#i wish i knew how to draw already so i could draw this

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The Ambiguously Brown Character™”- The Attachment to Eurocentric Beauty Standards

“maybe im petty but i wish people knew how to draw like different nose shapes. Sometimes I’ll see a character I like but im like that is not what their nose would look like.” @the-eldritch-it-gay

You’ve seen them before. The one character that has brown skin… And everything else about them is… an enigma. They’re not supposed to be white! You know that much… right? You can see what the designated white characters look like, so at least it’s not that. You could claim them as Black, if you want, and sometimes creators even demand that this character is Black. Depending on the quality, you’re either like “no, what the fuck is this” or you’re like “okay they’re cool, we’ll take them”. Representation is important. But… There’s a pit in your stomach that wonders… Are they really? Are they really supposed to be Black, is this really representation, or did the creators just toss a brown person in so all the Brown™ people could “have something”, so that they would look like they cared about “diversity” on their art resume?

Examples

Theseus, in my opinion, looks like a white man with a tan. Dionysus looks a little better with the similar skin tone, due to his purple hair coloration. Apparently people do think that at least Dionysus is a man of color. What’s interesting about both of these characters, is that they’re only about two desaturated browns lighter than Patroclus, a character in the game that we’re supposed to believe is Black (whom, in my opinion, also looks like a brown bucket tool character. I’m still claiming him, he’s my guy. But his design should have been more explicitly Black). Theseus and Patroclus are the two darkest-skinned dead humans in the first game. So… what was I supposed to think about these two? Was I supposed to think they are really dark white people, due to the thin textures of their hair? Are they men of color? Are Theseus and Patroclus supposed to be ashy because they’re dead, is Dionysus ashy because he’s dehydrated from wine? Why don’t the white dead people look off color? Hades was entirely too striking a game in use of color for the browns to look like… this.

Noe and Hibana are interesting. It was complete coincidence, the purple hair and eyes thing btw. Hibana is interesting because Ogun is an unambiguously Black character in Fire Force, and there are at least three other unambiguously Black characters in Soul Eater as well. So we know the mangaka knows how to draw Black people in their style! So… was this on purpose? Is this another of those ‘tanned anime girls with titties’ meant for shounen fan service? I’ve claimed Noe (Case Study of Vanitas) because Black French people exist and France has stolen so much from us already, but it is never actually specified what Noe is. He’s just the One Singular Brown Guy in this show, with regular, untextured anime hair. Are there more brown people in the manga? Is this explained? Because we know who is supposed to be white! If anyone else wants to claim Noe, they absolutely can, because we have no idea what he’s supposed to be. Hot Chocolate thinks he’s Indian, and I’m not going to argue that because… who knows! He very well could be!

My very first lesson addressed this, albeit lightly! There’s a reason that I said that if you gained nothing else from me, that’s what I want you to walk away with. Now that I’m on stronger footing with this blog, I can really get into the nitty gritty of what that really means.

Obligatory disclaimer: we are not a monolith!* As of 2015, it has been researched that African populations have the highest genetic variation on Earth*, with a lot of that genetic diversity in sub-Saharan Africa alone. This means that YES, there very well can and will be Black people with naturally thinner textures of hair, blonde, light brown, and red hair, straight, narrow noses, monotone lips, and lighter skin that comes more often with white people. There are enough genetic combinations within African peoples and of the African diaspora that I’m sure there are plenty of people that look the way people seem to want Black people in art to look, if those genes so express within them.

*as a scientist, I will say: while these papers seem fairly legit and I looked at many related articles and their sources, take Nature with a grain of salt. Though their vetting process has become much better, you can and should always do further reading on your own!

Here’s the thing: the possibility is not the issue here!

The first issue: I don’t have to teach anyone how to draw those features on Black people! It is evident, from the professional and fan art I’ve seen, y’all already know how to draw the features deemed highly by Eurocentric beauty standards. Those features are excessively focused on and promoted as part of “good art”.

The second issue here is that the average artist drawing a poorly done Black person is not considering things like genetic diversity when they draw them (and if they are, it’s usually as an excuse post-confrontation. Yes, I have seen it.) These creators are not designing these characters with the intent of them being Black with those features, they are designing “Black” people with features that they deem most aesthetic and are most comfortable with drawing.

And why do they deem those features most aesthetic? We’ve circled back to the point of this lesson!

Eurocentric Beauty Standards

Definition: beauty standards as defined through a white, western cultural lens, including but not limited to: straight, blonde hair, light eyes, pale skin, high cheekbones, narrow noses, thinness. It’s a way that white western people want other white western people to look to be considered classically attractive… and then enforced that on everyone else.

It affects people of color worldwide. Anyone that has ever had to deal with European colonization or imperialism has to deal with the interjection of Eurocentric beauty standards.

Examples

-Black women, standing at the intersection of Blackness and womanhood, especially deal with the constant pressure of Eurocentric beauty standards, being consistently told to hate ourselves due to our own ethnic features. It’s incredibly damaging to your self-esteem growing up; my mom told me that until I went natural at 17, I was determined to look ‘like a white girl’ because I thought it would make me beautiful, and it hurt her. And as for me, it was a stunning realization that at 17 that I had never really seen my own natural curl pattern before. My hair was in ponytails and such as a child, but as a teenager, growing into my identity, I had always wanted straight hair. I was in love with my coily texture, I couldn’t believe that I’d never seen it. An entire part of my own body, gone unknown, because I wanted to fit a beauty standard I would never reach.

-Kenneth and Mamie Clark: The “Doll” Studies: Black children- age 3-7 were shown white and Black doll babies, and were asked a series of ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ identification questions. Even by that young an age, most of the Black children associated things like beauty, kindness, and positivity… with the white dolls.

-“The Golden Ratio”: a survey was done in Britain (oh boy, here we go) to determine what people felt was the ‘most beautiful’ face, and apparently it all came down to “symmetry”. “International blueprints of beauty” they claimed, were applied, as humans “naturally seek symmetry”. In 2015, according to ye olde Daily Mail, this was the most beautiful woman. You'll never guess:

(It’s not even her natural hair color!)

-Another “research study” using E-FIT (Electronic Facial Identification Technique -- a facial recognition software used to create criminal profiles based on eyewitness descriptions; no WAY that THAT could get problematic!!) to determine what 100 people thought was the “most archetypal face of beauty”.

They came up with a figure similar to Kendall Jenner as the female option.

(Guys, we’re never getting out of here at this rate.)

-We’ve spoken about discrimination against Black hair before, and how natural hairstyles will be deemed less professional or appropriate for school, regardless of the brilliant mind that sits underneath it, and even the history of Black women having to cover their hair so as to “not steal the desire of white men” and ruin the status of white women.

Appropriation:

I try to have nuance on the Kardashians, but I have never liked Kylie, and it’s not because she’s not allowed to do what she wants with her body. I watched the world claim that she was so beautiful, that her kits were why her lips looked “so good”. Everyone wanted to have “full, plump lips” like the ones Kylie BOUGHT. But Black women’s full lips have been treated horrifically since racism was invented. In 2016 I watched racists dogpile and mock Ugandan model Aamito Lagum for her naturally full lips in her MAC campaign, after saying in just 2015 that Kylie’s lips were “top fashion and everyone wants them”. And she lied (not that we didn’t all know that)! She appropriated a look, and she lied about it to move product. And people who had no right to forgive her did so, and everyone moved on to make her a billionaire. Because full lips looked good… as long as they weren’t on a Black woman. I can’t even have my own lips, but she was rewarded with an industry for appropriation. No, I’m not getting over that.

I could go on, but I won’t. So what are some ways to address the existence of Eurocentric beauty standards potentially biasing our creation?

First thing: LET’S TRASH THE IDEA THAT BROWN SKIN AUTOMATICALLY MEANS BLACK.

Black people are not stupid, and we do have expectations. Splashing brown paint on your otherwise white character does not mean I’ll automatically think they’re Black. I’m going to look. When I see brown people in real life, I can usually tell when they don’t look like me. I don’t look at a South Asian similar to or darker than my shade and say “they’re Black”. Blackness is not just skin color, it’s an entire identity and sociological construct. Yes, you can tell us apart.

Acknowledge when you’re holding a bias:

For example: “Tall, dark, and handsome.” What did you picture? You must understand that different people had different ideas of what this meant, versus who it was actually meant to be. Because on its surface, that description includes tall Black men with dark brown eyes and dark hair! We’ve talked about this in lesson 3! Whoever came up with this phrase didn’t mean skin though, they meant hair and eyes- they meant white brunettes. Even in this, it was only meant to include whiteness. And we were all supposed to assume that, be damned anything else.

Part of that is knowing what things do and don’t fall under the category. They were listed off earlier: straight and wavy hair, blonde hair, colorful eyes, thin noses, high cheekbones, double eyelid with round eyes that “show youth and innocence”. People have been going the “aquiline nose” route lately to claim more diversity in nose shape but like… even that isn’t always going to be the case. Every Black person is not going to have an aquiline nose. It is not the “middle ground” of diversity. Draw us with some round noses. We look fine.

Often ignored (in depictions of Black people): afro/coily hair and natural styles, large, round noses, full faces, brown eyes, full figures that aren’t oversexualized, body fat. One of the characters from Craig of the Creek that makes me so happy is Nicole, Craig’s mother. When I look at her design, I see my own mother. I see a Black woman that… actually looks like Black mothers I know. It made me happy and comfortable.

