#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A TINY SKETCH BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY

[cosmobrain00]

Short hair Max!

TYY FOR THE REQUEST ANON THIS WAS SM FUN TO DRAW<3 short hair max supremacy🙏

(also im having a good time so if anyone else wants to request anything go ahead)

[m30wk1ttycat]

the blind leading the blind-er

relationships: simp!thomas x oblivious!reader (romantic), gally x reader (platonic, besties), minho x thomas x newt (platonic, besties) minho x gally if you squint (romantic)

warning! contains: cussing, maybe softie!gally, thomas loves his strawberry lip balm, horrible sexual jokes (about three or four, maybe five. i can't be bothered to do the math, sorry, y'all), thomas sleeps in just his boxers because i said do, KISSING (i poured my fucking heart out during the kissing scene. you're welcome)!!

summary: when a tiny little crush starts to turn into something so much more, thomas is too awkward to say it out loud, so he keeps giving not-so-subtle hints. of course, minho, his best friend keeps reassuring him that you picked up on his hints. (you didn't.)

prompt: "relationships don't really work like that, minho." "and names shouldn't work the way they do, 'cause why are you named after isaac newton? i thought he was supposed to be smart or something."

it was genuinely agonizing, in thomas' best friends' opinions. the poor kid had tried everything. truly everything. and yet, you still weren't catching up on it, as much as he tried. it was almost depressing to watch.

but at least he had them, his best friends, minho and newt, by his side?

right after leaving the maze, thomas spotted you talking to gally, not too far away from him and minho, who was standing next to him, drinking from his canteen. minho offered it to him and thomas, still panting, gladly accepted it.

"y/n is so checking you out right now," minho whispered into thomas' ear, grinning as he watched thomas almost spit out the water.

meanwhile, you were talking to the builder, about ten feet away from the runners. sure, you ocassionally found yourself glancing at thomas, but you weren't exactly checking him out. he tried to swallow the disappointment he felt at the realization, but hey, you were still looking at him. as long as it was him who you were looking at, he'd take it.

"totally checking you out. see?" minho nodded in your direction. yeah, not checking him out, sadly.

thomas rolled his eyes and handed the canteen back to him. that was his only response.

minho threw an arm around him, the canteen in his other. "come on, we got work to do," he reminded. with that, the two headed to the map room, where only the runners were allowed.

while they did their job, you helped gally carry some wood for a new project he was working on. something about replacing the unsteady chairs in the map room, you recalled him saying. the high-pitched scream coming from the building as you passed by it pretty much confirmed it.

gally groaned beside you, continuing to walk. he, along with you, tried to ignore the audible string of curses that likely came from minho who had previously been sitting on the flimsy chair.

you were about to open your mouth to say something, but gally beat you to it, a guilty expression on his face, "he's okay, i promise."

"didn't sound like it."

"he will be okay," he corrected himself.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ★ ་༘࿐

you watched as gally searched for the sketches he drew for the new chairs - hopefully ones that don't end up collapsing under minho, bruising his poor butt.

"need help?" you offered.

"no, i know where they are," he answered, sounding frustrated. you guessed that it was because he, indeed, didn't know where they were.

he let out a defeated groan. "i don't know where they are," he announced, confirming your suspicions.

"fuck it, i'll just draw new ones.."

a beat. "and the papers are in the map room. great."

"i'll come with you if you want," you suggested, knowing that he and thomas didn't really get along. not to mention that minho would probably be mad at gally for the whole chair situation.

"fine," he agreed. once he got up from his previous kneeling position, he walked out the door of his hut, you right behind him.

already fearing minho, he reached out, gently knocking. very unlike the usual gally who'd probably kick down the door rather than actually attempt to knock.

shuffling was heard from inside the building, and much to gally's dismay, it was minho who opened the door.

"we need papers," the builder said, looking down at the runner. (minho is our short king 'cause i said so.)

"papers to draw sketches for the new chairs i was about to make to replace the old ones," gally explained. that seemed to shut minho up before he could even open his mouth to protest, thankfully. he turned around, walked over the remains of the currently very-not-intact chair, and searched for the papers that gally requested.

thomas, who was leaning on the table, smiled at you before returning to his work. though, with you there, standing in the doorway, looking like a painting as usual, he could barely focus.

minho rolled his eyes, and handed gally the papers that they - the runners - usually used for the maps of the maze. "this doesn't mean i forgive you, by the way."

"great," gally replied sarcastically and turned to leave. you jogged to catch up with him, arms crossed over your chest.

as you left, only then was he - thomas - able to focus. kind of.

minho closed the door behind you, rolling his eyes. "seriously?"

"what?" he asked, puzzled.

"that," minho said, as if that would clarify anything. either minho was bad at explaining, or thomas was dense as fuck. could've been both, though.

"meaning?"

"you were staring," he pointed out, "the whole fucking time."

"no, i wasn't," he denied.

"yes, you were."

"i wasn't," he insisted.

"you were, thomas."

"no."

"yes."

"no."

"yes."

"no."

"no."

"yes."

minho burst out laughing. "see? you said it yourself, shank."

"not fair.. you tripped me up," thomas whined.

"but you did say it, thomas," minho shrugged.

"because you tripped me up!"

"cry about it."

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ★ ་༘࿐

in the gardens, during lunch, you'd help gally with the designs for the chairs and such. apparently, multi-tasking wasn't exactly your forte, as you forgot about the food sitting next to you and instead focused on how the chair sketches were looking.

surprisingly, gally even let you help him with the chair-making once you those were done. as you were about to hand him the wood not-so-professionally thrown over your shoulder (don't do that, dumbasses!!!), your hand slipped and you ended up injuring your arm, which he tended to. he was used to having to patch up most of his builders if they got hurt - if it was a particularly bad injury, like a fractured bone, he let the med-jacks take care of it. thankfully, you just scraped your arm, which only resulted in gally scolding you like an overprotective brother. not that bad, no?

the whole chair-making thing took a few days; gathering the materials, cutting the wood, assembling, securing everything in place, sanding and prepping the almost-finished chairs, painting. how minho and thomas had the patience to wait for the new chairs, you had no idea. but, at least, these were more sturdy than the previous ones that were currently broken, in the corner of the map room, pretty much abandoned by a still angry minho.

"now we just gotta get these to minho and thomas," gally stated, looking at your creation. the chairs turned out way better than you both expected them to, honestly.

"wait, what?" you blinked once, twice, and thrice, finally processing his words. "i'm not carrying eight fucking chairs across the entire glade!"

"who said you're carrying all eight of them, genius?"

"wha-"

"come on," he encouraged with a small grin, one of the chairs already in his grasp. so, you did the same, rolling your eyes.

"dude, wait up!" you called.

"keep up, loser," he called back.

in the end, gally ended up carrying five of them, leaving you to carry the three other chairs that were left. how generous.

once you brought all eight chairs into the map room, minho eyed your handiwork. "fancy," he commented.

thomas, who had been leaning on the wall the entire time, rolled his eyes at minho. surely, he couldn't still be mad, right?

thomas turned to you and gally. "he meant to say 'thanks'."

you nodded with a small grin hidden behind your hand. with that action, thomas' brain partially malfunctioned. it was almost pathetic to watch, but at least it was entertaining.

"mhm, no problem," gally said, finally snapping thomas out of whatever thoughts he was having.

as you and gally turned to leave, thomas was met with minho's expression of 'dude, what the fuck was that?'.

"before you say anything, don't."

minho, under his breath, muttered: "i'm not sayin' anything."

moment of silence. "yet-"

"minho! shut up!"

"'shut up'? what do you mean? i'm as silent as a corpse is," he protested.

thomas internally facepalmed.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ★ ་༘࿐

you were dragged to dinner by gally, complaining about how harsh his grasp was on your still injured hand all the while, which he apologized for.

but did he ease his grip?

yes. eventually. he'd be a bad friend if he didn't.

like usual, you were sitting with him and a few of your friends, consisting of the builders that didn't piss him off.

"what's up with you and minho?" you questioned, referring to how the runner was looking at gally. surprisingly, he didn't seem angry.

gally stiffened at that. he gave minho a glance, making the boy turn back to his friends.

"how am i supposed to know that?"

you shrugged. "dunno."

you heard your best friend huff out a breath before resuming what he was doing before. eating his food.

seemingly, frypan was in a good mood, because for dinner, you got to enjoy the taste of the creamy pasta he cooked up - pasta, not stew like yesterday, the day before yesterday, and the day before that. pasta! who the hell doesn't love pasta? (i despise you if you don't like pasta.)

and god, it was so good. most of frypan's food was, so this was expected.

if you weren't counting that one time where he accidentally used spoiled poultry to prepare chicken fried rice that most gladers would've adored had he not used - albeit unintentionally - the leftover meat in the fridge, that is. for every glader - except for thomas and teresa who hadn't been in the glade at the time - that was the most traumatizing thing to experience eating, and the aftermath of it was probably even more traumatizing. you felt bad for the sloppers who had to clean the toilets.

gally cleared his throat, turning your attention back to him. "so," he began, "you and thomas.. what's up with you two?"

you knew that gally didn't like thomas. he made it obvious. you, on the other hand, could never hate thomas. how gally could hate someone like thomas baffled you. sure, he keeps asking an unnecessary amount of questions, is a literal idiot, keeps tripping over the same root in the deadheads over and over and over again whenever you two decide to hang out there. but he's thomas. how could you ever hate him?

you tilted your head to the side, confusion clear in your eyes and overall facial expression. "what?"

"what's up with you and thomas?" he asked again. okay, copycat. very creative question to ask. "i mean, like, why does he always look like he's a second away from turning into a tomato whenever you look his way? it's ridiculous."

"he looks cute like that, what do you mean?" you argued.

"so, you like him?" he guessed, the corner of his lips twitching as if he was holding back a grin or holding back laughter.

"do you like him?"

at the question, he glared at you. "ew, no. he's not my type. and he's an idiot and i hate him. and you're changing the topic," he pointed out. "do you like him?"

"wait, what's your type?" you inquired.

he stammered in response, and minho, who was eyeing the builder for the tenth time that day, suddenly perked up. newt kicked him under the table, and before the second-in-command could tell him to stop staring, minho muttered, "shut up, i wanna hear this."

much to minho's dismay, gally's answer didn't even answer your question. "y/n, i am begging you, shut up. we're not discussing this."

minho looked disappointed to hear that, which didn't go unnoticed by.. well, anyone who was listening in on your conversation.

"why not?"

again, he glared at you. at this point, the whole conversation about you and thomas was long forgotten. the current topic was more interesting to discuss than your crush on thomas and thomas' somehow even bigger crush on you.

you sighed in defeat. "damn it."

"mhm," he hummed.

the rest of dinner was mostly silent, unless you were pestering your poor best friend about minho - each time you did, you could see minho grinning as gally almost spat out the food in his mouth. touched a nerve there, huh?

newt elbowed minho in the ribs, prompting a grunt from the runner. "stop tryin' to spy on them. mind ya business," the blond scolded.

"not even for scientific purposes?"

"you're too dumb for that."

"WHAT?? am not! shuck you, dude!"

meanwhile, thomas was just eating his food, trying his best-est (i know that's not a word, shut the fuck up) to not look at you. but what if.. newt and minho were too busy arguing, gally would probably be eating. nothing could go wrong.

except it did.

"tommy, quit starin' at 'em."

"I WASN'T EVEN-"

"you so were," minho interjected.

"so were you!!" thomas exclaimed. at this rate, if no one turned to look at them, trying to find out why they were arguing, it'd be shocking.

minho lifted a shoulder, "yeah, but i wasn't looking at y/n."

"ew," thomas muttered in disgust. gally, in his opinion, was an asshole, and likely forever would be. most, if not all, gladers knew that.

"come on, he's hot," the asian argued, newt beside him this close to facepalming. but could anyone blame him? this wasn't exactly an appropriate topic to be talking about during dinner, where literally anyone could hear you.

"good night." with that, thomas stood up from the table, going to get his plate cleaned off.

minho looked very offended.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ★ ་༘࿐

slowly, it was getting colder outside. yet, you kept waiting for thomas in the deadheads, where you always hung out.

you were about to head back into the glade to grab one of your old, but warm, sweaters. but, before you could even move your foot to take a step, thomas greeted you, panting.

"hey," he breathed out, pushing his damp hair back. "OH, SHIT-" you heard him exclaim as he inevitably tripped over the tree root. the same one that he always tripped over. it wouldn't be thomas otherwise.

you were quick to catch him, his hand landing on the bandaged part of your arm which you injured during the not-so-little chair-building project with gally. as much as you didn't want him to, he caught your hiss.

"are you okay? did i hurt you?" he asked, worry evident in both his tone and expression, brows furrowed and voice soft.

"i'm okay, i'm okay," you reassured. "are you?"

"mhm! thanks.. and, um, sorry."

a look of realization crossed his face. "fuck, m'sorry. am i late?"

"a little bit, yeah," you admitted. "it's fine, though."

you heard him sigh out in relief as he adjusted his shirt. the shirt clung to his still wet skin - obviously, he was in a rush, but he still somehow managed to be late. now that? that was a skill issue.

"good shower?" at your question, he nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "good shower," he repeated.

he smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, a little embarrassed with himself for already making a fool out of himself barely a minute into his time with you.

you took in the sight of him. wet, indeed. only not a bit, but a lot. for a moment there, you found yourself questioning whether or not he knew that towels existed for a reason.

"i'm still a bit wet," he added, realizing how bad that sounded a beat later. he immediately wanted to smack himself in the forehead. if he could, he'd apologize about what he said, probably even elaborate on how he meant it in case you took it the wrong way, but he was too focused on you eyeing him. sure, you might not have been checking him out on purpose, but he'd take it either way.

snapping him back to reality was the sentence that left your mouth. if he wasn't blushing before, he definitely was now.

"must've been a pretty good shower if you're still that wet," you said. unintentional or not, you were slowly beggining to laugh at your own quip. it wasn't even that funny, he'd argue.

"come on, i didn't- fuck, i didn't mean it like-" you heard him begin to say, only for him to stop in the middle of his sentence as he looked at you like a deer in headlights. he could only hope his reddened cheeks wouldn't be too visible in the dark as he tried to justify himself. "y/n, you know i didn't mean it like that," he finished, a whine to his voice.

his reaction was priceless. the eyes? the cheeks? the stuttering? all of it and more, you'd pay to see again.

"tomato, tamahto" was your reply.

he pouted, already knowing that you were definitely going to be taking the piss out of him for the rest of the month. no, scratch that - for his entire life. he could only hope that you were going to go a little easy on him, but given how you already found his blunder hilarious, he knew he wasn't going to be getting off a light.

he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. he wasn't very good at pretending to be mad at you, but it was worth a shot. he didn't last a full minute before he was cracking up too.

"i hate you," he said through his laughter.

"no, you don't," you argued. "you adore me, just admit it."

he was tempted to do as you said. you could tell him to get on his knees, and he'd do it within half a second.

but maybe, just maybe, if he could just not say a word-

"i do, yeah," he admitted. immediately, he slapped a hand over his mouth, a guilty expression on his face.

"thought so."

"shut uppp," he whined through his fingers clasped over his mouth.

"what, now you don't want to hear my voice? i thought you-"

effectively shutting you up before you could finish what you were saying were thomas' lips against yours slightly chapped ones (due to the freezing tempetarures in the glade tonight). for a while, you stood still, taken aback. he was about to pull away, thinking he did something wrong, but then your hands settled on his hips, grabbing and grasping at the fabric of his grey sweatpants as a desperate attempt to have his body pressed against yours. the cold was getting to you and you needed to get warmed up, would be your excuse.

sadly, air was a thing that humans all desperately needed to live. that was the only reason you found yourselves, albeit hesitantly, withdrawing your lips from one another. if you could survive without oxygen, you'd gladly continue.

his hand found itself on your chin, adjusting your face so he could kiss you more. you were his oxygen.

his blunt fingernails clawed at your back to pull you flush against him. it was messy, desperate, and you could've sworn you heard your teeth clashing against his. if you weren't too busy trying to move the way he wanted you to, you'd be worried about chipping a tooth. that, however, was the last thing on your mind. just thomas.

he nipped at your bottom lip, begging for the entrance that you gladly granted him. in comparison to the first, in which you were confused for a moment, this felt way sloppier, more handsier.. not that you minded, you'd love to spend each and every one of your nights like this.

the brunet's back hit the rough tree bark as you pushed him against it, and, not even hesitating, you swallowed the pained moan prompted by your action. you had no clue how it happened, how you went from teasing the boy about a damn shower to being tongue-deep in his mouth. not that you were complaining. it wasn't like you could, mouth too occupied to mutter out a single thing that wasn't a moan.

after a couple seconds of this, you broke for air, panting in each other's faces.

"you taste like strawberries," you commented.

"do you not like my strawberry lip balm?" he rasped out, a pout on his lips.

"i don't," you confirmed. "fuckin' love it. c'mere."

he, without any form of hesitation, obeyed, tongues meeting to continue what you were doing just moments before. his hands, needing something to hold on to, moved under your shirt, taking you by surprise with how warm his hands were unlike yours. yours were cold - freezing, even.

tongues tangled, spit smeared over your kiss-swollen lips, you wished you would never have to draw back, as much as your lungs burned with an aching need for oxygen. meanwhile, your lips yearned for his. you yearned for him. how you were just now finding out would've shocked you in any normal scenario, but now your mind was hazy, all thoughts that weren't thomas blurry.

thomas' fingers dug crescent-moon shapes into your poor, poor back. instinctively, you backed him up against the tree yet again, this time with your hips. thomas was pretty sure he was in fucking heaven.

his head tipped back, and, as if he wasn't letting out enough noises before, he let out something between a sob and a moan. did that stop you guys, though? no. of course not. the gladers could listen in on y'all all they wanted, yet your only focus would be thomas.

his mouth was open, gasping for air, his chest heaving with each harsh breath he took. not a sight you saw often, but certainly something your eyes weren't minding witnessing.

"oh," he groaned, "fuck!"

for a runner, he was getting overwhelmed rather quickly. it was adorable to see.

"was that too much for you?" you questioned sarcastically.

"no," he insisted. "keep going. please. need you, please."

well, he requested it, so.. who were you to deny him what he wanted, much less needed?

too desperate to wait for you to kiss him, he initiated the kiss this time, slipping his tongue into your mouth without a warning. unfair much? you were about to kiss him!

his lips parted from yours, curving up to a smile at the corners. "we should-" he paused, inhaling with a gasp before continuing, "-do that more often."

"we should," you agreed.

eventually, after his breathing returned to normal, he asked, "one more?"

he pouted, giving you those puppy eyes of his. with how close you were to giving in, just because of those eyes, you were sure that before the glade he had to have graduated some sort of 'puppy eyes' school. which you were sure - and you also hoped - didn't exist. "y'know," he continued, "a little 'goodnight' kiss?"

meanwhile, you were still struggling to get the air into your lungs. so, taking your silence as an agreement, he kissed your cheek, his hands which were previously under your shirt cupping your face.

