#my sister: it’s like if Van Gogh painted something and tried to give it to the museum and they just tell him

[lemondropletters]

I know I’m making a joke but you really don’t understand how angry I am at the recent news.

[Video Captions: “Why are you the way that you are? / Honestly, every time I try to do something fun or exciting, you make it not that way. / I hate so much about the things that you choose to be.”]

#just when I finally accepted the fact we won’t get a season three #and I convinced myself everything would be okay because atleast I can rewatch it whenever I want #what does Disney do? #I really just…they are so unbelievable… #just so they don’t have to write it on their taxes?? come on man! #and now they’re going to raise prices? #‘confident that we’re on the right path for streaming’s long-term profitability’ #literally what are you talking about?? #Not only do you cancel shows that don’t make you immediate money— #now your removing them since they are supposedly taking money out of your billion dollar corporation wallet #and then you proceed to renew the most médiocre passionless projects #your literally sabotaging yourself?? #cause guess what if you don’t make the people giving you money happy they’re going to leave and find someone else that can #i even had to cancel plans and stay home because of how mentally and physically draining this news has made me feel #I’m not even trying to be dramatic…just stuff like this hits me hard for some reason #I know I can find the show online somewhere but still. #the people who worked on this must feel terrible…I feel so bad #my sister: it’s like if Van Gogh painted something and tried to give it to the museum and they just tell him #‘no we don’t want any more of your art. and also we’re going to destroy every single painting you’ve made. have a nice day!’ :) #i might talk more about this later but for now I’ll stop…sorry if I made you upset I just needed to get this off my chest #mysterious benedict society #the mysterious benedict society #tmbs

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?  

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

 Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.  

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barns imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

[mangolover]

Creature of The Dark part 3 (Theodorus van Gogh x reader)

Find part one here

Find part two here

Title: Creature of The Dark (part 3)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire / Ikevamp / Ikevam

Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh x gn! reader, Vincent van Gogh x gn! reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst, comfort

Warnings: nightmares, not eating properly, mentions of losing job, mentions of being homeless, argument, dark thoughts, mentions of a unhealthy relationship (lack of comunication), depression(?), swearing, shouting, breaking glass, breaking porcelain, humilation, betrayal, snow, mentions of time

Spoilers: Theo’s route

Word Count: 2600+ (six pages...)

Description: He broke yet another promise and you cut ties with the whole mansion, trying to live on your own in city. Losing your job and getting kicked out, you didn’t know where else to go but to the art gallery.

Part 2: Going to the gallery was a bad idea and you become aware of that after the same mistakes got repeated and sparked an argument. Now you are sitting on a bench in the park, feeling hopeless until a faimilliar figure comes to your aid.

Part 3: You secretly came back to the mansion with the help of the Vincent, and as much as he helped you, it all came crashing down when you were discovered by Theodorus. Now all that’s left is to finally find the shadow in the darkness.

This has some first person perspective, but it’s mostly 2nd perspective.

Dark thoughts are going to be present throughout whole series, so proceed with caution.

Only nightmares are explored a bit deeper, everything else is pretty much just mentioned, but if anything is triggering to you, please skip this one.

Also, when somthing is writen like this ('example'), it's from the suitor's point of view or their thoughts, not reader's.

I am making this in multiple parts, temptation won this time.

Enjoy!

Pointing to the place on bench next to you, he asks “may I sit here?“ And you just nod while scooping away, wanting to give him as much space as possible. “Thank you, Y/n!”

Vincent was always a reliable friend and a sense of comfort would wash over you whenever you saw his angelic smile. He and Theo were like hell and heaven, polar opposites. However, you were glad to have someone like Vincent to call your friend. ‘Or is he your friend anymore?’

“How have you been?” you looked up at Vincent who was staring I front of him, his hands placed on his lap and you mirrored his actions, straightening your posture and averting your gaze before answering.

“I’ve been good. I found a job and a place to stay. But I think it’s time to go back to my own time” you tried to sound as casual as possible, hoping you hid your emotions well, just like Theo always did.

“And how are you doing now?” but Vincent could see through a mask even as good as Theo’s.

“I…” you considered your next words, “I could be doing better. Some obstacles came along the way, but don’t worry! It’ll be better soon!” you turned towards him and gave him a strained smile, not knowing who you are trying to fool exactly. You were lying to both of you, but that was for the best.

Vincent turned to look at you with a worried expression. He was suspicious because you stayed there last night and now you didn’t even go ‘home’. “How about we go pick something to eat? For old time’s sake.”

You were about to refuse before Vincent gave you a dazzling smile and extended his hand out to you, “I’m not taking no for an answer, Y/n.” That was the end of the story as you took his hand and Vincent took you to get something to eat in a nearby café that was surprisingly still open.

Once you were seated and ordered your food and drink of choice, after Vincent insisted it was his treat, you fell into a somewhat comfortable silence. There was still tension in the air, no doubt, but it was better than when you were with Theo.

“I’m sorry for leaving without a proper explanation to all of you except Comte” you broke the silence with a voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s alright” to your surprise Vincent didn’t sound mad, his voice and face were full of understanding. “We were worried when even Comte couldn’t find you but considering how Theo was acting when you left and today’s situation, I understand.”

You let a smile grace your features, “thank you Vincent.”

“But please, don’t disappear on us again. The mansion is not the same without you” he looked sincerely sad. “Do you have a place to stay the night?” his voice was low and warm.

“O-of course! I told you I found a place to stay” you are sure your stutter sold you out.

Vincent didn’t even need to say anything, he just gave you a stern look and you lowered the gaze, embarrassment painting your face. “I don’t…”

“You can always come back to the mansion; I’m sure Comte would understand.”

“That is not an option. I left and cut contact with everyone” you let out a sigh. “Why do you even want to have anything with me?” Vincent looked at you in surprise. (‘Just how much have you suffered this 4 months Y/n?’)

“Because you are my friend. And we all care about you.” His reasoning was simple, but you couldn’t understand it. ‘Just why?’

“I don’t think going back to the mansion is a good idea” Vincent was ready to hear you out, always a shoulder to lean on. “Arthur will be there and he might be upset with me because Theo is his best friend. And I left Sebastian when he needed me the most. Isaac just started opening up to me and then I left. And Mozart will be annoyed by all the commotion.” You dreaded to tell who you feared to see the most, “and Theo will be there and I doubt it’s a good idea for us to see each other again.”

Vincent went quiet for a moment before speaking again, seemingly trying to work out the best solution. “The door doesn’t open for at least two more weeks. And I can’t let you sleep outside, so how about for at least tonight stay in the mansion?”

You felt uneasiness even if you knew Vincent just wanted the best for you. “I could sneak you in and you can stay in my room so others won’t notice you.”

Even if he knew that explaining why he was sneaking someone into his room last night was going to be tough and that he’s going to have to lie, he was ready to do anything for you.

“Do you promise I am not bothering?” you wanted to make sure he is one hundred precent sure about what he’s offering. Vincent nodded firmly just as your food came to your table and you both dug in, for once in so long you didn’t feel so alone.

Once you were both done eating and Vincent settled the bill, you made your way outside. Snow started falling outside and both you and Vincent enjoyed the view of the first now of a year for a bit. The snowflakes danced around the sky and landed everywhere, one of them landed on the tip of your nose which made Vincent laugh.

To him you looked like an ethereal angel in that moment. He understood why Theo had fallen for you, but to him you will never be more than a friend or a sister that he so desperately wants to protect from this cruel world, no matter the price.

Eventually, you fetched a carriage and started to make your way deep into the woods where Comte’s residence stood tall and hidden from the eyes of common folk. The long ride continued into the night, to which you were grateful as it gave you a bit more of a cover. Now all you needed was to be sneaky and you could go unspotted. Vincent draped his coat over your shoulders to conceal you even more. Wrapping his hand around your wrist, he guided you into the mansion and into his room, checking that the path was always clear of any other residents.

Everything was going smoothly until he opened the door of his room and saw Arthur down the hall, quickly he pushed you into the room and shut the door behind you signaling you to keep quiet and all you two could hear was a whistle and a quiet chuckle as Arthur’s footsteps faded away.

“That was close” Vincent let out a breath he had been holding before smiling at you.

“I’m sorry Vincent,” you were feeling embarrassed and guilty, “knowing Arthur, everyone will know you sneaked someone in the next morning and Theo will not let you off the hook so easily.”

Vincent gazed at you for a bit before bopping the tip of your nose and letting out a giggle. “I told you it was alright, now go get settled for the sofa. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You can’t be serious Vincent. I was ready to sleep outside on a bench, even the floor is perfectly fine for me.”

In the end, you two agreed that he can sleep on the floor, but he gets the blanket and the pillow from the sofa. He turned out the lights and you stared through the big window in his room. The moon cast its light and illuminated everything. ‘Maybe this was why Vincent became a painter? So he could etch the images like this onto the canvas, marking them for all eternity.’ Sleep won’t be coming to you anytime soon, but you just hoped nightmares won’t chase you once again.

However, your hope was all in vain.

Nightmares of losing Theo to L’Académie. Him yelling at you while you are shaking in the corner, his fangs out making him look like a monster. Each time you opened your eyes from one nightmare, another one came as soon as you closed them again. The last one was everyone you knew, even your own self laughing at you as you were freezing, telling you it’s your fault for burning bridges and trying to act like you’ve got it all together. You woke up with tears in your eyes and you gasped as you woke up, you started hyperventilating and it must’ve woken up Vincent because he was crouching next to you in a flash, one hand holding yours and other on your back, rubbing in soothing motion.

“That’s right, just deep breaths Y/n, it was just a nightmare” he probably had experience when Theo had nightmares when they were kids. “I’m here okay, just relax.” Your breathing got regular in a few minutes before you flung your arms around Vincent and sobbed in his shoulder. He only pulled you closer in his embrace and let you cry it out. You were under a lot of stress and it was normal for you to break at one point. At least he was there to be your rock.

“Do you want me to go get you something?” he asked you in a soft voice once you got a hold of yourself.

“No, thank you, I don’t need anything.” You smiled at his kindness. “Thank you for helping me calm down.”

“Always Y/n, that’s what friends are for” the warmest smile was on his lips.

“Could…” you were embarrassed to ask him, but maybe that would help you finally get some peaceful sleep. “could you sleep with me on the sofa? You don’t need to if you’re uncomfortable, you’ve already done so much-“

“Scoot over” he picked up the blanket and the pillow. Covering you with the blanket, he wrapped his arm around you and leaned into your back. “Sweet dreams, Y/n.”

“Thank you, Vincent, sleep well!”

This time you had a dreamless sleep, but you were grateful Vincent made sure you were comfortable, even if it’s only for one night. Now the pressing question was, what to do in the morning? It will be harder to leave and what if Arthur recognized you? He was extremely smart individual. You let out a sigh as you woke up when the sun has already started climbing the sky. ‘Damn it! I missed my chance to slip unnoticed!’ But what to do now? You hoped Vincent had any idea, but he wasn’t here?

If anyone walks in, you are doomed. Even worse if they see you laying on his sofa. You were Theo’s old lover, not his brother’s. As you stood in the middle of the room panicking, regretting every choice that got you to this point, the door started opening and you froze on the spot. ‘Come on God, kill me now so I don’t have to suffer any longer.’ However, to your surprise it was just Vincent, bringing you breakfast.

“You startled me” you let yourself relax a bit when Vincent closed the door behind him.

“Arthur asked about ‘the mysterious person that went into my room last night’.” Oh no… “I asked him not to tell anyone and that nothing happened.” Knowing Arthur, Theo already knows and is just trying to process everything.

“I-“

“Don’t even think about apologizing. It’s okay” it’s like he read your mind. “I also asked Comte about the door and about you.” He handed you the breakfast and you gladly accepted it.

“He told me that if any of us has seen you, we can bring you back to the mansion if you ever need anything. Our home is always going to be your home too.” You carefully mulled over Comte’s alleged words in your mind. Still, there were 9 more vampires who probably didn’t want anything to do with you. “I haven’t seen Theo, though.”

Once again you felt like you hit a dead end. Only this time, there was a wall behind you and you had nowhere to go. Whatever you choose, it’s not going to end well. But you know you are going to have to confront either the residents or Theo once he barges into Vincent’s room.

Maybe it’s better if you go and thank Comte before leaving, new day’s a new chance after all, right?

“Could we go see Comte?” you were ready for rejection, but to your surprise Vincent beamed with happiness. (‘That’s it Y/n, baby steps.’) “I want to thank him for everything and apologize for coming unannounced.”

“Sure, but first finish your breakfast” he sat down on the sofa, looking relaxed as ever. “You need to regain your strength.”

You wanted to answer, but your mouth was full and you didn’t want to accidentally spit some food onto the angelic painter that got you this far. Vincent laughed as you struggled to swallow and reply.

“You are going to choke if you don’t eat it properly!” Vincent scolded you.

“Sor-“ however you were cut off by door slamming open and Theo and Arthur barging in.

You jumped out of surprise, the plate in your hands fell out of your hands, porcelain shattering into million pieces, just like your heart. The color was drained out of your face as if you saw a ghost. A lump came to your throat and restricted your breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, a cold sweat coated your body.

Vincent jumped as well, a deeply rooted panic only getting worse when he realized just who has come unannounced. His younger boer and his author friend. The same shock could be seen on Theo’s face, eyes darting between you and Vincent. What is he thinking? ‘Does he think me and Vincent slept together? Or worse, does he feel betrayed? And what about Arthur? Vincent can hold Theo off, but I have no chance against the two of them.’

Even if the old clock kept on tickling, the precious time getting lost like sand in wind, it seemed as if everything stopped. No one moved a muscle anymore. Breathing stopped. Even Arthur was speechless, his emotions finally out in the open, he seemed confused, almost hurt. ‘But that’s just your mind playing tricks on you, right Y/n?’

Theo finally broke the trance and Vincent instinctively took a step back towards you, trying to shield you from their eyes.

“What?” is all Theo muttered, however. It seemed like he wasn’t even mad, just utterly confused, betrayed. “What’s the meaning of this? Boer what is Y/n doing in your room?!” He raised his voice and you flinched. But neither you nor Vincent found the voice to explain just what’s happening. Letting out a sigh and casting his glance down, Theo walked away, his pace fast, his strides long and his nails cutting into his palms. The commotion brought Leonardo and Sebastian to Vincent’s room and you felt like you might pass out. Your worst nightmares came to life and now Vincent needs to pay the price as well.

One casted glance from Vincent over his shoulder was however all you needed to find the strength and courage to run past the stunned vampires and the butler, following into the direction Theo went.

You don’t have a plan; you almost never did. However, all you know is that Theo needs to understand and that silence won’t bring you two anywhere. You followed him out of the mansion and into the woods.

There are shadows in the dark, you finally remember that and you are ready to show that to your lover as well, it’s now or never.

#🥭 #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theodorus #theodorus van gogh #ikevamp theodorus van gogh #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevam theo #ikevamp theo x reader #ikevam theo x reader #ikemen vampire theo x reader #ikevamp angst #ikemen vampire angst #ikemen theo #ikevamp theo angst #ikemen vampire theo angst #ikevam angst #ikemen vampire drabble #ikevamp drabble #ikevam drabble #ikevamp vincent #ikemen vampire vincent #ikevamp vincent x reader #vincent van gogh #ikevam vincent #ikemen vampire comfort #ikevamp comfort

[brywrites]

Little Beautiful

Summary: In which Max’s art exhibit is a gallery of beautiful things, and Spencer Reid finds himself surprised by what it includes. Spencer Reid x Max Brenner

.......

Spencer Reid can name many beautiful things. He can talk in depth about the natural splendor of the Golden Ratio and why humans love symmetry. He can explain the history of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, recount the painstaking detail with which the Taj Mahal was built. He’s seen desert sunsets and shooting stars and the faces of parents reunited with children they thought they might never see again.

He loves all the great and beautiful things in the world. And nobody quite makes the world look as beautiful as Max does. She’s protective of her art, fiercely private about it, but the glimpses she allows him stun him. Then again, he figures he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, she’s beautiful.

Reid thinks he could never tire of looking at her. Her wide, brown eyes, her long eyelashes, the way her cheeks are painted pink each time he pushes her hair back from her face. Her smile just knocks him out. Her movements are graceful, elegant. And the sight of her bare body in the soft light of his bedroom makes him think that no word in any language could ever even hope to come close to describing this sort of perfection.

Everything about her puts a sunset to shame. Her laugh. The way she makes him smile on the worst days. The softness of her touch when her skin is on his. The warmth of her embrace. The kindness of her heart. There’s no doubt, Maxine Brenner is beautiful, in every sense of the grossly inadequate word.

But beauty has a way of reminding him of his own inadequacies. For all his love of lovely things, Reid knows the word is never one he could hope to claim. His face won’t ever inspire poetry. His hair is, at best, an unruly mess. His stubble is always a little scruffier than he’d like it to be. And while he managed to get physically stronger after Milburn, getting in shape didn’t quite happen. He can hold an unsub on the ground without worry, but he’s absolutely terrified each time he undresses before her.

But he loves her. Which is why when she hands him a flyer that reads, Little Beautiful, he knows he’ll say yes to whatever it is before she even explains.

“I have a confession to make,” Max says. “I didn’t want to tell you sooner because I was afraid I might jinx it, but now that it’s all official – I’m going to have an exhibition at Jolie Laide!” Jolie Laide is one of the District’s most revered contemporary commercial galleries, and Max is understandably over the moon.

“What?” he gasps. “When did this happen? How?”

“There was a call for submissions, and well I’ve been working on this idea for a while and I figured why not give it a shot? Spencer, they loved it! They actually loved my art!” she says, and the little hop of joy in her step makes him want to kiss her right there in the middle of the street. Is she even aware of how adorable she is?

“That’s incredible. I mean, I’m not surprised. Everything you do is incredible. But what’s the title mean?” he asks, pointing at the flyer.

“It’s a Van Gogh reference,” she says, and he smiles. Of course it is. The Dutch master will always have a spot in her heart, and in the small “Starry Night” tattoo on her inner arm. “Find things beautiful as much as you can,” she recites. “Most people find too little beautiful.”

She takes his hand in hers. Her hands are small and dainty. He could almost close his fingers around hers completely. It makes him think he must look so strange beside her, a mess of lanky limbs.

“I know that big parties aren’t really your scene,” Max says. “But the opening night is kind of a big deal and it would really mean a lot to me if you came.”

“Are you kidding me?” he laughs. They turn down the street to his apartment. “You’re my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for five months, three weeks, and five days. Of course I’m going to be there.”

“Well good. And tell your friends! The more the merrier. I think you’re really gonna like it,” she adds, with that mischievous sparkle in her eyes that makes his stomach flip.

“If you made it, I know I’ll love it.” Deciding the doorstep of his building is close enough, he leans down to kiss her.

Two weeks later, he finds himself standing in the lobby of Jolie Laide with the rest of his team. Many of them have decided to make a date night of the event, as it’s not often profilers have the excuse to attend a formal event. Reid shifts nervously from foot to foot as they wait for the doors to open. Somehow he still feels out of place in nice suit, wearing the “Starry Night” tie she bought him at a work trip she took to the MoMA. Everyone here looks so beautiful, and he feels like he’s playing dress up, like they’ll all be able to tell he doesn’t belong in a place like this. He’s all too aware of the way he hasn’t managed to tame his hair, of the way his shirt fits a little tighter than it used to, of the way the people around him exude an air effortless cool that he could never hope to.

To ease his mind, he takes comfort in counting the people waiting. They’re all here for Max, for the beautiful things she makes. The last time he was at a gallery opening like this he was standing in a sweater vest next to Gideon who was flirting with the artist while Reid tried not to stare too much at Lila Archer. The memory makes him want to laugh – how infatuated he felt at that time with her. And now with Max, he can’t imagine thinking such a feeling was love. It’s so different than the consuming warmth he feels when he’s with her, the way hearing her voice can bring him back down to earth when his mind moves too quickly, the way he he’s always hated touch but never seems to mind when it’s her. Rather he craves the feeling of her hand in his, her arms around him, her lips on his skin. He’s in love with her, and he’s in deep.

The clock strikes seven and the doors are opened. They step into the bright white gallery space. The moment he’s inside, he is in awe. He recognizes Max’s work immediately, and it’s everywhere. There are large canvas paintings of small objects that take up so much space. There are paintings that must be zoomed in, hyper-focused views of much bigger objects. And it’s all beautiful. Max’s work has the same mastery over colors as the Impressionists, but with contemporary details and precision. Her paintings don’t just look like something, they feel like something. There is a series of pieces of stunningly detailed school supplies – a crayon, a yellow pencil, a bottle of glue. They seem to reflect light, possessing colors far too rich for items so simple.

Max has made them lovely with her gaze, with her hands.

In one painting, a vibrant sunset is seen through a small window. In another, the trunk of a tree is made to look so close that the leaves the viewer stares up at are but a golden blur. Fruit, a butterfly’s wing, and a flower are made into a kaleidoscope of colors. He catches glimpses of familiar faces in portraits – her sister Michelle’s eye, her father’s hand, identifiable by his watch, holding a baseball with vibrant red stitching.

“Wow,” Simmons says, standing beside him. “This is amazing. I mean, I don’t always get art, you know? But damn. Max is talented.”

“She sure is,” Reid says. But he’s only half listening, because he’s taken in by it, by all of it. This is the world through Max’s eyes. All these little details, all the little beautiful things that she sees. And she has reflected them back to the world in a way that takes his breath away.

The unfamiliar voice of an man calls the gallery to attention through a microphone, and Reid makes his way back towards the entrance where all the guests are slowly gathering.

“I now have the pleasure of introducing tonight’s guest of honor, Maxine Brenner,” a man with tiny wire-rimmed classes says.

Reid joins the crowd, falling into place beside Garcia and JJ just in time to see Max walk over in a white lace dress. She is utterly radiant, resplendent. His heart quickens at the sight of her. She takes the microphone and thanks the man with a dazzling smile. “Thank you all for being here,” she says. “It’s truly an honor to share this night with you, and I’m thankful to Jolie Laide for the opportunity to do so. It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that Van Gogh is my favorite artist. He once said, find things beautiful as much as you can. Most people find too little beautiful. The concept for this exhibit was to find all the beautiful things that we overlook. I wanted to pay attention to their little details and find new ways to show the world what beautiful is and what it could be. Every painting is of something I’ve found lovely – whether it’s a natural phenomenon seen through a new lens or an everyday object that just needs someone to notice it or a person–”

She pauses and her gaze moves over the crowd until she spots him. And that mischievous glimmer returns to her eyes. “– who doesn’t realize how beautiful they are. I hope that tonight helps you all to see the beauty around you and in yourselves, and maybe encourages you to see things a little differently, and to find the world a little more beautiful.” As she bows, the room bursts into applause and he swells with pride. This is her moment, and she’s beaming, and he couldn’t be more happy for her.

He wants to go up and hug her, but a swarm of admirers immediately descends upon her with enthusiastic questions and curious remarks. This is her night. He knows that when she wants to talk to him, she’ll let him know. For now, he’ll let these strangers have their moment with her – he can have all of the time in the world with her. The team opts to take a break to help themselves to the refreshment table and Emily offers to grab him a drink, but he politely refuses. He wants to keep walking around.

He can’t help but smile as he does so, hearing the praise and wonder in the words of the other guests. Yes, he wants to tell them. Yes, she’s that talented. Yes, she notices things nobody else does. And she’s hilarious and generous and gorgeous and somehow, somehow I am hers. But how unsightly it would be of him, in his suit and crooked tie, with his messy hair and off-balance gait to interrupt these strangers reveling at the beauty before them. So he stays quiet, happy just to be here. Happy to have the privilege to even witness such beauty.

When he turns the corner, he’s grateful he declined that drink because if there were a glass in his hand, he surely would have dropped it. Many of Max’s pieces are gathered on walls or in corners in groups based on themes or subjects. And in this particular nook, he finds himself uncomfortably familiar with the face staring back at him from one of them. The same face he has stared down in the mirror a thousand times.

It strikes him – Max has painted him. Reid steps closer and realizes it’s not just one painting. The whole wall is him. There is a painting of just one honey-colored eye, gazing down. A hand on the spine of a book. His lips, slightly parted, just a little uneven. His shoulders and collarbone, the slope of his neck and the curve of his chin, a few wild curls visible in the narrow view of the painting. And two portraits where his face is fully visible.

The brushstrokes are so careful, the colors so soft. She paints him in curves and edges and tiny hints of unexpected hues. She paints him with such detail, as though she has tried to memorize every inch of him. She has painted him beautiful.

And for a thirty-six seconds he can’t breathe. He just stares. Because this is how she sees him. And she’s put it on display for all the world to see.

“There’s a level of precision in these that I didn’t see in the other portraits,” an older woman says to a young woman beside her. “I can’t explain it, but it somehow feels like they were more… lovingly painted.”

“Like she knew exactly how they should feel,” her companion agrees.

“The subject has such a striking jawline,” a man says to the woman holding his hand. “And I like the way she painted his hair. Every curl is so careful.”

“It’s really beautiful,” she says, pointing to one of the portraits. Max has painted him smiling, gazing upwards, and he isn’t even sure if he’s capable of looking that way. “I think this one might be my favorite overall.” When they step aside, he can read the small placard on the wall naming the paintings. It reads, “And if I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself?” Series. Oil on canvas. 2020.

Reid swallows hard, past the lump of emotions lodged in his throat, and turns quickly to walk to another corner of the gallery, both to avoid recognition and because if he keeps looking he thinks he might cry. But when he turns, she’s standing right there. Looking up at him through her long lashes, her graceful hands clasped in front of her as she waits in that lovely lace dress.

“Do you like it?” she asks him, nodding at the corner.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why did you paint me?”

Max smiles. “I told you, Magic Man, I wanted to paint pretty things.”

He shakes his head. “But I’m not – I mean, look at me, I’m–”

“I am looking.” She reaches up to brush her fingers against his cheek, having to stand on her toes even in heels to do so. “And you are beautiful. My beautiful. I wanted to show you the way I see you. Because of all the beautiful things, none of them make me feel quite like you do.”

Max takes his hand and walks up to the paintings. She says nothing, just waits as he looks at them close up, unafraid of someone realizing he’s looking at himself. He stares at the light and shadows created by her paintbrush. The bright colors that draw attention over painted skin. The soft gaze, the eyes that seem to look so alive. Stray freckles, flecks of tan and gold. It feels so astonishingly intimate. There’s no denying that her work is remarkable. It is beautiful.

And this is how she sees him. Worthy of that sort of attention. Capable of bringing those kinds of colors to life. And when he faces her, he realizes – the painting with the smile. He does look that way. He can feel the movement of the muscles in his face forming a near mirror image as he realizes he only ever looks that way at her.

“Thank you,” he says. Max pulls him down to kiss him, her lips so sweet, and it feels beautiful. He thinks that if they were not here, surrounded by other people, that he would love nothing more than to avail her of that beautiful dress and paint patterns of her skin with his fingertips, give every inch of her the same level of attention with his lips that she did with her paints, and whisper over and over to her just how lovely he finds her.

But they’re not alone, not yet. “Well I’ll be damned,” Morgan says. All of his friends are there, having discovered this nook of the gallery. “Look at that! She somehow managed to make you look even prettier than usual, Pretty Boy.” Reid flushes crimson as they praise Max’s work. She joins them to walk around the rest of the gallery, her hand in his, and from time to time he swears he can see someone staring at the two of them, and he knows they recognize his face. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how the rest of the world looks at him, so long as he knows the way he looks through her eyes. For the first time, he can see himself the way she sees him. As he is, not as he fears he is.

Somehow, this has become his life. Walking through a gallery of paintings made by his favorite person, while she gazes at him like he’s her only muse, telling him that he belongs among lovely things. Somehow believing it all. Somehow at home surrounded by strangers and a few of the people he trusts most. This is his life. And what a beautiful life it is.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x max #spencer reid x max brenner #max brenner #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfiction #imagine #little beautiful #brywrites

[kaylathekittykat225]

Tears in the Heart // Steve Harrington X Wheeler!Reader

Warning/s: language, angst, fluff? Flufting? Flirting? I don’t know man. I just went into a frenzy writing.

Word Count: Y’all it keeps getting going, I need to be stopped; 25k. I am sorry, I got excited

Guys, y’all are egging me on to write angst, and angst is my love somehow, don’t stop. And it’s all fine that angst is how I write, that and slow burrrrrrrrrn! Okay go onto reading.

This one was requested by gwenandtheunfortunatename

Hey!! I just love your writing and long fics!!! Can u do one where the reader is a female!Wheeler reader and feels invisible with her family but actually has a few friends in school? Nancy and Steve are dating but then he slowly starts to notice how she doesn’t treat her sister well (maybe the reader is missing from school one day?) or doesn’t pay attention so it becomes a concern for him or someth??

Here’s my Masterlist.

Enjoy.

—–

Watching paint dry was always the most infuriating thing, especially for you as someone who was so excited for the first layer of paint to dry so that you could start applying the next layer or just wanting your beautiful art piece to be done so you could feel accomplished with what you just did. Watching paint dry was an infuriating task, and yet here you were, dancing around your room to the music your radio was blasting for you while you continued to wait for the first layer of what you were painting to dry enough so as not to smudge.

Some great artists prefer to work even through the wet paint: Monte used it to blend two colors together seamlessly, Van Gogh used it to have the colors stand out more when he used the globs of paint to add dimension to the canvas, Bob Ross used the wet paint to ring out the true beauty of the world and showing how colors don’t stand out, but truly blend in together. 

You worked differently than those guys, for one thing you weren’t a famous painter like they were. But you couldn’t stand mixing colors together from different layers. The composition looked messy when you tried doing it, so you knew you felt more comfortable with layering and drying paint on top of itself. Just was not the thing for you.

The song changed and a grin grew on your face as you heard the guitar riff opening and felt a rush of energy surging through you. Your paint brush was held in your mouth between your teeth and your dancing started back up again as you cranked the volume up a little louder to get the entire room shaking. The music was so loud, and you were so in the zone of mixing up your next shade of reddish pink that you didn’t hear someone screaming at you about the volume of your radio. They noticed when your volume went up and that you weren’t noticing their calling your name. 

You didn’t notice them until they turned off your radio entirely and tried calling your name again. “Y/N.” Your name was called again, this time it startled you to the point that you let out a small scream that let you drop your paint brush from your mouth and strike the ground. Spinning to face your radio, you saw your mother staring at you with a look on her face that you often received when you did something wrong. “It’s almost midnight, Y/N. Holly and Michael are in bed, where you should be, and your sister is trying to study for an exam tomorrow. Now is not the time for you to let the entire neighborhood hear what you are listening to.”

“Sorry, mom.” You grabbed your paint brush off the ground and looked back up to see your mother had been replaced by your older sister. “Sorry I disturbed your studying. What class is it for?” While you asked your question, you worked on moving your easel from the middle of your room to one of the corners while also chucking your paints into a box along with your brushes. 

When your sister didn’t answer, you looked up at her to see her just staring at you from the door. She had this little smile on her face, one that didn’t show any emotion though. “Oh, it’s not like you care about my test. All you worry about is your art and painting. Next time, at least put on some better music, not your shitty trash.” And with that, she shut the door behind her with a flick of her hair over her shoulder as she left. 

You finished cleaning up after your paint dance, not giving too much thought to what she said to you as you pulled your sweater over your head and changed into your pajamas. Comments like that have been a common back and forth between the two of you ever since you entered high school with Nancy. 

Maybe it was something to remind you that you were a year younger and she knew her way around the school better than you did. Honestly why she was doing this was unknown to you, so you just rolled with it. She never said anything mean or anything like that, just…

You shook your head as you pushed your covers back and slid into bed, getting ready to pull your lamp cord when there was a loud thud coming from your window. Instinct told you to ignore it and just go to sleep leaving whatever outside your window outside, it was most likely a squirrel who ran into the glass of your window while trying to get back onto its nest. 

And you tried. You did click your lamp off and pulled your covers up to your chin, letting your eyes fall shut as you worked on falling asleep for tomorrow's day. As soon as your eyes were closed however, another tap rattled your window, and something was making noises outside the glass. “Just ignore it.” That was your mantra for the time being as you did so, pretending the sound wasn’t there and that you could just. Fall. Asleep. 

Tap tap tap. “Dammit.” You groaned while throwing the blankets off you, following your intuition through the dark room to where your window should be, having forgotten to send the light back through the room as your annoyed self walked closer to the window. “I’m going to kill this fucking squirrel and eats its nu-” Your rant to yourself was interrupted as soon as you forced your blinds open and you saw a face staring back at you in the darkness outside. 

A shriek left your mouth as you took a step backwards, stumbling away from the horrifying sight of someone staring back at you in the night. The face itself jumped back ever so slightly from where it was pressed against your window when it saw you too. 

The two of you stared at each other for a few more seconds before you recognized who the hell was staring into your bedroom window. It was your sister’s boyfriend, Steve Fricking Harrington. Why the hell was he staring into your window?

Pulling open your window, you looked over at your clock and saw that it was midnight, stating this to the boy who was hanging from your window frame, his fingertips turning red from holding on. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, Snow White. I’m sorry I didn’t want to fall to my death.” His voice came out strained as he moved to pull himself into your window. 

“Whoa! I didn’t say you could come in! What are you doing on my windowsill? Stop climbing in my window!” Your voice was a whisper that also counted as yelling as you tried stopping him from entering your room, not to much avail though. “Harrington, what what are you doing here?!” 

“Shut up, Wheeler.” Steve finished coming through the window, somehow finding a way to trip as his foot finished coming through, falling into you and sending the two of you down to the floor. “Jesus, Wheeler, sorry to say, but I do have a girlfriend. You are being very forward though.” From where you were laying on the floor with him kneeling over you on all fours, Harrington had this shit eating grin on his face which caused a slight anger to boil inside you.

Instead of answering him, you shoved your hand into his face and pushed him away, telling him to get off you with a mutter. “Wh-what are you doing here, Harrington? It’s midnight and you are in my room. What the hell is going on?” Standing to your feet, you watched him also pull himself up while shifting his hair around to make sure it stood where he wanted it to be.

“Funny story there, Wheeler. But that is a story for another time.” He spoke to you as though his being in your room was not a pressing matter. “What I do need to know, Wheeler, is how pissed your dad would be about finding me here?” Steve craned his neck to look out your window, apparently trying hard not to be spotted as he was looking for most likely your father. 

Scoffing, you sat back down in your bed, staring at him from where you sat. “Honestly, it’s not my dad you should be worried about.” He sighed at your response in relief. “My mom on the other hand…” You made a face that got the message across, because your dad was an amazing man, but your mother had her own mind that definitely got in the way of a lot of things your sister and even yourself sometimes when Karen Wheeler brought her mind to a stop. And Nancy seemingly sneaking her boyfriend into her room next to yours was definitely not something your mom would be fine with.

You heard a quiet ‘shit’ and felt a small feeling of smugness rush through you as quickly as the cold overtook your room. “If you’re gonna sneak in and out of Nancy’s room, honestly it would be quieter just to go from my room to the shed on the other side of the room.” Steve stared at you curiously at this suggestion, even you yourself were shocked at your offering, but you really couldn’t take that back after he quietly inched his way closer to the window at the other end of your room. 

Standing up, you made your way over to be next to him as he pulled your curtains away from the window, revealing that your window had easier access to get to the ground than your sister and the garage. “Plus, I have direct access to the woods, so my parents won’t notice your car around if you park it behind that big tree back there.” While pointing all these features out, you noticed that he was staring at you with a look that read extreme confusion. 

“Why...why are you helping me sneak into your sister’s room?” You both were wondering that, but he didn’t have to voice it like that. Your face grew warmer as you fumbled for words about why you did this, because you didn’t really know why except for the excuse of not wanting them to get caught and then the entire family being forced not to ever leave again. That was a good excuse, it did the trick though. 

Because you couldn’t explain why you would stick your neck out like that, for Nancy and Harrington. Nothing against the two of them, but you were too impartial to the two of them to risk anything. 

So you scoffed and gave him the lame excuse you thought of and worked on shooing him out of your room. “Okay, okay. Jeez, Wheeler, I’m leaving. Sorry to whoever has to deal with sleep deprived you for the rest of their lives.” He shimmed himself out of the window, forgetting completely to close your other window, forcing you to get back out of bed and shut it before shutting the window he just dropped down from.

You watched him sneak his way to the front of the house and hopefully make an uneventful exit before you pulled the curtains in front of your window shut, bringing your world around you into darkness that you found oddly uncomfortable while standing in the middle of the room. 

Sleep didn’t come as easily as you wanted it to; it never really took you over, leaving you to sleep more restlessly than normal and thus a sleep deprived Y/N took to the world. Your first few periods floated past you honestly like a dream, nothing happened, just the teacher murmuring on about their respective subjects. Nothing interesting to you really.

Your mother frequently got on your case to pay more attention in these classes, because every year, like clockwork, during parent teachers week, your teachers would comment on how you needed to remember to turn in your homework, or if you do turn in your homework, to not doodle across half of it. It was always commenting about your behavior in classes and school, how you looked like you would rather be somewhere else than cooped up there all day. Your mother always told you to do better. Why did you have to be interested in painting? Why not a sport or be good at school like your sister because brains could get you a good husband and an easy life. 

Your father never spoke up during these meetings, sitting there because he was the man of the family and should be an example for his daughter to marry. He never took your side, but he also never defended your mother and her beliefs of how you should follow in your sister’s footsteps. It was never a secret, but your dad gifted you various paints, brushes, new pencils. When you were running out of a specific paint, or needed a new book or canvas, you found one more always tucked away in your closet, where you thought you checked, but there it was anyway. 

There were few things in the world you knew for certain, you loved painting and how it freed your soul, how excited you were to graduate and head to California to get away from this damned town, but one thing you were certain on, was that you were not unloved by your father. You never doubted his love even if it wasn’t on his sleeve like your mother’s love of Nancy. 

Speaking of Nancy, honestly after last nights...odd interaction between Harrington and yourself, you didn’t know how to look him or your sister in the eye. You had nothing to be ashamed of, it's not like you kissed him or anything, just the thought alone made you shudder, so why were you unable to look at them throughout the school day? 

“Ugh!” You groaned at these stupid thoughts that were plaguing your thoughts and slammed your head down onto your notebook on the lunch table you were sitting at. Your sudden noise and head banging caused the other occupants of your table to look up; Matt and Clare had been giving each other looks all lunch with how you were acting today.

On any given day you were still quiet and almost always doodling away in the margins of your notebooks or going so far as to pulling your full sketchbook out just to get a bigger picture going. But you didn’t have a book open in front of you or a pencil in your hand, instead your fingers were rapping against the hard table and your leg was shaking so bad that you were shaking the table. 

You were so out of it that you couldn’t hear your own name being called. “Y/N...Y/N.” Matt had been repeatedly calling your name the last five minutes after he finished up his own lunch and was eyeing your Cheetos that hadn’t been touched. Clare told him to leave you alone, but your ginger friend was ever persistent in stealing your food. “What if I just take the bag from her?” He directed the question towards Clare next to him while staring at your bag of snacks. 

“I mean she’s out of it enough that I kind of want to see what happens.” Clare was watching you just as intently, your head was still down on the table. “She may have died; I haven’t seen her move since her head fell down.” Clare said Y/N and died and Matt let out the loudest gasp the cafeteria ever heard; she didn’t honestly know which one to be more embarrassed about, the fact that heads turned or that not enough heads turned for this to be the first time for him to be this obnoxious in the school lunchroom. 

While Matt was busy slapping a bruise excitedly on Clare’s arm, you raised your head up and roughly rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands. “I’m not dead, Matt. I just...I can’t figure out this drawing.” 

“No, no, no, no. But wait.” Matt decided to ignore your distress and Clare’s slapping his hand away and kept talking. “But think about it! The perfect way to murder someone! What if Nancy wanted to kill Y/N and what she’s been doing is poisoning her food slowly over time and it’s finally kicking in! Nancy Wheeler is mur-” Your best friend was screaming at this point before your other best friend slammed her hand over his mouth with a dark blush over her face.

“Matthew Schafer listen to me hard and clear. Shut. Up. Now is not the time for one of your theories, especially one about a certain someone’s sister.” Clare growled that last piece out while tilting her head towards you. The two of them looked over to you as they saw you doodling away on a napkin you had picked up from the lunch line, your chin resting on your hand and your other, dominant hand, held the pencil you were drawing with. 

