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catastrophe-cole · 2 years ago

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Sleep Deprived Builder Boyfriend

Summary: Lukas, have been spending the last few nights working restlessly on his blueprints that him and the Ocelots are going to use in their near building competition. You adore his hard-working personality, but he can only hold out for so long.

Word Count: 1.167 words

Genre: Romantic // Reader is not Jesse

Author's Note: Just a random Lukas blurp because,,, just because.

Nights were supposed to be quiet, a time to relax, rest your eyes, sleep and fall into the depth of slumber.

But in your shared home, Lukas is wide awake at night, doodling and sketching away at a desk for building ideas that he can use for future tournaments.

The sound of pencil sketching away at pieces of paper filled in the quiet night, he furrowed his brows whenever something came unaligned before crumpling the paper and throwing it to the trash can that were sitting next to his desk.

And his sound of distress is what led your sleepy figure to his room.

Striding over to where he's sitting as your blanket being dragged behind you, you stopped behind him before wrapping your arms around his shoulder, alongside the blanket, and placed your head on top of his messy blond locks.

He flinched, that is, until he recognizes your touch as he quietly melts in your hold. Pulling a hand up, he took one of your hands in his before kissing your palm, "Why are you still awake, baby? Aren't you sleepy?"

Just as if on cue, you yawned at his question, earning a chuckle as you buried your face deeper into his hair, "I am. Aren't you?"

"Yeah.." Lukas whispered, you held his cheek as he nuzzled his face to your cold hands, mainly letting you rub on his tired eyes, "But I need to get this sketch finished."

You mumbled something about how he can do that in the morning before peeking towards his paper-invested desk and raised a sleepy eyebrow.

"Is this for..?"

"Yeah, it's for next week."

The building competition next week, a small event held by the infamous group of Hermits as a way to bond with their fans and interact more with the community of building.

And while you're not one of the judges for next week's building competition, you're still one of the well known members of the Hermits.

Lukas is still absolutely questioning about how you, a Hermit, would want to be with someone like him, who's a merely small local building champion with his team. Not that he's complaining, he absolutely adores you, but it's just easy to say that he sometimes just wonder about how he can be worthy being seen standing next to you.

And next week's building competition can help him prove that! If he can bring the Ocelots to victory, then he might be able to finally stand proud next to you.

"Are you worried about it? The competition?" Resting your cheek back on his hair, he leaned back from the desk to let you hug him. Your touch is comforting; mixed with the hint of fatigue in his eyes, he doesn't want you to let go.

"Yeah, I mean, I stress over it if it's not obvious enough." He let out a tired laugh to which you only smiled with a light kiss on the crown of his head. "I.. Just want to do well. I really want to impress your friends."

You didn't answer, encouraging him to continue with his words by gently massaging his tense shoulder, hoping he'd open up.

You're not entirely unaware of his insecurity of standing by your side. You love him, whether he's just a local builder or not, it doesn't matter to you. But it seems like he often overthinks about it, and you will keep on reassuring him that he is, in fact, much much more worthy than what he gives himself credit for.

"There will be Good Times With Scar there— As well as Grian and Welsknight. There's just a lot of pressure you know and I.." he paused, heaved another sigh before pressing his lips onto your open palm. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Never." You immediately whispered back, hugging him and giving him enough pressure to know your intention, and how honest you are through the sound of your heartbeat. "I would never- and I tell you, never, ever be disappointed of you about anything."

That seemed to calm him down a little. His tense shoulder now slowly slumped down as he sink fully to your embrace, trying to absorb any warmth and affection you radiate for him, and only him.

"Though it's a different story when you stole my batch of cookies." And he snickered, "Or when you think it was a good idea to use mycelium near my garden. Hm?"

"Okay, right, I'm sorry about those—"

"Or when you stole my stash of limited elven kisses?"

"Alright, I get it, baby." He wheezes and snickered from your many accusations. Pulling your hand as you move from behind him to his front, hands holding your waist as he looks up to you. "No more, okay? You make me feel like a criminal there for making your garden mycelium farm."

"Guilt is the appropriate response, you thief." You faked a pout. Hand moving forward to hold his face, lightly scratching his jaw.

"But you know, I don't really mind you stealing from me sometimes." He hummed, raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head into one of your hands, still looking up to you with much adoration, as you slowly leaned down and bumped your forehead against his, "You did steal my heart, and I quite appreciate that."

And he smiled. His cheek burned red, even though you can barely see it due to being so close to him, you can feel that more heat are radiating from him along with how his grip on your hips tightened by your words.

"Well, I've you to thank for that too," he whispered before he leaned forward to kiss your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally, planted a kiss to your lips.

Lukas is always gentle with his touches; but it seems like he needs a little bit more reassurance when you feel him seems to be getting a little more desperate than usual. With how he held you in place, you really have no reason but to reassure him back when you reciprocate his kiss.

After pulling back, he sighs to your lips, before pulling his head back and burying them to your neck. Feeling his muscles relaxed under your touch, you kissed his messy blonde locks.

"You're tired, baby. You need rest. Let's get you to bed, alright?" He shuffled. Groaning and mumbling protest under his breath, but he doesn't seem to really be fully against your advice.

You let out a small hearty laugh before pulling him away from you and kissing his nose. "Come on."

Pulling him up, and turning off the lights used in his working space, you dragged your now visibly sleep deprived boyfriend to where the two of you had shared your bed.

Seeing him so tired breaks a little something in your heart, but at least with how he clung to you till the morning, head nuzzled to your neck, is worth every diamond in the universe.

You wouldn't trade this for anything.

#colewrites #mcsm x reader #Minecraft story mode x reader #Minecraft x reader #lukas x reader #lukas mcsm x reader #x reader #reader insert

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miniscule-meow · 3 years ago

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Yes you can.

I haven't decided which asks, so, "Please don't make me look up."

You can read more about Charlie and Felix: Here, Here and Here

*~*~*~

“It’s spring break next week! Are you excited?” She asks, shouldering her backpack.

“Not really.” He shrugs.

“Oh. Why not?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any crazy plans or anything. You?” He shoves his hands into his pockets as they walk across the campus

“I don’t really have any plans yet either. I was actually going to ask if you wanted to do something together.”

“Oh, sure. What do you have in mind?” He glances over to her, knowing her she probably already has a whole plan mapped out.

“Well! I was thinking we could go camping! Have you ever been before?” She tries to gauge his reaction to the idea. He doesn’t give her much in terms of enthusiasm, but he does shake his head to let her know he’s never been on a camping trip before. “There are a few national parks and like state forests not too far from here! Staying at a campsite is relatively cheap, and I already have a ton of equipment.”

“Were you a girl scout or something?”

“No. I just like camping.” She laughs. He supposes it makes sense; her major is something like wildlife biology. “The weather is supposed to be awesome next week. Plus, it’s a great excuse to eat s’mores!” She grins over at him with pleading eyes.

“I do like s’mores,” He nods. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

“Awesome, I can’t wait! I’m so excited!” He grins as she does a little happy dance. They continue their way through the courtyard before having to go their separate ways for their next classes.

The week flies by, and soon the day approaches. They load up in Charlie’s truck, and a few hours later they are settled in at their campsite. He spends the day following her down hiking trails. She stops frequently to point out cool plants, to inspect fallen logs, and to doodle mushrooms and flowers in her journal. It’s cool seeing her in her element like this. That night, they do have s’mores, as promised.

Later that night, they’re in their respective sleeping bags in the tent, fast asleep. There’s a rustle and a clatter outside in the middle of the night, waking them both up.

“Oh shoot.”

“What’s going on?” He mumbles, barely coherent.

“I think we might have left some food out. That’s probably just a racoon or something. I’ll go scare it off.” She whispers, grabbing her flashlight and exiting the tent. “Get out of here ya trash panda! Go- oh!”

He hears something out there that sounds an awful lot bigger than a racoon. He bolts from the tent and finds Charlie’s flashlight illuminating a large bear. It's the largest creature he's ever seen, well. Aside from himself. The bear roars. Panicked, he practically tackles Charlie to yank her out of the way of the charging animal. In a matter of seconds, he’s up to his full gigantic height, shifting Charlie in his arms until she’s cradled safely in his palm. A flock of birds are disturbed from all of the nearby trees and the now frightened bear quickly scampers off into the woods.

He laughs nervously once the danger is passed. “That was crazy! You could have died just then. We both could have died. Gah, I might throw up! Oh gosh. No, sorry. I’m freaking out right now. That’s probably not very comforting. I’m fine. We didn’t die. We didn’t even get mauled. So that’s great." He realizes he was rambling and clears his throat. "Anyway... how are you holding up?” He unfurls his fingers, and finds her curled up into a little ball, pressing herself into his palm. That’s not what he was expecting to find. “Uh. Charlie?”

Without shifting much, she holds out her arm and gives him a shaky thumbs up. He frowns, pulling her up closer to his face. She responds by curling in tighter on herself. “Did that bear freak you out? I was really starting to think you weren’t afraid of anything.” He jokes, in an attempt to lighten the mood. He only gets more concerned when she doesn’t shoot back with a snarky comment like he was expecting.

“Earth to Charlie? Hey. You’re alright. You’re safe. I’ve got you, the bear’s gone. He’s probably gone off to tell all his bear friends about the crazy human he found in the woods toda- Oh.” He stills, a realization setting in. “Am I scaring you?” He takes his free hand, and gently brushes an index finger against her arm. “Charlie… could you look at me, please?”

“Please just... Please don’t make me look up right now.” Her voice quivers as she speaks.

“I really didn’t mean to scare you. I mean, I probably should have asked before just grabbing you like that but … there was a bear… I mean you saw that. So. Uh. I was just trying to…” He starts tripping over his words. Trying to explain, trying to apologize.

“No. That’s – I’m not afraid of you, Felix. Chill. I don’t think you could scare me if you tried.” The argument would be very strong, except she’s still curled up into a fetal position, trembling in his hand. Her voice is muffled by his palm because she refuses to sit up and look at him. He raises an eyebrow. “What you did was really cool, absolutely saved my life. I just. I’m... I think i might be afraid of heights? That's something I discovered about myself right now. So.” He jolts with the realization that he’s holding her 40 feet off the ground right now, if not higher.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t even think about that.” Quickly he drops to his knees, wincing and mumbling an apology as she lets out a startled shriek, scrambling for purchase in her palm. He lowers her to the ground.

“Have we landed?” She says after he’s still for a moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re good.”

Now she looks up. He expects her to scramble off of his palm as fast as possible, and dash away from him. She looks around, making sure they’re on the ground again before flopping over onto her back and staring up at him with a huff. She doesn’t seem particularly uncomfortable with being held in his hand. It was really just the height thing. Interesting.

“That was seriously like the tower of terror, dude. Oh gosh.”

“The drop in tower of terror is like… twice as tall.”

“What?”

“Sorry. That doesn’t matter, I get the point. I guess I should have lowered you down a bit slower than that.”

“I don’t think you could have done that any faster.”

“Sorry. I um… I don’t have a lot of experience holding people like this.” They look at each other for a moment. “This isn’t… particularly comfortable for me.” He says, his arm cramping from the awkward way he’s holding it. “If I stay sitting like this, do you think I could … not keep my hand on the ground?” She looks around, considering it for a moment before tentatively nodding. “I won’t drop you or anything. I promise.”

“I didn’t think you would I just…” She shrugs, not knowing how to articulate the rest of this thought.

He moves slowly this time, keeping her as steady as possible as he shifts to lean back against a tree. He raises her gently to his chest. She stiffens but doesn’t seem to be freaking out this time. She sits and leans against him.

He thinks about how his heartbeat must be completely audible to her. She could probably even feel it pulse through her with the way she is leaning against him. And then when he speaks, do the vibrations of his voice surround her as well? What must that feel like to her? Is it relaxing? Exciting? Scary but she just won't admit it? He's never had a person so close to him before. He blushes thinking about it. Then he remembers the part about how she can hear his heartbeat, and he tries to think about something else. He doesn't want his racing heart to give him away.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.” He says casually, thankful that his thoughts don't get louder at this size too.

“Neither did I.”

They stay up chatting a bit, still ruffled from all the excitement. They are illuminated by the stars and the dying embers of their fire, surrounded by the gentle rustling of leaves and the songs of the first cicadas of the season. Eventually, they crawl back into their sleeping bags and go back to sleep.

#Felix and Charlie #g/t #size shifting #size shifter #size shifters #gt stories #g/t community #g/t writing #g/t story #giant tiny #tiny #gt #my writing #giant #thank you for the prompt! this was fun to write (even though i had to re-write the whole thing with my computer deciding to delete it)

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rush-wing · 2 years ago

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ahem hem, soooo any OCs you have been ✨hyperfixating✨ on lately? or in general??

where do i start

It’s all d&d characters, all the way down btw. I’m a forever DM so I tend to make characters whenever the whim strikes but these guys never get played much, I just rotate them in my head sadly, waiting for the day…

I might throw you some art for visualisation but I’m still.. eh.. learning so enjoy little extremely stylised doodles

Everyone here you can find me reblogging things for over on @hearthkeep too!

First!

Is Jaisarie AKA Jaise – she was primed to be in a Saltmarsh campaign but that’s not going ahead now so she’s just sitting on the pier in my head, kicking her feet above the water idly. She’s my undead pirate : ) Jaise started unlife because I got my mitts on the Wildemount campaign guide and thought an Echo Knight’s echoes could make a fun reflavouring as something ghosty. Originally she was a Hollow One, but I’ve since altered her to the Reborn "race", but it’s all dead things at any rate~ She doesn’t know how she died, and isn’t sure she wants to know! Last thing she truly remembers is being dragged out of the ocean as bloated corpse, but the open gash on her neck and her abdomen seems to point to the idea that she was murdered by someone good at their job. Well, aside from glimpses of memories of an old crew she’s fond of, but she couldn’t pick them from a crowd if they stood right in front of her at the moment. I have some ideas for what she was involved in, but the great thing about this is I am pretty happy for any and all of that to go out the window for whatever a good game requires.

Second! Is a constant returner:

My boy Keats. He was my first PC I have made, so yess it’s trueee… he’s a bit special for me. I’ve played him the most out of anyone (which I can count on the one hand), and every time he’s just such a hoot to play. God I love him. And he’s “just” a half-elf battle master Fighter! (I will throw hands on anyone saying he’s boring for that though--) He’s an acrobat-turned-gladiator and a complete dumbass so he is big on stupid stunts, and most of the time, bounces right back up when he eats the pavement face-first. Honestly I think I just wish I had his confidence and bravado.

Third:

This is the gentlemen who I’ve been playing Thousand Year Old Vampire as - Madieren. He started out as a half-elven scholar from an isolated monastery dedicated to the study of magic, but he decided he liked blood magic and went off on a tangent. So you can call him a “vampire” of some description, but I refer to him officially as an immortal blood mage. I’ve had a lot of fun with him over the past few months, watching him evolve, go through the shit (his only student got murdered, has been kicked out of his home at least three times, oh, and had his arm accidentally cut off, just to name a few things), and eat his own hubris whole. He actually started life known as Alezaren, but due to certain shenanigans he’s shed his original name. Madieren ended his run making up with his rival who’s been chasing him down across the continent (who also ended up immortal due to the influence of one of the other player’s characters) and like there was only so much those two could stab each other before the tension went elsewhere.

And lastly:

This is Eon! He’s had a nostalgia resurgence after watching something last night and like I want to do something with him now but what??? I have an Eon-sized itch and I cannot scratch it!!!! Anyway, Eon is my sad wizard tiefling. Well, “wizard” in quotation marks because he’s technically an Eldritch Knight. Eon’s a blacksmith by trade, but dabbles in magic because there’s a quiet passion there for it that was nurtured by an eccentric mentor he hasn’t seen in a long time. So, yes, he has the tragic backstory, to the point I somewhat recently realised I gave an 8-year-old PTSD to get him so. Um. Sorry, Eon. He’s got a very stand-offish, stoic exterior, but he really is such a soft creature at heart. Eon’s my nerd. The oxymoronic buff wizard. I have a set of dice someone in my group made from scratch specifically for him so one day I need to play him so I get to actually roll them for him.

#asks #my ocs #my d&d characters #one day i'll play them....#don't @ me that these are all pretty much subclasses of fighter #i like hitting things ok #fun fact: madieren was originally originally going to be me making a blood cleric #but i slapped my hand from the impulse because i have 8 PCs that don't get played I don't need more

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dingdonghyvck · 4 years ago

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Still Into You || Lee Haechan x Reader

Summary: Not a day goes by that Haechan’s not into you.

Genre: Angst

Pairing/s: Drummer!Haechan x Lead Vocalist!Reader, Minor College Student!Mark x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, suggestive, mentions of sex and a few sex jokes, alcohol and cigarettes, cheating, manipulation of feelings, angst, and a few others I probably forgot to mention.

Word Count: 4.9k-ish

So I’ve been seeing a lot of Haechan drummer au’s on TikTok, so I thought fuck it and made one! I hope you like it :)

You can read Part two here: The Only Exception

“Can't count the years on one hand that we've been together,

I need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better.”