"there," he announced. "now come on, alby's gonna kill us if he catches us here."

he caught your hand in his, leading you back to the homestead.

if someone just popped out out of nowhere and saw how utterly wrecked he looked, he'd cry himself to sleep. genuinely. and to think you haven't even done anything more than kissing.

like the gentleman he was, he walked you to your hut, kissed you once again. apparently, just so you didn't forget how his lips felt. however, the both of you knew that that wasn't the real reason.

walking back to his own hut, he found himself speedwalking the second that gally somehow appeared in the hallway. he didn't feel like explaining anything that happened that night. not that be was embarrassed by it, no, of course not. if the consequences didn't exist, he'd be bragging about it to each and every one of his friends - except chuck, the kid didn't need to be traumatized by that. he knew that he'd get teased, though. he shook those thoughts off and instead, his brain went to you.

that night, he fell asleep smiling to himself.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ★ ་༘࿐

the next morning, he slept in.

"thomas," minho muttered, poking his cheek. thomas, sleeping, turned away, face buried into his pillow.

minho groaned, running a hand over his face in frustration. he was not having it.

"THOMAS, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!" he exclaimed. he may or may not have woken up the entire glade with that, but at least thomas was up. finally.

"get your ass up. we've got work to do."

"five more minutesssss," the brunet pleaded, glancing up at minho from under his eyelashes.

"five seconds," minho corrected. "up."

thomas let out a loud groan, voice cracking. that, he'd blame on his hormones.

he practically rolled out of bed, slipping on a random shirt he had thrown over the chest in the corner of his room. minho, to be respectful, walked away, arms crossed. "try to make it quick, shank."

"uh-huh!" thomas called sleepily, ruffling his hair up. he bent down to grab a pair of pants, socks already on for some weird reason. since when did he sleep with socks on? shimmying into the jeans he picked out ('cause that ass too fat), he zipped them up, and adjusted his shirt afterwards. oh, and let's not forget the runners' harness.

within three minutes, thomas was out of the hut, still half-asleep, but thankfully not half-naked. with a proud smile, he closed the door behind him. "i exist," he announced.

"attaboy," minho replied, patting his back.

thomas tilted his head to look at minho. "breakfast?"

"mhm," he confirmed, already dragging him by the arm. thomas' half-functioning brain decided not to process that, apparently.

"min?" he called.

"yes, thomas?"

"what's for breakfast?" he was about to give minho time to answer, but then decided he'd much rather play a guessing game instead of letting the older boy talk. "ooh, sandwiches?"

"mmm hmm," minho drawled. "enough with the questions, though. i'm not awake enough for this, okay?"

"oh, okay!"

minho raised an eyebrow. sleepy thomas was definitely more.. understanding than the usual thomas. now minho wanted thomas to be groggy and barely conscious all the time.

"min," he called again, tapping his shoulder. "the ones with chicken?"

nevermind.

minho's voice came out more irritated than originally intended to, but fuck it. it wasn't like he could do anything about it. "thomas, i really, really, really don't know."

"'cause i hate those with chicken," thomas murmured.

"sit down."

before actually complying, he let out a noise of protest. then, he plopped into the chair, head in his hands. coffee would really be appreciated right now.

soon, minho joined him at the table, newt half-asleep next to the him. minho passed something to thomas. a veggie sandwich - thankfully, without chicken. "here."

thomas lifted his head up from his hands, grabbing the sandwich in an instant. "thanks, dude."

"mhm," he replied. newt next to him leaned back in his chair, blond hair tied up into a half up half down man bun, a few stray hairs here and there getting into his eyes.

"your shirt's on backwards," newt informed. minho's eyebrows scrunched in confusion and checked his shirt, only to find that it wasn't his shirt that was backwards. just slightly lifted at his side, revealing his hip, which he made sure to fix.

thomas, meanwhile, was eating his sandwich. once swallowing, he looked at the two older guys, head cocked. "what?"

"your shirt's on backwards," newt glared at minho for stealing his line. "okay, copycat," they said in sync. newt, annoyed yet panicked, flailed his arms around, trying to come up with a response. "stop doing that, you dick" was the only thing he managed to say.

minho looked utterly betrayed.

meanwhile, thomas took his shirt off to put it on. correctly, this time.

"thomas, are you stripping? in front of us? ew, do that in front of y/n, shuck-face," minho grumbled, shaking his head.

thomas groaned, adjusting his shirt. "does that mouth of yours ever shut the fuck up? or do you need someone to shut it for you? huh?"

minho's jaw dropped. "okay, rude."

"drama queen.." and his jaw dropped even more.

"i feel insulted."

"good. that's what you get for not telling me my shirt was on backwards."

"DUDE! i literally just told you!"

"no, i did. i said it first," newt said, a bit more harshly than intended. "sorry, just don't want you gettin' credit for something you didn't do."

he scowled. "you're supposed to be on my side!"

"yeah, and? you fucking copied me. that's so bitchy."

"i'm not a bitch, take it the fuck back."

newt's mouth opened and closed, almost frantically as he tried to come up with something to say, preferably something along the lines of "no". any sort of refusal.

but alby interrupted them as he came into the room, the door slamming shut behind his back.

"people are trying to sleep, if you haven't noticed. slim it," he grumbled.

"sorry," the two gladers said in unison. again. thomas swallowed his sandwich and joined them, saying, "yeah, uh, sorry."

oops.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ★ ་༘࿐

usually, after they returned from the maze, they'd catch their breath, head into the map room to work, and then work-out. today was different. today, they spent the rest of the day gossiping with newt, who joined the two runners with snacks freshly picked from the gardens: berries!

and then you and gally joined, to newt and thomas' shock. minho knew that you'd be stopping by, he just couldn't be bothered to tell the others.

when you came into sight, thomas smiled, happy to see you. especially after last night, why wouldn't he be?

"hey, gal!" minho's greeting shouldn't have been as excited-sounding as it was. for a reason he couldn't quite explain - at least, without getting embarrassed about it a second later - gally liked it.

"and hi, y/n," he added.

newt merely waved his hand, a little awkwardly.

you gave them a nod of acknowledgement, mumbling a quiet "hi."

"hey," said gally before turning his attention to what you were initially here for: getting rid of the remains of the broken chair and the other chairs that were on the verge of collapsing, something that in no way was similar to simping over the runners.

once you were done, you, the runners, and newt said your goodbyes and returned to what you were doing before. you, reading a book. gally, calling each and everyone one of the builders slintheads - for him, it was a hobby at this point.

back in the map room, the two runners discussed what changed in the maze, newt listening to them talk. somehow, the topic shifted to minho's beloved hair gel, jeff's perfectionism, alby's short temper, and thomas' love life?

"thomas, dude, i love you. in a platonic way. but you're an idiot," minho said, shaking his head in disapproval. "why don't you just tell 'em? y'know.. then, just make sweet, sweet love to 'em."

thomas' cheeks flushed. he wished he could be anywhere but in this building. ideally on the other side of the glade, as far away from minho as possible.

"relationships don't really work like that, mate."

"and names shouldn't work the way they do, 'cause why are you named after isaac newton? i thought he was supposed to be smart or something." newt rolled his eyes as minho continued, "also, relationships do work like that. it's never too late to admit you've never had one, y'know.."

"tommy, don't listen to him," newt pleaded.

".. why would i ever listen to minho when he's trying to give advice?" thomas mumbled. one time, minho told him to wear a cropped shirt, because it'd look good on him - in minho's words. since minho was his best friend, he listened to him. never in his life would he ever again take his advice. the bullying.. oh, the bullying. that was something he wouldn't wish upon anyone, not even upon his worst enemy.

"shuck you," minho all but exclaimed, pointing at the former runner. he began to point at thomas, too. "both of you. shuck you."

"YOU'RE THE ONE GIVING SHITTY ADVICE!"

minho feigned a frown, pretending to be sad. it looked like he was a severely constipated five year old kid more than anything. thomas and newt being the good friends they were only snickered at his expression, exchanging glances while minho whined, "am not!! i'm deeply hurt by this, and i am so not sitting with you during dinner."

"sit with gally, then," thomas offered, shrugging. newt coughed before letting out a laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. soon, thomas joined him with the wheezing.

to minho, this was not as funny as it was to the other two.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ★ ་༘࿐

apparently, minho took thomas' offer way too seriously and he ended up joining him during dinner. feeling too awkward to have to watch the two flirt over literal beef stew, you excused yourself from the table and sat with thomas, who had been sitting alone, instead.

newt was sitting with alby, discussing something important. what they were talking about, you had no clue and neither did thomas.

not that he really cared, anyways. you were literally sitting next to him, and that was the only thing he could care about. you were sitting next to him. you were sitting next to him!! he knew he shouldn't be as influenced by your presence as he currently was, but it wasn't like he could really help it. he'd been in love with you since, well, forever - forever being the one month he's been in the glade.

he nibbled at his food for a while before swallowing.

"how was work?" he asked.

"well, it was chaotic. as usual," you answered truthfully. "how was the maze?"

he shrugged. "y'know.. the usual, trying not to run into a wall, trying to avoid getting turned into a griver snack."

"fun," you commented, grinning.

"yeah, real fun, having to listen to minho ramble about how mad he is at newt," he complained.

you glanced at the second-in-command, then at the keeper of the runners. "how come?"

"minho copying newt and giving shitty advice."

you tilted your head, puzzled. you figured the advice in question must've been horrible if it got him into a fight with newt, and it must've been a pretty bad fight if minho talked about it the entire run. "what kind of shitty advice?"

thomas stiffened.

silence.

"uh.."

more silence.

"well-"

"spit it out, thomas."

"he told newt that he should cut his hair," he lied. "that he wouldn't have to deal with getting his hair in his eyes when he's working in the garden."

"oh."

"newt loves his hair," he explained. god, he was a bad liar, wasn't he? surely, you'd find out. eventually. right??

"you can't exactly blame him," you said. he breathed a sigh of relief.

"yeah, his hair is gorgeous," he agreed.

"i like your hair better, though," you admitted. he was taken aback for a moment, nearly dropping the cutlery that was in his hands.

"you do, huh?"

"damn right, i do," you confirmed, jokingly ruffling his hair. it was so soft, like cashmere. as you toyed with his hair, he was internally cheering. had he just won in life? because it sure felt like it.

"i'm flattered," he attempted to joke - when, really, it wasn't a joke in the slightest. that might've been the first compliment that he'd ever gotten about his looks in his entire life - well, now, in the glade.

you simply smiled and took you hand back. for a moment there, he was tempted to tell you to leave your hand where it was. had the gladers not been watching, you would've happily listened and even let him put it back where it previously had been tangled in his messy, brown locks.

"sooo, uh, question," he drawled, looking you up and down with a grin, telling you that he was about to say something stupid as fuck. it was thomas, after all - by this point, you were pretty much used to it, and so was everyone else.

"go on," you encouraged as you brought the fork to your mouth to chew on the meat.

"like.. what are we?"

you let out a small yelp as you bit into you fork. as you swallowed, thomas patiently waited for a response, finger rapping against the wooden table. "sorry," he murmured, feeling guilty. "don't answer if you don't want to. just curious, y'know, after last night."

you shook your head in 'it's fine', and thought about an answer that you could possibly give him, only to find out you had no clue what to say. what were you? you wanted him to be your boyfriend, that was for sure. uncertain, you settled for, "what do you want us to be?"

"i want to be yours." it took you off guard - well, not it, as in the sentence itself, but how eager he sounded. you weren't opposed to it, though.

"and i want you to be mine," you confessed. "thomas, will you be my boyfriend?"

immediately, he said, "yes."

if he could, he would've kissed you right then and there. sadly, he had an audience of 40 teenage boys + teresa. he was not going to give them a show that entertaining to watch.

you lifted yourself up from your seat and walked away to get your bowl cleaned off. he promptly followed, basically running after you with a puppy-like look in his eyes. "wait up! please?? come on, i love you!"

"yeah, love you, too, tommy," you called back.

"i'm serious!!" he cried. once he caught up, his hand found yours. you felt him squeeze slightly and you looked at him. he pouted, feigning offense.

"so am i," you reassured.

"good."

[cathuia-art]

Ethrean in pain: PRETENDING TO BE ALRIGHT. 

Doodled this for a question of an ask meme here.  But liked it quite a lot so, here is the full version. 

[therarestunderrated]

.•°.MoonLily update.°•.

I wanted to make her mask look closer to the style of the masks in-game, which really only meant a slight adjustment to the eye holes and a more oval shape to the base.

I wanted to update her face to be less conventionally attractive and more unique and interesting. She doesn't think to take care of her appearance, so it makes more sense that she would have absolutely no makeup, un-plucked eyebrows and dark circles under her eyes. Her hair has always been messy but to help show it a bit more I gave her baby hairs and uneven strands everywhere I could.

I'm still fighting with these markers to get her skin tone right. I'd like it to be a little bit more tan, and with warmer undertones, but this is as close as I could get without ruining the paper.

Her clothes I'm very happy with. I added a darker yellow to her palate to give more depth to the patterns without changing too many recognisable features about them. She finally looks like she could be just walking around in the village in-game and not look slightly out of place (to me at least).

[gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley]

Flight of the Love Letters [G.W. x Muggle!Reader]

Summary: You spot a flying blue car in the sky, and the driver of the car, George, walks into your life by coincidence.

Word count: 3.36k

warnings: brief angst

a/n:  JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THIS IS THE LONGEST ONESHOT I’VE WRITTEN YET I THINK I GOT TOO CARRIED AWAY but this is my apology for not writing for a day or two!!!!

It all started when you saw that blue flying car. You never imagined you’d find yourself buying an owl to send love letters to the driver of the flying blue car.

  It was an ordinary day like no other. You wandered down the streets of London, decked in heavy layers of clothing as the temperature started to drop. It was peaceful, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Your eyes wandered around as you observed your surroundings. People-watching was always something you found yourself enjoying. Every stranger you saw on the street was an individual who housed their own stories, and that fascinated you. Examining the way they dress, tie their shoe laces, or the way the walk always had you guessing their character. 

  You found an empty bench by the road side and plopped yourself down on it with a huff, causing cold mist to come out of your mouth. You straightened out your brown coat before pulling something out of it-- a sketchbook. It was well-loved as tiny scratches and what-nots decorated its cover. The outlines of the pages were crumpled and stained with coffee. You fluttered it open to a fresh page before pulling out a graphite pencil from behind your ear. Tapping the page lightly, you pondered about what to sketch. Your eyes scanned your surroundings, in search of a possible subject. Suddenly, something caught your attention. It was a baby blue car, except it wasn’t on the road like how cars were supposed to be. Instead, it was in the sky. Your eyes widened in fascination. You saw a ginger-headed boy in its driver seat with hands on the steering wheel. You wondered what he could possibly be steering; after all, it was flying!

  Without wasting another second, you glided your pencil over the page. You sketched the basic shapes; a rectangle and a couple of circles. By the time you looked back up, the flying car was no longer there. Defeated, you dropped your shoulders. It wasn’t every day where you’d see a car in the sky. You looked back at your half-drawn sketch of the car. Other than the missing details, it was missing another element. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to figure out the missing piece of the puzzle. Then, it came to you.

  The red-head in the driver’s seat.

  A new glimmer of hope found its way to your eyes as you began to sketch the driver. You tried desperately to recall what he was wearing, given you couldn’t exactly see what he was wearing. You remembered seeing him wear a knitted sweater with what looked to be the letter ‘G’ embroidered in the center. By the time you finished sketching the red-headed driver, the drawing looked complete. To add the magical, finishing touches, you added clouds to frame the sketch of the car. It was complete. You added your signature, and jotted down the title of the sketch.

  “The Boy in the Flying Car.”

--

  Weeks had passed since that spectacle, and you found yourself seated on that same bench. As usual, you had your sketchbook in hand, pencil in the other, with a determined look on your face. You were sketching away, drawing thumb-sized portraits of people who walked past. Some were smudged due to the side of your hand constantly rubbing away at the graphite. You were deep in concentration, when you were suddenly pulled away from your trance by the presence of someone.

   A tall, lanky figure loomed over you, his shadow casting itself on you. You looked up to be greeted by a friendly smile that seemed contagious. You found yourself smiling back at the boy. He had long, fiery locks of hair that fell around his face, like the portrait of a painting. He had freckles peppered around his face like the works of Jackson Pollock. Something about him screamed magic, mystery, rebellion. He seemed like he came from another world donning the appearance of a young teenage boy. 

  “May I sit here?” The boy asked, eyeing the empty spot next to you.

  “Yeah, sure.” You quickly shifted, making space for the boy to sit.

  He was dressed in orange khakis that fit loosely around his legs. His top caught your attention-- it looked familiar. It was green and had the letter ‘G’ on it. It looked hand-knitted with love, and something else. It screamed out to you, telling you it wasn’t just a pair of hands that knitted it. It screamed wonders, sparks of light, and magic. A silence fell over the two of you as the breeze brushed past your bodies. You were flipping through your sketchbook when you stopped on the page where you sketched that magnificent car. You froze when you noticed that the boy sitting next to you looked similar to the boy in the driver’s seat of the car. You slowly turned to him, in shock.

  “Were you,” you paused, unsure of how to phrase your question without sounding like a mental hospital escapee, “driving a flying car a few weeks ago?”

  The boy turned to you, his eyes widened in shock as well. His mouth was wide open, trying to find an answer to your question. You were just some random stranger he took interest in-- how could you possibly have known?! 

  “Well, yes, but--”

  “That’s bloody wicked!” You shouted in uncontainable excitement.

  His face melted between different emotions, ranging from surprise to exasperation. He was pleasantly surprised at your reaction. If any other muggleborn knew he was driving a car sky-high, they would’ve laughed and brushed it off as a joke. You, however, were genuinely interested, and that sparked something inside of him. He wanted to show you more of his world.

  For the next few hours, he told you about his background. His name was George, George Weasley. He was a wizard. You surprisingly took in that information well, for you had a knack for the unexplainable. He went to a wizarding school and was currently on summer break, just like you. He was a year older than you, and had a twin brother named Fred. You were in awe at the facts about the wizarding world he was bestowing upon you. One fact had caught your attention. Wizards communicated through letters sent by owls. That was the moment you fell in love with the wizarding world, and much more.