White folk, you even do it to yourselves! I mentioned to a friend once that a good chunk of stories in our fandom with the blonde/brunette white character dynamic read like an Aryan fantasy: the blonde character will be treated like a god on high, the most beautiful of humanity, and then you’ll get to the brunette and it’s “my meek, mousy brown hair, my dull, brown eyes like dirt, and my tanned skin with freckles; no one would ever notice someone plain, nerdy, and unimportant like me until him” lmao like excuse me? Author, you okay there pal? Do you need a hug, lmao? I can’t take it seriously anymore. If y'all are being this mean to each OTHER about not hitting Eurocentric beauty standards, y'all are certainly not being nice or respectful about people of color- who never can- in your content! (and no, exoticizing Blackness is not respectful.) You should look out for how often this happens, and catch yourself when you’re doing it.

Creating with Intent (and the lack thereof!)

(This is so important I made the header larger)

You have to actually consider and reference REAL Black people when you’re drawing Black people. That seems like such an obvious thing, and yet it must not be, because these sorts of arts/the techniques used in them still happen.

For example:

credit to my friend @devilatelier; I asked for the worst Black art ever and he heeded the call!

I abhor art like this, and art that does varying versions of this. To the pit of my soul, hatred. I will not share your work if I catch even a whiff of it. Why? Because people know that this isn’t what we look like! If you get on the computer and type in “Black man with short hair”, option A is not even remotely on the first page. You’ll get nonblack men that show up, thanks to Google’s algorithm (another conversation), but the Black men don’t look like A. If you get on the computer and type “Black man with long hair”, you’ll even get Black men with all textures and styles of hair, including straight! And they still don’t look like B. Go ahead, I’ll pause- go type it in and see what you get. Have you ever seen a Black person that looks like these images? Be honest with yourself. Why do you let them slide, if you haven’t?

Why This Matters

So it’s not about the actual Black people in their lives that they’ve seen, that makes artists draw characters like this, nor a dedication to accuracy. Because if you were looking at us at all, you wouldn’t draw this. And yet, people draw it, and post it proudly. So there must not be any shame behind it, or they at least are comfortable enough with their target audience to think it’s presentable! That begs the question- who is your target audience, and do you include Black people in it?

It’s how people like Jen Zee can have a successful career at Supergiant despite drawing dark skinned people the way she does. It’s because studios recognize when their target audiences are not perturbed by, and therefore will still buy, their product. If poorly drawn Black people does not perturb audiences enough to affect the almighty dollar- or, in fanart situations, the value of popularity- then there’s no motivation to stop doing it! Who cares about the value and the demeaning of Black fans, right?

Think about it like this. You remember how everyone bullied the Sonic studio and they scrapped their entire reel? People do not get that much up in arms in solidarity about the antiblack treatment and depiction of Black characters. It’s how you end up with Wyll Ravengard on the drop of BG3. Because Larian could have stood on business, had some integrity, and said “this is a character we are going to develop, because there will be fans that look like Wyll, and deserve to receive our best efforts at inclusion.”

But instead, Larian said “this is what our majority fanbase wants, and apparently it is not a well-developed Black character” and released that game as it was. To rousing success. That was a choice. The antiblackness of both the fans and the studio, via their lack of concern about Black gamers, was involved in making that decision. We have to let go of the idea that antiblack racism is incidental, and not a part of the process- and that includes in character design.

I cannot tell you how much it shrivels my heart inside when I see a “Black” character with wavy hair. One, because I know the artist’s first thought was not to have a Black character with wavy hair, but because they draw white people with that hair and thought it was transferrable. Two, because if you wanted the aesthetic of hair down to the back… Locs could have worked! The same shape would be there! You can style locs in any way, and it would be fine! Even if you wanted them to have thinner hair, fine, but… I can see where the intent (and the lack thereof) is. We can see when you aren’t even trying for us!

I asked Angel how he felt about creating the “white man with the brown bucket” images, curious about how he felt given that he is more than capable of drawing Black people. His response was noteworthy, and consistent with my hypothesis:

“Thinking about it, these two drawings have been the most difficult thing I’ve had to draw, period. And it’s the first time I’ve actually felt nauseous during the drawing process from start to finish. I constantly felt like I was fighting off the part of myself that knew better, telling me that this is wrong. It felt like a betrayal, knowing what Black people actually look like and still choosing to be disrespectful. Especially because I worked on the first two and immersed myself in references and also Black youtubers, researching Black hairstyles. It felt like a betrayal to all of that to call these two (deliberately poorly drawn) characters Black, because they’re not. None of the Black people I found during my research (both photo references and videos) looked like these. at all. It felt cheap, it felt lazy. Creatively lazy in the way that you just take a white person and paint-bucket them brown and call it a day. In the way it makes you feel no pull to change what you do, or learn something new. Kinda like a thought terminating cliche. Unlike the first two, I used no references for them, but I mostly based them off of actual designs I’ve seen in fandoms, both fanmade and not.”

Conclusion

So what I want us to consider for now is: if we know that’s not what Black people look like, but so many people are willing to do and/or accept it without any mental dissonance… how much do they care? Why is this allowed to ‘pass’, if we recognize that it is not accurate, unless we think what we are being presented with is acceptable? Or at least, not worth fighting over? Why not? Why do you not think that this Black character deserves to be unambiguously Black? And why does that ‘better’ way to exist always come back to whiteness?

We’re going to get into this, as well as more into the other, more overt and equally harmful manifestation of these beliefs in the next lesson on Whitewashing! But I want you to simmer on this part, first.

When you draw a character that you want to be Black, not only should you keep in mind your intent of how you’re going to draw them, but it also means putting in the work to make sure you’re doing so. You do not put pen to paper and “accidentally” draw a white man lol, it came from somewhere- let’s shatter that connection that views white features as superior, as 'ideal for attention grabbing', so we can create better. Because remember, it is the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[brokenbytheircursedlove]

Lucifer knew something was wrong. He was not fond of how Diavolo had called for you, his tone was soft nearly vulnerable, unlike his 24/7 happy-go-lucky voice. He had a feeling where this was going....

He is a friend nonetheless, and as much as his pride wont let him to confess; he overthinks often.

You were in the living room devilsiting with the others. The serenity manor is huge and with all his brothers there, he could almost mistake it for House Of Lamentation.

He crawls behind your seat on the couch, his hand almost touching your shoulder. almost.

"Mc, Diavolo was looking for you"

His voice calm, contradicting the twist in his guts. He should be above such feelings.

You comply, of course you do, Diavolo's your friend too. He wants to stop you, he almost does.

"Hey Mc..."

"Actually, Nevermind"

He shouldn't. Diavolo is a friend and he wants to see MC, for whatever reason that's none of his concern.

Living with his obnoxious brothers who bring chaos and trouble anywhere they go, no one knows and cherishes privacy and peace like lucifer does.

Then why, he asks himself, why is he trying to spot the both of you from the window and why are his feet leading him to the poolside when he can't see you through the window?

It's too late now, he's already in earshot and unnoticed. As Diavolo starts speaking his ears perk up.

Diavolo confesses about the cursed karaoke room, which was quite obvious, for Lucifer at least. He'll hear a word or two from Lucifer but that's a different thing. He's apologising now-

Lucifer sighs with a tinge or relief he'll refuse to admit. Achieveing that assurance made him turn, ready to head back inside before he got caught.

"Whenever we're together. I have so much fun"

Lucifer halts at the words, a sinking feeling now present in his gut.

"I feel sort of nervous and yet happy at the same time"

Oh did Lucifer know that feeling. That feeling of butterflies, that feeling that drives you to be the best version of yourself, that feeling that gets your heart racing the feeling when you love someone. He was good at concealing them but they're feelings nonetheless. But for the first time in his life, Lucifer wished he was wrong.

"Um, MC... There's actually one more thing I wanted to tell you.."

Please don't.

Lucifer, too focused on the conversation that was playing out in front of him, had his fists clenched so tight, his knuckles were white and his nails were a breath away from drawing blood from his palms. It is also note-worthy, the look he was giving Diavolo, was enough to freeze devildom over.

He didn't get it. Why was he suddenly feeling so intense? Diavolo, like every other, has the right to his feelings, and he himself doesn't have a claim on MC.

"I truly adore you, MC and I..."

He also might have been drugged, cause no way in devildom was he so close to punching Diavolo's face if he continued that sentence while sober.

And thank Barbatos that he made his entrance at the right time.

He wouldn't punch Diavolo, that was just the anger talking.

He lies to himself.

~

[februaryberries]

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 10!

[cuteniaarts]

Fanny, my sweet, beautiful girl

17.11.2012 – 14.04.2019

[silverislander]

idk whats going on or why my anxiety is so bad but i had to keep myself from physically leaving the room during class today and the only reason i didnt was bc there was stuff in front of the door. so.

[shinsouscatpisssmell]

I love that you guys are loving other woman pt.3

CAN I SHOW YOU GUYS MY HEAD CANNONS OF THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN Y/N and Ria

[moonstruckme]

request: was thinking about that one video that’s like “my wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you touching me like that on my chest” “i am your wife” and then the heart monitor starts going crazy and that put a doctor remus idea in my head after r gets out of surgery/is on anesthesia for something or other

Thanks for requesting!

cw: hospital, mention of surgery

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 855 words

Lots of people would probably be happy to have their significant other visit them at work, but as it turns out, Remus really doesn’t like it. He’s used to seeing patients post-op, and yet somehow when it’s you it feels sad, all those tubes and wires connected to his girl. The fluorescent lighting turns your complexion wan and the wary frown on your lips as a nurse checks your vitals makes Remus’ heart feel like a bruise. 

