#Between the LInes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queenimmadolla · 1 year ago

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat.

Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her.

And a large hole in their wallet.

“It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

“This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

“You got a number we can reach you at?”

You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along.

“Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

God, I hope so.

The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

You’d learned. Eventually.

Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed.

Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

─

Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door.

“Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

“Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

“A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

“Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

“Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group.

Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

“I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”

“Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more.

A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles.

Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling.

That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh.

It’s intimidating.

They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

“Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

“Yup.”

“See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

“I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them.

People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

Someday, that would be you.

You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last.

Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

“What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

“Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

“Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

“Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

“Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

Someone who looked like their art.

You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

“Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden?

He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before.

Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

Professionalism, he reminded himself.

“Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

“Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room.

On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

“Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

Sure you haven’t.

“Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

“You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

He had no idea how right he was.

“The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

“And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

“But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

“You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

“Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack.

“Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

“Did your tattoos hurt?”

Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

“A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

“Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

He was getting hard.

Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

“Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

“What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

“That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

“Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

“Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

“I’d be stupid not to.”

You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

“Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

“Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.”

“But I thought you said—”

“Me.”

Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

“So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face.

You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!”

He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

“You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

“Wait—this is paid?”

“Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you.

You’d have time to get there.

“Hey, Deidre.”

“Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

“We’ll see you soon?”

“Damn straight.”

Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

“Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile.

You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids.

Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

“Need a hand?”

Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

“Are you offering yours?”

She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

“Mmm, not just my hand.”

All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick.

#tattoo artist!eddie munson x apprentice!reader #tattoo artist!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #he's older than me so im counting it #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #bimbo!reader #eddie munson x bimbo!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Between the Lines

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chuunamu · 7 months ago

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saw this tweet and immediately thought of them:

title: love on hold (mallinflower)

set in a college, the mc and ml have known each other since high school. and even though the ml is known as the popular, nice guy who’s friends with everyone, the mc has never been able to have an amicable relationship with him… that is until……..

read it to find out ofc — trying not spoil it LOL but it’s kinda funny

title: between the lines (hodot)

so the mc, he’s a bl writer, and he comes across the ml (popular nice guy) who turns out to be perfect reference material for his bl stories.. and he gets a little obsessive about him.

i’m absolutely obsessed with this story… also it’s uncensored…… 🫠

this one’s is a little different but in the same vein:

title: who can define popularity (tak bon)

really loved this manhwa. so the mc (the popular nice guy in this) worked hard on levelling himself up and basically thought he was the hottest shit on campus: until he met the ml who (literally) outshined him in every regard.

this story is so feel good!!! and seriously funny.

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saturnite0614 · 24 days ago

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not me finding out while clearing out my emails that one of my fav ao3 authors read and commented on one of my fics

#between the lines #yellow card #call of duty #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #modern warfare 2022 #mwii

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resident-gay-bitch · 8 months ago

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Remus loves books, he loves reading so much and Sirius knows this. He knows this so well because half the time when he wants Remus to look at him, and pay attention to him, Remus simply just won’t because he’s so bloody, infuriatingly, adorably invested in whatever book it is he’s reading.

It doesn’t even matter the genre, Sirius has learnt, nor that it’s fictional or otherwise. Just words on yellowing pages, with cracked spines and a warm smell emanating from within, that’s what Remus loves. He likes to escape there, to lose focus, time, and reality. And Sirius respects it.

He used to love reading himself, when he was younger. His favorite books were fantasy action. He got lost in the tales and strange lands, imagining himself as the noble hero, saving lives and running off into the sunset on a noble steed, or perhaps even with a lover.

He’s lost the knack for it these days, mostly. Sometimes he still picks up a book to read, if it really captivates him. Or if it’s so painstakingly good that Remus, rather than just expressing that it was enjoyable to read and outlining the basic plot, rambles about it for ages. Especially if he goes back and reads it a second time over, taking a quill to the pages, underlining his favorite phrases, adding exclamation marks for emphasis, and writing out every thought he has about it.

Sirius always reads those, but mostly for Remus’ input. And mostly so he can sit there and listen to Remus talk about it again, and get so brilliantly excited when Sirius agrees that particular characters sucked, or when they disagree about how certain plot points were brilliant, or how painstakingly heartbreaking the use of symbolism added so much depth to the entire book.

Sirius has two large bookshelves in his room. Both of them he’s built himself because he refuses to let Effie and Flea spend any extra money on him, and he himself doesn’t want to spend money on bookshelves when he can just make them. He also made Remus one, when he first learnt just how much Remus likes to read, when he first moved in with James. He’s still very proud of it to this day.

Point is, he has two large bookshelves, and they’re each only half full of books. There are other things on them, taking up the space. Such as his record collection, which is excessive now, and brilliant, and takes up a lot of space. It’s also riddled with gadgets, and thingamabobs, and dust collectors, and whatsits, as well as little things he’s tinkered.

He’s building himself another shelf at the moment, this one will have a stained glass door- so, more of a cabinet, he supposes. It’s made especially for his records, measured to fit the height and width of them perfectly with just a little wiggle room. That, once it’s done, will clear out plenty of space on his bookshelf for more books.

He’ll build himself another shelf or two, he thinks. Ones to mount one the wall, a place to keep all his little things that don’t really have a place, other than randomly on his bookshelves. He wants to leave as much room as possible.

Because, see, Sirius doesn’t read much. And the books he does read are already found on his shelf, or Remus’, because he borrows them.

But Remus reads a lot. He’s always looking for new books, everywhere he goes. Sirius can’t count the times he’s been pulled into random stores just to look at books for hours, only for Remus to walk out empty handed.

Because Remus doesn’t have the money for books. He never has. Maybe a few, here and there, cheep ones that is, from second hand stores. And on his birthday and Christmas his parents spoil him by picking out a couple of big ones.

But Remus’ money is saved for things other than books.

That hasn’t been much of an issue, because there are libraries. He spends a lot of time in the library at Hogwarts, when they’re there. And over the breaks, he spends it in the library by his house. And he borrows books from Sirius, and James, and Lily, and Peter, and Mary, and Marlene too.

But the thing is, Remus is running out of books. And sure, he’s happy to read the non fictional books, ones about the history of magic, or life in the trenches of the First Muggle World War, or how to bake cakes, or the biography of Salazar Slytherin, or whatever the hell else he can find. But nothing captivates him the way a good story can.

He needs tales to escape in between the more boring stuff. Remus never raves about the non-fiction. Sure, he tells Sirius random facts when he finds them out, or puts his new knowledge to use. But the novelty of a made up world excites him.

Sirius likes to watch Remus read fiction. He likes to watch Remus shift in his chair and tense his shoulders, he likes to watch blush bloom over Remus’ cheeks with a giddy smile as his eyes twinkle and lock onto the page. He also likes when he hears Remus’ sharp gasps, and gets to look up to find him sitting in the most awkward, on edge positions as he fixedly reads, and watches as tears begin to roll down Remus’ cheeks and dance over freckles.

He mostly likes when Remus smiles at his page, sure and familiar, a knowing look in his eye that makes him glimmer right before he looks up to try and find Sirius in the room, and blush immediately when he does before tucking his face back into the pages. Sirius likes that one the best, because he knows, whatever Remus read, it made him think of Sirius. He especially likes when Remus scribbles something on the page right after, or just dog ears the corner so he’ll never loose the page.

Sirius really likes when Remus finds a good story, and Remus clearly also likes when he finds a good Story. Remus doesn’t have the funds to by himself stories and has read his way through the entirety of his local libraries fictional section, as well as everything on Sirius’ own shelf twice.

But Sirius does have the funds for books. He has part of the inheritance his uncle Alphard left when he died, he has his weekly allowance from the Potters, as does James, and he has money saved up from working in Mrs Florence’ garden across the road all summer.

So he goes out, and buys books, and hopes Remus hasn’t read them.

He gets home, and puts them on his own shelf, because the last time Sirius bought a book for Remus just simply because he wanted to, Remus slapped him with the book, made his knee buckle with his cane, and told Sirius to never spend his money on him again.

So naturally, Sirius stole him a book, and Remus hit him twelve times with the new book, called him a stupid fucking idiot, and made him promise to never do it again.

He then promptly went and read the book, and made a note at the very back that Sirius was the one who got it for him, with a star placed by his name, thinking Sirius wouldn’t notice. Because Sirius would never snoop through Remus’ bookshelf when he’s not looking to try and read whatever annotations from Remus’ brain he could, hoping to find one that Remus made after doing his adorable glance and thinking of Sirius. No, no he’d never do that, Remus, he promises.

So Sirius buys himself books, ones that wouldn’t look too out of place sitting on his shelves, ones he doesn’t recognise Remus ever holding (though, that doesn’t mean much as Remus reads at the pace of a race car, Sirius is sure there’s a new book in his hand each time Sirius looks up), and prays Remus will like them. He thinks he will. He likes most books.

Sirius just hopes he makes annotations in them before he remembers they’re not his books, and puts them back on Sirius’ shelf to find.

So Sirius stacks them on his shelf, and waits for Remus to take the bait.

The first time Remus comes into his room once they’re there, he clearly notices, but doesn’t comment. So Sirius goes out to buy another.

The second time, he makes a comment, asking if Sirius ever actually reads the books he carelessly spends money on, and nothing else.

So Sirius buys another book, and begins to read the one with the most interesting cover. He makes sure the spine is cracked, the pages withered, and a crease on the cover from bending it wrong.

Remus notices it, the next time he visits, and asks if Sirius enjoyed it. He didn’t mind it, but he tells Remus he really liked the character named Liam (who reminds him vividly of Remus), and recommends it. Remus takes it home. Sirius rambles to James about how brilliantly smart his plan is for hours.

The next time Remus comes around, he returns the book. It’s in a similar state to when Sirius had last seen it, besides a few extra wrinkles on the spine, and creased pages. Sirius smiles and admires it for a while once Remus has left, with another book, another one Sirius made himself read, he didn’t like that one at all.

Naturally, Remus really enjoyed that one. They argue about it for a while, and Remus tosses the book at Sirius with a laugh, and Sirius resists the urge to throw himself back at Remus.

James and Peter go out in the sun, but Remus’ hip is bad that day, so Sirius stays inside with him. He sits and watches Remus read, it’s one of his own books, one he’s read at least four times before. He’s got a pen between his teeth that he keeps pulling out to scribble things down before placing it back.

Sirius wishes he were a pen.

Remus finishes his book and whines about it for a while, because he doesn’t have another, and he can’t stand to go outside. So Sirius gets up, grabs a book, and plops it in Remus’ lap. Remus blushes. It’s some muggle book, it’s about magic folk, and fairies, and a really cool protagonist with long black hair and tattoos and a winning grin.

He’s not even shy when he tells Remus he bought it so he could read about himself. Remus lightly thwacks him with his cane and tells Sirius to fuck off.

Sirius sits on the bed, and grabs Remus’ discarded book, and opens it up to page one. Already there, marked in blurry ink on the first page reads: this is what it feels like to have a star wish on you, right back. Sirius smiles, and begins to read, mostly for Remus’ annotations, but the book is good no less. It’s about doomed love, written through the metaphore of the night sky, and unsettling undertones of cannibalalistic desire, all wrapped up in one neat little bow that ties itself off with an accidental murder suicide.

Honestly, Sirius understands why Remus likes it now. He’s heard Remus talk about it in great detail before but bloody hell, it’s good. And Remus’ annotations make it better.

“Bloody-fuck.” Remus gasps, catching Sirius off guard. He sticks his head up and wonders how on earth Remus had gotten to the “bloody-fuck” part of the story yet, that’s over halfway through, and they’ve only been reading for twenty minuets.

“What’s the issue?” Sirius asks.

“Do you have an eraser?” Remus asks, “A magic one, for ink? Can’t use my wand.”

“Erm, no…” Sirius mutters. He knows Flea has one in his office, and he’s allowed to go get it if he ever needs, knowing it sits in the top left drawer, right by the paperclips. But he doesn’t say that, not yet.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Remus mumbles, “I forgot it wasn’t- I just… I still had the pen in my mouth.”