Donghyuck's pretty sure that you're the only person from high school that he still bothers to be around, it's been approximately 9 years since the day you two met. 9 years since the day he awkwardly sat next to you in seventh grade, 9 years since the day you drew dick doodles in his notebook as a form of icebreaker since you didn't know any other way of talking to him. It was safe to say that he was more than surprised to see flying dick doodles in his spiral notebook when he got back to class after lunch, still he was somehow amused by the scribbles and the little message you left him introducing yourself.

He immediately talked to you the moment you came back inside the classroom with your earphones in. He still remembers it so clearly, the way you offered him the left piece of your earphones so you two can listen to music in secret, the teacher had already arrived and you two didn't have enough time to speak to each other. Donghyuck would say it was fate, others would say paramore's just too mainstream, but he didn't care. A cute girl liked the same bands as him, so he made it his goal to get closer to you.

And so you two bonded over music, something you both loved with your whole heart and soul. It was through countless concerts and after-school trips to the record store that got you closer and soon enough you two started messing with GarageBand, creating a few silly songs that were the epitome of teen angst, it was always in good fun. But Donghyuck suddenly came to you with a brilliant proposal one calm afternoon when you were hanging out his room.

"So there's like a battle of the bands at school every year... You sing right? Do you feel like making a band?"

"Yeah, sure..." You had shrugged mindlessly while painting his pinky finger black, mind a bit pre-occupied with what was happening back at home. But Donghyuck takes no notice from this, it was a simple reply but he didn't bother to press further, he could just rally up a few of his friends to start up this band, and if you ever do complain he can also scream blasphemy in your face. Plus he was enjoying the calm atmosphere, so he didn't want to ask any more questions. Well it was as calming as it could get since All Time Low was blasting through his bedroom's speakers, volume maxed out to the point it could make anyone’s ears bleed.

It took him quite a while to fill in missing band mates since you two weren't the most liked people at school, but eventually after a few persuasive talks over milkshakes you two have built a band by the end of February, a little too late for the battle of the bands event. But you all decided that it would be fun to congregate as the band geeks instead of going back to being the outcasts of the school. So practices were held in your basement everyday, you insisted on it since you were trying to spite your parents as much as you could, you hated your life at home, but you could bear the presence of your family if you had some friends around.

Skip a few years and here you are again as "The Innocents"—you honestly don't know why you agreed to the stupid band name, but you lacked the creativity and energy to argue with a caffeinated Donghyuck at 4 am when he had proposed it to the group chat. Although Hendery had complained fifteen times before practice that day, everyone still ended up in your basement, practicing for the annual battle of that bands event your school held, a final hurrah before ending high school.

Donghyuck loved playing the drums, he was drawn to the instrument since a young age so he did he have a natural sense of beat and rhythm. But what he liked the most was the view he got from the back. Not only could he watch the whole band work around the stage, he also had the best view of you. He enjoyed watching you jump around, how you would sometimes lick the side of Jeno’s face whenever you felt a bit mischievous, the way you would laugh at the middle finger he'd throw at you, the way you'd practically lay yourself down the center of the stage as you sang your heart out.

You naturally had the talent, that much was certain. Donghyuck always felt entranced whenever you took on the stage bravely, being the frontman was of course the most challenging position of all. But the way you handled the spotlight made it look so easy, as if you were made to be holding a mic since birth. It was as if you were dancing your own symphony and the rest of the band was nothing but a harmony struggling to follow through since your energy was too overwhelming at times.

But somehow you always made it work, no matter how much your band mates hated it, there was always something unique about the way you presented yourself onstage, demanding the audience's attention. No one was brave enough to even try being in your position, so they had let you bask in the limelight for the most part. But there was particular day you seemed different, as if you had been tuned down. There was something wrong and it was obvious enough to everyone that Jeno had to make up an excuse to leave early with Hendery. They had left abruptly to let you talk it out with Donghyuck, since well, he's your best friend.

Little did they know that you two have been casually fucking for the past year since the time Donghyuck confessed his feelings for you. You haven't given the relationship between you two a label since you weren’t really one to be tied down, but he was glad enough to be even be able to hold you.

You reveal to him that your parents were about to get a divorce, and as much as a shock it was to receive this news, what shocked him more was the moment you sat on his lap. You two were still situated in front of the drum set, but Donghyuck didn't seem to mind. So he helps you take your seat, arms wrapping around your waist as your fingers find its way onto the little hairs at the back of his neck, Donghyuck gulps when he sees you bring out a stick of cigarette.

"What? I'm stressed," You smiled wearily as you lit the cigarette. You take a sharp inhale before blowing the smoke to his face, he scrunches his nose.

"Are you sure you're okay? divorces can be-"

You cut him off by placing the lit cigarette to his lips, the tiny smirk on your face made him frown. You raised an eyebrow at him while you waited, you really didn't feel like talking about your parents, so you evaded it the the same way you'd usually evade him whenever he brought up anything about feelings. He paused for a moment to look at you before inhaling from the cigarette, immediately coughing afterwards. His eyes a little teary as he muttered a small "jesus christ”, you giggled before taking his face into your hands. You push back a few strands of hair as you admired his forehead, he had done nothing but stare back at you.

"Don't tell me you'll leave me too" you whispered as you nuzzled your nose against his neck.

Donghyuck lets out the breath he was holding, gently caressing your backside as he chuckled, finally relaxing into your arms. He knew that it was wrong for you two to not speak about your personal lives that much, since it was pretty obvious you were having troubles at home. But he knew how much you hated to feel feelings, so he never overstepped boundaries. He lets you be for the most part, except for times he reminded you that it’s okay to open up to him. You were always quick dismiss him, telling him you were a big girl and you didn't want to bother or burden him. As much as he'd like to keep insisting, he'd rather just leave you be.

"If I say I love you will you stay forever?" you mumbled as you kissed the mole on his neck, smudging a bit of lipstick on his sun-kissed skin.

Donghyuck felt his heart drop to his stomach, taking your face into his large palms, caging you into his gaze to see if you were joking, or if you had any doubts behind your gaze. but he was met with the softest gaze he's ever seen on you. Your mascara and eyeliner were running down your cheeks, the little black heart you drew in this morning was smudged to a dot on your pretty face. And a few might say you looked like a mess as tears rimmed your eyes, donghyuck could only think about how much he wanted to kiss you.

"You'll always have me" he whispered, bringing your face towards his. It felt hot, too hot that his skin actually felt like burning the moment your hands touched his backside under his shirt. the kiss was passionate, filled with so much heat and lust that it felt dangerous, he was seconds away from being burned alive; but you suddenly pulled away.

"I love you," you whispered against his mouth, lips brushing past each other as each syllable left your mouth. Your nose gently touched his as you breathed him in, gripping onto his biceps as best as you can, desperate in needing to feel him against you.

Donghyuck does not reply, he simply brings your lips back to his. And as much as he wanted to be more gentle, to take his time with you and make you feel how much he worshipped your body, but your passion burnt too hot that he couldn't smother it. He lets it consume him, his whole being as he loses himself in you, too consumed by your flare and embers to notice how he was slowly burning himself out, that he himself was going to be smothered by you.

“It's not a walk in the park to love each other.

But when our fingers interlock, can't deny, can't deny, you're the worth it.”

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this!?" you screamed, eyes reddening from stress as you pulled at your hair, hard enough to rip a few strands out.

"Johnny's just a fucking friend!" you continued, about to leave the room to run away but he cages you against the wall, hands gripping your shoulders harshly, he was bound to leave marks.

"Baby i'm pretty sure friends don't suck each other off in restaurant bathrooms" he snarled, his voice masked with so much venom that if it were a different person they would be quivering with their knees buckling, but you were different, so you stood your ground.

"I already said I love you what do you fucking want from me?" you laughed coldly, crossing your arms against your chest.

"Love... I'm your boyfriend, I don't know how fucked up your brain is, but don’t tell me you don't know what a boyfriend is." he groans in annoyance, pushing himself away from you. The fighting had been so frequent that you two would be at each other's throats more often than not. The added stress from university and his side jobs was finally ticking him off, he was at his breaking point and he didn't know how long he could still be with you when you were blatantly cheating on him.

"Let's break up then." you muttered, looking down at your feet.

"Fine." He mumbled in defeat, taking a seat on the couch. He buries his face into his palms, trying his best to calm down while his breathing increased. He didn't realized what he had agreed to until he heard his door slam shut. That was the moment he knew he made a mistake, he had let you go too easily. You on the other hand, couldn't help but be the happiest you've been the whole week, finally free. And while Donghyuck was left to try and fix what was left between the two of you, you were out to get coffee, living freely as if nothing had happened.

“Cause after all this time

I'm still into you...”

You sang with the tiniest smile, hiding behind your bangs as you tried your best to jump around the stage and keep eye contact with the blonde male sat front row. It's been 8 months since you and donghyuck broke up and yet you've already found a new boy, some dude you accidentally spilled coffee on. Some random dude who asked for your number and you easily said yes, some random dude that caught your eye. Although it's been months since the breakup, Donghyuck couldn’t help but feel bitter; you had broken his world in half and somehow you still looked fine.

A normal person would walk away. A normal person would leave you and realize how toxic and dangerous you were to the people around you, how you pushed everyone away the second they get too close. But somehow Donghyuck was different, he doesn't know why or how he's doing it, but he sticks by your side. Agreeing to still be in the band and staying as friends, since of course we all fuck our best friends once in our lives right? But like the dumb lapdog he was, he accepted your apology at 12 am in the morning when you showed up drunk at his doorstep. Maybe it was the side of him desperately clinging onto you, looking for some sort of closure or any sign of you regretting the breakup, but months had passed and the days seemed normal for you.

He knew how wrong it was, don't mistake him for someone who's stupid enough to let a girl trample over his heart. He somehow just couldn’t keep away, you had broken him to the point that he didn't want anyone else unless it was you. It really was all so stupid in retrospect. He's handsome, irresistible, and incredibly hot so he could easily grab anyone he wanted but somehow he always ends up pining after you.

No matter how many girls and guys he sees he always ends up in the exact same spot, in the back, sat on his drum set to watch you jump around and light up the stage. But this time you brought a whole different aura, it was his first time seeing you shy. Was it that random Mark guy you started seeing? It's not likely that you'd let the guy stick around, you hated being tied down. Yet Donghyuck feared this was different, since well, you really seemed off this week since you met Mark.

You don’t even show up at his place shit-faced at 3am every weekend anymore. You even attended some of your classes because Mark would be in them. You smoked less and it seemed like you were finally getting your life together. Did this stranger have that kind of effect on you? Nevertheless Donghyuck could feel the anger bubble in his stomach as he hams up his drumming, annoyed and frustrated at how hard you were to read. he didn't notice that he had been banging at the drums so loud that it muffled out your singing, confusing both Jeno and Hendery who were eyeing him from the sidelines. This continues until the end of the song, but you didn't seem to mind since you decided to ignore it, busy staring at Mark as he smiled shyly at you, raising his glass as you continued to sing your heart out.

“I should be over all the butterflies but I'm into you, I'm into you.

And even baby our worst nights I’m into you, I'm into you.”

After the last set, you were gulping down the beer Jeno handed you, messily wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you looked for a blonde college boy in the crowd. It wasn't long until you're met with the cutest smiles, his shy eyes hiding behind his glasses as he complemented how great you were, it was his first time watching you sing.

"I wasn't that bad was I?" you asked, giggling playfully, you placed the empty bottle on the counter behind him.

"You were great! the best even," he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around you, his scent engulfed you. You gladly tucked yourself into his arm, you fitted perfectly.

"Mhmm? Then why can't you look me in the face?" you challenged, laughing at the way Mark coughed up his drink from embarrassment.

"Well I don't usually see you dressed up.... like this" he mumbled shyly, of course he hasn't. What you were wearing wasn't necessarily your Sunday's best. You’re pretty sure Mark's father, who's a pastor, wouldn't be too happy to see you showing up for a family dinner in a lace crop top and ripped skinny jeans.

"It's how I usually dress for the gigs, it's not ugly is it...?" you pouted, and as much as you hated acting cute, you loved watching Mark squirm.

Mark wasn't even able to reply when your band mates' presence was made known by Hendery who ordered everything available in the bar. You couldn't help but giggle while watching your friend drink shot after shot, he offered you some but you declined since you didn't want to get shit-faced in front of Mark, you were better than that. You knew he was totally out of your league, being the perfect christian college boy studying english literature, he's probably the type who'll marry a pretty trophy wife that will give him three beautiful kids. You didn't even know why Mark gave you a chance, you were practically trash on the side of the road compared to him.You were struggling enough to get by with the gigs and college funds, but he doesn’t seem to mind when you would come up empty-handed during dates, he would gladly spoil you— so consider yourself lucky.

"Hyuck you're not looking too hot" Jeno says it while checking the drummer’s temperature, the brunette simply pushed his hand away, trying his best to avoid your gaze.

"I'm fine" he rolled his eyes, opening a few buttons of his silk shirt, grabbing the attention of some of the ladies near the bar.

"What do you mean? Hyuck's hot as fuck!" Hendery shouted, most probably drunk. Jeno tries to pull the shot glass away but it only ends up spilling all over the counter, Mark scrunches his nose in disgust.

"Wouldn't you know?" Hendery continued pointing towards you, he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Mark's arm drop from your shoulder, you suddenly freeze from his comment.

"Yeah wouldn't you know sunflower?" Donghyuck smirked, eyes meeting with those of Mark's who looked uncomfortable. You tried shooting him a glare, telling him to stop ruining your night, you wanted to finally shoot your shot with Mark. The blonde made you feel different, he made you feel stable and safe, it’s been a long time since you last felt this way. You didn’t even know you were still capable of developing feelings and you haven't felt this way towards anyone so you really didn't want to mess it up. But to your anguish, Mark's curiosity got the better of him.

"Oh yo wait, so you two... were a thing?" Mark coughed awkwardly, his hand going to grip your waist which made you perk up.

"Yeah we've known each other for quite... some time, so it's natural that we've tried stuff" Donghyuck shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets to hide the way he's balling up his fists.

"Yeah but that was like a decade ago, we don't really-"

"Pretty sure 8 months isn't a decade long love" Donghyuck raised his eyebrow, a little smirk makes his way as he sees Mark's grip on your waist falter.

"So do you two still...?"

"No! No, never again... Why would I when I already have you?" you immediately cut Mark off, he's startled by your reply but he still smiles at you, not as bright as the ones he'd shoot you when were onstage. There was a long awkward pause but thankfully Mark speaks up.

"Well! I have like four essays due tomorrow, so I'm gonna have to head out. Want me to drive you home?" he offers, and you were about to accept but you saw Donghyuck raising an eyebrow at you so you stop yourself.

"I would but... We still have a second set, I... I'll call you" you said worried that he'd be turned off with the idea that you had slept with your best friend who you're still friends with by the way, but he simply shook his head as if he was telling you to not worry about it. He kisses your forehead gently before saying goodbye to the rest of the boys. You watch his retreating figure but you weren't able to see him exit the club's doors because it's not long before you feel a strong grip on your left wrist and you're being dragged to somewhere.

“Let 'em wonder how we got this far,

'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all.”

Donghyuck leads you to the club's dirty bathroom, lowly lit with the purple and pink lights. He locks the door behind him but the vibrations of the club's speakers pounded against the door, it was still just as deafening as it was outside. Donghyuck stares at your face for a moment, thinking of what words to say. He watched the way you pursed your lips, you probably were thinking the same, so he beats you to speaking.

"Second set? I'm pretty sure we're done for the night sweetheart-" Donghyuck's stopped mid sentence by your hand coming across his face with a harsh slap, he smiles sadistically when he looks up at you.

"Yeah there's no second set but I had to tell you this" you said, eyes lit with a fire he's never seen before.

"Don't. Ruin. Mark. For. Me." you spat as you pushed him with your finger, backing him up against the club's door. His smirk finally falters, he looked just as confused and annoyed the day you two broke up.

"What? Everything I said was true, doesn't he deserve to know? Let him wonder how we got this far... If he ever doubts your feelings for him, then he doesn't deserve you"

You think about how it's actually the other way around, because for the first time in your life, you're finally making a change for the better. Since your abusive past and your parents' divorce you had always been problematic. Rebelling against your mother since she had refused to accept to support your band. You lived buck-wild, mostly relying on Donghyuck for sustenance. You thought your hate for the people around you was reasonable because of your parents, so you closed off everyone, including Donghyuck. You rebelled and used people as much as you liked, you thought it was only fair you'd reciprocate the hurt the world had given you. But after meeting Mark, it felt like a breath of fresh air, he made you feel alive, like you still had a chance to do the right thing.

"I just don't want to ruin things with him, he's... different" You whispered softly, gripping his silk button-up. Donghyuck laughs cold at this, switching your positions so that you were the one with your back against the door, he cages you against it, making you feel small as he traced your jawline.

"What? are you into virgin college boys now? do they turn you on that much?" he chuckled wickedly, his eyes stared deeply into your own.