It helps some when you notice his entry and they stretch into a dopey smile instead. 

“Hi, dove.” His voice is soft and smitten, an automatic reaction to seeing you that he’s already heard the new residents commenting on in the break room. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay.” You tug at the sheets on your bed. Ball them in your fists like you might be nervous. “My stomach hurts a little.” 

“That’s normal,” Remus assures you, even as his stomach dips in sympathy. He sits on the edge of your bed, taking your hand and beginning to draw tight circles into the inside of your wrist. “If it starts to hurt worse, or badly at all, you should let me know, alright?” 

“Okay.” Your voice has quieted slightly, your eyes following the motion of his thumb on your skin. You glance at the nurse as though checking if she sees. Remus feels his lips tip up bemusedly. 

“Everything alright?” he asks the nurse.

She smiles at the both of you, passing him a clipboard. “She’s stable, ready to move when you’d like.” 

“Thanks,” he says, reading over your vitals quickly after she leaves. He sets the clipboard down and gives your hand a squeeze. If your heart monitor gives a quick beep, he pretends not to notice. “You’re all set, lovely girl. We’ll get you to your own room in just a bit.” 

You nod, not seeming to hear him. You look to be gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Remus says gently, thumbing it free. Your eyes widen, and he drops his thumb to your chin, looking you in the eyes. “Is something the matter?”

You rub your lips together hesitantly. It’s normal to have a small fever after surgery, but your face feels suspiciously warm. “I just, um, I have a boyfriend.” 

Remus feels his face split into an irrepressible grin. He’d been wondering how the anesthesia would affect you. “Yeah, dove,” he agrees, delighted, “I know you do.” 

“I don’t…” Your eyes dart to where his thumb still rests on your chin, your shoulders gravitating towards your ears. “I think it would upset him if he knew you were touching me like this.” 

Truly, this could not be any better. Remus wishes he’d brought a video camera like James wanted him to. “I am your boyfriend, sweetheart.” 

Your expression freezes in place, but your heart monitor starts beeping loudly. Your eyes dart to it, alarm and embarrassment worsening, and Remus laughs, dropping his hand from your chin in favor of rubbing your shoulder until both you and the machine calm down. 

“You?” you ask. You appear nothing short of flabbergasted. 

“Yes.” He brings your hand to his smiling lips, kissing your knuckles as if to prove it. “Why, are you surprised?” 

“You’re serious,” you check. Remus has the opportunity to make a joke here, but he worries it’d only confuse you more. 

“I am,” he says. 

“But you’re so handsome.”

Another laugh startles out of him. “And what do you think you are? Of course,” he gives your knuckles another brief peck just to see your eyes flare again, “I would love you no matter how you looked, but you’re a far cry from hideous yourself.” 

You look taken aback by this news as well. Remus is half tempted to find you a mirror. 

Then you ask, voice soft as down feathers, “You love me?” 

Something in Remus’ chest goes all warm and mushy. “I do,” he says sincerely. “I love you so much, sweetheart, sometimes I don’t know what to do with it all.” 

You smile until your eyelashes kiss, and he can’t resist cupping your face again, smoothing his thumb along the skin of your cheek. 

“So that’s why you’re here?” you ask. 

“Well,” he hesitates, “yes, but I’m also here because I work here.” 

Your eyebrows raise. Your gaze dips to his white coat as if remembering it for the first time in a while. “Oh. You’re a doctor and my boyfriend?” 

“That’s right.” He squints at you amusedly. “Did you think I just snuck in here in a white coat so I could see you?” 

“My boyfriend is a doctor.” You don’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular, perhaps just asking the universe for confirmation. 

Remus decides to get back to business. “Right again, dove. I think it’s about time we get you to your room, yeah? Anything else I can do for you, anything you need?” 

“Nope.” You lay your head back on the pillow, looking somehow more dazed than when he’d come in. “I think I’m set. Like, probably for life.”

[sometimesanalice]

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him. 

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first.  He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure. 

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months. 

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other  as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.  

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break.  But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar. 

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling. 

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm. 

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself. 

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”  

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

 “You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you. 

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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[cringe--is--dead]

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝒟𝒶𝓎

Various WBK boys x AFAB!reader (incl. Kiryuu, Kaji, Umemiya, Nirei, Sakura, Hiragi, Choji)

CW: cat-calling and objectification (none by the WBK boys), threats of violence (obvious)

𝑀𝓎 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓈…

༺═────────────═༻

…𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

𝒦𝒾𝓇𝓎𝓊𝓊 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓀𝒾

Your suits were matching— the same shade of blue, your bikini top accompanied by a little, pink blow between your breasts. Your boyfriend had taken you out shopping before the group summer trip, pulling out his wallet to buy several matching outfits before you could protest. You’d learned rather quickly that protesting was useless.

You were accustomed to some stares— Sakura turned a shade of red only he could turn when you took off your bathing suit cover, and Suo had teased the poor kid relentlessly. Some other stares, Kiryuu was realizing, you were oblivious to. The Furin boys were respectful, teenage boys, sure, but respectful.

The random teenagers and men staring at your body, not so much. Kiryuu, however, wasn’t the least bit worried.

“Darling,” You looked up questioningly at your boyfriend, pausing where you were rubbing sunscreen onto your arms, “Let me get your back.”

You smiled at him, and despite how long you two had been together felt your own cheeks warm slightly. You finished your arms, turning to lay on your front on your towel. He was gentle, warming up the sunscreen before applying it to your back, all but massaging it into your skin.

“How did I get so lucky?” His voice was teasing, fingertips dancing under the bikini string.

“Mitsuki,” You scolded, and he laughed.

Relaxing in your towel, you didn’t see that Kiryuu’s gaze wasn’t on you. One of the groups near you were growing rowdy, one of them louder than the rest. He had heard their conversation, lewd remarks about your body. He was quick to move, staking his claim subtly as he massaged the sunscreen onto your back.

The one that had moved, most likely to ask for your number or give you a stupid pick up line, had made the mistake of making eye contact with Kiryuu. He wasn’t Suo, but he knew he was intimidating.

One palm was flat against your lower back, dancing dangerously close to being too low. You hummed quietly, unaware of the silent stare down happening behind you. Kiryuu raised an eyebrow, waiting for the stranger to make his decision.

He seemed to think, before breaking eye contact, face curling into a scowl, before he turned back to his group.

“Mitsuki?” He was quick to smile, the soft look he reserved just for you returned, “Can we go in the water now?”

“Whatever you want, darling.”

𝒦𝒶𝒿𝒾 𝑅𝑒𝓃

Kaji was starting to wish he had brought a whole pack of suckers, and based on the worried side eyes that were sent his way, he wasn’t alone on this. The only person who seemed oblivious to this, or just entirely too trusting, was you.

You, who was wearing one of the newest bikini sets you ordered from over states. You, who was hitting around an inflatable ball with some of his first years, laughing in the waves. You, who was drawing attention from way too many random guys around, loitering on their beach towels or wading in the water far too close.

He felt the familiar crunch of his current sucker, he was so zoned staring— glaring— that he didn’t realize until now it was a grape flavored one.

Gross.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, turning slightly to see Kusumi holding his screen towards him. It took a few seconds to see through the glare of the sun, but he finally saw the message.

you okay?

He could nod, could lie and say he’s fine— but this was Kusumi, bastard reads him almost as well as Hiragi. So instead he shrugged, rolling the candy stick in his mouth, already itching to grab another one.

His music was low, loud enough that the random chit chat didn’t make its way to him, but low enough that he could hear you or the others if he focused enough.

He was up on his feet in a flash, though, watching as a random volleyball splashed the water near you, far too close to have been a coincidence. Some random guy was waving, smile too big as he made his way over. He was all teeth, all but leering over you as you handed him his ball. You were being polite, but you were clearly trying to get him to leave.

Kusumi shot him a worried look, one that read somewhere between don’t make a scene and we’ll back you up if need be. In all honesty he was between those too.

But this was a trip, something fun for everyone, and if he swung first and started a beach brawl then the day would end early. So he instead made his way to the waters edge, the cool waves lapping at his feet as he watched.

You were trying to get back to whatever game you, Nirei and Kiryuu had been playing, and the man wasn’t taking the hint. Taking his headphones off, the loudness of the wind and waves crashed over him for a moment, before he regained his focus.

“Hey,” His voice was sharp, cutting through the one sided conversation easily.

You both turned, your face lighting up when you saw him, sweet voice calling out his name in excitement. You made your way out of the water towards him, and he briefly made eye contact with the two first years, sending a curt nod their way. They understood, backing off to their other friends.

“Can we go get ice cream?” You wrapped your arms around his bicep, pressing close to him.

In any other circumstance he’d have been rather flustered, you were pressed so close, he could feel the softness of your breasts, but he could also feel how fast your heart was hammering. He didn’t look down, eyes maintaining where they were staring down the unnamed man.

“Sure.”

The guy scoffed, arms crossing as if he were unimpressed by the display before him. Kaji cocked a brow, “Something the matter?”

He put his hands up, mock surrender, “No, nothing.” His tone was amused, as if goading Kaji to start something.

His fists were clenched at his side, jaw uncomfortably tense, and if the sucker had lasted any longer it definitely would have shattered.

The man seemed to grow uncomfortable, “Look dude, we were just chatting, alright? Nothing wrong with that.”