  The following weeks was spent talking to George on that same bench you’d meet up at the same time. You’d show him your sketches in exchange for more fascinating facts about the wizarding world. However, you also found a flurry of emotions whirling in the depths of your stomach each time you met him on that bench. George was a beautiful boy, you’ll admit. The way his face was framed by his luscious locks of hair captivated you. He was a finely sculpted figure. His smile lines were like intricate strokes of paint, and the way his smiled-- God, he was beautiful. He’d make a fine painting, you thought to yourself. You spent a few moments admiring his features as he babbled on about his favourite shop, Zonko’s. Before you knew it, you were sketching him. You captured the essence of his beauty accurately. Each stroke was drawn with passion. By the time he noticed you were no longer paying attention, he paused. He looked at you as you were deep in concentration. The sound of the pencil’s scritches pleased him, and so did the sight of you deeply focused. He smiled and allowed the silence to befall upon the two of you. You broke the silence after a few minutes of uninterrupted sketching with a question he was waiting for you to ask.

  “Say, George,” you started, not once looking away from your sketchbook, “can muggles send letters?”

--

  You found yourself in Diagon Alley, a place where wizards and witches alike did their shopping for the school year. George had led you to there to buy an owl to keep in touch with him. The thought excited you, and you were more than excited to keep a pet owl. George led you by the hand to Eeylops Owl Emporium, a shop where wizards bought owls and owl care necessities.

  Upon entering the shop, your face lit up in excitement. A wide range of owls lined the store. Hoots and coos popped around the store as you ventured deep inside. Your eyes scanned the store as your smile never left your face. George followed after you, smiling at your child-like excitement.

  “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” He placed a hand on your shoulder.

  “Truly” You breathed out.

  “Which one’ll you be buying, then?” He asked, curious.\

  You stopped in your tracks, now thinking about the question. You looked around to take in the colourful selection of owls. One particular owl called out to you. It was tiny, and was adorned with ash-grey feathers. Its big, brown eyes stared at you, as if it were begging you to pick it up and shower it with love. Your heart melted as it hooted.

  “That one.”

  And so you walked out of Eeylops Owl Emporium with your newfound companion, a Scops owl, and George. You held its cage up to your face, admiring the beauty it held within it. The owl was now sound asleep, hooting quietly in its slumber. 

  “What’ll you name it?” George asked you with a hint of interest in his tone. 

  You looked around, in search of a possible name for it. Your eyes landed on George and felt your stomach tickle. You looked back at the owl, then back at George. A grin crept its way up to your face.

  “I’ll name it George.”

--

  It didn’t take you long before you started deploying George to send letters to George. You started off with short letters, telling the boy about how your day had gone. When Errol, George’s family’s owl, came, you were pleased to take the letter from its beak and read the contents within it. George’s handwriting was round, and big, matching his character perfectly.

  However, as the weeks went by, an unshakable feeling started to eat away at you. Each letter you received from him made the feeling more and more apparent. You couldn’t ignore it, but you continued to repress it. There was one letter from George that took you by surprise. It read,

Dear Y/N,

  How are you? Honestly, love. I miss you. When can I see you again?

  The Burrow is getting boring, and summer break is about to end. Fred’s a git, Ginny’s boring, Ron’s annoying, and don’t even get me started on Percy. I want to see you again. I want to see your sketches. As much as I love seeing George the Owl at my window with a letter written by you, I’d rather much see you in person!

  Can I see you again? Tomorrow? At the same bench we always meet up on?

Love, 

George the Handsome 

xoxo

  You were laid on your stomach as you read the letter. George had slipped some magical sweets inside the envelope, and you were savouring every bite of them. The last line of the letter surprised you. He wanted to see you, just as much as you wanted to see him. However, something inside you was screaming at you not to. The same feeling that you dreaded loomed over you again as the knot in your stomach twisted. What the bloody hell were you feeling, exactly? You’ve experienced nothing like it.

  You shot up from your body in a fit of worry as you grabbed a piece of parchment and a pen. You started scribbling your reply. Your handwriting was messy, which was unlike you. 

Dear Georgie,

  I don’t think we should see each other anymore.

Love,

Y/N

That should do it, right? All these uneasy and unexplainable feelings will finally go away once you stop seeing the boy, right? Your life will finally go back to normal; no more letters, no more owls, no more wizards. You’ll be back to your little muggle world, full of muggle people who weren’t George. No more George, no more twists and knots.

--

  The next morning, George had received your letter.

  “What the bloody hell?!” George bellowed out in shock, waking his older twin up.

  “George, bloody hell, shut yer yapping! The sun’s barely risen!” Fred groaned as he threw a pillow at his younger brother, who was hunched over on his bed with a defeated expression on his face.

  George spent the rest of his day grey and sullen. Ginny picked up on her older brother’s dispiritedness and poked him in the side, earning a small wince from him.

  “What’s got you all down and blue?” She asked, looking up at George who had a frown resting on his face.

  “Y/N doesn’t want to see me anymore.” He sighed out, resting his chin on his palm.

  “Just go see her, then. It’s that simple.” Ginny said in a matter-of-fact tone. She rolled her eyes after realising her brother was being sulky over a girl.

  George’s face lit up. Of course, it was that simple! All he had to do was walk up to you on that bench you’d be seated on, and confront you. Why didn’t he think of that? 

  “Oh Ginny, you genius!” George said, excitedly, as he was now determined to see you again.

  Without wasting another second, he bolted upstairs to get changed out of his home clothes. He changed into something more presentable before rushing out of The Burrow, ignoring Molly shouting at him, asking where he was going. His legs ran as fast as they could. He was going to see you, he was sure of it.

--

  There you were, on the bench. You were fiddling with an envelope in your hands. The night prior to this, you were up all night figuring out your feelings for the boy. Nobody in your life had made you feel queasy and on the verge of overheating. George was the first to make you feel such feelings. He was the first person to introduce you to the wizarding world, and the first person you were sure you had fallen in love with-- wait. You were in love. 

  YOU were in love. 

That’s it. That was the answer to all those moments of unease. You were in love with George Weasley, from that moment he first sat next to you on that bench in the middle of London. You fell in love with the wizard who brought you into his magical world. Did he hex you? From the moment you realised you were in love, you scrambled to your feet to write out how you felt. You poured your heart, your soul, your everything into that piece of writing, and shoved it into an envelope.

  You were brought back to the present as you noticed the sun was about to set. Fool. Why did you ever think George was going to see you again after that rushed, one-liner letter. You absolute fool. Your heart sunk as the lamp posts started to light up the streets. You shoved your letter into your pocket, tears now welling up in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You slowly stood up from the bench, sadness slowing your movements. He wasn’t going to see you anymore.

  You slowly departed from the bench that held core memories between you and George. Tears were now streaming down your face as you wiped them away every few seconds. Good bye, George Weasley, you thought. Good bye-

  “Y/N!” A voice reached out to you from the distance. It was a voice you knew all too well.

  You spun around, hope in your heart, expecting George to be running towards you, and there he was. He was sprinting to you, not giving a single care about the eyes that judged him. He was there. George was there. He came to see you.

  “Y/N, I missed you so much!” George cried out as he crashed into you, breathless as ever. He was quick to latch onto you, caging you in his tight embrace. 

  You stood there, dumbfounded, as the boy never once let go of you. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like forever, before you slowly returned the hug. It felt warm and nice. You had longed for this feeling for far too long. You cried into George’s shoulder, as you now had broken out into great sobs, your hands trembling around his waist.

  George pulled you tighter into him, rubbing your back gently. He then led you to the bench, guiding you to sit down before he sat down. He pulled your head on to his shoulder as your sobs died down to mere sniffles.

  “Why’d you write that letter?” George broke the silence. His deep eyes stared into yours.

  “I just-- I’ve been,” you paused to catch your breath, “I’ve been feeling so out of it and--”

  You stopped, remembering what was in your pocket. You were too tired to speak, and decided the letter would speak for you instead. It was risky, but you couldn’t give a care in the world anymore. You pulled the crumpled envelope out of your pocket and handed it to George. He eyed the envelope closely, with a questioning look. He looked at you, then back at the letter. He hesitated for a moment, but then found himself unhousing the letter from the confines of the envelope.

Dear Georgie,

 I’m not sure when you’ll ever read this, but God forbid you read it in my presence or I might just drop dead.

  I don’t know when this started. It all started off as a spark. It was harmless. Then, it turned into a small flame. I suppose the letters we exchanged, or perhaps that trip to Diagon Alley, fanned the flame. With each passing week, I found myself yearning for you. I was so lost, so confused. I thought you were really beautiful, and wanted to encapsulate your beauty within my sketchbook; to keep that memory for myself. I then started to realise I wanted you all for myself as you wrote those letters to me. Soon, I started to spiral. It was inappropriate for me to house such feelings for my bestfriend.

  George. I’m in love with you.

  You were my first friend, my first wizard friend, my first love.

  I thought that distancing myself from you physically would rid me of these feelings, but I was wrong.

  I’m mad for you, George Weasley, and I’m going mad just thinking about you.

  Please, don’t leave me.

  Upon reading the last line of the love letter, George’s heart fell. Were you hurting all this while, while hiding behind your beautiful, cursive handwriting? He looked up from the letter to you, who was looking at him expectantly. George took your hand in his and kissed it.

  “Y/N,” George started as his hands move their way up to your face, “I love you too,”

  In that moment, passion overcame the two of you. You smiled in relief-- like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.  Your hands cupped his face, pulling him closer to you. Your lips grazed each other’s.

  “I’m so happy.” You whispered into his lips.

  George tilted his head, his eyes not breaking contact with yours while they were half-lidded. His hands interlaced with your hair and pulled your lips closer to his. Sparks. Absolute sparks. You closed your eyes, melting into the moment of bliss. The world was yours and George’s for a split second. Soon, your hands were entangled in his hair, massaging his scalp. His scent of vanilla and nutmeg sent you into overdrive, emboldening you to deepen the passion of the kiss. However, you forgot that breathing was essential. Soon, the two of you pulled away from each other as you gasped for air. The both of you were flushed. After all, that was your first kiss. You made sure to add that to your list of your firsts with George.

  “Love,” George looked into your eyes, “I’m not going anywhere.”

--

[GIFs not by me]

[riisinaakka-draws]

“A bad day, huh?” Captain Flint and his badass pirate coat with magnificent sleeves get accidentally caught on a doorknob again. Sometimes it just feels like the whole world is against you, you know? Good to have some friends around then.

I really like his costumes and those fabulous sleeves... and his friendship with Eleanor! :D That beautiful green door of her office was another excuse for this drawing. Please, do not repost elsewhere :)

[patt-writes-stuff]

Beach Days with The Genshin Characters!

Wc: 1.7k+

Type: Headcanons

CW: umm nothing except mentions of alcohol and maybe people being creeps? (None of the chars or you tho it’s very brief)

A/N: HI IM BACK FROM THE DEAD! These were supposed to be a lot shorter but I got too excited. If you by any chance wanna see some for your fav character lmk! I know it says request are closed in my bio but since it’s just hcs it’s a lot less (and I really enjoyed writing these so ajdhdhdk)

🔥Diluc:

This man cannot swim. Tell me otherwise, I dare you.

Kaeya tried to jokingly push him off a lil diving cliff area when they were kids.

He almost drowned. Kaeya was in a lot of trouble.

So, good luck getting this man to actually get in the water. The most he’ll do is sit on the shore where it’s very shallow.

He usually prefers to just stay under an umbrella on the sand and keep an eye on you.

Calls you every two hours in advance and helps you reapply sunscreen.

He’s very pale so I feel like he burns pretty easily, meaning he needs to reapply super frequently otherwise he will become a tomato. He brings like three bottles of the good shit. Tch, rich boy.

If you ask him to build a sandcastle, he will pretend to be annoyed but do it anyways. Ends up finding it kind of enjoyable.

He has the maids prepare a nice picnic basket for the two of you!! It’s got all your favorite foods plus grape juice cuz y’know.

If any creepy peeps approach you, don’t worry. He brought his vision and his claymore.

Of course, he won’t have to resort to such violent lengths. Everyone in Mondstadt knows who Diluc is and they probably know you’re his s/o, so they’re usually smart enough to mind their own business.

If they don’t, don’t worry. Diluc’s glare is more than enough to scare them away.

All in all I definitely recommend a beach day with him! I’ll give it a solid 8/10 (-2 for not wearing floaties and getting in the water with you or letting you teach him how to swim.

🖌Albedo:

You guys definitely 100% take Klee out with you on a beach day.

You guys bring snacks, beach toys like buckets and shovels for optimal sandcastle building, a picnic blanket, etc.

Jean definitely packs a lot more stuff for you guys to take with you than you actually need.

It’s only cuz she’s worried for Klee and is nervous about not being able to go with you guys though! It’s very sweet really.

Klee tries to bomb the fish and cause havoc at the beach 😭

I think Albedo is a good swimmer and gets in with you and Klee so that he can help her (which is very cute omfg)

He’s set total workaholic, as we know, so it took a lot of convincing to get him to put down his experiments and accompany you to the beach (however, he’s particularly weak to yours and klee’s puppy dog eyes so he caved eventually)

Though, looking at you and Klee happily building sandcastles and decorating them with pretty seashells of all shapes and colors, he can’t really find it in himself to complain.

He, of course, takes this opportunity to take out his sketchbook and draw the waves, seagulls, you… Of course he won’t let you see the sketch book no sir. He’s a bit embarrassed to be honest, but an artist such as himself recognizes beauty when he sees it so he simply had to draw you. (God I love him so much)

If a creepy person approaches you,- well don’t worry. The sight of a small arsonist child blowing up fish is enough to scare them away 🥰

At the end of the day, all three of you are all ticketed out. Albedo has to carry Klee back to Mondstadt because the poor baby fell asleep the moment you started drying her hair with the beach towel. You’re, of course, carrying back Dodoco and your bags. (You also manage to sneak a peak at Albedo’s sketchbook and find some very pretty drawings of you and Klee with your sandcastle)

At the end of the day, you guys tuck Klee in and read her a bedtime story (she woke up and insisted). Afterwards Albedo takes you back home and thanks you for coming with you and Klee (which you ofc say wasn’t a problem because how could you not???)

All in all? I’ll give it a solid 10/10. You’ve got tasty food, fun times, your boyfriend and his cute kid adoptive sister (yes I am very biased idc)

🦋Xiao:

I think it would take a lot of convincing to get Xiao to go out on a beach date with you.

He’ll probably see it as a distraction getting in the way of his slaying of monsters and demons.

However, he also worships the grounds you walk on (hehe, simp XD), so I don’t think it’ll take that much convincing on your part (especially because it’s is self appointed duty to keep you safe so if you insist on going with or without him, he supposes he’ll have to go)

Is definitely a bit tense at first. He doesn’t know how to let loose and chill so while you’re sun tanning on a beach chair he’s like 🧍‍♂️ahdgshjsjd

Eventually calms down a bit though! You get him to relax and eat some almond tofu you brought along with you. It definitely gets him to perk up.

I don’t think he would mind getting into the water but I do think he’d rather walk along the shore and collect pretty seashells and sea glass.

He later gives the ones he deems pretties to you (he hands them over to you with a blush on his face and pretends it’s not a big deal and he definitely gets all pouty and grouchy when you coo at how adorable he is)

As for creeps, Xiao is both intimidating and well known in Liyue. No one is brave enough (or, let’s be honest, dumb enough) to approach you with any bad intentions.

Sure, Xiao has sworn never to harm a human/citizen of Liyue but that doesn’t mean he can’t scare the absolute shit out of them.

I think Xiao would definitely enjoy a beach day 🥺🥺. He’d find it very relaxing to go out with you and just hear the sound of waves and feel the sand under his feet.

He’d definitely hint at wanting to do it again later. Of course, he won’t tell you. No, that’s a foolish mortal activity and he has much better things to do.

Wait no, don't turn around, yes he will go with you next month.

All in all, I give Xiao a 9/10. It’s a very relaxing day (which he deserves 😤). And you get to see a whole new side of him.

💎Ningguang:

OK SO ORIGINALLY I WASN'T GONNA WRITE ONE FOR HER (at least not in this post) BUT THEN I THOUGHT OF LADY NINGGUANG TAKING YOU TO A WHOLE ASS PRIVATE BEACH

She knows you don’t care about how exclusive the beach you go to is (in fact, the fact that you don’t care about where you are or what you do is one of the things that make her fall more and more madly in love with you) but you deserve the best so she’s gonna go all out.

She’s a busy lady so days like this where the two of you get to go somewhere and be together are few and far between.

She knows it’s hard to be in a relationship with someone who is busy 24/7, so she appreciates how you remain by her side despite all hardships. (Y’all are a whole ass power couple istg)

The two of you spend your day relaxing. Sun bathing, drinking piña coladas, maybe taking a dip in the ocean. It’s all very pleasant!

Ningguang doesn’t quite feel like the type of person who would sit in the sand and make sandcastle, however you’re more than welcome to make some yourself. She finds it endearing <3

If you insist on her helping, she’ll eventually comply. She loves you too much to say no. I feel like she’ll either be terrible at it or like a total architect.

Sand is technically like tiny rocks right? So maybe she can use her vision to help her? If that’s the case, she’s making a replica of the Jade chamber out of sand.

If any creepy person comes up to you don’t worry. Ningguang will buy the whole beach and then use her right of admission as owner to permanently ban them from the beach you’re at.

The only downside to a day at the beach with Ningguang might be that there’s a big chance she’ll be called to tend urgent matters, seeing as she is the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing and all.

If that does happen, she’ll be sure to make it up to you somehow, whether it be rescheduling or taking care of the matter as soon as possible so that the two of you can get back to your day of relaxation and fun.

All in all?? Lady Ningguang will treat you like total royalty and the two of you will have an amazing time! I give her an 11/10 (she would literally buy a whole beach for you to be comfortable I mean c’mon)

🍃Venti:

BEACH DAYS WITH HIM ARE SO FUN!!

Swimming? Yeah, he’d love to! Sunbathing? Sure! He’ll ever conjure up a light breeze for the two of you. Sandcastle building? WELL OF COURSE WHY DO YOU THING HE BROUGHT ALL THESE BUCKETS AND SHOVELS?

No but seriously, he might be the best person out of everyone here to go to the beach with. He’s fun, free spirited, and he’s a traveling bard who’s been alive long enough to know where all the best beaches in Teyvat are. (He also knows a guy- er, well, dragon I suppose- who is willing to fly them to any place).

He’ll play some soft tunes while you doze under the sun.

HE PICKS PRETTY SHELLS AND GIFTS THEM TO YOU!!!

He will bring booze. I’m pretty sure this is a necessity. If you’re a little upset about it, he’ll probably “eheh~” his way out of it. That slick bastard.

If you really insist on him not drinking, he won’t consume much alcohol.

If some creepy person approaches you and tries to ruin you your day of beach time fun, all of their stuff will suddenly be blown away, causing them to scramble back to their spot and (almost embarrassingly) flail around trying to catch everything. What a shame…

At the end of the day, he’d be a little sad to leave. Definitely makes plans about tbe two of you going back soon.

I gotta give him a 10/10 he’s just so fun omg.

