#to let it sit in my sketchbook and mock me

[atlasscrumpit]

Hannibal/Will x Reader

He was an addiction, he knew well enough what he did to you and he enjoyed every second of it.

Will had warned you over and over, but it was too late, you were trapped in Hannibal's web of obsession and sickly desires.

Will sat across from Hannibal, staring him down.

"I don't know what your plan is here, but it shouldn't involve Y/N. She is young and naive." Will grumbled making Hannibal chuckle softly.

"She's lonely and vulnerable, I merely want to take care of her." He responded making Will scoff and roll his eyes.

"You enjoy that she is naive and relies on you, until one day you'll shatter her heart and kill her." He growled, Hannibal tilted his head with a smirk.

"You think I would kill something as beautiful as her? I just wish to sculpt her into the best person she can be. She's a very smart young woman and could be very useful to me." Hannibal replied, Will's eyes darkened as he glared at his 'friend.'

"You're taking advantage of her and you know it." Will warned, his voice low.

"You don't know her like I do, she's fragile... A wilting flower, to anyone else they would just leave her to whither away." Hannibal spoke, his voice smooth with barely any emotion like usual.

"So, you would rather manipulate her then let her live her life?" He asked making Hannibal smile again.

"She wasn't going to make it past college, she was on the edge when I found her, one day away from suicide. Much like you were, Will." Hannibal mocked as Will's jaw tightened.

It wasn't a secret that Hannibal liked to collect broken things.

"Excuse me for trying to save someone from the same fate I suffered." He grumbled as Hannibal stood up and moved towards Will.

He reached down and tilted his chin up.

"Do I sense some jealously, Mr. Graham?" He teased, Will's eyes glaring into his very soul.

"I'm not jealous of her, I'm worried for her." He replied, doing his best to keep his anger in check.

"How sweet..." Hannibal muttered studying Will's face.

They both heard a noise and turned to see you coming around the corner.

"Y/N?" Will questioned, he hadn't been aware you were here.

"Hey, Will... Is everything okay?" You asked glancing at Hannibal as he offered you a soft smile.

"Everything is perfect, my dear. I was just comforting Will after a hard day. Are you all set up in your new room?" Hannibal asked, letting go of Will's face.

Will looked between you and Hannibal in confusion.

"New room?" He questioned as you smiled and sat across from Will.

"Yeah... There was a fire at the dorms, mine has the worst damage so Hannibal offered to let me stay here." You explained as Will glanced at Hannibal.

"A fire... How unfortunate." He grumbled as Hannibal smiled innocently.

"Yes, very unfortunate. But, Y/N is lucky to have us in her life to help her out. Isn't that right, Will?" Hannibal said.

"Very lucky." Will said, a slight scowl on his face as you smiled and sat beside him.

"At least I can spend some more time with you guys... Plus, Hannibal feeds me a lot better then I feed myself. I'll take his cooking over microwave meals any day." You said with a chuckle making Hannibal smile.

"Exactly, you deserve a lot better than some measly microwave meals." He said, mischief in his eyes as he looked at you

Will wanted to scream at you to run while you still could, but he knew it was too late.

After all this is exactly what had been done to him.

--

That night you sat up in bed doing some sketching when your door opened and you saw Will.

"Oh, hey. I didn't think you were still here." You said with a smile as you put your sketchbook down.

"He's lying, Y/N. You're a smart girl, so either you're not as smart as I thought or there's something else going on." Will said as you looked at him and sighed a little.

"I knew... I know he set that fire." You muttered making Will shake his head and sit on the side of your bed.

"Then why are you staying here?" He grumbled and you looked at him and hugged your knees to your chest.

"I've never had someone care about me like he does." You whispered, Will looker at you sadly.

"Y/N, you have to get out while you still can. You know what he is capable of." He said as you sighed.

"Maybe I'm capable all the same..." You replied.

"No, you aren't. Do not go down this path, do you hear me?" He warned as you sighed and rested your head on your knees.

"You know what he did to Abigail. She trusted him and he killed her as if it were nothing. You need to run." He growled as you looked at him again.

"There's a difference between Abigail and I. She hated herself for killing... I embraced it." You said as he looked at you in confusion.

"Y/N, what the hell did you do?" He asked in shock.

"I set the fire. I was also the one who killed my professor and my roommate, and my father, and my two sisters." You replied as he stared at you in shock.

"What?" He muttered as you smiled.

"You're lucky I like you Will, I like you and Hannibal together. You're like the fathers I never had..." Your face darkened.

"Don't fucking ruin this for me, don't ruin my family." You growled, as Will finally the real you behind the innocent girl you had been playing.

"Why not be truthful to Hannibal? Hannibal of all people would be happy to know you're a killer." He said as you smiled, the innocent facade coming back.

"We both know he knows, Hannibal is smart. But, we both like to play the part of the protective daddy and the innocent little girl." You said with a sickly sweet smile.

"Seems your perfect for each other after all."

[keter-class-anomaly]

I finally finished a stupid shitpost comic that I had to redo and I don’t like it but it’s done so here

Logan: Ah yes, the basking shark, very interesting.

Remus: you when crofters

Logan: what do you even mean by that?-

This is what Remus is picturing in his head btw

I can’t get over how much I hate this-

It took like MONTHS of stalling for this stupid thing and it looks bad and doesn’t make sense 😭😭

I’m just glad it’s finally done

It’s loosely based off of something but I can’t find it . Oh well

[nanamis-princess]

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Asking them to peel an orange for you; strawhat addition

Synopsis: they peel an orange for youuu<3

Genre: fluffy fluff fluff

T/w: 🤔 I don’t think there is any, lmk if I’m wrong. Possibly misspelled words I’m sleepy lolll.

Luffy, zoro, nami, sanji & usopp (separate) X reader

Luffy

-he’s sitting out on the deck drawing as you guys are heading to you next destination. You come and plop down next to him, he turns smiling at your presence. “Look y/n! I’m drawing a fish.” He holds up the drawing so you can see better. Smiling at his drawing you look towards him before he goes back to drawing “luffy can you peel this for me?” You ask innocently.

-he sets down his pencil and sketchbook before taking the orange from your hands, “yeah sure!” He begins working away.

-he gets done peeling it fast and tries getting the bigger pieces of the orange strings off for you. He also steels a little piece of the orange before handing it to you with a bright smile. “Here you go!”

-once you begin eating your now peeled orange, Luffy tries a small piece of the outer orange. His face twists in discomfort, humming in discomfort he gets up and goes to the railing spitting the rind into the sea.

Zoro

-He just got comfortable in his hammock after struggling with his swords to cooperate. Laying back with his eyes closed listening to the way the boat rocks softly with the waves. Hearing you make you way to him, he opens one eye. His arms are crossed behind his head. “Mhm?” He hums as he scans over your face for any signs of discomfort.

-you hold the tangerine second guessing if maybe you shouldn’t ask, he looks comfortable. “I was going to ask if you could peel this for me” you say looking at the tangerine. “Are your fingers broken?”he asks as his attention is on you now. You let out a little huff “no I just didn’t want to get all the stickiness on my hands” you say feeling a little dumb for asking him now

-just as your about to turn to leave he holds out his hand for the orange

-it doesn’t take him long to peel it, he gets off some of the white strands but then hands it to you. “Bon appétit” he says in a plain sarcastic tone, mocking Sanji in the process with a small grin on his face.

Nami

-shes sitting in the kitchen with a book and a cup of tea while you guys are docked somewhere. Just you two on the ship, keeping an eye on it. She turns her page as she acknowledges you coming in, her eyes look up from her book as you sit across from her. “What’s up?” She asks as her eyes go back to her book.

- “I want this tangerine but I don’t feel like peeling it,” you say hoping she gets the hint. She looks at you above her glasses with a tsk noise leaving her, she puts her book mark in place and closes her book.

-she takes the orange and begins peeling it as the citrus smell fills the space between you. She picks her tea cup, placing it on the table so she has a place to put your orange. She get most of the white strings off, peeling an orange is mussel memory at this point. She splits it in half for you.

- before siding the plate to you she takes three little piece of the orange, she eats a slice and smiles at you. “preparing tax” she motions to the small piece she took before opening her book.

Sanji

-he just got done with the lunch rush and luffy’s big appetite, sitting out on the deck enjoying his cigarette. He notices you out the corner of his eye as you are walking to him, he smiles brightly at you as he puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Hello sweetheart” he says as you stand across from him. “Hi Sanji, I wanted to tell you that lunch was good, I never got to tell you earlier” you say with the orange in your hand.

- “I’m glad you liked it my sweet” he says with a small smile as he admires you. He takes note of the orange and nods towards it before holding out his hand. “I can peel that for you” he looks up at you and takes it once you hand it to him.

-he’s swift and makes it look so easy, he even gets a majority of the white strands off for you. He makes it so they are just little pieces, you don’t even have to rip it apart. Handing the pieces back to you “here you are my love” he says with a smile before getting up to discard of the rind.

-he comes back out to sit with you as you watch Luffy and usopp try to catch dinner.

Usopp

-you find him sitting down fidgeting with his slingshot and making more ammo. It takes him a moment to realize you are sitting across from him but he smiles when he sees you. He gives you a brief yet detailed rundown about how he’s going to take down bad guys with his weapon.

- “I was wondering if you could peel this for me?” You ask looking at him as he dusts off his hands. Usopp nods “yeah yeah, I got you” he says as he takes the orange. He works away a the rind then the stringy parts.

- he splits it in half for you, one of the small pieces come off and he holds it up to his mouth it make it look like a smile. He smiles whiling holding it up to his lips then eats it before holding out the rest for you.

[sodaabaa]

wings a court of thorns and roses

rhysand x reader reader is mesmerized by rhysand's wings and he makes a tempting suggestion.

tw: slightly nsfw

playlist here!

I was sitting in my room when I heard the front door slam. I could feel his anger, a whole level above him, through closed doors. I put the sketchbook I was holding on my desk as I got up to see what all the commotion was about. As I made my way down the spiraling stairs, I saw Rhys storm into his room, shadows trailing behind him. I glanced at Cassian and Mor, raising my eyebrows in question. They simply shook their heads, don’t push him. 

I felt another pulse of anger through the bond, he must’ve been infuriated if he let these surges of emotion pass through the bond. I looked at his door, contemplating whether he’d kill me if I tried to talk to him. I had to try, at the very least.

As I walked across the hall, Mor grabbed my arm. “Hybern used faebane. He’s angry, give him some space to cool down.”

I shook my head, “he could be injured, let me just check up on him.” 

She let go of my arm but I could sense her and Cassian say a silent prayer for me to walk out of that room alive. I rolled my eyes at them, mustering up all the courage I had before walking towards his door.

I took a deep breath and cracked the door open to peer inside, hoping he couldn’t sense me behind the door. 

“Come in if you dare. I won’t kill you but I make no promise to spare those morons in the hall.” 

Humor. That’s unexpected. This shouldn’t be that hard, seeing how he was cheery enough to mock Cassian and Mor still. 

I walked in, my feet shuffling against the obsidian floor. He was standing before the window, gazing at the starless night sky, as if the stars too, could feel his anger and decided against shining tonight in solidarity for their High Lord. His wings were out. Wings. This was the first time I’d seen them. They were identical to Cassian and Azriel’s wings and dark, so dark that it seemed to eat up any light that dared to shine around them. What would it be like, to use those onyx wings as a backdrop for a starry night sky? 

“Are you hurt?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. 

He removed his attention from the window to answer my question. “Not badly. I’ll heal.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Silence. His attention turned back to the mountains in the distance. “He baited me. I should have been more careful. Should’ve known about the faebane.” 

I paused, unsure of how to respond. 

“You can’t know everything. It was a slip up, now you know how to handle confronting him next time.” 

“Next time I see him, it won't be to confront him.” He grumbled. A simple threat, frightening nonetheless.

Again, my eyes wandered to his wings. Imagining the things I could paint. The moon illuminating snow capped mountains, stars glittering like diamonds against the black of his wings. 

If you’d like to paint my wings, darling, all you have to do is ask. 

I was mid gasp when I coughed instead, earning a chuckle from Rhys. I had forgotten about my shields all night since I’d been painting in my room, no use for mental barriers when there was no one around.

He turned, facing me expectantly. 

“You’re not serious.” I said.

He merely raised his eyebrows. 

“You’re injured.” Excuses. I knew that was just an excuse. To paint him, I’d have to get too close to him. I wasn’t ready for that.

No need to be afraid, I won’t bite. 

I cursed him, “pig.” 

A breathy laugh. 

“Cassian and Mor were terrified of you just then. I’m pretty sure they prayed I’d come back in one piece.” I said.

He shifted, his eyes dropping to the floor. “They know better than to cross me while I’m angry.” 

“You don’t seem very angry, quite the opposite actually.”

He hesitated for a second. “You’re a soothing presence.”

I looked away, cheeks heating up.

“Paint my wings.” He said, breaking the silence.

I opened my mouth in protest but hesitated when our eyes met. His violet eyes were full of hope and anticipation. 

“Fine.” I huffed, a sly smile creeped onto his lips. Night Triumphant indeed. 

I made my way to the door to gather my paints but before I could even walk a step, Rhys waved his hand and my paints along with brushes appeared on his bed. 

I shot him a playful look which he returned.

“Alright, lay on your stomach then. If you get hurt any further, it’s your fault.” 

“I’d gladly let you hurt me darling.” He retorted.

I bit back a laugh, “who knew the High Lord of the Night was a masochist. I’d pegged you to be the sadist type.” 

A devilish grin and equally vicious eyes narrowed at me. “I’m whatever you want me to be, angel.” 

I fought the butterflies in my stomach, urged them to go away. 

He sprawled out on the silk sheets, his wings laid out before me. I readied my paints and leaned over him, standing on the edge of the bed to start the base layer. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but it would have to do. Though it seemed like Rhys had other plans.

“It’d be much easier if you took a seat, darling.” Despite not being able to see his face, I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’m not sitting on you Rhys.” I said. 

“You wouldn’t want the throne to go cold would you darling?” 

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not gonna make this comfortable for you Rhys.”

His response was that breathy laugh, the one that made my skin burn and my stomach flutter. I made sure my shields were up before climbing onto his hips, my thighs on either side of him. 

“This seems pretty comfortable to me, what happened to the promise of pain?” He taunted.

