#if you like this pls consider this my christmas gift to you

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 8 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: you and stanley go fishing 

warnings (TW): swearing, panic attack/panic-inducing scenarios, slight gore/violence 

tags: mutual-pining, fluff, angst, action, affection

notes: idk anything about ice fishing so pls don’t get my ass for this okay, this was v different to write than my usual long drawn out heart gutting character analyses that I love (not that that is NOT here) but all the movement was deffff hard so it took me a minute but hey this is what I wanted imma do it ya know 

Also i configured this chapter in like three separate ways in my head and it was so hard to chose? But i think the one i did end up writing is most true to their dynamic so far. To be of note for the v stubble reference im giving here but yall know The Kiss by painter Gustav Klimt? Ya… that…. Thats here (spot it if you can) as always thank you for the kind messages and notes and comments, love yall <3 also comment below if you'd like to be on a tag list I should maybe organize that hehe

word count: 6.5k

| masterlist | ix |

January, 1987

She had found them both nice fold-out chairs at the flea market just that last season, along with fishing poles the nice old man insisted went with the seats also. Talked her ear off about how he used to go ice fishing with his son, before said son went off to college. 

Now he wouldn’t be home during the ice fishing season, so he saw no use for his chairs or his poles. But she did. 

Stan would tell her flippantly about his youth from time to time, usually if not always said stories incorporated Stanford in one way or another. It seemed that the two barely, if ever, separated during their youth. Something that upset her more, that her friend had never spoken of his brother to her in the six years they had known each other. She didn’t think he would speak of it all as fondly, these memories, considering he never confided in her about Stanley, to begin with. 

Stan would speak of the shoreline in New Jersey, of the sharp sand beneath his feet and hidden caves along the coast they both would trek through. Talk of the setting sun, of racing his brother home in the dark down paved streets back to their shared room. 

He spoke most fondly of a boat though, one that had taken both twins years to configure. 

She figured the fishing poles could be some sort of link, at least in her mind. 

That and they spent some of their summers down by the dock at the local lake anyway. Splashing in windy tides off the dock and watching boats go by until sunset was a great way to cool off. That or revisiting the pool, where Stan would insist upon ice cream for the short drive home. 

She figured he would wait for the season opener to go fishing. Considering she gave him the poles and chairs in December, a quick wave to Christmas, a holiday he laughed off on the regular. He would routinely celebrate it with her, just for the holiday cookies and cheesy movies he wouldn’t admit he loved. But he was Jewish, after all. At least raised in a Jewish household, he told her flippantly, after opening his gift this last December. Laughing at her blushing face, and flabbergasted stuttering, asking him why he would bother with all this. She sat straight when he said it was for her. Because she wanted to, so he would. Not that he was a religious man, anyway. 

He found it amusing this holiday season then, to find her struggling to make some traditional dishes his mother would make each year come December for the holidays. Nothing he necessarily missed, but something he found endearing nonetheless. Her usual attention to detail, and odd need to ensure his comfort. 

The fishing poles were a welcomed gift though, and he lit up at them and the differing tackles the nice man at the flea market had also gifted her. Hugged her into his side, while he ranted and raved about being able to fish off the docks come summer. 

But he didn’t want to wait. 

Something she thought rather glumly in the very early morning that January weekday. The sun not even having made its appearance, she had stumbled out of her bed around 4 a.m., having promised to reluctantly go ice fishing with said enthusiastic man. They stood before the porch door now, while he knelt in front of her, lacing up tall winter boots and pulling over her snow pants. Tucking her in, layer upon layer. Putting to use some winter clothes they both had rangled out of donation bins that very first cold season. The snow pants and boots had only ever really been used when they would trek through the outskirts of the woods, searching for clues to Stanford’s other journals. 

She was still half asleep on her feet, falling forward into Stan’s bent shoulder in front of her to groan. For some reason, he was wide awake, and grinning like a fool despite it being 4 a.m. That dumb look on his face reminded her why she even crawled out of her cacoon of blankets. He was beyond happy to be able to go fishing. Something he couldn’t even wait for a warmer season to do. 

He seemed a smidge like his younger self when he was closest to water. Some of his favorite memories are those ones with Stanford by his side and sand intertwined in his hair. His skin dark in the sun and his toes were deep in the tide of the sand. 

It seemed more distant now, as distant as Ford was to him now. He wanted to ground himself here too, and some of his new favorite memories are of them hanging at the end of the dock. His feet in the cold water of the lake, and her nudging his shoulder. Teasing him, edging him off the docks’ wood and into the cold water with her. He preferred the summer to the snowy winters, but he figured they could make some new memories by the water now also. Even if they were colder ones. 

So he more or less begged her to join him. Promising that he would handle the fish after she made a disgusted face at the thought of stripping the fish of their skin and bones for the meal they would make of the catch. She agreed though, happy to tag along if it pleased him. 

He stood from his knelt position in front of her, standing to reach behind him to grab his red coat from the coat rack. Turning back to her to fold her arms into the coat also, her eyes still blurry as she smiled at him slightly giddy. 

He had a gift for her that last December also. A coat folded into shitty wrapping newspaper he had thought to repurpose. She smiled at the blue coat but quickly became confused when she pulled it out of the wrapping to find it was far too big for her own physique to be for her. He had quickly pulled out another present for her, presenting her with another newspaper-wrapped gift. Which she tore open with haste, and rocked up quickly to her feet to dance around their small living room, his old red coat in her arms. 

It was hers now, and she reveled in the shitty coat. His smell still lingered in the seam line, and when she leaned her head far back into the hood she could pick up on his shampoo. It kept her warm, despite also not fitting her physique. 

He had woken up earlier than her that morning, putting the appropriate supplies for ice picking into the trunk next to their foldable chairs, the tackles, and the fishing hooks. So they made their way out into the dark, ducking into the car next to each other to make for the lake in the early morning. 

She hummed along to the radio as per usual, random songs interspersed in between the local morning forecast. She stopped though now, picking her head up from the back of the seat to look over at Stan. 

“We missed the entrance to the dock.” 

“Nah there's another one we can go to. Farther down, less people.” 

She hummed, smiling over at him. What he actually meant was there would be no lake office to report to. So no need to register them for the lake that day, and no stupid state fee to pay for fishing on the lake. Amused at his shortcuts, she turns back to watch the pine trees pass out the car window. 

It was a sharp, nose-burning 10 degrees Fahrenheit that day, according to the radio forecast. Only made worse somehow with the creeping darkness from the horizon line. The sun slinked slowly in the coldness of January. 

He made his way out first, the car’s cabin light flashing on as he grinned over at her. Securing his blue coat closed quickly before getting out to stomp a path in the fresh snow around the car. Pulling around the sides to pull open her door, before chugging around to the trunk to unload the supplies he claimed they needed. 

She knew how to fish, but had never ventured into ice fishing. Mainly because the cold was beyond unappealing to her. But the thermos Stan had presented to her before making out the door that morning heated her hands enough to dismiss the onslaught of negativity thrumming through her. And partially woke her up on the drive over. Stepping out into the crunchy cold snow to help Stan gather supplies. 

He shuffled her chair into her hands, slugging everything else into his own broad arms. He could reasonably carry everything, stomping forward in the snow to make a path for her to follow in. 

They had made a spot on the ice, the snowy shoreline a good bit away. Stan claiming the best spots must be farther out. Because the farther out, the bigger the fish. She sat, glancing around the empty ice. When Stan meant fewer people he meant no people. A frozen dock far off near the shoreline also, its wooden structure covered in ice. She watched him now, the fishing poles cradled in her lap, and the thermos warm in her hands. He’s bent in front of her, his mittened hands working an ice auger to break a solid hole through the thick layer of ice. 

Grunting, he stands back up, hands on his hips admiring his work. 

“Is the ice too thin here?” She observes. 

He tilts his head left, turning to her now. “No, doll. Perfectly fine right here. We’ll only be here until a little after sunrise anyway.” 

He sits in his own foldable chair that she had set up for him while he was finagling with the ice. Their chairs positioned side by side, a little distance between them and the whole he had just made. He reaches between them, opening up the tackle box to shuffle around drawers, looking for something in its depth. 

“Close your eyes, hun.” 

She rolls her eyes, closing them, while shuffling the thermos between her thighs to hold out her hands in wait. He places something in her mittened hands, it’s slightly heavy in them now. 

“Open ‘em.” 

She opens them to see an odd black contraption in her hands. Two knobs, a dark screen, and a long antenna on what she presumes is a battery-powered electronic. Almost too dark to make out what it was, but it hit her and she gasped. 

“Ta-Da!” 

“A radio!” She sings, clutching it closer to her chest and swinging in her seat to knock her knees with his. Clawing at his shoulder to fold herself into his neck and coat’s furry trim. She wouldn’t question where he got it, just revel that he had thought to, for her. 

“I know you weren’t too eager to go fishing with me, doll. But I figured this could make up for some of it.” He chuckled, readjusting his hat on his head after they pulled away. Knee’s still knocking between them. 

“I’d do anything with you Stan.” She hums, unthinking, as she looks down at the device in her hands. Tweaking around the knobs and the antenna to turn it on. She misses his flush next to her. 

She gets it working quickly, the music faintly staticy in the background of Stan attempting to put lures at the end of their poles. 

He gets her’s ready first, leaning forward in his seat to situate the pole in her hands. Pointing out the slack line and the type of lure he put on the end of her pole. She’s too distracted, like she always is when he’s probably explaining something vaguely important. 

The music hums between them, perched on the tackle box he had closed. His cheeks flushed from the cold, his hat slumping down the back of his head, hair peeking out around the rim and sticking to his forehead. He leans in closer, his knee and thigh along her own. His own covered hand reaching for hers, folding it around the pole for her to hold. 

They enjoy each other's company until the sun peaks up along the horizon, a good hour in. As they pass the coffee-filled thermos back and forth, she hums to the radio. Enjoying stories Stan told about tourists from the end of the last season. Telling her about their ridiculous questions he had to work around last minute. 

“Then he asked me if they were extinct!” 

“What you tell him?” 

“Well he couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and he got all teary-eyed when he asked me.” Stan waves his hand around, drumming up the memory of when a child had asked him if the fake displayed plady-beaver was the last of its kind. 

“Annnnddd?” She hums, sipping on the last of their shared beverage. 

“And I may or may not have said they were not.” He shrugs. “Was easy to convince the kid’s dad to buy him a plushy.” 

She laughs, thinking about the stupid merchandise she’s still not used to, that she sometimes restocked in the front of the house. But of course, Stan didn’t have the heart to really crush the kid’s spirit. Sad kids equaled less money probably, in his mind. That and he had a weird affinity of being about to communicate with them like no other. 

There’s a tug on her line suddenly, not the first in the hour they’d been at their spot, but the first real strong one she’s ever felt. Jerking her pole, bending it forward. Both her hands met the pole, yanked straight in her seat suddenly. 

“Woah!” He says, sitting forward and reaching for her pole also. His hands encased hers around the pole. “Hold it tight, hun.” Grunting in her ear. 

But the pulling got worse, had them both standing from their chairs. His arms around hers, helping her reel back the pole, pulling it back towards his left shoulder. His arms encasing her, pulling her flush with his front. 

“I gotcha.” He grunts again, close to her ear. 

“Do you?” Gasping at the strength of the pull along the pole. 

It seems to drag them closer and closer to the ice hole he had put in the ground not even an hour ago. His feet planted firm, yet scrapping against the ice. Hers fumbling, dipping under the strength of being pulled forward. Her hands tight, beginning to sweat and ache in the casing of her mittens. A heat around the ring of her hat. He’s hot behind her, warmth seeping out from his coat and onto her back. He feels firm, and yet they both continue a slow crawl forward. 

Until it tugs. It tugs so hard that she instinctually releases her grip. Her hands were still steady against the pole though, still beneath Stan’s own hands. 

The jerk has them both flung forward, his feet no longer steady, flipping against the ice. She’s still between his arms when they fall forward, inching towards the hole. He turns them somehow, taking the brunt of it on his right shoulder. 

Her head swims, having met the ground rather suddenly. But she’s between his arms, her hands having let go of the fishing pole. He’d let them slip from the pole, his arms tight around her, trying to take the force of the impact. 

“Stan.” She mutters, mushy between them. Her head pounded for a minute, as they continued to slide against the ice. His chin propped on her head, warm around her still. 

He doesn’t respond, because he’s given no time to. Another harsh tug on the pole sent him forward quickly towards the hole. He thinks fast though, bending his arms, hooking his feet along her legs, and pulling her out of his grasp. 

She slides along the ice and snow, his push along her legs and waist burned. She turned, pushing herself up on her hands. Grasping at the snow to get some balance. She had run into the chairs and tackle box. All their supplies scattered along the ice. The radio was static behind her. 

It had all happened so fast, her voice cracking in the cold air. Calling his name but not finding him. One moment he was there, the next gone. The water still. 

They had been pulled forward so suddenly, a quick five-second span between the tug and her head meeting the ice. And he was gone as soon as she had lifted herself again, the ice cracking along the sides of the former small hole. 

“Stanley!” Scrapping, crawling towards the hole. The surface wet and slick from the cold lake water that had seeped through the cracks along the hole now. Stan’s visage far from view, the top of the water dark. 

She stares in what feels like forever but is only quantifiable in the movements of the sun. It’s rising now, around her. Sparkling on the ice and water around her. Something she’d marvel at, have her grasping at Stan’s shoulder. Nudging him to see as she does. 

She thinks only briefly before shucking off her hat and gloves, beginning to unlace her boots. She’d follow him, into the dark depths. 

A deep continuous thump. Running along the ice. First near her feet, then farther and farther from her. It has her racing towards it, the vibrations along the ice guiding her along. It must be him, must be that something that pulled him into the dark murky water. The rhythmic thudding has her racing back to the supplies. Fumbling for the axe Stan had packed to help pick out the ice in the hole. 

Running full force back, the ice cracking beneath her legs. Shoelaces dancing around her feet, her fingers nippy and uncovered around the wooden handle of the axe.

It cracks, sickenly loud and sudden. Water bursts beneath her shoes, seeping up and around her. The ground opens up in front of her, splitting along the horizon line. A flash of blue precariously balanced in the large maw of a blurred creature. 

It shakes the ice, splintering and fracturing it below her feet. The weight of the creature resting the front of its body along the ice. Shaking the striking blue figure in its jaw, trying to subdue it. 

She stands still in the ankle-deep water, trying to make out the blurry figure in the maw of the anomaly. It strikes her then that it could be nothing else but Stanley, confirmed by the sputtering grunts the figure heaves, coughing up cold water from his lungs. 

She stands frozen only until then, stepping forward into the slowly sinking ice bath. Ax swung behind her shoulder, ready to slice along the neck of the beast in hopes it would release her husband. 

He clamors in the cage of teeth above. Raised his large hand into a well-practiced fist, blindly throwing said fist to meet the eye of the beast. 

The hit startles the beast, cracking open its jaw to release Stan, a sudden sharp screech creeping up its large neck through its throat. Rattling her bones as she leaps forward in the ice and water, bringing the ax into the meat of the beast's neck. 

It crawls back further, slinking back into the dark cold waters. She stumbles back through the ice and the water until she feels snow beneath her unlaced boots again, the ax gone from her grasp and embedded in the skin of the anomaly. The beast is there and gone in a flash, scrambling back beneath the water. 

Stan has the air knocked out of him, having landed on his back. His head cracked against the ice and water below, the cold creeping in through his clothes. He opens his mouth to groan but finds only his shallow breath and the puff of heated air leaves his mouth. The sun creeping above the horizon now, something he can only gauge by the heat on his face. The rest of him rock solid and shivering under the weight of his wet clothes. 

A sudden eclipse above his head, the sun, and shadows shaded by a beautiful face. Her face shadowed by the sun, her hat gone and her hair spilling all around her head like a halo. Her cheeks flush from the cold, from the adrenaline. It could be the cold or the way the light looks around her head, but he swore she must have been an angel. 

He’s muttering when she finally reaches him, stumbling through the cracked ice and wet water. Her only thought was getting to him. He was beyond sense when she did make it to him, clutching at his tattered and soaked blue coat. He was soaked, drenched to the bone. His hat gone and his hair icy along his head, his gloves gone also, a boot missing from his left foot. And he’s drenched. It all stuck to his body, freezing quickly in the icy temperature. She had to get him home, get him out of these clothes, and heat him up. 

She runs her hands along his coat first, checking for punctures, for blood. He had been dragged several yards under the water in the toothy jaw of said beast. But no punctures and no blood made themselves apparent through his coat. Something she’ll have to access later. 

A thump along the ice has her whipping her head around. The vibration rippling along the ice and the shards of the broken lake surface. The beast lingered in the area, waiting for them to be off guard again. 

She wastes no time, lifting Stan’s large arm up and above her shoulder. Leveraging his body up to be leaned against her side and her back. All those stories about mothers and daughters and adrenaline ring in her head, a truth to the stories of women and abnormal strength in times of strife. She would ache tomorrow, and be glad of it anyways. 

He unconsciously shuffles his feet, and she makes note that he’s somewhat conscious. The ice helps her slip them both along the good hundred yards she has until they reach the shoreline. Their supplies the least of her worries, and the anxious thought of the beast meeting her back out there in the wreckage of it all. She does not turn back to look when abandoning it all. 

It’s harder folding his stiff body into the passenger seat. His legs flopped into the car last. She curses, reaching over him to buckle him in and then making for the driver's side. She rarely drove them, it was more of a special occasion between the two of them. She had only ever driven once in the winter and had been deeply scared of the slipping ice and heavy snowfall. But the sky was clear and she’d put the thought of ice away for a long while. 

She curses again, reaching over to Stan to feel up the inside of his coat pockets for the keys. He stirs at the movement, shrugging off her touch, shivering in his seat. 

“Not Doc’.” He mutters, his head spinning. 

“What?” 

“You’re not Doc’.” He grunts again, his lips loose. His head hurts like a motherfucker. 

“I am!” She hisses, hands pushing his away, reaching for his pockets again, looking for the keys. 

“Oh.” He looks back, eyes blurry under the odd pressure along the back of his head. This person sounded like his wife, he’d admit. Shifting his head to lean against the back of the long bench, making out the flush on her face and the halo of hair around her head. He thought this was his angel? He guessed it was the same thing in his mind, anyway. 

She’s still ruffling through his soaked half-frozen jacket. “Hi, angel.” He says, smiling down at her frusstrated face. Why was she so frazzled? 

He’s grinning like an idiot, and he just acted like he didn’t know who she was. Like she wasn’t her. Calling her angel? He’d only ever done that in her dream. That achingly sick dream she had of them, of them in this very car. Of his weight above her, of his breath along the crook of her neck. Of his kiss. 

She shakes it off. Finally finding the keys folded into a very frozen and flat pocket along his chest. Turning back to the wheel, starting the car up, and peeling out of the parkway backward. Leaving the same way they had come in. 

She races home, glancing over at Stan stiff in the passenger seat. His eyes hadn’t left her figure but seemed distant. His thoughts far beyond him, and his coat and pants were frozen against him. His hair melts off his head in the car, still wet but no longer frozen to his scalp. Messy wet hair tucked around his big ears. 

She parks and throws open doors as quickly as she physically can. Slipping in the snow, tripping over her loose boots. Fingers frigid when she reaches for him to move him out of the passenger side. 

She knows the signs of hypothermia. Knows the dangers of prolonged exposure to cold, and dropping body temperature. Doing math in her head, hoping he had been exposed short enough for her to physically raise his temperature before his heart began to slow. Before blood began to sludge its way through his veins. 

He looks as blue as his coat, his arm slugged back over her shoulder as she attempts to get him up the stairs. The slurred speech, the confusion, the dulled skin. It made her heart race, taking steps two at a time to drag him to the upstairs restroom. To the bath. 

She sets him against the open door, running and slipping along the tile, turning on the bath to its warmest temperature. The water would be scalding against his cold skin, would sting and tingle in contrast to his wet clothes, but it was the only way she thought to raise his temperature. 

She rushes back to him, kneeling in front of him, grabbing at his coat and pants to pull the wet clothes from him. He’s smiling again, giggling at her attempt to uncloth him. 

“Could have asked hun.” He jokes, but she cries. He’s so out of it, so gone from this reality and it shakes her bones. He’s here and not all at once. 

He thinks he sees her clearer here in the yellow bathroom light, hot fog swelling around them from the facet. She has her hands all over him, eager to get him out of wet clothes that stick hard against his body. Didn’t she know? That all she had to do was ask and he would shed any layer to get closer to her? He giggles again, leaning into her hot hands against his cold blue body. 

She manages to get everything but his boxers and socks off him, a flush to her face. Not for lacking of trying though, but Stan would laugh and shake her hand away. Muttering under his breath between them when she would reach for the waistband of his usual blue loose boxers. So she luggs his wingspan along her back again, leveraging him up to move him to the scalding water. Heat bubbling up in clouds around the water. Bruises along his chest have begun to form from the pressure and weight of the beast's teeth and jaw. They’d turn purple and swell soon, a good sign she sighed. A swell meant blood was flowing fast still.

He hisses, his head rocking back along the edge of the clawed tub when he finally is able to sit in the water. It’s hot, too hot. It hurts to breathe in the heat, and he attempts to lift his lungs above the water to gain air again. The muggy water hurts his skin and burns him. But her hand meets his chest, pushing him back into the scalding water. 

“Stay.” She commands, eyes wavering when she looks at him now. Melted into the porcelain of the tub. He’s still shivering. He doesn’t even register it but his body has been shaking, vibrating, this entire time. Moving his muscles in an attempt to warm him up. 