"We both know you're never capable of love princess, you like playing with feelings. Because in the end, I know you'll end up breaking this boy's poor heart because that's who you are..." his voice ends up becoming a whisper in the end, his lips inching closer to yours, and without knowing it he presses his lips against yours.

To your shock, you kiss him back for a few seconds but realize what you were doing. You pushed him away to slap him again, he holds your palm in his hand, he harshly holds your wrist against the door. You try to wriggle free from his grip but you stopped when you looked at his face. He had his forehead against yours, tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes were closed but you could hear his sniffling as he tried to collect himself. It was now that you finally realize how much you had hurt him. You didn't know that he was this affected by your break up since he had easily agreed to it. You were also blinded by your selfishness, your anger towards the world that you didn't know you were already hurting someone so important to you.

So you soften up, remembering that this broken guy who stood before you was still your best friend. Your best friend who stayed with you when you were at your worse, your best friend who loved you unconditionally even if you drove everyone away.

"That's exactly who you are, you're a heartless monster." he cried, you silently agreed with him but you kept your mouth shut, willing to listen to him finally tell you his feelings. You have been an asshole for most of your life, and you knew it, so you thought this was the least you could do for him. You didn't think much of Donghyuck’s feelings in the past, so it was only hitting you now, he had truly loved you. Even if you were the most flawed person. Even if you were the sad little girl who was too scared of the world, the little girl who believed that everyone was out to get her. He had loved you fully, through and through, even if you had intentionally cheated on him.

"I'm sorry" you whisper, finally realizing how cruel you were these past years. You hated yourself, you truly did. You hate yourself for playing with his feelings, for leading him on when you didn't really have feelings for him back then. You used him for your enjoyment not thinking of his emotions, you used him as an escape from your reality, your troubled past. You truly were a monster and it was finally made clear to you.

"Then take me back," he whispered, he sounded so broken that it took a while for you to register what he said. You didn't reply and he looks up to meet your gaze and your heart breaks.

"After all this time, I'm still so into you, so please... just give me a chance to be yours again" he begged, you knew he was ready to beg on his knees if it weren't for your current position, you could feel the shiver run down your back because of guilt.

"Donghyuck." you sighed as you took his face into your palms, you look into his eyes and you could see the glimmer of hope behind them, hoping that you were about to say yes to his offer, but to his disappointed you only caused more heartbreak.

"I really really like Mark... and you were probably right, I'm so fucked in the brain that I didn't even think of your feelings back then. Of how real your emotions were for me, I thought we were just casual, but it seems like you really..." you trail off thinking of the right words to say

"loved me. I'm so sorry for being a fucking asshole, I have no excuses. Being hurt by my parents gives me no reason to hurt you back, so you don't have to accept my apology, I don't deserve it... But I’m doing what I think is best for us right now, I'm kicking you out of the band"

Donghyuck's eyes widened at this, his hands desperately clasping onto yours as he tried to bring his lips back to yours. He didn't know why he was trying to kiss you, probably it was because of the alcohol in his system, or most likely desperation. But all he knew he wasn't ready to let go, to say goodbye to you just yet, so he tried grasping for any piece of you he could as you removed his desperate hands from your body, both of you crying as you tried to push him away for good.

"What do you mean? why do you keep pushing me away like this?" he cries out as he hugs you, you pat his back.

"Because this is wrong, and it's time for you to be happy." you freed yourself from his weak grip, he tried to fight back but you insisted, it finally hit him that this was inevitable, it was finally time for you to say goodbye.

"Thank you for everything" you whispered, and with a final slip of his grasp you were gone. You had opened the door and left him in the bathroom, broken and lost.

“Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you.”

Part 2

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

Text

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

--------------

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

-----------------

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #not my yacht #raul esparza

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lizbotw · 4 years ago

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it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

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nightroo · 2 years ago

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Here are the last pages of my sketchbook+something im gonna put in the new one

First page is concept art for a future location in my comic. I've been doing a lot of renditions of the same place, because I want to try everything before I put it in the comic, since after that I can't change it.

Next is a random doodle I decided to color with my alcohol markers. Have'nt used those in years, but I wanted to add some color to my sketchbook. It worked suprisingly well on this paper, which makes me a bit sad I didn't try it before lol

After that I made some concept art for a robot in Old Blood. If you follow my sideblog you might've seen my huge lore dump about the robots, but tldr there's now a few types of robots, and this one is the "animalistic" type. Considering I didn't sketch at all, the perspective is actually decent. On the right of that is just me using up the left over paint I had. I always do this because I dont want to waste paint. I never plan anything with them, I just throw paint on the page and see what comes out.

On the last pages I have sketches of fantady creatures inspired by Pliny the Elder's animal descreptions. Most of them dont have a real counterpart, except the scorpion. I used the descreptions, the illustrasions, and the real animals (because a lot of times he would describe stuff like "head of a badger", "legs of a stag" etc). Theres a lot of interesting stuff there. Completly innaccurate, but facinating lmao.

Last pics are of a painting I did on a saparate piece of paper, since I'm not 100% sure of which sketchbook should I use next...

Either way I'm gonna glue it there when I choose. As for what I painted, this is more concept art for the comic / Old Blood. The idea is like a fire forest. I got inspired by the practice of controlled fires in forests, and of trees that take advantage of periodic fires to spread their seeds. I just pushed the idea of a fire dependent forest to the extreme.

Next to it is what I used the leftover paint on. I had a sketchbook I got when I finished highschool from my art major, and the paper there is... kinda bad so I knew I'm not gonna choose this one. It ended up looking pretty cool, and I might use this as concept art as well.

Overall I've been really enjoying messing around with gouache, but now I want to get back to digital, and to the comic. It's been... way too long since I worked on it. And the idea of changing the style of it excites me.

#original art #traditional art #sketchbook #i forgot to mention the paper i painted the fire forest on is like beige #so everything has a nice brown tint to it #but you can also see the difference white paper #wouldve made bc i painted with the leftovers on white #btw the sketchbook i finished was number 7 #i used to draw on loose pieces of paper before 2016 #so i did... 7 sketchbooks in 6 years #considering how much i draw digitally... thats a lot #god i also have all the art i did for my major too.....#i wonder how much paper i actually used #maybe it reaches 1000?#im not gonna even try to do the math lol

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aellynera · 4 years ago

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Beat the System (Poe Dameron x f!Reader; high school AU)

BEAT THE SYSTEM

My darling @autumnleaves1991-blog is doing a Writer Wednesday thing (click that link for details) and today’s challenge was:

...so I wrote this little thing. may or may not be based on things that might have somewhat happened during my years as a summer amusement park lackey.

Word Count: ~2100

Summary: You see a lot of people at your summer job, and you didn’t really want to see him or for him to see you, but that’s not how the system works.

Warnings: Female reader. High School AU. References to clowns. Complaining. Nothing else really, just a lot of fluff. As usual, mostly kind of proofread.

You kind of hated your summer job.

It wasn’t so much that you hated having to get a job in the first place, after your parents insisted that’s what you’d need to do if you wanted your own car. And the job itself was actually pretty easy, at least in theory.

The ring toss stand at the local amusement park was your domain. Your days were spent surrounded by giant stuffed elephants and aliens and teddy bears, taking money, handing out rings, watching people throw them at bottles. Ninety-nine percent of the time this also meant watching them lose. The losses generally led to another futile round of buying and tossing. And, invariably, cussing; never mind that this was a family establishment and there was a five-year-old standing three feet away from the offender.

No, it was the job on repeat for eight hours a day, five days out of the week. It was seeing all your friends come by and have fun while you literally had to watch them (but hey, at least you got paid.) It was having to work every single weekend. And it was all the people. People you’d known your whole life, people who lived in neighboring towns, busses full of people from who knows where that flocked to this place every single year.

And it was just weird to think of this place as a destination. It was just the amusement park that was there all your life, that your parents went to when they were in high school, and maybe their parents did too. This place was freaking old. But why people felt the need to come by the busload from hours away--

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here.”

The voice broke through your ranting brain and you looked up to see a familiar face grinning back at you from the other side of the booth.

Poe Dameron was a senior. He was captain of both the football and the soccer team, treasurer of the student council, sang on the chorus, played bass in the jazz band, was in the drama club, and you were pretty sure there were at least a dozen other things he just did because he was good at everything.

He was also ridiculously hot and the last person you wanted to see you in your ridiculous, brightly colored work uniform. He stood before you looking like he just crawled off the cover of a romance novel, all tan skin and dark curls and defined muscles, and there you were with a high ponytail and baggy shorts and a shirt that would put a clown to shame.

Honestly, all you needed were the giant floppy shoes.

He was also there with a group of his rowdy, juvenile football friends, which only promised to make this hell even more scorching. At least for now, they seemed to be occupied with ogling the girl who ran the tilt-a-whirl across the path and completely ignoring you.

You scrunched your face at him. “Poe, I’ve seen you here like twenty times this summer. You’ve even played this game before. You know I work here.”

“Okay, you got me,” his grin didn’t falter. You weren’t sure, but it might have even gotten a little bigger. He handed over ten dollars. “A bucket of rings, please.”

Great, he was going to hang around. You glanced at your watch, and it solemnly informed you that your break wasn’t for another hour and half. So you were stuck there. In a virtual clown suit. With the hot senior you might have had a little crush on.

Not like you ever doodled his initials in your notebooks or on scraps of paper when the crowds at the stand died down. You denied all knowledge of these supposed incidents.

You could act like a normal person in his presence.

You sighed and took the money from him, handing him a bucket full of red plastic rings in return. “You know this game is rigged, right? They all are.”

“So I’ve heard.” He picked up his first ring. “But I am determined to beat the system.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you have to be good at everything?”

Poe shot you a quick side-eye before turning his attention back to the sea of bottles in front of him. He tossed the first ring and it flipped end over end before bouncing off a bottle top with a spectacular ding! His brow furrowed as he reached for another ring.

“Apparently not,” he muttered. “But I’ll still beat it. You see, there’s this girl I want to impress, and…” He tossed the second ring and watched it ricochet off another bottle top.

“Of course there is,” you snorted. “There’s probably a whole horde of them.”

He chuckled. “Nope, just one.”

You waved your arm in a grand gesture toward the playing field. “Well then, have at it, Romeo. You know the rules. No leaning over the rail, and you have to land five rings to win. Let me know when you need another bucket.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” he replied as he tossed yet another ring. You tried, you really really tried, to ignore the way the tip of his tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated.

And so it went until the entire bucket full of rings littered the floor of the stall, with nary a single one landing on its intended target. You grabbed the sweeper and started pushing them back into the bins underneath the counter.

Poe growled in frustration. “Seriously?!” He waved another ten in your direction and you handed him another bucket, giggling as you made the exchange.

“I told you, it’s rigged. But…” you crooked a finger to motion him closer. And then tried to remember how breathing worked as he leaned in, now just inches from your face.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

The attempt to subtly clear your throat was only half successful.

“Well, I didn’t tell you this,” you pointed toward the bottles, “but the table is slightly higher on that side, and so is that one part in the middle. If you aim for those bottles, you can probably bounce the rings onto the lower ones.”

The grin he flashed almost blinded you. “Beat the system.”

“Beat the system,” you agreed.

You leaned back and watched. After the first six rings or so, Poe seemed to figure out which bottles to aim for and how to toss the ring (with a bit of spin, of course) and before you knew it, his fifth ring landed on the center bottle and he was shouting “yes!” with a little fist pump.

“I am impressed, Dameron,” you said, clapping. “I bet this girl will be too.”

“I hope so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Did he suddenly look kind of shy? No, that wasn’t Poe Dameron. He was the polar opposite of shy.

“Which one?” you asked, pointing to the prizes hanging above you.

“Which one would you pick? If you just beat the system and you were trying to impress someone?”

“Uhhh…” Why in the world was he asking you? It didn’t matter, this was his deal, you just worked there. And quite honestly, you probably wouldn’t pick any of these monstrosities. They were huge. And kind of weird looking. And neon colored.

After a few moments of confused contemplation, your eyes finally landed on a giant purple teddy bear, half hidden behind a chartreuse alien and an orange thing that was trying to impersonate an octopus. You pulled it down and handed it over.

“Here you go, the least weird thing you just spent twenty bucks on when you could have just gone to the mall and bought something more reasonable.”

“Nah, this is perfect,” Poe replied, grabbing the bear. It was nearly half as big as he was. You often wondered how anyone dragged them around the park for the rest of the day, much less managed to get them home. “Thanks for the advice.”

You couldn’t help the smirk that rose on your lips. “It was either that, or have to explain to my supervisor why you would have ended up hanging around until the park closed.”

He laughed loudly. “Rey would have understood. She’s cool like that.”

“Geez, you’re good at everything, do you know everyone in the entire galaxy too?”

Poe didn’t seem to hear you, though, as he looked over his shoulder and around the area, and you followed his gaze. His friends were nowhere to be seen and vaguely, you wondered when they’d wandered off and why they hadn’t very loudly announced it to him. He glanced back at you with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, I should go find the guys,” he said. “And let you get back to work.”

“Yeah, okay,” you replied. All of the easy-going rapport from the past however long Poe had been there suddenly evaporated and every ounce of awkwardness you normally felt around him returned. “I’ll see you.”

You might have been looking anywhere but at him, but you didn’t miss the small wave he gave you as he walked away, and you definitely felt the heat that rose in your cheeks.

Poe was quickly forgotten as a swarm of ten-year-olds rushed the stand and the incessant clanging of misthrown rings once again took over all your waking moments. You didn’t think about him for the rest of your shift. All you could think about was how tired you were, how hot the day had been, how much you wanted to shower and sleep and pretend you didn’t have to do this again tomorrow and--

Your feet ground to halt in the employee parking lot and approached your beloved car, the entire reason you had this forsaken job in the first place. Your car, which, you would have serious questions had you not known exactly where the thing came from, had a giant purple teddy bear sitting on the hood.

As you got closer, you could see something sticking out from beneath the bow tied around its neck. It was a slip of paper, with a phone number scrawled on it. And a little “P.” with a heart.

What was even happening right now.

Before you knew it, your phone was out of your purse and you were calling his number. Sure, you might have had to dial it four times because your nervous fingers kept pressing the wrong digits, but who was counting? And never mind that it was almost midnight. It was summer, he’d still be awake, right?

Finally you got it right, and the call picked up on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Hey,” you could picture the trademark Dameron grin behind it. And he sounded...relieved? “I’m really glad you called.”

“How did you get into the employee parking lot?”

“I didn’t. I asked Rey for a favor. I figured she might know which car was yours. Told you she’s cool like that.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess she really is.”

“So I do have a really important question for you. Well, two actually.”

“I’m listening,” you said. It was hard to hear anything over how hard your heart was thumping in your ears, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Question one. Can I take you out on a date?”

“Yeah,” you said again and closed your eyes, partly out of a need to center yourself and mostly out of sheer embarrassment. Maybe one day, you would remember how to speak to Poe Dameron in multiple word sentences, but right at this moment was not that time. Oh well.

“Awesome,” he breathed out. “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Yes.” Thankfully he didn’t seem to be deterred by your current lack of language skills.

Poe laughed warmly. “Now, second question. Did it work?”

This time you couldn’t even come up with a verbal response. You just erupted in a bout of giggles, Poe Dameron laughing along with you. And somehow, you got that ridiculous monstrosity of a teddy bear into your back seat.

The somehows kept coming. Somehow you remembered how to use words. Somehow it was well after midnight now without either of you giving it permission to get that late. Somehow your phone refused to end the call. Somehow the hours were slipping by until you had to be at the park for an early opening shift in the morning, and somehow you suddenly didn’t care at all about getting any sleep.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad, after all.

~end~

Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @nathan-bateman @poedjarin @rosemarysbaby13 @sergeantkane @spider-starry @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @veuliee2 @yourbucky084 @waatermelon-sugaar

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#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe darmeron x you #poe dameron au #poe dameron high school au #au!poe dameron #au!poe #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #writer wednesday #writing challenge #my writing #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character au

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colormeyondublue · 3 years ago

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Chapter 13: Welcome Back

Chapter 12 Here Chapter 14 Here

Later that morning, after a good long snuggle session, you finish packing for your trip. You find yourself back in your office with Yondu so you can lock everything up before you leave. Kraglin is the only one with a key to anything, but the captain wants to be sure no one can get in your office to snoop around.

He wanders over to your desk to make sure the drawers are locked, and he finds something odd in the top drawer. “Whatssis?” he asks, picking up the notebook and flipping through some pages.

You gasp and quickly pull the notebook from his hands. “Nothing! It’s nothing. Just some doodles and notes. Nothing important.”

“Notes about what? Doodles? Why can’t I see it – huh?" He presses.

“It’s just nothing important. Doesn’t matter.” You turn to stuff it in your bag and hope he lets it go. You’ll never admit it, but you’re a little embarrassed. These notes and doodles were from when you first starting falling for Yondu, and they were kinda dorky. Little planets, stars, hearts and Yondu’s arrow piercing through a larger heart was scribbled all over various pages. You even started writing his name in cursive on some of the pages.