He just hummed in response, the noise low and unamused. You squeezed his arm gently, voice low, “Ren, it’s okay, I’m fine,” It took a second for him to look away, but when he glanced down at you, you smiled, small but genuine.

He stared for a moment, before sighing, “Yeah, whatever.”

You stepped away, gently tugging at his arm to follow you, and he moved, allowing you to maneuver him however you wanted. He didn’t spare another glance behind him, knowing full well that coward was going to go back to his group, spouting nonsense he could have easily knocked out of him.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, and as the rage died down in him, he felt the tips of his ears warm up, no doubt red now, “What?”

“Nothing,” You laughed quietly, “Just thankful I have my knight in shinning armor.”

He tisked, feigning annoyance at your statement. He’d never call himself a knight, that seemed too noble, too good.

“I’d kick his ass if he kept talking…”

You laughed louder this time, “I know. But I didn’t wanna let an asshole like that ruin our day.”

Not him, not Kaji ruin it by throwing a punch. He felt a bit of tension bleed out of him, your words simple but holding so much weight. The little ice cream parlor was near, and with you leaning against him, comfortable knowing that he’d protect you from unwanted advances, he felt more confident in his actions.

You trusted him to take care of not only himself, but you as well. To protect you should it come to that. And if you let him, gave him a sign, he’d beat anyone who even looked at you funny.

“Oh— should we get ice cream for the others?”

“Not unless they’re paying.”

𝒰𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓎𝒶 𝐻𝒶𝒿𝒾𝓂𝑒

The beach weekend getaway had been in the works for months at this rate, and Umemiya was rather proud of himself for how well it had gone so far. The beach wasn't too far from town, wasn't too crowded or boring, the weather was perfect.

Later in the evening, he, you, and a few others had ventured out, having found an arcade nearby, colorful neon lights pulling them all in. Everyone had grown rather excited, running around with coins and tickets, little prizes in hands.

He had won you a few trinkets, proudly handing you the stuffed animals, watching with delight as you held them delicately, naming them each, one by one.

Umemiya had offered to go get you a drink, watching from the counter as you moved over to skeeball, bringing Sakura with you as you attempted to teach him how to play. Though it looked more like you were working on preventing him from climbing the machine and just throwing the balls in at this rate.

“C’mon man, just wait for her to walk off.”

The conversation happening to his right caught his attention, they were loud, demanding of observation. He glanced them over, men near his age if not a bit older, laughing and talking. He brushed them off, gaze turning back to where you were laughing, Sakura’s face bright red as the ball rolled back down the slope.

“Wearing shorts like that, she’s asking for attention.”

His thoughts paused, processing what was said. One quick glance made him painfully aware that those men were staring in your direction.

“At this rate I say we just go over, that pipsqueak does look like he’d be able to do much.”

He set your drink down on the counter, not wanting to spill the liquid and make some poor worker clean up his mess. Walking over, he set a smile on his face, taught and forced. Leaning between the two of them, he wrapped his arms around their shoulders, “Yeah, she looks pretty great doesn’t she?”

The men jumped, clearly unaware that they had garnered an audience.

“What the hell man?”

He grinned, grip tightening slightly, “I got really lucky honestly, someone as beautiful as her being my girlfriend.”

One of the guys seemed to understand what was happening, face dropping, “Hey man— we were just joking.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, “So you don’t think my girlfriend’s beautiful?”

The guy laughed nervously, glancing towards his buddy, who seemed to be opting to stay silent, “Look man, no need to get worked up, okay?”

He smiled, eyes narrowing as he forced a laugh, “Oh don’t worry, I’m not worked up,” He pulled the two closer, “But I would advise you to leave, and keep your mouths shut as you go, yeah?”

Sakura was adding coin after coin, determined to get more points each time, and you wondered if you maybe created a monster, watching as he rolled the ball with too much force.

A loud slam from near the front of the arcade startled you, and you jumped, curiosity making you turn to look, but as you did you bumped into a chest, looking up to see Umemeiya, smiling down at you.

“Got you your drink!” You smiled back, thanking him for the soda, Sakura too caught up in his own competition to notice the new comer.

“What took you so long?” You looked towards the counter, “Oh! What happened?”

There was a wet floor sign, a small pile of damp paper towels on the counter and floor. Ume smiled at you, “Just some guys got startled by something and spilled their drinks. I was helping the worker clean up, and the two ran off.”

That must have been the loud noise, no doubt they were about to get into some type of trouble for their mishap and fled. You nodded, leaning back into his chest, happily sipping your drink.

༺═────────────═༻

…𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇

𝒩𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒾 𝒜𝓀𝒾𝒽𝒾𝓀𝑜

Nirei made sure to pack a bathing suit cover-up for you. He didn't entirely think you needed one, but in case it got breezy or you got sleepy he wanted to make sure he had one handy.

He didn’t have the heart to say he brought it, also, in case someone made you uncomfortable. He trusted his friends and his classmates, but he also knew how strangers could act.

Especially towards a pretty girl at the beach!

He doubts that if a random passer-byer started hitting on you his pill bug technique would come in handy, and he can’t justify allowing any of his classmates throw punches on behalf of his girlfriend.

Well, unless you asked or needed of course. He’d do anything in his realm of possibilities if you asked, and even a few out of it.

“Hiko?” He turned, almost jumping as you drew him from his own thoughts, a gentle smile on your face.

You held out a bottle of water to him, “Umemiya’s handing them out, says to stay hydrated.”

He took it happily, feeling content as you moved to sit next to him, sipping your own water, body relaxed.

“Oh! Kiryuu brought some kites,” He loved watching your eyes light up when you got excited, and he felt himself turn warm, both in his cheeks and his chest, “I thought we could snag one and go fly it later?”

He nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah! The wind seems perfect for that.”

You grinned, agreeing, turning the conversation to chat about other things. As the two of you talked, watching your friends run around and swim, and he took out of his notebooks, jotting down notes and doodles as he observed his classmates.

You glanced over occasionally, curious as to what he was deeming important enough to write in this moment, but kept talking.

“Hey!”

The two of you kept talking, unaware that the yelling being directed at you before, “Hey!”

You jumped, a light dust of sand hitting your legs, both of you looking up to see another random group, a guy and two girls standing near you all. You raised an eyebrow, and Nirei swallowed nervously.

“Can we help you?”

The guy grinned, though it looked more like a leer, while the girls seemed to roll their eyes, hanging behind him, “I was just wondering if you wanted to join us, cutie. Have a fun time instead of sitting here like a loser.”

You felt annoyance flare up in your chest, face dropping as you rolled your eyes, “No.”

The guy laughed, clearly caught off by your response, “C’mon, I promise you I can show you a better time.”

“And I said no, now please, go away.”

His grin faded, looking more annoyed than he had before, though he seemed like he wanted to play it off, “Look, I’m being nice here, there’s no need to be a bitch.”

Nirei glared at him, hot anger licking at his chest, ready to stand up and yell at him, defend you against this asshole.

“You haven’t seen me be a bitch yet,” You replied, sounding bored of the conversation, relaxing back, leaning on your palms, “Like I said. Leave.”

The girls looked torn between laughing at the man’s plight and sneering down at you, and the guy’s face was turning red.

He clicked his tongue, “You can stay here then, enjoying your time with your loser boyfriend. But remember—”

He was cut off, you standing up like a flash, fist flying towards the guys nose, a satisfying crack sounding as he reared back, shouting in pain.

Your punch wasn’t enough to break his nose, and Nirei hated that he was disappointed by that, but there was a steady, thin stream of blood trickling from one nostril.

“What the fuck?”

“I was being nice before,” You snapped, “Now I’m telling you to fuck off.”

The guy sneered at you, though it looked rather pathetic as he cupped his nose, swears and curses falling from his lips, tripping over the sand and his own feet as he walked back to where ever he wandered from, the two girls sending you a shocked look before going after him.

You sat back down, rubbing your knuckles and smiling at Nirei sweetly, as if you hadn’t just punched someone in the face.

“Do you wanna go see about the kite now?”

𝒮𝒶𝓀𝓊𝓇𝒶 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓊𝓀𝒶

Your boyfriend had yet to look at you for more than two seconds. At this rate, it was rather adorable how his face burned red, eyes flittering everywhere but you. You knew your bathing suit would illicit this reaction, one reason you had told him you'd rather meet up at the beach than walk with him and his friends.

Suo had teased your blushing boyfriend a bit before bidding you both a gentle wave, and wandering off with Nirei, leaving the two of you under an umbrella on the sand.

You were applying sunscreen to your arms, debating whether or not you should forcefully apply some to your boyfriend, knowing full well that he didn’t apply nearly enough, or teasing him.

You studied his profile for a moment, the blush hadn’t died down yet. Though, that could be because of the sun, you mused. He seemed to notice your staring, however, and the red intensified.

Ah, still blushing. Cute.

“Haruka,” Your voice was light, singing his name softly, and he tensed, sending you a quick side eye, “You should apply more sunscreen.”

“Huh? I already applied some!” He grew defensive, turning to glare at the bottle in your hand.

You sighed, though a small smile grew on your face, “Not nearly enough.”

“You saying I’m weak?”

You blinked at him, trying to reel in a laugh, lest he think you’re laughing at him, “Love,” He stammered at the pet name, “No one’s tougher than the sun. Or UV rays. Put more on.”

You squeezed some more into your palm, before handing the bottle over to him. You moved, applying more to your arms, as he stared at the bottle, looking between it and you.

“Now.”