Your entire body was shaking from your leg, causing the picture you were drawing to be scratchy, which, maybe that’s how you wanted it to be. “Why is she shaking so much?” Matt mumbled against Clare’s hand; their eyes fixed harshly on you as they just watched. Watch their best friend unravel before their eyes, watch her get frustrated at the drawing in pen on a napkin, watch her groan in frustration and let your head fall back on the table. 

Clare let go of Matt’s mouth slowly and reached over the table to grab your arm, moving slowly to not scare you. As her hand grabbed onto you, she realized how much you were letting your leg bounce, she could feel it through your body, making her own arm gently shake. You didn’t respond right away to her hand, leading her to rub her thumb up and down your arm and giving you a gentle squeeze. “Y/N?” 

In the six years of knowing you for Clare, she had been there for your lowest and highest, she had seen you through late night anxiety, posttest highs, first time putting your art up for others to see. She hadn’t been there for everything, but she had been there for enough to help you through the rough times. Clare looked at you, just waiting for you to lift your head up. 

“Y/N, look at me.” Whether listening to her or not, you did lift your head up and met her eyes. “Are you okay?” there was no doubt that her words were filled with earnest worry, you could tell that and that she was worried about you, along with Matt who you also had you fixed in his eyes. 

The quiet moment was shattered as the school bell screamed that there was four minutes for you to get to your next class. You followed the crowd around your friend group in packing up your pencil case and collecting your trash to toss while walking by the trash can. “Yeah, just frustrated at this drawing I can’t figure out.” And with that you walked out of the cafeteria and towards the one place that could calm you down, with Matt and Clare following close behind you until they were side by side with you. 

They dropped your lunchtime behavior and Matt quickly filled the silence with his complaining about his Statistics teacher giving him homework to do over this next weekend after they just turned in a big packet not days ago. Clare filled in how her AP Chemistry teacher totally screwed her over with the test today and how he told the class that there would be no Nuclear Chemistry on the exam and yet two of the math twelve point questions were all nuclear that she couldn’t bullshit her way through and just did random math to get some sort of partial credit. 

And you listened, adding in your thoughts here and there, stating how it was unfair to add homework after just finishing one, how shitty of a teacher it was to go against his word on what was gonna be on the test. The trio of you sat down in the art class you all have together with your respective easels in front of all of you with paints also at the ready on the table next to the canvas. 

Class began, with your teacher talking about your assignment for the day, (what kind of inspiration was something you see every day?) and letting you go free and let your artistry be free. And this was when you felt something from the back of your head that you had been wrestling with all, maybe you could get this off your mind officially and be able to think of anything else other than this random nose. 

It’s honestly stupid to be banging your head over something as simple as a nose, but this was driving you insane. Honestly batshit insane because usually you thought of something and you moved quickly to draw it since your brain was already working on some details that you needed the basic features to draw first. 

And yet today was the day that you could finally say a human nose took the best of you. Matt worked on another Pokémon, last week you laughed to yourself as he got more and more excited with the orange and reds in his Charmander drawing. This week, yellow and blacks seemed to be the color he was reaching for; this will be interesting to watch from behind him. And Clare pulled out a polaroid picture from her backpack and taped it to the upper corner of the canvas, showing you the still shot of the main road running through downtown. 

You also began your own work, grabbing hold of your pencil before reaching for the easel and you let your hand draw instinctively. You started with the structure of the face, a face you couldn’t think of but felt the need to draw a face structure; maybe this face structure would help you through the nose and drawing the rest of the face may be able to get you done with this face.

Faces and portraits weren’t your forte, they weren’t what you went for. You enjoyed drawing abstract pieces, things that spoke to you, because painting people wasn’t what you wanted others to see, you wanted to paint things that meant something to you, that could mean something to others if they saw your artwork. Art for you was emotion, drawing from the human soul, passion, and you felt like you couldn’t do that by painting someone’s face onto a canvas. 

And all this nose was doing for you was driving you insane and getting your angrier by the second. This wasn’t something you felt comfortable just throwing paint at; penciling was stupid in your mind because this puts a lot of stress on the artist to be perfect, to not allow changes to be made midway through the project. So why were you penciling?

With a frustrated groan, you tossed the pencil onto the table next to you and stared at the white board in front of you, the blank one with some pencil scratches through the middle. Looking around the edge of your own canvas, you took a look at Matt and Clare, seeing them both working away at their own respective paintings, the orange and yellow of Charizard and the browns and reds of the town picture Clare was replicating. 

Your eyes went back over to Matt, watching his face scrunch up in focus as he worked on getting the roaring face of the dinosaur looking creature just right, and his nose was all wrinkled as he dipped the brush back into the paint he was using. His nose.

“Matt.” The ginger turned to you, revealing that he had a second paint brush between his teeth, looking at you with a blocked ‘huh?’ “Can you just sit there for a second, I need to draw something really quick.”

His eyes brows perked up as you picked up one of your smaller tipped paint brushes and proceeded in dipping into the black and looked to Matt’s nose for inspiration as to how to begin to shape the nose. “Are you painting me like one of your French girls? Ow! What the hell was that for?” His head changed directions as he turned to glare at Clare who just chucked a paint brush straight at his head. 

“That’s for-” 

“Mr. Schaefer, don’t make me call your father down here for spouting profanity.” The art teacher called from the front of the classroom without looking up from her grading papers. 

Matt muttered to himself as he turned around and rubbed the spot he was hit in the back of the head. “What do you need, Y/N?”

“I just need you to sit there so I can draw your nose.” Without looking at him too much, you quickly drew the shape of his nose, noting the subtle differences between Matt’s and whatever nose you keep thinking about. Things you could change when you moved on to shading and coloring the skin tone around the nose and over the black, a color you didn’t like to use for line work made things too neat. Shading differentiates the shadows from the highlights and the normal skin tone, there was no reason for you to use black to do this.

Matt made some comments about the weird request and started bragging to Clare about how his nose was ‘Y/N painting worthy’. The two of them began bickering about their noses and which ones of them had a better looking one, but you left them to bicker as you pulled pink and yellow together, pulling a little white and red into play as you mixed a skin tonish color together. Or, at least you think it looked kinda like skin tone, it wasn’t exact, but you figured it would do. 

The rest of the period, you worked hard to get this nose right, shading here and there, adding brown to the skin tone shade you make it seamlessly flow together with a speck of white to the tip of the nose. Overall, it was a pretty good-looking nose.

So why did you still feel bugged about this? You finished the painting that you had in your mind, but why didn’t you feel the accomplishment of finishing one of your paintings? There was always a sense of greatness that you feel when completing a project, and it wasn’t here. You felt nowhere near close enough to feeling that. 

The period bell rang, pulling you out of your mind and frustration as you were forced to work on it tomorrow, hopefully you can get whatever your mind is stuck on. Breaking down your easel, you put your paint and everything away before meeting Matt and Clare outside the door. “How’d my nose picture go, Y/N? I may wanna see that.”

The three of you chuckled on your way out the door, happily in your own world as you passed your sister on the way down the hall. Nancy didn’t bother giving you a glance as she smiled at her boyfriend walking over to her. “Hey babe.” She giggled as he reached down and pressed a quick peck to her lips before they walked off to her next class. 

“Hey, beautiful, how was your chem test?”

“Well I would have had time to study more of my nuclear notes had someone not been interrupting me.” She fluttered her eyes at him before bouncing into explaining how she thinks she got at least a 91% based upon how many questions she thinks she got wrong. Steve Harrington chuckled at her angry comments on her teacher and told him that she can’t be anywhere near him when AP study time comes around. 

“Babe, I know every way of sneaking into your room. I’ll always be there for you, for moral support or for a distraction. Besides, you don’t have to start studying until later next week, so relax.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. 

Nancy scoffed and looked up at him through her thick lashes. “And I don’t have time to not stud, Steve, I need to keep up.” His face visibly dropped at the mention of it already being that time of year. “Hey, I promise I’ll see you every day.” He commented on how he would hope so and the two of them made a run for their next classes as the bell was about to ring. 

-----

Through the drive home, from the passenger seat of your sister’s car, you had your sketchbook on your lap with a pencil lazily being pushed and pulled across the paper in no specific way right now. You hated pencil, as seen with the nose painting, but it was still a basic art form that helps you start on something, getting an idea for what to doodle possibly as a full piece or just something to do in an evening. 

Horribly so, after a few pencil strokes, you noticed something come forth in the picture. “Damnit.” You curse under your breath and shut the book before sliding it into your backpack. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Nancy asked as she continued driving the three of you home, with Mike in the backseat doing some math homework he should have done this morning. 

Glancing at her, you knew she wasn’t interested in why you were frustrated yet again, a mutual understanding the two of you had as she would often talk about Steve and her school work on the way home while you just let her rattle on. She was just sick of your groaning next to her, no doubt. “Not that you care but a drawing has been bugging me all day.” She hummed in response, proving your point and how she wasn’t listening. 

“Hey Y/N?” Mike chirped up from the back of the car as he leaned forward to perch his head onto the middle seat between you and Nancy. “Can you draw me a picture of my paladin if I describe him to you?” 

A smile grew on your face. “Sure, thing bud. Can I do it tomorrow?” He nodded with a big grin on his face as he leaned back into his seat as Nancy pulled into the driveway and parked next to your father’s car. 

“You’re the best, Y/N!” Your little brother called out as he pedaled away on his bike, also screaming about how he would be back before dark from...Dustin’s house? You couldn’t hear him at the point of where he was turning out of the driveway. That kid brought a larger smile to your face as you made your way into the house with Nancy close behind you. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” Not even two steps into the house and your mother was calling you for helping in chores. 

Following the voice of your mother, you found her in the kitchen with Holly on her hip and working over the stove at what you can assume to be dinner for tonight. “What do ya need mom?” 

“Take Holly while I finish dinner. Oh, Nancy, how was your test?” Your baby sister was passed on to you while your older sister sat with your mom and talked about her day. 

You looked down at Holly and filled your cheeks with air to make your face appear to be a frog as you walked the two of you out of the kitchen. “Come on, Ms. Holly, should we go paint a picture for mom and daddy?” 

“Yeah!” Holly cheered at you mentioning her being able to play with paint. Your mom may have had a good grip on Nancy and made sure she had her bright future ahead and she kept her sweet baby Holly close, but Holly ran to you every time. You “tricked” Holly into liking you because you had paints and paper she could color on and give her arts to different peoples of the family. 

The two of you make your way up to your room as you asked her about her day and she told you about how in preschool, Danny Cincade was pulling her pigtails during lunch and he wouldn’t stop until one of the teachers saw him do that to her. “Well, next time he does that to you, tell him that it hurts your hair and it hurts your feelings. If he doesn’t listen to you…” You paused before thinking about what you were going to say next as you set her down in the chair at your desk and pulled the paper out for her to begin her project on. “Well I will say that you decide what you should do when he’s pulling your hair, whether that’s pull his hair or call him a mean name like he’s a poop head, then I say you can make that choice, Holly-bell. But make sure you ask him to stop.”

Your little sister gave a surprising amount of thought to this before she nodded. “Can I have paint now? I wanna draw daddy a big and spiky porkipine!” 

You did a “surprised” gasp. “A porcupine? Now why would you want to give dad a porcupine picture?”

“Cause he was extra spikey today with his hair, and he was grumpy today when he drives me to school.” Holly grabbed one of your old paint brushes you no longer used and dipped it heavily into the brown paint that you pulled out for her before splattering it on the paper in front of her. You loved watching her paint, seeing the sparkle in her eyes, her little tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth while her nose scrunched up in total concentration at her little piece of art she wanted to work on. 

It was amazing to see, truly it was, to see someone so enthralled in their own work that they have no other cares in the world besides what is in front of her. Maybe that’s how you looked to the outside world. Because that’s how you feel when you paint, just you, your brush in the paint, the colors, and your imagination; that’s honestly all you needed for yourself to feel what you created. 

You smiled to yourself while you grabbed hold of your own art supplies and set the tripod easel in its usual spot, at this point the three legs having their own divets in the carpet from where it spends its time. Staring at the canvas, you thought to yourself for a few minutes of where you should continue going; on the canvas was a dark red background overall with a much lighter center that was meant to draw you in closer, get a good look at everything. 

In the middle sat a heart, not one that any five-year-old could draw, but an anatomical heart, you had the shape down and blank canvas towards the main junctions of the heart, with various plans of flowers in your head to put on top and within the heart. 

A heart is the garden of the body, where everything is felt, consoled, thought through. The brain is the rudder of the body, but the heart is its center, the guiding force, the heart stops the brain from going into autopilot and gives you something to do and work for. The heart harbors so many emotions that flourish and grow into beautiful flowers, flowers you were working on painting right here. Flowers you wanted others to see and appreciate. But the flowers would have to wait because you needed to work on the soil of the flowers right now and finish shading in the features of the heart and its musculature. 

 “Y/N!” You had barely started mixing paints when you heard your mother call your name. “Holly! It’s time for dinner!” A sigh mixed with a groan from your desk. 

“But I’m almost finished.” Holly whined, her slouched shoulders giving away her sadness and wanton to finish the rest of the painting. “I just need to finish daddy’s spikes.”

Stepping over to her, you looked over her shoulder and felt her smile come back onto your face at the sight in front of you. “You can finish painting, Holly-bell. Mommy and them can wait a few moments.” And she went back to painting, with a quickness behind her paintbrush while you stood over her, waiting for the inevitable second call to be heard. 

She was almost done. “Y/N. Get down here and eat.” And there it was, with your mother doing her normal drawing out the last word to warn you she was not in a playing mood tonight. 

“One second, mom!” You called down the stairs before looking at your little sister again. “Hurry it on up, Holly.” 

“I’m almost there. Just two more spikes.” You followed her paint brush, noting more than two strokes as she worked to finish up. “Done!” 

“Y/N Wheeler, get down here, now!”

You picked Holly up while she gingerly held the painting so that no one smudged it up and set her on your hip. “And that means that mommy is hungry, so we better get going, little miss Holly-bell.” The pair of you exited your bedroom and headed down stairs, where you whisper to Holly to be ready to fight mommy’s angry wrath, leaving her giggling as you set her down at her spot at the table next to your father. 

Dinner was uneventful, it was meatloaf night so the group of you naturally began arguing how ketchup was a necessity for topping off your dinner. Currently it was only you and Mike fighting hard for ketchup while the rest of your family was arguing for either no topping or barbeque sauce, but no one else understood what you meant when you said that it made the meatloaf so much better. 

-----

You found yourself standing in front of your work, only an hour or so after dinner had ended, and Holly just came in to tell you goodnight and that ‘daddy really liked his porcupine. Now that her painting for the day was done, you could relax and do your own work for the day on your work you commissioned yourself to do a little over a week ago. Tonight, you wanted to finally work on getting the flowers painted and going in on details around the actual heart itself, showing the roots of the flowers making their way down the face of the heart. 

And that is what you did for the next hour or so of your night, dancing to your music, mixing paints, and applying layers of the colors onto the canvas, covering what little white was left and finally felt accomplished that everything was covered even if there was at least another week's worth of painting to go, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t continue working at it and making the sweet ending ever closer. 

However, you did need to wait a few more minutes before adding more touches since paint is not an instantaneous drier, thank God you didn’t ever find joy in oil painting, you would have gone mad trying to wait for that to dry enough for you to move on to the next piece of work. So, while waiting, you saw the clock and decided that it was time to switch into your pajamas and get comfy. 

From across the hall, you heard the shower start up and figured that Nancy was in for her shower, since Mike was a morning showerer type of person and your parents had their own bathroom, Nancy was the only person you could think of to be showering right now. Your pants had already been switched out with pajama bottoms and you were tugging your shirt off when you heard something thump behind you. Turning around with the enlarged sleep shirt in your hands as you worked on flipping it right side out when you made eye contact with someone in your room.

“Shit!” The word left your mouth before you could think of anything other than use the shirt to cover yourself up. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Harrington stood in front of you with wide eyes. “Give a guy warning next time you undress, not that I’m complaining, but I am dating your sister and all so...” He gave a little shrug of the shoulder before you huffed and threw the shirt you were holding at him in a lump.

The cloth didn’t do much when it hit his head except giving him full access to seeing you in only a pair of pants and your bra. “Why the hell are you in my room?”

“You’re the one who gave me permission to use your room to sneak into Nancy’s.” Harrington said as matter-of-factly as he could while tossing the shirt back at you, which you gladly took and threw over your head. 

“We need to work on the timing then. You can come in when…” Looking around the room, you saw a stuffed ladybug that had been sitting on the top shelf of your dresser for ages now. “When this bug is in the window, feel free to come in. Nothing before dinner here otherwise you’ll be way too early, and my parents might see you.” You slammed the stuffed bug down before walking back over to your paint corner and staring at the canvas. Now that he was in the room, you didn’t want to deal with him or anything. 

“Thanks, I’ll just head over to Nancy’s room now.” You hummed, not really listening until you saw him out of the corner of your eye, until you heard the shower going.

“Wait!” Leaping forward, you grabbed his wrist and stopped him from opening the door. “She’s in the shower, you can’t go in her room.”

“Showering? I’ll just join her.” At the mention of that, you looked over at him in disgust and shuddered at the thought. “What? Never seen a guy shower before?” When you didn’t answer him right away, Harrington stepped away from your door and came closer to you, a cocky little grin in his face when he came into view. “Have you ever seen...a guy naked before?” 

You tried so hard to cover the blush on your face as you tried working out an excuse. “Of course, I have, I’m not a person who lives under a rock. I’ve seen a guy before.” 

“No, no, no. I didn’t ask that. I asked if you have ever seen a guy naked. As in have you ever slept with a guy?” No response. “Oh ho ho. This is very interesting. You are more a virgin than I thought you were.”

“Shut up.” You growled and shoved him out of your face, moving to grab onto your brush and palette and made a dark line on the piece of pink flesh on the heart. The dark worked as a shadow you were gonna use to emphasize the green that would be used in the next layer, making it look like the roots would be interwoven into the flesh of the heart. 

Harrington chuckled as he walked over to your bed and let himself fall backwards into your bed. You didn’t turn around and worked on pulling more life from the heart using small strokes that made them less noticeable. 

Up close you could see all of the colors and of course you could see the colors, but even with just the base layers down, you could feel pride bubbling inside of you as you concentrated on keeping your hand steady. “Is this yours?” A voice spoke softly behind you, causing you to jump and a streak of green crossed the right ventricle and cutting through a flower. 

A noise of annoyance left your mouth and you let your head fall forward with your brush dropping onto the table next to you. Turning, you saw Harrington hanging over your shoulder with his eyes fixated on what was in front of him. “Yes, Harrington. This is mine.” With a heavy sigh you resigned yourself for the night, not too satisfied with your progress. But keeping a certain guest in your room wasn’t helping you. 

Nancy get out of the shower please.

“That’s amazing.” For the second time that night, Harrington caused you to blush. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.” He reaches his hand out to touch it when you grabbed his wrist and pushed it away. 

“It’s still wet.” Your words weren’t meant to be harsh, but he didn’t seem to notice as he slowly nodded his head while keeping his eyes fixated on the painting. Noticing that he seemed to enjoy your painting, you pulled the brush back out and dipped it back into the pink. “You can watch if you would like.” You mentioned quietly while keeping your eyes on what you were doing and your back turned to Harrington as he sat back down on the bed.

The moment was kind of serene, odd honestly was the best word, odd to have someone watching you, something you checked every few moments to see if you could ease the tension in your shoulders but he still sat there watching. You’ve had Clare and Matt in the room with you while you paint, but neither of them ever went out of their way to watch your every move and twist of the brush. Even if you were in your environment of comfort and what you wanted to be doing, you didn’t know how you felt about this. 

Next door, you finally heard your sister’s door close, signally to you that she was out of the shower, and knowing her, she was already dressed and relaxing on her bed. “You...can climb through to her window now. Or you can go through the hall if you really want to.” Turning slightly, you didn’t look at him other than to see him still watching you before walking over to your backpack and retrieving your sketchbook from it along with some pencils and sat down on your bed, tucking your feet under your body.

Nodding, Steve stood up and thought for a second. “I think I’ll go through the window for now, since Nancy doesn’t know about me coming through here.” You parroted that that was a good idea while you opened your sketchbook and stared at it rather than at Harrington as he climbed his way through the window next to Nancy and left you alone again. 

Sighing in relief, you found peace again and let your pencil glide across the paper. The piece didn’t last if you hoped it would as you quickly realized what was forming. “Shit, not again.” The nose was back. 

Thinking about it, you didn’t really want to go back to our painting and decided just to deal with the damn nose...again. Until you eventually dozed off, you drew this nose over and over again, working this time only with shading and line work as you took different angles and lighting and perfecting this nose if you could say so. 

This nose haunted you until you slipped into your dreams.

-----

Today felt like any other day, started out the same, kept going the same, even lunch was the same, with Matt and Clare arguing and with a new habit that seemed to be forming you bent over your sketchbook while continuing to draw a part of the body. However, you think you out nosed yourself last night, since you had three pages full of this nose. That didn’t stop you from watching as your paper quickly filled with the form of human lips. 

“Oh, does Y/N over here want to practice kissing with these lips?” Matt chuckled to himself when he stood up and looked over the top of your easel. “If you really wanted someone to kiss, you coulda just asked, Y/N.” 

Clare hopped over to your side of the painting, leaving her own for a second to see what exactly Matt was teasing you about. “Matt, as if any girl would want to kiss you.” 

“Cause you keep stealing all the girls.” He winked at her as a rosy blush traveled up her neck before he turned his attention back to you. “Uh, Y/N, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you know that the nose is usually not that close to the mouth, right? Not like right underneath it?” 

Matt did point out the simple feature that you had all the knowledge that you were doing. You don’t know what it was, but you just wanted to put the lips there. You didn’t know why, but it was the same reason that led you to agonizing over a nose and a pair of lips these past couple of days. Just to see what happens. Besides there is no perfect face who’s to say this isn’t how this face looks. 

“That’s not where the mouth goes.”

“Picasso didn’t follow the lines of society so there’s no reason I have to.” You smiled up at him as you worked more pink into the lips without making it look like the lips had lipstick on. “Besides, I can just...see them there. This is my painting not yours.” Matt gives you a quiet ‘whoa’ as he thinks on what you just said while Clare congratulates you on managing to break your best friend’s mind and gives her a small time of quiet to finish her own piece of work before the bell rings in the next couple of minutes. 

Not much silence followed for you when you heard the intercom system activate overhead. “Y/N Wheeler, please report to the front office. Y/N Wheeler to the front office.” Everyone’s head in the room turned to look at you, giving you a look as you slowly stood up, a dark blush running over your face as you quickly as quietly as possible walked out the door and following the hallway to the front office. 

In your three years at this school, never had you been called to the front office, and seeing your mother there made you nervous to your stomach. “Mom?” You quietly called her name as you entered the main office and saw her standing there, waiting for you. Looking at her, you knew this wasn’t a happy calling, something confirmed by both her stern look on her face and seeing a shy looking Holly standing behind her leg. 

“Y/N, so nice to see you. I’m taking you home.” Her smile looked friendly to any other bystander, but that smile had been shown to you plenty of times when you had to explain your grades, or where you were later at night. This smile meant she was here to deal with business, and you were about to be interrogated until wanting to curl up in bed and just die. 

Your mind raced as to why this was happening. Nancy wasn’t here, neither was Mike, so this was only you. Get out. Get out. Run. Get away. You tried figuring out what to do, how to get out of this and the only thing you could think to do was sputter out “Bu-but I need my backpack.” Trying to get away from here, that’s all you could think about. 

“Nancy will get your stuff. Now let’s go. Holly still needs to eat lunch and we need to get home, don’t we Holly?” The youngest Wheeler looked up at your mom and gave a small nod, still not moving out from behind her leg. 

“I...but mom-” You spoke, but she interrupted.

“Y/N Wheeler, now.” This shut you down, her almost growl and the definite glare she sent at you gave you the opportunity to only respond with a quiet yes ma’am as you followed her out the door.

Matt had told you that being pulled from school early was always a bragging right as it meant skipping classes for the rest of the day. This wasn’t exciting and something you were relishing and going to tell your friends about. You feared what your mother’s temper would say. She never hurt you not physically, but she didn’t hold back with her words. 

The car ride back home was absolute hell. Not a word was spoken, even Holly was silent during the ride. You noted how you were riding in your dad’s car, given your family only had two cars and Nancy currently had one at home. Your dad would be home. Maybe he would help you in keeping your mom calm. 

“Um, mom?” You asked, trying to alleviate the tension but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Don’t. Say anything until we get home.” Shrinking into the seat, all you can think of doing was melting away, jumping out of the car. Because you have never seen your mother so quiet, she was so quiet that she was lethal; this happened before with our dad, he had done something when you were younger and your mother quietly called your father upstairs to their room before you heard her speaking. 

Your mother wasn't screaming, she was a woman who cut down her opponents with her words. Her words were sharper than any weapon, any sword, and that’s what scared you because you were at the receiving end of her words.

And make you wait she did. Holly, your mother, and you walked into the house, completely quiet without Mike downstairs with his friends and Nancy upstairs talking with her friends or Harrington on the phone. And silence made you uncomfortable. 

You followed your mom to the kitchen where she rounded the island and planted her hands firmly on the tile countertop. “I got a call from Holly’s school today.” This came out of nowhere, but you couldn’t move or do anything other than stand under your mother’s stare. Holly was sitting at the table with a sandwich in her hand and happily eating her lunch. 

Her nails began to tap rhythmically on the countertop. “Her teacher told me that she pushed a little boy off the playground today. I get to the school and they tell me the same thing, and here I am thinking, my sweet little Holly? Why would she do that? Where would she get an idea like that? So, I ask her this exact question. Do you know what she tells me, Y/N?” 

The pit in your stomach was a boulder now, you understood what was going on. And your mother wasn’t going to be happy with what you had to say. Slowly you nodded your head, giving her a response with what you knew. “Holly, your little sister Holly, told me that you, her older sister, told her to push that boy off the playset.” Her voice had stayed very level, but her eyes grew Angier and fiery with every word this mother dragon blew from her mouth. 

“Mom, I didn’t tell her to push him. She told me he was pulling-” She didn’t let you finish as she slammed her hand down on the counter, causing you to flinch and take a step back. 

“You don’t get to justify what you did. You aren’t the one who has to call this little boy’s mother and tell him why your sister pushed him. You aren’t the one who has to tell all her friends that my high school daughter is rebelling against me so much that she is trying to get her little sister in trouble. You, Y/N, are the one that did this, and I have to deal with the consequences of what you’ve done.” Her words rolled off her tongue and stung you, each and everyone. 

“But mom, I didn’t mean for that. Holly told ne-” 

“Don’t turn this on your sister because you don’t want to get in trouble. I am tired of your behavior recently, Y/N. I am not dealing with this anymore, where is your sketchbook, I’m taking it away from you until I deem it okay for you to get this back.” As she spoke, your heart rate elevated and you began to freak out.

“What? Wait no mom no! It’s a week until the art show! What am I supposed to do for the next week?!” 

You could feel our eyes widening as you gestured around the counter, trying to argue with her. Your mom doesn’t do well with people arguing with her. “You can spend time with your family, Y/N. Not lock yourself in your room all day.”

“Then make Nancy do that too! Don’t single me out, mom!” 

“Don’t bring your sister into this. Just because you are jealous of her doesn’t mean you can-”

“No mom! I’m not jealous of Nancy! You pretend in your mind that we are the same person, I just happen to be the less pretty, less academically amazing, less perfect daughter! That is not my fault that you put these stupid expectations on me that I never asked for! You can’t single me out in this family just because they are the least successful of your children! That is not fair!” 

At this point it was a screaming match between the two of you, words you were holding back were starting to come out of your mouth, but it was like you were drunk and had no filter and no idea when to stop but it was all coming out. Your screaming attracted the attention of your father from his shower upstairs, the raised voices of two women of his household worried the man. 

Coming down the stairs, your dad looked into the kitchen and saw Holly sitting in her grilled cheese with her sandwich half eaten while watching you and your mother. Looking further into the kitchen, he found the source of the shouting and quickly worked on diffusing his wife and daughter from murdering each other. “Whoa! Karen, Y/N, what is going on? You two need to calm down.”

“Stay out of this, Ted. Y/N and I are talking.” Your mom growled the last part of that phrase out without breaking eye contact with you. Ted Wheeler was looking between the two of you, he had obviously seen his wife blow up like this, but he had never seen you feed into your mother’s rage. He didn’t know which one had started and he didn’t know which “side” to take, because either way it would not work out well. 

“Karen.” He took his wife’s hand and gently squeezed it. “Stop.” He stood his ground, shocking his daughter and wife alike. “Y/N go up to your room. Your mother and I will talk about this.” 

“Ted Wheeler.”

“Yes dear?” Your father responded to your mom’s anger and responded with his usual soft and neutral voice. This was your que to leave, to go hide in your room and get away from this horrible place. AS soon as you stepped in, the first thing you thought to do was hide you paint supplies. 

Your mom threatened you with taking your art away, but not if you hide it from her. Grabbing hold of your paints, you grabbed six or seven major colors, one that you can make other colors from these along with a few of our brushes. You couldn’t hide everything because your mom would figure out that not everything is there, but if you grab only a few of everything, you would be fine.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, short breaths, you worked as quietly and quickly as you could without alerting your parents of what you were doing.

Footsteps made their way up the stairs, warning you that someone was about to walk into the room. Panicking, you shoved the bucket of few paint supplies up into a corner of your closet and you sat down at the edge of your bed, settling yourself down before your bedroom door opened and your dad stepped in, causing you to look over at him with a sad look on your face. “How mad is she?” You were afraid to ask.

“Well, you said some pretty choice words to your mother, Y/N. So pretty mad.” Groaning, you hid your face in your hands. “She was threatening just to lock you in your room with nothing in here but your bed...but I was able to calm her down enough to just keep you in your room except for meals.” 

“So, no art supplies?” He nodded at your question, to which you replied with a sigh. “How long?” 

Sitting down next to you, you dad bumped your shoulder with a soft smile on his face. “I told her we can split the idea and make you suffer until Sunday night rolled around.” Sunday was like three days away. That meant those days you didn’t get to work on any of your projects that you had. “Don’t worry, squirt. You can survive this.” The two of you sat together on the bed for a little while longer before he finally stood up and helped you grab your pencils and paints and markers as well as a small stab with taking your work in progress heart away. 

Looking at the room now, you felt emptier than the room, there was nothing in the room and that left you feel nothing inside. You saved some of your paints, but without even just the easel in the corner of your room it’s so empty and sad to look at your room. The walls had very few pictures on them, especially the one next to your window that was next to your sister’s room. Staring at the blank wall made your blood boil, boil so much that you blindly grabbed a paintbrush and stepped up to the wall as a butcher walked towards a new body of meat ready to be sectioned off into eatable pieces. Your brush worked as nimble as any scalpel, working with speed at the wall, your mind wasn’t thinking, your body was moving on its own at this point. 

And there was no stopping it.

-----

It was only Saturday afternoon and you had two small panic attacks just thinking about the art show coming up. Just because opening night was in like two weeks doesn’t mean that you could turn it in the night the show opened, everything was due this Tuesday, completed, dry and everything. Would you be able to do that by then? Your art teacher had reached out to you and asked you to enter a piece, making you now feeling obligated to enter something. And that something happened to be locked in your parent’s room for the weekend. 

Usually when you were antsy or nervous, you would draw or paint, and here you were still. A few colors and pencils but no paper. And lined paper did not agree with you doodling style of drawing erasing and then redrawing, you wore simple paper out too easily. You needed something heavier. And you couldn’t go at the walls again like last night; waking up this morning, you were shocked to see just what you did, quickly pushing your curtains around to hide that part of the wall, leaving your window open to let natural light fill the room you would be spending the next couple of days isolated to. 

A light knock at the door, causing you to perk up to thinking hopefully your dad would come in and tell you that your mother slept well, and she was giving you back all your stuff. Not that you were upset or angry at your brother when he walked in, but when you looked at the dark headed boy who stuck half his body through the door, your hope fell away. “Hey Mikey, what’s up buddy?” You gestured him to come fully into the room with you where he plopped down into your desk chair across from your bed. 

“Well, um, I wanted to know if you...you could still draw my DnD character? I was just figuring that since you don’t have your big piece to work on right now and I just wanted to see if you could do it now because you’re not busy and you said you would do it in the car a few days ago and I just think you could do a really cool job drawing him and it would be great and my friends might also want you to draw their too and that’s all up to you but if you could at least do mine that would be great and you would be an amazing sister.” His words jumbled out of his in one mess, something he does whenever he gets nervous or excited about something.

You let him ramble a bit through what he wanted, his excitement bringing a smile to your face as you saw just how much he wanted this done, even if he stumbled over his request. He had nothing to worry about in the world. Mike sat there after his long request, finally giving your room to speak. “You done talking, Mike?” You quipped, not meaning it in a mean way as you watch him cough for air. “Of course, I’ll do it for you, buddy. Can I just request something from ya?” His head nodded up and down, his eyes sparkling with excitement at your acceptance. “Get me some paper I can draw on.” He was already out the door when you said paper.

Chuckling to yourself, you went over to your closet and grabbed hold of the box of pencils you kept just in case; staring down at the bright colored Crayola that you weren’t favoring to use, but, it was for your brother and you loved Mikey enough to use these. You heard him scrambling back up the stairs before Mike rushed into your room, gasping for air as he held out some paper, he grabbed from the printer downstairs to you. You took the paper from him and laid it on top of one of your schoolbooks.

Pencils out next to you, paper at the ready, a semi sturdy workspace, you were ready. “Alright, Mike, what does this paladin of yours look like?” 

The two of you sat there for a long period of time, which honestly slipped away from you as you did your best to draw a person, since you still haven’t gotten any better at it since your fascination with the nose and lips, but you still did your best as he animatedly told you about how Elias the Esteemed stood, how he was a lawful good paladin who only did what was just even when the other characters in the party would be annoyed by his upright behaviors. 

While you were drawing, you asked him to tell you stories about his friends adventures, and he so happily did; he told you about how they spent almost twelve hours fighting to save a princess and the others thought his character was being stupid for trusting an evil goblin when a fairy offered to help them until it turned out that the fairy was evil and was the one trying to kill the princess to get enteral youth. Just from watching your little brother speak, you could tell that he absolutely adores what he and his friends do every weekend. 

There was something that just brought joy to you when you saw someone radiate passion about something they love. And you saw this in your little brother as he told you story upon story of the renegades his friend group was. 

Passion speaks louder than simple descriptions or words. These stories gave an idea of how the paladin held himself, why he swung left handed and not right, stupid little things than made you draw Mike’s character in such a way that to you, it would make him feel more alive and ready to jump off the page, ready to fight for the sake of any princess in need. 

It was getting near dinner time when you finished, though you had been done for a bit of time, instead keeping this time to yourself. In this family, quality time was few and far between, and being with your brother brought happiness to your...rough weekend. And it was quickly shattered into pieces when you heard the call for dinner. Mike quickly stopped talking and looked towards your door before glancing back at you.

“Let’s get going then, Sir Eliad the Esteemed. Let us go feast after this glorious victory.” You turned the portrait over to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as the two of you headed down the stairs to join the rest of your family. 

You kept to yourself for the rest of the evening, but really it was the rest of your family that didn’t come to see you. Your mother and you weren’t really on speaking terms, Holly wasn’t allowed near you after you “told her to push a boy off the playground”, and your father was passed out in front of the TV. Nancy had asked your mom if she could run up to the store and buy some ice cream, leaving the whole upper level of the house to yourself and there was nothing for you to do with it all. 

So here you were again, staring at your ceiling as you twirled one of the pencils you still had out around your finger in complete and utter boredom. How could anyone live like this? You have been left alone with yourself and your thoughts for a full day and you were already ready to kill yourself. Looking around, you found yourself staring at the small stuffed ladybug sitting in your window, something to which you looked at curiously. 

It was the weekend and you hadn’t seen Steve try and climb through your weekend since Thursday evening. Granted it was only a day ago, but you were curious as to why your sister and her boyfriend didn’t take this time to be theirs and spend time together. Hmm. At least he wasn’t walking in while you were changing into your pajamas again. 

Speaking of pajamas, might as well get them on since you obviously weren’t going to be going anywhere tonight that would require proper clothing, so you pulled your pants off from the day and pulled on your pajamas bottoms before tugging your shirt off and over your head. 

“Wheeler, we might wanna consider buying ladder.” A voice spoke up behind you, cause you to scream and drop the shirt you were holding onto the ground before turning around. 

“What the hell, Harrington?!” You shouted at him, thanking the lord that you were alone on this level otherwise your mother would have stormed in here before you could say the boy’s name.

The brunette looked at you with a look on his face that you couldn’t read but you could have sworn you saw a quick blush appear on his cheeks before you remembered that you were in fact putting on your pajamas and he yet again came barging in on you. “Okay, this was your fault. I checked and the ladybug is there, so I thought I could come in.” 

You stumbled over a few words before you gave up ad scoffed at him before putting your shirt over your head. “I thought you had just died because you weren’t here last night, so I assumed I was free of you sneaking into my window. Forgive me for being hopeful.”

“Aw, come on Wheeler, you know you would miss me if I just left you behind.” He smiled at you and sat down next to you on your bed, bouncing you up and down ever so slightly with his weight being added to the bed. 

You muttered to yourself as you pushed your pencils away, “You have no idea.” And there you sat, the two of you in quiet silence, where you stared out the window at the trees next to your house, fireflies were beginning to emerge, lighting up the yard.

“Did you finish that painting?” Harrington asked you, to which you replied with a hum. “Your heart and flower painting that you had over there? Did you finish it?” 

“Oh, um…” You pulled your lips between your teeth, because he had no right to really know about it, but he was asking, but why did you want to tell him? You ignored the questions and just rolled with it. “My mom...more or less grounded me for the weekend and took my stuff away from me, so I’m stuck here without anything to work on.” He gave you a look that you only responded to with a shrug.

He scoffed. “Wow, take a painter away from her painting.” Looking over, he saw your pencils tossed onto your desk. “You any good with pencils?”

“I mean yeah, paint is what I want to work with, but as long as I can put it to paper, I can use it.” When you answered his question, he nodded before he pulled something from his backpack that you didn’t notice he had until now. “What are you doing?” Your brows were quirked as you watched him bring back out a notebook. A sketchbook actually. 

Your face had a look of shock on it, bringing him to smile at you. “Calm down, Wheeler. I can see the boredness in your eyes and I have this book. Mess around with it, I’m sure as hell not using it.” Your words caught in your throat as you stared down at the notebook that was now in your lap. 

“Um...thanks, Harrington.” You stood up and grabbed the pencils you had honestly not really knowing what to do with this newly given gift. “Do you...want me to draw you anything?” You asked.

Harrington looked up at you, a look deep in thought on his face before he turned to you and asked, “I want you to draw me like a cartoon character.” Hearing this, you were surprised at his request, even voicing this confusion yourself. “You know like Fred from Scooby Doo? Draw me something like him. All attractive and suave.” He grinned up at you, his dark eyes twinkling as he waited for your answer to his request. 

“I...don’t really do animation. I’m more of an emotion led artists and this isn’t really-”

He interrupted you. “Well then I guess I’ll be having my notebook back.” He held his hand out to you, but you held the book to your own chest shaking your head. “Thought so, now get drawing, Wheeler.” You were honestly taken aback by him sitting here and demanding things from you. 

Almost stupidly, you sat down in the chair sitting in front of him and grabbed a pencil, the black one, one that you were using in his outline. Animation was more your style, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to be drawing right now, you found that drawing Harrington animatedly was easier than real life but there was still a learning curve for you. 

You drew his face in very simple lines. His jaw came down into a subtle, but he did have a square face overall, deciding to accentuate the shape of his face while adding a slight chin to make sure he didn’t have just a square for his head. His ears were pretty flush to his head, so you didn’t bother and just hid them behind his hair. 

Oh, the hair. You grabbed the brown pencil and moved to try and find a way to translate the Hairs hair onto paper and it wasn’t working that well. There is a reason Harrington was known for his long and fluffy hair, and boy was it hard to find a way to get the curls and the wisps onto the paper without making it seem like stray pencil marks. 