“Uh, no. Hand it over missy. No secrets 'tween us.”

You reluctantly hand him the notebook and hope like hell he won’t taunt you for it.

“I dunno what yer worried about. It’s just little shapes and planets and stars on here. And an arrow? What’s this stuff on the side?” Yondu points to the cursive writing on the page he is referring to.

Of course! Yondu can’t read English cursive handwriting!

“You mean you can’t read that?”

“Those are letters?! No, I can’t read that. It ain’t like no language I’ve ever seen.”

“Yondu, it’s called cursive, or script. It’s a form of English Terran writing. I learned it when I was really young. I love writing this way, it’s really relaxing.”

“Okay, so whatsit say?”

“That’s your name. Those are planets and stars, that’s your arrow, and those are little hearts. Your arrow is going through that heart like Cupid’s arrow. I think I actually doodled some of this the night I went to the bar with you for Geff’s birthday.”

“What’s a Cupid?” He asks.

“Oh, Cupid is…well, he’s Roman. It’s a long story involving Terran history. Basically, it’s symbolic of love. If Cupid, an ancient Roman deity, shoots you through the heart with his arrow, the first person you see after he shoots you is the one you fall in love with. It’s totally a myth, but that myth goes back thousands of years. When you fall in love with someone, people will sometimes say – ‘you must have been shot by Cupid’s arrow!’ Kinda silly when you think about it.”

“So ya drew all this ‘cause you were thinkin’ about me?” He continues to flip through the pages, and each one is a little different than the last.

“Well…yeah. I did. But this was all before I had the guts to come out about how I felt. So, I poured it all into my notes. I never thought you’d find it.”