He swore quietly, but uncapped the bottle, applying it with the same ferocity as a grumpy toddler. The comparison made you giggle, and you moved to apply the leftover sunscreen on your legs.

He paused in his actions, unbeknownst to you, watching you with intense rapt. You were humming quietly to yourself, some kitschy pop song. He glanced over you, noticing one guy having turned, staring at your legs, unblinking.

He felt himself grow rather… angry? Frustrated, maybe. Why was that guy staring? His silence and stillness drew your attention, and you looked at him, trying to follow his gaze. You made eye contact with the stranger, and he winked, shamelessly.

Rolling your eyes, your lips curled into a disgusted sneer, “Pervert.”

“I’ll kick his ass.”

You hummed again, amused at your boyfriend’s automatic protective nature, “No, you won’t.”

“Wha,” He turned to look at you, incredulously, “He’s— he’s just staring at you! And he winked at you!”

“And I have absolutely no interest in him, or his stupid wink,” You mimicked the way came out of his mouth like it was a swear.

“It’s cause of your bathing suit!”

You blinked at him, voice dropping rather dangerously, “Pardon?”

He seemed to realize he said something wrong, though you doubt he knew exactly what it was he said that was wrong. You couldn’t blame him entirely, his knowledge of relationships was still very limited, and you knew this.

“I just—” He stammered, mouth fluttering open and shut, trying to find what to say, “You look— and he’s staring because— it’s,” He motioned to your body, and you raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to come to his own conclusion, “You look too good!”

You couldn’t cover the snort that escaped, trying not to laugh at your boyfriend’s worries. He glared at you, offended by the noise.

“They can stare all they want because I,” You took his hand into yours, enjoying how his frustration faded at the drop of a hat, face immediately reddening once more, “Am at the beach with my adorable boyfriend. Besides, if he tries anything I don’t need you to kick his ass for me, I can do that myself.”

Face still red, he turned away, facing the waves, voice a bit quieter as he spoke, “You’re not a fighter.”

“I don’t have to be a fighter to crack a bottle of ramune over his head,” To prove your point you reached over him, hiding your amusement as he yelped, grabbing a bottle and working it open, “Not many people can bounce back from that.”

You took a sip, maintaining eye contact with Sakura, his cheeks still red, but his eyes widened. It was silent between you two for a moment before—

“Jesus, okay. You can defend yourself.” You smiled, shifting to cuddle closer to him, allowing him a moment to gather his bearings as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders in response, muttering something that vaguely sounded like scary under his breath.

༺═────────────═༻

…𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒶 𝒽𝑜𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔

𝐻𝒾𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾 𝒯𝑜𝓂𝒶

There were times when Hiragi wondered if you were an angel sent to him, or another demon sent his way. This was one of the times where he thought that you may be a demon, though you were as pretty as an angel. He wishes he had packed more of his gaskun10.

"Hiragi," Your voice was light as you called out to him, a small pout on your lips as you held your hand out, "You promised me a board-walk trip."

Despite the previous feeling, he smiled, standing up and brushing sand off of his shorts, wandering your way, "I did, didn't I?"

You grinned up at him, squeezing his hand once he placed it in yours, all but leading him away from the group, prattling on about the different pop-up shops that had appeared this summer you wanted to check out.

Your excitement had you distracted, torn between talking to Hiragi and looking at your shirtless boyfriend, admiring him in the summer light. He understood, not teasing you on your staring for once, listening with half an ear as he, too, was distracted by your beach outfit. You had gone out shopping with Kotoha and Tsubaki, and elected on surprising you with your pick.

He wasn't, however, too distracted to note the looks being sent your way. You were a pretty girl; beautiful, perfect, in his eyes, and he knew he wasn't the only one who shared this sentiment. Several guys were staring as you two walked, eyes trailing up from top to bottom, before flickering over to him. He was glad none were stupid enough to step forward, he'd rather not cause a scene at the beach.

There were also, surprising to him, a few girls staring, well he should say glaring your way. He could see the judgment stemming off of them from miles away, looking between the both of you with disdain. It made him click his tongue, annoyed with the vastly different responses being sent your way.

You sensed the small shift in his mood, eyebrows furrowing as you paused your rambling to study him, "Everything okay?"

He looked down at you, "You just look stunning."

Giggling, you turned your attention forward once more, "I'm well aware of that."

His eye roll was nothing short of affectionate, no snark or annoyance in his expression as you two continued walking.

“You’re also ridiculous,” He added, and you threw your head back and laughed.

“That I am also well aware of,” You grinned, and he was once again reminded of the demon analogy, “But you love me.”

He sighed, “I do,” Probably too much to be healthy, but that was neither here nor there.

In all honesty, he was rather used to onlookers, well, looking. You were always loud in your own way, drawing attention and awe where ever you went. It was one reason you and Tsubakino got along as well as you did.

It didn’t help the level of stress he felt, wanting nothing more than to shield your body or fight those looking at you, but he knew you wouldn’t want that. Unless absolutely necessary, but more often than not his presence kept those situations away.

“Come on,” You stood on your tip toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “Let’s go get some snacks!”

𝒞𝒽𝑜𝒿𝒾 𝒯𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓎𝒶𝓂𝒶

"Hey! Hey! You put sunscreen on right? Kame-chan kept bugging me about it so I thought to make sure you put some on!"

You blinked your eyes open, peering up at your boyfriend, hair soaked and plastered against his head from where he had been all but running through the waves. Smiling, you sat up, moving your sunglasses on top of your head.

"Yes Choji, I've got sunscreen on," You saw Togame floating in the water a few yards away, relaxing in the waves, "I'm glad Togame made sure you re-applied yours."

He pouted at your words, "He got sand stuck on my face because of it."

His childlike annoyance had you laughing, and he brightened at the sound, moving to grab your hand, working to drag you up onto your feet.

"C'mon! Let's get in the water!"

You allowed yourself to be pulled up, his energy contagious, "You were just in the water," Your argument held no real bite, letting your overzealous boyfriend drag you to the waves.

"But not with you!"

Your feet hit the water, and you shrieked at the sudden coldness lapping against you. He laughed at your response, turning to run full speed towards Togame, splashing his relaxing friend with a face full of water.

You rolled your eyes, slowly going further into the water, getting used to the coolness against your skin. Choji swam around you and Togame, going back and forth between splashing you lightly and seeming like he was trying to drown his friend. Togame was fighting back, laughing while dunking your boyfriend under the water.

There were some fish swimming around, little things flitting between the people, and you watched, relaxing in the water as Choji swam after them. Togame wadded over, and the two of you started talking, light conversation as Choji swam a bit away, closer to another group that was hanging out nearby.

The fish had all gotten away, and he decided to float for a bit, facing the sun with a relaxed smile on his face. That was until he heard the conversation from the people near.

"Seriously, I'd never let my girl in public like that. She should be covered up."

"Doesn't she know all she's gonna do is draw attention to herself?"

There was some mumbling, a few choice words being passed around, and the once relaxing float was less so now. He moved, eyes narrowing at the group, ready to open his mouth or throw a fist, when he heard you calling his name, you and Kame waving him back over.

He debated for a moment, what would be more important, before deciding that these guys were just idiots. And you all were having such a good time, he could fight them later. So he swam back over, launching himself at you once he was close enough. You caught him, as you always did.

He began peppering your face with kisses, ignoring the joking eye-roll Kame sent their way.

"You look amazing, you know this right?"

You giggled at his antics, pushing his face away softly, "Yes, you've told me a hundred times in the past few hours."

He huffed, "You're the prettiest girl at this beach! In this whole town! You always look so amazing!"

His fluttering kisses tickled lightly, and you were giggling uncontrollably, trying to stop him like you would an over excited puppy. He finally moved back, still floating close to you, smiling wide.

“What was that about?”

His head tilted, looking like a confused puppy to you, when in reality he was debating whether or not to tell you what he overheard.

If you were upset or hurt or offended he’d turn around in a heart beat, fists at the ready. He’d finish them all off quickly, wash their blood from his fists in the water, the salt may sting, but it’d be worth it.

But he thought on it, something Ume-chan told him he should practice, and came to the conclusion that you’d more than likely roll your eyes and laugh. You often did whenever snide comments made their way to you, even way before you two were dating.

You dressed how you liked, and no one’s comments seemed to affect you. You were happy with your outfits, and often said, “That’s all that matters,” with that sweet smile of yours.

So he just smiled, eyes closing as he grinned, “I just love you!”

A/N: I am not a fan! Of how I wrote some of these! >.< So sorry! I have never written for some of these characters and I worry it shows! ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ALSO I CUT SOME CHARACTERS OUT! I RAN OUT OF IDEAS AND DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO WRITE SOME OF THEM! I’M SO SORRY!

[dclovesdanny]

Dead Serious

4/4

Danny had made peace with the fact he did not have a soulmate. He had! After several years of no response to the countless drawings and writing notes on his skin, he had grown resigned to the fact that he was part of the 5% who did not have soulmates. He was fine with that.

(Dash would tease him about how no one would ever love him, adding salt to an already irritated wound. His parents were soulmates, and he remembered when he was drawing on his father’s arms and watching as it appeared on his mother’s. Jazz had been drawing and writing to her soulmate for years. Her soulmates name was Jason, and she always talked about how he was with her. She was one of the few people who comforted him when he stopped drawing or writing to soulmate. )

Damien taught at an early age that there was no use for soulmates. They were only distractions. He knew grandfather had no soulmate, and his mother had never responded to her own. He never responded to the drawings on his arms notes the notes in English on his (and he didn’t try harder just because he wanted to read his soulmate writing that would be ridiculous.)