I smacked the back of his head, “let me paint in peace.”

“You make me suffer, angel.” 

“Good.” I replied.

For the next hour, I lost myself in painting his magnificent wings. Time slipped away as I focused on getting every star, every cloud, every snowy mountain right. Rhys seemed to enjoy the quiet as well, his head resting on his arms as he watched me in the mirror. I tried not to shy away from his gaze. 

“I think I’m done.” 

“Finally, my back is aching.” 

I winced, I completely forgot he was hurt. I scrambled to get off him but before I could, he turned onto his back, positioning his hands on my waist, keeping me straddled on his hips. 

“Rhys! The painting!” My eyes widened, the paint was going to smudge. He was laying on his back now, watching me panic before saying, “Don’t worry, it’s dried. I made sure of it.”

A sigh of relief left my lips.

“Then let me off.”

“I don’t think I will.” 

I stilled. 

He was gazing over my face, taking in what was before him. A hand came up to wipe away a smudge of white paint on my collarbone. I shivered when his cold hand touched my warm skin. He lifted himself up with ease, his face inches away from mine. My cheeks were bright red, my eyes dropping to his chest and my hands fiddling with the threads of my sweater. His featherlight touch traveled from my collarbone, up to my neck and stopped at my chin, gently lifting my face to meet his. I looked up at him through my eyelashes, eyes narrowed. His lips were no longer twisted in that arrogant smirk, eyes no longer held that devilish gaze. His lips were parted in anticipation, violet eyes pining with desire. 

“Are you gonna do something or just stare.” Barely a whisper.

Within seconds his hands were gripping the back of my neck, bringing my lips to his in a hungry, desperate, burning kiss. We were wind and water, violent waves crashing against jagged rock. His hands roamed under my sweater, drinking every curve, every edge. My hands mirrored his, wrapping around his broad shoulders and then traveling down his solid chest. I couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get close enough despite being flush against him. He withdrew from the kiss, taking a breath, looking into my eyes, searching for hesitation. I smiled at him, don’t stop. The devilish smirk was back. His lips trailed down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, there wasn’t an inch of me he didn’t claim. His hands held my waist so hard I knew they’d be bruised in the morning. I didn’t care, I wanted every bruise, every mark he gave me. 

What shall I be for you tonight, angel? Sadist? 

He brought his hand to the back of my head, gripping a fistful of hair and pulling back. I whimpered as he used the opportunity to leave bite marks all over my exposed neck. 

His grip softened, his lips now trailed further down and lightly kissed the hollow of my neck. 

Or shall I worship your body? 

He flipped us over, pinning my hands on either side of head. I was trapped between his strong, tattooed arms. 

I don’t care what you do to me, just never stop touching me. 

He smiled brighter than the north star. His lips brushed over my ear, “your wish is my command,” he breathed.

[even-disco-baby]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Hint of Lovely Oblivion

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After a week of sleeping terribly, Frank makes an effort to help you get the rest you deserve.

warnings: Swearing, fluff, caring Frank, this is not medical advice

a/n: I wrote this for my lovely bestie @madschiavelique who wanted some Frankie comfort. As someone who deals with insomnia pretty regularly, this was very cathartic! I hope you all enjoy. A huge thank you to my other bestie @gracethyomen for beta-ing and helping me plan this fic!

w/c: 4.6k

Inhaling deeply, the frigid air of the room made your nose twitch. Sliding as deep as you could into the blanket pile while maintaining your seated position, you bit your lip, shifting the pad of paper on your lap and craning your neck once again. While your duvet provided an excellent shield to lock in heat, your shoulders inevitably poked out whenever you weren’t fully horizontal, leaving your body to sit in a temperature regulation purgatory; your consciousness rumbled uneasily as the hair on the back of your neck refused to flatten, your brain torn between making you shiver or letting you sweat. The position was far from comfortable—but being awake all night made comfort an unattainable goal for you anyways.

It had been days since you’d slept through the night. You were no stranger to insomnia, you’d been cursed with it your entire life, but lately it had dug its malicious claws into your chest with the violence of a starving feral animal. Your bed, which used to be a haven of rest and relaxation, was now a space that you avoided at all costs—the wonderfully soft pillows and warm blankets mocking you as they sat untouched well into the night, fatigue never overtaking you when you needed it to. For the first few nights of your ongoing battle with sleeplessness, you’d crawl under the covers anyway, praying to any deity listening that the weight and heat of the fabric would force your eyelids to close—but it never did.

Sighing as your pencil tip snapped, you closed your eyes, letting your breath rest in your lungs for a moment before exhaling again; apparently your frustration with your own hormone production created a physical pressure on the lead of your pencil. Picking up a fresh one from your nightstand, you did your best to clean up the smear of graphite from the impact of the broken point.

Turning your attention back to the subject of your sketch, you chewed your lip to stifle a smile. Despite the thick curtains your partner had insisted on, a sliver of moonlight illuminated the massive man slumbering beside you, quietly snoring away—completely oblivious to the inspiration he'd given you. The feather-light moon beams shone through his tousled hair, creeping down over his face, which was adorably mashed against his singular pillow. Considering that he'd turned up a handful of hours ago drenched in other people's blood, it was downright ironic to be calling him “adorable” as he slept—but you couldn't shake the giddy feeling that always bubbled up when you saw his face so lax with sleep. His expression was so uncharacteristically peaceful, it never failed to make you happy.

Sure, not sleeping sucked. You'd be plagued with jaw-cracking yawns and mild memory loss in the morning, just like yesterday and the day before that. Having the opportunity to watch Frank sleep soundly, didn't make up for the fact that you'd accidentally put orange juice in your coffee yesterday, but it made the build up of irritation much easier to bear. Which is why you'd decided to memorialize it in your sketchbook.

Studying the map of shadows on Frank's handsome face, you scratched the pencil over the thick paper, the rasping sound soothing the constant buzzing in your brain. Scrunching your nose as you tried to smooth out the sketch in front of you, you nearly jumped out of your skin when he spoke.

“Why're you up, darlin'?” His voice was rough with exhaustion. Noticing your wide eyes and ragged inhale, a large hand slid up to rest on your thigh. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya.”

”It's alright, Frankie. I wasn't paying attention.“ You tried to laugh, but the sound died in your throat.

His hand stroked over your leg as he waited for you to answer his question. Instead, your eyes remained trained on the book across your lap, pencil moving fluidly through the silence. Tracing a thumb over your warm skin, Frank frowned. “Ya didn't answer my question, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?” Your tone was innocent, but the way your eyes remained glued to your work was enough to tell him you had definitely heard the question.

Squeezing your thigh with a yawn, Frank tried not to groan as he dragged himself up to sit next to you. His movement finally captured your attention, your brow furrowing as you set your pencil aside. “What are you doing?”

Giving what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug, Frank slid an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple. ”Sittin' with my girl. That a crime now?“

Smiling despite the guilt flaring in your chest, you shoved at his solid torso feebly. ”Go back to sleep, Frankie. I'm sorry I woke you. I can—“ Shuffling in your seat, you tilted towards the edge of the mattress, fully intending to relocate to a different room so that Frank could go back to bed. Foiling your plan, Frank's arms held fast against your teetering, pulling you flush against his chest.

”Don't you dare.“ He growled, chin resting atop your crown.

”Frank! I didn't even finish my thought,“ You wriggled against his hold, your brain torn between reacting with endearment or annoyance over being imprisoned by his strength. “Let me go, you...you...butthead.” Whining at your own lackluster insult, you buried your face in Frank's neck as he chuckled.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Ain't gotta go for my throat like that.” Frank murmured smugly. You could envision his shit-eating smirk despite it being out of your line of sight.

”Shut up,“ You muttered, a tiny smile gracing your lips against your will. Your body trembled as Frank shook with rumbling laughter. Drawing you into his arms, Frank set your legs over his lap, positioning you towards the windows. The gusting heat from the vent closest to your bed ruffled the fabric covering the panes, the pale glowing rays of moonlight fluttering over your knees as the drapes shifted. It created a mesmerizing dance of light and dark, captivating you.

”Ya gonna tell me how long you've been sittin' here starin' at me or did ya wanna keep pretendin' you were asleep?” In defense of your ruthlessly persistent boyfriend, it has been said that the third time’s the charm. His tone was as delicate as his gruff voice allowed, the muscles of his jaw and throat rippling against your scalp as he spoke.

Eyes falling closed, you focused on the warmth of Frank’s body surrounding you as you willed the tears pricking your eyes to back down. Another unfortunate side effect of sleep deprivation—your emotions started to go haywire over the littlest things.

It wasn’t that you thought Frank would be angry. Well, it wasn’t the biggest anxiety on your mind, at least. It was more the fear of burdening him with your own issues at all hours when you knew a good night’s sleep was practically a miracle for him. The first night at home after a few weeks away always seemed to make it come easier, but other than that Frank rarely rested. The mere thought of forcing him to sit up with you, especially on the one night this week he’d get a full 8 hours, grabbed your guilty conscience by the throat.

Giving a halfhearted shrug, you caved. “Dunno. Slept for a few hours when we went to bed. Then I got up and...” Trailing off, you gestured to the bed in front of you, which was clearly not being used for sleep.

Frank withdrew from the embrace and your pounding heart sank. You set your jaw, waiting for the frustrated scolding…but it never came. Instead, one calloused finger landed underneath your chin, tilting it upwards as he spoke. “You been awake that long?” His eyes shone with concern, boring ferociously into yours.

Nodding miserably, you swallowed the overwhelming shame crawling up your esophagus before speaking. “I’m sorry, Frank. I tried to sleep, but I just couldn’t—“

Cutting you off with a tender kiss, Frank’s hand moved to cup your cheek. “Nothin’ to be sorry about, honey. Ya shoulda woken me up.”

Looking up at him with glossy eyes, you bit your lip, ”You deserve to sleep uninterrupted. I didn't want to be the one to take that away from you.“

Frank chewed the inside of his cheek as he was overrun with waves of adoration and sympathy for you. How he'd managed to end up with such a considerate partner, he'd never know. Especially when he didn't consistently return the gesture.

He'd come home yesterday and practically collapsed into your arms—ignoring how unsteady your balance seemed when you dragged him into the apartment, blaming it on his own weight. You'd patched him up sweetly, as you always did, and Frank hadn't thought twice about the fact that you'd had to leave the room three times to get the gauze, assuming your memory had just been shaken by his battered appearance.

Was he truly so wrapped up in his own bullshit that he hadn't noticed the sunken crescents underneath your eyes? They were so prominent now, stark sepia bruises on your otherwise even skin. It must have been days since you slept properly. Beside himself with worry, his thumb traced the indent under your left eye. ”Shit sweetheart...“

”I'm—“ You started to apologize, but it stuck in your throat when Frank shook his head.

”Hey, none of that. Don't wanna hear it, ok?” You nodded in response to his gentle command, sitting there quietly as he schemed. “Are you tired at all?”

The pitiful shake of your head seemed to make up his mind.

Unwinding from you, he raised his arms above his head in a stretch, moaning as his back popped with the movement. Your face scrunched in disapproval, making him grimace sheepishly. “Sorry, honey. Guess I was stiff from drivin' all day.” Without waiting for your response, he slid out of bed. Your brow furrowed as he strode over to the dresser, pulling a shirt over his rumpled hair.

“Get dressed, darlin'. I have an idea.” He called to you over his shoulder as he rummaged for a clean pair of pants. Sighing, you abandoned the bubble of heat surrounding you in bed and headed for the closet.

Despite your grumbles and evident confusion, the two of you were dressed and on the road before the sun even peeked over the horizon. With one hand settled in yours, Frank kept his gaze trained on the road ahead, trying not to laugh at your exasperated questioning and adorable pout. Dragging you out of the house at this hour might not have been his brightest idea—since he normally tried to remain on your good side—but hey, he’d gotten this far without you chewing his head off.

Frank could hardly be considered a morning person, but you were practically nocturnal. Leaving the house before dawn was probably high up on your list of personal hells, but staying in bed when you couldn’t sleep wasn’t a good idea. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Curtis’s agitated tone.

“For the last time, Frank: staying in bed will make it worse.”

Way back in the day, during his first trip home after going overseas, he’d bugged Curtis relentlessly about his own sleep issues. Maria was tired enough raising a wandering toddler and an imaginative kindergartener, she didn’t need to worry about a restless marine to boot. He’d tried every suggestion under the sun, but sleep still evaded him. Tour after tour, night after night, he’d lay beside his wife in their bed and stare at the ceiling until his alarm went off. After his family died, well…it didn’t exactly get easier to rest.

Despite scouring the internet, a few libraries, and the expanse of Curt’s brain for any possible cures, his sleeplessness persisted. It was a torture he endured for years, and an anguish he wouldn’t wish on anyone but his worst enemies.

Finding out that you also dealt with insomnia was a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, not having to explain his fickle moods and constant absence from the bedroom was a welcomed relief. On the other, seeing the symptoms of sleep deprivation in someone he cared about was an agony worse than an infected bullet wound.

He knew what you were going through all too well, which meant he was determined to try and help. Getting you out of the house was just the first step of his admittedly too-detailed plan.

His lips twitched with a smile as he spotted the building. Turning into the ragged asphalt lot behind the restaurant, he turned his attention to you.

“We’re here, darlin’.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you remained unimpressed. “A diner?”

Letting out a bark of laughter at your obvious disdain for the activity, Frank pointed a finger at you in warning. “Hey, don’t knock it til ya try it, sweetheart.” His exaggerated stern expression broke through your apprehension, your lips turning upwards into a fond smile.

“There’s my pretty girl.” Frank pressed a kiss to your temple, heart swelling as you leaned into him. “If ya wanna go home, just say the word.”

Biting your lip, you glanced out the window at the electric blue awning extending from the glass doors. The yellow lamp lights lining the sidewalk reflected in your wide eyes as you stared. “No, we can go. I, just…can I ask you a question first?”

“Course, honey. Anythin’.”

“Why here?” Your question was soft, but genuine; your curiosity was outweighing the contempt you’d previously shown for his choice of destination.

Running a hand through his hair, he gave a one-armed shrug. “Fuck, well... ya know I’m no stranger to the whole…not sleepin’ thing. And, uh, back in the early days, when it was real bad for me, I’d come here. We– er– Maria and I, we took the kids here a couple of times. Dunno, wanted to remember the good times, I guess, and it became a sort of tradition. Thought it might help you too.”