She reaches to turn the hot water back on, cursing, beating her hand along the rim of the tub when the water comes out cold. It’s all gone. She looks down at him again, her hand moving along his chest, trying to generate heat where her hand was. “Stay, Stan. Stay in the fucking water.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters, still smiling at her like an idiot. God, she was pretty, god her hand felt nice along his cold bitter skin. She was out the door so quickly. Was it possible to miss someone who was just in the other room? 

She’s barreling down the stairs, flipping on every gas burner in her wake on the kitchen stove. Stumbling to the cupboard, pulling out saucepans and the like to put water in. She’d boil it, damnit. Like her grandmother used to do for her when she was preparing her bath. 

She doesn’t breathe until every corner of the stove is full. Leaned over the countertop next to the burners. Her hand rubbed along her chest, along her heart. Self-soothing, the purpose of the continuous motion above the erratic beating. She had tunnel vision up until now, suddenly noticing that she hadn’t even flicked on the kitchen light. Hadn’t even closed the front door. 

She had been scared. Still was. Shaken beyond something she knew. It pained her to be in the next room, afraid of looking over her shoulder and not finding him there. She’d never lead them through crowds again, never let him stray far from her peripheral. Because then he would be gone, could be gone. 

Ice seeps in through her snow pants, and she tugs off her boots too. Socks wet against the kitchen tile. Her hands shake as she pulls her boots loose. 

She had almost lost him. Lost him for good. It was a shell shock beyond her, beyond her imagination. For the last five years, it was hard to conjure up adventures and trips without him. The thought of flippantly leaving him behind never crossed her mind. Hadn’t ever left her mind. Not after storming in through the shack's door, not after his confession to her across the dim kitchen table, across their kitchen table. 

She sits there now, feeling like it was a lifetime ago, but knowing she could blink and mistake the past for the present. He had reached across to her that night, across the table. Held his palms face up when he asked for help. When he confided in a four-second mistake he had made. She had hesitated then, to reach for him. To reach across and find assurance between them, to fold her hands into his own. She had judged initially. But they had both made mistakes. Both made mirror image mistakes, it felt. She didn't want to hesitate to reach for him ever again. She just feared he would be gone before she could. Feared he would disappear along her shoulder line. 

She had thought it was obvious, the unspoken agreement between them. That they both meant something to the other. That her dreams threaded into a deeper reality, and that the jokes they shared weren’t some passing balm to deal with it all. That the late nights in front of the T.V. analyzing movies were for the thrill of each other's company, and that their yearly poker game was a silent promise of convergence. That the shitty driving lessons weren’t so she could drive away from him someday, that chalkboard lessons were so he wouldn’t scoff when she said he was smart with her whole chest. That the yearly diner dates were just that, just dates. Not something flippant, not something as unkind as the upkeep of an image. That he opened doors for her for a reason and tucked her below his chin because he cared enough to. That he reached across tables, palms up, because he never feared her hesitation. 

Something unwritten between them she believed, everything shared in everything but words and letters. She was a calculating woman throughout her years and didn’t know how to trace the beginning of the feelings she had amassed all the way to the end of it. She didn’t know how to explain that her heart clenched when he leaned over the seat to buckle her in or explain how her hands shake when he reaches for the chalk from her now in the middle of a lesson. It was inconsequential, improbable, and entirely unexplainable to well… explain the sum of him to her. It felt little in comparison to his constant devotion. 

The two front pots begin to boil over, she lifts her head, turning off burners and carrying a stem to a pot in both hands. Taking the stairs two at a time again, uncaring about the burning water running down her arms in her haste to make it back to him. 

He’s still the same shade, but he lifts his head to look at her when she enters now. His smile less doppy, more genuine. His hair beginning to dry along his head, no ice to be found in its dark strands. He’s still leaning heavily along the back of the tub, not yet able to hold himself up. Color coming back to his cheeks, to his face. She kneels beside the tub, the floor wet as it seeps in through her pants. She pours in one pot at a time, swiping the water around to acclimate it to the bathwater. His hands move unconsciously, grabbing a strand of her hair to fold behind her ear. To be able to look at her more clearly through the fog of hot water. 

She begins to pour the next pot into the tub, but he tugs her forward, folds her body against the rim of the tub. Something in her makes her stand, lifting her feet into the tub. The way he looks at her, so disorientated and shivering still. It moves her forward, has her crawling into the tub completely clothed just to lay her cheek against his chest. To make sure it continues to rise under her. Like when she sleeps, and he lulls her back to sleep by simply being there. She wants that, for him to lull her racing heart now. Make her forget about his disappearing visage and still water. He does that, hums like he always does, folding her head under his scruffy chin. Comforting her despite his weakened figure. Hoping she wouldn’t notice how cold he still was against her. 

Something unwritten she believed, something she had never had to say out loud because she had never felt this weird depth before. But he was slipping from her grasp now, heavy against the rim of the tub. And so very quiet it made her sick, made her heart chase up her throat. Made her anxious beyond words, because the thing she meant to say to him would stay unwritten. If he was gone she’d only voice such fantasies in her dreams. The dreams she had of him as hers, those other realities her mind conjured where he wore a golden band and called her his. Where she was his. 

“You're mine.” Her voice was unwavering, something unwritten between the syllables of her words. It blooms and bursts from her throat, a growth that had sprouted long ago, stumbles out of her mouth searching for light. Still folded under his chin, along his chest. Her shirt wet from the water, bunched up along her waist where he had put his hands. 

He gets that look in his eyes despite her intensity, a joke on the tip of his tongue. Something to soothe her racing heart, to stamp down the distant look in her eyes. How she had looked in the car scared him, the rush of her chest but the focus of her eyes. Like they had been driving in the dark, through a neverending tunnel. But she chases it away before he can open his mouth, her hand meeting and cupping his scruffy jaw, pulling back from her comfort to look at him. Turning his eyes to her intense ones, ones that held something unspoken. 

“No.” A shake to her voice, eyes blurry. “You’re mine.” 

He nods, his voice stuck in his throat. Running his hands up her back, his warmer hands. 

“Y-you aren’t allowed to leave me like that, Stanley. You can’t l-leave me all alone like that.” Flashes of a towering beast are nothing compared to turning over her shoulder. Of searching the horizonline. Like she does for Stanford, eyes drifting to tree lines. She wouldn’t, couldn’t compartmentalize doing such a thing for Stanley. She’d take back hesitancies and reach across tables palm up if it meant he wouldn’t leave her again. 

“I promise, angel.” He takes her again, tucking her back to his chest. Her racing heart fluttered against his warming chest. “I won’t leave.” 

Her hand fall into that crook in his chest, the other clutching along his back, trying to bring him closer, trying to make the space between them disappear. She sniffling, from the cold and stress, against his chest and he doesn’t think twice about his words. Thinking of reaching for her, of meeting her across bridges and tables and in tunnels to meet her open palms, her warm hands. Unfurling her from his chest to lean down and place his lips near her ear, something unspoken between syllables. 

“You’re mine, too.” 

His lips traveling to her cheek, hovering against the flush skin before tracing her warmth. Kissing the apple of her cheek as she leans into the front of him. His lips warm against her cheek, like she had dreamed of. He had never been this close in the waking world, something she craved more with each passing day. She never pulled away, sniffling as he brings her forward again. No hesitation to be found in the nod of her head along his scruff, a nudge, and nestle of agreement. Something unspoken, unwritten. 

She forgot about the pots and burners. 

[luvnoirs]

paige bueckers x fem!reader hcs !

warning(s): none ! (sfw)

she's so attentive like you can obviously tell during her interviews so she loves listening to you what you have to say. it doesn't even have to be a serious or heavy conversation. you could be talking about the weather and she'd be so tuned in like she's in love fr

date nights are mostly chill and cozy vibes. like you'll have movie nights or go to the beach if it's nice out. sometimes you'll stay in an do karaoke cause paige swears up and down that she can sing like sza. but then again paige loves spending quality time with you so she considers everything you do together a date

she'll point to you and say "this is for you" before she shoots the ball (she makes it of course) and then smooch at you

has a playlist dedicated just for you on her public apple music account with songs that remind her of you. it's mostly rnb vibes and "love" by keysha cole is the first song on there

calls you "princess"

like i said before she's big on physical touch so she likes to give back hugs and shoulder kisses

also clingy as hell... if she's had a busy day with school and/or practice and hasn't seen you in a while, prepare to be suffocated by her the second she she's you

paige always thinks she's right so you two are always arguing (nothing too serious just dumb stuff mostly)

"you did not just say drake's best album is 'thank me later'..."

if the argument is serious and she's mad at you or vice versa, it literally never lasts more than five minutes because she hates not seeing you happy. she'll even admit she's wrong

she'll wrap her long arms around you as you face the opposite direction with your arms crossed and a frown on your face. she bends down to place a kiss on the side of your face before her head falls into the crook of your neck. "i'm sorry..."

damn near forces you to play fortnite with her and hypes you up every time you get a kill. she'll be so proud of you too with a stupid smile on her face as she watches you play

all her tiktok drafts are full of those cheesy ass slideshows about your relationship but she makes sure to post the 'what's up riri/what's up rocky' one publicly for everyone to see how cute yall are

she's definitely not one of those people who controls what their s/o wears so if you want to wear something revealing, she'll be all for it

very protective but not to the point where it's consuming or overwhelming. like if you're walking on the sidewalk she'll always make sure she's on the side closest to the street

when it comes to gifts she loves to do the most. like she already loves spoiling you so if it's christmas or valentines day she'll be stressing about making sure your gift is perfect. she's lowkey a romantic too so she'll get you the traditional red roses and scatter rose petals along the floor in your bedroom, and then gets red faced when you tease her about how 'corny' it is (you love it tho)

on the more sensitive side she lets her guard down around you. if she's upset about anything she'll vent to you or cry it out as you rub her back and wipe her tears

calls you her "wife" especially when referring to you while talking to other people like yall are so locked in

pls lemme know if you want more or send some requests thru my asks lmao

[micksslut]

all i want for christmas is you

charles leclerc x fem driver reader

summary: charles thinks he's good at hiding he's your secret santa.

word count: 1.9k

warnings/mood: just fluff, reader is a driver, relationship established between charles and reader, charles being the best bf. also, I'm not really sure if secret santa works like this, so I hope it's well put, but if it's wrong, correct me without problem!

if you read my previous one shot, you know that english is not my first language, so this is a google translator shit (a bit modified based on my knowledge ), but that's a real warning, so please don't hesitate to tell me if there are mistakes of any kind in the one shot 😭 (i think that's all, but tell me if I forgot something pls!)

notes: hI. this was supposed to be published before christmas, but i had no inspiration at all and only came this. I don't consider it to be my best writing, but I hope you enjoy it!

i hope you like it, please don't be a ghost reader!!!

Finally all the drivers knew who they should give a gift to for the christmas swap.

You were Sebastian's Secret Santa, and honestly you had a problem because you hadn't been with the German long enough to know what to get him, but if there was something you couldn't stand: they were the bad gifts (the ones used to be given by Formula 1 drivers).

The first thing you did was tell your boyfriend, Charles, about who you got at the Christmas swap, knowing he wouldn't say anything and hoping he would tell you too.

But that didn't happen, instead you got a very nervous Charles who refused to tell you who he should give a gift to.

But your boyfriend was terrible at lying to you and you were very smart, so when you asked Carlos if he knew anything and he refused to tell you, you got closer to the truth. But even so, you weren't completely sure, so you decided to go for your last option.

"Char, would you like to come with me to buy the gift for Secret Santa? Lando canceled and I don't want to go alone" Charles was sitting in the cream-colored chair in the hotel room they shared, so you sat on his lap and he put down his phone to pay attention to you.

"Sure amour, just let me put my coat on" he gave you a chaste kiss on your lips and stood up, leaving you carefully on the couch.

You smiled, and immediately texted your best friend Lando, confirming that your plan was off to a good start.

So there you were, in a mall, thankful that your relationship with Charles was no longer a secret and the media didn't blow up seeing you and your boyfriend holding hands.

"Why don't we also buy the gift that you will give?" you asked when they had entered an eco-friendly store in search of what he thought was only the gift for Seb.

"I still don't know what to give as a gift, amour" Charles rambled nervously "Look, a bamboo toothbrush" he smiled showing it. You narrowed your eyes.

"Why don't you want to tell me who got you at the christmas swap?" you approached him.

"It's secret mon amour" he justified himself.

"Yeah, but I told you"

Charles was going to answer, but a female voice behind you interrupted you two.

"Excuse me, do you think I could get an autograph?" the girl asked shyly and you sighed discreetly, but both smiled.

Charles knew he had just been saved, so he was the first to nod.

"Sure! Where?"

She took off her Pirelli cap and held it out along with a permanent marker towards the two of you, apparently it was already prepared, so you deduced that the fans already knew where you and Charles were.

"Thank you! Good luck on the weekend!" you and your boyfriend thanked and the girl left.

"We'd better hurry, they won't be long in coming anymore" the monegasque murmured and you nodded, giving up on your boyfriend.

In the end, you ended up buying more things for you and Charles than for Seb, but you had found the perfect present for him, so you left the mall happy.

Soon, the day of the Secret Santa arrived, and most of the drivers were opening their presents.

You were hiding watching Seb open his present, and you almost ruined everything by laughing when Seb opened the bag and saw a pair of scissors along with the note you had left.

I'm sure you have more hair than me now, so in case you don't want to go to a hairdresser, here is a simple device to cut your own hair!

Sebastian let out a loud laugh and looked at the camera.

"I don't think that's going to happen"

Then he took the paper that talked about the Maple Tree that was your true gift, one that would be planted according to the needs of Switzerland so as not to alter the ecosystem of the region.

Sebastian had guessed who the gift came from and you soon came out of hiding with a smile on your face when Seb saw you.

He came up to you to hug you and thank you.

"I know, I'm the best at giving gifts" the driver laughed "But already cut your hair, Rapunzel"

They parted from the hug laughing and he shook his head.

"You're just envious that I have better hair than you" you opened your mouth falsely offended.

"Ok, I'm going" you turned smugly and started walking.

"Sorry! You know it's true!"

You laughed softly, shaking your head and you arrived where the Formula 1 social media team was waiting for you.

You couldn't help but get excited, if Charles really was your Secret Santa, what would his gift be?

"Ok, the present looks pretty" you commented nervously, looking at the box wrapped in decorative paper. You already knew who the gift was from (or at least you suspected), but you had no idea what it could be, you hadn't seen Charles buying anything, so you really didn't know what I could have given you; although he already knew everything you liked after four long years by his side.

You brought the box to your ear and moved it slightly trying to figure out what it was, but you only heard some things moving.

You opened the box, and the first thing you could see was a photo frame decorated by hand with Formula 1 stickers, your team, the Friends series, and of course, Taylor Swift. To be honest, it looked like something a five-year-old had made, but that's how you knew it was Charles's, and you couldn't help but almost die of cuteness.

You showed it to the camera with a huge smile on your face.

"Well, clearly I will put a photo here with the person who gave it to me. I wonder who it will be" you muttered the last with a smirk.

You gave the frame to your physical therapist to hold while you took out the other presents. Because yes, they were several presents.

"Ok... These are... Oh my god, these are Taylor Swift's The Eras Tour tickets!" you let out a squeal of excitement "Guys you know how much I love Taylor, this is the best present ever" you said ecstatically, showing the tickets and making a mental note to remind them to black out everything on the tickets except for the name of the tour.

"Well, from the frame with the things I like on it, I already knew, but this confirmed it for me and... I'm pretty sure these are from Charles" you looked at the team and they nodded "Yes?" You laughed "I knew it! Lando, you owe me ten bucks" you pointed at the camera and everyone laughed.

"Okay, just one last thing apparently" Olivia, your physical therapist took the tickets and the gift box while you took a smaller box out of it.

It was small, also wrapped in decorative paper and a bow at the top, so you carefully opened it. Most likely it was earrings or a necklace, Charles knew you loved jewelry.

Carefully opening it until only the black velvet box was left, Olivia gasped in surprise as she brought her hand to her mouth to cover it when you looked at her.

You opened your eyes even more when you noticed the reaction of others and you realized why.

You opened the box with now trembling hands and your eyes almost instantly filled with tears, you brought your palm to your mouth as it opened in surprise too.

It was a ring, a beautiful gold ring.

It contained a diamond obviously, not too big, not too small, the perfect size. The ring had carved leaves around it and the shape that surrounded the diamond gave the effect of being a rose.

You looked around in search of your boyfriend, and you saw him addressing you timidly.

"Is it a...? Char, is that what I think it is?" you approached him smiling.

"That depends..." He gently took the box from your hands and making sure he was far enough away from the other people, Charles dropped to one knee on the ground and extended the box towards you, he spoke:

"I know we're still very young... I've been your friend since we went Karting together, and I've been your boyfriend for four years, but i've loved you ever since we met" By that point both of their eyes were already full of tears and you were sure that you were falling more in love with each word that he said "You know I'm not good with words, so... would you let me celebrate our wins together forever? Would you let me fall in love with you more and more each day? Would you let me accompany you the rest of our days, be the happiest man on earth and become your husband?" he asked you, running out of breath at the end.

"My God, Charles. Hell yeah! Yes, yes and yes!" You laughed excitedly and shed some tears of happiness as he stood up and you rushed to hug him, listening to the applause of the others.

He grabbed your waist to hug you even tighter and spin you in the air while you two laughed.

When you touched the ground again, he hastily removed the ring from its box and placed it on your ring finger, and then leave a kiss on your knuckles.

You looked at the beautiful jewel and then back at him, certain that his eyes were even more beautiful than the gift he had just given you. Sure that what you had just given you was the best gift of all, and that even without it, Charles was everything you wanted for Christmas.

You kissed him tenderly, loving every second of that moment. When you separated, you put your foreheads together and you whispered:

"All I want for Christmas is you" both smiled remembering the song and kissed again until you were interrupted.

"That's not fair, you give me scissors to cut my hair and you get an engagement ring?" Sebastian spoke from behind, clicking his tongue and shaking his head, falsely disappointed, you laughed with the others and saw him approach "Not true, congratulations guys" he hugged you and then Charles "I look forward to my invitation to your wedding!" he exclaimed when he had gotten far enough away from the two of you, making you both laugh again.

"You will have it!"

"Ok, but who will you choose as the groomsman?" Lando suddenly appeared behind you, scaring you two slightly.

You were going to speak but Carlos speaking behind Charles interrupted you.

"Of course me, right Charles?" The man from Madrid rested his arm on your fiancé's shoulder and looked at him.

"When did they appear?" you asked puzzled.

"Groomsman Powers" Lando mumbled and you and Charles laughed.

You pulled your fiancé back to you and kissed him again, knowing that the two drivers would drive off in disgust.

They laughed in the middle of the kiss when they heard the "Ewww" from Lando.

"I love you Charles. Thank you for this" you murmured as they broke away from the kiss and he smoothed one of the unruly strands of your hair.

"I love you too, thanks to you ma belle" he hugged you and this time you finally heard the camera flashes, but far from bothering you, it made you smile.

At least you already had photo options to place in the photo frame Charles had given you.

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Seven

Chapter Summary: Elain heads back to Velaris for Christmas after rejecting Graysen's marriage proposal.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: mentions of dv (please see authors note below), smattering of smut (18+ pls)

Missed the first six chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: *peaks out from the hole I've been hiding in* heyyyy  😅

Once again, I must begin by saying thank you for all your lovely comments and messages about this fic and all the others. I cannot appreicate how much it means to me. A special thank you to everyone who's checked in with me over the past few months and given me kindess, support, and patience. There are some lovely people on this app and I am so honoured that you choose to read and engage with my fic.

Please note that there is a very brief mention of domestic violence in this chapter within the context of a conversation. If that's something you'd rather skip reading, please feel free to do what's best for you.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

The fire was dwindling down, empty cups were scattered on every available surface, Christmas music played over the speakers, and wrapping paper was strewn on the floor of Azriel’s living room. 

It’d been a Christmas like all the others - drinking and eating and lots of gifts exchanged, though Nyx had made out the best of  anyone, spoiled rotten by all of his aunties and uncles. They’d played a few games, exchanged a bit of gossip about mutual acquaintances, and throughout all the festivities, Azriel had kept a careful eye on Elain. 

He watched her now, his brows pulling together above the rim of the whisky glass he’d raised up to his lips. She was sitting quietly in her usual spot on his couch, lazily tracing circles around the rim of her nearly empty wine glass. 

There was something different about her tonight that he couldn't quite place but he was determined to figure out. While everyone else had been enjoying themselves, he could sense a peculiar cloud of something sad that seemed to follow Elain around no matter how hard she tried to smile and laugh and pretend like everything was okay when it was clear - to him, at least - that things were far from fine.

His first sign that something was wrong was when Elain had walked into his house earlier, avoiding eye contact and barely even bothering with a proper hug as she muttered a ‘Merry Christmas’ and a ‘thank you for hosting’ all while hiding behind a pile of gifts stacked tall in her arms. Even when she'd come back home with Graysen in tow she hadn't held back from him like that and her iciness had caught him completely off guard. 

He’d been so anxious to see her again after all this time, that he hadn’t fully considered the reality of the situation. Azriel knew that the last time they’d seen each other had been tense but it hadn't ended badly by any means. And sure, he hadn't spoken to her properly in well over half a year but she replied to his sparse texts and he still woke up to a voice note from her on his birthday so he’d figured that that had to count for something. That maybe that was to be their new normal. He’d resigned himself to taking what he could get - that’s what he’d told her after all on Nesta’s porch that night. He wanted her in his life in whatever way he could have her. 

The second thing to clue him in that something was wrong was that right after she’d placed the presents under the Christmas tree, Elain had made a beeline to the kitchen and poured herself a shot of whatever bottle of alcohol her eyes had landed on first.