You needed to tell your sister to tame her boyfriend’s eyebrows because they needed help, he was a few hairs away from unibrow. One had a sort of arch with some stray hairs underneath it and the other looked like a caterpillar. So, you decided to fix them on paper, and you gave him some damn good-looking eyebrows if you do say so yourself. Moving on, you stared at his eyes, and you finally noticed that he was staring back at you just as intently as you were, only he didn’t have a reason to be watching you. Maybe it was because he was staying still for you, but his gaze was a little unnerving. So instead of wanting to put focus on the small flecks of individual colors that made of his warm brown eyes, you grabbed the brown pencil again and just quickly drew a brown blob at the center of each eye and called it that. 

His nose was in two sweet and small motions, choosing to ignore drawing the slight crook midway down his nose. It was a simple nose, given that you knew almost every turn by now after drawing it multiple times. 

Your head shot up with your eyes wide at this, the pencil in your hand had stopped as you stared at Harrington’s nose. It was there, the nose. The one you had been drawing all week. There it was. The tweak at the top of the nose, the small button at the tip, the small and light freckles that lined the bridge of his nose. They were all there in front of you and you had no clue what to do with this new information. 

It couldn’t be. Why the hell would you be drawing Harrington’s nose? There was no reason you had ever looked at him for more than five minutes total since the time he and Nancy started dating. 

But there were the lips. The lips too. They were right there. Staring at you with all the swings and curves and pink tone with reds in it that you had been trying to copy since yesterday morning. The two of them were staring right at you. The face they belonged to was sitting in front of you and you didn’t know how to feel about it. 

A hand snaps in front of your face, one of its fingers striking your nose gently. “Wheeler? You still in there?” You shook your head, clearing your brain of the fog that took you over. 

“Yeah, sorry.” Quickly pulling the sketchy book closer to your face, you hid your warm face from where he could see you and quickly drew his lips in, completely ignoring your racing mind as you drew the outline and colored in his clothes on the way down, noting his denim jacket, T-shirt and a pair of jeans. On top of a pair of sneakers that you had never really seen him not wear before. 

From the face you took time to get the feeling of Harrington into the drawing, you quickly rushed through the rest of him, producing a finished product in less than five minutes and handing it over to him. “Here you go. Sorry if it’s not like Fred enough for you, but I’m not really an animator or anything.” 

Harrington looked over the paper you handed him; his face blank as he took in everything from the sheet of paper. The anticipation in your stomach grew every second he just stared at what you produced, wanting to be affirmed in what you had done, the ever challenging part of being like you, was that you didn’t know it but you needed the affirmation of how well you did. And for some reason, especially right now. 

“Wow, Wheeler, you could open one of those street drawing stand things and have people pay you for these.” He gave you a quick smile before tucking the paper into his backpack between some of his school books. Looking at his books, you quickly remembered where you were and what he was doing here. 

“Why aren’t you with Nancy right now?” You questioned and he quickly muttered to himself. 

He fiddled with his zipper before turning back to you, fiddling didn't fit his persona. “I just assumed she was taking a shower again since you didn’t kick me out.” 

You quirked an eyebrow at his response. “If I remember last time, you were half out the door ready to join my sister. I didn’t think you needed my permission to go see your own girlfriend. Much less have sex with her if you want to.” He scoffed at your remark, you bringing a smile to his face. 

“Good to know I have Nancy’s little sister’s permission to sleep with her next door to you.” He slings his backpack back onto his back as he makes this comment. 

“Whoa whoa, I didn’t mean that wait-Harrington I didn’t mean that!” He was already out the window by the time your confused brain caught up to you. “Great, now all I’m gonna hear is them having sex.” You muttered angrily to yourself as you slammed the window closed behind him. 

Because what else would you want to hear besides your sister and her boyfriend screaming in pleasure at each other. 

Looking around the room, you saw the sketchbook sitting on your desk. The sketchbook that Harrington gave you. 

Steve Harrington. “Oh God.” You gasped out as it all fell around you. You fell back against the wall behind you, slipping down until you were seated, your brain finally caught up to you and the panic settled in. “Holy crap, holy crap. What have I done?” 

His nose. That was it. He had your nose that you had been drawing. You found the face. And you didn’t like this at all. 

You have been drawing your sister’s boyfriend's nose obsessively. And you couldn’t explain why. 

Your heart rate increased. 

Breathing became short, curt, and rapid. 

Your vision was getting a little fuzzy around the edges as you tried rapidly blinking. 

Chest was heaving, but no air was getting in.

You were having a fucking panic attack and there was no one here to help you. 

You have to remember how to breathe on your own.

How do you even breathe?

You were alone, and your body couldn’t remember how to breathe.

You were alone and you couldn’t breathe

You couldn’t alone and you were breathe.

Alothe. 

Brone.

Your panic took you over and you fell over onto your carpeted floor, passed out and afraid of what you now know. 

-----

Monday morning finally came, to your mother coming into your room and calling you awake. Last night you finally got all of your supplies back and you were doing everything you could to make up for the lost weekend you had planned to use for painting. You stayed up until 3am, until your body was shutting itself down. You had seen Harrington come through your room and go, not giving him much to talk about this time around. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted with how little time you had left. 

And when that three am mark rolled around, your brain couldn’t tell what was pink from green and you almost painted a giant line through the heart. So, you slept, for three hours your body rested and reset itself. 

And it was rudely interrupted by your mom telling you it was Monday and you had to go to school. As you got dressed, you thought through how long it would take you to finish. All the colors were on the page, no white remained thankfully, but the flowers still needed life, they needed depth so that they were not 2D. 

You could take the picture with you to school. But when would you work on it? And you wanted to keep this all a big reveal. Your teachers sure as hell wouldn’t allow you to work on it instead of their own class. 

You could stay home. But how the hell was that supposed to work? Knowing your mother, you sure couldn’t get her to allow you to stay home for a reason as stupid as a painting. 

But what if she didn’t know you were home?

An idea formed in your mind as you threw your hair up in a ponytail and walked over to your sister’s door before knocking on it. She called you in. “Y/N?” Nancy was confused when you walked in. “What do you want?”

“Nancy, I have a huge favor to ask of you. Can you please leave me here at home? I need to stay back and finish working on my painting and I don’t have enough time tonight. I promise I will do whatever you want, I will do your chores, your homework, I don’t know but please, Nancy, I really need this.” You pleased with her, throwing all your sincerity as you can into your words. 

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, her eyes darting back and forth between yours, looking for something, though you don’t really know what. “You owe me if I do this.” You gasped in relief at her words and surged forward, throwing your arms around your sister’s shoulders. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you so much Nancy. Oh my gosh I owe you so much right now. Thank you.” You held her tight in a hug, ignoring how she didn’t return the hug, but you were just too elated at this moment to care. “Okay, I’ll like get in the car with you and at the stop sign at the end of the road, I’ll just jump out and run home.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t care.” She wiggles slightly as she wants you to release her, making you let go and rush out of her room. 

You did as you said. Wished your parents goodbye after breakfast, got into the car for a short time before telling Mike to keep quiet and you ran home. 

That was the easy part. What Harrington didn’t tell you was that climbing up the wall of the house wasn’t as easy as it sounded, and you ate dirt twice before you finally made it up to your window. You thanked your past self for leaving the window open, not knowing how you would have managed it to try and get that window open from the outside. 

But you were inside now, and all you had to do for the rest of the day before your sister got back was be quieter than a mouse. And with painting, that wasn’t too hard for you: standing on your feet without moving was something you got used to. But this time, you couldn’t just tune the world out, you had to make sure that your mother didn’t walk in to find you here and not at school. 

So, you went in painting, pulling out your paint palette and container of paints, you began working. Mixing, painting, brushing, applying the paint, you stood for hours, ignoring your stomach as it called for food around lunch time. Moving only one, and that was because you dropped a paint brush and needed to step forward a little bit. The other time was when you heard your mother coming up the stairs. 

Your first urge was to scream when you heard her. It was almost like a horror movie with the murderer coming closer to the victim and the victim had nowhere to go. Where to go, what do you hide in? Would she even come in here? Of course, she would, she’s your mother! Looking around, the best you could think of with the footsteps getting slowly closer was under your bed, because you were basic and asking to be killed. 

You dove and as quietly as you could, you shoved yourself under the bed, not realizing how cramped it would be down there, it wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be but you still were able to get yourself underneath before you watched the door swing open. Her heeled feet walked in, followed closely by the vacuum behind her, which she plugged in and quickly went to work. 

All you could do was sit there, waiting, watching as the vacuum came closer, going away, closer, away. So on and so forth, but you would hear the occasional mutter from your mom about how filthy you kept this room, and how you need to put your paints away and not leave it lying out all day. From where you were lying, you could see her jostling things around above you, but nothing seemed to give away your still being home. 

Looking around the room, you took inventory of what a bug must feel like, seeing everything so big and far away. Your dresser, bookshelves, even your backpack was massive from where you were. Crap. Your eyes widened as your mother grabbed your backpack from the ground. You were supposed to have your backpack at school right now, and it was sitting on your floor for your mother to see. 

Shit shit shit shit shit! You screamed in your head with your hand clamped over your mouth as you waited for your mom to find you, catch you, and never let you see the light of day again. Something bounced off your bed. “Y/N needs to stop leaving her backpack home and start taking it with her.” Those were the last things you heard your mom say before she turned and dragged the vacuum behind her out the door, shutting it behind her before moving down the hall to your brother’s room. 

A heavy sigh left your body as you felt relief rush over you knowing that you were safe from getting caught. And with that, you pulled yourself out from under the bed, squeezing a little bit at the hips, but finding yourself free from dust. You didn’t have much more of a thought to yourself other than getting more of the painting done before you could call it a day and finally finish it all off with a quick signature at the bottom. 

A few more hours of you working passed before you heard your sister come back home. Just in time too. You had the biggest smile on your face as you painted the last brush stroke at the bottom. “Y/N Wheeler.” You were finished. Finally! Mike cried out that he was home and then promptly called how he was heading over to Dustin’s house. Opening your door, you wanted to make your way over to Nancy to thank her again, wanting to know what she wanted in return. 

Opening your door, you saw Nancy had beaten you to it and was standing outside your door. “Nancy! I just wanted to say than-” Your smile and happiness quickly went away when Nancy shoved past you, cutting you off. 

“Why was Steve asking about you?” Her question confused you, which you voiced, asking her what she was talking about. “Steve! My boyfriend! All he could do was ask me about you and why you weren’t at school and how you were enjoying your new notebook and then he went on to show me the cartoon you drew of him. When did you draw him? Why are you hanging around my boyfriend?!”

“Whoa, Nancy, I wasn’t hanging around him. I haven’t done anything. I don’t even talk to Harrington.” 

“Then why does he have this drawing?” And to prove it to you, she pulled the silly drawing out you did a few nights ago, where Harrington asked you to draw him like Fred. 

Looking at the paper, there was honestly nothing you could think of wrong with the situation. “Nancy, for like the past week, he has been using my window to sneak in and out of the house because he was almost caught by mom. I offered to let him use my room to slip through. You were busy or something like two nights ago and he was sitting in here waiting for you to finish and he told me to draw him like Fred from Scooby-Doo.” 

“He’s been sneaking through your room?! You suggested this? Y/N what the hell have you been doing with my boyfriend in my room?” Nancy was screaming at you at this point, alerting your mother that the two of you were home when she called up the stairs for you two to stop yelling. 

You were getting frustrated at this point, “Nancy! No! I haven’t been doing anything with your boyfriend! I’m not even interested in the asshole!”

“Then why did I find you drawing his face in your notebook?!” Once again trying to prove you were in the wrong, she showed you more papers, the ones from your sketchy book that were in fact of Harrington’s face that you found out the other night. 

“Where did you get those? Nancy, that's from my notebook, where did you get that?” Your failed attempt to grab the papers from her led to her getting all in your face. 

“And why were they in there?! Why! Y/N why are you hitting on my boyfriend?! Is nothing sacred for me?! All you do is walk around this house, painting, and drawing and being a goody little two shoes! You are a complete bitch Y/N! I work my ass off for my grades, to be great in school, to have an amazing boyfriend! And you are trying to steal him from me!” She kept getting louder and louder, screaming at you and stomping her feet and making more and more accusations towards you that you didn’t understand. 

“Nancy, I know how it looks but I was just-”

She walked dangerously close to your painting, her flailing arms almost hitting it right off the easel. “You were what, Y/N?” 

“Please be careful, Nancy, the paint is still wet.” Reaching out, you grazed her hand, hoping to calm her down but she ripped it away from you. 

“Oh, is this what you care about? Let me show you what you’ve done to me, Y/N. What happens if I do this?!” Before you could react, her hand flew and shot its way through the canvas, punching a huge hole into the painting you just finished not moments ago. 

“No!” You screamed in horror, staring at the hole she hit through the flowers atop and intertwined amongst the heart. Your own heart broke and your body had no idea what to do besides just scream.

Footfalls stormed up the stairs and Karen Wheeler charged into the room. “Y/N Wheeler, what are you screaming about, that is completely uncalled for!”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked to your mother for help. “Mom, Nancy she...look mom!”

“Mom! Y/N has been flirting with my boyfriend and cheating with him behind my back! And she skipped school today!” Nancy’s face had rage written all over it, nothing compared to the absolute shattered feeling you felt. 

“Mom wait no please. I-” you tried explaining, but your mother had heard enough, and she spun on you. 

“I can’t believe I ever raised a daughter like you, Y/N. I am completely disappointed in you. Steve is your sister’s boyfriend. And I’m talking to your father when he gets home about you missing school. Apologize to your sister right now.” Your mom was angry, you could tell, but you were hoping you could argue with her. “Don’t argue with me, Y/N! I guess locking you in your room isn’t enough for you to learn your lesson anymore. Your father will be hearing about this, young lady, you can be sure of that.” 

She was gone, your mother left you in the room with your sister, going downstairs and angrily muttering to herself. Looking over to your sister, she saw she was still angry on her face, with a sickening smirk on her face. “What...have I ever done to you, Nancy? All I have ever done is try to be your little sister. All I want is for my big sister to guide me, be a role model. I just want you to love me, Nancy.” Tear tracks raced their way down your face as you stared at your sister, if you could even call her that anymore. Not after what she did to what she knew you loved doing and had worked so hard on. 

“Why would I ever love the sister that made my parents split their love up?” Nancy’s voice came out as a growl and followed your mother, slamming your door behind her. 

Your body finally gave out and you fell to your knees before curling up and letting our sobs ring through the room, screaming at one point all the pain out of your chest. Your mother yelled at you again, but you didn’t listen, you kept crying at the pain in your chest, the same pain that showed through the tear in the still wet painting. 

------

“Karen, we should talk to her before we keep punishing her. She is going to hate us if we keep doing this.” Ted Wheeler was trying to talk some sense to his wife while walking up the stairs to his daughter’s room. 

“Ted, I think it’s time we discipline her my way. You have been going too easy on her these last few years and she’s fighting back. I don’t like people fighting against me, Ted.” Karen Wheeler gave her husband a look that told him to be quiet while she did the talking, he was there to be a point of authority and trick you into listening to your mother. 

Nodding, your father grabbed the door handle into your room and pushed the door open. “Y/N, sweetie. We wanted to talk to you.” The husband and wife opened the door and expected to find you sitting on your bed or standing in front of your painting that the two of them have known you have been working on endlessly lately. 

But the room was empty. You were nowhere to be seen. “Y/N?” Karen took a step into the room, checking behind the door to see if you were standing there. “Y/N, I don’t want to deal with your games right now. Get out here young lady.” The woman checks under the bed, in the closet, but you weren’t in either of those places. “Ted, I don’t see-” Turning around, Karen Wheeler saw her husband standing in front of what looked to be the artwork you were working on. She stepped closer, looking around her husband's shoulder and her eyes widened when she saw what was before her.

It was a beautiful painting. The dark background may look black for one second, but when looking deeper at it, there were the light colors of white and grey in the background, creating an open ribcage around what is the centerpiece of the painting: a red heart. The heart had amazing detail, veins and fat tissue where you would suppose it would go. Green things ran along the heart as well, but it wasn’t as easy as it was before to tell that there was a bouquet of flowers emerging from the main openings of the heart because where the flowers once were was now a giant hole ripped through the canvas. 

Karen Wheeler was rarely shocked at being speechless, yet here she was with her hand pressed to her mouth in awe at what she was looking at. It was beautiful but broken. While she stared at this, Ted had gone to the door and called somebody’s name down the hall. “Is this what she has been working on?” Her words came out breathless and airy. “It’s so beautiful.”

Ted nodded as he looked around the room, waiting for who he called before something caught his eye behind the curtain that was being blown around the open window. “Did you call me, dad?” Nancy stepped into the door confused. 

“Nancy, do you know what happened to your sister’s painting?” Karen turned to her eldest daughter, her pride and joy, before her husband could, who had pushed a curtain away to see more of what he was looking at. 

Looking over, Nancy shrugged. “She deserved it. I told you mom, she was che-”

“Nancy, I’m not asking for what she did to you. Did you do this to her painting?” Nancy looked around the room, not wanting to look at her mother, but giving a slight nod. “Nancy Wheeler! You know what painting means to your sister!” 

“But mom, she doesn’t-” 

“No Nancy! You aren’t in the right here. Y/N could have hit on your boyfriend, which I want to verify with your boyfriend, but that does not give you the right to destroy what Y/N has spent weeks working on.” 

“Karen.” Ted called over to his wife. 

“Nancy Wheeler, you are in a big deal of trouble right now and I don’t want to see you. You have severely hurt your sister and I am extremely upset with you.” Nancy looked away from Karen, her face flushed with red as she left the room, not feeling too hot that she had been turned on by her parents. 

“Karen,” Ted called again, to which she finally turned back to him. “Look.”

Written on the wall, in black paint was line after line of your handwriting. “Failure. Stupid. Y/N Wheeler is useless. Not pretty like Nancy. Not smart like Mike. Not loveable like Holly. Matt is friendlier than Y/N. Clare is emotionally stable. Stupid. Failure. Shit. Y/N Wheeler is shit. The world won’t stop. Nobody here. Noone wants me. Unwanted. Unloved. No difference. No change without. Gone. She is gone. Y/N Wheeler isn’t wanted. She isn’t going to want. “

“Oh my god.” Karen gasped again, tears prickling at her eyes as she turned away, not wanting to see anymore as she looked around the room. “Y/N? Sweetheart please!” She looked at the closet again and saw your shoes were gone. Your shoes and one of your jackets were missing. “Ted. Ted! She’s gone! Y/N’s gone! Our little girl is gone, she's gone.” Her words sputtered out of her mouth as she fell into her husband’s arms, her face and cries falling into his shoulders as he led her over to where your phone sat on your desk. 

“Hawkin’s police department.” Flo’s voice asked through the phone, she sounded bored rightly so since nothing happens in this small town. 

“Flo, this is Ted Wheeler.” He held the phone to his other ear so that his wife wasn’t crying near it. “Pass me through to Chief Hopper. Our daughter is missing.”

-----

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N Wheeler!” 

“How many Y/N’s do you know, Lucas?” Mike looked over to his friend; the three of them had been out for the last two, maybe three hours, calling out your name, much to Dustin’s chargin when his voice started cracking and hurt from screaming. 

“Well I’m sorry I just wanted to say something other than your sister’s name.” Lucas called back to the only male child of the Wheeler family. “Mike, we’ve rode back and forth across this damn road so many times, I can count how many pedals it takes to get from one side to the other.” 

Mike ignored his friends' complaints as he kept calling out your name, hoping that as they kept doing this loop that you would call back out to him. Come running out of the woods. Just come home. “Y/N!”

Across town, your parents were looking just as hard as your little brother. Your mother had removed her heels and stockings and skirt for a pair of sleep pants your father had and some sneakers she found in your room that would fit. Never in your wildest dreams could you imagine that your mother would be trekking through the muddy, dirty woods, especially for the likes of you. “Y/N!” Your mother called out, moving the flashlight back and forth as she tried seeing any sign of you in the woods near your house. 

“Karen, sweetheart. We won’t be able to find her out here, it’s nearly midnight. It’s too dark for us to make a difference in the search.” Ted reached forward and gently grabbed his wife’s elbow, hoping he could guide her home. He had been out here with her, calling your name and looking at every possible place you could be hiding. 

Karen looked back at her husband and in the glare of the flashlight off him, he could see her eyes filled with worry, shame, frustration. “Ted, I’m the reason she is out here. And I want to be here when we find her.”

Mr. Wheeler nodded his head, tugging a little harder on her elbow before she let herself be pulled into her husband’s embrace. The two of them stood in the middle of the woods, a mile or so away from your house, holding each other as they worried for their lost daughter. “Come on, dear. I’m sure we can look a little longer. Maybe she’s just a little farther ahead.” She nodded her head at Ted and the two of them continued forward. “Y/N!”

Back at home, Nancy was sitting in the living room with Holly drawing in front of her while she went over flashcards for her AP exam coming up. “Nancy?” At hearing her name, the young girl looked up. “Where’s Y/N? I didn’t get to paint with her today.”

She scoffed. “What is with this family and Y/N? She’s not here, Holly.” The last part, Nancy spoke louder so that the youngest Wheeler would hear her. 

“Where is she? I miss her.” Holly said it so nonchalantly as she kept drawing on her little page. Nancy glowered down at the little girl before she stood up, ordering Holly to stay there and that she would be right back. Walking into the kitchen, she picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number. 

“Hello?” Her boyfriend's voice came through the receiver and she felt like she could smile for the first time since she got home that day. 

“Hey, Stevie. Wanna come over? My parents aren’t home and thought that we could get some alone time in.” She leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, getting a look to see that Holly hadn’t moved an inch. 

Steve took a second to respond. “Sure, babe why are they out of the house. They just had a date night.” 

“Oh, Y/N up and ran off and they’re off looking for her like a manic. She’ll be home soon I’m sure. It’s what she gets.” Nancy rolled her eyes at her own statement. “So, you wanna come over?”

She heard a release of breath on the other end. “God, Nancy. Your sister is missing, and you want me to come over? Please tell me you are calling me to help your family look for her.”

“Steve Harrington. What are you talking about? Steve Harrington you are my boyfriend, not my sister’s boyfriend or best friend.” Nancy growled into the phone ready to go off on the phone to her ear, but he cut her off. 

“No, Nancy. I am not someone who dates a girl who ignores her sister, who hurts her sister on a daily basis by not even looking or caring about her.” His words caught her off guard, truly they did because here it was again, her little sister coming back to claim what is originally Nancy’s. “Nancy unless you tell me this is some sick joke, I’m sorry but we are done.” 

Nancy Wheeler had nothing to say and was even more in shock when she heard the dial tone ringing in her ear. “Steve? Steve? Hello?” Nancy stood at the phone and tried ringing him back up, with no answer. In the living room, Holly hummed to herself as she continued moving her marker back and forth across the paper, so excited for mommy to get home and to give her a new painting of the family. 

“Y/N!” It had been hours since the sun had fully gone down and at least five hours since Hopper got the initial call. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in Hawkins, never has before Will went missing a couple years back. “Y/N Wheeler!” Hopper called again into the night, shining his flashlight around the exterior of the fence of Hawkins lab, trying to see if anything would connect another strange event from the Upside Down to you. 

The lab has been quiet for a while, so it didn’t connect why you would have gone missing. And it sounded like it wasn’t a missing persons case and instead was a kid running away from home. His eyes were barely hanging open at this point and he had used up his last cigarette over an hour ago, so he needed a kick to get him going that he didn’t have.

He didn’t want to, but Chief Hopper knew when to quit and now was the time. Grabbing his radio, he called out to Powell and Callahan on his radio. “Yeah boss?”

“I’m calling it for tonight. We will keep searching for the girl tomorrow when we get some shut eye and the sun is up.” Hopper mumbled into his radio as he did one last sweep of the area around him before he turned back around and headed for his truck. 

“Will do boss.” Something clicked in Hopper’s mind before he signed off for the evening. “You say something else, boss?” 

“Yeah, make sure Ted and Karen get home safe, I don’t need more civilians out getting lost.” The three police officers finished their pleasantries and signed off until the morning when they promised the three of them would be back out at eight am on the dot. This left Hopper to wander the woods alone with his own thoughts and the quiet around him back to his car and head back home to Eleven and some Eggos waffles fresh outta the toaster. 

Hopper gripped his steering wheel with one hand while the other he used to rub his face of the stress this evening has caused. He enjoys his work, he really does. Helping the community and everything, but the max he wants to worry about is thieves from the local pharmacy because the local teenagers wanted to get high on Nyquil. No missing kids who run away from home. No monsters. No kids who have been experimented on their entire lives. 

First Joyce’s kid, now one of the Wheeler’s daughters too. Whatever happened to kids listening to their parents and staying home? “I swear, if Eleven even thinks about disappearing like that on me, I’ll turn this state topside.” With a slam of the door, Hopper looked up to his little cabin, something he found when he was a young stupid kid and later in life would convert into a home for himself away from the life of Hawkins. Now it was his permanent home for him and his new daughter. 

“El, I’m home.” Hopper ducked his head into the door frame, looking over to the coat rack that he placed his hat upon the coat rack before making his way into the kitchen right next to the door. “I hope you didn’t eat all of the waffles while I was gone.” He quipped with a smile on his face; he didn’t hear her respond, which he was glad about since she should be in bed, like he wanted to be. But Jim needed something in his belly. 

He hummed to himself a little tune he heard on the radio on his way over, not knowing what the song was, but it was here in his head and it didn’t seem to appear to be leaving any time soon. This ditty stuck with him as Jim Hopper pressed a little extra butter into the crevices of the waffle and smothering it in syrup, the best way to eat waffles honestly. Grabbing his plate, Hopper decided in his head which channel he was going to watch tonight before he turned in only to get up at the asscrack of dawn tomorrow. 

Stepping into his living room, Hopper jumped in surprise when he saw Eleven staring at him with a straight face. “Jesus, El, you should have said something while I was in the kitchen, I thought you were asleep by now.” Eleven kept her gaze upon her father figure as he rounded the couch and saw another thing he was not expecting. 

El was sitting on the couch in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, but she wasn’t alone. Hopper nearly dropped his waffles when he saw you, passed out on his couch, your head laying on El’s lap as she ran her fingers through your hair, which was sopping wet, as were your clothes. “Eleven. How did she get here?” Jim fell into his armchair, his plate of waffles laying on his lap and his jaw dropped down nearly as far. 

“She knocked.” El stated curtly, her eyes looking to Hopper a second more before she turned her head to look back down at you. “She’s Mike’s sister.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the Wheeler’s daughters. I’ve been looking for her all night. When did she get here?” Hopper moved his body forward to see more of her surrogate daughter and you.

“At 9-4-9. Why is she so sad, Hopper?” She completely disregarded his own questions and comments and began pegging her own at him. “I can see her thoughts. She’s so sad. Why? She has Mike. I can’t have Mike but I’m not sad.” 

Hopper sighed after hearing this, he never poked into other people’s affairs, but he had a feeling he might have to talk to your family when he got you home. “I...I don’t know El.” The young teen nodded her head, her hand still running over your hair.

The group of three sat there in quiet silence, El stroking your hair as you slept on while Hopper sat deep in thought of what he should do next. He was thinking, but he could not stopwatch his daughter and how she acted around you. He saw that you were still wet, though it did seem like you were slowly drying off, hopefully you wouldn’t get sick because of this. 

Placing the now empty plate down, Hopper stood up with his mind made on what he was going to do. “Come on, El. It’s past your bedtime, bud.” 

“But I want to stay-” With a raise of his hand, Hopper stopped the young girl from speaking. 

“I’ll stay with her, El. Don’t worry.” The chief walked over and gave her shoulder a gentle pat on the shoulder as he helped guide her out from under your head. “Be careful with her, I’m sure she’s had a rough night.”

Going into her room Hopper gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, to which she gave the customary comment “scratchy” with a smile on her face as she commented on his beard against her skin. With a chuckle, Hopper shut the door behind him with El flicking the lights off herself, leaving him in the main room of the cabin. The man signed deeply as he ran his hands over his face roughly, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes and wake himself up just a bit. 

He took a rather ungracefully seat next to your head, hoping his jostling of the couch would wake you up, but you only shifted at his added weight. Jim Hopper sighed again and moved his hand over to your shoulder, gently shaking it. “Come on, kid. I need you to wake up for me.” His already gruff voice as gruffer and deeper from exhaustion as well as how quiet he was being. “Kid, you gotta get up.”

You finally started to move, letting out a groan at being woken up, your body shivering under his warm hand. The groan quickly moved into a gasp as you shot upright with your eyes wide like an animal Hopper has seen hunting before. You quickly pulled away from his hand, almost like he had burned you and pressed yourself against the armrest of the couch as your eyes greedily took in the room you were in.

“Hey, hey kid, calm down. It’s me Hopper.” He watched as your eyes came to focus on him, your eyes rapidly moving, and your chest was heaving. “Calm down, kid. You’re safe. It’s Chief Hopper. You’re safe.” His hands were in front of him, a simple signal of peace between the two of you as you slowed your breathing down and started blinking, your eyes rapidly seeming to come back into focus. 

“Ch-chief Hopper?” Your voice came out a little hoarse, surprising you at the weakness behind your own voice. “Wh-what...where am I?” 

“You’re in my cabin, kid. Bout twenty miles from any form of civilization.” Hopper kept his place on the couch, letting you settle yourself into a cross legged position that seemed more comfortable, though not fully at ease. “Wanna tell me how you ended up over here? And why you’re sopping wet?”

His comment caused you to look down at yourself, just now noticing that you were in fact wet. “I...I don’t really remember. I just was running through the woods out by my house, and I guess I just...wait, I think I fell into a creek or something before I found this place. Yeah, I fell into some creek, and it was freezing water, so I...don’t remember much after that…” You looked down as you tried remembering just how you got here.

“Well kid, you somehow made it from one end of Hawkins to the other. You’re almost outside of the city limits.”

“What? Wait what time is it?” Your eyes widened again, and you quickly jumped off the couch, making a move towards the door. 

“Hold up, kid.” Hopper grabbed your forearm as you moved past him, stopping you and reversing your path to lead you back down to sitting next to him, this time placing you closer to him. “You know you caused a lot of trouble around town.” Your shoulders sank when he mentioned this, followed by a quiet apology that he waved away. “I don’t care, you’re fine, I know where you are. Now, wanna explain this to me?” Feeling around his pockets, Hopper produced a polaroid picture that he handed over to you. 

You took the picture from him and felt yourself deflate once you saw your wall. “I forgot I did that.” Your words were quiet mutters as you looked at the words you painted nights ago when you were in a rage. “I...I didn’t-” 

“Don’t tell me it didn’t mean anything. The words are there.” Hopper had his gaze fixed on you, his body leaning towards you as he waited for a response. “Y/N,” You looked back up at him from hiding from the photo. “Are there problems at home?”

He barely suggested this, and you shook your head. “No, there’s nothing like that, Chief Hopper, sir. It’s just...it’s…” Hopper watched as you worked on your words; whether it was appropriate or not, he placed his hand on your knee in solidarity. “There’s nothing wrong. I’m just...it’s hard sometimes, cause I’m just stuck in the middle. Mikey’s the only boy in the family and he’s always at his friends house. Holly is adorable and she’s the baby and she’s cute. And Nancy…” You paused again, focusing your gaze onto your finger tracing the fabric on the couch. “Things aren’t good with her and me. I got into high school and she just...because very mean. Bitchy honestly. My parents care about me...but they don’t side with me and it isn't good sometimes. Or a lot of the times. But things are like bad at home, times just get rough sometimes.”

“I think you just described a bad household, kid.” 

“No, no, no. It’s not bad. I didn’t mean…” Your voice cracked and you moved to quickly wipe your eyes. “I didn’t…” You tried again, but you couldn’t get yourself to talk. 

Hopper sighed at watching you. He didn’t want to have this conversation, it was an uncomfortable feeling already, but if he wanted to sleep again, he needed to know. “Don’t tell me if you meant it or not. Can you tell me why you wrote all of this? I’m just here to help you, Y/N.” 

You finally looked up at him, for the first time really since you woke up, feeling your eyes starting to sting. “Damnit.” You whined into your hands as you hid your face from Hopper just as quickly as you looked up at him. Trying, you tried so hard to stop yourself from crying, because this wasn’t something you did. Y/N Wheeler didn’t break down and cry. You didn’t do that kinda thing. 

Hopper watched, he was never this good when his wife got emotional, he was barely there for his own little girl. With El, she was even stranger of a case and had no clue what to do with you. You were a practically random sixteen/seventeen-year-old sitting on his couch, crying, and he was lost. He went against his own instincts and did something that made him uncomfortable but would hopefully help you. 

��Come here kid.” As gently as possible, Hopper wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you to cry on his own shoulder, much to his uncomfort. “Talk when you want to. I’m here all night.” As much as he didn’t want to be awake for the evening, he had a feeling he may have needed to say this. 

And you took his suggestion quickly. “I don’t always feel like that, I just-I just-I just...it gets hard when my mom wants me to be like Nancy and I can’t because I’m not smart enough, or pretty enough, or perfect enough. And I was angry and tired and...I do hate home. I hate it so much. But I have nowhere to go. I can’t just leave.”

You had no one to listen to you, not before this, but Hopper did. Hopper listened to you until you slowly cried yourself to sleep. Chief heard your voice quiet down as you kept talking until you went completely silent and your breathing evened out to where you were sleeping. He glanced over to the clock and groaned at how late it was, or early. It was way too close to when he needs to be awake for his liking.

“Guess I should sleep myself.” Muttering to himself, Hopper leaned his head against the back of his couch and worked on getting himself to sleep, feeling you shift closer to his shoulder just before he fell asleep for the night. 

-----

El let her leg jump against yours in the front seat of Hopper truck. Early this morning, you woke up to Hopper talking to someone through the phone, it sounded like he was talking to his police workers, telling them something about staying in the office and not being able to show up till later in the morning. After the phone call, he corralled you and El into his work truck after giving you a change of her clothes that looked like they should fit. 

Plus, it gave her an excuse to see your little brother, who apparently has a little girlfriend that you didn’t know about. She was smiling in her seat next to you, still not having said too much to you other than she was excited to see Mike. 

She was sandwiched between you and Hopper, allowing you to stare out the window as the scenery around you changed, watching as the scenery changed from heavily wooded forest to dirt roads to suburbs. All the while, you wondered what would happen when you got home. Because there obviously wasn’t anywhere else you would be going besides back home. How will you walk in? Will you go up to your room? Will your mom care? Chief Hopper said they were out searching for you, but you had a pit growing in your stomach where you thought how this could be a lie. 

This question was going to be answered much faster than you anticipated as you saw your house and driveway come into view in the front window of the car. El’s jumpiness intensified at the sight of the house while you tried sinking further into your chair. “Alright, you two, let’s get to the door before this rain picks up again. I don’t wanna go into work soaked.” He warned as he got out of the car with El following past him and ran for the front door. 

But you didn’t move a muscle. 

You watched as Hopper went up to the door that El was already knocking on and it opened before the Chief even got up there. Your mother had opened the door and you inhaled sharply when you saw her with her hair pulled back into a mess that you wouldn’t even call a bun anymore and it looked like she was in a pair of your father’s pants and a grungy t-shirt. 

Her eyes looked over Chief Hopper and El, who had pushed past her to where you assumed would be hugging Mike, before back to the Chief who pointed at the truck, causing her to look in your direction. The moment you two made eye contact, she began running to you, across the grass with no shoes on her feet. Rain was still coming down in a constant drizzle, but that didn’t slow your mom down.

Seeing her pursuit towards you, you pushed the door open and fell out into the rain yourself before moving towards your house and mom. You two met and her nearly tackled you to the ground as she wrapped you in one of the tightest hugs you ever received. Her face pressed into your shoulder and she held you so tightly to her chest, and you returned this by slipping your arms under your mother’s and held onto her waist. “Mom.” You whimpered into her chest, sealing your eyes shut as you fought back tears you never thought you would have shed. 

The rain ran down your head and under your clothes, but you didn’t want to think about anything but your mom’s hug right now. “Y/N, oh my…” You heard your dad’s voice before you felt him hug you from behind, taking both you and your mom up in an embrace you hadn’t felt in a long time. Opening your eyes, you saw the front of your house, the door opens to your house with Chief Hopper standing on the porch still, his arms crossed over his chest with a neutral look on his face. In the doorway, you saw someone standing at the threshold of the house: Nancy. She looked at you, no emotion to her face, just watching. You wanted to feel uncomfortable under that gaze, but you shut your eyes and came back to enjoy the safe and warm embrace of your parents around you. 

It was eventually the rain that pushed you three inside, and where your strings of apologies began. On your couch, with your dad sitting next to you and your mom kneeling in front, you started apologizing for running away, apologizing for making your parents and family and other people worried, apologizing for seeing your sister’s boyfriend. “Y/N,” You were interrupted by your mom. “Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do. You shouldn’t have been sneaking Steve into the house at all, but you were helping him see your sister.” She ran her thumb against your cheek, affection you weren’t used to yet or at all.

Your gaze went over to Chief Hopper, who was leaning against the junction between your living room and kitchen. He gave you a small smile and nod, almost having to tell you that it was okay for your mother to be treating you like this. ‘If you ever feel uncomfortable at home, or if you ever need anything kid, drop by the office. My door will be open if you need it’. He told you this morning while he offered your waffles for breakfast before hitting the road, the both of you remembering your admittance early this morning to him.

“Okay.” A quiet whisper came from your lips as you looked back at your mom and gave her a small smile. You just hoped in the back of your head that things would somehow go back to what you knew as normal.

-----

You concluded that you had no clue what normal was. 

Tuesday your mom and dad kept you home from school with your father running out to work for a few hours before coming back. She never let you out of her sight throughout the day, calling your name every time you left the room for more than five minutes. And every time she called your name, you knew that it was your fault, you were the reason she was skittish about you leaving the house. 

Eventually you were able to convince her that you were just going upstairs to sleep for a little bit, promising her that you wouldn’t leave or slip out the window...again. Stepping into the room, you sighed at the feeling of being able to breathe again. Sliding down against the door, you never realized how...overwhelming having attention on you was. But your room was your sanctuary and you looked around, your eyes stopping when you saw the wall next to your window, it was blank. The words you wrote had been painted over like they never were even there. 

You gulped and forced yourself to look away from the negative space and felt the wind leave your body at the sight of an empty easel stand. “M-Mom?” She came up the stairs a few seconds after you called her. “Where’s my painting?” 

At your question, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Sweetie, your dad took care of it.” Her news scared you, but what else had you expected when the canvas was destroyed, you could try and paste it together, but then it wouldn’t look the same. “He told me he was going out to get you another canvas sweetie, so you can paint it again when he gets back.” Nodding your head, you sighed before smiling up at her.

“Thanks mom. I’m tired, so I think I’m gonna take a nap or something.” She returned your smile before kissing your forehead and shutting the door behind you. Once you were alone, you took one final look at the empty corner before you turned to your bed and tucked yourself in for now.

Wednesday passed by with Clare and Matt tackling you as you stepped out of the car, both of them screaming at you for being missing for two days without telling them and making them worried when they heard about you actually going missing. And all you could do was apologize for making them worry. Every time anyone reminds you about how worried they were, you feel another wave of guilt in your decision. 

At least your teachers didn’t bring it up, leaving you to figure out what you missed from the past two days on your own and your school day went on as normal, with a happy break during art class until you remembered your canvas. Seeing the face that you had started, you stared at it for a second, thinking, waiting, waiting on what is a good question, but your small burst of waiting ended when you picked up a paint brush and dipped the tip into black and began the outline of a face. 

You didn’t give a fuck right now. You wanted to paint, and this face is what you were going to paint. That art period was one of the fastest ones you remember attending but still one of your most productive ones with you being able to get the shape of the face done and drew the base color of the hair down in the shape you would work with tomorrow. 

And when Thursday art class came, you were already painting before the bell rang, not waiting for teacher’s permission to get started. Colors blended seamlessly, every strand of hair stood out in a cohesive way, the skin tone was becoming less white and more colored with a light blush on the cheek to give life. The lips and nose were already done, and this left you with the eyes. 

You realized you hadn’t seen Harrington since...was it Saturday? Not that you cared, you didn’t need Nancy breathing down your neck again for supposedly cheating behind her back. But you wanted to keep this painting going, wanted to finish something that Nancy couldn’t destroy. Something you wish you could turn into the art show for your school. 