Sirius feels his heart race, “Remus, did you… write in my book?”

Remus looks so ashamed, and he holds up the neat pages and flips through all that he’s read, and… yeah, there’s a lot in there already. Scribbled lines, phrases, exclamation points, question marks, little stars drawn everywhere.

Sirius feels himself fall a little harder in love, “You can write in my book.” He mutters and swallows, “You can write in all of my books, whatever you like. It doesn’t matter, I probably won’t read most of them anyway.” Sirius lies. If they have Remus’ annotations he certainly will.

“Why would you buy them then?”

Sirius shrugged, “I had empty space on my bookshelf… I like having them there. Besides, I could read them, you know, I just… usually don’t.”

Remus snickers and shakes his head, “You’re strange- like a dragon. You’re a dragon that hoards treasure. Your treasure is books.”

Wrong, Sirius thinks, my treasure is you.

“A dragon.” Sirius mutters, “Do you fear me, Remus, a big mighty dragon?”

Remus scoffs and turns back to the book, “You’re such a small dragon you don’t even have the ability to fly.”

Sirius throws his pillow at Remus’ head. Remus laughs, flipping Sirius off, which only spurs him on.

Sirius promptly jumps off the bed and changes to Padfoot midway through the air, landing right on the arm of the chair Remus occupies before crawling all over him.

“Get off me, you stupid mutt!” Remus laughs, tacking Padfoot away, “You’re going to rip the book.”

Padfoot only barks and wags his tail high in the air.

Remus laughs again, sticking his good leg out where Sirius now sits on the ground, he uses it to pet Sirius’ side as he fixes his hair and book.

Padfoot tilts his head up at Remus, tongue hanging out of his mouth, as he watches.

“I can really write in it?”

Padfoot scoots closer, licking Remus’ knee.

Remus snickers and shoes him away, “You’re so gross, Padfoot. Your dog slobber stinks, you know that?”

Padfoot barks, resting his paw on top of Remus’ hand for a moment.

“Fine.” Remus breaths, “But you can write in mine too, that means.”

Sirius will be, he knows it.

Padfoot, however, watches Remus go back to reading, too invested to pay him any mind now. He plucks the pen from his ear and starts making more marks. Padfoot rests his head on Remus’ knee, and mindlessly, Remus reaches out to pet him.

That’s how James and Peter find them, two hours later. Remus deeply concentrated, halfway through his book, and Padfoot looking up at him like he hung the sky. James teases Sirius mercilessly about it later.

Over the week, Sirius reads. He reads Remus’ book, the one he left behind so Sirius could finish reading. And Sirius takes a red inked pen, because one time Remus said Sirius looks good in the colour red, and makes his own annotations. There aren’t many, as there isn’t much room left and Remus has basically said it all, but he underlines the things he likes, and draws wonky little circles half shaded in by the things that make him think of Remus (they’re supposed to be moons, and he hopes Remus won’t be able to tell at first, because the first wonky circle is placed right next to the phrase: nothing consumes her they way the need to taste his skin on her tongue does-).

The next time Sirius sees Remus, they’re at the Lupins. He brought Remus’ book with his own red annotations, and two other books, one about space, and one about a dog that dies.

He’s almost at the end of the one where the dog dies, and it’s honeslty devastating. It’s bound to make Remus sad. So very, very sad.

They sit on Remus’ bed, Remus up by the headboard, and Sirius himself laying over the foot on his stomach, a pillow tucked under his chin.

He’s crying, down to the last pages of his book, his heart being ripped out of his chest as he reads. When he started crying, Remus silently extended his legs and crossed them, letting his heels sit on the small of Sirius’ back. Because Remus is brilliant, and he knows Sirius likes to be touched when he’s sad.

He closes his book with a sigh, buries his face in the pillow, and screams. Remus laughs.

“You have to read this, Moony. It’s devastating.” Sirius sobs.

“If you insist.” Remus agrees, still reading his book.

“The dog dies!” Sirius rolls onto his side to look at him, “He dies, Remus, isn’t that horrible. I mean- it was bad enough for me, I can’t imagine what it would be like for you.”

Remus glances up over his book at raises an eyebrow at Sirius.

“You know…” Sirius sniffles, rubbing his nose before waving his hand through the air, “Because I’m a dog, and you won’t be able to stop thinking about me, and losing me, and-“

A pillow was thrown at his head so hard it shoved him back. But Sirius loves the dramatics, so he takes it further, and rolls until he topples off the end of the bed and groans about betrayal. Remus pretends not to listen, Remus continues to read. Sirius wants to give him the world.

Sirius eventually gets up and selects a book off of Remus’ shelf, admiring his own handiwork for a moment. He flicks the book open, and finds no annotations, so he puts it back. He grabs another, finds the same, and repeats.

“What are you looking for?” Remus asks.

Unashamedly, Sirius tells him, “One with your thoughts written out. Those are my favourites.” He picks up another, sifts through, and puts it back.

He turns when Remus is quiet for a while, he’s grinning, like he expects to find Remus with his head in his book, so distracted he didn’t hear. But he’s not.

Remus is blushing, and he’s looking at Sirius so curiously.

“I like your thoughts.” Sirius clears his throat, “You’re smart, they’re interesting. Besides, I hate not knowing what’s going to happen, you always manage to make correct predictions, so good at picking up clues.”

Remus smiles and ducks his head before reaching out and grabbing a book off his bedside. He tosses it at Sirius, “That one’s a children’s novel. It’s about a frog. I’ve annotated it seven times.”

“Brilliant.” Sirius grins, plopping himself back down on his bed and opening the book, “I love frogs.”

Remus laughs, a quiet laugh, embarrassed and bashful. They both continue to read. Sirius pulls out his pen and scribbles a red, wonky circle when the frog finds himself in love.

Four weeks later, and Sirius and Remus have been swapping books back and forth in trade. Remus takes his pick of whatever is on Sirius’ shelf, or whatever he’s “accidentally” left at Remus’ place, and in turn, Sirius reads whatever books Remus has annotated. Eventually, he begins to read his own, purely for Remus’ annotations.

Remus never fails to leave annotations, and Sirius leaves them right back.

One time, Sirius even worked up the courage to write annotations in one of his own books before handing it off for Remus to read, just in hopes of Remus liking them too.

He does. He circles Sirius’ annotations with his own black ink, and adds little stars in random places, and he even goes so far as to argue with Sirius in the margins.

This week, they meet at the movies with James and Peter. As they wait in the popcorn line together, Sirius hands him two books. One of Remus’ own that he’s returning, and one from his collection. He read it, another book about love. There was a line about reliability, and loyalty, and pure, blinding admiration, even in petty fights and bickering, and Sirius took a bold step and wrote: This reminds me of us.

Remus returns the book about a fierce dragon, and slaps a new one in his hands about a man driven to murder by his untidy roommate, “Maybe you’ll learn something from this one, hmm?”

Sirius didn’t get it until the book was done, and he had read every snarky remark aimed right at Sirius that Remus wrote, including the note at the end that requested Sirius keep his mess to his corner of the room before Remus is driven to a murderous fate. Sirius laughed so hard James came rushing into the room out of pure concern.

The next time they exchanged books, Sirius gave him one titled The Picture of Dorian Grey. Remus had already read it. Sirius scoffed, knowing this would happen sooner or later. However, when Sirius moved to put it back in his bag, Remus snatched it away. He only borrowed it last time, so now he could write his annotations, which excited him. It excited Sirius too.

“I have a strange one for you.” Remus said, handing it over nervously, “I… I’ve read this one a lot.”

“Okay?” Sirius asked, taking it slowly, looking at the cover, so withered he couldn’t clearly make out the image.

Remus swallowed, “It’s really one of my favorites.”

“I can’t wait, then.” Sirius grinned, flicking through it quickly and seeing almost no room to leave his own messages.

Remus nodded, “Just… just beware, okay?”

“Okay, Remus, I’ve got it.” Sirius snickered, wiggling the book like a fan, “What, has it got like, wild kinky sex in it. Does this book delve into your deepest desires, Remus? Does it make you feel sexy?” Sirius teases.

Remus swallows and turns his gaze away.

Sirius’ jaw goes slack, “Oh, my Merlin- I… it does.”

Remus blush’s, “Look- it’s not like that, it’s just-“ He mumbles, hiding his head in his hands, “Yes, there is a sex scene in it, near the end. It’s very long, and very detailed. But that’s not- I’m not trying to be weird, okay? I’d prefer to not give you a sexy book-“

Sirius snickers, “I was only teasing, Remus, it’s fine. Is that the weird bit? The long, sensual sex scene?”

“Mostly… it’s… well, I suppose it’s everything that leads up to it.” Remus swallows.

“Got it.” Sirius nods, and because he’s his own worst enemy, he asks, “Do you get off to it?”

Remus’ front door promptly slams in his face, and no matter how hard he knocks, or laughs, or pretends he’s joking, Remus does not open the door.

Sirius goes home, and he very pointedly does not pick up the book. He’s too nervous now. To nervous to read about this sex scene in Remus’ most favorite book and wonder if he’s ever… Sirius flops face down into his pillow and goes to annoy James instead.

When they meet up to swap back, Sirius still hasn’t read the book yet. He makes up an excuse, telling Remus he hasn’t been focused enough to read something important. Remus doesn’t seem to believe him, he seems so disappointed. He gives Sirius back The Picture Of Dorian Gray and barely talks for the remainder of their time spent together.

When Sirius gets home, he flips through Remus’ annotations, reading them all, and having to do a double take at one. Sure, there are plenty of snide comments about Sirius’ good looks, comparing him to Dorian and making theories on how Sirius must be in a similar situation. But there’s one that makes Sirius’ heart race: I’m annoyed at you. This entire fucking book Dorian’s been described as the most beautiful fucking man on earth and the only face I can fucking picture is yours you bloody idiot. Stop being beautiful, please? It’s detrimental to my sanity.

Sirius’ breath hitched in his throat. He ran to James, immediately, crashing into his room and jumping on the bed, not even caring he’s just interrupted James with his shirt off in a very compromising position with Lily. He doesn’t even care that she’s there.

“Look at this, James, read-“

“Really, Sirius? Now?”

“I’m sorry, Prongs, but you’ve got your happy ending so I don’t care- look.” Sirius shoves the page in his face, “What does this mean?”

James shoves on his glasses and gives Lily an apologetic glance before reading, “What the fuck do you think it means, Sirius?”

“I don’t know.” Sirius breathes, running his fingers over the black ink, “It could mean anything-“

“Sirius!” James laughed, flinging his hands into the air, “It means exactly whatever the hell your heart thinks it means, probably.”

Sirius glares and James and turns to Lily, “You’re smart, what do-“

“Might I remind you, Remus is my best friend, Sirius?” Lily smirked, “So no, I won’t be saying anything, and if you’re smart, you’ll know that’s enough. And I warn you, I will be telling him about this.”

Sirius swallowed and glared at her, “Shit.”

“Shit in deed, Romeo.” She giggled, “Go away please.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed, crawling off the bed, “Not too loud, please.”

James tossed a pillow at him.

“Hey, Sirius?” Lily asked, catching his attention, “You should read his book.”

“Right.” Sirius swallows, and very pointedly does not do that. He goes to make dinner with Effie and Flea, and ask them questions about it instead. They just say the same things James did, and they’re old and happy and very in love, so he actually trusts that.

That night, he lies in bed, a lamp over his shoulder, and he learns extactly why Remus seemed so nervous to share this book. Especially about the sex part, which was… well, it was really sexy. Like, so sexy. Sirius didn’t think anything could ever get that sexy. All he could think about whilst reading was Remus, and how badly he wanted to do those things to Remus, and how he wanted Remus to do those things to him. It was terrible, really.

So good, and so terrible, and so delightfully strange to read about. Because, in the start, the main character was engaged to a very wonderful woman. But by the end, he had left her. He left her because he loved a man. Two men in love. Remus’ favorite book was gay, with so many annotations about his own experiences, with a gay sex scene, with annotations about how much Remus liked the sex scene.

