That was mostly those who were guardians in the past. Suho was not in that field. No. This foreign sense of concern drew from something else entirely. He bit his lip, curling the warm mug in his hands closer to himself as he fought off the strange feeling fogging his mind.

The demon, right.

Demons were sent to Earth from the Under Lord to do his biddings. Simply, to coerce as many humans as they could. Drag them back to hell so that He could mourn the loss of yet another of his fragile creatures. Suho understood enough to know Lucifer took great pride in hurting Him however he could. Another lost soul was a victory to him.

She must have saw something within that boy to make her decide to latch. Suho had been watching him for a while now, and this was the first he had seen of the dark entity. Maybe she felt it…. No, there was no way. Suho was being careful, meticulously so. There was no room for error as far as his involvement and he meant to keep it that way.

He was that boy’s protector, now more than ever, he had a duty to him.

It felt good, having a purpose again. He had lost it centuries ago—a real duty, a call to be good.

Maybe after all of this was done, he would again be in His good grace. But it was still a wistful wish, one he refused to humor until it happened.

“Would you like another one, Sir?”

Suho lifted his head to the waitress and despite being a regular at this point, she still stuttered at his beauty.

He smiled, white teeth on display and her breath caught in her throat. “Please.”

~*~

A week had gone by without any sight of the demon. Suho tried to mask his disappointment with relief. It wasn’t as though he wanted anything to come to the boy, but it had been so long since he had been in contact with one of his own, demon or not. She had to have some sort of connection to their shared past.

He knew how demons worked.

Once they found a person to leech off of, they attached until their job was done, or the person fought them off. Suho watched an exorcism once. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to witness. That was a long time ago, using different methods, different practices. All the same, it was a memory that, to this day, gave him chills.

The boy was a religious man, oddly enough. Suho didn’t understand how, but every Sunday, he found himself at the local church, sitting in the back, listening to the spoken word.

He used to pray, but hadn’t in years. He wondered if it were his place too, if God ever listened to him or others like him. Or, like everything else, if it were only for them.

He was running late this Sunday. It was well into mass when he rushed towards the small, yet still elegant tan bricked church.

His quick steps came to a stop when he saw someone leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. She wore torn leather pants that hung dangerously low on her wide hips, an equally as torn black wife beater that appeared more of a well-used rag than anything else as it barely covered the swell of her breasts, though her toned stomach was exposed. Her belly botton was pierced and a faded tattoo splayed over her abdomen. He couldn’t make out the word from this distance and the ink blended into her skin. A small black denim vest sat on her shoulders, leaving her arms exposed, tattoos dotted the limbs as well. Her jet black straight hair hung loosly. It was time for her to wash it. Her face, again, was angelic, despite her best efforts to be anything but. Big stunning round eyes surrounded by long eyelashes that brushed her chiseled cheeks whenever she blinked. Nose a button on the center of her face, lips full and pink, cheeks rosy, and skin flawless, not a blemish in sight.

He had her full attention as well. She took him in with a pleased smile, holding the cigarette up. “You think this will kill me?”

Her voice was just as attractive as her face, and the way she tilted her head left Suho breathless. He couldn’t seem to find his voice, struck dumb by her large presence. It had been a moment since he saw one of his kind, but he never felt a presence as strong as hers.

She noticed.

Never breaking eye contact, she dropped the small stick, putting it out with the heel of her boot. Than she motioned her thumb towards the building she currently leaned against where he could faintly make out singing.

“They won’t let me in. I thought this place welcomed all.”

“Why are you here?” He worked up the courage to ask. He knew why, but wanted her to say it.

She shrugged. “Thought our old man would be happy to see me.” She shoved her hands into the pocket of her jeans. “Guess not.”

“Do… Do I know you?” Suho pressed. There were hundreds of angels, all with a specific role/job. It was impossible to know them all, especially if this were someone who fell after him, but her energy was strong—too strong to be newer than him.

She shrugged again. “Maybe. When did you fall?”

“When did you?”

“Oh, so you’re the one in charge here I see.” She laughed, pushing herself off the building to come closer. “What’s your name, tough guy?”