[genopaint]

da hot topic skeleton man... but a little extra

This was supposed to be a tiny sketch before I started working on more important things but I got seriously carried away

[slasherhaven]

Slashers with a short curvy reader

The Slashers with a short, curvy S/O:

Thomas Hewitt 

His guilty pleasure is how much shorter you are than him. He feels like it’s wrong but he absolutely loves how much taller he is than you. He loves how he towers over you and you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Normally his height and size is a cause of intimidation with other people, but you aren’t scared of him, you love him, you’re gentle with him. He also likes when you can’t reach things and he has to get it for you, he doesn’t really know why he just thinks it’s adorable.

Adores your curves. He has a hard time not touching you. He just loves having a hand on you, on your hips or your thighs. Your so soft and warm, he can’t help it. Whenever you wear tightfitting clothes, he has to tear his gaze away from you, he is extremely flustered under that mask.

Scared of hurting you. While he loves how much smaller you are than him, it worries him at the same time. He’s scared that he’s going to hurt you. He could crush you! So, he’s very gentle with you and needs some reassurance and encouragement to be a little more firm handed with you at time.

Michael Myers

Finds you adorable and absolutely unthreatening. You’re tiny, and he will pat the top of your head to remind you of that. But he genuinely think you’re adorable, the way you can’t even wrap your arms around his shoulders without him having to lean down.

When you’re angry you remind him of a mad puppy. You can cross your arms, stomp your feet, glare up at him, or shout all you want. You just make him think of an angry Chihuahua.

Loves that he can just pick you up. He likes that he can just throw you over his shoulder or move you out the way when he wants too. And he just finds it amusing whenever you huff about it.

Jason Voorhees 

He’s extra protective over you and extra careful. He doesn’t mean too but he subconsciously connects your height with being fragile, at least compared to him. It could be so easy to accidentally hurt you and that thought terrifies him. He would never, ever, want to hurt you. So all of his touches are very careful and gentle, almost frustratingly so. He gains more confidence with enough reassurance and encouragement though.

Loves your curves. Jason does absolutely love your curves, they were a cause of plenty inappropriate thoughts before he was comfortable with those feelings. But now, he’s not ashamed of his love for your body and you’re aware of it. He loves just resting his hand on your waist, your hip, your a thigh. It’s not even a sexual thing and you know that, he just loves how soft you are.

Brahms Heelshire

Loves how short you are. You’re just adorable, absolutely precious, and he does like how much taller he is than you. He likes just looming over you, giggling at how short you are. It can get a little annoying but it’s not that bad. He thinks it’s cute when you can’t reach things and he likes being the person you ask to get something for you, he loves the praise you give him afterwards even more.

Will drool over your curves. He can be a bit of a pervert but that shouldn’t be surprising, you catch him staring at you all the time. He’s often staring at you, watching you move, but he’s also always touching you. He’s handsy and will grope you almost constantly unless you establish that he can’t just do that.

Bo Sinclair

Tries to intimidate you with his own height. Bo is relatively tall man but seems a whole lot taller when compared to you, and he likes that a lot. He’ll move into your personal space, forcing you to look up at his face, liking that it makes you look submissive to him.

Finds you near irresistible. He likes having a hand on you most of the time anyway but your curves make it almost impossible for him to resist, he often has a hand on your hip. When at home, he likes having you sit on his lap, a hand resting on your soft thigh. As I’m sure you suspect, it never just ends with an innocent hand resting on your thigh.

Vincent Sinclair 

Extra protective over you. He just thinks you’re so precious and he just can’t see you being able to defend yourself against an escaped victim, so he just likes to make extra sure that you’re safe. This also results in him being pretty gentle with you. He’s relatively tall but seems so much taller when compared to you, he just wants to be gentle and loving with you.

Can’t get enough of you. He loves your curves and your body. He’s always sketching them, even when he doesn’t realise it until it’s finished. Whenever he’s touching you, it’s like he’s worshiping you. Just in awe of your body and how you feel under his palms.

Honestly, just loves hugging you. Vincent loves how you fit in his arms, how your head only comes up to his chest, and how he can practically engulf you with his embrace.

Lester Sinclair

You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. Lester isn’t a particularly tall man, he’s shorter than his brothers, and he’s used to most people being about his height, give or take a few inches. You make him look tall in comparison though. He really doesn’t care about his height, he’s never had a problem with it, but he has thoughts on your height. He thinks you’re just adorable. You’re height and your soft curves makes you the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.

Unlocks a whole new protective side of him. Him seeing you as such a sweet thing, and being a person that he loves so dearly, a new protectiveness is awoken in him. Ambrose is a dangerous place and he doesn’t like the idea of you having anything to do with it.

Tries his best to keep his hands to himself. If he had it his way, he’d be touching you all the time, innocently or not. He actively makes sure to stay respectful, until you notice and assure him that it’s okay, that you don’t mind, that you even want him too. Then he will be touching you all the time.

Bubba Sawyer

Gosh, you’re adorable. Bubba likes cute things and you’re just the cutest of them all. All he wants is to love you and be loved by you.

Wants to protect you. The house is very dangerous and his brothers are very boisterous, he just wants to keep you safe from it all. He’s very protective when his brothers are around. Nubbins and ChopTop never mean you any harm but Bubba doesn’t want to risk them dragging you into any danger. His protectiveness when it comes to Drayton is a little more justified I suppose.

Loves cuddling with you. You’re so soft and you fit in his arms so well, he loves the feeling of you cuddling into his chest as he holds you.

Billy Lenz

Cute little piggy. That’s the name he gives you over the phone, more fond and affectionate than what he calls anyone else that answers the phone. That’s because you’re his favourite, you have been since he first laid eyes on you.

Can’t keep his hands off of you. Of course you get a whole lot of perverted comments but that’s nothing new with him, but he also can’t stop touching you. You’re soft and warm and loving, he just can’t help himself if his hands wander!

Loves cuddling with you. You’re soft and comfortable and you fit in his hold so perfectly. Of course, this is the perfect chance for him to let his hands wander over your curves, stroking and squeezing without even realising that he’s doing it for the most part.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

He just has to have you. As soon as Asa sees you, he knows he has to have you. He doesn’t really have an eye for cute things, his interests are a little darker, but he doesn’t think you’re adorable. The height, how short you are compared to him, and your soft curves. Why wouldn’t he want you?

Thinks your height makes you just precious. The way you have to look up at him makes you look submissive to him, and he loves that more than anything.

His touches can be surprisingly gentle.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) 

Adores that he towers over you. He towers over most people but he really towers over you and he loves it, but so do you.

Likes to tease you. He’s a tall man and he’s much taller than you. He just finds it amusing when you try to give him a kiss or wrap your arms around his neck but simply...can’t. He can’t help but chuckle at your frustration before leaning down and giving you what you want.

Has a thing for picking you up or having you on his lap. It’s just so easy! He’ll pick you up so that you wrap your legs around his waist, it’s so easy for him to just carry you around, and he thinks it’s pretty cute. Even when you’re sitting on his lap, you look small compared to him, he enjoys that.

Is always touching you. He doesn’t need an excuse to touch you, whether it’s protective, possessive, or affectionate, it doesn’t matter. He’s always got a hand on you.

Otis Driftwood

Lot’s of teasing, lot’s of pet names. It’s mostly based on your height and it’s always with a fondness and affection, but he just loves messing with you. He loves getting you flustered, he thinks it’s adorable.

Always has a hand on you. It’s those curves of yours, how can you expect him to keep his hands off of you when you’re just so enticing?

Loves having you on his lap. If he had it his way, you would always be on his lap. Having you resting against his chest, his hands on your thighs or on your hips, being less than subtle about it.

Baby Firefly 

Just thinks you’re the cutest. She will throw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her and kissing the top of your head before smiling brightly down at you. And when you blush? She just loves it. No matter how much you tell her to quit teasing you, she just can’t.

Always teasing and complimenting you. If she isn’t playfully teasing you about your height, she’s complimenting you on your curves. Oh she adores your body and makes sure to tell you that every day.

Yautja (Predator)

You are tiny compared to him. Since the majority of Yautjas are at least 7 foot or taller, you are just tiny in comparison. This makes you even more precious to your mate but he also becomes a whole lot more protective over you.

It all makes you even more adorable. He does just think you’re adorable and is very honest about that but he takes so much pride in you being his mate. He’s well aware of his strength so he knows how to be gentle with you, and he is very gentle until he becomes comfortable that you aren’t as easily broken as he may have assumed.

You’re so small and soft. It’s not something that Yautjas are typically used too, you’re so small compared to his imposing stature, and softness is so foreign to him. It makes him love you all the more, he’s absolutely obsessed with it.

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 6

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, some fluff, lots of angst in this part Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of stress and anxiety, fist fight Word Count: 7.7k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | You are on Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: Buckle up for some angst.

They say when it rains, it pours and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this expression.

Throughout his college life, Renjun had heard his share of praise from his professors who would tell him that he was gifted in a way not many artists were. But now that the career drives and job fairs had begun, Renjun learnt that at best, he was average. In the real world, he wasn’t ‘golden hands’ or gifted or anything like it--he was just one in a line of millions. Because in the bigger picture, Renjun’s competition was not just people in his school; he was competing with even better artists from even better universities that had even better skills and even better means. His design professor had very plainly told the class one day that out of all of them, maybe one or two would ‘make it’ in the real world, if they got lucky. So Renjun knew that if had to shut up anyone who ever doubted him, compete with the best and place anywhere solid by the time he graduated, he needed to land a stellar internship.

Not that his current internship was going any better. Renjun learnt that even small studios were a handful and that an internship basically meant being an errand boy. When he had taken on the job, he had fantasized about meeting exciting artists and maybe even helping the chief curate his best work yet. But more often than not, he found that he was sweeping the place down, and if he got lucky, he got to make a few calls to potential clients (who would yell at him before hanging up). 

And of course, like any self-respecting college that thrived on the student body’s mental health deterioration, the professors weren’t going any easier on the projects, even with the impending exams. 

On top of everything that was happening, Renjun had developed a constant tension in his neck and shoulders. Jaemin reckoned it was because Renjun was hunched over his paintings all the time as he followed the perfect lighting all over the apartment. You, on the other hand, reckoned it was because of all the stress.

“You’re just carrying a lot of anxiety on these gangster shoulders, Huang Renjun.” you had said as you kneaded your knuckles into his hurt one day as you brought him food. Lately, you had taken it upon yourself to make sure that Renjun was eating and staying hydrated through these pressure cooker times. Because when he was left to his own devices, eating would be pretty low on his priority list, simply because he did not have the time for meals. So you’d bring him a snack any time you saw him on campus, and when you didn’t see him, you’d get something delivered to him and if you couldn’t, you’d text him a reminder to eat. But as one would have it during end-of-semester madness, Renjun had received your food more than your company. Because truth be told, you were just as occupied.

Renjun hadn’t seen enough of you in what he was sure was now going to be a good two weeks running because you had way too much on your plate as well. Like Renjun, you too were swarmed by assignments and exams. But other than that, any time he did see you, you were ‘interview dressed’ for all the on-campus drives that were happening in your department. Renjun had come to wish you good luck on one of them and had seen how distracted you looked because apparently, you had pulled some all-nighters to prepare for this. Donghyuck had been the one to tell Renjun about this little bit. 

Because when you weren’t studying or giving interviews or working on projects, you were preparing to throw an end-of-semester party with Donghyuck. He had to admit, there had been moments where Renjun had been irritated that Donghyuck would know more about what was happening in your life than did he. But then again, who was to blame for that?

Renjun knew it was no one’s fault but his own. Because that’s the dumb precedent he had set from the very beginning--that he wouldn’t get too close. He was paying that price for it because somewhere along the way, you had begun to confide in Donghyuck more than in Renjun, though this development was gradual and subconscious. He supposed that since you had met him, some part of you had learnt that she was walking into a wall anytime things got deep with Renjun. And there are only so many times that people were willing to walk into walls before they learnt their lesson.

Renjun knew that you were always ready to provide emotional support. But he also saw that when you were the one that needed it, you were subconsciously turning to Donghyuck rather than to him. 

And because you weren’t doing so consciously, Renjun couldn’t even be upset with you. Who was he to be upset with you over it in the first place? He had spent all those weeks skillfully blocking you. So, just because he had changed his mind now didn’t mean that he could earn your vents right away. It would take some effort on his part and he acknowledged that.

But it wasn’t you hanging out with Donghyuck that bothered him. It was someone else.

Wong Hendery, it appeared, was always around you these days and for some reason, that really bothered Renjun. You had a lot of friends. You were just the kind of person who made friends wherever you went. His own friends were an example. Lately, any time he ran into his roommates in the living room or kitchen (since all of them were buried in work otherwise), they would inquire about you instead of him. You just made a lot of friends and that was a fact of life that Renjun lived with. And whilst so far, Renjun had been okay with all of them, he had no idea why seeing Wong Hendery around you made him feel some type of way. 

And in the strangest turn of events, he had even found himself subtly voicing this to you a couple of times. It had bothered him even more that you had never taken him seriously any time he brought it up. You had either been distracted or disinterested whenever this came up. Or perhaps you had very tactfully been avoiding the subject. You weren’t exactly the scheming type, so Renjun was sure it wasn’t that. All he knew was that at the end of it, he would just end up feeling stupid, because, well… it was a stupid, baseless feeling to have, whatever this was.

All in all, Renjun couldn’t tell what matter it was from the pillage that kept his mood sour these days. His failure in the job fairs, his increasing workload, the impending exams, his lackluster internship, or something else. He recognized that a big part of it had to do with not seeing you enough. He wasn’t going to be the idiot that denied that anymore. Since the party at your parent’s house, he hadn’t had a moment with you where it was just the two of you and you could talk about… well, the two of you. Not seeing you enough was making him sour, he knew that. However, not seeing you enough combined with the fact that Wong Hendery was around you all the time was probably pretty up there as a reason for his bad moods. 

The only upside in the end-of-semester times was that the damn virus seemed to be under control. Students could now more freely move about and a lot more cafes and parks had reopened. So, at the very least, Renjun could get a change of scenery whilst he painted or studied because he was getting tired of his apartment and the library and the damn studio. 

Today, he had just grabbed his things and sent you a very persuasive text, because really, enough was enough. Yes, you were both very busy. Yes, you didn’t have any time today. But you could at least give him one study date out in the sun, and finally, for the first time in two weeks, he had felt that happiness in his chest when you told him you’d come.

The two of you sat by the river as Renjun sketched and made notes and you typed away on your laptop. Your hair was done up in a bun and you wore the campus hoodie and you didn’t even look up from your work when Renjun leaned over to feed you some rice. It had made Renjun smile. You looked like every boy’s fantasy of a college girlfriend but thinking about it also made his heart a tiny bit heavy. Because after all this time, the two of you still hadn’t had that conversation. Come to think of it, the two of you hadn’t even kissed ever since that afternoon in the strawberry fields. And maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t sat with you like this in a couple of weeks, or maybe it was seeing you share your time with other people. But Renjun felt that he had to address the some elephant in the room sooner rather than later. Because he didn’t want a some relationship any longer. He wanted more.

“No one’s going to be happier than me when this semester is over.” you mutter as you chew onto whatever Renjun had fed you.

“You and me both. Let’s celebrate our freedom together when it ends.” Renjun suggests as he sits up to stretch his neck. 

“Done deal.” You look up from your laptop to give him a fist bump.

“Hey, I was thinking…” Renjun hesitates. “Let’s go somewhere together. After the semester is over.” He feels butterflies in his stomach even as he asks you that. And he knows why. Because this is the first time he’s asking you for a real date, where he wants to take you out for your company, no opportunistic strings attached. But also, he wants to take you away from everyone else where he would have all of your attention and he could finally tell you how he really feels.

You smile as you shuffle your notes. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere. We could go to the beach and go mudflat fishing. If that’s not your thing, we could go camping instead.”

You finally look at him and smile an undistracted, attentive smile. “I’d like that.”

Renjun looks at you softly as he returns your smile. “My exams end before yours. Let’s go right after your last exam.”

“Oh, I can’t go then.” You say, shaking your head quickly.

“Why?”

“Haechan and I are hosting the end-of-semester, remember?” you remind him and Renjun holds himself back before he could exhale over ‘Haechan and I’.

“Okay, how about the day after?” Renjun asks.

“I can’t go then, either. Hendery and I have to go visit the tower.” you tell him.

This time, Renjun can’t hold back. Because ‘Hendery and I’ was way, way worse than ‘Haechan and I’. Before he could stop himself, he finds himself commenting

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Wong Hendery, huh?” he hadn’t meant for that hint of accusation to lace his tone, but it had come out that way.

“Ughhhh, tell me about it. He says he’d basically be happy never seeing me again once all of this is over.” you say as you steal his bowl of rice and begin stuffing your face. Renjun feels that irritation again because as always, you seem to be blowing this topic off. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to let it go today.

“I just don’t trust him.” Renjun says and he finds himself clenching his jaw a little.

You look at him from above the rice and smile amusedly. “Why though? He’s a cool dude.”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about him. I just… I don’t know, I guess it’s a guy’s instinct.” he says, and like anytime he has brought up this subject before, he’s feeling incredibly dumb.

You raise an eyebrow and look away from him. You don’t seem very impressed by the comment. “Nah, he’s super cool and all of that. You can meet him if you like.” you say in a tone that is way too nonchalant for Renjun’s liking. 

He had met him before, of course. But he didn’t know Wong Hendery even if he did know Wong Hendery. So how could he tell you that the man was bad news based on just a feeling? ‘He’s using you! Why don’t you see that he’s using you!’ Renjun wanted to yell at you. But he says something else. 

“Just, like… I don’t know. He just seems mysterious and unsharing.” Renjun tries to explain.

“So are you.”

There is a moment of silence as Renjun feels a sting and you look at him with no expression. 

You were right. 

Renjun hadn’t shared anything about himself with you. The things you knew about him was information you had probably collected through his friends. The only time he had really opened up to you was that one night in his room. Suddenly, more than irritation, he feels angry with himself. 

What a stupid, stupid, stupid idea it had been to set those dumbass rules with you. How had he expected it would pan out? How did he think he could use you as a means to an end, but not learn anything about you or give away anything about himself? He hadn’t thought this through at all. Then again, he hadn’t expected for it to go on this long; and he most certainly hadn’t expected that he would end up falling for you.

“I just… I don’t trust him around you.” Renjun admits and this time, he has the decency to sound a little ashamed.

“I know how to take care of myself, Renjun.” you tell him quietly.

Renjun looks away because for the first time since he’s known you, you’ve spoken to him that way. He wants to scream and pull his hair because no. You don’t. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. How could he tell you that you weren’t the best judge of character? How could he tell you that you allowed people around you to take advantage of you? 