Damien never told his family about having a soulmate. Even as he slowly got used to the differences between them and slowly learned how his grandfather was he could never bring himself to respond to the slowly lessening drawings and messages.(He couldn’t bring himself to respond because deep down he knew he didn’t deserve a soulmate. He was a monster, a demon. He didn’t deserve it.)

Danny stopped trying so desperately to contact his soulmate at age 11(the age he held his sister as she cried, her soulmate’s last message scribbled in desperate frantic writing on her arm. He never resented his parents so much when they didn’t even leave the lab for two days, not paying any mind to their sobbing child on the floor above them.)(it was the first time he didn’t envy having a soulmate.)

He was fourteen when he started drawing on his arms again.(it was shaky, much more than the older drawings, but even if he didn’t have a soulmate, he wanted to leave them a mark, just in case, the same way Jazz wrote quotes from different books on her arms.)

(When he found out Vlad didn’t have a soulmate, he refused to acknowledge another similarity they shared. He refused to think about how Vlad’s desperation made Danny think of his own desperate writing for his soulmate. Soulmates were a topic he never spoke of, and Vlad must have known, must have found out about how Danny didn’t have one, but he never commented on it. (It was the only boundary that was never crossed.))

(Damian wasn’t disappointed when his soulmate stopped writing to him. he didn’t trace over his arms, wishing that he had the confidence to write back. He didn’t spend hours wondering if his soulmate was gone without knowing Damian had seen him. He didn’t trace over the drawings his soulmate made with awe after four years of silence.)

Damian always covered up, so he was the only one who noticed when his soulmate started writing to him again. Never sentences never notes like they were before, but shaky drawings appeared on his skin. They were less detailed than before, almost shaky, as if the person drawing them couldn’t hold a pencil, steady, but they were real. Damian never said a word.

It was October 15 when Damien saw something on his arms that made his blood go cold. A message that he read over and over while commandeering the plane and ignoring the rest of his family yelling for him to explain himself. He desperately calibrated the jet while staring at the words, praying to a God he did not believe in that he would not be too late.(Unaware that Todd was following going in the same direction with the similar message written on his arm from a girl that Jason had deemed too good for him.)

Dear soulmate, even if you aren’t there. Everyone in Casper high is writing on their arms and I might as well try to warn someone. I am from Amity Park, Illinois, and we are under attack. The GIW have cut all outside communication. We are currently hiding in Casper high school, barricading the entrances, but it will not last long.

According to the government, we are not legally sentient or human. The agents outside want to dissect us, citing that we are scum. I don’t want to see my classmates die at the hands of my parents. I don’t want to see my friends and my sister die.

I don’t know if you are there, or if I really don’t have a soulmate, but I don’t want to die (fully) without leaving some sort of note.

My name is Danny. I love you. I’m sorry.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

Sunday:

Is calm upon receiving the note and still just as calm after reading it.

He knew this day was coming, you weren’t necessarily subtle about it either but he didn’t want to bring it up to you, knowing that if he did you’d loose all the confidence you’ve mustered up in order to give him the note.

He could read you like an open book and yet your sweet, genuine words touched his heart regardless. You held his heart in your hand and you weren’t even aware, he’ll be sure to rectify that soon enough.

While he wishes you could’ve told him in person, however he’ll gladly suffice for a note instead, seeing as it was the closest he’ll get in regard to an official confession.

With his place in your heart ensured, Sunday could finally use this as an opportunity to spoil you to your hearts content. Anything and everything you could ever possibly want or wish for was going to be yours if he had anything to do with it.

Your wish was his command and he’ll gladly rid himself of any competitors for your heart, all the while shielding your eyes from his underhanded tactics in doing so.

Welt:

You make this old man feel as though he were young and lively when you gave him the note and running off before he could say anything.

He felt as though he was in a romcom that he saw once…not that he was complaining.

Your note was so sweet and thoughtful that the more he continued to read, the more he began to find even more reasons to love you, for who you were was the most precious and perfect person in his life.

He didn’t want to confess first incase that he misread your past interactions for something else, but the note you’ve given him proved that his initial thoughts were correct, and that in reality he was just insecure and felt silly of the idea that someone his age was still experiencing things such as a crush.

But it was so much more than that and Welt knew it.

The only question left was, when was it going to be his time to confess?

Dan heng:

Thank god he took the note back to his room while he did because had he read it beforehand, otherwise his fellow trailblazers would’ve seen his face go the reddest it’s ever been in history.

He reads and re-reads your note to make sure that he wasn’t tricking himself but no, it was a real physical note from you confessing your crush on him.

Dan Heng felt as though he needed to sit down and think this through before he did something impulsive and stupid.

His little dragon noodle brain was telling him that he should seek out the most beautiful of all treasures, whether that be literature, clothing, jewels, and give them to you in droves in hopes of impressing you into being his mate.

Dan Heng dismisses it quickly as it came as it’ll probably overwhelm you and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, and with that it was back to the drawing board to brainstorm.

Gallagher:

The moment he reads your note, he’s already got ideas on how your first date should go.

He’s not pissing about, not when you’ve given him the opportunity to treat you like he thought you should be treated; like you were the most priceless thing in existence because to him you very much were.

So why should he hesitate and potentially miss his chance to be with the person of his dreams?

He knew your favourite drink like the back of his hand from the countless times he’s made in perfecting it to your liking, so that wasn’t going to be as much of a problem as asking you out on a date was.

But he’ll figure something out, even if he’d have to improvise on the day. It would’ve been worth it if it meant having you by his side by the end of it.

Blade:

He’s not use to this sort of thing as love notes were a foreign concept to him.

He understood the intention and meaning behind it but he wasn’t the one to receive such notes.

So when you dropped off the note with him and ran the faster he’s ever seen you with a flustered look upon your face, Blade instantly knew then and there what the note was solely from your expression.

He wasn’t stupid so why he feeling a fluttering within his chest upon making this revelation?

It wasn’t painful nor caused his body any ache nor strife, if anything the more the warm, euphoric feeling spread throughout his body, the more his daily pains become an after thought in light of a possibility that you might actually like him back.

He always thought that the stories and blood -both his own and others- that stained his hands would run you off within a moments notice. Instead you choose to grasp his hands gently, wipe away the blood unfazed and still be able to look into his eyes after all that and smile.

You were his and Blade would be damned if he allowed anyone to encroach on you, regardless of their intentions. You weren’t to be taken from him for he’s already been through a lot and you weren’t going to be another name amongst the lost.

Boothill:

‘What’s this? Finally come to confess to me have you?’ He’d tease but would be genuinely surprised when he opens the note and finds that it actually is a confession note.

His crush? Liking him back? Bullshit!

He may act confident and self assured but he was in heavily in denial to begin with, but the more he re-read the note, he could tell that you were being serious. Which was a drastic change from your typically shy and anxious demeanour.

He even had to pinch the skin of his face to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming this up and that you were genuinely in love with him.

Sad he knows, but would you really be willing to date a man who wouldn’t be able to feel you expect from his face? Yeah he didn’t think so.

And yet you’ve proven him wrong by writing him a love letter confessing how you didn’t care about that, and how you loved him regardless if he could feel you or not. He was still someone you cared for deeply at the end of the day, never less someone you happened to find attractive. You weren’t shallow and Boothill knows this.

Not only that but he was genuinely scared that his best wasn’t going to be enough for you, sweet, kind, caring you…However Boothill recognises that hesitating and fearing the what ifs weren’t going to help him in wining your heart true and proper.

[jgracie]

LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF APHRODITE

masterlist | rules

❝ Can I request percy x daughter of Aphrodite? ❞ — 🧸

in which percy dates a daughter of aphrodite

pairing percy jackson x aphrodite!reader

warnings i had to break up percabeth for the plot im sorry 😞, one swear word

on the radio . . . love me like you do (ellie goulding)

When Percy and Annabeth broke up, all of Camp Half-Blood was in shock

In their minds, they were the couple. The one little kids would look up to and teens would pray to emulate. How could they possibly break up?

Percy wished he knew. I mean, he kind of understood why, but part of him was still confused

You see, it was Annabeth who’d ended things. Annabeth, who had been head-over-heels in love with Percy ever since they were 12. She was nice about it, luckily, but Percy was still hurt

The reason why she ended their relationship was because she wanted to discover herself, and she couldn’t do that with Percy by her side. She’d been stuck in camp nearly her whole life until Percy came along, and when he did, she spent years doing quests and fighting by his side

She felt like she knew who Percy’s girlfriend was, and who Athena’s daughter is, but not Annabeth. That’s why she ended things

Every day, Percy would mope around his cabin, his heart shattered. Annabeth was his first love. He was happy for her, of course, but a larger part of him was sad for himself

To make matters worse, the Fates seemed to be working against him, since he got broken up with just a week before his mother and Paul’s wedding. How was he supposed to attend an event celebrating love when he lost his?