It wasn't that he wasn't used to seeing her drink, although she’d certainly never been a drinker in the way the rest of their friend group indulged, but he’d never once seen her drink like this - knocking back shot after shot when she thought no one was watching. It was rare for her to even pour a drink without asking if she could. Almost a decade of knowing her and Elain always asked permission no matter how many times he insisted that she help herself to whatever she wanted. 

Azriel had counted at least seven trips to the kitchen tonight - all for a drink, none for food. Even the speciality cheese she adored and that he’d purchased just for her after she confirmed her attendance, sat untouched. But for having downed a minimum of seven drinks, she didn’t really appear to be all that drunk. He had to give her credit because she held her alcohol surprisingly well - the only real give away that she was drunk was a slight stumble as she stood up from the sofa the last time she went to the kitchen and a droop to her eyelids that could be attributed to exhaustion.

Elain had sat quietly most of the night, speaking only when spoken to and channelling most of her attention on Nyx when he’d been awake but now that her nephew was fast asleep on the sofa next to her, Shadow curled up at his feet, she had no real distraction and Azriel watched curiously as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, opening her mouth a dozen times as if to speak only to seemingly decide against it and retreat back into herself. 

He’d planned on once again cornering her to try and figure out what the hell was going on and to see if there was absolutely anything he could do to ease whatever clearly ailed her. He’d intended to follow her into the kitchen the next time she went to drown her sorrows but he never got the chance because after a prolonged moment of silence amongst the group - she finally spoke. 

Azriel all but froze as Elain cleared her throat and wrung her hands together in her lap, tugging at the sleeves of the long sleeved black top she was wearing. Her empty glass of wine had been carefully placed on the coffee table in front of her.

“Graysen proposed,” she hiccupped, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears as she delivered her news without even a second of preamble. 

The two words were softly spoken and she’d said them in one breath with no break in between but Azriel heard her loud and clear.

His stomach dropped, the three or four drinks he’d consumed turned sour in his stomach and did very little to ease the pain of his heart slamming against his chest as Nesta and Feyre began firing off question after question - all of which were ignored by Elain and none of which he could actually hear over the incessant buzzing in his ears. 

He prayed that he’d heard her wrong. Prayed that there was no way she’d actually said what he thought she’d said. It wasn’t until he saw Feyre reach for Elain’s left hand that Azriel forced himself to focus, his eyes zeroing in on her fingers - at the vacant space where one would expect to find a ring after an announcement such as the one Elain had just made. 

“I said no,” she whispered, catching Feyre’s confused expression as her sister’s index finger slid over Elain’s bare skin. 

No. 

She’d said no. She’d said no. She’d said no. 

Azriel repeated the words to himself over and over again as it was his own personal mantra, drilling it into his head as he finally allowed himself to breathe. He couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t bear to find out what expression he’d find there. All he could do was stare at her hand - at that perfect, unadorned finger - no glimmering diamond to be found. 

“A few months ago,” he heard her tell the girls. 

“Why’d you say no?” Nesta asked, her voice soft although Azriel could hear the smallest inkling of relief in it that mirrored his own feelings. He wondered if maybe Nesta had seen through Graysen’s facade as well and had quietly hoped that her cousin would come to her senses and leave him. 

Azriel tore his attention away from Elain’s fingers and up to her face only to watch as her eyes lifted to meet his for a fleeting moment before she quickly looked away from him and back to Nesta. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “We hadn’t even talked about it and I was caught so off guard. It just didn’t feel right.” She took a deep, staggering breath, Azriel could see the shimmer of tears beginning to well along her lash line. “I don’t think I ever really loved him…. I never really like them all that much.”

She said the last part to herself, a drunken admission whispered to the floor. It was a confession that she’d spent her entire adult life with men that she didn’t even truly care for. Azriel couldn’t bring himself to wonder why she did what she did or why she’d finally admitted it. He wouldn’t let himself consider that maybe she found herself staying in meaningless relationship after meaningless relationship for the same reason he found himself avoiding them all together. 

“I think… I think I may need to lay down,” Elain muttered after a moment of tense, awkward silence. It was clear that no one in the room quite knew what to say or do. Feyre and Nesta were staring at her dumbfounded. Cassian and Rhys were exchanging mildly panicked looks as they tried to figure out what to do in this situation. “I feel a little dizzy all of a sudden.”

“Come upstairs,” Azriel was on his feet before he could even think to stop himself, speaking without even consciously meaning to as he bypassed Feyre and Nesta to get to Elain. He stepped forward, one hand outstretched towards her. 

He didn't miss the look Feyre gave Nesta. A silent enquiry as to whether they should let him take her upstairs - as if the two of them knew what had happened the last time he and Elain had been left alone on Christmas. Nesta just nodded, one subtle dip of her chin that had Feyre watching in stunned silence as Elain placed her hand in Azriel’s. 

Neither of the girls had ever said anything to him about that night other than to acknowledge that Elain had, in fact, flown home the following morning. An emergency at work was the flimsy excuse Nesta had given him the following day when he’d called her and done his best to enquire about Elain’s whereabouts without raising any suspicion. 

Azriel carefully pulled Elain up, keeping her hand in his as his other arm wrapped around her waist to keep her upright as he slowly and carefully led her up his stairs, guiding her to the guest room a couple doors down from his own bedroom. 

He flipped back the duvet and sat her down on the bed. He could feel her eyes on him as she silently watched him lower himself to his knees so he could unzip her boots and slide them off her feet. 

“Lay back,” he tapped gently on her calf, hands hovering around her in case she needed help. 

“Not the first time you’ve said that to me,” Elain quipped, flopping back in a less than graceful manner before turning onto her side to face him. There was the tiniest smirk on her lips, the smallest bit of amusement shining in her sad eyes. He almost found himself smiling at the drunken comment until her expression changed, those pretty lips of hers turning down at the corners. 

“Az.. will you stay with me? After everyone goes?” 

Azriel grimaced, ignoring the pull from the part of his heart that was ready and willing to bend to her every whim. “I can’t, Elain.” 

“Why?” Her eyebrows pulled together to create a small crease on her forehead. He fought the urge to reach out and smooth away that visible line of tension with a gentle pass of his thumb. “You always used to stay with me.” 

“It’s different now,” he exhaled, shoulders dropping as he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not mine, Elain.”

“That’s not true,” Elain frowned, fighting to keep her eyes open. “I’ve always been yours.” She said it with every bit of drunken sincerity in the world, whispered soft and sweet even as she lost the battle to sleep and her eyes began to flutter shut. 

Her words were like a knife to his heart. He knew she never would’ve said it if the amount of alcohol in her bloodstream didn’t outweigh her good senses. He had no idea whether she’d even remember any of this in the morning. 

“Why did you stay with him? If you didn’t love him? If you didn’t like any of the others? Why would you stay with them?” Azriel couldn’t help but ask, going against his better judgement to seek an explanation for the questions that had haunted him for years even if he knew that whatever answer she gave him, it was unlikely to offer him any semblance of peace. 

“It’s easier to pretend if there’s someone else,” Elain’s hands came up to her throat, her fingertips mindlessly searching for something. She frowned when she came up empty, her nails digging into the space between her collarbones instead. The sight unsettled Azriel enough to momentarily distract him from what she’d just said. 

The necklace he’d given her on her birthday a few years ago, the one she’d worn religiously every day since, the one that tethered her to him, was missing from her neck and it was like a punch to his gut. 

“The chain broke,” Elain whispered, having followed his line of sight to where he’d been openly staring at the place the gold pendant had sat against her skin for half a decade. “It’s in my bag, I was hoping you’d be able to fix it.”

Azriel nodded, relieved that she hadn’t actually taken the necklace off herself. He stood there, arms hanging uselessly at his side for a couple more seconds until her eyelids drifted shut once again. He walked towards the door, deciding to let her sleep this off, but he paused before he could leave, turning towards her once more. 

He thought maybe he was a sadist because asking these questions, pushing for these answers, would only serve to expand that ever growing crack in his heart. Still, he couldn't seem to help himself. 

“Lain?” Part of him hoped that she’d already drifted off to sleep, that she wouldn’t answer and he wouldn’t get to ask his question and have to hear her response.. 

“Yeah, Az?” The corner of her eyes crinkled as she looked at him, squinting. 

“What did you mean?” He asked. “When you said it’s easier to pretend?”

She paused for a moment, teeth scraping over her bottom lip as she turned so she was on her back, her eyes focused on the ceiling. 

“When I’m with someone else,” she started, voice so quiet that he had to strain to hear her over the music carrying up the stairs and under the gap in the door. “It’s easier to distract myself from the fact that sometimes I want you so badly, I think it might kill me.” 

The ache in his chest was so sharp and so immediate that he had to grip the handle on the door harder just to feel like he had some sort of control over his body. He had no idea what to do with that information. Had no idea what to say back. He’d waited what felt like a lifetime to hear her say those words to him, he’d just never imagined that it would be so painful. 

He couldn’t speak, could barely even remember his name. He hadn’t realised how long he’d been silent until he noticed that she’d fallen asleep, her head now tilted towards him. 

Azriel set his shoulders and backed out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He took a deep breath, pushing back every bit of emotion that he felt, before slowly making his way back downstairs.

Elain stuck an arm out from under the covers, her fingers blindly reaching to her nightstand for her phone. It wasn’t until she felt the sharp corner of a wooden surface instead of the rounded edge of her own bedside table that she realised that she wasn’t at home in her own bed. She peeked out from under the covers, taking in her surroundings with one blurry eye. 

Light was beginning to filter in through a pair of cream curtains covering a rather large window. The bed she was in was comfy and not completely unfamiliar, the bed linen looked similar to a set that she’d helped Azriel choose back when they’d gone shopping for… 

“Fuck,” Elain groaned, sitting up and dragging her hands over her face. 

She wasn’t at home. She wasn’t in her designated room at her sister’s house. No - she’d been fast asleep in Azriel’s guest bedroom. 

It didn’t take much to figure out just how she’d ended up here. The pounding in her head and the dryness in her mouth were enough to tell her that she’d maybe taken it a little too far with the alcohol last night.

She’d started drinking before they’d even left Feyre’s, just a couple of glasses while getting ready that she told herself were for liquid courage. She’d known the second that they pulled into Azriel’s driveway that she’d need far more to get through seeing him again under a whole new set of circumstances that only she was privy to and so she’d thrown caution to the wind and had been throwing back drinks any chance she got. 

She really hadn’t even been planning on telling anyone about the proposal but after an hour or so of drinking, she’d felt the urge to say it - to let them know what had happened. To let them know she and Graysen were done. Elain couldn’t remember much past the moment she’d drunkenly blurted out the news.. she remembered Feyre and Nesta’s surprised faces and the faraway look on Azriel’s face when she’d dared to glance at him but everything past that moment seemed to be a blur. 

If she really tried to push for details, she could vaguely remember being helped up the stairs because she was too far gone to manage on her own but that was all her hungover brain could string together.

“Lain?” The low register of Azriel’s morning voice rumbled through the door as a knock lightly sounded on the surface. “You up? Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, come in!” She called back, wincing at how sore her voice sounded in her ears.

Elain sat up, quickly running a hand through her tangled hair as she propped up a pillow behind her and let the duvet fall to her waist. It was so much colder in this room than she’d expected and she didn’t fully register why until Azriel walked in. 

“Morning, how you feeling? I brought some -” he’d been halfway through his sentence, sleepy eyes scanning over her until they widened at the exact same time the tips of his ears went red. 

She’d lost her top at some point during the night - something she hadn’t realised until the cold morning air had hit her bare skin. Azriel turned around quickly, the glass of water in his hand sloshing over slightly with the speed at which he averted his gaze.  “Fuck. Sorry! I thought.. You said to come in and I thought… fuck .” 

Elain quickly tugged the sheets back up to her chin, fighting the urge to pull them over her head altogether and suffocate herself from embarrassment. Twice now, she’d woken up in Azriel’s house on the day after Christmas naked in one of his beds. Maybe next year she’d check off the last remaining room. 

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realise I - wait, you can turn around…” she fumbled with her words, watching as he slowly turned to face her. His cheeks were pink and the hand that wasn’t cradling a glass of water and an entire pack of headache tablets came up to fidget with the worn neck of the old t-shirt he’d chucked on this morning. “I always get so hot at night and I usually sleep with a fan and I just must’ve… taken it off. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I should’ve gotten you a change of clothes but I didn’t want to…” he trailed off, coming closer to hand her the water as he opened up the packet of tablets and slipped out a few. “I barely saw anything, if that helps.” 

Elain took the tablets from him. “Barely anything, huh?”

She took a small bit of satisfaction from the way he frowned in confusion before he caught on, the blush that had finally subsided from his cheeks came back full force. 

“ Not what I meant,” Azriel shook his head, raking a hand through his hair as she tossed back the tablets. “There’s plenty to see… just the right amount.”

“I’d stop speaking now if I were you,” Elain rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the tablets and the water and for letting me stay the night.”

“It’s nothing,” Azriel shrugged, gingerly sitting on the very edge of the bed. His eyes scanned over her again, lingering on the bare skin of her shoulder that had escaped the cover of the duvet before they slid to her fingers and then back up to her face. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Could be better,” she answered, realising that she hadn’t actually gotten around to responding the first time he’d asked her. “Can’t drink like I used to, I suppose.”

“You’ve never drank like that, Lain.” Azriel chuckled. “I think that’s part of the problem.”

He was right. She was notoriously a lightweight when it came to alcohol and had never needed more than four or five drinks before she was just the right amount of drunk. 

“A shower and some food and I’ll feel brand new,” she sighed. 

“I’ll grab you a towel and some clothes,” he nodded, fingers mindlessly tapping at his knee. “Have a shower and come down, I’ll make you some breakfast and then if you’re up for it we can go over to the studio and I’ll fix your necklace. Fresh air might do you some good.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Az. I’ll call Feyre to pick me up and get out of your way.” Elain started to look around for where she might’ve tossed her top, suddenly anxious that she’d been here too long. That she was eating into his day, once again taking up time that she didn’t deserve. 

“I know that I don’t have to, Elain. I want to.” He insisted, voice gentle as ever as he looked over at her. “You aren’t in my way.”

Elain didn’t say anything, just looked down at her lap as he stood up, adjusting the waistband of the plaid pajama pants he had on. “Chocolate chip or blueberry?” 

“What?”

“Pancakes,” Azriel clarified, a shy grin on his lips. “Chocolate chip or blueberry?” 

“Blueberry, please.” Elain couldn’t help but mirror her grin, especially when her stomach audibly grumbled at the mere mention of food. 

An hour or so later, Elain sat quietly, perched  on a bench top in Azriel’s workshop. She was warm from the scorching shower she’d taken and clothed in an assortment of clothes that he’d handed her with a towel this morning - his shirt, his sweatpants… a lacy pair of underwear she recognised as the ones she hadn’t bothered to search for when she’d snuck out of his house the previous year.

She watched him as he took a seat, sliding a frame of protective glasses over his eyes before he fired up a small torch. He situated himself, leaning forward as he began to carefully solder Elain’s necklace back together. 

She told herself she was just watching a master at work but her attention had drifted from the actual work being done to focus on the movement of his deft fingers, the shifting muscles of his strong back and shoulders. She studied the side of his face - the slope of his nose, the concentrated furrow of his brows, the way his lips pressed together as he worked. 

She didn’t realise just how intensely she’d been staring at him until she found herself looking into his actual eyes rather than just his side profile. Elain quickly sat up straight, rolling her shoulders as she lowered her eyes and tried to keep her cheeks from flooding with colour. 

“You said the necklace broke while you were changing,” Azriel stood up, pushing his glasses back, using them like a headband to keep his thick hair off of his forehead. It was ridiculous that he managed to look good even like that. 

“The way the chain was broken,” he spoke carefully as he approached her. “It didn’t look like a simple snag, it looked like there was some force behind it. 

Elain swallowed, her cheeks now burning for an entirely different reason. She turned to look out of the window to her right, pretending to watch the snow as it drifted lazily from the cold, gray sky. 

“Lain?” Azriel tried again. He was standing in front of her now, just inches from her knees. “How did the necklace really break?”

Elain paused, unsure how to proceed or what to even say. She couldn’t lie to him. Not again. She’d told herself in the shower this morning - after she’d had a small cry and wallowed in self pity - that this needed to be a new start, that she couldn’t keep shutting him out. Especially now that she no longer had the excuse of having a boyfriend in the picture. 

“Graysen… he didn’t like the necklace very much,” she started. “He always had an issue with it, even before he met you. He didn’t like that I never took it off or that it was from a friend . It only got worse after he came home with me and saw us and then when I… when he proposed and I said no, he said that if I didn’t want to accept the ring, I needed to take off the necklace. I guess to prove that I cared about him even if I didn’t want to marry him just yet.” 

“You didn’t take the necklace off,” Azriel stated, eyes boring into her even though she couldn’t quite bring herself to look back at him. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Elain’s voice shook slightly as she thought back to that night. “He obviously wasn’t happy with my choice and so he just… he reached forward and pulled it off of me.”

Elain’s eyes were shut, her heart racing at the memory of how she’d felt that night. How alone she’d been, how momentarily afraid. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Azriel that she’d woken to a small, raised scar on the side of her neck the next morning. She hadn’t realised that she’d been crying until Azriel’s hand cupped her face, the rough pad of his thumb gently sweeping across her cheek to brush away hot tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled.

“What are you apologising for?” Azriel asked. 

She could hear the restraint in his voice, the underlying anger that he carried on her behalf. 

“I don’t know,” Elain finally looked at him, giving him a sad smile. “I’ve just been so awful to you for so long now.” 

“You haven’t,” he assured her. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Lain. I just hope you know that how he acted - pulling this off of you - that’s not okay. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“I shouldn’t have led him on…” she shook her head. “I wasted his time. I wasted yours… he was right to be angry with me.” 

“Look at me,” Azriel demanded, palm sliding from her cheek down to her jaw so that he could tilt her face up towards his. “None of that matters.”

“It does though because I -” 

“Elain, did he ever…” Elain’s eyes travelled to the clench of his jaw, the way his throat flexed as he trailed off. “If he put his hands on you…” 

“No, Az.” Elain lifted her hand up to cover his where it still cradled her face. “There were words occasionally and he’d… when we… never mind,” she blushed, swallowing away the bitterness at remembering what the sex had been like after an argument or whenever he’d been jealous. “It was never… he never hit me.” She said finally.

Elain studied Azriel’s face carefully. Let him see that she was okay. That the only marker that anything had happened was a broken necklace that was easily mended. 

She knew where his mind had gone - knew his fears of her being treated the same way his mother had been treated. 

He’d confided in her years ago - told her about what he’d witnessed growing up and the anger he felt towards the man he didn’t even care to call father. Explained how ashamed he felt at being too small to really be able to do anything to help. 

Elain couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling like that again. Certainly not over her. 

“Azriel,” she squeezed his fingers to get his full attention. “He didn’t hurt me. I promise.” 

“Okay,” he nodded eventually, worried eyes meeting hers for one more moment as if to confirm that she was in fact unharmed before he leaned back and picked up her necklace from where he’d sat it on the bench next to her hip. “Here, just like new.” 

Elain didn’t reach for the necklace, instead she just gave him a shy smile and echoed the question she’d asked him when he first presented her with this necklace all those years ago. “Put it on me?” 

Azriel returned her smile with one just as shy, waiting as she gathered her hair and twisted it up to move it out of the way. His hands slipped around her neck, the chain cold against her skin. 

Azriel’s head dipped so that he could see what he was doing, his cheek skimming her hair as he took his time fastening the necklace. She’d missed the feeling, the reassuarance that the small bit of gold nestled against her chest provided her. 

“Last night… Did you mean what you said?” His question was so quiet, half hushed by the way his face was tilted into her hair. 

“Oh god,” she groaned, dread seeping through her veins. 

She’d been wondering all morning what had happened last night, had been trying to fill in the blanks between the bits she could remember… which wasn’t all that much. She was scared to even ask - afraid to know all the ways she might’ve embarrassed herself the previous night. “I don’t really remember what was said, to be honest.” 

He finally pulled back and straightened up, hands reaching forward to gently maneuver the necklace until it sat just right around her neck. Each brush of his fingers against her skin made her shiver in a way that she couldn’t possibly hide from him. 

The way that he was looking at her certainly didn’t help. Neither did the drag of his thumb against her neck, right over a pulsing vein that gave away her racing heart. 

“Right,” Azriel gave her a nervous smile that made her stomach drop in anticipation. “When Nesta asked you why you said no…”

“I do remember that part,” she cut him off, unable to bear hearing it again although she knew it could only get worse. 

“Well, when it was just us upstairs, after you’d asked me to stay -”

“Jesus, Az, I’m sorry -”

“Not something to apologise for,” the fingers of his other hand tapped out a pattern on her knee that caused yet another shiver to zip up her spine. “I asked you why you stayed with Graysen or with any of the others if you didn’t even actually like them and you told me that it was easier to do that than admit that you, um… wanted me.”

Elain bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced away from him yet again.

“Is that true?” Azriel prodded her for an answer and when she found the courage to look at him again, the look in his eyes, the unmistakable heat, threatened to stop her heart altogether. 

“What happens if I say yes?” She felt breathless, a little dizzy. Just like she felt a year ago when she’d been in a very similar situation - sat on a countertop, Azriel standing in between her knees. Their entire world balancing on a precipice. 

She wasn’t sure when she’d started to lean into his touch. Couldn’t pinpoint when her face had moved so close to his that his nose practically grazed hers. She had no way to tell if he had leaned down or if she had keened upwards, her body arching up to him like a flower seeking the sun. She didn’t know when any of it had happened but she didn’t fight it as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in anticipation. 

Waiting. Wanting.

He didn’t answer her, only smoothed his thumb over her throat once more before repeating his own question. “Is it true, Elain?” 

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice verging on desperation. 