You pushed away the thought of the art show you worked so hard to put a piece in, but that’s all your teacher talked about was the show today in Indianapolis. She advertised it on Wednesday and Thursday in class and told everyone to go if they were interested in seeing different schools and their projects they had worked on. You had been planning on going all year since you heard about this opportunity back in August. And now, your plans are completely up-ended for having your own art presented there.

Instead of focusing on the now missed opportunity of the painting, you looked to what was before you and pulled your paintbrush to begin the eyes. Harrington’s warm and welcoming eyes. 

Time slowly ticked by until you had the body of the eye colored out and everything except for the eye color itself. The pupils were completely, and the iris was outlined, but you left the coloring for last. You knew the color, but not the depth. Like his hair. His hair was brown, but there were small shines of gold hidden throughout, and as his hair got to his tips, they muted down to almost an auburn color. Nothing was just a single color; depth came from marking out the darker exterior iris and getting lighter as it gets closer to the pupil before darkening again. 

This was something you stopped yourself from doing; you could stare at Harrington’s skin or hair all day and he wouldn’t notice. Trying to see his eyes, that was harder than you called for. So, you couldn’t know the report layers of his eyes, not without doing it in the next couple of days when he jumped through your window. 

“What time is it?” You muttered very quietly to yourself as you turned in your seat to look at the clock hanging in the back of the church. With only ten minutes left in class, you were about to turn around when someone caught your eye. And you didn’t stop your staring gaze at Harrington sitting in the back row of class. 

How long he had been in this class, you had no clue, but you couldn’t take your eyes of the teenager in the back of your class who had a paintbrush pinched between his fingers and working on the canvas he had in front of him. He must have felt your stare because he looked up at you and met your gaze.

You didn’t turn away yet, allowing the two of you to dumpling watch each other. From here you couldn’t see the colors you had been needing, but you could see the small smile he sent your way and a wave. You returned the gesture and turned back towards your own drawing, a warm blush rising to your cheeks as you dm cursed yourself for not noticing that he was in your class and painting obviously his face in front of him. 

In the next ten minutes, you cut yourself off early and worked on cleaning up the paint brushes and paint palettes. You didn’t get much quiet cleaning done when you found someone standing next to you in the adjoining sink. “You've been missing the past couple of days, Wheeler.” 

Harrington was washing his own equipment next to you. “Yeah...I wasn’t feeling well these past few days.” Not everyone in school knew you needed to know what happened between you and your family. 

He hummed at your response not responding for a time until he was finished washing the brushes. “What are you doing tonight, Wheeler?” 

You looked at him in confusion in his direction. “Why?”

“I was...there’s a new movie out and I was curious about if you wanted to come watch it with me.” His question caused you to scoff as the bell rang around you, forcing you to put your brushes away while answering over your shoulder.

“You should be asking my sister, not me. Besides, I’m busy in Indianapolis.” Yes. You were still going to the show, your mom and dad told you it would be a good way for you to show them what you enjoyed doing, even if nothing was there for you to show. You tried arguing this morning, but neither of them would change their minds. 

Matt and Clare had you sandwiches between the two as they asked about your painting since you should be almost done, but you still weren’t focused on that. “How long has Harrington been in our art class?” 

“I would say...he’s been there the whole time, hasn't he, Clare?” Matt asked over your head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. He’s always been tucked away in the back. Very quiet for Harrington.” Clare commented herself in his “odd” and quiet behavior. You nodded in sort of understanding, but you threw a look over your shoulder again, still curious as to why Harrington was asking you about seeing a movie. 

-----

“Mom, we really don’t need to do this. We can just go home and have a movie night or something.” This had been your comment the entire ride from Hawkins to the capital in your state. But they hadn’t listened to you and kept driving.

And with you now standing in front of the building that was advertising the show, you tried even harder to not have to go inside and they pushed ever more for you to go in. “Come on, even if you don't have anything to actually present, we want to see what gets you excited to paint.” Your mom spoke rather whimsically as she wrapped her hand under your dad’s arm and he escorted her into the building, you were trailing behind them. As much as you didn’t want to go inside, your mother always found a way of getting you places you didn’t want to be. 

Stepping into the door, you were welcomed to the warm environment of overhead lighting of candelabras, a cinnamony smell, and wooden floors that made the place feel homey and welcoming. A place you would gladly spend your Saturdays wandering between the lone pillars that held small statues, paintings on walls, different mediums of art you have never dabbled in but could appreciate.

“Come on, Y/N. Give us the tour of the place, what is everything?” Your dad looked to you with a smile. With a small huff, you looked around the room, to the other families of students whose art was on display, their art, and not your own, before you smiled back and started walking around with them. 

They asked questions about what everything they saw, what it meant, how did it look like that, why did they do this kind of medium instead of that. It was fun for you to see them so interested in what you enjoyed. Some of the questions they asked were out of your realm, like why they used more black than red in this painting, why were the flowers sculpted this way. “That’s just what the person wanted to do. Everybody puts their own spin on what they do.” 

The three of you were standing in front of a painting of what looked to be the Chicago skyline, with multi colors showing the sunset and stars beginning to appear in the sky. Really pretty painting, very simple but it caught the moment the sun disappeared behind the city. 

You enjoyed standing in front of the painting for several minutes, analyzing it, acknowledging the simplicity of the painting and its colors while also admiring this person’s work with blending paints to make three colors appear to be a rainbow. You had never been to Chicago yourself, but this painting brought you there. To your left you watched your parents move down to another display, but you kept yourself happy enjoying others work. 

“Beautiful.” Someone spoke next to you, the only other person who was standing in front of the painting with you; you looked over at the person and scoffed at seeing him. 

“You following me now, Harrington?” As much as you wanted to move away from him, you didn’t want his presence interrupting your enjoyment of a small thing you loved. “How’d you even find me?”

“I’m not following you; I just happen to enjoy looking at art. Or do I come off as too much of a douchebag for this kinda stuff?” Looking back over to Harrington, all you did was look at him. Watch him. He never answered how he found you and you really didn’t want to have him around you more than sneaking in and out of your room to get to Nancy.

“Still doesn’t explain how you got to this one.” You mumble to yourself as you found the painting now not as appealing as before and turned to follow after your parents, seeing a big group of people gathering around a small stand. 

“Wheeler, hey I wanted to talk to you about something.” Harrington was by your side again and walking over with you. His tall height allowed him to see over most of the people in front of the exhibit; once he saw what was on the other side of a sea of people, his eyes widened before a small smirk perked at his lips. “Wow.” He muttered before turning back to you. 

“Whatever you want Harrington, no. And...stop talking to me. Please.” Your heart was starting to pick up pace as you moved around the crowd, still away from him and a little closer to where your parents were at the center of this grouping.

He followed; it was getting annoying. “Come on, Y/N. I just wanted to talk to you. I mis-” You spun around, your hair and dress you were wearing flaring out around you as you turned back to look at him. 

“Don’t say that, Harrington. Me talking to you is the reason I am in this whole mess. So, stay away from me.” Something ran through you, you couldn’t tell if it was fury or anger, but a heavy emotion coursed through your veins as you stared at him. Your hands were fisted by your side and you hoped your glare would tell him to back off. “I don’t need Nancy hating me already more than she does. Just leave me alone.” Everything around you hurt, and nothing made sense. The art exhibits around you no longer were appealing; you were confused, and you didn’t know why. 

“Y/N, that’s what I need to say, if you would let me talk.” Harrington stepped towards you with his hand extended out to grab hold of your wrist and bring your hand forward. “Nancy and I are-”

“I know, you and Nancy are dating, that’s why I can’t talk to you.” As you spoke you tried pulling your hand away, but Harrington had a stronger hold than your weak pull could break. And after feeling his hand almost holding yours, you almost broke and let yourself enjoy this small moment. 

When you made the mistake of not pulling away harder, Harrington took a step closer to you, your feet were almost touching and he was so close you could smell his deodorant, or cologne, or whatever he used. Whatever it was, it smelt better than your little brother most days. “Y/N, if you would let me talk, I can tell you that Nancy and I are-”

“Why do you keep saying my name? You’ve always called me Wheeler and I’ve called you Harrington.” You took a step closer, even if it was small, and pressed your finger against his chest pokingly. “I call you Harrington because if I call you Steve, that makes me want to date you more. I want to be selfish and be the one that dates you. But I can’t because you are my sister’s boyfriend and she may hate me, but I respect her enough to not try and get with you. So please, just leave me alone.” You were practically begging him at this point, and you stepped away from him, moving to turn back to find your parents.

Forgetting that he was still holding on your hand, you groaned as he tugged you back around. Your beginning argument was cut short when you felt him press a kiss to your forehead. He left his lips against your rapidly heating up skin for a few seconds longer before he pulled away with a smile on his face. “Nancy and I aren’t dating anymore. I called it off after she…” He looked around for a second before he coughed and spoke again. “Let’s just say after I saw some true colors shining through.” 

You stared at him confused, watching him, waiting to see if there was anything you could tell you that he was lying to you, that this was all a ploy for him and Nancy to see that you are trying to steal him from her. “How...what?”

Before he could answer, you heard your name being called. “Y/N sweetheart.” You turned your head towards where you heard your mom’s voice before you looked back at Harrington. 

“I…I gotta go.” Taking a tentative step backwards, you kept your eyes on him as you slowly pulled your hand away from his. Once your hand was free from his grasp, you slowly turned away, letting the smile finally grow on your face. 

“Wheeler?” 

“Yes? Steve?” You tested out saying his name as you spun around quickly and looked at him. The feeling left you breathless and lightheaded. 

“When are you free this weekend? I wanted to see if you could draw me another picture.” His smile hadn’t left his face and neither had yours. 

Honestly you were feeling bashful at the attention and you couldn’t look at him without your heart skipping a little and the feeling that your smile wanted to get even bigger, so you looked at your feet as you answered. “I’m free this Saturday if you...wanna pick me up?”

Although you already knew the answer, you were excited to actually hear him say it; looking back up, he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll come to your window to get you.” Your name was called again, breaking the small moment and you gave him a small wave before you turned around. 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that you were here today. 

The crowd around that one piece had dissipated with your parents still at the front of it, both blocking it from our view as you mom looked at you with a smile. “Y/N. Can you tell me why this person painted these flowers with a…” Her words faded away as you came around her and saw what everyone had been staring at.

There it was. But how? Staring at it, you knew, you knew it was yours.

The dark red background, the faded white outlines of the ribcage, the heart, the beautiful red and pink muscles and veins running across the structure. It was all there. Even the big rip in the center was there. But it wasn’t as noticeable with the gorgeous bouquet of roses sticking through the hole, making the original painting of flowers look 3D now. Your jaw dropped at the sight of it being here, and just as gorgeous as you imagined it when you began working on it. 

“How did this get here?” Stepping past your parents, you went up to the stand it was sitting on and read the plaque next to it. Your name was there! “I thought you threw it out?” 

You felt your dad’s hand on your shoulder. “Now why would I throw something so beautiful and emotional away? You worked so hard on it that I wanted to add my own spin to it.” He did this.

“You...you did this, dad?” He gave you a nod, and you felt your mom’s hand on your opposite shoulder, you between the two of them as you three looked at your art piece. The piece you had been planning and working on for months now and was here, in the biggest student art gallery in Indiana. After Nancy, you never thought you could have gotten to see this. 

Tears quickly filled your eyes and started running down your face, but you didn’t move to wipe them away and instead moved to wrap your father in a tight hug. “Thank you.” You whisper to him, staring at what was before you as your mother enveloped you on your otherwise. “Thank you so much.” 

The moment to others just seemed to be a family enjoying this piece of work, a sweet moment. And it was, but to you, you have never felt so loved before. This wasn’t going to fix everything that ever happened to you in the past with your parents and your family, but this was a good start to changing thin. You didn’t need to forgive them for everything from before, but you knew that one day, just one day all the tears in your heart could be mended and your heart be as full as the painting before you. 

#steve #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #Mike Wheeler #Nancy wheeler #stranger things #stranger things season 3 #Stranger Things Season 1 #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 2 #joe keery

[kayliemusing]

42: top 3s

1: Top 3 ice cream flavors - classic vanilla, birthday cake/birthday batter, bubblegum

2: Top 3 Disney Movies - Mulan, Onward, Soul (but this changes frequently lol)

3: Top 3 vacation destinations - I've never been outside of my home country so I'll say my top 3 DREAM destinations: NYC, Hawaii, a random countryside in either France or the UK

4: Top 3 places to shop - Dynamite, Sephora, Winners/Homesense

5: Top 3 subjects of study/classes to take - English/anything creative writing related, Interior Decorating/Design, Communications?

6: Top 3 make up products - YSL Touche Eclat Foundation, literally any Mac Lipstick but it has to be matte, & Fenty Beauty contour stick

7: Top 3 music artists - Taylor Swift - Of Monsters and Men - The Lumineers

8: Top 3 spices/herbs - Cinnamon - Nutmeg (literally tastes like autumn) - Paprika

9: Top 3 drinks - Diet Coke - Hot Chocolate - Vanilla Bean Frappe

10: Top 3 apps to use - Instagram - Pinterest -iBooks

11: Top 3 months of the year - May, October, December

12: Top 3 clothing items - My black/white turtle neck, high waisted jeans, plaid blazer

13: Top 3 binge perfect tv shows - Bones, Supernatural, Brooklyn Nine Nine

14: Top 3 romantic dates - (I've never been on a date but if I had, it would be this) Evening walk, late night drive, late night coffee date (tbh anything at night feels romantic)

15: Top 3 kinds of flower - Water lilies, cherry blossoms, roses

16: Top 3 christmas movies - A Christmas Carol (2009), Home Alone, The Polar Express

17: Top 3 OTPs - Nesta and Cassian from ACOTAR series by SJM, Manon and Dorian from Throne of Glass series by SJM, Casteel and Poppy from From Blood and Ash series by JLM.

18: Top 3 quotes to describe your life - "I write not to find, but to leave" by Scherezade Siobhan - "I want to be myself again. I want to be six. I want to stop knowing everything I know" by Catherynne M. Valente - "The truth is, I pretend to be a cynic, but I am really a dreamer who is terrified of wanting something she may never get" by Joanna Hoffman.

19: Top 3 characteristics you love about yourself - my kindness bc it's not surface level kindness, but actually something deeply rooted within me - my resilience even tho sometimes it doesn't feel like resilience - my loyalty bc it is a hard as steel kind of loyalty

20: Top 3 kinds of candy - Maltesers, Kit kats, smarties

21: Top 3 ways to exercise/ be active - Walking, dancing, mowing the lawn/shoveling the sidewalk

22: Top 3 spirit animals - wolf, hummingbird, tiger (i googled it bc i didn't know and i was scared it was a joke but)

23: Top 3 petnames - I like 'lovebug', 'love', 'sweetheart'

24: Top 3 books read outside of school - The Hating Game by Sally Thorne, A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J Maas but viewers discretion is advised, Crush by Richard Siken

25: Top 3 most used websites - Youtube, Tumblr, Pinterest

26: Top 3 people you last texted - my mom, my bestie megan, and my sister bc they're the only people i text...

27: Top 3 hashtags you use - the only time i use hashtags is if i'm trying to promote some of my writing so I'll usually use writingcommunity, writersonig, poetryonig lol

28: Top 3 instagram accounts you follow - Trista Mateer, Griefmother, obviously taylor swift

29: Top 3 guilty pleasures - buzzfeed quizzes, early 2000s music, romance novels

30: Top 3 summer activities - Going to the zoo, long evening walks, campfires and s'mores

31: Top 3 things to draw/doodle - hearts, flowers, random swirls bc it's the only thing i can doodle...

32: Top 3 aesthetics - cityscape aesthetic, autumn aesthetic, rustic aesthetic

33: Top 3 things you'd buy if you gained three million dollars - a new car, a condo, another cat

34: Top 3 ways to treat yourself - facial, a large bag of maltesers, buying the makeup i really want but have been putting off

35: Top 3 celebrity crushes - Evan Peters, Matthew Daddario, henry cavill

36: Top 3 books from your childhood - Love You Forever by Robert Munsch, The Big Friendly Giant by Roald Dahl, and Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmens

37: Top 3 accents to hear - Australian, super poshy british accent, new zealand accent

38: Top 3 scents - Fresh rain, vanilla, sweet cinnamon pumpkin from bath and body works

39: Top 3 "Friends" quotes - "WE WERE ON A BREAK" -Ross, "Guess things were just going too well for me" -also ross, and "it's so exhausting waiting for death" - phoebe

40: Top 3 cupcake flavors - tbh I haven't tried that many cupcakes so your typical vanilla, chocolate, and Pink Lady Cupcake from Babycakes Cupcakery

41: Top 3 fruits - Pomegranates, Strawberries, Raspberries

42: Top 3 places you've had amazing pizza from - Pizzahut, Dominos, Pizza73

43: Top 3 sports teams to watch - i don't

44: Top 3 crayola colors - uh, i guess red, purple, and pink??

45: Top 3 things you hope to accomplish in college - Certificates/Degrees in Copyediting and Creative Writing, and I think simply just deeper critical thinking skills when it comes to writing and books

46: Top 3 fanfictions you've read - I read more books than fanfics, I've read a couple on tumblr but don't remember the names sorry :/

47: Top 3 people you miss right now - my dad, my best friend bc she's in vancouver, taylor swift bc she's not on tumblr anymore rip

48: Top 3 fears - Failure, Loss, not achieving anything in life/not reaching my full potential

49: Top 3 favorite literary devices - Foreshadowing is always god tier, cliffhangers although evil i love those too, symbolism

50: Top 3 pet peeves - People dragging their shoes on the floor when they walk, when you tell someone your fav hobby/music artist/interest and they immediately go 'oh I hate X!', and people who go 'you're so quiet!!!' but in a way that draws in more attention and/or makes me feel more uncomfortable like i would literally rather die

51: Top 3 physical things you find attractive - Hands, nice hair, defined jawlines

52: Top 3 bad habits - Nailbiting, picking at my blemishes oops, lip biting

53: Top 3 pets you've had/wish to have - Cats bc they complete me, I've always wanted a Samoyed, and I've always wanted a turtle

54: Top 3 types of foreign food - Chicken Chow Mein, deep fried shrimp, japanese chicken wings

55: Top 3 things you want to say to someone in your lifetime - 'I quit', 'I love you', 'you changed my life'

56: Top 3 dog breeds - Samoyed, german shepherds, collies

57: Top 3 cheesy romance movies - You've Got Mail, How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, 10 Things I Hate About You

58: Top 3 languages you speak/wish to speak - French, Sign, and maybe Japanese?

59: Top 3 series (book, movie, television) - The Cruel Prince series by Holly Black, A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas (but literally only for Cassian and Nesta), From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L Armentrout

60: Top 3 pizza toppings - Mushrooms, alfredo sauce, pineapple

61: Top 3 youtubers you're subscribed to - Game Grumps, Charlotte Dobre, Megan Batoon

62: Top 3 tattoo / piercing ideas - I want to get a tattoo on my wrist of the last thing my dad ever wrote me, a hummingbird tattoo right next to it, and then a cross on my index finger

63: Top 3 awards you want to win - National Book Awards, Nobel Prize, and maybe even Goodreads Choice Awards lol

64: Top 3 emojis - Laugh/Crying emoji, the please sir emoji that kinda gives off those puss n boots eyes, and the stars emoji

65: Top 3 cars you dream of owning - 1970s Chev Impala, tbh a cute little Hyundai Venue, and maaaaybe the 1964 ferarri 250 gt luso (idk if that name was totally right but i had to do tons of googling to find it. i don't know a lot about cars and i don't really have a top 3 lol)

66: Top 3 authors - Right now I'm really into Sarah J Maas, Sally Thorne, and Holly Black maybe?

67: Top 3 historical figures - Jesus, Anne Frank, Vincent Van Gogh

68: Top 3 baby names - Ryder, Leila, Gracie

69: Top 3 DIYs - Candles, refurnishing old furniture (i.e. my mom and i painted our wooden garbage can), and really just any type of autumn diy

70: Top 3 smoothie combos/flavors - Strawberry/Banana, Mango, Strawberry-Mango

71: Top 3 songs of this month - Happier Than Ever by Billie Eilish, Biblical by Calum Scott, and Visiting Hours by Ed Sheeran

72: Top 3 questions of this post you want to be asked - I did them all bc I made it a survey instead of an ask meme ;)

73: Top 3 villains - Regina/The Evil Queen from Once Upon a Time, Cruella De Vil, and Moriarty from Sherlock

74: Top 3 Cities you want to see - Montreal, NYC, Vancouver (honorable mention: LA)

75: Top 3 recipes you want to try - different kind of salad and/or burger bowls, Stuffed bell peppers, and homemade lemon loaf

76: Top 3 dream jobs - Bestselling author, the person who runs a companies social media accounts, youtuber/blogger

77: Top 3 lucky items - tbh don't have one

78: Top 3 traditions you have - Christmas Eve Service and if I don't go to that at least incorporating reading the christmas story on christmas day or eve, idk if this counts as tradition but going to the corn maze every fall, and whenever it's easter/christmas/thanksgiving we always have a big meal w/ family

79: Top 3 things you miss about being a kid - reckless abandon, dreaming about growing up with hopefulness and no dashed hopes, experiencing holidays like halloween and christmas as a kid

80: Top 3 harry potter characters - I've never read or watched Harry Potter rip (ok well i saw the first and second (and maybe third?) movie in the sixth grade I think) but I think I really liked Hermoine, Harry obviously and Dobby

81: Top 3 lies you were told - i don't have 3, but this one has a story but basically when my sister and i were in elementary school my sister got hit by a car and so the insurance thing was that she would recieve 10k when she was 18 and as a child i thought that was unfair so my dad told me that my sister had to split it with me when we were 18 lmao obviously that didn't happen (i think i realized that wasn't true in middle school)

82: Top 3 pictures in your camera roll right now - Pictures of my cat, one of my sister in a hilarious filter, and a picture of my rocking my TS merch

83: Top 3 turn ons - Kindness, defined jawline, easy going

84: Top 3 turn offs - arrogance, unkempt, super loud and obnoxious

85: Top 3 magazines/news papers/ journals to read - I don't read much of those so I'll tell you some sites I love for writing purpose's: there's Wellstoried, justwriterlythings, springhole.net (which is filled with generators if you're stuck and also tons of infomation and advice)

86: Top 3 things you wish you had known earlier - that toad in Mario Party was wearing a mushroom hat and that it is actually not his head, that immaculate means 'clean' before i misused that word like several times over the years, and that the one turn i always take on my way to work where i thought everyone didn't know how to drive was actually bc i didn't have the right of way rip me

87: Top 3 spongebob episodes - the one episode where spongebob and patrick find a ghost ship, that one episode where they form a bikini bottom band and perform it at a football game in a little fish tank, and the one episode where squidward has his first snowball fight

88: Top 3 places to be in the world - I'd love to be in NYC, Montreal, or Hawaii

89: Top 3 things you'd do differently - I would not have applied for RDC, similarly I should have just paid the 500 dollars to the one certificate program I wanted to do instead of overthinking it, and I wish I wouldn't have ended a friendship the way I did

90: Top 3 TV shows from your childhood - Spongebob Squarepants, That's So Raven, and Hannah Montana

91: Top 3 meals you love - Turkey Burgers, Chilli, and Instant Pot Chicken Tortilla Soup

92: Top 3 kinds of tea - i don't drink tea

93: Top 3 embarrassing moments - one time in sixth grade I tripped and fell right on my face in front of my crush, this other time like a couple years ago i opened the door to my car and only realized much too late while i was staring at this random family that it was not my car, and when i went to the gas station to get gas and couldn't get my gas lid on my car opened and this guy had to help me which was already embarrassing enough but then the gas pump wouldn't work so i had to go inside to pay just to realize i forgot my wallet and had to shamefully walk back to my car and then run back inside the convenience store and then pay and then walk back to my car and finally fill my tank.

94: Top 3 holidays to celebrate - Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving

95: Top 3 things to do in the rain - have an existential crisis, pretend you're in a music video, walk through puddles like you're six again

96: Top 3 things to do in the snow - Sledding, Build a snowman, shovel it even tho you don't want to

97: Top 3 items you can't leave the house w/o - phone, keys, wallet

98: Top 3 movies you'd like to see - Jurassic World 3, Hotel Transylvania: Transformania bc i'm a child, and the animation of the addams family

99: Top 3 art mediums - Writing fiction/poetry, painting, music

100: Top 3 museums you've been to - Royal Tyrell Museum, Canadian History one in edmonton lol, and heritage park in calgary

101: Top 3 school memories - Middle school dances when the popular kids would grind to the song "Low" which was always an interesting experience, in the twelfth grade at winter formal when we all shouted "SHUT UP AND DANCE!" at the same time when they played Shut Up and Dance, and the day i left

102: Top 3 things you don't/Won't miss - School, my sisters ex, 2016 bc she was a rough year yikes

103: Top 3 pick up lines - "My name is Will. God's Will.", "I'd like to take you to the movies but they don't like you bring your own snacks", "are you from tennessee bc you're the only 10 i see"

104: Top 3 sports to watch - none of them

105: Top 3 taylor swift songs - all too well - exile - coney island

#survey

[romewritingshop]

Universal Words Chapter Two: Introductions

Fandom: Narcos

Relationship: Priya Srivastav (Indian OFC) X Javier Peña

Warnings: None

Word Count Total: 3005

Summary: Priya Srivastav is an uneducated housewife who decides to take English classes at the behest of her sister. Coming to the classes, she is drawn in by another class fellow, a mysterious withdrawn writer by the name of Javier Peña. As sessions go on, Javier and Priya learn more about one another and discover a new form of communication.

A/N: This is a fic where multiple characters speak different languages so the words highlighted in bold indicate the character is talking in another language.

Universal Words Masterlist

Tagged: @tiffdawg​ @storiesofthefandomlovers​ @arrowswithwifi​

56 Bleeker Street, NY LANGUAGE CENTRE

Priya glanced at the paper before looking up at the street sign. It pointed in many directions and the words just didn't make sense. The roads in Delhi were much more simple to follow, New York just loved complicating things. She walked down a street, watching the tall buildings loom over her with distaste for uncertainty. She really felt uncomfortable and she should have taken Meena's offer. However, since she was going to be making her own way there she better figure out the route herself, and what better time to start than now. Priya left an hour early so she could reach the class early. There were two kind passersby that directed her in the right direction. 

She did remember one thing from Meena’s instruction:

The building with flags in front.

Sure enough, she noticed a tall structure that had cream walls and a bunch of flags around the entrance of the door. She hoped it was the right one as she walked in through the doors and came face to face with a woman sitting at a desk behind a computer. The woman was typing rapidly to book classes for ESOL students when she spotted an Indian woman out of the corner of her eye. The receptionist pushed her chair back and stood up to welcome the woman.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“English class, today?”

“Yes we have different classes for different levels. Which one would you like to enrol in?”

Priya looked down at her paper and handed it to the woman, who read through the paper. She was tall and elegant with perfectly manicured nails. A minute later the woman turned to Priya with a big smile and gave a nod, walking around the desk.

“Lemme take you to your class. Follow me.”

The woman walks away from Priya to an elevator, holding the door open for her to stand in. She pressed a button and a few minutes later, the doors open to the floor as the woman struts out full of confidence. Priya could not get over her stylish high heels and tall stature as Priya walked through a corridor of glass walls before the woman stopped by a door, knocking and then pushing it open to let Priya in. An older man dressed in a navy sweater smiles kindly at Priya.

“Alex. I have another person for your class today.”

“Thanks, Theresa. Hello, come in and take a seat.”

Priya gives a nod and takes the seat and desk closest to the door. The teacher, Alex seemed like a jovial soul as he put down a paper and perched his glasses on his nose. She noticed several people in the class as Alex began. He had a loud voice and the way he spoke was clear to understand, somehow Priya felt like she could understand everything Alex was saying.

“Hello everyone. I’m Alex and I’ll be teaching you English for the next three months. Today we’ll just introduce ourselves and get to know one another. You’ll be working together over the next few months. Let’s start off at the back and make our way around. So what’s your name, where are you from and what does English mean to you? Try to speak in English so I know what I’m working with.”

Everyone turned to the direction of a young black man who sat stoic and steely. He sat up slightly and cleared his throat.

“Me, Bonginkosi Komi. I from Lesotho. I work in shop, sell clothes. Macy’s. And I study in school. I want be a painter. Like Van Gogh. He very good painter. Me want be like him.”

Alex had a kind smile as he gave a nod of appreciation to Bonginkosi. He was a young kid that had big dreams and aspirations and Alex was going to do his best to make sure that Bonginkosi became a painter.

“Sounds really great, Bongkosi -”

“Bonginkosi, sir!”

“Sorry, Bonginkosi. And why do you want to learn English?”

“I learn English to tell people my art. Why it good and why I paint picture.”

“So you want to tell people what painting means to you and how you made the picture.”

“Yes.”

Alex gave a nod and thanked Bonginkosi for his introduction. Moving on to the next few people and Priya was fascinated. There was Helena, who was from Portugal. She’s a nanny for a family and wants to learn English so the baby learns English. It made Priya and Alex smile as the next person introduced themselves as Ali Rehman. He’s from Pakistan and he drives a cab, his reason for learning English was because ‘Pakistani girls marry foreigners, who speak English’. The next person was Ouchi Kasumi, she was Japanese and a hairdresser. Learning English would help her start her own hair salon and Alex called her an ‘entrepreneur’. Priya felt close to all of these people as Alex turned to the next person.

Priya glanced around the person next to her, recognising the familiar moustache and crooked nose. The man from the coffee shop as her eyes drifted over him. He was dressed in a blue button shirt, dark jeans and black leather jacket that made him seem distinguished.

“I’m Javier Peña. I’m from Texas and … I write.”

“A writer?”

“Si. Yes. I learn English to write English, not Español.”

Javier was his name as Priya repeated it to herself, loving the way he said his name. He was compelling as Priya noted he had the same leather bound journal on his table. He probably did writing in that journal and Priya wanted to read his work. The next person introduced himself as Vijaynath Iyer and he was a software engineer. He was learning English so he could better communicate with his colleagues. 

“And finally we come to the lady in the blue saree.”

Finally it came to Priya as Javier turned to face her and he was still. It was the woman that bumped into him in the coffee shop, as he took in her blue dress, and plain face. There was something about her that made Javier just want to watch her for a long time. Priya drew her eyes from Javier and turned to Alex, who was giving her a warm encouraging smile.

“I Priya Srivastav and I no work. I am mom to little boy. I learn English to get job like you Alex.”

“Like me? A teacher?”

“Yes, but I one plus one.”

“Oh, maths teacher! Well hopefully you can teach us something about maths.”

Priya gave a nod and turned towards Javier, who looked down at his journal, paying attention to an imaginary scuff mark on his journal. She had a kid as Javier tried to push out the thoughts of knowing her. She probably had a husband so Javier didn’t want to get his hopes up. Then Javier blinked at the odd barrage of thoughts, why was he thinking of her romantically when he only just met her. She was just a woman in his class. A pretty woman. Alex began with the lesson.

“So now that we all know each other, I’m gonna point at one of you to talk about another person in the class and so on. That way, you’ll remember names and faces well. So I’ll start: You are Vijnath Iyer and you are a software engineer. Vijaynath you choose to introduce someone in the class.”

Alex was engaging everyone to learn the personalities of their classmates as Priya laughed with joy. She couldn’t understand her hesitation towards the class but she was finally glad she did. After several icebreakers, Alex gave them homework to bring their favourite books and then class was finally dismissed. Priya took a note of where her classroom was and the floor it was on before joining the others in the elevator.

They all talked about how good Alex was and how they were excited to be learning English. Javier was in the elevator with them but he didn’t say anything as Priya watched his stone cold face. She sensed something was bugging him and she wanted to approach him but the elevator stopped and Javier stormed away before anyone could call after him. What made him so angry? Even the other people noted there was something off but then brushed it off as they all came out the building. Ali, Ouchi, Bonginkosi and Vijaynath went the opposite way as the four of them had to go to work. Helena and Priya walked in the same direction and the both of them talked.

Helena was a passionate person as she talked about Portugal and her family. Four sisters and two brothers which impressed Priya. Priya talked about her sister, brother-in-law and son but omitted details about Amit. She wasn’t ready to open that wound yet. It wasn’t long when Helena had to break off from their route to another crossing, they greeted farewell and exchanged phone numbers so they could help one another in English. Priya felt her heart was lighter and there was a bounce in her step as she took in where she was. 

It was the road to the coffee shop where Pooja works and Priya just had to visit her. So she stepped into the cosy coffee shop and spotted Pooja wiping down a table. Priya stood a little distance away from her and cleared her throat to get Pooja’s attention. Pooja turned back to see her customer from last week and smiled.

“Hello again. Back to meet someone else or to get another coffee?”

“Meet someone. I came to see you and say thank you.”

Pooja raised an eyebrow as she tucked the dirt cloth into her apron to take in the customer.

“Thank you for what?”

“Your words encouraged me to take an English class. I had my first lesson today and now I can introduce myself to you.” Priya cleared her throat and stood straight with confidence. "Hello. My name is Priya Srivastav."

Pooja smiled and pushed her hand out but Priya was unsure of the gesture.

"You shake hands when you introduce yourself to someone." Priya gave a smile and took Pooja's hand. It felt soft and warm as Pooja grasped Priya's hand firmly.