With a stuttering inhale, you reached for his hand, stroking a finger over his knuckles as you looked up at him shyly. “Thank you for sharing it with me. I didn’t mean to be rude about it, I’m sorry.”

Squeezing your fingers, he could feel heat creeping up his face. “It’s nothin’ sweetheart. Ain’t gotta worry about that.”

Glancing back out the window for a moment, Frank could see the gears turning in your head as you turned back to him with a tiny grin.

“Lead the way?” You asked tentatively.

“For you, sweet girl? Always.” He pressed a kiss to your hand, his stubble scratching at the skin of your fingers.

Frank ushered the two of you inside and into a booth in the back of the diner. The restaurant was lacking in customers, as could be expected given the early hour. While the inky black sky was broken up with dim streetlights outside of the building, the inside was flooded with fluorescent lights--so bright that you had to shield your eyes with a limp hand for a few minutes.

Once your vision adjusted, you had to admit that the energy in the diner was quite nice. The chipped linoleum tiles that lined the floor were a gorgeous cobalt blue. Along the ceiling, large chunks of the roof had been replaced with thick panes of glass, allowing you to watch the clouds float by, the darkness of the night contrasting beautifully with the intense lighting. You and Frank were seated on a worn vinyl booth, the strips of fabric alternating between silver and black. Similar booths wrapped around the space, almost twinkling as you looked at them.

“So,” Frank pushed a mug towards you. “Whaddya think?”

“It's nice.” You murmured, pulling the warm cup closer to yourself. Somehow you'd missed him ordering himself coffee and you a tea in your distracted state.

Frank cocked his head at you, lips turned up in a smug smirk. ”’S that so?“

Smiling into your mug as you took a sip, you retorted. ”Shut up.“

The drink was warm and, thankfully, unsweetened. It's crisp flavor relaxed your shoulders as you sipped, settling your anxious stomach.

“Hope mint is a’right.” Frank spoke quietly, a blush creeping up his face as he studied his own drink.

“You remembered.” You breathed out, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it tightly as your eyes prickled with emotion.

“Course I did.” Frank huffed, draining the rest of his black coffee. You shuddered in distaste and he chuckled, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand. “You hungry at all?”

Shrugging noncommittally, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. Frank sighed, but didn't push further on the subject, which you were very grateful for. You'd never explicitly spoken to him about the effect your insomnia had on your eating habits, but--being the observant partner he was--he'd clearly picked up on it anyways. Once your day started with little to no sleep, it was like all of your bodily functions forgot how to...function. Hunger and thirst cues were practically impossible to read, your body and brain battling each other ferociously at every turn. Which, of course, just exhausted you further.

Scrubbing at one eye with the heel of your free hand, you grit your teeth to keep from groaning. Dwelling on how miserable you were going to feel today wouldn't solve anything, it would just worsen your mood.

”Head botherin' ya?“ Frank asked, brow folding in concern as he watched you knead at your forehead.

”No more than usual.“ You cracked a small smile, hoping that didn't sound as sad as you thought it did. “Just...frustrated with myself.”

“I feel ya, sweetheart. Not sleepin' ain't any fun. But I have some ideas, so don't you worry your pretty little head about it, ok?” Frank tangled his fingers with yours, his gaze earnest.

“You get ideas?” You scoffed, grinning when Frank rolled his eyes in return.

“Ya know what? Just for that, I ain't gonna tell ya about 'em.”

“Nooo,” You whined, taking Frank's massive hand in both of yours and pouting at him. ”I was just kidding. Please tell me.“

”Hmm, I dunno. First you insulted the diner, then my intelligence. Seems like you don't want my help, sweetheart.“  Frank withdrew from your grasp, pretending to sulk into his coffee.

Giggling at Frank’s pout, you reassured him. ”No, I do! I do!“

With a sad little shrug, Frank glanced forlornly out the window.

“Please Frankie,” Pleading with your gaze, you tried to keep a straight face.  “You're my only hope.”

Dropping his startlingly believable moping act, Frank cackled. “Ya think you're real clever, don't ya?”

Smirking into your tea, you gulped down the last remnants with a shrug. ”Maybe.“

After your countless apologies for insulting his intellect, Frank finally explained why he'd encouraged–forced–you to leave the house before sunrise. Apparently he'd heard that staying in bed while awake could perpetuate the cycle of sleep deprivation. And, though you were loath to admit it, it seemed to help.

The little excursion definitely lifted your spirits, if nothing else. You were able to admire the sunrise and mess around with Frank without your anxiety skyrocketing because of the city crowds.  It was nice, and you told him such–even at the risk of over-inflating his ego.

His next activity, however, was not as pleasant.

“Are you going to have me carry you around the apartment next?” You groused, hefting the bedframe up so that you could adjust your rapidly loosening grip on the cold metal. This much physical labor on an empty stomach and no sleep was not what you’d had in mind for a relaxing day with Frank. He, however, was insistent on moving the furniture in your room immediately upon your return home. 

“You offerin'?” Frank smirked at you, pretending to set the bed frame down. His eyes glinted with a humor you didn’t share over the current situation. 

“Fuck no.” You muttered, glaring at him until he lifted the majority of the weight once more. Frank laughed deeply. 

“Set it right over here, darlin’. We gotta move your dresser and then we’re all done.”

“You know, if you hated the layout of my room so much, you could’ve told me months ago.” Instead of waiting until I was already reaching my limit. You thought to yourself, not vocalizing that particular vulnerability. 

“And have you put me out on my ass for bein’ so forward? I’d never, sweetheart.” Frank chuckled, adjusting your bed as you collapsed against the mattress with a huff. “I’m teasin’, honey. It’s an old trick Curt told me about. All the rearrangin’ is supposed to help your brain remember how to sleep, or some shit.”

Rubbing at your forehead as the ache that had been plaguing you all day made a sudden resurgence, your limbs instinctively curled into fetal position as a small whimper escaped your lips. 

“It’s helping it remember to bother me is what it’s doing.” You grumbled, gritting your teeth as the pain ebbed and flowed. You knew the more you thought about it, the more it would torture you–but the stabbing sensation was all that your fatigued brain could focus on right now. 

Frank snorted, sitting beside you gingerly and caressing your hunched back with an open palm. “‘M sorry, sweet girl. Let me get ya some meds and you can lie here while I finish movin’ shit around.”

Your body felt like it was aimlessly floating, untethered to the Earth and hurrying to escape the pain so viciously attacking it at the moment. You were so tired. Every blink was a reminder of the heaven that had been ripped from your delicate grasp hours ago because your body couldn’t even function in the way it was designed to. Brow scrunching, you burrowed under the covers with a sigh.

“Ya better not be sleepin’ on me, honey.” Frank murmured as he stepped back into the room. 

“Course not,” You mumbled. “Would never…”

“I know you’re tired, darlin’, but ya gotta stay awake until it’s dark. Naps will just make ya feel worse, trust me.” He trailed a finger down your arm, taking your hand and placing some painkillers into it. Waiting patiently until you begrudgingly dragged yourself into a seated position, Frank smiled softly at you as you popped the pills into your mouth. Holding the glass of water out to you, the Marine squeezed your leg as you drank, tucking his chin over your head as you collapsed wearily into his side.

“The big bad Punisher takes naps? Hard to picture, Frankie.” You teased, your voice morphing into a satisfied hum as he threaded his fingers into your hair. 

Frank scoffed, kissing your crown before returning the jest. “Maybe I should take the vest off before closin’ my eyes next time.” 

You giggled, burying your face into his neck. His warm flesh felt wonderful on your pounding head, soothing the pain behind your eyes with each measured breath. “Do you cuddle your guns like teddy bears?” The question was overtly ridiculous, but Frank loved you enough to entertain it anyway. 

“Course. What else would I do with ‘em?” He asked coyly. 

Looking up at him, the corners of your lips lifted as he pressed a line of gentle kisses down your nose until he reached your lips. 

“If I turn on the TV, are ya gonna pass out on top of me?” He murmured, his stubble scratching your face as he spoke. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, love.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his sturdy jawline before he stood up to grab the remote. 

If someone would’ve told you a year ago that your next boyfriend could make a bad insomnia week feel tolerable, you never would’ve believed them. But here you were—lying on your stomach completely topless as Frank massaged a lightly scented lotion into your back—feeling pretty comfortable with the whole arrangement. 

After you’d failed to stay awake during the movie you’d picked out, Frank had carted you around town on various errands: picking up groceries, going to the bookstore, and even taking a quick walk around the park to feed the ducks, which he knew you loved. Your body still ached, and your mood still waned, but overall, it was a good day. And all the credit belonged to your incredible partner. 

Groaning appreciatively, it felt like you were melting into the mattress as Frank tenderly stretched your taught muscles, unraveling the knots of stress that had been building up all week. 

Chuckling, Frank pressed a tiny kiss to your bare shoulder. “Glad it feels good, sweetheart.” 

“No, it’s awful,” You lied. “You clearly need more practice..” 

Frank snorted, “Noted. How’re ya feelin’?” 

“Tired.” You sighed, rolling over as Frank handed you one of his tees to sleep in. 

“I bet. We’re on the last leg, sweetheart, almost there.” Frank’s large hands eagerly wrapped around you as you nestled into his side. Cupping your face with one palm, the fingers of his other hand threaded into your hair, detangling it carefully and brushing it off of your face. 

Biting your lip in frustration, and to keep from sighing again, you nodded. Attempting an understanding smile, you poked him in the chest. “I know. Thanks for putting up with my cranky self today.”

“Sweetheart, you can be snappy with me as much as ya want if it means you’ll sleep through the night.” Frank smirked, squishing your cheek as your eyes suddenly blurred with tears. 

“I love you.” You whispered, going limp in his hold as he settled against the pillows. 

“I love you too, darlin’. So much.” Resting your foreheads together, he kissed you delicately and your lashes fluttered. 

“Frankie?” You looked up at him with your practiced ‘doe eyes’ expression that he could never resist.

“Yah?” He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Can you read to me?” Batting your lashes, you watched with satisfaction as Frank’s expression softened, your eyes taking in the exact moment he caved to your whims. 

Straightening his posture stoically, he reached over to grab your new book from the nightstand with an exasperated huff. “Oh, I see. This was all a scheme of yours to get me to read to ya? ‘S that it?”

“No…” You giggled, nuzzling into him as he cracked the novel open.

“Sure, sure. You’ll be hearin’ from my lawyer, sweetheart. Think ya owe me compensation.” He winked at you, eyes lingering on your face.

“Honey, before ya drift off, jus’...” Sighing, he stroked a thumb over your cheek. “Just know, if all this doesn’t work, cause it ain’t a cure all, ya know–”

Laying your hand over his, you gave him an encouraging look. He inhaled sharply, thinking about how he wanted to phrase the sentiment. 

“I want you to sleep, darlin’, ya know I do. But if it doesn’t happen tonight, we can always try again, ok?”

Startled by the affection in his tone and his beautiful promise, your face went slack as you nodded. Eyes flitting over your gaze, he nodded curtly once he decided you understood. Returning his attention to the book in his hands, he cleared his throat before beginning to read. His rumbling velvet tone soothed you, your eyes falling closed almost immediately. Here, in the safety of Frank’s arms, surrounded by his beautiful voice and reassured by his adorable promise, you finally felt at peace. Though you knew sleep might continue to evade you, the anxiety you’d felt about your insomnia didn’t feel quite as all-consuming tonight. Whatever happened, Frank would be there. And, for now, that was enough.

Thanks for reading!!

[mockerycrow]

okkk since my last ask went so Amazingly well (I have read it at least 7 to 20 times)

could you do reader with like almost constantly cold hands? like not extremely cold hands, but enough that it's noticeable? I'm just imagining reader (you could use the Cinder callsign again or whatever you feel works best) maybe patching up a wound and whoever (x gaz again??? again, whoever you feel like is best) is surprised by the sudden coldness

anyway no pressure to answer this, I can't wait for whatever you write next <33333 (also this is totally me projecting my cold hands if this feels super random)

Sweater Weather (Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist

So now, let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

A/N: YET ANOTHER BANGER PROMPT FROM YOU!!! AND ITS FOR GAZ I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! I hope you get my song reference hehe. i’m also happy you enjoyed the last fic you requested <3 feel free to send in more requests! This is also lowkey a part 2 to your previous request, but it could be a standalone. Cinder is your callsign.

[WARNINGS: minor descriptions of minor injuries, medical inaccuracies, humor, fluff!]

By this point in time, you and Gaz were two peas in a pod. You were the latest person to join the task force, the last for now, but surely not the least. Everyone had their own set of gear and clothing, their own ways of getting into the right headspaces for missions, and everyone had their own things that they had with them at all times. Price always had his cigars, Ghost always had his mask, Soap always had his sketchbook, and Gaz always had a baseball cap with him. You? You always had gloves on. Not on your person, but always on your hands. The only times the team likely saw you without them is when you were exiting the bathroom, but then again, you were slipping them back on after you had washed your hands.

It perplexed Gaz. He understood everyone else’s reasons and items—Price is admittedly addicted to cigars, Ghost is just.. Ghost, Soap’s sketchbook helps him calm down and document things, his own hat was a comfort for him in the field.. But your gloves made no sense. To be fair, he didn’t notice right away. Many people wear gloves in the field to protect their hands, even on the hottest days, they’ll wear gloves and sweat in them until their fingertips prune from the moisture. You? You always, always wore them inside. On base. In your room… While eating— The point is, you always wore them. No matter the situation. It has him—and likely the others-wondering why exactly you do this. The few times they’ve seen your hands without gloves, none of them were close enough to see if you were, for some reason, hiding scars, perhaps hand tattoos, just something that would make sense.

Gaz ended up sporting himself a nasty split lip after an enemy managed to bash his head into a door frame, a wound that definitely needed stitches. It was the lower lip, off-center to the right with blood dribbling down his chin. Everyone was split up on the mission— You and Gaz were paired together, while Soap and Price were also paired. Ghost was operating alone for some stealth work. He’s sitting down on an old wooden chair in a house you two have held up in for the night. You open your duffel bag by the south wall, which is front of Gaz. You rummage around for the medical kit you began to bring everywhere after you fell through the floor a few months ago. “I don’t think we have too much further to go.” Gaz commented, glancing at the boarded up window to his left. There was a small sliver between the boards, allowing him to see that the sun is setting.