Azriel swallowed once, eyes tracing a slow path from her eyes to her lips before he answered her with action. 

Their lips met, clumsily at first though they fell into rhythm quickly, muscle memory kicking in as their mouths came together in a way that bordered on frantic. Her hands tangled in his hair while his ventured to her waist, pulling her into him while simultaneously pushing her further back onto the workbench until she was practically flat against it, his body pressing hers down.

“Elain…” Azriel’s voice was almost pained as he said her name, his lips coasting along her jaw, a different kind of restraint in his tone than the restraint he’d spoken with a few minutes before.

“Please,” she all but whimpered, desperate to feel his lips on hers again. 

“Can’t do this if you’re going to run again afterwards, Elain.” He told her, his hands still wandering, sliding under the soft fabric of the shirt she wore. His shirt. 

“I mean… my flight is booked for tomorrow,” she couldn’t help but joke, squealing and squirming as his fingers pressed into her side as punishment. 

“S’not funny,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry, sorry…” she schooled her face into a serious expression. “I do have to go tomorrow but it won’t be because of this, Az. Not this time. I promise.”

“We have a lot of talking to do,” Azriel told her, all the while his hands travelled further up her torso until his fingers grazed the soft skin of her breasts. 

Just that slight touch had her tugging him down towards her as she leaned further back once more, presenting herself to him. His for the taking. 

“Later,” she told him. “Talk later.”

She knew it was stupid  - to once again go down this route without having properly spoken about what they were doing. What this was. If it was even anything. All she knew was that she was tired of pretending. Tired of being afraid of the unknowns, of the what ifs. She wished she had any idea how this would all end, how it would play out. But that was a conversation for another day. Right now, all she wanted, all she needed , was this.  

“Later,” Azriel agreed, smiling into the crook of her neck before coming back up to kiss her again. This time it was unrushed, almost lazy. He took his time familiarising himself with her mouth the same way he took his time circling her nipples with his thumbs. She moaned into his mouth - half at the blissful feeling of his hands on her skin, half at the memory of what that same motion had felt like when he’d slid his hand up under her skirt the last time they’d done this. 

“Always want you like this,” she admitted, mind hazy as his mouth travelled down her neck and over her sternum as he pushed up her t-shirt until his lips were on the bare skin of her stomach. 

“Yeah?” his fingers tucked into the waistband of her sweatpants, tugging them down as she lifted her hips to aid in the process. Her underwear was pulled to the side, his fingers gliding over her entirely too easily with how wet she was for him. She heard him swear under his breath, in awe at his effect on her.

“Always,” she reiterated, gasping as he slowly slid a finger inside her. “For you. Always like this for you. Az, please can we just -”

She was speaking complete gibberish, anxious to get what she’d been coveting all this time even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. She didn’t want to waste any more time.

“Don’t have a condom with me,” he told her with a kiss to the inside of her thigh as he continued to touch her. She was distracted from her disappointment when he added another finger - tested the stretch of her. 

“You don’t have any here?” The lack of a condom hadn’t been an issue last time but it had been a year and she knew Azriel had a rotation of girls that he occasionally saw so when he didn’t follow up with a but I haven’t been with anyone, she didn’t let herself linger on it for too long. 

“Don’t really make it a habit to have sex in my workplace very often, or ever, to be honest. Safety concerns and all…” he trailed off, his breath hot over where she ached for his touch. “So this might just have to do for now, wanna make you co-”

His words were cut off by a shrill ring from somewhere besides them. 

“Ignore it,” she told him, hips tilting up in search of more as she flung a hand out to the side in search of her phone. Her fingers blindly fumbled on the screen until the ringing stopped. 

Azriel continued, fingers curling in just the right way as he circled her clit with his tongue - ever so slowly bringing her closer and closer to the edge. 

“Az, oh my God, I think, I think -” Elain gasped, grasping at his hair. She wanted to tell him she was close, to not stop, that she was going to come. But the shrill ring of her phone sounded again, effectively ruining the moment.

“You should probably get that,” Azriel reluctantly pulled away, fingers slipping out of her. He sighed deeply, forehead resting against her bare thigh as she reached for her phone and glanced at the screen. 

Two missed calls and fourteen unread texts. If it wasn’t for previous trauma of missed calls and texts, she might’ve let it go and urged Azriel to continue. She tapped on the screen a little harder than necessary.

“Hello, Nesta.” Elain huffed as she sat up, gently pushing Azriel away as she adjusted her underwear and pulled her pants up and her shirt back down. 

Azriel grinned, shamelessly watching as Elain made herself decent to speak to her sister while she tried to pretend like she hadn’t been splayed out on his workbench half naked, with his mouth in between her thighs mere moments ago. 

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been texting you all morning, it’s almost one in the afternoon. I’m glad to know you’re alive.” Nesta rattled off, exasperated. “Azriel wasn’t answering his phone either.” 

“I’m alive. I’m with him. I’ll be home soon.” Elain’s words were short. She couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice at having their time so rudely interrupted. 

She knew the moment was over, that she’d need to go back to her sisters and explain herself. God knows they’d be anxiously waiting for answers now that she’d sobered up. But her disappointment faded because the way Azriel was watching her with bright, happy eyes and lips swollen from kissing her more than made up for it. 

She half listened to whatever Nesta was saying, too focused on the man in front of her - his dark, messy hair. His broad shoulders and strong arms. His calloused hands. All those tattoos that snaked up his arms and over his chest - old, familiar ones and a few new pieces that she longed to learn about. His enviably long eyelashes. Those kind emerald flecked eyes.

This was Azriel. Her Azriel. Her best friend. 

How could she have ever thought this was anything but exactly right?

[csbenthusiast]

May your heart never stop beating for me - Choi Yeonjun X f!reader

a/n: *ahem* hi😭 it’s been a long looong while since I last wrote something and posted in here(my apologies), but ummmm this is a comeback ? sort of? idk, but what I know is that this was sitting on my docs app FOR SO SO LONG LIKE SINCE FEBRUARY and it was supposed to be out on Halloween and then on Christmas but I got sick😬 anyways consider this a miracle and a late gift 😀 (I’m also planning a Soob fic that was supposed to be out on his birthday but shhhhhlets not talk about it for now).

a/n²: y’all I lied😨 I’m late once again, but what matters is that it’s finally here!! Literally a year later 😀 and ummm I tried to mix two ways of writing this, so I hope it was not confusing!

Genre: angst? it’s bittersweet.

CW: toxic relationship (nothing to worry about, YJ and mc just go back and forth), language, Yeonjun has a bad behavior(I’m not sorry, I was feeling very angsty), implied suggestive touches? they both need each other in a not so healthy way. Lemme know if I missed something!

WC: 2.2k

disclaimer: this only fiction and does not represent this idol in any way.

Pls enjoy and give me feedbacks:DDD they make me very happy (English is not my first language, excuse any mistakes 😙)

Songs I listened while writing this: here

The weather outside was definitely a mood killer. As the days passed by, October just got colder and colder. And it’s not like the chilly weather wasn’t nice, in fact, it was actually quite pleasant.

The season was nice, sure. But spending the days alone was not on your ‘to do’ list, to be honest.

Yeonjun left without even explaining himself once again. Everyday life seemed meaningless and the urge to check up on him was growing more and more.

It was worthless, though. Why bother yourself when he has never put you on the top of his priority list? Was it too much to ask?

Despite that, here you were, almost 10pm on a Tuesday trying to cheer up your mood with a random movie playing on the TV.

It was a terrible film, though. The best option was probably going to sleep, but you knew better; going to bed meant reminiscing everything until the first ray of sunshine was peeking through the curtains.

In the end, you tried to go through that mess.

And, somehow, that thing was able to get your attention to the point where you ended up startled by the sound of the doorbell.

You tried to ignore it at first, too scared to check who it was, but it rang again. Was it a murder? No, no murder would ring the doorbell before making a victim.

In defeat, and dragging your feet to where the door was, you took a look through the peephole and, right now, the person outside was probably worse than a murder.

Yeonjun couldn’t be on the other side in the middle of the night, right? It was like he read your mind.

You twisted the keys in a hurried move, though. Being curious sometimes was a curse.

“Hey.” It’s the only thing he bothered to say, looking at his feet like he was ashamed. As if.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed, not really sure of how you were supposed to feel. It’s kind of bittersweet.

He was still looking at the ground, but you took notice of how Yeonjun was shivering. Was it due to the cold and the lack of clothes? You’re not sure.

“I…” a sigh escaped his chapped “I don’t know, all the roads lead me here at the end of the day, I suppose.” It was an attempt to cheer up the mood, but by the look on your face he quickly replaced his smile with a frown.

Two pairs of eyes bored into each other, and it was clear that you were anything but pleased to see him standing by your doorstep. But, again, being good could be a curse, perhaps.

It was cold outside, and Yeonjun was shivering. Maybe you should invite him inside. Unfortunately, you did.

Huening Kai will have to deal with this later, I guess.

"Come on, you're clearly cold." You stepped aside, making room for him. "I can make some tea if you'd like. What do you say?"

"That's what I like about you, Y/N." Yeonjun winked "You're always looking out for me." and made himself comfortable on her couch.

"Do you deserve it, though?" the girl mumbled, occupying herself in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the older boy was looking around the room and hallway. A few things changed; the picture you two took back in July was no longer hanging on the wall and a few decorations were out of place. Odd.

"Hey, Y/N?" he called, receiving back a hum. "Where's our photo? You know, the one you're kissing my cheek."

The nerve. Where does he think it went?

"What do you mean 'Where's our photo'?" She scoffed, dropping a few things while doing so. "I put it in a box, of course" and mumbled loud enough for Yeonjun to hear.

The boy frowned as if she said the most horrible thing in the world. How could she put it in a box? Does that mean their relationship meant nothing to her?

"I can see the gears turning inside your head." Y/N said from behind, which scared him a little. Did you have a sixth sense or something? "Don't think too much about it… or do, it's up to you since I don't have a say in any of our conversations anyways."

Now, that definitely bruised his ego. Why were you being so passive aggressive all of sudden?

"What's wrong?" He asked, sitting by the couch once again.

Is he playing dumb? Or is he just trying to get under my skin?

Y/N bitterly chuckled. You surely could've ignored him when he knocked on your fucking door a few minutes ago, but you didn't and now you had to deal with his stupid behavior.

No, wait. Why were you complaining, though? You were the one who agreed to play his little games, right? Little games? Is that what this is?

"Hey, Y/N, look at me, will you?" Ah, it took him long enough. He used that sweet tone; he always did. Maybe that's his curse, being awfully sweet yet such a jerk sometimes. "What's wrong? Now I'm the one who's able to see the gears in your head." He chuckled and grabbed her hands, gesturing for Y/N to sit beside him.

His touch sent shivers down her spine, but it’s not like she would admit it. And Yeonjun must’ve noticed that, because he took this opportunity to bring Y/N closer to his body with a hug.

That touch was supposed to be an act of comfort, but it only made her feel more anxious than when she saw his face earlier that night. However, it was impossible to ignore his scent; y/n’s senses were drowning with every touch and breath lingering on her skin. Yeonjun was sneaky, he moved his hand off her arms and stroked her back, and, maybe, just maybe, y/n’s heart started to beat a little bit faster and louder.

Perhaps that’s your curse. Yeonjun always found a way to drive you insane, and you always tried to push his buttons. But by the end of the day, you two would always get back together. Saying that it would be the last time you’d hurt each other was pointless, because it was not the truth.

Despite everything, y/n wanted to be mad, sad and let everything out. But she couldn’t, her mind was a complete mess with every brush of his fingers on her skin.

“Hey, you seem off.” Yeonjun brought her face closer to his by holding her chin.

“Am I now?” Y/N flinched at his touch, face burning with the proximity. Your body betraying your emotions made him smirk.

Yeonjun’s breath was against her neck, with lips slightly brushing over her ear.

“Yes, you are.” He whispered. “Kitten, talk to me. Why are your walls suddenly up, hm?” And planted a kiss by her pulse point.

This situation was uncomfortable, to say the least. But it’s not like you wanted him to stop.

Really? He should stop. You had to stop it.

“I hate you…” y/n’s breath hitched. She pushed him away, but that was not enough. He frowned and tried to get closer to you at all costs. “I hate you for lying to me. And…and for running away when you sensed something was wrong. You always do that and then come back here to say it’s the last time, but let’s be honest, we both know it’s not the last time and…”

Yeonjun kept quiet the whole time. He knew you were right, it was a very good point, but he wouldn’t admit it. As always, he tried to stand up for himself.

“Come on, Y/N, that’s not true. We both know that.” his thumb grazed the line of her upper lip and her whole body tingled at the touch.

You were better than that, of course. Your hands wrapping around his wrists to push him away were enough of a sign to startle him.

“You’re making me look like some fucking crazy ex-boyfriend.” His words were sharp; sharp enough to make Y/N chuckle and cry at the same time.

Maybe that's what he is. Ex-boyfriend. The words matched his actions, but why hearing or even saying it out loud left a bitter taste in your mouth?

“Maybe that’s what you are.” hurt was evident in her voice. “You run away, fuck some other girl and then come back to me expecting everything will be alright? I’m tired, Yeonjun. And I’d appreciate it if you could just…leave me alone.”

He went silent. The room grew silent once again, and the only sound that dared break the silence was the soft thuds of his heart. His breath hitched, but he put on an act with a scoff, trying his best to look unfazed.

What else was he expecting? She was right, he messed up one too many times. Even when they did reconcile, it never lasted long.

After a few minutes of thinking, and an endless amount of silence, he looked at her with a sly smile curling his lips.

“Kitten, has anyone made you feel as good as I do? I don’t think so…” his lips widened even more with every second.

And, maybe, just maybe, he was right, and thinking about it left a bitter taste on your mouth. No one has ever made you feel like he did; does. Did it really matter if he shattered your heart? By the end of the day he would be just Yeonjun, the loving, caring and stupid boy you met through your friends.

Yeonjun could read you like a book, but you never really tried to hide your feelings or reactions either. Just the subtle brush of his fingertips on your arm was enough to get him under your skin again.

It’s all too overwhelming.

“You like this, don’t you?” He whispered. “It’s a cat and mouse game. Excited much?” Yeonjun added.

Oh, yes. This was nothing but a game.

Right before his eyes y/n was clearly aching. But you didn’t have anywhere to hide, did you? You opened the door and let him in.

It’s just you and me now, she thought.

“Who wins in the end?” Y/n looked at him with a bored expression, but in reality everything about her was fragile now.

Despite that, Yeonjun kept a smug look on his face, bringing her close to him. It was obvious what he was thinking.

“I’m not quite sure. Wanna find out?” He licked his lips and kissed her cheek.

His breath was hot on your collar, making you loudly swallow. He moved his mouth from your face to your ear, then jawline and lastly the neck, making you whole body shiver with the contact, a human contact you missed for weeks.

“Why do you treat me like this?” She mumbled, too dizzy with his touches.

“Now, that’s not what I asked, love. Do you want to find out how this game ends?”

A tear dared to almost run down your face. You wouldn’t let Yeonjun do that to you, though.

“M-mouse…” Y/N whispered. “Mouse wins.”

Yeonjun seemed amused by your response, which made his grin widen; you couldn’t properly speak without wanting to break right in front of him.

He pulled away from you, going back on his feet.

Is he going away again? You thought right before he offered his hands for you to take. And so you did, just like you did a few months ago.

Surprisingly, the palm of his hands were really warm and welcoming. Who would’ve thought, right?

“You’re so pretty, princess…” Yeonjun smoothed your hair and dragged his thumb across your lips.

Pretty? It’s more like ‘weak’.

He was asking for something, that was a fact even if unspoken. You couldn’t blame him, could you? He was just this good at turning the tables, so good to the point he would make you feel weak and break for him.

“You’re not supposed to be here…” That was everything y/n was able to reply. She was confused, frustrated. Why was he doing all of this? To torture you?

But it felt good, though; having him there in the middle of the living room under the dim lights of the apartment. You didn’t want to be alone, it was not a good option.

However, it was impossible to ignore the tension growing in the air.

Before she could think some more, Yeonjun stumbled with her into the kitchen, being quick to press a soft kiss on her lips and placing her on top of the counter.

It was a short touch of lips, but enough to make y/n sparkle inside and also shake with anxiety. He did know how to be convincing.

“This is the last time I tell you’ve got it wrong…the last time I’ll run away.” He mumbled, chin resting on her shoulder while she caressed his covered back.

“Only if you promise me your heart won’t ever stop beating for me.”

He nodded, a silent agreement.

Was it really?

“I promise.” Yeonjun smirked, holding y/n on his arms and dragging her down the hallway straight to her room.

Heh happy Valentine’s Day y’all

[ssahotchnerr]

so i’m writing dadsbestfriend!hotch x reader (but christmas edition) and it’s everything i ever needed - are you kidding me? mistletoe and secret santa and aaron looking so goddamn fine in a red button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so that when he’s shrugged off his suit jacket you can see every chord of muscle right down to the veins on his arms !!

and because it’s not even thanksgiving yet and i’m impatient, i’m leaving this here because little details like this have me giggling and kicking my feet

“i come bearing gifts.” he holds up a tupperware container. “dessert. jack and i made sugar cookies. granted, they might not be recognizable - jack was a bit overzealous with the frosting - but they are delicious, and,” he offers you a neatly wrapped present, complete with a red bow, “for the now not-so-secret santa.”

he chuckles at his own joke, a warm and light sound that rumbles low in his chest, and considering that aaron's laughs are a rarity, few and far in between - and reserved for altogether special company - it's that knowledge that has you, despite the cold, feeling such warmth; straight out from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes.

pls hit me with ur holiday hotch thoughts 🥺💗

STOPPPPP the way that is so incredibly and absolutely perfect i am MELTING 😭🥰 if you're comfy with it, pls tag me once you've finished i would love to read it fully 🫶🏻

cw; mentions of food, quick reference to haley's death

UGH but holidays with the hotchners 🥺🥺🥺 i have many many thoughts hehe i hope you're ready!!!!

i can see aaron being the type to wait until after it's thanksgiving to really begin prepping or whatnot, BUT you, along with jack's help, are pulling all the christmas boxes out of storage within the first week of november.

AHHH imagine aaron getting home from work, and as he opens the door he is immediately greeted by the blasting of christmas music and boxes piled in the living room. at first, he freezes and is like what in the world ????? but then jackers runs up to him all excited that he's finally home so the three of you can finally start decorating because he's been waiting way way too long 🥹🥹🥹 you join the two of them, just as excited as jack, and aaron looks at you amusingly and is like "wasn't it halloween not even a week ago?? what happened to thanksgiving?" but hehe nonetheless, that night aaron sets up the tree and you all decorate the apartment together <3333

and that's just the beginning of all the festivities 🥹 the first day it actually snows a decent amount, you and aaron take jack sledding <3 UGHGHGN aaron all bundled up in a puffy coat with a hat and scarf 😭😭 he's also very adamant that you and jack are equally as bundled up, there will be no frostbite on his watch >:( but the three of you all race one another down the hill, and take turns going down with jack 🥹 speaking of aaron gets so <3333 seeing you and jack sliding down the hill together. on several occasions the sled topples over, throws you both into the snow and the two of you are just laughing and laughing 🥺 and despite the cold aaron is just feeling so so so warm because he feels so happy and what more could he want in the world than his two favorite people 😭 and afterwards!!! it only makes sense to indulge in hot chocolate and watch a christmas movie <3 the three of you cozy up on the couch (and yes, you did talk aaron into matching christmas jammies) with blankets and your hot chocolate and have a sweet night in <3 this year, jack can't seemingly get enough of elf but he barely makes it twenty minutes, falling asleep from the super fun day he had <3 hehe that leaves you and aaron 🥺 you're curled up at his side and he has an arm around you <3 AH he just keeps giving you kisses and his eyes are so so full of love when he looks at you 🥰😣

and the week of christmas!!!!!! full of making cookies, last minute shopping, the three of you work on a gingerbread house together, and jack is nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement from the second he wakes up until he's tucked into bed that night <3 and just the thought of aaron in cozy sweaters or crewnecks <3333 omg

on christmas eve, dave has his big get-together at his mansion, for dinner and gifts with the team. and then christmas day is just a day for you and your boys 🥺<3 jack is in your room right at dawn, jumping onto the bed to wake you and aaron up because you've been asleep for far too long and he needs to see if santa stopped by!!!!!! hehe aaron gets up first much to jack's dismay, because he has to wait just five more minutes, solely just to put some coffee on <333 but that gives you an opportunity to give jack some quick snuggles and tell him merry christmas 🥹 and finally when aaron is ready hehe, jack runs out and is completely enamored by what he sees 🥹 you and aaron watch him open his gifts, and then jack surprises you with gifts of his own!!!! it's different crafts he made at school, but you can easily tell how hard he worked on them and jack is also very proud of himself that he managed to keep this a lil secret without letting it spill🥺 and then it's the rest of the family gifts!!! heheh you and jack got aaron a gift, and aaron and jack got you one <3333 ughbgh there is just so much love in the air and everything is absolutely perfect <3 the three of you also stay in your pajamas all day long 🥺

ALSO!!! it wasn't until after you entered aaron's life that his holiday season became more festive 😭 while he was with haley, they did the per usual; decorating, presents, christmas cookies, made it as fun as they could for jack- all that. but after the divorce, everything changed since it was just him. he would still have a tree, he would decorate cookies with jack, but the season just didn't feel as magical anymore :( and it didn't help that he had such a busy work schedule. plus before haley died, he only spent a few hours with jack on christmas, meaning he spent most of the day alone :((((( but now, he has you and will never feel sad or alone during the holiday season as well, which now quickly become his favorite time of year 🥹 plus let's not forget how you are driven to make sure jack has an amazing holiday season after everything he went through too :( you just want to supply your boys with the most love possible 🥺

so even decorating earlier works in aaron's favor then, because since you never know when he'll be dragged away by serial killers, you have a more open window of time to make sure aaron is included and doesn't miss out on anything <33333

[love-kurdt]

This is Me Trying (Mike's Version) (byler): 2

word count: 10,471

warnings for this chapter: maaaajooorrrr depression!!! brief sexual content, homophobia, underage drinking, panic attacks, driving under the influence, near-death experiences, suicidal ideation. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

My eyes danced across the ceiling of Carter’s bedroom where, surprisingly, no one had come in and tried to kick me out. I detested popcorn ceilings. They were so… textured. Texture should not belong on ceilings. Maybe it was a good thing that things didn’t end up going any further with Carter, because then, I would’ve been staring up at a goddamn popcorn ceiling while Will Byers’ doppelgänger had his way with me.