‘It’s why you’re sitting here with me’ Renjun thinks with another sting. He knew Hendery was up to no good with you because he himself had been one of those people that used you for their own gain. He had used your kind heart and your willingness to see the good in people for his own stupid plan. The stupid, dumbass, flawed plan that he hadn’t thought through in the slightest. He had thought he had, because Renjun always assumed he was smarter than everyone in any room. That was probably his dumbest yet most defining trait; as kindheartedness was yours.

As if to add insult to injury, your phone rings and Wong Hendery’s name shines cockily onto your screen, mocking Renjun in all its glory.

“Hey, are you here?” you say as you pick up. You look around till you spot him and wave at him “Okay, coming!”

Renjun looks to where you had signaled and sees Hendery in his bigass car. He notices Renjun looking, waves at him and smiles. 

Renjun’s eyes close and he takes in a deep breath as you begin collecting your things. He doesn’t know why he’s being this way. He had been jealous before; he was an openly bitter person, that much he knew about himself. He despised every other asshole that did better than him. But this was a kind of jealousy he had never really experienced before. He wanted to protect you, but he also wanted to keep you… because now, he could feel you slipping away from him. 

“I’ll call you, okay? Make sure you eat dinner.” your voice sounds a little resigned and suddenly, Renjun feels his heart drop. It’s a strange feeling, but there it is in the pit of his stomach. Renjun realizes that the feeling really closely resembled fear. And it’s because you’re leaving like this. 

Had this been your first fight? Maybe it had. It hadn’t felt like a fight, because Renjun has fought with a lot of people before, and this was nothing like that. There was no screaming, no gaslighting, no accusations. But it was the tone you had taken with him. Like you were disappointed. Like you expected better. You had never taken that tone with him before. So as you stand up to walk away, Renjun grabs your hand. He looks up from where he sits.

“Hey…” his heart is sinking, he has this awful feeling in his chest and now he no longer knows what to say to keep you. So he brings your knuckles to his lips and presses into them for a few moments before he looks back at you. “Are we good?” He wants to kiss you, he wants to take you in his arms and kiss you and know that nothing has changed. But he knows that Wong Hendery is sitting right there and he doesn’t want you to think that he’s putting on a show of jealous, testosterone fueled possession. 

He watches as your face softens. You crouch so your face is levelled with his. You keep holding your bag that’s slung over your shoulder with one hand. With the other, you gently hold onto his cheek and lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“We’re good.” you say and you smile and then you lift back up to turn around.

Renjun watches unmoving as you walk away from him and drive off with Wong Hendery. He keeps watching till the car makes a turn and disappears from view.

Though you had told him that you were good, that sinking feeling hasn’t left his chest. Because Renjun realizes that what you had done had felt a lot like a goodbye kiss.

Renjun doesn’t get time to dwell on his aching heart too much, because soon after, exams begin. 

It is as if a lull had taken over the entire campus. Everyone around him had their heads down as they studied and slept and slept to study. Jeno and Jaemin had taken over the living room table as they crammed and kept each other awake through their all-nighters. Jisung would try to take some motivation from them but the boy had never been too fond of studying, so he’d end up asleep on the couch whilst Jeno and Jaemin took the floor. Even Donghyuck--who had insofar made it through college based on pure intelligence--could be seen bent over his notes in the library. For a week, each student on campus had a similar schedule; like someone had hit the pause button on everything else in life.

Perhaps it had been the exam stress. Perhaps it was everything that was happening culminating in Renjun’s mind, but that sinking feeling hadn’t completely dissipated from his chest. He had no way to explain what it was or why it was. But if Renjun had to describe it, it was as if a sixth sense was warning him. What the warning was about, he had no idea.

But as fate would have it, Renjun’s hardships were only beginning. Because right before his first exam, he had received a call from his mother. 

He had picked up because this had been maybe her third phone call to him this entire year. But two minutes into the call, Renjun wished he hadn’t. 

Questions were asked as if out of duty: if he was still in school, if he was still living with his friends, if he was looking for a job. And though Renjun hadn’t even asked for it--how she couldn’t send him money for the next couple of months because the Covid situation wasn’t doing any wonders for their restaurant. Although the conversation hadn’t even lasted a full 10 minutes, Renjun’s mind was fully fucked by the end of it. Why the fuck did she have to play with his head like this, just when he was about to go in for an exam? 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. His mother had a way of sensing any time her son was emotionally strained, because she would always show up right on time to add to his burden. This is how it had been most of his life. She would appear usually when Renjun was at his lowest and remind him that he was a useless fucker that nobody cared about. And because she was his mother, she knew exactly what buttons to press to positively fuck him over. 

Fuck this. None of it was fair. It wasn’t fair that she had called him after months and months. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t even want to know how he was doing. A global pandemic had turned the world upside down and she didn’t even want to know if her son was surviving through it. She just wanted to call to give him another reminder that she couldn’t take care of him. Fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck everything. Renjun didn’t need her or his father or anyone else ever again. Fuck all of it.

Renjun had hung up bitterly and that should’ve been the end of it. But for some reason, she had kept calling after that, which made Renjun throw his phone against a wall. Fuck that. She doesn’t get to call him to rub more salt to his wounds. He wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

It’s funny how when you’re truly feeling fucked, you tend to isolate yourself from the people who really care about you. And that’s what Renjun ended up doing following that phone call. Almost as if in self-sabotage, he started avoiding everyone and hid himself away. Because no way did anyone really need him, anyway. Renjun knew that even in his friend group, he was the one the others could do without.

Jeno and Jaemin had one another. They would babysit Jisung well enough, and when they didn’t, Jisung had Zhong Chenle. His housemates didn’t really need him, so hiding from them was easy. Lately, he had also stopped hanging out with Yangyang because he was afraid he’d run into Hendery. Lee Mark hadn’t really hung out with him ever since he joined the 127s. And Donghyuck… well, he had you. 

So even you could do without him. You had been doing just fine without him these past couple of weeks. You had still been bringing him snacks, even after that study date. But Renjun wondered if that was because of your bad, kind habit rather than anything else. Truth be told, Renjun didn’t want your snacks anymore. Because each time he got them, it reminded him that he was nothing special to you. He wasn’t any different to you than Jaemin or Jeno or Donghyuck. He was just another guy that you were kind to out of habit. Fuck that. He didn’t need your kindness, or anyone else’s. He was fine on his own.

But on the night after his last exam, he finally picked up the phone he had thrown and read his messages through his cracked phone screen. Just to see if someone missed him. As expected, no one did. But there were some messages from you.

‘Hey shoulder gangster, remember to put on pain patches before you sleep!’

‘I ordered some chicken for you guys, eat well and study well.’

‘Hey, I tried calling you. I had gotten you coffee, but I couldn’t find you so now hyuckie is drinking it.’

‘Ayo. I hope your exam went well. Sending some Chinese food over, so eat before you study!’

‘Hey, Jaemin told me your phone is busted. Idk if you’re gonna see this message, but just wanted to know you’re doing well.’

‘I tried to see you before you went in for your exam but Jeno said you had already left.’

‘Hey… I hope you’re not still upset with me. I’m gonna stop bothering you so we can both study, but I’ll come see you soon.’

‘Okay, I guess i’ll see you after exam week? Meet soon.’

That was the last of it. After that, you hadn’t sent him anything at all. Even you had stopped reaching out to him. 

It seemed that when it came down to it, no one would ever fight for Renjun. No one would want to find out why he was in hiding, or why he hadn’t replied. When worst came to worst, Renjun was always left to fend for himself. He was all alone in this world. 

Jeno and Jaemin would always know what the other was feeling without having to use the words. Neither of them had to explain to the other what was on their mind. They just… knew. When one was in trouble, the other would come running. When one was down, the other would pick him up. Neither had to ask; the other would just sense it and be there. Jisung and Chenle had a similar connection. 

But no one ever sensed Renjun’s heart. No one just knew when he was sad or upset or angry or in trouble. No one would pick him up because no one loved him enough to know his mind. No one had ever paid any real attention to him to know when he was struggling. No one had ever held his hand and taken him out of his despair. No one would even notice that he was in despair. Because he wasn’t anyone’s special anything. 

He had been hiding away for an entire week and no one had even noticed his absence. No one had called in to check on him. Because no one really needed him. Not his friends, not his family. Not even you.

They say when it rains, it pours, and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this phrase. Because just when he is about to put his phone away, he receives a text from his mother.

‘Renjun, I didn’t want to tell you this way. But you’re not picking up my calls. Come see me. Your father and I are getting a divorce.’

Renjun had never really been a big drinker. He’d drink some with the boys every now and then. But that was it. But tonight was an exception. Tonight, it was okay to turn to the drink. Tonight, he wanted to forget.

After the kind of day he had had, he thought that even his demons could give him a break. He felt drained. Like his mind was slowly giving up and his body was doing all the heavy lifting. Putting one foot in front of the other. Making him breathe in and out. Keeping his heart beating. It would be doing his mind a favor, drinking. His mind needed numbing, then maybe his body could follow.

He walks into the bar a broken man. And he wonders if that’s how all men are when they walk into bars. Maybe that’s why men who walk into bars make such good punchlines for jokes. He certainly felt like one. Because the people that should love him seemed to treat him like one. Who was he to think any better of himself?

He had made peace with the fact that his parents never wanted him. He had accepted that they were happy to get rid of him. Then why did he still expect their love every single time? What was it that made him go running to them any time they asked? Why had he expected that somehow visiting them would fix everything? 

Had he expected that they would sit him down and peacefully explain why they were parting ways? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his mother would cry and apologize for putting him through this? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his father would own up to his mistakes and call him his son? Of course, he hadn’t.

But he also hadn’t expected that neither of them would want anything to do with him after they parted ways. He hadn’t expected to be the collateral damage of a failed marriage that neither party was willing to own. He hadn’t expected to be summoned just so his parents could have a screaming match about whose son he’d be after they divorced. And that both would want to shift that burden to the other.

It suited them, Renjun thinks as he downs whatever the bartender had handed him. It would’ve been more unsettling to have made the trip to find something understanding and amiable. This was on-brand for them. This is how it had been since he was a child. They’d fight and Renjun would be collateral damage. This was the perfect ending to their twenty-one year old saga. Renjun had expected it.

So, why was he feeling like he had lost everything?

“Huang Renjun?” he hears a voice call out to him as if from miles away. Was he drowning? Then why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe? Why did the voices around him sound like they were coming from far away?

“Yoo Jimin.” Renjun finds himself automatically answering. He looks up and let’s his eyes focus and there he finds her. He smiles. Of course. Who else would’ve been the guest of honor in his pity party?

“What are you doing here?” she asks him and Renjun finds himself making a face.

“Drinking.” he says as he lifts up his shot glass.

“Did you follow me here?” she asks cryptically. Typical. Of course everything had to be about her.

“How would I know you’d be here?” Renjun says, looking away as he downs another shot.

“I told everyone at the party I was leaving to be here.” she says and her eyebrow is cocked as she comes closer.

“Party?” 

“Haechan’s party? All your friends were there. Weren’t you there?” she asks cautiously.

Ah, yes, the party. The end-of-semester party. Here he was, drinking his pain away. And his friends, the people who should be concerned about him were partying. It was all very fitting he supposed. This perfectly fit into everything in his life at this moment. Including the fact the Yoo Jimin had been the one to find him when he was at his lowest.

“I didn’t feel like a party.” Renjun replies.

Jimin scoffs. “Typical. Of course Huang Renjun thinks he’s above a party everyone would enjoy.”

Renjun doesn’t answer. It’s an annoying remark and part of him wonders why it is irking him so. His heart was burdened by bigger things. Perhaps his mind thought that being annoyed at Yoo Jimin was an easier emotion to address. This was an emotion he understood. It was an emotion he could process right away. So he turns to her and finds her sitting on the stool next to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, because really. Why is she here, talking to him, sitting next to him?

“Oh, don’t worry, Renjun. I’m only waiting for someone.” she says, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair.

“You can wait for someone over there.” Renjun points to a place far away with his glass.

“Okay, you don’t have to be an asshole. I just came in to see why you were drinking alone while all your friends are at that party.” she says and now more than agitation, Renjun feels anger.

“Why do you care if I drink alone, anyway? You’re the one that broke up with me.” he spits out.

“Renjun, seriously, what is your problem? I’m only trying to be nice to you. You don’t have to come for me like that.” Jimin’s eyebrows are high on her forehead as she matches Renjun’s tone.

“Well, thanks a lot, Yoo Jimin. Thank you for your gift of empathy, but I don’t really need it. Not after everything you did to me.”

“Renjun! Seriously, what is it that I did to you? What did I do to you?” she raises her voice in agitation.

“Well, other than abandoning me? Pretending that you were happy with me then pulling the rug from under my feet and breaking up with me? Not even waiting a month before moving on?” Renjun spits venom right back. Who did she think she was, coming here and speaking to him like that?

“Jesus Christ, Renjun. Would you listen to yourself? Does it ever occur to you that you could’ve been the asshole in this relationship? That maybe I broke up with you because you were the jerk?” Jimin’s face is contoured as she yells at him. It’s good that the bar is relatively full, otherwise this could’ve been a scene.

“I was nothing but nice to you. I treated you so well and you treated me like dirt!” Renjun hisses.

“Renjun, that’s your problem! You only see the faults in others and never in yourself! But you’re not ready for that conversation, so let’s not have it!” she yells and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, no, by all means, let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about all the times I mistreated you, please.” Renjun mocks. He was already too used to being gaslighted by his parents. Jimin could join that club. This was already the worst day of his life. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Renjun, this! This right here. You never respected me. You never treated me like an equal. With you, I always felt like some stupid, airheaded trophy. I always felt like everything I wanted was superficial and shallow and not worth anything!”

“And whose fault is that.” Renjun laughs darkly.

“Renjun, you can’t even see what you’re doing! You just think you’re so much better than everyone else! You think everyone around you is a degenerate and that you’re the smartest person to ever walk this earth. I can’t believe I let you treat me that way for so long.” Jimin’s hands go from balling into fists to animatedly helping her point. “Renjun, I wanted to be a model for the longest time. But I didn’t, because of you! Because every time I’d post a picture on my Instagram, you’d tell me it was because I love getting validation from strangers. Every time an agent reached out to me, you’d tell me how showing off my looks wasn’t going to be a long lasting career. You just never respected me or my aspirations. Because all of them were so beneath Mr. Intellectual.”

Renjun turns away. He pours himself another shot and downs it. He didn’t want a lecture. Who was she to show up like this and give him a lecture unprovoked? 

“If it weren’t for Jongin, I would’ve believed everything you ever said to me. That people would only like me for my looks. That what I wanted to do was superficial and shallow and that I would never amount to anything if I followed my heart.” she goes on and Renjun has had enough.

“Save it, Jimin. We’re broken up now, so what does it matter?” he doesn’t look at her. She could yell at him all she wanted. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“I only came to you because I saw you drinking alone. And I know that’s not like you. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” her voice has lowered significantly, but the agitation hasn’t left her tone. Renjun wonders if she has more to say, because he certainly doesn’t want to listen to any more.

“Well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m fine on my own.” he says coldly, still not looking at her.

Jimin sighs. “Renjun, when will you realize that the whole world isn’t out to get you? I know your family isn’t perfect. But you’ve got friends that care about you. You’ve got people around you that love you. If only you could stop being an asshole to them for one hot minute and see that.”

Renjun still doesn’t turn. Because she doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t know his life. She doesn’t know how alone he feels. She doesn’t know jackshit about what he goes through, what he has been going through. Who is she to comment on his life and stand there like that and lecture him? She didn’t know anything. Fuck her for making him feel like he was the asshole. The world was taking a giant dump on him, and she was making him feel like he was the asshole. Fuck that.

She grabs her purse and gets off the stool. “I’ve got to go now. I just hope you feel better. Whatever it is that you’re going through. Please don’t go through it alone, Renjun.” she says before she walks away.

Renjun feels a lump in his throat. How could he not go through it alone? Who was going to be by his side? No one. So what use were his tears? He wouldn’t let them fall. He swallows that lump away, and when it doesn’t work, he takes another shot. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He could just go home and sleep. Maybe that would work. The alcohol wasn’t numbing anything. It was just making him more bitter, but for more reasons than what he had come in with.

So he finds himself walking home. Putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing in and out. Keeping his heart beating.

He felt so alone. Was he the loneliest man in the world? He could bet money that he was. No one knew what he was going through. And that’s what made him feel most abandoned. But then again. Fuck that. He didn’t need anyone. What good were friends anyway? Friendships really meant nothing. Renjun finally realized that what he had were not friends, but connections. Because at the end of the day, that’s what this goddamn college life was all about. Making as many connections as you possibly could, so you could reap advantages from them later on life. All of his relationships were opportunistic. And realizing this was giving him the worst headache of his life. Like all the alcohol was thrumming in his head and blinding him.

He arrives at his doorstep, punches in his code, walks in and freezes at what he sees. 

Jeno, Jaemin, Jisung, Donghyuck, Zhong Chenle and you were all in the living room, drinking and eating and laughing. None of them had even noticed that Renjun had walked in. Because they were all too busy bellowing together. 

Suddenly, Renjun feels his blood boiling hot in his veins. How dare they. How dare they look like one big happy fucking family right in front of him. Renjun pushes back all emotions he’d been feeling and holds onto one: red hot burning anger. He heads in.

“Hey, hey! Look who’s finally back!” Donghyuck says mid-laughter as he finally notices him. “Come join us because Mark is passed out on your bed, by the way.” he laughs but his smile slowly fades as he watches Renjun’s expression. 

“You okay, man?” Jeno asks slowly.

The others slowly start reading his energy as well because his demeanor has gotten everyone’s attention. Renjun wants to pick a fight. He wants to fight with all of them for not being there for him. But he looks around for an easy target. Someone he can direct all his ruthless anger towards. And his eyes zero in on you.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun asks you urgently. Like you’ve done something wrong. 

“I just got you some food. We all thought we’d eat with you since you didn’t come to the party.” you say and you get up smiling and take Renjun’s wrist “Come, sit.”

But Renjun roughly snatches his hand away from your grip, making you look up suddenly. Your eyes are round, but you don’t look angry. You perhaps look shocked, but mostly concerned. And that makes Renjun want to hurt you more.

“You can’t just show up here unannounced. I didn’t invite you here.” Renjun spits at you.

“Hey man, easy. We invited her.” Donghyuck gets up and puts himself between the two of you. 

“Well, this is not your house, either! You can’t just invite her without asking me.” Renjun scowls at the boy.

“Renjun, I just got you some food. I just wanted to make sure you had eaten.” you say gently, stepping up from behind Donghyuck to speak to him.

“Y/N, you are not my girlfriend. So stop acting like it.” Renjun snaps and he finally watches the hurt he wanted to see on your face. He also sees Jisung’s scared expression and Jaemin’s disappointed one.

“I…” you begin “... I know… I just… I came here with the guys… I…” you begin, but Renjun yells again.