“Stop talking, you’ll agitate your lip.” You scold softly, grabbing the handle of the medical kit and you pull it out of the stuffed duffel bag. You glance over at him to see him quietly—yet playfully—mocking you under his breath. Sometimes you’re convinced he spends too much time with Soap, but then you always remember in the back of your mind, he’s more-so playful around you than anyone else. You walk over and place it on the table next to Gaz, opening the latches and pushing the top open. You look into the box and blink rapidly when you don’t see any disposable gloves. You then pick up packages of gauze, the small plastic container holding the medical thread, you practically rearrange everything and yet, it seems they were not packed. “Fuck.” You curse under your breath. You let out a sigh as Gaz asks you, “Cinder? What’s wrong?”

You tear the velcro off of the wrist part of your glove and slip it off, repeating the process with your other glove. “Whoever packaged this medical kit didn’t add disposable gloves, and my gloves are dirty as hell.” You mumble, even slightly pouting about it. Gaz raises an eyebrow at your attitude, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You grab a bottle of antiseptic and you put your finger up as without looking at him, you already know he’s about to say something snarky. “Open your mouth again and I’ll use this tourniquet on your damn neck.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, causing you to roll your eyes and smile yourself. You pop open and cap and pour the antiseptic onto your hands, the extra liquid splattering against the floor and onto your boots. You set the bottle down and grab a needle and take out some thread. Despite the calm mood between you two, Gaz is still on high alert. You can tell by his posture, the way his eyes flicker towards the boarded up windows, the barricaded door.. On one hand, you wish you could reassure him but you’re also still on high alert, especially after witnessing Gaz get his face bashed. You quietly thread the string through the needles hole, turning to Gaz completely. You grab his jaw to turn his head and this man physically flinches, muttering, “Bloody hell, your hands are cold.”

You laugh as you position his head for the best angle that you need, bringing the needle close to his lips. “Why do you think I’m wearing gloves all the time, Gaz?” Your eyebrows furrow inward slightly as you begin to concentrate, hoping to distract him from the pain of the needle piercing his skin. “Even in the hotter areas our missions were in, my hands would be sweating, yet they were cold.”

Gaz blinks in surprise, completely forgetting about the needle that is about to enter his skin. That’s why you wore gloves all the time? It wasn’t because of a big secret you were hiding? No scars? No tattoos?

You were cold?

Gaz stares at your scrunched face he begins to feel a bit stupid, as he never considered that as a possibility.

[thomatri]

Fallen for you

Synopsis- you hate Atsumu and he doesn’t know why. Read to find out why 🫢

Paring - Atsumu x femreader

Warning- cursing

———————————————————————

“Why out of 27 students I’m forced to work with your ass”

“DAMN I JUST SAT DOWN” Atsumu says shocked with a mix of confusion in his expression

I roll my eyes

“Let’s just get this over with” I say groaning and he scoffs

“Atleast pretend you tolerate me,damn”

“Fine” I say and he looks shocked

“Seriously?”

“Hell no stop saying stupid shit” I say

“Ok what the hell did I do to you”

“I don’t know maybe almost pushing me down the stairs?!” I say

“It was an accident!”

“You don’t Even know what I’m talking about do you”

…

“You literally pushed past me on the stairs and said ‘watch where your going goddamn” I say mocking his voice and he actually looks guilty

“I was mad, my bad” he says

“Yeah Whatever Let’s just get this done so I don’t have to speak to you again” I say sighing

“It’s a Math project so it should take us 4 days” I say writing in my notebook

I look up for confirmation but he just looks away awkwardly

“Ok so hypothetically speaking what if I’m bad at math”

I groan

“Find a week” I say

“Two weeks!”

“The project is due in two weeks and this is non negation able. You either get your shit together or im taking credit” I say. I’m not sure why im being so harsh. I know damn well I’m gonna help his ass but I wanna scare him a little. As payback

“Nooo!” Atsumu lays his head on the desk dramatically

I sigh rolling my eyes

“Get up I’ll help you” I say and he perks up immediately

———————————————————————

He follows me out of the math classroom to my locker and I glare at him

“I’m seriously sorry for pushing you, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” He asks and I pretend to think

“Get me a sketchbook” I say closing my locker

“Huh?, you draw?” He asks and I nod

“If that’s all I’ll be heading to science” I say gesturing to the science class

“Oh I have science too but that’s not all I wanted to say” he says and I put a hand on my hip with a skeptical look

“I need your number”

…

“For the project” he says and I nod pulling out my phone

———————————————————————

I knew Atsumu was in my science class but I didn’t know know you know

Like he sits far from me so out of sight out of mind I guess

At the end of class Atsumu,his twin brother Osamu and Suna Walk up to me

“What?” I say and Suna snickers

“Damn you weren’t lying she is mean” Osamu says and I roll my eyes

“I just wanted to apologize on my brother behalf” Osamu says and my face softens

“It’s ok you weren’t the one who tried to killed me” I say laughing a bit at Atsumu dramatic laugh

Suna busts out laughing

“I did NOT try to kill you” Atsumu says and I roll my eyes with a playful smile

“Whatever Atsumu” I say walking away with a smile and a newfound tight feeling in my chest

——————————————————————

Part 2?

Im gonna start asking if y’all want a pt 2 to oneshots cause I always leave them on cliffhangers

[castlebyersafterdark]

you not being alone in your unrestrained appreciation of this man:

https://www.tumblr.com/henbeaka/754216657617092608/we-are-all-will-byers-internally?source=share

if will doesnt draw mike laid out with nothing on sometime somewhere in his life, it will be a goddamn tragedy (has titanic really ruined this trope by making it a joke? doesnt matter cos titanic wont be out until 97 and are byler even going to see it at the movies? hmmm im not sure. maybe will sneaks away to see it cos mike scorns, or drags him along and mike is mortified by how much he liked it

i mean they are both swooning at leo di caprio, let's not lie to ourselves)

even funnier possibility: will steals jon's camera to take saucy pics of mike but forgets to figure out developing them, then jon develops the print and his eyes are burned from his skull (phoebe from friends voice ''ahhhhh my eyes! my eyes!'')

Are you kidding me? Absolutely. I'd say getting to draw Mike in all his naked glory is one of Will's top fantasies. Our soulful little artist. He'd have dreamt of this, years of watching Mike and sketching him. Quick little studies of his profile when they're hanging out and his sketchbook is present. And then there are the secret, indulgent drawings that he feels somewhat ashamed about, in his private sketchbook hidden in a tear in his mattress he'd cut years ago. But they get together and grow comfortable with each other. Will draws Mike. A lot. But now Mike sits for him, poses under Will's instruction. Mike, who can't sit still, but can sit still for Will. It's an excuse to stare at him.

One day Will shyly asks Mike to take his shirt off as he draws. He just wants to practice on anatomy, he swears is his excuse. Sure. Mike doesn't let that comment slide 🤭 But Will sketches him, both are blushing all the while. The art sessions get bolder. Instead of the chair, Mike lounges on the bed. Ditches his shirt automatically. Will almost can't get the words out when he asks him to take off his pants the next time. And another time - everything. It's vulnerable. Tense. Intimate, to be completely exposed under an artist's gaze. Eyes roving over all that beautiful, pale skin and the dark curls all over his chest and lower. Putting pencil to paper to capture and draw the most intimate parts of his lover. Mike's confidence grows over time when he looks at Will's drawings, sees how Will truly views him.

Will doesn't lie. And neither does his art.

Flash forward, and it's the late 90s, and our boys are cinephiles for sure. They love living in the big city, having access to so many more films. So much never reached their small town. Titanic would have reached them, though. Anywhere. It may not have been their top pick of the year, but it's a pop culture moment and they relent and grab some tickets to check out the hype. The movie is breaking countless records and reviews say that it is a technical marvel in film-making. Mike has a secret guilty pleasure for romcoms (if it's heavy on the com! he insists. Will lets him believe that's the whole truth) and he's willing to branch out from sheer curiosity, while Will does love a historical drama, heavy emphasis on the drama. If it ends up cheesy or boring, the two of them always have fun sharing mocking commentary whispered in each other's ear. So, they're both a little shocked to find themselves swept up in the sincere romance portion of the movie, and both keep looking at each other with eyes that just say everything, smirking about their new mutual crush on mister Leo. What a cutie. And then - the draw me like one of your French girls scene. Mike squeaks a laugh during that scene and claps a hand over his mouth as he giggles out of his control and Will whips his head to stare at him. They know. They fucking know what they are. How many times have they done this? Mike, laid out and posed on the bed as Will traces soft graphite across paper as his eyes trace the sharp angles and lines of Mike's body. It's a random Wednesday and they're at a theater in Chelsea, one of their favorites. They don't have to worry as much there, and have been holding hands since they took their seats. Mike pulls the ultimate date-move and stretches, and his arm re-positons across Will's shoulders. He pulls him close and leans over to place a kiss to his neck just as Rose is retying her robe and admiring Jack's sketch. "When we get home, will you draw me like--" and he doesn't get to finish as Will cuts him off with a kiss and the world's fondest eye roll.

[turtle-steverogers]

I wonder how steves hearing gets intense esp how he drives his harley. From what i can recall when helping dad in parking the bike (It almost resembles steves in winter soildier a dyna model) just the click warning . Dam. THE engine Roars loudly :0 sorry just recalled these things . Also its only comftable for the driver on the seats...if one is the unfortunate passenger....sitting on thats uncomfy fr awhile

God, I'm just picturing Steve getting used to his new body and the new way his ears work, everything dialed to eleven, every little noise around him amplified. And he still doesn't quite know how to handle that, but he knows his skin is always itchy because of it.

Cue him riding his motorcycle for the first time during the war, right into some firefight, the engine roaring around him and amplifying the sound of distant gunfire. It's hell, but he powers through the pain, like he always does. Resigns himself to the way his brain is screaming at him for refuge.

Bucky notices the pinched expression on his face. The way his jaw is clenched and the brief moment Steve gives into the urge to reach up and cover his ears, just for a second. Long enough to find momentary refuge. No one else sees, or if they do, they don't pay it mind. Not the way Bucky knows to. Not the way Bucky has always been in tune with Steve-- reading his pain before Steve has even processed it's there.

Later when they're back in the tent, Steve hasn't spoken for hours. And when he had, he'd been short. Irritable.

"Will you just come here?" Bucky asks from his cot, watching Steve stare at his sketchbook page. "Your brooding is making my head hurt."

"I'm not brooding," Steve mumbles, but relents, standing and crossing to Bucky's cot. Hovering, like he still doesn't know what to do with the space he takes up.

"I'm not brooding," Bucky mocks, making his voice whiny.

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes, but lets Bucky tug him down, all but melting onto his cot. Into his space. Reaching up, Bucky presses his hands on either side of Steve's head, over his ears. Steve looks at him, eyes tight right before he seems to give in and his whole body sags.

"Thanks," he mumbles, hands pressing over Bucky's. His skin still feels the same, soft and sure. Artist's hands. It's nice to know some things haven't changed.

"You don't gotta tough it out all the time, kid," Bucky says.

Steve gives him a look. "You know I do."

Bucky thins his lips, but doesn't try to argue. It's a moot point. Steve is stubborn as a mule when it comes to survival.

"Fine, but at least let me carry some of it when I can?" He pulls Steve in, presses their foreheads together.

Steve closes his eyes, and for a moment, Bucky thinks he's going to argue that, too. But then his fingers flex over Bucky's, feeling him. Feeling the tangibility of his promise.

"Okay," he whispers. "Okay."

[sweetheartturtle2007]

Sure darling, this is sooo cute 🥺

-----------------------------🩷----------------------------

-----------------------------🩷----------------------------

You've know the boys for a very long time by now, they save you from getting robed one day and ever since then they became friends with you.

All of them had something that always make you smile and comfortable. Donnie with his long explications about everything always kept you entertained, Mikey cooking and drawing with you was always fun, raph teaching important stuff about self-defense and responsibility and Leo just being Leo around,Spending time with them was always better than being home alone. They loved your company so they never complained.

You loved to draw and you had a cute lil sketchbook with you almost all the time. The boys were always curious about what you were drawing (especially Mikey since he's the artist of the family), but they didn't want to invade your privacy so they never asked.

Until one day in particular, where everyone was at the living room preparing everything to watch a movie, you wanted to help but they insisted on you staying still in your sit while they prepared everything, after all you were a guest. With nothing else to do you pull out your sketchbook and started drawing. You stayed focus on the paper while you could hear the boy running around in the background, they really did feel like family, your family and you loved that. You were so entertained in your paper that you didn't notice the boys sneaking up behind you.

"what chu drawing?" Oh that voice and that mocking tone was obviously Leo.

You almost let out a scream of surprise, you sometimes forgot they were ninjas.

"what are you guys doing behind me?!"

"Sorry, we couldn't help our selfs..." Mikey said.

"were just sooo curious about you drawing."

"I'm not, I was just trying to resonate with them into leaving you alone"

"yeah sure dons, you wanted to look too"

They started a little argument, seeing them like this wasn't pretty for you so you decided to stop it.

You opened your sketch book and show it to their faces. They felt silent as they looked at the drawing, you were getting anxious, thinking they didn't like it.

"that's amazing!" They said all in unison.

Oh what a relief.

"That's us!, why didn't you show us earlier?"

You stood silent for a moment but then decided to speak up.

"well you see, ever since I met you guys, you always make me feel comfortable, you guys are like a family to me, you know....you're like my siblings and I never talk nor show you the drawings because I didn't know how you guys will react."

"Awww that adorable lil one, you obviously can call us your brothers" Leo put an arm around your shoulder"

"yeah! I'll be super fun to have a new sibling to spend time with!" Mikey hugged you

"I'll obviously accept, as long as you're not annoying" donnie said with a smile as he patted your head with his metallic claw (the one that comes out of his plastor)

"you were always like a sibling to us young one" raph hugged you as well

"Thank you guys, thank you" you said happily, this was going to be such a very welcoming family.

"but I'm obviously gonna be your favorite right?"

"LEO"

Yeah, a very welcoming one.