I laid on my back with my skinny legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and folded my hands together over my stomach as I got lost in the travesty that was the popcorn ceiling. I tried to imagine that the endless expanse of polystyrene was actually just extremely puffy clouds, a bowl of cooked white rice, or freshly fallen snow that had recently been compacted together by a winter boot. My eyes trailed to the junction between the ceiling and the wall, which was adorned with a string of multicolored lights. I liked those kinds of lights, even if they kind of reminded me of the ones Joyce used to communicate with Will in the Upside Down. Over the years, slowly but surely, one of Vecna’s various torture mechanisms became simply Christmas lights again.

Fuck, Christmas break was coming up soon. I needed to get Nancy and Holly gifts before making the trek back to Hawkins. I hoped I'd have enough room in my car for everything, since I wouldn’t be returning after break. The realization hit me out of nowhere; since I no longer had a school to attend, I'd never have an academic “break” ever again. The last one I'd participated in was Thanksgiving, and I'd wanted to have one last memory of my parents being proud of me before I became the full-fledged failure of the family. It was evident, from the way Dad had made multiple homophobic remarks aimed directly at me from across the dinner table, that I'd already failed. I chose to keep my mouth shut about potentially dropping out, at the risk of making things even worse. Now that my college career was officially over, though, “Christmas break” would be just “Christmas” from here on out.

I wondered if Will would be back in town for Hanukkah. I hoped so. The holiday season would be different this year. I would get the fuck over myself and leave the house. I would repair my purposefully neglected friendships. And I'd finally get the chance to see Will again, face to face. Though chances were slim, maybe Will would hear me out. Maybe Will’s hatred for me had faded a little bit. I still couldn’t quite comprehend the complexity of what exactly happened within the past year, and how what I'd already assumed to be pretty damn bad became even worse, considering how well the new year started off.

As soon as I had arrived back at my dorm in January, I diligently thumbtacked the post-it detailing Will’s phone number on the wall above my headboard. I wasn’t normally someone who believed in karma, omens, manifestation, or any of that hippie crap (because I was obviously a realist and a pessimist by nature), but I truly believed that seeing Joyce at Melvald’s was fate in its finest form. Forgetting my school supplies (along with my reluctance to just go back home and grab what I needed from my room) resulted in essentially coming out to Will’s mother. And that was one step closer to getting Will back. Now, all I had to do was call that number.

The post-it stayed on my wall for three months. Elvis hadn’t mentioned or questioned it; we weren’t official, anyway, so I was free to see whoever I wanted. Except I didn’t just want to see Will. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Will. If only I could pick up the goddamn phone.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to call; I wanted nothing more than to hear Will’s voice enveloped in grainy audio. I longed for the day I'd get to say Will’s name out loud instead of just writing it. But I was waiting for the right time to do it. I couldn’t call in the morning, because Will had insisted for years that, in the words of his stepfather, “Mornings are for coffee and contemplation,” and refused to be disturbed before 9am. I couldn’t call in the afternoon, because Will would most definitely be in class, or at work if he had a job, or hanging out somewhere with his new friends, and I didn’t want to impose upon that. And I couldn’t call in the evening, because what if the conversation went south? I didn’t want Will to go to sleep angry or upset, especially at me.

In reality, no time was a good time. I knew that confrontation was inexorable, and whether it came across as offensive or not was dependent upon how the conversation began. I, ever the strategist, prepared myself for a multitude of scenarios, from worst to best case; it turned out that predicting all possible outcomes during a supernatural war would help me immensely in this process. Ultimately, I chose to pick up the phone and call Will on the least problematic occasion I could think of: the date was March 22nd, 1990– also known as Will’s 19th birthday.

I had parked myself in the middle of my mattress, sitting criss cross on top of my navy blue comforter. I'd pulled my phone, monstrous, pale yellow, and with a spiral cord, off of my bedside table and into my lap. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions to be in, and my back was slightly killing me (hunching over a notebook for hours on end all day probably didn’t help either), but it was the optimal setup for either an hours-long phone call or for slamming the handset back in place and hanging up as soon as the other end of the line picked up. But I knew I wouldn’t ever hang up. Never on Will.

I drew my eyes up the headboard of my bed and onto the wall until they met the post-it, in all its glory. I inhaled so hard I thought my lungs would spontaneously combust from the pressure in my chest. I feared my heart would stop the second the dial tone emerged from within the earpiece. I knew I had to do this now, or I never would. I'd already procrastinated doing this for too long. I gulped, my finger hovering over the rotary dial, and tried my luck.

The ringback tone went through once, twice, and–

One of the Christmas lights in the otherwise dark room flickered, causing my body to snap up to attention. I rose to defend myself from any monsters in my vicinity, ready to fight the– woah, I stood up way too fast. I was, apparently, still quite intoxicated. I sat back down on the bed, eyes still glued to the string of bright, colorful lights lining the perimeter of Charlie’s… Christopher’s room? Whatever. It started with C. After a few minutes of engaging in a staring contest with a fucking lightbulb, I let my shoulders go lax. Tension that I hadn’t realized had built up released from my neck as I rested my head on my palms. I wasn’t in danger, not anymore. Well, at least, not in the paranormal realm of things. The only monster I'd have to fight was myself. 

More specifically, the raging… situation that had yet to go down in my obscenely tight shorts. Cadence had done a number on me, even though it only lasted for approximately zero-point-five seconds. I shut my eyes tightly, not sure of what to do. I could wait longer, and run the risk of being caught with a very obvious boner by someone if they entered the room unannounced… or I could make a run for it and try not to be sidetracked by anyone I knew.

I opened the bedroom door a crack and peeked through, and thankfully, it didn’t look like the escape would be too arduous. I rushed out of the room, pushing through the multitude of bodies in search of the exit. The room was extremely hot, likely due to everyone’s combined body heat and the space heaters stationed in the corner of every room, which made it difficult to breathe. I hadn’t been much of a fan of the cold ever since Will and I got stuck in the Upside Down during the Vecnapocalypse. We’d ended up staying there for longer than initially anticipated; having almost kissed at one point, I freaked out and ran away, stupidly tripping on a vine and causing an entire side-battle in the Upside Down, nearly ruining the Party’s chance to defeat Vecna. So, no, I wasn’t much of a fan of the cold, but right now, I needed to escape the sensation of molten lava that crept up and slowly wrapped around my throat. My eyes caught a glimpse of the front door, and relief flooded through my veins.

But that feeling was short lived, because a vine curled around my wrist before I could take another step. I whipped around to see that the vine was actually a hand, and noticed that I vaguely recognized the hand’s owner, who was a girl from my Quantitative Literacy class. “Hey, Mike!” she smiled. She had black hair, light brown eyes, and a septum piercing. She looked badass. Bitchin’, as El would say. However, her bright teal eyeshadow, even in the dark, served as both a boner killer and the source for my impending migraine. So it was a blessing and a curse, really.

I tried to remember the girl’s name, but didn’t want to disappoint her when I'd admitted to not knowing it, so I uttered a painfully generic, “Hey! How are you doing’? Good to see you!” and gave her a rather light, impersonal hug. She appeared to be satisfied enough with my greeting. She pulled me down by my shoulder so she could talk in my ear without everyone hearing over the music.

“My friend over there saw you earlier and was wondering if you were single,” she said, pointing over to a group of two guys and two girls who were all huddled on the sectional couch. I raised a quizzical eyebrow. This conversation could go one of two ways. I hoped I wouldn’t have to make it awkward, but then again, I knew I probably wouldn’t ever see her again after that night. So that made me feel a little better in that respect.

“Oh,” I hesitated. “Uh… which one?”

“Shoot, I should have led with that!” she laughed. I laughed along, but my voice felt hollow. Luckily, she didn’t pick up on it. “The one with the blue hair! Her name is Chelsea.”

I looked over at the group, and made eye contact with the girl with the blue hair. I watched as she blushed and looked away. She was shy. She looked sweet. Damn it, Mike, now you’re gonna break yet another heart. What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be normal?

“She’s pretty interested, you know,” the Girl With No Name said, unknowingly twisting the knife that rested permanently in my stomach. The lava curling around my throat became even hotter, burning through my skin.

“Yeah, totally, uh… that’s so cool!” I remarked passively. And yeah, it was cool, in theory… but hopelessly incompatible in practice. I glanced at the door, then back at the girl before telling her, “I hate to break it to you, but I’m straight as a circle.”

“Wait, what?” 

“I’m gay, like, really gay.” I blurted, probably loud enough for the entire room to hear. I heard someone whistle, and a few others cheered me on, but I wanted to burst into flames. The girl stared at me, stunned at my sudden outburst, seemingly at a loss for words. I felt myself choking on air. I needed to get out of there, and quickly. 

“Okaygottagoseeya!” I forced out in a single breath, not leaving any time for a response from anyone before I bolted through the crowd and out the door, successfully fleeing the scene. Grass met the soles of my Chuck Taylors as I continued to run across the campus quad, my breathing quick, ragged, and uneven. The frigid December weather did nothing to soothe the burning sensation throughout my body, which by now felt like it was burning from the inside out. My feet loudly slapped the pavement below me, and I was proud that I hadn’t slowed down or stopped yet. If one good thing were to come out of my time at the University of Indianapolis, it was my improved stamina from all the sex. Well, that’s fucking sad… and kind of hilarious, I thought.

I sprinted a few blocks, not caring to look for any oncoming cars. If I got hit, cool. Awesome. I'd thank the driver as I bled out in the street. But no one came to take me out of my misery. So I kept running, and running, and running. My long legs screamed as my practically nonexistent muscles struggled to carry me. The prickly, thin air I breathed in through my mouth reminded me of the sensation when I'd chewed a piece of mint gum and drank water right after. It was so fucking cold, but I was so fucking hot. Like, there was sweat dripping down my face. Or were those tears? Was I seriously fucking crying again?

Up until last year, I had never been the type of person to openly cry. I wasn’t raised to share my feelings or emotions. That was part of the reason as to why I had been so uncomfortable with the prospect of going to therapy. I never opened up to anyone, because I hated the feeling of defenselessness, and even more so despised the idea of being seen as weak. I prided myself on being the “fearless leader” of the Party. For fuck’s sake, I'd been the one to stare Vecna down as I thrust a sword straight into his heart. I'd proven my strength as a leader time and time again. But what would happen when Mike Wheeler let his guard down?

It turned out that I didn’t have to let my guard down; Will broke it for me. Will’s departure broke the dam of emotional repression that I had worked so hard for years to maintain. I suddenly became unable to stop myself from crying. I'd always silently envied Will for being able to express his emotions so freely, but now that I could do so as well, albeit uncontrollably, I didn’t envy Will at all. I wasn’t sure how Will had done it for all those years; the migraines, the exhaustion, the dehydration… It was awful. And I felt even worse when I recalled all the times when I was the reason for making Will cry.

I had also gotten accustomed to panic attacks. I had my first one on the day Will left. My mom came into my room to check on me. I’d looked up at her with scared, red-rimmed eyes, and my shoulders violently shook as I hyperventilated. My mom swiftly jumped into action, meeting me where I was at, grounding me, and helping me come back to earth. She’d held me in her arms as I sobbed, comforted me, and didn’t pry. But… she knew. I could never express enough gratitude towards my mom for what she did for me that day. Little did I know, though, that it only got worse from there. The second one happened after The Phone Call™, which led to my initial downward spiral. The third one happened in Warren Blakeley’s car after I'd been drugged and assaulted at that one party. And the fourth one… ‘twas a-brewin’.

I found my car despite my impaired vision, nearly ripped the driver’s side door off its hinges with how roughly I opened it, and slammed it shut behind me. I collapsed my entire body weight against the steering wheel before letting out the loudest, most guttural scream that I hadn’t even been aware I was capable of. I reached my hands up into my scalp, pulling fistfuls of hair with my hands as my surroundings melted away. I genuinely felt like I was going to die. Everything I'd said, done, and experienced within the past year and a half had been slowly building up inside me, and this was me finally cracking under the pressure.

Dear Will, I hate you. Dear Will, you broke me. Dear Will, I crave you. Dear Will, why? Why, why, why– Dear Will, fuck you. Dear Will, go to hell. Dear Will, I’m sorry. Dear Will, I miss you. Dear Will, I love you. Dear Will—

I turned my keys in the ignition, and the engine came roaring to life. I lifted my head up to the rear view mirror, rubbed my eyes a few times, and took a look at my reflection. The person staring back at me looked absolutely horrendous. I looked as if I hadn’t fully slept through the night since 1983. And that wasn’t far from the truth; I could count on a single hand how many a good night’s sleep I'd had since the day Will was first taken by the demogorgon, and all of those times, Will was there, by my side.

I shifted gears and turned my headlights on, pulling out of my spot and drifting out into the street. I knew what I was doing was a bad idea. Driving drunk was, first of all, illegal, and secondly, dangerous to not just myself, but to others. But I couldn’t give less of a shit; I'd figured out what I needed to do. I slowed down to a stop at the red light of the intersection where I'd have to take a left to go home.

“When you’re… different, sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make [me] feel like [I’m] not a mistake at all. Like [I’m] better for being different. And that gives [me] the courage to fight on. If [I] was mean to you, or [I] seemed like [I] was pushing you away, it’s because [I’m] scared of losing you, like you’re scared of losing [me]. And if [I] was going to lose you, I think [I’d] rather just get it over with quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

The light turned green, but I didn’t turn left. I tapped my fingertips against the center console, drove straight ahead, past the light, and turned on my right hand signal.

I swerved onto I-65.

“Hello?” a familiar voice answered. I felt my breath hitch. His voice was deeper than I remembered. It was like he’d gone through a second puberty, if that were even possible.

“Will! Hi!” I exclaimed, sounding far too enthusiastic for my own good. I waited for a reply, but could only hear Will breathing on the other end of the line. I went to speak again, but Will beat me to the punch.

“… Mike?” Will said my name in a tone that I could only label as nostalgic dread. Oh god, I shouldn’t have called him. I shouldn’t have called him, but I did, and Will was on the phone, and had just said my name for the first time in a year.

I reclined onto my comforter so I was lying on my back with my knees bent, wrapping the cord around my finger a few times as I spoke. “Yeah, um… I was just calling to wish you a happy birthday, and to tell you that I miss you.” Well, that was vague, Wheeler. You can do better than– “And love you. So much.” …that. Fuck. Too far.

I heard Will gasp, then try to cover it up by clearing his throat a few times before responding. “How’d you get my number?”

Friends don’t lie, so I told him. “Your mom gave it to me over Christmas break.”

Will exhaled. I’d always savored that sound, and would have been content if that was the last sound I'd ever hear. But… that specific exhale didn’t convey contentment; this one was laced with light exasperation. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

I begged to differ. She most definitely should have done that, and I would be eternally grateful that she did. In the eleventh hour, where all hope appeared to have been lost in the most abysmal Christmas break to ever exist, Joyce Byers saved my life. She’d given me a reason to keep on going.

“And you probably shouldn’t call me again.”

The color drained out of my face. My stomach churned with anxiety that seemed to exponentially increase by the second, and I suddenly felt the urge to throw up. This was the worst case scenario, but I didn’t think much of it. It was only a hypothetical, it wasn’t supposed to actually happen! Will was pushing me away. Again. But why?

“What have I ever done to you, Will?” I heard myself ask, my voice small. I felt like a kid again. At the end of the day, I was still a kid. I’d had to grow up too fast, a powerful disquiet having annihilated a majority of my childhood. I’d been so uncertain of where I’d end up after the war was over. And the one time I was sure of myself, sure of my feelings, and sure that Will Byers was my heart, I– 

“Enough. You’ve done enough,” Will’s voice, followed by the sound of the dial tone made my blood run cold. I set the handset back into its cradle, and continued to lay there on my twin-sized mattress, the rest of my body completely frozen. I felt my facial features involuntarily crumpling in upon themselves as the grief consumed me.

This had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. I rarely prayed; I only did in life-threatening situations, where the probable end result was dying. But right now, I prayed the hardest I’d ever prayed in my entire life. Please, God, help me wake up. Jesus, Allah, Yahweh, whoever the hell you are, if you even exist at all… if this is real life, please kill me. I can’t live like this. After a minute or so, I opened my eyes. Nothing. I huffed a quiet laugh to myself; it was so typical of me to place responsibility on others, let alone God, to deal with my problems. I'd have to face this alone. I was always alone. And I fucking hated it.

I hated that I would never have Will in the way I wanted him, no, the way I needed him. I hated that I could never seem to get the closure that I believed I deserved. I hated that Will wouldn’t just be honest with me! You’ve done enough. What the fuck did “enough” even mean? Had I done something else? Did I do something other than that one time in August? Something during my first semester, or over Christmas break, that I couldn’t remember due to my steadily consistent, months-long intoxication? I couldn’t think of a single thing, which made me even angrier. 

I wished I could just… fall out of love with Will, or something. Maybe I could fall out of love with him. What was the worst that could happen if I picked up the handset again, and dialed the number written on that cursed post-it? What if I said to Will, “Actually, I don’t love you. That was just me being crazy”? Crazy together, that’s what would happen. I'd be reminded of the young boy who recognized his more-than-platonic love for Will; a version of myself that I could never get back; a boy who would call me out for lying to both Will and myself, because friends don’t lie. It wouldn’t be a lie to say that Will had hurt me badly enough to justify a grudge. At least I thought so. Then again, I hated grudges, and the person I became when I held them. Scratch that, I hated the person I'd become, period. I didn’t recognize myself anymore.

I'd started at the University of Indianapolis entirely heartbroken, but on the other hand, I'd finally discovered my identity as a young gay man. I met some new people, and fucked a lot more of them. But parties have to end sometime. I would lay in bed, covered in the sweat and cum of a random guy asleep next to me, and would get weirdly emotional when my mind would, as always, drift to Will. I’d sometimes close my eyes and pretend the guy was Will, and I'd fall for my own brain’s tricks, if only for a minute. After that minute was up, and I'd remember that Will hated my guts… I would drink. A lot. I was the life of the party… with a side of alcoholism. My temper got worse, my fuse got shorter, and my overall outlook on life became so cynical that I sometimes even contemplated dying, and not the kind of dying involving bones snapping and eyes exploding. But I'd never followed through with anything in my entire life, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to kill myself even if I wanted to.

The tears that previously poured out of my eyes like waterfalls had dried up, their presence remaining evident in the stiffness on the surface of my cheeks. I hiccuped, the sharp intake of air causing me to develop a cramp under my ribcage. I grimaced in pain, sitting up and lowering my feet to the linoleum floor. I shuffled to my wardrobe and opened it, sifting through some oversized sweatshirts, a windbreaker, and Will’s godforsaken yellow sweater before I found what I was looking for. It was over. This was it. I'd had my chance, and I lost Will for the third time in my life. I picked up the bottle of whiskey, unscrewed the cap, and raised it to my lips. Fuck Will Byers. Fuck everything.

The sun had traveled up and down across the horizon a few times following The Phone Call™ when I'd startled awake to a shrill ringing in my ears. I checked my alarm clock to see the time, and I rolled my eyes. I extended my arm out to grab the phone without having to move the rest of my body. “Bitch, I swear to God, you better be either pregnant or broken up with by Nathan, because it is two o’clock in the goddamn–”

“Mike. It’s El.”

I sat up then, my eyes wide with conviction. “El? Jeez, I’m so sorry for that incredibly blunt greeting. My friend Alex tends to call me around this time with all her latest life crises, so… I just kind of assumed.”

El hummed in understanding. “It’s okay. Let’s hope your friend Alex doesn’t actually get pregnant or broken up with, though.”

“Yeah, that would not be good,” I agreed with a laugh, leaning back onto my pillows and staring at the ceiling. I'd missed the sound of El Hopper’s voice. It had been way too long. “So, uh, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me,” El replied, and my reminiscing came to a full stop. Of course Will had called El. They were siblings who told each other everything. Even back when they were kids, especially after Joyce and Hopper finally got married, Will and El were joined at the hip.

“What happened?” she asked me, and I scoffed, lifting my free hand to run it through my hair, regretting it immediately when my fingers got caught in one of the many knots, since I hadn’t washed my hair in nearly a week.

“Wouldn’t it be counterproductive for you to hear the same story twice?”

“I want to hear it from your perspective,” El told me, and I clenched my jaw.

“Okay. Fine. Where do I start?”

“From the beginning would be great.”

So I told her. I started at the beginning, all the way back to when Will and El had just moved back to Hawkins in April of 1986. I told her about how Will and I hadn’t spoken for the whole six months that he’d been in California. I told her about how I had, in fact, written letters to Will; I'd just never sent them. I told her about the distance that Will carefully maintained between the two of them throughout the entire duration of the Vecnapocalypse, up until when we’d almost kissed in the Upside Down. I told her about how Will–

“And then a few days ago I called him to wish him a happy birthday and… El, I genuinely think he hates me. He hung up on me and… I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I can't undo the past, and I can't get him out of my head.”