A little smirk appears on his face as he marvels at the pages. He snaps the notebook closed and throws it back into the drawer before he locks it. “Let’s keep this safe here until we get back. Then I wanna bring it back ta our quarters so I can look at it whenever I want.”

~~~

The two of you pack up your belongings into the Warbird before you head out. Kraglin shows up in the docking bay to see you off. He greets you with a smile and a friendly hug.

“You better get back up here soon. The boys’ll miss ya too much.” Kraglin is only half joking. There is no doubt that there has been some worry among not just Yondu and Kraglin, but a few of the guys that you won’t come back, but no one has said anything. What you didn’t know, was that you really had made a big impact on the whole crew. Your outburst in the mess several weeks ago made the crew start thinking about who they are, what they stand for, and what they want out of life. Not that much has truly changed, but the seed was definitely planted thanks to you.

“Awww. What would you guys do without me?” You tease. You hug Kraglin back and Yondu tells you go ahead and get comfortable on board. He’s got something to discuss with Kraglin.

Yondu watches you step on the Warbird and he turns back to Kraglin. “Alright, so I’ve programmed our comms to have a little bit farther reach so I can still get ahold of ya if things go sour. I don’t think anything is gonna happen down there, but I wanna be careful. Terrans are s’damn touchy. Keep this on you at all times. Same goes fer me. If anythin’ fishy happens on board while I’m gone, you comm me and I’ll be up here quick as I can. I trust you and the boys to keep this place handled and I trust you to choose second in command while I’m not here.”

“Yessir. We’ve got it handled. Don’t worry about a thing. Go down there and make the most of it. We’ll be in touch if we need anything.” Kraglin pats Yondu on the back with a reassuring smirk. Yondu rolls his eyes and smirks back before boarding the ship.

Yondu sits next to you in his pilot chair and hits the ignition. Before long, you’re out of the docking bay of the Eclector, and off into open space. The two of you are silent for a few minutes until you hear Yondu speak up first.

“So – uh…I know yer really excited, and I know how much ya love yer Earth and yer family…but there’s somethin’ that’s been on my mind fer a while. I gotta just get it out there.” He hesitates for a moment while he programs the ship to auto pilot. “If we get there, and all goes well, and ya start feelin’ like ya wanna stay, I won’t hold it against ya. I know how much it all means to ya, and I won’t be mad atcha’ if you decide to stay with yer family.” He notices you start to protest, and he raises his hand so you let him finish. “Honey, you were kidnapped. You were stolen from yer home and yer family. You were sold and traded and bartered for like property. Ya got lucky when you escaped from the Skrull, and ya did pretty well fer yerself on Krylor. Yer a tough woman – you’ve proved that. I just wonder if being back home and with yer people won’t make ya wanna stay with ‘em.”

“Yondu, I understand your concern, but I am not leaving you. Ever. Yes, I love my family. Yes, I love my planet and everything that comes with it. But, after all I’ve been through I think I’ve realized that I love you more. My life has changed drastically over the past few years, and I don’t think I would change a thing that happened. Every single step I’ve taken since that morning by the river has brought me to you. Since finding you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I don’t think anything can change that.”

Yondu just stares at you. The happiest she’s ever been? With me and that sleezy crew that calls 'emselves Ravagers? Even after what happened with Trenvik? He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he simply takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He then covers your hand with his, and sighs. You stand and walk to him. You carefully nestle yourself in his lap, snuggling your head into the crook of his neck. Yondu wraps his arms around you, and you feel him relax beneath you.

“How long until we approach the solar system?” You ask.

“It’ll be a couple hours until we reach that first little planet’s orbit, and then several more hours ‘til we close in on Terra’s atmosphere. The Warbirds thrusters are wide open, but it’s still a good distance. Gotta hand it ta ya Terran’s…ya’ll got a big solar system fer sure. Have ya even explored all of the planets here, or are they too far apart?”

“We know a lot about the other planets and their moons, but we haven’t visited them other than sending rovers to take videos and photos. They’re too far apart for what technology we have. Our rockets are super slow, and we burn through too much fuel. But, we do know a lot about the different atmospheres of each planet. We know their surface temperatures, and which ones might have had liquid water at some point. Not a single one is suitable for much life, but there is talk about the possibility of colonizing Mars.”

“Hmm.” He says simply. “Tell me somethin’ about Terra.”

“Like what?”

“Anything. What’s the first thing ya think of?”

“Hmm. Well…when I think of Earth, I think of the trees. I think about the forests, rivers, waterfalls, and wildlife. Sometimes humans forget that we aren’t the only ones who call Earth home, but I never forget. Each creature has value. From the tiniest bird in the sky, to the largest whale in the ocean. We are all connected, and we all have something to give.”

“What’s a whale?” he asks.

You simply giggle and rub his arm. “I’ll show you when we get there. Anything you wanna know, I’ll teach you. I can’t wait to show you everything.”

A few more hours go by with idle chit chat, and occasional comfortable silence. You tell him all about your home, the city you lived in, and what it was like growing up on Earth. You catch Yondu smiling at some of the stories you tell and he thinks your sister sounds annoying, but nice nonetheless. You begin to yawn and doze off a little in his lap. “Hey, why doncha’ go get some sleep in the bed back there. I’ll be fine up here – ain’t tired yet. We’ll be there before ya know it.”

“But I don’t wanna leave you all alone up here.” You say.

“It’s alright baby, I’ve flown a lot longer than this in my time. Go on now, getcha some sleep. I’ll be up here if ya need me.”

“Mmmmokay…I’m goin’, I’m goin’.” You mumble as he lifts you from his lap. He watches you make your way to the bedroom. Once you’ve closed the door, he picks up his comm off the control console and gets in touch with Kraglin to make sure all is in order back on the Eclector. Kraglin assures him that everything is fine, and the crew is content with their time off to just play games and drink as they please. Some have even taken to doing some odds and ends jobs to improve their cabins or M-Ships.

Before he knows it, he spots a little blue dot. The Warbird is closing in on your planet. He waits a few more hours before he decides to wake you. The closer the ship comes to Terra, he decides to engage the signal jammers so Terran communication systems and satellites can’t pick up any signals or sounds coming from the Warbird.

A while longer passes, and he heads back to the bedroom to wake you. There’s already a pretty good view of Earth out the front window, and he can’t wait to surprise you. You wake at the feeling of a large hand tapping you on the shoulder. You sit up and try to let your eyes adjust to the dimply lit room. Yondu has a very mischievous grin on his face.

“What’s going on? What are you up to?” You ask.

“Come here, there’s somethin’ you gotta see. But first, you gotta close yer eyes.” He insists.

“Close my eyes?”

“Do ya trust me?”

“Of course, I do!” You say with a smile.

“Well then c’mon! But keep yer eyes shut.”

You close your eyes and giggle lightly as you take his hand. Slowly, he guides you to the front of the ship where you can feel him position you in a specific spot.

“What are you up to, Yondu?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see. Okay…open.”

You open your eyes, and a gasp escapes your mouth before you have time to stifle it with your hand. Tears are immediately filling your eyes, and you can’t keep a few from falling. You shutter a little, and your breath is completely taken away. There it is. The oceans, the clouds, the beautiful green continents. Earth. After all this time, there it is. You can’t believe what you’re seeing, the beauty of your planet is stunning.

“Welcome back sweetheart.” Yondu says as he quietly presses a soft kiss to your temple.

#Yondu and The Secretary #Yondu Udonta #yondu x reader #marvel #marvel fan fiction #gotg fanfiction #gotg #ravager #centaurian #earth #fanfic

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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

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Shigaraki Dating An Artist Headcanons

A/N: I made it more focused on traditional art because that’s what I do so… yeah. There’s hints to digital but idk how that works so!!

Shigaraki always sees you buried deep in a black notebook with a pencil scribbling over and throwing eraser shavings into a trashcan. He isn’t interested in it at first, brushing it off but when Toga starts to clap and praise on well you draw and how you bow your head and shake your head rapidly, his interest is peaked.

He often comes in when you’re drawing Toga. Despite how bubbly she is, if you ask her to do a pose, she’s more than willing to stand still for a while, as long as you let her keep the portrait that is. He tries to take a peak but you brush him off, telling him you’ll show him later but surprisingly Himiko already took the portrait and you’ve already put away your journal and it’s so late. Well, good night Tomura and you place a kiss on his cheek and snuggle close to him.

He’s a bit peeved that you won’t share your artwork but he’ll roll his eyes and push down the bitter feeling rising in him. That is until Twice and Mr. Compress take a peak and suddenly they want to pose and it practically takes away all of the time, you two have together! No, he isn’t jealous; he just doesn’t want to be waiting ten minutes for you to never show up. He’s not jealous, really!

But then you go up to Spinner and you shyly ask if he’ll let you draw him. You just got these new colors and he has such pretty scales and in somewhere you hear a door slam. Okay so he might be a bit jealous that you’ve shown practically everyone your sketchbook and you’ve been drawing them too and you haven’t asked him but whatever. You also haven’t asked Dabi so it’s fine.

But then Dabi pops his head into his room and holds up a rolled piece of paper and pulls it down so your signature is visible and he has the audacity to smirk as him and give him a peace sign as he leaves the door open. Okay so everyone has seen your sketch book, whatever. He’s not gnawing on his lips and looking at the desk where you tuck away your sketch book.

You’re not home. You’re out doing something- Shigaraki thinks he heard you say you had to get new nubs or pens? He isn’t entirely sure, he was only half listening as his mind was somewhere else. You’ve been gone for a while so you probably wouldn’t be back if he were going to take a peak. He gives a glance at the door, checks his messages and then he’s off the bed and on his knees, pulling out your sketchbook and he feels a bit bad but his curiosity wins over.

You’re drawings are detailed, some have color, others don’t. The texture of the paper is a bit thick and it’s until he comes across a watercolor painting does he realize why. You have different styles of everything, some are sketches of the League together, most separate and with different symbols around some. Others are of people he doesn’t know, some anime characters he presumes and maybe a few original characters with the notes doted on the side. You have different styles, different shapes and things all around.

They’re really good. You’re really good. He likes the colors you use. He likes the imagery and wow, you’re really good. He reaches the end quickly, given each work a glance and appreciative hum. But he frowns. Where was he? You drew everyone from the League and even people who weren’t real so where was he? Surely you must have drawn him at one point. But he keeps flipping and looking in the back of pages and there’s not even a doodle of him.

“Tomura, what are you doing?” You hold a plastic bag of art supplies in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other.

“Where am I?” He gets right to the point, rising to his feet and holding the sketchbook carefully in his hand, pushed outwards to you.

Your mouth is pulled into a thin line and you walk past him to drop the bags on the bed. He follows you with his eyes and you grab the sketch book from his hand and put it against your chest. You can’t meet his eyes and your leg is bouncing.

“You’re not in this one,” you mutter.

“Yeah, I know so—”

“You’re in my other one,” you look up at him and quickly avert your gaze. “I- I like drawing you- a lot- so I have on mainly just for you.”

“Really?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. It’s embarrassing. So—”

“Can I see it?” His eyes are wide and he takes a step closer to you.

“Tomura, it’s embarrassing!”

“We’re dating,” he deadpans, holding his palm out to you. When you look at him shyly, he rolls his eyes. “Please.”

“Admit you were jealous,” you pipe, bouncing on your heels and a slow smile curving onto your features.

“I was not—”

“Then no.” You turn around and begin to rummage through a plastic bag, pulling out the contents and dropping them on the bed.

“Ugh, fine. I was jealous. Now let me see.”

You stand up straight and flash him a grin. You kneel down and pull out a smaller sketch book, holding it out for him. He takes it quickly, going to sit down on the bed and he begins to flipping through it carefully.

As you said, there are drawings of him there. He’s asleep in a few, in others he’s eating, smiling, in a few he’s wearing outfits he doesn’t own and when he looks at you, your head is bowed and you’re clutching the sides of the desk until your knuckles pale. They’re all really good. In a few, you’ve only colored his eyes, other’s you color his hair. He wonders if it holds any symbolic meaning.

“They’re really good.”

“Yeah?” You ask, head still turned away from his. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do. Why didn’t you show these to me before?” His finger runs through the edge of the pages.

You shrug. “It’s a lot of pages of you. ‘Fraid you were gonna get a big ego or something,” you joke lightly, face flushed when you look back at him. “Sorry.”

He nods slowly and closes the sketchbook and hands it back to you. “Well, if you ever need to draw me again,” he scratches the back of his neck, “well, you know.”

You rise and press a kiss against his cheek. “I know.” You lean on his shoulder and run your fingers against the back of his hand. “And I will.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura headcanons #tomura shigaraki imagines #shigaraki imagine #i hope you like it!!#if not #then like dont be afraid to voice your concerns!!#i aim to please:)

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

Text

Male vampire x male character - Part Three (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is going to be a four-parter, folks! And here's 3866 words of Part Three for you. Angst ahoy, but you know me, ok, so trust me. Here we meet Alec's little brother, and you'll find out why Sebastien was so jumpy and weird about the Twayblade name.

Part One, Part Two

Alec’s ‘one night stand’ with Sebastien turned into a whole month of of ‘one-night-stands’, and culminated in Sebastien asking him to dinner the following weekend - a pattern which repeated itself every weekend after that.

Sure, the sex was probably the most incredible sex that Alec had ever experienced in his entire life, but what he came to enjoy even more was the time they spent over meals and cups of tea in the intervening time, talking about everything from history to politics to video games and books and everything else besides. Sebastien talked about literature a lot, and Alec sketched him and illustrated his conversations while he spoke.

“You could really make something of yourself with talent like that,” Sebastien had murmured once as Alec had doodled a quick rendition of the Victory of Samothrace on the back of a coffee shop receipt one afternoon in the park.

“Meh,” he shrugged without looking up. “I’d like to, but I’ve got a steady job now, you know? I’m not going to throw it all away just because some gallery might take my work and I might make something of a name for myself, you know?”

Sebastien sighed. “Talent is such an overused word, and great art is rarely based on raw talent alone, but with your dedication over the years, you’ve really honed what natural abilities you have into something exceptional, Alec. I think you should make a go of it at least.”

Alec had flushed, and Sebastien had been distracted by the rising colour his cheeks long enough to abandon that train of thought in favour of kissing him silly on a park bench, and Alec hadn’t much minded.

At an Iranian restaurant near Alec’s place one Friday, four weeks after Halloween, Sebastien leaned on his elbow and popped a fragrant and decadent zoolbia into his mouth, and Alec watched, oddly fixated by the way his fingers held the little fried treat. His eyes, dark and warm and inviting, blinked slowly and he offered Alec a slow-dawning smile that stole his breath.

“We should go to the museum again,” Alec he blurted, thinking back three days when they’d spent their lunchtime meandering around the Italian Renaissance gallery together.

“Mmm?” he asked, licking his fingers in a way that made Alec’s jeans tighten and his throat close.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I mean, I know you’re not sick of me waxing endlessly about quattrocento art just yet…” he said, sipping his delicious cup of tea and trying not to choke on it as Sebastien’s ankle skimmed up his leg beneath the table.

“No,” Sebastien admitted. “You’re right. I’m not.”

With the bill paid by Sebastien this time, after Alec had bought them lunch the previous day, the two of them left the cosy warmth of the restaurant and stepped out into a bitter November night. “Oh fuck it’s cold,” Alec swore immediately, drawing up the collar of his coat.

“You want to head home?” Sebastien asked, a hand on the small of his back.

Unconsciously, Alec leaned into it and smiled up at him. They’d not yet been to Alec’s apartment, and he found himself more and more reluctant to let Sebastien in now that he’d seen the stunning penthouse that he called home. “If you’re sure? I think your wardrobe has more square footage than my entire place though…”

“Alec,” he purred, taking Alec’s hand in his and squeezing his fingers. “I —”

“—You’re freezing,” he commented, interrupting whatever Sebastien had been about to say.

“I don't tend to run hot,” he conceded, “But neither do I feel the cold much. I’d like to see your home, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He leaned in close and kissed the junction of Alec’s jaw and neck for a moment, his lips lingering, tongue just lapping at his skin and sending shivers down Alec’s whole body, shorting out his brain for a heartbeat or six. Sebastien raked his teeth over Alec’s pounding pulse point and he went still, frozen in a paroxysm of pleasure and, oddly, a strange thrill of fear he couldn’t quite place. Instead of pulling away when he recovered himself, however, he tilted his head further to one side, offering himself to Sebastien’s mouth, and the other man moaned decadently, deepening his attentions.

Sebastien’s hands found Alec’s belt and he tugged him sharply closer so that their hips met. Alec tried not to grind himself against Sebastien — they were still on a public street for goodness’ sake — but desire was washing through him in pulsing waves and it was becoming harder and harder to think rationally. That wasn’t the only thing that was becoming hard either, and he let out a harsh grunt before forcing himself to step back with a sheepish grin.

When he looked up at Sebastien, he found that the slightly taller man had frozen and was breathing hard, eyes closed, lips pursed together as though restraining himself from something.

“You ok?”

“Fine,” Sebastien hissed, still not opening his eyes.

Alec frowned. Sebastien looked like he was in pain of all things. “You sure? You look —”

“I’m fine!” he snapped through a clenched jaw. “Let’s go. You’re right. It is cold.”

The short walk to Alec’s apartment passed in tense silence, with Sebastien keeping his eyes locked downwards on the pavement, though he did deign to hold Alec’s hand. He couldn’t help wondering if perhaps he’d pushed things too far in public, given how proper Sebastien tended to be, but then again, Sebastien was the one who had deepened the gesture by practically mauling at his neck for three minutes straight back then.

Alec’s apartment building wasn’t fancy at all, and it certainly didn’t have a doorman, and once they’d stumbled in through the hallway with the busted light fitting in the ceiling, Alec smashed the elevator call button only to find it dull and non-responsive. “Damn,” he cursed. “Out of order again. Stairs?”

“If needs be,” Sebastien said with a gracious smile.

“This would never happen over at Buckingham Palace,” he quipped back, and Sebastien cracked a smile at Alec’s silly nickname for his apartment block.

“Exercise will shake all that dinner down,” he conceded.

Alec twitched his eyebrows in agreement and held the door open to the stairwell for him. As he passed by in the confined space, Sebastien stopped and leaned in, taking Alec’s jaw in his cool hands and kissing him gently, reverently, on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I was rude back then.”

Alec shrugged, feeling awkward at the sheer, heartfelt tenderness in the gesture.

“I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

“I like it when you’re rougher with me,” he smirked. “You should know that after a month of fucking me senseless.”

As if Alec’s words had hit him like a sledgehammer to the nuts, Sebastien rolled his eyes and grimaced, but he did laugh. “You do seem to like a firm hand, granted,” he said. “Let’s get upstairs shall we? Before I take you right here, and I’m not sure how sanitary this situation is…”

Alec needed no more encouragement, and he didn’t even get to give Sebastien the fleeting, one-minute tour of his tiny flat before the man was on him, kissing him blind and backing him into a wall hard enough to knock the wind from him. Sebastien came alive in moments like that, when he could kiss him and lavish attention on Alec, and the latter was not about to stop him.

It wasn’t long before Sebastien’s wandering lips found Alec’s neck again, and as Alec gasped, fists balled into Sebastien’s shirt collar, he felt the sharp prick of teeth quickly followed by the generous suck of a love bite in the making. His knees went weak and he nearly staggered as a huge rush of endorphins swam through his mind, leaving him limp and wobbly all over. Well, almost everywhere.

“I want you,” he gasped, and Sebastien lost no time in locating the tiny bedroom and tossing him onto the bed, stripping them both with startlingly attractive efficiency. Alec barely managed to yank a bottle of lube and a box of condoms from his top drawer before Sebastien was spreading his legs and laving his tongue up over the curve of his balls.

“Oh fuck me,” Alec exclaimed as Sebastien’s slick finger slid into him and he hissed at the intrusion. A moment later, he was lying with his head flung back into the pillows while Sebastien slid a second inside him and began to do just that with his fingers until Alec was finally ready — and more than desperate — for Sebastien’s cock.

Sebastien had a beautiful body, all lean, corded muscle and slender lines, and as he got more and more aroused, his deep olive skin seemed to glow almost supernaturally. He was perfection incarnate. Bernini couldn’t have carved him, even if he’d been given a lifetime to try. Alec was no Bernini but he’d still love to sculpt him.

Sebastien chuckled sweetly and crooked his finger, sending a jolt of searing pleasure through Alec so hard his vision whited out for a moment and his back arched. “I’m flattered,” Sebastien murmured, placing open-mouthed, messy kisses down Alec’s leg as he spontaneously bent that knee up.

“Shit, I said that out loud…” he laughed, still vague and giddy with the sensations sparking under his skin.

“Mmm,” he smiled, lowering his face to Alec’s inner thigh and kissing fervently all up his leg to the crease of his thigh and hips before smoothing his leg back down onto the bed. His breath fanned out across Alec’s sensitive skin and he quivered and bucked, causing Sebastien’s curled finger to brush his prostate again and he yelled.