Her breath smelled sweet. He hadn’t been this close to a demon before, refusing to have anything to do with them. They were everything He hated, everything He feared. He wanted nothing against those who had turned their backs completely from Him.

All the same, he felt complied to answer. “This land refers to me as Suho.”

“Suho,” she repeated, letting the word swirl around her wet tongue. “Korean, correct? Makes sense, that’s where we are.”

“It means—”

“Guardian.” She interrupted. “Fitting. You must’ve been one in your past life.”

His jaw clenched and she noticed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

#Suho scenarios #exo scenarios #suho #suho scenario #exo scenario #suho drabbles #suho drabble #exo drabbles #exo drabble #suho oneshots #suho oneshot #exo oneshot #exo oneshots

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swindlersstole · 5 years

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8 please!

you didn’t specify for who but I know what we’re about

things to address before this starts!

the constellations are references to other games (specifically kingdom hearts, ghost trick, and rhythm thief in that order

I’m reading months in Erdrea as being based on birth month flowers (bc World Tree, we have a plant theme you see).

Eleven/Nova’s birthday is July 29th (dq11′s initial release date), making him a Leo. Larkspur is one of the two flowers for July, and represents positivity and dignity

Erik doesn’t have a date yet, but I wrote him in as an Aquarius born in Carnation (January); carnations represent admiration and love

listen to this while you read it helps

8. In a rowboat

“What’s that one?”

Erik squinted his eyes, following Nova’s finger as best he could. “Thaaat would beee… oh, that! That’s the Key of Worlds.”

“It’s a key?” Nova tilted his head, to better look at the shape in the sky; his head ended up against Erik’s shoulder, and it was nice now, Erik thought, that neither of them were too wrapped up in their own pining to panic about the contact. “Erik, that’s a sword.”

“It’s both.” Erik laughed. “The way the story goes, young people from all over were given keys to fight back darkness. They could unlock any door, and the hearts of men. But there was one key that could open up whole worlds themselves, and eventually a great war happened with each side trying to take the key for themselves. Didn’t end well for anybody. Eventually the key was hidden away, and the key wielders faded into obscurity.”

From the corner of his eye, Erik saw Nova smile before nudging him in the shoulder. “I never took you as a fantasy type.”

Erik grinned back. “Doesn’t hurt to have some stories that aren’t illegal.”

He bumped Nova’s shoulder back, a bit more rough than he’d intended, and the gondola rocked in the still waters. Gentle as it was, neither of them dared to move until it stopped.

“Sheesh,” Erik leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair, following some nervous laughter. “How many times that make it now?”

“I think that was the fifth.” Nova sighed, but he was laughing right along with him. “Leave it to us to forget we’re on a boat.”

“That never stopped us before.”

“Before we were on the Stallion. We couldn’t rock that if we tried.”

“Details.”

Erik settled back down against the parecio, and Nova draped the blanket they’d been sharing over his shoulders again. Truth be told, a surprise date to Gondolia hadn’t been on Erik’s mind when he’d returned to visit--let alone giving Nova an astronomy lesson--but he had learned to take such requests from Nova with gusto. His selflessness didn’t seem to stem from the Luminary status, or the prince position, and was instead just a long standing problem Nova had of being a people pleaser; when he showed even the slightest inclination of selfishness, Erik didn’t waste any time latching on to it.

And, well. Not that Erik would ever say it out loud, but it was nice to be the object of those selfish desires.

“Every birthday has a constellation to it, doesn’t it?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Nova’s question drew Erik out of his musings. “There’s a whole map and science to it, but long and short of it, there are sectors a few constellations pass through based on how the world rotates. Some are only visible at certain times of the year, so people will sometimes look to those constellations for influence and guidance.”

He grumbled, mostly at himself. “Eh… not exactly the best explanation I could give for that.”

“No, no, it was fine. I think I follow.” Under the blanket, Nova slipped his hand into Erik’s, lacing their fingers together. “I was just curious if you knew what mine was.”

“Oh--sure. That’s easy.” Erik looked back to the sky. Sure, they had more than certainly reached the point where neither was too scared to hold a hand, but he wasn’t going to find the stars he was gazing for, if he was too busy gazing at the one by his side.