El remained silent for a few seconds, and I feared that our call might have been disconnected and I'd been talking to no one. But then, I heard the faint sound of El breathing, so I continued, “If any of this gets back to Will–”

“Why do you think I called you, Mike?” El cut me off, and I sat there in silence, unable to reply. “I called because I care, and because I want the best for both you and Will. Not just Will. I think you did the right thing letting him know you’re still there if he wants you to be.” Well that was… unexpected. And really kind, considering that this was the first time we’d spoken since she moved to Nashville. I truly had no idea why El still gave a shit about me after everything. I'd been a shitty boyfriend and a shitty friend, and these reasons alone were appropriate grounds to cut me out of her life. But El stuck around.

“Oh,” I whispered. “Thanks.”

“I just…” she trailed off. Oh no. What now?

“Just what?” I pressed, and I heard El sigh. Greeeaaaaat.

“I just think you shouldn’t have called so soon.”

“So soon?” I repeated, horrified. “El, it’s been seven months since I last spoke to him! When do you think should I have done it?” Should I have waited until we were out of school for the summer? Should I have waited until we were both out of college? Should I have waited until Will had forgotten about me?

“You should have let him call you,” El said to me, her voice strangely calm. “Or not called him on his birthday of all days. I don’t know, I’m just throwing ideas out there.” Yeah, no shit. I reached over to my bedside table again to pick up the bottle of whiskey, which still had about half left, and took a gigantic gulp, instantly regretting it when it scorched my esophagus.

“I don’t see how the fuck this is helping, Eleven,” I spluttered, wiping my mouth roughly with my sweatshirt sleeve. Sometimes, I wished El’s powers extended beyond telekinesis and telepathy, and, like, contained the key solution to all of my problems. That would be ideal. But no, she had to be all vague and mysterious and just throw ideas out there.

“Okay, well, if you want to be that way, then fine,” El’s tone turned cold. “I highly recommend you consider hashing it out in person.” She had no idea what she was talking about. The Will she had spoken to must have been a figment of her imagination, because Will had made it abundantly clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. As far as I was concerned, I'd never see Will again. But then El spoke once more. “I hope you and Will can eventually get your heads out of your asses and admit that you still love each other.”

With that, the line clicked, and I was alone with my thoughts. Or rather, one lone phrase, as the rest of my mind faded to nothingness: You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. Those words played on a loop in my mind as I finished off my bottle of whiskey. From that moment on, “sobriety” and “Mike Wheeler'' would not appear in the same sentence, not until—

Woaaaahhhh! Livin’ on a prayer!!! The key change of the Bon Jovi song woke me back up with a start. This had already happened a few times, but thankfully, the loud rock music on Will’s mixtape would startle me awake each time I nodded off behind the wheel.

I concluded that I couldn’t blink anymore. Though my eyes were incredibly dry, due to lukewarm air blasting through the vents and directly hitting my corneas, blinking would cause my heart rate to lower and the rest of the world to move in slow motion. If only for a few seconds of my life, I'd trade out the mental torment, the anger, and the loneliness for tranquility, quiet, and warmth… then my eyelids would droop closed.

I pressed my foot a little harder on the gas pedal, trying not to get distracted by the corn fields that seemed to sway to the music with me. Hopefully I would get my third wind sooner than later (my second one was fleeting, and died out as soon as it began). The sun was coming up, which was definitely going to help keep me awake. The song ended, followed by a few seconds of suspended quiet between songs before a familiar guitar riff met my ears.

“Oh, fuuuuck me. Goddamnit,” I indignantly announced to the universe, gripping my fingers tighter on the steering wheel. The voice of Joe Strummer began to shout alongside the wailing electric guitar. Now, I was very awake. My mind became a film reel, playing back memories I thought I'd blocked out a long time ago.

Darling you’ve got to let me know / Should I stay or should I go? 

Once everyone had been debriefed on what was happening in Hawkins, Will and Jonathan immediately went to work on making customized mixtapes for everyone. I sat on my father’s La-Z-Boy in the living room and watched in awe as the brothers put their minds together and churned out each tape as if it were second nature. I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Will’s extensive musical knowledge, for one, as well as the strong sibling bond they shared. Having grown up surrounded by sisters, I often felt like the odd one out. My parents shamelessly and openly favored my sisters over me, which further excluded me, whether it was intentional or not, on their part. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if they ever found out I was gay. That would be a disaster.

If you say that you are mine / I’ll be here till the end of time.

While Will and Jonathan were out getting more cassettes, I got a hold of and sifted through everyone’s handwritten lists. I had no idea Dustin enjoyed metal music so much; most of his list consisted of songs by Black Sabbath and Metallica. It wasn’t much of a surprise to me, considering how much of an impact Eddie Munson had made on the two of them. I still couldn’t believe he was gone. Part of me refused to accept it. Eddie could still be alive. He was just in the Upside Down somewhere. We could still save him. There was still time. There had to be time. My subconscious must have known I'd needed a distraction from the subject of Eddie— not dying— yes, dying, because I found Will’s list. To me, this list was a small glimpse into Will’s mind, so I decided to memorize it. I'd do anything to get closer to Will, even if it meant racking my brain in the process.

“You like my mix?” Will’s deep vocal timbre demanded my attention, and I swiveled my upper body around to see Will leaning over my shoulder, his hands planted on either side of me on the back edge of the chair. When did he get back home? That didn’t matter, because Will’s arms looked amazing in my blue and yellow striped shirt, stretching the short sleeves in all the right places. Was that a vein on his bicep? I gulped loudly, becoming flustered at our very close proximity. God, I needed to get ahold of myself. Pining over my best friend like this was not—

“I can make you a copy if you want,” Will said, and my eyes lit up in surprise. Will would really do that for me? I realized then that I hadn’t said any actual words during this entire interaction, and borderline blushed at the thought of Will rendering me speechless, but I needed to talk. Now.

“Really?” I asked, and Will nodded. “That would be amazing! Thank you!”

“Of course. I’ll have that ready for you in about an hour,” Will smiled, pulling out of my space, but not removing his hand from the recliner. I took this moment to shift in my spot to face Will, placing my hand atop my friend’s before he could walk away. Will turned back in my direction, eyes frantic yet welcoming. 

“You’ve always had the best music taste of the Party. I’ve missed it,” I had a sentimental streak, what could I say?

“You have?” Will squeaked out, seeming surprised at my confession. 

“Uh, of course! Why wouldn’t I have missed it?” I asked, and Will shrugged.

“I dunno, just… you’ve always liked synth pop stuff more than punk rock. Like, your first song on your list is ‘Smalltown Boy’ by Bronski Beat… which I’m not entirely shocked by? But I always thought you liked that kind of stuff over my taste.”

“Well, you thought wrong, Byers, because your music has always been my favorite to listen to,” I quipped, my voice infected by my ever-growing grin. “You taste top tier.”

Wait, did I just… What did I just say? I said, quote, “You taste top tier.” As in Will Byers, as a person… tasted top tier. What if… My mind meandered into treacherous territory as I wondered what Will tasted like– NO! Not now! I was just about ready to pass away right then and there. I could just imagine my headstone; Here Lies Michael James Wheeler. Cause of Death: Inability to Formulate a Fucking Sentence.

“Oh, do I, now?” Will raised an eyebrow, a smirk lifting a corner of his gorgeous mouth. I nearly fell off the chair. Could my egregious mistake have given me a little bit of leverage in the flirtation department? Will seemed to think so.

I played it off casually with a simple, “Yeah.”

“Cool,” Will remarked, placing his other hand over both of ours, sandwiching my hand between Will’s palms. So Will liked being (accidentally) flirted with. Note to self, I thought, fuck up more often.

I smiled so big that my mouth nearly fell off my face. “Cool.”

So you gotta let me know / Should I stay or should I go?

It was the summer of 1989, and all was well. Hawkins was no longer nationally renowned as an extra-terrestrial hybrid between earth and hell, but simply as a small town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. It was the summer of 1989, and I was lying on the basement couch with my legs hanging off the edge. My eyes were closed, and I wore my headphones which were attached to my Walkman, playing Will’s mixtape on repeat, just as I had from the second it fell into my hands back in 1986. I felt the thumps of the opening and closing of the basement door, followed by light footsteps treading down the stairs. I cracked a singular eye open, but opened them both fully when I registered that it was Will who was entering my space.

“Mike, we’ve gotta talk.”

It's always tease, tease, tease / You're happy when I'm on my knees 

“Okay, what’s up? Are you–” I sat up, pulling my headphones fully off my head and resting them around my neck. Then I saw the look on Will’s face. He looked livid.

One day it's fine, and next it's black / So if you want me off your back / Well, come on and let me know / Should I stay, or should I go?

“What the fuck are these?” Will spat. My eyes widened at what Will held in his hands. How did he–

“SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO NOW!!!” I cried out, cranking the window down with my free hand and letting the wind rush through my long, black hair. My sobs broke into a maniacal, rueful laugh as my hair violently whipped into my eyes. I lifted my left hand and extended it out the driver’s side window, feeling my fingers being forced apart and back together by the rippling sea of oxygen and carbon. Rock bottom felt like the top of the world.

“IF I GO THERE WILL BE TROUB-ALLLLLLL,” I yelled through the thick strands, spluttering a bit as some pieces made their way into my mouth. I tugged them away, but to no avail, as the wind obviously had a mind of its own, but I continued on with my tirade of near-incoherent screeching, face full of loose curls. “AMIFF I SHTAY ISHWILLBEE DUBALLLL!”

The road took a slight bend, and I obliged to the demands of the pavement. The sun was bright enough that it burned into my retinas. I pushed my hair out of my face once more to view the scenery, only to be met with a pair of bright yellow headlights belonging to a tractor trailer. Only now did I perceive the loud noise of the truck’s horn; my car radio had been blocking it out. I also noticed that I was in the opposite lane, and about to collide head-on with the trailer if I didn’t move fast enough,

With enough adrenaline to fuel a thousand demodogs, I swerved to the right and dodged the truck with only seconds to spare. I took a moment to process the fact that I could have died. I knew my hands held the steering wheel, and my foot was still on the gas, but the rest of me was thoroughly detached from reality. “Should I Stay or Should I Go” blared on through the speakers, but I could only feel the vibrations rumbling from the floor of the car. I could have died, but I didn’t. But I felt my heart stop, and it felt simultaneously comforting and cataclysmic..

I knew that I couldn’t continue on, not like this. As if the road could read my mind, a small lookout area appeared within my vicinity, and I took this as a sign to pull over onto the shoulder to regroup. I parked my car, turned the music down, and clasped my hands in my lap, waiting a few more seconds before turning the car off, unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the door.

The actual sun had begun to rise. The air was crisp, and the wind chill slightly nudged it into even colder temperatures, sending a shiver down my spine. I hastily cowered back into the lingering warmth of the vehicle, searching the passenger side for… there it was. I pulled a crimson colored University of Indianapolis sweatshirt from behind me and shoved it over my shoulders, zipping it up. I did a double take at what the block-style letters spelled out, rolling my eyes and laughing bitterly to myself at the sheer irony. I continued to laugh as I opened the car door once more, heading towards the lookout.

I stood at the top of a steep cliff, guarded by a rusty guard rail that looked like it would fall apart with the next gust of wind that hit it. The trees below me were bare, their branches contorting every which way, slicing the air around them like an army of spears. Beyond the line of trees I could see the miles-wide stretch of farmland, and the miniscule house that sat on the corner of the property, chimney smoking. In an atmosphere as peaceful as this one, I stood idly at the edge of the lookout, thinking about how this would be a beautiful place to die. If I were to lift just one leg over the rail…

Mike, don't do it! I don't need my baby teeth, twelve year old Dustin’s voice echoed from the back burner of my mind. Seriously, don't do it, man! Of course my thoughts traveled back to that time at the quarry. How could I ever forget? Even as a child, I'd been completely wrecked without Will. If this memory proved anything, it proved that history repeats itself.

Dentist's office opens in five, young Troy’s voice began, and I glanced down. This time, I wouldn’t be able to turn back. Four… This time, El wouldn’t be able to save me. Three… This time, no one would be there to grieve for me. Two…

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?”

“No, Will, I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

“But I did mean it!!!” I screamed into the silence, startling a flock of birds below. I lifted my hands up to my face, covering my bloodshot eyes. I heaved out a low growl, raising my voice until it hit the top of my range, cracking with an agonizing shriek. “I meant all of it! I love you! I always have! Fuck, Will, why couldn’t you just see that?!”

I let out a quiet sob, but no tears followed; I'd cried the rest of them out over the course of the past few hours. My throat felt like it had been rubbed with coarse sandpaper. I took a step back from the ledge and kicked a few of the rocks at my feet, watching them fall. I decided I didn’t want to die that day; not by alcohol poisoning, not by tractor trailer wreck, and not by jumping off a cliff. The only way I could die was if I did all I possibly could to get Will back. I turned my back on the trees, briskly walking back to my car.

I’m gonna make sure you, William Jacob Byers, know that I meant every single word.

About half an hour later, I walked into the convenience mart of a gas station. My hangover headache was beginning to form, and my intermittent yawning had become more and more frequent, so I figured some coffee would solve both of those problems. I stopped at the entrance, looking down at the stack of newspapers to my right. I recalled myself making a mental note back at the frat party to check my horoscope, so I leaned down to pick one up, searching for Aries when I found the page.

December 15th, 1990: Do expect some appreciation for the efforts you've put into recent days, dear Aries. However, do not get your hopes too high, because your actions may not lean towards gratification if you expect too much.

Well, Chicago Sun Times, it’s a little late for that, I thought, tossing the paper back onto the pile and walking to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, and then to the coffee station. I filled a cup and dumped about seven packets worth of sugar into it before capping it off and heading to the register.

The clerk behind the counter, an older man, looked like he'd been having the best goddamn morning of his life. He beamed from ear to ear, and I could feel the positivity radiating off of this man from a mile away. When I got closer, I noticed a singular studded earring on his right earlobe.

“Hi, how’s it going?” The man smiled at me, crows feet forming in the outer corners of his eyes. I tried to mirror the expression, but failed miserably.

“It’s going,” I sighed, setting the water and coffee down on the counter and watching the clerk type in the prices on the register.

“Looks like it. You look rough, kid,” the man sympathized, pulling the money I slid onto the counter towards him and counting the bills. I shifted from foot to foot, anxiously waiting for the cashier to hand me my change so I could get out of there.

“Wanna talk about it?” he quirked an eyebrow, and I stopped my fidgeting. I looked up at the clerk, took a deep breath, and–

“Yeah. God, you don’t know the half of it. So I’m gay, right? And, like, that’s cool. And I’m in love with this friend of mine who I’ve known since kindergarten. He’s… he was my best friend. For years. And we went through this major thing that nearly killed us, but somehow it didn’t, and that was great, because then I was able to tell him how I felt. Right? Wrong. So, like, he moved to fucking Chicago without any kind of warning, or maybe, I don’t know, a Hey Mike, you hurt me because you said or did A, B, and C, and this is why I’m leaving. Something that could represent ‘the end’ to me. Because I’m not that great at picking up on when to quit beating a dead whore– horse. Horse. Jesus. I’m not beating any whores, I promise. But anyway, I went to U of Indy, and that was fan-fucking-tastic, because I was finally okay with who I am. I’m pretty good at the gay thing, and other guys seemed to really dick– uh, dig that. And by that, I mean, well… you can put two and two together, right? Right. Okay. So, even when I was with all these guys, I always thought about Will. All the time. He’s a part of me, you know? I couldn’t imagine life without him. So when I called him up on his birthday in March, which was about seven months into the not-talking-to-each-other thing, which I never signed up for in the first place, he basically told me to fuck off and never speak to him again. And then I realized I had to live without him, so I kind of spiraled, and now I can’t fucking sleep without drinking, and I can’t function without some form of physical touch from another man, but I’m never fucking fulfilled because it’s not Will who’s doing the physical touch, and I fucking love him, and I need him more than he needs me, and now I’m fucking driving to Chicago to find him and… Oh my god, I literally just poured my heart out to a stranger. I’m still kind of loopy. I’m so sorry.”

“That you did. I’m happy to listen, though,” the cashier merely chuckled, waving his hand in friendly dismissal. “You’ve really been put through the wringer, kiddo.”

“Well… thank you,” I softly smiled as I took my change from the counter, and shoved it into my pocket before turning around in preparation to leave.

“Best of luck in your travels! Go get your man!” the clerk called after me, and I laughed as the glass door slowly fell shut behind me.

Pulling onto the campus of the American Academy of Art was not something I had expected to be on my Sunday agenda, but here I was, pulling into a visitor parking spot next to the Admissions office building. I got out of my car, slamming the door, and smoothing my jeans over my thighs, feeling slightly self conscious about how they’d been crumpled up in a ball in my back seat after my most recent midnight excursion with Wyatt Bowman. Although, if I were being honest, anything was better than those denim cutoffs. Especially considering the mission I was currently on. Speaking of.

At first glance, this was not a traditional campus. There was not a single quad to be seen. There were no outdated buildings or directories, let alone any form of indication of a college campus, aside from the little rectangular flags with the school’s logo that hung from every other lamppost lining the sidewalks. All of the academic buildings were dispersed amidst other buildings belonging to different businesses and companies within a specific limit of blocks, which would make it much more difficult for me to figure out where the hell Will could even be within this organized chaos. I figured it would make the most sense to head into the Admissions office building first, so I could at least get a map.

The interior of the building was bright, with students’ art framed along the walls. I walked over to the nearest painting in the room, pausing to admire the work. There was a Monet-inspired landscape closest to the door, and a cubist portrayal of a still life stationed beside it. I could see why Will chose this school. They cultivated the talents of their students and turned them into true artists. Nothing could have prepared me for the next piece that caught my eye.

It was me. Fuck, it was me; large in scale, vibrant, and full of life. I held my breath and stared back at the incredibly detailed, realistic portrait. I knew I didn’t need to look at the label that was tacked to the bottom of the painting to know whose work it was, but I couldn’t help myself. My eyes dragged downward and nearly passed away when I read the title: William Byers (b. 1971), “The Heart” (1989). Oil on Canvas. My chest swelled with pride, but quickly deflated at the looming, deafening voice in my head that routinely reminded me of what I'd lost. But that’s where everything stopped making sense.

The label stated that Will had painted “The Heart” in 1989, the same year that Will left me without turning back. He’d begun attending the American Academy of Art in September of that same year, leaving only three and a half or so months of the semester to complete the painting. So why would Will, after he completely erased me out of his life, still refer to me as the heart? And which heart was Will referring to? His own, or the one he’d shattered? I hadn’t realized I'd zoned out, so when a middle aged lady appeared next to me, I nearly leapt out of my skin. Her outfit, a floor length dress paired with a shawl, made her look quite ominous out of the corner of my eye.

“This is one of my favorites,” the woman stated.

“Yeah… mine, too,” I hummed, unmoving. 

“Have we met?” she began, but didn’t give me a chance to reply. “Perhaps you’re one of my lecture students, I can never quite put a name to a face. But I must say, you look quite familiar,” she told me, turning back to the painting with her arms crossed over her chest, deep in thought.

“Probably because I’m the guy in the painting, heh.”

“Oh gosh, silly me!” the woman exclaimed, flushing red as she put a palm to her forehead. “I didn’t even make the connection! So I assume you’re close with the artist, then?”

“Yeah, I know…” I began, then cut myself off with a grimace. “Knew him.”

“How nice!” Luckily, she didn’t pick up on my vacant expression. Instead, she continued on, “If you’d like, I can connect you with some students if you’re interested in touring the school.”

“Uh, no thank you, ma’am, that’s alright. I was just wondering if I could have a map if there’s one available?” I asked, and she nodded, turning on her heel to open a drawer of the front desk.

“Of course! And no need to call me ma’am, Miriam works just fine.”

“Well, thank you very much, Miriam,” I smiled at her as she handed me two pieces of color-coded, glossy paper; a campus map, and a map of Chicago.

“You’re very welcome, Mike. And when you see him, tell Will that I ordered those brushes he needed.” I didn’t recall ever telling her my name, or mentioning Will in our short conversation, but I became hyper aware of the fact that Miriam likely knew something I didn’t. Will had evidently told her about me. Apparently it wasn’t too slanderous, though, so I felt cautiously optimistic.

“Um… I… okay,” I rushed out, backing out the door as politely as I possibly could. “Thanks! Bye!” As soon as I was out of the Admissions office building, I ran down the street. I was so close to finding Will. Now, all I had to do was find the dorms.

I looked down at the map in my hands, then up, trying to find the building number, then back down again to confirm if I was even on the right street. The map said the boys’ dorms should be there, but all I could see was a brick wall in front of me. I was just about to rip all my hair out before I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned to see two girls looking up at me, concern etched on their faces. One of the girls wore a ski hat over her blonde hair, paired with a pink windbreaker, while the other girl donned a sherpa denim jacket and a beanie that still allowed her to show off her impressively long box braids that cascaded down to her hips.

“Hey man, are you okay?” Sherpa Girl asked. My gaze traveled down to notice our intertwined hands and I blinked, looking back at the two girls and nodding. At least I was amongst friends. I gripped onto the map in my hands for dear life, hoping they’d just leave me be so I could be disorientated in peace.

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine,” I shook my head, forcing out a smile. “Thank you though.”

That didn’t seem to cut it for Sherpa Girl, because she shared a knowing look with Windbreaker Girl. “Do you think he looks fine, babe?” she looked up at me with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think he looks fine.”

“No,” Windbreaker replied to her girlfriend, “He most definitely does not. Also, he shook his head ‘no’ while saying he was fine, so… busted.”

“Okay, what of it?” I waved my hands around in the air in frustration, pacing in a small circle before returning to face the two girls. “I’m just walking around this… very complicated campus.”