“You need to leave. You can’t just show up whenever you want.” Renjun continues and takes a step forward but Donghyuck holds a protective arm in front of you. Whoop-dee fucking doo. Now his friends thought he was some sort of a savage. 

“No, Y/N, you shouldn’t leave.” He says then turns to his friend. “Dude, what is your problem?” But Renjun keeps attacking you.

“These people are not your friends, okay? They are my friends. You’re crossing a line and you need to leave right now.” Renjun loves the reactions he’s getting. He loves that he has provoked every single person in the room. Because Jaemin has gotten up and taken your hand protectively whilst Jeno has joined Donghyuck in blocking you from his view.

“Hey, man. Easy.” Jeno warns. Jisung and Chenle watch this strange confrontation with worried looks on their faces, eyes darting between him and the others. Renjun can’t believe it. All his friends were protecting you. All of them. He was the fucking monster in this room, too. 

“Renjun, I just… I just came here to see you.” you say, but there’s no accusation in your tone. Just annoying, tiresome understanding. He fucking hates it and all his friends can see that he does.

After everything he had been through, after all his life was putting him through, he was the asshole, he was the monster once again. 

Well, then. If everyone thought him a monster, he should become it completely.

“Y/N.” Renjun laughs as he looks away. Then he looks at you with that sinister smile still on his face. “Y/N, the only reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because I wanted to get to your brother. So you can leave now.”

That did it. 

Because Donghyuck’s eyes have closed as he stands in front of you and Jeno’s eyes have widened. Jaemin just looks shocked as he holds onto your hand. As do Jisung and Chenle. But you.

Your face has hardened. He doesn’t see shock or disappointment or the kind of reaction that would’ve given him full satisfaction. He sees your stone face as you finally say something with a hint of venom in your tone.

“Well, in that case, Renjun, you’ve been wasting your time. Because I got you a slot with my brother right after our first date.”

Renjun stands speechless. 

He would’ve remained speechless if you hadn’t pushed past Jeno and him and headed straight for the door.

“Y/N!” Donghyuck calls out and goes after you. Renjun watches the others. Jaemin and Jisung have looked away and he sees nothing but pure disappointment on their faces. Jeno, on the other hand, is looking straight at him. Renjun looks back. Good. He wants everyone to hate him. This was exactly right. 

He hears Donghyuck barge back into the apartment as the door bangs shut behind him. 

“Dude what the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yells and Renjun finds himself shoving the boy, pushing him so he wasn’t in his space.

“What’s wrong with me? Please, Donghyuck. Don’t even pretend like you haven’t been using her the same way I’ve been. You’re not any better.” Renjun punctuates the last bit with another shove and Donghyuck grabs at his collar and roughly pulls him by it. Before it can escalate, Jeno and Jaemin rush forward to break the two of them apart. Jeno grabs onto Renjun, Jaemin onto Donghyuck, prying him off and creating some distance between the two. Jisung and Chenle look from the couch, mouths hanging open, visibly distressed.

“You didn’t have to do that, man. You didn’t have to be an asshole to her.” Donghyuck accuses as he tries to free himself from Jaemin’s grip and come face to face with Renjun again.

Renjun laughs bitterly. “Well, now that I have been, you can have her. Live your happy fucking life.” Renjun spits at him and he gets the reaction he was looking for because it makes Donghyuck lunge at him once again, making Jaemin tighten his grip and pull him back.

“What is wrong with you? You fucking asshole! Why do you think everyone’s out to get you? Stop acting like a little bitch and start acting like a man for once!” Donghyuck shouts and that does it. 

Renjun feels his headache blinding him. And yet, he doesn’t know how he frees himself from Jeno’s grip. But before he knows it, he has balled his hand into a fist and aimed it straight for Donghyuck’s face.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[dollslayer]

Artistic Intention

Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve's doing well in his life drawing class, but a new muse throws him for a loop in the back supply room.

W/C: 2,374

Warnings: NO MINORS, p in v smut, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding kink if you squint, swearing

A/N: Hey! I wrote this for @buckyownsmylife 1st anniversary challenge! I love me a good AU so I chose Artist AU+ exhibitionism. Happy tumblr-versary! I made Steve a shy boi in this lol. If you liked this fic pls reblog/comment!! Check out my other fics too! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

It’s 1:45pm and Steve is desperately trying to weave his way through the crowd of people before him. His art folio hits everyone and thing as he makes feeble attempts to apologize to everyone for the bulkiness of the case. He can’t be too apologetic though, he’s running late for his 2pm life drawing class and if he doesn’t make it the professor will close the door in his face.

This is the longest 15 minutes in Steve’s life, he figures. He finally makes it up the steps and jogs up the stairs. His folio hits his leg, he winces but doesn’t stop, he’s only got a few minutes to make it up to the second floor and get himself situated behind an easel. He’s nearly out of breath when he makes it to the second floor and he’s trying to check his watch while running for the door. Two minutes.

Steve bursts through the doors and exhales loudly, he’s not sure he’s ever felt so relieved. His feeling of relief is short lived and quickly replaced with embarrassment as he realizes every pair of eyes in the room is on him. Every pair except for one. The new model for class this week, you slowly turn your head to reveal sharp eyes and a coy smile. He feels himself blush under your gaze and mutters an apology before getting settled in an easel directly in front of you.

He tries his best to focus on getting his paper and charcoals set out in an effort to shrug off the mixture of humiliation and lingering anxiety he had about being late. He feels his heartbeat begin to steady and he lets himself relax a little bit.

“Good afternoon, everyone. We have a new model in class this week, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. She’ll be keeping her current pose for one hour and repositioning for the second half of class. Mr. Rogers, since you had no problem running late I assume you’ll have no problem staying late as well. You’ll clean up after class.” The professor concludes with a short nod.

Steve sighs but nods his head in acknowledgement. He catches you smirking in amusement again at him and he can’t help but to blush all over again. He feels just like he did in high school, embarrassing himself in front of pretty girls. He sighs and picks up a piece of charcoal.

Steve decides to get a proper look at you and almost regrets it when he chokes on his own breath. You’re gorgeous, you’re coy and charming, you’re a muse. He’s still blushing because you’re naked, and beautiful and the feeling of humiliation hits him even more. He’s been in this class before, he knows the models will be naked but none of them had ever caught his attention as more than a subject, none of them were you.

He takes his time admiring your natural curves and appreciates your figure. You are so full of natural beauty, your bare face is perfectly flawed and the sun shining through the window highlights your skin tone. He can see why you were chosen to model for class, you’re perfect. He has to discreetly adjust himself and shuffles his jacket into his lap as he feels his pants tighten. He’s flustered all over again and realizes everyone else is already ahead of him. He puts charcoal to paper and gets to work.

____

As class goes on Steve’s sketch is coming along nicely. He can’t bring himself to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time for fear of getting hard again. When he sends furtive glances your way he catches you looking back at him with that smile of yours. He swears at one point you raise an eyebrow at him like you’re amused by him. He brushes it off and keeps drawing.

Class comes and goes much faster than he anticipated. He wants to pack up and get out as quickly as he can when he remembers that he has to clean up the room. He lets out a groan and waits for everyone else to leave. Now it’s only you, him, and the professor who are left in the room.

“Mr. Rogers I’ve got to get out of here, I trust you can put easels away without incident?” The professor asks. Steve nods and the professor turns to you. “Thank you for your work today, you can collect your pay from the front office. I look forward to having you as a model for this class.”

You smile and nod, waving goodbye to him. By now you’ve slipped on a robe and are reaching for your bag but it feels like you’re lingering. It’s just now that Steve realizes the two of you are alone. He swallows thickly, trying not to pay attention to you out of the corner of his eye. He begins to pack away his own drawing but not before giving it one final assessment. He can’t help himself from his own critical eye, analyzing mistakes and appreciating triumphs.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Steve jumps in surprise, you’re peering right over his shoulder. He’s caught off guard by your presence and also by your voice, do you always sound this sultry?

He swallows and nods before taking a deep breath. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans he turns to face you.

“Uh, yeah. Yes it is. I don’t think it’s very good but I’m trying” He anxiously starts making excuses, assuming you hate it.

But you don’t. You just smile thoughtfully at him and nod.

“It’s good. At least, I think it is.”

“Th-thanks, thank you.”

“Do you always cut it that close or were you just hoping to stay late with me?”

Steve sputters at your boldness. He has to remind himself that he’s not that scrawny, measly kid he used to be. But he can’t help but feel like he is with his sweaty palms and short breaths.

“I, I um, I didn’t realize there’d be a new model. Was kind of expecting the old one. Not- not that there’s anything wrong with you, of course! I, sorry I didn’t mean to imply that, you’re- you’re beautiful too, you’re perfect really, I just. Oh jesus.” He spews the words out faster than his brain can keep up and he’s making a complete fool of himself.

He can’t bear to look at you, so he starts closing up easels and stacking stools. He doesn’t notice you ogling his muscles through his tight t-shirt.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask innocently.

“I-, um, yes. I think you’re very beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Steve answers honestly.

He moves some stools to the large supply room in the back of the classroom and you follow him.

“I think you’re beautiful too. And cute. You’re practically falling all over yourself, it’s sweet”

Are you talking to him? He still sees himself as he was back then, having a hard time thinking that anyone would look at him and find him attractive. It’s why he’s so beside himself now. You’re so completely beautiful and self-assured, there’s no way you’re talking to him. He sets down the stack he’s carrying and realizes you’re much closer than he thought. You’re inches away.

“What do you like the most about me? Is it my body? Don’t think I didn’t notice you readjusting your pants at the beginning of class.” You move even closer and Steve thinks you must be able to hear his heart beat because it’s about to come right out of his chest.

Your hands are on his chest and you have to lean up on your tip-toes for your lips to meet his ear.

“What do you say? You and me in this supply room? There’s hardly anyone here. Come on”

Steve feels like he’s dreaming, he has to check if he is. But then your hand reaches for his dick through his pants and he nearly doubles over from the sensation. He’s never been with anyone so brash and confident, your touch leaves a burning trail on his body.

“But- but what if someone comes in and sees?” He says, using every last bit of coherent reasoning he has.

“Isn’t that what makes it so fun?”

Oh, God. You. You. Smiling that devilish smile at him. He was weak in the knees and you took the opportunity to push him backwards onto a spare desk. You pulled him by the shirt collar to meet your lips and he let out a noise of surprise. Steve pushes his tongue into your mouth and lets out an obscene moan. You feel so good. He knew you’d feel good but not this good.

Steve’s large hands come to your waist and venture lower until he has a handful of your ass and grabs. You let out a little moan and nudge your knee between his legs and he grinds against it. You pull back to catch your breath when your hands go to the ties of your robes.

“We’re a little overdressed, don’t you think?”

Steve doesn’t need to be asked twice as he pulls his shirt over his head. Jeans have never felt so uncomfortable and he’s frantically trying to get himself down to his boxers. He swears he goes slack jawed when he looks back up at you. He’s already seen you naked, he just stared at you naked for hours, but you’re just as gorgeous as before but it’s the way you’re looking at him. Like he’s desirable, almost like he’s a piece of meat. It makes him feel wanted and reassured and he feels himself grow harder.

Your hands slip beneath the elastic of his boxers and slowly slide them down his legs. He can’t help but flush when you let out a small gasp at the size of him. He doesn’t want to get too big of an ego with it but he’s always known he was… gifted.

Before he can let anything go to his head he lets out his own soft gasp as you stroke him languidly. He can’t control his hips as they cant up into your hand. You grab his hand and quickly lead his fingers to your dripping pussy. Steve nearly melts when he feels how wet you are and slides two fingers in easily. He’s pumping them in and out and you let out tiny mewls as you kiss his neck.

There’s no more time for preamble though, you two need to be quick if you don’t want to be caught by some unfortunate custodian. You remove your hand from his cock and he takes his fingers out of your pussy and swears you whine a little. Feeling brazen himself, he makes direct eye contact with you and sucks his fingers clean. You bite your lip and squirm while he revels in the taste.

Reluctantly he takes his fingers out of his mouth and gets up to situate you so you’re sitting on the desk. You spread your legs wide for him and he takes in the sight, committing to memory. Maybe he can draw you like this some time. For now he takes a step closer but falters, remembering one fatal flaw in this whole plan.

“I… don’t have a condom”

You don’t look let down at all, you look excited in fact. Shaking your head, you explain to him.

“Doesn’t matter, ‘m on the pill. I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Steve might pass out before he gets the chance, the way you keep talking with that mouth of yours. He wastes no more time and positions himself at your entrance. He has one hand on his dick and the other on the back of your neck when he looks you deep in the eye and impales you fully in one go.

The moan you let out is pornographic and Steve uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth.

“We have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”

You nod silently and he removes his hand, opting to grab your hip instead.

He pulls back and begins to start pumping into you. He’s steady at first, trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly. Slowly he starts increasing his speed and the force that he uses is causing the legs of the old desk to scrape against the floor.

Your hand reaches and grabs his ass, pushing him deeper into your pussy. You feel so tight wrapped around him with no barrier and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. You’re trying to keep your moans quiet when he kisses you to silence them all together. He’s trying with all his might not to cum before you do.

His fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles. You have a harder time keeping quiet and you’re squeezing him like a vice. The friction on your clit and his dick hitting your G-spot perfectly is causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

“‘M gonna cum, please. Please don’t stop” You beg. Steve feels a wave of power surge over him now that you’re the needy one.

“Go on then, I’m not far behind ya. Wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.”

With a few moments more he has you seeing stars and you claw at his back and pull him close to you. He continues on in his movements and starts pounding into you in earnest chasing his own release. All you can do is hold on for dear life.

Steve makes one final thrust before he’s cumming deep inside you. The rush of warmth is welcome to you and you kiss his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. The only sound being both of your heavy breathing. Hopefully no one heard you.

Steve can’t believe what just happened. He met a gorgeous girl and she propositioned him in a public place all in the span of two hours. He realizes just how far he’s come from who he used to be. He looks down at you, your noses touching.

“So, what’s your name?”

[timetoddddavis]

Random little misc sketch of the day. Totally safe, Weekend Kids hanging out. I was thinking about Tamaki having pointy wolf teeth. I think it would be cute.

And also I like when stuff gets left behind on a person.

---

Sakura dumped her tenuously held double-handful of Weekend paperweights and pens and other paraphernalia into a moving box, and whipped her head back around.

“Deadman stuff? Like on your bodies? Really?”

Hana smiled softly, not turning away from the papers she was sorting.

“We both have… something, still tying us to that time, to our devil, physically. A reminder, something we’ll always have. A ‘devil’s mark’, I suppose.”

“Really?” Sakura’s mind spun. “I don’t, though, and why wouldn’t I? I’ve got a devil and I never changed or anything.”

“Probably because your relationship to Lovekov is so special,” said Hana, carrying her papers to the corner. She knelt next to a paper box large enough to curl up inside, and started to file her stack.

“Just like the rest of your family. Your relationship to your devils is very different from what ours were.”

Sakura nodded, with her lip stuck out from her head being too full of all the swimming thoughts she had about all that. That she and her brothers wouldn’t have some weird body thing, but then that her dad was missing his heart, and how that was different, but the same. It was a lot to consider.

“What are they?” she asked.

Hana paused, but only for a second. She said, demurely, not showing that that was a very invasive thing to have asked:

“Tamaki has wolf’s teeth.”

“Wait, really?”

“Tamaki, show her,” Hana waved her hand idly, for a moment a Queen giving orders again.

“Okay!” Tamaki leapt out from under the desk where he had been gathering cables with Lovekov, his headband fluttering as he bounced over to Sakura and bent down to her level. His fingers were already in his mouth, pulling his lower lip down to show her his gritted teeth. 

Sakura hooted. Tamaki smiled all the time, but Sakura had never really had an interest in his teeth before now. Just as Hana had said, he was all sharp points. It was like he had only what she thought of as canines in the front, with smaller ones in the middle, and much bigger ones where his normal human canines might have been. Sakura ducked back and forth, trying to see the whole thing at once, and Tamaki turned his head, assisting, pulling his cheeks back to show her the wide, serrated triangles past his fangs, and how they gave way suddenly to a few tiny, sharp molars at the back of his jaw.

“Tamaki! That’s so cool! How do you chew?”

“Itsh haad,” he slurred, around his fingers.

[wakeupflawless]

#7 and #11 please. Bring on the angst.

College Brio!!!!!!!!!!

They go through the same line at security. Rio’s flight isn’t for another four hours, but he came with her anyway.

The day had been a blur of packing, moving and driving, she had so much on her to-do list she was able to force herself to forget that they’d be separating by the end of it all. But now - as she toes off her shoes to step through the x-ray machine, holding her hands up and feeling silly - the reality of the situation crashes down around her. She barely hears the TSA agent saying “please step out for me.”

Beth watches Rio go through next with that casual confidence of his. The TSA lady, who’d grumbled and groaned at every other passenger, actually smiled at him and called him “sugar.”

And she’s not jealous of a middle aged TSA worker. She’s not crazy. But she knows in Los Angeles there will be hundreds, if not thousands, of much younger, much prettier girls calling him pet names. It’s LA. The land of models and celebrities and the rich and famous. Her name would be lost to him, especially once he starts playing for the Dodgers, because every girl wants a hot baseball player, and…

“You good?” Rio asks, eyeing her knowingly as he grabs their carry-ons off the conveyor belt. Beth blushes, she’d let their bags just sit there as she stared off into the distance.

“Yeah,” she chirps, snatching her converse and lacing them up around her feet. “Let’s find my gate?”

Rio rolls their luggage toward Gate A. Her plane hasn��t even arrived yet, that’s how early she is, but better safe than sorry, right?

It seems like just yesterday Rio had plopped his lanky frame down next to her in their English 15 class - the class every freshman has to take - even though there were several empty seats around her.

“This seat taken?” he’d asked with a knowing grin, not even waiting for her to respond, just grabbing his laptop out of his backpack and setting up camp at the small desk.

She bitched and moaned about “that annoying asshole who insists on sitting next to me!” almost every day to her roommate. Until one day, about a month into the semester, Ruby cut her off with a huff. “I swear to God, Beth. If you don’t just fuck this dude out of your system....”

And well, Ruby is a wise woman. That’s all Beth has to say about that. Because a week later Beth and Rio were banging like bunnies on every surface of their respective dorm rooms. And the library. And classrooms. Even in an (empty) 300 person lecture hall. Right in front of the giant projector.

They were inseparable the past four years. English was the last class they’d shared together, because of their wildly different majors (Rio in business and Beth in fashion) And Beth had her fair share of Student Council duties, while Rio was the star center fielder for the school baseball team. But they always made time for each other. Sometimes Beth would sit in the bleachers and watch his practices as she sketched out some designs. Sometimes Rio would attend a “student body” meeting just so he could watch Beth command the stage.