“Let’s see… you’re Larkspur 29th--” Not that Erik needed a reminder for that one. He never forgot a birthday that mattered to him. “--so that gives you the Phantom Cat.”

“You made that one up.”

“No, I know, it’s a dumb name, right? But he has a good story behind him.” Erik pointed westward. “This time of year you can usually see his tail, but it might be too far gone for Gondolia now.”

Nova leaned over where Erik pointed and squinted, and Erik did his best not to think about how sweet Nova looked in such deep concentration. “Hm… no, you’re right, I can’t see a thing.”

“Figures. If we were out near Lonalulu, we might have better luck.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Nova said, and it made Erik immensely proud to know that he was already thinking of a next time. “But, you said there was a story?”

“Yeah. So this man--he died, and then came back as a ghost. But he didn’t keep any of his memories, so he had no idea who he was. He followed a woman that had seen him be killed all around their kingdom to find answers, and saved her life from pursuers the whole night. In the end, he found out he wasn’t the man that died--he was the man’s cat. And he was given the chance to turn back time, and make it so everyone that had been hurt to that point got a new start.”

Nova’s hand in his twitched slightly.

“...What did he do?” He spoke softly now, caught up in the story.

“The cat took the chance. He went back ten years, and was able to get everyone a happy ending.”

Erik squeezed Nova’s hand. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had suddenly gotten into him. “Hey. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I… yeah.” Nova raised his free hand, and brushed away at his bangs awkwardly. “Similarities are just striking, is all.”

There would always be things Nova couldn’t explain about the Lost Lands. Erik knew that, and he knew it was a miracle that Nova had been able to explain what he could to him at all. With all the memory bleeds and faintest notions of deja vu, there would always be a level of detachment between him and what Nova saw and felt. And it was no one’s fault, of course. But it was frustrating all the same to Erik that there was only so much he could do.

Nova seemed to pick up on this--he always had a way of reading Erik like a book, and he leaned back on his shoulder, content to stay there this time. “Really, Erik, I’m alright. Keep talking.”

“Keep talking?” Erik repeated. “About what?”

“Other constellations.” Nova looked up at him through long lashes. “You’re handsome when you know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” Erik lifted up his hand, still holding Nova’s, and pressed a kiss to the back of Nova’s hand. He smirked against the skin. “So, I’m handsome all the time, then.”

“I mean, I’m not the one that said it,” Nova shrugged, “but yes.”

“Flirt.” But it was another slip of greed out of Nova, and another reminder that Erik really was wanted that much. It was a great boost to the ego, and a pool of warmth in his chest. “Alright, alright. Which one now?”

“Mmm… what about yours?” Nova asked. “The constellation you were born under. Do you know that one?”

“Sure. Should be able to spot her now, too.” Erik turned back to the night sky once more, looking up and around the crescent moon. “From where we are, she should be… ah.” He pointed southward of the moon. “See that line of stars right there? That’s the violin of the Moon Princess.”

“Oh!” He felt Nova sit a little bit straighter against him; it never got any less cute to see the Luminary act like an excited kid. “Yeah, I see it. Is she the Moon Princess because she’s always by the moon?”

“Got it in one. I’m very proud.” Erik reached over to pat Nova on the head without looking; he missed somewhat, patting Nova on the forehead, and laughed when his arm was batted away. “She’s never too far away from the moon when she’s in view. It ties into her story.”

“What’s her story?”

“Are you sure you wanna know? It’s a little sad.”

“It can’t be anymore sad than how I just made things.” Nova spoke very frankly, an air of sarcasm Erik had come to know as just a Cobblestone standard, and that he wasn’t going to get a word in edgewise.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one. It’s bittersweet, more than anything--I did always like it, though.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Don’t I know it.” Erik leaned back against the sofa, and closed his eyes as he recounted the story. “It starts out with a thief--”

“The best stories always do.” Nova cut in, and Erik could hear the smile in his voice so clearly it made him smile too.

“Shut up.” There was another gentle push, but careful not to disturb the gondola. “The thief’s missing father was an art forger, and the thief made it his mission to steal the forgeries, and replace them with the real paintings. One night after a theft, he met an orphan girl. She’d been left on a church doorstep as a baby with only a violin and a song, and she was certain that the song would lead her to her mother.”