And most of all…

Sirius knew exactly what a lot of those annotations meant. Because around them were little stars. Within them they used “he” and “him” and terms of longing and yearning and… and then it got to a point midway through the book where things changed.

Remus stopped writing things like: I think of him. He’s more beautiful. I’m scared to lose him too.

Instead, he just used one word. One word scribbled everywhere. Beside so many different phrases, with different intentions and different feelings. One word that shattered it all, and that word was: Sirius.

Beside the phrase, he’s so beautiful, I hate him.

Beside the phrase, I miss him, I never got to have him but I miss him, no less.

Beside the phrase, kissing the expanse of his throat is something I think about often, no thought could be as beautifully filthy as mine when he’s around.

Beside the phase, I love him.

“Wakey, wake- oh, you’re up love. Are you alright, I’ve never seen you up with the sun before.” Effie teases as she walks into his room.

Sirius turns to her, eyes blinking. They’re red rimmed from crying. He didn’t realise it was morning. He still has the book in his lap, open to the last page where there’s a message. It’s an apology, and then that apology is taken right back and replaced with a heart.

“I didn’t sleep.” He muttered.

“Oh…” Effie mutters when she sees the state of him, “My darling boy, are you-“

“I have to go.” Sirius whispers.

“What?” She asks.

“I have to go.” Sirius says with more urgency, and he scrambles to his feet and makes a run for it.

“Shoes, dear!” Effie calls, and Sirius runs right back. He stuffs his feet in his slippers and runs off again, “Teeth!”

Sirius races back and hurriedly brushes his teeth. She calls for him again to change his clothes and eat when he tries to leave again, but he doesn’t bother. He just grabs the book and runs, tying not to slip in his slippers.

“Where’s he going?” James asked, standing his his doorway.

“Im not sure.” Effie said, “He’s still in his pyjamas. All he had was a book-“

“A blue one?” James asked.

Effie nodded. James rapt his knuckles on the doorframe and ducked his head inside, “Lily, he’s doing it!”

“Oh, yes!” She shouts back.

James gets a slap on the back of his head, “Did you sneak your girlfriend in over night, James Fleaumont Potter?”

James goes red, “Erm… no?”

Sirius is rushing. He couldn’t get Elvendork up and running, she still needs a few more tweaks. So he’s running there instead. All the way to Remus’ at who knows what time of morning.

When he gets there, he’s panting. He knocks on the door, but there’s no answer.

Lyall is probably at work, Hope is probably tending to her garden out back, and Remus is no doubt still sleeping. He’s worse than Sirius, he’ll sleep until something wakes him up, meaning he’ll sleep through till the next morning if nothing does.

Sirius doesn’t wait, he’s around the corner and shoving open Remus’ window, and hauling himself in before he can even think about it.

The desk that usually sits under Remus’ window is not there. So when Sirius dives in head first, expecting to catch himself on a desk, he’s rather shocked to come toppling down to the floor face first.

He groans, splayed out there on the ground, looking at the roof.

“What… the fuck?” He hears Remus mutter, and he pokes his head up to find that Remus is in the process of rearranging his room.

Sirius furrows his brow and looks at the time, “Why the fuck are you up and active at seven ten in the morning?” He runs his face and sits up, “Why are you rearranging your room?”

“I was stressed.” Remus swallowed, “Didn’t sleep.”

“Why?” Sirius groaned, his nose hurts, so he pokes it, which doesn’t help.

“Lily said you read what I wrote about you in Dorian Gray… called me, said you were asking what it meant.”

“Yeah, uhm- ow.” Sirius poked his face again.

“Don’t do that.” Remus grumbled, reaching for his cane and walking over to help Sirius up.

“Sorry.” Sirius yawns, his lack of sleep catching up to him.

“Why are you up?” Remus asked, “You don’t do anything before nine if you don’t have too.”

Sirius smiles, Remus knows him so well, “Didn’t sleep either.”

“Why not?” Remus hummed, casually leaning on his cane in that suave way he does. James doesn’t think it’s suave, he tells Sirius it’s just normal, but Sirius knows better than James. He’s blinded by love, of course he knows better than James.

“Was reading.” Sirius swallowed, holding up the book and wiggling it in his hands, “Uh… I made some annotations back… where they fit.”

Yeah, basically just Remus’ name right beside his own, everywhere, and lots of little moons. He even underlined one very sexy line in the dirty scene that really made him think of Remus, and drew and arrow pointing to it, and wrote both of their names with a heart around them.

“Oh.” Remus swallowed, taking the book when Sirius handed it back.

They were both blushing.

“Go on, open it.” Sirius mumbled, nodding for encouragement.

So slowly, tentatively, Remus did. He opened the book, midway through, and found his name, and little moons, and a million hearts scribbled everywhere there was space.

Remus dropped the book.

Sirius leant down to pick it up, because he’s always willing to do things for Remus. He always will be. He buys books with all the money he’s meant to be saving, to put them on his own shelf, so that Remus might browse and find something he likes. He just wants to please Remus. To make him happy. To make his life a little simpler.

“Oh, careful, it’s on the brink of falling-“ As Sirius stood back up with it, Remus kissed him. Very quick and very short but very on the lips, “apart.” Sirius squeezed out, “Oh.”

“Oh.” Remus muttered.

“Well…” Sirius swallowed, walking past Remus to put the book down on the desk. Because Sirius is respectful of Remus’ things, always has been, and what he wants to do to Remus right now is probably not very respectful. He turns back, and he grabs him, with everything he has, “You’re mine now.”

“Oh…” Remus mumbled as Sirius kissed him, pulling him down onto the bed, careful to help take the weight off Remus’ hip. Because he’s always thinking of Remus like that.

He lays them down, the way that makes Remus most comfortable, and he presses tight against him, and he kisses Remus with all the strength, and love, and devotion he has.

Sirius never stops buying books, and Remus pretends he never figures out what Sirius is doing. And in their own little house, when they buy one a few years later, Sirius fills a whole room with bookshelves just for Remus, and fills them until they’re overflowing.

He never gets tired of watching Remus read. And he never gets tired of seeing his own name written down in the margins of whatever love story Remus just finished reading.

★ ★ ★

This came to me in a dream. I don’t even know why. It was a vision and I just had to write it so… enjoy?

Also, I just had the image of the Ben Barnes fancast edits using the Dorian Grey clips in my head whilst writing this so I had to reference it. I’m pretty sure canonically Dorian doesn’t even look remotely like Sirius, and honeslty, that just makes Remus’ pining even more pathetic lamo.

Also, none of these books (besides Dorian) referenced are real. I wrote this between 2-4 am so I really had no brain cells left that could use real references lol. This was just fun.

If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it here <3

Wonderful Wolfstar lovers who were interested: @lemongrass77777 @weirdtinkerbellversion @lapassemirroir

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benoits-neckerchieves · 1 month ago

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RE: Daniel Craig + earring

I wish i could tag everyone who’s asked me for pics of this bc there’s been a lot lmao. Me & @persephonethewanderer have definitely talked about it, & i think @vincenoirr commented on one of my posts?

Anyway, here it is guys, I knew I’d seen it somewhere! He wears one for like the entire episode of Drop the Dead Donkey!! Thank you so much to @danielcraigupd for reminding me!!

I couldn’t think of it because i was thinking of photoshoots instead of tv shows; he wears one in Between the Lines too

#finallyyy mystery solved lol #sorry the quality is so shit tho can’t exactly get hd pics from the 90s lmao #daniel craig #james bond #benoit blanc #drop the dead donkey #between the lines #queer 2024 #daniel craig wearing an earring

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

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Between the Lines 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, Lee is rude, customer service triggers. and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters:Lee Bodecker

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

There’s banging on the door. So loud it wakes you in your bed. You roll over, dizzy with grogginess, and stumble onto your feet. Zuzu, your sleepy calico, only lifts her head before dropping it back down. She doesn’t have energy for human concerns.

You follow the banging as it continues and come out to the main room of your apartment. Your neighbours aren’t exactly peaceful but you don’t expect such a rude awakening. You go to the door and peek through the peephole. You can see nothing as it’s covered from the other side.

The door shakes and a voice holler through, “police.”

You’re not sure you trust the disembodied declaration. You keep the chain hooked but turn the latch back. You lean into the door and inch it open. It’s pushed from the other side to the limit of the links.

“Hel…lo,” your greeting splits in two as the officer drags his hand away from the door. It’s the same man from the bookstore. The sheriff, he said.

“Good mornin’, ma’am,” he drawls with a coy smirk, “we got calls about a disturbance in the building. You hear anything?”

His question hangs between you. His eyes drift down to your crooked pajama shirt and the pajama pants clinging low to your hips. You cross your arms and sniff. You not his badge; Sheriff. L. Bodecker.

“I just woke up. Didn’t hear a thing,” you answer curtly.

“We’re just makin’ sure everyone’s safe,” he looks you in the eye and tilts his head, “ladies livin’ alone…”

“I’m fine,” you feel the way he pushes even more on the door. You almost fear he’ll pull the chain completely loose.

“Ya mind if I have a look around?” He asks.

You stare at him, unflinching. Something about this doesn’t seem coincidental. It’s as ominous as the words that dogged you since your tense meeting in the parking lot.

“Do you have a warrant?” You breathe.

He chuckles and pulls his arm back, shoving his foot into the small space between the door and frame, “now,” he rubs his ruddy cheek, “why would I need that if you’re not hidin’ anything?”

“Hiding? What? I just don’t think it’s necessary for you to come in. I told you, I haven’t heard a thing.”

“Mmm,” the noise rumbles up his throat, “just lookin’ out for ya. Wouldn’t want some creep hangin’ around.” He clucks and puts his hand on his hip, “rough neighbourhood.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine,” you insist.

He smirks again and gets closer. You keep your hand on the door but lean away, “I’m sure you can take care of yourself. You’re a smart girl and all.”

“Sir,” you eke out.

He laughs and taps the door with his knuckles. He pulls his foot out of the door and you nearly slam it with the release of tension. He backs up, pushing out his stomach as he eyes you from head to toe. You hide behind the barrier but it feels like he can see everything.

“You stay safe,” he winks and turns lazily on his heel.

You snap the door shut and quickly turn the deadbolt. Your heart pumps wildly as you cling to the handle. You listen and hear his soles scuff down the hallway. You wonder how he found you but you guess it’s not that hard given his position.

🚓

The rest of the day holds little of note. No more surprises, even as you watch over your shoulder. Not just for the sheriff but your manager. Colin isn’t subtle as he circles like a hawk each time you’re with a customer.

You’re probably the most helpful employee left in the place. Ever since that older woman disappeared on sick leave, you seem to be the only employee without an addiction to TikTok. You can understand being distracted in a bookstore but definitely not by your phone.

You leave for the day and stop on your way home to get take out at the Lebanese shop at the corner of your street. They have a combo sale that costs you as much as a homemade meal. You’re feeling lazy and too agitated to deal with a hot stove.

You feed Zuzu after she serenades you shrilly. You eat with her pacing behind you on the couch, waiting for any scrap to pounce on as she forgets her kibble. You try to ignore her as you watch a documentary on Alexandre Dumas. You lose interest shortly after you finish your food and shut off the television.

You recline on the couch with your book, too stubborn to go to bed yet. You know you’ll fall asleep the minute your head touches the pillow. You lay against the armrest and ease into the collection of essays on the Victorian era and various strains of relationships; from friendship to marriage.

It’s not the most compelling to the non-academic but you find spurts of intrigue. You yawn and turn the page, the quiet coaxing you further into your fatigue. Your eyes turn itchy and the font begins to smear. You close the book and get up, leaving it under the lamp as you flick off the light.

You collapse into bed as Zuzu claims her spot by your feet. It doesn’t take much to fall asleep, the world slipping into blackness in a blink.

The sharp hiss brings you back to the world. You sit up, trying to shake away the cloudiness in your skull. You hear Zuzu jump onto the floor and scurry into the next room. Then a crash.

“What the he–” you murmur as you shove yourself to the edge, “Zu, what are you doing?”