"Hello Priya. I'm Pooja Shrestha."

~~~~~~

The next day, after getting Radha and Jignesh ready for school, Priya got ready in a yellow saree and made her way to the language centre. She was pretty confident on her route as she took the subway to the city and walked for about ten minutes, near the coffee shop. She lingered near it bouncing from foot to foot. Javier seemed upset, she wasn't sure why but she wanted to make the first gesture of friendship. After debating she decided to go in and get a coffee for Javier.

It’s September time and it was slightly chilly so she was lucky to remember taking a beige trench jacket. Coffee was a good idea because it would keep herself and Javier warm against the cold, and maybe make him a little more happier in class. Pooja wasn’t in but her work friend recognised Priya, a tall man with long dark hair and stunning blue eyes. He must be a model because Priya couldn’t take her eyes off him as the man stood in front of her with a smile. It was a little quieter in the cafe so Priya could take all the time she needed to understand the menu and order.

“Hi, you’re Pooja’s customer, right?” Priya gave a nod as the man gestured at his name tag. “I’m Daniel. Pooja’s friend.”

“Hello. I’m Priya.”

“Pooja told me to get you to try a new drink. Want something new or same as last time?”

Last time she remembered that Pooja offered her a chai latte which was nothing like chai. Hopefully Daniel had a better option but she was also getting a drink for Javier. Hopefully he likes surprises.

“Strong coffee.”

“I know just what to make you.”

“Two coffee.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, curious at who this second cup was for but it was nothing to do with him. He acquiesced, taking the payment and setting to work to make espressos, with a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg because it was a cold autumn and hot spiced drinks are in season. Plus, Priya seemed like the type of person who’d enjoy a spiced hot drink.

“Two espressos. It’s hot and good for cold weather.”

Priya thanked Daniel for his suggestion, taking the two takeaway cups to her class, feeling a little better. A few minutes later, she entered the building and took the elevator to her class, walking along and entering the class. Alex was there as he smiled at her.

“Hello Priya. Take a seat and we’ll start in a few minutes.”

She looked around to see everyone there, except for Javier and Bonginkosi. Helena was at the back, waving at her to come sit next to her which Priya did, placing the cups on her desk as her eyes wandered over the class door. Anxiously wondering if Javier would come and Helena noticed this anxious concern. She nudged her elbow as if to ask Priya what she was waiting for. Priya shook her head as Bonginkosi came into class and took a seat at the front, meaning the empty chair next to her would be where Javier would sit.

Priya placed the cup on the center of the empty desk and got out a notebook and pen to take notes for today’s first lesson. Alex put down the lesson plan he was going over when Javier came through the door looking slightly flushed as if he was running. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to him as Javier’s eyes drew to Priya, who dressed in a mustard yellow Indian dress. It brought a glow to her brown skin and Javier felt the breath in his lungs sweeten with sugar.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay Javier. Take a seat, we are just about to start.”

The only empty seat was next to her as his heart thundered loudly against his ribs but he needed to suck it up. She was just his classmate as he skirted along the walls of the class and to take the seat next to hers when he noticed a takeaway coffee cup on his table. It was from Starbucks as his eyes discreetly went to Priya’s desk, noting she too had the same coffee cup. Did she buy it for him? He sat down and took out his leather bound journal and pen, his eyes staring down at the cup.

Priya didn’t want to seem obvious but she could tell Javier was perturbed from the coffee cup on his desk and she wondered if it was the right choice. He seemed so upset the previous day and she hoped her gesture of coffee would make him feel good or even welcome to the class. Javier brought his eyes over Priya, who was focused on taking notes and listening to Alex. She was kind and considerate and the way he stormed out of class yesterday was not the right first impression.

Steam was tiptoeing out of the cup and he made the best choice by wrapping his hand around the slightly tepid cup and bringing it to his lips. The rich coffee burst with notes of cinnamon and nutmeg and it took him by surprise as she got him his favourite coffee albeit with a twist of spices. She was smiling at him and Javier couldn’t help but smile back as a silent gesture of appreciation. The both of them were now turning their attention to Alex, who was going through grammar and pronunciation.

After class ended, everyone headed to the elevator to get going to their jobs and or home. Priya and Javi let the other people go in the elevator first before they then went in, standing peacefully as the elevator began its descent. She noticed that Javier was wearing a red shirt which made him look robust and suave. He held his journal in one hand and the coffee cup in the other as they moved their eyes over each other and away.

“Thank you.” Priya was taken aback as she turned her gaze to Javier, internally gasping at his sincere facial expression. He shook the coffee cup and Priya smiled softly as a way to accept his gratitude. “Good coffee. I like. Is espresso?”

“Yes. At cafe, they choose it. I buy one for you. Yesterday you sad so coffee make you happy.”

Javier’s lips quirked upwards at her concern for him. Part of him was trying to remember the fact that she had a kid and that she was married but it was a distant thought that had no importance. In this moment, he saw a simple woman that bought him coffee. Priya liked his bashfulness and his soft direct tone.

“You like espresso?”

The drink was nice and strong, it woke her up and made her focus in class a little more stronger, however it was too bitter for her taste and part of her wanted to tell Javier it was nice so that they had something in common but the truth was, was that she did not like espresso.

“No. Too -” She stuck her tongue out and Javier understood that it was too bitter for her. His heart and cheeks warmed even more at the fact that she got a coffee for his tastes and disregarded her own. He had to offer her a cup, it was the least he could do and it was an opportunity for him to get to know her more.

“Ah. Can I buy coffee? For you?”

“For me? Now?”

“Tomorrow.”

He hoped she would accept his offer as they had now stepped out of the building and stood on the sidewalk, oblivious to people around them strutting by.

“Yes Javier. One coffee tomorrow. No espresso.”

“No espresso.”

CHAPTER THREE: NEW EXPERIENCES

#javier pena #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction

[profiler-in-courage]

I need to write more of the serial killer angle but Emerson and Gwyn are just so fun

Chapter 4.

So he comes from money, Gwyn thought as she rode in his 1960s sports car.

A detective’s pay certainly wouldn’t cover this and he didn’t seem like the type of man to use his dead wife’s life insurance money to buy a car.

No. He grew up wealthy. Though you would never know if you never saw what he drove.

Was it smart to give a man she had just met her address? No. But she trusted him. So far.

And in any case. She knew how to defend herself if it came to that. The purse she had noticed him assessing had a knife and pepper spray nestled safety within its folds.

One could never be too careful. Especially now.

Gwyn glanced over at him as they weaved through late afternoon traffic. A strand of his hair was coming out of place, curling just above his forehead.

If they knew each other better she would reach over and brush it away. But it was too early for that, though she did have the urge.

Emerson could feel her staring.

“Have you lived in Creekmore long?” he asked.

“Would you consider 33 years long?” she answered.

Emerson smiled, “Not terribly.”

Gwyn looked at him, “You’re funny.”

Emerson glanced over at her, “Am I?”

“Mmhmm,” she grinned.

They pulled up to Gwyn’s apartment complex. It was tucked away on the edge of downtown Creekmore.

“Mine is the bottom one right here. Number 12,” she said, pointing to a brick building with steps leading to a painted white door.

Emerson pulled up along the curb.

“So, what’s my rating?” he asked, tilting his head to her.

She pursed her lips in thought, “It’s rare I give five stars but I would say you have more than earned them.”

Emerson put a hand to his chest, “Phew.”

Gwyn laughed. They sat there smiling at each other for a moment.

“Would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked.

Emerson ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it to the side.

He did want to come in. But he didn’t drink. He also should be getting down to the precinct. There were two freshly dead 15 year old girls after all.

Gwyn looked hopeful sitting there waiting for his response.

Burnham could handle things for another hour or so.

“I’d love to,” he said.

He followed her up the steps and into her apartment.

It was a nice place. Minimal in design. The living room open with the kitchen area. His boots clicked on the hardwood floor.

Emerson noticed multiple abstract paintings adorning her walls along with a few black and white portraits.

Over coffee she had told him she was a painter. He wondered if the art was original.

“Did you paint these?” he asked, pointing to the frames.

She hung her purse on a coat hanger by the door.

“Oh god no. I would never hang my own work up. I’d feel like an asshole.”

Clearly Emerson didn’t know artist code.

“Pick your poison,” Gwyn said, motioning to a silver bar cart along the living room wall.

Emerson scratched the side of his head, “Well actually...I don’t drink. Water would be fine.”

He felt slightly embarrassed.

“If you didn’t want to come in you could have said no. My ego could have handled it,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

Emerson shook his head, “No I wanted to come in. I just haven’t drank in years.”

“I wanted to spend more time with you,” he continued.

Was this weird? Did he overstep a boundary?

He frowned, waiting for an uncomfortable silence that didn’t come.

“Oh. Well in that case I have the best water in town,” she said, spinning towards her fridge.

Emerson smiled softly.

“You can sit down you know. The couch isn't just for decoration,” Gywn joked.

Emerson realized he’d just been standing in the middle of her living room. He took a seat on the cool leather.

He glanced down at the glass coffee table in front of him. Books on Van Gogh and Da Vinci decorated it.

Gwyn sat down beside him, placing two ice waters on coasters.

“You could have had a drink. I don’t mind,” said Emerson looking over at the lonely bar cart.

Gwyn leaned back into the couch, resting her arm at the top.

“I rarely drink, and when I do it’s usually because my paintings aren’t turning out how I want them.”

This was the part where most of her Tinder dates had tried to make a move. Scooting closer to her, outwardly kissing her, touching her leg, men were all the same.

Though Emerson made no advance.

Curious, she thought.

Instead he sipped his water and joined her relaxed posture. He left just enough space between their hands that they weren’t touching.

She concentrated on him as he asked more about her art. What style she painted in, if she sold it, where she sold it?

Was he genuinely interested in her?

She thought he had failed the test when he accepted her offer to come inside. That was always where men failed.

Her previous dates had thought an invitation inside meant something more. When in actuality she was seeing which ones were gentlemen and which ones weren’t.

Creekmore was apparently lacking in gentlemen. This detective however seemed to be an exception.

Art was what Gwyn loved. It was her passion. It was refreshing to be answering the questions of someone who wanted to know the answers.

She told him about her art school, her dropout, her second art school, her internships, and her first commissioned piece. She told him about the first few years of eating Ramen noodles every night and the day she finally sold a painting for more than a year’s rent.

And he listened. She was sure that if she gave him a quiz at the end he would pass.

Emerson watched Gwyn intently as she explained her career.

He watched the way her mouth twitched right before she was about to smirk. The way she talked with her hands when explaining something that had an emotional memory attached to it.

He ran his eyes along her face. Tracing it, then moving down her body to the tip of her black Chelsea boots.

He quickly met her gaze again.

“Now, think you can pass the test?” she asked.

Emerson made a face, “What?”

“I want to know that you were actually listening to all that?” she said, sipping her water.

Emerson held out his hand, motioning for her to proceed.

“Where did I go to college?”

He took a drink, waiting for just a moment.

“New York on your first go-round. Then Vermont,” he said, hiding a smile behind his cup.

Gwyn lifted her head in approval.

“What was my first commissioned piece?”

He smoothed the leather at the top of the couch with his thumb.

“It was an abstract painting. A splatter of pastel colors,” he answered.

“I wouldn’t quite call it a splatter but…” she teased.

Emerson grinned, he liked her more and more with each passing second.

Alright, he passed, she thought.

Gwyn clenched her jaw to hide a smile. She would have to be careful around him.

She realized that for the majority of the day they had been talking about her. She knew little things about the man sitting across from her, favorite book etc., but nothing heavy.

To ask about his dead ex or not? Maybe that was a conversation for another time.

“So Emerson, what makes you happy?”

He rested his chin on his palm, pondering.

What does make me happy? he thought.

“My sister and my niece,” he answered. “They are wonderful. And the only family I have left.”

“Oh?” asked Gwyn.

“My parents died a few years ago, a car accident,” said Emerson.

Gwyn saw the flicker of sadness in his eyes. He couldn’t hide it.

“But my sister and Abigail, my niece, are amazing,” he continued. “I spend a lot of time with them.”

Gwyn smiled tenderly.

“How old is your niece?” she asked.

“Sixteen and she doesn’t let you forget it,” Emerson scoffed.

Gwyn nodded in understanding, “That’s usually how teenagers are.”

Emerson pursed his lips in agreement.

“I um…I actually would not have met you had it not been for Abigail,” he said.

Should he admit he downloaded Tinder at the behest of a 16 year old girl? It was however, the truth.

“Why’s that?” asked Gwyn, tilting her head.

Emerson ran a hand through his hair and set his now empty glass on the coffee table.

“She made me download Tinder. She told me, and I quote, ‘Quit being a stereotypical lonely detective and get yourself a love interest’.”

Gwyn let out a hearty laugh and he began to chuckle as well.

“Well I suppose I might have to thank her one day,” she winked.

Emerson nodded slowly in agreement, the hint of a smile forming.

“Would you like another glass?” said Gwyn, motioning to his empty cup.

He stood, “Actually I should get down to the precinct. I’m sure you’ve seen the headlines recently...”

He hated that he was having to leave. He didn’t want to. But he did have a job to do. An important one.

Gwyn’s face went pale, “Yes I have. To think that’s happening in Creekmore is unnerving.”

She walked him to the door, he paused on the first step, turning to look back at her.

“Would it be too forward to ask to see you again tomorrow night?” he uttered.

Gwyn leaned on the door frame, looking at Emerson fondly.

It was at this moment that he had the urge to kiss her. And it surprised him. She had completely captivated him for the hours they had spent together.

Might want to wait until she answers, he thought.

“Tomorrow night sounds good,” she answered.

He walked the few steps back over to her, leaned his head down and kissed her on the cheek, his lips barely grazing her skin.

“Thank you for the best water in town,” he whispered.

Her eyes flipped up to his, “You’re very welcome.”

Emerson sauntered down the steps, his heart racing. A grin was tearing its way across his face.

#claes bang #these two are distracting me

[winn-schott-imagines]

So here is the 5 times Alex hugged Winn, and the 1 time he surprised himself.

Given his past it wasn’t a surprise for anyone that Winn wasn’t a touchy person. It took him a long time to get used to everyday touches, such as pats on the shoulders; playful nudges, but his biggest enemies were hugs. In the beginning he couldn’t stand them, he wasn’t used to getting them, thanks to his parents and foster parents. When he and Kara became friends it took him months to get comfortable with it, but after sometime he even began enjoying them.  But he never give hug to anyone, it was always the other person who hugged first. The only time he defied that rule was when he hugged Superman, but since he didn’t know the basic rules of giving hugs it turned out to be really awkward. He stopped trying then.

After a year of the forming of the Superfriends he wasn’t even surprised by getting hugs. Or so he thought, but then Alex (aka the least touchy person in history according to him) gave him a hug and he was confused once again.

So here is the 5 times Alex hugged Winn, and the 1 time he surprised himself.

1. When Kara woke up from the Black Mercy’s dream

Alex watched as her little sister woke up, she was sad and confused, but most of all, hurt. She itched to hug her, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. Soon a new emotion appeared in her eyes anger, a moment later she was out of the window, looking for Non.

People began to leave the room, first Max, then James and J’onn, only Winn lingered around in the room, looking lost and somewhat scared. She figured he was feeling the aftershock of the situation, the realisation sinking in, and the heart-rending dread leaving his body.

They weren’t close, sure they were friends, but the only reason they knew each other, and talked to each another was Kara. She doubted that, they have ever spoken about anything that wasn’t linked to Kara.

But now looking at him, seeing how miserable he looked, she couldn’t help but to feel sorry for the man. After all, he had just unburied some life-long traumas and got kidnapped less than a week ago, plus he was rejected by his crush, the very same person, who almost died in front of him less than 10 minutes ago. It was obvious he still had feelings for her, but he kept them at bay, he didn’t force himself on her which Alex respected. She has known many men with less of a spine.

The thing is, The-Big-Sister-Instinct is not something that you can just turn off. She couldn’t comfort Kara, and it was bothering her, like an angry itch. And Winn was looking like a kicked puppy. She couldn’t stop herself. She enveloped him into a hug, he froze immediately, and it took him a good 15 second the hug her back. They stayed like that for a bit, she couldn’t tell if he was grateful or confused, probably both, but she didn’t care.

Soon she let him go smiled at him, and left the room. From the doorstep, however, she turned her head back a bit, and said:

“Be at Kara’s apartment in 15 minutes, we need to clean that mess up.”

And with that she left, leaving him behind with a surprised expression written all over his face.

2. When Jeremiah betrayed them

When Winn and Mon-el first told her their allegation she was furious. She was hurt by the idea, and the fact that her friends could have thought of something like that. And then Kara too, it was ridiculous.

But then she heard the fight over the coms and when they got back, they saw and injured Winn and J’onn and her father gone. She felt guilty deep down, but she still had hope. She hoped that there was an explanation and her father was still a good man.

They chased him, they talked and then he was gone again. She couldn’t shoot him, she couldn’t. She cried her eyes out in the forest alone, and when the tears dried she headed back to the DEO to act like she always did, unaffected and strong.

J’onn was better, he healed fast. She talked to her mother, she took it well, or more likely masked her pain well. Eliza went home, said she go to bed early. Alex however stayed for a bit longer. She didn’t wanted to go home, instead she tried to bury herself into work, but there wasn’t much to do. She wandered around aimlessly for while. From the corner of her eyes she still saw Winn holding his neck and grimacing in pain. Guilt flowed through her. It wasn’t her fault, she knew that, but somehow it still was. She started to walk towards him, at first she didn’t even know what she wanted from, forgiving? Nahh, it was that, in a strange way, she hoped he could understand her.

“Hey, Winn!” he turned around fast, with a surprised expression.

“Alex?” his expression changed from startled to understanding. “How are you doing?”

“Good, good”

“You don’t have to…” he started to say, but he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. You don’t have to be alright? You don’t have to pretended? He meant all of them, but saying them out loud just seemed like a bad idea.

Even with the missing parts, she got the message, and the way he said it, the way he looked just made her eyes tear up. She didn’t wanted to cry now, she came here to apologize after all.

“I just wanted to say, I am sorry that he hurt you, and that I didn’t listen to you,” She said in hurried tone and started to fast-walk away. But he knew better than to let her do that.

“Uhmmm… You know what! I will forgive you, but only if you drink with me!” his tone was playful, but in the same time had some depth in it.

5 minutes later they were sitting in an empty room with beers in their hands. They didn’t say a thing, neither of them knew what the right words would be. Finally Winn broke the silence.

“You know, you can always talk to me about it.” All the response he received to that was a groan. “You know that, I am far too familiar with you situation.”

She looked up at that, she felt like she knows the answer, but it have just escaped her mind. At her questioning face, he laughed.

“Ah, come on! Don’t give me that look! You are talking to the President of the My Relative Is A Villain Club!”

“The what?”

“Well, it is a rather small club. It just me and Lena Luthor, but sometime Kara too, I mean Astra is a relative, but not a really close one. But you have definitely earned the right to join us!” They were laughing now. It was absurd and in a morbid way, hilarious.

“No, but seriously, I know where you are coming from. I mean, when my dad was first brought into questioning, I was sure he had nothing to do with it. Then the weeks passed and he changed, it was obvious he did it, but I still believed in his innocence. I hoped even when the FBI showed up on our doorstep, dragging him away. I gave up on him when he blew up an agent in our front yard. I spent months feeling guilty for being his son, and for not hating him. I tried so hard to hate him in the beginning, I just couldn’t. Then 2 months later, when I was left in my first foster home I for the first time I loathed him.”

“Winn, I let him run away!” She didn’t know what made her confess it, but she felt like she will collapse under the burden. “I should have shot him! But I let him run away, I didn’t even fight him!”

“I know.”

“You knew?”

“Alex, there is no person on the earth who could run away from you, when you have gun with you. But don’t worry, we will find him.”

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“Less than a year ago, I watched as a bunch of FBI agents shoot him down, well not him, but in the moments I thought this is it, he is gone for ever, I felt sadness and pain. He is my father, even if I hate him, and he can’t die without causing me even more pain. You couldn’t shot your father for the same reason. Somewhere deep down, we will always hope, that we are wrong, and they were right.”

She was sobbing now, again. She cried because it hurt, but she was grateful, because he did understand her. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she threw herself on Winn, and hugged him. He returned the favor straight away. He comforted her, hold her and rubbed circles on her back to calm her down. They stayed like that for several minutes, until Alex didn’t feel better. She dried her tears said thank you, and left the DEO.

 3. when Lyra framed him

They have gotten closer to each other, actually she had adopted him to be her little brother. She didn’t tell him that, but it wasn’t needed, they joked, they teased, the bond was there between them even without naming it.

Maggie often called her, during work hours, for the most random of reasons, but this was by far the most unexpected one. When she said, Winn was brought in for stealing Starry Night, by Van Gogh, she laughed, she thought she was joking, but she wasn’t.

15 minutes later she and James stormed into the room, to see a pale and distressed Winn in a chair, across him Maggie and TV screen. It was obvious he was upset, angry but most scared. No surprise there after all, some of his worst memories were from the police questioning. When they left the station he took a deep breath, and some colour returned to his face. His hands were shaking, he tried to hide it, but didn’t succeed in doing so. She didn’t mention it, but made a mental note about it.

Things went downhill from there. The facts were, Lyra used Winn, framed him, and apparently never cared about him. Alex made another mental note, about Winn’s ‘bruises’, it seemed strange to her, why he used that word, he probably meant hickeys, right? In healthy relationship people do not receive bruises, you get those on the field, not in your home.

It took them an impressively short time to find out where Lyra was, they got there, they kicked ass and left with her in handcuffs with the painting in their hands. Alex didn’t hear the full conversation between Winn and Lyra in the trailer, but the look on his face said a thousands of words. He was betrayed and stabbed in the back, and now she twisted the knife his wound.

Lyra was taken to her cell, and Winn was left there in the headquarters staring after her. His expression was full of pain and hopelessness. She wasn’t telepathic like J’onn, but even she could hear his thoughts. All the rising self-doubt and shame too. He felt weak and defeated.

It was painful to see her little brother in such a state, and she wouldn’t allow him to be so sad. So she joined him and stood by his side for a couple of minutes.

“Why did she do it? Was all a set-up? Did she send those thugs after me, asked them to attack me, so she can save me?” he muttered. He wasn’t really talking to her, more like just said his thought put loud.

“It wasn’t your fault, Winn,” she said, and pulled him in for a hug. He responded straight away, holding her, like his life depended on her. And she let him, he deserved the comfort, he was put through so much pain and hurt in his life, he really deserved a stable loving relationship. And until the perfect girl comes his friends will have to do. 

4.  When Lyra showed her true face

After the art theft thing went back to normal in Winn’s and Lyra’s relationship. Alex often saw them together in the bar and other places too. They were sweet and she was happy for her little brother, but she always had a strange feeling about them. Like something was off. The bruises comment didn’t leave her alone,and when she looked at them for a long period of time, she noticed how possessive Lyra was. But she left those thoughts alone, because Winn radiated happiness.

Just like everyone else, she thought everything was fine with those two. And then Maggie came home with a troubled expression on her face. She said, she just came from the bar, asked if there has been any trouble lately, bar fights and such. She wrote some names, and then she heard a story, what she didn’t like not one bit. apparently, Winn broke some bad news to Lyra not so long ago, he even brought a present and her favorite drink, to wash away the bad taste of rejection (from the Guardian team). But even with his best efforts, Lyra was furious, she broke her present and her drink too. The bartender said, he was sure he would’ve had to step in soon, because the ‘lady’ looked like she will shatter the bottle on the poor lads head.

Alex had to sit down, she thought back to all the times she had seen those too together, at first she remembered how cute they were together. She was about to say, that is impossible, when the not so idyllic images filled her brain. When she hold Winn’s hand way stronger than appropriate, how she framed him, and attacked him later, how sometime Winn jumped, when he heard her voice.

“I have to go and talk to Winn,” Alex said, finally, and called Winn so the two can meet.

She ended up going to his place, because this wasn’t the chat they should have in the bar.

“Alex! Hey! What brings you here?” he asked smiling, his eyes filled with excitement. He reminded Alex of an over excited puppy.

“I am fine, I just wanted to talk to you. Are you alone?”

“Yes, yes Lyra left like 10 minutes ago. Come on in! Sorry for the mess, I was just about to clean up.” Winn said and went to the kitchen to fetch to beers. While he was gone, Alex looked around. The room was fine, sure there were some clothes lying around, but nothing too bad she thought when she first looked around, but when she looked around again, she noticed some unusual things. Such as the framed picture of his grandfather, lying on the ground broken. She knew how much he meant to Winn, he was the only one who have never left him down, he died before his son became the Toyman. There were books on the floor, like someone has throw them around.

She found it strange but, she tried to not to think to much into it. She was about to sit down, when she noticed something shiny on the floor. It was a glass fragment, green, looked like a shattered piece of a bottle of beer. Before she could continue her investigation, Winn appeared with 2 bottles.

“Here you go!”

“Thanks,” they clinked, and then drank.

“So, what did you wanted to talk about?”

“Uhmm I just wanted to ask how are thing going on with Lyra” She carefully watched his expression. He seemed startled, and then distressed, but soon he put on his usual smiley mask.

“Oh she is great. We are doing great! Yeah, it is cool all good” He lied terribly, his eyes darting around the room, and his hands holding the beer just a bit too tight. 

”And how is Maggie?”

“She is great, the other day we went on a date…” she started to talk about her hilarious date with Maggie, but only paying half a mind to what she was saying, the other half of his brain was checking Winn out, looking for injuries.

The first thing she noticed was that he was wearing his favourite MIT pullover. The pullover have always held a special place in his heart, he told her once. It was a habit of his she have noticed over the years. Whenever he was a bit hurt after a mission, felt stressed or uncomfortable, maybe sad he always wore this. Kara and Alex always said that it was his transferable safe-place. Seeing him in it meant that something was off, and the way he was playing with the sleeves meant that he was hiding something underneath it. The second thing out of place was the way he held himself. Winn never-ever hunched over, only when he was in trouble. Yes, something is definitely up with him, Alex thought.

“… so we had to leave the place, before the dessert. But no worries, we stopped by our favorite little café, to finish the perfect date.” She said, still studying Winn, this time his expression. He seemed somewhat jealous, like he wished he could have the same thing.

“That sounds amazing! Man, I am so happy for the two of you, if last year, someone have told me you will be well like this, I wouldn’t have believed it.” he said smiling 

“It is so good to see you so happy, you changed a lot Agent Danvers but t looks good on you”

“Ahh stop it!” she said and playfully punched him in the arm. 

For a second he grimaced in pain, but he covered it right up with a laugh, like nothing happened. But Alex Danvers is not someone you can fool so easily. 

“Winn, is everything okay?”

“Phfff, of course it is,” he said rolling his eyes and drinking from his bottle.

“Winn, is everything alright?” she said it in a different manner this time.

“Yes…” his voice trailed of and he stared in front of him, into nothingness.

“Winn, you know that you can tell me everything, right? You are not alone, because we are all here for you”

“Why are you telling me this? Why the sudden care?”

“Maggie heard a story from the bartender. He believes Lyra might be a threat for you.”

“That is ridiculous!” He was about to stand up, but Alex grabbed his hand.

“I think he is right. You are acting strangely, and I am worried about you, Maggie too.”

“But you have no reason to be worried. I am fine, and so is Lyra.”

“Then why did she broke that glass at the bar, earlier. Why does you room look like you were just cleaning up after a fight?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Books and broken glass on the floor, shattered pictures. You are in your comfort hoodie, and fidgeting constantly. Winn, I know you. I know that you wouldn’t let just anyone touch your Limited Edition Lord Of The Rings books, but now it is lying on the ground.”

“She might have a bit of an anger issue, but I am handling it, okay!” He was getting defensive. He reminded Alex to a spooked animal.

“Winn, having anger issues is not enough to justify abuse,” he doesn’t look up 

“Did she hurt you?”

“No...”

“Winn!”

“I have had worse okay, it is nothing I can’t live with!”

“Yes you CAN live with it, but you DON’T HAVE TO live with it! Winn, she hurt you! You don’t deserve that! You deserve to be happy in a HEALTHY relationship, but this is toxic.”

“It is not that bad, really…”

“Let me see! Please” she used her commanding voice, and started tugging at his pullover. They glared at each other for a bit, but he was no match for her. In an awfully slow pace he took of his pullover. He was sitting next to her in a T-shirt now, avoiding eye-contact. Alex gasped. His arms were covered with bruises of all colours and age. He even had a cut on his left bicep. His hands were shaking and his face was red with shame.

Alex didn’t knew what to say, she have lost her words. She knew what she will, but she didn’t expect it to be this bad. Tears filled her eyes and pulled him into a bear hug. She noticed how he flinched at first, but she didn’t let go.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We would have helped you,” she whispered to him, while trying her best to comfort him.

“I didn’t know that I needed help. I thought we were doing fine,” his voice broke, but he didn’t cry.

“Of course you need help! Everyone needs help when they get hurt.”

“But…” he didn’t want to say it out loud, ashamed for some reason. “I didn’t know…”

“You didn’t know what? That you weren’t supposed to be hurt?” She almost laughed at the idea, but then Winn nodded against her shoulders. This stunned her, she pulled away to look into his eyes, because he couldn’t have meant that, could he? But he did.

“Winn, you didn’t know? How didn’t you know? You are the smartest man, I have ever met. And you don’t know that, you shouldn’t be hurt by a loved one?”

“Well, it is not like I had many references to healthy relationships! How would have I known?”

“Well, your paren…”she didn’t finish the sentence, because the realisation hit her on the face. Winn couldn’t have know, his parents hurt him, his foster parents hurt him, and the only girlfriend of his, she knows about was Shioban, and she used him, and attacked him. He was never thought how love shouldn’t come with pain.

They sat in silence for a bit, then she hugged him again. This time it wasn’t a bone-crushing hug, more like a gentle hug. A hug that tried to shield him away from the devils of this world.

5. When he had a bad day, and she didn’t notice

When she waltzed into the med bay she didn’t expect to see her sister and Winn in there. They seemed to be in a middle of a pretty serious conversation. She couldn’t see Kara’s face, but Winn’s expression was literally screaming: UNCOMFORTABLE! HURT! SHAME!

“Hey, Winn, J’onn is looking for you. What are you guys doing up here?”

The air froze a bit before, Winn tried to lie, and failed. Seriously, he is the worst liar in the history of mankind. Kara left the room, without a word, and so the two of them were left alone. It was obvious that he was feeling uncomfortable, his rambling gave it straight away.

“Just a normal day in the DEO… Nothing abnormal happening here…” he said trying to act normal. TRYING.

Alex knew something happened, that she needed to know, and she will get the information. She put on her cold, but intimidating look and started to close in on him. He started to back away, still rambling, but the bed stopped him.

“I am going to tell you everything...”he gave up, which she rewarded with a smile. So he started telling the truth but not in his usual manner.

His eyes were darting around and his breathing was a bit uneven, he was stuttering, and he kept going off topic, before he collected himself and got back to where he was.

“She had an other attack… you know like a panic attack, about she thinks it wasn’t that, because she it stronger than that… Kara said she is getting stronger… but Psi wasn’t even in the building… I mean we would have know about her being there… and no one reported familiar effects… I don’t know…. ahhhh I think she had a panic attack, but apparently she is too strong for those… but i didn’t see anything on the scanner… but I don’t get it, I mean that was some trauma, she can react to that in a way like this, right?... “ don’t know why she keeps on denying it… it is nothing to be ashamed of right?.. i mean it is a human thing, but she is human enough… and it is a result of post-traumatic-stress… that is not the victim’s fault, right?... but she is stronger than that…..”

“Winn, Winn, hey! Slow down!” Alex have tried for a good minute to get his attention, but he kept on rambling, while taking panicked short gasps. He was fidgeting and his legs were bouncing up and down, with a speed that even Barry Allen would have been jealous of.

He was spiralling into a panic attack and she felt somewhat responsible. He hadn’t been the same since Lyra, he was more anxious and tense. She shouldn’t have cornered him, it was a mean move, she didn’t thought she would receive a reaction like this. Of course, her rational side knew she wasn’t the one to blame for this panic attack, but her sister, who is apparently too strong for those.   

“Winn, listen you need to breathe! Okay take deep breaths!” he still wasn’t paying attention to her, he is breathing became even worse. “Dammit… Winn! Winn!”

She knew it is a bad idea, but she was out of options, so she touched his shoulder. It worked, Winn looked at her, but he spiralled even deeper. She looked into his eyes, and started to calm him down. She knew how to, back in the days she had to calm down Kara a countless of times. She breathed with him, and counted, so he can get back in control.

She is protective of his little brother, even if she makes stupid jokes sometimes.

Soon, Winn was taking deep breaths, and looked a bit more collected in a way. She went and fetched a bottle of water for him, when she returned he was miles better. Big and regular breaths, his eyes were tired, and he was still a bit shaky.

“I am sorry, I didn’t meant to… breakdown like that…” he started, avoiding eye-contact. “I don’t know what caused it, I usually don’t… well… not like this”

“Hey, it’s alright! Nothing to be ashamed of.” 

He snorted at that 

“I shouldn’t have closed up on you like that, sorry.”

“It’s fine, really, not your fault.” They went silent for a bit, Winn slowly sipping water, while concentrating on his breathing.

“What did Kara say to you, that set you of?”She didn’t know how to say it.

“What do you mean?”

“You kept repeating, she is stronger than that…”

“Ahh, she panicked in the lift, at CatCo, and the thing is there is no way Psi could have been involved, I mean directly to it. I said she might had a panic attack, but she said that is impossible, because she is stronger than that.” he looked down at the ground, feeling ashamed again.

“You know that’s not true. When she first came to Earth she had many panic attacks, didn’t like small spaces. She is not stronger than them, no one is.”

“Yeah..” he didn’t argue, but he was still hurting.

“Can I hug you?” Alex asked, not daring to jump at him, it might set him off again.

He didn’t say a thing just nodded. And that was all she needed. She hugged him, and hold him, and soon he was crying. The stress of the past few weeks, putting up with Kara’s grief, while grieving his friend, and on top of that Lyra have left more damage than they first thought. It was a lot to begin with, he has been on the edge for some time, and Kara’s comment brought it up to the surface and Alex pushed him over the edge.

 He cried into her shoulder, because he felt weak and everything was just too much at the moment.

“You are the strongest person I have ever met, I couldn’t live with the trauma you had to suffer through. I am so proud of you! We all are.” she assured him, while holding him tight.

 +1.

Purity saw right through her. She knew all of her weaknesses and she wasn’t shy to point them all out. She said out loud her deepest fears, and she couldn’t do a thing about it. She couldn’t deny it, she couldn’t run away. It just hanged in the air, like some deadly gas. Kara sent her out, and she did left the room on the second order, but her sister didn’t follow.

She wished she had, she didn’t wanted to be alone. She didn’t know what she wanted. To be alone, to be free of her fears? She had no idea, but she was scared and lost. And so very hopeless.

She didn’t understand what was going through her. Purity didn’t say anything she did know, it was just… she never ever dared to say those thoughts out loud. Because this made it real somehow.

And she was alone. She didn’t wanted to be alone, because then Purity would be right. But where’s Kara? She should be here with her… Why was she alone.

She was holding her head and trying to collect her wandering thoughts, when Winn noticed her. She was in distress that’s for sure. She looked like she is going to cry. He can’t let that happen.

He crossed the room, and asked her what happened, with care in his voice and worry, like she always did so many time for him. She didn’t respond, she was losing a grip on reality.

Falling apart with every passing second, it was painful to watch. He wanted to comfort his big sister, so he didn’t even think about what he was doing.

He wrapped his arms around her, carefully and gently, drawing circles on her back, to calm her down. She didn’t return the hug, but in a weird way, she melted into it. Rested her head on his shoulder for a second, before breaking away.

He wanted to run after her, and help her with whatever her problem was, but then the crystal started to glow and he had to check on it. While he was trying to figure out the secret of the crystal, he had a sudden realisation: HE HUGGED ALEX DANVERS.

#winn schott #winn schott jr #supergirl #supergirl imagines #this is way too long #alex danvers #it might be grammatically incorrect at some point #sorry english is not my first language

[howmuchistoomuchcaffeine]

a to z

RULES: answer the questions in a new post and tag 10 blogs you would like to get to know better.

a // age: 150 years old

b // birthplace: Seoul

c // current time: 1:28

d // drink you last had: coffee (no surprise there)

e // easiest person to talk to: my friend from high school who got married and moved to America, currently visiting South Korea but will be leaving again soon(sobs).

f // favourite songs: Ugh “too many” is right! These days I listen to Handel “Trumpet’s Loud Clangor”, Henry Purcell “Ode to St. Cecilia”, Ladies Code’s “Galaxy”, Red Velvet’s “빨간 맛”, Super Junior “Hit Me Up” (cuz, Ryeowook’s voice!), musical number “Gethsemane”(JCS)...okay I’m gonna have to stop here. 

g // grossest memory: I was going to say “encounters with cockroaches in my new place” but more gross thing(!) happened. Something to do with food and hair, but sooooo disgusting I don’t even want to repeat it here. 

h // horror yes or horror no: HELL NO

i // in love?  Lost hope.

j // jealous of people: “ALL THE TIME” -> same here, girl. same here. I tend to get jealous of other people’s talent and that leads to comparing myself and/or my life to those people/their lives and finding mine severely lacking. This is so bad to my morale and I know I need to overcome it but it’s not that easy. 

l // love at first sight or should i walk by again? Hmm, I think I’m ‘love at first sight’ kind of person. I don’t know. It’s been a hundred years. 

n // number of siblings: I don’t know how to answer this. I lost an elder sister 2 years ago and have a younger brother. Do I say one sibling? 

o // one wish: Finding peace with myself.  

p // person you called last: My mother. I was on a two-day trip, called her and asked her “How is my cat doing?” not “How are you doing?”. 

q // questions you’re always asked:  “How old are you?” and “Are you married?” are questions you can’t escape if you live in South Korea. I scream “Fuck Off!” internally but put on a fake smile and give them non-answers. 

s // song you last sang: “Trumpet’s Loud Clangor” is such a jolly little song I couldn’t help singing along hahaha. But first I had to look up the lyrics, and I only sang to myself. Made sure there was no one else around. 

t // time you woke up:  Today? 9:30 I guess? 

u // underwear colour: Navy and...what color is this? Red bean? 

v // vacation destination: I would love to travel Europe and New York. Would like to see Colin Morgan in a play at least once in this life time (fingers crossed), see Van Gogh/Raoul Dufy/Monet’s paintings, go to Belgium and have a beer or 12, etc. And watch many many musicals and plays in London and New York.

w // worst habit: Comparing myself to others and always finding myself lacking. 

x // x-rays: Both feet, right forearm and wrist, and teeth. oh, and chest(biannual checkup).

y // your favourite food: Does coffee count? haha. I like almost every kind of noodle, except 쫄면. And recently I tried new food, a key lime pie and quische, both were amazing. I have to say my “most favorite” is coffee and the rest are okay as long as they aren’t too spicy, too gross to look at or smell funny. 

z // zodiac sign: Sagittarius

I tag @lao-pendragon, @permanentmochakisses, @seekingthestars 

#2 out of 3 whom I tagged is not mutual friend #is it okay to tag you? #Ignore me if you don't want to do this #all 3 of you :)

[allthecommas]

made to thrive

guysss so this is a meant-to-be pilot of the fic I started in March and never meant to publish!!!! might be a biiiit too long for tumblr but since i am still waiting for ao3 to let me in, here it goes

(pls be subtle, I really don’t write this much)

Bellamy x Raven

(multichapter fic since there’s way too few of them)

european setting au, modern setting au, bookstore au

word count: 2,665

Chapter one: van Goghs and cockroaches

Bellamy Blake couldn't really recall the last time he was so confused. And he has spent the last two months living in a bus with his at least slightly unstable little sister who clearly felt obliged to have him uncertain of his own bloodline at least four times per day.

It's been five years since he's moved to Galway. It's been four years since his odd father freed a studio apartment for him so he has somewhere nice to stay at and doesn't need to occupy a dorm room. It's been three years since he's been coming back on this exact day, October 11th, to the closest of home he has ever had.

And it's been solid 6 minutes of him staring at completely strange bags and a suitcase (a. goddamn. strange. suitcase.) for some reason placed chaotically on his bed.

His bed of 4 years.

He sat next to the suitcase exhaling loudly and put his phone out of his bag meaning to call Marcus and make him explain this unexpected occupation of his bedroom, when he heard the noise of the front door's locks. He rushed out to see and almost bumped into some blond chick, which made her drop the paper bag she must have been holding.

"What the fuck?!" she screeched, with pure horror in her baby blue eyes watching the liquids dripping on the floor through the paper.

"Yeah, what the fuck?" he echoed, taking a step back and crossing his arms on his chest.

"We need a wiper" she stated to herself rather than to him, ignoring his question and the Annoyed Face he put on, then turned around and made her way to the kitchen while he was focusing all his energy on standing there still and badass, not showing any sings of awkwardness nor inside imbalance.

"Make it quick, it's Macacauba!" He shouted to make himself look intimidating, just as if his knowledge of what Macacauba is could intimidate her and then consequently stared down at her while she was wiping the vegan yogurts off his floor, holding back the temptation of dropping 'you missed a spot' kind of comment.

"It's all your fault" she announced casually when she was done with cleaning and comfortably placed herself on a kitchen stool.

"Who the hell are you?" He cut, making it sound more like an accusation than an actual question.

She eyed him up and down, frowning.

"Certain Marcus did tell you."

"It's not the answer to my question" he said, realising that he hasn't moved for a little bit too long for someone who's not feeling caught off guard. "He didn't."

"But he must have" she argued "He discussed the content of the e-mail with me. Long ago. Back in May I suppose."

He tilted his head slightly in a ???? meme manner.

"He must have" the blonde repeated but her face softened. She stood up and walked up to him, with her right in the very front. "Anyhow. Clarke Griffin."

He looked at her hand suspiciously like it was about to bite him and didn't really let it show, but he recalled. He remembered. Early June, after the last time he has seen Kane, he in fact received an e-mail from him. Telling him about some Art student from Boston, some Clark, that will be staying in Galway for a year. He couldn't say he payed much attention to it though, his mind was already occupied with the road trip he and Octavia were planning and all the formalities he needed to have closed beforehand so he just slipped through the text and crafted a brief reply. But he could bet his left arm, there was nothing about this dude living in his house. Or about this dude being a chick.

All of this flashed in his head in a second before he forced his brows up and shook given hand.

"Since when is Clark a female name?" saying this seemed more appropriate that his name. "Clark Gable wasn't a chick."

"It's Clarke with an "e"."

•••

"Could you please pack it up for me? It's a gift."