But college ended in the blink of an eye. And Rio had been drafted by the Dodgers (the freakin’ Dodgers) and Beth scored an entry level designer job at Tory Burch in New York. She’d probably spend most of her time getting coffees for higher-ups than actually designing, but it was a start.

So here they are. Sitting at Gate A in the Detroit Airport. The clock ticking on her flight to JFK. After all those years together they’d never been at a loss for words. Always found something to talk, discuss or argue about. But they’re silent now. Sitting in the uncomfortable blue chairs, Rio’s arms slung around her shoulder.

They watched a movie on Rio’s iPad, laughing at the funny moments, frowning at the sad. But neither really paid attention.

At boarding time Beth stands up, rolling her shoulders back, double- checking her ticket for the millionth time. She won’t cry she won’t cry she won’t cry -

“Hey. This isn’t goodbye.” Rio says, the water works begin.

She sobs into his chest all the way til they call Group 9 - her group - and Rio has to usher her to the counter. The American Airlines agent gives them a sympathetic smile, scanning Beth’s ticket.

She’s the last to board the flight, the doors closing right behind her. She presses her face against the small airplane window, tears rolling down her cheeks. She listens to their song over and over on repeat. Tennessee Whiskey. It’s cliche. It’s every couple’s favorite song. But she doesn’t care.

When she touches down in New York the tears have stopped. She texts Rio when she lands, but it doesn’t go through, he’s on his own flight. But he’d sent her a message.

About to take off. Love you always.

---Two Years Later---

There’s a knock at her door. Beth groans. It’s eight in the morning. On a Saturday. She flips over, burying her head in her pillow.

The knocking persists.

She groans. Flinging her covers off and marching the six steps it takes to get from her bed to her front door (studio apartments are just the best) Whoever’s on the other side of the door is about to get an eyeful, because she’s wearing a thin cami and tiny sleep shorts. Her apartment’s AC just keeps dying, and summer in the city is hot.

She doesn’t even check the peephole, just rips the door open with a huff.

It’s Rio.

Her annoyance evaporates and the remnants of sleep clear from her eyes. She squeals, positively flinging herself into his arms. He laughs, catching her easily.

“What are you doing here?!”

“You always answer the door dressed like this?” he asks with a playful raise of an eyebrow, pretending to look all concerned.

She giggles, pressing her lips to his in a flurry of kisses. Their next visit wasn’t supposed to be for another three months.

“I got you a present. Had to deliver it in person.” Rio says, carrying her inside the apartment.

He sets her down, slinging the backpack off his shoulder and grabbing something within. Beth watches him with a stupid grin, still recovering from the shock of seeing him.

He pulls out a baseball hat.

A Yankees cap.

“What- what’s this?” she asks, her mind not catching up.

But then he smiles, slow and big. And Beth realizes.

“No way. No way. The Yankees?”

“I’ve been traded.” he informs her. “It ain’t official yet, but the paperwork is done.”

Beth screams. Neighbors be damned. She tackles him onto the bed, pressing kisses all over his face. Soon tears are leaking down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry.” Rio thumbs away the wetness on her cheeks.

Later, Rio shows her his new contract. Beth stares at his phone, jaw dropped.

“That’s… that’s a lot of zeroes.” she stutters.

Rio grins. “I ran to LAX as soon as the deal went through. Had to tell you in person.” He looks around her tiny apartment. “Start boxin’ up your staff, mami. Time to get a bigger place.”

“Together,” she whispers.

He nods. “Together.”

[elkian]

[Image Description:

A trio of monochrome, slightly messy sketches.

First image: On the left side are practice sketches of a calm polar bear, a goose, and an angry goose. On the right is a loose comic referencing Little Zuko vs The World. Comic described below.

Second image: A close-up of the comic. Top panel (though there are no panel boxes) shows an oddly-shaped lump, below which are a confused Jee who is carrying a large pack, and a relaxed Master Pakku with his arms behind his back. Middle panel depicts a serpentine head and neck lifting from the lump, one visible eye noticing the humans. Jee is shocked, while Master Pakku barely suppresses laughter. The last panel depicts the beak of the polar-bear goose splitting open, like a furious banana full of fangs. Text (cut-off in the close-up) next to the head: “SKRONK”. Jee is running away, while Master Pakku waterbends a handful of sharp icicles.

Third image: A focus shot of a polar-bear goose. It is a ridiculous creature with the body of a polar bear, the head and wings of a goose, and fluffy webbed feet similar to a snowy owl. The goose’s beak is open to emit a horribly loud “HOOONK”. Its beak and tongue are lined with tiny fangs, and a pair of outsized polar bear fangs jut from the upper jaw. Its wings are spread and its limbs are stretched like it’s in the middle of standing up.

End image description.]

@muffinlance​ wrote a fic that ultimately got me to rewatch ATLA and start a zillion WIPs: Little Zuko vs The World.

People have made some absolutely gorgeous fanart for so many of MuffinLance’s works, including some beautifully sleek Polar-Bear Geese that absolutely grip my heart.

This is not one of those creatures. This is me remembering being shoved onto a table at the park at 5 years old because ALL the geese wanted ALL the bread we had right now. This is, more or less, the image that pops into my head when I read/think the words “Polar-Bear Goose”.

Because what better way to terrify people improve geese than merging them with an apex predator?

(Originally the big one was supposed to have a huge fanning feathery tail, but I ended up devoting WAY more time and energy to the focus sketch and it got lost, and I didn’t want to make this even more chaotic trying to add it back.)

One last thing: I didn’t draw it, but you know what would be a greaterrible model for this awe-inspiring creature?

[Image description: An illustration from Mark P. Witton’s book Pterosaurs. The image lines up an adult human, a Hatzegopteryx, and a Giraffe. The Giraffe is the tallest by a small margin. The Hatzegopteryx is looking at the Giraffe as if calculating its caloric value. End image description.]

EDIT: Upon further reflection I realized I just drew a horrible, fluffy dragon.

EDIT2: Updated last image descrip, thanks @cartwheellou​

[tinydooms]

I am so sorry to hear about your situation, I hope you are otherwise doing well. May I please request a prompt for Evie and Rick having a reading day (specifically set right after the first film, so they still are a little awkward around each other but still love and trust one another... I don't know, what ever you write, I love, so hopefully this gave you some inspiration but take it where you please :))

Thank you for your kind words! It's been a hell of a week, but I'm finally feeling better. Here is your fic: I hope you like it!

Cairo, October 1922

Evie woke up from her nap slowly, coming up out of deep sleep to find her Fort Brydon bedroom full of afternoon sunlight. The ceiling fan hummed overhead; the apartment was quiet save for the soft sound. Evie stretched, relishing the pull of her muscles and the softness of the bed beneath her. It was good to be back.

Her stomach gurgled and with a sigh, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Time for tea. Hot tea, and lots of it, and maybe a sandwich or three. She was starving. There was nothing like roughing it in the desert to bring one’s attention to the blessings of home and a fully-stocked larder. Would the men be hungry? Probably. She had left Rick and Jonathan to their own devices after Dr. Wilkinson had looked them all over earlier that day; he had prescribed plenty of water and rest after their long, hot trek back from Hamunaptra. Opening her bedroom door, Evie looked around for the men. Jonathan’s bedroom door was closed; he was probably napping. Rick was where Evie had left him earlier, lying on his cot by the window with a couple of ice packs soothing his cracked ribs, head cushioned on a stack of pillows, a book in hand. He looked up as she came into the room.

“Hey,” Rick said, flashing her that sideways smile. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Yes, thanks,” Evie said. “What are you reading?”

Rick waved the book at her. “Ah, Persuasion. I went through your bookshelf; I hope you don’t mind.”

Evie blinked. “You’re reading Persuasion?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s one of Austen’s best and I didn’t feel like reading anything related to ancient curses. I’d only read her other one--I don’t remember the title in English--Orgueil et préjugés--the one where they despise each other at first because her family is obnoxious and he’s really shy and arrogant.” Rick lifted an eyebrow at the look on Evie’s face. “I do know how to read, you know.”

She realized that she was gaping at him, open-mouthed. Shame boiled up in Evie; of course he knew how to read. “I’m sorry. I just meant, I didn’t have you down as the type to read social satire.”

She hadn’t had him down as the type to read, period, but then, Rick had mentioned liking Arsène Lupin and Sherlock Holmes, hadn’t he? And there had been a couple of books in his suitcase last night, when she looked through it for clothes to lay out for him.

Rick grinned. "It’s okay, Evelyn. I know what I look like. We’re still getting to know each other.” He shifted, laying the book down on his stomach. “Actually, I really like reading. I’ve made it a point throughout my life to maintain membership at whatever public libraries are available.”

This was new and intriguing information. Evie sat down in the armchair and curled her legs under her.

“What sort of things do you like to read about?”

Rick cocked his head, thinking. “Honestly? I’ll read just about anything as long as I can understand it. I like detective novels and adventure stories, though I think I’m going to go off those for a while.” They grinned at each other. “I read a lot of art history books before the War, and I like a good popular history. I’m not educated; I only went to school through the eighth grade. Maybe if my mom hadn’t died, I’d have finished high school and gone to college, but, well…”

He shrugged. Life hadn’t worked out that way.

“But you read,” Evie said. “My mother used to say that anyone can learn anything they like if they are willing to read about it.”

Rick nodded. “My mom used to say something like that, too. She absolutely refused to let me quit school and get a job in a factory, even though it would have helped.” A shadow passed over his face; Evie saw him push it away. “Would you like something to eat?” he said, rising up on his elbows. “Your stomach is rumbling.”

“Oh! Yes, I’d come out for tea,” Evie said, scrambling to her feet. “Don’t get up; you’re supposed to be resting.”

Rick blinked. “I’ve been resting all day. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it did, you know.”

“Still.” Evie bustled off towards the kitchen. “You’ve looked after me so well these past weeks, it’s time for me to return the favor. Would you like a sandwich? How do you take your tea?”

Rick sat up, moving slowly. “Strong, with milk and a little honey, if you’ve got it. Thanks.”

Evie smiled at him; he smiled back. She bustled around the little kitchen, setting the kettle to boil and making up sandwiches, and when everything was ready she carried it through to the table and held out a hand to help Rick up. He took it, looking at her in a way that made her blush, and followed her to the table.

“Thank you,” he said, looking from the plate of sandwiches to Evie. “All this, I don’t-- Thank you.”

Evie smiled at him again; again, he smiled back, and for a moment they stood grinning foolishly at each other. It was all so new, this togetherness, this friendship. Funny how one could learn everything there was to know about a person’s character by their actions, and still know hardly anything about them as a person. Evie gestured for Rick to sit, and they fell on the sandwiches.

“So tell me,” Rick said after they had spent a few minutes quietly eating. “What’s your favorite book? Besides the Book of Amun-Ra. I’m sorry about that, by the way. Jonathan didn’t mean to drop it.”

“I know.” A pang flashed through Evie as she remembered the splash the book had made as it hit the water in the crypt’s brackish pool. “But we made it out with our lives, and we have all of the rubbings and sketches we made before we, er, raised him, so it’s not a complete loss. And as to your question…” She sipped her tea, thinking. “Do you mean favorite novel or favorite book? Because I’m not sure I can pick just one.”

“Top three, then.” Rick leaned on his elbow, watching her with the same interest he had shown at Hamunaptra. Evie felt herself blushing. She could get used to this.

“Well, then, I would probably have to say Professor Walter Emerson’s book on hieroglyphics, since it was a huge influence on me when I was a child; Flinders Petrie’s book Naukratis, and well, Persuasion.”

Rick grinned. “Which is why it was here, among all the books on Egyptology.”

“Quite.” Evie brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She hadn’t bothered to pin her hair up. “What about you?”

Rick sat back, cradling his teacup in his big, strong hands. “I’d say my favorite book is Around the World in Eighty Days. I have a sentimental attachment to it; it was my favorite as a kid. I’ve read it in the original French, but I like the English translation better. But if I had a top three…” He paused to sip, thinking. “I don’t know, actually. I really like Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan and John Carter books, and I like Rudyard Kipling. I read a lot of Dickens after Gallipoli; they had his complete works at the hospital my regiment was sent to afterwards.”

“You were injured?”

“No.” A shadow passed through Rick’s eyes. “I mean, yes, I got shot in the side, but it was more a flesh wound than anything else. No, they sent us to rest and recuperate before going back to battle. It was a good break.”

He put the teacup down and reached for the pot. Evie hastened to lift it and refill. She brushed Rick’s hand as she scooted the milk jug towards him. He had such beautiful hands.

“I’ve never read Dickens,” she admitted, and he gave her a surprised look. “His writing never grabbed my attention,” she added. “I was much more interested in ancient stories than modern ones.”

“You don’t say.” Rick looked amused. “And you, a librarian. Is that what you got your degree in?”

“Library science? No, I did that afterwards. I, er, I studied Classics and Antiquity at university.”

Rick shifted his hands on the table, moving them close enough to tap the back of Evie’s hand. “Tell me.”

“You don’t mind that I went to university?”

The question leaped out before she could stop it, the tiny insecurity that Evie had always carried deep inside her and only rarely acknowledged. So many men were threatened by academic women. Rick looked astonished.

“Why would I mind that you went to university?” he asked. “Everybody should have the chance to go to university. I’d have loved to go to college. And anyway, of course you’re educated, I mean, look at you. With everything that’s happened the last few weeks, we’d all have died if you hadn’t known exactly what to do and how to read those hieroglyphs and all.”

“I know. It’s just...academic women are...frowned upon by society,” she said. “And I know we met in extraordinary circumstances, but I’ve never...You don’t think I’m ridiculous?”

Rick shook his head. “Nah, Evie, I’m crazy about you.”

And the little flame of her worry flickered and died. Evie smiled at him, folded her fingers around his. Rick squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips. They were going to be just fine.

[poppunkporco]

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader fic)

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader)

contents: porco x fem reader, mentions of marcel galliard, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, alternate universe - college/university, modern au, bisexuality, smoking, porco galliard-centric

rating: teen and up audiences

summary: When he walks her home that night, Porco realizes he might have feelings for his childhood best friend. He has no idea in hell how to deal with it but he tries.

word count: 5079

notes: i just thought it'd be interesting to try writing a modern au porco/reader fic in a more porco-centric POV. what i try to do here is explore how he deals with the soft sappy feelings of slowly realizing he's in love since he's pretty bad at emotions and even more so when it's not a [strong, violent type of feeling]

*fic loosely based on this song:

*this is also cross-posted on ao3

***

2:40 AM at an empty parking lot behind a 7-Eleven. The nearest lamp post flickers weakly with its dimming orange light as Porco sets down his third empty beer can on the concrete with a yawn.

“Hey,” he says, lightly shrugging the shoulder against which she leaned her head on. She doesn’t budge from beside him. He rubs the lethargy off his eyes.

They’ve been sitting on this parking block for almost three hours now-- since they left the gig hours ago at the pub just across the university. They’d just spent the past few hours ranting about midterms and how fucked up alienated labor is along with the absence of ethical consumption under capitalism-- and how everyone is forced to participate in it, talking about trips they’d like to make in and outside the city, their ideal lovers, and anxieties about the future. This was a thing they did now and then, usually on Fridays and Saturdays-- seeking a kind of cathartic escape from their hectic academic life in each other’s company. A friendly rendezvous they’d jokingly call dates every now and then.

He leans forward just enough to get a peek at her face, partly obscured by the mess of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. 

So she’s asleep.

His eyes dart towards their things lumped together beside her feet-- their backpacks sitting atop an A4-size sketchbook along with the last unopened beer can.

Porco idly clinks his finger against the top of the beer can he had just emptied as he breathes out a wistful sigh.

Somehow, she always reminded him of his long-gone brother. Not to say that she shared even a bit of Marcel's fairly easygoing yet charming demeanor. Because she was far from that. She was loud with a crude mouth-- more like Porco himself, really-- except that she at least was kinder, more pleasantly charismatic towards other people than himself. And in that way, yes, she did remind him of Marcel. But there were other things-- pastimes and memories that reminded him of his brother when she came to mind. They’d known each other even as kids. Back in middle school, Porco remembers how she’d visit their home on the weekends so the three of them could build a Lego city which Marcel himself had drafted on the back of one of his sketchbooks. Those two were always quite the artists even as kids-- Porco recalls fondly. His brother had been the one to introduce her to Porco during one of those weekends. He didn’t like it at first-- how Marcel would seem to pay more attention to her at times as they animatedly sketched parts of the city on paper in the middle of assembling the Lego blocks. He’d eventually learned to be tolerant of her presence at least as the weekends passed by and the city gradually came to life-- vast with skyscrapers, houses, trees, vehicles, and lamp posts. Porco distinctly remembers building a garden with her beside a house that resembled the Galliard residence. He had assembled the green pieces that resembled leaf blades onto the flat Lego board, while she topped them off with tiny colorful flower pieces. It was honestly quite fun and it became a thing he eventually looked forward to on the weekends with Marcel.

But all things come to an end and at times, at points where they feel like they’re not supposed to. Porco knows this well.

In Marcel’s old room, the city remains hidden away, unfinished.

It was on a rainy day when Marcel had met an accident on his way home with a schoolmate. Onlookers had witnessed him racing against the red light to push Reiner away from the path of an incoming vehicle.

Even if it was an accident, Porco despises Reiner after that. He'd decided to never talk to him after the incident but as fate would ridiculously have it, they’d meet again in high school-- as classmates, nonetheless, to his dismay.

It was after this same incident that Porco had grown closer to her-- the only other person who possibly knew Marcel almost nearly as he himself did. She knew about the city and she knew about his sketches, after all. In the first few days after his brother’s wake, they’d simply talk about Marcel as they walked home together after school and how they both missed him. Those walks home would eventually involve detours at the nearest Mcdonald’s where they’d get nuggets and buy a Happy Meal-- the ones that came in flimsy cardboard packaging printed with colorful cartoon mascots-- for the sake of getting the collectibles that came with them. It was a thing they never really grew out of. Even now, as college kids, whenever they’d find themselves eating out together at the nearest Mcdonald’s after their Philosophy classes scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’d get themselves a Happy Meal, even if they sometimes earned puzzled looks from the cashier as they engaged in quick, petty quarrels as to which collectible they should get.

Soon, Porco feels her shuffle in her seat beside him, the weight of her head now off his shoulder. She rubs the sleep off her eyes with a yawn.

“...should go home,” she drawls, accidentally kicking one of the empty beer cans sprawled in front of them on the concrete. It lands right at the feet of a passer-by who in turn shoots her a cold glare before kicking the can back in her direction. "I-- hey, uh, sorry about that," she apologizes, louder than necessary. Said passer-by only clicks their tongue in annoyance as they raised a middle finger at her before walking away with a muffled swear under their breath.

She exchanges incredulous, befuddled looks with Porco for a few silent moments before eventually letting out a snort and bursting into a fit of stupidly drunken laughter with him. 