You call out to the cat as you follow her into the front room. As you come out, the darkness is thicker than you expect. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the streetlights and the moon, but you don’t remember closing them.

Zuzu hiss again then lets out an angry yowl, her claws tearing into the rug as she rips around the room. Another clatter as you search through squinting eyelids. What is going on?

“Zu,” you think you see her dash across the floor. You bend over and lunge, trying to catch her, “Zu, chill–”

You feel something clasp around the back of your neck, stopping you in place as it holds you bent awkwardly over your knees. You extend your arms, fingertips on the floor as the thick fingertips pinch into your tendons. You whimper in horror.

“Ain’t no good for a girl like you to be livin’ on her own,” the sheriff’s voice rolls through the dark.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #between the lines #au #bookstore au #series #drabble

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vangold · 3 months ago

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Although it is a lot later this year than usual, we now finally entered Skelemonth aka this year Skelefortnight.

As the last few years we again have a prompt list to do art, fanfiction or comics for. And of course insane as I am here I come with the comic shorts again XD

I usually always feel a bit bleh finding ideas/poses for the cooking prompt. This year however I came up with the best in character solution I could think off when it comes to Pans and Witchy XD

#undertale #tales of the underverse #underswapgmu #underswap #Witchtale #Puncest #Fontcest #Skelefortnight #Skelemonth #Skelemonth2024 #Witchy #Pans #Between the LInes #Tales of the Underverse #An ideal Brother #Papysans #Comic Short

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puhpandas · 10 months ago

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Between The Lines

(7,832 words)

Tony thinks that there's something about Freddy and Bonnie that make them seem closer and different than the other Glamrocks. It takes him a while to realize that there isn't on the outside like he thought, and that maybe, he just sees himself and Gregory in them. And that a certain drawing Gregory has given to him might tell him that Gregory had the same idea.

Greg and Ellis had looked like kids in a candy shop when theyd entered the West Arcade for the first time since the Pizzaplex reopened.

Just like all the banners strung about have advertised, theres brand new arcades and games to try out around the place. The place is fuller, not only due to the sheer amount of guests, especially because of the return of Bonnie, but also because of all of the new cabinets taking up space.

Tony had been content just following his friends as they floundered over what game to play first. They had such big smiles on their faces while wandering around... itd been nice seeing them like that. Tony knows Gregory has been having trouble lately. The whole GGY thing takes a toll on him, even after it's been over for months. He's not much different, but... Greg definitely has it worse. Tony's just glad he's loosening up for this.

Even Tony, who hadn't ever really cared for arcade games, can notice just how many new games have been added to the Faz-Cade. Every step brings his attention to a new cabinet here, another one there, all with new themes and art he's never seen before.

Despite how much he likes to be aware of everything around him, he usually can only focus on one thing at a time. His friends voices are only background noise to him while he gazes at all of the new sights in the Faz-Cade. They're saying something about grinding for points and scores, but Tony cant focus when he's just admiring some particularly cool art.

Subconsciously, his body stops along with his friends when they suddenly quit walking to admire some other cabinet. He startles at the change, and goes to open his mouth, a question already on his tongue.

But he never gets it out. His head doesnt turn, and his eyes catch onto a certain arcade game to their right that's angled directly for the cabinet art to be staring right at him.

The bright and contrasting colors of the two characters in the drawing are all he needs to see to recognize them at first glance.

It's a drawing of Freddy and Bonnie; the colors bright and art angled to look dynamic on the curve of the games' outer shape. Its brand new art, Tony's sure of it. Theres been multiple of Bonnie across the Plex so far since he's returned.

He would know.

Freddy and Bonnie... Tony doesnt know why, but he just cant stop looking at the art of them on the cabinet. They're shoulder to shoulder, bodies leaned onto each other and looking at eachother from the corner of their eyes. Not their instruments or who would be the viewer... eachother.

Its like they're in their own little world, Tony thinks. He doesn't know why he thinks that. He's never noticed a difference before. Is there even one? Has there ever been this kind of closeness in promotional art with characters like Roxy and Monty or Chica and Freddy?

Maybe he should get another opinion. He tilts his head, never taking his eyes off of the art on the cabinet over. "Hey, guys? Does this art of Freddy and Bonnie look--"

"Midnight Motorist!" He's cut off mid sentence by Ellis' exclamation. Ellis takes off from his side, and it finally tears Tony's eyes off of the drawing of Freddy and Bonnie. He races to a cabinet a few over and is bouncing in place looking it over. "I cant believe this is one of the new ones they added!"

Gregory is the next to leave his side after that, heading to join Ellis at the cabinet and blabbering on about something himself. But Tony finds it hard to listen when his mind is still stuck on the brand new official Freddy and Bonnie art for some reason.

He shakes it off, leaving it for another time. He knows sometimes his curiosity can take over his brain in the middle of something sometimes. He just... doesn't understand what there is to be curious about this time. It doesn't eat away at him like curiosity does to him every time, though. This time doesnt feel the same.

He shakes it off again, this time shaking his head physically for good measure. Later. He thinks. He leaves the cabinet and joins his friends by Midnight Motorist, and begins to catch their conversation.

"Do you think we can get the first high scores on it?" Greg is asking when Tony gets there. Theres a kind of rare wicked grin on his face. "Just imagine. Setting an example for everyone else before they can even try themselves."

Ellis huffs a laugh, and eyes Tony when he stands beside Greg. "Hey," Ellis grins. "Wanna watch me set the first high score ever on Midnight Motorist?"

Tony smiles, eyeing the completely empty Best Players screen. "Sure."

To Tony's suprise, Gregory let's Ellis play first and waits his turn until he's done. Ellis steps up to the cabinet, and Tony is content watching Ellis get to know the game and his steadily racking points.

The two of them have formed a little huddle around Ellis' shoulder. His shoulder. For some reason, Tony and Gregory arent on each side like they should be. Theyve decided to squish into the left side of the cabinet and watch from there.

Why? Tony's thinking. Theres a weird feeling in his stomach that he cant identify. Why didnt they split up? They're shoulder to shoulder and theyre pressed so close together Tony is hyper aware of Greg's presence.

He feels his voice reverberate through his own arm and it makes Tony's cheeks burn and his thoughts scramble to come up with a reason.

He cant find one, he realizes. The chimes and music of the game in front of him kind of fade into the background while he tries to think about it more. His brain runs at a million miles an hour, and hes half aware of the thoughts in his head and half aware of how his heart is hammering in his chest at the same time.

Its confusing to him why he cares so much. Why this one little simple action has made his thoughts run so wild.

But while searching for why he and Greg are so close instead of far apart, for some reason, in response, his mind conjures up the art of Freddy and Bonnie.

"Yeah!" Greg cheers beside him, and Tony startles slightly, his thoughts coming to an abrupt halt as he comes back down to earth. His voice is right in his ear and Tony doesnt know what the weird feeling in his stomach is. "You got this, Ellis!"

He breathes out, deep but quiet and slow. He tries not to be obvious, but after the past few months, he shouldn't be suprised when Greg somehow notices.

He twists his neck over to look Tony's way, and Tony makes himself look back. Theres concern swimming in Gregory's eyes that Tony's so familiar with from over the past few months. When Tony would be struggling with the GGY incident and Greg would try his hardest to help him.

"Hey," Gregory asks, voice hushed and soft. Despite the loud button presses and the music coming from the cabinet just besides them, Gregory's voice reaches him so clearly. "are you okay?"

Tony doesnt respond immediately. He just stares, and ignores the twinge in his neck from how hes leaning his head back from the proximity. For some reason, he flounders for words.

"Uh, yeah." He says after a second, offering a smile. "I'm, uh, okay, Greg. Don't worry about me."

Gregory doesn't respond immediately, just looking at him a bit longer. Despite the inches of height Tony has on Gregory, his presence just feels bigger. Tony dares to flick his eyes, and deep blue meets gold.

Another moment of silence passes, and it feels like it drags on forever. Then, Greg nods. "Kay." He says, then turns back to the cabinet screen.

And that's that.

The feeling in his stomach doesnt go away, and along with the exchange neither do the thoughts. He tries to focus on Ellis' high score and having a good time with his friends, but he keeps being aware of his arm pressed against Greg's and the way that hes so close to him.

He doesnt know what's going on. He doesn't have anything to think about it that isnt jumbled and incomprehensible, so he tries to leave it for another day. He takes a breath, calming himself and the storm thats going on inside of him that's leaving him wondering and confused, and watches the car move back and forth on the road on the screen in front of him.

During it all, flashes of blue and orange keep appearing in his minds eye.

If theres one thing Tony had missed since getting Gregory back, its seeing Greg enjoy his art.

He'd never taken it too seriously, just drawn the Glamrocks and himself and his friends a few times, and always just for fun. But that's the point, isnt it? Tony... Tony may take his writing seriously, but that doesnt mean Greg would have to take his art seriously. That's something Tony's learned the past few months.

That you should appreciate chilling and having fun while it happens. GGY wasnt something easy to come back from. It wasnt easy to have seemingly recovered very fast from his attack and gone back to school while still grappling with what happened. Especially after it'd only taken a day or two for the real Greg to show up at his house and tell him what really happened.

The point is, Greg hasnt really touched a pencil and paper in a while. At least... not that Tony's seen.

He understands. He really does. Even Tony hadn't touched writing for a little while after... everything happened. He needed time to process everything, and writing was just never something he'd wanted to do, despite it being something he has fun with.

Greg just needed time, is all. But even Tony couldnt stay away from writing forever. He's picked it back up relatively recently. He just wishes Gregory would do.

Which is why when he goes over to Greg's house; a small apartment where he lives with Vanessa, Tony immediately is drawn to the sight of colorful paper and pencils on Greg's desk.

And on one page, two very distinct colorful characters standing next to eachother peeking under a couple other papers.

"You're drawing again." Tony says with a smile when he walks over to Greg's desk.

Gregory doesnt respond respond right away. It gives more time to Tony to just admire some of the newest art Greg's drawn obviously recently. Theres some of himself, some of people he knows, like Vanessa and even him and Ellis, one of a girl he doesnt recognize, and lots of Freddy.

But Tony's eyes keep being drawn to the orange and blue peeking out from under the more recent papers, and his right arm twitches, wanting to reach for the paper and pull it out to look at it.

It's a strange urge, one that doesn't feel quite like curiosity but has no other name Tony could put to it. It gets the better of him, and before Greg can utter a word from behind him, Tony reaches out and pulls on the corner to slip it out from under the others.

"Wait!" Greg yells from behind him. It's a little loud, and when Tony turns around, he looks a little sheepish, along with something else Tony doesnt have time to put a finger on. "Uh, which one is that?"

Tony raises a brow, but he let's his eyes fall back on the drawing of Freddy and Bonnie. He holds it out to Greg, trying to smile. "Uh, this one."

Gregory doesnt say anything, just walking up to his side and looking at the drawing himself. Theres an expression Tony cant place on Greg's face, and he cant help but feel like hes maybe done something wrong.

"I'm sorry," Tony blurts out, lowering the drawing. His brows furrow as he turns to look at Gregory. "should I have, uh, should I have not looked at your drawings without asking?"

Immediately, Gregory's shaking his head, waving a hand. "Uh. No. You're fine." He says slowly, and he's glancing at his desk and the corkboard hung above it with old and new drawings hung on it.

"I display them myself. Its..." Greg trails off, looking deep in thought for only a split second before he says, "it's... okay for you to see them."

Tony's quiet for a second, but his heads nodding and hes blinking shortly after. "Okay, good."

"Here." Greg says, coming up to him with a new small smile on his face; usually, all of Greg's smiles are small, so Tony can notice when ones real or not. This one... it's real, but also a little... nervous? Theres an undertone to it that Tony cant place, but any thoughts he could have had about it wash way when Greg's standing next to him again, bringing up the page in his hand he'd held out of sight back in view with a gentle hand. "You can see it."

Tony holds the page like its porcelain glass, his grip gentle and careful. Greg has the other side, and the paper is longways; meaning Greg's pressed against his shoulder again.