Raven shot a glance at the queue seemingly growing each second, continuously expanding the place it occupied in the store and then locked her eyes back on the customer. The familiar face of the elderly lady asking her for such favour was kind and hopeful, with visible sense of pride for her choice and by all means, Raven would have helped her with utmost pleasure. If it wasn't for the six, oh, seven, people waiting impatiently. It was October 11th, new academic year has only just begun and people were getting desperate for all sorts of books that might or might not turn out to be helpful. She personally didn't find the assortment of her work place any close to satisfying and would never choose this exact place to trust her degree on but she knew it was a spot the closest to the campus area and the nice setting has successfully made up for the lacks on the shelves. At least the crowd she was now seeing implied so.

So, yeah, on any other day she would gladly paint the box in which the lady planned to place the copy of Levin's "Stepford Wives" with her own hands. But not today.

"A bag is the best I can do for now" she said with the sincerest smile she could produce.

"A bag is barely impressing' the old lady frowned 'I would prefer something more... Oh, you know... Sophisticated..."

Oh, and she wold prefer to leave this exact minute. And she would prefer for her co-worker to show up like he was supposed to do twenty minutes ago. And she would prefer to have a couple of loving, wealthy Irish parents. But most importantly, she would prefer for Galway not to be so expensive or at least for Mexican peso not to be so cheap so she wouldn't have to come here four times a week to make for a living but this world is a cruel place and barely ever asks what we would prefer.

"Then I can give you a shiny box and a golden ribbon" she said sweetly instead, noticing the hustle at the end of the line.

"I would not really want to settle for some massively produced decors. This gift, you see, is for a son of mine whom I haven't seen since-"

"- I understand but we are a bookstore and not a-"

"I swear to God, this line hasn't moved in ages!" came to her ears from a fourth person standing.

"- But it is rude to interrupt an old woman speaking. So, this dear son of mine whom I haven't seen since Saint Patrick-"

"It will be €8.71" she gasped, meeting a compassionate glare of a boy following the Old Lady in the queue.

"Without the packing or with the packing?"

"We haven't agreed on any-"

"Exactly. Therefore, you cannot cash me just yet since-"

"I WILL NOT PACK IT FOR YOU."

The humming of the store stopped immediately and Raven could cross her heart that she felt the eyes of every person within a radius of two hundred feet turning into her.

"Beeeecaaause the lovely florist from the salon just vis a vis will do it much better than any of us would ever" a guy with slight homeless vibe slipped behind the counter gracefully, flashing a half-mouth smile in the space in front of him like he was expecting the cameras to document his reality tv worthy entrance "And" he continued, as he reached for the store's business card and wrote something with a wide gesture "if you mention the name John Murphy from Arcadia, you will get your packing half-price." He blinked while passing her the piece of paper and the customer exclaimed few more long words before she left all content. Raven used the opportunity to swap to the second cash register and turn it on with her co-worker ID.

"You’re late" she hissed through her teeth once Murphy was done with posing (or at least relatively done since she couldn't imagine him totally not-posing).

"Observant" he commented briefly, not taking his sight from the customer's face. "It's €1.01 charge and a free bookmarker for you. Have an eventful night."

"26 minutes late you cockroach" she detailed, noticing 19.56 displayed on the cash register's screen while putting the sum €2.19 for five pensils.

"See?" he lifted his brow not even giving her a slight stare "Just 26 minutes and you already managed to fuck up."

"I wouldn't if you were here so I'd be on my way home just as I was supposed to be."

"So what is the reason behind you staying here and hurting my mother's native grammar instead of getting your angry ass out?"

She tried. She really did. She tried to be friendly with him the first couple of days, she tried to be indifferent towards him for the next few and she even tried to help him today. (Tonight, actually, since it was pitch dark outside already.) But that was the moment where she just tossed her ID on the counter and stormed out of the building, leaving him with another six people waiting in line.

And then there was the next moment when she came back and slicked into the stuff rooms because she couldn't really leave in her uniform.

•••

With an "e" or without an "e", Clarke or Klak, his unexpected roommate was highly inconvenient. Bellamy didn't have any problems with girls around as long as they were around for one night. But every other night for the next ten months? Extremely inconvenient.

It's not like she was completely horrible or something. She actually seemed bearable. A bit too bossy and hella tense for an artist but she took her stuff out of his bedroom once she was asked to do so and they even had something like a conversation so he didn't hate her. At least for now.

But he sincerely enjoyed living alone. His flat was his cave. Casa de Blake has reached the status of an actual legend of Galway, house parties he hosted there were never big but always eventful, he had a reputation he has been building for months and he was determined to keep it.

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine' said Clarke with an "e". 'It's not like you're setting this place on fire every Friday, right?".

Oh, of course not.

He didn't mind a drama every now and again but mostly, he was coming in peace and wished some peace for himself. He didn't really like the idea of fighting with his roommate two up to five evenings a week.

He didn't like the idea of giving up his lifestyle either and that was exactly what he was not going to do.  

And when he eventually got acquainted with the thought of pissing this blond van Goth off on a weekly basic, she called Kane 'dad'.

"I mean, he's my stepdad' she corrected right away. 'But we're very close and he doesn't mind me calling him dad, so."

So. sO. S o.

Pissing off a blond van Goth? Acceptable. Fine. Fun, perhaps.

Pissing off a new daughter of his odd parent, his benefactor, the Prime Minister of Ireland, Marcus Henry Ian Kane, the one who pays for his eight-floor city-centre studio apartment, the one who pays his university tuition, the one who's paid for the vacation of his lifetime, the one who's been his and his sister's only family ever since they've got orphaned seven years ago, the one who has shown him nothing but good will and unconditional support? Unacceptable. Definitely not fine. Could still be fun but not worth it.

The longer he thought about her, the more he needed to escape. So he did.

And headed right to the bookstore.

"Okay, sorry but I need to leave you here. I have a date." He said.

"Okay, sorry but I need to leave you here. I feel an intense need to compulsively buy a seventy eighth book about Roman Empire or Greek mythology or Celtic tales so I can drown myself in it and forget about your existence for a while." He didn't say. Not because he was ashamed of it. He just wasn't quite ready to share such information.

Silly as it sounds, his books were always the most personal element of his personality. Taking about his ex-girlfriend was easier than mentioning his favourite titles. The books he chose were always specific, always reflected his inside wars in a way he partly couldn't, partly didn't want to explain.

Bookstores were his safe spots. He didn't really expect any of his party buddies to show up there. When Octavia was away, he only let his guard down among the shelves full of undiscovered stories. It was geeky, he knew, but there, he didn’t mind in the slightest.

He used to feel himself in his flat too, those rare moments when he was there alone, of course, but that was not going to happen a lot now and that made him tense. He was way too shaken to notice that his steps directed at the closest bookstore were faster, more rapid than usual.

He could almost physically feel his though persona falling behind him the further he was from the flat. He might have been a drama queen, he might have been spoiled or ungrateful or overreacting but the thought of sharing his sacred living space with some intruder, regardless of who she was and how was her name spelled, made him sick. He didn’t need this kind of entertainment in his live. What he needed now was stability. It was his last year. What he needed now was his routine, the first routine he has ever had in his fucked up life, the routine he has worked for.

He was way too shaken to notice the tiny girl with a high ponytail and huge dark eyes standing in his way before he bumped into her, her head buried in his chest.

Overwhelmed by the déjà vu, completely done with the shit the world was pulling today, he didn't apologize. And neither did she. He didn't pass her by and neither did she.

All she did was taking half a step back, lifting her head up to face him, to glare at him with vivid annoyance and ire. And since that was the second time during the last two hours when he bumped into an arrogant chicken-sized girl with unnormal, big eyes, he felt this ire transferring into him.

"Out of my way" she barked, waiting for him to move. He couldn't really comprehend what did he do to deserve such treatment but he didn't care. On any other day he would just rush further, dropping a "sorry" behind him. But he happened to have an awfully rough day and he discovered that he actually was furious too, ready to pick up a fight with this smol angry bean if that was what she asked for.

"I was just about to say that" he stared at her, straight into her face, ignoring how pleasant to look at she was, determined for her to turn back first, no matter how long it took.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, her mouth clenched, brows frowned, she raised her hand and in a quick move pressed a fag to the lapel of his coat and smashed it, making a small but visible hole in the material before she rushed past him into the dark.

Completely poleaxed, he turned around and stared at the silhouette fading away for something that felt like a ridiculous amount of time to stand still in the middle of the street.

He managed to notice her gimping slightly on one leg and catch her voice saying "Finn, you still there?" continuing the phone call she must have started before.

#braven fic #rellamy fic #blayesnetwork #braven #rellamy #bellamy x raven #the 100 fic #majka writes

[5hfanfiction]

you're like a piece of art (you need to be nailed against a wall)

A/N:

Part of a one shot book on wattpad, at jaureguicabello5eva

–

Camila doesn’t know what she’s looking at exactly. Actually, she does know what she’s looking at, she just doesn’t understand the big deal. Like, it’s a bunch of colorful squares and rectangles? She thinks she’s absolutely capable of painting that, and she doesn’t even consider herself an artist, so yeah, pay her whatever they’re paying these “abstract” artists. Whatever that means.

God, she feels uncultured as fuck, she thinks as she takes a sip of her third(?) glass of champagne.

Camila’s spending her Friday night in a too-tight red dress at the Museum of Modern Art in New York instead of catching up on sleep like she had planned. The museum is holding an exclusive exhibit for the weekend that features several works from known artists around the world. Not that Camila actually knows any of them.

Dinah, her best friend since coming out of the womb, had scored passes for the event from the sister-in-law of her cousin’s best friend’s girlfriend? Camila lost track after sister-in-law to be honest. Dinah knows way too many people, and she’s related to like half of California, so who knows?

Anyway, Dinah had gotten these passes and had planned to surprise her ex-boyfriend, who is the broody, artist, mysterious, lying, cheating, S.O.B. type apparently. After finding her ex in a very compromising position with some wench in their previously shared apartment, Dinah had immediately broken it off and proceeded to get over him by getting under as many people as she could, until she got over that too, and now she’s sort of just wallowing in self-pity.

So, Camila, because she’s the greatest best friend in the world, naturally, offered to go with her to the stupid exhibit anyway in hopes of cheering up her best friend, and maybe you’ll even get lucky with some hot-shot artist who makes hundreds of thousands of dollars painting blobs, Dinah!

Well, now she’s kind of regretting her decision. She loves Dinah, she really does, but is everyone who attends exhibits just naturally broody and boring or does she just have to widen her perspective?

–

Lauren is in heaven. She thinks this must be where starving artists lay their brushes down and go to die. She’s surrounded by incredible pieces that range from hundreds of years old to decades to within the last few years. There are pieces from your classic Van Gogh and Warhol, to newer pieces by Philippe Parreno, and her personal favorite, Weiwei. She’s convinced she’d actually died and gone to artist paradise.

She’d gotten a hold of a pass for this exclusive exhibit from Normani, her best friend, and who, by the way, was already Lauren’s favorite person in the world before she’d given her the pass, but now undoubtedly and solely owns the green-eyed girl’s heart.

And because the universe is being extra kind today, the exhibit just so happens to have Piet Mondrian’s Tableau I on loan from Museum Ludwig in Germany.

Lauren is absolutely ecstatic. She’s been having kind of an artist’s block lately and there’s nothing like one of the greatest pieces in abstract history to inspire her. Mondrian’s Tableau I is a math-based geometric perfection that brings colors and lines and absolute arithmetic precision to life and Lauren can’t wait to see it in person.

She’s majoring in architecture [A/N: sorry I keep writing Lauren as an architect/aspiring architect lol] though if things were up to her, she would have majored in fine arts with a focus on painting and drawing. She’s a great painter and she’s not too bad at digital design either, but her passion lies in drawing. Give her a pencil and anything can be her sketchpad.

She’s studying architecture because it incorporates her love for design and drawing and you need to major in something realistic, Lauren. There’s a reason they’re called “starving” artists. Do you really want to starve your future husband and kids?

Has it been mentioned that her mother can be a bit overbearing? Well she is, and so Lauren is going to let her mom have her way because as suffocating as her mom can be, the dark-haired girl does love her with everything that she has. But since she’s hell bent on getting some say in the matter, she’s also minoring in fine arts with a focus on, yup, drawing and painting.

She needs inspiration for her project in her Drawing II class as well as for her Advanced Urban Design class and thinks Tableau I is the best of both worlds. Some people might think his work is just rectangles and squares but those are probably the same people who think pineapple on pizza is okay, which it’s not.

Also, her mother doesn’t know it, but she’s pretty sure she’s not going to end up with a husband anyway. Not when she’s just laid her eyes on the most beautiful person? goddess? God’s gift to gay women? she’s ever seen.

Lauren is on her way to where she knows the painting is displayed when she spots a brunette squinting at Mondrian’s work. One of her hands has delicate, slender fingers wrapped around an almost-empty flute, while the other is worrying the bottom of her luscious lip.

Normani who? This woman owns Lauren’s heart now as far as she knows.

Lauren is your typical artist/aspiring architect so of course, she carries a sketchbook and pencil everywhere she goes. She pulls them both out and sits on a bench not too far, but not too close to pretty, brown eyes either. She doesn’t want to seem creepy, even though she is being creepy.

Lauren forgets the world around her as she gets completely absorbed in trying to capture the beauty in front of her as best as she can. She needs to capture how this girl’s long lashes curve up in the most tantalizing way and the delicate way they fall over her mesmerizing eyes when she blinks. She needs to properly portray the gentle slope of her nose, the curve of her mouth when her desirable, full lips smile, and the defined cheeks and sharp jawline that flank her entire face. 

And that ass though.

She’s finishing up on outlining how her hair falls perfectly down her curved spine when she looks up and the object of her affection is gone.

“Shit,” she whispers to herself. “Where did she go?”

“I’m right here,” Normani says as she takes a seat next her. “I thought you’d be glued to an art piece by now, Laur” Normani chuckles. “You were so excited to come here and I find you just sat here, not even appreciating the work around you?” Normani clicks her tongue.

“Whatcha got there anyway,” she asks as she leans over and tries to see what’s got her friend busy.

Lauren scrambles to close her sketchbook and answers, “Nothing, just- um,” she struggles to look for an excuse that’s not I was drawing this pretty girl I saw. “Just working on a piece for my class,” she finally says. “All these pieces have given me the right inspiration,” she says with a bright smile and a thumbs up.

“Uh huh,” Normani says skeptically. “Anyway, I have to get back to finish this thing that’s due tomorrow. Did you want to leave with me or do you wanna stay for a bit?” Normani asks her friend.

Lauren takes one last desperate look around the museum for any sign of the mystery girl, and finally gives up when she sees none. “I’ll go with you I guess,” she answers despondently.

  –

It’s been two weeks since Lauren saw Ms. Brown Eyes and she still can’t get her out of her head. The girl’s been hounding her thoughts, partly because she feels frustrated that she can’t finish her piece, and partly because, well, pretty girls tend to occupy her mind a lot.

She’s rushing out of the Starbucks on campus to get to her design class on time for once when she spots the same wavy, brown locks that she’d been trying to re-create on paper, sitting on one of the outside tables. She guesses it won’t make a difference now if she’s late to class one more time.

She goes here! Of course she goes here!

When Lauren sees the girl get up to leave, she immediately follows her before she realizes what she’s doing. Stalking is probably not the way to get her point across to the girl, although, she’s not really sure what to say to her.

Hey, I saw you at the museum and then I started drawing you without your permission, but you left before I was able to finish, so do you mind just posing for me for a bit. Also, you’re really pretty. My name is Lauren and I’m an idiot.

That doesn’t sound like it would get her a very desirable outcome.

So, naturally, she proceeds to just follow the girl like the creep that she actually is and finds out that she’s taking a class in the BIOL. building around two-thirty on Thursdays. The stalking gets a bit out of hand and before Lauren realizes what’s happening, she’s basically got the girl’s schedule on three out of the five days of the week memorized.

In her defense, she really just wants to get a few more details on the girl’s face so she can finish the drawing. She’s an excellent artist, but she’s also a perfectionist, and her memory just isn’t doing the girl justice.

“Mani,” she catches up to the girl one afternoon. “I saw her again but she took a different route to the CHEM building today, and so I still don’t have enough details for my sketch,” she pouts. Lauren has given up on keeping the girl a secret from her best friend and since that cat got out of the bag, it’s all she ever talks about now.

Normani rolls her eyes and tells her, “You are an actual stalker. Just go up to the dang girl, geez. I’ve never seen you have so much trouble talking to a girl.”

“She’s not just some girl, Mani” Lauren insists.

“So you think the best course of action is to never speak to her,” Normani deadpans.

“Alright, fine” Lauren responds. “I’ll talk to her tonight. After her night class in the physics lab building” she decides with a determined nod of her head.

Normani looks at her like she’s crazy and shakes her head, “I’m not even gonna say anything about how that sounds.” Lauren rolls her eyes but slings an arm over the other girl’s shoulder. “I think I’m in love, Mani” she sighs dramatically, putting a hand over her heart as the other girl laughs and pushes her away.

–

So the whole coming up to and talking to mystery girl plan has totally fallen through. Lauren’s not sure how she got to where she is but that’s not important at the moment. Right now, she’s truly reached absolute stalker level because she’s currently following her in the dark to what Lauren assumes is her apartment on campus. Every time she tried to approach her, the green-eyed girl’s nerves got the best of her and she ended up psyching herself out. Now, the window in which it’s acceptable to approach a stranger about possibly drawing them has passed and Lauren is stuck.

She’s so lost in her thoughts she didn’t realize the girl she was following is no longer in front of her. She takes a few steps forward and when she passes an opening to an alley, the mystery girl jumps out in front of her with her hands holding something pointed towards the dark-haired girl and screams,

“I HAVE MACE! STAND BACK” the girl screams and Lauren can’t help but think even her voice is sexy, and wow she’s about to be sprayed.

“No! Wait,” Lauren pleads, raising both her arms up. “I’m not going to hurt you I swear” she tries to convince the girl.

Camila is a bit taken aback by the girl in front of her. When she first realized she was being followed, she expected some buff, tattoos-in-the-face, hoodlum, who may or may not be armed with a knife or – or like nunchucks (she’s never robbed anyone before, she doesn’t know which types of weapons are appropriate).

Anyway, she wasn’t expecting this- this, beautiful human being. God, those eyes are mesmerizing, she thinks. But, back to the topic at hand.

“Okay green eyes, I’m gonna need you to explain yourself and if you so much as make a move,” she warns, “I’m going to spray you.”

Lauren keeps her hands up and decides to just rip the band-aid off. This situation cannot get any more out of hand so she thinks it’s best to just come clean.

She takes a deep breath and says, “Okay, well, I saw you at MOMA a few weeks ago and I was just so taken by your beauty and I thought you were the prettiest piece of art there so I started drawing you for my class, but I lost you before I had the chance to finish, so I started to sort of follow you around? You know, to add details to my sketch but it’s so hard when you’re constantly moving, so now I have this unfinished piece and it’s due tomorrow and I was wondering if you would mind posing for me? So I can finish my drawing?” Lauren rushes her words all in one breath. “How was your physics lab by the way?” she asks with a nervous chuckle.

Camila tries to process all the information and when she does, she can’t help but flush red. This gorgeous human being called her pretty? And she wants to draw her? She’s not sure if she’s creeped out or endeared.

She decides on the latter.

She slowly brings her hands down and puts her mace away. Lauren relaxes at that and throws her a meek smile. “I mean, it’s probably a hundred percent not safe because you just admitted to stalking me and you’re a complete stranger, but you’re really pulling off the whole awkward-but-cute thing you got going on, so….” Camila trails, putting a finger to her chin and pretending to think.

 “…sure,” Camila concedes. “I’ll pose for you.”

“YES!” Lauren exclaims and then clears her throat. “I mean, thank you so much,” she says, her cheeks flushed. “My name is Lauren by the way.”

“I’m Camila,” the younger girl answers back while trying to contain a smile, extending one of her hands.

“Great, where do you want to do it?” Lauren asks after shaking hands with her. Then she realizes what that sounds like and backtracks quickly, “I mean do the drawing, for my piece, not like, do it in that way – I mean not that you aren’t, you know, attractive -  because you totally are, and I’m not assuming you’re even into gir–”

“Oh my gosh, Lauren. Calm down,” Camila says amidst her laughter while putting a hand on Lauren’s arm to calm the girl down. The touch is doing things to Lauren’s body and she feels a spark of heat travel from where Camila is touching her to the rest of her body, sprinkling a comforting kind of warmth in its wake.

Lauren flushes a deep red that’s accentuated by her light features and rubs the back of her neck.

Once Camila thinks the girl has gone back to her normal pale color, she answers Lauren’s question, “We can do it at my apartment, so at least if you turn out to be a sociopath, my roommate, Dinah, will hopefully get back to the apartment and find evidence of what you might have done,” she winks and Lauren is blushing again in no time.

On their walk to Camila’s apartment, Lauren says “Well if I were really crazy and was planning on killing you, I think I would be called a ‘psychopath,’” she explains. Camila furrows her eyebrows and Lauren elaborates,

“Both obviously have problems regarding their conscience and the way they think, but psychopaths tend to seem like well-adjusted members of society. They can even have charming personalities and hold high-paying jobs, like, they could be doctors,” Lauren explains.

“Sociopaths, on the other hand, are a bit more obvious in their behavior and they tend to be antisocial, and since you think I’m “awkward-but-cute” which I’m going to interpret as subtly charming, I would be a ‘psychopath,’” she concludes.

Camila looks at her and says, “Yeah, your knowledge of this is not helping your case in convincing me that you’re not out to kill me.”

Lauren looks back at her and shakes her head, “I was just clarifying you know,” she says nervously. It’s like she’s lost all of her ability to function socially around this girl. “I swear, I’m not usually this weird,” she responds with a nervous chuckle.

“I hope not,” Camila winks and continues to walk on.

Once they’re in the apartment, Lauren is wringing her hands nervously and Camila raises an eyebrow, “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just-” Lauren sighs.

“Not to push my luck or anything, but since we’re here and you’re willing to pose, do you mind if I start the drawing over? Like the one I’ve been working on is kind of hard to finalize because I’ve had so many viewpoints of your face. So, if it’s okay, would you be willing to pose for a whole, new drawing instead?” Lauren asks nervously.

“Well, since we’re here anyway,” Camila thinks about it. “Sure,” she finishes with a smile.

Laurens spends a couple of hours perfecting her drawing. Well, she tries to perfect it anyway. She doesn’t think it’s possible for anyone to capture Camila in a way that does her beauty justice. Now that Camila isn’t constantly moving and because she doesn’t have to draw from a distance, she does a better job at highlighting some of her features.

When she showed Camila the finished product, Camila had gasped into her hand and praised her talent so much that Lauren was convinced the blush on her cheeks was going to be permanent.

Now, they find themselves watching Black Mirror on Netflix and no, they’re not Netflix and Chilling. They’re actually just watching.

Lauren is in the middle of a passionate rant about the dangers of social media especially bullying in social media after watching an episode where literally hundreds of thousands of people died because of it, when Camila catches herself staring at the girl’s beauty.

Lauren is obviously pretty on the outside, but after spending a few hours with her and speaking with her about her passions and views on life, Camila is convinced maybe that the saying about beauty coming from within is true because Lauren is the embodiment of beautiful. She’s breathtakingly exquisite without reservation.

“Sorry, I’m ranting,” Lauren says with a weak smile.

“No, I think it’s great. I think you’re great,” Camila responds without thinking.

“Um, thanks” Lauren says. Then, she doesn’t know where she gets the courage, but she asks anyway,

“Would you like to have coffee or something, some time this week, my treat” Lauren asks shyly. “You know, it’s the least I could do to thank you for saving my assignment and not calling the police,” she says with a nervous chuckle.

“Are you asking me out,” Camila asks teasingly.

“I mean we can do something inside,” Lauren responds cheekily.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a dork,” Camila says mid-laugh. Lauren thinks she’d gladly shed her bad girl persona and be the biggest dork if it elicits laughs like this from Camila.

“It’s a date,” Camila says and Lauren’s heart soars.

Lauren is about to bid her goodbye when a loud clap of thunder, accompanied by a sudden downpour of rain and strong winds, sound from outside and reverberate through the apartment.

The girls jump and Camila says shakily, “Um, maybe you should stay the night? It’s late and it’s raining, I don’t want something bad to happen to you,” she explains. “Also, I’m not sure when Dinah is coming back, kinda depends on how her date goes.”

Lauren starts to refuse and says, “I don’t want to impose and-”

“Honestly, Lo. It’s fine. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe,” she says with a genuine smile.

“Okay, I’ll take the couch,” Lauren concedes, the nickname catching her off-guard but sending another wave of pleasant warmth through her chest. She recognizes this feeling and she knows it’s way too early, but Camila’s soft smiles and genuine concern and just her overall presence is captivating Lauren in a way she’s not sure she has a chance to go against.

“No you can-,” Camila starts to protest.

“No, Camz,” Lauren says resolutely.

She shakes her head internally for letting the name she’s been calling Camila in her head all night slip out loud. “I’ve already asked too much from you, I’m not gonna take your bed too,” she says with a smile when it doesn’t look like Camila is going to object to the nickname.

“Okay,” Camila breathes out.

–

It’s about two in the morning when Lauren sleepily rubs her eyes as she hears movement from the far side of the couch. She jumps up from the couch in fright when she sees a figure standing above her and sighs in relief when she realizes it’s just Camila.

“Shit, Camila,” she gasps. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Camila answers quietly, her breath shaky.

“Is everything okay?” Lauren asks the younger girl.

“Um, it’s just that – I mean the thunder, you know, it hasn’t really stopped,” Camila answers weakly.

There’s a curve to Lauren’s mouth when she says, “Are you scared of thunderstorms?”

“What, no,” Camila says indignantly. “Of course, not. You’re scared of thunderstorms,” she throws back lamely.

Lauren raises an eyebrow and tries to stop herself from smiling.

“Okay fine, I’m scared of thunderstorms, so you’re either coming with me to bed or I’m joining you on the couch,” Camila dictates while crossing her arms.

Camila’s words spark a jolt of lightning through Lauren that starts from the base of her stomach and courses through her veins, spreading to her extremities, leaving her hot and bothered. She shakes the many different, dirty ways she’d made out of Camila asking her to bed and responds as steadily as she can, “Y-yeah, I’ll just join you. I don’t think we can fit in this couch anyway.”

She knows she wasn’t successful in hiding Camila’s effect on her when she spots the younger girl smirking at her shaky response from the corner of her eyes.

The heated atmosphere between them dies down when they settle in Camila’s bed. It’s not long before they start talking about anything and everything under the sun. They get in passionate debates about world issues and laugh at the silliness of toe socks.

Lauren, for her part, is decidedly continuing conversation between them because she recognizes a distraction is what Camila needs as she realizes early on that Camila’s fear of thunderstorms is pretty serious. Camila can tell that Lauren is fighting off sleep to keep her company and she feels herself falling.

It’s been less than twelve hours, Camila she thinks. There is no way she’s actually falling, right?

She goes to sleep free of the nightmares that usually plague her whenever there are thunderstorms and dreams about green eyes and white smiles and flushed cheeks instead.

–

The next morning, Camila walks out of her room and she is immediately jolted awake by the sight in front of her. Lauren had borrowed her clothes to sleep in and she’s wearing Camila’s favorite oversized hoodie that goes down to Lauren’s mid-thigh, sufficiently covering her short shorts and giving the illusion that she’s not wearing anything underneath.

Her messy hair is in a loose ponytail, highlight her widow’s peak and a few dark strands are framing her face. Her burrows are furrowed as her tongue is poking out between her teeth, seemingly in great concentration as she mixes what looks like pancake batter.

The sight is doing unhealthy things to her heart and even unhealthier things to the heat between her thighs.

She walks forward and makes her presence known. The green-eyed girl looks up and flashes her a smile that is threatening to combust her heart from where it’s trying to escape from her chest. The morning light catches Lauren’s eyes perfectly, making them the lightest green she’s ever seen them and highlighting the brown specks that are scattered right around her pupil. Camila’s heart needs a break, for crying out loud. How can anyone look this good at – Camila checks the time -  seven in the morning?

She’s shaken out of her thoughts when she hears a raspy voice say, “Good morning, I hope you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen. I made you breakfast,” she says while gesturing to a plate that’s already made with eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes. Okay, she seriously needs to stop.

Lauren’s voice sounds even sexier in the morning and Camila has to take a deep breath to collect herself. She’s about to respond when –

“Why thank you, kind stranger,” Dinah says, walking out of her own room and grabbing Camila’s toast from her plate, proceeding to stuff her mouth with it.

Camila scowls and Lauren just looks amused.

“Wow, none of Camila’s previous hook-ups have made it past midnight before,” Dinah says while chewing. “And here you are making her breakfast and shit,” she says chuckling.

Lauren feels unmistakable heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks as Camila throws a piece of bread at her best friend, “Dinah! We didn’t hook up. Jeez,” she says scandalized, not yet at least. “She’s a friend. I helped her with a project. Lauren, this is Dinah,” Camila says gesturing to her friend, “Dinah, my friend Lauren,” she says as she introduces the two.

“Hm-mhm,” Dinah says, eyeing the two skeptically. “We all know what ‘friend’ means,” she says with exaggerated air quotes.

–

Their coffee date goes well and they continue to find out new things that they like about each other. Lauren is as passionate about her art as she is about world issues and Camila somehow pulls off being goofy and sexy at the same time while still keeping up with Lauren in their many, varied conversations.

They’ve gone on a few dates when Camila asks Lauren to go on a road trip with her to Baltimore one weekend. Lauren says yes without even thinking about it. She thinks she’ll follow Camila to the ends of the earth if she asks her.

Camila is finishing up her make up on the dresser in their hotel room when Lauren comes out of the bathroom, already made up, except for her dress, which she’s holding in the front of her chest with two hands.

“Hey Camz,” she says as she turns around and flips her hair over her shoulder so Camila can have access to her back, “Can you zip me up please,” she asks with her head only half-turned. She misses the way Camila basically drools at all the exposed skin.

They’ve only been dating a couple weeks and haven’t gone further than heated make out sessions where Camila had snuck a couple gropes on a breast or two and Lauren had made herself familiar with expanse of skin that is Camila’s ass. But right now, Camila is seriously considering throwing away her plans and throwing Lauren to bed instead and telling her she won’t need clothes for the rest of the weekend.

She’s shaken out of her trance when Lauren’s voice floats through the air and addresses her, “Camz?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she says as she stands up and goes behind Lauren. They make eye contact through the full body mirror in front of them and shoot each other meaningful smiles.

Camila steadies her shaking hands as she rests her left hand on Lauren’s hip and the other grabs the zipper near her lower back. She swallows hard and slowly pulls the zipper up, her knuckles grazing Lauren’s skin and leaving goose bumps in their wake. She hears a soft gasp from Lauren and she squeezes her hard on the hip. When she sees Lauren through the mirror closing her eyes with her red-painted lips slightly ajar, Camila leans forward, turning her head to face Lauren’s side and grazing her mouth on Lauren’s ear as she breathes out, “Can’t wait to help you of this later,” she husks as she gives Lauren one final squeeze and a quick, but deep kiss just below her ear.

Lauren turns around breathless and says, “I don’t care what the surprise is, I want you naked on this bed now.”

  –

Camila should really get an award for having the world’s greatest self-control. After Lauren not so subtly expressed that she’d wanted to take Camila to bed, Camila had to power through and convince Lauren that the surprise is worth seeing.

Not very many people can defer such an offer from one Lauren Jauregui.

Lauren walks into the Baltimore Museum of Art and an energy of pure excitement courses through her as she looks around the exhibit. The museum had secured an exhibit from Ai Weiwei, Lauren’s absolute favorite contemporary artist. Weiwei is the perfect embodiment that showcases the intersectionality between Lauren’s two loves, art and activism. He uses his prominence to give voice to victims and decry faulty governments. He’s using a hundred percent of his profits from this specific exhibit to help the refugees in the Middle East.

The exhibit was pretty hard to get into and many other prominent artists and powerful figures had already secured VIP passes to this exclusive, one-night show months ahead, from what Lauren knows anyway. She looks at Camila and her heart soars at the way she’s looking back. Surrounded by magnificent art and Camila is looking at her like she’s the central piece.

“How?” she asks quietly, Lauren’s eyes stuck on Camila’s.

Camila shrugs her shoulders and says, “Pulled a few strings. I knew some people so…” she trails off when Lauren keeps looking at her like she had brought the moon to her.

“Thank you,” Lauren says sincerely squeezing Camila’s hand in hers.

“Anything for my girl,” she says with a with a wide smile.

–

After spending a couple hours in the exhibit, Camila finds Lauren in front of Weiwei’s Odyssey, a wallpaper piece that covers an entire wall on the far side of the gallery. The piece depicts the struggles of refugees in the Middle East in an ancient art style in which the characters in the piece are drawn as if they would have been in ancient times, on earth ware clay (Shaw, A. (2017) “Lest we forget, Ai Weiwei’s first show in Turkey is a meditation on refugee crisis. The Art Newspaper) [A/N: I still don’t know how citations work].

Camila comes up behind her and gently wraps her slender arms around Lauren’s midsection, laying her chin on the other girl’s shoulder.

“Do you like your surprise,” she whispers softly.

A fond smile forms on Lauren’s red lips. “I love it,” she says turning her head slightly. “I don’t even remember mentioning my favorite artist’s name to you” she says furrowing her brows.

“You may not have said his name, Lo” Camila explains. “But you mention his works a lot. Gosh Camz, there’s this artist I love. His pieces are so powerful and he’s a self-taught architect. He’s like me basically! An artist, an architect, and an activist,” Camila says in a deep, husky voice in what is supposed to be her imitation of Lauren’s raspy voice.

Lauren laughs softly, and god, she is endeared by the woman in front of her. “I do not sound like that,” she says mid-laugh. “I hope you don’t do that impression of me to anyone else.”

Camila feels that familiar warmth in her chest whenever she hears Lauren laughing because of her and she tightens her arms around the girl, trying not to say anything that could definitely scare the other girl away. Two weeks is way too short for such deep feelings.

“But I can’t believe you pay enough attention to my ramblings to pick out my favorite artist just from talking about different pieces. I mean, I talk about a lot of other pieces too,” Lauren continues to point out.

“Well, it really isn’t hard to pay attention to you, Laur,” Camila responds softly. “I know you don’t notice it, but half the room pays attention to you even when you’re not doing anything. It helps that I’m also always so in tune to everything you do. It’s like my body and mind are programmed to listen to and watch everything you do,” she finishes.

Lauren’s heart is hammering against her chest. She can’t believe Camila turned out to be even more beautiful on the inside once she got to know her. She turns around in Camila’s arms and wraps her own hands around the other girl’s neck.

“You know, you called me ‘your girl,’ earlier,” Lauren says.

“Oh did I?” Camila pretends to scrunch up her face.

“Well, am I?” Lauren asks hesitantly. “Your girl I mean, like, are we girlfriends?” she powers through the mad blush that is taking over her face.

Camila can’t believe this precious human being is all hers. “Lauren Michelle Jauregui,” she responds while trailing her hands down Lauren’s back so softly Lauren might not have noticed it if all her nerve endings weren’t firing like crazy at the moment.

“Will you be my girlfrie-,” Camila tries to say.

“Yes,” Lauren breathes out before she even finishes and attacks Camila’s lips with her own, immediately slipping her tongue in Camila’s mouth when she gasps. Lauren indulges in the warmth of Camila’s mouth and tongue and the soft breaths she’s letting out for every particularly hard swipe of her tongue before she pulls back, lest they get kicked out for public indecency.

Camila opens her eyes slowly, still slightly dazed, “I’m gonna go research a bunch of exhibits you like if I get thanked like that every time” she says in a breathless voice.

Lauren laughs and then leans close to Camila’s ear, playing with the hairs behind her neck when she rasps out, “That’s not all, baby. I plan on thanking you a lot more when we get back to the hotel.”

Camila swallows hard and responds shakily, “H-how exactly are you going to do that?”

Lauren smirks and subtly sucks on Camila’s skin where her jaw meets her neck while wrapping her slim fingers around Camila’s neck lightly, but noticeably more tightly than before,

“How about…,” she whispers, “I let you have your way with me?” she says and Camila drags her out of the museum before Lauren even has a chance to figure out what’s happening.

–

They’re cuddled up on Lauren’s bed one night with Lauren’s arms wrapped around the other girl and Camila facing away from the green-eyed girl, the brunette’s own hands playing with Lauren’s fingers, which have snuck their way in Camila’s shirt and is drawing patterns on her toned stomach when Lauren breathes out against her neck,

“Will you let me paint on you?” she asks.

Camila turns around in her arms and brings both hands to Lauren’s face, cupping her face gently when she responds with a cheeky smile, “You want to paint me like one of your French girls?”

Lauren laughs lightly and turns her head to plant a quick kiss to the inside of Camila’s palm. Camila’s gaze softens at the action and she’s close to saying the same words she’d made a conscious effort not say to anyone for a very long time when Lauren says,

“No I mean like, paint on you” she says. “I want to paint on your back, specifically.”

Camila shakes her thoughts away internally and thinks about it for a second. “Hmm, that’s very tumblr-y. And kinda gay. That’s very tumblr-y and gay, Laur” she finally says.

“Well then it’s perfect for the both of us,” she says with a bright smile. “Come on,” she implores while running her hand down Camila’s back and up her shirt, tracing the soft skin along the ridges of her spine as she leans forward to breathe out against the other girl’s neck, “Your back is so sexy, baby. It would be like making art on art,” she husks out after sucking on a sensitive spot on the other girl’s neck.

“You can be very persuasive,” Camila half says, half moans.

Lauren smirks against her skin and pulls back, “So is that a yes?”

Camila looks her girlfriend in the eye and says, “You’re way too charming for your own good, you know that? It’s kinda scary, like what if down the road you want to paint our kids’ room a crazy color or display raunchy paintings in our living room because it’s art, Camz.”

They both seem to realize the implication behind Camila’s words and the brunette flushes a deep red as her hands become sweaty.

Shit. She’s gonna run. I totally freaked her out.

Lauren’s heartbeat is thunderous in her chest and she can’t help but picture a future with Camila. A slow smile forms on her lips and she says before the other girl can backtrack, “Then I guess I’ll just have to persuade youthe only way I know if I want paintings of naked girls in our homeor if I want to paint our kids’ room a light shade of smaragdine.” [A/N: it’s green].

Camila’s heart leaps in her chest and it’s like Lauren and Camila’s hearts are competing to see who can jump out of their ribbed confines first. They look at each other with soft smiles and twinkles in their eyes, and against all the dating rules they’ve placed for themselves, with love. With Lauren’s response confirming that the green-eyed girl is in this for the long run, Camila can’t help but think she can’t wait to hang paintings of naked girls and design smaragdine-colored rooms.

That’s how Camila finds herself on her stomach with her top off and wearing only her Iron Man boy shorts with Lauren straddling her, the green-eyed girl perched right on top of her butt. They both go to sleep in just shirts and underwear so Lauren herself is sitting on Camila with nothing but a shirt and some lace underwear and Camila is finding it hard to focus.

They’re facing towards the foot of the bed so Camila has a perfect view of Lauren working on her back through the mirror on Lauren’s dresser, which is in front of the bed across the room. Lauren’s The 1975 shirt, or is it Camila’s(?), has already collected a few paint spots as Lauren seems too absorbed in her work to notice anything else. Her hair is up in a messy bun and her tongue is poking out between her teeth in the way that it does when she’s concentrating and she’s wearing her glasses and Camila is in love.

She’s still reluctant to say it because it’s still way too soon in her opinion and she’s had her heart broken too many times. She’d given her heart out way too easily in the past and she refuses to lose in love again. Her thoughts are broken when Lauren moves on top of her.

The older girl leans forward and props her right hand by Camila’s chest, her fingers grazing Camila’s exposed side boob, while she uses her left hand to work on, apparently, a very small detail on Camila’s back because her face is inches from Camila’s skin and her hot breath is sending a warm, tingling sensation throughout her body. Lauren leaning forward also shifts where the green-eyed girl’s center is sat on top of Camila’s ass and the friction causes Camila to moan.

Lauren seems to be shaken out of her focus and immediately asks, “Shit, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“NO! Um-,” Camila clears her throat. “I mean it’s just um-” she tries to gather her thoughts to no avail and swallows hard.

Lauren looks at Camila’s flushed cheeks through the mirror and sees how her blush has spread to her ears and the back of her neck. She smirks, “Oh, I see what’s happening. Can’t you keep it in your pants for like two seconds?” Lauren says while chuckling, their point of contact making Camila feel every vibration through her body.

“No I can’t just keep it in my pants. Have you seen yourself?” Camila huffs indignantly.

Lauren just shakes her head and laughs. She leans forward and puts her brush down, placing both of her hands on either side of Camila’s head, being careful not to touch the paint, and turns to give Camila’s cheek a lingering kiss followed by a whisper in her ear, “Later, babe.”

Lauren finishes up and takes a picture of Camila’s back with her polaroid camera while remaining seated on Camila. She retrieves the picture and can’t help the smile that forms on her lips. The flawless curve of Camila’s back had been the perfect backdrop for the galaxy that she painted, the swirls of the cosmos perfectly complementing the shape of Camila’s body. She can see her own pale thighs dotted with paint and contrasting against Camila’s tan skin as she straddles her. Camila’s head is turned to the side, showing her mid laugh with her eyes closed and smile wide.

Lauren looks at it and knows she’s in love.

–

Lauren and Camila are at another exhibit and this time, it’s Lauren’s.

It’s been three years since Lauren stalked Camila on her way to her apartment and started their story of a lifetime. Camila graduated with high honors and is now nearing the end of her first year as a medical student. Lauren, on the other hand, had been picked up by a benefactor when Camila and Lauren spent the summer after graduation in France.

Her patron’s massive wealth combined with her incredible talent meant it took almost no time before Lauren gained ground in the art scene and became one of the fastest rising artists in the world. Following the footsteps of her artist/activist hero, Lauren has been donating a good portion of her profits to various charities, some she’d founded herself, after she had established a steady pace in her career.

Now, she’s in the middle of one of her most important exhibits yet. The gallery is filled with art pieces that depict her own life. Her benefactor had convinced her to create a showcase as a way for people to “get to know the artist.” She had used as many different media as she could think of to symbolize the many different layers and nuances that make up her life. She has her career, her friends, her family, her hobbies and interests, and of course, she has her Camila.

Lauren feels exposed and not because there are people looking into different aspects of her life, but because even after years of being with Camila, she feels the most nervous about her art when it comes to the brown-eyed girl. What if she thinks the whole exhibit is ridiculous and narcissistic?

“Hey, babe” Camila addresses her cheerily as she comes up to her girlfriend, effectively stopping Lauren’s train of thought. She looks up and sees her inspiration for just about every significant art piece she’d sold.

“Hey,” she says. “What do you think?” she asks nervously.

Camila comes up to wrap her arms around the other girl’s neck and Lauren instinctively places her hands around the girl’s waist. “I think you continue to amaze me with your talent is what I think,” Camila says, pride shining in her eyes.