-----------------------------🩷----------------------------

Here it is darling, hope you liked it, sorry if it's a but rushed but I'm preparing myself for a vacation and I was busy, hope you like it tho ! @baileypie-writes

[hellfirehottie]

California Dreamin' - Eddie Munson

Chapter Five - Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

Content warnings: dr*g use (w**d), Nina is bad at expressing emotions, mental health warning (hinting at depression, past trauma), lots of fluff, lots of bonding, lots of fonding over each other. Super long chapter as I suck at uploading. Enjoy!

‘Every time I come near her,

I just lose my nerve, as I’ve done from the start. 

Every little thing she does is magic,

Everything she do just turns me on, 

Even though my life before was tragic, 

Now I know my love for her goes on.’ 

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic - The Police 

Tuesday /  Hawkins High School library /  3:35pm 

Eddie is sitting in the corner of the library at a table, watching the clock intently, waiting for Nina to arrive. 

Nina: [bumbling in the room, carrying books and her bag, chaotic] “Sorry I’m late! I had to pick up my sketchbook and yeah, sorry, I’m here now!”  Eddie: [watching her, amused] “You’re not late at all, you’re early actually.”  Nina: [spinning to look at the clock, sighing in relief] “Oh thank god.” [setting her bag and books on the table] “Right, English. Did you find a song to write about?”  Eddie: [pulling out some scruffy pieces of paper from his bag, laughing to himself] “I found five actually. Couldn’t decide which to pick.”  Nina: [still getting herself organised] “Let’s see them!”  Eddie: (concerned) “Do you need a minute? If you’re busy we don’t have to do this, you don’t have to help me.”  Nina: [eyes wide] “No, not at all! Just having a bit of a whirlwind day. Show me the lyrics.” 

Eddie mutters ‘okay’ with a smile, handing Nina the papers. Nina fusses with her hair, clipping it back with a claw clip while reading over the lyrics.

Eddie: [taking ‘subtle’ glances at Nina, a small smile on his face.] “You suit your hair up.”  Nina: (shy) “You think so? It’s a mess today, keep getting it caught on everything.”  Eddie: “I think it looks nice. Pretty.” 

Nina smiles warmly at him. Eddie fiddles with his thumbs as Nina continues to scan the pages.

Nina: [thinking out loud] “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a George Michael fan.”  Eddie: (embarrassed) “Guilty pleasure. ‘Careless Whisper’ is a tune.”  Nina: [laughing] “‘Last Christmas’ is the second best Christmas song, I’ll give you that.”  Eddie: (amused) “The first being?”  Nina: [matter of fact] “Band Aid - ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’, obviously.”  Eddie: “You could not be more wrong.”  Nina: (laughing, aghast) “What?! What do you think the best Christmas song is then, you music snob?”  Eddie: (amused by Nina’s teasing, smirking) “Fairytale of New York, obviously.”  Nina: (backing down, smiling) “Hmm I’ll give you that one. I love Christmas, it’s my favourite time of the year.”  Eddie: “Not summer?”  Nina: (teasingly) “Why, cause I’m Californian surfer trash?”  Eddie: (blushing, smirking)  “Oh shut up.” 

Nina smiles and reads over the last of the papers, pushing them back when finished.

Nina: “All of these would work. Pick one!”  Eddie: [shuffling the papers around] “Well, I’m sort of stuck between ‘Every little thing she does is magic’  and ‘I want the one I can’t have’. I think I could write more on the Police one.”  Nina: “We’ll do that one then.” 

An hour passes as Nina helps Eddie with the assignment, under-lining metaphors and helping him write notes. Eddie scribbles on the paper, listening to Nina intently.

Nina: “I’ve never listened to the Police. Any good?”  Eddie: “Not my sort of style but Wayne listens to them all the time so I’ve kind of picked them up.”  Nina: “Oh, cool.”  Eddie: (shyly) “I listened to Rumours the other night at work.”  Nina: (excitedly) “Really? Did you like it?”  Eddie: “Yeah, it was good. I liked ‘Go your Own Way’.”  Nina: “That’s one of my favourites. You should listen to ‘Rihannon’, that’s my favourite favourite.”  Eddie: (mocking, smiling) “Favourite favourite? Spoken like a true grammatical genius.”  Nina: [embarrassed, giving Eddie a shove, to which he laughs] “Shut up.” [smirking] “I heard something about you.”  Eddie’s stomach drops, his face contorting with worry. Oh god, who told her I liked her?! He thought.  Eddie: (laughing awkwardly) “You did, huh? What might that be?”  Nina: (airily) “Steve told me that-” Steve, Eddie thinks, that shit stirring little shi- “-One time you got hit on by a cougar at the Hideout and now after every gig you have to avoid Linda Wiseman, the fifty-three year old diner waitress, incase she squeezes your ass again.” [Nina tries to hide her smug grin] 

Oh thank God he didn’t tell her- wait, why did he tell her that?! 

Eddie: [grinning, flushed, trying to play it cool] “She says I have a cute tushy.” [Nina bursts into laughter, Eddie grins proudly] “How did that conversation come up?”  Nina: (embarrassed) “Oh, erm-” [fiddling with her pen] “I heard something about you, wanted to see if it was true.”  Eddie: (teasingly) “And you couldn’t ask me?”  Nina: (awkwardly, blushing) “I dunno, I don’t know you that well yet, I didn’t want to intrude.”  Eddie: [hiding his nerves, faux confidence] “Ask away.”  Nina: “Really?” Eddie: “Sure.” (cheeky) “I quizzed you on your rumours in Science. It’s the least I can do.” Nina: “Okay then…” [smiling coyly] “I heard a rumour that you mooned the entire school at the school talent show in eleventh grade?”  Eddie: (flirty) “Are all these rumours involving my ass?” (Nina snorts and smiles to herself) “And yes that is true, earned myself a week of after school detention.”  Nina: (gobsmacked, laughing) “No way!” (faking thoughtfulness) “Hmm… how about the rumour that Hopper caught you smoking weed in your van and you bribed him with a joint to let you off the hook?”  Eddie: (smug) “For legal reasons, I can neither confirm nor deny.” [Nina laughs loudly and Eddie watches her fondly]  Nina: “How about that Steve was your first kiss?”  Eddie: “Wrong.” [coy] “He was my fourth.” [Nina giggles]  Nina: “You graffitied “Hail Satan” on the side of the school?”  Eddie: “For legal reasons, I can neither confirm nor deny that either.” [Nina raises her eyebrows at him, laughing] “I had a lot of pent up rage last summer.”  Nin: (laughing hard) “You’ve committed murder?”  Fuck, fuck, fuck!  Eddie: “Not true.” (uncomfortably) “Though I did get accused of it though, last summer.”  Nina: (questioningly) “Oh?”  Eddie: (sadly) “A girl, a friend- Chrissy, she was called Chrissy- she died in my trailer.” [coughing away the lump in his throat] “That’s what the whole ‘Jason Carver and his band of dickheads’ witch hunt was about last summer.”  Nina: (quietly) “Eddie, I’m so sorry.” [looking guiltily at Eddie’s glum face] “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I-”  Eddie: “Don’t apologise, you were bound to find out sometime.”  Nina: “But we were having fun and I’ve made you sad and-”  Eddie: [more to himself than Nina] “It’s okay! It’s okay. You’ve not made me sad. It’s in the past now, it’s okay.”  Nina: [after a few moments. making light, teasing] “Wow, drugs, arson and public nudity? What kind of friends is Robin keeping?”  Eddie: (smiling softly) “It doesn’t freak you out?”  Nina: (flirty) “Takes more than a bad rap sheet to freak me out. I like bad boys.”   Eddie: (chuckling) “I don’t know whether to be thankful or concerned.”  Nina: “We’ll go with thankful.” [looking at Eddie, softly] “Y’know, I know we haven’t known each other very long but you can talk to me if you ever need an ear.”  Eddie: (touched) “Really?” [Nina nods, smiling] “Thanks Nina, you too.” (nervous) “With all that California stuff I mean, I’m here if you need someone too.” Nina: (soft, fragile) “I think we’ll leave it there for today.” [Eddie tries to hide his disappointment] “Same time on Friday?”  Eddie: “You can count on it. I’ll be there.” 

Friday / Hawkins High School / 3:30pm

Nina is walking out of Maths with Robin and Steve. 

Steve: “You guys fancy doing something tonight?”  Robin: “Sure, what are you thinking?”  Nina: “Oh I’m helping Eddie with his English assignment. I could meet you guys after?”  Robin: (smirking) “Sure. Meet you at the diner?” 

Nina sees Eddie walking away from the school, up the field, through the woods. Following several yards after him is a blonde girl in a cheerleader uniform. Nina frowns. 

Nina: “Where is Eddie going? Who is following him?”  Robin: “Not sure where he’s going, I think that’s Sarah following him. New head cheerleader, surprisingly nice compared to the rest of them.”  Nina: “Oh.”  Steve: [knowingly, awkward] “I bet it’s nothing. Probably just doing a deal or something. I wouldn’t worry about it.”  Nina: “Maybe he’s forgotten he’s supposed to meet me.”  Robin: [awkward, trying to reassure Nina] “I doubt it. He’ll just have a thing.”  Nina: “Oh okay.” [turning on her heels, retreating to the library] “I’ll see you guys later then. Or in 10 minutes, if Eddie doesn’t turn up.”  Steve and Robin: (uncomfortable) “Sure.” “See you soon!” 

Nina walks to the library, setting her bag down. She chews her lip anxiously, thinking Eddie has forgotten about her. 

20 minutes pass and Nina sighs, disappointed. She begins to pack her bag and leave. 

As she opens the library door to leave, Eddie comes bursting in. 

Eddie: (frantic) “Sorry I’m late! I hadn’t forgotten, I had a… thing.”  Nina: (feeling rejected) “You’re late.”  Eddie: “I’m sorry, I had a thing to do. I’m here now, so teach me Obi Wan Ninomi.”  Nina: (smiles despite feeling glum) “Okay Eddie Skywalker.” 

Eddie stares at Nina, blinking in awe as his heart flutters at her reference. He shakes himself back to normal and unpacks his bag chaotically, papers everywhere. Nina sits awkwardly on a chair, not unpacking her bag. Eddie senses Nina’s quiet, subdued mood.

Eddie: (frowning) “Are you okay?”  Nina: [snapping out of it] “Yeah, I’m fine.” [fake smile] “Are you? You look all flustered and sweaty.”  Eddie: (embarrassed) “I ran from the top of the field.”  Nina: [curiosity getting the better of her] “I saw you walking up there. Meeting someone?”  Eddie: (uncomfortable) “Just a friend.”  Nina: (jealous) “She’s pretty.”  Eddie: (dismissive) “Yeah she is. So, English!”  Nina: (persistent) “Is she your girlfriend?”  Eddie: (shocked) “What, Sarah? No, no!” [laughing] “I could never get a girl like Sarah if I tried. She’s way out of my league.”  Nina: [sad, offended and trying not to show it] “Oh.”  Eddie: [trying to recover, failing] “I mean, she’s not my type. Too mainstream. I’m not interested in her like that. We used to go to primary school together.”  Nina: “Ah.”  Eddie: “I was dealing to her. Don’t tell anyone, it’s not something she or I is proud of. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”  Nina: [nodding, now understanding, still a bit jealous] “Ahh, I see.”  Eddie: (worried) “Don’t judge me.”  Nina: [half defensive, half reassuringly] “Hey, I don’t judge. You gotta do what you gotta do.” [trying to lighten the mood] “We should get stoned sometime.”  Eddie: (excited) “Really? You’d want to?”  Nina: (smiling) “Sure. I go really dumb when stoned though, just warning you.”  Eddie: (laughing) “I once ate an entire box of cereal dry cause I forgot to pour the milk in.” (Nina laughs hard, her nose creasing as she does, Eddie swoons)

Eddie and Nina stare at each other for a few moments, the atmosphere electric, before looking away shyly. Eddie coughs to soothe the flutter in his stomach. 

Nina: [pulling her glasses out of her bag] “So for the assignment, I think if we grouped the ideas in themes it would make more sense.”  Eddie: (blinking) “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”  Nina: (shy, embarrassed) “Oh, yeah, I’m supposed to wear them to read but I hate wearing them.”  Eddie: “They’re nice. You look nice.”  Nina: (shyer still) “Thanks.” [recovering from her damp mood] “So we could do weather metaphors for this point,” [highlighting the lyrics ‘Do I have to tell the story, Of a thousand rainy days since we first met? It's a big enough umbrella, But it's always me that ends up getting wet’] “With the rain symbolising the writer’s emotions -  And we could do hyperbole for this part.” [highlighting the lyrics ‘Every little thing she does is magic’ and ‘I resolved to call her up, A thousand times a day, And ask her if she'll marry me, Some old-fashioned way’ And ‘But my silent fears have gripped me, Long before I reach the phone, Long before my tongue has tripped me, Must I always be alone.’

Eddie watched Nina intently, trying to listen to Nina’s ideas but too focused on watching her.

Eddie: “How come you’re so good at English?”  Nina: (shrugging) “I’ve always enjoyed English.” [Confessional, lighthearted, embarrassed] “Plus this is my second time doing it so I’m nearly a pro now.”  Eddie: “You’re resitting?”  Nina: (awkwardly) “Yeah… don’t tell anyone please. Only Robin knows. I had to drop out last year ‘cause of… stuff. So I started to re-sit my final year in September and then I transferred here a few weeks ago…”  Eddie: (smiling) “Fair enough. This is my third attempt at final year so no judgement from me.”  Nina: (flirty) “Third time’s a charm, right?”  Eddie: (blushing, smiling) “Right.”  Nina: “So, Steve, Robin and I are going to the diner later… Do you want to come?”  Eddie: [excited] “Yeah! I’d love to-” [realising, sullen] “Shit, I’ve got Hellfire tonight… maybe another time?”  Nina: [dejected, but still smiling] “Sure. See you Monday?” Eddie: “Sure. Bye Nina.” [waving a sad goodbye] “Damn it.”  