It... theres that weird feeling, again. But Tony doesnt really pay it any mind right now. He just admires the drawing Greg's offered him to see and takes in all the details.

In the soft sunlight of Gregory's window, it gives him plenty good view to see the art. Its good. Its really good. Tony knows Greg is a good artist, but... this is better than he thought it would be. Tony takes in the details, the line strokes and the color choices and even the little blocks signature in the corner of the page. He smiles instinctively.

"Its... good." He mumbles, voice quiet, but earnest. The drawing is of Freddy and Bonnie, colors bright and popping like they were on the arcade cabinet back at the Faz-Cade. This reminds him of then, Tony realizes. The drawing is similar, and... it gives him that same feeling. That same wonder if theres something else there between Freddy and Bonnie.

They're standing beside eachother, and the pose isnt as dynamic at the cabinets was. They're facing forward, but looking at eachother. They have one arm on each instrument, but the others that are in-between eachother just... hang limply. It makes Tony's brows furrow. It doesn't fit with the pose Greg was going for.

This whole time, Tony realizes, Greg had been watching his reaction. He suddenly becomes aware of Gregory looking at him and how hes holding the other side of the page and how their shoulders are pressed together. How their hands are hanging limply next to eachother. His fingers twitch and burn, and so does his face.

"You like it?" Greg is asking, and Tony tries to ignore that exact same strange feeling in his stomach he's been having to answer him. His mouth feels heavy and locked shut, and he stammers.

"Ye-Yeah!" He manages, managing to keep looking away from Greg's eyes and at the drawing in front of him. He smiles, and it's real when he says, "Its-- Its great, Greg. Its amazing."

But then Gregory is silent for a second too long, and Tony dares to glance over. It's the exact same time Gregory switches his gaze to the drawing and shifts his body.

Greg takes his hand off of the page, pushing it gently with both towards Tony's chest. Theres a smile that stretches wide across his cheeks when he says, "Its yours."

Immediately, Tony sputters. "What? But--" He gapes. "Yo-You dont have to do that--"

"Its fine." Greg cuts him off, smiling at him. Tony finds himself going quiet and staring. "I... uh... I drew it for you in the first place."

Tony gapes, unfurling the paper from his chest with a gentle grip. He takes another look at it, feeling something warm bloom in his chest. His fingers shake and tremble as he holds the paper in-between his fingers. Just, admiring it again. The orange and blue of Freddy and Bonnie.

"You did?" Tony asks, softer than silk. It's barely above a whisper.

Greg nods in front of him, smile still on his face. It dissolves into a small chuckle. "Dont act so suprised."

Tony shakes his head, whipping his head up. "I'm not!" He says, but his eyes find the drawing again quickly after. It's like hes unable to look away. The drawing... it feels different now, knowing it was made for him. "Its-- its just... really cool, Greg. I love it. I really do."

Gregory goes silent again, this time for longer than a second or two. Tony glances up, and barely catches a blank stare from Greg for a split second, like he'd been thinking about something. It's gone in an instant, and Gregory's smiling at him again, looking at him with yellow-gold eyes that seem to be shining in the light from his window.

"I'm..." He trails off. "I'm glad."

"I'll treasure it." Tony promises, holding the page closer to his face. Theres even highlights in their eyes as they look at eachother in the drawing. "I promise. I wont let anything happen to it, either."

This time, Tony looks up just in time to see Gregory smile softly, and say "I know."

Despite Bonnie being Tony's favorite, he's never actually gotten to meet him face to face.

He would be lying if he said he had liked him before his disappearance. It sounds bad, but... Tony hadnt ever cared much for the animatronic characters. It was Bonnie's sudden vanishing that caused Tony to gain interest in Fazbears brand and characters and history and why they would retire him if they meant to. And so abruptly at that.

But... after reading up and seeing all of the history and different iterations of the characters and their merch and art and brand and evolution... he maybe got a little interested.

It goes deeper than a childish interest in the animal characters, though. He... he doesn't know how to explain it. He just feels connected to Bonnie, somehow. It's not like Freddy and Gregory. They... they have something else. But it... it feels like Tony sees more in him than the other glamrock characters. To an extent, Freddy as well. But Freddy has what he has with Gregory, and Tony doesnt feel that connection with him like he does Bonnie.

Which is why he'd been excited when Bonnie had returned in the re-opening. The bowling alley has been flipped and remodeled and the art replaced and updated since hes come back, and the place is pretty packed usually, now. Bonnie performs on his stage sometimes, and will come out and mingle with guests rarely, but Tony's never gotten a chance to talk to him.

Of course, he should have known Gregory wouldnt let it stay that way for long. Not with how he still travels across the Plex behind closed doors sometimes to see the Glamrocks often.

Which is how Greg had gotten Tony into Bonnie's greenroom in-between his schedule later in the day, when not a lot of people are at Bonnie Bowl.

Of course, Greg had always known, but... his sudden action was definitely influenced by how Tony's been talking about it, recently. How he wants to be able to talk to Bonnie alone one on one. How he's always wanted to.

Its just... Tony's been looking at the drawing Greg made him a lot lately. And it keeps reminding him over and over of how it feels like theres... more to Freddy and Bonnie. Theyve been paired together since the very beginning. It feels like theres something else intangible with them that there isnt with the other characters.

They have history. Theyve always gone together, like yin and yang. Fire and ice. Red and blue.

He's... he's just always felt a connection with Bonnie.

It doesnt feel like meeting a celebrity, when Gregory ushers him with a smile into Bonnie's greenroom and shuts the curtain behind him. He doesnt feel starstruck, or like he wants an autograph. He just wants to talk to Bonnie.

Bonnie's sitting at his mirror when Tony inches in, feeling strangely nervous and anxious and fiddling with the Bonnie keychain on his backpack. Bonnies ear twitches, the one with the earring, and then hes swiveling his chair to face him.

"Ah! You must be Tony, then." Bonnie says with a smile. Tony just stays quiet when Bonnie gets up and heads over to him, his mind running wild with what exactly it is he wants to say. "Yeah, Fred and Greg told me about ya. Said you wanted to meet me. That I'm your favorite?"

Tony nods, meeting Bonnie's eyes. "Yeah, that's right."

"Well then, its nice to meet you, Tony." Bonnie says happily, holding out a hand for Tony to shake. Tony releases the keychain and takes it without another word, shaking it politely.

It's only then that Bonnie quirks a brow at him, his ears drooping a bit. Theres a small stretch of silence where nobody says anything, and Tony feels self conscious, the nerves rising up even more.

Bonnie's kneeling down to be eye level. His ears aren't pointed straight up anymore, they're more relaxed. Bonnie looks at him, looking... concerned? Curious? And he sets a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, now." Bonnie finally says, and Tony glances back at the curtain, than at Bonnie. Bonnie fixes him with a look that's inviting and warm. "What's on your mind, Striker? I may have just met you, but Greg has told me all about ya. He told me you had questions for me and would be bombarding me with them."

Tony's shoulders droop a little more, and he feels the nerves ebb away ever so slightly when Bonnie is nothing but warm and inviting. Once again, Tony doesnt feel like hes meeting a big star. He feels like hes having a conversation with... someone he looks up to. Someone he came to ask a question.

"But you arent." Bonnie points out, not unkindly. When Tony frowns, Bonnie smiles kindly.

"You dont have to be nervous, Striker." Bonnie tells him, his voice quiet and encouraging. "Theres plenty of kids that come to us to ask us things."

"Things that..." Bonnie trails off. "they just need a little friendly advice for that they may not want to tell anyone else."

He says the end pointedly, just enough emphasis to bring it to Tony's attention. It feels so childish. It really does. It makes Tony bristle to think about, that hes a kid who needs advice, and that Bonnie already knows that. That Bonnie is using tactics he uses on young children on him. But... that's what he came for, didnt he?

It sticks out to him, though. And Tony's aware that Bonnie's tactic worked. 'Things they may not want to tell anyone else.' aka, things that Tony had wondered about in bed and at school and at the Faz-Cade when he'd think about the cabinet art or Gregorys drawing. When... when he'd felt like there was something else.

To Freddy and Bonnie. To what appears on the outside. To what there may be on the inside. To the colors orange and blue.

He opens his mouth, not quite speaking yet, and Bonnie's waiting patiently. Hes looking at him encouragingly, and Tony sighs, letting the words spill out. The big question that he's mulled over for months.

Tony takes one last glance around him, not exactly knowing why but feeling like he needs to. It feels personal, or taboo somehow. Like this needs to be kept under wraps and only for his and Bonnie's ears to hear. He grabs at his keychain again, fidgeting with it.

"Bonnie..." He manages eventually, feelings and thoughts that feel disconnected racing through his mind. The keychain gives his hands something to do, but it doesnt help much with his nerves. "Are you and Freddy... uh..."

He stammers over his words, feeling nerves fry his stomach. This is hard to say, for some reason. It feels scary. Bonnie waits, though. Still ever patient, but his head does tilt in curiosity, a quirk to his brow.

Tony opens his mouth, taking a second to continue. "Well... I just..." He trails off, and Bonnie is still looking at him. Theres a moment where Tony says nothing, and Bonnie just meets his eyes and nods, smiling.

Its okay it feels like he's saying. Tony breathes out again, and pushes past the wall he'd been hitting. "Are you two together?"

Bonnie jerks a bit, barely noticeable, but Tony had been searching for any kind of reaction, small or not. Tony watches how Bonnie's face twists in suprise for a moment, and Tony's eyes widen, his shoulders hitching up.

"I just--" He stammers, and averts his eyes when Bonnie keeps staring at him. "I notice sometimes that your promotional art has you two... uh, closer. Than the others."

Its agonizing, watching Bonnie mull over his words. His eyes twitch and look down, and it's clear he's deep in thought. Tony feels his ears burn. He feels embarrassed. It all feels scary. Why? Why does it feel like he's spilling all his deepest darkest secrets?

Tony watches carefully, holding his breath as Bonnie says nothing. He's taking his time, thinking deeply, and Tony watches Bonnie's eyes flick towards the curtain. The curtain Gregory'd promised him he'd wait for him behind.

They widen, ever so slightly, and Bonnie's eyes then look towards Tony's hands, and the keychain hes flipping between his fingers.

Bonnie stares for just a moment longer, and then he clears his throat a bit, and Tony releases the tightness in his chest when Bonnie finally responds.

"Well, Striker..." Bonnie says, voice hushed and quiet, like he's telling a secret. "Just between you and me, Freddy and I do have something going on that... may not particularly be apart of the brand characterization of us."

Tony's eyes widen. Something shoots through his chest, some sort of burning blooming feeling, and he just stares at Bonnie speechless.

There had been something going on between the lines. There had been. Just like he'd thought. Did... Does that mean that the closeness, the undertones that Tony had felt just had to be between them had been there all along? That he really was right.

But... Bonnie had said that last part with the same emphasis he'd used before, and it only just now clicks.

Tony feels something he cant place. It feels crushing, scary, like... somethings caught up to him. Like he was somehow wrong all along. Wrong about Freddy and Bonnie? Wrong about something he never ever knew why he latched onto in the first place?

"So..." He begins uncertainly, shoulders feeling heavy. He realizes he hasnt blinked this whole time, and releases the tight breath he'd been holding. His eyes flick up to Bonnie's. "The promotional art isn't any different?"

Bonnie's ears droop, and he shakes his head. Tony just looks away.

"No, buddy." Bonnie replies. He shakes him a bit, just enough to get his attention, and Tony makes himself look back at Bonnie.

He looks knowing, somehow. It makes Tony bristle. He looks like he just figured it out. But what is there to figure out? Why is Bonnie looking at him with sympathy?

Bonnie doesnt say something like Tony had been expecting him to, though. He just stands to his full height, herding Tony by his shoulders gently to go down the hallway and stand just at the mouth of the curtain. They dont go through, but stay tucked in the shadows. Tony frowns, confused.

"Might there be a reason why you saw a difference with us in the first place?" Bonnie asks, a whisper. He nudges him, and Tony, despite the confusion and how his question begins to weigh on him, joins him in peering through the gap in the curtain.