Lauren lets out a sigh of relief and grabs Camila’s hand, “Come on, it’s time to reveal the central piece.”

Lauren is next to Camila as the curator for the gallery is giving an introduction about Lauren and her piece and Camila can feel the nerves radiating from the girl next to her. Lauren had refused to show Camila the piece before the actual exhibit. She had even worked on it in secret, sneaking out at night and sneaking back in the early hours of the morning. It had caused quite the problem for them.

–

Camila stirs awake and her hands instinctively reach out for her girlfriend’s warmth, only to be met with cold, empty sheets. She sits up and rubs her eyes, adjusting her eyes to the darkness and finding no sign of the green-eyed girl. She gets up and calls out into the empty apartment,

“Laur?”

Nothing.

Her heart thuds in her chest and she feels a familiar ache in her chest. Lately, Lauren has been busy “working on something” and she’s barely seen her. She had trusted the girl early on, but Camila had been cheated on so many times she knows the signs like the back of her hand. She picks up her phone and dials the other girl’s number only to see it vibrating on the coffee table.

“Damn it, Laur” she whispers.

She tries to stay up for the girl but finds herself falling asleep on the couch after a couple hours. She’s stirred awake when she hears keys jingling on the door. She stands up and crosses her arms immediately. Lauren walks in looking tired.

“Long night?” Camila asks harshly.

“Camila, what are you doing up?” Lauren asks.

Camila looks at her like she’d lost her damn mind, “What am I- are you kidding? Where have youbeen?” she asks angrily. Her temper rising against her own volition.

Lauren sighs and moves to the kitchen, “I’m tired Camila, can we not do this right now? I told you I’ve been working on something.”

“Something or someone?”

Lauren turns her head and says angrily, “Are you serious? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“You’ve been out late most nights and all you have to say about it is you’re ‘working on something’.” Camila says heatedly. “I mean, we live together and I barely see you, Laur,” Camila says, her voice cracking. “I just miss you.”

Lauren looks at her with an unreadable expression, “Do you not trust me?”

Camila looks at her and stays silent. Lauren scoffs and shakes her head, “Unbelievable, after almost three years of being together, you still think I’m like your exes? Like I’m just gonna get up and leave? What do I have to do to show you that I love you and I’m here for the long run?” she asks exasperatedly. “You’ve been looking for reasons to not make this work, Camila, and as far as I know, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Lauren I’m sor-”

“You know what, I can’t do this,” Lauren says picking up her keys again. “Come talk to me when you’re ready to listen” she says as she walks out the door.

That following night, when Lauren doesn’t come home, Camila cries herself to sleep. Lauren had left her phone again in her haste to leave and now Camila doesn’t know how to reach her.

Lauren is spending another late night at the studio and when she walks out of the ART building, she sees Camila by the steps. “Camila?” she asks. The girl turns around and gets up quickly. Her body is aching to bring Lauren in her arms and hug her and never let her go again, but she’s not sure where they stand so she keeps her hands to herself, choosing to stuff them in her pockets instead. Her eyes are swollen and she looks like she hasn’t slept in the last couple days. Lauren’s heart breaks at the sight. She thought she was doing the right thing by giving them space.

“I’m sorry,” Camila says, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I do trust you Laur. I do. It’s me, I just get so insecure,” she looks up with pleading eyes. “Please come home.”

Lauren closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around the other girl. She’d miss Camila and her warmth and just her these past few days, it’s like she’d been on autopilot until she got to touch her again. “I’m sorry,” she responds. “I’ve just been so stressed lately and I thought I was doing us a favor by giving us a break,” she turns her head to give Camila’s head a kiss.

Camila pulls back with tears in her eyes and leans forward to give Lauren a watery kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Lauren sighs. She’s glad to be home again.

The next morning, Camila wakes up to empty sheets again but when she turns her head, she sees a single rose with a note,

“I love you, Camila. I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel otherwise. I’ve packed your stuff. Get dressed and come meet me downstairs, I’m getting the car ready. We’re going away for the weekend. – Yours forever, Lauren”

Camila smiles to herself and gets ready as fast as she can. She sees Lauren downstairs leaning against her car and holding a bouquet of red roses with her attention on her phone. “Is this how you’re going to make it up to me every time we fight?” she asks as she approaches the green-eyed girl.

Lauren looks up and smiles as she offers her girl the flowers. “Actually, I’ve had this planned for a while. I’d been working late because I was trying to finish my piece so we can have this weekend all to ourselves,” she says sincerely.

Camila’s gaze softens and she starts to feel guilty. “Don’t,” Lauren interrupts her moping. “I should have done a better job at communicating with you. We both messed up,” she says as she brings Camila’s chin up with her fingers. “We’re going to continue to mess up but it won’t matter because at the end of the day, we’re always going to come back to one another. My heart isn’t capable of doing anything else but beat for yours, okay?” she assures Camila as she kisses her forehead.

–

Camila looks over and sees the girl worrying her lip and fiddling with her fingers. Camila reaches out to stop her fingers and interlaces their hands instead. Lauren gives her a soft look and mutters a “thank you” in her ear when she leans over to give her forehead a kiss.

“…and now, it’s time to reveal, The Center of Her Universe,” the curator announces as the veil is pulled down from the framed piece.

There are soft gasps all around and flashes flicker as the invited press takes pictures of the gigantic drawing in the center of the room.

Camila herself is finding it hard to breathe. She’s looking at the piece and it’s causing a rush of emotions that bulldozes right through her entire being. The art piece is a larger-than-life drawing of a girl that looks a lot like Camila.

The artist’s perspective shows the girl’s side profile. She’s standing with her hand worrying her lip as she looks to be concentrating on what’s in front of her. Camila notes the familiar geometric shapes that the girl is looking at.

Tableau I.

It’s a drawing of Camila when Lauren first laid eyes on her.

What makes the drawing breathtaking is the fact that on the dress Camila is wearing and throughout her wavy, brown locks, there are miniature drawings of different scenes from Camila and Lauren’s time together. The mini scenes are drawn with exquisite detail despite the seemingly non-existent space. There are sketches of their movie dates, gifts they’ve given each other, and quotes and declarations of love they’ve said over the years.

Camila, with tears in her eyes, turns to look at Lauren, who of course, is already looking at her.

“Lauren,” she whispers in awe. “This is incredible.”

“It doesn’t do justice to half of your beauty and what you’ve done to my life since I found you,” Lauren responds sincerely. Camila can’t say or do anything but throw her arms around Lauren and say, “I love you so much.”

–

They’re sitting on the rooftop of the gallery a couple hours after the exhibit had come to a close with Camila’s arm intertwined with Lauren’s and her head leaning against the other girl’s shoulder.

Camila can’t think of any other place she’d rather be.

Lauren disrupts the silence when she reaches for something in her jacket and for the second time that night, Camila is speechless. In front of her, Lauren is holding onto an open small box with a ring.

“I actually wanted to this at the reveal, but then I remembered how every milestone in our relationship had always just been between the two of us and I also didn’t want to pressure you in front of those people so…” Lauren says with a nervous laugh.

Camila looks up into her favorite green eyes and she sees the other girl’s nervous gaze as if Camila could even say anything other than yes to her.

“Like I wanted to depict in my main piece,” Lauren starts. “You’re the center of my universe, Camila. You’ve brought nothing but happiness and pure love to my life and I can’t thank you enough. You continue to be my number one supporter and have stayed by my side through everything. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how grateful I am for you if you’d let me, so…” she takes a deep breath.

“Camila Cabello,” she starts again, “Will you marr-”

“YES!” Camila answers and throws her arms around Lauren’s neck and kisses her as if to say every single thing she doesn’t know how to describe in words through the way her mouth moves along Lauren’s. She’s kissing her to show Lauren that with the green-eyed girl, it’s always going to be a resounding yes. Lauren owns her heart and everything else. She owns all of Camila.

“A thousand times yes,” she breathes into Lauren’s mouth as the other girl’s lips curve into a smile.

–

Camila is admiring the ring on her finger when she suddenly says to the other girl, “I still can’t believe you didn’t just come up to me that first day in MOMA,” she says with a confused look.

“That was probably honestly for the best,” Lauren says.

“What, why?” Camila asks curiously.

“The only thing that was going through my mind at the time was a lame pick-up line that definitely would not have worked in my favor,” Lauren says laughing to herself.

“What was it,” Camila asks.

Lauren looks at her and concedes. She clears her throat and says in a deep, husky voice,

“You’re like a piece of art,” she starts.

When Camila only raises an eyebrow, she continues.

“I want to nail you against the wall.”

–

The End.

  –

A/N:

Hey everyone,

I’m back with another one shot. I’m compiling my one shots in a book on wattpad under @jaureguicabello5eva (still working on getting these on ao3). I have a few ideas and I’m going to try to upload semi-regularly.

Feel free to send me some prompts or just general things you want to see in future stories and I’ll see what I can do.

Comments/feedback give me life so please tell me what you think. Talk to me about some ideas, scenes within the story, your thoughts on the plots, the characters, point out some typos if you want, etc.

Hope you guys enjoyed this one!

side note: there are pictures in wattpad if you want to have a better idea of the pieces being referenced

-Maddox

#UPDATE #one shot #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #humour #romance fluff #submission #youre like a piece of art you need to be nailed against a wall

[jeonbloom]

bouleversement | kim taehyung

▻ noun (n.) [bou·le·ver·se·ment] reversal; a turn of events

☾pairing: taehyung x reader

☾genre: angst but there is a little fluff sometimes

☾words: 10.6k

☾synopsis: Instead of you hoping to cross paths with the museum boy you met a few years ago, it was him who wanted to cross paths with you now. Instead of you chasing him a year ago, it was him chasing you now. But instead of him being cold towards you six months ago, it was you being cold towards him now.

A/N: my attempt at writing an angsty fic, lmao. it took me so much time researching the artworks and finding out which pieces tae was talking about in vlive chat a while ago. feedback is always welcome & feel free to message me!!!

Throughout your whole life, your insecurities followed you like a shadow. You weren’t insecure because of your looks or lack of skills. Your insecurity was ultimately caused by your parents’ overwhelming wealth. Both of your parents were successful lawyers, owning a big law-firm with over a hundred employees. Because of the high status it had, you were quite known for being their daughter; a naive girl who had parents with more money than some would ever earn in their whole lifetime.

Already at a young age, people used your naivety and innocence against you. Many peers would be sent your way by their parents, hoping to befriend the wealthy girl and benefit from it themselves. The friendships were never genuine, something you became very insecure of. Whenever you found out about people’s true intentions, the walls surrounding you became higher and higher. You didn’t want to be used for your parents’ money like that. All you really wanted was real friends who genuinely liked you for you, not for the money your parents had.

The ‘friends’ who did manage to come closer to you, all left after they realized they wouldn’t benefit from you. You might’ve been naive in the past, but because of the various experiences you had with some greedy people, you learnt to not use the wealth to your own benefit.

People called you passionate, always striving towards your goal with big steps. You never made use of the privileges you had. Instead, you independently tried to reach your goals. Your parents encouraged you to be like that, not wanting to feed you a silver spoon. They made you do things yourself instead of taking the easy route. When you were younger, you absolutely hated them for not letting you use the privileges that were right in front of you. As you grew up, you learned to appreciate their attempts to show you how far effort alone can bring you without taking the easy routes. Besides your monthly allowance you received from your parents, you mainly worked for money with this side job you had at a local museum.

Being raised in an art-loving family, you had grown to admire art too. You and your parents used to travel the whole country just to visit different museums. Sometimes you’d find yourself in interactive museums, where you could play around with many things and discover things yourself. Other times you’d intently listen to a museum employee talk about the stories behind paintings. Those stories would keep floating through your mind for weeks because of how much they interested you. It was amazing how a few layers of paint could hold so many emotions and backstories. Growing up, your preference for interactive museums slowly changed lanes to preferring the more traditional museums.

With you being a regular customer, who was a familiar face to many employees, you were immediately hired at a local museum in Daegu as a 17-year old. In that same year, there was a very big exhibition, showing different artworks by Vincent van Gogh. Van Gogh had always been one of your favorite painters in history. One day of the exhibition was a little more memorable than any other, though. There was a loud buzz around the museum because of the large number of guests who wanted to see a glimpse of the masterpieces the museum managed to collect for the exhibition. Most of the guests were surrounding the more famous pieces like ‘The Starry Night’ or ‘Almond Blossoms’.

You had been wandering around that afternoon, looking at the different paintings on your day off. There was a boy about your age who caught your eye. He was looking at one of the less popular paintings, looking absolutely entranced by it. He was looking at ‘The Pink Orchard’, which was a painting that normally would be exhibited in the Vincent van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, The Netherlands. The museum had a hard time trying to get that painting imported to South-Korea, but managed to do so after a lot of negotiation. The boy was tall and had a unique aura surrounding him. He was staring at the painting with so much intensity, as if the painting would disappear if he didn’t.

After gathering enough courage, you approached the boy with small steps. Quietly standing next to him, you looked at the painting. The painting showed a field of trees, mainly focusing on a blossoming peach tree in the center.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ you spoke.

The boy broke away from his trance and turned to give you a quick look, before nodding and turning back to look at the painting.

‘This piece is from a series called ‘Flowering Orchards’. Van Gogh painted these in Aries, somewhere in Southern France. When he arrived in Aries, there was a snowstorm. But within two weeks, the weather had changed and suddenly there were trees blossoming everywhere,’ you told him, still staring at the painting ahead of you.

‘The turn of events gave him the feeling of rebirth. He got inspired, which is why he started painting the blossoming trees. They represent hope and awakening,’ you rambled on.

At this point, most of the guests would have enough information. You would always leave after telling a little, not wanting to bore or irritate guests, especially on your days off. In others’ eyes you were a guest, not an employee. Keeping this in mind, you took a step back and started walking away. Only to be called back by the boy you stood next to just a few seconds ago. You turned around and he stared at you with his dark eyes.

‘If you have the time, would you mind telling me more about this piece? I’d love to know more about it,’ the boy said, showing a lot of curiosity with a warm vibe surrounding him.

You nodded, quite surprised that he’d want to know more. There weren’t many teenagers interested in art. And if they were, it would be more modern, ‘aesthetic’ art. Returning to your original place, you started talking again.

‘The trees are blossoming apricot trees. Van Gogh also has paintings of peach trees and plum trees. This painting is the first of the triptych. The center painting is right there,’ you said while pointing to the painting next to the one you were talking about.

The talking continued for a while, only coming from your side. At some point, you had told everything you could tell about the piece. The boys seemed content with the given information and showed a look full of gratitude. That day, the two of you went different ways, but you secretly hoped that one day you’d cross paths with the boy again.

D-60

Fast forward four years later. You, as a 21-year old, were still working at the museum, but never had any encounter with the boy again. He never came back to the museum, at least not that you knew of. You didn’t have time to worry about it anyways. College took up a huge chunk of your free time, and if it wasn’t college or work that took up your time, you could be found dancing at a dance studio.

Besides art, dancing had been a big passion of you for a long time. After seeing your older sister dance at her dance classes back when you were 7 years old, you begged your parents to also let you take dance classes. From that day and onwards, dancing became one of the things you loved doing the most.

At some point, you stopped taking lessons and went to a dance studio instead. It became a place of comfort. Nobody knew about your parents, and if they knew they had never showed it. Your parents’ money wouldn’t have any influence on them anyways, as they all were passionate about dancing and were very driven to improve their skills. Money wouldn’t have any influence on their dancing skills, which is why you found yourself breaking down your walls around the dancers at the studio.

There were a few friends you made at the studio. Sometimes you’d join different groups, learning new techniques and choreographies. Other times you’d go to an empty practice to dance on your own and just let loose.

With your body moving along the beat of the song, you danced across the room. Sweat was covering your whole body and you were exhausted after a long day of practicing. Pushing through, you decided that this would be the last dance you practiced before calling it a day. The silence that came after the song ended was short-lived, interrupted by the sound of someone clapping behind you.  

You shot your head up, looking at the boy standing at the door opening through the reflection of the mirrors in front of you. Turning around, your eyes met his. He was one or two years older than you, with a big smile, showing off his perfectly aligned, pearly whites.

‘Wow, that was really good! Did you choreograph that dance yourself?’ he asked.  

You nodded, walking towards your bag and taking out water bottle. After twisting off the cap, you took a few big gulps and turned back towards the boy standing in the doorway.  

‘Thank you. Yeah, I did choreograph it myself. But I don’t think I’ve seen you at the studio before. Are you looking for something?’ you asked, shooting him a curious gaze.

‘I actually am looking for you. You’re Y/N, right?’ the boy said, showing a bit of hesitation.

That made you send him a look filled with surprise.

‘Why are you looking for me?’ you asked with genuine curiosity.

The boy started walking towards you in a slow pace. He extended his hand for you to shake.

‘My name is Jung Hoseok. I dance together with a group of boys and we call ourselves Bangtan,’ he started.

You quirked up an eyebrow with a questioning gaze. You had heard of Bangtan before. It was a small dance group. The members were known for being very talented boys. They knew how to dance and had built up quite a reputation for it. Bangtan was known for being a friendly group, but also very closed-off. Their group always consisted out of the same seven members and they rejected everyone who wanted to join them.

‘I’m Y/N, but you knew that already. What makes you look for me?’ you repeated your question while accepting his stretched out hand and shaking it lightly.

‘There’s this dance competition coming up at the end of the year and out group really wanted to participate. The only problem is that it is a mixed-gender competition and our dance group only consists out of boys. The group has been looking for a female dancer for a while and your friend Hyun Jin told us that you were a good dancer. He told us that you might want to join, assuming that you have a lot of time in hand because of the upcoming holidays and stuff. I came here to ask you if had any interest in joining Bangtan for the competition.’

You blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Did he really just ask you to join his dance group? Bangtan? The group that never welcomed new members, not even temporarily?

‘Are you serious right now?’ you asked, very confused.

He nodded.

‘It’s fine if you can’t answer right now, but please consider it and call me if you made your decision,’ Hoseok said while handing you a piece of paper. You nodded in response and Hoseok left just like that.

D-56

After some hesitation, you decided to do it. The fact that the Bangtan was willing to add a new member, even if it was only temporarily, was a rare event by itself. Hyun Jin was right about the fact that you had a lot of time in hand. The holidays were coming up and the pressure of school was dying down. It would be a nice experience for you, since you hadn’t joined a dance competition before.

The day you met the other members of Bangtan was quite a day. You arrived at the address Hoseok had texted you, standing in front of a small dance studio called BigHit. The moment you stepped inside the building, it became very clear for you where you had to be. The loud music could be heard from the entrance, booming through the whole dance studio. You followed the sound and ended up standing in front of a glass door. You stood there, watching through the glass. One, two, three… seven boys were dancing in sync. You recognized the boy dancing in the center as Hoseok, the boy you had texted just an hour ago.

Your eyes wandered around, following each boy’s movements. One of the boys really grabbed your attention with his dancing. He danced with so much passion, it basically radiated off him. He showed the most enthusiastic expressions and mouthed along with lyrics, showing that he was really into the song. The thing that surprised you about him, was the fact that you recognized his face. It was him, the boy from the museum four years ago. The two of you had finally crossed paths, just like you hoped. He hadn’t changed a bit. Of course, the boy had matured within the last four years, but besides that, he was basically the same boy you met a few years ago.

After the song ended, Hoseok motioned you to come inside. He had noticed your presence halfway through the dance, spotting you behind the glass door. Timidly, you opened the door and walked towards the boys who huddled together, their eyes falling on you.

‘Hey, Y/N! You’re earlier than expected!’ Hoseok said while sending you a smile.

‘Yeah, it was a lot closer than I expected it to be, so I’m a little early,’ you said.

Hoseok then walked up to you and guided you to the group of boys. Six pairs of eyes were all trained on you, but you only focused on the boy on the far right. The boy from the museum. The vibe surrounding him was different from the one back then. Compared to before, he looked a lot more closed off and cold. His eyes shot you an icy look, before looking back at the boy standing next to you.

‘Guys, this is Y/N. She’s the girl I was talking about. Y/N will be the one joining us for the end-of-the-year competition,’ Hoseok started.

You nodded shyly, noticing their curious yet quite unwelcoming gazes. The boys were known for not really wanting anyone to join their group, which is why you had expected it. Even so, you couldn’t help but shrink back slightly. Gathering some courage, you started introducing yourself.

‘Hi, guys. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. I hope we can work well together. Please take good care of me,’ you breathed out, overwhelmed by the tall group of boys towering over you.

The boys standing across you started introducing themselves one by one, while you did your best trying to remember their names and connecting them to their faces. At last, the museum boy introduced himself.

‘I’m Taehyung,’ he had said.

‘I think we have met before, didn’t we?’ you asked, hoping he’d remember. Taehyung’s face showed a quick look of surprise.

‘I don’t think so. I don’t remember seeing you anywhere.’

He didn’t remember? Of course he didn’t remember, he was constantly looking at the paintings instead of your face. You should’ve expected it. It was a short encounter, anyways. Still, you decided to press on.

‘Four years ago? At the Van Gogh exhibition in the museum a few blocks from here?’ you pressed on.

A look of recognition flashed through Taehyung’s eyes, but his face showed no expression or interest.

‘I think you have the wrong person. I’m not interested in art,’ the boy answered coldly.

Maybe it wasn’t the museum boy after all. You tried to not show your disappointment and lowered your head.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. You look like a boy I met a few years ago, my mistake.’

Taehyung didn’t reply and the conversation was over after that. Hoseok broke up the introductions and got us to start the actual practice for the competition. It was less than two months away, which is why everyone suddenly turned serious and turned back to practicing again. While Jimin, a boy your age, had the privilege of teaching you the dance, the others kept practicing and shooting out ideas to finish the choreography.

D-49

Within a week, you were fully caught up and had joined the rest of the group, practicing together. If there was one thing you hated inheriting from your parents, it was the fact that it took you ages to learn things and remember them. Just like your parents, it takes you a long time to get things in your head and carry it out perfectly. The amount of frustration you felt that was unreal. Not just because you couldn’t get the choreo in your head, but also because you felt like you were holding the others back. The amount of times you noticed their annoyance because of you missing the beat or forgetting a move was countless by that point. You were very grateful for Jimin’s patience. He showed understanding, but sometimes couldn’t help showing his frustration. You understood, though, it made you more determined to stuff it in your head.

The boys never said anything to you about it though, knowing you were frustrated yourself already. Except for Taehyung, he was always the first one to criticize you. At first it felt intimidating, but after a while you started appreciating it. Because of him calling you out, you would only get more motivated to do better, be more attentive while dancing and eventually carry out the moves exactly the way they should be.

The choreography was not quite finished yet, but together with the boys, you were getting there. Each member actively participated in suggesting new moves or small details to make the dance just a little more perfect. After a week or two of joining Bangtan, you built up the courage to suggest some ideas yourself. While Hoseok and Jimin kindly appreciated your input, the others did not. The boys were all decent and polite to you, but it was very clear that you didn’t belong to the group. You had expected it, knowing you were only a temporary addition to be able to join the end-of-the-year competition.

The female dancer that was added to the group turned out to be you and in a way, the boys were glad to have you join them. You didn’t interfere with them, listened well and your dancing skills were very much above average, much to their surprise. Although it took you a while to remember the steps, when you finally did remember, you do it exactly the way you’re supposed to do. The fact that you were nice and humble was also a positive bonus. The amount of times the boys had met rude and stuck-up dancers, while looking for a female dance to add to the group, was more than they wanted. The boys tolerated you, but couldn’t accept you quite yet.

Teahyung was an exception. He clearly didn’t want you there, but had to put up with you anyways. Besides pointing out your mistakes, no words were spoken between you. Even though you hadn’t done anything to get him to dislike you, he still did. He just didn’t like you, even though he didn’t have a proper reason.

D-31

After another two weeks, about one month into practicing, you were glad to have grown a little bit closer to the boys. They admired you for the big effort you put into practicing. They all knew you kept practicing for a long time, even after everyone had left. But the boys didn’t know that some days would turn into all-nighters, filled with repeated steps, filming yourself to see the mistakes for yourself and trying to improve constantly.

At the end of the song, you went to the corner or the room to take your stuff, only to find a phone next to your bag. The black phone case covering the phone was decorated with a red snake. Pushing the home button, you were surprised to recognize the lock screen image. It was a painting by Renoir, a French impressionist painter. He was someone you weren’t quite a fan of, but you did appreciate his artworks.

Turning around with the phone in one hand and your bag slung over your shoulder, you were surprised to see Taehyung entering the practice room. He showed a surprised look, most likely wondering why the hell you were still at the dance studio at four in the morning.

‘Hi, Tae. What are you doing here?’ you asked. You never called him by his full name, finding it a little too formal for some reason. Although he was a cold person who was emotionless most of the time, you thought that the nickname suited him. Taehyung had never really shown any dislike towards the name, so you continued calling him that. At some point, even other Bangtan members started calling the boy ‘Tae’.

‘Have you seen my phone? I thought I took it with me a few hours ago, but I can’t find it at home,’ he said, searching the floor. Taehyung would only really speak to you when he needed to. This was one of those rare occasions.

You nodded, stretching out your hand and handing him his phone.

‘I found it on the floor next to my bag just now,’ you said.

The boy, clearly relieved, quickly took his phone from your hand. He checked the whole device, making sure nothing had happened to it, before raising his head back to you.

‘Have you been practicing here since we left?’

You nodded and started walking towards the entrance of the building with Taehyung following you. At that moment, you couldn’t see his face, but the boy behind you was very shocked to see the amount of effort you put into the dance. He knew you were determined to do well, but not this determined. How many nights had you stayed at the studio, continuing practicing for that long?

At the entrance of the building, you were about to say goodbye to him, only to get interrupted by his low voice.

‘Should I take you home? It’s late. And really dark. I drove here, so I can drop you off?’

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head. The one and only Kim Taehyung was being nice and considerate to you? That sure was a first. Quickly masking your surprise, you shot him a small smile before shaking your head.

‘No, it’s fine. I got here with my car too, but thanks for the offer,’ you replied.

The boy standing across you nodded and turned around to head over to his car, just like you walked towards yours. Still feeling warm because of his kind offer, you left with a good mood, your tiredness completely forgotten.

D-23

The growing acceptance of you in the Bangtan didn’t go unnoticed by you. Hoseok had been accepting towards you from the start. He was always warm and open towards you and the members, always showing some affection in a way.

Meanwhile, Jimin and you had gotten closer mainly because he was the one who taught you the choreography. It resulted into spending more time with him compared to the other members. The both of you also enjoyed contemporary dance a lot. The mutual interest for it resulted into hanging out even more and staying at the dance studio a little longer just to dance together.

Much to Taehyung’s dismay, the other members had also started liking and accepting you more. When the youngest member, Jungkook, had found out you were practically a fluent English speaker, thanks to the many lessons you had taken, he had begged you to teach him. That’s how the two of you had grown closer together. The younger boy started to get very comfortable around you after getting to know you more. Besides the fact that he admired the amount of effort you put into dancing, he appreciated your help with English a lot.

The leader of the group, Namjoon, was a very intelligent man. You found out he was very much into history, something you also found interest in. Even though your interest in history was more towards art history, the two of you liked to converse about different topics. Namjoon wasn’t that interested in art, but loved to listen to the history and stories behind it.

There were many things you lacked and one of them is cooking. You could mess up even the easiest things, like preparing ramen or frying an egg. No kidding. After trying a few of Seokjin’s dishes, you had begged the oldest member to teach you how to cook. And he did. Too bad that you still couldn’t cook to save a life, even after so much help from Seokjin. Even so, it didn’t stop you from attempting to bake some cupcakes for him and the members for Seokjin’s birthday. And much to his surprise, the food was decent. While the visuals were terrible, the taste was decent, which was basically a miracle for you.  

As for Yoongi, the two of you didn’t have that much in common. While he lived a chill, lazy life with only music as his passion, you had so many hobbies that an hour of doing nothing would make you feel empty. The two of you found out that you guys could talk well together, three or four weeks after getting to know each other. The older boy just understood you, no explanation needed. He was a listener, while you were a talker. You liked to talk about everything and nothing, but you were the happiest when talking about art. Yoongi liked to always listen attentively, even if it didn’t look like it. Despite him being two years older than you, the two of you just seemed to fit together. It resulted into you feeling most comfortable around Yoongi and hanging out a lot with him. Yoongi gave you some rest in your hectic life, which was always much needed. The two of you just fit together, and you were happy to be able to call him your best friend.

Taehyung was someone you never really managed to get closer to. He didn’t show any interest in you, which you accepted. You didn’t want to push him to accept or like you, so the relationship between you two remained strictly professional. But even Taehyung had shown minor signs of accepting you. Besides showing more consideration like that one night when Taehyung forgot his phone, he had also decreased his nagging. The amount of criticism you received became less over time. He was less harsh and cold towards you. The difference in attitude was small, but still noticeable.

D-18

The room you entered one day, was not like it usually is. You were used to the music booming through the speakers whenever you entered. But this time you noticed the boys all spread over the room, taking a break. Seokjin, Jeongguk and Namjoon were sitting on the small sofa, a book between the leader and the youngest. Namjoon was clearly trying to explain something to Jeongguk, who looked nothing but confused. Seokjin was just staring ahead of him, not really doing anything. Jimin and Taehyung were sitting against the mirror-covered walls, Taehyung resting his head in the crook of Jimin’s shoulders. Yoongi and Hoseok were both sitting in the middle of the room, talking quietly between one another.

You walked towards the couch with bags in your hand. ‘Hey, guys. I got some coffee and snacks for you!’ you said while entering the room, gathering everyone’s attention.

Everyone slowly stopped what they were doing and approached you. You, one by one, took out everyone’s preferred drink from one bag and took out a box filled with cookies from the other bag.

While everyone eagerly accepted their drinks, nobody dared to try a cookie. You noticed Yoongi eyeing the box suspiciously.

‘Did you bake those? Because if you did, I’ll pass,’ he said.

You chuckled and shook your head. ‘No, I bought these, okay? You guys can eat them, don’t worry.’

Suddenly multiple hands were grabbing the cookies and the boys went back to their original spots with their drinks and cookies in hand.

‘But seriously, guys. I’m not that bad at baking. I mean, the cupcakes I baked for Seokjin were decent, right?’ you said, trying to convince yourself as well.

Jimin, who was still standing next to you, snorted and ruffled your hair. ‘Yeah, sure they were decent. But we don’t want to risk it, okay?’

He sat back down next to Taehyung and the other boy put his head back in the crook of Jimin’s neck. The boys were never shy to show affection to one another, something you adored the group for. At first you were a little surprised by their very open affection, but now it was the most normal thing in the world and you also liked to share your affection to the boys.

‘Didn’t you get coffee for yourself, Y/N?’ Jeongguk asked, sitting on the couch.

‘Oh, totally forgot. I actually don’t like coffee that much, so I got myself some hot chocolate,’ you told the youngest while getting your drink from the bag.

‘Wait, we’ve gotten you coffee a few times already. Why didn’t you say anything?’ Hoseok remarked.

‘I don’t necessarily dislike coffee, I just prefer other drinks. Besides, I appreciated the fact that you guys got me something in the first place, I shouldn’t whine about that stuff.’

‘Well, next time we’ll make sure to get you hot chocolate!’ Jeongguk said. You nodded with a smile and then went over to Hobi and Yoongi.

‘Guys, the museum just managed to get these big pieces in for the upcoming Monet exhibition. I’m so excited! I used to love his water lilies paintings and I finally get to see them in real life,’ you started rambling. The two across you both looked at you with a small smile, adoring your enthusiasm.

‘You should really come visit the museum next week! If you have time to spare. There are many guests expected, but I can get you guys tickets?’ you suggested, your eagerness radiating off you.

The boys shot each other a look before turning back to you and nodding in response. ‘Yeah, sure. We finished the dance anyways, so all there’s left is extra practice. An afternoon off is fine,’ Yoongi replied.

You let out a small shriek of happiness. ‘I can assure you guys that you won’t regret it! I’ll be the best tour guide ever and tell you everything I know. I’m so excited! There’s this painting called ‘The Water Lily Pond’ and it’s one of Monet’s most famous artworks ever. It is amazing and I can’t wait to show you.’

‘Does anyone want to join Yoongi and Hobi? I’ll make sure to get the tickets for you. It’s on me!’ you said, looking around the room.

The other boys shook their heads, except for Namjoon who show interest in visiting the museum. When your eyes fell on Jimin and Taehyung, who were both busy on their phones and clearly didn’t follow the conversation, you noticed something in their reflections on the mirror. Taehyung, who looked like he wasn’t listening, was actually looking up the painting you were just talking about. Although the image on his phone was small and you weren’t exactly sitting close to him, you’d recognize the piece anywhere.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread throughout your stomach again, loving the fact that Taehyung was actually paying attention to what you were saying. He didn’t show it, but did.

‘Tae, Jimin?’ you said, trying to get their attention. The boys looked up from their phone and turned their heads towards you.

‘You guys want to join Hobi, Namjoon, Yoongi and me? We’re going to the museum so I can show them around.’

Both shook their heads and went back to their phones, but you eyed Taehyung’s phone screen in the mirror, seeing him still staring at the painting.

D-2

With only two days left until the competition and Christmas having passed, the boys and you were very busy with practicing, starting very early. The boys had sent Taehyung and you to go get some coffee for the sleepy boys. The roads were covered in snow, while Taehyung and you were walking towards the cafe a block or two away from the dance studio.

There was a calm silence surrounding the two of you, something you enjoyed. You watched your feet leave imprints in the fresh snow and rounded the corner. Taehyung walked alongside of you, only to bump into this small boy who fell backwards. Taehyung, having very fast reflexes, caught the boy before he could fall and lifted him into his arms.

‘Are you okay, little one?’ Taehyung asked with much concern.

The small boy nodded shyly and Taehyung showed him a wide, boxy smile.

‘Where are your parents? Are you lost?’ Taehyung asked while fixing a few strands of the toddler’s hair.

At that moment, a concerned voice was heard. ‘Jonghyun!’

A petite woman was walking towards us with big strides, concern covering her face. Taehyung handed the boy back to the woman, who immediately checked the boy, asking whether he was okay and if he was hurt or not.

The child, Jonghyun, shook his head and pointed at Taehyung.

‘That uncle helped me,’ he said timidly.

His mother’s eyes followed her son’s hand and looked at Taehyung.

‘Thank you so much. He likes to wander around and the moment I turn around he disappears. I’m sorry if he caused you any trouble,’ she apologized, bowing with her son in her arms.

Taehyung shook his head.

‘No, it’s fine. He didn’t do anything.’

Taehyung shows a grin and ruffles the boy’s hair.

‘Don’t run away from your mother, okay?’ he said while looking at Jonghyun.

Jonghyun nodded and his mother turned around with another small bow, walking back to where they came from.

You had been quiet throughout the whole scene that had played out in front of you. Taehyung had never shown that many emotions, only while dancing. The moment he looked at the little boy’s eyes, his face melted and suddenly a Taehyung appeared you had never seen before. He was soft and warm, the complete opposite of how he normally was. You were stunned by his sudden attitude change, and the moment he noticed your shocked expression, his emotionless face returned.

If you had to be honest, you had kind of developed a small crush on Taehyung in the last month. At first you showed interest in him because he looked so much like museum boy. But at some point, you started noticing his little habits, like curling his toes whenever he was concentrating hard, his mouth opening a little when he was lost in his thoughts or his eyes widening whenever he ate something delicious. Those small things made you slowly but surely fall for him. It also didn’t help that you had just seen another side of Kim Taehyung you had never seen before, a side you liked very much.

At the cafe, Taehyung started ordering while you sat at one of the tables, fiddling with your hands.

‘Oh wait, can you make that two Americano’s instead of three? She doesn’t like coffee. A hot chocolate with whipped cream instead, please,’ Taehyung said to the girl behind the cash register.

You had forgotten to tell him that you didn’t want coffee, but he knew before you had told him already. It was a great surprise, knowing he remembered those small facts. Rather than commenting on it, though, you decided to stay quiet and wait while he sat down across you. The boy took out his phone and started typing frantically, looking anything but relaxed. You noticed he had been a little worked up lately, always leaving home early and getting frustrated whenever he made mistakes while practicing.

‘Tae, what are you doing?’ you asked him.

The boy looked up for a second and then returned to typing.

‘I had to hand in this stupid assignment for history class, but I handed it in too late. So, the professor decided to punish me and now I have to write out a three thousand-word essay. And it should be handed in before the end of the year,’ he said, still typing.

‘Wow, that’s harsh, having to hand it in in the holidays. Why are you typing it when you have to write it, though?’  you asked

‘I’m typing it all out first so I can just copy it by hand when I’m finished.’

You nodded at his answer and the two of you stayed silent after his answer.

D-1

There was only one day left before the competition. Everyone had finished practicing and you guys had decided to get some food, while Taehyung headed home first to finish his assignment. There was a happy and relaxed atmosphere surrounding the group, and you were glad about the fact that they accepted you wholeheartedly. You really felt like you were part of the group now. The boys showed genuine acceptance and affection towards you, not like the fake friends you used to have.

You joined the boys heading back home from the cafe, bringing a cup of coffee with you for Taehyung. He was probably working hard to be able to finish the assignment before the end of the year, always scribbling down stuff whenever you guys took a break from dancing. You decided to get him some coffee, to help him get through the day. While everyone went back to their rooms to wash up and rest, you headed to Taehyung’s room. Excitedly you entered, only to have Taehyung open the door just a fraction of a second earlier.

The timing wasn’t right, because the next moment you know, you stumbled because of the door suddenly opening. Losing your balance, you bump into Taehyung while the shock caused you to spill the coffee in your hand. The coffee on the floor wasn’t much of a problem, the real problem was that the coffee had also stained the multiple papers in Taehyung’s hand.

Quickly reacting, you let out a big gasp.

‘Oh my god, I am so sorry, Tae! I didn’t know you’d open the door!’ you quickly said, taking a few tissues from the boy’s desk and trying to dry off the now soaked papers with smudged ink.

But really, the damage was done already and you couldn’t do anything about it to fix the problem. Taehyung hadn’t said anything since your arrival yet, but it was very clear that the words he’d let out wouldn’t be the nicest words. The boy was fuming out of anger, his built-up stress suddenly reached the breaking point.

‘Look at what you have done! You know how much effort it took and now everything is a mess!’ he called out.

The guilt crept up and filled your whole body. Ruining his assignment was the last thing you wanted to do, knowing how much effort he put into it. The boy had been stressed a lot, lately. The fact that the competition was just before the end of the year, as well as the deadline caused him to feel distressed. He had a busy schedule. He was either practicing or working on the assignment.  

‘I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to help you by getting some coffee to get you going, but-‘

‘I don’t need your help! Nobody does! The only reason that you’re here is because of the competition. If it wasn’t for the money, I wouldn’t even have welcomed you here!’ Taehyung screamed at the top of his lungs.

‘M-money?’ you asked, confused. You knew that you had joined Bangtan because they needed a female dancer to enter the competition, but you hadn’t heard anything about money.

‘You didn’t know, did you? The first place receives 1,500 dollars. That’s the reason why we want you here. We don’t like you anyways. Just do your thing tomorrow and get lost after that. Nobody wants you here anyways,’ the furious boy called out. He threw the stained papers in the trashcan and stormed out of the room. You heard him storm down the stairs and the front door opening and shutting.

So after all this time, people still used you for money. This time it isn’t even your parents’ money they wanted, but the reason they approached you was still money. It was stupid for you to think that the boys wanted to join the competition just for fun. Really, Y/N? How could you be so stupid? It is obvious that they would want to get first place for the prize. Why didn’t you think of that?

The tears were threatening fall along your cheeks, but you tried to hold them in. Slowly standing up, you walked up to Taehyung’s desk and took some more tissues. You cleaned up the mess on the floor, took out Taehyung’s assignment and carefully tried to dry it off. No avail, though. Half of the words were smudged and the coffee had stained the white papers light brown. You took the assignment and tried to leave Taehyung’s room when Yoongi entered.

‘What was that screaming all about?’ he asked with a confused look.

The moment your eyes met and he saw the tears streaming down your face, he quickly walked towards you with a concerned look.

‘What happened, Y/N? Are you okay? What did Taehyung say?’ he asked, overwhelming you with questions.

You however, quickly showed him a blank look, ignored him and left the house. It hurt, knowing your friends used you for money after all. It wasn’t the first time and you were so sure that the friendships within Bangtan had been genuine. Maybe you shouldn’t have trusted people that easily. Even after all this time, you were still too naive and gullible. Realizing that all the conversations between you and the boys were probably only to convince you that they liked you and hide their true intentions left an aching pain in your chest.

D-Day