Windbreaker let out a giggle at that, leaning into Sherpa’s shoulder to muffle her laughter, which melted my heart a little bit.

“You’re obviously lost, dude,” Sherpa pressed. “At least tell us what you’re looking for, maybe we can help you.”

I let out an exhale of defeat, awkwardly shoving my hands in my sweatshirt pockets. “Any chance you know of a guy named Will Byers?”

Sherpa’s worryful expression shifted as she exclaimed, “Oh yeah, Will? He’s the cleric in our D&D club!” My brain short-circuited at the weight that sentence held.

“…He still plays D&D?”

That was when Windbreaker Girl’s eyes widened in recognition. “Wait… are you Mike?” I felt like I was being charged with a crime, but I nodded anyway. “Thee Mike? As in Mike Wheeler?” she asked again, and I couldn’t refrain from feeling a bit embarrassed by the implication that her vocal inflections gave off.

“Unfortunately,” I muttered, but was completely caught off guard when Sherpa did a little jump in place, her face splitting into a wide grin. Wait a minute. They didn’t despise me? I was so confused.

“No. No, this is great!” Sherpa elaborated, letting go of Windbreaker’s hand in order to reach into her purse. Huh? “I’ll give you his address.” Oh.

“He lives off campus with our friend Kate, but she’s usually at work all day on Sundays,” Windbreaker explained while Sherpa found a fancy, expensive-looking art pen and scribbled the address onto a grocery receipt. She handed it to me. I read it, then had to read it one more time to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. 7 Maple Street, Chicago, IL.

I gulped loudly, peeling my eyes away from the piece of receipt paper. I nodded in thanks, as no words seemed to come out of my mouth when I attempted to speak.

“My name’s Ivy, by the way, and this is my girl Hannah,” Sherpa– Ivy– said, wrapping an arm around Windbreaker– Hannah’s shoulders, pulling her into her side as they walked past and away from me. “Tell Will we said ‘you’re welcome’!” I heard her call back to me. I wouldn’t even try to decode what the fuck that meant.

I eventually found my car after wandering around aimlessly for a few more minutes than I'd have liked to admit, and landed in the driver’s seat with a thud. I pulled the map of Chicago out of my pocket and dug in my middle console for a pen, locating Maple Street in seconds. It was about a fifteen minute drive away. Okay. I could do this.

As I drove, I thought about what to say. How could I even begin to explain why I was there, on Will’s doorstep? How could I justify my batshit insane motive? I got drunk for a year and moaned out your name while hooking up with a guy named Carter? I was driving under the influence and decided to come to Chicago instead of going home? I almost killed myself on multiple occasions on the way here, but made it out alive just to tell you that I love you? I groaned. I didn’t want to be a stuttering mess, so I figured I'd at least try to plan out my… speech. But I had never really been much of a planner in respect to my social life. Give me a few monsters, and I'd be golden. But my crumbling social life was far from an apocalypse, and Will was no monster. I'd just have to wing it.

Will’s house was pretty. It was a small Cape Cod style, yellow with blue shutters. It had a small plot of grass in front, with a few stairs leading up to the doorway. The doorway that I stood in, lifting my knuckles to the door.

I knocked.

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[ticklystuff]

Surrender is a Valid Option

A/N: Part 1 of my @squealing-santa gift for @ticklefits! Thank you to @hypahticklish for organizing the event! You can read part 2 here

Pairings used:

zhongli / childe*

xiao / aether

Prompts used:

i am literally always a sucker for wrestling / sparring turning into a tickle fight thanks 🙏🏾]

ler insisting that the lee isn’t ticklish at all and the lee has to prove to the ler that they very much are eheheh

I saw multiple prompts and pairings that I enjoyed and couldn’t pick just one! Although the stories take place in the same setting, I wouldn’t consider either a prequel/sequel to the other. I also tried to give enough context to each one, so that both could be read without having to read the other. Also, sorry, these aren’t Christmas themed lol

They’re a bit lengthy, but I really enjoyed writing these! Also, I hope your holidays are nice and cozy @ticklefits :D

Word Count: ~2.2k

Characters: lee!childe, ler!zhongli

Summary: Childe learns not to underestimate Zhongli when it comes to sparring

---

There was nothing in the world that could contain the pooling excitement in his stomach, the butterflies beginning to spread their wings as Childe watched Zhongli slip off his coat, before picking up the sparring staff and taking his place on the other side of the field to face his opponent. Childe licked his lips, tightening the grip around his own sparring weapon. Today, he'd finally have his long awaited match with none other than Zhongli.

"You better not go easy on me!" Childe cried out from his side. This was the one and only time that Zhongli accepted his invitation to spar. He wanted to experience what the former geo archon was truly capable of.

"Recall that this is just a sparring match," Zhongli reminded him, unfazed by Childe's overzealousness. "I will stop should I decide the match is over."

"Should you?!" Childe sneered almost cockily. "We'll see who makes that call!"

Childe eyed the older man, waiting for him to make the first move, the thumping of his heartbeat growing in his ears with each passing second. When it was clear Zhongli had no intent of going on the offensive, Childe got into position, closing his eyes and allowing his steady breathing to clear his mind, before taking his first step forward. He glided through the field, the sounds of his boots hitting the grass barely audible, his eyes locking onto the target in front of him as the grin on his grew ever wider.

The first clang of wood could be heard throughout the temporary arena, followed by the sounds of repeated parries. The end of Childe's staff swung through the air effortlessly, though Zhongli's own was always there to match him, meticulously blocking each blow. Blood rushed to his arms with each passing moment as Childe's movements grew more swift, determined to break through Zhongli's defenses. With each step forward, Zhongli would take one step back, but Childe denied him the chance to breathe, each swing pressuring Zhongli with repeated chips to his resistance.

Soon enough, Childe's persistence paid off. The last blow was blocked just like the others, but this parry was different. The wooden staff trembled in Zhongli's hand and Childe managed to catch a brief glimpse of his faltered expression that eclipsed the normally calm demeanor. It was just a slight crack, but it was the only opening Childe needed. His eyes sparkled intensely as he spearheaded all of his energy into this final swing with every intent of finally disarming Zhongli-

Except, that moment never came, as Zhongli made the seemingly hasty decision to leap back, rather than parry, creating much needed distance between the two and the wide grin that Childe had donned the whole match was suddenly wiped off his face as his staff made contact with air. For a moment, Childe stared at the empty space in front of him where Zhongli should have been, perplexed at how someone his age possessed such an extreme level of agility, before turning to where Zhongli actually stood and gave him a playful smirk. "Heh, I almost gotcha there," he panted, wiping off the sweat from his forehead. Despite the short match, his muscles ached from the large expense of energy that he had to burn, but the thrill of the fight kept him going. Zhongli sure did not disappoint.

"Whoo! C'mon, Childe!"

Childe took a moment to turn to the small audience of Aether and Xiao, happy to see that the other half of their little team seemed to be just as engaged in the fight as he was. Maybe they could learn a thing or two from him. He flashed the two spectators a cheeky wink, giggling to himself when Xiao responded with a blatant eyeroll.

Had his attention been on his current opponent rather than interacting with the other two, the redhead might have caught the other man charging at him in time, only reacting once Zhongli was practically in his face. He fumbled with the staff in his hand, straining his arms to just barely parry the blow from Zhongli, but the lack of mustered strength allowed Zhongli to knock the staff straight out of Childe's hands and into the air, landing several feet from the two. With no way to properly defend himself, Childe hurriedly took a step back, but it was for naught, as Zhongli swept his foot against the floor, catching Childe's ankle in the process and knocking him off his feet, hitting the floor with a strangled gasp. In the blink of an eye, Zhongli was soon atop of him, staring down at Childe with a small smile. He put one hand on Childe's chest, continuing to look him in the eye as he spoke, a quaint sense of victory in his tone. 

"The match is over."

Childe looked up at the man on top of him, only blinking in response as he attempted to process the last twenty seconds. In his daze, he could hear the faint sound of Aether's voice crying out in the background, though his brain had short-circuited at this point, unable to take in anything at this point. "I- What just-" was all that came out of his mouth, an incoherent mess of words that mirrored his jumbled thoughts.

A genuine look of concern flashed across Zhongli's face. He set down the wooden staff still in his hand and cupped Childe's chin. "Ah, you're not injured are you? Did you hit your head too hard?"

It frustrated him how sincere the older man sounded. He should be the one asking if Zhongli is okay right now, not the other way around. "Y-You cheated!" he finally cried out, the sense of denial taking over.

Zhongli raised an eyebrow and folded his arms in response. "Cheated? How so?"

"Aether, he-! I was distracted! This isn't fair!"

"Ajax, that's hardly my fault," Zhongli chuckled amusedly. "After all, 'cheating' is not something that exists in combat. There is only victory or defeat."

"No, I haven't lost yet," Childe argued with him. He refused to accept the results, unwilling to let a fight with the geo archon himself end like this. "C'mon, get up. We'll start over!"

Zhongli shook his head. "Knowing your limits is a crucial part of being a warrior. Sometimes, surrendering-"

"I'm not surrendering."

Childe smirked at the exasperated sigh that slipped past Zhongli's mouth. He watched as the older man closed his eyes and nodded, beginning to slip off his gloves before speaking again. "Very well. We can continue our match."

His eyes lit up once more, feeling giddier by the second as the sense of battle rushed through Childe's veins. He began to sit up, fully expecting Zhongli to dislodge himself, but his expectations were quickly subverted when two unexpected jabs to his sides made him jolt in place. A choked breath of air passed his lips at the sudden sensation and by the time his brain registered what was going on, the two hands were already back at his sides, forcing out strained laughter from the redhead as they dug in relentlessly.

"Wait- Wahahahait! Zhonglihihihi!" Childe cried out frantically as he tried to push the invasive hands away. "Whahahat're youhuhu dohohoing?!"

"Tickling you, am I not?" His voice remained unchanged as his fingers squeezed through the thin red shirt, almost as if making Childe squeal was part of his daily routine.

"Nohohoho! Ahahaha! Why- aAH!!" There was barely any time for Childe to think before Zhongli had grabbed both wrists in his hands, pushing them back over his head and forcing Childe back to the ground, using one hand to keep both of Childe's pinned. "H-Hey, c'mon, I don't understahahand," he giggled nervously, his face growing red as Zhongli looked down at him with his usual stern expression. His arms strained under Zhongli's hold, but they failed to budge, adding to the helpless feeling that was almost foreign to Childe.

"Besting one's opponent doesn't always require combat," Zhongli said, rolling the fingers of his free hand along Childe's waist to draw out a shriek. "There are many methods to success that a warrior should utilize for the appropriate situation. You opted not to surrender when I defeated you in combat, so I have to resort to other methods."

A strangled whine flew past his lips as the realization of Zhongli's intent dawned on him. He kicked his legs and squirmed even harder now, desperate to escape, but Zhongli held him tight, allowing his fingers to slip under the thin red shirt, tickling away at Childe's bare skin. The tickling wasn't that intense to begin with, especially with just one hand now, but the thought of possibly having to surrender like this was worse than the tickling itself.

"C'mohohohon! Fight mehehEHEHEhehe!" Childe pleaded again and again, his warrior pride unallowing him to be bested by something so silly. This wasn't the first time Zhongli has tickled him, nor would it be the last as it was common past time between the two, most notably during the times they shared a tent, but why did it have to be now of all times? "Ahahahehehaha! Not fahahahir!"

"As I mentioned before, there is nothing but victory or defeat," Zhongli lectured over his laughter, slowly traversing his hand up Childe's chest. His fingers lodged themselves under the harness wrapped around Childe's shirt and Zhongli smirked as he made the most of his inability to move his hand by wiggling his fingers under the strip, fully concentrating the tickling in the trapped area to really make Childe squirm. "Surrender now, or we will just have to continue."

"NEHEVEHEHER!" The mere mention of surrendering really chipped at Childe's resistance and his laughter reached a pitch he never thought he could reach. At this point, his face was beet red and he was unable to discern if it was from the tickling, his embarrassment, or frustration, perhaps all three. "Very well. Accepting defeat with grace is not something that comes easily." Zhongli shook his head almost disappointedly, before proceeding to undo the harness around Childe's chest.

"Wait, no-! NohohOHOHO!" Childe's body shook frantically in response to the renewed tickling, barely unable to control himself. Without the harness in place, his shirt had come undone, allowing Zhongli to fully take advantage, his free hand speeding over the bare skin, a stark contrast to the slower methodical tickling from before. He left no area untouched as he jabbed at his stomach, tweaked Childe's ribs, scribbled along his underarms, and everything else in between. No amount of swaying or kicking could throw Zhongli off of him.

"ZHONGLIHIHI! PLEHEHEHAHASE!"

"You know what to do," Zhongli hummed nonchalantly, using his hand to rapidly fire away at the toned abs in front of him as if they were buttons waiting to be pressed.

"Okayokayokay, I gihIHIHIVE! AHAHAHA!" he squealed, barely able to hear Zhongli's voice over his own laughter. At this point, his body had stopped moving due to lack of energy, save for the occasional twitch of his limbs. Childe's fingers dug into the palms of his own hands, hoping for anything to distract himself from the overwhelming sensations.

"That wasn't quite the word I was looking for," Zhongli told him almost teasingly, clearly amused by the way Childe was struggling.

"I SURRENDAHAHAR! PLEHEHEHASE!" 

It was a blow to his ego that took all of his willpower to say, but at this point, Childe wasn't sure he cared. Zhongli had released his arms, but never actually stopped tickling, using both hands to lightly dribble his fingers along his skin, just light enough to elicit the occasional snort or giggly hiccup.

"Stahahap! You sahahaid you'd stohohop!" Childe giggled uselessly, beginning to sit up to push himself away from Zhongli's persistent hands. The sound of footsteps against the fresh grass prompted the two to stop and Childe looked up, eyes widening when he noticed Aether and Xiao standing over them, having forgotten that they most likely were watching the "match" the whole time.

"Tickling?" Aether scoffed, shaking his head disappointedly. "A Fatui Harbinger lost to tickling of all things?"

Childe looked away, feeling the blush from before creeping back up. "Why does it matter to you?" he huffed with exasperation, digging his fingertips into the grass.

"Xiao and I placed bets on who would win and I was rooting for you," Aether sighed. "Guess I owe him some almond tofu now."

"No need to shame him for it," Zhongli said to the group. "I'm sure we're all similar in some way." As if to prove his point, he gave both Aether and Xiao quick pokes to their sides, Aether giggling in response, while Xiao’s eyes just went wide.

"Well, at least we know the best way to deal with Childe now," Aether teased the redhead, but that smile was soon wiped off his face when Childe immediately stood up, making a beeline for the blond, grabbing him by the waist before he could escape.

"Maybe I can't beat Zhongli now," Childe started as Aether howled in his grip, allowing his hands to freely tickle the exposed stomach, "but I can certainly prepare for a rematch by practicing everything I've learned from him. Hm, what do you say, comrade?"

[bunny-j3st3r]

Archie sonic comic #5

Woooo weeee now I finished one of my bigger projects I can return to the torture that is these comics.

reminder that as much as I dislike archie sonic I am going to attempt to post as many positive as I do negative comments, these are just me logging my thoughts as I go through ALL of the comics because I like to torture myself.

Issue number 5 was released in Dec of 1993, just in time for parents to buy this issue as a last minute christmas gift to shove in there kids stocking when there kid had been begging for the sonic game for christmas. This was what they meant right?

We open up to Tails watching his succesful sonic clones in fascination. Soon he will have a fully operational baseball team. He can only pray there DNA holds together, the last clone ended up in a pod in some underground prison somewhere.

On a somewhat fitting storyline considering the olympic games recently. I do wonder if Robotnik holds a paralympics version by rendering the competeors disabled himself.

forcing you all to look at sonic's hand feet. I hate how they look like they can grip around a can of beans.

Robotnik would do numbers as a discord mod

And with sonic's nasty ass sneakers returned to him he kicks up a stink cloud, confusing this poor helpless robot who was rightfully winning.

Sonic is a cheat and a meance and I want that bitch turned into a robot.

We open with the obvious haha silly spoiled woman, she can not cook joke :) (I am joking please pl-)

comic cancelled this ant is the coolest fucking character in the series

Is it really a secret when you get your amazon prime, sorry robotzon prime packages delivered? Are the robots aware? Do they have a PO box? Or does robotnik just ignore there address like "I want to kill them fairly, doxing them is just evil."

who works at archie and is drawing buff and sexy termites, I just wanna talk.

Oh real funny.

Whoever drew this, I know what you are.

And our muscle growth bara termite is stopped by a womans cooking, point and laugh everyone. Point at how the princess can not cook.

vibes of running a discord server and having a popular tumblr blog

Another foul sin of gluttony committed by the hog.

But don't worry were in ken penders era soon, the sin will become lust.

I always assumed Sally was a chipmunk.

Where the fuck her tail?

A small child shows interest in the robots that dr robotnik creates only be told to get fucked by sonic the hedgehog.

That child grew up to be be Dr Starline.

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[iraprince]

i've been wanting to get into digital art for a while, and I'm thinking of getting myself a tablet for this christmas. Any product recommendations?

i would say, particularly for a first tablet, i don't recommend a wacom, even though it's what i use currently (and what i'll probably get again if/when i eventually upgrade to a screen tablet). this is because, while the quality is great, they're very pricey in a way that isn't proportionate compared to other brands. it was one thing a decade ago when wacoms were often much better than other options, but now other brands have caught up and there's no reason to shell out that much extra unless there's a reason u need a wacom specifically. (i.e. i got my current wacom tablet as a gift years ago, but i would spring for wacom as a screen tablet bc i've done a lot of research on cintiqs vs other options and i think for my job i do need the extra oomph in terms of stuff like screen resolution/latency/parallax — not because a more expensive tablet/better performance will make me "draw better" but bc i spend so many hours drawing per week that better performance will reduce friction and make my job easier. if you're not concerned about "this device is about to be a massive part of my life so it had BETTER be the best machinery i can afford," i don't think the extra expense is worth it.)

also, specifically, the wacom intuos 4 pro is a piece of steaming fucking garbage from hell and its cord port WILL eventually die for no reason, and wacom support will not help you because how do you prove it died for no reason even though dozens of other ppl online have clearly experienced the exact same hardware failure, and then you will have to buy an external universal camera battery charger and remove the fucking tablet battery and charge it once every other day at an outlet BECAUSE YOU CAN'T CHARGE IT WITH THE CORD ANYMORE and only use the thing wirelessly. not that i know anything about that

so!!! with that said. my very first tablet was a tiny wacom bamboo (idk if they even make those anymore?), and after that when i had to replace it i got a monoprice. that was a long time ago so i can't vouch for current quality — pls look up recent reviews and do research on anything u pick — but my exp w monoprice was that it was crazy cheap and perfectly good quality. setting up the drivers was a complete nightmare, but once it was working it ran like a dream without any problems and i don't remember ever having to fuss repeatedly with driver resets, reinstalling shit, losing pen pressure, etc (all problems i have had with wacoms, and still do occasionally). that thing took me through several years of art school and then several more years after without an issue and only gave out when the actual hardware was starting to go from wear and tear, i.e. wires were getting loose and it had been dropped a few times.

those are the only ones i have personal experience with, but i've heard very good things about huion tablets, and they seem like a good middle ground of higher quality than monoprice vs cheaper than wacom.

general tips: get the biggest one you can afford, you'll be using it for a long time anyway and the very small ones are hell on your wrist. consider getting one with shortcut buttons; if you end up liking them you'll use them all the time, but if you don't (i never personally got into using mine!) they don't get in the way, so it's no harm. and when you get your tablet, find the pressure settings (there will almost definitely be a menu that comes w your tablet software, but also check your drawing program as well) and adjust the pressure sensitivity so you don't have to press down super hard!! this will save ur wrist.

[hamsamwich23]

Snowed in (Unreality au one shot)

Words: 1,288

⚠️⚠️⚠️Content and trigger warnings include the following:  Implied s/h, implied gore and violence, depressive thoughts.⚠️⚠️⚠️

This is my part of a trade i’m doing with: @phantom-of-the-ruckus !!! they requested something with Twenty and Scout and I chose to destroy them with hurt/comfort. I apologize if it sounds a bit rushed, my head has been killing me all day smh 

Oc mentioned: Kai belongs too @/the-new-kiddo-on-the-block :]

PRO//SHIPPERS AND PEOPLE WHO SEXUALIZE/ROMANTICIZE/GLORIFY THESE TOPICS WILL BE BLOCKED IF FOUND INTERACTING!! WEIRD COMMENTS ABOUT THESE TWO CHARACTERS WILL BE REPORTED AND BLOCKED!! THEY ARE BOTH MINORS!!

Anyways, enjoy my writing! I will now crawl into a void for the rest of the month/j

“So…you guys don’t celebrate Christmas, huh?”

“No..well, not really. We don’t celebrate Christmas but we DO celebrate new years by giving each other gifts and celebrating. It’s like a party that we throw once a year for ourselves”

 “I see.” 

It was past midnight. Twenty and Scout were currently in Twenty’s room, sitting on the bed with his blanket wrapped around the two of them. The bedroom as well as outside was completely pitch black, however, they could still clearly see the heavy snow outside that was falling at a fast rate. Everything outside was already covered with a thick blanket of snow. And with the way it was going it probably wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. 

“Why do they wait til new years?”