Tony's not really sure why Bonnie's brought him over here; it's just Gregory and Freddy on the other side, and Tony cant help but feel a little bit of impatient-ness mix with the confusion inside of him, because Bonnie obviously knows something that Tony doesnt and its killing him.

But any remarks over it he bites down, and he tries to decipher the reasoning himself. There obviously is one, after all.

Tony just watches, looking for whatever Bonnie may be getting at. Gregory's faced half away from the curtain, talking to Freddy about something, and he doesnt notice Tony's observing him. Tony watches Gregory's face; theres a smile that goes as wide as to crinkle the corner of his eyes, and it dissolves into laughter soon after. He looks amused, like the funniest joke in the world was just told, and Freddy laughs heartily next to him.

Theres that weird feeling in his chest that been eating away at him again. The one he always gets around Greg and if he gets to looking at the drawing he gave him. The one of Freddy and Bonnie. Or if he remembers the cabinet art.

Tony just watches. He watches and is aware that Gregory barely ever smiles like that and that it makes his eyes sparkle, and it's like the gold in them shimmers even more. How it curves around his cheeks and even after it dissipates a bit, the contentment is still there. He watches him speak and how it flashes his teeth and his home-cut, shaggy hair kinda falls over his face like a curtain and he has to brush it out of the way with a hand. Theres the scar on his face that travels up his jaw and the sharpness to his eyes and the curve of his nose and--

Oh.

He's long let go of the Bonnie keychain by now, but now, it weighs heavy on him. Suddenly he's all too aware of its presence, and Gregory's Freddy backpack that Tony can see on his back through the gap of the curtain.

Flashes of the cabinet art at the Faz-Cade and Gregory's drawing run laps through his mind. It makes sense, now. His mind is so jumbled he cant get a thought through, but he still knows what they're all saying. He feels it.

Freddy and Bonnie, the two always paired together that Tony saw a certain closeness between. Bonnie, who had always been Tony's favorite. Freddy, who is Greg's favorite. Who he draws all the time and has bonded with and who he's connected with.

Tony's always felt connected to Bonnie.

"Oh." Tony says outwardly, barely louder than a whisper. His voice cracks in the middle.

Bonnie tries to squeeze his shoulder, to open his mouth and say something, but Tony gently shoves him off, walking out of his hold and stumbling closer the curtain.

"Im--" He stammers, not knowing what to think. "I'm sorry, Bonnie. I-- thank you for this, but--" He sighs out, and it feels a little wet. He ignores Bonnie's worried expression and pushes open the curtain with one arm. "Ive-- I've got to go."

Bonnie doesn't try to stop him. He doesnt yell for him, ask him to wait, nothing. Tony appreciates it. Maybe that knowing look hed given him means he understands.

"Hey." Greg greets him on the outside, just like he said he would. Hes smiling, Freddy backpack still on his shoulders, but it drops a bit when he sees his face.

"Tony?" He asks, softer and less enthusiastic. "Are you--"

"I'm fine." Tony cuts him off, ignoring the guilt curling in his stomach when he walks past both Greg and Freddy. He needs-- he can't think right now. He doesnt know what to do. "Im-- I'm okay. I uh, just think im gonna go home."

Theres no response for a second until Greg goes "Oh." Its a little flat, and one hundred percent sounds disappointed and worried all in one. The guilt gets worse. "Are you--"

"I'm okay." Tony insists, and the tightness in his chest and rapidness of his thoughts dont go away. Greg doesnt get to ask again, because Tony's almost running away, now.

He can feel Greg and Freddys eyes on his back as he leaves Bonnie Bowl, not knowing how to feel.

Tony hasnt told Gregory.

How is he supposed to? He-- he hasnt even processed it himself. He doesnt know what to think or how to feel. He doesnt like not being able to think.

Every time he tries, it all gets jumbled and his brain twists in knots. He doesnt need to think to know. To know what it all meant and that he'd always felt this way. Since he'd gotten to know the real Greg.

That those moments where he and Gregory would be close where he'd have those weird feelings were because he liked him. He still does. He likes him. A lot.

He likes him and he'd-- Tony had always seen more in Bonnie and Freddy because he saw more in him and Gregory. Its always been that way. He's always felt closer to Greg. He's... he's the Freddy to his Bonnie.

The thought makes Tony's brain freeze up again. He blinks, feeling his arms burn from being sprawled out on the bed and holding them up for so long. He groans, long and drawn out, feeling lost.

His stomach does somersaults and his face burns when he looks at the drawing again. He's stared at it a lot already. Not only today, but since he got it. Its felt... special, to him. Now he knows why. That this drawing Greg gifted him always felt like it held something deeper. Something that... only Tony saw. That no one else would.

He grips the paper with his fingers, staring longingly at the art. It feels like hes getting a headache, lying flat on his back and straining his arms just to hold the drawing up in the air. He stares at the pencil lines and the colors and how Freddy and Bonnie's shoulders are pressed together and their hands are still awkwardly limp from where they fall by their waists.

Tony frowns, always feeling off about that part. It never fit in correctly. It never felt intentional. Not like everything about Gregory's art always has. It had always left Tony wondering. Like how he had with the feeling in his stomach and Freddy and Bonnie's official art.

He sighs, his arms drooping slightly from the strain. Today was a school day, and Tony hadn't gone with Greg to his house like he usually does. He's barely talked to him since his exchange with Bonnie. He doesn't want to avoid, him, he just... doesnt know what to say.

He doesnt know if he should tell him. Tony has always felt that he and Greg felt different, but he has no idea if Gregory does. Tony had been wrong about it being intentional in the art at the Plex. He'd created it himself because he saw himself in it. He doesnt want to-- to mess things up with Greg. He doesnt want Gregory to have never felt the same.

His brows furrow and he frowns as he readies himself to leave it for today, like he usually does. He takes a last long look at the drawing, eyeing Freddy and Bonnie's hands again, and how they look forced and awkward, and starts to drop his arms.

It's the afternoon, and the sun is setting and just at the right position to shine through his blinds and onto his bed. The blinds are almost fully shut, but the sun peeks through the cracks, shining on the back of the paper and highlighting the details of the drawing.

Tony wouldnt have paid it any mind if it hadn't revealed something hes never seen, never, about the drawing he's spent so long looking at.

He does a double take. Then a triple. Then some more for good measure. He blinks, and scrambles up on his arms to sit upright so he can see it better.

His eyes widen, and his stomach feels floaty. The same feeling from the cabinet art and when he and Greg will sit close to eachother at lunch and let their shoulders and knees touch or, stand closer to eachother than they should blooms in his stomach.

The sun, shining bright and golden through his window, illuminates the blank paper space adjacent to Freddy and Bonnie's hands in Gregory's drawing. They're bending awkwardly, out of the way, and it gives him room to see the faded lines besides Freddy and Bonnie's hands.

It starts from the wrist and the lines show up even through the marker Greg had used to color their hands with. It fits, Tony thinks, with the pose. With the original pose. This way, it doesnt feel forced or awkward. It looks like how it had intended to be from the start.

Because with the sun shining behind it and showing through the color and pen that had carefully covered it up, Tony sees faded pencil lines that before, had connected Freddy and Bonnie's hands.

His face becomes warm, and he just looks, feeling something blooms in his chest. Hope? Disbelief? Excitement? His brain short circuits and he's only feeling right now. He feels how sparks are flying in his stomach and it feels a little less impossible than before.

I... uh... I drew it for you in the first place.

This is how it had always been intended. For Freddy and Bonnie to be holding hands. Theres nothing else it could have been. It had always been unintentional in the Plex art. Always just created from Tony's own relation. But this... Greg wanted this. He wanted to draw Freddy and Bonnie holding hands and for that closeness to be more than an undertone. More than intangible.

Tony feels breathless. His arms and hands shake, and the paper in front of him shakes along with it. He doesnt care, though. The sun is still illuminating what Greg had intended in his drawing all along, the drawing he made for him, and Tony feels less unsure than before. He feels like maybe he isnt alone in feeling this way at all.

The next day, after a long night and day at school, Tony goes with Greg to his house.

The drawing sits heavy in his backpack. unfolded unfolded because he'd never want to crease it and he doesnt want the pencil lines to suddenly disappear, either. He handles it like porcelain glass, like itll slip through his fingers if he let's it go too much.

Even Ellis had noticed him acting weird, and Tony noticed Greg looking at him concerned from the corner of his eye. He knows why. He's been distant lately. But... at school today, Tony hadn't felt afraid of Greg. Of messing things up with him. He'd felt the warmth spread through his face and his stomach and fireworks go off and his face stretch in a grin when he'd seen him the first time that day. And he'd felt it times ten all over again when Greg had smiled back.

He wont lose him. Tony knows this. He'd spend all night and all day mulling it over. Greg feels the same. He'd felt the closeness like I had. He'd.. he erased it. He was scared, like I am now.

It feels different, walking into Greg's room. He hasnt been there in a couple days, but it feels almost similar to when he'd walked into Bonnie's greenroom. He knows now that it had been because he knew, deep down. It felt like he was about to confess something then. He pretty much had, saying that Bonnie and Freddy were together out loud.

It's not as far down, anymore. It's not buried underneath characterization branding and pencil lines and marker strokes and only revealed if the light hits it right. It wont stay under wraps. Not after today.

Tony becomes hyper aware of the bag on his back immediately after the door closes on them. Greg walks into his room first, slinging his bag off of his back and kicking his shoes off and talking about watching something, together, or writing like they always do, but Tony isnt listening. He's just balling up the hem of his green corduroy jacket in his hands and staring at the carpet and thinking about the colors orange and blue.

"Tony?" Greg asks him. Tony startles, looking up at Greg. Hes sitting on the edge of his bed, with concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?"

Tony opens his mouth, but theres no words on his tongue. He stands there silently for a moment, and he thinks about the drawing again. He knows it's time. The sun is peeking through Greg's blinds. His backpack and the knowledge that the drawing is inside and his Bonnie keychain weigh on him.

His eyes flick for a split second to Greg's backpack and his sneakers, and then he clears his throat, his mouth feeling dry. "Greg, can I show you something?"

Gregory tilts his head, looking a little worried. He jerks, patting the bed beside him. "Uh, yeah, of course."

Tony swings his own backpack off of his shoulders as he makes his way next to Gregory, but its gentler. Careful about the easily crinkleable paper inside. Pencil lines that have already been attempted to be erased.

It only fully sets in when he sits down next to Gregory on the bed, and he chose to sit close enough that their arms are flush against eachother and Tony's face gets warm. He doesnt fight it. He just unzips his backpack and carefully reaches in, grabbing ahold of the corner with light fingers.

He pulls it out, and Gregory looks suprised next to him, if not also a little but confused. Tony's face is still warm, and his fingers shake and tremble, and he turns his neck to face Gregory.

They're really close like this, and Tony's eyes widen and he has to fight to not look away. His heart hammers a hundred miles an hour in his chest, but he keeps his gaze on Greg's eyes. Gold meets blue, and they stay staring at eachother. Tony hopes deeply that Gregory gets the hint. That he understands.

Nothing, yet. Not a peep. Just a silent moment. Theres closeness now, Tony thinks. Closeness that feels carefully not one sided. That feels mutual. So after another moment, he forces himself to look away, pointing the paper at the wall and smoothing out the corners. Gregory follows his movements, still having not made a sound.

Tony doesnt, either. He just holds the paper up to the window on Greg's wall, or rather the beams of golden light shining through it, and just like how it did in Tony's room, it illuminates the pencil lines around the white of the paper.

Lines that had been hidden. That are being revealed now, brought to the surface because Gregory didnt have to be afraid. Becuase its mutual. It feels less like it was erased, now, and more like it was drawn in invisible ink. Blank to the naked eye, but the two of them know. Greg knows, he has to. He hid it himself. And Tony... well, Tony wasnt crazy for feeling that there was something between the lines all this time, has he? Not when there literally have been.

Tony looks at it for a moment, feeling like it's all being brought up to the surface. He feels connected to Gregory, right now. Like this isnt some big reveal. That its just an acknowledging of feelings. I know. Tony's trying to say. I always have, and now I know that you did, too.