The Diner / 6pm

Robin: [Slurping her milkshake, in a hushed tone as Steve leaves the table] “So, Nina, You and Eddie seem to be getting along well.”  Nina: [blushing, laughing off her humiliation] “Don’t start, I’ve already had the piss taken out of me all day by Nancy and Jonathan, I don’t need it from you too.”  Robin: “I’m being serious! Just give me a bit of gossip, just a little.” [Robin squeezes her pointer finger and thumb together to exaggerate the ‘little’] “How’s being his study buddy going?” Nina: (shy, stirring the last of her milkshake) “Things are nice, yeah. He’s a nice guy. We get on really well. We didn’t really have that awkward ‘getting to know each other' phase, we just kinda clicked.”  Robin: [Putting down change on the table, getting up to leave] “Do you think you’ll see any more of him outside of school and study club?”  Nina: [Getting up, grabbing her bag, fishing out change] “Honestly, I hope so. He kinda hasn’t made a move yet. I think he only sees me as a friend.”  Robin: “He’d be an idiot not to!” [walking away]  Nina: “Hey, where are you going? We haven’t paid!”  Robin: “Off to tell Steve the good news, he’s almost as gossip deprived as me.” [Robin runs off before Nina can chase after her]  Nina: [chasing after Robin, laughing, trying to grab Robin] “You little shit, come back here!” 

Nina’s Room / 9:30 pm

Nina looks at the clock by her bedside. 9:30pm. 

Robin: “I’m going in the shower, need the bathroom before I go in?” [Nina doesn’t respond] “Nina?”  Nina: (absentmindedly) “Hm?”  Robin: “You okay there?”  Nina: (half-heartedly) “Yeah I’m good. Nah use the bathroom, I’m gonna shower in the morning.”  Robin: (sighing) “Right, okay, what’s up?”  Nina: (laughing to cover her lying) “Nothing’s up, I’m fine.”  Robin: (lightly) “I know you well enough to know when you’re lying, Goose. Spill!” 

Nina pulls out a notebook from under her pillow. 

Nina: “Miss Kelly wants me to do this dumb mental health  journal thing. My punishment for punching Jason in the face. I don’t know, it’s just… I don’t know.”  Robin: “Is that why she pulled you out of Maths today?” [Nina nods, Robin picks up the journal examining it, Nina has doodled all over it, inquisitive] “Hm, that’s an interesting choice from her.” (Curious) “Is she going to read it?”  Nina: “No, she says it’s just for me to process everything in.” [sighing] “I don’t even know where to begin.”  Robin: (thoughtful) “You could write in it like you write your poetry.”  Nina: (softly, glum) “I don’t have any inspiration.”  Robin: (carefully) “Maybe do it one day at a time. Like, a sentence for each day, to summarise?”  Nina: “Sure.”  Robin: [standing up to exit, turning around] “I’m always here if you want to talk, bestie.”  Nina: [smiling kindly] “Thanks, Rob. Goodnight.” 

Nina looks at the alarm clock on her bedside table, 00:23 AM. 

She is tapping her pen restlessly off the cover of the notebook. She is shaking her legs anxiously as she chews the skin off her thumb. 

She clicks the top of her pen and opens the page. 

Her eyes well up and she sighs, throwing the book down beside her on the bed. She lies staring at the illuminations of occasional passing car headlights from the street on her bedroom ceiling. 

Nina looks at the alarm clock on her bedside table. 2:33am. 

Nina looks down at the book. There are multiple sentences written out. 

“I’m scared to open up in case I can’t stop everything from overflowing.” and “I don’t want to get hurt again.” is scratched out harshly.

“I’m scared in case I fuck everything up.” is scratched out in a big black blob.

“I’m scared I’m unlovable”, “I’m scared in case I hurt Robin.”, “I’m scared to want him.” and “I’m scared in case it’s too much for him.” is blacked out, unreadable. 

“I’m scared.” is the only sentence readable.  

Nina throws the book at the wall, cringing at the thump it makes in the quiet house. 

Nina: [quietly, to herself] “I’ve got to get out of here.” 

Nina puts on her sweatshirt and flip flops. She quietly pushes the window up on its hinges, and looks down. She (somewhat carefully) climbs down the lattice on the side of the house and begins to walk. 

03:58 AM

Nina has walked for hours. She walked out of the housing estate, along the empty roads lit by flickering streetlights, through the forest, to a large field. The only sounds around her are the clacking of her flip flops against the rocky pavement and the soft sounds of nature around her. The sky is a deep blue, the sun beginning to crack over the horizon.

Nina hops over the fence to the field, making herself comfortable on the ground with a clear view of the sunrise. She breathes a deep sigh, closing her eyes. She suddenly flinches as she hears footsteps behind her, her heart racing. 

Nina: [frightened, voice cracking] “Is someone there?” [grabbing her pocket knife] “I have a weapon! Back off!”  Eddie: [with his headphones on, oblivious, singing quietly to himself] “Rihannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn’t you love to love her,” [sighing to himself] “Yes Stevie, I would love to love her.” Nina: [loudly] “Hello? Who's there?” [Eddie walks on a twig that snaps, Nina flinches] 

Eddie hops over the fence, humming to himself as he walks through the field, oblivious to Nina sitting in the field in the tall grass. 

Eddie: “Takes to the night like a bird in fli-AAAH! What the fuck?” [pulling his headphones off his ears] “Who the fuck is that?” Nina: “Eddie?”  Eddie: “Nina? What the hell are you doing?!”  Nina: “I’m… Sitting.”  Eddie: [incredulously] “You’re sitting?! It’s four in the morning, why are you sitting in a field at four am?!”  Nina: [standing up, brushing the grass off her shorts, embarrassed] “I, I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d watch the sun rise.”  Eddie: [clutching his chest, panicked] “You scared the shit out of me!”  Nina: “You scared the shit out of me! I was calling out and nobody replied, I thought I was about to get axe murdered!” [scalding] “And who walks around in the middle of the night with headphones on?! You could have been axe murdered!”  Eddie: “I… couldn’t sleep either.”  Nina: (curious) “Insomnia?”  Eddie: (shyly) “Nightmares.”  Nina: “Oh.”  Eddie: “Do you wanna, I don’t know, walk together? Somewhere? Maybe?”  Nina: (smiling) “Sure.” [They begin walking through the field] Eddie: (curiously) “Do you wanna talk about it?”  Nina: “About what?”  Eddie: “What’s keeping you awake?”  Nina: [guarded] “It’s okay.” [Eddie looks at her with raised eyebrows, she sighs] “I just can’t turn my mind off. It’s going like a million miles an hour and it just-“ [struggling] “Won’t be quiet. Y’know?”  Eddie: “I get you.”  Nina: (hopeful) “Yeah?”  Eddie: “Yeah. And I’ve got the perfect cure too.”  Nina: (surprised) “You do?”  Eddie: [grinning] “Yeah.” [he pulls out a spliff from his pocket] “Always calms me down when my mind won’t shut up. I was gonna have it to myself but I don’t mind sharing it. If you’d like?”  Nina: “Really?”  Eddie: “Sure, what are f-friends for.” 

Idiot! Why did you say friends?! No way you’ll get out of the friendzone now, dumbass, Eddie thinks. 

Friends? Oh. Better than nothing, I guess, Nina thinks glumly. 

Nina: “We’re friends?”  Eddie: (nervously) “Sure, yeah, we’re friends.” [rambling] “Science partners, study buddies, you’re friends with Robin and  that lot and I’m friends with them too so that makes us friends, I think, yeah, and now your dealer too apparently.”  Nina: “Eddie, chill, light your spliff.”  Eddie: “Oh thank god.” [he puts the spliff between his lips and inhales, then passes it to Nina]  Nina: [kicking the grass from under her feet as she walks] “I really make you nervous, don’t I?”  Eddie: [scratching his neck, flustered] “I- yeah, you do.”  Nina: [inhaling] “Why?”  Eddie: “I- I think you’re really cool.” [taking the spliff off her, inhaling] “Thanks.”  Nina: “Thanks Eddie. I think you are too.”  Eddie: (brightly) “Yeah?”  Nina: (warmly) “Yeah, I do.” [picking at the grass beside her as she walks] “So, do you wanna talk about it?”  Eddie: “About how cool you find me? Sure.”  Nina: [laughing, rolling her eyes] “About your nightmares.”  Eddie: “Nah, it’s good.” [Nina looks at him with raised eyebrows] “I will if you will.”  Nina: (unsure) “Okay. You first.”

They sit further on the field on a clearing, watching the sunrise. 

Nina: “Spill.”  Eddie: “It’s dumb.”  Nina: “Dumb enough to stop you from sleeping.” [Eddie pulls at the grass under him] “Try me.”  Eddie: [embarrassed, looking forward at the sky, rushed] “I dream I’m in this place, like another world kinda but it’s still Hawkins, and I can’t move and these bats are chewing on me and I look down and my body is rotting with maggots and bugs and stuff and I try to call out but my voice doesn’t work, and I wake up screaming.” [looking at Nina warily] “It’s dumb.”  Nina: “Doesn’t sound dumb, sounds traumatic as hell. And also kinda metal as fuck. Good thing it’s only a dream, huh?” [Eddie breathes a light laugh, if only you knew, he thinks.] “How often do you get them?”  Eddie: “A few times a week. I used to get them every night last summer, Wayne had to switch to night shifts cause he didn’t get any sleep.”  Nina: [voice horse from the weed] “That sucks. Have you tried anything for it? Sleeping pills, mindfulness, hypnosis?”  Eddie: [tying the grass in knots] “Yeah, sort of. I gave up on them to be honest, didn’t do much to help.” [taking the spliff off Nina, inhaling] “Now when I get them I just take a walk and have a spliff. Eventually I calm down and sleep again.”  Nina: “I’m the same, sort of.” [looking at the sky] “Life doesn’t feel so heavy when the sun comes up.”  Eddie: (teasingly) “Damn, that’s deep, you’re definitely a poet.”  Nina: [shoving him playfully] “Shut up.”  Eddie: [inhaling, passing the spliff] “Your turn.”  Nina: [rubbing her face stressfully, taking the spliff] “I just- I can’t stop my mind from racing. And I’m scared to close my eyes.”  Eddie: “Why?”  Nina: [voice cracking] “Cause I wake up and realise where I am and it hurts all over again.” [inhaling, tearing up]  Eddie: (joking) “Definitely a poet.” [lightly] “You okay?”  Nina: (nodding, half broken, half hopeful) “I will be.” [inhaling] “Just need to get my shit together.”  Eddie: “You can always talk to me, y’know?” [nervously, can’t look Nina in the eyes] “I know I said it before and we haven’t known each other for long and I hardly have my shit together myself but I’m always here. You can trust me.”  Nina: (smiling softly, warm) “Thank you, Eddie. You too.” [sighing] “I just suck at opening up to people.”  Eddie: (joking) “Try having your guts eaten my demon bats every night, I’m open for every bat and person in Hawkins to feast on.” [Nina laughs]  Nina: (teasing) “Who’s the poet now?” 

Eddie laughs. They both lean back on their hands to watch the sunrise, their hands brush each other's. They sit in silence for a while, hands barely touching, watching the sunrise. Nina shivers as they brush hands again. 

Eddie: (concerned) “Are you cold?”  Nina: (smiling softly) “I’m okay, I promise.” [Eddie is already shrugging off his hoodie] “Eddie, seriously, you don’t have to-”  Eddie: (protective) “Shut up and take the hoodie.” 

Nina smiles and puts on the hoodie. She subtly inhales Eddie’s warm scent. 

Eddie: “Are you tired?”  Nina: (humming, peaceful) “Mm, it’s nice.” [looking at Eddie] “First time I’ve felt relaxed in weeks.”  Eddie: [fondly, heart eyes] “Good. Come on, let me walk you home.” 

Eddie and Nina walk home together. The sky is warm red and purple, the chirping of birds beginning to chorus. Nina’s house is on the other side of town from Eddie’s, but Eddie insists on walking Nina to her door. They make peaceful, content small talk as they walk, and eventually walk in silence, happy in each other’s company. Their fingers brush as they walk, both of them so badly wanting to intertwine fingers.  

Nina: (at ease) “Thank you for walking me home, Eddie. Goodnight.”  Eddie: “Goodnight, Nina.” [sudden confidence, sweaty palms, wide eyes] “Nina, wait!”  Nina: “Oh sorry Eddie, your hoodie, here I-”  Eddie: (interrupting) “No no, keep the hoodie. I, erm, I was wondering-” [rushed, nervous] “I was wondering if you’d like to hang out sometime. Just me and you.”  Nina: (smiling brightly, happy) “That sounds nice.” (blushing, waving goodbye) “Goodnight, Eddie.”  Eddie: (affectionately) “Sleep well, Nina. Goodnight.” 

When Nina enters the house again (through the window) and is out of Eddie’s view, she grins, bringing the neck of the hoodie to her nose, inhaling and sighing happily. As Eddie is out of Nina’s view he jumps up and down excitedly, fisting the air with his success.

Nina falls asleep peacefully wrapped in Eddie’s hoodie. Eddie walks home, singing to himself softly, smiling the whole way home. When he gets home he falls asleep thinking of Nina and he finally drifts into a dreamless sleep. 

Monday / 4pm / Hawkins High School Library 

Nina: (concentrating) “Keep still.”  Eddie: “What…” [bashful, looking up from his writing] “What are you doing?”  Nina: “Drawing you.”  Eddie: [flushed] “You’re- what?”  Nina: “I need volunteers for my art assignment and the lighting here is good. Just keep doing what you’re doing, you won’t even notice me.”  Eddie: [blushing under Nina’s stare] “Okay.”  Nina: (worried) “Is that okay? I mean- you don’t mind?”  Eddie: “No, not at all. Least I can do.” (sweating) “Steve and Robin didn’t volunteer?”  Nina: “Oh I’ve already drawn them. Robin says if I draw her anymore I’ll look like an obsessed serial killer and Steve was way too excited, my sketchbook is filled with Steve’s face.”  Eddie: (jealous) “Oh.” Nina: “His hair is surprisingly hard to draw.”  Eddie: (amused) “Good luck drawing mine then.”  Nina: (concentrating on his features) “You have nice hair.”  Eddie: (self-conscious) “You think so? I keep thinking about cutting it.”  Nina: “No way! You pull off the glam rock hair well.” [Eddie blushes hard, his concentration on his assignment completely out the window.]  Eddie: [hiding behind his hair, mock confidence] “Make sure you get my good side!” [Nina laughs hard, Eddie tries to take a peak of Nina’s drawings] “Can I see?”  Nina: (teasing) “Hey! Concentrate on your own work!”  Eddie: (bashful) “Sorry.”  Nina: (smiling) “Finish the page and I’ll show you when I’m done.”  Eddie: (teasing) “Yes, Mom.”  Nina: “How’s the assignment going?”  Eddie: [returning to his work] “Good, a few more paragraphs and I think I’m done.”  Nina: “Can I read it?”  Eddie: (teasingly) “I’ll show you when I’m done.”  Nina: (laughing) “Well played.” 