Besides, now he doesn't have a date. Annabeth was still going to go, of course, but with her own ticket, not his +1. The seats were already booked and paid for though, so he couldn’t tell his parents to remove one

Which is why he was in his current situation. Standing outside of the Aphrodite cabin, debating whether or not he should walk away

Percy hated to beg, but he didn’t have much choice. The Aphrodite kids were most likely to agree to go with him, since they love everything to do with love, especially weddings

Recollecting himself, Percy knocked on the front door

“Oh, hi Percy!” Piper said, inviting him in. As soon as he walked in, the whole cabin went silent, all eyes on him. Out of all the people in camp, Aphrodite’s kids were the most interested in his breakup with Annabeth. Percy knew they didn’t mean any harm, as matters of love just genuinely piqued their interest, but he hated the way their eyes were always watching their every move

Quietly, he told Piper, “I want to ask your siblings something, if that's okay,” then, when Piper nodded, he addressed the rest of the cabin, “so… My mom and step-dad are getting married next week and I was supposed to go with Annabeth but she’s not my date anymore and I still have an extra invite so I was wondering if maybe one of you guys wanna come?”

The room, which was once so silent you could hear a pin drop, suddenly became awfully loud as they all argued about who should go with Percy. This didn’t last very long though, thanks to Piper

Eyebrows furrowed, Piper clapped her hands, immediately silencing her siblings, “before you all start drawing lots to see who goes, I’m going to check and see if Y/N wants to go. I think we can all agree she needs this more than anyone, right?”

To Percy’s surprise, there was no arguing regarding this. He’d heard about you in passing before - Aphrodite’s most beautiful daughter, favoured by the Goddess herself not just for your extreme good looks but for your warm heart, dating Annabeth’s half-sibling Ali - but nothing about you needing to attend weddings

Piper went over to a bunk in the corner of the room, one Percy hadn’t noticed was occupied until now, and spoke to you in a hushed tone. When she pointed at Percy, you turned to look at him, and he could see that your eyes were bloodshot

With your arm wrapped around Piper’s, you made your way over to Percy, unfazed by the eyes that were locked on you, “I’ll go with you.”

You spent the days leading up to the wedding getting to know each other, since neither of you wanted to attend a wedding with a stranger, and discovered you actually had a lot in common

Namely, both of you were broken up with by children of Athena. Turns out, you were no longer Ali’s girlfriend - he’d broken up with you a couple days after Annabeth broke up with Percy. Not a lot of people knew, since the news of your own breakup was overshadowed by Percy’s

When he heard that, he apologised, but you’d smiled at him and told him it was fine, since you didn’t want much attention on the breakup anyway. That was Percy’s first time seeing you smile since hanging out with you, and he felt as if Eros himself had shot an arrow right through his heart

He couldn’t fall for you though, not now at least. Both of you were healing from breakups

The longer you met up with Percy, the better you felt. You were absolutely devastated when your now ex had broken up with you, saying something along the lines of, “it’s not you, it’s me,” when you begged for an explanation

You knew the truth, though. People in camp didn’t see you as anything other than Aphrodite’s favourite daughter, a pretty girl who just cared about her makeup and romance novels. While you loved both things, you weren’t anywhere near that level of shallowness

So, they date you just to say that the most gorgeous girl in camp’s dating them, then break up with you the moment you say anything remotely intellectual, challenging their masculinity

Usually, you didn’t care too much, since you know your own self-worth, but for some reason, your breakup with Ali really hurt. Maybe it’s because you thought as a son of Athena, with sisters who were also smart, he’d understand

You spent the first couple days after your breakup doing nothing other than crying in your bunk and reading romance books (which only made you feel worse). Your siblings, bless their hearts, had tried to make you feel better - doing your nails, telling you jokes - but nothing worked

Until Percy. You didn’t know if it was the fact that he was going through a breakup too, or the fact that he was still funny despite having his heart broken too, but he was the only person who knew how to make you smile, pulling you out of the pit you were in and allowing you to bask in the daylight

The week flew by, and eventually, it was time for the wedding. Your siblings fawned all over you as they did your hair and makeup, an Aphrodite cabin tradition. Usually, this tradition was only performed before first dates as a ‘good luck charm’ of sorts, but they decided to do it for you before the wedding

You thought they were just being sweet, forgetting that you shared a mother and therefore they of all people would know when you met the one. Your siblings saw the way Percy brought the glow back to your skin, and were eternally grateful as now they had their precious sister back

They were also grateful to him because you’d be gone for a whole day, meaning there was nothing stopping them from taking revenge on the Athena cabin :) Never underestimate the power of love!

“Hi Percy!” You said, waving, a bright smile plastered on your face. The dress you were wearing was a colour your mother knew suited you perfectly, and it cascaded down your body in waves, the lace detailing doing nothing to calm Percy’s rapidly beating heart.

The poor boy was genuinely afraid he’d pass out as he held an arm out for you, which you gladly took, wanting to be as close to him as possible, “you look gorgeous,” he said, blushing

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, the grin on your face growing. Your cheeks hurt, but something about Percy had you unable to stop smiling

Together, you left camp and headed for the wedding venue - Montauk beach

As a daughter of Aphrodite, you had a lot of experience with weddings. For some reason, wedding invites always seemed to find their way to the children of love, and so you’ve attended lots of them

And you adored every single one, of course, but they all paled in comparison to Sally and Paul’s. It wasn’t the most extravagant you’ve ever attended - just a small wedding with only close friends and family (and you) invited, but you could feel the love radiating off of the newlyweds

That alone made it your favourite, and as a warm, fuzzy feeling coated your body and soul while they were saying their vows, you turned to look at Percy. The corners of his lips were tilted in a smile, knowing how much his mother deserved her happily ever after

Would you ever experience a love like that? And if so, was there a chance it could be with Percy? Sure, you’d only properly known him for a week, but the two of you connected so quickly! Surely, that had to be a sign

You quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. Even if it was a sign, you knew neither of you were ready to date yet

So, when the wedding ended, you said your goodbyes and walked side-by-side in silence, unsaid words hanging in the air between you

That was until your heel broke. You knew these weren’t a good pair, having had many close calls before, but you’d hoped they’d last just one more wear since they matched the rest of your outfit so well

“Shit!” You said, stumbling as the heel finally gave in. Subconsciously, Percy grabbed you by the waist, saving you from an awful fall whilst pulling you closer to him. You felt your face heat up at this gesture, which wasn’t doing much to help your confusing feelings

He then let go of you, bending down to untie his shoelaces. Furrowing your brows, you asked, “what’re you doing?” Percy didn’t reply until he’d taken off both shoes, offering them to you

“You can wear these. I have socks,” you couldn’t believe your ears. None of the men you went out with before would even think to do something so selfless. You shook your head, about to tell him you couldn’t do that, when he bent down to put the shoes on you (PERSEUS JACKSON 😭🙏🏼). They weren’t your size, but it wasn’t the end of the world

Shyly, you mumbled, “thank you,” then, looking off to the side, you said, “we can still hang out at camp, right? You’re a really good friend, Percy. I haven’t felt this happy in a while.”

“Of course, Y/N, what kind of question is that? You make me really happy too!”

At that moment, a dove flew over and landed on your shoulder. You smiled, scratching his head. Judging by the fact that it smelt like perfume, it was pretty safe to assume your mother sent it

A good omen

After the wedding, you continued to hang out. In fact, you did everything together - you made sure your cabins were on the same side when playing capture the flag, you joined forces during the chariot races, you even started sleeping at Percy’s cabin every once in a while, on the days when your meetups went past curfew and you couldn’t risk leaving in case the harpies caught you

As the months passed, the gash in your heart healed, and you got to a point where you wouldn’t even think about Ali anymore. How could you, when Percy was right there? He didn’t feel challenged by your brains, he embraced your cleverness and encouraged you to share your thoughts at all times

Percy also started getting over Annabeth. He wasn’t ever upset at her for breaking up with him, but he definitely avoided her. He felt bad about it, but every time he tried to hang out with her again, his heart would ache

Now, their relationship had gone back to what it was before their breakup, and she’d even join the two of you occasionally. On one of her visits, she apologised on her brother’s behalf, to which you were elated to reply with, “Gods, I completely forgot about that!”

Annabeth would simply smile, knowing you had your eyes on someone else now

In fact, everyone seemed to know you and Percy liked each other. Everyone but the two of you

That’s why they’d orchestrated this. The Apollo, Aphrodite and Dionysus cabins, as well as a couple demigods from other cabins, decided to throw a party in celebration of… well, a holiday

The point of this was that there was no special occasion. You and Percy would arrive at this ‘party’ only to realise you’d been tricked, then stay because you just love being around each other, then the fireworks would illuminate the sky and you’d realise how much you love each other and share a romantic kiss under the stars

At least, that’s what your siblings thought would happen

So, news about the celebration passed around camp and eventually made its way to you. You weren’t going to go at first, since you didn’t even know what you were supposed to be celebrating, but then Percy told you he was going. Why would you pass up the opportunity to go to a party with him?

The night arrived, and you left your cabin alone. When you asked your siblings why they weren’t coming, they just started yapping about needing to iron their outfits and wash their makeup brushes, telling you they’d catch up with you later. You left, not questioning much

Hiding behind the bushes was a strange group: Pollux, Kayla Knowles, Piper Mclean and Annabeth Chase. The four had their eyes locked on where you and Percy were supposed to meet up, praying their plan would work

“Ugh, where are they? They’re taking forever!” Kayla exclaimed, quickly earning a chorus of shushes from the other three

“I’m sure they’ll come soon,” Piper told the girl, putting some charmspeak into her words so everyone would calm down

On cue, you and Percy arrived at the venue, your laughter dying down as you realised not a single soul was there. Looking down at his watch, Percy said, “I thought we were late. Doesn’t this thing start at 9PM? It’s 9:30 right now.”