Erik waved his free hand nonchalantly, caught between telling this story in full and leaving some mystery behind for Nova. Nova liked mysteries. “I can’t go into all the details, it’s a novel in its own right. But the girl turned out to be the Moon Kingdom’s missing princess, and the thief helped reunite her with her mother, and saved the kingdom in the process.”

His hand clenched into a fist, dramatically, before he let it fall back to his lap. “But, the bittersweet part. The thief and the princess fell in love, but the thief still hadn’t found his father, and he left the Moon Kingdom not long after the princess returned home to keep searching. But, he said he’d always be listening when she played, so she played her song on her violin from then on, as a way to guide the thief back to the moon and to her one day.”

Erik sat up a little straighter, and pointed ahead, past the Moon Princess. “The thief is a constellation, too--Crimson Caper, I think the name is? I’ve heard it varies--and he shows up right around there, but he rotates on a different sector. He and the Princess only line up a few times throughout the year. So, sure, it’s still sad, but…”

He shrugged. “I dunno. It was always comforting to think that the song works, in a way. No matter how far the thief is from the Princess, he always makes it back. It… it’s nice.”

Nice, Erik thinks, and fitting. Maybe horoscopes had a grain of truth to them after all.

Beside him, Nova shifted. Erik felt his head lift up from his shoulder. Must have been a crick in his neck, probably. “Ah, sorry--did I ramble on that one, or…”

The words died on his lips when he looked at Nova--Nova, who normally looked so unshaken, so reserved, was staring at him with wide, almost hesitant eyes, and lips that wavered like he was trying to speak but couldn’t find what to say. He got this look on occasion, Erik had noted long ago, this face that you could look at and just tell there was so much going on than Nova wanted to admit.

But from the way Nova’s hands clenched at his like a lifeline, it wasn’t very difficult to determine what was going through his mind.

“Erik…” He said his name so softly, so sweetly, if Erik hadn’t known better he would have thought he’d imagined it. “Can I… can I be greedy? Just for a moment?”

Nova sounded like he spoke out of line. Like Erik would tell him ‘no’. Like his being greedy wasn’t something Erik so desperately wanted of Nova, for them and for himself.

“You don’t have to ask twice.” Erik said, and the sensation of Nova’s hand sliding into his hair was all too perfect.

It was far from the first time they had kissed--if Erik was going to brag, he’d say that for two people that never had before one another, they had gotten pretty good at it by this point. As if they’d done it a thousand times before. It felt heavier now, though; the story of the Moon Princess must have resonated with him, because Nova’s lips moved against his own like a desperate prayer, his body pressing against Erik as much as he could for as long as he could. And Erik knew full well why.

When they returned to Dundrasil, in a few days time, he would be leaving with Mia again. Erik had promised her so much, and he knew that Nova knew that, and he knew that Nova would never stand in the way of that, but Erik also knew himself. If Nova asked him to stay, let that one selfish desire escape his lips, Erik would do it.

And how could he not? How could he find it in himself to deny Nova, someone who never asked and only gave? Someone who did not ask for the impossible tasks given to him, but performed them anyway, so no one else had to? Someone who stood by his side through thick and thin and all that glittered, whose one selfish choice was Erik above all else? This man, this treasure, this star, this Erik didn’t know what to call him anymore, this gift of a person he couldn’t help but lo--

A creak on the gondola tore them apart with a jump. Erik had one arm propped against the canal wall, while the other, now fisted in Nova’s shirt, pushed him away. Nova was still hovering over him as much as the space would allow, face flushed and lips bruised, but his eyes were wide with a sudden panic. Erik guessed that he didn’t look much different.

“...So,” Erik said, to break the tension, “this makes it six times.”

“Almighty above,” Nova dropped his head with a groan, but Erik saw his shoulders shaking in the darkness. “If I start laughing and you fall in, I’m not fishing you out.”

“Is this all some elaborate scheme to get a Kiss of Life on me?”

“I don’t need an elaborate scheme for that.” Nova wrapped his hand around Erik’s wrist. “Just--hold still a minute, alright? I’ll pull you back.”