“Please…”

Moments later, Sebastien entered him at last and stilled, allowing him to adjust to the new intrusion.

When he fucked him like this, Sebastien seemed to take on a new energy, becoming something almost more primal, and Alec lived for it. The expression on his face as he closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the heat of Alec’s body closing around him, taking him, drawing him in, was something he would never get used to, no matter how many times it happened. He was certain of it.

“You’re so tight,” Sebastien grunted, easily shifting Alec’s hips up a degree or two and adjusting his own angle so that he could thrust into his prostrate with every stroke.

Alec’s words failed him as immense pleasure ripped through him, building and building. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he barely managed to grunt as Sebastien somehow picked up the pace and began to pound into him with renewed vigour. The man seemed utterly devoted to Alec’s pleasure, as if it was the only thing driving him.

With an utterly inhuman snarl, Sebastien opened his mouth and whispered, “Come for me.”

The sheer weight of command in his voice tore through Alec and he came instantly, untouched, painting his torso with ropes of his release and wrenching Sebastien’s own orgasm from him by sheer force a second after.

Sebastien curled forwards with a hiss, hips spasming as he released, and his lips found Alec’s neck again, and then his collarbone. In the daze of his own peak, Alec thought he saw a flash of red in Sebastien’s eyes again, but he was out of sight too quickly for him to believe what he’d seen. Instead, he found Sebastien kissing his hammering pulse while he finished. Finally going still, Sebastien slumped atop him, breathing hard, his white-blond hair spilling everywhere and tickling Alec’s stubble. He was too tired to care though.

When he woke, hours later, he realised groggily that it must be the middle of the night. Sebastien was curled up beside him, obviously having found the tiny bathroom to clean up, and he was now spread out beside him on his small, lumpy mattress as if this were a palace and he a prince, not some tiny, shitty apartment in the rough bit of town.

Something about the way Sebastien slept still freaked Alec the fuck out. He didn’t seem to be breathing, and when he had laid his palm on Sebastien’s chest on their first night together, the man had gasped and jolted awake like the living dead, sucking in air like he’d been underwater for hours. This time, he refrained from touching him, and instead stared at his inhuman beauty. There wasn’t a mark or scar or freckle on him, and his darkly tanned body spread out over the white sheets like a bronze sculpture arranged in a gallery for the adoration of thousands. And yet he chose Alec to be his only supplicant. Something lurched in his chest and he smiled bashfully, blushing, although there was no one to witness it.

Awake, Sebastien looked maybe thirty, thirty five years old, but asleep, he looked far younger; closer to eighteen or nineteen perhaps, with an innocence around his white-lashed eyes and the natural downward curl of his beautiful lips.

Unable to resist touching him completely, Alec kissed him and rolled over, drawing the duvet up around his ears and sinking back into a deep, dreamless sleep. His whole body felt heavy and satiated in a way he’d never experienced before with anyone. Something clenched in his heart; this felt right somehow.

But nothing is fated to last forever, is it?

Alec stirred groggily, unwillingly, the next morning, becoming aware of a rapid-fire knocking on the apartment door. Grunting, he kicked back the covers and fished for a pair of boxers and a shirt from the floor beside the bed. Sebastien slept on, apparently not having moved at all since the previous evening. Did he have sleep apnoea or something? It was something he’d have to bring up after he’d sorted whatever this was. It wasn’t natural for a man to sleep like that.

Like the dead.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” he grumbled, stumbling across the apartment and peering though the peephole in the door. Twitching back in surprise, he opened it. “Theo?”

His little brother’s bright, sunny grin beamed back at him. “Hey bro,” he chuckled jovially, stepping in as if he owned the place and shooting him a cheeky look back over his shoulder. “Brunch?”

“Brunch?” Alec frowned. “Since when do you do ‘brunch’? And since when is it brunchtime anyway?” He glanced at the clock in the kitchen and his eyebrows rose. It was well past eleven o’clock.

“Late night, I see,” Theo snickered, eyeing Sebastien’s shirt which was still on the floor outside the bedroom door, currently ajar from Alec’s hasty exit.

“Shut up.”

Theo’s grin doubled and his blue eyes glittered. Like Alec, he had the unusual combination of dark hair and blue eyes, and like Alec he could be described as ‘roguish’ at times. Now though, it bordered on downright Puckish. Looking not his actual twenty-one years but somewhere closer to sixteen, Theo shook his head.

“Brother mine, when will you —” he snorted but then stopped and his expression fell, shattering from playful to horrified in a heartbeat before he rapidly attempted to cover it by turning towards the bedroom. “Is he still here?” he whispered.

“Yeah, so keep the jokes to a minimum, would you?” Alec snarled. “What did you want anyway?”

But Theo had changed completely. Gone was the ebullient Labrador puppy and instead a tense, alert, wary young man stood before him.

“What the fuck’s wrong?” Alec hissed, heartbeat ticking faster like an over-wound clock.

And Theo spun and then froze as the door to the bedroom opened and Sebastien appeared on the threshold.

Theo’s lip curled into an ugly snarl and Sebastien regraded him steadily, apparently unfazed by the unexpected hostility.

“The younger Twayblade, I assume,” he said with such ice in his usually warm tone that it shook Alec into stunned silence. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“You’re shitting me,” Theo whispered, horror thickening his tone.

Alec blinked and looked from Sebastien to his little brother and back again. Never in all his years of dating men had he felt so uneasy around a family member. “What’s going on…?” he finally croaked.

“That’s what — who — you’re sleeping with?” Theo practically spat out.

Cold, defensive vitriol bubbled up inside him and he might actually have lunged for his brother had Sebastien not crossed the room in three rapid strides and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “I take my leave,” he said quickly.

“Not so fast, fang-face,” Theo sneered and Sebastien froze. “Get away from my brother.”

“Or what?” Sebastien said in the quietest and steadiest of voices.

“What the fuck is going on!” Alec blurted into the tense silence that followed Sebastien’s taunt.

The other two blinked, and Sebastien sighed. He met Alec’s eye as he asked, “You really didn’t know at all, did you?”

“Know what?” Alec snapped, rage rolling through him. “Do you two know each other or something? What am I missing here?”

“I think this is a family matter that you need to work out between you,” Sebastien said, voice still tinged with frost. “Alec, you know where to reach me if you decide to continue what we’ve shared this past month.” And with that, he turned and walked from the apartment.

“Wait, stop!” Alec yelled after him, but he was gone down the stairwell and Theo was at his side, tugging him back into the apartment. “Fucking explain yourself!” he snapped, rounding on his brother.

“You’d… better sit down.”

“No. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

Theo stared him down, meeting blazing sapphire stare with blazing sapphire stare. “Sit. Down.”

The tone of his voice shocked Alec into doing exactly that, and he sank numbly down onto the saggy old couch in the living room without a word.

What followed next was like something from a movie.

“The Twayblades are an ancient family of monster hunters,” Theo said gently. “Father’s not in the military. Well, he is, but it’s not a normal unit or anything. That’s just a cover.”

“And mother?” he asked mechanically, the information-dump that Theo had just heaped upon him not sinking in, but floating like scum on the surface of his churning mind.

“She’s one too. And Ellie.”

“Ellie hunts… monsters?” he asked. “Like… what… the Boogeyman? Bigfoot?” Incredulity made his tone flippant, but something in the calm sincerity of his brother’s eyes told him it was true, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Dracula…?” Theo added darkly.

“Dracula.” And then the penny dropped. “Wait. ‘Fang-face’. You’re saying you think my boyfriend is a vampire?”

Theo levelled him with a look from where he was leaning against the windowsill, arms folded over his chest in a manner eerily reminiscent of his big brother.

Now as Alec regarded him, he saw the harsh young man that this little kid had become. The puppy fat had melted into a steel jaw and a hard gaze, and his body seemed coiled for action at any moment. He had the body of a soldier, Alec realised with plunging horror. He knew Theo worked out — he was apparently a personal trainer and nutritional coach for celebrities in London, but even that seemed to have been a lie after what he’d just learned. Apparently the Twayblades actually hunted monsters — he and their parents and their older sister Ellie. Alec and Angie had been left out because they were apparently not ‘hunter material’ whatever that meant. Maybe it meant he was a monster fucker instead. He almost laughed.

“Theo, come on… I can’t believe any of this,” Alec said, leaning back into the sofa and pressing the heels of his palms to his aching eyeballs. All he’d wanted to do this morning was to wake up and maybe have Sebastien fuck him into the mattress a few times before breakfast until he was wrung out and softly buzzing like they had every weekend for the last month.

Now he was having some bizarre fairytale forced at him and he was supposed to believe it like it was some kind of sick joke. But he did believe it, and that was what scared him most of all. It wasn’t a joke. Theo showed him videos his father and he had captured on some of their ‘hunts’, exterminating a poltergeist here and eradicating a revenant there, and in the end Theo phoned their father on speaker, opening without preamble, “Dad, Alec’s dating a vampire.”

“Do you have proof?” was their father’s instant, chilling response. No ‘I'm sorry, what did you say, son?’ or ‘What’s all this nonsense?’. No. He went straight to the heart of it. With a stake.

“Just walked past the sucker leaving the flat.”

“Ancient?”

“No, thank goodness. Maybe just a century at most?”

“Can you eliminate him without alerting Alec?” their father asked, at which point Alec’s heart cracked.

He leapt to his feet and blurted, “Fucking what?”

After a heartbeat of silence, their father sighed. “Unfortunate. I had hoped to keep you and Angela out of this.”

“You’re telling me it’s all real?” he asked, goggling at Theo who held the phone out on speaker between them like it was a live grenade. “You’re all insane!”

“Tell me something, son,” his father said flatly. “Have his eyes ever flared red during a moment of passion? Does he seem to fixate on your neck? Do you find yourself willing to do as he wishes without question?”

Theo interjected quickly, “He’s not compelled. His eyes are clear.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” their father scoffed. “Theo, you know what you have to do. Kill it.”

“‘It’?” Alec shot, eyes bulging, and Theo did have the grace to cringe. “Kill it? You’re going to kill him? He’s a lecturer at the university, Theo. You can’t just fucking kill him?!”

“He might be under the guild rules…” Theo said. “He might be a blood bank user, not a live-feeder… I’ll look into it first.”

Alec’s knees turned to water but he kept himself upright through sheer force of will.

“Fine. But don’t hesitate. And don’t make concessions just because Alec might be compromised.”

Theo nodded and hung up without farewell. “Look, Alec,” he grimaced. “I’m… I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t come here to —”

“— to kill my boyfriend?” he growled, taking a step towards his little brother. To his credit, Theo did actually take half a step back in the face of Alec’s confused, hurt, betrayed ire, holding his hand palm-up.

“No. I came here to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but —”

“—Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out!” he roared, jabbing his index finger at the door and pulling out his phone.

Theo surprised him by nodding and leaving, shutting the door behind him with a click and leaving Alec standing in the centre of the living room, chest heaving, phone in hand, ears ringing.

As his brother’s footsteps disappeared down the stairwell, he unlocked his phone and dialled Sebastien’s number.

Three rings in, Sebastien answered.

“It it true?” Alec asked without preamble.

After a long inhale, Sebastien answered. “…Yes.”

Sorry for the cliffie!! More soon, but it’ll hit Patreon first, then Tumblr. Don’t let me forget, either!

Part Four

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#vampire #vampire boyfriend #exophilia #male vampire #male vampire x male human #male vampire x human #mlm #mlm exophilia

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bluefirewrites · 4 years ago

Note

i gotta Juke AU story

————

this is inspired by this one filipino movie i watched “para sa hopeless romantic” but julie and luke go to the same uni and julie writes a random line of lyrics on a schools desk and luke writes the next lines when he’s in his class. the next day julie sees someone finished her lyrics and they end up having a finished song throughout the week. they obviously end up falling in love with each other’s words but one day the desks in that classroom were thrown out so julie and luke try and find the desk and run into each other only for Luke to find out it’s Julie, his crush since the beginning of school, and Julie finds out it’s Luke, they boy who she’s been eyeing ever since she’s first seen him. honestly this is all over the place. this is just another random college au. tehe

I DID NOT KNOW THIS WAS FROM A FILIPINO MOVIE!

I have much more pride in my culture now you have no idea haha! But no really, Filipino movies can be the cheesiest, silliest, most cliche things I’ve ever seen. And I mean that endearingly.

So it makes total sense that this super cute trope that I see popping up in different fandoms came from a Filipino movie.

I think I’ve seen an iteration of this on AO3 and it was super cute! (But I think it was more like leaving a piece of paper on a desk).

But yes, yes , YES.

Juke is the perfect ship for this.

Hmm... I think it would be an interesting take, because my mind went to Luke first, if it was Julie who would start it- yes I agree with you.

It is canon that Luke helped Julie finish the song that she had been working on with her mom (’Stand Tall’), so might as well run with it.

Maybe during her quiet year, where she didn’t sing or play piano, she often found herself doodling a lot. She kinda threw herself into drawing. It was her creative outlet that brought her comfort during these rough times.

She’d have trouble paying attention in class sometimes, and so she would end up doodling.

Now, I used to have a history class that frowned upon doodling in notebooks. The notebooks would be graded, and if there is a non-history, non-relevant doodle in the margins or anything- you get points docked off.

So Julie, like me, tried remedying this by doodling on post it notes to avoid getting in trouble.

But one day, Julie forgets or runs out of post it notes, and she’s only got her history notebook and textbook with her. And since she has no qualms marking up her jeans and shoes, she thought she’d be discrete and doodle on the desks.

Not like anyone would have a problem with that anyway. These desks are old af and scratched up and had doodles on them already.

She would start drawing her usual stuff- funky creatures, bubble letter-ed profanities, etc.

But then she starts thinking about her mom, she starts doodling dahlias and even a rose in one corner. Memories start flooding back and she starts absentmindedly writing down a lyric of a song they never finished, just bits of pieces figured out:

‘Don’t blink...no, I don’t want to miss it’

She didn’t think to erase it. Just grabbed her stuff and went to her next class.

The following day however, she pulls out her post-notes (after getting more) and is about to doodle when she sees a new scribble on the corner of the desk where she wrote her lyrics.

Squinting, she realizes those are words (geez, the penmanship sucks). But she was able to make it out:

‘One thing, and it's back to the beginning’

It’s written right under her line. And she reads them together-

Wow. This sounds... pretty good.

She quickly jots this mysterious new addition to the song in her post-notes, but not before giving writing another shot and provide another line. Curious, if she would get another response.

She does.

And it’s perfect.

It’s been a year, a year since she felt the urge to write, to think about music- but, when all the lyrics fall into place, Julie is suddenly inspired to continue.

She spends the entire class thinking about how to reply, how to keep the momentum of this song going.

When she gets it, she writes it down underneath the new line. And waits.

And like clockwork, next day she sits down and there’s a new addition.

First verse done- Julie couldn’t believe it.

Smiling, she records it all and had to erase everything from before to make more room.

‘Thanks’ she writes ‘Keep going?’

The reply the next day has her grinning from ear to ear:

‘I’m game :)’

And that’s how it goes: Another day, Another killer line.

Julie would rush from her next class, confusing Flynn who did not think she would be so excited going to history, smile on her face, anticipating another message from this mystery writing partner.

Sometimes, she gets too caught up in her head, eagerly thinking up new lines that she often doesn’t watch where she’s going. One time, she pretty much embarrassed herself while bumping into the cute Luke Patterson in her rush to History.

(She practically fell on him and he tried to talk to her after, but she jumped out of his arms before whatever awkward conversation that was bound to happen if she stayed).

Julie and her pen pal would keep working on the song, even came up with a system to let each other know if they’ve finished a verse.

And sometimes it’s not just lyrics. Julie draws her normal doodles next to her lines, and she’s delighted to find even more ridiculous ones waiting for her when she gets back.

There was one time when she’s had to stifle a laugh because a crude caricature of their History teacher in their corner, yelling out the next lyric:

‘I'm goin’ out of my mind!’

(Glad to know someone else shares the same sentiments about their strict history teacher.)

They finish her mom’s song and Julie’s glad... grateful even. But she couldn’t help but feel disappointed... assuming it’s over.

But come Monday the following weekend, her pen pal decided to leave another line-

‘Running from the past... Tripping on the now’

and a new comment:

‘My turn now?’

A new song, and Julie grins, already coming up with ideas...

She loves writing again, especially music. Sparked by this exchange, she eases herself back into listening to music again, looking for inspiration to use for the song she and her mysterious partner are working on.

And writing with this person... is really something else.

But Julie’s favorite part of the whole experience really is the comments written on the upper corner. Stuff like:

‘This part is killer!’

‘Mindreader, much? :P’

‘Wrecking ball at it again. So talented :)’

and her favorite:

‘You make me a better writer...’

She ducks down so no one can see her blush as she writes back:

‘I think we make each other better...’

Flynn one day tells her straight up she’s got a crush on her pen pal, to which Julie denies because how could she have a crush on someone she doesn’t even know.

But as she thinks about it.. she feels like she does. Or at least know enough to establish this sort of connection that feels like they’re in each other’s heads, know how the other person thinks, inspiring the other.

It was... special.

Flynn suggests that she needs to figure out who is leaving these notes. But it’s hard seeing as though Julie has the class in an earlier period, a bunch of other classes are held in the same room after she leaves.

(Flynn tries a sting operation, but ends up getting caught ditching class before she could solve the mystery).

Julie’s worried though. As much as she wants to figure out who this great pen pal is, she wonders if they would be disappointed to find out they’ve been writing her. And not someone as cool and as pretty as Carrie Wilson or her friend Kayla. It’s hard to live up to those expectations.

In the end, she wants to know. At least so she could maybe thank them in person, for helping bring music back into her life and for making history class the highlight of her day.

She decides this right before they break for Thanksgiving. She writes down:

‘I wanna meet you. Can we talk?’

And she’s on pins and needles the entire break, just wondering what her pen pal would say back. ‘Yes’, ‘no?’.

But what she finds when she comes back from break is so much worse than the fear of rejection.

They got new desks.

Their school finally got their shit together and replaced their old, worn down desks.

‘No, no, no, no, no’.

That means she’ll never know what her penpal end up replying...

She runs out of class and finds Flynn, panicked, she tells her what happened. And Flynn does some digging, and she’s able to find out where the janitors dumped the old desks.

Julie totally underestimates just how desperate she is in finding out the identity of her pen pal because she finds herself sneaking back to school at night with Flynn, seeking out the lot behind school where the dumpsters were piled high with the old desks.

Flynn, the ride or die she is, armed with a flashlight, starts taking out the desks along with Julie, and there are... a lot of desks.

They go at it for an hour, and the situation starts to look hopeless, especially when Flynn discovers a whole new set of dumpsters with desks that they haven’t even checked yet.

They’re about to throw in the towel-

But then they hear voices.

Quickly, they hide behind a dumpster right when three guys, with flashlights, come onto the scene.

“Dude, I can’t believe we’re here at this hour-”

“Oh my god. There’s like a boatload of stuff here-”

“Guys. Can you not? And please help me? It’s gotta be here somewhere”.

They sound... familiar. They were definitely not the custodians.

Risking it, Julie leaves her hiding spot-

“Luke?”

Luke Patterson jumps and whips around to face her, “Julie?”

Behind him are his bandmates, Alex and Reggie. Everyone looks at each other confused.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I...uh, I’m-” Julie stammers, “Well-”

Flynn cuts in, “She’s looking for something,”

Luke nods, “Really? So are we.”

Alex scoffs, “Nope. Just you, dude. But we’re helping.”

“Maybe we can help you too?” Reggie offers, “What are you looking for?”

Julie sighs, “... a desk?”

“Well... you came to the right place...” Luke laughs, shining his flashlight on the dumpsters, “Funny enough that’s what we’re looking for too.”

“One in particular?”

Then the guy gets all clammed up, “Uh... yeah. I think... I might have... left something... in it. Something important.”

“How about we all look together?” suggests Flynn, “Help each other out?”

And so they exchange the descriptions on the desk, with Julie leaving out the glaring obvious detail of the note.

They’re surprised to find out that they’re looking for the same kind of desk. The ones they used in a particular building at school, the same one her history class is in.

So they break off and search. And she ends up in the same dumpster as Luke.

“So what’s in your desk?” he ends up asking.

“Huh?”

“You know... that’s so important that you’re here on a Friday night, digging through a dumpster,”

“Right... uh,” Julie scrambles for an answer, “There’s something on- I mean, in the desk... that really helped me. I was going through a hard time. Lost my mom last year-”

Luke stops his search, “Oh, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay. I just...” she sighs, finding another desk that looks like hers but not quite, “I just want to find it...”

“I get it. Hopefully we can find your desk.”

“Hopefully we’ll find yours too,”

After another 20 minutes searching, Julie finds it. At the very bottom of the dumpster. Luke’s face lights up once she brings it out.

“Oh my god, you found it!” He exclaims, hands gripping the edge to take it off her hands.