Eddie tries to concentrate on his work, failing as he shies from Nina’s gaze. Nina concentrates on Eddie’s features and flicks back to her sketchbook, the soft sounds of the pencil against the paper filling the quiet library.

Nina: “You have very pretty eyes. And a nice smile.”  Eddie: [mock confidence, hiding his nerves] “Stop, you’re fuelling my ego.” 

Nina giggles at Eddie, he smiles widely. He stops writing completely and watches Nina as she draws him, this time she is blushing.

Eddie: “So…” [trying to continue the conversation] “Do you have any plans this weekend?”  Nina: [tucking her hair behind her ear] “Yeah, I’m hanging around the Family Video store until Steve and Robin finish work and then we’re gonna hang out at Steve’s. We’re having a BBQ at his place on Sunday.” Eddie: (stung) “Oh, nice. Fun.”  Nina: (oblivious) “What are you doing this weekend?”  Eddie: (cooly) “Band practice, I think. Then work on Sunday.”  Nina: “Cool. What about after graduation?”  Eddie: (teasingly) “Need to graduate first, then I can plan ahead.”  Nina: “Come on, you’ve got it in the bag!” [Eddie blushes] “You’ve got to have some idea.”  Eddie: [scratching his neck awkwardly] “I was thinking of maybe travelling for a while. Once I’ve got some money saved up.”  Nina: “I love that, that sounds so fun! I’m dying to go to New York.”  Eddie: (excitedly) “Me too! I hope one day my band can play a gig there.”  Nina: “I’ll come and watch, I’ll be your groupie.” [Nina flushes with embarrassment and Eddie laughs, finding Nina’s embarrassment adorable] “That was embarrassing, scratch that.”  Eddie: “Ideally Corroded Coffin would make it big but I don’t know… I’m looking for other jobs too once I graduate, but I don’t know where would have me.”  Nina: “Don’t put yourself down so much, you never know! You’ve already got the rockstar vibe, you could pull it off.” 

They look at each other for a few moments, content in the silence. Nina breaks eye contact first, continuing to shade on the paper. Eddie looks back at his work, the words blurring on the page, his mind scrambled. 

He closes the notebook and turns to watch Nina draw. 

Nina: (shy) “I can’t draw with you watching me.”  Eddie: “Oh, sorry. I can’t concentrate anymore, my head hurts.”  Nina: “We can pick up on Thursday if you want?”  Eddie: [not wanting to leave] “Don’t you need to finish your drawing?”  Nina: (smiling) “I can finish it another day.”  Eddie: “Finish it now. I won’t watch, promise.”  Nina: [quietly, smiling, happy in his quiet company] “Okay.”  Eddie: “What do you want to do after you graduate?”  Nina: [messing with her hair, eyes concentrated on the page, Eddie smiles at her] “It’s lame, you’ll laugh.”  Eddie: “Try me.”  Nina: “I want to be a florist.”  Eddie: “That’s not lame. Flowers and shit.”  Nina: (rolling her eyes) “It’s a bit more than flowers and shit but yeah, flowers and shit. I hope to get my own place once I’ve saved up the money. I can't live with Robin and Sheryl all my life. Maybe travel, I don’t know.”  Eddie: (curiously) “Would you go back to California?”  Nina: (uneasy) “Maybe. Probably not, no. Not much left for me there anymore.”  Eddie: “Friends? family?”  Nina: “Some friends, not good friends though. Family, no.” (Sad smile) “Just little old me.”  Eddie: (worried) “Would you stay in Hawkins?”  Nina: [hiding her sadness] “I can go whenever the wind takes me now, I guess. But Hawkins is nice, Robin is the closest thing I’ve got to family and I like it here, so who knows.”  Eddie: “Well Dustin and Max are pretty taken with you, they’d like it if you stayed. They didn’t stop talking about you after that study group a few weeks ago.”   Nina: (joking) “I think Dustin is just mind blown that he knows a girl who likes Lord of the Rings.” [Eddie laughs, Nina smiles] “But Max, sure, she’s cute. I’m going to take her surfing sometime.” 

As they are leaving the library an hour later, Nina tugs on Eddie’s sleeve. He turns around to face Nina. 

Nina: (shy) “When you’ve finished work on Sunday you’re welcome to come to the BBQ? We’ve got a tonne of food.”  Eddie: (awkwardly) “I don’t know…” [Nina’s face drops]  “I don’t want to intrude.”  Nina: (disappointed) “Well, the offer is there.” [winking] “And it’ll be the last invite I give since you’ve blown me off twice now!”  [waving bye before walking to her car] “See you later, Eddie.”  Eddie: [shouting across the empty car park] “Yes!” [Eddie cringes at the loudness of his voice] “Yes, I’ll come. Might be after 3?”  Nina: [smirking] “See you there.” 

Thursday / Hawkin’s High School / 9:05am

Eddie looks around the school car park for Nina’s car, disappointed to see Robin riding into school on her bike. 

Eddie: “Nina not in today?”  Robin: (sarcastic) “Well good morning to you too Eddie!” (Grumpy) “No, Nina is not in today, neither is her car because she won’t let me borrow it as the car is her “baby” and apparently I drive like a maniac! So yeah!” [angrily locking her bike to the bike stand] “And Steve wouldn’t give me a lift because he spent too long fussing with his stupid hair and was already running late, so now I’m drenched and late.” [mumbling] “Brilliant.” Eddie: (bewildered) “I mean, I can give you a lift home if you want.” Robin: (curiously) “Why would you do that?”  Eddie: “That's what friends do, right?”  Robin: (smiling now) “We’re friends? You class me as your friend?”  Eddie: (smiling) “Sure. Going through hell together kinda qualifies us being friends. What's up with Nina?”  Robin: (laughing) “Oh now I get it, you want to give me a lift home so you can see Nina!”  Eddie: (embarrassed) “No, no! I’d give you a lift regardless. I was just wondering where she was, that's all, we’re supposed to have study group tonight.” [Robin smirks knowingly, enjoying watching Eddie squirm]  Robin: “I’d be offended by your lack of subtlety if I wasn’t desperate for a lift home. She’s got a migraine or something, she didn’t really say. See you after school Eddie!” 

Eddie mumbled a ‘See you’ to Robin before walking to the day's lessons. 

3:30pm / Hawkins High School car park 

Robin hops into Eddie’s car.

Eddie: “Ready to go?”  Robin: (sighing in relief) “Yeah, please.” 

Eddie puts on the radio in the car. 

Robin: (amused) “You got Nina flowers?”  Eddie: (embarrassed) “Erm, yeah. Girls like flowers when they’re sick, right?”  Robin: (smiling) “Yeah, they do.” (thoughtful) “She’d like that. It’s nice you care about her.” [Eddie blushes Robin talks under her breath] “God knows she needs someone to.”  Eddie: (oblivious) “What was that?”  Robin: “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.” [pauses] “Before we go in, I just need to warn you, Nina’s a bit… rough today?”  Eddie: “Like throwing up?”  Robin: “Sort of… like…” [struggling for words] “Not well. Sometimes she can get a bit defensive when she’s ill. Don’t take it personally. It’s a whole ‘dark and twisty’ thing.”  Eddie: (realising) “Oh! Is it shark week? Should I have brought chocolate?”  Robin: (disgusted) “No it’s not shark week and ew! Never say that again!” (struggling to explain) “She’s just struggling a bit today, I think.” Eddie: (worried) “I don’t have to come in if you think I shouldn’t.”  Robin: “No! I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. Maybe wait outside while I check?”  Eddie: (nervous) “Sure.” 

Robin hops out Eddie’s van, smiling widely. She says a polite ‘thank you’ and opens the front door. Eddie takes a deep breath, checking his appearance in the driver’s mirror, before walking to the front door and waiting patiently. 

Nina walks to the front door, shocked to see Eddie. She’s wearing a Eddie's baggy sweater and shorts, her hair messy and eyes red and puffy. 

Nina: “Eddie… Hi.”  Eddie: “Hi.”  Nina: (shy) “I wasn’t expecting you, I would have made more of an effort.”  Eddie: “Don’t be silly. The jumper is cute.” [Nina blushes, realising she’s wearing Eddie’s hoodie] Nina: "I haven't had a chance to wash it yet, sorry." Eddie: "Don't apologise. Here, Robin said you were ill. I got you these.” [handing out the flowers awkwardly]  Nina: [shocked, heart-warmed] “Seriously? Wow, nobody has ever gotten me flowers before.” (smiling sincerely) “Thank you Eddie.” [looking confused at the flowers, roots and soil covering the bottom of them, then laughing] “Did you pull these from someone’s garden?”  Eddie: [scratching his neck awkwardly] “Yeah, I had to improvise.”  Nina: [smiling for the first time today] “They’re lovely. I love flowers. Thank you. Do you want to come in?”  Eddie: (sincerely) “Oh, if you’re ill I don’t want to bother you. Just thought I’d make sure you’re okay.”  Nina: (happier) “I am now.”  Eddie: “Oh, and I finished the paper. Thank you for all the help.”  Nina: “Really? Already? Can I read it?”  Eddie: “If you want to, yeah.”  Nina: (warm) “I do. Come in.” 

Eddie comes inside, cleaning his shoes on the rug. He pulls the paper out of his bag and lets Nina read over it as they sit on the couch together. While she reads, he studies her frazzled appearance. He smiles softly at her, watching now she smiles as she reads his work, her messy appearance now lit up by her smile.

Nina: “This is brilliant Eddie. You’ve nailed it.”  Eddie: “Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without your help.”  Nina: [eyeing Eddie lovingly] “Anytime.” 

Nina tries to hide her disappointment at not having any more library ‘dates’ with Eddie.

Eddie: [reluctant, awkward] “I better go.”  Nina: [trying to hide her disappointment] “Oh, okay.”  Eddie: [slowly, not wanting to move] “I’ll leave you be. I hope you feel better soon.”  Nina: “Thank you Eddie. And thank you for the flowers. It means a lot.”  Eddie: (smiling) “No problem. See you tomorrow? If you’re feeling better?” [taking one last look at Nina as he leaves through the front door]  Nina: [nodding] “See you then. Bye.” 

Nina closes the door, resting her head on the door, smiling. Eddie lingers in his van for a moment, hoping to get a last glimpse of Nina, shaking his head and driving away, happy. 

Nina returns to school on Friday, happier than the day before. Eddie gives her a smile and a wave, happy to see her in the cafeteria. All Eddie can think about is seeing Nina outside of school hours on Sunday. 

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Next Chapter : Chapter Six - Everywhere (part One)

[oliviablancmom]

AN: Just and ideia that it's living in my head. Maybe I'll keep writing, maybe not. Just let me know.

Warnings: none, well, maybe Jos being Jos. Also this is childhood sweethearts to forbidden love to enemies to lovers kinda of thing. And also there's no title yet, give me some ideias. English it's not my first language.

1. Age twelve

After the incident between Max and Josh, the karts are realigned for a new start. Mom looked on apprehensively, while Dad assured Josh that he was fine and had no damage to the car, allowing him to start again. Unlike Max, who, for having caused the incident, was disqualified from that stage, it wasn't long before he appeared, huffing and stomping as he walked towards us in the stands. My mother holds her arms out to him in a hug, and he reluctantly returns it. I see my dad coming over too and patting Max on the shoulder.

"It wasn't fair, Uncle Clark. It wasn't fair at all," he says, angry.

"You guys did exactly the same thing, Max. It was obvious that one of the two was going to get hurt." Max huffs and sits down next to me, swinging his leg constantly.

"That's it; you boys are going all out and taking this too serious," my mother says, holding the youngest's head and leaving a kiss there. I roll my eyes. Max was extremely adored by my parents. Josh used to joke that he was "the favorite son," and they, with their good old-fashioned sense of parenting humor, replied that they loved all their kids the same.

The two turn their attention back to the race, and I to my drawings. I watch Max full of anxiety; he hates being in the stands when he could have been running. He runs his hands over his face, mumbles something I don't understand, and finally seems to realize I'm there.

"Jesus, Olivia. You've come to the race; it's almost like you haven't." - He pulls up on my ponytail as he leans against the bleacher seat.

"I already told you not to do that anymore." I stare at him, irritated. He rolls his eyes, a smile on the corner of his lips. That was the thing about Max—he loved to annoy me. Mom used to say that boys his age were "just like that", which I didn't understand since I was only one year younger and not as stupid as he was.

"Why do you keep coming to the races anyway? If You just keep making these stupid drawings. He pulls the sketchbook out of my hands and starts looking at it." To my surprise, he doesn't make any mocking comments about the drawings. The audience cheers for something, and Max hands me the sketch as he gets up to look at the screen.

"Come on, Josh," he says quietly, sitting back down and adjusting his hat on top of his head. - "Your brother is horrible. He pulls me out of the race to be overtaken in a ridiculous way."

"My brother isn't horrible;" I say annoyed.

"Oh, you wouldn't know, Olivia. You don't even watch the races," he accuses.

"Of course I do. I always watch the races for my brother"; I cross my arms. Max laughs and turns to face me.

"Really livie, when you decide to watch it, it's not for Josh that you do." I frown in confusion. "You know I'm better than him, and I know you know, because deep down, it's me you root for." I feel my heart race and my face turn red.

"Well, if you're so good, why are you here and not on the track?" I say this to annoy him, and I succeed because he gets serious and goes back to focusing on the race.

"The fact that you're talking to me and not rooting for your brother proves my point," he smirks. "And besides, what he did wasn't fair; it was a bit of luck for him". He shrugs.

When I think about replying, I see Jos Verstappen approaching furiously.

"Max! Let's go to the hotel," he says furiously.

"I want to see the race." Max's voice changes, and I see his face turning red again.

We can take him later, Jos. My mother approaches.

" Boy, I told you, 'Let's go to the hotel' it wasn't a question." His voice increases.

"But dad..."