“Yeah,” you replied. You had a feeling there was something bigger at play here. Shrugging your shoulders, you sat on the grass and patted the spot next to you, telling Percy to sit

“This area’s actually really nice, we should come here more often,” you said as you looked around. Percy hummed in agreement

Eventually, the four decided you spent enough time chatting, and Pollux lit the fireworks, which shot up to the sky as bright pink hearts. You checked your surroundings, demigod instincts on alert. Had a monster infiltrated camp? Was this their idea of a sick joke?

Percy placed a calming hand on your shoulder, “hey, I don’t think there’s anyone around. It’s okay.” The tension left your body and you looked up at the sky, your head on Percy’s shoulder as you watched the fireworks

There were too many signs

You turned to the boy, and found he was already looking at you

There were too many signs

You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer to you, feeling his breath on your skin. He let you

There were too many signs

You kissed him then, and he kissed back

Dating hcs now 🥳 I think that’s the longest backstory I’ve ever written

You’re a “if you do it, I’ll do it” kind of couple. Even without your charmspeak, you could convince Percy to rob a building just by saying you wanted him to

Sally and Paul were really happy when they found out you started dating. Even though it’d been almost a year since their wedding, they hadn’t forgotten the loving glances you’d take at each other

You tell them their wedding’s your favourite by far and they have to fight the urge to cry

Percy quite literally worships the ground you walk on. You’re not Percy’s girlfriend, he's Y/N’s boyfriend LOL. As your relationship progresses, you open up about all your other relationships and only your charmspeak could stop him from going and giving all those guys a lecture

He’s always hyping you up and reminding you of how you’re worthy of love!!! Even a daughter of Aphrodite needs to hear it sometimes

One day, the Gods seem to be smiling down at him, since he finally gets an opportunity to speak with Ali. Life went majorly downhill for your ex-boyfriend ever since you broke up, and while you’d never wish horrible things upon anyone, you couldn’t help but feel a little happy to hear it

Anyways. Percy was heading to the climbing wall when Ali bumped into him. The latter grunted an apology and Percy was going to just smile at him and continue his journey when he noticed who it was

Immediate scowl. If you listen closely you can hear the nearest body of water churning, mirroring Percy’s emotions. Ali attempts to continue going where he was going but Percy stops him, refusing to let him go until he gets an earful of how you’re the best girl in the world and how scum like him didn’t deserve to be anywhere near a queen like you <3

He thinks you don’t know he did this but one of your siblings was around and reported to you as soon as they saw you! They also told the rest of your cabin and from then on the Aphrodite cabin = official Percy fanclub

This boy loves listening to you talk. Your voice is so gorgeous, just like the rest of you, he can’t help it!! Your words flowed in a way Percy never thought words could

Gets you to read things aloud whenever he can. It’s really funny but also cute so you do it anyway

“Sweetie can you read this I can’t see it very clearly” “Percy that’s the camp entrance you know what it says” “No I think my eyesight is getting worse!!” “Okay fine, it says ‘Camp Half-Blood’”

Also random but you guys watch Say Yes to the Dress and other wedding related TV shows together. A wedding intertwined your fates so naturally you love watching these kinds of things

Always commenting on the dresses! You have an eye for beauty and at first he agrees with you just because you’re so pretty how could he disagree? But eventually you pass your tastes onto him and it’s like he can read your mind

After many of these episodes Percy’s mind can’t help but gravitate towards the theme of marriage and all of a sudden he’s planning your own wedding (WINK WINK!!!!)

This is especially bad in the middle of the night. Texts you pictures of wedding venues with the caption “do you want me to book this one?” Like okay sure for 5 years from now?!?!

Percy “wear whatever you want babe I can fight” Jackson the man you are <3

[tragedybunny]

My Starry Sky - Astarion x F!Reader

Reader and Astarion have their first real argument and have to go through the aftermath.

“Come to bed early, spend some time with me?” Astarion whispered in your ear, crimson eyes still a bit watery.

There wasn’t any other answer to give. “Of course love,” you took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze, desperate to reassure him after what had happened earlier.

Going into this, you knew how he could be, how he lashed out sometimes, and why. That hadn’t made the first time he directed it at you after your mutual confession any easier. Maybe you had thought finally sharing your feelings would change that part of him, a selfish wish. “Damn it, are you just going to ignore me all day!” He snapped at you on the road, drawing questioning looks from your other companions.

“What?” You’d turned back to him, confusion knitting your brows together.

“You heard me.” Around you, you could sense everyone stepping away, wisely giving the two of you space, despite the fact that you were in a desolate, cursed place. The locale was probably not helping the tension.

“I’m not ignoring you!” The first mistake you made in that conversation, a sharp tone, fire returned.

“So I’m just imagining that you’ve hardly said two words to me for hours but have been more than happy to prattle on with everyone else.” He doubled down, and you could tell he wasn’t going to hear you. “Or you're lying.”

The accusation stung, did he think so little of you? Maybe this was all a mistake. And just like that, all the worries, the struggles, and this blasted place boiled over, and you were the one who lashed out. “This isn’t going to work, we’re not going to work, if you’re going to act like this!” The second mistake.

Eyes going wide, his posture changed in an instant. It was like he tried to make himself smaller, to get away from the pain of your words. “Please no, I’m sorry.” His voice shook and if he had any need of breathing he would have been gasping. “Gods, I’ve already ruined it.” Tears had started to spill down his cheeks.

With horror, you realized what you’d done. You’d threatened him into compliance, even if you had done so out of hurt. Were you no better than Cazador? In a rush, you threw your arms around him pulling him close, frantic to relieve the hurt you’d caused. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” After a second of hesitation, you felt his arms encircle you as he sniffled into your hair. "That was wrong of me."

It took a few moments of soft whispers and soothing until he would let you go. "Let's just forget this," you prompted and he readily agreed.

The hurtful words and accusations stuck with you though and you excused yourself as soon as dinner was over. Taking you by the hand, Astarion leads you to his tent, where you'd been sleeping most nights lately. With a soft gasp, you note small enchanted motes of light, dancing at the top of the tent. "Gale's work," you ask, staring at them with enchantment.

"I don't want to know what he's going to ask me in return," he chuckles but it’s strained and struggling.

“At least he’s not looking for magic to eat anymore.” With a quick brush of your lips against his cheek, you lower yourself down to the waiting nest of blankets the two of you spend your nights wrapped around each other in. Your hand still in his pulls him along with you.

An open bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting and you readily take one after he pours it. The two of you sit close enough that shoulders and thighs touch, a small comfort after the harshness of the day, and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” Desperately, you want him to know it, even with all the complications, you sincerely love him.

“I know,” he finishes the glass of wine, and you note that he seems off still. “I love you too,” he pours another and drinks deeply. It was a rough day all around though, and you don’t want to push it.

Moments later you’re surprised as a pale, slender hand reaches down to tilt your chin up off his shoulder and kiss you. The taste of the wine lingers on his lips and you drink in the intimacy of it on your tongue. Your glass is taken from your grasp as the kiss deepens, lips parting invitingly to him. Hands wrap around your waist and your stomach flutters, you’ve missed being touched like this by him. A trail of soft bites is traced from your lips down your neck as his hands work their way under your shirt caressing the sensitive skin of your breasts. Reaching up, you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a soft moan escapes you. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your throat and your blood runs cold.

That isn’t him, he sounds a thousand miles away, and so empty. “I thought you weren’t ready for this.”

A thumb brushes over a nipple and his teeth dig into your flesh just hard enough to thrill. You swallow the cry you almost make, not wanting to encourage this. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to move on, let go of the past,” his voice tremors and you can tell he’s lying even as he tries to kiss you again.

“Astarion, stop,” gently you push him away and see the panic in his face. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks anywhere but right at you, eyes hazy and unfocused “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Astarion…”

He sighs heavily, breaking down at last. “Well, I thought after today, perhaps you were tiring of me, and that I should do something to win you back. And I can’t seem to get this right either.”

Pain slices through your chest and you feel as though your heart is being torn in two. Carefully, you put your hands on his cheeks. “Look at me,” it’s not a command, but a plea, and he finally brings his eyes to yours. “I love you, and I’m not going to tire of you. Understand?” Wordlessly he nods. “But you are never to try to buy me again with your body, you are worth so much more than that.” A loving kiss on his forehead punctuates your words and you hear him sniffling again.

“I can try, it is so hard to leave behind.” Arms open, you beckon him to you, and you both collapse into the waiting blankets. “It feels like the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good for. And I just want to keep you but I don’t know how else to do it sometimes.”

“Just love me, that’s all I need.” You yearn for nothing but to cover him in soft kisses and hold him forever, so he can know how loved he is, how cherished. “My Starry Sky.”

With his face buried in your neck, he murmurs softly, sounding like his true self again, “my Sunlight.”

[signedkoko]

HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???

Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?

THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

-🐚

Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.

When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed

You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face

It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow

You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way

He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord

Truly a shame

You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged

Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort

But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you

You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice

The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you

Something about it was so familiar

J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R

When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing

Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device

Unless you did it just for him?

R-K-J-E-R-K-J

" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "

Y-O-U

Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk

And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method

One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display

Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw

" COMATOSE. "

You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious

Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!

But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel

He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that

Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them

Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before

But he'd never heard of something like yours

Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle

You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved

Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures

After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!

While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you

From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction

Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled

He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear

But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with

Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to

Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of

Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites

The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you

But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats

" Silence. "

From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking

The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left

Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!

Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?

YOUR POWERS DID THAT???

He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too

Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!