“It’s because the holidays are kinda….hard for them. They had issues with celebrating their birthday before, And I guess Christmas just..takes a lot out of them. I guess new years just works better for them? In a way. To them it’s a way to celebrate being alive without Owen controlling them..They have a party held all night, it’s pretty neat”

“That sounds cool, actually…I wonder if they would let me and Kai come over and join…I mean, if you all were okay with it of course.” “yeah, I don’t think they’d mind much. I mean….they told me I could celebrate Christmas with you guys if I wanted too, so there’s that” “epic”

Scout nodded, letting out a sigh as he leaned on Twenty, holding onto the blanket. “Riley’s gonna be joining us this time..I’m not sure how to feel about it…I mean, we’re getting along, which is good, she’s trying to be an actual parent to me, I just…I dunno. It’s complicated. It feels complicated”

“And that’s okay, you’re allowed to feel that way Scout, especially considering…everything that happened.” “Yeah…She finally apologized for everything, she’s…she’s trying, and it’s been better with her..I just have…mixed feelings about. Everything, y’know?” “I understand, Scout..I’m sure it’ll be okay. Just try to relax alright? It’s okay to feel this way about her. I’m happy you guys are improving though” 

“Yeah, it’s definitely been nicer..Riley even said she might take me somewhere for my birthday this year…hopefully she’ll still want too after I tell her I almost crashed the car..the tire’s still gotta be replaced before I go back home”

“I’m sure she will, it wasn’t your fault, the roads were really icy when you got out of work right? Just tell her what happened.”

“You’re right. She’s a bit of a bitch sometimes but she’ll understand”

“Kai and I can Replace the tire tomorrow, that way you won’t have anything to worry about”

“I mean, I’m not too worried. That car lasted longer than the WAREHOUSE did, I’m convinced that somehow it’s invincible”

“I’m surprised they havent gotten a new van, honestly”

“They were talking about it the other day, so maybe…”

Scout laid herself down on the bed and looked back outside the window “I know the car can be fixed…it’s not…really the car I’m worried about right now, or even Riley”

“Hmmm…”

Twenty carefully laid down beside him, covering them both with the warm blanket. “Are you okay, Scout?”

“...eh, no not really. I’m….worried…I, am always worried about something, but right now it’s…”

Twenty reached over and gently squeezed her plush hand. “What’s on your mind Scout?”

“...it’s gonna be my birthday in a few days, and I’ll be seventeen…then in ANOTHER year i’ll be eighteen. I’ll be a legal adult…by the hosts standards in this Country, but still…it doesn’t…feel right”

“Hmmmm…are you worried about being an adult?” “mmm, yes and no. I just…feel off. Nothing is going to change that much and I know that. No matter what I’m still going to be me...And I’m excited to actually be able to do more….I-I just..”

He shuddered and looked down at his arms. Normally he kept bandages on, at all times. Including at night, or when he would sleep. But right now having them off would be just fine. The injuries on his arm were healing. There were many scars and marks all over..a majority of them were old. There were some that were even giving off a faint purple glow…he hadn’t lost either of his arms since he was thirteen after…an incident with a host, so there were quite a lot. Most of them were caused by him repressing and hiding the fact that he had dark magic. The effects of hiding it were painful and took a heavy toll on him. When he stopped repressing it though, it stopped hurting as much. And her arms had begun to heal. Whether they were caused by the side effects of that magic…or…other reasons.

“..I’ve been through a lot. We all have. And I just….I didn’t think I’d make it this far, Twenty…I didn’t think I’d still be alive by now”

“...Scout…”

Scout didn’t say anything. He just rolled over to face Twenty, who held his arms out for the stuffed creature. Scout quickly accepted and leaned right into him. Burying his face into Twenty’s chest as Twenty wrapped his arms around Scout, holding her in a firm hug. 

“I’m here for you okay? We all are…your family, me, Kai…we’ll help you get through this”

Scout sniffled, hugging Twenty and nodding his head. “Thank you..”

“No need to thank me…will you be okay?”

“y-yeah..I’ll be okay..”

“Is there anything I can do for you at this moment”

“I’m tired..I just wanna rest right now..”

“We can definitely do that. It’s late anyways and I’m sure even by now Kai is asleep.”

Scout nodded, yawning softly and leaning into Twenty. “Mmmmm…is it still snowing outside?” “Yeah, it’s really coming down right now…I don’t know if you’ll be able to drive home tomorrow either” “Dammit…I’ll just call Riley in the morning..tell her I’m staying with you until it’s safe to drive home… How deep is the snow gonna be?” “not sure, but it’s probably going to end but being….at least knee high?” “huh…if it weren’t midnight right now, I’d go jump in it”

“Hah! Scout that sounds C O L D. You’d end up freezing!”

“Maybe….it would be worth it though”

Twenty chuckled, kissing the top of Scout’s head “you’re silly. You can mess around in the snow tomorrow if you want, after we fix the car. I can make us all something to eat afterwards, if you want to help with that too”

“You’re so sweet..” Scout whispered, resting his head on Twenty’s shoulder. You’re the coolest guy I’ve ever met…being with you…really helps me, a lot..thank you, Twenty”

“I’m happy to be here with you, and be here for you”

Scout’s tail wagged softly as he kissed Twenty’s cheek before rolling over and closing his eyes. “I’m gonna try to sleep now…g’night Twenty, I love ya”

“I love you too,” Twenty replied softly, keeping his arms around Scout. He felt Scout hug onto one of his arms. 

He sighed as he rested his head down against Scout’s back. Closing his eyes and pulling Scout closer, as Scout began snoring softly.

Before Scout slept each night he would let his moth wings free. They were retractable, much like his second pair of arms. Normally Twenty didn’t care at all. They had been very soft and comfortable to rest against…Scout enjoyed having them, he loved flying with them and he loved showing off tricks he learned to Twenty…

But now, he couldn’t help but think he could have done more to prevent  the painful sight of Scout’s moth wings…

Or rather, what little remained of the poor wings.

[moonjxsung]

This inbox is going to be having like three or two different messages lol

Starbucks also used to be my favorite go to place but since the boycott I haven’t gone and recently my sister was gifted a Starbucks gift card which it made us awkward and with McDonald’s the only reason I’ve still go to it is because it’s the cheapest thing to get when I’m really hungry but I’ve been wanting to stop.

I do feel like people need to stop judging people for getting plastic surgery like I get you miss their old face but it’s still not your place to judge and in the end it’s the person who gets it and if they feel comfortable then let them be!!!

How are you going realistically love I feel like I haven’t asked you it in a while? I hope you have an amazing day my love I want you to be happy and I love you so so much

-🩶anon

Pls my sister got SOOOOO many Starbucks gift cards for Christmas and we still don’t know what to do with them 😭😭 if anyone knows what to do w Starbucks gift cards when you’re boycotting pls let me know ☹️🙏🙏🙏🙏

EXACTLYYYYYYY especially considering it’s such a normal thing nowadays like why is it anyone’s business what someone else does with their body 🤨 just let people LIIIIIIIVE oh my god it’s so annoying

I’m doing okay my love!!!! Today was so tiring and I only left the house to get coffee and then I came straight home again but I’m just spending the night playing video games and relaxing bc I’m exhausted 😭 tomorrow I’m taking a day trip to Monterey bc it’s my dad’s birthday so we’re gonna spend the whole day there and then go out for dinner and maybe catch a movie 🫶 I’m so excited but I already know I’m going to be so tired so I hope I actually have some energy 😭 HOW ARE YOU DOING MY LOVE I hope your day was amazing and I hope you have the best weekend ily ily 💘💞💝💖💝💘💞👼

[lino-jagiyaa]

❆ Underneath the tree | Hwang Hyunjin ❆

SYNOPSIS:christmas didn't feel like it used to this year, so your boyfriend hyunjin came over to spend the day with you, hoping to cheer you up a little.

a/n: I hope everyone spends their holiday well! and hopefully, this makes up for my being so inactive with my writing :/

GENRE: fluff, non!idol au

PAIRING: boyfriend!hyunjin x gender neutral reader!s/o

WORD COUNT: 749

WARNINGS: none. (like one curse word lol)

song rec: underneath the tree - kelly clarkson

taglist: @dadonbabysworld @whatudowhennooneseesyou

❆

❆

❆

christmas morning didn't quite feel the same this year. even with the snow on the ground outside and some still falling past your window, it's as if something was missing. nothing exciting was happening, and that was getting to you.

it was early, 7 am. but you still decided to text hyunjin to see if he was awake yet.

you: morning babe, merry christmas!!

hyunjinnie: merry christmas to you too babyy <;3 hyunjinnie: what are your plans today?

you: i actually didn't have anything planned...

hyunjinnie: can we spend the day together then?? i still haven't dropped off my presents for you yet ^^ you: ofc!!! what time will you be here??? hyunjinnie: as soon as i cannnn hyunjinnie: like I'm getting ready rn lol you: okayyy you: drive safe pls. the roads are still a little slick okay? hyunjinnie: i will don't worry <3 <3

❆❆❆

15 minutes and he was knocking at your door. a little later than he usually takes to get there considering his apartment is only seven minutes away from yours.

nonetheless, you brush it off thinking it's probably nothing and just due to the current weather.

"babe hurry! i'm freezing my ass off out here."

"coming!"

you quickly go unlock the door for your boyfriend, only to be greeted by him holding a crate for pets and an arm full of gifts.

"what's all this? i thought when you said 'presents' you meant one or two?"

"i know, i know. and originally i did only plan to bring...three?" hyunjin put on a nervous type of half smile

"hyunjin"

"fine. but you know i couldn't help it! as soon as i see something i know you'll like, i have to get it." he playfully rolls his eyes

"don't you wanna see what i got?"

"of course i do." you laugh

hyunjin puts the gifts down on the coffee table that sits in front of your couch, then sits down the carrier so that he can let out kkami.

"surprise!"

"hi, kkami! i haven't seen you in so long babyyy." you say, crouching down to greet him

"you were telling me the other day how much you missed him, so I thought this would be the perfect addition to your amazing presents."

"well thank you, because this is exactly what i needed on a day like this. definitely lifted my mood."

"uh, excuse me! did you forget that i'm your boyfriend, not him?" hyunjin dramatically gasps

"of course not, hyun." you giggle

"but in all seriousness, what do you mean? did something happen?"

putting kkami on your lap and getting off the floor to sit on the couch, you sigh.

"well no. and that's sort of the problem. i woke up this morning expecting to be all excited that it's christmas but instead it felt dull, you know?"

"mhm, i get what you mean. but at the same time, I think that's just a part of growing up. it may not be as exciting anymore because you're finally getting a break from work and you aren't staying up late, waiting for santa to arrive. but that's okay. we can spend the day however you'd like, okay?"

"thanks, babe. and.. anything i want?" you raise an eyebrow at him

"of course." he puts a soft hand on your cheek and smiles

"but first we have to put kkami in this outfit I bought him and open our presents." hyunjin laughs

"outfit? let me see!" you basically scream at him

he reaches into his tote bag and pulls out a dog-sized santa outfit and matching hat and hands it to you.

"this is so cute! oh my god hyun. but is he gonna be fine with it on? he seems like he'd fight us if we try to put this on him." you question

"he might, but since i bought it and it's christmas, he's gonna have to just deal with it." hyunjin playfully scoffs

you and hyunjin opened your presents and shared smiles as you watched the other open everything.

kkami indeed fought the two of you when you tried to put him in the outfit. but the two of you got some pictures of him in it in front of your tree. so at the end of the day, it wasn't all that bad.

"should we make some hot cocoa and put on some christmas movies?" hyunjin asks

"sounds great." you smile

spending the day with him and kkami was just what you needed to get out of your holiday blues. couldn't ask for anything more perfect.

[transboysokka]

oooo a new version of 9 people you’d like to get to know better

I’ve done this before and I was tagged in a lot of these by a lot of people but this version comes from @adriancatrin

Three ships: on my mind lately? zukka, zukki, makorrasami

First ever ship: I don’t remember what I said last time but I think my first actual active ship was probs spirk

Last song: currently playing - Alaska by Maggie Rogers. oh just kidding now it’s Wild Heart by Bleachers

Last Film: The Muppet Christmas Carol hehe

Currently Reading: same answer as before. It’s called like How to Talk to Kids so they Listen and Listen so they Talk to You or something

Currently watching: I started rewatching Arcane the other day

Currently consuming: nothing rn but I’m holding some Krispy Kreme donuts to give away at work bc I got a migraine from the sugar when I tried to eat one yesterday (that’s an unnatural level of sweetness for any country outside of North America omfg)

Currently craving: water. I’m on my 30 minute commute to work and there’s no drinking ANYTHING allowed on the metro

Sweet/spicy/savory: I tolerate them all but I’d say I prefer sweet and savory equally depending on the mood

Last thing I googled: Socratic seminar lol

Favorite color: NO idea? Gray? Yellow? Blue? One of those maybe?

Relationship status: Single but any of y’all are welcome to try to remedy that ;)

Currently working on: uh semester reports at work are kicking my booty so I’m not working on ANYTHING outside of that but I need to paint a portrait of my friends to gift them before their Christmas party later this month…

Im not tagging anyone this time bc I already have BUT if ur my mutual and u see this pls consider urself tagged ehehe

[murumokirby360]

My Redragon Hylas (H260) Gaming Headset Review (w/ my Paper Dolls) - Part 1 [Jan 18th, 2023]

Hello! 2023 has already arrived, and I'm starting off with this new gaming headset from Christmas of 2022 (gifted by my lil' brother). 🎄🎁 Pls watch my recorded video. ↑🎦📲

So, here's Part 1 of my Redragon Hylas (H260) gaming headset (featuring my paper dolls). 🎮🎧😊

So, without further ado, let's get started:

1st to 3rd Image(s): ↑

• Here's the box itself. Nothing much to say, but some promising pictures of the inside item, as well as some information & specs about the Hylas gaming headset. 📦🙂 Are you excited to reveal the main item, you two? Then, let's not waste our time! 😁

BTW: You can zoom in on the 2nd image if you want to dive & read the information you need. 📰🔍

4th & 5th Image(s): ↑

• Inside the box are three accessories. Including, a fold user manual, an audio adapter cable, and a sheet of Redragon stickers. The latter, I don't usually use stickers. But, on the bright side, that audio adapter cable is very useful for my single audio jack devices (e.g. smartphone, MP3 player, etc.) Right, you two? Yeah. 🙂

6th to 8th image(s): ↑

• Finally, the main item of the show! The Redragon Hylas gaming headset! Man, it looks pretty neat in white color. However, the black could be better, although my Lil brother said "they all ran out of stock at the gaming store". Mmmm, It's alright. After all, I've already got the black color in a form of a Redragon keyboard (Rudra K565R [CLICK ME!]), so why not add a white gaming accessory to the mix, huh? 🙂

• [8th Image] My paper dolls here are trying to fit in with my new gaming headset. Unfortunately, Chowder went crumble & he hurt himself in a uncomfortable sandwich between Panini & the right earmuff. I guess, they're too tight for them... Hehe.😅

9th to 18th Image(s): ↑

• Now, that my paper dolls are out of away, let's dive in some anatomy of my new gaming headset.

• [9th to 15th Images] The construction itself we're made in cheap plastic material, which gives this a budget line-up PC peripheral. From the microphone piece (which is short) to soft cushion earmuffs & headband (which are soft & easy to press w/ my fingers. Plus, the "Redragon" logo on top of the cushion headband), to the adjustable headbands are also made in cheap plastic instead of a piece of metal material.

• [16th Image] By far, my favorite feature is the built-in cable (measuring up to 6-foot) was made in nylon braided material for anti-bend & anti-tangle features, plus a velcro cable strap for adjusting. If only this gaming headset will be a detachable cable instead of the opposite. Then again, I'm not gonna use it for my outside purposes, so my gaming headset remains at home. 🏠🖥️🎧

• [17th & 18th Images] And let's not forget the audio cables (color green for sound & color pink for microphone) & one USB type-A. Which are gold-plated, by the way. The latter of whom for the RGB light, which I'll show to you, in Part 2. Plus, I REALLY do appreciate that they include USB & audio jack cap protectors to prevent corrosion. And when I'm done using my Redragon headset, I could plug it in w/ two aforementioned caps & then tie it up with the velcro cable strap for a clean approach. 🎧🧹😊

19th to 24th Image(s): ↑

• Alright, let's have some comparison. I have my current wireless headset, the ZNT Soundfit. Between the size & style, they're completely differ w/ opposite ways.

BTW #2: Pls ignore the tear cushions of my current ZNT headphones. We've all been there when it comes to wearing headphones on our daily basis.

25th Image: ↑

• Looks like they prefer my current ZNT headphones over my new Redragon gaming headset, considering they're snug together without a single hurt while listing some (Lo-Fi) music. Good for them! 😊🎧🎵

No overall thoughts this time around, and please proceed to "Part 2" by [CLICK ME!].

Well, that's all for now. If you want to see my REAL top 5 rank “Year in Review” post, then please [CLICK ME!].😉

Tagged: @lordromulus90, @leapant

[saintseiya-zone]

SSZ Secret Santa 2022 Wishlist

1. Jinbeizaki

Sagicorn (Aiolos/Shura or Sisyphus/El Cid), Episode Assassin Arthur/Shura (I bet no one would know so here it's wishful thinking) or fluff family things between Aiolos & Aiolia & Shura. Could be AU or canon.

2. Macarro Nii

Algún Marina, Poseidon o algo referente a ese arco

3. Sharkxym

Saga with my OC Sharky spending Xmas together at the Sanctuary. Doesn't have to be shippy romantic, but I do want them to be happy and close cute. Ref of her. 

4. Swan

Any thing with Ikki would be great honestly. I also have OCs that I can provide refs for and my biggest ships are RhadaKanon, IkkiPan, and HyoShun. If anything more's needed, I'm open

5. Leika-Kannon

Algo lindo de Kanon, no se exactamente que algo cute

6. Navysodas

Seiya, Aiolos, and Aiolia acting like a found family and doing Christmas activities together like decorating a tree or baking cookies pls and thank you 🥺🥺

7. DarkWolfKnight

My gift will be an artwork of Algol in a 1950s AU.

8. Codec

Shaina in an ugly sweater drinking hot cocoa

9. Midostree

Option 1: Sigh.... Sphinx Pharaoh doing whatever, it can be holiday related. Option 2: Milo & Aiolia hugging, kissing, holding hands, just them being happy or awkward cute.

10. Ganymede_Lorena

Shun o si se puede en ships, Seiya x Shun. Si es fanart podría ser algo con vibras de invierno, ambos tratando de estar cozy, aunque sin imágenes navideñas per se. Si es fanfic podría ser también Seiya x Shun. Ambos estando en la Mansión Kido, Shun ha estado estudiando duro para los exámenes de admisión a la escuela de medicina, y Seiya cree que necesita un descanso. También que sea algo en época de invierno aunque no necesariamente de setting navideño.

11. Octoj3lly

Wyvern Rhadamanthys or Cancer Deathmask beside an old fashioned lamp post, with a snowy forest kinda surrounding. At night of course.

12. Akiko_Kuro

I would like to have Thanatos and Hypnos just chilling together meanwhile hades and Pandora are talking together about their passion over a cup of hot chocolat 💪✨

13. PoisonDaimon

AAAAAAH- So what I would like is obviously everyone to have good holiday and give you the best of luck in attempting to do my gift and try your best. Here are the directions, you can pick one prompt below or mix them together, it is up to you. The prompts are: General: - practice for a first/important dance and the relationship (platonic or romantic) get closer - volunteering at a shelter to improve their resume and found themselves loving the working there but circumstances changed. (you can make it super angsty if you like) - a cooking class went wrong haha. - surprising someone with tickets of their favourite band concert and how it turn out. Christmas/Holiday specific (can interchange the terms) Prompts: - post-Christmas party chaos involved some arrests and a few fights (or anything resembles to chaos in a party) - a Christmas Carol parody/recreation (the one with ghosts of christmas past/present/future), it is to you to show if the character redeems or not. - A music war between any song of any genre of their choice and "All I Want for Christmas is you" in the shopping mall/Christmas mall/or anywhere public and big - I can't think anymore Christmas/Holiday hahahaha For the pairings/main characters/main focus, they can be platonic or romantic: - Kardia + Degel - Sisyphus + El Cid (El Kids can be considered) - Hades and the Twin Gods - ND Earth Signs trio (Ox, Shijima, Izo) - Regulus + Sasha - Mu + Aldebaran (Kiki can be considered) - The Aries family (Mu, Kiki, Shion) - Aioros + Shura (Aiolia can be considered in this if you wish) I wish you the best! Good luck 💗

14. Pegasus LauraNiko

Personajes de StS: Seiya, Koga, Ryuho, Camus, Afrodita, Saga. Mis Ocs: Todos ellos se encuentran en este hilo

15. Lady Heinstein

Hades y Gabrielle Persephone (mi personaje) bajo el muérdago

16. AngelosCrux

A fanwork featuring Hypnos with his wife Pasithea (my design) doing whatever the artist wants (surprise me! haha)

17. Lemonade Moon

1) Manigoldo de Cáncer tomando chocolate caliente con nubes mientras mira por la ventana ya que afuera está nevando. 2) Aiolia de Leo abriendo su regalo junto a su hermano y que su regalo sea unos guantes y una bufanda . Si es posible que sea bajo el árbol de navidad y con ropa a juego que lleven los 2.

18. QuixoticPrince

Characters and Ships: - Shuralia or Shurros - SisyCid - Any of those characters individually lol ^ Prompts: - Watching snow through a window - Being cozy reading/cuddling by a hearth or fire - mistletoe kisses... Mix and match however

19. Hazz

Opción 1- Saga y Aioros, en una dinámica festiva o fluffy :3 Opción 2- Shun (como prefieran tematizarlo <3 o recibiendo un regalo ;u;)

20. Yuunsoba

Tara y Shion, abrazados y abrigados debajo del muérdago, con ropas casuales o tradicionales del Tibet (o similares si se complican los detalles), Shion puede usar las túnicas de patriarca. (reference dump)  // PALETA DE COLOR para ropa de Tara // referencia de color para ambos (si esta ropa es más sencilla, se puede utilizar, solo agregar una capa para invierno o bufanda)