He moves his gaze to Greg, who's staring wide eyed but almost blank faced at the paper. His lips are parted slightly, but other than that, he just looks... shocked. Suprised.

Scared

Tony's scared, too. But not in the way Greg is. Tony's nervous, and afraid, and excited, but Greg doesnt know if Tony knows. If he thinks the closeness is mutual.

He does.

He takes the leap, fire in his chest and on his face and sparks flying from where Greg's shoulder is pressed against his. "Maybe..." He begins, slow and quiet. He looks at Greg, meeting his eyes, and he points a finger at the lines that originally portrayed hands laced together. "...Bonnie and Freddy would like to hold hands. You know, like... in the promotional art".

Theres a fleeting moment of silence where Tony's words just hang in the air. Like in the promotional art, because Tony knows Gregory noticed, too. He knows he felt the same connection Tony had. He knows that he knows. He sets the paper down in his lap, no longer feeling like its needed. His hand lies on his leg, carefully positioned in-between them, like Greg's is.

Then, Greg stops looking so scared, and he meets Tony's eyes. The sun from his window makes them shine like gold, and Tony keeps ahold of his gaze. He hopes desperately that those few words were enough, that a moment like this that cant be shattered by big declarations gets across.

But then, Greg breaks from his eyes first, looking downwards, and Tony follows his gaze.

"Like in the promotional art." Gregory agrees. Tony watches as Gregorys hand twitches, and no matter how slow or agonizing, it moves to lace together with Tonys.

Tony doesnt dare smile, or laugh, or make a peep. He doesnt dare shatter the moment. His chest blooms and explodes with sparks and fireworks, and he knows. He knows that its requited. That Gregory knows, as well. That orange and blue go good together and that he was never wrong about there being something else there.

His head whips up from their hands to look at Greg's face again, and Gregory is looking at him already. Theres red on his face, too, like Tony knows there is on his own. Tony dares to use his thumb to brush against Greg's hand, and Gregory's eyes dart downwards for just a moment, before meeting his again.

Then, without a word, Greg smiles slowly. It's big and it stretches across his cheeks and crinkles his eyes at the corners. And Tony let's a grin appear on his own face.

The drawing sits in his lap, and a ray of sunshine continues to showcase the faded indents of pencil drawing laced together hands. Tony squeezes once, then twice, and shifts his hold to be tighter and more secure. Greg does the same.

ao3 link

#hope this works #this is a long oneshot LOL #u can go to the ao3 link to see more thoughts and stuff i had to say abt this fic #beckory #my fics #pandas writes #oneshot #gregory #tony #gregtony #ggy #PLS tell me if the size of this oneshot messed up tumbkr formatting in any way LOL #between the lines

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ruhlare · 1 year ago

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#to my soul - come home #between the lines #my writing #my edit #letters

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bbina · 8 months ago

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it’s been a week since that night with wonbin and things between you and him have been a little weird.

these past recent days days wonbin has been facetiming more often, beginning to start petty arguments when you wouldn’t answer his calls and texts or when you’d blow him off to do something else you planned for the day. he’s been a lot clingier and you’re not too sure how to feel

in retrospect, you thought this whole fake dating thing with wonbin would only be until the trip ended just to cut some awkwardness between sungchan and his girlfriend, but after some unforeseen circumstances, you and wonbin had to keep playing pretend a bit longer. now everything has returned back to normal, you and sungchan finally patched up and you’ve gotten over him at this point. so you’re a bit confused on why wonbin is still keen on playing pretend

today wonbin asked again if you were free and if you wanted to go shopping with him since he feels bored and wanted to hang out but you responded that you were preoccupied with some family stuff with eunseok but in reality you didn’t have plans at all. you wanted to have some space between you guys for now especially after that night where he seemed to indirectly confess his feelings. this way you’ll have more time to think about how to break this arrangement you have with him as nice as possible without the possibility of hurting his feelings but you know otherwise that no matter how nice you put it, one way or another it will definitely strain whatever relationship you have with him right now

you could almost hear the frown on his face on the other line when you declined. the last thing he said was “oh okay. text me if anything happens, i’ll call you later” before he hung up the phone

you throw your phone on your bed as you flopped next to it, staring up at your ceiling just thinking about the past few months. how you’ve managed to convince all your friends that you and wonbin have been going out for a while and that you just decided to keep it a secret for god knows how long. you fear that your lies was gonna catch up with you soon but you shook away the thought

just as you could think more about the possible consequences of your actions, you hear someone knocking on your door.

you sat up in surprise. who could it be? could it be wonbin? did wonbin somehow find out that you lied that you were spending time with your family?

the door opens to reveal sungchan.

you let out a sigh in relief as you yelled at him for scaring you. sungchan simply just laughs and sits on the foot of your bed

“what do you want, jinsu?” you groan, lying back down on your bed, not even bothering to give him a glance

sungchan pokes your legs, “what’s with that reaction? aren’t you happy to see me come over?”

you rolled to your side, grabbing your phone as you scroll through wonbin’s updates. you begin to feel a little guilty for ignoring wonbin for the past few days. he deserves to know what you’re feeling

[1:27 PM] w ♥︎: just arrived in myeongdong baby [1:27 PM] w ♥︎: look at this hoodie. it’s such a vibe [1:28 PM] w ♥︎: y/nnnnnnn [1:32 PM] w ♥︎: ur taking too long to reply so i bought it. even if its new u can steal it if you'd like <3 [1:35 PM] w ♥︎: are u busy?? [1:43 PM] w ♥︎: baby this would look so good on u. do you want it? [1:47 PM] w ♥︎: passed by a jewelry store so i bought us matching necklaces [2:00 PM] w ♥︎: a reply might be nice..

instead of replying, you turned don’t disturb on and shut your phone off. sungchan notices your weird attitude and lays down next to you

“what’s wrong” sungchan asks as he pokes your cheek. you turn to face him and shrug,

“nothing”

“sure?”

“what do you want sungchan” you grumbled, rolling your eyes as you sit up. sungchan laughs, used to your mood swings. you wish he could just say it. you know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to do something

“let’s hang out. i miss you” sungchan smiles, poking your sides making you jump. you hate how you’re so ticklish and sungchan knows that.

you grab your pillow and smack sungchan square in the face. sungchan lets out a low grunt of pain

“jesus christ when did you get so violent?” sungchan groans, “can’t i just ask to hang out with my best friend?”

“go bother eunseok instead” you groan, turning your back on him. you really didn’t want to deal with anyone today

“but eunseok doesn’t want to go out” sungchan whines, poking your shoulder endlessly but you still don’t budge.

“y/nnnnn” sungchan drawls, now laying next to you. with an irritated sigh, you sit up and shoo him out of the room as you get dressed. sungchan cheers as he heads out of your room. you rolled your eyes before chuckling. okay maybe there was no harm into this as it has been a while you hung out with sungchan one on one

—

wonbin stares at his phone for what seems like the nth time today. it’s been a couple hours since he texted you and not once did you sent a reply back nor did you even look at his messages. the big "Delivered" staring right back at wonbin

wonbin frowns as he stares at his lockscreen which was a picture of you. you asked him to change it when you saw it since it was a candid picture of you laughing but wonbin didn't listen and insisted he keeps it because to him you look so cute much to your dismay

“why isn’t she replying to me..” wonbin mumbles to himself, shutting his phone off as he pockets it. he sighs and continues on his day. pretending that your sudden change didn’t affect him at all.

wonbin was walking to the bus stop when he passes by the cafe he was raving to you about. he wanted to go with you but you kept declining his invites to hang out.

as he was passing by, he sees someone familiar with his peripheral vision.

he knows that physique anywhere. it looked like sungchan. he stops walking and stands closer at the window to take a closer look

and lo and behold, it was in fact sungchan!

wonbin was about to enter the cafe to greet sungchan but then he sees that he was with someone. that someone being you

his eyes widened in shock. is that why you weren’t replying to him all day? was it because you were with sungchan all along?

wonbin doesn’t understand what got to him. his heart feels heavy and feels like he shouldn’t have seen you two together. he watches as your head falls back as you laugh at sungchan’s dumb joke. he watches how you look so happy to be with sungchan when in fact it could’ve been with him

his chest tightens at the sickly sight. he scoffs before forcing himself to walk away but the image of you and sungchan who seem to be out on a date is imprinted in his mind

without thinking, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and sends you a quick message.

“can we meet later? i'm coming over"

—

your phone vibrates on the table.

sungchan was telling you about how all the accusations of his ex girlfriend in regards to you back then during the trip. to the point he himself was beginning to question the security of their relationship that ultimately ended up with him and her breaking up.

“i always had a thought that if she didn’t accept who you are in my life then i wouldn’t want them in mine. so i’m really sorry about her” sungchan shares as he recalls everything that happened.

“it was kinda my fault too for ignoring you back then. the way you were acting with me probably caused her to think that way so i’m sorry too” you say apologetically, being empathetic for your best friend. he didn’t deserve that although you were a bit smug that you were right all along for not really liking his ex girlfriend. though it did bother you a little that his girlfriend may have seen through your façade

your phone vibrates again. this time sungchan notices and points it out

“you should probably answer that” he says. you pick your phone up to see what was up.

it was a message from wonbin. you furrowed your brows as you read the message. it felt a little cold to be coming from wonbin

“who is it? is it eunseok?” sungchan asked, peering over to look at your screen. you shake your head no and said it was wonbin.

“wonbin? how are you guys? still going strong?” sungchan continues to ask, his eyes wide. still not accepting the thought of you dating one of his closest friends. to him it almost felt fake cause why would you suddenly announce a relationship that he didn’t know about

“uh yeah” you smile fakely, trying to come up with an excuse for his follow up question. “i guess..”

“hmm i’ve always wondered why you never told me that you liked him. or even the fact that you two were dating all along” sungchan suddenly says outloud

it almost scared you out of your wits with how much sungchan managed to see through your lies. he literally hit it right on the dot. talk about bullseye

“sungchan.. i have to tell you something” you take a deep breath, closing your eyes before looking at sungchan who had worry evident in his eyes.

“you can tell me anything”

“i-”

your conversation is cut off short when your phone starts to ring. it was eunseok who was calling.

“hello?” you picked up, seemingly a bit confused on why eunseok was calling you when knows where you were at and that you were with sungchan

“wonbin’s here” eunseok’s stone cold voice coming from the other end. you hear some talking in the background and you hear wonbin telling him to tell you that it’s urgent and that he needed to see you, “do you want me to tell him that you’re out with su–”

“no! that’s exactly what you don’t tell him” you cut him off abruptly. for all you know, wonbin thinks you were out with your family (that of which included eunseok)

“woah. chill, i won’t” eunseok says, “but you really need to come home now. it’s getting late”

you look at sungchan and mouthed it was time to go. he nods and grabs his car keys on the table. you both stand up as you walk out of the cafe, eunseok still on the line

“wonbin looks upset. what did you do?” you hear eunseok ask as you get into the passenger seat. you already wince at the thought that wonbin caught you lying to him. you hear him talk to wonbin in the background and you’re literally praying to the gods that something else made wonbin upset, “whatever. forget i asked. i’ll see you at home” with that eunseok hangs up

you didn’t even realize that you were holding in your breath til you let out a deep exhale. sungchan looks over for a moment before keeping his eyes back at the road

“what’s wrong?” sungchan asks, worried.

“just eunseok wanting me to go home” you say. technically it wasn’t a lie, it is true that he wanted you home.

“oh, i thought something happened. anyway what were you saying earlier before you got cut off?”

you suck in a deep breath. mentally preparing yourself on what you were gonna say to sungchan

“just promise me you won’t be weird right after?” you plead, looking at sungchan who kept his eyes on the road. you watch as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. as if like he would let anything between you would change

“me and wonbin….. aren’t really together” you admit, bracing yourself for his reaction. sungchan suddenly slams on the breaks, causing you to jolt forward. you were thankful you had the seatbelt on or else you would’ve ended up with a concussion

“what the fuck sungchan!” you yelped as the car halts to a stop. it was a good thing you were at an empty street when this shit happened. who knows maybe sungchan could’ve caused a traffic accident

“what do you mean you and wonbin aren’t together?!” sungchan whips his head around to face you. completely caught off guard. what did you mean by that?