“...is what I mean… fucking capitalism... makesnasshole out ofveryone,” she remarks, broken phrases drawn out in between chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I got it for the tenth time,” Porco says, laughing with a roll of his eyes. He stands up and stretches out a hand in front of her. “Now can we go home? Can’t exactly start a revolution when the alcohol’s fucked you up that bad,” he says with an impatient sigh.

“Yeah? How do you know? Did Karl Marx write that?” She languidly takes his hand.

“No, but-- fucking… well, I don’t know. Maybe? Indirectly? I mean, we did just give in to consumerism,” Porco says with a sharp click of his tongue as he pulls her up to stand.

“Well… yeah. I guess so.”

“Anyway.” Porco places a palm at the top of her head and urges her to face him. “You seem more out of it than me. I’m walking you home this time, alright?

”She shrugs languidly. “Sure, whatever,” she says, her words muffled as she falls face first into his chest. 

--

“Give me the fucking keys,” he says coarsely after her third failed attempt at unlocking the door to her own flat. In the dim light of the hall, Porco tries to make out the shape of what he recognizes as the right one among the five keys dangling from her keychain. He sighs, frustrated as he finally unlocks the door. 

“How the hell did you--?” Confused, she eyes the keys still dangling from the door. “Why wouldn’t it open when it was me?”

“For the love of--” Porco runs a palm down across his face with an exasperated sigh. “You were forcing the wrong key.”

“Oh.” She snorts trying to stifle a chuckle. Porco pulls the keys from the door and hands them to her along with the sketchbook he’d been carrying.

“Thanks.” She gives the door a light push before finally taking a step into the flat. And then a sudden stop. She pockets her keys and lets the sketchbook fall on the carpeted floor of the foyer. She tilts her head pensively for a few moments, staring blankly at the darkness of her room. Porco raises an eyebrow in confusion. She turns on her heel to face him again.

“What is it?” he asks.

She stands on the tips of her toes, eyeing Porco with what felt to him like newfound curiosity. She rests a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

Her other hand soon reaches up to cradle the side of his face. It comes as a surprise, but not the kind that made you flinch or visibly react in some way. This was simply… unexpected. Weird. And somehow new.

She’s looking at me. And she’s looking like she’s waiting.

And what is she waiting for, exactly? He feels a nervous lump in his throat, swallows it down. He has half the mind to lean his face closer as he, too, looks at her-- and he looks at her like he’s waiting.

Alas, whatever this is-- it ends where it feels like it’s not supposed to.

“‘Night, Porco,” she says with a feeble smile before falling back flatly on her feet.

“Yeah. You too. I’ll see you around,” he says, tentatively glancing at his side.She crouches down to lazily pick up the sketchbook before finally entering her flat again. Porco catches her giving him a tiny wave through the crack of the door moments before she completely pushes it closed. He bids her goodbye with a curt nod.

Once the door closes, he rolls up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. 

3:15 AM. Porco raises a palm to his cheek. The ghost of her touch lingers on his skin.

***

“Are you serious?” Porco scoffs. “Y/N, you’re not even watching the film.” He leans his head against his palm with his arm resting on the side of the couch.

“Sure I am,” she says, unpinning her hair before letting her head fall on his lap. As she types out a message on her phone, Porco manages to make out Pieck’s name at the top of the chat box.

“You keep checking your phone.”

“It’s fine. We’ve both seen this film before anyway. I told you-- I’m just rewatching it for my paper on Nietzsche.”

“So you dragged me into this for what?”

She gives a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know. Felt like it. Just wanted to bother you for a good film.” She finally sets aside her phone to look up at Porco with a shit-eating grin. He sighs and flicks a finger against her forehead. “Ow. What the fuck.”

“At least try to look like you’re actually watching,” Porco says, turning her head to face the TV screen.

"Fine, fine," she says with a grimace as she kneads the pain away on her forehead.

They’re now about an hour into Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. As lovers Joel and Clementine ran through the memories-- hand in hand mapping the history of their relationship-- the ups and downs-- scenes of the two playfully mocking the film at a drive-in theater, a stroll through the flea market leading into talks of having a child, lovemaking underneath the covers as Clementine told Joel about her insecurities rooting from childhood-- all these small intimacies that nonetheless revealed to each other their flawed, detestable selves along with reasons they probably shouldn’t be together, Porco realizes it. 

He looks at her, notes the way the flicker of the TV screen daintily lit up her solemn face and how she’d break into a smile every now and then. She’d brush the back of her hand against his knee and point at the TV screen to tell him that this was among her favorite parts so he absolutely had to pay close attention. A bit funny considering she was the one who wasn’t paying much attention to the film during the first part, Porco thinks. At least she’s watching now, even as he can’t help but watch her instead.

As he absentmindedly brushes a hand against her hair, he wonders if they could be something more, wonders if they’d be anything like Joel and Clementine-- imperfect, but nonetheless worthwhile. They’d known each other since they were kids and he can definitely make a list of things he doesn’t like about her-- like the way she’s too loud and frisky and never seemed to take the right things seriously, how scatterbrained she was that she’d forget the schedule for a midterm exam and how her room always seemed to be in shambles, the way she was so stubborn she’d easily get upset at something as simple as choosing to eat at a fast food different from the one she insisted on, how she’d smoke in his dorm no matter how many times he’d told her that she could get him in trouble for it. But it's not like he's perfect either. She’d told him that he came on too headstrong at times and that’s why a lot of people felt intimidated by him-- a trait that had gotten him into fights and eventually, long afternoons of detention back in high school. She says she hates the way he thought himself too strong to cry in front of anyone and how he’d grown dismissive of opening up to her as they got older. Whenever they’d get into heated fights, she’d tell him that all you ever are is angry and how he was pretty shit at saying sorry like he meant it. And despite all of these, they had remained close friends over the years. They’d promised each other that they’d get better-- slowly, but surely-- even if that was something easier said than done. He could live with that. He would.

***

“Hey, uh--” Porco breathes out a puff of smoke as he hands her the cigarette. He gazes distantly at the parade of city lights before them-- from the headlamps of the vehicles passing below them on the bridge, the streetlights, and the buildings overhead. “--do you still like Pieck?”

She suddenly lets out a cough and a puff of smoke at that. She gapes at Porco incredulously.

“Pock, it’s been three years since we broke up. And that was high school.”

“Look, I know that, but--” he sighs. “I was just wondering.”

She laughs. “That’s not really what you wanted to ask, is it? There’s something else.” She raises an eyebrow at Porco. He rolls his eyes at that, irked at how easily she could read him. “So ask.” She passes him the cigarette and he takes a drag of it.

“Ok--” he says with a sigh. “--Have you liked any other girls after her?”

She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“No, not really. Nothing serious, at least. I mean, I did have a crush on this girl who sat beside me in English class during freshman year. But... that was freshman year, you know? Nothing ever really came of it. And you know I would have told you if something actually did, anyway."

“I see.”

“There’s more you want to ask,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Ok. Fine.” Another drag of the cigarette. “How about-- boys? Have you liked any guy at all since then?” The city lights blur against the filter of smoke. Porco refuses to meet her eyes even as he feels her gaze on him-- heavy with something he could not exactly put his finger on. He knows she’s not smiling anymore and from his periphery, he thinks he senses a swallow in her throat. She turns to the city overhead.

“Yes, actually.” She takes the cigarette from him, smiling fondly upon the light brush of their fingers. “I-- you know, even though I’ve known for a long time that I liked both guys and girls, I still find myself doubting that sometimes. When I’m attracted to a girl, I sometimes think that maybe I was just gay all along. And now that I find myself actually liking a boy again, a part of me entertains the thought that maybe me liking girls was just a phase and maybe I was straight all along. But... I just know it’s not like that. And yet, what people say still gets to me-- they’ve got a way of making you think that being bi isn’t a real thing. Even though it is. I know because... I’m real, right?”

“Yeah. You are. You’re… you’re here.” The corner of his lips turn up as he says it. “I get it. I mean, I think I’m the same.”

“Really?” She turns to gape at him.

“I suppose I’ve never told you this either because it’s so fucking embarrassing, but…” He sighs defeatedly, kneading his temples with unease. “...I made out with Reiner in high school.”

She regards him with a scandalized look.

“Dude, what the fuck. I thought you hated the guy.” 

“I do, alright? It’s just that… teenage hormones and shit. I was stupid and he’s stupid. I-- I don’t know what I was thinking that time. But… I do wonder sometimes--” He scratches his head tentatively. “--what my brother was thinking rushing in to save him from that accident. Like… just what did he see in that meathead that was worth saving?”

“And did you find your answer to that when you were making out?”

Porco eyes her with a deathly glare.

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh, so you did,” she says with an impish grin.

Porco flicks a finger against her forehead.

“Ow-- hey! Stop that,” she says with a grimace. “I mean, I don’t blame you. Reiner’s hot.”

He clicks his tongue at the remark before hastily seizing the cigarette from her grasp to take another drag. "Not like he's the only guy I ever found ho-- I mean liked."

She laughs.

"We should head back," he says coldly.

"Sure.” She nods. “Though… is there anything else you wanted to ask?"

As the filter of smoke hangs between them, Porco wonders about the boy she likes.

He shakes his head. "No. It's nothing."

***

“It was like deja vu,” Porco says, sighing into his phone as he shifts to lie near the edge of his bed. “Except in this dream… before she said goodnight, we, uh--”

“You kissed?” Pieck suggests from the other line.

“Well… yeah.” He puts a palm to cover his face, feeling the flush on his cheeks as he says it.

“So you like her,” Pieck says, almost breaking into a chuckle.

“I, uh…”

“I get it. She’s charming and reminds you of Marcel.”

“That’s…”

“I’ll be honest with you.” She sighs and Porco senses a smile from her tone. “Remember when I said I broke up with her because uni was getting too busy? The truth is that… I feel like you two always seemed to get along better than I ever could with her-- and it probably has to do with Marcel. When I realized that, I’ll admit I did start to feel jealous. I thought back then that you two might eventually get together. After all, you two were both still in high school, while I was already away in uni. It left me distraught for months so I just... decided to break it off. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s been years and it’s not like I haven’t dated anyone else since then. And in hindsight, that just might have been for the best. I mean, you confiding in me about her right now-- I think-- is a testament to that. Because you realized it too, didn’t you?”

“Oh." He pauses. "I never thought that you-- Pieck, look, I--”

“Pock, if you feel guilty about it just because I used to date her, don’t. It’s not anyone’s fault. That… that she just loved you first. It’s circumstance. She met you and Marcel first before me.”

That she loved you first. As Porco echoes the words in his head, he becomes acutely aware of the beating in his chest and the warmth swarming his face. He buries his face in a pillow and screams into it.

“Hey, Pock? You ok there?” Pieck chuckles.

“How do I-- you think I should tell her?”

“Well, it’s the honest thing to do. And I genuinely think you don’t stand to lose much by doing so. Even if by the littlest chance of her not returning your feelings, I don’t think confessing would ruin your friendship. Might be a little awkward at first, but I don’t think she’ll end up hating or avoiding you at all.”

“You sure you’re not just sayi--”

“No, Pock. I’m not just saying this because we’re friends. I’m saying it because it’s what makes sense.”

“Ok, well… thanks,” he sighs. “And by the way… I’m sorry I called you this early. I know you’re probably busy especially since it’s your thesis year.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me. Frankly, I do find satisfaction in knowing my speculations are correct. And you guys… you two are more predictable than you think-- if I’m being honest,” Pieck laughs.

“Well, I suppose being predictable isn’t so bad… if you’re right.”

Once they bid each other goodbye on the phone, Porco remains sprawled across the bed staring blankly at the ceiling. He rests a palm on his cheek, internally cursing Marcel as he feels the warmth streaming his face once again.

***

“Fuck,” Porco swears under his breath as they both ran towards the car, their feet splashing against the puddled ground as the rain cascades. A looming thunder rolls across the night sky as they make it to the safety of the vehicle.

“So… still not convinced that trying to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday at midnight was a bad idea?” Porco says, trying to catch his breath as he sets down the paper bag on the space between their seats.

“Well, I’ll admit it kinda sucked that you had to have your car still parked in school. And in my defense, I didn't expect the drizzle to cascade so soon on the way back. But you know what? It’s fine. We got what we needed and that’s all that matters. I’ll stand by this being a good idea.” She laughs as she peels off her drenched jacket. “Oh, by the way, where can I put this?”

“Just put it in the backseat,” Porco says as he peeled off his own jacket.

“Got it. Here, give me yours too,” she says before turning to place both of their drenched jackets in the backseat.

“Thanks.” Porco switches on the car’s dome light and the windshield wipers. The car’s interior now warmly lit, he rummages inside the paper bag, then hands her a box of chicken nuggets along with a plastic fork. “You want the fries now or later?”

“Later’s good. Thanks.” Porco acknowledges her with a nod, then leans back on the car seat with a languished sigh.

The rain patters incessantly against the windows over the rhythm of the windshield wipers. The faint yellow glow lulls from the ceiling of his car. He recalls a rainy evening spent staring out the window as he nervously waited for Marcel to come home. A distant memory weighs heavy on his eyelids.

“Porco. Are you ok?”

“What? Yeah.” Porco shifts lightly in his seat, slightly startled. “I just… remembered something.”

“What is it?”

“The rain. It just reminded me of Marcel.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, he was…” She puts down her food and lightly wipes the sides of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Back then, I considered him as something a little more than a best friend. I like that he liked my drawings and how he never made fun of them… even though he was ways better than me at it,” she recalls fondly.

He scoffs. “So… are you guilt-tripping me for something I said about your drawings when we were twelve?”

“You were an asshole, but you should be glad I’m past that.” She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “All I’m saying now is that Marcel was... really special to me.”

“What-- did you have a crush on Marcel or something?”

She snorts. “You could say... it was something like that. Yeah.”

Figures. He nonchalantly crosses his arms in front of his chest. The pattering rain fills in the lull in their conversation.

“I like your drawings too,” he finally says.

“That’s why I drag you along every time I go out to draw. You like watching me, right?” She teasingly raises an eyebrow as she says it.

“Well, sure.” He shrugs awkwardly in his seat.

“Tell me. What else do you like?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see…” he sighs, feigning annoyance with a roll of his eyes. “I like it when I’m in the middle of pulling an all-nighter at Tim Hortons… and you go on and disturb me just to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday midnight.”

“Yeah?” she chuckles. “What else?”

Porco turns to glance at her. As she meets him with a playful grin, his mind races with answers.

I like it when you steal my jacket and you leave me to freeze to death in the cold of the cafe’s AC. I like it when you go on a chaotic, semi-coherent drunken rant about how badly you want capitalism dismantled. I like it when you remember Marcel. I like your hair. I like how your hands unpin your hair before you rest your head on my lap.

He scoffs-- more in reaction to his own thoughts than at her teasing. Who knew he could be that embarrassingly sappy? “What are you… getting at?”

“Nevermind.” She shakes her head, still smiling. She laughs while timidly raising a palm to her cheek. “Can we share your fries now?”

***

“So I’m thinking of getting a tattoo,” Porco says, settling himself on the dormitory steps faintly lit by the porch lights hanging on both sides of the entrance.

“Cool. So where do you want it?” She sits beside him while setting down her things-- a shoulder bag and a sketchbook on the concrete step.

“I was just thinking on my arm,” he says, pointing a finger at a spot on his skin.

“What do you want it to look like?”

“Not sure yet.”

“I could draw you one.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. I could do it right now.”

“Really?”

She takes the ballpoint pen out of the spring of her sketchbook and begins to doodle something on his arm. Covering her drawing with a cupped palm, she chuckles while mischievously peering up at him.

“I swear to god, if you’re drawing something embarrassing-- Oh, fuck you.” Porco laughs, managing to take a peek at the ink drawing of a cartoon porcupine with the hair on its head stylishly pushed back. Below the drawing, it writes 'porcopine.' He pulls his arm away from her grasp.

"What? You don't like it?" She grimaces.

"Porcopine? Really?"

“What? It's cute,” she says with an offended click of her tongue, reaching for his arm once again.

Below the word 'porcopine,' she then writes the phrase 'i <3 you.'

Porco furrows his brows upon reading the phrase, then lets out a chuckle. “What does this--?” he asks, pointing out the inked words on his skin.

“What do you mean? It is what it is.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

“How do you mean it?”

She tilts her head pensively and squints at Porco as she gathers how to describe exactly what she meant. She supposes that he’s right-- a clarification was indeed necessary. This kind of thing could get confusing, after all. When you’ve known each other for so long in a relationship such as this, lines tend to blur. One day, you could both feel like the bestest of friends, and then like lovers the next.

“I mean it in a way that I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

“Oh.” Porco gapes at her for a moment. “Ok,” he says, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“What’s with that reaction? I’m serious, Pock.”

“I just… I mean, to be honest…” He furrows his brows, carefully pondering his words. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you either.” Porco scratches his head sheepishly.

“Ok then,” she chuckles, shifting in her seat to face him. “We could build something. Something bigger than a Lego house. Maybe one with a garden. A story with a perfect ending.”

“Yeah? And if it’s not perfect, what then?”

“Something worthwhile, then. An ending that feels like an ending.”

“Ok. I can live with that,” he laughs.

“Porco.”

As she cradles his face in between her palms, Porco becomes acutely aware of the flush in his cheeks.

Then, slowly, she leans closer to gingerly place a kiss at the tip of his nose.

They soon find themselves both chuckling at what was probably the most blatantly romantic gesture between them thus far.

“So, uh, what are we now, exactly?” he asks awkwardly as they soon pull away.

She shrugs. “Lovers? Best friends who would marry each other? Though the latter is kind of a mouthful if you ask me.”

“Yeah. Let’s go with that first one.”

“Say, Porco.” She tilts her head questioningly at him. “You want to tell me how this night ends?”

“How the hell should I--”

She puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. “Hey. Lovers now, remember? I’m not the only one telling this story. So tell me.”

“Ok. Let’s see,” he sighs. And so he indulges her. “It ends with you beside me. We’re lying down on my bed.”

“Clothed or naked?”

He gapes. “Are you seriously even consi--”

She flicks a finger against his forehead as she regards him with a mischievous smile. “Just answer the question.”

“Ok, fine,” he resigns, lightly kneading his forehead. “Look, I want to say naked because my AC’s broken ri--”

“Naked it is, then.”

“Clothed.” He glares. “For tonight.”

“Fine, fine,” she says, scratching her head in resignation. “You sure you’re not having second thoughts about letting me stay tonight, though? Not worried you might wake up with a bunch of porcopines on your face? Or I don’t know-- dick drawings?”

“Fuck off,” he says with a chuckle.

“So… what is it, really? You want me to stay or you want me to go?”

Porco sighs before slowly leaning his face closer to hers.

“I want you to stay,” he says against her cheek, before placing a chaste kiss on her skin. “Whatever I wake up to in the morning, I’m sure it’s worth it.”