It did definitely take a minute--a gondola on the verge of tipping over didn’t give much leeway for sudden movements, but Nova slowly but surely started edging his way to the front of the passenger’s cabin. His hold on Erik never loosened, but it slipped from this wrist to his hand, and soon enough, with one sure-fire tug, Nova pulled him away from the canal, and safely into his arms.

Both of them sighed in relief.

“Are you alright, Erik?”

“Well, I’m not soaking wet, so I’d say I’m just peachy.” Erik fell back from Nova with a snicker. “Definitely one way to sweep me off my feet.”

Nova laughed with him, but it was much more nervous than it should have been. “I’m really sorry, about that. I should have--”

“Oh, don’t you even.” Erik was on him again in a second, clamping a hand over Nova’s mouth. “That’s not something you gotta even think about apologizing for. If you try to apologize for something I would kill for you to do more often, I--” He grasped at words for a moment, but dropped the attempt rather quickly. “--I dunno, I’ll do something, I--”

Nova’s hands came back to his wrist, gently this time, and pulled Erik’s hands away from his mouth.

“I was going to say,” and here, Nova kept his eyes trained on Erik’s hand rather than on his, his cheeks bright red in the moonlight, “I should have waited until we were on land to do that.”

“--Oh.” And that was about all Erik could muster before his own face began to burn.

Nova laughed again--shyer this time, much more boyish and free, and Erik felt his heart flutter in his chest. What a power he had over him, and was only barely aware of. How did Erik get so lucky, he wondered?

“...well,” Erik cleared his throat, and ran his free hand along his neck, “the night’s still young, you know. Should we, ah… you want to head back on shore now?”

He glanced back; Nova’s eyes lit up brighter than the stars above them, his smile warmer than the sun, and his kissed Erik’s knuckles sweetly. “You’d be insulted if I didn’t.”

Seriously. What had Erik done to deserve this life. “Yeah,” he choked out, “so get to steering us back.”

It was with great reluctance--and Erik knew what reluctance from Nova felt like, and it only made him all the more prideful--that Nova let go of his hand, and stood to take the oar. While Erik was more the seafarer between the two of them, the make of gondolas were far different from what he was used to; Nova had only learned by necessity, way back when, but didn’t seem bothered at all with the role of ferryman. It gave Erik time to lay back in the boat, and collect his thoughts.

The night sky still loomed overhead, and every star he could name and all the ones he couldn’t still sparkled as they passed them by. But Erik still looked back to the star he’d found on the earth, like a moth to a flame. And it was the heat of the moment before that had sent his thoughts spiraling, but in this moment of clarity, he could really admit it--he truly would follow Nova anywhere, if the other simply wanted it of him.

“Nova?”

“Hm?”

“You know I would stay.” If Erik didn’t say it now, Nova might not ever believe it himself. “If you asked me to, I mean. I’d stay no matter what.”

For a moment, the oar stilled. An unbearable second passed, and Erik thought he’d gone too far, but he heard Nova chuckle, and the gondola began to move again.

“I know.” Nova said. “Believe me, I know. And… I’m going to ask. One day.”

The implications of that one sentence made Erik’s heart jump in his chest; it was only the lull of water underneath the gondola that reminded him not to jump up himself. “One day?”

“One day,” he repeated, “when I can be selfish enough to ask. But for now… it’s okay.”

“Is it, really?” Erik asked. “You have problems being honest with what you want a lot.”

“You’ve always come back to me before.” While he couldn’t see Nova’s face, he spoke with a gentle assuredness that Erik couldn’t bring himself to doubt. “And I know what it means to have your faith. The least I can do is give you mine.”

He glanced over at Erik over his shoulder. Nova still looked bashful, but there was something in his smile that finally put Erik at ease. “I’ll just miss you everyday until you get back.”

“Aaaaagh.” Erik rolled over on his side, covering his face dramatically. “That was way too earnest, and you’re not kissing me nearly enough to kill me like that.”

Nova laughed like the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

#luminerik #hey this turned out 8 pages long and i'm sorry for that #also thats a lie i'm not sorry for that #nedryn-laughs #panda does a write

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