“i’m really sorry sungchan but it was all a lie” you admit, looking down at your lap as you let sungchan process your words. “i-i was really hurt that you had a girlfriend at the time and in the heat of the moment i blurted out that wonbin and i were dating but it’s all not true. we were just pretending til the trip ended. i’m so sorry”

sungchan looks at you with wide eyes. what did you just say?

“so all this time.. you and wonbin… weren’t actually together? but just pretending to? what the fuck, y/n?” sungchan was completely at loss of words. so all this time?

you can only wince at his reaction. you expected this to happen. it was inevitable. it was only about time til your little white lie caught up with you somehow and that time is now

“i’m sorry sungchan i really don’t know what got to me at the time”

“why?”

“huh?”

“why did you do it?”

“it’s because i liked you, okay?!” you finally explode, tired of keeping all of this inside. it was eating you inside out knowing that you were just using his friend– your brother’s friend to get back at sungchan.

“what?” sungchan blurts out, did he hear you right?

“yes! i liked you, sungchan! for the longest time! i had a crush on you all this time and when you revealed that you had a girlfriend i was hurt! i wanted to get over you so that’s why i did it. god!” you bury your face into your hands, embarrassed beyond measure. you want nothing in this world but to swallow you whole. it was too late now

the car ride turns silent after that. sungchan stunned by your outburst. he doesn’t know what to say or how to feel, even. but the question in his head remains, why say that now?

“i don’t know what to say…” sungchan starts, trying to come up with something but eventually ends up with nothing.

“i know you don’t feel the same. you’ll always see me as your best friend’s little sister and i get that! but i just had to get this off my chest since it’s eating me alive. now please take me home” you feel tears prick the corner of your eyes. you harshly wipe away your tears as you wish that this car ride would end sooner

maybe you should've kept this one to the grave

sungchan stays quiet after that. not wanting to make things even weird than they already were. he needed a few days to process everything. to think about everything that went down

after what seems like forever you two finally arrive at your house. you and sungchan don’t say anything when he puts the car to park. not wanting to make wonbin wait much longer, you start to unbuckle your seatbelt

“wait!” sungchan calls, his arm extended out to prevent you from leaving just yet. “i just wanted to say that thank you for telling me your feelings�� he starts

you internally groan, not wanting this kind of conversation with him. the secret is out so there’s nothing else left to say. all you wanted was a bit of dignity left in you but you know that’s a lie.

“i think you already know where this is going?” sungchan sheepishly smiles. of course you know. you know damn well he doesn’t see you like that and he never will. you accepted that fact a long time ago

“i know sungchan. i know” you smile faintly at the boy. “from the get go i can already tell but i just wanted to come clean and forget all this happened”

sungchan can only smile apologetically as he watches you compose yourself. he now understands why you were so harsh and brash around him during the trip. it was normal for you to react like that especially since he kept having a girlfriend from you for a while and the fact you had to find out unprovoked on a trip with friends, it was pretty normal for you to react that way

“friends?” sungchan prompts, opening his arms.

“you dumbass!” you cried, wiping a stray tear from your cheek, “friends” you invite yourself into his arms.

you think of it as closure for this chapter in your life. you were finally free from the chains of your stupid little crush on your brother’s best friend

your little moment with sungchan gets cut off with eunseok yanking the car door open.

“why the fuck are you guys taking so damn long to get out– oh” eunseok stops rambling when he catches you and sungchan hugging. you pull away from sungchan’s hold when you whip your head towards your brother to see him standing there with a shocked look on his face and wonbin behind him

you made eye contact with wonbin and his expression was something you don’t ever want to see. he looks like he just got betrayed. hurt washed all over his features. you watch him as he purses his lips shut as you scramble out of sungchan’s car

eunseok clears his throat to cut the dead silence. it was unbearable for him as it was to you. you hated how you found yourself in this tight situation.

you were caught red handed by wonbin himself.

“uh, wonbin’s been waiting for quite some time now so..” eunseok notes, looking around for a distraction.

“i’m gonna go home” wonbin says coldly. his jaw clenched, trying to calm himself down. your eyes widened as you look at wonbin, “wait!”

“save it, y/n” wonbin hisses, walking away from your house.

eunseok looks between you, sungchan and wonbin. wondering what the fuck is happening before you ran after wonbin.

sungchan can only sigh as he watches you run after his friend. he looks at eunseok apologetically before leaving

“i’ll tell you everything later but for now let them talk” was all sungchan said before getting into his car and driving away.

eunseok simply blinks and walks back inside the house. mumbling “what the fuck”

—

“wonbin wait!” you call out as you continue to run after him. wonbin scoffs, “go home, y/n”

as you catch up to him, panting for breath, you grab his arm, forcing him to look at you “wonbin it’s not what it looks like!” you cried out

wonbin turns around, his expression hardens,

“wonbin–”

“y/n, it’s exactly what it looks like” wonbin barks, yanking his arm back from your grip.

heart racing, you struggle to explain, “no i can explain–”

“blowing me off multiple times? ignoring my texts and calls for the past week? yeah i know where this is going. now go home” wonbin tries to shoo you off but the more he pushes you away the more his heart aches

frustration bubbles up inside you, “let me explain goddamn it!” you yelled, stopping your tracks to catch your breath. “you got the wrong idea. sungchan and i were just hanging out-”

“you lied to me. you said you were out with your family? don’t think i didn’t see you at that cafe because i definitely did” wonbin seethes, trying to contain his anger. he didn’t want to lash out on you but with the whole situation, it was hard not to.

your eyes widened at the fact all this time you were caught red handed by wonbin himself

“it’s still sungchan, huh” wonbin chuckles wryly, beginning to accept the fact that it’s always gonna be sungchan for you. you look at him confused. what?

you raise a brow, “what do you mean? sungchan was just telling me about how his ex girlfriend-”

wonbin stops in his tracks, slowly turning around to face you. did you just say ex girlfriend? oh right. sungchan and yujin broke up for a while now. so does that mean that whatever you have going on with him is now over? it’s done? just like that? after literally making you forget about sungchan, after all those heart to heart confessions here you go running back to him? it only took you a day to realize that you won’t need him anymore?

“ex girlfriend huh? i forgot he was single again. so i’m guessing you’re gonna go running back to him? i definitely got the right idea witnessing your little moment at his car back there now that his girlfriend is out of the picture. so are you two are finally together? is it a wish come true? huh, y/n?” wonbin presses on, taking a step towards you. he is in disbelief over the whole situation.

it can’t get any worse than this

his head is screaming at him to stop but he can’t. he’s so worked up that he couldn’t even process what he was saying.

with the way wonbin was talking to you right now, you know he was getting under your skin. you feel your eye twitch after hearing his accusations left and right when in reality he had no place in your life to be acting this way and saying such things about you like that. last time you checked, you two weren’t even a real thing!

“it’s like i’m the only one holding on to whatever we have going on, and it’s making me go fucking crazy.” wonbin fumes, his emotions getting the best of him

“we’re not even together! you’re not my real boyfriend so you don’t get to tell me shit! have you forgotten? we were just pretending to be in a relationship!” you finally snapped, feet stomped on the ground

at the same time you let go of these words, wonbin feels like his heart just broke into a million pieces. your words stinging. of course you two aren’t official. of course you two aren’t fucking real. of course. of fucking course. how could he forget? you were just using him to forget sungchan and he can’t believe how stupid he was to agree on such a thing or let alone even suggest that you use him to get over your best friend

there was a beat of silence after that. the realization of what you just said hits you not a moment later, you covered your mouth in shock. you were too engrossed in the moment to realize what you just said.

“wonbin i-”

“right,” wonbin begins. he starts to laugh hysterically that it’s scaring you. “i forgot”

wonbin finally looks at you. with a smile he says, “we’re not actually together. thank you for reminding me”

“wonbin no i didn’t mean it like that-'' you shakily reach out to him, hands trembling as you attempt to grab his hand but wonbin has already turned his back on you, shoulders tensed. right now he just wants to get out of here, away from you

“wonbin!” you call out, running after him again, desperate to make things right. but by the time you catch up with him, you realize that he’s crying.

wonbin is crying.

he is crying because of you. your heart aches at the sight. you definitely fucked up.

wonbin closes his eyes, letting his tears freely fall. he then looks at you, eyes filled with pain, betrayal and defeat. you opened your mouth to say something but wonbin beats you to it

“thank you for finally letting me realize who i really am to you because it's always gonna be him.. i honestly thought we’d become something after all those days and nights i’ve spent wiping your tears. i got to know you deep inside, i let you get to know me deep inside. i let you in only for you to let walk away with everything i had” wonbin pauses for a brief second,

“i let you break my heart, even if it meant i only get to have you when you needed it.”

wonbin suddenly cups your cheeks. his thumbs wiping the stray tears you didn’t even notice that were rolling down your cheeks

he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his breathing but it’s shaky. he then presses his lips against your forehead. it almost felt like he was savoring the remaining moments of what you two could’ve been

“i’m sorry i can’t be sungchan”

you widened your eyes at his statement. why does it feel like he’s saying goodbye? your chest tightens. it hurts. it hurts so much seeing wonbin like this. the weight of his pain was almost too much to bear and to think everything was all your fault

wonbin pulls away and rests his forehead against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes

“but do me one last favor" wonbin tucks some stray hair behind your ear. "please never talk to me again” he croaks. wonbin pulls your head to his chest for what seems to be the last time. wonbin squeezes his eyes shut, savoring this moment. this moment with you in his arms for the the last time

”what?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of both hearts breaking. you try to reach out again but he slowly pulls away. forcing himself to get away from you, from this mess, from everything. all he wanted was a breather

your tears are now fully rolling down your face as you continue to call out for him but to no avail, he does not turn back once. afraid that if he does, he would just come running back to you.

this time, wonbin chose himself. he always put you first ever since your fake relationship started. he had an internal debate with himself with the drawbacks of this entanglement.

wonbin knew what he was getting into but yet..

now all you can do is watch wonbin walk away from you and your life. your actions haunting you as you dwell in the fact that you did this to yourself. you caused this and now all you can do is watch your world crumble before you

between the lines ★ thank you

⤷ from what started as a simple arrangement to hide your feelings for a certain someone by getting into in a fake relationship soon turns into a tangled mess. in which some things are hard to tell when you can’t read between the lines

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★ notes .ᐟ probably my most favorite chapter... i wrote this a month ago even before btl was a thing it is now heh

★ taglist .ᐟ @callanton @annswwa @renjuneoo @pinkraindropsfell @lecheugo @ilovejungwonandhaechan @ahnneyong @haechansbbg @snowyseungs @sseastar-main @odxrilove @leeknowarchives @onlywonb @wonychu @leehanascent @jaeyunsb @au-ghosttype @revehosh @keilovr @kyusqult @dreamyyyz @ether-yeol @yangasm @qwonbani @starwonb1n @ffixtionista @daegale @scrumptiousloser @seunghancore @marksluvs @wonbinfiles @ohmykwonsoonyoung @reenfluffmarshmallow @bunni @artstaeh @yizhoutv @sie17136 @koeuh @07yujin @poollabug @vernonburger @dutifullyannoyingfox @000rpheus @wccycc @sunus-sun @highhjime @chweverni @toosspicy @heartlvrrss @s9nwoo @yoursyuno

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queenimmadolla · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

a/n: my fav little hater was upset about my post getting interactions again so they flagged it to be incorrectly labeled, meaning it's hidden from the majority of people so repost time! there is no mature content in this chapter, suck it. based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

And a large hole in their wallet.

“This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

“You got a number we can reach you at?”

You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along.

“Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

God, I hope so.

You’d learned. Eventually.

Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your back and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed.

Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no cool air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

─

Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

“Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

“Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

“Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again.He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group.

Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred–with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through the wall. Henry had to go.