I feel my heart squeeze. I never liked Max's father. Ever since we became family friends, Jos has always fueled competition between him and my brother in the worst possible ways. Max snorts and waves slightly at my parents, who don't like Jos' attitude at all.

" That's enough. You lost; you made a stupid move, and you lost. There's nothing to see if you're not on the track." Jos pulls Max by the arm, forcing him to his feet.

"Bye Max."

"Bye, Olivia."

_________________________________________

Just to be clear, that's all for fun. Let me know what you guys think and if you wanna know more about this two. Again english it's not my first language, and this is my first imagine ever so please be nice. 🥹

[bookshelf-dust]

another request for Gareth! what if artist!reader asks Gareth if they can draw him and he gets all panicky and blushy🥺🥺

(don't you dare worry if I'll like it or not, I know your work is going to be amazing as always and the important people is that you enjoy writing it!)

bane of my existence

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 622

warnings: swearing, fluff

a/n: hi lovely! this was fun to write. the art kid in me enjoyed it. i hope you like this too!! <333 love you!

————

You set down the piece of charcoal you’ve been using, start playing with your eraser. You stretch the putty out, trying to get some of the dust off of your fingertips.

“Gare?” You ask, something coming to mind. You’re sick of charcoal for today.

“Hm?” He’s sitting on your bed, raiding your comic book stash.

“Can I draw you?”

Gareth’s fingers freeze where they flip through an issue of Captain America, one with Sam in your favorite red outfit on the cover. The boy feels his face go red. He’s panicking.

Drawing him would mean you’re looking at him intensely for however long—long enough for you to pick on all his flaws.

“Are you sure you wanna do that?”

You nod, patting the eraser over the edge of your desk. There really is charcoal everywhere.

“Yes. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. I think you should be documented.”

Gareth shuts the comic and sets it on the bed before running his hands down his face. He’s trying to hide the blush before you see it.

You look up at him. “I have a new pen I want to try too,” you say, but your voice softens even more when you notice his state. “Gareth,” you coo. “Don’t go all shy on me please.”

He puts his hands down and you grin at his reddened cheeks.

“I’m gonna hide again if you don’t stop looking at me like that.”

“I don’t have to if you’re really not okay with it, Gare.”

He finally makes eye contact with you. “No! No, it’s okay. Do I need to do anything?”

You grin again. “Nope. Just forget I’m here.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s impossible.”

Now you’re the one blushing.

————

True to your request, Gareth does his best to relax and go about his business of sorting through your belongings. Your comic book collection is much more extensive than his, and frankly, he’s kind of jealous.

You sit in your desk chair, one knee propped up with your sketchbook resting on it.

You started off using a pencil, sketching the prettiest parts of him—which proved difficult since they’re all the prettiest parts. You decided this would be more fun than a portrait or anything. Portraits stress you out.

Now your page is full of different Gareth features. His nose, his mouth. You’re working on the eyes now, the ink from your pen spreading over the paper to give him the long and unfair lashes he has.

You’ve used the pen to hatch some shadows in the areas that need them, and even if it’s a little messy—and by no means perfect—you’ve had fun drawing him.

You stand, capping your pen. You hand the notebook to Gareth, who looks over it so intently that it makes you nervous.

“Damn,” he says.

“Good ‘damn’ or bad?” You ask tentatively.

“Very good. Although I can tell you spent a little more time on my eyelashes than probably necessary.”

Your face splits in a grin and you take his in your hands. “Your eyelashes are the bane of my existence, Gareth Emerson.”

He laughs heartily. “And your nose,” you start. “And your mouth. And your freckles. Your everything.”

You tilt your head back, mock swooning. Gareth is bright pink, and you soothe your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. “You really like them though?” You ask, needing reassurance.

His eyes dart to the page in your sketchbook again. You really are talented. Everything is so simple, the lines practiced though messy. “I love them,” he says.

Gareth pauses, looking you over.

“You have charcoal on the side of your neck, honey.”

“Dammit!” You exclaim, releasing him from your hold to examine the crime scene in the mirror.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[bitchin-beskar]

soapghost public transit drabble pt. 2

When Soap had gotten home that late Tuesday afternoon in March, Isla immediately began to interrogate him on why he had such a stupid look on his face. Unprepared for the assault, he didn’t have time to control his body’s instinctive reaction, and his blush gave everything away. Isla-clever shit that she was-didn’t let up until he’d admitted to finally having a conversation with the masked stranger that covered the pages of his sketchbooks.

She proceeded to crow about it to his ma and the rest of his sisters, chanting relentlessly. “John’s got a crush! John’s got a crush! John’s in looooooooove!!”

“Isla if ye don’ shut yer trap-”

“JOHN! ISLA!”

“Sorry, Ma!”

“Sorry…”

Even with the relentless teasing, Soap couldn’t deny the way his heart began to beat a little faster when he went to board the bus the next day. What the hell was he supposed to do? Did he just pretend that the day before was merely a fluke, that Ghost had only offered the spot because the bus had been full? Did he try to sit next to him and risk getting the death glare that businessman had gotten? Soap wasn’t sure how he’d handle a rejection like that.

But it turns out his worries had been for naught, because as he boarded, he made eye contact with Ghost, who very deliberately shuffled over a bit to make more room on the seat next to him. Soap couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips if he’d tried, and he made his way over to sit beside the hulking man.

“Fancy seein’ ye here, Ghost.”

He got a dry look in return, one eyebrow quirked up, looking far more attractive than he had any right to with less than half his face showing.

“We’ve ridden the same bus for 3 months, Johnny.”

Soap gasped in mock surprise.

“Ah dinnae ken ye’d been counting, Ghost! Should ah be worried?”

Another dry look, although the corners of his eyes crinkled, indicating his own amusement.

“If anyone should be worried, it’d likely be me. How many times did you draw me?”

Soap shrugged sheepishly. “Ah couldnae tell ye.” He paused, before adding indignantly, “is no fault o’ mine yer such a bonnie subject, Ghost.”

“Speak English.”

“Ah’ll have ye ken I speak perfect English, thank ye very much!”

When Ghost rolled his eyes and very deliberately looked out the window and away from Soap, he sighed.

“Attractive.”

Ghost looked back at him.

“Sorry?”

“Bonnie. Means attractive. Pretty, handsome, ye ken? How’d ye live in Glasgow an’ nae ken that?” Ghost stared at Soap for a long moment, and he worried he’d overstepped. It was a bad habit of his, coming on way too strong at the start and scaring people off.

But then Ghost looked away, and Soap could see the faintest hints of pink peeking out from the edge of his balaclava. Soap realized quite abruptly that Ghost was embarrassed.

“Well, ‘s not a word anyone’s had reason to use with me before, how was I supposed to know?”

“Ye tellin’ me no one’s ever told ye how handsome ye are?”

Ghost looked at Soap out of the corner of his eye. “I wear a mask, Soap. No, I’ve never been told that.”

“So, take it off.”

There was a pause.

“Show my face?”

Soap grinned. “Yessir.”

Ghost paused for another long moment.

“Negative.”

Soap didn’t know when to leave the hell alone.

“Are ye ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

Soap blinked, his brain short-circuiting at the almost flirtatious tone of Ghost’s voice. He felt his own cheeks beginning to flush, and it was his turn to turn away and break eye contact. “Steamin’ Jesus, Simon,” he muttered, one hand coming up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. A hot flare of arousal curled low in his gut, and Soap cursed his body’s hairpin trigger.

Sometimes he felt like those explosions he loved so much, needing just the flip of a detonator switch before he went off. It could be both a blessing and a curse, although right now he was leaning towards curse.

Ghost chuckled, low and rough, and Soap almost groaned out loud as another wave of heat coursed through him. “Cat got your tongue, Johnny?”

“Och! Away an’ bile yer heid!”

“English.”

Soap narrowed his eyes at the smug Brit.

“Go fuck yerself.”

Ghost only laughed again, falling silent as the bus approached Soap’s stop. Soap was grateful for the reprieve.

He honestly wasn’t sure he’d wanted to continue that line of banter in such a public place. It was quickly approaching dangerous territory, and as eager as Soap was to see if he could pull another blush from the man beside him, he wasn’t sure he could risk the danger to himself, if Ghost continued to throw little comments back like that. He didn’t have a mask covering his features, and he’d been told on more than one occasion that his poker face was absolutely horrendous.

As the bus started to slow to a stop, Soap went to get up, only for a large, glove-covered hand on his thigh to stop him in his tracks. He looked over at Ghost, trying desperately to ignore the heat of Ghost’s palm searing into his skin through the fabric of his jeans. In Ghost’s other hand was a small scrap of paper that Soap took with a confused look.

Ghost’s eyes merely crinkled again, looking very much like a predator who had his prey in his sights. “Maybe I’d rather do that to you, Johnny.”

Ghost winked at him with that parting remark, before removing his hand from Soap’s thigh and allowing him to stand up.

Soap wanted to ask what the hell that cryptic phrase meant, but the bus jerking to a stop prevented him from doing that. He moved to get off the bus, turning once his feet were on solid ground to see Ghost’s eyes tracking him as the door shut behind him.

The bus pulled away, and Soap stood there at the bus stop, staring after the taillights until it turned the corner and disappeared from view. It took him longer than he’d like to admit for him for finally look down as the little scrap of paper that Ghost had pressed into his hand.

Unfolding it, his eyes widened as he saw the phone number scrawled there, along with a little doodle of a skull. He blinked, looking back and forth between the paper and the empty road in front of him. As he did, Ghost’s parting remark finally clicked in his brain.

Soap had told him to go fuck himself. Ghost’s response to that was to suggest he’d rather fuck Soap. His cheeks blazed bright red, and he stared dumbfounded at that little slip of paper. For maybe the first time, he was at a loss for words.

…

God, Isla was never gonna let him live this down.

[stars-in-our-oceans]

Beatrice, after rushing to the art building after class, spots Ava in the painting room sitting unbothered at her stool in front of a canvas.

“Ava?” Beatrice announced questionably and partially out of breath. “You sounded like it was urgent on the phone, are you okay?”

“Yes! I am doing wonderful now that you are here.” Ava said grinning from ear to ear at the fact that Bea did in fact come running when she needed her.

“But, the reason why I asked you here is because I needed someone to reference in order to finish this painting; and why not ask the prettiest girl I know?”

“U-um...” Beatrice’s voice comes out strained, clearing her throat she continues. “Whats in it for me Ava?”

Beatrice had nothing better to do anyways, which is what she told herself. It definitely didn’t have to do with her crush needing her for something.

Beatrice felt her ears heating up at Ava’s gaze, and also happened to be able to tell that Ava was also aware of this due to the playful grin that began to creep across her features.

This specific grin seemingly was only brought out when Beatrice is in her space.

“You will have a beautiful painting of yourself duh!” Ava said chuckling, there was glint in her eye that made Beatrice’s heart constrict in her chest.

However, Ava didn’t need to know that.

“This girl…” Beatrice thought to herself mentally rolling her eyes in a mock gesture. Subduing her blush before it spread tenfold across her cheeks.

“Okay, whatever.” Beatrice scoffed, whilst having a smug look on her face that lingered. “But in return, Ava, you have to actually do something for me.”

“Oh? And what is that?” Ava voice got lower, teasingly, as she looked right into Beatrice’s soul.

Beatrice refused to let herself seem affected by the sound Ava’s voice made as it sent a chill up her spine.

“Walk with me back to my dorm?” Beatrice said, mirroring Ava’s toothy grin.

“Deal” Ava said without missing so much as a beat.

———

*Three hours later* (For comedic value, it was actually an hour max)

“Are you done yet? It’s getting late.” Bea said while leaning against the wall beside the stool.

“Oh yeah! And too be completely honest, I had the reference photo here all along” Ava said, grin unfaltering, pointing haphazardly to her left. There indeed sat a printed photo propped up on a stack of sketchbooks.

“I just wanted something pretty to look at while I painted.”

“Why you little...” before Beatrice could finish her sentence Ava had already snatched her bag and canvas off the floor, charging towards the door

“HEY GET BACK HERE YOU- YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Beatrice raised her voice, coming undone.

“LANGUAGE!” Ava said laughing joyfully, she sprinted out the painting room paying mind not to smudge the paint on the newly wet portrait.

When Ava made it outside, she stopped in her tracks remembering her deal with Beatrice that she would walk her back to her dorm afterwards.

When Beatrice made it outside, she also stopped in her tracks looking in exasperation at the canvas Ava was holding out facing towards her. Almost like Ava’s way of waving a white flag, surrendering.

“So You actually did paint me huh?” Beatrice glancing in awe from the painting to Ava’s face, both illuminated in the glow off the street light perched above them.

“Of course I did, silly.” Ava said, her smile softer than before. “It took awhile to come up with a convincing enough plan to get you here in the first place, and the painting was just a plus.”

Beatrice looking down at her feet, twiddled her hands uncertainly. “While I am undeniably flattered by you choosing my face for your portrait, what’s the real reason you asked me here tonight Ava?”

“To ask you on a date? Texting felt too informal for your taste, but also toying with you was too good of an opportunity to pass up.” Ava said letting out a light bit of laugher, the blush in her cheeks following not far behind.

When Beatrice finally lifted her head back up she was met with Ava’s eyes looking at her intensely, while Beatrice grinned from ear to ear. Ava looked stunning.

Beatrice wanted to kiss her right there. However, she would wait until the time was right. But for now she was excited because she knew for a fact that she would definitely accept Ava’s question.

“I would absolutely love to go on a date with you Ava, but don’t forget I will get you back for this.” Beatrice giggled while holding her hand over her mouth.

“Oh shit, yeah I guess that was a possibility going into this.” Ava announced, biting her bottom lip and looking away.

“Lang-“ stopping herself, Beatrice looked up expectantly in Ava’s eyes grinning. “Sorry…. Bad habit.”

At this point both Beatrice and Ava burst out laughing.

“So…” Ava said catching her breath, a heartfelt smile defining her features. “Should I walk you back to your dorm now, as per our deal?”

“Yes, I would love that very much.”

————

I will say that I haven’t written anything in a long time, not even a Drabble. However, I wanted to practice and do this for fun lol. It’s probably no good, but I have learned practice makes progress!

Also, if it appears unfinished that is because I am not good at coming up with good endings for things, so who knows maybe this is just an invitation to flesh it out a little further one day 😭🤣🤣