The following day the boys were on the verge of breaking point. There were only 5 minutes left until you guys had to perform and you were nowhere to be seen. After the incident of the previous day, Yoongi had asked Taehyung about what had happened between the two of you, only to receive a vague response and some mumbling. Yoongi decided to not press on, but still was very confused. He really wanted to know what caused you that much distress. After two months of knowing you, Yoongi knew that you liked to suppress your negative emotions and keep them to yourself. Not once had he seen you cry and not once had you shown such an emotionless look towards him like you did that day.

‘Where the hell is she? She was so excited yesterday but today she decides to not show up like this?’ Hoseok groaned out in frustration.

The other boys had been clueless about the incident, nobody having heard the screaming except for Yoongi. Taehyung was on edge too, he knew he shouldn’t have said what he said the day before. The stress had been building up and he just lost it at that moment, unfortunately it had to be you who were near. He wanted to apologize as soon as he calmed down, but he didn’t have your number and didn’t dare to ask others.

A crew member appeared in front of them and told them to stand by. It was almost time for their performance.

‘What do we do now?’ Jeongguk squeaked, full of worry.

Right at that moment, you entered the waiting room. Shrugging off your bag and jacket, you walked up to the boys and remained silent. You looked calm and collected, quite the opposite of the boys who looked at you with shocked and stressed faces. Before anyone could call you out for arriving this late, you guys were hurried on stage. Nobody had time to notice the fact that you had no emotions showing on your face. It was blank and even though you looked okay, your eyes told another story. The vibe surrounding you was different from your usual warm and open vibe, but the boys were too occupied with thinking about the dance instead of checking up on you.

As soon as your group appeared on stage, everyone went to their positions and the music boomed throughout the whole room. The dance went exactly as planned, each movement followed the beat and no noticeable mistakes were made. Taehyung couldn’t resist stealing glances at you throughout the dance. You danced better than ever before, your expressions matching the lyrics. The stage was full of energy, just like your dance moves. But why did your eyes seem so dull?

After the dance, everyone went down with happy and relieved faces. The full month of training was over and it paid well off. All the boys hugged each other, telling everyone they did a great job. The happy atmosphere died down a little and Jimin turned around to ask you about your whereabouts before the performance. But before he could could ask you why you were so late, you had already left. The boys looked around the waiting room, only to see that your bag and jacket were gone, just like you. You didn’t even wait until the results were announced and disappeared, just like that.

The boys were all confused, but mostly worried about you. You still hadn’t answered any of their calls or texts. They all wanted to know why you were behaving like that. It wasn’t like you at all. They waited for you to return when the results were announced, but you never appeared. In the end, Bangtan did win with your help, but you weren’t there to receive the prize or celebrate with them.

Taehyung knew why you were behaving like that, recalling his words he spat out yesterday. He told you to get lost after the competition, and that’s exactly what you did.

Back at their shared home, Yoongi cornered Taehyung about what happened with you. It was obvious that the screams Yoongi heard the day before had something to do with your behavior. Although Yoongi was not someone to meddle with others’ issues, this incident also affected the group, so he needed to know. The boy knew about Taehyungs dislike towards you. Hell, everyone in Bangtan knew. They all left it alone, because you didn’t seem to mind and they also noticed Taehyung’s slight attitude change overtime.

Taehyung eventually told the truth about the incident and apologized to Yoongi for messing up.

‘It’s not me who you should apologize to. Go apologize to Y/N. You know very well our intention was never to use her to win the money. The boys all love her, you can’t just say things you don’t mean. What makes it even worse is that you said those things while she had a crush on you. You knew she liked you, right? It was so clear and she was always so considerate of you, but this is what you do to her?’ Yoongi angrily spat out.

Yoongi was disappointed in Taehyung for hurting you like that. Although joining the contest initially was about the prize, the boy had never even once thought of you as a way to gain money. Yoongi genuinely liked you for you, not for the money he might earn with it. He was worried he might just lose his best friend, but he couldn’t intervene, as this was something between you and Taehyung.

With the phone number he had received from Yoongi, Taehyung had attempted to make up with you. He had called you so many times and you had picked up the first time. When you realized that it was Taehyung who called you, you immediately hung up. The boy called a few times after that, but no avail. You didn’t budge. His text messages filled with apologies and regret were left on read and he didn’t hear anything from you.

That same day Taehyung also told the other members, only to receive disappointed and frustrated looks from the others. Taehyung was disappointed in himself too. He never meant to hurt you like that. The stress of the assignment in combination with the stress of the competition had been building up and the moment you spilled the coffee, he reached his breaking point.

Taehyung had grown a liking towards you over time. He admired your determinism to reach your goals, your kind heart and your consideration towards others. Not once had you tried to push his buttons and test his limits, making sure you always kept a safe distance from him. He had noticed your lingering stares and the small smiles on your face whenever you looked at him. He knew about your crush on him, and even though he didn’t reciprocate your feelings at first, it slowly changed.

+1

The day after the competition, the boys were surprised with a text from you. It was a day before the last day of 2017 and it was also Taehyung’s birthday.

Y/N: Congrats on the win, boys. Keep the prize for yourselves, I didn’t know about it and don’t need it. I left some stuff at the practice room as a belated Christmas gift. Thank you for treating me well. Happy new year.

Arriving at the dance studio, the boys were all surprised to see bags in the center of the room. Each gift bag had a name on it, so each boy took the bag with their name written on and looked inside the bags.

While Christmas shopping, you had gotten gifts for the boys as well. But because of the busy schedule, you decided to gift them after the competition, not knowing that Taehyung’s true feelings would unravel the day before. It would’ve been a waste to keep the presents, so you decided to give them anyways. The boys might have approached you for the wrong reason, but they still treated you well. Even though it might not have been genuine, you still appreciated their efforts to make you feel welcome.

You had gotten Namjoon a few books you knew he wanted to read. The boy had a mindset you looked up to, always trying to do the right thing and trying to fight against social issues. You had gotten him a few books regarding those subjects, hoping that Namjoon would gain more knowledge and broaden his horizons even more.

For Jimin and Hoseok you had gotten new dancing shoes, since theirs wore off because of the amount of practice. Although all the boys were very passionate about dancing, Jimin and Hoseok lived from it. They liked staying at the dance studio with you after the other boys had left. You had noticed their shoes wearing off and decided to get them new ones, knowing they probably needed those.

Of course, you had bought some games for Jeongguk. After getting to know him, you found out he was quite a game fanatic. The game you expected him to like the most would be Overwatch. He had talked about getting the game for a while but never did. You took the opportunity and got it for him.

Seokjin was someone who was already very content in his life. He didn’t show many interests in specific products, so you had a hard time finding something for him. You eventually opted for different skincare products, since he really liked to take care of his skin.

You had gifted your best friend a pile of records for his record player. A few of them were ones you owned and others you had bought. The boy was in love with his record player the moment he bought them last month. Every time you came over and hung out with Yoongi, he’d put a record on. His selection of records was limited, though. So you decided to gift him a few of yours and buy a few new ones as well.

Taehyung had gotten a different gift compared to the others. In his bag were some papers. After taking it out, he realized that it was his assignment. It was identical to the one he had thrown in the trashcan, but the difference was that this assignment wasn’t written by him. Your handwriting covered multiple pages. You had rewritten the whole assignment for him, feeling guilty for ruining his assignment. He also found an envelope in the bag. As he took out the card, a long rectangular piece of paper fell out. Taehyung picked it up and was shocked to see it was a museum ticket for an Aguste Renoir exhibition.

Although nobody knew, Taehyung was quite a big fan of the painter. Even his phone background was a piece painted by Renoir. Taehyung was in shock. He had heard about the upcoming exhibition and really wanted to go, only to find out that the amount of tickets was very limited. He wanted to get a ticket, but they were all sold out before he could even try to get them.

Taehyung’s eyes snapped back to the card. ‘Happy birthday, Taehyung. I know it was you four years ago.’

The amount of regret Taehyung felt at that moment was unreal. It was weird to see ‘Taehyung’ written down instead of ‘Tae’, the nickname you always used. Taehyung indeed was the museum boy from four years ago. The day you were standing in front of him, asking him whether he was the boy from the museum caused him so much surprise that he wrongfully blurted out that he wasn’t. Nobody knew about his interest in art and he actually intended on keeping it that way. He wasn’t one to lie, but that time the lie slipped out before he realized.

+4

The boys were frustrated to say the least. You had disappeared off the Earth’s crust and they couldn’t find you anywhere. At some point the boys even went to the museum you worked at, only to have been told that you had stopped working there. They did have your address and after a lot of convincing, your ex-colleagues gave it to them.

When they arrived at the address, the boys were surprised to say the least. Your house wasn’t a mansion or anything. But it was still big and very modern. Bangtan would’ve never guessed that you and your family were this well-off. Not once had you shown any signs of being even a little rich. You always were a modest and humble girl, never showing off your money or wearing high-end clothes. The only time the boys wondered how much money you had, was after receiving the Christmas gifts, knowing that the total amount of money spent on the gifts would be quite a lot. They brushed it off, though. Thinking that you earned the money with your job at the museum.

The boys walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. The door opened and a young woman, around Seokjin’s age, looked at them. She looked just like you, just a little older and mature. The members figured that this would be your sister, who you liked to talk about a lot. The girl quirked up one of her eyebrows, shooting the guys a questioning gaze.

‘How can I help you boys?’ the girl asked. The atmosphere surrounding her was warm and welcoming, just like yours. Although she was wearing expensive brands, she pulled it off without looking like she was trying to show it off.

It was silent for a second before Yoongi spoke up.

‘We’re looking for Y/N,’ he said.

Realization flashed through your sister’s eyes before her face turned cold. Suddenly the vibe surrounding your sister changed. The boys all felt her icy glare and realized you had probably told her about what happened.

‘Is one of you guys Tae?’ she asked, her voice slicing through the thick atmosphere.

The boys all turned their heads towards Taehyung with a surprised look. Taehyung raised his hand, a little intimidated by the harsh glare your sister sent him. Taehyung felt uncomfortable with your sister calling him by his nickname. Only you did that and it was natural whenever you did. Taehyung never minded the nickname, even at the start when he clearly disliked you a lot.  

‘I am Taehyung, has Y/N talked about me?’ he asked.

Your sister lets out a scoff.

‘Why are you guys here? Desperate for more money from my sister? Weren’t the gifts and the money enough for you?’ your sister spat out, hatred evident in each word she said.

The boys all tried to explain themselves, only to be cut off by your sister.

‘She trusted you guys, you know? She was so happy to have real friends who didn’t approach her because of our parents’ money. Only to find out you guys used her for money after all. This isn’t the first time that she was approached for money, you know? She was so insecure because of my parents’ status, thinking that everyone who approached her never did it to get to know her. She always thought that people only liked her because of the money. Y/N went through a lot and what you guys did broke her. Even so, she still wanted to give you guys the gifts. As if winning the prize money wasn’t enough. She fucking left because you told her to get lost. She listened to your words, Tae. Are you happy now?’ the girl angrily said.

‘What do you mean she left?’ Yoongi asked, scared of the answer.

‘She left. She told our parents that Daegu was suffocating her, packed up her bags this morning and left. All because of you. Now just like Taehyung said to Y/N: get lost. I don’t want you guys here.’

With that, the front door was slammed closed and the boys were all left in astonishment. The youngest three and Yoongi started tearing up. The boys were all filled with regret and now that you were gone, they didn’t have any chance to fix anything.

+154

In the new year, all the boys decided to not mention your name anymore. It was an open wound that needed time to heal. The boys hadn’t heard from you since your text about their gifts, but decided to move on and went back to their lives. They had all tried to contact you, but after a while they realized that you wouldn’t give in. They figured that you needed time and that’s what they gave you.

Taehyung kept holding onto you, though. He texted you constantly, updating you on his life and apologizing over and over again. He hadn’t really noticed back when you always were around, but he had gotten used to you constantly being in his presence. The fact that you suddenly disappeared from his life left an empty spot. Taehyung missed your random visits at Bangtan’s shared house, your giggles whenever the boys were goofing around, your rambling about whatever exhibition was showing. He just missed you.

A few months had passed by and spring appeared. The trees were blossoming, reminding you of the Van Gogh paintings. You had returned after some time away from home, which was much needed. Life in Seoul was different from life in Daegu, which really made you miss it.

You had gotten over the incident and forgave them all. Your number never changed, so you always received their calls and texts. Even though you never answered, you did read the texts, filled with hundreds of apologies and explanations. Even after 5 months, Taehyung would still try to text you from time to time. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t miss them. But this was for the best. Friendships needed solid foundations to be built on and lies aren’t.

You came back to Daegu and brought along a boy who you had gotten to know in Seoul. From the moment you came to Seoul, Jihoon had been nothing but a support to you. He was there to soothe you whenever you needed, he was there to laugh with you and he was there to love you. You knew he was genuine, being sure of the fact that he didn’t know anything about your parents. At some point, you started falling for Jihoon, while Taehyung was long forgotten ever since that dreadful day. Jihoon and you had started dating a few months after you came to Seoul. Even though the two of you had been together for a short time, you insisted on him visiting Daegu anyways.

The two of you decided to visit the museum because of a Gustav Klimt exhibition. Both of you were avid art fans. Many conversations about paintings and artists were shared between the two of you. Gustav Klimt was one of Jihoon’s favorite artists. The exhibition was actually one of the reasons that convinced him to visit Daegu for a while. You were very eager to see Klimt’s most famous work, ‘The Kiss’, in real life. It was a painting you always admired through phone screens or in books. Wandering around with one hand in the other, Jihoon and you talked with each other and with your former colleagues.

At some point, you two started walking around, looking at the different paintings. There it was, the painting you wanted to see. The piece was like the sun, shining bright with yellow shades covering the whole canvas. While you were admiring it, you didn’t notice another boy staring at you. He was standing a few feet behind you and was very shocked to see you in Daegu. Taehyung had been coming to the museum regularly ever since you left, hoping to see you one day. He also fully embraced his love for art now, openly showing his appreciation for it. His secret passion he used to hide turned into a part of Taehyung everyone knew about.  

There hadn’t been a day without you crossing Taehyung’s mind. He was still filled with regret and hoped that the two of you would cross paths again, but not like this. The girl he liked, was standing right in front of him. She looked happy, bright and warm, not the cold, closed-off and indifferent girl he saw at the dance competition almost half a year ago. She had changed for the better and Taehyung was glad to see you happy. But deep down he had hoped that he was be the one that would make you that happy, not the man who was standing next to you.

Instead of gathering courage and walking up to you, like you did with Taehyung five years ago, Taehyung decided to stay in the background for once.

#kwriterskollection #bts #bangtan #bts v #bts taehyung #taehyung #kim taehyung #v #bts angst #taehyung angst #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #bts scenario #taehyung scenario #bts fanfic #angst #fluff #kpop angst #kpop fluff #bts oneshot

[sartle-blog]

Brotherly Love: The Story of Vincent & Theo van Gogh

Nothing beats having a brother. Knowing you have a partner in crime is essential in order to fully take advantage of all the shenanigans that childhood affords you, and brothers just always seem ready to get down and dirty. I know my childhood would have been much blander without constantly being the victim my brother’s endless schemes, as scarring (literally) as they may have been. 

In honor of all the bodacious brosephs out there, we are going to celebrate National Brother’s Day with one of the most steadfast brotherhoods in art history: the van Gogh brothers.

Vincent and Theo van Gogh’s dynamic relationship truly highlights what brotherly love really means. Before we dive into their renowned relationship though, we should probably establish who Theo was as his famed brother often overshadows him. Theo was the younger brother who always seemed to play the role of big bro due to Vincent’s…peculiarities. He made a respectable living, had a wife and kid, and for all intents and purposes seemed to have his s**t way more together than his brother - or so it appeared. Turns out, Theo may have been just as mentally unstable as his brother, but we will get to that later.

A young Theo van Gogh.

Besides each other, these two had something very important in common: a love of art. They both got their start in the art world working for Goupil & Cie - one of Europe’s most prestigious firm of fine art dealers. It was this job that allowed Theo to become a very established man in the art world in his own right. Actually, during their lifetime, he was way more ingrained in the art world than ol’ Vincent. I suppose that is not too much of a feat though since Vincent never really excelled at anything during his lifetime, or at least he barely got the recognition for it. For example, it didn’t take long for Vincent to get the boot from his job at Goupil & Cie and ultimately ending moving back in with his parents. A struggling artist moving back in with their parents? Couldn’t be… Well nonetheless, this marks the point in which Theo began taking sympathy on his brother and bank rolling his life - one of the defining aspects of their relationship. Ever heard of the idiom give an inch and they’ll take a mile? Well, Vincent’s actions were the epitome of this. After tossing his bro some sympathy change, next thing Theo knew, Vincent was living with him in Paris. From squatting on his parents’ couch to his brothers, I would say he was moving up in the world. Theo on the other hand, did not see it this way.

Theo couldn’t stomach living with his brother. In a letter to their sister Wilhelmina, Theo once explained of Vincent, “He loses no opportunity to show that he detests me and that I repel him. This makes it almost unbearable for me at home.” Sheesh, sounds like typical sibling drama. Surely it brought great relief to Theo when Vincent realized that he could no longer stand the hustle and demands of the big city. It was time for him to move to the South of France, Arles to be exact.

Arles proved to be an immense inspiration for Vincent. The sunshine and vibrant colors did wonders for his artistry and soon he took up residence in his iconic yellow house, which doubled as his studio. The last two years of his life spent in the South of France is where Vincent would make his most adored work and solidify his artistic style for which he is revered for today.

The Yellow House by Vincent van Gogh at the Van Gogh Museum

While Theo may have struggled living with Vincent, upon his absence, he felt a looming void and was ultimately incomplete without the vivacious Vincent in his home. Of course these two were notorious for the incessant correspondence through their letter writing, so while they were physically apart, they were always linked together in their thoughts and bank accounts. Theo would continue to financially support Vincent for the rest of his life. In fact, it has been estimated that Theo shelled out about $18,000 during the span of Vincent’s life. Doesn’t sounds like much, huh? When we take this nifty thing called inflation into account that number today jumps a wee bit bringing us closer to $400,000. I told you we are talking some serious brotherly love here. Of course Vincent always saw the money as an investment and not as charity. Sadly, neither brother would ever see this money from his art come back to them.

In a way, Vincent’s art career was really a joint project shared between the brothers. Vincent may have been the painter, but it was Theo who sent him the materials and was his emotional cheerleader and professional art world aficionado/consultant. If it were not for Theo, Vincent may never have become the esteemed artist we know him as today. Furthermore, Theo always encouraged Vincent to mingle with the up-and-coming artists who he worked with artists such as Toulouse-Lautrec and Gauguin. Theo even tried to sell his clients on the innovative value of Vincent’s work, though there were never any takers. His inability to sell his work was never due to a lack of trying on Theo’s part, for Theo was undoubtedly Vincent’s number one supporter.

His unwavering love for his older brother held strong even as Vincent’s mental health started to deteriorate. Sure Vincent was always a bit unstable between his frequent bouts of depression and his rumored addiction to absinthe (not to mention his penchant for consuming his paints), but things really took a turn for the worse during his last two years. Of course there was the notorious ear mauling incident and soon after he committed himself to a mental hospital (that Theo obviously paid for). Even with the help of assisted living, Vincent did not make it long before he put a bullet in his chest. Being the brother he was, Theo was so quick to jump on a train, he was able to sit next to Vincent as he passed away on his deathbed.

Life was not easy for Theo after his brother’s passing. In fact, he too ended up in a asylum shortly after. Some speculate that Theo lost it after Vincent’s death, feeling great guilt over his early demise. Others theorize that Theo went crazy due to contracting syphilis. Either way, the van Gogh brothers, as different as their lives may have been, ultimately came full circle and both ended just as tragically. Theo died just 6 months after Vincent. Even in death these two are still together, buried side by side in a commune in France.

By: Jennifer

#serious art history #vincent van gogh #theo van gogh #art history #vincent and the doctor #post-impressionism #van gogh museum #national brother's day #henri de toulouse-lautrec #paul gauguin #brothers #siblings #brotherly love #the starry night #mental illness

[crazysupernovadream]

Riddle of Nature

"Hugo looks up the sky,it seems like a doomed mind in denial."-inspired from Necromancer.

Waves roared into the sands of  Algrave,one of the finest sand beaches in Europe.It lies to southern tip of Portugal. Hugo Alves,the third child of Alves Mountinho glazed at the distant tides expressionless.Sun has risen in the far East,and another day written to history.

       " There is no pattern in life,everything is chaos",Hugo screamed.

Julio started whining.The furry Tibetan Spaniel also known as Tibbie,a little gift from his uncle on his 10th birthday ,his companion since.He stood 10 inches high at the shoulders and weighed around 11 pounds,yet the little breed feared sound of crackers and loud voices.

       "Stop it Julio.Stop it.You are irritating me", shouted Hugo and they walked back from the beach.

Algrave has many Moorish castles and traditional villages.Alfredo lived in an olden stone cottage in Sagres,the south west coast of Algrave. Hugo knocks at the door hard.        " Grandpa its me".        " Wait up child".Alfredo opens the door with a lantern in his hand. Hugo slams the door behind and drops into the broken couch.The house was never the way it is now, when Camilla was around.Love of his life.She left him alone, in this world 10 yrs back and a day hasn't past since not thinking of her.Alfredo believes, if not in this world,in another they will live together for ever.

Hugo looks at his grandpa in desperation.       " Success cannot elude a trier for long,my boy.Like a prey eluding cheetah's claws,it beats you again and again.But remember its round the corner. Don’t give up so easy."      "That was a mistake I made",Alfredo sighs and looks at Camilla's photo hanging on the wall."But you shouldn't".      " I made some bread and Bacalhau for you".Bacalhau, dried, salted cod is one of the national dishes of Portugal.      "Eat and go home before its too late.I don’t want your Dad on my doorsteps".

Alves picks 2 surf boards and tucks it into his 1962 model Green Ford F-250 pick up truck.The only ancestral asset he inherited from his father Alfredo,or the only thing Alfredo could give his son.With the exception of some torn interior upholstery and few car body paint scratches,truck was well maintained. Alfredo runs a Surf shop in Praia de Salema Beach in Salema,a village which is home to a number of fishermen who still cast their Chinese nets daily.      "Elisa...Elisa.Get me those helmets,will you?.Where is Ema?" asks Alves. The 2 elder sisters of Hugo,runs a Flower shop in Vila do Bispo,Salema. With onset of Spring western Atlantic coast from Sagres to Odeceixe looked like a Vincent van Gogh's piece of art,the scenery is breathtaking.

    "She left ,Pai",shouts Elisa from the kitchen."Where?"     "To deliver a bouquet to Mrs Penelope."     "Did she eat something?"     "não."     "Am ready for work",Alves slams the car hood.     "Soup will be ready in a minute."     "Hugo,its 8.Get up.Let me fix breakfast for you",Elisa pulls out the blanket form Hugo's coat. Elisa was more of a mother to him than a sister.When Diane left Alves ,Hugo was 3.They had their differences,enough to make a huge difference in any kid with estranged parents.    " If he doesn't want to go to Lisbon,let him come to Surf shop.I wont let him roam in these beaches with his dog and of no use to family.",said Alves

Hugo picks up a shell washed up onto the beach,gives a close look into the surface of the shell.Picks up another one with more prominent design. Throws the other one back to the sea,to be brought back again by the waves. Julio is playing with the crabs.Jumping and barking,while crabs finding their way back to their crabitats in one piece.He keeps poking every tiny drilled holes on his way.     "Vamos(lets go),Julio,Go fetch this one", throws a shell as far he could.

Far away one could see a bunch of boys playing beach football.Hugo loved football like any other Portuguese,but he never played the game.For that matter,any game. He walked towards them.     "Antonio with the ball on to the left,dribbles across the full back and a beautiful cross into the box, and that's Claudio",voice raising.." who takes it on his chest turns around, a volley and he drills it into the net , that's' GOAAAAAAAAL..GOAL" screams Erico,who entertained the local kids with his live commentary of the game.     "Sporting Salema lead by a goal". Then came Bicycle style goal celebration from Claudio the goalscorer, Hugo's best friend since primary school.     "lindo maravilhoso,Claudio",Hugo appreciates his friend.     "Obrigado...amigo",Claudio shouts back.     "You want to play ball?" asks Antonio with a teasing voice.Hugo stares at him     "Leave him alone",Claudio pulls back Antonio.Julio started barking     "Oh! I dont want to provoke your superior intellect by begging you to play this silly game,am sorry",laughs Antonio." You better stop Anton" Hugo did not say a word,he walked past an sat with the kids.He never liked to play this game,but he loved watching it,except for the fact he should suffer through Antonio's bullies every time. Unlike others Hugo was not thrilled when a goal was scored,he was thrilled to know how a goal was scored.He carried a pencil and a piece of paper all time. Like a coach, who pictures a game strategy on a white board,he notes each and every move the team makes and their opponents.He marks each and every player on the field, how they move ,where do they pass the ball to ,where the striker is,and everything on the field.He was so meticulous.He captured them from end to end.At the end of the game ,he sat alone and looked at them -for patterns and repetitions.

Its early Sunday morning.Trees are all covered in frost,and its foggy everywhere .As sun emerged over the horizon,light pierced in through the greenish blue leaves of Eucalyptus.The first rays of the morning sun pierced into the stained glass window of the bedroom.The window depicted a Bullfight -with a Bull and the Forcados, which  shined like a painting on a wall.Its Bullfighting day -the most celebrated event of any country influenced by Spanish culture -on Thursdays and Sundays from Easter through October . Bullfighting is a revered part of a culture and not a sport. Compared to Spanish bullfighting it may seem Portuguese style of bullfighting humane or less cruel since the bull will see another day light. Alfredo was one among a few who came forward in the past to ban the public killing of bulls,even though later it was legalized by the government.

Usually the seats in the bullring are steps of stone or concrete,so Alfredo rented 3 cushions.      "Come its Puerto (door) 1", shouts Ema, grabs the ticket from Hugo's hand ," its 1st row ,Numero 7,8,9",she continued. Crowd started flowing in,and people are squeezed against other people on all sides. They have the sun section,the cheapest ones.They sat on the nearest stand to the arena,close to ground level. In front of them is the staging area,also called the alley.The central arena is surrounded by the alley,a place where bull fighters takes shelter once they are tired of messing with the bull.A wooden wall,around 150 cm thick, separates the arena from the alley.There are small splits in these walls that allow humans to get through,but are too narrow for a bull.

Following the age old tradition,the event started with  a bugle sound ,and came a huge roar from the crowd showing excitement. Hugo was sitting beside his grandpa and sister Ema. It excites him to see how the toureiro(Matadores) go head on with a raging bull,risking his life.      " Where do they get the courage,grandpa?"      "Sometimes poverty and hunger are so excruciating and agonizing ,this could be one's best resort to earn his daily bread",replied Alfredo.

After 20 minutes ,the first bull fight is over and time for the second.Suddenly Hugo found himself on the alley.He slipped. All he could see on the corridor was bullfighters running in and out to the arena.Alfredo and Ema didn't notice that Hugo has gone down.All of a sudden a bull jumped over the wall into the alley,and there was mayhem and disorder.The angry animal was raging towards Hugo,he could already feel the pain he is about to suffer,he ran through the alley,bystanders started shouting.      "A kid has fallen down,somebody help...ajude..ajude"

Then came another bull ,from the other side.Seeing this Hugo stepped on the foothold in the wall and jumped.For a moment,his heart skipped,next second his adrenaline was shooting up.He was never inside an arena before in his life.But that was not the grounds for his heart pumping up.He could see 5 of them,and the entire crowd looking upon.He ran in circles. Metadores and Forcados tried to distract the bulls.But one animal was so determined to stab him.He blacked out. And after a while,there he is,on the ground and the bull on top of him.All he did was pray and then he shouted       "No way,I can't die.I am the focal character in this story" He could feel a slimy tongue over his mouth and forehead,he opened his eyes. He is down on the floor,Julio on top of him with all the affection in the world,pouring from its mouth.      "Oh,Julio, Stop.Go away.." It was bullfighting day, and rest was all a dream.

[avintagekiss24]

The Night Of. (AU)

I’ve been on a writing spree this weekend. With all of this civil unrest, protests, anarchists setting shit on fire, satanists against cheeto dust, neo-nazis getting punched in the face, and the women’s march yesterday, here’s an AU if the election had went a little differently :)

Rick takes a long sip of his beer, tipping his head back as he swallows the gold liquid. He sets the glass bottle back in between his legs before he drops his head once more; his hands clasped tightly within one another. The first couple of buttons on his white collared shirt are undone, his tie loose, his hair a floppy, curly mess. He's never been this nervous before in his life. Everything he's work for, everything his family has worked for has led up to this very night. But it's now out of his hands. He just hopes he's done enough. 

 The Georgia night is still but unseasonably warm. The sky is cloudless, allowing the stars to accent the darkness like a Van Gogh painting. The neighborhood has quieted, porch lights have gone out, windows drawn. It was an absolute whirlwind when he first arrived back home. He must have shaken hands and taken selfies with every person in King County. But, once he turned down Shady Grove Lane, he knew he was home. Not one person approached him. They just smiled and waved, some hollering their support and their luck at him from the sidewalk as they passed by. They were proud of him but they knew he needed the time and the space and the quiet. 

So, he and his family resumed their natural routines. Carl and Andre went back to their high school this morning, Genevieve returning to her preschool. Michonne went to the grocery store, picked up his dry cleaning and prepared his favorite lunch and dinner. All was normal up until a few hours ago. Tomorrow morning will either be the start of a brand new era or a deafening decent back into this everyday normalcy. He hears the screen door open but he doesn't move. He just keeps his head down as she approaches, resting her hand on his shoulder as she sits down next to him. 

 "Have you thrown up yet?" She asks jokingly, nudging him a little with her shoulder.

 He chuckles, finally lifting his head to glance up at the sky, "Not yet, surprisingly."

 "Well that is a first. Rick Grimes manages not the throw up during something stressful." 

 His chuckles turn into full on guffaws. Ones that only she can bring out of him, "Hey now! I didn't throw up when you had Genevieve." 

 "Yeah, you only passed out and missed the entire thing. No big deal babe." She rolls her eyes.

 "But I didn't throw up, you gotta give it to me." He wiggles his eyebrows at her, nudging her back.

 His smile widens as she giggles in return, laying her head on his shoulder as she wraps her arms around him, "You did good babe," she whispers after a few silent moments, "No matter what happens, you did good."

 Rick turns toward her, pushing his nose into her hair before inhaling deeply. His eyes shift around the backyard as he kisses the top of her head, once, then twice, then three times, "I couldn't have done it without you."

 She giggles a little again, tightening her grip on him, "Yeah you could have. You were a smooth talker way before I met you." 

 He smirks, "True, but I would have never had the courage to do this if it weren't for you.”

 "I don't know about all of that but, I'm just glad I know you." She looks up him, her dark eyes glinting in the moonlight, "I'm glad you’re my husband, I'm glad you're the father of my little girl and that you're the only father Andre has ever known." She shrugs a little, "I'm just glad I know you." 

 Rick drops his head once more, nodding slowly as he smiles softly. For once, he is completely out of words. With the tips of her fingers, Michonne lifts his chin, bring his beautifully aging face back up to hers. She leans in and captures his lips with hers. Her hand snakes into his dark curls, pulling on them softly as he deepens their kiss. Twelve years, and he still made her knees weak.  They separate after a minute or two, but he rests his forehead on hers, just like he has countless times before. He rubs her nose with his slowly and she smiles, kissing him chastely once more. 

 She leans back into him, nuzzling into her favorite spot just underneath his arm and rests her hand on his chest.  He places his hand on hers and grabs her fingers before he turns his attention back on his backyard, "Aaron okay in there?" 

 "He threw up." She laughs, "Just once though."

 "At least someone is keeping tradition alive." Rick shrugs as he tightens his grip around her shoulders. 

 He glances at his watch. 1am. It'll be any moment now. The back door swings open once more and his breath hitches in his throat. Michonne sits up and twists as her sons approach them quietly. 

 "Dad," Carl starts, his voice low. 

 Rick drops his head again, closing his eyes. He holds up his hand as Michonne starts to speak, "It’s in?" He asks quietly.

 Carl glances at Andre, who steps forward, "Florida, Iowa, and Michigan just came in." Andre relays, his tone matching his older brothers. 

 "Fuck." Rick sighs, running his hands through his hair as Michonne rubs his back dutifully. 

 "Baby, you did your best. You did everything you could do." Michonne starts, resting her chin on his shoulder. She kisses his temple in order to soothe him, “This doesn’t mean it’s over, we still got all night.”

 "It was too quiet in there. I should have known. Fuck, I tried not to get my hopes up." 

 The two teenage boys exchange glances once more, smirks growing on their faces. "You did it dad." Carl beams.

 Rick and Michonne both snap their heads toward the boys who are now both beaming from ear to ear, "Carl, don't play with us boy." Michonne warns. 

 "No, you did it! You fucking did it! You are the president of the United States!" 

 "You killed him dad!" Andre adds, "Florida, Iowa, and Michigan all went blue, plus they are projecting you to win Texas and Ohio. You know the last time Texas went blue? 1976! You did it man, you did it, you won!" 

 Rick sits in shock, staring back at his kids as they jump up and down in hysterics. Michonne grabs his hand and pulls him inside as the house erupts with cheers when he enters. There it is. As big as day, splashed across his television screen as the CNN anchors continue to call the election results. President Elect Rick Grimes. The map behind his name lit up in blue as states slowly call in their results. They did it. They won. Aaron fights through the crowd of people and grabs Rick as soon as he's close. He hugs him tightly and Rick returns the gesture, knowing they've just made history, "We did it man." 

 Aaron nods, tears in his eyes, "Yeah, we did. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for choosing me to run with you Rick. I know it was a risk." 

 "I'm not the only one that believes in you," Rick starts, "Don't thank me, we did this together. Remember that."

 Before either man can truly digest what has just happened, their advisors are pulling them away and prepping them to give their winner speeches. Within a half hour, they are being whisked to downtown Atlanta, where thousands upon thousands of people have gathered for hours, watching the results live, ready to greet their hometown President, if elected. Photographers and news camera surround the area as they wait for their arrival. Once everyone is in place, the Mayor of Atlanta takes the stage.

 “Thank you for sticking with us tonight guys,” Morgan Jones starts, smiling toward the crowd, “I’m not going to take any more time than I have to, but I would just like to take a moment to thank this beautiful city, along with the other millions of people across this great country that went out and voted. I want to thank you for standing up for what you believe in, standing up for your friends, standing up for your rights, and for keeping this country out of the hands of the incompetent Mr. Donald Trump. He wanted to tear us apart, he wanted us to turn our backs on our fellow brothers and sisters. He wanted to target us and eliminate our voices but you dug your heels in, and said absolutely not. You stood up in the face of evil and defeated it. You did that guys, you did that.” He pauses a little as the crowd chants his name, “I’d like to thank you for believing in these two Georgia boys and for believing in their message of love and unity. Without further or do, I would like to introduce you to the youngest, and first openly gay Vice President, Mr. Aaron Quinn, and his partner Eric Raleigh.”

 The crowd erupts into cheers as Aaron and Eric take the stage, waving proudly to their city. Rick and Michonne stand hand in hand as they listen to his gracious speech. Michonne turns toward her nervous husband and squeezes his hand to let him know that she is still there. He glances toward her and smiles widely as he’s met with her famous smirk. He pulls her into a hug, one last hug as Senator Grimes, and rocks them slowly back and forth as the crowd erupts again as Mayor Jones takes the stage once more.

 “Now, for the man you’ve all been waiting for,” He starts, Michonne’s eyes darting back and forth between Rick’s, “It is my great honor to introduce you to the very first interracial, blended first family. We have Carl Grimes, who is attending Georgia State next fall, fifteen year old Andre Grimes, ranked in the top five wide receivers in the country in high school football, and four year old Genevieve Grimes, who wants to be an astronaut and a bakery owner. Finally, last but certainly not least, our President elect and his first lady, Mr. Rick and Michonne Grimes.”

 “Hey,” Michonne stops him short, pulling his attention back toward her before they take the stage, “I told you all those years ago that you’d be great. You’re here because they believe in you, just like I did. Just like I do. Okay?”

 He nods, resting his forehead on hers for a few brisk moments. For those brief minutes, it’s just him and her, Ricky and Chonne, mom and dad. The noise disappears, the heavy lights dim, and there’s just a wife, pushing her husband gently into his future. Giving him the strength and courage to give others strength and courage. It works. His stomach calms, his palms no long clammy. Suddenly, the noise is back, the chants and claps and cheers are back, the lights are bright and the people are waiting. He grabs her hand and they ascend the steps behind their children, raising their hands high as they wave at people who made him.

 The Grimes family stands together, hand in hand, as they take it all in, basking in their win as blue and white streamers rain down from the planes above. The crowd is deafening as they chant his campaign slogan. Rick approaches the podium, offering a few more waves and head nods before the city finally decides to quiet down, “Thank you, thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to my family and I. You all made history tonight. We are literally standing in history, right this very moment and you have no one to thank but yourselves. You see, I knew, along with Aaron, that this country could overcome. We could overcome adversity, we could overcome hatred and bigotry, we could overcome xenophobia and homophobia. We could overcome racism. We can, and we will, and we did. We took those first steps, so lets keep marching forward, shall we?”

 He pauses as they erupt once more, “I’d like to thank you all for believing in my myself and Aaron, for putting your trust and your fears and your wants and your needs in our hands. I promise you, that we will not let you down. We will work day and night to make sure that you feel heard and that you feel safe in your homes, on your streets, in your country. To every inner-city child, to every member of the LGBT community, to every Latino and Latina, to every Muslim, to every immigrant, to every woman, I am here for you. We will heal these wounds, together. We will work together and we will unite under that beautiful flag.”

 “To my sons, Carl and Andre, who are moving closer and closer to adulthood and to becoming men. I know this was last year was hard on you and I thank you for being so supportive. I want you both to know that I am so proud to be your father. To my princess, my Genevieve, who is currently fast asleep on her bubba Andre and who will probably not remember this moment anyway. I hope to make this world gentler and more accepting of you when you get older. I want you to reach for the stars and know that you can do whatever you put your mind too, not despite being a woman, but because you are a woman. And finally, to my favorite girl on the planet,” He turns a little, meeting her teary-eyed gaze and winking at her, “Michonne Jekesai Gurira, my girl from the Southside. When we met on the steps of the courthouse, you were a single mother, living in a woman’s shelter, making eleven dollars an hour as a paralegal. But you showed up to work, every day, with that little boy on your hip. Your office light was on when I showed up at the crack of dawn, and your fingers were still tapping away on your keyboard while I was calling it a night. You taught me the definition of hard work. You’ve shown me how to be a better father, a better leader, a better man. I would not be standing here, if it weren’t for your guidance and your support. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. Thank you.” She blows him a kiss with both hands as Carl and Andre wrap their arms around her, kissing her temples.

 “I’d like to leave you with a quote from a very great man, a man from right here, from the heart of Atlanta. Dr. Martin Luther King once said, darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Tonight, we are standing in light and love. Thank you King county, thank you Atlanta, and thank you America. Here’s to the end of hate, and the beginning of unconditional love. Thank you.”

 He steps back from the podium and the city is once again drowning in noise. His family surrounds him once more, along with Aaron and Eric as they say their final goodbyes to the crowd. They’re ushered back into their limo’s and they’re on the move again, their aids briefing them on their busy weeks ahead. There’s a house that needs packed, kids that need enrolled in new schools, a country that needs to be led. All in a day’s work.

 The Grimes’ are dropped off at their modest home back in King county, but, at the orders of the President Elect, the aids and guards are relieved of their duties for the night and sent back to their hotel rooms. He wants one last night in his house, with his wife and kids, in private. Andre takes his baby sister upstairs and tucks her in, before jogging back downstairs as Carl begs to let them stay out for the night.

 “We’re too excited to sleep!” Carl laughs, leaning on his little brother as he steps into the conversation.

 “Where are you going to go? It’s almost four in the morning guys.” Michonne asks as Rick bends down, lifting her feet slightly to remove her red pumps, “You have school in the morning.”

 “School?” Andre shrieks, his eyes wide, “Our father was just elected President and you’re going to make us go to school? Enid is throwing a party in your honor dad, we’d be rude not to make our presence known.”

 Rick chuckles, lifting her effortlessly from the arm of the couch, “You can go to Enid’s, but you better answer your phone if we call. I want your asses back in this house by seven and no drinking.”

 “Yes Mr. President sir.” Carl quips, shoving Andre toward the door before they have the chance to change their minds, “Love you guys.”

 “Uh huh, you’re going to school on Thursday.” Michonne calls as Rick begins to ascend the stairs, “Don’t think I forgot about that math test you have Andre Anthony.”

 “Yes first lady.” Andre smiles, just as the front door slams shut.

 She throws her arms around Rick’s neck as she ogles him, a wide smile on her face as he moves them through their home for one of the last times in the foreseeable future. They check in on the still sleeping Genevieve before heading toward their bedroom, Michonne shutting the door with her foot. He lays her down gently, but she flips their position, settling in his lap as she tosses her dreads over her shoulder, “So Mr. President,” She starts, a sly smile on her face as she whispers, “What is your first major decision as Commander in chief? Me on top or doggy style?”

 He winks back at her, digging his hands into her hair as she begins pulling at her dress, “Promise me you’ll stay this nasty while we’re in the white house. Please.”

 She laughs, shrugging out of her Oscar De La Renta dress and tossing it to the floor, “Doggy it is then.”

#Richonne #Richonne fic #richonne fanfic #richonne fanfiction #rick x michonne #Rick Grimes #Michonne #alternate universe #President Elect Grimes has a ring to it #doesn't it? #my otp #your otp could never