She tugs it back, “Yeah... I found it... my desk,”

“Your desk? But this is my-” he breaks off, eyes widening, “Wait. Are you...?”

“Am I what?”

Luke drops the desk, clears his throat, and starts reciting:

‘I believe... I believe that we're just one dream...’

Julie gasps, then continues:

“Away from who we're meant to be...”

Then together: “That we're standing on the edge of...”

“...great.” Luke finishes, in awe, “You! You’re ‘Lyric Girl’!”

“You’re my pen pal?” Julie says in disbelief.

Luke Patterson has been her pen pal this entire time? The cutie with the cutoffs? It makes total sense. He’s in a rock band and the songs she’s heard from them have amazing lyrics.

Wait... she has been lowkey crushing on Luke Patterson through his words...

“Wow, it’s you! Luke... wow...” she honestly has no words. They used to come easy to her when she talks to him via the desk, but now, after finding out that the local heartthrob is her writing partner, she’s super nervous.

“Look... if you’re disappointed that it’s me... I get it. I’ll give you an out, and you won’t ever have to talk to me again-”

“Julie-”

“-like this is weird- this is weird right? But I mean what we had was nice and all-”

“Julie, can you-?”

“-we don’t ever have to talk about this if you don’t-”

“Julie!” He reaches for her hands and intertwines their fingers, shutting her up.

“Yeah...?”

He takes a deep breath before saying: “Why would I ever be disappointed that it’s you? I’ve... got like a mad crush on you since freshman year...”

Julie choked, “Wait, what?”

“Voice of an angel and wicked beauty to boot? How could I not?” he smiles, “And... finding out that you’re my mystery muse is just... you don’t know how happy that makes me.”

His smile drops and he’s all the sudden bashful, “Wait... are you disappointed that it’s me?”

She shakes her head, “No, no! That’s not why! It’s just... you’re this rockstar in the making! I didn’t think- I didn’t think you’d ever pay attention to me.”

“I do... I do pay attention,” he looks down at their desk, “Well... maybe not enough attention, otherwise we would have met sooner.”

She laughs, “Totally,”

They stand there for a while, grinning at each other like idiots.

“So...” Julie decides to jump the gun, “Do you... maybe wanna grab something to eat?”

Luke raises an eyebrow, “Are you asking me out, Julie?”

She blushes, “Maybe,”

“Interesting,”

“So what’s your answer?”

He leans in, “Might wanna look down,” he whispers.

She does, right on their desk and finally reads the reply she’s spent weeks thinking about.

‘Tell me where and when...

I’ll be there...’

Needless to say, but that from that day on- they don’t need to use their desk to talk anymore...

#this... has been sitting in my inbox #and finally I have answered!#I LOVE THIS CONCEPT #giving me the same vibes as my imaginary friends penpal juke idea #i guess this means i just... love Dash & Lily #julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie and the himbos #juke #palina #juke-box #julie x luke #luke x julie #julie molina #luke patterson #how many times am i gonna sneak in 'wicked beauty' in whatever I write?

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makeste · 5 years ago

Text

the mortifying ordeal of being known... and rejected

or, how to create a self-fulfilling prophecy and get yourself stuck in a hole you’re too scared to try and pull yourself out of (by Bakugou Katsuki).

here is an observation: Bakugou often processes/hides/disguises fear...

uncertainty...

and even grief/guilt...

as anger.

the why, obviously, is because like most humans, he’s afraid of opening up and being vulnerable. but this post isn’t really about discussing the why. rather, it’s about the natural conclusion we can draw from this: that if the majority of Bakugou’s anger is in fact just his way of covering for his “weaker”, more vulnerable feelings, his doubts and fears, then that says a ton about Bakugou’s relationship with the one person he has always displayed the most hostility and aggression towards throughout his life.

so let’s talk about Bakugou’s actual feelings towards Deku.

disclaimer: I am not a therapist, or someone with any kind of psychology expertise; I am just a person that likes to read manga and think too much about fictional characters. so please keep in mind that even though I might not preface every single sentence here with “I think...” or “in my opinion...” obviously these are still just my guesses and interpretations and they may very well be wrong! the only one who knows for sure is the guy over in Japan drawing doodles of sentient flowers in his spare time, and I can’t very well ask him, so for now this will have to do.

so Katsuki and Izuku were childhood friends. let’s take this all the way back to the start. here we have two very young children who are introduced to each other at an age when they’re still young enough to have absolutely no secrets. they’re young enough to have not yet learned to be shy or self-conscious, or to downplay their enthusiasm so as not to let others know they care. kids that young don’t hide anything. they don’t lie or deceive. they don’t have agendas, and they assume that others don’t either. it is, in short, a very pure type of relationship in the sense that it’s honest and uncomplicated, that it is exactly what it appears to be at face value. their personalities are fully out there with no attempt at reining anything in. Katsuki witnesses the full force of Izuku’s boundless hero-worshipping energy and enthusiasm. Izuku witnesses the full extent of Katsuki’s relentless confidence and Peter Pan cockiness. both boys see each other for who they are in their entirety, and accept each other.

this is a fundamental bond. there is trust built between the two of them at a critical, formative age. it’s a relationship formed so early on that it’s likely that neither of them can actually recall a time before they met the other. they are and have always been a constant in each other’s lives. they’re a lot like siblings in terms of that kind of closeness and complete understanding of the other, both the good and the bad. in fact I’d say that Izuku’s use of “Kacchan” (and Katsuki’s automatic acceptance of it) isn’t that different from a younger brother’s use of “Niisan” for his older brother. it’s very revealing of the type of relationship they have. and that includes the typical sibling squabbles as well. it’s very much a relationship that’s taken for granted; there’s no filter, no effort to hold back, no attempt at trying to tone down their behavior around one another. there is whining and bragging and squabbling and name-calling and tears, just as much as there is cooperation and respect and trust. because at the end of the day, the assumption is that the relationship will endure no matter what, so they can go at each other as hard as they can and it doesn’t matter. the other one’s presence is just a given. that’s the kind of relationship that this term “childhood friends” really encapsulates, I think.

what I am trying to say here is that although it’s often viewed by fandom as an imbalanced relationship at best, and a toxic/broken one at worst, I think this is an incredibly important bond to the two of them. this is a relationship that has deep, irreplaceable value. the value lies in being known without having to suffer through the whole mortifying ordeal part. in the absolute, taken-for-granted surety that the other will always be there; in the constant, reassuring, and familiar presence; and in the security of knowing where they stand.

and what that in turn all means is that when four-year-old Bakugou Katsuki is struck by the thought that this relationship is being threatened, that the status quo may not always be quo, that the bond he’s come to rely on may have been built on a crumbling foundation, the emotional response which we are actually seeing here is not anger.

it’s fear.

this is the person who knows him better than anyone else does, and who, knowing all that, has always seemingly found something to admire in him. this is the person who’s always followed him no matter what. this is someone who looked up to him and believed in him, and whose belief and admiration perhaps more than anyone else’s filled him with pride and confidence. so the sudden fear, however ridiculous or unfounded (because at the end of the day he was just a preschooler, and that’s important to remember -- the fact that this fear, misplaced as it is, was based off of a scared four-year-old’s logic, and was incredibly real and overwhelming to said four-year-old), that Katsuki might lose this relationship -- or worse, the fear that the relationship was never real to begin with and was based on a lie and was unreciprocated and he was being strung along and laughed at behind his back the whole time -- is absolutely crushing to him.

because what he realizes in this moment is that in some ways, Izuku is already better than him at being a hero. and this realization, along with the fact that Izuku tries to help him and Katsuki misinterprets that as a gesture of pity or scorn, leads to a sudden cascade of other disastrous fears, including (1) the fear that Izuku is a sudden obstacle to his dream of becoming the number one hero, (2) fear that Izuku is looking down on him and not taking him seriously, and (3) fear that he won’t be able to catch up, because he doesn’t understand this mysterious quality that Izuku has, because that something isn’t physical strength, and that’s the only thing he’s ever considered up until now. and the one thing he does understand is that whatever it is (hint hint, it’s actually heart, and the determination to save and protect others), it’s something he himself lacks.

these are the fears which rise to the surface in this instant, and the fears which Katsuki is on some level at least aware of, and subsequently these are the fears which actually get confessed during Deku VS Kacchan Part 2 and are finally addressed. so all this is stuff we more or less already knew.

but here’s another thought: I believe that this whole time, there was actually a fourth underlying fear which has actually been at the core of all those other fears from the beginning, and which has stayed with him this entire time, and which is such a profoundly upsetting thought to him that he refuses to consciously acknowledge it at all, and yet at the same time also reconstructs his entire personality around it. and that fear is simply this: that Izuku is going to leave him behind.

that’s it. he fears being left behind and discarded by the one person who has always been there. and yeah, okay, I do realize that this is a particular take that will probably have some people going, “uh, what” and gesturing towards THE ENTIRETY OF BAKUGOU’S BEHAVIOR TOWARD DEKU THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE SERIES and raising their eyebrows. and look, yeah, I get it. the fuck kind of fanficcy, melodramatic “deep down the two of them were closer than anything” take is this. “you’re telling me Katsuki’s absolutely reprehensible behavior toward Izuku for a full ten years of their lives had less to do with him being full of himself and hating on Izuku for being quirkless, and more to do with him being sad and fearful and upset over the thought of losing his closest friend?”

but... yeah. that’s exactly what I’m telling you. because for starters, his reaction is about 50 times too over-the-top for it to be anything else. but because also, his reaction to this one fear is so starkly different from the way we’ve seen him react to all of those other fears. usually, when Katsuki is faced with a challenge, he has a very specific response:

so why, then, would his reaction toward Izuku throwing down the gauntlet be any different? hell, we’ve seen how he reacts toward people that are stronger than him (Todoroki), and towards people he thinks aren’t taking him seriously (again, Todoroki), and it’s completely different from how he treated Izuku. his entire personality shifted from being cocky and confident and nearly always having a grin plastered on his face, to him being hostile and defensive and antisocial and almost never, ever smiling. in fact he doesn’t ever really seem be happy at all.

so yeah. this is my take. he fears being left behind. it’s not just that he fears losing to Izuku; it’s that he fears losing Izuku. because of course he does, because given the significance of that bond as explained above, that’s the natural thing to fear. the two of them have always been together. he’s never not had Izuku there. and so he might bitch about it and act like he doesn’t care about it, but in truth it’s because he fears the loss of it so much that he lashes out defensively -- no you can’t push me away, if you even try I’m going to push you away first so you can’t hurt me.

because that’s what it is, isn’t it? bullying Izuku every time he gets too close. telling him over and over again to stop following him, and to not try and get into UA. Izuku, from his perspective, is looking down on him, so at the end of the day it’s just easier for him to convince himself that he doesn’t even like Izuku, that he’s just someone who’s in his way, and that Izuku isn’t the one leaving him behind, fuck that, he’s the one who’s going to leave Izuku behind. that it’s his choice. it just hurts less. fear as anger, because anger is just easier to deal with; anger gets you fired up and helps motivate you; and anger doesn’t leave you feeling as hollow inside. or at least it can help distract you from that feeling.

so. this is all pretty goddamn miserable, all things considered. and so it goes for the next decade of their lives. except Izuku never does go away. and then one day he goes and saves his life, and from there on out we basically know the rest.

fast forward to the present! or I guess technically three months ago, since as of chapter 257 the present is now Late March/DAWN OF THE FINAL DAY (24 HOURS REMAIN), apparently, and what I actually want to talk about now is the internship, and its impact on their relationship as seen since then.

I’ve already talked about the internship’s general impact on Katsuki in a previous essay, so I won’t really get into it at length again here, but basically the short version is that I think (or am at least hoping) that over the course of this whole thing, Katsuki finally started to broaden his perspective to be a little less self-focused. and as a result of that, I think that seeing Endeavor’s broken relationship with his family, and in particular watching Endeavor apologize to Natsuo and tell him “you don’t need to forgive me” (and Natsu being all WELL YEAH, I WASN’T GONNA) was kind of a much-needed kick in the pants for him as far as making him realize that his relationship with Deku, newly renovated and given a fresh coat of paint after the whole Ground Beta fight, and finally starting to look a bit like its old self again after all this time... maybe isn’t actually quite as sound as he thought it was.

and isn’t that a fun thought. because here they were finally starting to fix that shit after all this fucking time. after a decade of constantly worrying about Izuku surpassing him and passing him on by, he finally realized that this fear was unfounded the whole time... only to subsequently realize that there’s another reason now why that relationship might still be in jeopardy. that being the small fact that, oh right, Katsuki has been a straight up dick to him for the past ten years. oh shit.

this is something he never once thought about before. because previously he was too blinded by his own fears, and his conviction that he was the one being looked down on, and that Izuku was the one who instigated everything. and then once he finally realized he’d gotten it wrong, I think there was a delay before it finally hit him just how much hurt and harm he actually caused, simply because he’s not used to examining things from anyone else’s perspective other than his own. and then there’s also the fact that this entire time, Izuku has never once really shown any kind of lingering bitterness or hostility toward him in spite of everything. in fact he’s been seemingly overjoyed to finally have that friendship rekindled again, and he’s been more admiring toward Katsuki than ever.

in short, I’m pretty sure that up until very recently, Katsuki has just sort of been taking Izuku’s forgiveness for granted. just assuming that he already had been forgiven, even though yeah, okay, he was pretty bad. he just had no reason to think otherwise, because Izuku’s personality is so kind and accepting and understanding that he never even showed a hint of harboring any kind of bad feelings toward him over it. not to mention that all of the really bad stuff happened so long ago -- going on two years now! -- and Izuku has never once said anything about it! and so Katsuki, being the dumbass he is (and also subconsciously wanting to avoid the guilt, no doubt, because hoo boy, that is not a pleasant emotion at all), just sort of assumed that it was all right. that they were past it.

but... is that actually true? are they, really? or is he just telling himself that because it’s what he wants to think? after all, he did recently learn that he interpreted every single one of Izuku’s actions pretty much 100% wrong for about a dozen years. so fair to say he might not be so good at reading him. and, well... what he did to him was really bad. he was really fucking awful. regardless of how generous and kindhearted Izuku might be, Katsuki really has no right to just expect forgiveness, actually. he has no idea what kind of feelings are actually lurking there beneath that freckly surface. just look at all the resentment Endeavor’s kids have bottled up toward him for what he did. and maybe Izuku is only trying so hard to get along with him now because of what All Might said, about how the two of them are supposed to try and learn from each other. and isn’t it possible, and maybe even likely, that deep down he actually hates him as much as Natsuo hates Endeavor?

so there’s the bitter irony: Katsuki spent a dozen years believing that Izuku spited him, and trying his best to push him away so as not to feel the hurt of being spited, only to finally realize that the enmity between them was all in his head, and that in truth, he was the one driving the wedge in between them and chipping away at the cracks the entire time. that in reality he was the one doing the damage. that the thing he was so afraid of was never actually a real possibility until he brought it into existence, but that it does exist, now -- the possibility that their bond really might have been destroyed. and that it’s entirely his fault. that he created his own demons and dragged them into the light.

so now he’s afraid all over again, except that this time, he has absolutely no idea what to do. if he tries to push Izuku away again, he’ll only bring about the worst-case possible outcome that much faster. not to mention that he already played that song for more than a decade, and if there’s one thing it taught him, it’s that he hates that tune almost as much as the alternative.

so then what he should do, clearly, is apologize. that’s the right thing, obviously. the heroic thing. and I don’t think he’s incapable of moving past his pride in order to do it. and on top of that, I think he probably wants to apologize because he actually is sorry! but I do think there is something else that’s currently holding him back. and that something, once again, is fear.

Katsuki is normally one to face his fears head on. in fact, I’ve previously gone on record as saying that he would apologize without hesitation once he realized how badly he fucked up, because he’s not one to shy away from accepting responsibility no matter what the consequences. but now, though, I think that I was wrong. it’s not that he doesn’t want to take responsibility, or that he doesn’t think an apology is owed. rather, I think I underestimated just how great this one, last, biggest fear of his is. the fear of that possible rejection. the idea that Izuku might not accept. that he might say no. that it might simply be too little, too late.

it’s the one thing Katsuki has never been able to face. the fear that started this all to begin with. it’s the one fear that has shaped him since his childhood, and the one fear that he stands frozen and powerless against. the fear of having the one person who’s always admired him no matter what revealing that in truth, he doesn’t. the fear of having all his deepest doubts and fears confirmed. if he isn’t seen as redeemable or worthy to Izuku, who knows him best, who’s seen him at both his highest and lowest and understands him to a degree which one else does, not All Might (whose approval, by the way, also runs through Deku and which he also stands to lose) or his parents or teachers or his other friends... if he’s seen as beyond forgiveness by him, then that’s a blow he can’t recover from.

so now he’s stuck here in this precarious position with Izuku where he doesn’t want to take a step backwards again, but is too afraid to try and move forward. which brings us to the current chapter, where for the time being it seems like he’s decided to simply embrace the status quo, which in his mind is “rivals.”

so he’s leaning hard into that now, and simply pretending like things between him and Izuku have already been fixed, without actually taking the steps necessary to really move past it, because in the end it’s just easier. and I think that he will continue as is until that status quo either becomes too difficult or painful to maintain (i.e. the guilt becomes too much to bear), or until something happens to finally trigger a boost of courage in him, or a realization that he needs to stop being selfish and own up to his actions.

but eventually that will happen. and I think he knows that deep down. if nothing else, this is something that’s currently standing in the way of him becoming the number one. he has no right to ever call himself a hero if he can’t even muster up the courage to apologize, and to accept whatever consequences may come with that, just as Endeavor did, even if it potentially means being shut down and cast aside. he has no right to expect or demand anything else.

but at the end of the day, Katsuki is still only human, and still a young one at that. and he has only just gotten his friend back. and I can tell you right now that Izuku is not the only one who feels relief and even gratitude at being able to have a “normal-ish” conversation with the other after all this time, regardless of whether or not Katsuki might deny it. and really, there’s no rush. he’ll have to face it soon enough, and he knows.

but for now, this is nice.

#bnha 257 #bnha meta #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #bakugou meta

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years ago

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The Loft Chapter 4

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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Chapter 4

[Ron]

Ron would best describe the loft as a mess, but a clean one. After hours of scrubbing, the windows are clear and smudge-free, and the concrete floor shimmers with its long-forgotten natural color. What makes him feel most at home, however, is not the fresh pine scent of the couch cushions, but the fact that they're strewn about the floor like plush stepping stones. The boys have arranged them around the trash can in the middle of the room, which is empty save for a dried-up bottle of Febreeze.

Ron's desperate to know Hermione's opinion on the new decor. Despite lifting an eyebrow at the bad doodles of United States presidents and the cardboard cutout of a bald eagle plastered to the wall, she doesn't say anything. She must know better than to think he'll offer an explanation.

After cleaning and decorating the loft, Neville, Seamus, and Harry dispersed into their rooms to make themselves presentable, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the kitchen to finish up the last of the dishes. He hands her a plate to dry, and she takes it with a smile.

"Thank you for helping, Hermione."

"Of course! But I'm not sure why we're cleaning so much if it's just going to get trashed."

Trashed might be an exaggeration, but she's right in the sense that the new cleanliness of the loft isn't going to last very long. Tonight they're throwing a party, Hermione's first as a loft resident, and she's in for a treat. The boys have been purposely vague regarding loft parties, as any accurate descriptions might turn her off attending. Ron would hate to have her make other plans tonight, whether those be with the girls, or worse, a date.

"Hey, we're not animals. But if it's going to get trashed, it's nice to know it's new-trashed, not old-trashed," he says, earning an eye-roll from Hermione.

"So I'm guessing that this party is America-themed?"

"No. Why would you guess that?"

"No reason," she says, eyeing the miniature blow-up Uncle Sam doll that the boys have been tossing around like a basketball.

"The decorations are just for the drinking game we're going to play," he says, motioning to the multiple cases of PBR lining the wall.

"Right, how do you play?"

"It's not really a game you can explain. You just have to experience it. Nice try, though."

"Then I look forward to experiencing it." She finishes drying the last dish and stacks it away neatly in the cupboard. "What else do we need to set up? Everyone's coming at eight, right?

Ron checks his watch. "Shit, you're right. People should be here soon. I'm going to get ready. Can you start on the beer castle?"

"The beer castle?"

"Yeah. Just stack beer cans in a castle shape around the trash can in the living room."

Ron doesn't wait for Hermione's reaction before he slips back into his room. He rummages around his closet in search of something to wear, something that makes him look both put-together and laid back, ready to party. He lands on a pair of khaki shorts and a pastel blue t-shirt that looks quite nice with his eyes.

He's pretty sure Hermione hasn't seen him in it. Not that it matters, anyway.

He pulls off his shirt and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, he looks pretty damn good. He's a bit skinny but firm and fit. It comes as a pleasant surprise because he's been slacking on his workouts ever since Hermione moved in and he lost his home gym. It's been difficult to exercise in his tiny bedroom, so he doesn't. He hasn't wanted to work out in the living room for fear of Hermione seeing him, but maybe he should give that a try…

With a shrug, Ron pulls off his pants and stands back up. He can't resist the urge to take another look at himself in the mirror. As much as he wishes he was a bit more muscular, there are pros to being lanky. By comparison, his scrawny self really does accentuate his already well-endowed state.

He checks himself out from a few more angles before deciding that physically, he doesn't have much to complain about.

Before he has the chance to put on his pants, the door to his bedroom swings open. Ron startles when it crashes against the wall and Hermione barges in uninvited.

"Hey Ron, I have a question about the beer can castle—"

"Hermione!" Ron, completely naked, scrambles for something to cover himself with but doesn't have time before she's standing right in front of him. "You have to knock!"

She's staring at the two cans in her hands until she pauses and looks up, but her gaze never makes it to his face. Instead, it lands directly on his penis, and she seems to stare at it for an eternity. Thanks to his utter panic, Ron can't move.

It almost feels like time has stopped, and he's frozen there like the statue of David while Hermione ogles him. She appears to be frozen too, eyes wide, mouth agape, staring.

If his dick could blush, it would match the color of his ears, which are bleeding scarlet.

For a split second, he wonders if it's truly as bad as it seems. Maybe Hermione likes what she sees. A tiny seed of hope takes root.

But that hope shatters when she opens her mouth to speak and lets out the worst sound he's ever heard. It's somewhere between a scream and a giggle, and he wouldn't wish such a reaction on his worst enemy.

Without further ado, a red-faced Hermione mutters a quick and useless 'sorry' and rushes out the door and slams it behind her.

Ron stands there for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before the reality of what just happened crashes down.

Hermione just laughed at his dick.

Well, fuck.

Now that he knows how she really feels, he'll never be able to look her in the eye again.

Ron stays in his room until there's a knock on the loft's door, and he has to show his face in order to let in his guests. He's opted for a hoodie over his shirt so he can hide behind the hood whenever Hermione looks at him, because when she does, his neck prickles with heatwaves, and he feels like he's naked again.

It doesn't make sense — Ron's never reacted so strongly to having a woman see him naked, and he's had a decent amount of experience in that arena. He's no Seamus, of course, but he's not a stranger to the occasional hookup.

It's just because she laughed—no other reason.

He opens the door to find his sister Ginny, her roommate Demelza, and two of their mutual friends—Dean and Luna.

"Welcome," says Ron, opening the door.

"Hey, Ron!" says Ginny. "Hermione!"

Ginny crashes into Hermione for a hug, then introduces her to everyone else. "This is Hermione, Ron's new roommate."

"Nice to meet you all!"

Hermione falls into easy conversation with Ron's friends before they get a chance to greet him, but they don't seem bothered by it. He watches her through narrowed eyes and doesn't even realize he's glaring at her until she looks at him and scowls.

"What?"

"Nothing." He turns back toward his friends, hoping they didn't notice their interaction. "Make yourselves at home. Drinks in the fridge, food on the counter, and you know where the beer is," he says, pointing at the beer castle.

Harry turns the music up just as their guests crack open their beers, and everyone starts to relax. Except for Ron, of course. Even though he's hyper-aware of Hermione, he still manages to bump into her and make more frequent eye contact than he'd like.

For some reason, they seem to gravitate toward the kitchen to replenish food and drinks at the same time, and they barely manage a conversation when they run into each other.

"Oh, sorry," she says, trying to slide past him, only for him to walk directly into her in an attempt to get out of her way.

"Erm—"

"I'll go left; you go right."

"Yeah, okay."

Are they always this awkward around each other?

Every time he tries to act normal, all he can hear is her weird little high-pitched scream-laugh, and he just wants to disappear into his hoodie. On occasion, Ron can sense Hermione watching him, but she looks away whenever he tries to catch her gaze. Not that he wants to make awkward eye contact with her, he just wants her to leave him alone.

He continues to keep himself at a safe distance to avoid talking to her, making sure he's always involved in a conversation with someone else. Over the course of the party, he becomes progressively more resentful of how much mental space it requires to avoid her.

Then, like a hawk, she swoops in and catches him alone while he's in the kitchen grabbing another beer.

"Ron!"

"Jesus," he says, nearly crashing into her. "You scared me."

"Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not."

"Is it because I saw you naked?"

"No."

"It's not a big deal, Ron."

Of course, she has the nerve to act like he's the one who's being childish.

"Oh yeah, Hermione?" he says. "Then why did you laugh? Too immature?"

Hermione opens her mouth to answer, but in the moment before she does, he turns away from her and shouts to the crowd, "Who's ready for True American?"

The loft whoops their approval and begins to gather in the living room.

"Right now?" whispers Hermione behind him. "We're still talking."

But he ignores her.

"The game is True American," shouts Ron at a volume much louder than necessary for the size of the room. "Say 'aye' if you've played before."

There's a chorus of 'ayes' and a room-wide scrambling toward the furniture. When everyone hops onto a cushion, a table, or a chair, Ron notices Hermione looking around frantically, her expression disheartened.

"I'm the only one who's never played?" she asks.

"It's okay, Hermione," says Harry. "All you need to know is that it's about fifty percent drinking, fifty percent life-size Candy Land."

"I'd argue that it's seventy-five percent drinking, twenty percent Candy Land, and the floor is lava," says Ginny. "Which is why we're standing on the furniture. Hermione, you're melting."

"Oh no," she says, hopping up onto the coffee table between the beer castle and Demelza, who extends a hand to help her.

"Honestly, guys, it's ninety-percent drinking and has a very loose Candy Land-like structure to it," says Neville. "There's also a truth or dare component."

"I just need to know how to play—"

"You're smart; you'll catch on," says Ron. His tone comes off a little more terse than he'd intended, so he quickly continues, "I'll start. JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone but Hermione shuffles to a new location, avoiding the lava floor, and Hermione is left standing in her same spot between the beer castle and now, Luna.

"What just happened?" she asks, looking confused.

"Hermione, since you're the last to find a new spot, you have to pick someone, and they'll ask you a truth or dare question," explains Ginny. "Just answer and drink."

"Okay, then," she says. "Um, Neville. Truth."

"How do you like loft life?" asks Neville brightly, eliciting a groan from the crowd.

"Neville, you can do better—" starts Seamus.

"It's her first game!" he says. "Let's ease her in. So, Hermione?"

"Well, it's great so far."

"Just so you know, not every question will be that tame," says Ginny from her precarious perch on the armchair.

"Go figure," says Hermione before chugging back a gulp of her PBR.

As soon as she swallows her drink, Neville shouts out, "The only thing we have to fear is…"

"Fear itself!"

When the crowd joins in, Hermione looks around the room, dumbfounded.

"Hermione, you didn't complete the quote," says Harry.

"I didn't know I was supposed to!"

"Well, now you do! Drink, and then pick someone."

"I feel like I'm at a disadvantage since you didn't explain the game," she says, challenging Harry.

"We've all been there," Harry says, shrugging, "It's a rite of passage."

"Fine," Hermione takes a long swig and points at Ginny. "Ginny, truth."

"Sweet!" says Ginny, beaming mischievously. "Hermione, are you attracted to anyone in the loft?"

Ron's ears tingle at Ginny's question, and he tunes in for Hermione's answer.

"Nope," she says, taking a hasty drink.

In his curiosity, Ron has made prolonged eye contact with Hermione for the first time since the penis-incident, but when she catches his gaze, he quickly looks away. Ron's stomach clenches. Not that he wants Hermione to be attracted to him, but after she saw him naked, it's quite the low blow. Trying to look casual, he pulls back a swig of beer.

"Really?" presses Seamus. "None of us?"

"Ginny's turn!" says Hermione, ignoring Seamus' question.

"Alright, here we go," says Ginny, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Abe Lincoln! George Washington!"

"Cherry Tree!" shouts Ron.

"Correct! Pick a person and an amendment!"

"Hermione, second."

Everyone looks at Hermione, and Ginny tosses her an unopened can of beer.

"I don't understand," she says. "You still haven't given me any information."

"You have to shotgun a beer! And then pick someone to ask truth or dare," says Dean.

"Wait, what? That doesn't make any sense."

"Give it time, Hermione," encourages Neville. "I didn't understand it at first either."

Hermione groans and sets down her half-full PBR, and reaches into her pocket for her key. She stabs the bottom of her can, then tips it into her mouth, chugging it down while the loft's onlookers cheer in the background.

Eyebrows raised, Ron watches her shotgun her beer, trying to ignore the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He never thought he'd see that, and he isn't complaining.

"Yeah, there's no going back now," says Hermione once she finishes. "Luna, truth."

"Yay!" says Luna. "Did you and Ron get into a fight? You've been avoiding each other all night."

Ron's face grows hot. He bores his gaze toward Luna, who is staring intently at Hermione and doesn't seem to notice Ron's glare.

"Is that really your question?" she asks.

"Yep!"

"Luna, you've never seen us interact," says Ron. "How would you know that?"

Luna shrugs. "I can just tell."

"You know what," says Harry as he looks between Ron and Hermione. "You two have been acting weird tonight."

"Is it that obvious?" asks Hermione.

Ron feels Hermione's eyes on him, and his palms break out in a sweat. Once again, his refusal to make direct eye contact probably serves as a sufficient answer to Hermione's question.

"Well, fine then," she says, turning back toward Luna. "Earlier, I walked in on him changing. But it wasn't a big deal."

"Ron, is this true?" asks Harry.

Everyone turns to look at Ron, who groans. "Yes, but as she said, it wasn't a big deal."

His roommates might as well be shining an interrogation light on him by the way they all continue to stare.

"If it wasn't a big deal, why are you all fidgety?" asks Seamus.

"I'm not," says Ron, but his defensive tone suggests otherwise.

"Yeah, women have seen you naked before, Ron," says Luna. "Why is it different with Hermione?"

"Whose turn is it?" says Ron, much louder than necessary. Anything to divert the attention from Luna's oddly specific question.

"Oh, it's my turn," says Luna. "One, two, three, go!"

Luna holds up the number five to her forehead, and everyone else follows suit with their own number. Ron looks frantically around the room and breathes a sigh of relief when he matches numbers with Harry.

It appears that Hermione, who was the last to catch on, as usual, is the only one without a partner.

"Not again!" she says. "But at least that one made sense. Seamus, truth."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" asks Ginny.

But it's too late. Seamus, who is already slurring his words, looks at Hermione and asks, "So, Hermione, what does Ron's dick look like?"

"Dude, what the fuck?" shouts Ron.

"Seriously, Seamus," adds Harry. "That's not even an interesting question."

"Sure, it is! I'm interested!"

"Old news," pipes in Neville. "We've all seen Ron's dick."

Embarrassed, Ron glances toward Hermione. She looks lost for words. "You don't have to answer, Hermione."

"No, we haven't!" says Seamus.

"Really?" says Dean as he side-eyes Seamus. "I've seen it, and I don't even live here."

Ron looks toward the loft door. Maybe he can make a run for it.

"Am I the only roommate who hasn't seen your dick?" asks Seamus, now appearing uninterested in Hermione's answer. When everyone in the room turns to look at Ron, he feels like he's naked in a crowd again.

Ron shrugs. "I guess so," he says, casually taking a sip of his beer.

"When? Where?"

"I don't know, dude. Locker rooms, penis fights, I'm sure you'll see it someday," says Ron. "Can we stop talking about my dick, now?"

"Yes, let's move on," says Hermione with an apologetic glance in Ron's direction. "Just ask me a different question."

"Fine," says Seamus, his words melding together, "Hermione, what did you think of Ron's dick?"

"Seriously, Seamus?"

"I guess we can't," mutters Ron.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Whatever. He has a very nice penis."

"I wouldn't know," says Seamus bitterly. Then, just as quickly, "JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone scrambles for a new spot, and this time Ron's the only one left out in the shuffle.

"Fuck," he says, looking around for someone who won't ask him a dick-related question. "Uh, Demelza, truth."

Demelza smiles. "How did Hermione react to seeing your dick?"

"I picked you because I thought you wouldn't ask about my dick, Demelza."

"Sorry," shrugs Demelza.

"It wasn't a big deal," says Hermione.

Before he can stop himself, Ron scoffs, and once again, everyone snaps their heads in his direction.

"Sounds like it was a big deal."

"It wasn't!" says Hermione. "I mean—"

"Hermione, don't," says Ron, but Hermione continues without a missed beat.

"I laughed at first, but only because I was nervous."

"You LAUGHED?" asked Demelza. "No wonder you two are being so weird."

"It was an accident!"

"Let's move on," growls Ron. "Demelza, your turn." He shoots a glare in Hermione's direction.

"Niagara!" says Demelza.

Everyone brings their drink to their mouth and begins chugging. As soon as each person finishes, they toss their empty cans to the PBR castle in the middle of the room. Hermione, having caught on a moment too late, is the last one to toss it.

Hermione groans. "Harry, dare."

Harry grins. "Well, to make Ron feel better, I dare you to repeat after me. I love Ron's cock."

Ron's ears grow warm again, but they're also buzzing from the beer, which takes precedence over his embarrassment. Also, it'll be interesting to hear Hermione follow through with this dare.

Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Fine. I love Ron's penis."

Ron sends her a curious glance. She said it so… formally, like she was taking an oath in court.

There's a tense silence while everyone stares at Hermione. "Try again," says Harry.

"Why?"

"I love Ron's cock," he repeats. "Say it."

"I did."

"You said penis. Not cock."

"Same thing!" she protests.

"Hermione, why can't you say cock?" repeats Harry.

"Penis is the technical term," she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Ron chuckles at the argument playing out before him.

"What about dick?" suggests Demelza.

Hermione stares at Demelza, her cheeks flooding with color. "Why?"

"Schlong? Wang? Knob?" offers Seamus.

"Seriously, what's wrong with 'penis'?"

"Nothing, it's just weird that you won't say cock," says Harry. "I think that should require two drinks for refusing a dare."

Ron looks around the room; everyone nods in agreement.

"Fine," says Hermione before taking a second sip.

As soon as she finishes her sip, Harry shouts, "Give me liberty or—"

"Give me death!"

As assumed, Hermione is the only one who doesn't catch on.

"Ugh," she says. "Dean, dare."

"I dare you to make it even!" slurs Dean.

"What does that mean?"

"He showed you his; now you show him yours."

"Executive order," says Ginny. "Vetoed."

"Why?" asks Ron. "I don't think it's a bad idea. Plus, it would make me feel better." He pouts at Hermione with wide, puppy-dog eyes and grins when her cheeks flood with color. He's well aware that she never responded to Dean.

"Too far, that's why," says Ginny.

"Well," says Ron. "You guys are no fun."

There's a moment of silence when no one seems to remember where they are in the game or whose turn it is. Seamus breaks the silence with a question directed at Ron.

"Can I please just see it?"

Ron groans and rolls his eyes. "No. And I'm going to bed."

"Why?" whines Seamus.

"I didn't think my dick would be such a huge topic of conversation, yet here we are."

"More of a slightly above average topic if you ask me," says Harry.

"See what I mean?" says Ron, as he hops off his cushion and turns his back to the crowd. "Goodnight."

After chugging a tall glass of water, Ron retreats to his room for the night, ready to escape his roommates' drunken shenanigans. He changes into sweats, settles underneath the covers, and is about to turn off the lights when there's a knock at his door.

"Erm, come in."

The door creaks open, and Hermione pokes her head into his room. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, raising his eyebrows at his unexpected guest. "Thank you for knocking."

"So—"

"I'm not naked. Sorry to disappoint you." He cuts her off, aiming for an icy tone, but unfortunately, it comes off whiny.

Maybe he has been acting a bit petty and childish.

She stares at him, expressionless, for a few tense moments and then bursts out into laughter. He can't help but follow suit. Her laughter is quite contagious when he's fully clothed.

"For the record, I'm not laughing at the thought of you naked," she assures him as if reading his mind.

"Sure, Hermione. Sure," he says. His cheeks are heating up, but he's glad it's not from embarrassment this time.

"I meant it, you know," she says, as soon as her laughter dies down.

"You meant what?"

"That you have a very nice—" she clears her throat, "cock."

Ron beams — at both the compliment and her word choice. "You said cock!"

She stands a little taller. "I've been practicing."

"Say it again!" he urges.

"Please don't make me."

"Pretty please—"

"Fine," she says, taking a step, so she's fully in the room. The door closes behind her. "Cock. Dick. Schlong. Willy."

"Okay, now you're embarrassing yourself."

"Give me more words," she says, now grinning. "I want to prove that I can do it."

"Okay, why don't you try Peter Pecker. Big Red. The Orange Cannon."

Hermione's face flashes red, and she slaps a hand to her mouth.

"Too much for you?" asks Ron.

"Did you nickname your penis?"

"No!" Ron protests, although his flushing cheeks likely give him away. "Those are from former lovers."

"Oh, well, I'm not going to say them then."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not your former lover," she argues.

He catches a slight emphasis on' former' and forces himself to keep his expression neutral. Maybe some good will come from the penis incident. Either that, or he's imagining it.

"While technically true, I still want to hear you say them."

"Too bad."

Thankful that the awkwardness seems to be dissipating, Ron grins at her. "Then you'll have to make it up to me another way."

As soon he speaks, he winces, hearing the implication of his words a moment too late. Did he actually just say that?

Hermione doesn't waste any time with her response. "How? By making it even?"

Ron cannot interpret her expression — it almost looks like she's trying to keep it neutral. In his effort to decipher it, he hesitates for too long, and by leaving her comment hanging, he might as well have agreed.

"That was actually what I came in here to do," she says, biting her lip.

"Really?"

"Yes."

At this point, it feels like his whole face is on fire, and Hermione's smirk isn't helping at all. He can't bring himself to look away from her eyes nor say anything, as the air feels too thick with tension. She could be bluffing, but he has no desire to call her on it if she is.

Is she joking?

His question answers itself when Hermione averts her eyes to the ground and hooks her thumbs at the hem of her shirt.

Holy shit. She's not.

Hermione keeps her eyes on the ground, and Ron can't help but grin at how her cheeks turn bashfully pink. He wishes he could help it because he's definitely beaming like an idiot. With a deep, nervous breath, she pulls her shirt up and over her bra—

She's not wearing a bra.

Fuck.

Ron lets out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "Well damn, Hermione."

Still holding up her shirt, she meets his gaze. "Yes, Ron?"

"You have amazing… knockers."

"Ron!" she says, shoving her shirt back down. He immediately misses the view, but he doesn't regret his word choice. "They're called breasts."

"Boobies. Bing Bongs. Spongey love mountains."

"And I'm the immature one?"

"Jesus, woman, just take the compliment! I'm trying to tell you that I love your tatas." He speaks before he can filter himself, hoping she doesn't read too much into his phrasing. There's nothing wrong with showing appreciation, after all.

She lets a small smile at his admission but quickly narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her now fully-clothed chest. "If I have to say cock, you have to say breasts."

"Sorry, Hermione," says Ron, his tone veering dangerously close to flirtation. Then, feeling a bit bolder, he continues, "what I meant to say is you have wonderful breasts."

Her face tinges red, and she smiles smugly. "Thank you, Ron."

"You're very welcome. Your turn."

"What?"

He motions toward his pants. "I want to hear you say it again."

She groans. "Fine, but this is the last time."

"Sure it is."

She rolls her eyes before continuing. "Ron, you have a lovely cock."

His breath hitches in his throat. Hearing her say that again definitely does something to him, and it's not helped by the sincerity in her tone. She's not lying. As a result, his hair stands on end, heat pools in his stomach, and he's thankful for the positioning of his bed covers.

"Thank you, Hermione," he responds, looking directly into her warm brown eyes. Reflecting her slight smile, they appear softer and darker than usual, as if they're deep in thought.

Ron and Hermione keep eye contact for a few elongated seconds before the awkwardness of the interaction kicks in, and they avert their eyes, looking anywhere but each other. What an odd conversation to have with a roommate.

"I should go to bed," says Hermione, pointing at the door.

"Erm, yeah. Me too."

"So I guess I'll see you in the morning?"

"Good night," he says, but Hermione's already out the door. He sighs.

It shuts behind her, and Ron turns off the light and leans back in his bed. When he closes his eyes, the image of Hermione's perfect breasts is still fresh in his mind, and he makes no effort to let it morph into something else because who knows if he'll ever get to see them again.

Why would he? She's just his roommate.

Yeah. I'm definitely attracted to my roommate.

A smile creeps onto his face. It feels good to admit it, even if it's only to himself.

#muggle AU #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #Romione angst #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #be11a_loft

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